Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“But it’s true, Loras! I wouldn’t lie, I saw it, truly I did!” 

It happened right here, right above Highgarden, the city of her birth. 

She felt in every bone of her body, the look her older brother, Loras, gave her. That heightened blond brow, the way his right gauntlet clinked against the plate over his waist, the deep breath he always took before the lecture. He still showed doubt as to her words, he did not believe her! Even his sole, precious sister! She lanked her arms out over the balcony, drooping her chin onto the rail. The torches and lamps of Highgarden far, far, beneath their keep showed bravely against the night. An empty moon above them with only tonight’s distant stars to gift the people of the Reach, and Westeros et al, light tonight. 

It was Cronesday when it happened. A night in the middle of the week like any other Cronesday at first, but tonight the torrential fire high in the sky had stood out stark against the lack of moonlight. Margaery and her grandmother had stood right there, together on the reclaimed widow’s walk, and watched it slowly fall out of the sky. A great celestial body, as Maester Tolken had spoken to her privately after quiet demand later on, had plummeted through the sky of the Reach into their lands far away. She had never, in her ten and six years of life seen anything like its fiery beauty before. Stars falling from the heavens. She thanked the Seven for being alive to experience such interesting times.

Her brother, though, blew a raspberry in response to her tale of it. 

The absolute cotton-brained fool. If he had only seen it too!

Grandmother had assured her that her eyes had not played tricks on her. She recalled the awe at the sight initially, before feeling the brief but alarming rumble of the castle beneath her feet; looking up and seeing her grandmum’s shocked face, that almost rocked her to her core by comparison to the celestial body plummeting. 

Grandmother never showed faces like that. And Margaery would know, because she had certainly tried to bait out otherwise for years now. It stuck in Margaery’s memory starkly because of that. Something that shocked even the Thorn of Highgarden was surely something she herself should be invested in.

“Regardless, the Tarly’s will find whatever it was before we could.” her brother commented, “Maester Tolken told father and mother that there might be a need to subsidize damage to their field or whatever else the thing hit upon landing. You know relations have been testy with the most loyal to dragons since the rebellion.

And she did indeed. Perhaps this was a sort of backhanded gift from the Seven to repair fraying bridges. Or perhaps it was a sign of worse to come. Grandmother had warned her to avoid both sons of the age-old allied house for now, but she hadn’t yet procured why from her little flowers she hid amongst the courts of the Reach. Little flowers, she gently smirked at herself. Embarrassing really, Margaery bashfully thought. She just had a way with making her shy acquaintances more confident in their roles amidst court. If they were thankful to her then it was simply her role as the Rose of Highgarden to accept the gossip they willingly shared after all!

“No use dallying on it, I think.” her brother interrupted her brief brood, “we’d best head off to sleep now. I’m sure we’ll hear more of it on the morrow from father.” he smiled and nodded before excusing himself first from the balcony. Margaery was sure they would hear about the repercussions of the event tomorrow, but there was an opportunity to hear more of this strange tale tonight. With that thought she made her way to her grandmother’s solar, slowing before the last corner before peering out around. Left and Right, the beloved guardsmen of the Thorn of Highgarden (for Margaery heard the praise her grandmother heaped upon the two men when she thought no one else would hear), stood outside the closed entrance to the solar. She had charmed Erryk and Arryk before she was ten namedays old though so she decided to take the gamble now and walked around the corner with a belonging stride. As she noticed their gaze draw to her she stopped and quickly raised a finger to her mouth, hissing a quiet shh at the both of them. 

Twin pairs of eyebrows were raised, shared a look, turned back to the young Rose of Highgarden, and then back towards the door to her grandmother’s solar behind them. A pair of fingers raised to lips as the twins slowly, and thoughtfully looked back straight ahead. She knew her grandmother already secretly showered the pair with praise, but she would remember to treat them both herself even greater later. They loved Olenna just as much as the rest of her family, and trusted them all almost equally. Seven bless their hearts. She strode to the door. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she slowly placed her ear to the thick wood door, and listened closely.

“...and I’m telling you…of a son, that Randyll will already be upon it by the time we even reach Horn Hill. We MUST be there quick, and we…when we inquire. The…for an outlet to his rage anyway he can get still. We will not…agitate that bee’s nest first. Let the Usurper…it later.” Maergery’s grandmum was as usual taking charge of the situation, she thought as she tried to listen.

“Of course, mother, this is deeply troubling. Deeply, of course!” Margaery nodded along in agreement to her father’s worried voice.

“Then let’s be snappy…Loras, good chance to show himself. And if this…something to remember all those involved by even. I have heard…forged even stronger, words from…he’s deep in Volantis. He would…to me.”

“Mother, how would you even…” her father began the admonishment, but Margaery could almost perfectly envision the look of her grandmother that shushed him then as she slammed the table in response to her father.

“What matters is the feat, Mace. The dragons are gone, our…ripped from beneath our feet at any moment…and I mean any renown and word of mouth this house can…if a star falls from the sky then I want House Tyrell at the…being seen with those on the fence about the dragons still, than…” Margaery flinched at the sound of hand on wood this time, her grandmother showing her thorns at the end of the brambly decree. She heard many feet shuffling then and backed away from the door swiftly in panic. She spared a thankful glance at Erryk and Arryk before dashing down the corridor. As she turned swiftly around the bend, she heard the heavy door open far behind her now. She breathed out in relief, but kept up her pace to put some distance between her and her family, stepping quickly over the white stone bricks beneath her.

A star fallen from the sky, she thought dreamily. House Tyrell would make grand swords and goods of the ore from it, perhaps enough to challenge the Valyrian steel of old if her grandmother’s hopes might be shared! 

The courts of Highgarden had been a place of well-concealed panic since Robert’s Rebellion. And deservedly so, since they had since ages past been friends of the Targaryens. She had grown up with stories of the old Hightowers and the Dance of Dragons by the historian, Mushroom. The Reach was a cornerstone of the Seven Kingdoms. The irreplaceable breadbasket, well-populated, and powerful because of it. A change in buttocks upon the Iron Throne would not upset her House and home so easily, she knew.

The Thorn of Highgarden publicly mocked those in court that hoped, even briefly, of the rumored escape of the dragons to Essos, taking on a more cynical persona to the end affairs of the war. Margaery knew that her grandmother had suspicions about Dorne’s involvement in the escape of the remaining Targaryens, and was fairly sure the family was somewhere in the eastern continent as safe as they could be from the Stag King, but it would not do for the Spider to hear any support for the old regime from their court. She still held doubts about the almost grumpkin and Other-like tales her mother and grandmum would tell her about the eunuch of the Red Keep. Mute little birds all across the land of Westeros that followed their every whisper. She shuddered as she moved.

Her mind raced as her feet strode. She would need to outshine the Lady of Thorns one day, a Rose must bloom and surpass their sturdy stalk after all. She nodded at the greencloaked guard as she rounded up to the steps of the Maester’s tower. Ser Lyrell was his name, she had put the majority of their guards' faces to memory by this point. He still was indebted to her kindness for his sister, she recalled in passing. Maergery had been raised, and trained extensively, to be a confident, noble representative and member of House Tyrell all her life. A rose with Valyrian steel petals her brother would jape at her, but she had since internalized the compliment. 

