Robb silently led his wife and her mysterious friend into the kitchen room. The maids and cooks were given a nod of approval to disappear and take a break for the time being. Gwen made eye contact with Zi who gave the girl a small smile. Gwen stared at the worn down visitor. Was he gifted like her mistress?

The man was no doubt older, and he originated from the same place as Zi. His cloak, old and riddled with patches, looked like it had originated south of Winterfell. Han's gray hair and wrinkled face gave Robb the impression that this man had lived through trying times. Perhaps the stories Zi told him at night about the Empire were not only real, but this man had lived through the whole ordeal.

"Han. I saw you die. The force showed me. I don't understand." The older man shifted his weight and seemed to be contemplating his reply.

"Look kid, what I'm about to tell ya is kinda hard to say. I saw you die. Well, I heard you die. You were with Poe, on a mission to get the map, the First Order shot down your plane. Your death was announced throughout the Galaxy. Chewie and I heard it over the radio. I wasn't close with the new resistance, but your father and I were close. Celchus and Solos are life-long friends."

"Wait. I remember being shot down. I must have landed here? But I couldn't find my plane..."

"Nah kid, you died. Incinerated. I think the force has repurposed us for this world."

Robb watched as his wife mulled over the idea.

"Transference. They didn't find either of our bodies. The force transferred us here."

"I don't try to understand this mojo force stuff." He used in hand in a flittering motion, looked at Robb, and chuckled, "Your man seems like a good guy. Robb, right? Let me tell you, this girl was a handful when she was young."

Robb smiled, "I don't doubt it. She's a handful now, but I wouldn't trade her for the world."

"Alright, this food you talked about..." His voice trailed off as he looked about the kitchen. Han couldn't quite identify the various aromas that were drifting in the area. Nevertheless, his stomach growled loudly.

"Aye, we should have some bread and meat from this morning. We're going to have to get you cleaned up for the feast."

"A feast?"

"Yeah, you followed the king's party in. The king of this world is here." Zi clarified as she reached for a loaf of bread. She lazily handed it to the old man who smelled it and then gingerly began to eat it.

"Han, I can assure you. This food is very edible."

"Yeah, your Dad said the same thing on Hoth," he paused and looked at Robb, "it was a lie. That food was damn near frozen."

Robb gave a light laugh at the man's animated expressions. Robb didn't think that Winterfell could get any crazier, but it did.

Han tore into the bread and ate it rather quickly for a man his age. The smoked meat disappeared just as quickly as the bread. Han only nodded at the couple as he finished his last bite. The food was indeed edible. This old castle was sturdy, and by Han's estimates, the best place to be when the harshness of the area decided to make its presence known. Han could feel it in his bones. The cold was coming.

"Well, you weren't wrong kid. Now tell me the plan. I know you have a plan."

"Ha. Where do you want me to start?"

"Well, every good plan has a beginning. Start with that, but cut the bull and just show me."

Robb watched his wife's glaze over, and Han's body go rigid. The experience could be fairly jarring, but the catch up was rather quick.

"Well, I guess I got to blend in. I'll play the uncle role, makes the most sense. I'm not going to lie; I'm going to need you to fish me lines Zip. Robb, I need a set of duds. I'm currently dressed like an intergalactic smuggler."

"You're a smuggler?" Robb questioned incredulously. Zi was friends with a criminal?

"Eh, I'm a businessman. The Empire and the First Order gave me that label. Don't worry, I won't be smuggling anything in this world. I don't know anything here." Robb grinned at the older man; he clearly wasn't a bad guy. Robb would simply introduce him as her uncle from the far northern landscapes.

"My love, I'm going to take your Uncle to our room and give him a set of clothes. I'll introduce him to Vader and Grey Wind."

"Vader?" Solo asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My shadow cat. When you see him, it'll make sense."

