The Pack Hunts Together

XXXXXXXXXX

"We have a favor to ask, Old Friend." I peek my eyes open, having been dozing in the last dregs of sunlight, turning to look over my shoulder. Heavy in the air is the familiar hint of eternal power, the barest taste of which vibrates my very soul, somehow like the loudest warning siren and the warmest lullaby both. It leaves no question of who stands before me.

A handsome man with dark skin and piercing mono-lidded purple eyes, decked out in black leather and fur, with silver plated armor covering him walks near. Next to him is a beautiful woman with long pitch black hair, a silver cloak obscuring the top half of her head, but luminous gold eyes peered out of the dark shadow of the hood. The man had two swords sheathed at his waist, contrasting heavily with the woman's giant claymore, resting against her shoulder, and the silken skirts pooling at her legs. "There is a world we would like your assistance with."

My eyebrows climb into my hairline at Lord Magic's solemn words. Lady Death just nods, as she sets her claymore down with a thud, slicing right into the earth of the cliff I'm perched on. I get up and resettle on the ground near their feet, legs crossed under me, head tilted curiously. It's often how I find myself when they appear before me.

"The world has completely lost Balance. The dead are rising, souls chained and tortured as they are forced to march on the living. All magic in the world is disappearing, and soon all life will follow it." Death says, her voice low but soft, like parting words at a bedside. A thin, long fingered hand with too sharp nails comes to rest gently on my cheek, dark hair sweeping against the ground. "Dear One, if you decide to accept, this will be the hardest challenge yet. We need you to survive long enough to free the souls being stolen and kept from me, and bring magic back to the world. We will be giving you more advantages than usual, but as a result, you will have more responsibility and danger aimed at you."

"And what of my eyes, and Fate?" I ask warily. At this point I'm well aware of the Balance, and its requirements. So many advantages will have to be counteracted with serious negatives.

"Your restrictions will be as usual. Seeing how much you will have to struggle, Fate decided that the Balance can be maintained without further penalization, especially considering it's already disrupted." Magic rumbles, his voice quiet and thunderous at the same time.

What the fuck, I think, confused and suspicious. Fate is never that kind. Where is the normal spite? Wha- Wait! They're fucking using me to fix their issues, too! It's not generosity, just self interest! I huff, rolling my eyes at the realization. Death and Magic wouldn't have been so bothered as to ask for help if Ballance was being maintained, but it isn't, meaning Fate's domain has been disrupted as well.

"I'll have my magic? And a decent family?" Going through what sounds like my fiercest challenge yet with a shitty support system was so not worth it. I glance at the strained, grave faces of Death and Magic, and let out a deep sigh. Ok, fine. I'll do it regardless, just for them, and because I don't want to feel guilty for an apocalypse.

"You will have a family you will cherish, and other things, but your abilities will be limited until you manage to address what is causing magic to be stunted. Will you do us this favor?" Magic questions, armor clicking softly even as his leather glove brushes my cheek, the feeling of static dancing across my skin and I lean into it, long since having stopped fearing the two deities. What's the point in fearing an incomprehensible power that has been kind to me? If they ever wish harm on me, it's not like I could do anything to stop them, there is no point in worrying about it.

I look up at them, taking in their grim expressions and I answer without hesitation , grinning. "Of course I'll do it. We're friends after all!" There is a moment of silence before Death cackles, the sound like bones creaking. Magic tosses his head back, joining her, booming like the start of a storm that will bring with it destruction and new life both.

"We will give you some time. It is a medieval society, so say goodbye and prepare yourself. We will see you soon." I take in their current forms, my soul light and happy, and then they're gone.

XXXXXRIKARDXXXXX

"Father, there is a matter we wish to discuss."

I glance up from the budget I am calculating to see my children standing in the doorway of my solar. Brandon, my heir of 10 name days, leads the pack, the unnatural gravity in his eyes immediately raising my hackles in alarm. Bran, with his mother Lyarra's more rounded features, but Stark coloring, is our Wild Wolf, almost always getting into trouble. He is always laughing and playing, forever running from lessons, but still clever and tricky. If he wasn't joyful and mischievous, he was snarling and snapping, a ferocious wolf under his skin. But, this? I've never seen the lad so serious.