She had made friends with House Tarly in her youth, like many of their subsidiary houses of the Reach, and it was now time to call in the fav- friendship of those she knew there. She smirked to herself as she knocked on Maester Tolken’s heavy door, hearing the murmurs of the queer birds within. She would have to be a bit stern in her writing, elsewise Samwell would take moons to finalize his letter back to her this time, and time was of the essence if she wanted to finally surpass her grandmother’s expectations. She was already looking forward to whatever wonderful face her beloved mentor would show her. After all, she smiled, she was the Thorn of Highgarden’s prized granddaughter, and also to-be so much more.

Chapter Text

The blue and silver painted astromech shrieked its frustrations at its organic wards as the rest of its processors raced to make use of whatever passages they could to the right-rear thrusters and forward landing propulsion systems. Faster than any Kaminoan astromech could calculate in its bio-dreams, R2D2 diverted power from hundreds of different minor systems of the Jedi Delta-B starfighter. The recent accommodation modifications were excessive and unnecessary as expected by the ever-knowing astromech. But no one ever listened to droids, did they? Except Id.Walker. Brain the size of a planet, and only Id.Walker treated them in a way that felt-

Another explosion near the rear-left forward thrusters. R2 ceased examining the other, now burning, pieces of entry into the planet’s atmosphere and focused on their own pieces. It was going to be a rough landing. R2 had yanked the ship from hyperspace even before the alert systems could go off, which is perhaps why they had not been blown into particles by this point. Tens of different alerts flashed and whined, were dismissed, readministered to the uplink along with tens of new ones,followed by more new alarms, the sequence repeating. This moment would surely incur that molotov of chemicals that induce panic for R2’s passengers. That is if they were not designated_entities_jedi the both of them. Entity_jedi were produced differently than your average organic, tougher, faster, less overwhelmed by mortality. R2 chirped with confidence at their ability to keep the designated_entities_friends of Id.Walker safe. The fusion coil whirred with energy with a bit of what any entity in the known galaxy would recognize as pure confidence from the droid.

“R2, what was that?! Is everything alright, the readings are all over- I can’t seem to get steady readings on the planet!”

It was fine! The explosions were being controlled and as long as the front-

Another explosion, this time in the front-right landing thrusters on the nose of the craft.

“Master, THAT sounded like it might actually be a problem.”

It was under control, stop worrying, Id.Snips! And R2 said as much aloud in binary at its wards.

“Well of course we trust you, little one, but the blasted-

The next explosion blew out the UI-glass of the cockpit and R2 was unable to access the systems to reactivate their view out of the now fully opaque, nonfunctioning window. Well then, they would just have to trust the best astromech in the galaxy to save their organic buttockses. Again!

R2 chirped up, back to a state of continued alarm, turning on every important thruster movement, updates on projections of the biome of the planet in-between, and of course communicating words-of-enouragement to its passengers. These words translated for the most part to: “I have got this! I have still got this! I should have stayed with Id.Walker!” though if the organics remembered afterwards they never spoke of it to the astromech. 

The atmosphere flamed around them. Readings erupted over whatever spare processors existed. Breathable. Arable. Sub-light development. Another explosion, this one too close to contai- 

The burn ceased, and the delayed whistle of air drowned out the shouts of the organics within the ship as the green planet beneath began to loom large. Further, faster it felt, the ship careened through the night sky. A green land, surrounded at its base and sides by ocean blue beneath them. 

R2’s emergency battery continued to give them vision of what was happening, and just enough processing power to ground itself in the situation with albeit less than ten potentially survivable simulations if the reserve battery was to be trusted.

A long, flat landscape came into definition as the clouds were broken by their craft. R2 catalogued the distant, but very distinct, constructions in view. Id.Snips was shouting something very loudly now in the cockpit. There was a violent crash, followed by the shriek of metal tearing, and then-

Systems lit up as the air jet past them, and R2 squealed with triumphant delight. A quick reroute of the sudden energy burst and the best astromech in the galaxy was back in control, as always. With a victorious chirp, they threw all of it into whatever forward, lower, upper thrusters were still attached and wired and ceased running the simulations. As the land became close enough for R2 to mark distinct organic movement beneath them, the astromech almost purred in its now assured victory. A complete destruction of ninety-five percent of other systems was the smallest of prices to pay for assured functioning of their organic wards, after all. Id.Walker would once again be so proud of them!

And then came the highest noted impact of R2’s existence, entirely within expected parameters.

. . . .

The screech of metal on metal rang out as R2 used its vibrosaw to release itself from what remained of the destroyed Delta-B’s astrobay. No motion from its organic wards, but that was still within expected parameters. Organics were incredibly prone to shock after all, R2 simply had to get to them and treat them and it would be more than acceptable, considering the success of their simulations so far. After a few more efforts, and the assistance of some very handy thrusters, R2 pulled its incapacitated charges a safe distance from the ruined ship. R2 then ran its optics over the remains of it. The astromech had never liked that particular Delta-B, but when it had mattered most, the ship had shown what it was capable of. The astromech chirped sadly before turning its optics towards the organics laying in the plush grass. The crash would be visible three-point-four kilometers away in this open terrain. The descent would have been seen for far less than a parsec, but for how unknown the land was currently to the droid it equated to the same. The droid never panicked. Ever. It was true (or perhaps believed strongly) that it was incapable of the function. But there had been nearly nil evidence of light pollution on the celestial body on entrance. 

R2 began to roll back and forth before the still, stabilizing organics, pacing. No energy network, it thought, stopped, and then after a beat rolled back the opposite direction. No sustained battery production or charging, it came to a halt again, and began to chirp a string of obscenities that even Anakin would only truly understand half of. Fortunately, this had the obviously intended effect of successfully waking the organics. All according to plan. R2 chirped happily at its wards as their eyes began to open and motor-extremities test-functioned.

“Master, are you alright?” the young togruta muttered painfully.

“Ooph, well I must be, but I’m not sure how much I actually believe that right now. Are you alright, Ahsoka?”

“Yea, I think-” a sharp popping noise, a grunt of pain from the togruta, “ohhhhhh…ehem. I think I’ll be fine.” The two organics paused after observing the emergency reposition of the right motor extremity, the two of its organics taking adequately timed breaths for being so soon to recover from the shock, Id.Snips continued. “Um, Master?”

“Yes, Padawan Tano?”

“I want Anakin to pilot next time.”

“...”

“...”

Id.Obi showed a facial change towards Id.Snips that R2 recognized as part of their typical action.banter function. Good, that meant they were mostly in working order then and could function properly. 

“R2, what readings did we get on this planet before our ever-so graceful landing?” And after a moment the droid finally complied and informed its wards how likely it was they were in over their organic heads.

