I don't know how long I spent lying on my back, but I felt like I'd run a marathon. I knew on a level it was just in my head, but the sad reality was that mental fatigue could slow you down just as badly as emotional fatigue, and I'd just been put through the ringer.

Or at least I think I'd just been put through it. It was dark out and I'd woken up not long ago lying on my back looking at the ceiling. And while it was a nice ceiling, I was quickly tiring of it.

What I'd do for some time on the internet. A TV to watch, or just about any technological convenience you dare mention. Hell, I'd settle for just a plate of Wings.

Yeah, I could really use some fucking Hot Wings. Or a Pizza. Or a cheese steak.

I sighed. That was one of the pains in the ass about Westeros none of my favorite junk foods were a thing. Hell, as Lyanna I'd never even heard of Tomatoes, Potatoes, or Maize while rice was pretty much unheard of, being extremely uncommon and mostly imported through Essos.

No potatoes means no french fries while no tomatoes meant no pizza.

I kind of had to laugh at myself, just a little bit. Here I was laying on my bed coming off a fainting spell brought on by what I could only call a small nervous breakdown and all I could do was wish I had some Wings and a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Or maybe some nice boar and maple sausages served with with peppered mustard. Lyanna had always loved them as a meaty sweet treat with the mustard adding a little bite.

Of course, good luck finding those in Dorne.

Either way, after what I'd been through I needed some damned comfort food. And if I couldn't just order it than by the Gods, I'd fucking invent it.

With a groan I sat up and smoothed myself out before looking in the polished steel mirror that was left by the bedside.

Gods I looked a mess. My hair was all over the place and my eyes were red and puffy.

"Wylla!" I called out. "How long was I unconscious?"

"T-throughout the evening, m'lady," my servant replied scrambling to rise to her feet.

I frowned. Great. Not only did I pass out, but I missed dinner. No wonder I was so damned hungry. "And no one thought to wake me up for the feast?"

The girl bowed her head. "No, m'lady. They... I heard your lord brother say you were in a fragile state and not to be disturbed, m'lady."

I gritted my teeth. Gods damn it, Ned, I'm not made of fucking glass!

I groaned and sighed. "Bloody fucking hell... ugh," I gritted my teeth, "Gods damn them I'm hungry."

I looked over. "How's my son?"

"Lord Brandon is doing well," Wylla replied with a smile. "He's a strong babe."

"Good," I replied. "If I'm present when he next cries, I will handle his feeding myself."

Wylla blinked in confusion. After all, most noblewomen pretty much dumped their babes into the arms of their wet nurses as soon as they were out. I on the other hand, felt I could more than benefit from the little mommy hormone high that came from feeding my own child.

Or maybe some good weed. They had hemp in Westeros, but for some reason nobody smoked it...

I smiled. Of course that might just be because the male plant was the one most favored for industrial use while the female was the one that could get you stoned.

Either way, it gave me some plans for the near future. Bugger the whole trying to invent shit to make the world a better place. At this particular moment in time, I wanted something tasty to eat.

Taking a moment to comb my hair and generally put myself in order, I strode out the door with intent.

"Wylla, tend to my son," I said with finality. "I'm going to the Kitchens."

I stormed out of my chambers with a hard set face. I wanted some comfort food, and by the Gods I'd get it.

"You!" I snapped at a passing maid who froze like a deer in headlight at my tone.

"Y-yes m'lady?"

"Take me to the Kitchens," I stated in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument, "Now."

"Of course, m'lady!"

The terrified girl nodded and lead me along towards the great hall, but instead of entering we took a turn down a side hall and I was quickly lead to a slightly rougher part of the Castle. That isn't to say it wasn't lovely. In fact, I'd bet a gold dragon that even the dungeons of Starfall were probably a far bit finer than most noble keeps, but this area was more simple in its accoutrements. Obviously not meant to be seen by noble eyes.

She eventually lead me to a thick wooden door which I gave a solid knock.

A cook's kitchen was his castle. I knew better than to simply barge in.

A moment later the door opened and I found myself looking at the face of a confused Stony Dornish gentleman with salt and pepper hair.

"Lady Lyanna?" he asked in some confusion. "Why are you here?"