I'm rising from my seat before I consciously realize it, genuine worry starting to creep into my chest as I scan the rest of the pack, eyes landing on my last two sons. With long faces, brown hair and grey eyes, Ned and Benjin, 9 and 4 respectively, look more like me than Lyarra. It wasn't uncommon for Ned to be quiet, solemn, but not like this. Is he…trembling?I squint, unsure. And Benjin hardly ever stays still for more than a minute at a time, but yet here hestands, gripping onto Ned as his eyes dart from his siblings to me, completely silent. Dread begins to pool in my gut.

Finally, my eyes find my girls, Lyanna with her dark brown hair and grey eyed has the Stark Look, and just as much wolf blood as Brandon. If she had not been born alongside her elder twin, I'm not sure I would believe the other mine, because Lunarya looks like like nothing I've ever seen.

Pitch black hair fades to grey and then silver at the ends. Not like the white gold of the Targaryens, this was true silver. Her eyes were Stark steel, but her features a more even mix of her mother's and I. Luna was usually my largest worry.

Not because she was wild, no, it's the opposite. At seven years, she acts less like a child than even Ned. Maestar Luwin says her mind is brilliant, incredibly so, beyond anything he's seen in a child, but her eyes are weak, and sometimes it's like she cannot see at all. Other times, it's like she's seen too much.

My heart begins to beat faster as I notice the way the children stand. Lunarya, whose head is always raised, watches the ground with an expression I can't quite read as the other's crowd in on her at every side. Are they shielding her? From me? I'm bewildered, and pained by the thought. What in the hells could have made them think she needed protection from me, their father of all people?

"Lunarya? What is it, Little Cubs?" I step forward and crunch in front of them. Brandon doesn't move from in front of the younger children, nor does he reach for me as he normally would. Lunarya finally looks up, something pained pinching her expression before it empties of all emotion, chilling me deeper than any winter wind ever has. She steps forward, leaning to press her head to her eldest brother's shoulder briefly, before moving around him and wrapping her arms around my neck.

My brow furrowed, I pull her against my chest tightly. "Luna?"

"Let's…take a walk in the godswood." I almost startle at the small voice in my ear. Glancing at the rest of the pups, they are all watching their sister intently.

I nod, lifting Luna as I stand, and the rest of the children huddle around me, Bran dropping to his knees and with Ned's help, putting Benjen onto his back. The pack is quiet, unnaturally so, as we walk through the castle. Even the people of Winterfell notice, and as they scurry out of our path, I hear the concerned and confused whispers just out of sight.

I reach up and pull Luna's cloak hood low over her eyes as we step out into the summer air, just cold enough to keep snowing. Too much light seems to disorient her and harm her eyes, and the summer light reflecting off the snow paints the world in blinding pearlessence, and my heart aches to know such beauty is poisonous for her. The children are all dressed in barely enough fur and wool to be out, but they are Starks, born of the line of Winter Kings. Ice runs in our veins and we do not fear the cold.

I feel the air change as we approach the godswood, the familiar sensation calming me slightly. I never could understand how anyone could see a weirwood tree and not feel the magic, the gods in them. Bran, finally having gotten tired, sets Benjen down and together, we walk into the trees, a few knights intuitively following at a distance, including Ser Cregan Cassel and his son Rodrick, who was currently a squire at Winterfell. Along the path we walk, passing ancient trees and trending snow, the older children aiding the younger, and after not much time at all, we reach the heart tree. All the children spread out, leaving only Lunarya and I to kneel before it, red sap eternaling spilling from the carved eyes of the weirwood tree like bloody tears for a tragedy long passed, perhaps. I attempted to collect my thoughts when Luna, for once, speaks up first.

