I'm back! Or at least I'm trying to be back. :)

Typical Disclaimer.

Enjoy!

Syrio Forel did not anticipate the North to be this cold during this time of year,nor was he aware of the circumstances surrounding the tense frigidity of the occupants—the guards and servants alike. Dressed in traditional dark Braavosi attire with a recently purchased northern coat, Forel waited to be received by both Stark men.

When the steward announced the arrival of the Warden of the North and King of the North, Forel withheld any type of judgement as both men had created strong battlefield reputations. Forel prided himself on being perceptive, but both northerners possessed grim expressions that gave him very little to go on. The Prince had given him little to no information, which was against Oberyn's nature. He often gave away information in riddles. However, no riddles or clues given.

"Welcome to the North. We understand you were sent by Prince Oberyn Martell." The Warden of the North greeted, if Syrio could call it a greeting. Not cordial yet not rude—cold, measured, cautious.

"Correct. I, Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, have had my services rendered by House Martell to serve House Stark, specifically young Arya." Syrio gave the two a tight smile.

The young king moved toward him with an intrigued expression. Syrio, because of the stories, had believed the King in the North to be older, but that simply wasn't the case. He was literally a young wolf.

"You're here to teach Arya?" The younger Stark confirmed.

"Yes, I'm here to train young Arya in the Water Dance with your permission of course."

"Aye. Permission granted Master Forel. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours. I will have Jory show you to your room and give you a brief overview of the grounds. Arya will be available to be trained once her studies are over. The Septa will escort her to where you see fit." Lord Stark announced with a content expression. Syrio wondered if the coldness was a front or the first line of defense; he believed it to be the latter.

Whatever had happened to House Stark; there was cause for concern and hesitancy.

Zipporah moved silently through the halls. She had sensed a new thread in the force signatures of Winterfell. It was colorful, strong one. It intrigued her. It was full of light; a real oddity in the bleak grey land. The majority of the Northerners had embraced the notion of walking in the light and dark. Maintaining a balanced nature was essential to the northerners' success in the perpetual fight against the darkness.

Her piercing orbs landed on the newcomer. His countenance reminded her the Dornish prince and his paramour, graceful yet ready for battle.

She could tell that Jory was giving the guest a quick history lesson on a particular tapestry near the guest room wing. A part of her wanted to interrupt, but she settled for silent observation. The newcomer clearly sensed that he was being watched. After slowly skimming the area, the guest made eye contact with her. She could sense his surprise. He was trying to figure out who or what she was. Jory stopped his history lesson and noted the silent showdown between the two.

"Syrio Forel, this is Queen Zipporah, Goddess of the North, the Mother of Wolves." Syrio quickly bowed and offered, "Your apologies for not recognizing you."

Sighing at his antics, "No need to bow or apologize Sir Forel. You are a guest of Winterfell and here to help House Stark, no?"

"Prince Oberyn sent me to train young Arya in the art of the Water Dance."

Unfamiliar with the fighting style, Zipporah did her best to picture a fluid fighting form. She imagined that Arya would take to it well. But what she wouldn't give to be Arya's age and learn even more. Granted, this world was unfamiliar with her style, but she was bound and determined to teach her son and the Stark line how to fight and defend the North. From who? In that instance, a frigid breeze traveled down her spine. The frozen blue orbs of the Night King flashed before her eyes. He gave her a coy smile as he dissipated before her. What was he trying to tell her? Was he bragging? Was he telling her that they were on the march again?

"Most excellent. Excuse me." She muttered distractedly. She needed to speak with Robb and Jon. The Night's Watch was going to need to take better defense measures.

Moving even faster than usual, Zipporah found herself feeling panicked for the first time in awhile. She could not erase the cold sensation that had taken residence at the base of her spine. A clear warning from the entity and the force.

She had felt a similar sensation when she first learned of Supreme Leader Snoke's presence in the force stream. The feeling intensified when he tried to acquire her for the Dark Side. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful. He could not and would not have both Solo children.

Upon reaching Robb's study, she decide to bypass knocking and simply entered. Robb and Jon were located at the corner of the room, pouring over a rather large, old book. Both muttering back and forth. The two men were oblivious to her arrival. Animatedly rolling her eyes, she spoke with alarm, "The Night King visited me again. He's up to something."

Without missing a beat, Jon replied in a sullen voice, "Aye, we received notice from the Night's Watch, the wildlings and other persons outside the wall have joined forces and are attempting to breach the wall to escape whatever is hunting them. I'm assuming it would be the Night King and his minions."

Nodding, she moved closer, her eyes easily read the book page—giants. What are giants? She could see crude pictures of the beings. They just seemed to be very larger men; taller than Chewbacca and assuredly stronger.

"Do they speak the common language?" She asked with a raised brow.

"The book doesn't say, but they, too, want passage into our lands. I'm trying to figure out if that is out of the question."

Humming her reply, she contemplated what should be done. How were they to know who was a threat and who was not? They needed eyes on the ground, but obviously, Winterfell was on lock down—eventually the lions would be arriving.

However, if these people were not threats, could they potential allies in the fight against the Lions and the war against another Long Night. She was going to miss them, but this was essential.

"Jon and I should go and evaluate. We may need all the help we can get."

"You are not going North, passed the Wall," stated Robb with electrified eyes and a firm expression. Normally, Zipporah would back down and submit. However, he had not seen what she had. There were giants, wildlings, and thenns. From Theon's ramblings, thenns were cannibals. Only hutts and the unfortunate residents of Tatooine practiced that....she inwardly cringed. She could not allow such practices to plague the North. Aiden would not witness such atrocities. Her sweet baby boy. Growing stronger everyday. Cooing and holding his head upright and reaching for objects. Positive force energy flooded her. She would miss him dearly, but this was life or death. She chose life.

Before she could give her thoughtful rebuttal, Jon fiercely interceded, "We need to go and assess. She's the only thing that could even remotely stand against a giant or white walker. I know it. She knows it, and you know it. The Night's Watch is in need of assessment and possible repair. We'll take the current guilty and head out at first light. We must hold the North and keep the dead dead."

Onward North!