Baelon Targaryen (97 A.C. first Moon)
Baelon was nervous. 'It was the third birth with his second wife. Lyanna is strong, and so had been Alyssa when she had given birth to Aegon, Yet she passed away. I can't go through that again.'
Lyanna did let go another groan of pain, pulling him out of his thoughts, and then midwives asked his wife to push. "Almost there, Lyanna. Soon, we have our babe." Baelon encouraged his wife. As he held her hand that slowly crushed his, curing Aemon's birth, Lyanna had broken one of his fingers. Although he didn't notice it after the moon, it became blue and painful.
"You're doing well, my love," Baelon said, smiling. "Just a little more. You've done this before." He added cheekly.
Lyanna's eyes, bright with determination and sweat, locked onto his. "Easy for you to say, husband," she bit out, her voice hoarse but laced with her usual defiance. Then came another contraction, and she threw her head back, crying out as the midwives urged her to push.
Grand Maester Mellos leaned forward, his tone calm but edged with urgency. "I see the head! One more push, Princess. The babe is almost here."
"By the gods," Lyanna gasped, clutching Baelon's hand hard enough to make his knuckles whiten. He braced himself, whispering soothing words, though his heart raced like a war drum.
With a final cry of effort, the room seemed to exhale all at once. A wail pierced the air, shrill and strong. Mellos took the babe, his experienced hands quick and steady. "A girl, You'er Graces," he announced.
Baelon set away from Lyanna and walked toward the maester, who wrapped the child in a cloth. "A healthy daughter," Melos said as he gave her to him.
"A wonderful daughter," He proclaimed as he looked at the small bundle in arms. Then, glancing at his wife.
Then Lyanna let out another groan. "The afterbirth," Melos said, and help with the last part. "Your mother is very brave, far braver than me." He whispered, to the babe.
After it was done, Lyanna collapsed back against the pillows. He smiled, tears of joy started pooling in Lyanna's eyes, as he placed the babe in her arms. "My baby," she whispered, brushing a trembling hand over the baby's small bundle of dark hair.
Baelon leaned close, pressing a kiss to Lyanna's temple. "Well done, my love. Hmm, seems you, the babe, have all your looks," he exclaimed, his voice soft with awe. The fear that had gripped him so tightly moments ago began to loosen as he looked at his wife and daughter. For now, all was well.
Arya Stark (302 A.C.) – Chance to be changed.
Kingslanding
Arya Stark stood frozen, staring at Jon's body. He lay still, his neck slashed open with a clean, brutal cut. The sight turned her stomach, but her face remained stoic. "How killed him." Sansa asked, her voice hoarse.
"We do not know. The guards guarding were the only ones. We only found an entrance to the tunnel system. I swear on my depart love, the unsullied did not kill Jon Snow. He was to suffer for the death of our Queen."
"There ends the line of the dragon," Bran said slowly. 'Ever since he came back, Bran was cold. Nothing of how Bran remained. After the damn battle against the dead, he even had become colder.' Arya mused bitterly.
"Bran, do you know who did this?" she asked, her voice sharp.
"No," he replied, an irritated edge creeping into his tone. "I cannot see his death. Every time I try to find him, all I see is shadows." It was the first emotion Arya had seen from him in a long time, but it only unsettled her further.
"We should burn him, like his ancestors," Bran continued, his tone flat and unyielding.
"No." Arya's voice was firm. "Jon belongs in Winterfell with the rest of our brothers." She turned to Sansa, seeking her support.
But Sansa's expression was conflicted. "Jon is a Targaryen, Arya. You heard the rumors, and Varys' letters ensured the world knows. He should be burned."
"You are both monsters. You both used him." Arya hissed as her vision clouded with tears. 'Tears, I haven't felt those since Mother and Robb's death.' She stormed away and toward her tent.
As she arrived, her heart panting. She looked, trying something to focus, and then Arya's sighted landed toward her chest, walked toward it, and found the blade she had carried since Jon gave it to her. "Needle." She murmured.
Then Arya's sight fell on the Catspaw dagger lying at the bottom of the chest. The weapon she hadn't worn since the battle against the dead. The blue eyes haunting the blade, and the cold hand that had a choking hold on her neck. Yet there was something odd, a spec of blood on the handle. Arya took the crab and the blade and unsheeted it. "Blood?" She gasped, noticing the redness.
Before she could react further, cold steel pierced her back. The pain was sharp and sudden, stealing the air from her lungs. Words died on her tongue as she coughed, blood spilling from her mouth. The blade had gone clean through her belly.
She collapsed to the floor, one hand clutching Needle, the other pressing against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Her vision blurred, but she forced her gaze upward. Her breath hitched as she recognized her assailant. "Bran," she croaked, tasting blood with every word.