"I have several items I wish you to make me," I stated calmly, "And you wouldn't know how to make them... so I came down to show you."

He flushed somewhat with obvious offense. "My lady, I must protest! I've been working these kitchens since I was a boy and know how to prepare the cuisine of all the kingdoms, as well as dishes of the free cities and delicacies as foreign as the Summer Isles and Slaver's Bay!"

I crossed my arms. "Fine. I want a cheesesteak with fried onions, lightly salted on a toasted roll... and a side of a dozen Hot Wings."

He blinked. "My lady? I've... I've never heard of such dishes. "

I nodded. "I thought as much. Would you like to know how to prepare them?"

He thought for a moment and I saw a small twinkle in his eye. The look of a master given a challenge. "Of course, my lady."

He stepped to the side and I entered without hesitation. Inside I saw that the room was already a small flurry of activity, with several servants moving about and the scent of fresh roasting meat in the air.

"A bit more alive than I expected for the night."

"Lord Andrew ordered us to prepare a northern styled meal to breakfast, as an apology for your treatment during Ser Arthur's funeral,"

"You're not planning on making kidney pie, are you?" I asked with a slight grimace.

"He did ask for traditional Northern fair," the chef stated.

I winced. "Well, my good man, you wouldn't mind if I ruined my appetite now and had to pass on it, would you..."

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then gave me an amused look, "No, I don't believe I would"

"Good," I stated with a sigh of relief, "Between you and I my good man, I'd say kidneys are only fit for the dogs, but feeding a good hound kidney would be cruelty to animals."

Lyanna had never like Kidney and I found the idea of eating them somewhat revolting. Between the two of us we absolutely hated them.

"Understood, my lady. I will admit I do find the idea of food that generates yellow steam when cooked rather unappetizing."

I shuddered. "Well then. Tell me, good chef, do you have the following ingredients on hand? I need fresh beef from the top rump, and do you have rennet for making cheese?"

"Yes on both counts, my lady. That beef was to have been used in a roast, but I see no reason some of it couldn't be sacrificed to a good cause."

"Good. Then have one of your dogsbodies slice several pounds off the end, against the grain. I'd say parchment thin but it need not be literally so."

He nodded. And motioned to one of his assistant chefs to begin slicing. "What is next my lady?"

"Long rolls, soft crusted, about so long..." I made a motion with my hands of your standard 12 inch torpedo roll. "Do you have anything as such?"

"We have similar breads baking, but it would take time to ready something exact," he replied looking slightly intrigued.

"Unless you can manage them in less than an hour, I'd say not to bother. Close enough is good enough in this case," I stated.

He learned in, starting to show obvious interest. "Exactly what are we making here, m'lady?"

"A simple dish, but one I do not believe you'll find anything quite like in the realm," I replied with a smile.

"I cannot help but admit to being intrigued, Lady Lyanna," he admitted with a smile. "What's next?"

"We need to prepare the cheese. It'll be a multiple step process, but it will only take about half an hour to make. First we need a solution of rennet, lemon juice and hot water..."

What came next didn't really bare repeating. It's a simple but somewhat time consuming process that didn't take long to master. At its core you're simply separating the curds from the whey by cooking them, and then knead the curds like bread until they get the consistency of a heavy dough.

"Is this ready, my lady," he asked, presenting me with a small ball of fibrous white cheese, fresh from the pot.

I smiled and withdrew a small knife, gently slicing off two pieces before spearing one with the tip and bringing it to my mouth.

I will admit, I almost cried. It was like a little bite of home. "It's perfect. You must try it."

He did so by snapping up the second slice in his fingers and his eyes went a little wide. "Outstanding, my lady."

I could see his eyes running with ideas of how to make use of it in future works. Deciding to give him a little nudge, I said, "Prepared into balls about the size of an olive, the gentle flavor of the cheese would probably complement the flavors of the traditional Dornish meal rather well, providing an interesting contrast to the olives and chickpea paste. Serve it in the whey to keep it wet and add small skewers, mayhaps?"

He grinned widely, "Yes, my lady. I do believe I'll try that. So what exotic delicacies do you have to share next?"