Chapter Text

Samwell had read, reread, proofread, summarized, and all but notarized the letter from the Rose of Hightower by now. He had had his inklings as to what his personal savior and shield from social devastation was calling on him for now of all times. The fire had passed through the sky, followed by the sensation of the very ground beneath all of them threatening to crack itself open. It had been enough to make him soil himself at the time, him and many, many others thankfully. The ladies of the washrooms would hopefully be understanding considering what most in the keep had experienced that night. 

Any one with ears had been awoken by the commotion of the entire affair, but it had taken a few hours for his father to wrangle back control of the situation and the scouts to return with the theorized destination of the falling body from the sky. Rumors had spread like wildfire after the initial reports had been shared for more than an hour with the castellan, Lord Randyll, and what advisors had hurried fast enough to the solar in Horn Hill. Hard to keep something like that under wraps though, Sam thought to himself, finding it hard to blame any guards for the leakage. The smallfolk would most likely avoid it anyways, their fear of the unknown being enough to allow his father to assemble a follow-up expedition after the preliminary scouts returned from their range of the surrounding area of the crash site, as that was all it could be called considering.

Samwell reread the note. Seven hells Margaery, you’ll be the death of me if father ever discovers these letters. Sam was not particularly fond of his friend’s most recent Red Keep courtly fascination, the Spider. He and his little birds had been the most recent subject of her letters to him, how smart it was to have a network of information, how she already had so many friends in all the courts to set such a thing up for herself. Of course, those lofty dreams were all contained in only those first two letters, which he had kept hidden, very safely hidden, away. The rest of their correspondence had been containing only safe and known gossip after Samwell had pointed out that even Maester’s were prone to curiosity. Margaery might trust her own ravens to bring her letters unread, but she shouldn’t trust the Tarly’s to do the same. But Samwell knew by now with the Rose, that it was what was left unwritten in her sentences that spoke her true opinions. He smiled while looking down at the letter again. He could still picture her perfectly, hear her words exactly as they were said to him that bitter day, his tormentors gone with the arrival of her:

“Any one can swing a weapon or push a man or woman down...” she had reached her hand down then, offering help up after Broly and his cretins had left him after their cruel game was interrupted. “...but very few are as shrewd as we, Samwell.” And then she had hit him with a weapon far more powerful than any Valyrian steel of history. 

That smile would topple kingdoms and it scared him shitless, truly it did. More than any bloody dragon or Other tale of a nan’s ever could. A knock on his door interrupted the thoughts. “Come in.” he said, turning his full attention to whatever visitor was here. As his younger brother, Dickon, entered the room though he began to regret the allowance, thinking immediately of the letter from Margaery.

“Sam, father is putting together a party to search for the site of the fallen star. He wants us both there to lead the men.” The pleading look he gave Sam with the statement melted him. The fear was still there of course, father was demanding him to ‘man-up’ again, which never had gone well in the past. It wouldn’t go well now either and it terrified him to think of all the multitude of ways it could finally be the last straw for him as the heir of Horn Hill, despite Margaery’s protections via her family influence. But Dickon always knew how to make him at least try again. It wouldn’t help, he simultaneously knew that, but what son of anyone could ever let down his younger brother so easily. Not even Samwell, he grimaced internally, albeit warmly still. He strode towards his younger brother with feigned confidence, froze for but a second, and then raised his arm and placed his hand upon Dickon’s shoulder. “Well, with you at the lead I’m sure it’ll all go right. We should, um, well we should hurry to father then, yes?” His brother gave him a still nervous, but glad smile. “Yes, right, let’s then, brother. Hurry, Sam, he was madder than the dragon when he was woken by the whole thing.” Sam sighed internally. Of course he was, he was always ‘madder than the dragon’ since the war. Sam had borne the brunt of that rage far too often to not be familiar.

The pair rushed towards the yard of Horn Hill, in the wee hours of the night not many stirred even despite the event. It would take more than a rumbling to wake most after a long days living. Four men armored and on horse waited beside their father who stood adjacent, tapping his foot impatiently.

“There you are! Why I must send my second-born to retrieve his elder still astounds me, did you not see the star fall, boy? Did you not think you would be needed as my heir?” His father fumed at him as expected, but Sam inwardly groaned at the accusation. Exactly what protocol was there to follow considering the circumstances? Better to stay out of the way of his father as he controlled the situation, one boy would not make a difference. He had much less expertise than any of his father’s guards when it came to anything near this sort of occurrence. Instead, he bowed to his father as deeply as his belly allowed him and moved with his brother towards their steeds. He listened to his father’s continued bellows, but internalized none of it. It wasn’t worth having to feel the hateful words strewn throughout towards him, as usual. Dickon would summarize later and they’d plan from there.

. . .

It was nearly an hour later when their party approached the outskirts of the fields around the fallen star’s landing. Smoke billowed up out of the small wooded site still and dust hung in the air giving the area an eerie, misted look. As Sam gazed upon the sight, his brother pulled up alongside him. The pair shared a long look before gazing back towards the crash. Finally his brother spoke. “Father gave me Heartsbane before we left.” Dickon said the words, which hung in the air between them. Heartsbane, the Tyrell family sword of Valyrian steel, passed from heir to heir of the family. Ah, so that’s what it was then.

“That’s a great honor, Dickon. You should be proud.” Sam replied, carefully.

“It should be your honor, brother…” his sweet, sweet younger brother spoke back sadly. Oh Dickon, you’re more an heir to our House than I ever could be. It’s alright.

“Well you will make far better use of it than I would if the situation comes to it, Dickon, you and I both know. It’s strategic, it’s sound, there’s no dishonor in playing to our strengths in any situation, you know.” and his brother, as always, thought over the logic of his words before acquiescing to them. Dickon was no fool, but he was also not a man to challenge what sounded right to him. Sam might not be a hero to look up to, but it warmed his heart to know his brother respected his viewpoints.

“I’m sure if some star monster accompanied our fallen prize then you will be more than enough to slay it, Dickon. You should have more confidence in yourself.” Sam deflected, hoping to get his brother’s mind back on the task before them. He let out a laugh and smiled back at Samwell, much to his pleasure.

“Fair enough, brother, fair enough. Let’s make moves then, our prize has waited long enough for us I think.” he smiled and urged his horse forward with a quick call to the rest of their party. It was a short trip with the horses to their destination, and as they grew closer Sam began to feel less nervous about it all. A star fallen from the heavens! He was more focused on questions like whether the star would still be warm from its fiery entrance, what sort of metal it would bare.Their party made its way through the clearing and into the woods. Sam was confident this would finally be an easy success for him in his father’s eyes as they came closer to the still smoking earth amidst the cracked timber.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

Obi-wan scrunched his brows hearing R2’s report. His binary had never been to the level of his apprentice or grand apprentice, but over the years of working with the little miracle droid he had put forth the effort to learn. The force did not weave and thread through non-organics the same as it did flesh and blood beings, but having their little friend around for so long now Obi-wan wondered if perhaps that was because organics just could not see it properly.

