From White Harbour to Winterfell and Beyond. GoT Season 8 retold

A Dream of the Undying

Dany was only dimly aware of something that pressed together her hands and feet firmly. Otherwise it was as though she fell through a space of never ending darkness that ran on and on. Her fear was replaced with emptiness, and such intense hopelessness, that she hardly noticed a light expending below her, growing in width as she fell closer and closer to the ground. It rose to meet her feet gently, and she did not feel as though she were bound any longer. She was intact, herself, and dressed as she had been back in Pentos, like an average girl, her haired flowing down her back, unbound.
"Sister," a voice called from the source of the light. "Sister."
It had been a long time since she'd heard anyone called her that, and she hesitated following it. Perhaps it was the gown, the hair, the old memories but it struck her odd that she should be of sudden redressed, and placed back into this time in her life that she would far rather forget. Frowning she followed the call, there was no other option readily available, and was not surprised to see the white hair of Viserys as he stood, arms clasped behind him, back to her, waiting.
"Brother," she said warily. How true was this vision? He was taller, this white haired imposter than her brother had truly been.
"You've had a hard go at this life, haven't you." he said without turning. "The winds of heartbreak have hit you, and the woes of ruler you have felt. You've lost a child, and a dragon..."
Somehow this was said in gentle tones, and forced Daenerys to focus on her hands, to hide her eyes. Was this even her brother? No, of course not. There were no gentle tones in Viserys. "I've managed." She swallowed down the lump inside.
"You love a Stark." He said softly.
Air flowed over her from an open window, and with it a familiar feeling.The room around them was stone, and a fireplace before him roared, and there was even a table laid for two, as though he'd been expecting her. But all she thought about was the air, the briny air of Dragonstone. Jon, her heart yearned, Jon...
"You choose a hard path, little sister."
Daenerys lifted her chin slightly. "I love where I love. There is no choice."
The man turned around a last. And she saw his face was not known to her, not immediately, but it was oh so familiar. Much like her own, but older, and that of a man's, handsome but weathered. Impulsively she believed that he was Rhaegar, but the thought of who was spinning the scene out for her, also made her wary. He answered her with a face filled with gravity, "Love can bring down kingdoms."
"It can save everything," she answered him.
"I warn you, little sister, that you will pay more for love than anything else in this world."
Dany laughed through fresh tears, "Well, what sort of world would it be without him, anyway?" This stranger who was so like her brother stared at her in this vision, waiting to hear her words. She indulged, "I owe you nothing. There was no accountability to Rhaegar Targaryen, even you are him. There is only your accountability. Your life is not mine. Your decisions are not mine. You left us with this world, you didn't care enough to make it right- you only cared about yourself, all of you- Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lannister. You were supposed to be our fathers, our leaders! You were the strong men, the wise ones, the rulers. You failed. You were selfish, the lot of you, thinking of your honour, and your pride, and your damned loyalty. And now we, your children, are left with the broken pieces and a host of dead coming for us." Dany huffed a large deep breath. "I won't hear advice. Even if it is right. Not from you...brother."
"I am happy that you have stopped looking back, Stormborn," said the apparition before dissolving away and the comfortable room with it. The voice lingered, and was not unfamiliar. "Now to be mindful of whats to come."
Daenerys reached out into the darkness but felt only air, until her finger connected with something new. A body, strong and large with lean, generous muscles and smooth skin. Dany pulled her fingers away and gasped at the same time. "But.."
"My moon and stars," he said. His voice was the same, making Dothraki beautiful in it's way. It still spoke to something deep inside of her. More tears bled from her eyes.
"My love, my love." Daenerys wrapped herself inside of him, not caring if he was real or false. He held her too, but not at all in the way it once was, when she was a girl and just awakening to love for the fist time.
"When mountains become dust, and your womb quickens again." He spoke clearly, and perfectly in the common tongue. She pushed back and looked up into his eyes, and he grasped her shoulders, making the moment so much more grave. "Then shall I return to you."
"Drogo, you-" her voice caught, "You can never return to me."
"I have, blood of my blood," he smiled softly, "I already have." She gazed at his face, but there blew a spray of snow between them, light at first but then almost to the point of blocking her sight. Something pulled at her attention, something behind her, in what had become a wall of white. She turned to it, despite herself and Drogo's hands lifted off of her. Into the blizzard she pushed, shielding her eyes, and seeing somehow, the strangest of sights. The Wall rose above her, interminably high, but just at the level of her eyes, there bloomed a sturdy blue rose, through some chink in the Wall's surface. Was it immune to the snow around it? It seemed to be, not even a snowflake could land on it. She touched it and a sound, chilling and loud caused her to jump and whirl back around.
