Reunions Across Time, Distance, and

A/N: Well, here is the next chapter. Much sooner than the last time gap too so I think I will mantain my new plan of keeping the chapters shorter than what I originally intended for the end of Arc Seven and just increase the final chapter count. Thanks for the feedback on that point, by the way.

Anyway, important announcement: this chapter will actually feature a couple of scenes in Meereen so it will be our first POV scene with someone from Daenerys' faction since Story Arc 2, back when I posted that chapter about High Priestess Kinvara feeling the future change due to the prophetic quake but not sure what to make of her visions and feeling concerned.

That won't be the only focus of the chapter but for those that want to hear more from Meereen, there will be additional scenes in the next chapter. And once this arc is done, a big interlude chapter is coming in between Story Arcs 7 and 8 that will have Dany's POV in full, along with her reactions to recent events on the North and more.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter and if so, please remember to review!

Epigraph:

__

I've never begged you for something before in all the millennia we have known each other, old friend.

I do so now.

Great Pyramid of Meeren: Slaver's Bay

High Priestess Kinvara of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light inhaled sharply on her personal quarters inside the Great Pyramid of Meereen. She had been staring at the flames for nearly 2 hours, ever since she woke up gasping; an unusual occurrence for her all by itself. But she couldn't help it this time.

Not when every instinct in her body told her that her God was crying.

It was hard to describe even for someone like her, who had been praised in the past for her eloquent speeches. But while she wouldn't know how to express it had someone asked her at that very moment, she simply felt, deep in her bones, that something of incalculable importance had just taken place that was intrinsically tied to the Lord of Light. Problem was, no matter how hard she meditated on her spiritual connection to R'hllor, she couldn't be certain if this gigantic shift was a sign of wondrous omens...or terrible portents.

So, unable to determine if her deity was crying tears of joy or of despair, as much as the latter possibility was terrifying to contemplate, Kinvara continued using her God-given powers to peer into the future and across distant lands. And after all of the significant images she witnessed, the Light of Wisdom acknowledged that she was going to need to discuss her vision with another of her fellow, high-ranking servants.

And so, she focused on a rare skill that few Red Priests are ever able to master: the ability to communicate across great distances through the gift of flame from their Lord, as long as the one on the distant end of the fireplace was also trained in that mystical skill.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at the fires, the warmth, and light that surged forth illuminating her face.

She lost track of time as she concentrated on directing her mental discipline towards the intended recipient and waited. But, eventually, the flames, the rising smoke, and the wood that served as kindling started to change shape before her very eyes.

She looked on at the ethereal figure in silence for a long moment and her old friend did not utter a word at first either. And so they just stood there, deep in thought as their connection to their Lord allowed them to speak over a thousand miles apart.

In time, Benerro's voice echoed from far away.

"There has been an awakening," The High Priest declared, his tone solemn. "Have you felt it?"

The highest-ranking female priestess from the Red Temple of Volantis took a deep breath and nodded at her male counterpart.

"I have," She acknowledged. "Which is why I have spent the hours since looking at the flames. And I must admit I could use your counsel to help me interpret those visions. Especially given how...crucial, they felt."

Benerro gazed at her through fiery eyes. "You hadn't spoken to me since you had that vision about the blood chains that were binding a smiling and naked Daenerys Targaryen, as if the prophesied Azor Ahai reborn were nothing more than a common bed-****," He remarked. "That vision was as hard to swallow then as it is now and I maintain that there must be something we are missing before we can properly interpret that bit of foresight. So, please, for the love of R'hllor, tell me you have found a new piece of this puzzle," He asked of her, his tone firm and insistent.

Kinvara inhaled sharply, remembering the images that stood out most prominently on the flames. "I...may have," She replied, nervous enough as it was by the fact that she was feeling rattled instead of her usual sense of convictions. "And those particular pieces seemed to be near the ruins of Old Valyria itself. But let me start from the beginning," She insisted. "The first image I saw was that of a formidable, armored warrior wrapped in a white cloak with a sigil that represented seven swords. For some reason, his skin shifted from white to blue every time I blinked and wings, of all things, seemed to..."

Ironrath: The North

Initial reactions of surprise and subsequent discussions aside, didn't take much longer for King Jon to decide to dismiss Skrel from the Great Hall. Allowing most of his strongest allies and bannermen to listen to the Skagosi's astonishing revelations may have been an appreciated sign of trust on his part but he knew that it would take some time for everyone in the keep to digest the information they had just learned. And besides, it was getting too late into the night already for most of them, and after the excitements, fears, and injuries from the battle, they all had reason to be exhausted.

