Chapter 13: Journey start and promise

Summary:

Marc and his escort begins their journey to Winterfell. He comforts Arya from her grief of Mycah's death and starts interacting with the Stark guards composing the escort.

Chapter Text

The next hours spent riding on the Kingsroad were quiet and tense. I was slowly chasing away all the trepidation that accompanied me during the whole confrontation, my cautious inner -self crying in frustration and despair. I felt drained and regretful, not for facing those people, but for lashing out in such manner, not matter how restrained I was. Worry began to build up, as I considered the potential fallout of the conflict. But what was done was done and I could only move forward. If I turned back, I was lost.

As we rode further north of the Ruby Ford, my attention began to shift from our recent troubles to the awe-inspiring landscape surrounding us. The Kingsroad stretched out like an ancient lifeline. The land unfolded in all its untamed glory. Vast fields extended to the horizon, where the rolling hills met the sky in a breath-taking display of nature's grandeur. The open expanse was dotted with the occasional farmstead and patches of dense forests that seemed to stretch on forever. The air was crisp and pure, filled with the scents of earth and wildflowers. It was a land untouched by the chaos of politics and warfare that plagued the realm, a place where one could almost forget the troubles of the world. Seeing these landscapes was marvellous. It reminded me a bit the lands and woods surrounding my family's home. A surge of nostalgia struck me in that instant and a part of me wondered if I would ever return to my world. In spite of this melancholy, it was a fleeting moment of tranquillity, an instant where I was in some manner back home. The pure air was a plus compared to home and one of the few perks I would gladly take from my situation.

While I took comfort in the landscapes and let myself take a break from what happened in Darry Castle and what awaited me, I turned to check on Arya. She was riding in silence, her face showing anger and regret on it. It was obvious that the confrontation left on her an emotional mark that needed to be healed. Seeing her in this state fuelled me with concern. That anger...I thought back to the episode of Game of Thrones, when she stabbed Meryn Trant to death. At the time, I saw it with gleeful anticipation and cathartic delight, with the fondness I had for her character and the whole extent of the depravities of the so-called kingsguard. But then I discovered how in the books, Arya was a girl that lost some of her sanity in order to survive. And finding out what happened to Mycah was the start of her journey down that dark path. This horrible path, where revenge and joining the Faceless Men would forever stop her from having a normal life.

As the miles passed, my unease grew. I couldn't stand the idea of Arya being consumed by guilt and anger, knowing where it would lead her. It was out of question to allow her spirit to be tainted, even if she would have to grow and to see all the shades of reality. If I could help to allow her to avert from that darkness, she would thrive in the best way she could in this world, I would. Internally, I shook my head, as I now wondered if this was that kind of feeling that really defined a mentor or a parental figure. I finally mustered the courage to approach her, guiding my horse closer to hers.

"Arya…" I began hesitantly, my voice soft yet laced with concern. "How do you feel?"

Arya's gaze remained focused on the road ahead for a moment before she turned to look at me. Her grey eyes were still filled with a mixture of anger and regret, but there was also a hint of curiosity in her gaze. She seemed surprised by my approach, perhaps not expecting me to reach out to her. I was uncertain if she would feel grateful or not for someone showing concern, but I knew that interacting with her in any manner might help her, at least in distracting her from the shadows finding their way into her soul.

Her response was slow, measured. "I feel angry," she admitted, her voice carrying a raw edge. "I hate Joffrey. Mycah is dead because of him… Because of me. If I hadn't asked him to play with me, he would be still alive."

Emotion overtook her as she pronounced those words. Her reaction reminded me of how she expressed her anger and distress to her father in canon. I was saddened and grieved by the sight realized that I had to reach out her now. Nodding in understanding, I decided to try and to guide her away from the dark thoughts she was having.

"Arya," I said gently, my gaze unwavering. "Did you ask Joffrey to hurt your friend? Did you ask Clegane to kill him?"

