Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the characters, locations, or plots from Game of Thrones. They belong to their respective owners without whom this fanfiction would not have been possible. All reviews are welcome

Winterfell, 299AC

Catelyn Stark stood several feet away from the silvery pool at the foot of the Heart Tree in the Winterfell godswood while she spoke to her son, Robb; the Ward of the Starks, Theon; the Maester, Luwin; and Roddrick Cassel, "I do not think Bran fell from that tower." Catelyn knew she had the attention of the men now- the group hadn't noticed the former still red coloured leaves on the Heart Tree to their left were gently rustling as a breeze gently went past the group. As they spoke among themselves about the attack by the Catspaw on Bran, the second youngest Stark, the group failed to notice a small bubble break the surface tension of the pool before it gently burst. The bubble was soon followed by another one and then another one, and then another one.

Catelyn then looked back down at the extremely thin length of yellow-tinged hair in between her hands and thought to herself, 'no one in Winterfell has yellow hair. I know every one of the household, none have this colour.' She then looked back up at the expectant faces looking back at her after admitting that she was thankful for Bran's direwolf. She the thought back to when she found the hair at the top of the broken tower close to a window, at the bottom of which Bran would eventually be pushed out. She then took a deep breath and whispered, her eyes glancing back at the hair and then back towards Robb and the others, "I think he was pushed."

"The boy was always surefooted before," Luwin mentioned, referring to Bran's uncanny ability to climb any wall, nodding at Cassel and then at Robb. Even Theon agreed verbally before adding he had seen Bran climbing in all sorts of weather.

The young Ironborn then shrugged, "and he never fell".

"But why murder an innocent child?" Robb asked.

"Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see," the Lady of Winterfell said before looking down once more at the thin length of yellow hair between her two hands. She then remembered the letter from her sister, Lysa Arynn, about the Lannisters having killed the Hand of the King, her own husband, Jon Aryyn, and that the King himself was now in danger. Catelyn wanted her husband to remain in Winterfell, she told him that the South didn't matter… that the last time anyone from the North left for the South, they never returned. At least not alive.

"But I would stake my life that the Lannisters are involved," Catelyn continued while she brought her head back up, away from the hair.

"We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown," Luwin whispered while recalling the very same raven scroll read out to him when he brought it to both Ned and Catelyn's chambers several nights ago. It was at that very sentence by Luwin that Cassel, Robb, and Theon looked at him curiously before looking back at Catelyn for some clarity. However, before anyone could say anything, Catelyn felt a chill up her spine.

Catelyn was about to mention the letter from the Vale when she stopped what she was about to say, her mouth opening and then closing wordlessly, and stared at the widened eyes on the rest of the men and boys in front of her. The group then heard the 'whoosh' made by wind as it travelled through the trees of the Godswood swaying some of the trees while the leaves on the branches rustled. She and the others looked around as the wind seemed to pick up out of nowhere- it roughly pulled leaves off the surrounding trees which were swaying under the weight of the heavy winds.

And just as it began, the winds were gone and a nervous calm returned to the godswood.

Catelyn looked around before her eyes settled on the Heart Tree, and then she turned her head towards Robb, Theon, and Ser Rodrik and then to Luwin. She was about to open her mouth and say that she felt someone, or something, watching them before hearing the sounds of bubbles bursting. Curious with her eyebrows narrowed, she and the others turned towards what should have been the still and calm pool at the foot of the Heart Tree, except it wasn't still. Catelyn and the others stared in awe as bubbles were coming up to the surface and then popping- just as if the water itself was boiling.

The Isle of Faces, 323AC.

Sacrifices had to be made.

'So many sacrifices', thought Bran while he was carried up to the Heart Tree, the last Heart Tree in the last Weirwood in existence on the Isle of Faces in the Godseye, ' and now the last of known humanity has to be sacrificed'. He looked up at the man carrying him, the last king of what used to be the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros; his cousin, and still brother, Jon Snow. Bran turned his head to look behind him at the three people getting out of the small boat used to navigate the Blackwater Rush all the way from Blackwater Bay to the GodsEye in water that was already near freezing- the sheen from the thin layer of ice visible to the eye even though the moon was covered by dense clouds. Only a little bit of light came through the cloud cover and reflected the layer on ice that covered the entire world.