So, the King of the North and the Trident promised to discuss more of what they had learned later but that right now, they had all earned their rest. So, he finished the meeting by telling them that Ramsay Bolton's public execution would take place tomorrow and that he would call on them when he was ready. With that, everyone started going their separate ways across the keep, but they remained in high spirits as they conversed, proud of their achievements during the night and relieved that the worst part was over. And after indicating where would their respective chambers for the night were located, even the Forresters left the Great Hall, leaving the Stark siblings some time alone now that they were back together again after so many years apart.

They smiled at each other, delighted to be in each other's presence again. But while Jon needed to speak with Rickon about many things, particularly about the complications that had arisen in the Stark line of succession now that he had been declared and acknowledged as Robb's heir during the time his little brother was presumed dead, he could tell that for all his excitement, Rickon was quite exhausted as well.

"Well, I think we can all safely say that it has been a very long and eventful day," Jon mused.

Arya snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed. What was your first clue?"

At that, they all started laughing, merriment filling the air as the tension started pouring out of their bodies. Sansa sighed in contentment and hugged her little sister, chuckling a bit more. while Arya raised an eyebrow.

"Two hugs in one night?" She asked in a mock, accusatory tone. "Who are you and what have you done to Sansa?"

"Oh, hush you," The redhead reprimanded, the intention ruined by her nostalgic voice. "I am just happy to see you again, so stop being annoying for a moment will you?"

In response, Arya rolled her eyes but hugged her sister back even more tightly. The sight made Jon smile and it widened even further when Rickon ambushed them from behind and jumped into the hug.

He shook his head slightly. The past few years had been full of hardships for all of them and even before that, there was tension among his siblings in certain ways. But as he learned first hand in his days spent beyond the Wall, the night is truly darkest right before dawn. And somehow, he had a feeling that a new and better dawn was coming for his family at long last.

Sansa titled her head and looked at him, blinking, before smiling softly at him. Rickon though, was not silent when he looked at him. "What's wrong, Jon?"

Suddenly, he realized he had been tearing up, the sight of the reunion getting to him. So, he sighed and gave his little brother a bittersweet smile. "I just wish the rest of our family could be here to see this, that's all."

A solemn silence grew as they bowed their heads. But then they moved closer and pulled him into their embrace. Jon inhaled deeply as he placed his arms around them, basking in the warmth of his pack.

"Mother," Rickon whispered, his eyes glancing at the ceiling.

"Father," Sansa murmured, her grip around them tightening.

"Robb," Arya sighed, her mood mirroring that of her siblings.

The bastard-turned-heir remained quiet for a moment, thinking. The time may come when he will be able to use his powers to reunite their family in full, after he had done everything he needs to overcome the restraints around his powers. But he was not ready to have that conversation with Rickon, so he just squeezed his little brother for a bit longer and sighed.

"We will make them proud," Jon ended up saying. "And when Bran finally gets back from his journey Beyond the Wall our pack will be fully reunited. But all the same, I feel so blessed to be with all of you again. My time in the Night's Watch was important but its oaths cut me off from you. Now that I am free from them, I promise to do my best to never take my family for granted again."

The embrace tightened but then he heard a muffled sob. Rickon turned to look at Arya, slightly surprised. His middle sister scoffed at that as she wiped away her tears.

"Great, now you have gone and made me cry," She complained. "Who is the annoying one now?"

Jon chuckled at that and his siblings soon joined him, even Arya after a bit. But eventually, they broke away and decided they needed rest. And as there were many important guests at Ironrath that night, the guest rooms for Lords and Ladies were running low in numbers. But since his siblings were happy to be reunited again after so long, they had told Lord Rodrik that they wouldn't mind sharing so that the highest Lords of the Vale could have their own rooms for the night. And so they walked out of the Great Hall, heading to the room he was going to share with his little brother while Arya accompanied Sansa to the room she had been using.

And if they didn't fall asleep immediately, he had a very good idea as to what would be their first topic of conversation once the sisters were fully alone. Jon shook his head, thinking about how life can take so many unexpected turns before opening the door to his chamber.

Meereen: Private Chambers of High Priestess Kinvara

As Kinvara finished recounting everything she could remember about her visions, her throat grew thirsty by that point. But she barely noticed; her attention centered on the smoking figure before her.

It was also difficult to discern what a Red priest might be thinking when using that magical form of communication because their fiery expressions were distorted enough as it was but she could tell that Benerro was deep in thought...and possibly feeling troubled, as she was.

Eventually, his voice reached her all the way from the Red Temple of Volantis.

