[Chapter Size: 4000 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Winterfell, 298 AC.

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It could be said that the information about hundreds of Arcticans disembarking from their ships and advancing toward Winterfell, riding both Arctican horses and the ones the Manderlys had lent them, spread before they had even completely left the city.

But this was not something very pleasant for many people inside the Stark castle.

The king was displeased and came to complain to Ned about it, making some subtle threats about the consequences if they were to attack, especially after what had happened to the queen. The king would not even speak to or praise Arya Stark. She had become far too dangerous in his eyes, and he began to think that she was not so much like his beloved Lyanna Stark after all.

The girl had proven to be much more dangerous.

The queen had finally left the maester’s chambers and returned to her old quarters, where she could be treated more comfortably. At the same time, she demanded that the maester tend to her constantly, making Maester Luwin’s life difficult.

Maester Luwin did not have an easy time there. He was treated like a servant by the queen and her demands — especially demands that were practically impossible, such as her deciding that her face should return to how it was before, threatening that if any scar remained, he would be to blame and executed.

Not knowing what to do, Luwin went directly to Lord Stark, who simply threatened to leave her without a maester to care for her if she continued with such absurd demands.

With no choice, Ned went to speak with Robert and told these words to the king, who then went to his wife to make her stop demanding things that were beyond the maester’s ability. She began shouting at him in desperation, saying he could not let things remain as they were and that he should demand Arya Stark’s head — and even the Starks’ — for having injured the queen.

The king ended up getting frustrated with her, saying she was asking too much, especially when there was no way to prove that it had been an attack by Arya.

This made the queen even more outraged by the situation. He told her that she should follow the maester’s instructions, but without threatening him. Otherwise, she would be without a maester, and that would be worse for her.

Cersei broke down in tears when the king said there was no way to prevent marks from being left. “I saw the cuts myself, they were far too deep.” He said it with a certain distaste.

She still did not have the courage to look in the mirror when Luwin changed her dressings every day. She was afraid.

In the end, the king simply left her there, walking out of the room and leaving the queen to stew in her own resentment.

Meanwhile, Arya continued her routine in Winterfell, feeling a little nervous knowing that her new escort was on the way. It had been a few days since Bran’s visions, and she tried to help him as much as possible, even asking for help from other wargs who were with her among the Arcticans.

His situation was complicated due to the potential he represented as a greenseer. Arya found it strange when Bran spoke of one of his visions: seeing their own mother as some sort of walking corpse, for a second.

She did not really believe it, but thought that maybe her mother had appeared as a zombie, like in the army of the dead, which worried her deep down.

But Bran had never said that she had glowing blue eyes, rather a dead eye without light and, at the same time, full of hatred and resentment. The dead had no feelings, and the coldness of those eyes left her in doubt. Was that vision of a future real or not?

Either way, she continued working among the children and her father with her siblings. Her royal guards were always with her. Arya could see, more and more, the stares fixed on her. She knew very well that the queen threatened her life all the time, but she did not care much about it. She simply went on with her normal days, waiting for the Arcticans to arrive, as they had announced.

She could feel the discomfort of the southerners with the new group approaching. They said they were heavily armed, according to the letter Lord Manderly had sent.

Meanwhile, the castle was having some administrative problems with the place becoming so hostile. Cassandra had to step away from several duties to keep solving problems, and the Lannister men, at the queen’s request, were causing trouble, with Ned having to further increase the number of men inside the castle.

Bran was returning to normal. Sansa was also finally starting to leave her room, though it was still possible to see her eyes full of sadness — and even anger — directed at Arya, regarding the failed marriage.

Robb was also very determined to try to prove himself as a worthy lord of Winterfell, disciplined, doing all his tasks and even being proactive. Ned appreciated this and, deep down, hoped that his son would grow quickly so he would have someone to rely on. That he would realize he had to act like a true Stark.

A day later, the queen finally gathered the courage to look at herself in the mirror, after Maester Luwin removed her dressings while she was alone, with Jaime being away at that moment, which was rare.

She took a deep breath… she looked at her own image… and then saw that grotesque creature, with a face completely red, full of cuts, and with the hair shaved at the front.

The cuts were all deep with raw flesh exposed; she was lucky they had not reached her eyes. She froze as soon as she came face-to-face with her new appearance, unable to believe what she saw. Where was that beautiful woman who made all men fall at her feet?

She was anything but that woman now. Her beauty — her weapon — had vanished. The blood ran from her wounds as if reacting to her depression. She began to wonder how this had happened, how it had come to this point.

The answer was right there: her wounded face.

