NAHLA

Her only wish in life was that Aza would never see the world through her eyes. It was why she filled her daughter's head with excitement and possibilities, leaving all the fears of danger and uncertainty within herself. Perhaps that was the reason why Aza never feared walking beneath the moon and stars, for the dark did not frighten her. Why should the darkness hold any peril when her mother never warned her of it? Aza, as a child, thrived in adventure and the river-scented breeze of Jhala under a sun that never leaves for long. Flowing in her veins was the blood of Summer and the Andals of the Red Mountains of Dorne; Summer Islanders cherished the fruits of life while the Daynes cherished life itself. And as Nahla hoped to shield that innocence, she was forced to shatter it when they were made to part. From that day onward, life was not fun and free nor of sweet songs that a mother sings when it's time to return home or for bed. Ten years ago, Nahla had unknowingly shattered the illusion that the world was kind as she had once made it seem.

But even with all the trials and tribulations that only life can serve, Aza's eyes still shined the same. They remained clear, unwavering, wide and bright. Those were the very same eyes that tore her heart to shreds anew whenever she would look at them and lie. And even though the shade of them differed, they were truly Arthur's eyes staring straight back at her. He still lived, never again in flesh and soul, but through their child that forever kept them together in both and life and death. He hid himself in Aza's eyes, in the shape of her nose, in the pattern of which her hair grows, and within the strength that only he possessed. When his soul was exhausted, he was kind enough to leave himself in traces as well as memories.

"I fear for her…"

Arthur had once whispered those words in what felt like a lifetime ago. Her memories of him never lost their brightness despite how years and death separated them now. She could remember him as if he was standing before her, every detail and curve of his face unforgotten. The years between Harrenhal and the Tower of Joy remained so vivid in Nahla's mind as if she was still that young girl of nineteen once more. She sometimes wondered if it was because she was never meant to forget. The gods had fashioned that she would never be rid of the happiness, the agony, and the sorrow that colored those years.

"Her?"

"Our child, Nahla. I never hoped to have a daughter."

"And why is that? Is it so terrible to father a girl, Arthur? Do you love her less because she is no son for you to teach the blade? No son to carry on your name?"

"You know me better than that. When has this world ever been kind to little girls? When has it not taken from them or broken them?" The look he gave her had made her feel as though her heart had been thrown to against a stone wall. "It's worst when a girl is strong, and I know she will be. She is yours and mine, so she'll have strength. The world will tell her that she is fragile, though she is not."

"Then she will change the world." She can't quite remember if she only said that to calm his fears or her own. "Her father is stubborn and her mother is resourceful, she will use her strength to make a way." If he were alive now, Nahla would've taken his hand and gently remind him how she always proved to be right. A small victory compared to all the battles they've lost. "But how are you so certain our child is a girl?"

He gave no answer. All she was given was the smile she loved, the one that makes his dimples visible. The one where his eyes are warm and looked as if they glowed. It was as if the stars had fallen from the sky so that they could shine in his eyes because they could no longer wait for the night. If you could see her, Arthur… In small circles, Nahla rubbed her weeping daughter's back. "I've never seen you cry this much before," she said teasingly. Aza was always a stubborn child. She would save her tears when she was left alone, swallowing the sobs that climbed up her throat. She abhorred crying before the eyes of others. "If that little one in your belly is anything as you were, they'll toss all hours of the night because you've ruined their rest."

Aza fought away the urge to laugh as she stood upright. The back of her fingers soon swept away her tears, much different than the small and closed fists that used to mash them away. It was amusing as well as heartwrenching to watch the stark difference of what she would have done at ten than what she does now at twenty. "Where were you?" asked Aza after two heartbeats of quiet, her voice barely above a whisper. She had yet to lift her eyes to meet hers, she kept them lowered as if she were shy.

"Meereen." The days were kinder there. "My master owned a clinic and had me work alongside him." Before that, she was a dancer in Yunkai. She did not have the heart neither the courage to speak of those days and so she forced herself to pretend they never existed.

Aza had no words for her, only a stiff nod. It was clear that she was afraid to ask what she endured despite her obvious curiosity. Nahla hadn't lost her gift of reading Aza's emotions as if she were an open book. "Lord Tyrion said you were a sellsword and was punished to live out the remainder of your life at the Wall. How did that come to be? Did Salif not take care of you as he promised me?"

"If you could call it taking care of someone," spat Aza. Her demeanor quickly shifted, her hands gripped onto the skirts of her dress as her eyes sheened with an array of emotions. "The gold the slavers gave us barely lasted us a good year. Salif gambled it all away and threw me to the docks to work. The pirates paid him if I smuggled decent goods."

"I was good at it… And Flys—Dusk had scared many people away, even when I didn't know how to properly use it. During one of my runs in King's Landing, a man named Hadrian Rivia saw me at the harbor and offered me to join his sellsword company. I didn't think… I said yes because I wanted to learn how to protect myself. I wanted to grow strong and wealthy so that I could sail to Essos and find you…"

In the moment, a flash of anger protected Nahla from the throes of guilt. She had failed herself. She had failed Arthur. Most of all, she had failed Aza. In her heart, she knew Salif would never love anyone else but himself and gold, and yet she entrusted him with something she held so sacred. And how did he repay her after all she had done for him? By making her child, his niece, suffer. "When Hadrian died, I was blindsided and sold out to the City's Watch…" Aza finished stoically. "I could've been given death but instead they threw me to the Wall."

"And it was at the Wall that you met Jon Snow." Nahla chuckled at how easily Aza became bashful. Her eyes quickly looked away, the corners of her mouth fighting not to curve into a smile. You had hoped they would be close, Lya. You never thought they would fall in love, did you? Nahla thought to herself, the cold memory of the excited grey eyes of a girl of sixteen made her heart ache.

"How did you know to send the Daynes to look for me? Lord Tyrion hadn't known I was a girl." Aza's head tilted curiously, and Nahla wondered if that had been plaguing her thoughts for quite some time.

"I never planned to keep you in the dark about your father forever, Little Love." Nahla sighed heavily, not at all prepared of how Aza would react to the whole truth. Part of her wasn't sure if the entire truth was for her to tell. She had promised long ago that all that took place in the Tower of Joy would never be known to the world to protect a boy who knew nothing of how he came to be and her unborn child. "It was Lord Whent's great tourney in the year of the false spring that he and I met. Purely by accident, really." A laugh spilled from her, dancing the fine line between sweet and bitter. "I was to give the meats to the Kennel Master for the dogs but by chance, I caught Lady Lyanna mounting her horse to run away with Ser Oswell Whent."

Aza stiffened then, her eyes widening in her shock. "Nobody was supposed to see them but I always carried terrible luck. It was Arthur that caught me as I tried to hide in the kennels and it was Lady Lyanna that ordered him not to harm me. They were afraid that I would tell someone of what I saw and so I was forced to go with them because Lady Lyanna refused for my silence to be kept through death. From Harrenhal, we rode to the Isles of Faces where Prince Rhaegar had been waiting."

"So he didn't kidnap her?" Aza asked.

"No, he did not." Nahla had heard that people enjoyed the tale of the Dragon-prince and his lady she-wolf love. She wondered how they would feel if they knew the entire tragedy of it, of how one girl's hopeful dream of adventure and freedom died in the most agonizing way. "Your father would've never aid Rhaegar in kidnapping a girl, no matter the love he had for him."

"He loved him more than he loved you and me," she said through gritted teeth. "He died for him."

It was easy to see why her daughter had felt that way. That's how it seemed from the outside looking in, though it wounded her to know that Aza had grown to resent Arthur. Her hand swept away a stray strand of hair that danced in front of Aza's face to tuck it neatly behind her ear. "Your father did not die for Rhaegar. He could not die for someone already gone."

"Then why did he die?" She practically whispered the words. "What was so important that he was willing to die?" Again. Must she look into the eyes again and lie? Nahla squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed the lump of sorrow in her throat. "Why did he leave us?"

Aza was no longer a child. She would not take silence or distraction as an answer anymore, and she was in the right to not accept it. Nahla took a deep, straggling breath to pull herself together. Once she exhaled, she felt a kiss from the wind against her cheek as soft as a brush from Arthur's thumb. "Your father died so that you could have a future." As vague as it all had sound, it was no further from the truth. "So long as the keeper of that future still lives and breathes, his death will not have been in vain."

Soon enough, Nahla gathered the soft face of the young woman before her and pressed her forehead down against Aza's. "You will soon understand, Little Love. Many fathers and mothers alike would throw their very own lives away to protect their children and the world they have yet to know, even if it hurts them in the process. Your father loved you before he had the chance to know you, at least understand that." It was a heavy thing to ask or rather promise, she knew, for Aza to understand what she could not fully explain just yet.

After a quiet moment, Nahla took a step back and lowered her eyes to the swelling belly that held the life of her grandchild. "My baby is having a baby," Nahla could not stop herself from beaming. "You're a year older than I was when I was with you."

Aza's brown eyes fell to her protruding stomach and she slayed her hand over it affectionately. "I still don't think I'm ready yet to be a mother," she admitted, her fear evident all over her face. "I'm afraid I'm going to mess up and do everything wrong."

"Motherhood is something you learn along the way, Aza." Of that she knew for herself. Nobody or anything could properly prepare you for the ups and downs of raising another human life. It was the most difficult job in the world. "And you're not by yourself, you have me and your husband. This child has a family, one quite bigger than what you and I both have. They are already blessed."

That eased her, if only a little. She calmed down and let out a breath that Nahla had not realized she had been holding. "You're right," she said with a nod. "Speaking of my husband, I'd like for you to meet him. I think you're going to like him but mind you, he's…" Aza sighed and rolled her eyes, a smirk delighting her face. "He's stiff and so bloody grim. There's so much North in him you'll think he has ice in his veins."