"Sansa, Sam, Lyarra," Bran nodded at his sister, Jon's friend and Maester, followed lastly by his silver haired and dark grey eyed niece, "we do not have much time." Bran then rolled his eyes back and entered the skin of the last living raven on board one of the Ironborn ships attacking the burnt rubbles of stone and mud that used to be the Red Keep, and the rest of Kings Landing beyond. Through the eyes of the black feathered raven, Bran saw the three dead dragons and their riders- the former Mad Queen, Cersei Lannister; the former Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen; and the Night King- a bastardized triumvirate of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives when he first united Westeros more than three hundred years ago. He saw one of the dragons, Drogon, as it flew overhead the ship the raven was on and burned the ship and all the people on board.

"The attack has begun," Bran said after he warged back into his body, "the Night King hs not sensed me yet."

"We must hurry," Jon said, his voice full of conviction even though his heart was slowly breaking at the thought of what was about to happen.

Sansa, Sam, and Lyarra nodded their heads before the small group rushed past the burned and scorched husks of the Weirwood trees, their covered feet crunching the snow as well as the remains of blackened and charred bodies already crumbling into dust beneath the snow. Even in the darkness, despite there being no stars and a bare amount of light from the moon in the sky, the group made their way towards the center of the ancient forest.

They were making their way towards a possible last chance to change events that led to the fall of Westeros and the coming of the Long Night. They were about to change history itself.

At least that was the plan.

The Winterfort, the Three Sisters, six months ago. 323 AC.

It was a crazy plan orchestrated by Bran after discussions with Sam, the latter having only just come out of a three day coma caused by the violent loss of a majority of his abilities, in particular the ability to shift his mind back through time using his Greensight. The loss was due to the destruction of Weirwood forests by dragon fire throughout the continent by the Night King and his two Queens.

So, after coming out of his coma, Bran and Sam hunkered down behind closed doors. They were far away from the wrath of the Night King in the largest island comprising the Three Sisters, along with several hundred refugees who fled what remained of the North after a decisive victory for the Night King and the army of the dead at Moat Cailin.

The North was decimated, and without any aid from the South, it was only a matter of time before the unthinkable happened- an already fractured realm was finally shattered into small unfixable pieces for all time.

It was Jon who sounded a general retreat before using the ancient tunnels beneath Moat Cailin that led to White Harbour. And from that other decimated city, people took charge of whatever ships that were not burned down.

As they escaped, a tearful Jon stood by an emotional Tyrion, whose life was saved by his brother just moments before the man's death, and a despondent Sansa as they watched their country burn in dragon fire. Everything burned… everything and everyone they loved was gone. Reeling after the deaths of Arya, Jamie Lannister, Tormund, Brianne, and hundreds more… the refugees made their way to the Three Sisters in the belief that the Night King would rather see the downfall of the entirety of Westeros before attacking the smaller islands. However, that did not happen. It was Bran with his abilities who reported on the fleeing refugees from Essos to Westeros since the Night King were raising the dead in the largest continent on the planet.

Some of the refugees from Essos who made it to Westeros were directed to the Three Sisters by Ironborn ships over the next few years. They were filled with people who spoke of the Fall of the Free Cities. The world had truly ended now with he coming of the Long Night. After listening to the stories by the refugees, they were housed in the surrounding region and in the castle branded newly as the Winterfort due to the large number of Northerners who outnumbered the locals. But despite initial distrust, everyone on the largest island got together… they supported one another… all to survive the coming darkness as deep grey and black clouds covered the sky.

It would be several years later that Bran screamed in pain before entering the coma. When he woke up, he claimed his mind experienced a trauma after the Weirwood trees and all sources of magic were completely and utterly destroyed by the Night King.

"At least that is what I thought," Bran told Sam that night after he awoke, "I have found a way to undo what has already been done, but it would require sacrifices." But before the idea could be taken to his two remaining siblings, Bran insisted on keeping his reawakening hidden from the castle while he and Sam, who asked him how he knew what he knew, got to work. It would be a day later that the two of them hatched a plan. An insane plan.