The two men departed, leaving the young woman to clean up their mess. She sighed inwardly. She had died. This was her second life. What a crazy idea? It didn't hit Robb hard, which was a good thing. Han clearly remembered his death. She caught flashes of Ben having that inner war with himself. He was clearly torn until the light saber went into his Dad. How could he do that? Han Solo might have been a distracted parent, but he wasn't neglectful. It was known that Han loved Ben. Her father, on the other hand, struggled with taking care of her. As soon as he could, he got rid of her. There were times where she wished she was a Solo. Ben didn't see how lucky he was.

As she left the kitchen, she received another flash of the king talking to Lord Stark.

The king placed a white feather in Lyanna's statues hand, "Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her."

Ned held in his frustration, "She was my sister. This is where she belongs."

"She belonged with me." The king reached up to touch the statue's face. "In my dreams, I kill him every night."

"It's done, your Grace. The Targaryens are gone." Ned didn't want to have this conversation again. He had seen, at the Tower of Joy, that Lyanna loved Rhaegar, not Robert. She had often told him that she believed that Robert would be incapable of being faithful to her.

"Not all of them." He growled as headed for the crypt's entrance.

Zipporah, plagued by constant force pulses, meandered to find Lady Catelyn. She was concerned about tonight's feast. Tyrion had warned about the king's massive appetite for ale and women. It seemed weird that Robert didn't find Cersei attractive. There was no denying that she was beautiful. Robert could have possibly stopped the incestuous relationship from happening, if he had let go of Lyanna and tried to love Cersei.

"Ah, Lady Stark. What a wonderful surprise!" The king's voice boomed with humor.

"Your Grace." She regarded with a sad excuse for a bow.

"Quit with the bowing. You're pregnant girl. We don't want it coming early." The king offered with a genuine smile.

"Thank you, your Grace." She returned with a smile.

"Ned, your daughter-in-law is delightful. Where did you find her again?"

"She was sent to us from a small northern house."

"Ah, the north suits her. Tell me, do you find the Stark's to be sticks in the mud?" The king jested.

"Not at all your Grace, while it is important to be serious, there are times of joy. We Starks are loyal and preparing for winter for it is coming."

"Wise girl. I can only hope my son finds a suitor as dedicated."

Ned chuckled and nodded, "Aye, the gods blessed us."

"Lord Stark, I was just informed just a while ago, that my uncle Han has arrived from far north to visit. I apologize for the poor timing. He did not know of the king's planned arrival. Your Grace, I apologize for the unscheduled visit."

"Nonsense! Another northerner is fine. If it was another God damn Lannister, I would be upset. I must meet this uncle. I'm constantly surrounded by filthy Lannisters. Some Northern company would be much appreciated."

"Yes, your Grace. He's cleaning himself up at the moment. He will be ready in time for the feast, I'll be sure to bring him by to meet you."

"Excellent! Knowing women, you want to go freshen up for the feast."

"Yes, thank you, sir." She did her best curtsy and headed for her room. Her sharp hearing picked up, "She called me Sir. Her family military?"

She'd messed up on the titles. Again. Inwardly, she cursed her training and constant need to snap back to that time.

"Aye."

"Good. Then her Uncle and I can talk battle strategy."

Zipporah paced to her room. As she entered, she found Han sitting on the floor petting Vader and Grey Wind. He was dressed as a proper northern man. It was strange to not see him in his trademark brown leather jacket, white tunic, and boots. His blaster was also missing. When the time came, she'd give him one of hers. He was getting to the age where hand to hand combat was not viable.

"Hey Zip. You were right."

"Duh." She teased as she moved to her trunk. She sifted through the many gowns. She had a special one for tonight's feast. Her black gown, while voluminous and elegant, was not meant for sitting in. The feast would feature a time of sitting and eating. She needed a thinner dress. A grin spread across her face as she grasped a two tone gown from the trunk. A black and white gown with black roses embroidered onto front. It had an angled, straight-cut strapless neckline with a fitted bodice and full, A-line skirt. As she held it up, she noted that the pleats of the skirt fell from the bodice and there was a train at the back. She nodded to herself, this was the one for tonight.

"That suits you." Robb's voice sounded from her left. Han nodded in agreement. "I'll send Gwen in to help you. I'll give Han a quick tour." Inform him about the deep north, especially the wall.