Her expression shifted, her eyes widening at the directness of my question. She seemed taken aback by my inquiry, likely not expecting such a straightforward approach.

"No, of course not!" she replied indignantly, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and disbelief. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

"Exactly", I said, acknowledging her words. "You didn't ask for it. You couldn't have known what that little monster would do. This was a situation you couldn't have seen coming. Joffrey is the one that wronged you and Mycah. He acted cruelly and unfairly, and you shouldn't blame yourself for his actions."

I could see a flicker of relief in Arya's eyes as my words sank in. She seemed to be processing the idea that she wasn't responsible for the tragic events that unfolded. It was crucial for her sanity to understand that she couldn't carry the weight of the world's cruelty on her young shoulders.

"But...," she started, her voice wavering slightly, "I could have done something. I could have fought back, or... or tried to save Mycah."

Approaching my horse next to hers, I reached out to gently touch her arm, offering reassurance. "You are still young. It's unfair to expect yourself to be able to confront Joffrey or protect your friend against the Hound. You did what you could in that moment, and it's not your fault that things turned out the way they did."

Her eyes filled with tears, and I could sense the turmoil within her. I continued speaking, my tone gentle yet firm.

"Blaming yourself won't bring Mycah back, and it won't undo what has happened. But you have a choice now. You can let this guilt and anger consume your soul, or you can use it to become stronger and protect the people you care about in the future."

Arya's gaze met mine, and I could see a glimmer of determination mingling with the pain. Hesitating a bit, I then reached out to gently rest my hand on her arm, offering her a comforting touch, even though for a short instant as I didn't want to lose control of my horse.

"It's ok. l also feel angry and upset by such things. I personally do. But please, do not let it consume you. I do not know your friend like you did, but I am convinced he would not have wanted you to blame yourself. And I'm also convinced your father wouldn't want you to drown in those feelings either.", I declared to her.

Arya's eyes held a mixture of emotions as she looked at me, her expression a mix of gratitude and contemplation. "I don't want to forget him," she whispered, her voice tinged with sadness.

"You won't," I assured her softly, my hand still resting gently on her arm. "But you can remember him in a way that doesn't drown you in guilt. Honour his memory by being strong and standing up against injustice not through anger but in honour."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if taking in the weight of my words. She didn't say anything, but her willingness to listen and the way she didn't pull away from my touch spoke volumes. A part of me felt relieved, glad and moved by the fact she was willing to let me in. My logical side was wondering how it was possible as no matter how grateful she was of my intervention, of how I interacted with her or that she had this skill of easily befriending people, it was quick. My compassionate-self forsook those interrogations as they were needless in the moment and the fact that bonds didn't necessarily needed long periods to thrive. Some did, other didn't. Focusing on Arya, I decided to do something anyone with a heart would have done.

"If you ever want to talk, Arya, or if there's anything I can do to help, just know that I'm here for you," I added, my tone warm and supportive. "We're on this journey together, and I'll do my best to make sure you shine the best way you can."

Arya offered a small, grateful smile. For a moment I thought I saw her cheeks turn slightly red as well. I felt a sense of relief that my words were resonating with her. As I let go my hand from her arm, I could only hope that our discussion gave her some measure of comfort with what had happened in the recent days to her. I knew the road was still ahead, but little steps were needed to help such a young and marvellous soul to heal of this horrible trauma.

Her smile then disappeared and her eyes expressed a sudden fear and turmoil. I wondered what caused her to react that way. It wasn't anger and revenge anymore and a part of me was grateful of that, because the last thing I needed was to see Arya falling in one way or another on such a path, especially because revenge was so common in Westeros and so toxic and disastrous for everyone. But I didn't know how to help her to handle her emotions and anger in such situation without infringing too much to her privacy. Even with my proposition, I wasn't yet someone that could play the person to confide in, as Jon had been before the departure from Winterfell for both of them and I wasn't her parent either.

