Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night cannot last forever, dawn pushes at its door with such brute force the red of the sunrise seems just a continuation of the blood that is soaking the soil of Winterfell.

The first thin line of silver appears over the eastern mountains around Wintertown, illuminating the Godswood, where the most terrible fight took place during the battle.

Rhaegal lies wounded, one of its powerful wing is broken and the Queen with silver hair pats its head like she would for a tiny kitten with a sore paw.

The burial or burning of the dead must start quickly, the chosen graveyard site is along the slopes of a small hill facing West, for the souls of heroes to see the sunset every day.

Half of the wounded are transported inside the long halls and corridors of the castle, the healers shout orders, asking for more bandages, wood sticks, basins, milk of the poppy.  

The Stark pack survived, they admit it was a miracle:  Rickon fought inside the  walls and  the young Lord has a long scar from his left cheek to his hairline, a black patch covers his left eye and Sam Tarly fears for the sight. Rickon says he can live with an eye only, in case.

Jon has a deep cut on his left leg that forces him to use a cane and Arya’s right arm has been badly burnt by an ice arrow while approaching the Night King.  

Very few fighters have been blessed and remained unscathed, white ribbons dangle from the branches of the holy trees as tokens of thanksgiving to the deities, the survivors feel the weight of the world still heavy on their shoulders, unbelieving to be alive.

The hard earned victory frees Wintertown from the winter’s frost, everywhere in a few days the ice crust slowly changes shape and colour.

The earth can absorb only a part of it, the remains create a myriad of rivulets that flow along canals and grooves to join the wider stream running in the middle of the valley.

The Godswood is alive again and the blood from the long night nurture the soil, it will soon offer thin and rare gems of new flowers and trees born from the sacrifice.

Where Bran was sat under the holiest tree, imprisoned in a trance  and observing Jon riding  Drogon to defy the Night King, there is a pristine area, shaped as his wheelchair, full of delicate white blooms.

---

Arya has ordered Lady Brienne, Podrick and Tormund  to make a list of the casualties and to check the  graves dug for them, divided by the kingdoms the dead soldiers and knights came from. Those belonging to the same land will be buried together, to be close in death as in life.

In the evening Arya reads the daily updates and she prepares letters to be sent to the families of the fallen; she is sad because the majority of soldiers are commoners and without a way to trace back their relatives. Heroism shouldn’t divide nobles from humble people.

Theon, Tyrion, Lyanna Mormont, Uncle Edmure, Grey Worm, for each she writes  different words, trying to describe also their acts of braveness. She doesn’t know how to tell the Lannisters that Tyrion took the fatal hit meant for her sister – the ice sword passed through his  tiny body like butter -  after  Sansa revealed she and Tyrion spent the nights before the battle together and consummated their marriage.   

Now Sansa wants to be left alone after receiving daily reports and requests, she refuses to use the great hall and stands in the main court so that everyone can see the woman ruling over the North.

---

Sam is very busy, he sleeps three or four hours every night, spending long hours beside the wounded soldiers and peasants; Gilly remembers him to eat and he barely have the strength to hold for a while their son. The new Maester of Winterfell, Curmen has recently arrived from the Citadel, but he is young and with short experience of battle wounds, so he lets Sam take control of the infirmaries, closing an eye or two over Sam’s family situation, because Gilly is a great help.

“Sam, I was struggling to prepare the letter for Lady Myrcella about Lord Tyrion, then I realised I haven’t read the name of the Kingslayer.”

Jaime attempted a heroic and desperate move with Theon, to distract the Night King, allowing Arya  to hit him in a leg so that Jon could make the final assault, pointing his sword where neck meets shoulder; it was the blow that made the ice creature shatter in millions of little arrows that formed a cascade all over Winterfell and its surroundings.

Theon was hit in the chest, falling on the ground in a pool of blood, while Jaime received a terrible blow on his head with enough  force to push him away and leave him immobile on the snow.

“Because he is still alive, albeit in very bad conditions.”

Arya lifts her head from the parchment she is completing.

“Where is he?”

“He’s under  the holy trees. It was too dangerous to move him.”

“I want to see him tomorrow morning.”

---

Arya knows the path by memory, Sam follows her for a while, then he stops when Jon calls him aloud,  dismounting from his horse after a routine patrol; he has found a group of wildings who need food and a shelter.