“Uncharted space, Master, and likely a lowtech system if the level of light on entry was what R2 says.” Ahsoka gestured behind her, “and I don’t think we’re getting our ride out of here fixed any time soon either.” He sighed in response, rubbing his brow as he thought. If it truly was lowtech and inhabited as R2 said then they would have to be very careful here. They were far outside Republic or even Separatist space now, though they had known that going into this mission. Obi-wan had never expected them to lose their way off the planet in case things took a turn though. He closed his eyes, letting the mounting frustration and panic flow through him. These were natural thoughts, anyone would feel them now, but they would not control him. He exhaled, deeply, and then opened his eyes, turning to Ahsoka.

“We’ll have to wait to see what sort of inhabitants live here to make any solid plans, but we should act as if this qualifies as a non-interference directive planet for now.”

“Ughhhhh, but Master,” Obi-wan did all but roll his eyes as he faced his young friend’s incoming whine, “a Jedi’s lightsaber is their life. You taught me that! I can’t just give up my life, especially on a strange, alien planet!”

Now Obi-wan did roll his eyes. He had heard far greater stretches of logic from the young padawan. He enjoyed the tongue-in-cheek banter, it helped him cope with these unfortunately regular moments of crisis on their missions. He was thankful for her cheer even, and he had to push down the chuckle threatening to come up from inside him. He had his own role to play afterall: the ever-stern master.

“And after how many times your own master has lost that part of his life I would assume you would be confident without yours.” He gave her the 'Master look', he knew that would get her. It always did. She rolled her eyes and laughed. There we go, Obi-wan smiled. He knew then that they would be fine, it would likely be difficult, but they had been through far, far too much to let another crash landing on a strange planet put them down so easily. His mind then turned to what needed to be done.

“Well, we’ll need to cover the remains of the ship so locals don’t stumble upon them so easily. R2, I want you to stay here in the area and shoot out regular pings for nearby ships. Low-power mode activity only going forward though, I have no idea when or if we’ll find a way to recharge you if worse comes to worse. Obi-wan anticipated the outraged beeps and boops of his mechanical friend, but it did not make it easier. Thankfully Ahsoka stepped in.

“Come on R2, we’re only deciding it because we don’t want you going kaput on us out here! We need you to be able to operate in the long-term, you know we’re going to need that brain of yours while we’re stuck!” The droid stared at her for a moment with its optic drive, adjusting it once or twice as it likely zoomed in on her facial features to examine the validity of her claim, before letting out a relenting whir and chirp. He didn’t like it either, but having R2 operating was likely going to be the only way they got off this planet anytime soon. “Alright then,” he said, “Ahsoka, help me move what’s left of the ship elsewhere and we’ll cover it up. I’m sure the locals would have seen our descent and any curious will be coming this way soon.”

The overall process of cleaning the site, as well as one could after a crash from the atmosphere, went smoothly. Using the Force, the two Jedi lifted the remains of the Delta-B from the crash site and laid it half a kilometer away, near a stony outcrop where what remained of it would at least partially blend in with from a distance. They covered it with further rocks and dirt from nearby, not the best camouflage for a ruined spacecraft, but it would do for now on the lowtech planet. They carved out a fixture in the rocks to house R2, much to his chagrin at his new temporary domicile, but eventually the droid relented after much coaxing from the togruta apprentice.

While she put finishing touches on their hiding place, Obi-wan finally stilled his mind, closing his eyes and letting the Force of this strange place flow through him. It was thick with tension all around him, a feeling he had grown used to since the start of the war, but allowed him to mire through it with practiced ease still. The Force had a strange, but familiar feel to it. Similar to the tense energy it would give off before the civil war of the Republic. It reminded him of the Great Clan Wars more, though he couldn’t isolate the feelings as to why exactly. He stretched his own part of the ever-connected web in the Force out, ignoring the distant churns of its energy and instead feeling out for the wildlife around them. Some creatures stared in curiosity, he felt, others hid in fear of the strange new beings, still trying to designate them as predator or otherwise. He pushed past them, past the surrounding open fields, still looking for the distinct signs of sentience in the Force nearby, and eventually he found it. Or them, he should say. Six sentients making their way directly towards the crash site it seemed. First contact was coming soon, he thought, and Obi-wan still wasn’t confident in how they ought to go about it. He had a very bad feeling abou-

“We should introduce ourselves, master!” He gave Ahsoka a queer look in response to her interruption of his brooding, prompting her to continue the thought. “Well,” she looked down, slightly embarrassed at her initial confidence, “I mean, we should obviously scout them out and make sure they’re not hostile right off the bat of course!” she assured quickly. His brow raised slowly, he always enjoyed playing the judging master. “I-I mean, what if they’re, you know…friendly? And we’ll need to talk to some eventually anyway! Might as well be the ones that saw the crash in the first place, maybe we can give them a cover story? Master Skywalker and I have been work shopping a bunch of ideas in our free-”

“We will not be playing at being angry gods, padawan, no matter you and your Master’s jests.” 

“Master!” she threw him an exasperated look, “even we know that one’s just a really, really bad joke.” Obi-wan felt through the Force her need for him to understand, and he consented to an understanding smirk at her, raising his eyebrow with it. “Of course, of course, my ambitious padawan. Just the idea of Emperor Anakin was enough for even me to laugh, though I must say, the idea exhausts me more than it frightens me…” he let out a tired laugh. She shot him an unimpressed look, “well regardless, master, I say we set up a spot by the crash site and observe whoever is coming to check it out. We can at least get an idea of what sort of lifeforms are living here, and then if we want to introduce ourselves we can, otherwise we’ll keep hidden and move on elsewhere looking for next steps.”

It was as good a plan as any at this point, he conceded. Though, from his experience, the definition of sentience was iffy when it came to many lowtech planets he had visited. Obi-wan had always revelled in the exploration of them as a young padawan himself with Master Qui-gon; so many strange, beautiful sights and experiences. Even if sometimes the locals wanted to taste your meat instead of exchanging pleasantries immediately. The memories warmed him briefly, making his decision for him and he relented to his padawan.

“Alright, we’ll observe, and then if I believe it is safe enough I will initiate contact with the locals, is that clear, padawan?” He threw her the ole Master look one more time just to make sure she accepted, and was pleased to see her hurried nods and smile. Obi-wan always enjoyed giving the carrot more than the stick, he chuckled inwardly.

They made their moves back to the crash site of the former Delta-B and, using the Force, climbed up into the upper branches of the surrounding deciduous trees. Then he and his padawan waited.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka peered with her one eye around the upper trunk of the tree she hid behind down upon the six sentients sitting atop their mounts, some sort of quadruped beast. They looked cute and she was going to ride one before this was over. It was a chance to extend her animal handling knowledge after all, her Master would approve, if not encourage her. Definitely encouraging her, she smirked inwardly, turning her focus back to their potential first contact below. They wore a plated metal armor around themselves, reminiscent of Mandolorian warriors, and swords at their waists. Some sort of steel or iron pre-space alloy, she guessed based off the armor.