"When you were young, your father, our grandfather, told you something here, in front of the heart tree. He told you that the Winter King only bent the knee for the Conqueror because that was what was best for the North. That was the decision Torrhen Stark made for his people." My head turns sharply, cracking with the force of it, to look at my small daughter. I know exactly what Lunarya speaks of, what she will say next, but not how she could have possibly known it. Alarm strikes me like lightning, setting all my nerves alight, but my Little Moon doesn't acknowledge me at all, her eyes trained on the pale, melancholy face in the weirwood, speaking damned words as soft and smooth as silk, words that could start a war. "Then, Grandfather told you that if the Targaryens ever became not best for the North, our House could rise again, for we had bent our knee, not cut it off. These words are treason, and so you never dared speak them to another soul."

I stare blankly, watching my child fold her legs under her, eyes not faltering from the white bark in front of her. It's only after several moments that I slowly piece together the puzzle I hadn't realized had been in front of me the entire time. I inhale, breath hitching in my chest as I choke out a whisper around it, feeling like the world is spinning out from under my feet. "You're a greenseer, lass." It's not a question, not when the little things I had dismissed suddenly line up.

She turns to me at last, head tilted in the barest of nods, "Among other things." The words are grim, almost bitter, and the awe I feel for my child's gift from the old gods is replaced by my fear for her. Her eyes are much too dark to belong in the face of a child. Whatever this is, I have already failed to protect her from it.

Luna rises to stand in front of me before she steps closer, eyes perfectly meeting mine for the first time that I can remember, her sight too poor for her to usually have eye contact with others. "The gods sent me to do something for them. If I fail, our kingdom will fall."

It's too much, and I can feel myself tearing apart at the seams, mind flying off into a million different directions at once, like ash in the wind. My precious child being a greenseer, I can believe that. The line of Winter is known to have them and warg abilities. But, some messenger of the gods? Lunarya has never been one for tales and lies and games of pretend, that is true, but perhaps she is confused, mixing her visions with imagination. She's still so young-

"It's okay. I know it's hard to believe. I don't blame you. I merely brought you here to ask you something, for I can't afford to be idle anymore." I stare, dumbfounded, mouth agape, even as fear begins to fill me, settling in my very bones. It occurs to me that this must be the most I've heard my middle child speak at once, perhaps by half, and it has never been like this, a brutal, near crass honesty, even if she's never told me a lie. Do I truly know her so little? Did she find me so untrustworthy?

"What… is it, daughter?" I swallow, mouth dry, and dread thumping my heart like the fiercest war drums. The corners of her mouth curl, a rueful almost smile, as if she couldn't quite bear to try any harder. Her head presses to mine for but a moment, a sigh nearly as long as the Wall falling from her mouth, before she pulls away, something tugging on my belt as she goes.

"Please forgive me, Papa." Real grief on her too young face forces the air from my lungs, the words piercing my heart like a lance, and my dagger clenched in her little fist, Luna tosses her head back, ethereal hair spilling free as her hood falls, and howls.

I kneel there, uncomprehending, as a force slams into me, knocking me to the ground with a high pitched battle cry, air forced from my lungs by the knees to my chest. I lay on my back, dazed as three more weights hit me, and I only vaguely register a splash coming from the hot springs.

"Wha- What in the hells do you think you lot are doing?" I groan out, irritated, as my children plaster themselves to me, clinging tightly to wherever they can.

"My Lord! Lunarya jumped into the water!" Ser Gregan yells, sprinting past, and I remember the splash I'd heard seconds ago. Panicking, I try to get up, staggering and swaying like a drunkard under the combined force of my other 4 children.

"LUNA! CEASE THIS NONSENSE AT ONCE!" I roar at my pups, alarm surging, drowning me like the tide in Shipwreckers Bay, even as I try to pry them off and go after my missing cub.

Brandon, who has pinned one of my arms by wrapping himself around my torso, looks up straight into my own eyes, teeth bared as he struggles determined not to be shaken off. "Sorry, Father. We have our orders."

"And we can't fail them," grunts Ned, my least wild child from where he and Lya are trying to pin a leg each. Here for the first time, I can see the wolf's blood under Ned's skin, and it's painfully obvious I've misjudged all of my children tremendously.