“Why me? How did things come to this? Am I going to stay like this?” she murmured, incredulous at the image that made her want to vomit.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this… the prophecy said…” these words escaped her lips.

She looked at the maester, slightly uneasy. Luwin seemed cornered.

“Get out… get out of here now!” she shouted, raising her voice at the last part.

The maester immediately left the room. She needed to be alone. Her eyes were fixed on the mirror, while she repeated, with trembling lips:

“How… how did it all end like this?”

‘A younger, more beautiful queen will come, and she will take everything from you…’ The voice of that witch echoed in her mind. She had never imagined it would be like this… It was nothing like she had envisioned…

This was not what had actually happened. Even though she feared what would come, it should have happened differently… not in this way. Arya was not a queen, she was not stealing anything from her, only trying to kill her.

‘Without her face, she would have nothing either.’ she thought.

“Arya Stark… It’s all her fault… She did this to me… I hate her… It’s all her fault! Everything that happened was Arya Stark’s fault!” the queen murmured, until she realized she was shouting, her hand already flying toward the mirror, striking it harder than she had imagined she could. She screamed, hitting it again.

The first blow cracked the glass, and the second caused even more damage, with cuts starting to appear on her hand, leaving blood among the shards of broken glass, but she did not seem to stop.

“Why?! Why?! WHY?!” — with each scream, more blood began to flow from her wounds.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

Outside, Maester Luwin and the royal guards could hear her screaming, but no one did anything, as they knew there was no way to intervene.

“Come in here now!” she shouted, as Maester Luwin entered with the royal guard checking the situation.

“Do you need my help, my queen?!” the guard asked, while she shot him a look, seeing the disgust in the man’s eyes.

“Leave!” the queen shouted, her face now also covered in blood due to her recent actions, her wounds having begun to reopen. The royal guard left, and she turned back to the maester.

“Heal these wounds! Do something useful!” she yelled at the man.

The maester sighed and stepped in, dealing with the irrational woman while she kept saying:

“I’m going to kill that Stark… I’m going to make her suffer!”

Unsurprisingly, when he finished rebandaging her face and also her hands, Luwin, still muttering all kinds of curses in his mind toward the queen, was kicked out of the room moments later.

He went to Lord Stark to inform him of what he had heard, while the man only sighed. Ned said that he could no longer stand having that woman threatening his family, but that he would have to keep her until the arrival of another maester who could take her south while treating her face during the journey.

“I’m already speaking with Robert… Now, all we have to do is wait. Inform her brothers that she has woken up — at least she stays calmer with him…” said Ned.

Luwin nodded, leaving the solar while he went to find the two Lannister brothers in the hall, unaware that their sister had woken up at that moment.

For Tyrion, it was a surprise to find his brother eating, as he approached him to join him for the first meal of the day.

Jaime spent almost all his time with Cersei and believed she was sleeping, which was why he was not in the room at that moment.

“Jaime…” Tyrion said cautiously, sitting at the table.

“Tyrion.” Jaime spoke with bad temper, glancing with a hostile gleam at Stark guards passing by them — there were so many guards inside the castle at this moment.

Tyrion noticed this and sighed. “We are in quite a complicated situation, brother. It’s not enough that our sister is openly uttering several curses against Lord Stark’s daughter, but now we also have the Arcticans coming to Winterfell with more royal guards — and, according to them, with Valyrian steel armor. Can you believe those guys still had that…? How rich does someone have to be to have guards wearing a quantity of metal that would be worth an entire castle?”

“Things are getting very complicated. We don’t want to deal with more men like the ones who always accompany the princess… and now more of them are coming,” Tyrion added.

Jaime only clenched his teeth. He could do nothing but try to calm his sister, with everything that was happening.

“She is our sister,” he said in a tight tone. “We must do something… it was Arya Stark who did this!”

“We can’t prove that she simply sent or controlled a bird to attack her… That doesn’t make much sense,” Tyrion said.

“It was her, no doubt,” Jaime muttered. “Take my word for it… I also believe it was her, and you do too! After everything that happened, and then she gets attacked like that…” Jaime snorted in anger.

“Well, our sister should have accepted the Starks’ offer and left here, canceling everything immediately.” Tyrion sighed.

“You talk as if she were to blame for all this,” Jaime growled, so loud that even some servants turned to look at them at that moment as they walked through the hall, while Tyrion shrank…

Even a servant had to take a step back from the tension between the brothers.

“She may not be to blame for her own injury… but she caused all of this. Do you really think the attack in the forest wasn’t our sister’s doing? You know better than most how dangerous the Arcticans were! They fear no one — not our father nor any other authority! You know what they did to Oldtown, to our father’s feared hound… to the Redwyne fleet…” Tyrion murmured quietly.