As we continued riding northward beyond the Trident, I felt Lady draw closer to Arya's horse. It seemed that she sensed Arya's distress and was offering some form of comfort. I was genuinely moved and glad, for even though Arya wasn't her companion, she knew she is her mistress's kin. I wondered how Lady would change as she wouldn't be in the presence of Sansa for a while. As I thought upon this, I realized Harwin and his men were watching us. I did not know if they were concerned, curious or both of anything else on the discussion I had with Arya or how I interacted with her. I wondered how Harwin was considering me with what he might have heard or seen of my intervention and how I faced Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane. I knew his earlier admonishment was of concern and worry for failing his duty and I hoped the journey would help me to show the true me to both his men and him.

"I won't let them hurt you," Arya suddenly said, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

Confused, I glanced at her. "Hurt me? Arya, what are you talking about?"

She let out a heavy sigh, her words carrying a weight of concern. "For defending me, for being with me, you're in danger now. Joffrey and the queen won't let this go. And the Kingslayer and the Hound won't forget how you challenged them."

I met her gaze squarely.

"Arya, I would have defended you regardless of the consequences. If someone should feel guilty, it's me for taking the risk. But I won't, because you are worth fighting for. That's why I accepted to heed your advice," I said softly, "because I know your father will protect me."

Arya's eyes widened as she listened to my words, her gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. It was clear that my unwavering support and willingness to put myself in harm's way for her had taken her aback. And yet, I felt her worries weren't assuaged as I could still sense the concern in her eyes. She turned her eyes toward Harwin, the captain of the Stark guardsmen who accompanied us, and the other guards who rode with us. They were all listening to our conversation, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

"They can't know who you are anymore," Arya said, her voice tense. "They can't know or else..."

I pondered her words for a moment, understanding the gravity of the situation. Revealing my identity did make me an easy target for the Lannisters. While I was confident in her family's ability to protect me, there was no need to unnecessarily worsen the situation.

"I understand, Arya," I replied, my voice calm and measured. "It's best if my identity remains hidden, at least until we reach Winterfell."

She seemed to let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice tinged with gratitude. I felt warm on the inside again. Such a brillaint girl for being so young.

But the tension in the air was still palpable, and Arya seemed to have something else on her mind. She turned her gaze back to Harwin and his men and spoke with a sense of urgency. "Harwin, all of you, promise me that you won't reveal his identity to anyone until we're safely back at Winterfell."

Harwin and his men exchanged glances, understanding the seriousness of the request. Harwin, being a loyal retainer of House Stark, nodded firmly. "You have my word, my lady. We'll keep his identity a secret until we're within Winterfell's walls."

The other guards nodded in agreement, their expressions determined. Arya seemed to visibly relax at their assurance, a hint of relief crossing her features.

Hearing Harwin and his men pledging their word to keep my identity secret during our journey made me feel glad of such concern of Arya, reminding me of what she did for Gendry in the books and show. But it was so strange, not only because of the fact it was now reality and not fiction, that I was the adult and she a child or the fact it was occurring so fast. A part of me was wondering if it wasn't too Disney-like or too Gary Stu. But I reasoned with myself on the fact that Arya was grateful with me, curious about me as a person and glad that I had heard her when she suggested to seek Eddard's protection. With the news of Mycah's death, it was no wonder she would be determined to protect the person that defended her, especially since I was in matter of status on the same level as Mycah or even worse as I wasn't part of the Seven Kingdom until very recently. Moved by such determination while reminding myself of who Arya was, admiring such dedication for those she loved or respected, I looked at her with reverence and gratefulness.

"Thank you for your concern, Arya. Truly," I said, my voice carrying a warmth of appreciation. "And you are right about the danger I face. Even a bastard would have a better chance than me."

Arya's gaze met mine, a mixture of determination and sincerity in her eyes. "You defended me without hesitation. It's only right that I do the same for you."