"Next we simply prepare the beef. Just ready a griddle with a little butter. Finely chop some onions into small pieces and cook them until they're clear. Once they are, put them to the side and cook the beef. Use two spatulas to keep flipping them while cooking and to chop the meat during the process so it becomes fine. Then, once the beef is cooked, mix in the onion and place thin slices of cheese atop the mass and let sit until it melts..."

He nodded. "And the rolls, my lady?"

"While you are cooking the beef, slice the rolls lengthwise, deeply but not enough to cut it in half then open it you would a clam. Place it back into the oven until it has toasted slightly and remove. When the meat is ready, transfer it into the roll with the spatula, making sure that the cheese is facing down. Lightly salt and serve."

He laughed. "Meat and cheese served directly on the bread. So simple but I've never heard of such a thing before," his face became slightly more thoughtful. "Why haven't I heard of such a thing in the past? It's obvious."

"The best ideas are those that are obvious once considered," I replied, "Now you've had the idea and I'm sure you'll invent a thousand recipes, each more delicious than the next."

He puffed up ever so slightly and smiled. "You're too kind my lady."

"I speak only the honest truth." I paused, "What is your name, man? I just realized I never asked and have no desire to seem rude."

"Aryon," he replied, "My name is Aryon."

"Well met, Aryon," I replied, "Now I'd like to get started on some hot sauce if you'd allow it."

He laughed. "My lady, I'm just wondering what culinary oddity you've to share with me next. Normally I am master of this kitchen, but for this moment I'm but a student waiting your next drop of wisdom with the most baited of breaths."

"We need a goodly volume of hot red peppers for this and some small crocks. If the peppers are dried, they must be rehydrated. Either way, once the peppers are ready, you remove the stems and grind them into a thin paste. Then you mix them with vinegar and salt. You place the resulting mass into the crocks and let it age for at least two weeks before removing to strain the seeds and skins. You could do it sooner, even immediately, but the best hot sauce is aged. Either way, the resulting substance is a red fluid that will contain the essence of pepper along with a vinegary bite. It's wonderful as both an ingredient and a condiment, and if, say, placed in something like a small bottle even a soldier on the march would be able to give his rations a bit of proper Dornish flavor."

At this point Aryon's eyes were almost shining. "Delightful! Absolutely delightful! Lady Lyanna, I hope I do not seem bold, but I do believe you're wasted outside the kitchens," he pointed to one of his minions and commanded, "Alyce! Begin preparing this 'Wolf Sauce' immediately! Make enough for parts! One strained, as I wish to sample it raw, the other two in crocks!"

I blinked. "Wolf Sauce?"

"I've never heard of such a thing before," he stated with a manic look in his eyes, "But my mind runs wild with the possibilities. Your cheese, your sauce, even your manner of preparing bread and meat all open so many doors. I refused to allow you to leave this kitchen without being properly honored. I know you called it Hot Sauce, but such a name is unworthy of such a creation. Please, allow me this, Lady Lyanna."

I was blushing. I was actually blushing. "Um. Alright. Just don't name it Wolf's Cheese. Alright?"

He smirked. "I can make no promises."

I crossed my arms. "Aryon..."

"I jest, my lady! I just!" he laughed. "Please take no offense."

"Feed me and all will be well," I said with a faux look of annoyance.

"Of course my lady," he replied. "Just allow me to check on the the preparation."

He walked deeper into the Kitchen while I learned next to the door, watching them work. It was an interesting sight to see cooking before the advent of modern convenience, but I knew they could work wonders even with the most simple of tools. Though from the look of things they were wasting that potential and creating puddings at the moment.

Puddings were a northern favourite, and Lyanna had always considered them a bit dull. She had her favorites of course, but on the whole there was only so much you could do with a boiled pastry. Though I was sure there were probably those who considered their simplicity a boon, and maybe I'd come to love them as I was far more the foodie than Lyanna had ever been, but for now I couldn't help but be less than impressed.

It was then I heard the door creak and open to show the figures of Lord Dayne as well as my own Lord Brother.

"Ned, Lord Andrew," I said with a slight curtsy.

Lord Andrew gave me a bemused smile and looked over the kitchens. "I was told that you all but accosted one of my maids, demanding access to the kitchens."

"I wouldn't say accosted, but I brooked no room for argument," I replied with a small smile.

