Woo. Hello, thank you for checking out this story, it actually means a lot that you would click on this.

This is very AU, most likely these characters never would have crossed paths so I'm just warning you now.

Also I'm warning you if this seems OOC, don't get angry as this is an AU - but hey, Dacey is alive!

I hope you enjoy and I hope you keep reading this, I would really appreciate it.

Also posting it in the asoiaf category makes me nervous.

I

DACEY

299 AC

SURVIVAL had become a shock, she had crawled out from underneath the pile of bodies gasping for air. Her entire body had blossomed with pain, it spread from her abdomen and through her entire body. It was a struggle of pain as she had moved away from the pile of bodies, pushing herself further and further away. She had turned her head, looking back at those who had been her comrades – the men and women she had fought with, died with. Sickness had immediately escaped her mouth, it had covered her front but she had no time to be concerned about that.

"Oh dear, oh dear, what have we here?" She heard someone say distantly and Dacey looked up, through blurry eyes.

"H-help," she struggled to say.

"Help, help," something echoed.

"Yes, we should. Should we not? To allow such a young woman to die, it would be a shame," the voice clicked their tongue. "It is a decision, it will change. Change is what we need." Dacey wanted them to stop talking and to just help her! "A path… a path once forgotten, not yet explored. Yes. Yes. This is good, very good, very, very good."

When she awoke, she became confused, unsure of where she rested. Something dangled over the top of her head and she went to reach up to touch it, only to find her arms confined. Her mouth pulled into a grimace and she tugged, attempting to free herself but her arms were strapped tight to the bed she was lying upon. She grimaced, attempting to tug herself free but it was impossible. She gave up, throwing her head back and having no choice but to stare at the object that continued to dangle above her, turning ever so slightly. What the hell was it?

"You have awoken," she heard a voice and she turned her head, "Good, good."

An old woman of haggard appearance stood, carrying many objects in her hand. Her face was covered in deep set wrinkles that seemed to make her pale skin sag downwards. Her hair was a mess on top of her head, brown with grey strands and seemed to be in some kind of nest on top of her head. She wore dull, brown rags that covered her entire body and Dacey stared at the woman who turned to drop the objects in her hand onto a table.

"Who are you?" Dacey demanded, her voice weak.

"Hm," the woman paused, "Who am I?"

"Do not speak in riddles!" Dacey's voice rose, "Who are you!?"

"Maggy," the woman said. "Maggy the Frog they call me, nasty name. And who are you?" Dacey opened her mouth to answer, "Lady Dacey of House Mormont. A lady but not a lady, a soldier loyal to her king."

"H-how do you know that?" Dacey's eyes widened as she stared at the woman.

"It is not hard to know things," the woman said. "If one opened their mind they would know."

"Know what?"

"Things!" The woman emphasised, her voice growing into a loud shriek that had Dacey wincing. "Things! Things! Things!" She shrieked, clenching her fists and jumping up and down like she was a child.

"Things," Dacey whispered under her breath, staring at the woman in fright.

"Yes," Maggy the Frog nodded her head, eyes widening in delight and she opened her mouth to reveal nothing. She had no teeth! Was she dead? "I saved you, found you. Along with Bellamy," she said the name with some affection. "We brought you here, we have helped to heal you."

"Thank you," Dacey whispered.

"You are most welcome!" She chirped, grinning but with no teeth it was more sinister than welcoming. "Now, goodness, perhaps we should get you untied." The woman proceeded to release Dacey from her bonds.

Dacey then pushed her legs over the edge, grimacing a bit as she felt her abdomen pull tightly. She reached up to touch it, "Ouch."

"Yes, you were run through," the woman said. "We were amazed at your strength, able to carry yourself so far with such a wound. It is why I knew I had to save your life, you are important. Very important."

And Robb Stark wasn't?

What role did she have to play? As eldest daughter of Maege Mormont and with her cousin Jorah Mormont exiled, she was likely to inherit Bear Island. But still, Robb Stark was King in the North – he was supposed to liberate the North. So why had he not been saved? Dacey could hardly fathom, surely Robb Stark alive was more important to the Gods. She reached up, pushing back her hair from her head and looking over at the creature, why had this creature decided to keep her alive? Dacey was conflicted, even a little bothered.

