Arya Stark jerked awake, startled and frustrated to realize that she had fallen asleep in the saddle again. It had been twelve days since she had fled King's Landing and although her horse had seemed to easily outstrip her in terms of endurance, she could feel the mare beginning to flag.

No no no, we're so close, she thought. Leaning forward over the mare's neck, she urged the animal on. She couldn't let Daenerys beat her to Winterfell. The screams of Drogon's victims still rang in her ears, their bodies imprinted behind her eyelids every time she closed them. Every night she dreamed of Nora, the woman who had saved her from being trampled and the poor woman's daughter, both incinerated before her very eyes. She was alive because of Nora but she hadn't been able to repay the woman's sacrifice. Had she left Arya on the ground, perhaps she and her daughter may have been able to escape. But they had been trapped in the smoky labyrinth with all of Daenerys' other innocent victims, sentenced to a horrific and terror-stricken death.

When the fire storm had finally ended and the smoke began to clear, Arya had known that there was no hope left. Daenerys would never again be reasoned with, would never again listen to sound counsel. She would stop at nothing to secure her hold over the Seven Kingdoms. So, when Arya saw the white horse waiting for her among the rubble, she hadn't hesitated. She had immediately mounted and began the panicked flight to Winterfell. She knew it wouldn't be long before Daenerys turned her attention to Winterfell, to Sansa. Daenerys already had Jon's allegiance, but it was well-known that Sansa did not trust Daenerys, did not feel any sort of loyalty towards her. Now that she had the Iron Throne, Arya was sure that Daenerys would embark on a crusade against any possible threat to her rule. And Winterfell was more than a possible threat- it was the birthplace of rebels.

And so, Arya had ridden for days, stopping for only a few hours at a time to sleep and water her horse, but always pushing on, hurrying to warn Sansa. There were only four Starks left alive and she refused to lose any more family to the struggle for power. Especially since she and Sansa had only just begun to repair the schisms of their childhood... Shaking her head, she focused on the last few miles, the panic that had set into her heart twelve days ago just as acute now as it was then.

But just as Winterfell's dark walls appeared in the distance, the sun went dark. Arya's mare reared, snorting and squealing, and Arya had to hold tight to the reins to keep from falling off. She looked up just in time to see a leathery wing pass directly overhead, and her blood ran cold. The great beast hurtled past them, speeding towards Winterfell. With its passage the sun returned, but its warmth was gone.

An old saying her nurse had said came to her: Dark wings, dark words.

Arya sat frozen on her horse for a heartbeat more, fear threatening to overwhelm her before she spurred the white mare on, screaming for her sister: "Sansa!"

But she already knew she would be too late. The dragon had reached the fortress and Arya could see fireballs engulfing the battlements. On and on she spurred her horse, both of them foaming at the mouth, but when Arya finally arrived at the gates of her home, the courtyard was littered with smoldering bodies. Daenerys and the hulking reptile were nowhere to be seen.

Arya leapt from her horse and sprinted up the wooden stairs to Sansa's quarters, panic causing her to stumble as she went. She could barely breathe in the scorching air, could hardly see through the dark smoke, but still she ran, turning down hallways so scorched and damaged that she barely recognized where she was. Finally, she arrived at Sansa's door pushing past the heavy oak to the interior of the room. But it was empty.

She ran back towards the courtyard, searching for survivors, someone, anyone who could tell her what had happened to her sister. Between the smoke and her rising dread, she was running blind and stumbled over a body on the staircase, barely managing to catch the railing so that she didn't tumble over the side. The body she had tripped on groaned and she scrambled to the man's side. "What happened? Where did they go?" she gasped, out of breath.

The man, who she now recognized as the blacksmith Reg, coughed trying to clear the ash from his lungs before he spoke. "Thur' gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" she shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

"Ah don' know! Just... gone." Reg was wracked with another round of dry, smoky coughs. "Tha Targaryen entered tha castle alone an' whe-when she came back out Lady Sansa was with 'er. I don' know what happened after that... all I saw were great flames an' then... tha-tha fucking monster flew away."

Arya's heart sank. She had spent twelve days getting here only to fail at the last second. Her horse was exhausted, Winterfell was torched and vulnerable, and she had no food. Despite all this though, she knew she had to go back. Back to the smoldering wreckage of King's Landing. Arya didn't know whether Daenerys intended to kill Sansa to keep her out of the way or whether she intended to hold her hostage in return for the Starks' cooperation. Either way, she had to save Sansa.

She turned back to the dying man. "Where's Bran?" she asked.

Reg didn't answer, his strength fading quickly. She shook him. "Reg! Where is Bran?"

He stirred. "In... tha Godswood", he wheezed, chest heaving.

Arya placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Thank you for all you've done for us, Reg." She drew her dagger and quickly slit his throat, ending the man's misery. Not sparing herself even a moment of grief for her old friend, she took off running for the Godswood.

Heart and feet pounding, she sprinted through the gates and past the armory, ash and dust choking her as she ran. Skittering into the clearing, she found Bran sitting in front of the ancient weirwood. The air was still here, clear from the smoke of Winterfell. Though he didn't turn, Bran spoke as soon as she was within earshot. "You must go to her."

Arya, out of breath, nodded. "I know. But, Bran, I have no food and my horse just rode for days on end. She will not be able to make a return journey."

"Yes, she will."

Arya frowned. "No, she won't."

Turning to her, Bran handed Arya a pack, inside which she found enough bread and cheese for two weeks.

"I will ensure she makes it."

Realization slowly dawned on Arya. "You sent her, didn't you?"

"Yes. You have much to do and I needed to speak to you." He turned his unsettling gaze from her back to the weirwood, the ancient face carved into its bone-white trunk. "Go. The time has come. You are going to end what you began."

Arya was confused. "What do you mean, Bran, what did I begin?"

"Do you remember the words Melisandre spoke to you the first time you met?"

Arya's bewilderment grew. "I- I don't know, something about eyes, I think. But, Bran, what does any of that have to do with saving Sansa?"

At this, Bran turned to her, speaking as if to a child. "You are not going to save Sansa."

"What are you talking about? Yes, I am, I am the only one left who can save her!" Arya shook her head angrily. "Bran, she's our sister, I need to save her."

Bran continued to gaze at her, his placid expression unreadable. "No, you will not save her," he repeated. "But do not worry, Arya, she will be rescued. You have a much bigger purpose."

"Bran, you said I am to 'go to her'. If I'm not going to get Sansa, then who am I-" She stopped. "Daenerys."

Bran nodded.

"So, you have seen it?"

"No. Not yet. You have not resolved yourself of this yet, and so the future is still too murky to know for sure. But I know what I have been told."

Arya frowned again. "Told? By whom?"

"By the Many-Faced God."

She laughed, "I'm sorry, what? You've spoken to the Many-Faced God?"

Bran's gaze pierced her, and the laughter froze in her throat. "The Many-Faced God takes countless shapes. No matter the name used, no matter the form taken, the Many-Faced God has been clear. The last time you obeyed, our world was saved from the Night King. This time, the world will be set right."