“There’s…nothing here?” The confused words broke the silence of the observance. Kriff, of course they would come looking for something. “Well at least nothing of import was destroyed by whatever it was.” The largest being of the group replied to what she presumed was the lead of their group. Being, though? They looked human, just like Obi-wan or her master? Perhaps some long lost seeding of humanity like the old texts of Master Revan’s (some Jedi were still on the fence about whether he had ever truly turned after all) era spoke, she mused. Master Nu would have a fit when they brought back the knowledge. She turned her focus back to the humans below her, having probed enough as her eyes allowed, she closed them and drew into herself deep….then spread herself and awareness out. Frustration, confusion, mirth, these were feelings she knew, the feelings of a sentient she could be familiar with. But there was something else, just on the periphery. It moved swiftly, closer and closer, not sentient like the humans here, but the way the Force whirled and laced through it was familiar. It reminded her of her Master. The waves of import, they were reminiscent of Anakin and the way the Force would seem to sing around him in moments. The source grew closer, but words from below broke her from the concentration. They spoke Common, or a dialect of it at least. Thank the Force, she thought, her mind straying back to the idea of an ancient progenitor race spreading humanity throughout the stars.

“Perhaps it simply burned up on the way? It probably slagged itself on the way down, could be all over after that.” the large human (because what else could they be) said, perhaps a second in command? The commander paused a moment before speaking up in reply. “I want two men with spades here. Clear the immediate debris, see if you can find anything of interest. The rest will scout the woods, look for any remnants of the star and put out any fires if they’re still lit, we don’t need it spreading.”

Kriff, here it comes. She heard it before they did, the Force hinting her ears to the gallop of a beast through the woods. Heavy breath and large, “What in the Seven hells is that?!” yup, exactly, Ahsoka grimaced internally. The quadruped beast, furry and antlered, burst through the brush charging towards the large one and his leader immediately. The man panicked but at the spur of the moment his mount also did, but with with greater reflexes, and dashed barely forward and to the side out of the way of the charge. The man behind was not nearly as lucky as the antlers of the beast gored through the plate metal on his chest. Ahsoka felt the life in the Force flicker, soon to fade, as the beast suddenly and violently twisted its head backwards. The body of the man flew off the antlers and held a moment in air before crashing into another of the party, knocking the man from mount and the steed racing off in fear, the thud of metal and flesh clear across the battle. Ahsoka felt out in the Force once more, feeling its strings draw and knot before her. Her Master was as calm as a still-lake in comparison to the melee below, and if she were any other padawan she would believe those feelings, but Ahsoka knew Obi-wan felt some sort of panic. “Enough!” The leader’s voice rang out as he barely dismounted his steed, the beast scurrying away quickly after. The man awkwardly drew the blade from his side, and, fully in hand, pulled it skillfully into stance with him, moving to engage the great antlered beast. The Force vortexed around the sword of the man, pulling, stretching, and practically dancing around it. That weapon also has a destiny of some sort, she thought with worry, and froze when the said weapon rose. The Force practically screamed through her with the act. The great beast reared and she could sense its connection to whatever fate was intended to it about to snap. For a brief moment, she thought of Anakin again. Her legs, arms, and body were carried by the pull of that destiny before she could even give it a proper thought though, and as she flew through the air downwards between them, the sound of a hum that promised both peace and violence rang, the Jedi’s own blade rising against the final arc of the strange sword. The sound of the weapons upon one another might have terrified the locals, and if she were being honest it terrified her too. The steady hum of the lightsaber was broken by a crash of what sounded like tens of bells being hit as the blades of light and steel came together. Cries of panic, human and beast, rang with the appearance. But Ahsoka, calm and in control, turned her eyes to the great beast behind her, “Go. Your destiny is elsewhere,” and that strange creature of fate stared at her a moment, just the one, before turning and galloping off. Later, she would wonder if it knew to head Northwards, somewhere far, far away that it was destined to be.

“What in the Seven hells?!” Oh, kriff, she thought. The strange blade far away from her lightsaber now, she realized she was truly in the bantha fodder now. She quickly unignited her lightsaber, pulling it behind herself abashedly as she stepped back a few paces, trying to panic up words in the moment. “A demon of the stars.” One of the men spoke almost absentmindedly, looking at her. 

“No no no,” she laughed nervously, Anakin’s smirking face burned in her memory with the act for an instant. “I’m just-” And then, and only then she noted, annoyed, did Master Obi-wan decide to step in. Oh, thank the Force. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” her Master spoke after gracefully leaping down between her and the local sentients. His saber was still sheathed, but the sight of a man dropping down from the trees above was enough to give the men pause at least it seemed. ”I apologize for the fright, but I believe due to the circumstances,” he gestured in the direction of the giant, fled beast, “that my student and I had to make a rather…” Obi-wan paused. Oh kriff, he was panicking too, “...unexpected contact with you all.”

“Master…” she tried to interrupt, but that just seemed to spark a new wave of panic through the locals.

“By the Seven, it speaks our tongue.” One of the men spoke, their hand slowly moving to their blade. Ahsoka could practically hear her Master cackling somewhere far away at her predicament. You’re still a squirt, Ahsoka, sometimes you’re gonna have to prove yourself right out the gate if you want to be taken seriously, she heard his lecturing voice. He had put his hand on her left shoulder, the memory of the touch warmed her and the confidence of the memory filled her. The greatest Jedi that had ever breathed was her Master, and she would not dishonor him with weakness now.

“Yes, I speak your tongue.” She turned to the leader, looking him in the eyes sternly, with every iota of authority she had seen her Master wield. “And that beast would have ended you all here if not…” she drawled out suddenly, her eyes latching onto the Force also dancing around the larger man of the troop. She shook her head. Confidence, she reminded herself, “ …if not for me stepping in. That beast has a destiny elsewhere, you would have just been steps on the way.” She thought of Commander Cody, and replicated his glare at the remaining men. It seemed to have at least a bit of an effect, as a few looked down in thought, but that was more likely shock. Shock at seeing her. Ah, kriff.

There was another awkward pause. “Umm, if I might speak before, ehem, before we come to blows again…” The larger man spoke up then. “Are you…perhaps the, ehm, I’m so sorry if this is rude to you, but the, um, lady of the star that fell across the sky?”

Lady of the star.

The lady of the star. She wanted to laugh more than she ever had before, but, Force kriff it, she was not going to ruin this moment of first contact. She wouldn’t. But her Master spoke first, thankfully.

“Ah, allow for me to speak for my lady,” he said with a bow to the leader and then the larger man. Obi-wan was such a natural, she thought slightly awed at the master, “We were on a journey meant for far, far away from where we have found ourselves. Unfortunately, we have no way to return to our home above,” Obi-wan gestured to the stars above ambiguously before continuing, “we do not expect you or your brethren to aid us in our quest, but we wish not to be adversarial to those whose land we have found ourselves upon.”