Lya continues to scream her battle cry at the top of her lungs even as little Benjen, sobbing, does his damndest to restrain my free hand by curling his entire body around it and keeping me from being able to grab any of the others and pull them off. Going into the water now would mean taking them with me, probably drowning us all, or at the least, risking illness in this weather, the children too young to handle the temperatures. The knights, Cregan included, are desperately trying to remove their armor to go in after Lunarya, but there is a reason squires are necessary. It's a long process to remove and wear armor, and they would simply sink if they tried to go in with it still on. The only one not in armor is Rodrik, a child himself. He would not be able to handle her weight and his own.

"Rodrik! Go bring a swimmer and Maester Luwin. RUN, LAD!" The boy takes off through the godswood, as though a bear is at his heels, just as one of the guards gets clever, pushing past the panicked haze the rest of us have lost ourselves in and dashes over, starting to pry Benjen off. The lad comes free with a wail, but the other children just take strength in it, the loss of their youngest comrade seeming to almost make them angry, spiteful, judging by the cursing they're bellowing out. Oh gods, I think, horrified even as I help pry Lya off, nearly crushing Ned as I fall to the snow again in the process, my children might carry the weight of their sister's death until their own. Cregan and I manage to free ourselves at the same time, both lunging for the hot spring just as Lunarya's head breaks the surface. Gasping, she struggles forward.

Reaching in with a single hand, I snatch her out but the scruff of her collar. Madness! These children will drive me madder than the fucking king. "JUST WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELLS WERE YOU THINKING, GIRL!" I bellow, unable to control myself, I shake her once, furious.

She yelps, and the rage disappears, instantly replaced by guilt and worry as she flinches away, the dagger I forgot she stole, now bloody, thudding to the ground. I sway, sick at the realization that I hurt my own child, bile rising in my throat, but I force it down. Cursing, I rip off my cloak, bundle her in it, and lift her into my arms, bolting towards Winterfell, the rest close behind.

Terror pushes me harder. I don't know how bad she was cut, how dirty it is, how her body will react to the cold with her clothes soaked through. The rapid temperature could shock her system and kill her, or take her fingers and toes.

Unconsciously, I arrive at Luna's personal chambers, Cregan pulling the door open for me as the other knights rush to find the Maester, Lyarra, and maids to warm a bath. Panting, I set the mad little thing down, pulling off the cloak, and reaching to pull off the rest when she jerks away.

"Papa! I'm fine!" I stare incredulously at the pout on her lips. Papa? She even has the fucking audacity to stomp her little foot, like I'm the outrageous one here. It's oddly at this moment that Lunarya looks more childlike than I've ever seen her act in all 7 years of life.

"We're here!" Lyanna burst in, the rest of the litter behind her, wheezing in effort. Luna nods sharply walking to her roaring fireplace, and past an already full bathtub of hot water. Like the city bells ringing, I realize that, somehow, the children had planned this. Everything. down to this moment.

A greenseer, indeed. I watch Lunarya pull out 2 large stone eggs from under her tunic and a small wooden object, blood spearing on them as she crouches and places them in the fire with her bare hands, before standing a bit drunkenly and climbing fully clothed into her bathtub. Ser Cregan has turned to stone next to me, mouth agape at the blatant, impossible show of magic, probably thinking no amount of money or honor is worth this level of madness.

Crack. Something splinters, and I think it's the sound of my sanity. I look at Lunarya

"Explain. Now."

XXXXXLUNARYAXXXXX

I blink sleepy eyes at my poor father, who's knees have given out from the stress and now sits on my bed entirely overwrought. I feel terribly guilty , but I've spent years planning out several large upcoming events that will change the fate of the world, and this was the best way I found to bring my father in on the secret my beloved, incredible siblings have been helping me with for years. I didn't have much time. I'd used nearly all my magic on retrieving the eggs and performing the ritual, and as a result, my young body is shutting down. I was going to be asleep in a magical coma pretty soon. "Bran, Lya, Ned, Ben?"

My eldest brother crouches next to me where I sit in the tub, his hand settling on my head. "We know what to do. You've prepared us. Rest now. We have you."