"Based on my past experience analyzing visions in the flames, I would say that the details you have shared seem to indicate that Daenerys Targaryen will soon reach an important crossroads," The male High Priest of her city responded, his tone confident but she knew him well enough by now to realize that he was pained by that realization. "And once she chooses a path, the decisions she will make from that point forward will reverberate across the lands. But whether her future will ultimately be bright for her and those who follow her will depend on which road she takes...and it seems most of the paths from that crossroad are truly dark and full of terrors."

Kinvara nodded almost imperceptibly, having reached that particular conclusion as well. "You understand my concerns then."

"I do," He growled, the sound matching the crackling of wood in her fireplace. "Aside from our ancient records, every vision, sign, and portent we ever recorded or debated that may have had anything to do with the Prophecy of Azor Ahai had led us to the conclusion that, once our reborn champion revealed itself by its origins on smoke and salt to wake dragons from stone, it would only be a matter of time before she rose against the darkness to make the world anew. But all you saw...this enormous tremor that feels practically divine in origin...and the fact that there are so many horrific roads that could still be taken is leading me to a very grim conclusion."

The highest-ranking female priest to hail from Volantis swallowed at that. It was almost unthinkable but they couldn't just ignore the possibility. So, she nodded slowly as she stared at Benerro's fiery form.

"Something dark and full of power is trying to manipulate the results of the Prophecy of Azor Ahai Reborn in an attempt to reshape the future," She finally said, expressing her fears aloud. "Probably the Great Other himself. And if he succeeds in his schemes, our prophesied savior may become unwittingly corrupted by the path he is pushing her to follow...and turn our dreams of a bright future into a cold and terrible nightmare."

Winterfell region: 10 miles north of the castle

Davos Seaworth urged his horse forward, increasing the pace of its gallop. Nearby, the escort of knights handpicked by Lord Wyman Manderly hurried to catch up with him but he the former Hand of the King was riding as his life depended on it.

"And it very well might," Came the unbidden thought, "For if Princess Shireen dies alone in the cold of winter because no one was around to help her even after being revived by a god, you might fall into enough despair to actually kill yourself."

The Onion Knight gritted his teeth and tried to silence his dread by focusing on the landscape before him, remembering what brought him so close to Winterfell so quickly. After the battle ended, Ser Davos had rushed to find King Jon as quickly as he could to inform him that Melisandre had somehow managed to sacrifice her life in such a way that she was able to reverse the mystical ritual she had used when she burnt the sweet princess to ****, essentially managing to revive her like she had done with him at the Wall.

The King had expressed dismay at the information and while he sounded surprised by his claim and had wondered aloud as to how exactly could such a revival work if Melisandre had burned Shireen's body to ash during her sacrifice, didn't hesitate to use his new magical powers over weirwoods to transport him to Winterfell when he had asked. All the same, he took some time with his hands placed on the Weirwood tree the Forresters kept above ground in their public godswood before Jon confirmed that the forces of the Lord of White Harbor had arrived and were laying siege to Winterfell. However, since they hadn't been able to breach the thick walls to overcome the last of Ramsay Bolton's forces the sadist had left behind just yet, the King told him that he was going to have to focus on the roots of the weirwoods that in order to transport him outside the Walls of his ancestral seat.

Or something like that. Davos hadn't exactly been paying too much attention to the magical details at hand. He just wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to save a day's travel by horse and then get some help from his king's nearby bannermen in order to search for the princess he thought he had lost forever.

So, he took his new monarch's brief letter to Lord Manderly where he explained that he was sending Lord Davos with a request for aid, signed with their family seal Lady Wynafryd had lent him at some point, as soon as he finished it and allowed him to use his magic to transport him near the Winterfell godswood, just near the outskirts of the town. And once the patrols took him to their lord and he determined the letter was genuine, the Onion Knight requested his fastest horse and a group of riders to accompany him a couple of leagues from there in search of Princess Shireen.

The ruler of White Harbor answered the call from his King in the North and ever since Davos had been riding, spending the last couple of hours riding northwards, towards the general direction of Stannis' camp had to have been when the sacrifice took place, based on what the Red priestess had told her when she had fled back to the Wall.

And finally, after galloping like mad across the snowy path, the former Hand of the King started seeing the remnants of the abandoned military camp.

Biting his bottom lip, he **** himself to slow down so that his escort could catch up to him. Once they did, they looked around, frowning.

"Why are there so many abandoned tents here?" One of the riders wondered.

Ser Davos sighed. "Based on what I heard, over half of Stannis's army abandoned him in a hurry when they were last camped here. It appears most of them choose to leave quite a few things behind in their haste, not wanting to court a fight with the remaining half over desertion charges."

Glances were exchanged among the group at that before one of them, a landed knight sworn to the Flints of Widow's Watch, who were in turn among the Lords within White Harbor's sphere of influence that were following the lead of Lord Wyman when he started preparing his banners around the White Knife region against the Boltons, turned to him.