The Island woman could not help but cover her mouth as she laughed, her heart singing at the thought. Rhaegar, did you make your son as melancholic as you once were? The dragon prince swiftly crossed her mind. A tall and lean young man with hair silver-gold and eyes so deep and dark that they were not lilac as many Targaryens but a deep indigo instead. The only time she ever saw him at any true peace was when he played his harp, his nimble fingers knew the chords as if they were the strings of his own heart as he created songs that would make even a she-wolf shed tears. Other days, the true Rhaegar burned in the flames ignited by the burdens of a prophecy and by the weight of his family that threatened to consume him and eventually won.

"I'd should like to meet him," Nahla tried to keep her calm, her heart somewhat eager to see how much the baby she bid goodbye in the arms of Ned Stark had grown. "He is my good-son and somehow capable of not going mad after putting up with you." Her fingers pinched her daughter's cheek as it was growing plump due to the effects of pregnancy.

"I was not that monstrous as a child," huffed Aza, trying to tug her face out of Nahla's pinch. "I was better than most children. At least I didn't harm anyone."

"No, you didn't harm anyone." Nahla knew that to be true. "You were too busy harming yourself by chasing monkeys in trees and trying to catch fish in your mouth like bears do."

Her face heated with warmth, obviously embarrassed to be reminded of her wild youth. "Don't tell him any of that, please."

"I'll try not to," she hadn't meant it. At least not one bit, it was within Nahla's right to let this Jon Snow know that his wife was a terror.

Hand-in-hand, Aza and Nahla strolled through the garden and eventually back inside the drafty confines of Dragonstone. I'm going to meet your son, Lya. Nahla had thought as her eyes could not look away from Aza, who had been telling her of the Starks of Winterfell. I promise to know everything I can of his life without you and treat him well. I'll have plenty to tell you when life is done with me and I can see you again.

RICKON

Teaching is a lot harder than he thought it would be. He thought it would be easy, just telling someone what to do and they do it, but it isn't that simple. Despite how uncertain he is, he's somehow managed to do good enough to see some improvements from Lyanna over the course of a couple months. He can't exactly say that his teachings deserve all the credit because for one thing, she's smart. Her eyes are always watching, soaking in every little thing that can be noticed. When she sees an opening, she quickly sums up the perfect counter and has even learned how to handle when he tries to confuse her with a faulty strike. Her spearhand is precise, but she's still a bit slow. Her hands can't move as fast as the speed of her mind.

"Don't hold back!" Lyanna shouted at him, breathing so hard that her whole body is moving as she pants. "This fight will be much too real for mere play."

He couldn't fight it, the snort that abruptly left him. Nor can he stop the roll of his eyes and neither the smirk that tugged at his lips. Although she's right and she is a well adept leader, Lyanna's pride truly can't handle him being soft with her after what she said to Lord Glover in Winterfell's Great Hall. No needles for her, she's a fighter. She has to prove her words ring true before the Long Night is here.

He has a shield in one hand and a practicing falchion in the other. It's good practice for him as well. He admired the way Aza and Jon were so adept with the shield that Rickon thought he could learn how to use one, too. It's silly to compare himself to seasoned warriors, but he cannot help but want to follow their footsteps. Rickon had grown tired of looking at backs; of his father, Robb's, Bran's, Osha's, and Jon and Aza's. He will look at no one's back again because he will be in the front lines alongside them this time.

"All right," Rickon assured her. Lyanna readied herself, sliding her foot back and falling into a defensive stance. "Whenever you're ready."

He hefted the sword again, twirling the weapon a few times to frighten those that were watching. The young boys and girls of Bear Island's flinched at the sight of his technique, but Lyanna stood firm. She isn't so easily frightened by his tricks despite it's her that'll be cracked and bruised if she doesn't do well.

He pushed off, charging forward and leaving behind his boot imprinted in the snowy ground. As she should, she waited for him, completely patient and still. Because she's a spearwoman, she has to know exactly when to dodge and when to deflect. It's a game of chance, he taught her. With his shield held low, protecting his left, he swung down the falchion when his feet are firmly planted.

She has two options; dodge or deflect. If she dodges, she'll suffer the momentum he created and it'll slam right into her, putting her off-balance as he aimed to do. If she deflects, well, she had better put all her strength into it. Lyanna caught the blade of his sword with the body of her spear, the cracking sound of the blunted edge of the practice sword meeting the wooden body of her spear rung out. Her arms began buckling as she attempted to slough the force of it off and back towards him. Because he is stronger, Rickon cannot be moved and so she jumped back on the cuff, thrusting the blunt end of the spear that is capped in metal to imitate a heavy blade. She made sure to move quickly so that he wasn't expecting it.

The young Stark's shield, however, is perfectly in place and so the blow bounces off more or less in his favor than hers. With a stumble, Rickon observed the flash of desperate strategy flitting across her eyes. He can tell, at this very moment, she realized she's going to need something more to win this if she can, and riskier attacks might be what she has to resort to. The spear came back at him again in an upward thrust instead of the side. He ducked underneath, aiming to move his way behind her for the finishing blow. Surprisingly, Lyanna found the opportune moment to flick her wrist to purposely hit his shield to distract him by pretending it was a mid-swing when really, she aimed for a spin to get a low sweep at his ankles.

For the first time, Lyanna nearly had him. Before she could get her spear all the way around and through, he performed a swift kick to her left knee from behind. She was going to fall face forward in the snow and part of him thought to let her. Lyanna did not want to be protected nor guarded, she wanted to be treated as an equal and a contender. His right hand dropped the sword and shot forward anyway, gripping the back of her heavy furred tunic over her ringmail, to keep her from hitting the ground. He jerked her back, forcing her to stumble until he took hold of her wrist and pulled her towards him.

"You gave too much away," he explained as she attempted to jerk her arm out of his grasp. Her face was flushed red out of what he presumed to be pure frustration. "What your opponent does with their body gives away what's in their head, remember that." Rickon remembered that being the lesson Aza tried to instill him after he practically ate the dirt of Castle's Black courtyard.

"Don't you go stopping me from falling, Lord Rickon." Lyanna slapped his hand that he had forgot was still holding onto her arm. "If I'm meant to fall then let me." Annoying as she was, he could commend her for wanting to be treated fairly. He saw a reflection of himself for a moment there. "Next time, I'll make sure it's you eating the snow and not me." Her eyes then looked out over to those who were watching, all of them whispering and mumbling words he couldn't comprehend from this distance. "What are you all standing around for? The spar is done, but your practice isn't."

Many of them hurried away from the fence of the training ring, gathering their weapons and running to the straw dummies waiting to be put to use. "You did…" he stumbled a bit with his words, and his line of thought was interrupted when she turned to face him. Stubbornly, he gathered his composure and sneered somewhat. "You did well."

Her stare is deadpanned, though soon enough her lips give into a smile. "But not well enough," she said before looking at her spear. "They said my sister Dacey could take down five grown men when she was my age while I can hardly knock down one boy."

"You almost did." Rickon understood completely, to be engulf by names larger than their own shadows. He was a Stark, the bloodline of her overlords. He had to be better or else they would say the last Stark boy is nothing but a puppy compared to the wolves. The last Stark boy… He harmed himself for thinking that. Bran isn't dead, at least Rickon won't truly believe he is.

"Almost isn't good enough." The Mormont girl shook her head and took in a deep breath, her little shoulders squaring as she slipped back into the skin of Lady Mormont. It reminded him, briefly, when he and Bran would share laughs whenever Robb would put on that voice and face he would make when he ran Winterfell in their father's place. "There he goes again, all solemn like father. That's not our brother, that's Robb the Lord." Bran's voice… He can't quite remember it anymore. The voice he tried to remember doesn't sound familiar no matter how hard he tried to recall it. It was more like some stranger whispering in his head, repeating his brother's words.

"Lord Rickon?" Lyanna pull him out, of his head and of the past. He's brought back to Bear Island, under the grey dove skies and the land coated with snow that sparkles and crunches like sugar.

"What did you say?" Rickon asked, trying to make himself appear nothing like he felt. "I didn't hear you."

"I asked if you were hungry," Lyanna clarified, her thumb mindlessly tapping against the spear's middle. "The cook should've fixed something nice by now."

The taste of blood filled his mouth at the thought of food. This morning, he woke up panting and sweating, his body feeling feverish despite the absence of a fever. All he could taste was blood and raw meat, a kill that Shaggydog had made last night of a rabbit that left his home only to find himself in the jaws of a direwolf. "No," Rickon mumbled, absently shaking his head as his eyes looked over Lyanna's head and towards the direction of where the Wall stood. "Maybe later."

In the distance, Shaggydog howled despite there being no moon. It was a sad song, one that he had heard twice before. With his hand to his chest, Rickon swallowed the sob of what he knew to be the truth.

Another of their pack was gone.

JON

"Sorry to pull you away from your wife," said Tyrion as he poured himself a chalice of wine. Some things don't change, Jon noticed. Years ago when Jon first entered Castle Black with Tyrion in tow, all he wanted to do with sightsee, chat, and drink. He could hardly keep himself completely sober when beer was in the room. Jon made no comment about it, although he wanted to. "I have a surprise for her and I think it's something she should enjoy alone."

"A surprise?" Jon asked, his brows furrowing curiously. He may have trusted the Lannister, but nothing made him more nervous than someone whisking Aza away without telling him anything about it. Not only that, the Dothraki wandered about Dragonstone unsupervised and they already made it clear that he and Aza were not a welcomed sight.

"Wine?" Tyrion proffered an empty cup. Jon shook his head, not having the desire for Dornish red after hearing Tyrion's plan that had not been fully explained. "Very well, more for me. I suppose beer would've been the better option." He placed the cup back on the desk before picking up his chalice. "Her mother is here," he finally explained. "She was in Meereen and came with us to Westeros."