"Thank you love." He quickly pressed his lips to hers, then motioned for Han to follow him.

Time seemed to fly to Zi. It was now dinner time. She found herself seated between Robb and Han. Robb listened to Theon talk about seeing Tyrion at Ros's place and how the ladies said he was great. Robb inwardly cringed. Han seemed to be amused by the young Kraken's story. Robb could tell that Han was familiar with the ideas of brothels. Zipporah remained quiet but shot both Sansa and Arya assuring looks. Sansa was nervous about the attention Joffrey was already giving her. Sansa tried her best to look at her siblings rather than across the room. Arya was annoyed that she was theoretically betrothed to the younger prince. She was a bit older than him, and she doesn't like being told what to do.

Stop brooding Arya, I'll still teach you how to fight.

The young girl perked up and cast an evil grin toward Sansa. Zi could see the different plots running through Arya's mind. She would not interfere with the young girls plotting; there was something about it that caused Zi to encourage it.

The darker colored foods would show more.

You're a genius.

Robb's attention was torn from Theon's story; the current woman giggling beside the king was not the queen. Cersei sat dutifully beside her husband. His mother was speaking quietly to the lioness, no doubt trying to ease the pain of her husband's public betrayal. His mother's eyes were dark with an emotion that he was unfamiliar with.

Embarrassment, love. She's embarrassed for the Queen.

It's very unsettling.

Agreed. As long as he keeps his hands off of Gwen...

We cannot interfere with the King and his desires.

Zipporah clenched her jaw in response. She noted the Jon and a man dressed in black entered the feasting hall. Robb grinned, stood, and quickly moved to greet the man. However, his father, Ned, had beat him to the greeting.

The younger man greeted the Lord, "You at a feast? It's like a bear in a trap." Both men smiled at one another. The resemblance was uncanny. Zi immediately realized that Benjen Stark had traveled south for a visit.

"The boy I beheaded. Did you know him?" Ned felt tired. This visit had just begun and it already felt like it needed to end. He glanced at his children's table and noted Zi slowly rubbing her swollen stomach. His first grandchild. Ned planned on asking the King for permission to stay behind to witness the birth. It would only be about a month after the king departed.

"Of course I did. Just a lad. But he was tough, Ned. A true ranger." His brother's voice had an underlying tone of pride.

"He was talking madness. Said the Walkers slaughtered his friends."

"The two he was with are still missing."

"A wilding ambush?" The most plausible excuse. How could he tell his brother that the White Walkers were real?

"Maybe. Direwolves south of the wall. Talk of the Walkers. My brother might be the next Hand of the King. Winter is coming." It seemed that he already knew.

"Winter is coming." Ned confirmed. The two often spoke and wrote in code. The Night's Watch would be prepared.

Robb finally made his presence known to the two older Starks. Robb quickly made eye contact with Jon and signaled for him to be near Zi. Drunken men may forget their place, and he would have little mercy on the man that touched his wife inappropriately, even if it was the King.

"Uncle Benjen." Robb warmly greeted.

"Robb boy, how are ye?" Benjen asked. Robb knew that his uncle knew about nearly everything. Ned and he were close confidants.

"I'm good. I have a wife and baby on the way." He was proud of his wife and that he already had an heir on the way. She would give birth before his father reached King's Landing.

A squeal sounded from the front of the room. The King seemed to be getting handier with the wench seated on his lap. Zi frowned and gave Lady Catelyn a look of sadness. Catelyn sighed and murmured to the Queen, "Is this your first time in the North, Your Grace?"

"Yes. Lovely country." The Queen responded, clearly occupied with the Stark children. Her eyes moving between Sansa and Arya. Two very opposite children.

"I'm sure it's very grim, after King's Landing. I remember how scared I was when Ned brought me up here for the first time."

Sansa noticed that her mother gestured for her to come to them. Glancing at Zi for reassurance, she moved to visit with her mother and the Queen. She was nervous; she had caused a bump in the road for House Baratheon and House Stark to be joined. She would be a Martell, which was much more appealing than to be joined with a Lannister in disguise. Poor Arya.