Bran and Sam called for both Jon and Sansa; and after hugs between them, Bran revealed the previous Three Eyed raven had come to him in his dream. That he had revealed a way to change their fates.

And it started in the Isle of Faces, a font of magic and the very place where the Pact between the First Men and the Children of the Forest was signed. Bran spoke softly about a Heart Tree that was barely alive. It was a tree that was still connected to the deteriorating magic in Westeros.

"Change fate?" Jon asked as Sansa stood by him.

"Change time," Bran whispered staring at his siblings who looked on in disbelief, "I can send three people back to just before father's death."

"Let's say this entire insane plan is possible," Sansa said as her heart thundered in her chest at the very possibility that what Bran was saying was really possible. After all, she had seen the dead walk, she had seen dragons fly, 'so maybe it is possible to change our fate." She so wanted to believe her brother, but the realist part of her shook her head and said that, "it is not possible, Bran."

"Why not send someone back to just before Jon Aryn was killed?" Jon asked as Sansa turned her head sharply towards her brother.

"Jon, you cannot give this any thought. This is simply silly, and…"

"We've lost, Sansa," Jon whispered, interrupting what Sansa wanted to say. He shook his head and continued, "look out there." Jon pointed at the window while looking up towards Sansa, and locked their eyes together, "look out there. Tell me there is hope because I can find none."

"Jon…."

"The amount of magic left is just enough to work with as it is," Bran said interrupting the two of them, "the best I could do is send three people to a period before father's death."

"What do we have to do?" Jon asked Bran before Sansa could say anything, "Bran? What do we do for this insane plan to work?"

"There will be a lot of sacrifices," Bran said looking back up into Jon's eyes, and then back to his stunned sister, and then back to Jon. He heard Sam take in a deep breath- only the former Meister knew what needed to be done. And it took everything for him not to vomit.

Glancing at Sam, Bran then took in a deep breath while his hands grasped the armrests on his wheelchair tightly. It was then that Sam said there was something else they needed to know. The former Maester then turned back towards Bran who said, while staring at Jon, "and we have to give up any hope that we have, Jon."

"What do you mean we have to give up hope?" Sansa asked staring at Sam, and then towards Bran, "Bran, we…"

"We have to give up the hope that Jon still brings to us all," Bran whispered staring at Jon, "we have to give up on what Azor Ahai means to us. This Jon is Azor Ahai, he is the rallying cry. The people here are waiting for the day when we can fight back. The people here still have hope for a better world. And…"

"What are you saying, Bran?" Sansa stood straight and glared at her brother while, at the same time, reaching for and holding Jon's hand.

"Jon is hope personified," Bran said staring at his sister before he finally looked away, "that's what I saw when I was unconscious, Jon is hope personified. He is the personification of the Song of Ice and Fire; the one who can defeat the Night King."

"But I lost…" Jon said shaking his head as he remembered Arya burning in dragon fire, "we lost, Bran. We lost everything at Moat Cailin"

"I saw a victory coming our way," Bran said his eyes glinting as he stared at the stunned looks on Sansa and Jon's face, "what remains of humanity will be victorious. As we speak there is an army of people…. Hundreds of thousands of survivors, both men and women, gathering for the final war. Your name has passed through the lips of every remaining Red Priest- they are gathering their forces. And they are preparing to come here"

"If we win, then that's a good thing," Sansa said shaking her head, "Bran…"

"The Night King has three dragons and… and the dead of Westeros and the dead of Essos under his command," Jon whispered. He felt his skin crawl and his blood freeze when imagining the army of the living in their final battle against the army of the dead. He imagined so much death and utter destruction, "how big of an army did you see?"

"Vastly more than a million that will attack the living in Westeros," Bran whispered at Jon as he recalled what seemed to be a sea of blackness washing over Westeros. Shaking his head, Bran then turned towards Sansa, "I saw the living win. But I saw us die…. I saw Lyarra die… I saw… I saw so many deaths. Even when we win, we will lose. The living will win against the dead. But the world…" Bran took in a deep breath and looked away wishing that he had his Direwolf, Summer, with him, "the remainder of humanity will suffer for years until the winter clears and spring comes. I saw a few hundred people remain after over tens of thousands died of starvation and sickness after the victory against the dead."