His eyes fell to the ground, and his mind was swept away with thought. More than anyone, Jon knew just how elated Aza must be to see her. He was almost annoyed by the fact that he couldn't have been there to see the reunion of mother and daughter. Tyrion was right, though. Aza deserved this time alone with the woman she had been missing for so long. Jon would have his chance to meet her, and he felt more or less nervous about it. Will she like him? Will she hate him? After all, his father killed Ser Arthur.

"Is she well?" Jon couldn't help but asked.

"She's the picture of health as far as I know. A bit sad, though, but aren't we all?" Tyrion said with a strange smile. "You feel the same as I do, don't you? You cannot help but to be envious. I certainly am, in a way. I thought I've learned to kill any feelings about my own mother but once it's brought up in this way… Well, there's no stopping them."

Jon certainly understood and even the boy within himself that he killed, echoed that familiar grief. Both he and Tyrion had never known their mothers, and the same could be even said for the Targaryen queen. "We had our fathers, so isn't it only fair?"

"You had your father," Tyrion made clear. "The same cannot be said for me. Yours kept you and called you his son because he wanted to and not because he was forced. We were outsiders, yes, but you were at least loved."

"I didn't mean to—" Jon tried to apologize, but the Lannister lord shook his head.

"You're not the malicious kind, I know." After a sip of his wine, Tyrion made his way towards the balcony. He might've needed the sea air, to breathe and forget. It had slipped Jon's mind that the last time Tyrion was in Westeros, he was wanted for the murder of both Joffrey and his lord father. Too much has happened for it all to be a crystal clear memory. "It's good to see this war for the throne finally letting families be together than keeping them apart or killing them. Gods only know enough blood has been shed, let's have some peace before more is spilled."

"It must be difficult for you to have your brother as your enemy." It was always made clear that Cersei never loved him and Tyrion had no love for her in return.

Tyrion's green eyes fell to this reflection in the wine. "Part of me hopes that I can talk him out of it, but I know nothing I say will deter him. He would do anything for Cersei… He would even start a war for her." He looked almost hesitant and even a little guilty, leaving the topic at hand with no further words. Jon furrowed his brows at this and his mind became addled with speculations of what it was that Tyrion refused to say. "While I may not be able to persuade my family, I'm sure if given the right words I can surely make you see how swearing to Daenerys is the right thing to do."

"I cannot be bothered with oaths," said Jon. "My mind is on the North, not in your petty wars. I have a child on the way, Tyrion. A child that might not live through the Winter if I don't do something about the threat closing in."

"You're very adamant about this." Did he still not believe him? What else could he do or say to make him understand. "I don't understand how uniting the kingdoms is not a better plan. If what you say is true, we need all seven of the kingdoms together."

"Because we have such little time." He wished there was a way to know when the Night King was coming. If he could measure the distance between that White Walkers and the Wall, he'd do anything to find out. "How long will it take? Once we finished fighting each other, the Night King and his army will have already made it to Westeros." That frightened him more. To be fighting in the South, leaving Sansa and Rickon with all of their people to fend for themselves in the North. "Winter is here and it will not wait. Not for you, not for Daenerys, and not for Cersei."

It was a sigh, certainly one of defeat that left Tyrion. "You Starks and your stubbornness." Again, Tyrion had likened him to a Stark. "I don't take you for a liar Jon Snow, but I cannot convince Daenerys to abandon the throne for a threat that is not already at her door."

"I've seen that for myself," Jon replied. "I will take the dragonglass and do what I must with or without your queen."

The Lannister nodded before washing down some of his wine. "Yes, the dragonglass. Have fun mining that out." Jon couldn't help but to slightly snort at Tyrion playful jab. "It's so dark in here, I can't imagine how darker it is below this place. It's dreadful."

"It isn't so bad," he said while looking around the place. "The darkness suits it well."

"Of course you of all people would say that." The Lannister lord rolled his eyes. "Winterfell, dark. Castle Black, dark. Everywhere you lay your head is dark."

Before Jon could utter another word, the sound of the door opening broke the lightheartedness that filled the room. It was a Dothraki, his golden eyes not once taking notice of him for the only person he had sought was Tyrion. "Khaleesi wants to speak to you," was all he said.

"I was expecting that," Tyrion mumbled to himself before finishing the wine from his chalice and placing it down on the table's surface. "Well, I believe it'll be some time before either one of us will be free. Me with my war and you with your dragonglass and pregnant wife."

All the King of the North could do was nod, his smile small but there nonetheless. "Try not to overthink," he jested.

"I don't know if you have suddenly forgotten, Jon Snow, but overthinking is what I'm good at." Tyrion had quickly crossed the threshold and followed behind the Dothraki warrior.

Seeing as there was no reason for him to stay, Jon left as well and walked down the opposite hall. Dragonstone proved to be a bit of a maze, but he surely found his way back to the chambers he would be staying in much faster than he thought. It hadn't helped that Dothraki and Unsullied alike thought themselves well-hidden and watched him with every turn he made. He knew Daenerys didn't exactly trust him but what could he hope to accomplish in doing anything reckless when he was well aware of her large army and three dragons?

But his footsteps slowly came to a halt as his pregnant wife's laughter bounced off the walls of Dragonstone's hall. He slowly turned around to see her taking idle steps with a tall and willowy woman that did not look as if she had aged a day over thirty. She had skin that was a deep and dark brown, favoring the people of the Summer Isles that Aza rarely but dreamily spoke about as if the very idea of them was like some fantasy that no person would never understand until they've been to the sandy beaches of the Isles themselves. Unlike Aza, her face was diamond-shaped and her eyes favored those of a cat with their irises such a dark brown that they appeared black.

Greatly could Jon pick up on the resemblance between the two, and show how much they favored each other that there was no doubt that they were both mother and daughter. Aza's smile was a true reflection of the woman beside her. He didn't mean to intrude them, at least not yet. As Tyrion suggested, they deserved a good amount of time alone together before he should properly meet her but it had been too late. Aza's mother had noticed him before he could properly slip away and leave the two of them be.

Had he imagined it or did she become statuesque once she properly took him in? The reaction nearly startled him, and now he was left unsure of what was the right way to greet her. He had not prepared himself well for this and he didn't want to come across foolish. With blatant uncertainty, Jon simply bowed his head towards her to show respect. "There you are!" Naturally, Aza's beaming face made his uneasiness dissipate. How could he feel nervous when she was practically glowing and so happy? Like a child would, she tugged her mother's arm to hurry the woman along. She finally moved, if only for the sake of not having her arm yanked out of its socket. "This my mother, Nahla Rhadas."

Nahla, yes. The name fit to memory and he luckily didn't almost make a mistake. She had an easier name than the other Summer Islanders he heard about, thank the gods. "Your Grace," she addressed him, much to his surprise, and she even curtsied. It was too late, his shaking hand did not make it known in time that she did not have to do such a thing. This was embarrassing, at least on his part. This woman was his good-mother now, there was never no need for her to address him as a king. Then again, Jon hardly liked to be addressed as a king by the likes of anyone after being given the North. "First and foremost, I should like to thank you for taking care of my daughter. I, more than anyone, know firsthand that she is the greatest handful anyone could ever possibly be made to put up with."

"Thank you, Mother." The first thing he felt was heat coming off his wife and her eyes looking as if she wanted to scream. It took everything, everything that Jon Snow could muster, to not laugh. "I always dreamed of the day when my mother is finally given the chance to embarrass me in front of my dear husband." Even as she rolled her eyes and scoffed, he could gather that she very much enjoyed it. That hint of a smile on her face despite the force of her frown was enough to prove her true feelings on the matter.

"I always suspected she was a rowdy and difficult child. I fear our own child might inherit those traits," Jon lightly teased in tandem, if only just to feel a fist hit his arm.

"Say another word and you'll be sleeping alone, Jon Snow." He knew better than to think she actually meant that. Had they been in Winterfell, he would've believed her but not here in Dragonstone with the Dothraki's watchful eyes, dragons soaring the skies, and after their meeting with Queen Daenerys was an utter disaster. She was too paranoid (as was he) to sleep alone after that.

"Are your feet feeling any better,?" Jon inquired, remembering that he barely had the chance to properly massage them due to Tyrion's interruption.

"No, not really." They must've been in pain if she was willing to be honest. "I need to sit down for a bit and I'll be alright."

"Go on," Nahla encouraged her. "I'd like to speak with my good-son for just a moment before I leave you two to get some rest."

Aza nodded, mostly of defeat, before giving him a smile and squeeze of his arm. She walked down the hall, somewhat sure of where to go since she didn't stumble or backstep. Living up to his name, appearing from nowhere in the same essence of apparitions, the direwolf swiftly trotted by, following at her heels with no sound at all. As soon as he no longer heard her footfalls, Jon Snow turned to face Nahla. She was taking a gander at him once again, her eyes studying his face as if she was searching for something. "She left all of her and none of him," she muttered, almost as if she hadn't wished her heard.

"I don't understand," said Jon. "Of whom are you speaking of?" Her words left him utterly curious of who she may have meant. He had not been likened to many people other than his father, though rarely.

Her expression softened at that. The way her smile dimmed made his heart feel like an ironband, cold and tight, wrapped itself around it. "I suppose he had not told you much about her," said Nahla. "Of your mother."

His heart faltered, painfully. Nahla had knew his mother? The boy in him, the boy he tried to kill and he thought died in Castle Black, suddenly felt as if he had been revived. The boy who longed to know the woman with kind eyes that he dreamt of years ago suddenly knew life once again. "You knew my mother?" The words felt heavy as they left him.

"She and I were close friends," said the island woman as her eyes fell to the floor for a moment. "I loved her so much." She then met his eyes again and he swore hers were brimming with sad tears. "I understand why your father might not have told you anything about her. It was a painful day when she left this world."