He shook his head and sighed, in that moment looking very much like an exasperated uncle. "Aryon, Lady Lyanna has not been a bother, has she?"

"Anything but my lord!" he exclaimed rushing over with a bow. "She's actually shared several fascinating delicacies with me. In fact, give me one moment, my lords!"

Ned gave me a confused look. "Lyanna, you know how to cook?"

"Yes," I replied. Maybe I hadn't before, but I did now. "I know how to do a great many things, Ned."

He humphed slightly and pulled back slightly in thought

"Please try this," Aryon the Chef requested as he held out a small platter with multiple chunks of fresh Mozzarella cheese.

Andrew and Ned both took a piece and sampled it.

Lord Andrews eyebrows peaked somewhat. "This is quite good. What is it?"

"Lady Lyanna never told me the name of this cheese," he replied.

"You made this?" Ned asked with some surprise.

"I only provided the direction. And I have not given it a name, but if you're going to be naming the sauce after me..." I glanced at Aryon, "Then I only feel appropriate that the cheese be named after my generous hosts."

Lord Andrew's eyes shined with amusement. "Truly."

"Yes, my lord. I wish to honor House Dayne with this little concoction. Does the name Starfall cheese suit you?"

He smiled quite earnestly. "It suits me quite well, thank you my lady. You honor us."

I smiled at the man who honestly had gone from exasperated amusement to virtual prenning. In a Medieval world, like Westeros, anything that could reflect positively on a house and could travel was of great value. Being the namesake of delicious, simply made cheese might seem like a silly thing to a modern man, but here in Westeros food was propaganda.

It was one of the reasons house Redwyne was so well liked, thought well of even by people who'd never really knew much of them. Just say they're the ones who make the famed Arbor wines and people would speak well of them. It was for that reason that Lord Andrew was so well pleased. It also was why he'd make sure that the recipe for Starfall cheese would spread far and wide. When people ate it they would remember the name of his family and house and think well of them. In ten generations, baring Ice Zombie Apocalypse, chances were good that it would still be giving good name to House Dayne. Just as Wolf Sauce would give to House Stark.

Moment's later, Aryon slipped off and returned with four sandwiches of differing sizes. One was larger than any of the others by a good deal, enough for a meal, while the other two were about half the size. The third was small and more a sample than anything.

"What's this?" Ned asked with a peeked eyebrow.

"A 'cheesesteak'," he replied, "It is what Lady Lyanna came to have me prepare. It is beef and onion with Starfall cheese, served inside roll rather than besides."

I smiled and picked up my sandwich with a wide smile. "It looks delicious."

With a shrug, Ned took one and glanced over to me thoughtfully while Lord Andrew took one as well.

"Why not," the Lord of the Manor said with a shrug, still looking very pleased with himself.

Finally the Chef took the smallest sandwich.

"Now lets see what Lady Lyanna's efforts have brought," Andrew stated with a grin before taking a bite.

He stook and chewed and gave a nod of approval. "This is very good and keeps the hands free. Clever."

I took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully. It wasn't the best Cheese steak I'd ever had. Bread wasn't quite right and the meat was a little off, but you know what. I was perfectly happy with that.

Here I was, in Westeros stuck in the body of a teenage milf and I was eating something from back home. It was a touchstone. A small victory over the forces of the universe. A little piece of who I was that couldn't be taken away. They could steal my face. My gender. My name. My world. But fuck you, you can't take this damned sandwich away from me! So fuck you! I win!

"Lyanna?"

I glanced over to Ned.

"Are you well?"

"Am I what?"

I paused and moved a hand to my face.

Shit. I was crying. Over a damned sandwich, I was crying.

"I'm alright," I replied with an earnest smile. "I'm perfectly fine."

And maybe for the first time since I'd arrived in his hell of a world, just for this moment, all really was right with the world.

He nodded but didn't look entirely convinced. "Perhaps you should return to your chambers?"

I took a deep breath and smiled. "In a moment, Ned."

I quickly turned to Aryon who was slowly and carefully eating his own serving in small, measured bites, his face thoughtful as he considered the flavors and texture.

"I have one more quick recipe for you," I stated.

He paused and looked over. "I'm ready to serve."