“I’m sorry, Arya. Gilly know where Ser Jaime is.” Sam suggests.

Jon observes Arya walking toward the trees and turns to Sam, who shrugs his shoulders.

“What does she need from a Lannister?”

“The battle created  strange bonds between warriors.”

“She’s still my little sister!”

“She’s a warrior now. I understand your concern, Jon Snow, but you cannot shield her forever like you did in the past.”

Arya doesn’t hear them, she’s close enough to the sacred circle to observe the traces of the recent carnage on the ground, fallen leaves and snow are marked with dark brown dried blood.

Dawn changes everything, making Arya aware that the living were indeed on the edge of a precipice, only a chain of small events saved Winterfell and the rest of the seven kingdom.

Sam’s wife is bent over a cot, Arya has been  surprised Sansa gave permission to tend to the wounded people in most important place of Winterfell.

Her sister mourns her loved ones – especially Tyrion - like everyone else, at first she refused to be called Queen regent, but Bran and Arya insisted Rickon was too young to rule.

Gilly stands to grab a fresh cloth from a large basket a servant holds for her.

“Lady Arya, do you need something?”

“Where is Jaime Lannister? Sam told me to ask you.”

Gilly points at the figure wrapped in a dark brown cloak two cots at her left, Arya is dubious.

“He misses his right hand.”

“He seems different. Smaller.”

“Pain changes features. Sam noticed it, too.” Gilly reassures Arya. “Go to him, I need more milk of the poppy, I will send you  Maester Curmen if you need answers.”

Arya kneels where Jaime lays,  he is on his back over a makeshift bed made of pressed dry leaves and hay.

The long cold winter  and the famine have reduced the number of herds in Wintertown  and so hay has another use.

Jaime’s eyes are closed also when Arya tenderly puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for having helped us killing the Night King.”  

"Lady Arya, he can't hear you. He's never been awake since we found him."

The young Maester opens Jaime's tunic to change the bandages, the tissue has traces of dry blood, then he touches his forehead for the fever.

"Wasn't he shot in the head, was he?"

"Ser Jaime lost a lot of blood from a deep cut on his neck, thankfully not where blood flows fast. He was comatose, the cold kept him in a semi-hibernation."

Arya seems satisfied of Curmen’s answer, she appreciates the man’s knowledge, he can be a good help for Sam’s more practical skills.

“Will he get better?”

“He’s still feverish, but he seems strong enough to survive.”

The sound of wheels on the frozen snow announces the arrival of a one- horse wagon carrying new bandages and beds, Ser Bronn dismounts from the huge horse. 

Arya met him during the war councils around the large square table with the map of Westeros unfolded, she remembers he was friend with Lord Tyrion.

"I want Ser Jaime to be brought inside Winterfell as soon as possible. He saved the lives of my brother and mine. He  will stay in my solar."

"As you wish, mylady."

The Maester bows his head in front of Arya – both  sisters are made of iron and steel, he thinks, Arya dresses like a man and Sansa is the perfect lady, but they are identical - calling Bronn to give him instructions on how to transfer Jaime.

The newly appointed knight addresses Arya.

"A lot of people won’t be happy to know that a lion sleeps in the wolf's den."

---

Days turn into weeks, it’s the second  full moon after the victory  and the golden knight is still alive.

He opens his eyes a few times a day, it’s a very slow return to life, Sam declares.

Jaime can only whisper, his voice has been impacted by the wound

Arya observes him from her table, sometimes she offers him water, he drinks in small sips; Maester C has given her a few herbs to add to the warm broth in the pot on the fire.  

“Thank you, Lady Stark.” Jaime’s formalism appears strange after  the trainings they did together.

“My sister is Lady Stark. Just call me Arya.”

Lannister house has been decimated in the battle, so the golden knight must survive;  he is the heir,  the position of his bastard daughter isn’t defined and in any case Myrcella is still far away  in Dorne.

Jaime despairs when Arya tells him about Tyrion’s death.

“I tried all my life to protect him. I failed him  when he needed me the most.”

“He died as an hero, he took the blow meant for my sister. His last breath was in her arms.” Arya looks at her clasped  hands, unsure if to reveal him the secret she knows. Jaime seems  so weak she decided to offer him a good news.

“Sansa is with child, you are going to become an uncle, Ser. There  will be a new innocent lion to protect.”