His shoulders slackened, though he already suspected that she may have died. Did she die giving him life? Could he ever carry the burden of knowing he killed her to come into this world? "I can remember the way she lit up when she first laid her eyes on you and how pained she was to know she could not stay with you."

Jon's heartache felt quiet, as if it wanted to cease all reason for him to function. In the same breath, it felt like crescendo of anger that would burst from the center of his chest in a vicious shout of anguish. No wonder his father did not want to speak of her. How could he when she must've died in so much agony. Did he even see her die? Did he see the light leave her eyes? Jon surely felt even more fond of her, wanting to believe that if given the chance that she would've never left him for a moment because she loved him that much. "Forgive me," Nahla apologized, "that wasn't kind of me to explain it in such a way."

"There's nothing to forgive," he had enough the strength to say. "You've told me more about her than I ever thought I would ever come to know." And yet he didn't know a name just yet to a face he would never get to see. Did he want to know her name at this very moment now that he knew what he knows now?

"I made a promise with Lord Stark that I would keep quiet about it. He felt that she deserved peace and I agreed with him, but I think she would never want you to live without knowing that you were loved so greatly by her."

"Thank you." The grief echoed and colored everything grey. Nahla's small hand reached out to him, her hand taking hold of his hand in a way that reminded him of how Lady Stark tried to comfort her children. He supposed that even though his real mother was gone, he had another to care for him. He never had that before and to know he was given the chance…

"You are my good-son now and you've loved and cherished Aza in ways that I always dreamed for her to know and have." It was not his intention to have the woman crying, and she had done so prettily and with a smile. Like Aza, she had this warmth about her that was comforting and protected you from the coldness of the world outside. Hers was more soothing than the passionate fire of his wife. The blood of Summer really did flow through them, much more than how people explained. "For the sake of my grandchild and for the sake of what the world has dealt both you and my daughter, I hope to hear a song where love gets to grow old."

BRAN

His soul often felt older than his body. Once he became the Three-Eyed Raven, he could not help but feel that he lived a thousand lifetimes. But as he gazed upon the gates of Winterfell with its familiar yet not so familiar wood and cleaner edged iron bolts far different than the old rusted ones, he felt he was ten again. The boy of ten that knew the castle greater than anyone else because he scaled every tower. The shape of Winterfell was something he could never forget. The Bran who could climb knew what color the stones in certain parts were, how many towers had been built, and how long it took to scale a wall or gate. The Bran who now flies knows who built the gates, who added another tower, and who lost one. He knew which Stark entered the gates with an army at their back and the ones who returned victorious. He knows the one who returned with three bodies wrapped in a grey cloak and a child he must claim as his own. Their faces, all long and serious, and lived centuries before him. There is nothing of Winterfell that is lost in time with him.

There's nothing to stare at anymore, he now realized. The gates have opened and the flashes of corpses he feared would show themselves again blurred into the moving and living people of the courtyard. Curious and strange they are; they are all so unfamiliar, he knows not at a one. But they're better than a weeping Beth and a headless Rodrik They're better than the bleeding Luwin beneath the red leaves and white branches of the weirwood tree. If he stared any longer at them then the living become a new strange kind of dead; rotted skin of white, sunken cheeks, and ice in their eyes of the coldest blue ever dreamed. Bran did not come to stare, to marvel that Winterfell was of life again… He came home to warn them.

Bran thought he imagined her at first. There's a girl with eyes as blue as the rivers of Riverrun standing before him now. She shared the shade of them with a woman of the trouts that doesn't breathe life. Her flesh is gone, she does not bleed anymore. "On my honor as a Tully, on my honor as a Stark, let him go or I will cut your wife's throat!" She's bones in the river now. The river still flows through her as it did in life as it does now in death. Visions and reality bleed together much too often for him. It's easy to see her so clearly because he knows he can through power, through dreams, through little hopes he begged to rid himself of. It's easy to see long hair of auburn and eyes full of tears.

A vision.

Is she a vision? Is she home? Is she here?

"Hello Sansa." Bran was scolded before for speaking to his visions. He wasn't supposed to, not ever. How can he not? His father, though not so much of his father but a younger and leaner man who fought and bled his way to Dorne, had heard him. His shout may have only been just a whisper on the wind to his father, but to Sansa maybe he could be louder. The cold of Winter dies for a moment. All he could feel is arms and heat of a living and breathing person warming him from the chill and of the ice that surrounds them. Sansa is not a vision; she lives and breathes, she's squeezing him as if her eyes and mind are fooling her, too.

Eventually, Sansa gave him time. Time to breathe the air of Winterfell again as Bran and not the apprentice of the Three-Eyed Raven. To see the halls of his home as a different person. Bran had been three people; a boy who wished to own the white cloak of knights, a boy who was broken and the lord of Winterfell, and now he's no longer a boy. He's a wolf, a winged one. He no longer runs, climbs or crawls, he flies. He's here and he's not, he isn't trapped or drowning anymore. But there are things to be said and so once they are ready, they meet in the godswood. A place that had once been his sanctuary; he didn't pray here as often as his father, Robb, and Jon did. He climbed the weirwood tree and slept. He climbed the weirwood tree and pondered. He climbed the weirwood tree just because he could.

"You're not my son," his father once said after a rare laugh escaped him. He fetched him down, Bran remembered. "You're a squirrel. So be it. If you must climb, then climb, but try not to let your mother see you."

Sansa only knows how to be pretty, even when she is not trying to impress anyone. She's only sitting with her knees tucked to her chest, much like a child than the woman she is now. And yet, snowflakes drift down and catch in her hair. Her tears are gone, she's happy and her eyes are full of him but they still gloss. It's awkward, really. She keeps shifting and her eyes look away, making it much too obvious how unsure she is of what to do or say. Her smile is of someone who hasn't seen their friend in a long time and wants to know all that transpired since they saw each other last.

"I've missed you," Sansa had spoken first. It's good that she did, for no words properly come to mind for him yet. "I thought you were dead…" Burnt. Burnt were the children from the farm. Burnt to be him and Rickon. Burnt to make a kraken appear strong. "I wish Jon were here," she said rather wistfully.

"Yes," Bran agreed in a hushed voice. He wished Jon were here, too. "I wish I could be here when you woke up." Now he's awake, but he's no longer the boy Jon wanted to see. It's safer to think of Jon, still alive and fighting. His brother, even if he isn't, at least not truly. Arya's trail goes cold at times and he sees faces of people he doesn't know when she was supposed to be there. And Rickon? Bran feels nothing but guilt towards him. His little brother must think he abandoned him, just as he thought Robb did. They were supposed to come back but they didn't. Bran finally did but it took so long.

"Yes, I'd like to see him." Did he say that too strangely? She seems confused, not enough to question him. Was it because he was so eager? "I need to speak to him." It's true, he does. He must tell Jon of father's lie; the truth couldn't be kept in the tower of a grieving and battleworn brother and a frightened girl too young to be a mother in a room that smelled of blood and roses.

"You're the Lord of Winterfell," she suddenly brought up. Her smile sweet yet confusing. "The rightful heir of both father and Robb."

"Do something! I'll do anything, please! No, please stop it!" His own voice echoed inside his head. He was the Lord of Winterfell once, Bran remembered.

"Hush now, child." Ser Rodrik's gaze… It was so full of calm as if there was not a sword about to be brought down on him. It was not in the same manner of when his lord father took that young Watchmen's head, either. It was different, cold and cruel. There was no justice to be given. No real reason. "I'm off to see your father."

"You said no harm would come!" Bran's voice echoed again. "You said no harm would come!" A lord's duty was to protect his people, that's what their father always taught them. And who did Bran protect? Everyone who served him had died. "Hold the door! Hold the door!" It isn't the cold wind that breezes by that makes him shiver. It's the memory, always the memory. Memories of Hodor, of Jojen, of Leaf, of Summer… He desperately tried not to think of his direwolf. He lost him, and could not take his bones to bury him next to Lady. All he had left was Meera, and he… He might lose her, too. She can't stay. He will see to that, that she leaves and never comes back. She is no longer obligated to help him or be at his side.

Sansa, however, isn't so easily swayed. "Of course you can be." There's a firmness to her voice. She speaks as an older sister does when encouraging their brother. "Just because your legs—"

"It's not that," Bran interrupted her, wishing his throat wouldn't tighten. "I… I can't be lord of anything." The boy, the frightened one… Bran kept him at bay, for now. "I'm the Three-Eyed Raven now."

"I don't know what that means," Sansa said, tilting her said to show her confusion. She's bidding him to tell her. She has never seen the bird in her dreams.

"I don't know if I can explain... " How can he explain it? It's difficult, but she looks so eager to know and she's still truly happy to see him. Will that happiness die if she knew what he has done? Sansa had always loved songs about heroes. She would let loose girlish sighs over tales of the good defeating the evil. Bran always liked the scary stories, of demons in the dark, and he—Isn't he now just as scary and dark as those stories? The world is now threatened by demons in the dark.

"Try," she begged. "Please, for me?"

His heart sings to spare her. How many harsh truths should Sansa suffer from? They were always harsher than she ever deserved, but she knows Jon's death and revival. She knows things are not always bright and airy, that brave heroes die or must do things that aren't neither brave and heroic. "I know things," Bran settled to say. "I know… I know everything. I can see it all—the past, the present; things far, things near. Everything that's happening right now. It's all pieces, fragments. I need to learn to see better. When the Long Night comes again I need to be ready."

"You've seen them, haven't you? Like Jon, like…" she paused and then shook her head. "You know what's coming…" It tries to take him again. The vision of a man who has lived for thousands of years. A man who was a man until he wasn't anymore. He leads corpses by the miles. They can stretch the entire horizon. "Bran?" It's her again. She brings him back for a second time. "I still don't understand how you know these things."

