Winterfell 282 AC:
pov Torrhen Snow
"Sooo that happened" were the first words his sister quietly spoke.
"Yes it seems so" he responded deep in his thoughts with a sigh.
The two sets of memories Torrhen now had made many things extremely clear. The entire life he had lived here as Torrhen had been in a world that was a fictional universe in the world he had lived in in another world, that alone was hard to wrap his head around.
That world.... the modern world he reminded himself was simply... incredible and extremely complicated compared to Planetos. Cars, planes, computers, guns... atomic bombs.. everything that basically everyone knew of and most of which were everyday appliances were all things that hadn't even been invented in Westeros yet.
Moreover... for better or for worse Torrhen now posessed memories that clearly showed the future of Westeros and parts of Essos up until roughly 23 years from now on... and that he and Lyarra were never supposed to exist.
So what now? He thought. He didn't know his purpose here or why he had been... reincarnated but he could take a guess, the War of the 5 kings and the Others had ruined Westeros but the North the most.
Well before he would think of how to live his life now with the knowledge he posessed he had to make sure where he and Lyarra stood. His other half had to be extremely confused and frightened... unless... But was it possible?
He had to admit Lyarra looked extremely similiar to the twin sister he had in his other life. He remembered fondly how they would joke that they were the epitome of the looks the Stark family had as described in the books. But how could he determine whether she was also reincarnated? Outright asking... no it would be extremely embarrassing if she wasn't.
He glanced sideways at her. Lyarra sat with her knees drawn to her chest, fingers absently twisting a loose thread on the sleeve of her nightgown. Her eyes—grey, sharp, wary—were not those of a twelve... well ten-year-old girl. They hadn't been for some time now, he realized. Maybe they never truly were.
The cold air of the crypts still clung to them, like a second skin. Even up here in their old chamber, dressed in fresh woolens and warmed by the hearth, Torrhen couldn't shake it. The weight of death. The weight of knowing.
He needed to be sure. He had to be sure. First to make sure she knew what Earth was.
"Ehm... do you remember what our ancestor Tony Stark was famous for?" he asked with a charming grin.
Lyarra squinted her eyes "I don't remember father or Maester Walys ever mentioning a Tony in our lineage... though that name does ring a bell"
Ring a bell he thought... that was definetely a modern idiom... now to pinpoint exactly who she was.
"I was thinking of Tony Stark, the one and only to snap his fingers and turn Thanos into ash" he said with an innocent smile.
"i understand what you're trying to do... well I suppose we are both in a very similiar situation" Lyarra said softly, laying her head down onto his lap.
"So," he said, "What do you think of Mrs. Carter?"
Lyarra blinked, turning to him slowly. "Which one?"
His heart skipped. "The Mrs. Carter. History teacher. Loved assigning group projects and pretending it was fair."
She didn't answer right away. But her lips curved—not quite a smile, more a grimace of shared memory. "The one who made us do that reenactment of the Boston Tea Party with cardboard boats and lip-synced Hamilton songs?"
"That one."
Silence settled between them again, thick but warmer now. Familiar. Real.
Lyarra got up, sighed and leaned back against the carved wooden post of her bed. "God, I thought I dreamed that. I thought I was going insane."
"No," Torrhen said softly. "You died. I did too."
"I remember. And it's good to know that like in our past life, we are twins here in Westeros"
They sat with that for a long time. The fire crackled, the wind howled beyond the stone walls of Winterfell, and the old world felt like a half-faded photograph in their minds.
Finally, she said, "So… this is Westeros, then. Not just a dream, not some game or hallucination. The real thing. Magic and all. All of that, that you have gushed to me about. Shame, I never watched the show... well atleast you have all that juicy meta knowledge."
He nodded slowly. "Indeed I have... but I don't know if that's such a good thing... Westeros is not going to be kind to us."
"No, I remember you actually crying when that Red Wedding as they called it happened." she agreed. "But maybe we can be kind to it."
That made him glance at her again. "What do you mean?"
Lyarra's brows furrowed. "We're not supposed to exist, right? We were dead in both lives. But now we're here. Maybe that means we're meant to change something. Like… a second chance. For us. For this world... for our family."
Torrhen looked into the fire. It sounded too grand. Too hopeful. But something inside him stirred at her words. Not hope, exactly, but purpose.
He exhaled. "Eddard's going to march south soon.."
"I know," Lyarra said quietly.
Torrhen clenched his jaw. "If we don't stop it, many innocents will die. Robert becomes king. The North suffers. Westeros first burns and ."
"We can't stop everything," she said gently. "We're kids. Bastards, at that. No one listens to bastards."
He turned to her, his eyes sharp. "Then we make them listen."
Lyarra smiled faintly. "That's more like the brother I remember."
"Any ideas on what to change and how to do it?"
"First things first—we cannot allow Lyanna to die. Father and Brandon are already gone. You mentioned something about Benjen in passing, but never said anything about her. So what exactly happens?" she asked him with a severe expression.
With a sigh Torrhen looked his sister deeply in the eyes, "Well... where do I begin? Lyanna is most likely already pregnant with the silver prince's child and if she isn't then she will be soon. Their child is actually the Jon Snow I told you about. Childbirth will be extremely hard on our sister, the blood loss made her too weak.. Lyanna will die in Ned's arms in about a year if we don't change anything."
"Well, I for one am not going to let that happen. Sending a maester or a midwife with our brother south would probably go a long way." Lyanna said thoughtfully.
"No, absolutely not" Torrhen said vehemently, his voice turning sharp.
She blinked. "Why not? That's the logical thing to do—"
"I have reasons to suspect the Citadel," he cut in. "The higher-ranking maesters—those placed in the major houses—many of them are most likely part of a conspiracy to end the Targaryens. Quietly. Bloodlessly, if possible. But they've definetely meddled with births and deaths before."
Lyarra tilted her head, "But weren't you like extremely sad when this Maester Luwin was killed?"
"Maester Luwin was most likely not involved in the conspiracy. As for why.. well the Targaryens were all but gone and with that any hopes that magic would return, most likely the citadel didn't consider the north important enough to send one of their chosen spies to Winterfell after Walys' death. Noone could have predicted that Daenerys Targaryen would survive long enough to hatch three dragons sixteen years later."
"Hmmmm. Well that is something for another day. I hope you have an idea on how to save Lyanna."
"Well... yes... don't worry I will make sure that Ned understands how urgent it is for us to get to Lyanna's side as soon as possible"
".... us?"
"Yeah, there are a couple more people I want to save from a gruesome death. I am going to tell Ned about supposed greendreams I had and ask to go south with him as his squire"
Her head whipped toward him. "Absolutely not! You may be good with a sword for a twelve year old sorry, ten-and-two—but you're still a kid, Torr."
He gave her a flat look. "So are you. And yet here we are."
"That's different! I'm not asking to follow the future Lord of Winterfell into a war zone!"
He smiled faintly. "I have to try. I have to save Elia Martell and her children. If I don't… I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."
Lyarra looked away, fingers curling into the folds of her skirt. After a long moment, she sighed.
"Fine. But if you die, I swear I'm going to haunt you forever."
Torrhen grinned. "You already do."
They sat together in the firelight, no longer alone, no longer confused. The world was still vast and dangerous—but now, at least, they had each other.
And that was a start.