The figure loomed over her, his voice cold and devoid of humanity. "Not really, Arya, Bran is long gone. This was the best way to end it. Confused by Jon's death, you would never have suspected me. You could never truly harm me, but I'd rather not wait another hundred years to reappear to make it all end. My master has waited long enough."
Arya's world darkened further, but not before she caught a faint, icy glint in his eyes. "No," she whispered, the word barely audible as the cold claimed her.
Arya awoke in darkness. 'Is this death? Is this what Jon saw when he died before? Did he know and did not tell, or did he not remember.' She wondered confused.
"You are dead, Arya Stark. Last loyal kin to the one who could have stopped the darkness," a deep voice rumbled.
"What?" Arya gasped, spinning around. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"I am Balerion, child," the voice replied, laced with a faint chuckle. "And you are in the in-between a place between life and death. The lands of the dead are not yet for you. Your brother asked me the same question when I last saw him."
"Wait… Balerion?" Arya's mouth fell open. "Like the Dragon of Aegon the conquerer? One of the gods of Valyria?"
"Yes," Balerion said, his tone almost amused. "That I am, though I hold ties to the old gods as well. You are here, Arya, because I need you. I want you to come back in time to help your brother. The world you left without the line that could have ended the Night King back will fall into darkness, an endless night."Balerion added, his tone saddened.
Arya's mind reeled, her thoughts racing. "But… who killed me? Because I know it's wasn't my little brother," she asked, though deep down, she already knew the answer.
"You know the truth," Balerion said softly, his voice a rumble of ancient power.
Arya's breath caught. She knew the moment she saw those blue eyes. "The Night King," she whispered in agony.
"Indeed," Balerion said. "You were brave, Arya, to strike him down. Yet his essence could not be destroyed. Only Jon or Aemon has the power to do that, break it for a time. When you shattered his body, the Night King's essence sought the closest link it could find, Bran."
Arya's eyes widened. "Bran?"
"Yes," Balerion continued. "The Night King branded him long ago, forging a connection he could exploit. He manipulated Bran's actions through that link, guiding events, nudging Jon into place, and much more. Now, the world you left behind is beyond saving. But another path lies open to you.
"Your brother Aemon has already traveled that road, trying to help to save the dragons. Join him, Arya. Fight alongside him. Together, you can prepare the world as it should have been prepared long ago. The choice is yours: will you help your brother?"
"Yes," Arya said without hesitation, her voice steady. "I will."
(97 A.C. Second Moon)
Kingslanding – Lyanna's chambers
Then, white light, and in fright, Arya cried. The world was blurry, and the sounds muffled. Soon, she saw the face of a woman who looked like her. As well as the head of a man with silver hair and purple eyes. 'Hmm, was she reborn as Targaryen? Yet why did the woman look like a Northern? She looked like her.'
"So, my love, do you have any ideas for a name?" The man asked the woman how he was holding her. "Well, you now have four children with Valyrian names. Would it be okay if we gave her a northern name?" The woman, now her mother, asked. 'Oh, this going to be weird.' Arya mused inwardly as she looked curiously at the two.
"Of course, Lyanna, it's your homeland." The man replied, smiling. Arya let out a surprise gurgle as she heard the word 'Lyanna.' 'That's the name of my aunt! Jon's mother.' Arya thought confused.
"Arya, after the last Queen in the North. The wife of Torrhen Stark." The woman named Lyanna explained. 'Well, her father named her after his own grandmother. She didn't know the last Queen in the North was named Arya. That's pretty cool.' Arya thought.
The man smiled. "Wonderfull, Arya Targaryen, daughter of Lyanna Stark and Baelon Targaryen." 'Baelon Targaryen! The second son of King Jaehaery. He never remarried after Alyssa, and mostly certainly not a Stark! Well, it seems the gods changed something, alright.' Arya thought, and she became more confused by the minute.
Then she heard the door creak open. Out came an older woman with sliver-white hair, holding hands with smaller children. Arya gave a small wile of delight when she looked at the boy closer. 'Jon! He looked different, for sure, but she saw his eyes, and his hair, although now sliver-golden, still had his curls. He was alive and, for the looks of it, about four or five namedays old.'
"Oh, yes, those are your siblings, little one." The woman is now her supposed mother. 'It was an odd thing. As Catelyn Tully would always be her mother. Even if she didn't truly know me.' Arya vowed.
"Mother, childeren meet your sister, Arya Targaryen." The man with silver hair said. "Arya?" Jon said, his face seemed to grumble. "Yes, son." The man said, but his voice seemed saddened. Probably because of Jon's face.
Then Jon bolted for the door. Arya saw a glimpse of Jon's eyes, 'tears,' She thought inwardly. 'He thinks of me probably.'