"A pyrrhic victory," Jon whispered as he sat down on a chair, the wood groaning under his weight.

Sansa felt sick as she sat next to Jon. She looked down at her trembling hands and shook her head in disbelief. They would win in the second battle for the Dawn, but the damage would be so grave that only a handful would survive, 'and can they continue to survive?'

Sansa looked back at her brother, the very same brother who had just woken up, look back at her with sadness. And she asked with trepidation in her voice, "there is something else, isn't there?"

"For this plan, there needs to be sacrifices," Bran said while looking down at the floor, and then back at the expectant expressions on Sansa and Jon, "accessing the remaining Weirwood magic will take everything I have."

"Bran?" Sansa said shaking her head while Jon stared at him with wide open eyes. She could only guess what Bran meant, but even without confirmation, she did not like what he was about to say, "no…"

"My life to open a rift through time, and…" Bran took a deep breath, "the deaths of hundreds to fuel the magic, and… and…" Bran glanced at Jon, and then there was a sharp pain in his chest thanks to what he had to say next. Bran gulped before saying, "and Jon's life to keep the portal stable for three people to jump through to a set moment in the past."

"No," Sansa coldly said, standing back up from her seat. She raised her chin, glared at her crippled brother, and repeated herself, "no."

"This is the only way to…"

"We know we win, so we find another way to survive the…."

"Aye, some of humanity survives," Jon whispered interrupting Sansa while staring at Bran before he turned towards the redhead, "but we still lose, Sansa. We lose everything. Those people who survive would suffer…. They would starve… they would get sick and die. Sansa, I don't know much about magic, but if my life can turn back time?" Jon got up from his chair and walked over to the enraged Sansa and grabbed her by the shoulders, "then I will give up my life gladly."

Sansa furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips together. It was then, before Sansa could say anything, that Bran said, "this is the only choice, Sansa. I would gladly give all I have to return my family to a point where we could change things. We could prevent everything that has happened."

"Bran and I spoke at length after he awoke, your Grace," Sam told the angry Sansa who sharply turned her head towards him. And the glare that she gave Sam made him want to retreat- instead he continued, "your father's death was the spark that started the War of the Five Kings. If we could prevent that spark, then the war may not happen."

"And the fuel was Lady Stark's kidnapping of Tyrion Lannister," Jon whispered as he gently placed a hand on Sansa's cheek while staring into her blue eyes, "Sansa, if we have a chance to prevent all of this? Then we take it."

"The realm needs to be united, Sansa, Jon," Bran said as he recalled the images he had seen during his coma, "whether under Baratheon or Targaryen, it does not matter. The realm has to be united to fight this threat."

"And us?" Sansa whispered at Jon while Bran and Sam looked away, "if… and that is a big if… if this plan works, then there will be no us." Sansa searched his eyes with her own, her eyes motioning towards Jon and herself. The anger slowly left her, now all Sansa felt was the freezing cold despite the heat from the fire in the hearth, "there will be no us."

"Sansa," Jon whispered as he pulled her in close and hugged her tight, "no matter what, I am with you. If what Bran says is true, then I am sending you.."

"I am staying here, and…"

"No, Sansa," Jon said with steel in his voice, pushing away the emotion he knew he should be feeling at that moment, and looking into Sansa's eyes, "you will leave this place with Lyarra and Sam. Our daughter and our closest friend."

"I…"

"Promise me that you will prevent this hell from happening," Jon asked gently while staring into Sansa's eyes, "promise me." All Sansa could do was nod her head before looking away from Jon who then turned his head to Bran and asked, "what do we do?"

Isle of Faces, 323 AC.

Back in the present day, everyone stopped running upon reaching a great thick trunked Heart Tree. Sansa and the others gasped upon landing their eyes on the charred trunk, the caved face warped into a twisted visage, and then up to the blackened branches where no leaves remained.