"Magic," Bran clarified, pretending that he was not swept away. "Like what we have with the wolves but deeper, older, stronger."

"What we have with the wolves?" That's right. Lady died before Sansa could harness it or could understand it. Lady died, and Sansa lived on without her. Summer is dead, too. He is forced to do the same. Their shared pain gives him strength anew.

"I could wear Summer's skin," he explained. "Close my eyes and run in his body. Hunt, eat, everything. Ravens too, among other things. I think Jon can with Ghost."

He hadn't meant to. He pained her… He can tell with the way Sansa quickly averted her attention elsewhere. Her eyes searched out over the godswood to the very resting place of Lady's bones. "I never dreamed I was Lady," she said before breathing out a soft sigh. "Sometimes I dreamed she was protecting me, though." Her smile, still laced with pain, has hope in it now. But what she doesn't realize is that her dreams are not one in the same as his and Jon's capabilities. He won't tell her that. The distance between them is already so strange that he can't think to make it greater. Sansa lost Lady, but the fight in her didn't die with her direwolf.

"I went north," Bran said in efforts to move past Lady and Summer, "to learn to control it better. I learned from the Three-Eyed Raven."

"I thought you said you were the Three-Eyed Raven?" He didn't explain it well, and he can't fault her from catching on.

"I am." Sadness crept again and wrapped itself around him. "He died. So I am now." How could Bran forget that Brynden was another that died because of him.

"You were his heir?" Sansa tried to make sense of it with her question.

All Bran could think was that he was an heir before. He was Robb's heir. Is he still? Can he be? Sansa believed so. "I suppose." It's not a definite answer. "I don't know who else could have been." Jojen didn't think he could ever be and now they would never really know because he's gone. Only he, another greenseer, had understood.

"I should write to Rickon," said Sansa. "He'll be so happy to know you're here."

Bran said nothing, not open to speak of his doubts. He wants to believe Rickon will forgive him for leaving, and love him again.

AZA

In the horizon where blue meets blue, Aza couldn't help but think back on what her mother said about her father. "So long as the keeper of that future still lives and breathes, his death will not have been in vain." She thought about it all night and then all morning, and still she couldn't make any sense of it. Who could be the keeper of the future? Was there someone else at the Tower of Joy? If so, had they escaped before Ned Stark had shown up and that's why there was no word spoken of them? If her father died to protect someone then who could possibly be so important that his life could be forfeited? Whoever they were, her mother also wanted to protect them and it worried Aza. Being forced to hold such secrecy never turned out to be a good thing, that was one thing she absolutely sure of.

Before she gave herself a headache, she vaulted the thoughts away to breathe in the scent of seafoam from the frigid waters of the Narrow sea since this side of the island did not face Blackwater bay. The illusion of a quiet beach was shattered by the music of working Wildlings and Northmen alike behind her as they mined, drank, talked and ate. She wished she could help them, but the nagging of Jon Snow of how dangerous it was and how "precious" of a state she was in made her want to vomit and scream. As much as she enjoyed his doting, she was growing tired of it rather quickly. She fought in a battle with a child in her belly, unbeknownst to her but it did not change that she still held her weight. And while Aza understood the dangers, she did not enjoy being seen as some fragile woman that might shatter just from digging out a piece of obsidian.

The sooner you're out of me, the better. She couldn't help to think towards the child in her womb that moved so restlessly now. What was the cause of their excitement? She could hardly guess. Did they enjoy the sea as she does or were they aware she blamed them for her rather boring and swollen-footed days that she was made to suffer through? Well, she never suffered at sup, that's for sure. They had a Dornish taste when it came to her cravings; stuffed fiery peppers and roasted lamb with honey with a drink of Lemonsweet. At least they shared her joy of things with food because she surely would cry if she was forced eat another bland piece of pie or the Maester's suggested stew with some watered-down wine for another four months.

Stretching her arms above her head, Aza felt good enough to return to back to the duties she gave herself. Because she could not mine, she settled for making sure the men had enough to drink and fingerfoods to fuel them whenever their bodies were in need of some well-deserved rest. It gave her something to do and a chance to speak with each and every one of them. She found herself coming to enjoy it and showed her effort of knowing the people she was protecting not only as a warrior of her own right, but because she was their queen. The young and old men alike felt bashful at first with having their queen serve them but soon enough, she began to see that her care and her presence was a small comfort to them since she didn't present herself as someone much too important to not help in the little ways.

Curious of what was getting done so far, Aza made her way towards the opening of the cave beneath the castle. Unbothered of the sands dirtying the bottom of her dress, she didn't bother to hike her skirts but so much and let them somewhat drag. By the time she could take a peek, she jumped at the feeling of heat that suddenly came so close. Jon stepped back after nearly colliding with her, brazier swinging from his grasp. "I was just about to look for you," he said, doing his best to act as if she did not get the jump on him. Aza suppressed her laugh and pretended she had not noticed as he took her hand in his. "I found something."

He didn't give her a chance to ask what it was. She said nothing, brows raised as he tightened his hold of her hand and used the brazier to light their way in the darkness. Above them and across the walls, dragonglass sparkled due to the light of the fire. For a moment, Aza thought it beautiful with the way they were so halfway deeply embedded for the look of how they decorated the cave reminded her of icicles and stalactites. As they entered deeper to what appeared to be a chamber, he brought the brazier closer to the walls to reveal what looked to be stone-carved murals. "Drawings?" was her immediate response.

"Murals," he corrected her. "The Children of the Forest must have made these."

It was Samwell that taught her about the Children of the Forest, with a little bit of input from Jon about the stories he grew up with about them. When they tried to research about the Long Night and the White Walkers in Castle Black's library, Aza was left befuddled about these supposed creatures that used to walk upon the earth of Westeros. Little things as small as a child with ears that could pick up on the sounds that no man can and eyes that could see so clearly in the dark. It saddened her to know they were gone, mostly because these lands were their home and man had came and took all that they had and knew.

"Thousands of years ago, the Children of the Forest even lived this far south." She wondered what they used to make these murals. Stones dipped with a paste that could color? Had they been so advanced that they possessed the abilities to make paints? And were there any more murals that they left behind that had not been discovered yet?

"They were of the Dawn Age," said Jon as he led her closer to what appeared to be First Men and then a strikingly painted White Walker. It was outlined in white, lines made to show the ribcages of their thinly fleshed bodies. Though the more important feature were the eyes, deep and dark and bluer than blue. The Children made sure to never forget that detail and she wondered if their eyes ever haunted their dreams as they haunted hers, Jon, and Samwell's. "Nearly everything from the days of dawn are gone. The giants, the great lions of the western hills, the unicorns…"

It almost feels like retribution. For all that men have slain and made cease to exist, they were now threatened by an even darker and formidable force that would do the same to them. "This might be the last thing we have left to convince Daenerys that the White Walkers are real." Aza had thought he might've given up the idea of persuading the Targaryen queen. Jon was never one to beg but the dragons. It was the dragons they needed and it was the hopeful wish of dragonfire raining down on the White Walkers and Wights alike so that could not lose.

"And what if she refuses again?" Her eyes looked at him from their corners. Jon continued to look at the mural and shrugged his shoulders.

"We were going to deal with them before we knew of the dragons." There was nothing but confidence in his voice, and it reflected in his eyes as he turned to look at her. "We're no strangers to having the odds stacked against us."

Aza snorted despite having agreed with him. What would make this time any different? How many times did they nearly lose their lives? Had their back against the wall and still fought with everything they had? Death even took Jon Snow, and he came back from it. The world was always against them, and yet here they stood. "Jon Snow, do you have no fear?" she asked teasingly. "Or have you grown so full of yourself?"

"I have some fears." The smile on his face hadn't wavered. "Your appetite for one."

"As if it's my fault your child could eat the entire food storage." She playfully pushed him and he exaggerated the force, stumbling back until his back was against the wall. She stalked towards him then, closing the distance between them until she could grab the leathers of his brigandine. "I am, however, hungry for something else."

With a wolfish grin, Jon had leaned forward with a kiss that lacked tenderness. It was rough, nothing at all playful as they just were moments ago. Unfortunately, they quickly broke apart due to the sound of a rather awkward clearing of someone's throat. The two of them turned to look right only to find Daenerys Targaryen, torch in hand, with Missandei at her side and a fist against her lips. Although she was not embarrassed about being affectionate with her husband, the two of them had always did well not to be caught because they were still trying to unlearn being so secretive after hiding their love for one another so long in Castle Black. It almost felt like a brother of the Watch had found them and their bones were stiff with stupid and unnecessary fear.

"I had hoped to speak with you," Daenerys had said to Aza, surprisingly. Her brows bowed to show her confusion and she had looked at Jon, who seemed to encourage it. Aza had been meaning to talk with Daenerys alone to thank her for freeing her mother but her pride had caused the delay. It was a good time as any do so and speak of the mural behind them.

"As I with you," Aza found the words after untangling her thoughts. "But first, there's something you need to see." She stepped back, her hand motioning for the Targaryen to move forward. Daenerys stepped closer, her torch light and Jon's brazier revealing the entirety of the murals the Children of the Forest made.

"The Children of the Forest made these," Jon informed her.

"When?" Daenerys asked, likely not all too familiar with them.

"We don't know," Aza answered. "Most likely during the Age of Heroes."

Daenerys lifted her hand, fingertips brushing against the decorated wall with fascination. "I'm not familiar with the Age of Heroes, it was so much long before my ancestors came to Westeros."

"It was the time when the Children of the Forest and First Men made a pact of peace." Aza listened, not all that knowledgeable about it herself.

"Why after so much fighting?" asked the Dragon Queen. It was then she noticed that the Children of the Forest and First Men stood alongside each other against the Night King and his army. "They fought together against their common enemy. Despite their differences, despite their suspicious, together. We need to do the same if we're going to survive."