"Hmm, the same as last time," The man said with a pained look at Lyanna. "He will calm down, as he did last time. I will speak to him soon."
"I hope you are right, Baelon," Lyanna Stark added as Arya looked around the room. Her eyes found the small girl. 'And who is that? She had black like Lyanna, yet her eyes were purple gems like Baelon's.'
"Come Visenya, meet your little sister." The older woman said as she put a small girl on the bed. 'Oh sister, she another child of Baelon and Lyanna. "Sis," The girl squeaked, smiling brightly. As Visenya put her small hand on her cheek softly. 'Hmm, I wonder if she will be like Sansa or something else entirely?' Arya wondered.
"Baelon, she is beautiful, although she has all her mother's features." The woman said. 'Oh my, that's Queen Alysanne Targaryen, the Good Queen and rider of Sliverwing. That's kind of cool to meet her.' Arya mused as she looked at the Good Queen.
Arya noticed herself becoming tired, her eyes closing involuntarily. 'I'm babe, no wonder I'm tired. A babe isn't meant to do all this, thinking.' She mused, and slowly, Arya fell asleep.
Aemon Targaryen (97 A.C. Third Moon)
Lyanna's chambers later that day
Aemon opened the door. 'The room smelled less like blood than it had before. His mother's birthing pains had started during the night, and in the morning, his sister had come. A sister they had named Arya. The name broke his strenght. He wanted to be strong, and happy, not run like he did when Visenya came into the world, yet that name brought many memories. Of good and bad.' Then, his mother's voice broke him out of his musing.
"Aems, come here," his mother said, inviting him with open arms. As Arya lay still beside her. He climbed into the bed and hugged her tightly, finally finding the courage to reveal the truth.
"Mother, there's something I must tell you," he began, his voice trembling. "I wasn't sure when I should, I felt similar when Visenya came, and now Arya's birth made me realize I should tell you before I lose the chance," Aemon whispered.
"Of course, Aemon. You can tell me anything. I'm your mother, pup," she reassured him with a warm smile, holding him close.
Aemon took a deep breath and confessed, "I know you aren't from this time, Mother." Her eyes widened in shock. "Aemon, what are you talking about? Of course, I am," she protested. He smiled at her kindly at the lie as he knew the truth.
"Please, Muna, listen. I know because I'm not from this time either," he added, sadness in his eyes. "I'm the same Aemon you gave birth to, also those years ago at the Tower of Joy."
"No, it can't be," she gasped, disbelief evident in his mother's voice. "The gods told me I would give birth to you again at a different time, but not that you would be from my own time or why."
"Yes, I'm that boy you gave to your brother Eddard Stark after he found you at the tower," he confessed. "Unfortunately, you died of childbed fever, but I have been alive for twenty and five nameday old. Just as old as you are now. The time where I came from, I failed and died. When I died the second time, the Old and Valyrian gods sent me back in time, and I was reborn as Aemon, son of Lyanna Stark and Baelon Targaryen."
"No, please don't say you died at the age of twenty," she pleaded, her voice trembling with sorrow.
"I'm sorry, but yes, my brother Brandon Stark, son of Eddard Stark, was the one who killed me. But he wasn't Brandon. A great evil, The Night King, had taken control of him, who in turn is a puppet of The Great Other. The gods told me much more. After my death, the Old and Valyrian gods sent me back in time to prepare the world once more, perhaps to change what happens in this time or reduce the overall loss." He explained, tears welling up in his eyes.
"So you've lived a life, my brother, to care for you, told you about me, and help to choose your own path? As he promised me as I lay dying," his mother asked with a sad smile. 'What? His mother had asked his brother to tell him about her and help him choose his path?.' Aemon felt anger then, a cold anger that he pushed aside and wasn't something he wouldn't get into now.
"I'm sorry, but my uncle never told me who my mother was. I grew up thinking I was a bastard of your brother. I ended up at the Wall, thinking I would gain honor. That was the only place a bastard could truly gain it," Aemon snarled. Then, Arya gave a small wail. 'Arya, I will always miss you, little sister.' Aemon thought sadly.
His mother grumbled as she picked up the bundle of his sister, slowly trying to calm her. "No, he betrayed me. He shipped my son off to Wall without telling him. All to protect that whoremonger," she said, half-crying. Taking his hand in her free one.
"I found friends, mother, and love beyond the Wall. I fought and brought Wildlings past the Wall. I died at the Wall for the first time, and the Red Witch brought me back. The first time. Then I became the King of the North and later a Warden to my aunt Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of Rhaella and Aerys, born after the Rebellion. Who became my love, and then I became a kinslayer, killing her after she burnt King's Landing. Then I was put into a cell, where the Night King found me, and I was in that cell that I died, thinking I had failed when the Old and Valyrian gods gave me this chance. To prepare the realm for the Night King and the Great Other's plans for the world. That is a brief summary, mother." Aemon explained quickly to calm down his mother.