"It's a recipe using Wolf Sauce. Take chicken wings. Cut them into three at the joints, discarding the tips. Fry them until they're cooked and the skin is a little bit crispy. Mix the sauce with melted butter and slather the wings in the mixture. Serve with chilled beer."

He nodded and gave me a bow. "Thank you, my lady. Know I will always think well of the night that you barged into my kitchen and honored us with your wisdom."

Moments later I found myself returning to my chambers under the escort of my brother and Lord Dayne. Ned looked pensive, while Lord Dayne's good mood hard dulled slightly.

"Lyanna, are you truly well?" Ned asked with concern. "Why did you head to the kitchen?"

"I was hungry, I wanted some food to comfort myself, and I was left with the options of either stewing in my bitter emotions or distracting myself by doing something constructive."

Ned looked down at his barely touched sandwich and nodded. "I would call this constructive but, I do believe we need to speak of this later."

I frowned slightly. "Alright..."

"Lady Lyanna," Andrew said, "I would like to apologize for that fool of a Septon..."

I frowned and shuddered thinking back to the funeral. Bloody bastard.

"He was a loyalist and was attempting to sabotage the relations between our houses," Andrew stated, "I've already sent a raven requesting a replacement and once he... recovers from questioning he will be banished from my lands and made to find his own way back to old town, clad in the robes of a begging brother."

"I'm surprised you're sparing him," I said with a frown, "What he did was treason."

Andrew frowned. "He's a septon."

"Still treason," I countered, "But I do understand the politics involved."

He grunted slightly with a nod. "Still, I'd like to apologize to you for his behavior."

"There's no need," I replied, "I don't blame you, my lord. There's only three absolutes in life. Death, taxes, and the stupidity of our fellow man. You couldn't control his idiocy any more than you can control the rise and fall of the moon. But your apology is accepted in the spirit it was given."

Andrew snorted with amusement and glanced over to Ned. "Your sister has quite the way with words."

Ned smiled tiredly. "Father always dreaded the moments where she'd unleash her harsh tongue. Brandon though, I believe he considered those moments a treat."

"My lord, though if I may make a request?" I added.

"Yes?" he asked.

"When you send the Septon away, shave his head and send him without shoes. His head to show his shame, and his feet bare that each fall of the foot would be another step to earning his penance."

Between the harsh Dornish sun, and the heat of the road, both would make traveling very uncomfortable, but still quite doable, assuming he kept an eye out for patches of gravel.

"As you request," Lord Andrew replied with a cruel sparkle in his eye.

Huh. And I thought he'd say no. Guess he's more angry than I thought.

Good.

When we reached my room, Lord Andrew gave me a nod and a wish for a good night before turning about and leaving, finishing the last bite of his sandwich with a thoughtful look, leaving me alone with my brother.

There was a long awkward moment. "Lyanna?" he asked with some trepidation.

"Yes, Ned?"

"You've changed," he stated after a long moment.

I frowned. "After all I've been through, of course I have."

He shook his head. "No. I mean, I understand that... but you've changed in ways I can't explain. This food. The stories. The strange drawings of odd devices and the notes in some language I've never seen before."

My eyes narrowed as I felt a small stab of betrayal. "You were looking through my journal."

"Please don't take offense," he replied, "I was just trying to understand what happened to you."

I glared at him for a moment and then sighed. I was literally a different person and I wasn't exactly doing the best job in hiding it. "I understand. I'm not the same girl who was kidnapped after Harrenhal."

"That much is obvious, Lya. But who are you now? What aren't you telling me?" He paused. "I don't wish to seem like I'm prying but you're my sister. You and Ben are all that I have left..."

I moved in and gave him a hug. An awkward thing to do when we're both holding a sandwich.

"Ned. I love you too," I said with complete honesty. How couldn't I? He was my brother who'd fought a war and risked his life countless times to get me back. "But I can't answer that question."

I pulled away. "Not yet. Maybe one day, but if I told you the whole story now, you'd believe me mad because even having lived it, it still makes me doubt even my own sanity."

He nodded. "I see. Then you'll tell me when you believe the time is right."

I nodded. "And when I believe that you'll believe me."

He frowned. "Please, Lya, have some faith in me..."