She then seemed to ponder my words for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. Then, with a determination that matched her character, she spoke again.

"You need a new name," she stated, her tone resolute.

I nodded in agreement. It was a sensible precaution to take, especially since I had said I would take a new identity. I thought upon something that would both be misleading and yet reminding me a bit of who I was. A possibility came in mind, something I found a bit amusing.

"I've thought about it," I replied, contemplating the idea. "A name that's unassuming yet not entirely out of place in this part of the world."

Arya's anticipation was evident as she waited for my response. After a brief pause, I finally answered, "Roger Bacon. My identity until we reach Winterfell will be Roger Bacon."

Arya's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and amusement at the name I chose. She couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Roger Bacon? That's a peculiar choice, but I like it. It's definitely unassuming, and it has a certain ring to it. Roger Bacon it is then."

I couldn't help but smile at her reaction. It seemed I had chosen a name that resonated with her. "I'm glad you approve," I said, a hint of satisfaction in my voice.

Arya turned her attention back to Harwin and the guards, her voice filled with authority. "From this moment on, you will address him as Roger Bacon. No one outside this group should know his true identity."

The other guards nodded in agreement. I was glad that this new identity was accepted. A part of me was amused because it was a reference to a scientific figure of English Middle Age while reminding me my second name, my grandfather's name. A part of me wondered how the true Roger Bacon would react to the fact I used his name as while I intended to mainly play an advisor part, I knew that uncertainty and circumstances might force me to take a more active role. And while I loved having a specific frame in which I evolved and worked, I knew that being prevalent was a good thing and allowed anyone to have a wide frame of perspective and to face more situations than they would if restricted to a certain position. And I knew my mindset was both my weakness and my strength in Westeros as most people were defined by their position and restricted by them, making most of them prisoner of narrow mindsets and of the inability to think out of the box. While not familiar with Roger Bacon's life, I considered that he would have some issues with the maesters system as in his time universities were developing everywhere in Christendom while Westeros failed for knowledge centres spreading for unknown reasons as Westeros was divided when the Citadel was created.

The guards finished agreeing to the vow, understanding the importance of secrecy. Harwin spoke up, his voice filled with determination. "You have our word, m'lady."

However, my attention was soon diverted as I noticed that my own horse was beginning to behave erratically. Its nervous movements were becoming more pronounced, and I could feel its unease beneath me. I tried to steady the horse, my lack of experience in horse riding making the task a bit challenging. I was aware that sudden movements could startle the animal further, so I attempted to stay as composed as possible and spoke soothingly to the horse in an attempt to calm it down.

Arya's sharp gaze didn't miss my struggle, and she quickly caught on to the situation. "Having some trouble there?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

I managed a sheepish smile, acknowledging my predicament. "I must admit, I've only ridden a horse twice in my life before this. It seems my skills are a bit rusty."

Arya's expression betrayed her surprise before softening as she empathized with my situation.

"Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. This journey should give you plenty of practice."

Harwin and his men also observed my attempts to control the horse, their expressions a mix of understanding and patience. The fact that I was trying despite my inexperience seemed to earn their respect.

Arya's next words carried a sincerity that touched me deeply.

"If you need any help, just ask. I've spent a lot of time on horseback, and I can guide you."

"Thank you, Arya," I replied, genuinely grateful for her offer.

Arya's eyes met mine, a mixture of camaraderie and determination reflected in her gaze. Once again, she showed that amazing maturity despite being so young.

Harwin's voice broke the momentary exchange. "We're in this together. We'll make sure you get the hang of it."

The other guards nodded in agreement, their words echoing Harwin's sentiment. One of the guards was however curious, "Don't you have horses back home?"