"Jon?" She knew the figure at once, bulky in furs, his long sword glinting. He seemed to be walking away from her, but when she called him, he stopped. Her feet were compelled forward. "Wait!"
He did not turn to her. When she'd reach him she saw that he clenched his eyes closed, as though in pain, and would not look at her. Daenerys closed her hands around his arm and pulled gently on him, and at this he suddenly sprang up. His eyes were wrong, blue and glowing and blank. He shook, and seemed shocked at something. Something he'd just done.
It was only then she realized his sword had pierced straight through her. Had torn through the back of her dress and that an icy cold feeling was flowing from her chest to the rest of her. Blood dribbled from her mouth, and her attacker shook his head, bewildered. In a second she was falling back, the Jon Snow she didn't know watching her all the way until he became tiny, and then darkness overtook her. Could a person sink farther than death?
That question was answered when she slapped down onto a cold stone floor, broken but able to rise to her feet again. The icy pain inside of her was subsiding, infant in moments she felt good, almost carefree, She couldn't begin to recall why she had been so pained, there was no evidence of it on her blood red gown. A gown dripping in rubies. And she knew her surroundings, well a version of them.
She was in the Iron Throne room and this time it was whole, and glorious. Every lamp was lit and Targaryen banners flew high. Drawn into it deeper, she stepped over whatever covered the floor and watched each banner wave, high in the vaulted heights above. This was not the crumbling snow filled place, it was a vibrant, almost garishly powerful hall. The banners seemed to drip, like her dress, leaving rubies behind her. She walked under one and held out her hands, but did not catch a beautiful gem in her hand. It was blood.
Daenerys gasped, and stepped back, connecting with something squishy beneath her feet. There on the floor, decomposing, was one of those girls they'd strung up on the rode to Meereen, and she stared up at Daenerys with accusing eyes. Dany screamed, and only then fully realized that the hall was strewn with hundreds of dead. And every one she could see had died either for her or because of her.
No, she thought, no this is not what I want. In desperation she ran from the throne room. So what if the Iron Throne stood empty. She would not sit on it if it meant that they would all be there...but outside the hall all was darkness. Never-ending darkness. That was when the familiar voice called to her again.
"Child of fire, " it said. "You have come so far, in so short a time. A worthy Queen by all rights."
"Who are you?" She called into the darkness.
"I am a follower of the Lord of Light, my child," the voice was soft, and soothing. "and we have met before.
"Where am I?" Dany asked next.
"You are trapped inside the last Warlocks curse."
"Warlocks." Dany whispered. I knew they were still out there.
"He seeks his revenge cruelly, and I have protected you thus far. But he will find me soon and chase me from this plain."
"You've been aiding me?"
A face emerged from the darkness, Eyes, clever and old, and the rest covered in a jewelled metal mask. "I have watched you since the storm struck on the night you entered this world."
"Qaithe." Daenerys remembered her now. "Will I survive this?"
"Your redemption draws near."
"But I am so lost." Dany once more felt her eyes prick with tears. "I cannot stand another curse, another prophecy... another betrayal."
"You are free, Stormborn." Qaithe said, just when a soft hissing sound crept through the darkness and over Dany's skin. "Free from Mirri Mazhdar, free from the madness of your father, and you are strong enough for the last betrayal that will come."
Danerys blinked once, ignored the growing sounds around her and asked, "Am I...truly free from the witches curse?"
"You always were." Qaithe told her, "Stronger than you ever knew. You must know that strength in the days to come. Trust, if not in the Lord of Light, then trust in yourself. For the trial to come is your darkest, and the future is never certain."
Dany swallowed as the sounds around them grew, like hissing in a million languages, liifting up and suddenly taking form, just behind the prophetess.
"She will stay in the House of the Undying forever, red whore!" The face of a thin, bald man materialized suddenly just as a blade emerged through Qaithe's breastbone, his blueish teeth clenched together, just as she cried out. Then she dissolved away, much like Rhaegar. "Mother of Dragons, we meet again."
"I don't belong here, with you." She backed a step or two from him.
"You have no choice." He answered.
Dany wavered, staring at the Warlock again, recalling the times when her dragons were tiny and clutched onto her as though they'd never let go. She wondered about them now, and tried to reach them through the murky reality she knew was false. But the Warlock drew closer.
"They cannot hear you from here." And she felt his icy cold hands on her cheek, and her eyes fell shut with a shudder. "Oh, so lost without them."
Reach down, a new voice said, this time almost within her. Push him back. He is weak without his brothers.
Dany's eyes shot open and she shoved forward with all her might. The Warlock flew back, falling to the ground and landing in a slide. There suddenly appeared a massive oak door in front of her, as though she conjured it! and she slammed it hastily, and used the great chunk of wood ready nearby to lock it securely. She heard the Warlock slam against it and screech with rage, but the door held hard. Backing away slowly, she only then realized how hard her heart was thundering inside of her.