The men stared at him. A moment passed. They stared some more. Another moment before the large one spoke again, “Ehem, of course. As long as you two hold no ill-intent towards House Tarly or the lands of the Reach then we would be remiss not to, um, offer you both guest rights?” It came out as more of a question, but Ahsoka appreciated the effort, Force knew she was right now. “I’m sure,” he looked upwards and kept looking there as he continued, “that we have much to discuss considering circumstances,” before bringing his gaze nervously back to the pair of them. “Um,” the man continued, “I am Samwell Tarly, current heir of House Tarly, might I, ehem, request your names?” 

At least this was just as strange for them as it was her, she thought absently, before her Master responded. “I am Jedi Master Obi-wan,” he gestured then to her, “and with me is my protectorate, or ward, Lady Ahsoka Tano.”

Lady Ahsoka Tano.

Oh kriffin, kriff. A few of the men looked at them warily after the words, but feeling them out with the Force, Ahsoka could tell it was about something other than what she had expected. “Forgive me…Jedi Obi-wan,” the second in command continued, “Your title of master, what, ehem, exactly might that entail, if you might allow me to inquire?” The man nervously finished. Obi-wan didn’t miss a beat though, “Ah, I see that perhaps my title bares some animosity? I am no trader of flesh, I assure you if that is what your worry is,” there was visible relaxation from the easily shared words, “I am but a teacher to my lady, an educator of both trades and crafts. A master and student of knowledge, that is all.” Obi-wan gave them a smile that almost blinded her. She had never seen this side of the master, but kriff was she glad to have it now. The second in command, the larger man, relaxed at what Master had shared, but Ahsoka noted that the reasoning was as simple as one might think.

“Well, House Tarly would be more than happy to extend a hand of, umm, g-greeting and hospitality to those from this strange occurrence upon our lands.” The second in command then looked towards the other man, their leader as she had presumed, the one with the Beskar-like blade. After a moment, the man seemed to recognize the expectation, “ oh, um, o-of course! We will send men later to recover our fallen, but for now please take our remaining steeds and accompany us back to Horn Hill. Our f-father will, ehem, need to meet you both,” he stumbled over his words, “a-and of course we will have suitable lodging for you both.” She felt the worried eyes upon her. Ah, so this is what it would be like then. 

“We will do everything in our power to make sure of your safety, my, umm, lady.”

Oh kriff.

“Ah, um, th-thank you,” her brain fried, ah kriff she was sounding like a scared local too now, she didn’t know what else to say, “Knight Samwell.”

That had an effect on these locals. A mixture of confusion, mirth, embarrassment, and…a touch of pride from the commander? Knight Samwell chuckled through his now incredibly red cheeks at her words. “Oh, I am no Ser, my lady. But I will make sure you return to our home as safe as if I were. Dickon, my brother here, will be in charge of our party as we make our way.” He smiled at the both of them with an innocent confidence, she felt, but it was warming for her all the same. Not everything was a mess on this planet for them then, she exhaled relief internally. The Force still danced and sang around the strange heir of this Horn Hill place and his brother’s blade, but after everything they’d been through so far they were like a gentle breeze in the Force now. Some strange fate had pulled them all in the direction of the great..stag, as they had called it, but the threads didn’t quite seem to tug on Samwell yet as they did the great beast.

“So,” her Master spoke up as they had begun to get comfortable in their saddles and break the fields outside their landing site, a brilliant smile on his face directed towards their first-born guide “what can you tell me of this exciting land, Lord Samwell?”

Chapter Text

Ser Kenobi had to be one of the most interesting men Sam had ever met in his brief ten and nine years. Words had been queer and hard coming as they first began their trek back to Horn Hill, but surprisingly (and thankfully) the Lady and knight of the Stars were gentle inquisitors. Sam had explained to the pair the concept of the houses, minor and major, and the knights that served them in managing their small and fairfolk. He had kept his wits about him, of course, they seemed safe enough by now but Sam couldn’t possibly be certain of exactly what he was bringing to their family home. And, Seven help him, Margaery would give him a tongue lashing to rival the Crone if he didn’t find out more about these people of the stars before writing back to her that night.

“Does this Archmaester control all of these assignments then? It would be difficult to dampen bias if one person had such decision making power.” the star knight said, stroking his beard.

“The maester’s have a council they convene for such occasions, Ser Kenobi,” Dickon jumped in with, “we are taught at a young age here in the Reach about the Votes of the Citadel.” The group had spoken much about the land of Westeros, the Iron Throne, and their lack of the electric resource the two desperately needed to rejoin their mission. Sam would call it all madness if not for the orange lady in their midst…and her speaking of their tongue…and her acting just like any other Andal or First Man…and her…gods, there was a presence to the both of them. Sam could never prove it, and would perhaps be called mad for speaking it aloud, but he felt a queer force to the two star fallen they had found. “You ride like a natural, my lady.” His brother braved the strange, but endlessly patient, lady of the stars. Dickon, you’ll make father so damned proud by the end of this, Sam thought to himself.

“Well, I grew up around beasts much bigger than anything I’ve seen here so far, and once you’ve ridden one steed I’d say you can ride pretty much any.” The orange lady smirked, it was so easy to be calmed by that smile. It was just like his or any others. Familiarity on a strange, strange face, even with the sharp fangs that showed with it. 

…father would shit his britches when he met her, he was certain of it.

“And what manner of steeds would, ehem, those be, my lady?” His brother asked what they all wondered looking at her. If there could be orange women with fleshy, blue and white horns then what sort of horse of the stars might exist out there? The lady of said stars flashed his brother a toothy (a sharp toothy) grin, “oh all sorts, my lords. Some had six legs and scurried, others with no legs that flew through the sky, and once my-”

“-Flew through the sky, my lady?” One of the accompanying knights spoke up at her words. Thank goodness, he had been desperate to ask in the moment as well. She gave them a queer look, but he recognized the tinge of embarrassment after-the-fact in it. He was very familiar with that look at least, it felt right at home to him by this point.

“Do-do you not have any sort of flight…here?” her words came out with the highnoted tone of defeat. The strange lady of the stars was odd even beyond her outward appearance, but, well at least she seemed very kind, at one point purebred noble, and in the next moment more abashed than a maiden washlady, Sam thought. She reminded him of Dickon in some ways, which made this all much easier to deal with thankfully (he dared not dwell on that thought though).

“It’s been many years,” another guard said now, “but once, dragons flew the skies of Westeros. Those of House Targaryen..” he paused for but a second, but Sam saw the recognition in the eyes of the two, “...were, ehm, known for their ability to tame and ride the beasts.”

“And might you describe these ‘dragons’ for me, Ser?” Obi-wan questioned now. 

How to describe a dragon, Sam wondered. What a thought, ha. He gave it another second or two to stew before he spoke up, “Well, they’re at least ten men lying down in length, scaled, with back legs and large wings on the front two limbs.” The two visitors didn’t seem perturbed by the description, “and they breath fire.” That raised the eyebrows on both of them though. 