"Place me at the foot of the trunk, next to the exposed root," Bran whispered. Jon did just that by gently placing his brother on the snow covered ground with his back to the trunk, and next to a charred root of the tree lying above ground. Bran leaned back against the tree trunk and looked at Jon before he spoke, "I am sorry, Jon."

"Will this work, Bran?" Jon asked nodding as the silver haired, grey eyed, Lyarra rushed to Jon and grabbed his hand. Jon looked over at the girl who had just passed her eighteenth nameday and gave her a small smile.

"It has to," Bran whispered looking up at the dark sky, and then back down at Sansa who whispered in Lyarra's ear, the latter hugging Jon tightly. Bran watched his niece- the woman was wearing leather inlaid armour, the chest plate stamped with the sigils for both Stark and Targaryen; on her right hip was Arya's valerian dagger… the very same one that was used by the catspaw years ago in his unsuccessful attempt to kill Bran; and on her left hip was Oathkeeper- the lion on the pommel changed to dark grey direwolf.

Bran watched Lyarra step back before Sansa placed a hand on Jon's left cheek while his right hand was gently placed on her hip. In the meantime, Lyarra rushed over to Bran and kneeled down with tears welling in her eyes. Bran felt Lyarra pulling him in close for a tight hug. A hug he returned while turning his head away from Jon and Sansa kissing passionately. Instead, Bran closed his eyes and remembered the Godswood in the Winterfort, the castle that had become home to the last vestiges of humanity. He remembered being there, along with Missendei, Gendry, Sam, Gilly and little Sam, Yara Greyjoy, and Melisandre when Jon and Sansa wed under the still darkening sky.

A year later, Jon and Sansa had a boy. But he didn't last ten nights before he succumbed to a fever. Bran remembered how devastated both Jon and Sansa were at the death of the boy they named Cregan of Houses Stark and Targaryen. It would be two months later that Melisandre left for Essos once again before planning to make her way to Ashai under the cover of a spell that would hide her movements- her intent was to search for more priests of the Red God.

"I will return, and the Prince that Was Promised will win the Dawn with an army of magic," Melisandre told Jon before leaving; however, she would never return. It would be a year after Cregan's death that Jon and Sansa had Lyarra; and it would be another year later that both Gilly and Little Sam passed away following an outbreak of the pox, leaving Sam to push harder into the books that he managed to steal from the Citadel and the Winterfell library. That year, another three hundred men, woman, and children died as the pox passed through the castle and the island. Bran recalled, as he continued hugging Lyarra, how he stayed by his niece's side when she was still a babe together with Jon and Sansa. They nearly lost her.

But in the end, she survived.

'And now, she will be a part of this insane plan,' Bran thought as Lyarra pulled away and rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You know what you must do, Lyarra," Bran said looking into her wet tears. And Lyarra nodded her head while wiping her tears again. She was told of the plan just before leaving the Winterfort, and what they would do once they made it back to the past. Lyarra didn't like it… she didn't like hiding the fact she was the daughter of Jon and Sansa, the rightful Princess of Dragonstone and the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, she would have to hide her true self for a time- all for survival in the past. At least until she helped her father- at least the past version of her father- and her great-aunt, take back the Throne.

And that plan included changing the colour of her silver hair.

"Once I access the magic in the Isle," Bran said looking up at his siblings and Sam while Lyarra stood up and stepped back, "the Night King will realize what is happening. And when he does? When he realizes that I have tapped into any remaining magic? Then he will come for us here and kill us." And thus the need for a distraction led by Gendry.

"That's what you told us," Sansa, the only person who still hasn't hugged Bran, said staring sternly at her brother, "powerful magic has a powerful price. And that Jon is the key."

"If it doesn't work," Bran said, "then… then all of us will die here."

"And all I'll have is a stab wound in my hand," Jon said holding Sansa's hand as they stood side by side, "before we burn together in dragon fire." Jon grimaced at his attempt at levity as he took in the look of anger on the redhead's face. Jon sighed and turned facing her. They were eye to eye as he placed both hands on either side of her face, "over two thousand volunteers are sacrificing their lives to keep Dany and the dragons away, sacrificing their lives to fuel this magic. You, Lya, and Sam volunteered to go back and fix things" Jon then sighed before he leaned forward and gently lay his forehead against hers, "I am the song of Ice and Fire- a son of the Wolf and the dragon, a son of the South and the North… me… I'm the sacrifice to send you back."