"Hello, little dove. You are a beauty. How old are you?" Her tone was soft and almost kind.

Sansa blushed and struggled to respond, "Thirteen, Your Grace."

"You're tall. Still growing?"

"I think so, Your Grace."

"And have you bled yet?" Zipporah snapped her head around to look at the Queen. What kind of question was that? Zipporah could feel Sansa's discomfort at the question.

"No, Your Grace." She murmured.

"And your dress. Did you make it?"

Sansa simply nodded in reply.

"Such talent. You must make something for me." Sansa smiled again, bowed, and moved to return to her spot at the table. She shared a look with her sister in law. Arya would be next. Arya was much quicker at approaching the Queen and her Lady mother. She knew she had to have manners but she would tell her cousin Jon all about her real answers later in the evening.

"Hello, little wolf. You take after your Father." The Queen smiled condescendingly at the young girl. It was a underhanded compliment. Arya had dark eyes and dark hair, much like her Aunt Lyanna.

"Yes, Your Grace. I am Stark through and through." Arya delivered a stunning smile.

"How old are you?"

"Nine, Your Grace." She replied matter-of-factly.

"Your sister sews, what is your talent?" Arya froze. She didn't have a talent yet. Sansa had sewing. Robb was a swordsman. Bran could climb. Even the Greyjoy was good at something—archery.

History. You know your history.

"History, Your Grace. I love learning and applying history." Arya grinned triumphantly. She silently thanked Zipporah and the gods for giving her to the Starks. Lady Catelyn looked relieved as well. It was improper for a future lady to be interested in fighting and weapons.

"How unique." The Queen complimented with a coy smile. Her son was to marry a historian. A wild historian.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Arya bowed and returned to sit by her cousin.

Cersei turned to Catelyn, "I hear we might share a grandchild someday."

"I hear the same. You son will do well here in Winterfell. He will be well-trained." Tommen and Arya glance at one another for a moment. The young prince was intrigued by the outgoing Stark girl. Arya winked at him, and he quickly looked down at his plate of food.

Stop scaring the young prince. You can be intimidating.

Opps.

Arya felt the need to be banished from the feast. She took Zipporah's advice and grabbed the darker food. When Sansa was commenting on something that Theon had said, Arya took the opportunity to fling the food at her face.

Bullseye.

The table resounded with laughter as Sansa voices how upset she was. "AHH, Arya!"

Jon noticed Lady Catelyn trying to signal Robb to take the younger ones to bed, but he was busy talking with Han.

Jon nodded at her and hoisted Arya up onto his shoulders and motioned for the others to follow, "Time for bed."

Pouting slightly, the younger Stark children departed, closely followed by the Baratheon children.

"LADY STARK! WHERE IS THIS UNCLE YOU PROMISED?" the king's drunken voice boomed over the other visitors' words. Nudging Han, she gingerly rose and made her way to the king.

"Your Grace." Han addressed as he bowed to the fat man. Han was not impressed with this world's leader. At least the First Order and even the Empire had discipline, this man had none.

"Ah, yes. The Uncle from the North. What's your name? I was told you were familiar with battle strategy?" The King seemed very coherent, which both Han and Zi found surprising. Maybe it was primarily an act—to make his Queen angry and embarrassed.

"Han Solo, Your Grace. I've been in battles. Not too fond of fighting, I'm getting too old." He threw his trade mark smirk at the King who returned a smirk of his own. He shooed the wench away. He finally has someone interesting to talk to. Not a fucking southerner.

"Nonsense. Pull up a chair, we have much to discuss—"

He was cut off by the Queen herself, "Lady Stark, what does your uncle do for the realm?" She was suspicious of the older man. His presence was misplaced.

"I catch the Wildlings that make it over the wall." Han easily lied. Nice, Han.

"A hunter! Even better! When we go boar hunting next week, you must join us. And woman, if you ever interrupt me again, you will lose your head to a spike."