I grinned, "Did I mention that it would sound really, really crazy?"

He sighed and placed a hand on my soldier. "Be well, sister. Please. Be well."

"Maybe someday," I admitted, "But right now... lets just find an balcony and eat there."

Ned smiled and nodded to me. "That sound good. Lets."

I smiled and took a deep breath.

You know what? I was a mess, but maybe given enough time, I could live with this and live with myself. But that could wait. Right now, I just wanted to eat my damned sandwich.

The Full Northern Breakfast prepared in my honor was actually pretty damned good. Classic Northern Fry Up really. Bacon, fried eggs, fried and toasted bread, a yak's worth of butter, several types of pie, and of course more sausages than you could shake a stick at. They'd even managed to dig up Maple Syrup.

Where the hell you'd find Maple Syrup, which while popular in the North wasn't really much of a thing south of the Neck in Dorne of all places, I don't know, but personally I attributed it to either the ability of a master chef to magic what he needed out of mid air, or the idea that somehow a small bit of the Dayne's proper First Man nature was overcoming their otherwise toxic Andal enculturation. Or maybe it was just one of the elements of why I liked the Dornish more than any other lot of Southerns. The strong Rhoynar influence tends to dilute the stupid.

I really can't explain, but who cares. Maple Fucking Syrup.

To say I was pleased was something of an understatement. If my main personality was pleased and given comfort by the sandwich last night, then my Lyanna half was on cloud nine after this little taste of home.

I actually cried a little. It was great.

Then of course Ned had to be a dick.

Though not the ruin your day, make me want to shank your ass kind of dick.

No.

He made sure to dump off some Kidney Pie on my plate.

You see, to understand this little bit of dickery you have to go back to when we were children.

I mean when Ned and Lyanna were children.

I mean... fucking whatever.

Anyways, Ned loves Kidney Pie. He really loves Kidney Pie. If he loved Kidney Pie any more, well, I'd have to ask Robert if he ever walked into Ned doing an awkward rendition of that one iconic scene from American Pie he loves it so fucking much.

So of course, he likes to try and get everyone to try some. Which in this case involved dumping a heaping slice off on my plate uninvited, earning him the kind of glare that could sour milk. Especially since then I was obliged to at least pick at it or seem rude.

Son of a bitch!

I wouldn't be shocked in the slightest if he actually thinks he's being nice, since he always has his patented dumb puppy smile on his face when he does it. Like if you force feed people enough kidney pie they'll turn around and love it.

Most annoying fact was that I couldn't even count on Howland to have my back on this one. You see, it seems that Lord Reed also loves himself some kidney pie. The motherfucking traitor.

Well, at least I had some common dislike in Ashara who took a piece for Ned's sake and also found it to be to her disliking. But being the demure, strong, and generally in love Dornish lass she is, she forced herself to eat it with a smile that couldn't have been any more plastic on a Barbie Doll.

Which meant I'd look like a spoiled cunt if I didn't eat it. So I did.

And fuck you too Eddard Stark.

Though the irony is. He did kind of throw a wrench in my special breakfast, but in the end I can't hate him for it. Sure. He was kind of a dick, but it wasn't the asshole kid. It was the purely organic and almost endearing big brother playfully fucking with his kid sister.

And note, I said fucking with, not fucking. You will find neither Dragon nor Lion at this table, thank the fucking Gods.

But the worst part. The most terrible part however is that my tastes seem to have changed a bit. You see, when you have an amalgamation of two personalities fighting for headspace amidst a virtual sea of severe mental and emotional trauma, there tends to be a great deal of bleed over.

Nightmares about the future, body and gender dysmorphia, an intense and purely rational hatred of all things Southron, bitter contempt for pretty much everything and everyone to be honest, the fact that actually lying with a man ever again fills me with an indescribable gnawing terror, and not to mention the fact that I seem to be at least mildly claustrophobic. Joy of joys.

But the relevant issue at this particular moment in space-time seems to be a simple one.

Kidney Pie... really isn't that bad.

But I'm not giving Ned that petty victory of saying that outloud. I'll never admit it, not even under pain of torture. I'll never admit that Kidney Pie is actually... almost kinda good.

Because fuck you, Eddard Stark.