"And it's all just a guess," Sansa whispered closing her eyes, "there is no guarantee this would work".

"And if it works," Jon whispered as Lyarra hugged Bran again while Sam leaned down and squeezed the crippled man's shoulder, "then you will see Robb again. You will keep your family together. You… you will convince father about what is to come… you and Lyarra." Jon continued to stare into her tear stained eyes, "we will always have memories of the times we spent together, Sansa." The two then kissed for a few seconds before pulling away their lips off each other, "you're with me in my heart." Jon then shifted his eyes towards Lyarra who was kissing Bran's forehead, "as will be Lyarra."

Sansa nodded her head.

"Jon," Bran said staring at his sister and cousin, "it's time."

Jon pulled away reluctantly from Sansa and nodded his head. His heart was racing… thundering against his ribs. "It's up to you now, Sansa. You have the scrolls I signed and sealed?"

"Yes," Sansa whispered with tears welling in her eyes. Jon then turned to Lyarra who had a pained expression on her face before she nodded her head, "you'll see Winterfell as it was… as it should be now. You'll see the sun, you'll feel the warmth, the gentle chill in the breeze, and you'll see a sky full of stars."

Lyarra rushed forward and hugged Jon tight as tears streamed down her face, "I… I…"

"Look after your mother," Jon whispered in her ear as Lyarra released a sob and nodded her head, "respect your grandmother and grandfather." Lyarra nodded her head, "and the murmurs show will be temporary.'

"Yes, Papa," Lyarra struggled speaking as tears travelled down her cheeks. It was now that Sansa stepped forward and placed her hands on Lyarra's shoulders. She pulled her daughter back just as Sam joined them both. In the meantime, while Jon took out the sharp dagger from the sheath on his left hip, Sansa rushed to Bran, kneeled, and hugged him tight. She felt Bran immediately wrap his arms around her- the both of them thinking about happier times and what was about to happen.

"You know what to do, Sam," Jon said as Lyarra hugged him again under the dark sky,

"I'll help her… I'll advise her," Sam said after Lyarra stepped away and then approached Bran once again with Sansa, "I know we need her army and Dragons at full strength for the Great War." Jon then nodded his head before asking Sam if he remembered to bring the scroll with him. Sam nodded his head as he reached into his cloak and felt the raised wax seal around the scroll, "I'll give it to Daenerys, Jon."

Jon nodded his head before turning his head upon hearing Lyarra's voice.

"And we know our role, papa," Lyarra said pulling away from Bran and wiping her eyes, "the kingdoms have to be united, even if it's under the control of the Usurper."

"Take care of your mother," Jon whispered again while taking two steps towards Lyarra and then placing a hand on her left cheek. He then stepped away while reaching towards the small handle on his right hip and unsheathing a dagger with his right hand, "tell Rob and the others that… that I love them."

"And grandmother? I mean Lady Stark?" Lyarra said glancing at Sansa who parted from Bran and was now standing up.

"Tell her…" Jon wondered what message he could leave Catelyn Sark, the woman who was never a mother to him, a woman who barely tolerated him, the woman who would have kicked him out of Winterfell if it were not for Ned Stark. He wanted to be angry… he wanted to send her a message of anger. But the truth was that he didn't care about what Catelyn thought. All that mattered was that his wife, his daughter, and his best friend were going to be safe. Jon simply sighed before saying, "I'm sure Sansa will have things to tell Lady Stark."

At this time, Bran had placed his hand on the thick root of the Heart Tree and called out for Sansa, Lyarra, and Sam to be ready. They nodded their heads while Bran turned to Jon, "Jon, we have only one chance at this." Jon nodded his head before he looked back at Sansa and the others. His eyes lingered on his daughter and Sansa for a few more seconds before walking towards the Heart Tree- his dagger held tight in his hand.

"Once the portal opens, the three of you must leave," Bran said once Jon stood in front of the Heart Tree, facing the carved expression on the trunk that was staring back at them. "This spell is dangerous and… and the cost is losing everything and everyone we love. It's a price that can only be paid once."