--

They talk late in the evening when Arya writes her history of the long night; Jaime gives her suggestions and offers his own memories about  the valiant knights who gave their life for the living.

His war tales are detailed, their conversations lasts for hours, private topics find a crack to slide into.

Sometimes Jon, Rickon or Bronn join them for a while, there is a lot of confusion inside the castle, 

Sansa and Daenerys have decided a truce and a special independence for Winterfell. Tormund and Brienne have gone with the Blackfish to the Wall escorted by a group of  wildings, the old knight told Arya he wanted to see it to celebrate having  survived another battle.

The truth about Jaime’s horrid secrets is revealed, things Arya would have reacted in a violent way are now more acceptable, she doesn’t know if she is wiser because of her age or more tolerant about human sins after what she saw during her travels.

Jaime murdered a king to save thousand of people and lost a hand to defend a woman. Arya learned to kill in more hidden ways and destroyed the Freys with a single poisoning.

They discover to be more similar than many people could imagine, a deep connection grows between them. Their love for their relatives – a little too dangerous in his case – is the fundament of their actions and decisions.

When Arya storms into her solar, pushing the door with brute force, angry because some Lords have started a discussion during dinner about marriages and alliances for her, now that Sansa is mourning, Jaime calms her.

“I’ve avoided a bride for all my life.”

“It isn’t the truth and you know it. Besides, you’re a man. ”

“I’d offer myself as a paramour, should you need one to push away unwanted attentions..”

“Your arrogance has no limits.”

“You can’t deny my good looking. We all know in some westerosi houses it’s common to have lovers. Do you remember Prince Oberyn and his Ellaria?” ”

“The Red Viper? I heard about him. We could go to Dorne and learn from him.”

A veil of sadness passes over Jaime’s face.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not necessary. She is alive and out of danger there.”

---

Arya is torn: follow Jon and Daenerys’s army when they would leave for the capital, with the purpose of a final settlement against the Queen regent, or stay at home?

Her inner battle is extremely confused, she knows Jaime won’t be happy if she kills his twin and she doesn’t want her relatives to discuss about her choices. Cersei is no more a terrible enemy but just a name to complete her list.

She looks at Jaime who sleeps with a sad smile, her choice means they will never have a chance to make their new bond grow, then she descends to saddle a mare when the night is still deep, only to find Nymeria already outside the stables, waiting for her.

They leave Wintertown and start the path leading to the first hills southward, until the horse is scared by a ferocious fight between a pack of  wolves.

The animal shifts too fast,  Arya falls hard on the ground and the mare gallops away toward the stables,  refusing to listen to Arya’s call.

Nymeria growls, showing her white teeth, Arya tries to understand her behaviour,  but the other animals are too close  and Nymeria grabs Arya’s wrist to lead her away to the safety of the castle.

They meet Bran at the wooden bridge over the melting stream that runs under Winterfell, the castle’s walls are at an arrow’s throw, but the position is secluded by a group of pines. Bran’s eyes are closed and Arya feels his glowing aura, calling her to him.

Nymeria runs at Bran’s feet, satisfied to have fulfilled her mission; he pats her furry head and the wolf looks at the ground, stubbornly refusing to obey.

“You left without informing  me and saying goodbye.”

“You can see what I do in your mind.”

“I don’t use my powers for trivial things, Arya. You should know it by now. I’ve chosen to focus on what the future will bring.”

“You said you aren’t going to interfere.”

“It’s not my intention, but I can give you a last advice about your  plan to complete a revenge that is now absurd. We have won against our mortal enemy and we suffered great losses. It is time to stop, sister.”

“Brother, are you going to forbid me to leave?”

“I simply ask you to stay home for a little while, Winterfell needs you. The North has a Queen regent who is with child and no warrior to protect her, Jon will follow his own  path.”

“There will be soon a battle in the South.”

“I am aware. Let’s see it. Come here, take my hands.”

Bran closes his eyes and Arya copies him, the leaves rustles and the branches sing a crying song, Arya smells smoke, feels flames around her, hears the sounds of broken bones and swords cutting flesh; she kneels on a cold stone, still holding Bran’s hands.

Bran and Arya share the blood of the first men and its abilities more than Sansa or Rickon, but in the past she warged into Nymeria only, so this new sensations are shocking for her. She pants and her heart accelerates, Bran’s hold on her hands is a powerful grip, Arya cannot leave him because she understand he wants her to experience all the vision.