I smile, dipping my bloody palms Into the water, just as the first squeaking cry breaks out. Instantly, every eye in the room turns to look as two tiny creatures tumble out of the fireplace. It's at this moment that my mother, a lovely, but frail woman with bronze and copper for hair and eyes like a summer sky, bursts into the room, Maester Luwin on her heels. Shit, didn't see that happening. She doesn't even get a full word out before she gasps, a scream hastily cut off as she covers her own mouth, and Maestar Luwin only barely manages to slow her fall as she slumps to the ground in her own surprise.

Struggling against the heaviness in my limbs and the darkness creeping at the edges of my blurred sight, I reach my hands out, both hands still bleeding sluggishly. With screeches and scrabbling, two baby dragons climb into my palms, serpent like toungues flicking at the wounds before they climb up my arms to settle on my shoulders. Only about a hand, a child's hand, big, and only able to grasp and cling, they just look like odd, winged lizards. Or they would if not for their glorious scales.

One is all the shades of black and grey, from the darkest obsidian to shining silver, like shadow and ash, winter sky and mercury. She, (She?), has eyes like gleaming steel, black, mask- like markings on her face. She has little forearms, not made for standing upon, and she uses her large wide wings to balance as she hops along.

The other is like a sunset painting the sky, a creature of liquid gold. While he is more gold than anything, potions of crimson and orange, and even a brilliant blue accent a great many of his scales. Rather than having fire, he looked like he was made of it. His eyes are brilliant chips of blue, matching the rarest color across his body. Unlike the female, he has forelegs as tall as the hind ones, although slimmer, with more narrow wings that seemed to be longer than his nestmate's.

Realizing that my time is up, I carefully pick each up, setting them in a large bowl Lya holds out to me. "Saiya and Sahaar," I murmur. Shadow and Dawn. Feeling a small hand settle on the back of one of mine, careful and gentle, I turn to look at Benjen, who was still tearing up a bit, giving him a small grin, even as I let myself sink into warm darkness.

XXXXXBRANDONXXXXX

Reaching out my hand, I grab Luna's face awkwardly as her head flops forward, finally falling asleep, so she doesn't breathe in the water. Ben reaches out and pushes it to rest on the tub edge. Standing up, I clap my hands together sharply, breaking the silence. "Mother, Father, Lunarya wrote a letter to you explaining everything. We should…probably take care of her first. She said she'd be mad if we let her drown in the tub."

That seems to wake everyone up as Maestar Luwin and Mother rush to put a screen up around our sleeping sister, and Father, who had gone rather pale, abruptly stands, his head snapping up, eyes narrowing on me, before he points silently at us and then to Luna's sofa, hand shaking.

None of us are stupid enough to disobey, so all of us, Lyanna still carrying a bowl of dragons, seat ourselves on the pile of furs that Luna set across the floor and sofa. Ned puts Beny between us, wrapping one of Luna's many, many quilts around him.

Father rests his head in his hands for a brief moment as Ser Cregan creeps closer, his eyes on the dragons, Saiya and Sahaar, who are currently curling around themselves and going to sleep. Mother, after grabbing a new nightgown for Luna, helps the Maestar dress her, and tuck her into bed. It seems that Luwin has already treated her hands, which reminds me-

"The dagger-" Ned cuts me off.

"It's fine. I grabbed it." He holds up the still bloody dagger, and Father immediately darts forward, his hand grasping Ned's wrist tightly as he carefully removes the knife. Father's jaw is clenched forcefully, eyes ablaze, a muscle in his face twitching, and I realize I've never seen him so furious. I scowl. Father's about ready to make us clean the stables, and Luna's napping! She owes us at least a pie each. I pout, arms crossing.

Father, still crouched in front of us, let out a long exhale, before he glances up at us and asks, "Why? Why help her? She could've died."

