Chapter Text
The last thing Arya Stark felt during the Battle for the Living was a blinding pain in her chest, A spear had pierced her, and it was the Night King who had stabbed her. It hurt worse than being stabbed by the Waif. Her last thoughts were of her family, of Jon, somewhere on the battlefield. Of Sansa, who she prayed was still safe inside. Of Bran, she didn't even know where he was, but she hoped he would live through this even if she didn't
The world went quiet, the sound of the The last thing Arya Stark felt during the Battle for the Living was a blinding pain in her chest, she had been pierced by a spear, the Night King had stabbed her. It hurt worse than being stabbed by the Waif. Her last thoughts were of her family, of Jon somewhere on the battlefield. Of Sansa, who she prayed was still safe inside. Of Bran, she didn't even know where he was, but she hoped he would live through this even if she didn't
The world went quiet, the sound of the continuing battle died, and blinding light overtook her vision. She always thought it would be darkness that took her, not light.
The next thing Arya Stark felt was the urge to get air into her lungs, which she did. As she inhaled again, she anticipated pain, yet there was none, no throbbing, no sensation of any injury whatsoever.
She reaches up to check for bandages or stitching. Maybe they've given her some powerful herbs or milk of poppy. As she does this, she realizes she is tucked into a bed, and the blankets are heavy and thick. Did they bring her off the battlefield?
Shifting further, her body felt wrong. She felt small, not that she had ever been tall or muscular, but it felt off. She ran her hands over herself, the muscles she had built from training, and the years were gone. Everything about her was different.
She rushes out of bed looking for anything to see herself in. She finds a water basin. Another thing that shakes Arya is how tall everything suddenly is. It reminded her of the time Robb and Jon had moved everything just out of reach in her room after they had gone through growth spurts.
She felt a pang, that memory brought the ache again. She missed the way Robb would mess with her. She missed her mother's sighs after the pranks got out of hand.
The water was sort of hard to make out, with only the fire and the low light from the window illuminating the room. However, Arya could make out that her face was younger. It held a lot of the baby fat that she had lost during her training and time on the road.
She looks around the room, wanting a sense of bearings. It was designed like rooms in Winterfell; it was stone. The bed had heavy linens and a large fireplace. Bran and she had explored every part of Winterfell, and she did not recognize this room.
She makes her way to the window on short legs. She sees in the dim light that it is the landscape she knew growing up, but before she had 'died,' there were fires everywhere, destruction for the Boltons. None of that was there.
Was she back in time before everything? Could she stop all of it? It wasn't that far out of the realm of possibility. Magic existed after all she had seen dragons and white walkers.
But if this was the past, where was her mother? Her father? Her siblings? What room was this, and why was she in here?
Suddenly, she could hear footsteps rapidly approaching the door, and Arya stills, waiting.
"How could you leave her alone?" A man's voice she did not know yells.
"Her fever had broken. I ran to get you, my Lord." A woman's voice responds.
The door opens quickly, and two people step through.
"Arya! You should be in bed." The man says, stepping towards her.
She didn't recognize him. He had dark hair and grey eyes. He could be a relative of hers.
The lady bustles over to her and ushers her back to bed. Arya lets her.
"It is, however, good to see you awake. You had us all worried." The man says.
He sits at the edge of her bed. Well, she guesses it is her bed. He tucks her back in and looks at her with affection. She could almost liken it to how her father would look at her.
"What's going on?"
The voice that comes out of her startles Arya, it sounds so young to her ears.
"That fever must have taken a lot out of you. Your brother is in so much trouble. I have no idea what Rickon was thinking." The man says.
Her brother? Rickon? Her youngest brother? He was still alive? that made sense if she had traveled to the past.
The man reaches over and feels her forehead. She suppresses the urge to shift away from the touch. She had trouble letting strangers touch her. After, her training with the faceless strangers. she learned could really be anyone or want anything with her.
"Rickon?" She asks.
The second time she spoke, she realized how scratchy and rough her throat was.
"I don't know what he was thinking, letting you follow him out into a snowstorm! You were still in your night clothes!" The man says.
Wait younger sister?, Arya thought. She was older than Rickon.
"He does feel guilty, as he should. Bennard is also in trouble." The man continues.
Bennard, that name sparks something in Arya, but she couldn't place it.
The door slams open, and another, this time, the smaller figure rushes through.
"Arya!" The boy calls out.
He rushes to her bedside and grabs her hand. Arya is starting to get a headache. Why do these people all know her, but she doesn't know any of them?
"I'm so sorry." The boy apologizes.
"Rickon." The man says. "You should be in your room. Your sister needs to rest."
This was Rickon? It was not her Rickon. Arya's head hurt more.
"Father, I just heard she was awake, and I had to apologize to her," Rickon says.
This man was their father? Arya was confused as to where she was. This wasn't her Winterfell.
"You can see her in the morning if she feels better. Now Maggie, take him back to his room." Father, she guessed, said.
Rickon grumbles but complies.
Father, she would call him that for now, turns back to her.
"Get some rest." He says and pats her hand.
He gets up and leaves after that.
Arya lays back and stares at the ceiling, trying to figure this out.
She had brothers, Rickon and Bennard. Her Rickon had been named after an ancestor. Their history lessons had covered their family history. She couldn't place Bennard.
She lay there thinking, then it hit her. Bennard was an ancestor of hers. Cregan Stark had overthrown a Bennard Stark. Rickon Stark was Cregan's father. She didn't remember anything about them having a sister or she would have learned about another Arya Stark.
She sat up with a start, which meant she had gone back in time almost a hundred years. Dragons were still around, well before they went extinct, and Daenerys had brought them back.
The Dance of the Dragons, Robert's Rebellion all of that hadn't happened yet.
Arya slumps down, she has no idea what to do or where to start to keep her family safe in the future.
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Arya Stark's early history is considered unremarkable. She was a typical child who followed her brothers around. However, at the age of 7, a bout of illness changed everything.
- History of the North, Author: unknown.