"Would you like to know your importance?" The woman moved closer and Dacey stared up at her. "I only need a blood price."

"What?"

"Just some of your blood," the woman cooed. "It is enough to let me know your future."

"I…" Dacey knew it was not her brightest idea. But she wanted—needed to know. "Yes."

"Here, here," the woman hurried forward, a large dagger in her hand. Dacey did not wince when her finger was cut, but she almost flinch when the woman placed her finger in her mouth and sucked. It was… it was awful.

The woman then pulled back and Dacey yanked her arm back toward her, she then wiped her finger furiously on the blanket that covered her. The woman hummed under her breath, stepping back slowly and nodding her head as if someone was speaking to her. Dacey was horrified, but she did not think herself strong enough to leave yet. She also had no coin, no weaponry and no horse – she would not make it, and she would not get very far. Also, where would she return? She had no word from her mother, and how would she get back to Bear Island with no coin?

"Hm," the woman's eyes flickered open. "Now, you may ask me questions."

"But I have no questions," Dacey shook her head.

"You do, they weigh heavy in your heart," the woman smiled her creepy, toothless smile. "You have three," she held up three bony fingers with long, dirty nails on their ends.

"Will this war end?"

"Aye, but not in the way you have hoped."

"Will the North be free?"

"Aye… aye…" the woman rocked back and forth, nodding her head. "The North will finally be free from the conquerors, it will be a glorious sight as the North flourishes."

"Good," Dacey then looked down at her hands. "Does my mother live?"

"Yes, but she is beyond your reach," Maggy the Frog then cocked her head to the side. "You did not wish to know if you would marry?"

"No," Dacey frowned. "I need a horse and a coin, to find my mother." Dacey paused, "Do you know where she is?"

"That is not your path," the woman's voice was quiet. "Your path is not to find her; your path is to change Westeros."

"I am one woman," Dacey scoffed. "I can't change Westeros."

"It is your destiny, it is what your Gods want," Maggy the Frog watched Dacey who pushed herself up slowly.

"What the Gods want," Dacey scoffed. "Enough with the Gods, I refuse. I am heading home to Bear Island, I refuse to step foot on the mainland again."

"The Gods grow angry," Maggy looked up at the ceiling of the thatch roof.

"Fuck the Gods!" Dacey couldn't help but yell, only to wince when she felt her wound tug.

"You must listen," the woman suddenly darted across the hut, grasping Dacey's wrist. Her nails bit into Dacey's wrist and she hissed, it was painful.

"Why?" Dacey glowered at the woman who became much shorter than her when she was standing.

"Because the Gods grow angry," Maggy the Frog's became low, and fearful. "You must listen to me, you should ride for the Reach."

"The Reach," she wanted to scoff. "That is far from where I want to go."

"You must go to the Reach," the wood's witch ignored her, nodding her head slowly. "And you must take the Rose and head for Dorne, where you will find the Sun and the Sword. The Bear, the Rose, the Sun and the Sword will come together to help Westeros."

Dacey blinked at the woman, rose, sun?

"Here," she felt something placed in her hands, it was a heavy sack of gold. "You must leave, you must go to the Reach now."

"Now?" Dacey demanded.

"Yes, yes, yes," the woman began to usher Dacey out of hut. "There is a horse, tied to a tree with a sack of food. It is yours. You must go to the Reach."

"Must I?" But Dacey was thrown out into the cold, harsh winter. Other things were thrown around her, boots and weaponry. Dacey stared, lying on the cold hard ground as the woman disappeared.

After collecting everything that had been thrown to her, and bundling herself up in thick furs, Dacey had left. She was still stiff in her movements, she wondered how long she had been in that hut with that strange woman. Thick blankets of snow had fallen over the Riverlands, they had not been there before the Red Wedding, as she had heard the wedding described, so she gathered it had been months. No wonder she was frail, her bones more pronounced than they had ever been. If she met trouble, she doubted she would be able to fight well enough to survive.

Dacey had no idea where she was, or if she was even in the Riverlands anymore. She was surrounded by forest, so she was moving toward what she hoped was the North. Despite the words of the witch, she was heading North and she was heading home – Dacey Mormont refused to listen to the warnings. She needed to find her mother, that was more important than heading to the Reach. The Reach of all places! It made no sense to her, what was in the Reach that was so important? Nothing, her mother was more important.