I looked at him and nodded, thoughts hesitating to give an answer because I was uncertain how the discussion would evolve and I wanted to reveal neutral information's on my home if it was needed or if I wanted. I reflected upon how answer him in a neutral manner, even though I hated the situation. It was the very close thing I would be to lie and while it was easy for me to select information to discuss. But I was feeling playing Dumbledore and that was painful as a thought. I knew it was an unfortunate fact and unless extraordinary circumstances forced me to tell the truth, I couldn't allow myself to fall in total honesty unless to be taken for a lunatic, a sorcerer or something else that could end with me being stabbed by a religious fanatic in the future.

I finally thought of something and yet felt deeply unsatisfied and disgruntled with myself. But I had to do with the restrictions and hurdles I had. I reminded myself I wasn't part of a displaced group in the style of "The Rising of the Red Anchor" or "Canucks" where there were numerous proofs of the technologies my world had. A part of me was grateful it wasn't the case as an Inca empire collapse-like scenario was a possible issue with how fractured the Seven Kingdoms were. Thankfully, I remembered how different parts of the world have various animals trained for transportation.

"We do have horses, but my people do not use them a lot, mainly because we have a diversity of means for transports adapted for each means: donkeys, aurochs, camels or elephants."

More than one of the guards muttered the words "Essos".

Arya, ever perceptive, sensed the tension in the air and changed the subject. "How did you end up in Westeros?"

I met her gaze and while grateful of her question, I considered how much I should reveal. In the end, I decided to take the approach I initially had with Eddard Stark in our first discussion.

"My land is far away from Westeros," I began, my tone reflective, "and I found myself on these shores like a shipwrecked sailor. I don't remember how I arrived here; it's all a bit of a blur. When I came to, I was lost and confused, with no knowledge of this part of the world or its customs. It was a shock, to say the least."

Arya's eyes held a mixture of curiosity and empathy as she listened intently.

"I arrived in the Riverlands about two weeks ago," I continued. "Fortunately, the peasants I encountered were kind enough to accept me, despite my strange attire that confused them. They initially mistook me for a lord or a wealthy merchant. I sought their help and offered my assistance in return. I lived with them, learning from their ways and helping them with various tasks."

I could see the guards listening in, their expressions a mix of intrigue and scepticism.

"For example," I added, "I showed them how to purify water from dirt before boiling it to make it drinkable. It was me and them working together in their everyday life, notably cutting wood for fire and other chores."

Arya's brows raised at my mention of purifying water. I smiled at her curiosity and sensed that a great opportunity to give basic survival skills that would be welcome.

"One day," I continued, "I heard news of the king's arrival in the Riverlands, and I decided to make my way to Darry Castle. With the help of the peasant family I stayed with, I managed to gain entry to the castle and offered my assistance in handling the arrival of the king and his entourage, including your lord's household."

Harwin and the guards were clearly intrigued by my story, though their expressions still held an air of scepticism. It was understandable; my tale must have sounded bizarre and outlandish to them.

"And then," I concluded, "there was that kangaroo trial where you were accused of the most outrageous and biased accusations. But you all know what happened afterward."

Arya's lips quirked into a small smile, a mixture of amusement and gratitude once again in her eyes. Harwin exchanged a glance with his fellow guards, and it was evident that they were processing the information I had shared.

Harwin spoke up, his tone curious, "Your journey is unlike any I've heard before. It's hard to imagine finding oneself in a land so foreign and unfamiliar."

I nodded, understanding his sentiment. "It has been quite the experience, that's for certain. But I am learning to adapt and make the best of the situation."

One of the guards rode up, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Kangaroo trial? I've never heard that expression before. What does it mean?"

I smiled and adjusted my position in the saddle before responding, eager to shed light on the unfamiliar term. "A kangaroo trial refers to a courtroom judgment where the judge jumps to conclusion and will give an unfair decision without considering the evidences, questioning the witnesses or the accused party. It is an unfair and rigged justice because everything has been decided even before considering the facts tied to the crime. And it is called that way because there is an animal called the kangaroo which is known in my homeland to move by jumping."

The guard furrowed his brows, processing the explanation. "I see. An intriguing animal by your depiction. And I can see why you call unfair trials that way."