Jaime just shook his head and began to leave the table, going to think a bit while getting some air before heading to his sister.

“Ser Jaime!” Maester Luwin arrived at that moment. “Your sister is awake,” he informed, while Jaime didn’t say a word and simply went straight into the corridor, passing the maester.

Tyrion watched him leave, and the maester looked at him. He expected him to accompany his brother, but the dwarf only shrugged. He knew that Cersei would never let him see her in that vulnerable state. She would have sent assassins after him if that happened, as had almost happened the last time.

Jaime went to the room and passed by the royal guards, entering the place. He saw her from behind, sitting on the bed, looking out the window with her head wrapped in bandages and even her hand, something that had not been there before.

“What happened?” He approached the woman, and upon seeing the broken mirror on the other side of the room, he already understood what had happened. Cersei did not even seem to want to answer him, ignoring his presence as he came closer.

By the side of the bed, several other blood-stained cloths had been set aside, left there after the maester cleaned the wounds — open both on her face and on her hands, from her merciless blows against the glass.

When Jaime got close enough, Cersei turned to him, and he could see her green eyes full of despair beneath the bandaged face.

“Where is that whore?” she asked calmly, with a tone he never would have expected from his sister at that moment.

“Who? Arya Stark?” he asked, grimacing.

“Don’t say her name with respect. Call her the whore of the North!” she said again, no longer with the calm from before, but with a tone full of venom.

“Why do you want to know her location?” Jaime asked.

“I’m going to have someone kill her,” she replied without any remorse, once again in a calm tone.

“Are you insane? We’re still in Winterfell!” Jaime said, looking at her reproachfully.

“No! She has to die! Look at what she did to me! I was going to lose everything to a queen! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! She’s not a queen! The prophecy didn’t say that!” she shouted, agitated, while Jaime was confused by these words.

“I don’t know what you mean by that… Explain to me what this prophecy is,” he demanded, but she only scowled the next moment.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s nothing. Either way, she has to pay. I can send one of ours, he can sneak into her room and stab her,” she said with coldness.

Jaime just shook his head. This woman is losing her mind… and this could get them all killed.

“Bring me my children. I want to see them,” she said suddenly, changing the subject.

Jaime frowned, displeased with that — his sister was going insane. He wondered what she might do with the children in that state. After all, they were his children too.

“Cersei…” he began to say, but the queen interrupted him.

“Bring my children now!” she shouted, while the man sighed and left the place.

If there was anyone she trusted to move about the castle with the children, it was Jaime. Whenever she needed something involving the children, she wanted him to bring them personally and would not allow anyone else to touch them.

Upon leaving, Jaime found Tyrion standing in the corridor, raising an eyebrow.

“I heard everything she shouted in there. She doesn’t seem well at all,” the dwarf murmured.

Jaime, not knowing if he was serious or merely provoking him, ignored it so as not to get even more stressed and continued toward the children’s room.

Two days later, the Arcticans finally arrived, with their banners fluttering across the southern landscape and advancing toward Winterfell, drawing everyone’s attention as they moved through the North.

They moved in a disciplined group, more organized than any other ever seen there, maintaining a perfect formation among them. There was no record of such a large contingent of Arcticans displaying such performance in foreign lands. Most of those with Arya were Unsullied, accompanied only by a small group of Arcticans — but now the presence was much greater, and they were all soldiers.

The entire city turned out to see the newcomers, while all were shocked by those leading the march: the royal guards, wearing Valyrian steel armor that gleamed as it reflected the sun.

Birds circled the sky the entire time, flying above the groups, with wargs among them checking the perimeter and carrying out meticulous searches for any threat in the area.

Their horses, though most belonging to the Manderlys, were easily tamed and followed the Arcticans’ commands. They marched steadily, showing no sign of exhaustion in the past few days; aside from the royal guards wearing Valyrian metal, the rest wore armor and helms of eldenmetal, advancing with discipline.

No one said a word; they simply continued the march while people shouted and children pointed in curiosity. The royal guards were disciplined enough to keep their focus on the objective. As they approached Winterfell, they advanced toward the gates, already awaited by the fortress.

The gate was open, with several men on the walls watching, some with admiration. This, however, meant nothing to those royal guards, who passed through the entrance and saw the crowd waiting in the courtyard.

The leader scanned the entire area along with his companions, searching for any danger, any archer or threat that could harm them — and, most importantly, the one they had come to escort.

His gaze rose to one of the windows on the upper floors, where a woman stood with her face completely bandaged. He recognized her immediately by her condition and felt the hatred radiating from her, as if she wanted to kill him along with the others wearing that symbol on their chest.