"What exactly did King Stannis do to turn so many of his men against him so suddenly?" He asked.

Before he could bring himself to reply, the Onion Knight's gaze found the burnt remnants of a pyre and he recognized it immediately, having seen similar works back on Dragonstone. Davos choked up, tears threatening to flood his face as he imagined the kind and sweet girl's initial confusion turning into a panic before...before...

He **** himself to take a very long and deep breath. He couldn't break down in tears. If he started now, he honestly wasn't sure if he would be able to stop and he still needed to find his princess. So, he swallowed hard and turned to them.

"A horrific betrayal," The former hand said simply, his voice tired. "And madness. Madness and stupidity."

There was a pregnant pause at his words, broken only by the sounds of the winds of winter. But they didn't press for more information, so he just sighed and told them to search for the princess somewhere in the area, adding that she had scars on her face which were the legacy of her surviving the treatment to cure her body of greyscale.

They nodded and spread out searching around the camp. Hating the idea of being anywhere near it but knowing he had to look for tracks and they would have likely started from there, Ser Davos moved to approach the sacrificial pyre, anguish gripping his heart every step of the way. Then, his eyes examined the surroundings under the light of the mostly full moon and the torches his traveling companions had already lit and soon, he discovered full confirmation that this unspeakable act had in fact taken place and Melisandre's dying mind had not been rambling madness as her last words.

Fresh footprints on the snow moving away from the pyre of ****.

The Onion Knight stared for a long moment as his heart broke but soon, he realized that he needed out off his horse because felt beyond sick in the pit of his stomach. And so he retched, emptying his last meal on the ground.

Once he had nothing left to puke out, the former smuggler felt his teeth shake within his jaw and not just from the cold. But then, as he kept looking down, he ended up spotting something that caught his attention.

A wooden, stag figurine...

Davos caressed the stag he had carved with his own hand, partially burnt as well and he trembled, realizing that it meant his princess had been holding his gift close the day she was betrayed and murdered.

Every part of his being felt like screaming at that realization.

"Gods are real!" He thought, furious. "I can't deny that anymore. But where does that leave us then?! Why is our world so bloody and shitty...why does horror like this happen if gods actually do exist?"

His shoulders slumped, being unable to think of a satisfying answer. And now he wasn't sure he ever would for as long as he lived.

But eventually, he **** himself to focus and calmed himself a bit. He still had a princess to find. A girl he had come to love like the daughter he never had. And he will be damned if he wasted the second chance he had been given because he was paralyzed by hopelessness.

So, he followed the trail of footprints, letting his horse rest as he walked. Eventually, he followed it to a worn, leather tent, one of the many that were abandoned and among the ones that hadn't been gathered by scavengers in the fortnights since. Davos swallowed hard and tried to mentally prepare himself for what he would find inside. Then he inhaled sharply before entering.

So it was he found her there, sitting on the floor. With snow covering part of her hair and a long-discarded sheet around her form. Crying her heart out as her tears fell but incredibly, alive again, despite her body having turned to ash over a moon's turn ago. And while her old scars remained on her face, no burnt marks were visible as far as he could tell. She didn't even seem to notice him entering her shelter.

Or perhaps she had and simply didn't care enough about her life right now to worry about bandits.

The thought broke his heart yet again as his jaw trembled. "Shireen?" He called out.

Finally, she stiffened at the sound of his voice, his presence interrupting her wails of grief as she looked up.

"Ser Davos?" She sobbed. "Is that really you?"

"Yes my sweet girl," He said, his voice dripping with emotion as he walked forward. "I came as quickly as I could once I heard of your return. You have no idea how good it feels to see you alive again."

He moved to kiss her forehead, knowing it wouldn't be anywhere near enough to comfort her but understanding that he needed to start somewhere.

Another sob escaped her lungs at his action but then, she jumped into his arms and hugged him as fast as she could as if hanging for dear life.

And he hated how literal that might sound and feel from her perspective.

"Why?!" She asked simply, her small voice breaking up as her tears fell on him. "Just...why...?"

The weight of that brief, haunting question finished breaking the dam behind his eyes and soon, Davos found himself crying alongside her.

"I wish I knew, Shireen," He sobbed as he gripped her tightly. "I really wished I did."

A/N: Well, poor Shireen is finally back. And as you can imagine...she is going to be dealing with a LOT of emotional turmoil for a while. Not something many of you may necessarily be a fan of, I am sure, but it was simply the realistic path to take from where I am standing if I was going to bring her back. More on my plans for her in due time.

Hope you enjoyed the different reunions across the chapter, even if they were quite different in terms of tone. I will update the next chapter as soon as I can. Until then, feel free to review.