Harwin chimed in, his tone reflective, "Aye, and we've our share of unfair trials when the Mad King was in power."

The other guards nodded in agreement, and the atmosphere grew serious again. I sensed that some of the guards were thinking upon what happened to Arya's grandfather and eldest uncle and all the rumors said about Aerys.

Arya's expression had turned somber. I wondered what she was thinking on, but then she looked over at me, her eyes still having that shine.

Silence settled for a little while as we were riding. It was a welcome respite, even though I appreciated to share a bit of my recent experience of life, even though I knew I couldn't reveal too much without making things complicated. The landscape around us stretched out in a vast expanse of fields and woods, the sounds of nature and the horses' hooves creating a soothing backdrop.

Amidst the quiet, one of the guards curiously spoke up, breaking the tranquillity.

"I am curious about something."

"Yes?", I asked.

"Why did you call the Kingslayer Ser Jaime? He is an oathbreaker and he intended to rile you up," the man asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Noticing the inquisitiveness of Arya and guessing it was the same for Harwin and his men, I gave an explanation.

"While I have heard of his reputation, I consider him not solely based for what he did. I do not generally label people, even in regards of my principles. Besides, that would have been playing in his game and as a commoner, I would have lost in one way or another. And finally, showing respect where anger is expected is a powerful strike that can leave your opponent unprepared and stunned."

The guard nodded, seeming to appreciate the reasoning behind my response. "I suppose there's wisdom in that," he admitted.

Harwin leaned forward in his saddle, his expression thoughtful. I imagined he was pondering my words. I turned my eyes to Arya and noticed she was also thoughtful. Her glance met mine and I sensed curiosity and some reverence. I then heard another guard, "You speak of respect and yet you address Lady Arya without using her proper title. Why?"

While his question reminded me the discussion with Jory, I knew it was a valid one, considering the Westerosi perspective and culture where titles and ranks held significant weight. While I had promised Jory to respect Arya's position, I also knew that I would adapt to context. In personal discussions, I would speak to Arya without decorum as I knew she wouldn't like it. But in public or with other people, it wouldn't be a good idea. I was uncertain which position I should take with the presence of Harwin and his men. The Stark guards looked at me with intrigue and anticipation, clearly interested in my response. Arya observed both me and the guards, her expression curious.

I considered the question for a moment, then replied with a thoughtful smile.

"It's a matter of both respect and context. When I intervened in the hall, I wasn't certain of her rank, and I was presenting facts and arguments tied to two individuals, regardless of their ranks. There would have been an issue of bias in judgment if I had introduced Prince Joffrey with his title as royals can't be attacked, but individuals can be. When she came to speak to me after my intervention, I forgot the fact she was of nobility, but she didn't seem troubled or angered by it. Besides, from what I see, she is a unique individual. And I tend to adapt my approach based on behavior and interactions rather than their titles or ranks. I also see her nose crinkle when someone calls her a lady."

The guard listened to my explanation, his expression thoughtful and then amused as he absorbed my words. Harwin and the other guards exchanged glances, a knowing look on their faces. Arya's gaze remained on me, her grey eyes reflecting her understatement and slight embarrassment, but she still let out a laugh.

The guard nodded slowly, seemingly appreciating my response. "I see. It's a different way of thinking, I suppose."

I nodded in agreement. "Indeed, it is. I respect the rules and customs of cultures and people, but the most important thing to me is the genuine connection and understanding I share with others."

Harwin's voice broke the momentary exchange. "Your words hold wisdom, and your willingness to learn and adapt is commendable. As long as you understand your position with our lord and his family, it won't be an issue."

The other guards nodded in agreement, their expressions showing their respect for my perspective. I also knew that Harwin was commenting on the fact I would have to respect decorum, something I had no issue as long it was justified by circumstances and context.

