The Wall had fallen three years after her father died in his attempt to free Winterfell.
She was barely fourteen years old.

They all were slaughtered by the Others.
She felt the horrible cold entering her body when the weapon of a White Walker pierced her tummy.

Lord Snow though, he saved her from the fate of eternal slavery to these monsters of the Ice and with his last breath and the last bit of strength in his swordsarm, he pushed his Dragonglass dagger into her Heart, like he promised her before.

The last thing that she felt was the tender touch of his lips on her brows.
It was warm.

Then there was only darkness.

...

...

The air that was surrounding her was warm when she woke up again. She opened her eyes and gasped. She knew this room but it was so long ago that she was in it for the last time.

She lifted her hands. All fingers were there and the hands looked smooth and small and tidy. But the hands that she remembered had missed a small finger, because of frostbite and they had scars on it everywhere.

She stood up and looked down to the bed which she just left. Then she looked around in the room. There was laying a flat box on a small table and she walked over to it.

She opened the box and looked inside. Her eyes grew wet for she remembered. This was the gift that Maester Cressen had given her on the evening before her seventh nameday. She had promised him not to open it not before the morning of her day had begun.

She stood there and looked down into the box and then again lifted her hands and looked at them from all sides.

They were as small again as they were when she was around the age of seven.

Could it really be, was she really this child again. If so, then why? Only to live the same sad life as she did before?

Her hands touched her face, yes her thick dead Stoneskin was there.

She snorted unwillingly, this was all not something that she wanted to relive again. This exclusion from life and the disgust or even worse, the pity of the other people.
Not again, please not again.

In the last year of her life, she finally felt good about herself and nobody stared at her anymore for they all were too much involved in staying alive. She had liked that feeling, that nobody looked at her with pity or disgust.

The tears were now running freely from her eyes. She wished for nothing more than to be dead, better than to relive all the pain and loss and suffering and to be without loved ones and friends again.

She looked again to her bed and the rest of the room and then sighed deeply. There was nothing to be done, so it seemed. She would suffer through it all again, though maybe she could use this chance to save her father and her other loved ones from their destiny, even if it would make her only more lonely.

Tomorrow she would think about it and how to talk about the future to Cressen and her father and Ser Davos.

She wandered over to the fireplace with the little box in her arms and get down on her knees in front of the slowly fading flames. She took the book out of the box, and then pushed the empty wooden box into the fireplace without care. Her left sleeve caught fire while doing so and before she could even stop it, the fire engulfed her whole body.

She screamed. This was even more painful than the icy sword that ended her first life.

...

...

...
There were voices near her ear. Voices that talked about a miracle. A hand was touching her face. The left side of her face...how...she never felt it before when she was touched on her left cheek...

She opened her eyes wide and saw that quite a lot of people were in her room.

She stared at them and they stared back at her. She then looked to the person that was still touching her face. It was Maester Cressen and he was crying unashamed, while still stroking her left cheek.

Her own hands got up and touched it and her neck too. Her skin was smooth.