Westeros' mammoth problem

Disclaimer: all characters belong to Martin and Co., here.

Across the multiverse…

Once upon a time, after Sansa Stark, the Queen of the North, (unless you were pro-Daenerys Targaryen instead, cough), having spent the better half of her day queening, presiding and managing the North, (and it was a hard, stiff work), got of her throne, gave herself an involuntary shake, (because she had sat on the same spot for the better part of the day, again), and looked around. "And where's Theon?" she asked everyone in general and no one in particular.

"Outside," spoke her current maester, "we got an on-hands problem that just needs to be resolved".

"Another one?" Sansa said sourly. The Longest Night might've been over ever since Arya killed the Night King, made everyone know that and promptly left for the South, so that she could board a ship there and sail off to have marvelous adventures, (even though no one wanted her to go, not even Sansa), but Westeros was still continuing to recover: why, it was only last week that a small clan of northern wildcats moved into Winterfell without an invitation, and so far they were proving impossible to dislodge. They were a moderately sized family, less than a dozen animals, but, again, they were here to stay, and there was nothing – not dogs, not fires, not armed men (and women) that got to them, period.

It was not that those animals were bad neighbours…only they were, and were even less interested in getting rid Winterfell of mice and rats, and more in being pests themselves. It was exasperating, Sansa was beginning to feel that the North as a spiritual being was mocking Sansa for proclaiming in being the Queen of the North, and-

"Theon," she called out to her husband, (the prince-consort of the North or something along those lines), "what are those?"

"Mammoths," Theon replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "Woolly mammoths. Fuzzy elephants of the north, unless the more common hairless ones of Essos".

"Theon," the look on Sansa's face could shatter stones. "We're the North-"

"I mean further up North, then," Theon jabbed his finger northwards. "Now that the Wall is down, there's nothing to stop them from coming down south starting with our lands."

"O-oh," Sansa blinked and looked northwards, where the Wall used to stand, but now that the late Night King had brought it down, there was nothing instead, and no Night Watch either to keep anyone or anything coming down south, to Sansa's (and Theon's) lands, as well as beyond. "We probably should contact – Jon down in the South in order to see if we can set up some sort of a border guard to prevent this sort of thing…" She trailed away as she became aware that Theon was leading her gently into the stables. "Why are we going in here-?" she did not finish, as Theon firmly shut the door and unclothed her in the same motion. "Oh. Oh my. Oh good."

And they buggered each other right there in the manger, and somehow, unexpectedly, Sansa was not stiff and tired from sitting on the royal throne at all.

"…We still need to do something about the mammoths," she commented when both of them were spent and just lay there in the warm hay. One of the wildcats was trotting past them; Sansa was certain that it was the same animal that had recently challenged her authority by stealing one of Sansa's decrees from her table and not giving it back until Sansa and Theon had ticked its' tummy. It was annoying. The Dragon Queen in the South was bad enough; Sansa did not need another alpha female in the mix.

"Actually, I have an idea," Theon replied.

"Is it a good idea?"

"It's one of mine. What do you think?"

"We're going to do it anyways, then. What is it?"

"You know how the Dragon Queen has hit you with taxes-?"

Sansa's eyes narrowed in attention. "I'm listening…"

/ / /

Some time later…

"Oh Jon!" the voice of Daenerys could peel paint from glass. "Come over here! Jaehaerys!"

"Yes dear?" Jon Snow, or Stark, or Targaryen, (there were several versions of his family name, especially among the maesters, and that was not exactly a good thing), "what is it?"

"See what your sweet sister has sent us in lieu of taxes for food, clothing, and other specie for the current winter month!" the Dragon Queen was snarling as well as any of their dragons did. "What are we supposed with them? Slaughter them for food personally?"

Jon opened his mouth. Came outside. Saw the woolly mammoth herd in question, and closed his mouth. Thought this over for some time. Opened his mouth again:

"I have an idea," he said brightly, and went to see his other sister, down in the harbor. "Oh Arya! Are you here yet or have you finally left for your marvelous adventures?"

"Yes, I'm still here – saying good-bye to Gendry!" Arya called back, pointedly ignoring that Jon was seeing her rather dishevelled right now. "Why are you asking? Have you come up with yet another idea-"

"Yes, but it's a different one entirely, thanks to Sansa," Jon shook his head. "Arya. I mean Gendry. I mean – Yara. Since you're also here, can you take Arya and Gendry to Essos?"

"That I can, but what do you have in mind?" the other surviving scion of the house Greyjoy asked suspiciously.

Jon told them.

/ / /

Even more time later…

"…And this is how I've ended up back here, both me and Gendry," Arya explained to the Waif, as the two young women, (let us just assume that the other woman from the House of Black and White was alive in this dimension, shall we?), sat at a table, drinking tea. Well, actually they were holding a conversation, drinking whatever it was that they have put down into their drinking flasks, and observing the number of dead flies and other insects that were accumulating around their tea cups and saucers, (which were also dissolving from the inside out). "We're, apparently, a part of some sort of a Westerosi breeding program, aimed to improve the original Esseni elephant, by interbreeding it with the Westerosi woolly mammoth. The income generated by this Bantha poodoo goes to improve and fix the Westerosi finances, which were a mess since Aerys II, Robert I, the mess that followed next, Cersei the Crazy and the Night King's invasion."

"That's a lot of events," the Waif pointed out, supressing her jealousy that she had never experienced anything like that – Arya had killed the Night King, period. "Will the mammoths fix them-?"

"We got the Iron Bank involved, and it's on our side for a change," Arya said vaguely, before regaining her concentration. "And my marvelous adventures got sidelined, since I'm the Stark responsible for the execution of this plan, courtesy of Jon, who's treated as a Stark rather than anyone else in this adventure."

"Hey!" Gendry called out from his position.

"You're the Baratheon instead!" Arya called back and shook her head, switching her attention back to the Waif. "Isn't he adorable?"

"He totally is," the Waif said absent-mindedly; both young women looked down at their teacups, which by now were just two small piles of messy yuck. "Arya? Welcome back to Bravos. Somehow the city is just isn't the same without you."

"Oh stop," Arya shook her head and made her own confession: "It's good to be home."

End