"Because the enemy is real," Jon further cemented. "It's always been real."

A look of thought swept over Daenerys face. "And you say you can't defeat them without my armies and my dragons?"

"If we could, we wouldn't bother you." And that was the honest truth of it all. "If this doesn't convince you…" Aza did not like the idea of begging, but her priority was her child and her family. If she had to…

"I will fight for you," declared Daenerys. "I will fight for the North… when you bend the knee."

How much more frustrating could she be? Did seven whole kingdom mean that much more than peril? Did her absolute power mean more to her than beings made of death? "Leave us." It wasn't a suggestion and she did not ask. It was an order, and she meant for it to be done.

Her eyes did not stray from Daenerys, who refused to look away in the same stubbornness. From her peripherals, Jon silently sent her a nod while Missandei remained troubled. She was not her subject, so Aza understood that the only orders she followed were Daenerys, her queen. Calmly, Daenerys raised her small and freehand to signal for Missandei to leave. Without another word, the Naath adviser bowed her head and turned to leave the cave with Jon following a few steps behind.

In the semi-darkness, where shadows played with the curve of their faces and made the dragonglass above them shine, there stood a dragon and a star.

It was meant to be one step and yet they became several. Aza made sure that they were face-to-face, even if the woman of blood and fire was a few inches taller. "Is that all you care about?" Aza more or less was asking. In truth, she was interrogating. "Your rights? What about your duty, Daenerys Targaryen?" They remained staring eye-to-eye and it was right here that Aza could see confusion and even traces of hurt in the depths of violet eyes. "It's the throne and then the kingdom to you? It should be the kingdom and then the throne."

Every single person that vied for that gods-awful chair lost their mind or their heart, sometimes even both. It drove every single person away of who they once were. Like the swords that had been melted down to create that seat of power, it was a double-edged sword that killed both ruler and subject. "I had wanted things to be different between you and I," Daenerys had said, much to Aza's surprise. "Your father and my brother were once great friends and I thought you and I could be, too."

The words stung, deeply and suddenly. And she said those painful words so honestly, of that Aza could feel and see. Her heart may have faltered, but Aza wouldn't let it show. "I am not Arthur," she told her plainly. "Just as you are not Rhaegar." The words felt heavy, somehow. And once they left her, she felt… sad.

Because she didn't enjoy the sudden feelings that erupted in her chest, Aza walked around the Dragon Queen and towards the exit of the cave and to the beach. The smell of the sea didn't lift her mood either and there were no time to mull it all over. There were things she still had to do.

ARYA

These were not the bedchambers that Arya remembered. Winterfell was home and there was an echo the familiar warmth that only these grey and granite walls could give her, but it wasn't the same. She dreamt of it plenty, of entering these rooms and halls again, and yet everything felt like a stranger or a shadow of their former selves. Even as she stood in the bedchambers that once belonged to her mother and father, she could not summon the images of her smaller self running into this room and climbing into their bed to snuggle between them beneath the furs. She can't picture her father's heavy sigh or her mother's chuckle as she begged to stay here because Sansa was driving her mad. Nothing of this room felt like it belonged here, and now everything belonged to Sansa. Oddly enough, these chambers felt empty of her sister, too. Sansa used to decorate their room often with a touch of things she loved when they were younger but it was obvious she did not do the same here.

But Sansa is not the same just like Arya is not. She's taller and skinnier, and paler than she could recall. The screaming songbird she left at the Sept of Baelor with their father's head was gone, and so was the Arya that died there with him. "You took their bedchambers," she found herself saying out loud. It was supposed to be just a thought and yet she mistakenly gave it life. She was always quite frank about things, and now such a habit had only grown worse and colder.

"I didn't want to," Sansa said with a frown. "Jon made me since I'm the Lady of Winterfell now."

"I doubt you put that much of a fight." Although it was playfully said, Arya knew not of whether Sansa could read her good intentions.

The chambers are messier than she thought it would be, considering Sansa always like their room so neat. She could remember being screamed at about how much of a slob she was and her dresses would be kicked across the room if they didn't trip Sansa first. The candles are melted down almost to nothing on their perches, books as well as gowns are strewn here and there. There are even two empty cups on the bedside, much to her surprise.

"You had company?" Arya asked with an arched eyebrow, curious that Sansa would ever give permission of someone in her chambers alone. She could not stop herself from being curious, especially when the only person Sansa was only so close to was gone. Jeyne Poole, Arya remembered.

"No, never." Sansa took her time about answering despite it being the truth. "No one is allowed in if I'm not present." Despite how unladylike her chambers currently were, there was still some sense of organization about it. None of it felt wild and random, it seemed merely accidental or a thought caught short because of another.

Crossing the threshold, Arya made her way towards the window, the very same one her father often would lose himself when looking out of it. From here, you can see the entirety of the courtyard as if all of Winterfell was laid out for you to see. Her body can't help but shift into the stance he would stand in, with his arms crossed and his expression forlorn. Arya tried to capture pieces of him, from the way she dressed and stood. From the way she tied her hair…

"How is he?" Arya found herself saying despite her mind being elsewhere. "Is he still grim as always?"

"In a way," was her sister's quick reply. Sansa had easily known of who Arya spoke of without having to take a second to ponder. "He's much warmer and he smiles more. If anyone is to be thanked for that, it should be Aza."

"Aza?" Arya echoed. The name was foreign; more foreign than the Braavosi she can fluently speak. More foreign than the high and low Valyrian, the Lysene tongues that she knows as well.

"His wife," answered Sansa. "He's married now. You missed the wedding by a few months, I'm afraid."

That was one thing she had not foreseen. Her brother, not only a king, but married? Her mind quickly tried to conjure up the kind of woman he finally allowed to seep into his skin. He always kept everyone outside their family at an arm's length, so was this woman forced upon him or did he finally open up his heart? Arya had always felt there was too much room in it. "What is she like?" She had a good-sister before, one that she had never gotten the chance to meet. It was too late, her blood already spilled in the Great Halls of the Twins. That very same woman was going to give her a niece or nephew, but Arya also avenged her and the unborn child with the blood of the Freys.

"I hardly know the words to describe her." Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She supposed people had once thought the same of her when she was young. "She reminded me of you in some ways. She fancies swords and breeches, and she abhors politics. She's honest but kind, and I… I trust her."

Trust. Sansa had said it as if it was the most difficult thing in the world to give and receive, and for once Arya completely understood. She, herself, could hardly hold any for her own sister despite how desperately she wanted to. Her eyes keep watching Sansa's every move, absorbing every action and tick searing into her memory. It's a war within herself to not hold a piece of Sansa in her head this way, but she's losing this war when the battle has only started when they reunited in the crypts. Her sister is a stranger now, and Arya could not simply forget all she knows to trust strangers again.

"That's good." The words spilled out, thankfully. "Jon needs someone like that." And it's true. Jon needed to stop howling at the silver moon, and look to the stars instead. Stars gave guidance and he needs them to lead him out of the darkness that always had their claws flesh deep in him.

It takes a minute, but eventually Arya slip her hand into her tunic and pulled out a small bundle of something wrapped in several handkerchiefs. "I have something for you," she announced to Sansa, her hands feeling as if they might shake as she stepped over to the bed to settle the bundle atop of the furs.

Perplexed, Sansa eyed it for a moment before her blue eyes curiously look up at her. "What is it?"

"It's…" She thinks for a moment and then knew exactly was to say. "A peace offering, for all the times I called you an idiot. For the sheep dung in your bed, and all those other things."

"Is it poisoned?" teased Sansa, her hands picking up the bundle with care.

"Don't make me take it back." She smiled, her hands untying the knot and opening the bundle carefully. A wave of surprise comes first before her eyes close halfway, and Arya can see sadness. Her pale and slender fingers reach for one, picking up the gift that Arya had Hot Pie make for her.

"Lemoncakes," she nearly whispered.

"A thousand years ago, I knew a girl that loved lemoncakes." Just the taste and smell of lemons in Braavos made the memory of Sansa come to the forefront of Arya's mind. When she was the Blind Girl, she had to remember that she had no name.

"A lot has changed." Her sister observed the small treat with a smile before lifting to her mouth, ever dainty with her small bites. Then a bigger bite. Before Arya could blink, Sansa shoved the whole thing into her mouth until her rosy cheeks were almost bursting. Stunned from head-to-toe, Arya continued to look on. "But lemoncakes are still my favourite," she said with her mouth so full.

Laughter took them. It wracked their bodies and made them curl, and Arya shoved a cake in her mouth, too. Like messy children, they spilled crumbs all over the furs on Sansa's bed, their mind taken back to warmer days as they ached with happiness despite the snow that still falls outside. Laughter remained until they were absolutely winded and flat on their backs, eyes swirling with joy and grief.

It wasn't made to last. There may be barely a foot between them in this moment but the distance of a world has always been known to them. Between them is the earth, their father likened them to the sun and moon; two entirely polarized figures. Sansa reigns the day and Arya reigns the night. In this quiet that seemed unreal, Sansa moved a hand to cover over her own until she finds the strength to lace their fingers together between them.

For once, Sansa and Arya could meet and it comes at the time and cost of an eclipse.

A/N: I bet you're guys are wondering why it took me FOREVER to update. Aside from my extremely busy life as of late, my laptop charger dying, and I literally could not decide what POVs I wanted to do. Like, there were so many to choose. So many I had inspiration for and these ended up being the final cut. So I hope all of you like them because it wasn't my intention to take this long. This became a very emotional chapter out of nowhere? I hope you all enjoyed it.

As you can see, I gave Bran some depth and kind of did my own rewrite/fix-it bit. I know of lot of people think he's acting like an android, but its actually somewhat book canon? Bran is trying very, very hard to suppress all his emotions and you can't see that through the show, you can only read all about it in the books because you're getting his mental perspective of it all. But I honestly still think he blames himself for Rickon's death in the show, so I think its not that ooc as some people might think. So I kinda edge off his coldness by a margin.