Arya’s eyes remain closed, she feels the chilly shadow of the two dragons above her that darkens the sky, the beasts breath fire and the walls crumbles everywhere; people run away, desperate and terrorised, searching an impossible way out. When Bran open his hands, Arya feels dizzy.

“Come home with me to rest, trust me, sister. I know how hard it can be. For my first vision, Meera had to carry me up the stairs because I was so weak.”

The  mare is back and it kneels so that Arya can mount it, Nymeria takes the reins, leading the horse and the rider back home.

When they  cross the second gate of Winterfell, Arya is bent toward the animal’s long neck,

one of the stable boy is fast in grabbing her shoulders to avoid a fall in the mud and the blacksmith sees the scene and runs to find Sam, who orders to take Arya inside.

Strong arms support the young woman, she is carried up two turns of stairs; she cannot keep her eyes open and he head weights like a stone.

“This way. I need to keep a vigil eye on her.”

Sam’s orders leads the helpers into the room Jaime is already in;  Arya is prompted to drink a  hot herbal tea, Gilly keeps her head up and Sam adds some drops from a small ampoule.

“She needs to rest, Bran told me they warged and Arya had a vision of King’s Landing  final battle.”

Gilly follows her husband’s orders, covering Arya with some furs.

“Did he tell you who won?”

“No, he said the dragons were fighting against a war machine sending balls of fire everywhere.”

“Why Lord Bran did it?”

“He is sure she would  die in her revenge against the queen. He asked the gods to save Arya in exchange for what she did with the Night King.”

Arya regains consciousness for a brief moment, trying to speak, but her tongue is slow and puffy in her mouth, she clumsily grabs Sam’s robe.

“Be quiet, tomorrow we will talk.”

Jaime listens to the conversation, asking what happened to Arya, but no one answers him, Sam and Gilly leave, talking about turns of vigil, Jaime resigns to wait, so he spends the night observing Arya’s slow breathes.

---

Arya stirs hearing  the first morning bell, she throws her legs over the edge of the bed and supports her aching back on her wrists and arms, she is not used to sleep for a long time.

The room is still warm, the torches are consumed and the light filters from the curtains of the tall window.

From the opposite wall, the knight is staring at her, a bowl of food in his lap.

Jaime has more wrinkles and his skin is white as snow, he seems a northerner more than a proud western lion kissed by the sun.

“You’ve been sleeping for three days. I was worried when they took you in.”

That explains her tiredness and her rigid limbs, she is sure someone drugged her for a long curative sleep.

“Bran made me seen the future battle of King’s Landing  and it was terrible, the dragons burned the city, the people were running away and jump into the bay to save themselves from the fire. Bran told me I couldn’t go there. He stopped me, telling me he couldn’t let me travel. Then I think I fainted and ended up here.”

Jaime suddenly stands up only to fall heavily on the floor, his legs are  too weak to support him.

“What are you doing?” Arya shouts. “You’re still bedridden.”

Bronn hears their noises – it’s his shift, he volunteered because he had nothing important to do - ft and enters to put Jaime back in bed, ordering to one of Arya’s maid approaching from the corridor to call Sam.

 “I must go to King’s landing, now.”

“You are too weak to travel for a day, let alone a few  weeks.”

Jaime’s eyes are wide in fear and he pleads Sam while he and Bronn  put him back in bed.

“You don’t understand, Bronn. I’ve lost my brother and my sister is  pregnant, I cannot accept she could die alone.”

Arya knows for sure Jaime is the father of the Queen’s child; Sam isn’t impressed by his protests, ordering the maid to summon the Maester there.

“Do you want to die with her, you stupid fool? Gilly, call Maester C.”

The men are able to force Jaime to drink a bitter vial he tries to spit it out, but Sam keeps his mouth shut and head up.

“Sam, should we tie him to the bed?” Bronn suggests because Jaime is visibly agitated.

“As soon as the milk of the daisies calms him, he will rest for a few hours. I must consult with Lord Bran about this situation.”

“Call him here, please, I want to make my brother a proposal.”

---

“Lady Arya has offered to help you. It’s a great gift from her, considering her reaction last time we did it.”