"Bran…" Sansa spoke before she was stopped by her younger brother.

"We do this to fight for a new future," Jon said turning around before looking over at Bran, "I'm ready."

"Sansa, Lyarra, Sam…." Bran whispered as he touched the root, "go."

Bran pulled his head back, his eyes rolling back to expose the whites. Jon turned back towards the trunk, placed his hand on the charred surface, and plunged the dagger through the top of his hand and into the trunk.

"Jon!" Sansa yelled out as Lyarra, with tears in her eyes, and Sam held her back just as the ground started to shake and a heavy wind enveloped them.

Jon could barely see through his rapidly blurring vision as he felt his life being sucked way, his blood flowing down the trunk and onto the eyes of the carved face. He fell down on his knees as he felt his body weaken and swore to himself that he could hear a woman screaming in anguish. The last thing he ever saw was his bleeding hand turning pale, and then wrinkling, and then black before his vision faded away.

Sansa was screaming for Jon- she saw him fall on his knees before his body started literally withering away. It was then that she heard the sound of thunder… so close that it seemed it was coming from behind them. Just then the Night King, riding on top of Viserion while he and the others finished burning the ships attacking Kings Landing, suddenly stopped and turned his head towards the direction of the Godseye. He opened his mouth and screamed in rage- the sound of ice cracking travelled through the air and to the GodsEye, reaching the ears of the crippled man and what remained of his family.

It was just then that an opening behind Sansa and the others seemed to tear open- a rift which looked like a shimmering silver pool opened a foot off the ground.

"Sansa," Bran whimpered. He looked up at his sister who, in a look of stunned silence, stared back at the whitening hair on her younger brother's head, "go."

Sansa heard the rage filled scream of the Night King as well as the roar of the three dragons in the distance. They were coming- that's what Sansa was thinking. She took one last look at her dead husband turn to dust before her eyes settled on Bran, who looked as if he was well into his ninetieth nameday.

"Go," Bran whimpered as he grasped the branch harder with his pale hand. Sansa felt tears stream down her cheeks while her shoulders were grasped by both her sobbing daughter and a crying Sam. Bran watched his family step through the tear before it closed shut. Now he was alone. He looked up at the dragons in the distance before the ground started to rumble. He closed his eyes and felt the vibrations shaking the root he was holding. "And here is the cost of using such powerful magic," Bran whispered as he leaned back while feeling his skin tighten, "may the gods be with you, my family".

He glanced through his cloudy vision as cracks started to form on the root, and then the ground. He looked up as large chasms opened up, releasing violent eruptions of steam and columns of fire into the sky. Bran closed his eyes as he remembered what Bloodraven told him when he was in his coma- that changing fate had severe consequences. It meant the end of all things.

Bran opened his eyes, and barely saw the oncoming dragons before there was a great flash of red and orange. He didn't scream as the intense heat from the column of lava that erupted violently from beneath the Isle of faces melted his body and the other trees.

Westeros was gone. The entire continent started to break up- the large chasms and cracks that formed released fire and molten rock violently out and up into the air. The dragons burned as entire sections of the North violently exploded as lava from deep below the planet was pushed up to the surface due to the use of such intense magic. The Night King screamed as he died. Dany screamed as she burned- the Unburnt Queen turned to molten flesh within a few seconds, as did the Mad Queen.

The Dragons were destroyed. The dead were resting in peace, and the Night King would be a part of a history that would never be written down.

Everything was being destroyed- even Essos which started to violently rip apart. Explosions devastated the Free Cities, Asshai, and many other places. There was nowhere to hide for the remaining panicked humans. All of them would later burn.

Back in Westeros, Casterly Rock was destroyed as it fell into the churning sea, Highgarden was split open before it collapsed on itself, and exploded as lava from deep beneath the planet violently released outwards.

Westeros literally shattered as several great explosions ripped the continent apart. And this was soon followed by Essos, and several other nations. All were gone. All were destroyed. Life was burned away.

And now all hope lay with three survivors of a destroyed world to change the fate of Westeros.

TBC.