We all flinch, but as I hear Benjen starts to cry again, the wolf's blood in me starts to rise, fury in my veins. It's Ned that manages to speak first, though, which is probably for the better, I acknowledge with a glare. "This was not a game, Father. Luna's been having green dreams since she was born." Surprise flickers across his face, replacing the anger briefly as Ned continues, and I can hear Mother's gasp from where sits next to Luna across the room. "She has been planning since before mother was even pregnant with Benjen. At one point, she even thought she accidentally killed him because she changed something, and Mother didn't tell us about her pregnancy at the right time."

"Gods," murmurs Ser Cregan, voice grim and worried.

I huff, scowling. "Our pack asked us, begged us for help. So, we helped her. We trust her to know what's best." I give Father a pointed look, before turning away, angry that he thinks we would hurt Luna. Angry that he doesn't believe our sister.

"Alright. Alright. You said she wrote a letter?" I perk up, darting over to her desk and giving it to him, proud to complete my mission before I remember I'm mad, and stomp back over to my seat, making sure to glare again.

Father begins to read aloud. "I want to start by saying I'm sorry. Truly. I was born in this world to complete 2 tasks for the gods. I've looked and looked, but I'm running out of time, and in the name of preventing as much death and destruction as possible, I had to start today. Currently, my abilities are limited and this was the best outcome I foresaw. I love being a Stark," Father stops, his face softening, before continuing on his voice low, but warmer, "I love being a Stark, so much. I love you all. There are so many people to protect, but if I fail…I don't wish to burden you with the knowledge, not yet. Not for as long as I can." Father frowns, and Mother cries out, her hands covering her mouth. They look worried and scared, but that doesn't make sense. What could scare Father and Mother? I don't understand, Luna uses too many complicated words!

"It doesn't matter. The point is, one of my tasks is bringing back magic to this world. Hence, the dragons. It's unfortunate, but necessary. It will take years for the rumors of dragons to spread, even longer for them to be believed, but until then, we must prepare." Father stops here swearing loudly and slamming his fist into the wall, causing mother and Ben to cry out. He stops, panting, before apologizing quietly.

"The political ramifications…" Maester Luwin croaks, eyes wide and voice shaking.

"I didn't even think of it yet," our Lord Father grits out. With a deep breath, he reads on. "I'm aware how bad this sounds, but I need your trust here. Do nothing, nothing until I wake up. Don't even try to hide the dragons. Just watch them, feed them, and put them somewhere made of stone. I'll be asleep for a while, maybe a moon. I'm sorry, but at the moment, I can only access very little of my magic and waking the dragons drained it all. Please don't worry," Father states, sounding like he's in disbelief. What's so hard to understand? Wait for Luna to wake up. Simple. She's really tired so she should be allowed to rest well. It's magic after all.

Father groans, handing the letter over to the Maester, tired of reading, I think. Reading can be very boring. I agree with Father, I think, nodding sympathetically. The Maestar glances at father, who sits next to Mother, with his head in his hands again, as mother grips his arm tightly. Then, Luwin clears his throat and continues to read for us all, eyes growing wider with each word. "Maester, please feed me some weirwood sap every day I'm asleep, before every meal. Please also, discreetly, find every book on magic you can, and store them together for me." The Maestar nods quickly like Luna can see him, which makes me snicker, and Ned elbow me in the side. "Uh, ahem, she also told me to collect the egg shells and keep them for her, and to clean the blood off the dagger as best as possible. Ah, this part is for Lady Lyarra. She says to please stay in bed and eat some of the sap as well, but that she will be very worried and upset if you make yourself sick because you were being silly and sitting with her unconscious body." Here the Maestar lets out a breathy, choking laugh. "She says watching people sleep is impolite and that you'll give her nightmares."

I topple over onto the backrest, howling. Benjen, giggling, slumps on my lap as well, as Lyanna rolls to the fur covered ground, cackling, and even Ned can't stop a chuckle from coming out. The adults seem less inclined to acknowledge the hilarity, but I can see Ser Cregan's shoulders shaking a bit, and a small smile on Mother's tear soaked face.

"That is more or less the end of it." The Maestar concludes, "Ah, wait, it's here at the bottom. "Father, I beg you, do not touch any marriage proposal. Please. Not unless you wish our pack three smaller."" The room goes still, and I frown. How could our pack get sma- oh, no.