Arya's lips curled into a small smile, her gaze fixed on me with a hint of camaraderie. Her eyes then turned full of curiosity and playfulness and I sensed she had something in her mind. A part of me wondered if she had totally forgot her anger and pain, but I dismissed the thought. No one could forget such strong feelings so quickly. But the fact she was riding back to Winterfell and not going to a place she was not very interested, the fact she seemed to regard me as a new friend, though I couldn't say for sure, and her concern for my safety were strong reasons for her to focus on. At least, I thanked God that she didn't see her friends mangled body or that she won't witness for the incoming future the tragedies she saw in the stories. A part of me scoffed at the thought, wanting to curse myself with such a thought.

"So," she began, her tone casual yet intrigued, "Is that why you kissed Sansa's hand when we were leaving?"

I nodded and offered a warm smile, acknowledging her question. "That is one of the reasons. Your sister is someone who cares about decorum, and so I have to speak to her in the way she wants to be spoken. But I also did it because I thought it would further show I was apologizing for the distress I had caused her. Additionally, back in my land, it's a show of great respect for ladies. I do not know how it's perceived here in Westeros, but I felt it was relevant as I wanted to leave on a better note with her."

Arya's expression shifted from playfulness to curiosity, clearly intrigued by the notion. "Respect, huh? It sounds like a lot of formalities."

I chuckled softly. "Indeed, it can seem that way. But sometimes, it is your passage that can help you to be heard by some people who believed in those formalities."

Harwin and the other guards exchanged glances, processing the cultural differences I was explaining. It was evident that the concept was a bit foreign to them, but they seemed open to understanding.

One of the guards spoke up, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's interesting to hear about the customs of other lands. We Northerners generally don't care for foreigners, but you are now part of the household and your willingness to adapt shows your flexibility."

I nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I may have my values and my way of thinking, but I know that customs are like a language to learn to be understood and to find its own way."

Arya's gaze held a mixture of amusement and appreciation as she looked at me. "You really are an interesting character, aren't you?"

I grinned in response. "Well, I suppose being a foreigner does make me stand out. But I've learned that embracing different perspectives can enrich our experiences."

As our horses continued to carry us northward, the landscape around us began to change subtly, the rolling hills and fields giving way to denser patches of woods. Silence settled over us once again, and I could sense a playfulness in Arya's eyes as if she had something to share. It wasn't long before she voiced her curiosity.

"Roger" she began with a teasing glint in her eyes, "what if you ever wrong me? Are you going to apologize to me like you did with Sansa?"

I chuckled at her question, the playful undertone evident. "Well, I didn't speak to you like a lady. I wouldn't apologize to you as one. Should I do it, you can punch me."

Arya burst into laughter at my response, her amusement contagious. The guards and even Harwin exchanged bemused looks, clearly enjoying the interaction between Arya and me. It seemed that our camaraderie was creating a light-hearted atmosphere among the group.

Arya wiped away a tear of laughter from her eye before playfully nudging her horse closer to mine. "Deal," she said, her tone still filled with humour. "I'll remember that."

I grinned, genuinely enjoying the easy banter with Arya. "I'll be sure to keep my apologies straightforward, then."

The guards joined in with light laughter, their initial scepticism replaced with amusement. Harwin's hearty laugh was particularly notable, the camaraderie among us growing stronger with each passing moment.

I smiled fondly and with amusement to the scene. It felt so great to be riding with a group of people, while they learned to know me and to trust me. Arya was obviously on this path but there was not guarantee it would have been easier with Harwin and the other guards due to the Northerner distrust for foreigners. Even with my intervention in the hall or my friendly demeanor, it would have not been sufficient on their own to be solid ground for potential trust and bonding. I knew I would interact with all of them anyway, mainly because while Arya was obviously someone I was enjoying to love to interact with beyond the initial fondness, focusing on her would be a bit problematic even with my open-mindedness. I was aware that she had had some rough days and the news of Mycah's death was still fresh.