Creeping further through the forest, Dacey focused on the forest around her just in case thieves jumped out at her. She was in no position to fight, she would easily be defeated it if came down to it. And Dacey knew what would happen to a woman that was defeated, she would be stripped bare and brutalised. Dacey would skin a man alive before he even laid a finger on her, but still – she was not in her prime. Coughing, she winced when she felt tugging on her stomach from her wound that was still healing, she had yet to look at it.

"Come on," she urged the horse forward. "North, we need to head North." She muttered, looking around the dark forest. "North," she repeated, shivering as a chill swept over her. "North, Bear Island." But her thoughts turned to King Robb Stark who was dead, she felt sadness wash over her – she had to mourn him and Lady Stark. The Freys and their betrayal would be remembered, as would the betrayal of Roose Bolton and his bastard. Dacey shivered, how would the North react to the betrayal of those who had once been sworn to House Stark?

The North remembers.

What she had to do was send a letter off to her sisters in Bear Island, to let them know she was alive. Then she would send letters to the other houses of the North, demanding they did not forget the North deserved to remain independent. Roose Bolton was nothing but a traitor, a Lannister bitch. A sinister smile appeared on Dacey's face, she would love to witness the death of Roose Bolton and all the Lannisters. The North had to remain strong, they could not give up on their demand for independence and their future.

Grasping the reins tighter, Dacey continued to urge the horse through the dark forest and her thoughts turned to her sisters. As the eldest she was her mother's heir, she had a responsibility to look out for all her younger siblings, and her niece and nephew. Dacey thought of Alysane's children, the grins on their dirty faces after they would get into some sort of mischief. She thought of her home and how much she missed it, how much she wanted to return to Bear Island. If only Lord Eddard Stark had not ridden South… he should have stayed in the North.

Her memories turned to that of her family.

"Dacey! Dacey!" A voice chirped, "Dacey!"

"Lyanna," Dacey opened her arms to gather her younger into her arms. A girl who had only seen six summers, but had already a gift with a bow and arrow. "You have escape Lysa again, have you not?"

Lyanna pouted, "No…"

"Hm," Dacey placed her sister on her left him. "I suppose I should find Lyra and ask, should I?"

"No!" Lyanna cried, "No!"

"But you should be at your lessons!" Dacey stared down at her little sister who was suddenly hiding her head in her sister's neck.

"I do not want to!" Lyanna then wriggled to be placed down on the ground, her feet touched the grass and she turned to run. Dacey shook her head as her sister darted inside the keep, probably to hide from their mother. Following her sister, Dacey came to a stop when she noticed her sister Lyra hurrying out of a solar, looking a frazzled mess.

"Dacey!" Lyra cried as she hurried toward her older sister, "Have you seen Lyanna? She has evaded me again! The little brat would make for a remarkable assassin, do you think?"

"I agree," Dacey smiled affectionately at her younger sister. "I haven't seen her, however."

"Ugh," Lyra scowled. "She is supposed to be practicing with a sword."

"She doesn't like sword work," Dacey reminded her sister.

"I know this," Lyra glowered at her older sister. "But we all learned, we all excel at the sword. Why you are not teaching her," Lyra shook her head.

"Because someone must look after the island," she shrugged her shoulders. It was only small, full of mostly farmers that often needed tending to. "It is my duty as Mother's heir," she reminded Lyra who rolled her eyes.

"I know this," Lyra's voice was sharp. "Were Jorelle and I this bad?"

"Well, I was not much older than you," Dacey reminded her sister. "I watched Mother train you, but I was not part of it. Yet, I do remember sometimes when you would run screaming from Mother as you claimed she treated you poorly. Jorelle, on the other hand, is much easier and she enjoys her books much more than training."

"Jorelle and her books," Lyra rolled her eyes. "She should have been born a man so she could become a Maester."

"She will tell you that they should allow her to be a Maester no matter her gender," a grin crossed Dacey's face.

"That is true," Lyra's smile became affectionate. "I should go find Lyanna, Mother will be furious with me if I allow her to get away from her lessons."

"She should not be too hard to find," Dacey licked her lips. "I would check the stables, I believe she climbs up to the top to check on the kittens that have just been born from her cat."