It surprised him slightly, but also caused the woman herself to retreat, almost hiding with nothing but a deadly glare.

The royal guard’s gaze returned to Arya, standing in front of her father, staring back at him. On a platform behind them sat the king of Westeros — easily recognizable by his fat body and the crown on his head — seated in a chair, watching the scene as if it were a spectacle.

He seemed to want to assert his position as king, despite being shocked by the sight of the Arctican royal guards alongside the royal guards of the king of Westeros.

To Trinsmy, the royal guard in command, he was merely a pathetic man who had once been defeated by the man to whom Trinsmy and the other ninety-nine royal guards served with body and soul.

Everyone there was surprised and even impressed. Seeing four men on those Arctican steeds in Valyrian steel armor would impress anyone, and all the royal guards present — having regrouped after confirming there was no danger — skillfully guided their horses to Princess Arya, stopping before her and dismounting.

It was a spectacle for everyone: not only because of the armor, but also because of the steady, fearless gaze of those men behind their helmets. Meanwhile, more groups advanced through the gates, heavily armed and perfectly organized in formation.

Lord Stark even raised an eyebrow; not even his best men could maintain such discipline.

In any case, the lead royal guard approached Arya, bowing his head slightly.

“Trinsmy at your service, Princess. We are here at the king’s command. I have heard of your situation, and we are here to escort you to our ship and take you back to Arctica. I hope you have not been facing problems after the recent misfortunes.”

“Thank you for your words, Trinsmy. It is good to see you again,” Arya replied. “I have been well these past few days and accept your escort, since I know that, whether I want it or not, you would not accept otherwise.” She spoke, and the man nodded, satisfied.

“Excellent. We will prepare shortly,” he said before turning his gaze to two other royal guards beside him.

“I trust you have protected her well over this past year,” the royal guard said in a hard tone to Jill and Bari.

“You seem to underestimate us. We are as capable as you are. Do not think so little of us,” Bari replied.

“Even so, I hope you have done an excellent job. Even if it had cost your lives, would you have been willing to save her? Because we have heard some things… that she walked into a trap to hunt the enemy,” Trinsmy said, with an accusatory tone.

“That was resolved long ago. It was a plan,” Arya intervened, speaking more cautiously than she did when addressing her father, as she knew it also affected her royal guards, who could be accused of a lack of discipline. And she did not even want to imagine Jon’s fury — which she knew would also fall on her.

“I can assure you that our princess has no injuries beyond that,” Jill said. “But this is a matter we should discuss in private, not in front of the entire castle.” Jill knew that Trinsmy had a rather blunt and explosive temperament; he would speak even to a man who might kill him on the spot, if that was his will.

“You’re right,” Trinsmy replied in the end. He raised his hand, greeting both Bari and Jill. “In any case, thank you for your service.”

“No problem. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other in person. We might be going home soon,” Bari said, trying to sound more relaxed.

“It’s good to see you again… and I want to meet the others too,” Jill said.

In any case, Trinsmy only nodded, but his eyes turned to another group. There were some Starks who had been watching them the entire time, while Arya greeted the other royal guards, speaking both with Bari and with Jill in turn, exchanging a few words.

They were no longer speaking about her safety, but seemed more relaxed, like old friends.

Even so, the other three royal guards did not refrain from commenting that Arya had grown very well, becoming more beautiful in the past year, while Trinsmy paid no attention to such compliments in his mission — all that mattered to him was protecting Arya, the princess of Arctic.

Then Trinsmy approached the Starks, with Sansa being the only one absent — and she would never take part in something like this.

The other Starks, especially the children, could not help but admire the full, well-crafted Valyrian steel armor, adorned with symbols of weirwood trees on the shoulders and, on the chest, the crest of Arctica in all its glory.

“You must be Lord Stark,” Trinsmy said in a hard tone to Arya’s father.

“I am. And you are…?” Ned asked the man to introduce himself, even though he had already heard his conversation with his daughter.

“I am Trinsmy, from Arctica. As you can see, we are here to escort our princess,” he replied.

‘Our princess, instead of “your daughter”,’ Ned thought, but he had no time to speak before the man continued:

“Not only to escort her, but also to kill anyone who has harmed her.” The hard tone echoed through the entire courtyard, and the atmosphere quickly shifted to something much darker.

——

Raccoon Here:

It could be said that Arya was the queen from the prophecy, when a younger and more beautiful queen would come and take everything from her. After all, Cersei had her beauty as her main weapon to manipulate whomever she wished. Now she had become ugly. And that was something she brought upon herself.

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🦝 Raccoon here: 🦝

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