But for her, her father and family, I knew nothing was written in advance and that anything was possible. I needed to be as kind as Aang, as analytical as Hercule Poirot and as vigilant as Alastor Moody if I wanted to face the future and the ripples provoked by my presence without falling short like an idiot. It was necessary if I was to survive this place, especially with people blinded by pride and dogmatic traditions that didn't evolve in thousands of years.

A part of me wasn't very surprised if the Long Night was coming back as those highborn people were victims of the Pharaoh Syndrome: unable to accept change because it would mean renouncing everything they believed and fearing to lose power in the same occasion and as a result, everyone suffered the greatest disasters because of their imprisoned minds. And deep in my mind, I was beginning to think it was my duty to at least prepare the least blinded of them for the storm that would befell all of us unless to face Armageddon and the rise of an Ice nation. The choice to heed my words would be their decision, but I would hope that I could achieve something to settle step by step something that would mitigate the disasters that occurred in either the later books or, God preserved me of this, the disasters of the late seasons of Game of Thrones.

A.N.:

And here we are! The first chapter of the journey to Winterfell. A chapter that explores the aftermath of the confrontation at the departure of Darry Castle and the first true interactions of the SI with his different companions.

One of the key points of this chapter is obviously the SI taking a new identity, mainly to preserve his anonymity from potential retaliations from the Lannisters, even if it may sound insufficient due to the escort's existence. This idea was born from a suggestion of my beta reader and I consider it interesting, partly because I love "playing" different characters.

This chapter also allows the SI to present some of his personal views and some details of his arrival in Westeros without revealing too much, but also learning new skills. Most SI either have learned their skills at the start of the story or in the first ones. I thought interesting to explore the learning path approach, because it is one tied to character-driven stories and because it shows that the SI is not perfect and has to adapt. It echoes to the challenges he has to tackle in this place.

This chapter like some of the next ones of the journey arc, is a character-driven chapter with a thematic approach : the focus is the interactions of the SI with his companions (Harwin, his men, Arya), how he is developing a bond with them, how he finds his place and how he learns to "settle" through learning things in one field or another. It is not plot-driven part, mainly because the SI has no specific reason to reveal anything to others. Consider these chapters (and others in the future) in the same approach as those concerning Arya in the books : they are on her character journey and are not necessarily tied to the main plot, especially once she joined Braavos. Of course, the SI would play (directly and indirectly) a role in the events, bu he won't necessary be the main driving force, outside of the ripples he initially created and of any knowledge and advises he gave to other characters, not to mention how interacting with other characters both affect him and them.

As a result, the interactions are the core of those chapters, mainly because it reflects how the SI is. Something I have often noticed in reading SI stories (that doesn't mean it is the norm) is the fact that those characters are plot-driven characters with features that could make them look like some version of Varys/Petyr Baelish/Tywin/Tyrion/Roose Bolton (when they are not literally those characters) even when they display positive features and values. It is not a flaw of course, only an observation of something that is a consequence of the initial premise and is defined by the fact most of SI are reincarnated characters. The SI here, because of his nature, does not have this "luxury": while he has knowledge and skills to use and wants to make a difference, has also "emotional" qualities that can find themselves in conflict wit the context and the norms of Westeros. And it is this contrast, but also the contrast between the analytical part of the SI and his emotional/empathetic part that bring some of the conflicts and dilemmas he has to face. His inward pledge at the end of the chapter reflects how he regards himself and how he perceives the situation.

Announcement : while I'll do my best to avoid as much as possible redundancy, the way the journey is built up will partly reflect the fact it is the very first time that the SI travelled through Westeros on horse (but that could have worked on foot), meaning that he is experiencing the shift in space-time references and landmarks in a journey when compared to his (our) world. Of course, once this journey is done, the future ones won't have as much chapters as this one.

Teaser: the next chapter will see a campfire for the night and a necessary first training for the SI...

Have (hopefully) a good reading !