"Ah," Lyra grinned quickly, "Thank you Dace." She then hurried toward the stables, ready to drag Lyanna out by the ear.

Dacey headed through the grounds toward Mormont Keep, her eyes forward as she gazed up at the large, wooden and stone keep. It was a master piece, perhaps not as big as Winterfell, Deepwood Mott or Moat Cailin – but it was sizeable. And it was comforting, always the hearths were on as the chill winds from the North blew all year round. Most of the windows were sealed with a glass to protect the inside from the outside cold, it was lovely. Dacey preferred her keep, to any other that her mother had described.

"Dacey," she looked up as her mother, Maege Mormont, exited a solar. Maege was getting on in years, but that did not distract from her strength. She was not the most beautiful woman, with hard features and robust strength much like Dacey's sister Alysane. But she was strong, a strength often other women did not possess.

"Mother," Dacey stepped forward, hands behind her back. "Do we have a problem?"

"No more so than usual," Maege smiled. "I am thinking of writing to Lord Eddard Stark, seeking to foster his youngest daughter – Lady Arya. It is said she is as wilful as her aunt."

"I think that would be good, Mother," Dacey agreed, as it would strengthen their ties with the North. "How old is she?"

"A girl only a year older than Lyanna," Maege Mormont smiled. "She would be a good companion to Lyanna."

"I agree," Dacey took a look at Jorelle who followed her Mother out of the solar, her nose stuck in a book. "Jorelle, what are you reading?"

"About Aegon the Conqueror," she looked up with forest green eyes. "It's really interesting, I would like to ride a dragon."

"Well you cannot," Maege frowned, "And it is a bloody good thing the dragons are dead."

Unfortunately, Arya Stark would never be fostered on Bear Island. That had been a shame, she had gone South which could not have been the worst thing to do to the wilful girl. Dacey's mother had complained, Maege Mormont had thought Lord Eddard Stark an idiot for heading South too. Dacey had not had much of an opinion on it, how could Lord Eddard Stark have refused his King? But she thought Robert Baratheon was a fool, the Stark was not fit to be hand of the King – he had too much honour.

And Dacey had been correct.

She found a road, a large long road and she had no idea where she was going. But she hoped it was the King's Road, she had to head North. Dacey gripped her reins as she looked around the road that was quiet, the sky was darkening so there were not many people on the road. And with the war going on, the Riverlands being ravaged she doubted that many of the smallfolk would be away from their homes. It was too dangerous, especially with the Lannisters out and about, they would murder without thinking.

The fucking Lannisters, Dacey's mouth curled at the thought of the golden shits who had murdered her king. She wanted Joffrey Baratheon, the bastard, dead and every other Lannister with him. Dacey pressed her lips together, even Lady Catelyn had been murdered by the Freys, Boltons and the Lannisters. She hoped the Old Gods would have their revenge again, that they would take down those who had betrayed the King in the North. Her eyes looked out at the road and she continued, her direction a little confused but she was trying hard to make her way to the North.

Dacey reached down to the bag attached to her saddle, pulling out some bread she had been given. She bit into it, pulling a face as it was not lovely and soft as it could have been. But it was enough, she then reached to the jug of water that was tied to her saddle as well. She sipped some of the water, continuing to urge her horse further along the road. Her thoughts drifted to Maggy the Frog, she hoped that the creature in the forest was wrong. She had to get North, what was the point in delaying it?

She continued ahead, taking in the sights and listening for any sounds of battle. There still had to be some Northern forces, her mother had been sent off toward Moat Cailin and there had to be other, small bands that had not been at the Twins. Dacey's hands clenched tightly around the reins, there was no way she was going to forget what had happened and the man who had swung a weapon through her abdomen. As if remembering, she felt a tinge and reached over to place her hand on her abdomen where the wound was.

Dacey continued to move on, she had to make sure that she got home and did not end up dying on the way there. Her injury was healing, she had seen it the other night and had been surprised at the stitches. It was more of an angry red line than a bloody wound, Dacey's thoughts turned to how long she had been in that hut and she feared that it had been too long – way too long. But there was nothing she could do, she had no way to tell the time and she was alone, without a companion.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Dacey pulled off to the side of the road and further into the forest. She climbed down from the horse and grimaced, her body ached as she tied the horse to a tree. Then, she proceeded to ready herself for the night by lighting a fire and grabbing the extra coats that were thrown over the back of the horse. The sky continued to darken as Dacey huddled, pulling the coats and furs around her to get even warmer. She shivered, yawning as she stared at the fire that flickered and the smoke that danced to the sky.