“Flying, fire-breathing reptiles…” Ser Kenobi mused to himself, though his face was alit with a fascinated curiosity, as opposed to any fear. If you can brave the stars, you can perhaps brave anything, Sam mused to himself nervously. “And they’re all gone you say? What led to their demise if I might inquire, Lord Samwell.”

“Well it was over a long period of time, I suppose, but from reading and the teachings of the maesters, it’s believed that conflicts upon conflicts within the family led to them killing themselves off for the most part. Some had flown from servitude long ago though, the likes of Cannibal and such,” the pair gave him a curious look, “ah, Cannibal was a massive dragon past, named for his, ehem, proclivity to eat his own kind.” The two of them looked like that was the most obvious thing they could have ever heard. Not a blush between them. Ser Kenobi and Lady Ahsoka must have seen much up there in the stars. What a strange time to be alive, he thought.

“Eggs of the dragons still exist though.” Dickon spoke up now, “they say that the merchants of Pentos trade the stone eggs for favors with the elite of the administration, a piece to be displayed in their courts more than anything.” His brother was smart, Sam didn’t care what others thought of his sword-loving brother. He would always know there was more to him than just a wieldy arm.

“Stone eggs? You mean petrified eggs? Well, I’d love to get the chance to see one, even if…erm, well not if it totally threw your kingdoms out of sorts. I guess.” The young, orange woman responded sheepishly. Sam chuckled internally. Perhaps Westeros and the rest of its lands would seem just as strange to someone completely outside it. It was a calming thought,  but perhaps also an alarming one, Sam began to realize. Somehow this meeting, by the Seven’s grace, had not ended in disaster…yet. You couldn’t just march a lady, no matter how pleasant, around the Seven Kingdoms if she was orange. Perhaps in Tyr or the Steppes maybe (though he wondered if even dying skin would be queer to them), but not here. Thoughts of the Spider came to mind. Word of the star falling would make it to King’s landing fast enough, and the majority of those that heard it would move on with their days mayhap, but a lady from the stars? An orange lady from the stars that wielded a blade of magic light, and could leap tens of feet like it was nothing? That would spread like wildfire, and imagining the sorts of attention that would bring upon him and his family sent a shiver up his spine. He focused back in just in time to catch the eyes of Obi-wan upon him with a contemplative look upon his face.

“My new friends,” Ser Kenobi interrupted his distressing train of thought, his eyes turning the gaze from him to the rest of the Westerosi party, “while my ward and I appreciate you and your men’s hospitality shown to us up to this point, I am curious as to just how far and shared that generosity and understanding might extend?” A few of the Reachmen began to share this thought, and the worry on their faces was very evident. “If I recall, and mind you we are fully understanding of the words, but, ehem, you’re men referring to my lady as a, I believe it was ‘star demon’-” the star knight rolled the word around in his mouth like a taste he couldn’t wrap his mind around, “-I imagine that might be something to worry about considering the number of introductions ahead of us with your House.” The Westerosi party looked between themselves, the whole absurdity of the situation and acceptance of it so far by all involved had left little thought to them about what would come next. All besides Sam that is, and he felt a small wave of pride.

“Well…” his younger brother spoke up then, “...there is the side entrance before the southeast sewer entrance.” He gazed around at the other men knowingly, but Sam had no idea what he was on about. Why would he of all people know about- “It’s how some of us are able to sneak out to the town when we want to.” Dickon said, showing him a look caught somewhere between brash and embarrassed. Ah…aaaaaaah. Ehem…right then. Ignoring those images and thoughts this instant.

“That should work,” Sam managed to get out, his own cheeks turning a bit rosy as he tried not to think of brothels. Lady Ahsoka gave him a look of confusion, which quickly turned to a blush of her own after a moment. The lady of the stars was quite perceptive it seemed, Seven help them all. 

“Ehem,” Ser Kenobi also seemed to pick up on the subtext, “

“Worry not, Ser Kenobi,” Dickon, with ease though wearing a bit of a blush himself, responded. “No one will be using the entrance when we do.” He looked self-satisfied, and Sam worried about what might follow, until: “..then we’ll just have to deal with father.” 

Samwell returned the, surprisingly, knowing look he received from both guests of the stars. Oh Dickon, we’re so deep in the dragon shit right now you don’t even realize it, do you?

Chapter Text

“-and I keep telling you that doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, hag.” The old, blind woman simply smirked in response and continued to follow her back to Winterfell. Arya had just wanted to play with Nymeria a bit away from everyone else, so she had snuck off to the Wolfswoods like she always had. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she were caught by one of her father’s men, she even had expected as much, to be fully fair. It was just part of the deal of these brief escapades of hers after all. What Arya had not expected though was the queer, old hag to step out from behind the trees, to be waiting for her there. Maybe Jon had finally sold her out, she grimaced at the thought. But no, not Jon. He would never. As far as Arya could tell at the time, the woman had somehow just known she would be there, and even now, as she gruffly returned to her home, the old ghost still followed her.

“Truly? I am many things young one, but a liar is not one of them. How could I not sense you when destiny roils off you and your household like a ship in a storm? Destiny is like a squall, little wolf, and you are one of the ships caught within it. It shall buffet and batter you, and when you finally open your eyes to it you’ll only wonder how it came to be at all. Fate is a fickle master after all. How could I not feel the winds of that storm stray outside its gates? Of course I knew you were coming here, because it was inevitable, little wolf.”

Arya stopped her stride back to the keep and furrowed her brow as she turned back to face the crone. The old woman didn’t move an inch, or even flinch, as Arya began walking up to her, throwing a quick right hook into her face that passed right through the flesh as if it were the same as the frigid air around them.

“You. Are. Not. REAL!"

"Stop following me!” She shouted as she turned and ran now. She was being haunted, she was sure of it. Septa Mordane had been (and it truly, truly killed her inside a bit to admit it) right. Demons and spirits were real, and she was being haunted by one now. She had always pictured the demons of the Septa’s stories as red, bestial things, but no. Demons were in fact little, old ladies who talked too much and annoyed the piss out of you, and as the crone stepped out from behind another of the pines ahead of her she regretted ever sneaking out on this day…again.

“Real? Little wolf, what is real and what is not hardly matters. I am here. I am speaking to you. That is as-” 

Arya continued sprinting past her, the crone’s words becoming distant behind her until suddenly the sound was close once more as the old bitch stepped out from behind another pine before her, continuing her speech, 

“-real as anything must be. You are no coward, little wolf, so stop acting like one.” Arya stopped in her tracks. A coward? HER?! No one called her a coward and came out unbloodied!

“You’re the coward, you stupid hag! Stop hiding from my fists and I’ll show you how much of a coward I am!” The little she-wolf’s face was aflame with rage now, and she turned to fully face the demon-ghost, Nymeria beside her, growling in response now, echoing her rage. “I’ll tell my brothers and father about you, then you’ll really regret haunting me, you old witch!” The crone simply laughed in response, her milky-white eyes showing briefly beneath her hood as her head raised with the act.