Three days later Bran’s wheelchair forms a triangle with Jaime and Arya’s armchairs, she is still weak, Bran has refused Arya’s request to be faster.

“It takes time, warging is difficult and you would never survive, so Arya will be with us, too. You will breathe together, it will be a very intimate sharing.”

“I promised to be Lady Arya sworn shield. Whenever she wants to go, I will follow her.”

Arya’s reply is immediate.

“It isn’t necessary, Bran, I told you I can be on my own.”

“Not anymore, sister, you deserve someone to rely on.”

Bran closes his eyes and invites his companions to do the same.

Jaime’s strangled cry when the vision fades and Davos Seaworth’s ship sails Northeast with a precious cargo -  the last bastard of the Lannister twins -  is so acute the birds leaves the walls and towers and start wide circles over Winterfell.

His sister’s name is on his lips, Jaime repeats it over and over like a prayer, tears stains his cheeks and fall over his good hand.

“I’m sorry, Ser, but her fate is sealed, I cannot and will not change it.”

Bran leaves the room, leaving behind a stunned Arya, her breath is intense for all the events she has witnessed, she is glued to the armchair without the strength to stand while Jaime has fallen on the stone floor.

---

“Uncle Brynden told me he was delaying his return to Riverrun by Sansa’s request, but he wanted to send South half of his surviving soldiers. I think we could travel with them for a while.”

“You told me your Gods refused you to leave Winterfell and your brother forbade me to reach King’s Landing to save my sister. What is the purpose of this conversation?”

“Sansa has summoned us. You lost your siblings and Sansa lost her husband.”

The  Queen regent of the North is sat on her father’s seat in front of a huge fire, wrapped up in a warm cloak trimmed with white fur.

Her auburn hair are tied up with a black ribbon, a sign of mourning for the North. Jaime has seen her for the last time the night before the battle, When she stands, Jaime sees the soft swell of her belly, she is showing and he gulps, looking at Arya, as he didn’t believe what she told him about Tyrion’s child and needed to see the confirmation with his eyes.

It’s a private audience, only the four Stark and Jaime are sat in the great hall.

“My sister Arya has promised to protect me and our brothers, but I cannot cut her wings too much. I suspect her decision is born also from another marriage request she has received.”

Arya hits the floor with her boot, it’s the third in two weeks and her suitors are becoming insistent.

“Do they want to buy a noble maiden for the pleasure to deflower her? I’d go to a brothel and dress like a whore for a week to avoid an arranged marriage.”

Rickon laughs, Sansa gives him a cold stare - soon he will enter into the game of marriages, his the task to produce male heirs - and Jaime touches Arya’s shoulder to calm her, getting another hard glance from Sansa and a smile from Bran.  

“Whatever, Arya earned her freedom. Ser Jaime, your brother’s child will be born in five moons, so you have time to go and save another Lannister child.”

Jaime turns to Arya, stupefied for the chance he is given; she nods, Sansa wants to protect her child’s cousin.

“We will leave in a few days, Ser Davos’ ship will moor in the Bay of Crabs.”

“In time to intercept another fast boat from Dorne with a golden cargo.” Bran adds. “ Since the capital will be destroyed, the council to define the new peace for Westeros will be held in the Riverlands once Sansa will be able to travel. We will meet again there.”

---

“Are you happy to travel again?”

Jaime has refused to cut his long hair and his golden mane with traces of grey dance around his face following the morning breeze. They are at the top of a hill for a last sight of Winterfell before descending to begin their travel.

Nymeria runs around, chasing birds, moving back and forth from the Tully army that precedes them.

The branches are covered by small leafs and the nests are full, some ewes are large with lambs, beavers are forming new dams. The sounds of spring are a joy for the ears.  

“When I arrived here, I thought it would be final. The place I would never leave. I’m glad to have  again a saddle and a good horse, but now Winterfell for me is like another home.”

“Fear not, my lion, I’ve convinced Sansa to let us travel more in the future, I want to see the sunset from Casterly Rock. We have to bring there the new Lady protector of the West.”

“I would never be able to stop you, wouldn’t I?”

“You’re my sworn shield and my useful official paramour, do you think you can have more power over me? Catch me if you can, Ser Jaime!”

Arya laughs and lets her horse gallop to join Nymeria and their soldiers. Jaime is fast in following, ready to begin another chapter of his life.