"So when I saw you giving birth this time and before, I feared I was losing you again. Then I saw you and Visenya for the first time, and I could take no more, and then I ran from it all. Then I did it again with Arya, and then it was the name that broke me. Arya was the name of my favorite sibling. Thinking back on it, I realized you reminded me of her in many ways. My uncle always said, Arya was a lot like you." Aemon said, and he ended up crying.
Arya tried to get a hold of his hand. Her little arms searching. "Here you go." He said as he placed his finger on it. The girl gave a small, happy gruggle.
"Oh, Aemon, I'm sorry I wasn't there and for the life you had. But we are here now together and make the most of this chance. Now tell me all of your life and the world I left behind," she said, tears in her eyes.
He did, and they sat there for an hour or two. By the time he was done, the sun was setting. His mother changed from anger to happiness as he recalled the tale. Arya, Ygritte, and Dany mostly seemed to cheer her up. Or some of the stories of him at Winterfell or his friends at Castle Black and the Free Folk. But she was angered and grieved when she heard of his treatment at Winterfell, the death of her nephews, or the treatment of Sansa. But she laughed when she heard Robert didn't have any legitimate children of his own.
"Well, Aemon, I'm happy you lived and found some form of happiness in that life. But in this one, we'll make the most of it, my son, and try to live it to the fullest. Try to prepare the Seven Kingdoms for the coming of the Night King and the Great Other," she said with a warm smile.
"Mother, can you tell me how it all happened? The Rebellion. I know now that Rhaegar is my father in that other life, and he didn't rape you as it was said in the Seven Kingdoms after the Rebellion. Could you tell me how it all came to be?" Aemon asked, yearning to understand the truth of his past.
They were interrupted by a small cry, and his mother chuckled softly. "It seems someone is hungry," she remarked. "Speaking of which, I will have some supper brought for us. After we've eaten, I'll tell you the tale from my perspective. Can you go order a meal?" He nodded and walked toward the door.
So, after they had eaten, his mother told him how she had met his father in her previous life. Funny enough, in both lives, she had met him at Harrenhal. She explained how she was the Knight of the Laughing Tree and how his father had protected her and introduced her to Elia. Afterward, they became friends, and he later crowned her as the Queen of Love and Beauty because she had saved Howland Reed and fought for his honor. He, in turn, saved her from the man who had discovered her identity as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. They eventually married and sent letters to Brandon and her father, yet they never received them. Elia was supposed to retire to Dorne so she could escape from court, which had drained her. Aegon would still be Rhaegar's heir, and Aegon and Rhaenys would switch between living in Dorne and Kingslanding. But everything went to hell when the Mad King murdered Rickard and Brandon, with it the Rebellion truly began, and how it all ended with his birth in the Tower of Joy.
"A sad tale, mother. The singers sang a totally different song. After the Rebellion, it was said Robert Baratheon fought to reclaim his lady love, only to have her die in the end," Aemon scoffed, remembering how the fat man had looked when he rode into Winterfell, known as the Demon of the Trident.
"Yes, that's how history works, my son. It is written by the victors," she said with a wry smile. "Son, I'm proud of you, you know. I am proud of what you did then and of this one. You are a dragon rider in both lives, and if someone had told me in my youth that my son would ride a dragon, I would have laughed. Yet, here you are, riding the Black Dread and Rhaegal." she laughed softly.
"Well, about Balerion, I can communicate with him because of my blood," he admitted shyly.
"Damn you, Aemon, for not telling me sooner. Your father and I discussed it the first time you flew with him. He said your eyes roll back, looking white. We wonder if you might be a warg, and what you have told me of Ghost that isn't wrong. How long have you been able to do this?" she asked, surprised.
"Since my birth, mother. I have listened to everyone, and I have understood everything since my birth. As for Balerion, we share a bond, and he is connected to our bloodline, the Song of Ice and Fire. It also made my childhood less boring because I could talk with someone who understood me. "He explained, relieved to share this secret with her finally.
"That's how you knew about my pregnancies. It also explains your behavior so well. As an adult in a child's body, I know I had many thoughts when I was eight years old and woke up after the words with the gods. The maester said I woke from a fever. I was given memories of Lyanna's life in this onè, so I understand some of what it's like yours. New uncle Benjen was born a few weeks later. I even partly remember my elder brother's death. " His mother explained, shaking her head. "Well, from now on, no more secrets. We will make the most of this second chance we've been given, and we will prepare the realm for what is to come," she declared, enveloping him and Arya in another warm hug.
"That we will mother. That we will." He proclaimed.
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