“Many have called me witch, and all that did have come to regret it. Tread carefully, little wolf, you are away from your pack.” Arya felt a cold shiver run up her spine with the threat. This ghost was dangerous, she felt it in her bones now. “But you have no need of that fear for now. I will follow the bends of this odd fate as long as they lead me, and you, little wolf, are the first thread I shall pull on. Worry yourself not, little pup, you and your kin will befall no harm while I watch you.” The smile that Arya watched crawl up the crone’s cheeks made her shiver once again. She froze, but the moment before closing her eyes, her hands flashed upwards, crashing into her fleshy cheeks on either side. The sudden pain stunned her a moment, but cleared her anger a smidgen at least. She counted to three, but when she reopened her eyes the damned crone was still there. And, the old bitch was smirking again too.

“You will not be rid of me so easily, little wolf. Now come, I have more threads of fate to meet this day, not just you,” and the crone turned her back on Arya, striding towards the walls of her home. A myriad of different curses floated through her mind. Damned, bloody GHOST! Despite her internal rage, Arya followed after the hag back south where she’d come into the Wolfswood in the first place. After a bit, she spotted the guard she had duped earlier, still at his post by the small gate. She let out a grumpy exhale of air, not looking forward to revealing her trick upon him. Not looking forward to the imminent lecture from her mother, father, and brothers. Ugh, seven hells.

“Halt! State your name and bus-Lady Arya? Why are you- oh blast it…” Of course he was mad, this day was getting worse and worse, she thought. She didn’t bother to mention the ghost haunting her, she noticed that her father’s man didn’t once look in the hag’s direction even. The smug grin on the witch’s face didn’t help her anger though, as Arya forced the building rage down. He took her by the arm (muscle-bound twat) rather forcefully and dragged her back into the keep, which he didn’t need to do! She was headed that way anyway! He led her, and the ghost still following behind her she noticed, now across the training yard of the keep. She heard the clash of training swords, wood on wood, and saw her brother (for she would always consider him that, never a bastard) Jon swiftly end his bout with Ser Rodrik, the Stark master-at-arms. She could see his brows work themselves as his gaze caught her own. Their swords stopped, and Arya could not hear the words shared between the two before Jon shouted out her name and jogged their way.

“Arya! What’s this then? The sun hasn’t even passed midday and you’ve already found trouble, eh?” The knowing-smirk he showed her filled her with a caustic mix of love and frustration. She stared back into the eyes of the male-reflection of herself, the Stark features so ever strong in the both of them regardless of her brother’s muddled ancestry, and finally managed a grin at him. Fuck it, she thought to herself (though she blushed inwardly at even the thought of the curse word, the little wolf was but one-and-ten years of age afterall try as she might to fight it).

“Jon! I need to talk to you, I-” she threw a look at her guard, “-privately.” The guard’s face was not impressed, at all. You just wouldn’t get it, you fop, she grumpily thought at said guard, her eyes straying back to the still-following ghost crone, who chose that moment to grin at her knowingly. That bloody hag! If Jon saw her too he didn’t react like it, but he had to understand, he just had to!

“It’s alright, Ser Hassel, I assume my dear little sister made another of her escapades out of the walls, hmm?” His eyes, filled with mirth, gazed at her knowingly. Jon knew she needed to get out, he was the only one that understood her, she moped internally.

“I found her running towards the gate as if a ghost were chasin’ ‘er, m'lord.” Ser Hassel’s eyes dug into her, and Arya did her best attempt to stifle the groan of annoyance. And you never would have noticed me coming back if there wasn’t one chasing me! Jon gave her an amused look only just tinged with confusion before replying back to the knight that it would be fine and he would take responsibility.

Gods, old and new, bless you, brother.

“Can…can we speak…” She gazed back at Ser Hassel, then at the ghostly crone, still smiling in amusement at them all, “..in private? Please, Jon? I’ll apologize to mother and father, I will, but…please?” She recognized the face on Jon after her words, it was the face he always showed her after she pleaded, nothing but love and understanding. Her heart warmed once more, her brother would always be there for her, she had known it.

“Yes, yes, of course, dear sister. This must be something truly serious if you’re begging so.” His warm face sprouted a sly grin, turning, his gaze searching for something, before falling on the entrance to the crypts. I’m not begging, you fop, she whined internally. “Come then, we can speak in the crypts, and perhaps being surrounded by your elders will instill a bit of a lesson in you.” Another knowing smirk at her before the eyes met Ser Hassel’s, him matching a smile of his own back. Damn you, Jon, she warmly disparaged him internally this time. He took her left hand in his, and nodding a salute to Ser Hassel, led her to the Stark crypts. The hand was warm, even through the thick leather glove he wore. She stole a glance behind her once more looking for the old hag, but was surprised to not find her behind them now. 

She felt the cold, dank air of the crypt before feeling the slap of her feet upon the stone steps of it. The two were silent as they strode, but Arya caught the worried, still-smiling glances of her brother as they walked. Hand in hand still, he finally slowed his pace as they made their way around the bend in the path.

“Now…what is this all about truly, dear sister? I know you wouldn’t let yourself be caught sneaking back home unless something happened.” His knowing gaze was uncomfortable, but the smile was familiar and warming still so she was able to ignore the dreaded feeling of being seen through. 

“There’s…” she hesitated. How in the seven hells do you explain a ghost to someone that had never been haunted by one? To someone who also laughed off the lessons of the Septa?! Instead she stewed on the response, stopping their march to approach one of the Stark statues. This one was a woman, cold and stone like all the others in the crypt. Their Aunt Lyanna, she gathered from reading the epitaph upon it.

“...I saw a-” she began to admit before being interrupted by an annoyingly familiar voice.

“Find what you’re looking for amongst the dead?” the voice of the crone spoke up from behind the pair. She watched Jon’s eyes widen in alarm, his hand reaching for a sword not strapped to his hip this moment, as he twisted around to face the ghost haunting her.

“There’s a ghost haunting me, Jon! I found her in the Wolfswood and the hag won’t go away!” she interrupted, the mix of emotions spreading across her brother’s face already straining.

“A ghost? Arya..” her brother began to say before she walked right up to the ghost of the crone and slapped through the ethereal air that made her up.

“A ghost, Jon!” she spouted with exasperation now, turning back to him and looking into his eyes pleadingly. But in the pause of shock from him the bloody ghost spoke up first.

“And I told you, little wolf, that I am much more than a simple ghost. But do you listen? No, of course not. Still young and filled with far too much youthful emotion.” And then the hag rolled her blind eyes at her. Rolled them! Blind eyes! At her! The demon-ghost! Arya saw red then, but the hand of her brother sitting on her shoulder cooled the coming rage. The warmth of it gave her pause.

“Spirit…” The word rolled off her brother’s tongue with an almost reverence, confusion, but reverence all the same. “Who are you? Why are you here?!”

“Ah, now there they are at last. The sister-cub did not think to ask such questions, but I will answer all of your inquiries if you ask them now, little white wolf.” The ghost crone smiled at them. The shiver once more went up her spine, and glancing sideways, she saw the same from her dear brother. 

Just what in the seven hells had she brought home with her?