"It will hold," said the same voice, but just behind her.
Dany whirled around to glimpse a boy of solemn expression, and deep brown eyes. Nestling in beside a roaring and mighty hearth, he smiled calmly and waited for her to relax just a bit, and then beckoned her closer.
"You..you helped me..." Dany said to him, thank the gods she now wore the leathers she'd had under her armour when they'd taken her. It made the situation far more believable. "Who are you?"
The boy stared at her, sort of shook his head absently. "I'm...so many things."
"Where is this? Have you brought me somewhere?" The door shuddered under the Warlock. "Somewhere safe?"
"I brought you to a safe place in the past." The boy said, "The past of Brandon Stark, the younger, the still living."
Daenerys watched him worry the fire with a stick, and frowned slightly. "You. You're Brandon Stark."
His eyes turned up to her, the very same eyes of Jon and she felt her breath rake at her chest and come out with a sigh. When he spoke it was gently, but rather disconnected. "A long long time ago. And you, you are Daenerys Targaryen." Again a loud thrashing at the door made her jump. "He cannot come in here," said Brandon Stark. "This is my past."
"Why are you helping me?" She asked.
He faced her again, so solemn for such a youth, "You do not owe me your freedom.
I cannot give it to you.Your freedom is not mine to give.It belongs to you and you alone."
Daenerys gasped.
"You said this, in Slavers Bay, to the tens of thousands. When you could have owned them, or demanded to rule, you said these things." Brandon Stark, poked even more at the fire, "You have two dragons still and Jon Snow cannot think clearly with love for you. That in itself makes you an ally to the living. But I've watched you. I saw you as a child in Pentos, your loneliest times. Once you were a princess sold to a warlord, then a Khaleesi crossing an ocean of grass with her own people. Some called you mother, some a vigilante setting masses free in Slavers Bay, and finally you became a Queen, and came home. You aren't a scared little girl anymore, you're what Westeros needs."
Daenerys swallowed hard. "Can I defeat the Night King?"
Brandon suddenly snapped to attention, "We must try!" He cried. The door swung open and Daenerys jumped to her feet. "Do not be afraid, it is the memory..."
Dany felt the panic taking over, "How long can we linger here for?"
"Until he comes."
"Who?" She asked with concern, and noticed then that the serious boy was looking past her, at the bed, which she hadn't noticed until now.
Upon is lay a sweeter and much smaller Brandon Stark, sleeping soundly and a deep-red haired woman, dressed well and winding up bits of yarn sat in a chair beside him. Scarcely had she time to process it when Jon Snow appeared in the doorway, a sullen dark youth, skinnier and rather apologetic for even being there. The floor creaked beneath him and the woman turned, her face falling when she saw who it was.
"I came to say goodbye to Bran," he said, coarsely.
"You've said it," she spat back at him, winding the yarn furiously.
Jon frowned and looked ready to leave, but then stepped into the room more, challenging her without really challenging her. He spoke lowly to the boy, who slept on, ignorantly. He told him many things, about how he was going to the Wall and what he would do there, and what perhaps Bran would do there. All the while the red-haired woman wound her balls of yarn and scowled, and Daenerys hated her more and more until at last she dropped her work and leaned over the child.
Tears dripped down her face and she hissed, "I want you to leave."
Behind them all, and unbeknownst even to Daenerys, a man she immediately supposed was ned Stark creaked in the doorway. He stared at the seen, without words, but with a face that told of regret and anguish. Dany looked back at Jon, who took it in stride, went to the bed to kiss his brother goodbye. She hurt for him, and didn't want to let him pass. She reached out for him and grabbed his arm.
"Wait," said Brandon, the older by the fire.
Everything changed around them. And suddenly Bran was standing beside her. "What's happening?" She cried.
"I don't know," said Bran, "This isn't my past anymore."
Jon Snow stayed but changed under her hand to a smaller, skinnier youth. She could tell it was him from the way he swung his sword in a cold abandoned courtyard. The same dark red-haired woman crossed the snow and gravel and walked before him, casting a broken bow to the ground.
"You'll stop indulging Arya, immediately."
"I will do whatever she asks." Jon muttered back.
"What was that?" The lady demanded. She stood a whole foot over Jon, and his black hair was so long he had to look through it up at her.
"I will do whatever you ask." He said clearly.
"Just be quiet, and stay OUT." The lady told him, and then stormed away, with her shoulders huffing.
"Why are you showing me this?" Dany stared at young Jon, awash in light for one second, then left in the dark the next when the hall door closed behind the woman.
Bran looked all around, "It is Winterfell before I was born." His curiosity perked, he almost absently added, "Jon must be very close now."