The Old Gods, what was the plan for her? Dacey shook her head, frustrated at the thought that she had no idea what was going on. Home, she wanted to go home. What the fuck did that witch mean? Dacey let herself fall to the side as she stared at the fire and shivered, attempting to get some sort of warmth. But if she attempted to get closer to the fire it was likely that the fire would jump onto the furs and the coats – she would burn to death. She would not survive one death only to throw herself into another.

Dacey's eyes were set upon the fire as it danced, her vision blurred. A tear slipped from her eyes, she reached up to touch her wet cheek. But the tears did not stop, she felt that her tears were a weakness and she muffled her cries by reaching up to cover her mouth. She could not stop the tears, or the cries as her shoulders shook and she stared into the fire. She cried for Lady Catelyn Stark, for King Robb Stark… she cried for her people and the North – those who had to suffer.

The tears could not stop, she reached up to rub the back of her neck that was aching with her hand she had been muffling her cries with. The forest was quiet and it echoed with her cries, it was almost mournful. She felt eyes upon her, as if the Old Gods themselves were watching her and waiting for her to make a decision. It felt as if they were mourning with her also, mourning for the man who almost managed to win the North's independence. Dacey wanted to continue, she wanted to make sure that the North was free.

"Dacey… Dacey…" a voice whispered in her ear, she looked up, turning her head. "Dacey…" she could not find the owner of the voice. Where were they hiding? "Dacey…" she began to move, as she did she noticed the voice grew layered. It was multiple voices, they all seemed to overlap one another as the voice continued to whisper her name. It came from all around, floating through one ear and our the other. It caressed her, Dacey felt as if she was free and as if her life was something anew. Where was she and where was the voice?

She continued to move, running her fingers over leaves as she continued to move. She paused, freezing when she noticed the Weirwood tree that was adjacent to the Mormont Keep. Dacey continued to move, coming in front of the tree just to bend her knees and fall in front of the weirwood tree. She stared at the face that was built into the weirwood tree and she held out her hand. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand on the tree. Electricity shot threw her and her head threw back, she let out a loud cry.

"Dacey Mormont," she saw herself greeting someone.

"Of Bear Island?"

"Yes, I have come because we have a duty."

"A duty?"

"To the Kingdom, to the true King."

"The true King?"

"Yes."

"And who might that be?"

The scene changed once again, and she found herself in another place, it felt warm to touch.

"And who do you think you are?"

"Dacey Mormont."

"And what do you want?"

"To serve the true King."

"The true King?" The voice laughed loudly, "And who might that be?"

Once again the scene changed and her hair was whipping around her face, there was joy in her expression. She was much different, her hair longer and she appeared freer. There was a scar on her right cheek that had not been there before, it changed her. She was waving at someone, who was coming toward her but the sun was too bright and she could not see who it was. But there was cheers, there was shouts for a King who Dacey did not know the appearance of. She was so confused as the world spun and she found herself in front of the weirwood tree, gasping and staring at the face who came alive in front of her.

"See," the tree spoke and her eyes widened in surprise. "That is why you must go to the Reach, do you understand?"

"The Reach…" she shook her head. It was sudden, "I can't just go to the Reach."

"You must, it is important," the tree spoke with a thousand voices. She could not distinguish the separate voices, but she knew it was the old Gods that spoke to her. "Dacey Mormont, it is the will of the Gods that you go to the Reach and you find the Rose. Then you must take the Rose and you must go to the Sun, and then to find the Sword. Do you understand!?" The voice boomed.

Dacey gasped, throwing herself up into a sitting position and blinking rapidly. Her heart was pounding inside her chest as she reached up, pressing her hand to her heart and looking around her campsite. The horse was find, though it appeared rather spooked and she could still hear the echo of the voice in her ears. The fire was out, nothing but ashes and she stared up at the sky as dawn seemed to approach quickly. Dacey was up, gathering the coats and her belongings.

"The Reach, find the Rose, take the Rose and find the Sun," she repeated under her breath as she swung herself onto her horse. "And then the Sword. What else?"