Out of all the things I look forward to eventually writing, it's actually Jaime and Aza having a conversation. Jaime was literally Arthur Dayne's biggest fanboy (the man made him a knight after all and he wanted to be just like him), so to meet his daughter? Whew, that dialogue is going to be fun. Should I write it through a Jaime POV?

Also, I didn't really understand the anger/outrage over Dany burning Randyll Tarly and Dickon? I mean this is war. People die in wars, especially people who outright plan to oppose you at any given time and have said so. And how she went about it isn't even all that bad? It somewhat doesn't even make sense, really. Like, she was going to let him keep everything; lands, titles, everything that Cersei promised to give him. The only thing Dany wanted was for him to serve her, to be her loyal subject, as any ruler would demand if they're going about things peacefully. He refused the most merciless thing she could ever offer. If she arrested him, as she said, anyone that stubbornly opposed her would want to be arrested as well. So what is she supposed to do? "Okay, I'll allow you your freedom so that you can continue to fight alongside my enemy against me" or just fill the dungeons up with a bunch of unloyal people?

Not only that, Randyll turned on his own liege lord's family, the Tyrells, and Cersei took their castle and decimated their entire family. That is literally the most terrifyingly untrustworthy things that the both of them committed. I mean, at any given point, Randyll could do the same thing to Dany while Cersei could do the same thing to Randyll, if she felt like it. Not to mention, Jaime practically went on this weird rant that the Dothraki are gonna rape and pillage the South/Reach/Westeros. This is even funnier considering Tywin, who Cersei is trying her hardest to emulate, let Vargo Hoat and the Mountain along with many of his soldiers rape and pillage the Riverlands out of retaliation for Robb holding Jaime prisoner. What are the Dothraki doing that the Lannisters did not already condone? And if the Dothraki were going to rape and pillage with no holds barred, wouldn't they have done so already?

But honestly, Randyll was a shitty-ass person and treated Samwell horribly, and I mean horribly all his life. So I'm glad he's dead. He chose it and he deserved it. Plus that was Dany's moment to tell her enemies "If you fuck with me, this awaits you". I just... wanted to rant about that. I'm not too much a big fan of the way Dany's decisions were played out as well as this whole Mad King comparison. Honestly everyone on the show is doing a terrible job of being a proper ruler (except Sansa, she's like the only person who knows what the hell she's doing), but I guess this is the learning process for all of them? I don't know.

Last but not least, maybe it was wishful thinking on my part for hoping Jon's name to be either Jahaerys or Aemon. Rhaegar was trying to recreate Aegon and his sisters, Rhaenys and Visenya. He probably didn't expect for Jon to be a boy in the first place, if you think about it. He likely would've chosen a male version of Visenya's name if that were the case (wouldn't it be crazy if it was Viserion like Dany's dragon since Viserys was already alive and kicking), but I had hoped that because Ned chose Jon that it would be Jaehaerys, like J the Councillator; the prominent believer of this prophecy.. I guess I'll have to wait for what GRRM decides because I don't think Jon's name will be Aegon in the books unless Lyanna was obsessed with the prophecy as Rhaegar was and upon hearing that Elia's Aegon died that was how she would be able continue the prophecy. Regardless, I will forever love the fact that Ned named Jon after Jon Arryn. Like, the symbolism in that alone makes me want to cry. Jon wasn't his son but he raised and loved him as his own, and honored the man who wasn't his father by blood but raised him and loved him all the same. And it's crazy because Jon A protected Ned from the Mad King and Ned protected Jon from Robert. It just brings me to tears every time. Like, the name holds so much weight.

P.S., lol at this show for throwing away the MAJOR "the dragon must have three heads" that is heavily foreshadowed in the books by Rhaegar of all people. Unless they retcon another dragon, I guess the show is saying that part of the prophecy just ain't happening. Because I always believed that one of Dany's dragons were going to die and the ice dragon was still going to happen, but I was a firm believer that Tyrion, Jon, and Dany were going to be the three propheceized dragonriders but I guess the books will do it justice.

P.S.S. I'm not big on time-travel fics, but wouldn't a fic of an OC from like modern-day Westeros time-traveling centuries back into the past be a pretty good fic? I'm not making it. I can't handle another story until at least ONE of these three are done, but I would be up to read that. Just randomly throwing that out there. I don't own this idea but if anyone who read my story and wants to make it, a shoutout would be nice. Not expected, but nice.

Vulcran Blackfyre: True, but I'm speaking on the idea that this was not a decision she made entirely on her own. I'd like to believe there's a reason of why she chose that name and yeah, he's completely dead... in the show.

BookwormStrawberry: Well, there's a LOT to consider. I mean, while the show played upon the "natural" ( and I quote this because their romance was rushed as hell ) attraction of two single people, I think if Dany did pursue him in this fic... There would be a reason. c: That's all I can say. Well, I could take a break or not. ( I already took one lmao ) but there's some things I intend to do entirely on my own. Like, I already know what I want for Jon's Snow parents reveal and I know the show isn't going to do it how I want it.

Seal-Sama: LOL But this has to be canon, right? I mean did he NOT consider in show-canon that Ygritte could've gotten pregnant? I think being a slow learner is a Stark thing. c: I'm sorry you had to wait for more.

Anelle25: I love writing Nahla but I also hate it. As you can see, I could write the whole two years of the Tower of Joy by impulse because I get too into writing her. But this reunion was a long time coming. Somebody has to have their mom! But I hope I answered your question about Dany and Aza.

AugustRrush: Oooh, you changed your name! I hope you like the update.

Amelia: Ghost was unfortunately the victim of the budget. The dragons took all the money and screentime, but this is a fanfic. There's no budget here. He had, like, one cameo and I was starving because of it. I'm all about that heartwarming stuff. I love that family fluff, and this chapter truly brings that out.

PadfootCc: Ahhhhhhh, thank you! It's so hard to try to keep everyone canon, so to hear things like that makes me really happy.

xenocanaan: I love Edric so much, and Aza has been starved of a family ( that's not Jon's ) so she deserves it. Direwolves or die!

Serenity10116: Mama's story will be told, but not all at once because goddamnit I have so much planned. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I basically fulfilled all your wishes unintentionally. Lmao.

Guest 1: Yaaaaaaaaaas

Says-the-Slytherin: I finally get to write it after planning it for so long. Who knew how plausible it could be that Dany would have the Dothraki conquer their fear of the sea and take them all with her to Westeros. At least I wasn't playing with an extreme AU there. (I wish they could be half-siblings, but that would mean Grey worm is older and was randomly missing during her childhood. If only the show made him younger... Wait, the show hasn't even given him an age but he's definitely older than Aza at least by 1-3 years). He was basically that guy in the corner screaming the end is near and I don't know how Dany and Tyrion was just gonna be all "that guy is definitely telling the truth here." When I read the distance between the North and Dragonstone... believe you me, I was like "? so they just winged this, huh?" fkjasjfsajkdjad the cgi budget. I'm crying because you're absolutely right, but the danger. The polar bear was daaaaaangerous. Let's pretend Jon is in real peril when he's already a walking jesus and literally nobody can fight this war without him. Why? Because for the 100th time, you have to be reminded that he's a badass. On her behalf, lmaoooo. I'm cackling. You truly know my girl so well. / wipes tear )

LadyDV011: Good woah or did I throw you a curveball woah?!

Princesss of Mirkwood: I can't say, but it could be very good or very bad. At least not as bad as in the show.

deepcracks: It was hell for you, too. You'd thought we left all the hell when Ramsay died but nope! Thank you so much and ahhhh, I'm so happy to hear/read that.

BloodyBlondeVamp: Don't apologize! I'm glad you have a whole lot to share with me! Oh yes, definitely. They do get abandoned and I never get my complete Jon Snow fix. I won't disappoint you all with that! I hope you found some inspiration, though! Loooooooool. The show is far too mean, they would probably only do that once! But if there was any live-action with Aza, I just imagine her with the grinch smile everytime they talk about girls. I got you at least once, so I'm proud of that. Most people did the reverse! Saw DaddyDayne reveal but not a mom reunion. It pains me to think that they could've grown up as friends and Jon Snow is a prince and Aza is trying her hardest to be a knight just like her father and probably join the kingsguard. That's an AU I would love to write. Totally, the incest thing didn't surprise me either because of those very same reasons and because the books are obviously leading up to Jon/Dany. The dreams, the parallels, and everything is all there. I expected it, but I don't like how the show handled it. True, but with the way Dany and Jon are so closely related that their aunt/nephew and cousins... some major deformities are likely in their future, but I think we won't be seeing anymore of Targaryen incest relationships after Dany and Jon. They'll be lucky to have one kid because if this ending is going to be bittersweet like GRRM said, that's the end of that. It's budget as well as the fact that they weren't creative enough to make a cohesive story with no more source materials since there's no Winds of Winter. They literally ruined Dorne, made it the Ramsay show for a while, ruined Stannis, rushed and butchered Arya's storyline, killed Rickon, rushed Bran's storyline, there's no Aegon or JonCon, made Jaime a one-note character when I love how he's unconditioning himself of Cersei, and dramatically changed Sansa's. This is the fault of doing everything that they did since S4 and it's backfiring like hell because now they have nothing to really add to the plot. I hope you enjoyed this update, though! Don't be sorry, again! I enjoyed reading your review.

