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315 AC-10th Annual Winter’s End celebration
He’d been murdered. Of this Robb Stark, King in the North, the Young Wolf, was quite certain. As such, it was more than simply surprising to the young man when, having been stabbed through the heart, he woke up. In many stories like this one, the gods may have wished for him to get a second chance. May have wanted for him to aid his siblings in the War for the Dawn. Perhaps, that had been the intended outcome of this story too. But if it was then something had gone terribly wrong. For when Robb Stark awoke, he was no longer in his own body, de-aged or otherwise. No, instead Robb Stark awoke in the body of a young she-wolf.
Now, it was quite unsurprising that if awakening after being violently murdered after his wife gave Robb Stark a minor heart attack, then seeing his four paws after stumbling attempting to stand on what once were his own two legs only exasperated Robb’s panic.
Unfortunately for the former King in the North, he was not given much time to adjust to the traumatic situation he found himself in before the stall he had apparently been sleeping in was burst into by a young girl.
“Snowflake!!”
It took the girl tackling Robb to the ground for Robb to realise, with growing horror, that Snowflake was in fact, Robb. If the previous trauma hadn’t been enough, this certainly would have done it.
Finally, after what felt like hours of being strangled, Robb was released from his prison and was able to get a better look at the girl.
She had wavy brown hair, and grey eyes, appearing very similar to Arya, as Robb remembered her looking. Certainly, of Northern stock, with at least some Stark heritage.
It was when the Arya look alike began to weave winter roses into Robbs new fur that he was certain that he was in the Seven Hells.
“You look so pretty Snowflake!”
Arya-look-alike bounced to her feet, finished with Robb’s torture.
A call came from outside.
“Lyanna! Come along now! The dragons are approaching!”
Now with the information that Robb currently had access to it is unsurprising that his gut reaction to this call was to panic and believe that Arya-look-alike, now known to be named Lyanna, was his dead Aunt. Which, Robb now believed, meant that he had been transported back in time to a Winterfell in which his Aunt was a child and House Targaryen still ruled the Seven Kingdoms.
As Robb was frozen Lyanna Stark began to run outside to follow her mother’s call.
She whistled to him and though the girl had just tortured Robb horrifically, his unfortunate reaction was to go to her. Unwilling to believe it was a trained reaction, Robb rationalised that if the Targaryens were coming then he was simply following his Aunt, who had been kidnapped and murdered by one, to protect her.
Robb barely had time to do a double take at the appearance of the woman in the central courtyard, who looked eerily like his mother, before they appeared. Now if Robb had been scared before, that was nothing on now. He had followed Lyanna and the mother-look-alike as they left Winterfell through the Hunter’s Gate, into the vast open space west of Winterfell. Then the shadows appeared above. Unearthly roars filled the skies and great shadows crossed the land in front of him. Robb couldn’t look up, though he had immediately realised that when the mother-look-alike had said the dragons were coming, she was speaking literally as well as figuratively. Robb damn near shit himself. Actual honest to gods dragons were in Winterfell. He was not in his time period any more.
Their wings beat like war drums as they landed with a great thud. Two dragons, one black as night, and the other cream and gold. They were, in Robbs humble opinion, unearthly massive beasts. From atop the two, two comparatively miniscule figures could barely be seen. As they dismounted, Robb could see that they were in fact two Targaryens. One was a short woman dressed in white furs, wearing a stunning crown atop her intricately braided hair, while the other was a young girl. Both had purple shades for eyes, and blonde hair. The woman’s was silver while the girl’s was strawberry blonde.
A herald stepped forward.
“You are presented to her Grace Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, Protector of Freefolk and First Men, the Red Wolf! And her daughter, Princess Lyanna Stark, Princess of Winterfell, and heir to the Throne of Winter! Pray hail!”
Robb barely listened to the second proclamation, too struck with the woman-who-looked-like-his-mother-but-was-his-sister. Sansa was Queen in the North. Sansa. Where in the seven hells was Jon?
Lyanna Stark wasn’t his Aunt Lyanna, but his niece. Probably. Robb was really fucking lost at this point.
A small woman with dark skin and coiled hair that Robb had not initially noticed getting off with the adult Targaryen began to proclaim the visitors.
“Greetings! Presenting Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, and of Astapor, and of Yunkai, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Six Kingdoms, Protector of the Realms of Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons!”
The girl took a breath as Robb took in the last Princess of House Targaryen. The one who was now The Queen and a dragonrider. He had no idea how Sansa had managed to retain the North’s independence while facing that.
“Also presenting Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen. Princess of Dragonstone, Khalakki of the Great Grass Sea, the Dragonwolf. Only daughter and heir of Queen Daenerys and her late consort, Jon Snow, King in the North, Protector of the Realms of Men, the Prince that was Promised, the White Wolf! Hail to their names!”
Robb had only two thoughts at that. Firstly, how the fuck had Sansa managed to retain the North’s independence, gained Jon’s crown over his daughter, and kept friendly relations with the Targaryens. And secondly. Jon. His Jon. Jon Snow who wouldn’t go to brothels and left for the wall the first shot he had. That Jon. Had married Daenerys fucking Targaryen.
That decided things. Robb was still dying, and this was a fever dream.
Any other explanation simply wouldn’t make any sense.
This view was only solidified when the two Queens embraced one another and called each other sister.
Robb, still in a state of shock mind you, dutifully trotted behind his niece Lyanna as she chatted with Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and they made their way back to the main buildings.
He didn’t notice the decorations or murals of the Great War as they made their way into the Great Hall. Didn’t see the images of Arya Stark taking down hundreds of wights. Nor those of Brandon Stark skinchanging into Viserion to aid in the war. Didn’t see the image of Jon slaying the Great Other. Nor see the image of King Jon and Queen Daenerys’ final farewell. Robb was so consumed with his own thoughts that he did not even see the final family portrait of House Stark before it was reduced down to merely two.
Fortunately for Robb, it was the End of Winter celebration, so the tapestries displaying these images were hung in the great hall itself. Behind the high table, at which were seated only four, hung high on the wall was the Stark family portrait. Jon Snow sat in the centre, with his Direwolf Ghost on one side, and his sister, Sansa, then Princess of Winterfell on his other. Held in Sansa’s arms was a young Lyanna Snow, and to her other side was Brandon Stark. Next to Ghost stood the she-wolf Arya Stark. Only Sansa and Lyanna would survive the war.
Robb lay under the table lost in thought. Sansa was alive. Jon, Bran, Rickon, Mother, Father and likely Arya were dead. Robb’s ear twitched towards the sound of Lyanna's laughter behind him. House Stark had been decimated but they had survived. A responding squeal from Rhaenyra Targaryen was heard.
They had survived and their pack now included dragons. Triumphant songs echoed through the great hall as survivors of the Great War and their children danced and feasted under the winter roses and holly. Sansa and Daenerys, despite all of their suffering laughed together at the centre of the table.
Hearing all of this gave Robb an incredible sense of relief.
After years of war and suffering, Westeros knew peace. Dragon’s bay knew freedom. And House Stark and Targaryen, their heads and heirs alike, danced hand in hand in a better world.
As Robb Stark closed his eyes once and for all, the wheel kept rolling down an ever-smoother road.