Father gets up, and starts to pace, hands clasped behind his back, and teeth gritted tightly. Mother speaks for the first time. "What will we do, my Lord Husband?" Father stops, and turns to look at her, face stony.

"We do as she says. We must. I'll not take the risk. For now, we will do as she says, and wait."

XXXXXLUNARYAXXXXX

I look around me, the world vivid and clear, stunning and striking, and I know I'm dreaming, for I can only see the world so well when I'm looking forward or back, in my dreams and visions. I'm standing in some kind of cave, with a giant fucking weirwood tree practically glowing in the dark center. High up in the trunk, with roots and vines and branches growing around and through, was a man. Pale skin and hair, he opens his mouth, a branch growing from one eye socket, and asks, "Who are you, Child? What are you?"

I glance around, looking for who he's speaking to, but I find the cave empty and still. I turn back, confused, and jump to find his eye trained on…mine? "I'm speaking to you, Child. Although I wonder if a child really is what you are."

I gape at the tree man. "You can see me?"

"I see all, past, present, future. But I have never seen you before now. I see you are a Stark, but I don't know how this came to be. Lunarya Stark was never, in all my years of looking, supposed to exist. So, who are you? What are you?"

"Ah, a greenseer. I've never met another, it's no wonder you can see me," I say in realization. "I'm just as I look, a child of Winter, but you are right. I was never supposed to exist. But then the gods saw this world's fate and decided to send me to do something about it."

I shrug, looking around the cave curiously. A sharp gasp brings my attention back to the man, but he doesn't seem to be looking at me, not really. "I see it, I see it now. Yes, not quite human at all, not with a soul like that. Touched by gods…. Come Child, quick! I must show you something!" And then, the world swirls and I find myself at a tourney.

XXXXXXXXXX

"SON OF A BITCH!" I screech, furious as I watch my brother take my sister's trueborn child from her corpse in the Tower of Joy. "What was the fucking point of that, and what the hell were they thinking? That whole war could have been subverted my a fucking raven!" I stomp my foot down as the world swirls and I'm back in the cave, the man watching from his place in the tree.

"That's the question, isn't it? It seems odd, for both of them. Out of character." I stop, turning to look at him, and realize he's right. Lya is reckless, but if she was running away, she would have made her ire damn well known, at least eventually. If she found out Bran and Father had been killed, nothing, not even Kingsgaurd could have stopped her from picking up a sword herself, based on both how she is now, and how she seemed in the future. And, Rhaegar? So far, he seems competent, and kind. A raised prince would know what would happen the second he made off with a lord's daughter, especially one not his wife. And then, for him to have hidden away as war raged over a misunderstanding? None of it makes sense.

The man suddenly looks up, eyes trained in the distance even as they grow wide. "You must go. You're in danger."

"What's happening?" I demand, my thoughts immediately going to my family.

"The carving, it was used to drain magic from the very air and earth of Winterfell. It cannot be destroyed by a mere magicless fire! It has your blood now, so I'll use my magic to force you back before it kills you and your dragons!"

"How do I destroy it?" I yell, even as the world starts to go dark. Just when I think I'm too far gone I hear him.

"Magic fire and steel!"

XXXXXXXXXX

I wake up, and instantly, I can feel the carving sucking me dry. It's agony, like being set on fire, and I gasp, crying out, I roll off my bed to the ground. It feels like my bones are being ground to dust, as I reach to knock a small bell to the ground. A young maid appears at the sound, gasping as she sees me unable to move on my back, starting to vomit. She, cleverly, rolls me over so I don't choke, but I grab her hand tightly.

"Get… my father. Tell him to bring Ice," I gasp out, voice ragged and grating my through.

"Milady-"

"Now. Hurry," I shove her, and she bolts, even as my muscles start to spasm. I grit my teeth and force my eyes to stay open as spots start to swim in them, knowing that if I let them close, they won't open in this world ever again, and that I'll have failed my new family and old friends.

XXXXXXXXXX