Kate Langdon: You have all suffered enough. Get those fam feels. jasfajfdashd "she was on fire (not lit tho)" I'm dying. I honestly don't like how this show is dealing with the Elia/Rhaegar/Lyanna triangle. I mean, how can Rhaegar get a divorce from a wife who was loyal, had his children, and did nothing wrong while Baelor I literally did not want to marry his sisters, wanted a divorce, and locked his sisters in the Maidenvault because he didn't want to lust after them. Every other Targaryen who got married under the Seven and wanted a legit divorce were denied but Rhaegar somehow...gets to divorce his wife who did nothing wrong for a girl they literally call a "woman-child/child-woman". I honestly thought Rhaegar and Lyanna married before the Old Gods because that would explain the dual marriage if Jon HAD to be trueborn. But nope... the sense in that is gone. She steals Elia's man and the name of her son, and it just makes her look sooooo bad when you want to feel for because a.) she hated cheating-ass Robert and b.) she was 14-16. You and I share the very same thoughts but this show does not care. Lmao. Oooooooh that was a sick burn, and a true one! That was honestly so dumb. I was s hocked as hell that he would do something so stupid.
- I am not using Aegon. No way in hell. I have yet to decide between Aemon and Jaehaerys, tho.
- Well, no because it won't work. Lmao. There's no point, so I guess Cersei gets what she wants in him/the North not interfering.
- Gendry Bolt. I'm sceaming. Because I'm a firm believer in Rhaegar's, the dragon must have three heads, that whole plot is going to go differently. Sam and his horse are literally faster than Dany's dragons. This is canon. LOL.
- I'm sorry. Varys is a mermaid. I tried to keep this a secret, but he's half dolphin.

snowflake2410: I can assure you, right now, that Aza is not bending any knee. That would be so ooc, even for her. Oh, of course. Dany is very maternal, I just couldn't see her not caring at all. She's a mother three times over. I've hinted about the Daynes in that conversation, so I unexpectedly answered that. I can't answer any of that since that'll be spoiling, so you just have to see. c: I always wanted to be a fairy.

alia00: Thank you! c:

1MoreInMe1: Ahhhhhh, I'm so happy that you're happy for Aza!

Guest 2.0: I literally have no idea, to be honest! I think after seeing Tessa Thompson in Thor's Ragnarok, I can totally see it.

Bella-swan11: Your perception is so on point.

Romeosami7: Because too much can go wrong! Pregnancy is a lot harder than you think, especially in these times. You just don't want to throw it out there when there's so much danger!

pikapyon: It is finally known. I'm just a sucker for fated-romances. A Dayne and Targaryen together for a third time. c; She deserves a break! Badasses get tired, too. You can count on me to keep our J-Snow on the right track!

Kelly: ((((((((((((((((: Oh boy, I know you're going to love what I have planned then. I'm big on Starks, big on family. Big on promises being kept. Aza is always of her own mind and while she is certainly grateful, Dany is proving herself and also not. At least I hope I made that clear. Papa Jon, he has so much on his plate... preparing for fatherhood, fighting ice zombies, in-between the war of two queens, not knowing who his parents are. His wife cannot sit down. I mean, wow. I...I love making him suffer. Oh, I'm definitely doing it my own way because the show won't give it justice, I can feel it in my bones. And writing Jon's inner conflict about the Stark-Targaryen vs being a bastard ( and after telling Theon that's a Stark too ). It's gonna be fun. Fun. Fun. Fun. His right to the throne. Dany's right to the throne. Fun. Fun. Fun. My son just wanted to climb, you know. He did not ASK for any of this. I just see myself suffering when we finally get his chapters again. Well, Nym and her crew are definitely going to comeback that's a given. And we still have Shaggy because I'm not a monster. We're going to get our direwolf army.

I 100% agree. I don't know what went wrong or what they were thinking, but that season was messy. I'm with you. I feel like I'm going to like book!Jonerys than show!Jonerys because GRRM is going to do them justice. I'm still sick because they are aunt/nephew and cousins all at the same time, but I've accepted it. And it's weird because the show has rushed romances like YgrittexJon as well as RobbxTalisa but somehow, they feel spaced and not force fed. Mainly because we've seen them, I dunno, talk and try to understand each other. But Jonerys was just argument, longing stares other people see but we don't see, and their conversations are forgettable. And I got kind of pissed at Jon telling Dany that she's silly to listen to the witch who cursed her when she was unable to get pregnant by Daario because she was actually cursed? It was like "wth jon who are you to tell her that?" but Jon's peen will be the magic peen to end the curse. Lmaoooooooo. Oh and don't get me started how it was SO out of character for Jon to randomly call her Dany. Like, what the hell? And she shut that shit down, which was justified and awkward? I...This show can't write romance for them if their life depended on it. I'm still at a loss for Bran's dumbass line about Robert's Rebellion was built on a lie when it was NOT. Rhaegar and Lyanna's love affair (which we don't know is really all that romantic and sweet as the show is playing up to be because I have a feeling its a lot more complicated bookwise because the show practically stripped my she-wolf child of everything that makes her HER) was not the whole reason for the rebellion. Like, was Aerys not burning people and doing horrendous things? But yeah, a lie. Okay Bran. Okay showwriters. And it was just weird with Tyrion in the hallway and... I dunno what the hell they were thinking.

I feel you. I thrive in Winter, I love being wrapped up and literally cry in Summer. It's probably going to be even worse this year, and I want to weep thinking about it. True! Lol. Gendry Usain Bolt, The Rock-Throwing Hound. Original Hardhome is much better in comparison, especially with the Night King showing up like was on New York Fashion Week runway. I'm glad you had a good time.

Guest three: You waited a long time, my friend.

Shannon: I hope you like all the Dany/Aza interactions. Writing it was actually fun, and a bit challenging. No, thank you for reviewing and staying with me!

Musical Bear: I totally agree. I love Dany, but she got really arrogant with her dragons while she successfully sacked two cities, she didn't implement any laws to protect them or the slaves. She wants to rule, but she never stayed in Yunkai to properly rule and that's why she stayed in Meereen but she still had trouble protecting it and Tyrion had to fill in for her. I don't know how she can come to Westeros and expect things to immediately fall into place. She's going to have difficulty ruling if she doesn't wise up. I mean, I can't fault her for not believing in Jon but at the same time I can? Dragons were said to be gone and yet you brought them back. She should know firsthand that the impossible can happen but in the same effect, she has seen dragons and not White Walkers and Tyrion even thought it to be crazy so did most Westerosi. It's a double-edged sword, so I can't fault her for that completely. Oh yes, she does! But I don't blame her. She's got three strikes against her! She's a Targaryen, a woman, and the mad king's daughter; I suspect she would be sensitive because Westeros already has formed their opinions about her but she's attacking the wrong people! Aza was the muscle and the brain, Jon is tired. He gets a pass this time.

Oh, yes! I kind of love the parallels between her and Stannis? Mainly because I actually liked Stannis before the whole burning his daughter thing. I think they're giving Dany the lesson that Davos taught book!Stannis because show!Stantheman is long gone, and I was really going to use that to my advantage in this story. Lmao. I feel bad because Jon is hyped up to be her true love because he also holds more of a claimant than she does in some way? That has to hurt, especially with the way people were so gaga about Rhaegar.

And your wish has come trueeeee! God, I loved writing Nahla and Jon bonding. It was so fun, and so sad because I want to spill EVERYTHING but I can't. Nahla has so many feelings, and seeing Jon Snow brings her both happiness and pain.

(((((((((((((: I can't say anything about that. Lmao. Oh, definitely! I loved the meme I saw when they had Dany saying that and Robb popped out like "WHAT?! Hey! I'm the last King of the North!"

I'm crying at you guys about Ghost. I can't believe he made this much of an impact. I can't believe I wasn't the only one just upset because he didn't come along. This CGI budget had made so many people mad on his behalf. I love how you noticed that. Aza subconsciously thinks that Ghost is just this wife entity when really he's just a good boy, who doesn't understand why his humans are doing the wrong things. And this is how I think most people act when they're pet starved, when they finally get a pet they just really wondered what it is that this animal thinks of them or what's going around them or maybe that's just me.

You can see how much it kills me to not throw it at them, but I have to be a proper storyteller. Ohhhhhh, he definitely did. And someone else was reminded of Dayne and Targaryen together.

(Can you blame her? Snake venom sauce sounds scary, but firecannotkilladragon. ba-dum-tiss )

Guest 4: I'm glad you loved this story and I know it frustrated you to tell that I took this long. So sorry!

Shy-Lady: Oh, I couldn't possibly make you guys suffer that. I couldn't even make myself suffer that, and I can't believe you were feeling the same way! I missed writing Rickon, but it's mostly because I like to challenge myself by trying to get into the mind of a growing boy. It helps to strengthen my writing, and because I love this boy so much. Edric, jesus. I haven't even figured out his personality all that well but when I do, I'm giving him a POV. Edric is a year younger than Sansa! Because I made everyone a year younger than S7, she's 18 and he's 17. c: ( Well, it's pretty much canon that Neddie-Ned might have a crush ). Wow, I don't know how but you guys hope and wishes align with mine. I don't remember any Wildlings with them, but you know I had to bring them anyway because I love them. c:

Guest 5: Don't be sorry! It took me a long time, so I understand how you feel. c:

emily matthey: It too me forever, but I finally updated.

UmiNight Angel Neko: Ahhhhhh, thank you! I'm glad you feel that way, and I wanted to keep it realistic that she would have some insecurities about those things! That's such a great compliment, mostly because I think Dany, Arya, Sansa, Ygritte, Lyanna M. ( and Lyanna S but the show didn't very much show it), and Brienne show many sides of feminism that I think doesn't really get represented? Like the soft, the hard, and the in-between. Too many times women are written just as one note, and there aren't that many sides of them shown. So to hear that I'm providing to that makes me happy. Thank you so much and ahhhh, that's such a huge compliment. I'm so happy.

Emily0111: I finally updated. c:

rivainimermaid: I'm happy you're attached to her and I hope you enjoyed both her interactions with Nahla and Dany! Thaaaaank you so much for your review.