Note 1: Questions about Zipporah's parentage have arisen. Zipporah's father is force sensitive pilot, Tycho Celchu, who was quite close with the Skywalkers. Her mother remains unknown for now... ;)

Note 2: I'd like to clear up my gender. I was accused of being a dude for having a main character that is selfish. I'm actually a proud female living in the Bay Area. My characters are selfish, because humans typically make choices based on self interest first.

Note 3: Zipporah has not publicly used the force-only the Stark Family, Prince Martell, and Tyrion Lannister are aware. If the Red Priestesses can exist across Westeros and beyond...I think Zi can exist...especially because she can be quiet enchanting.

End of Notes

"So why have you interrupted my personal alone time in town?" Tyrion Lannister questioned in an annoyed tone. His footsteps pounded indignantly against the stone, and his shadow brazenly cast itself along the faces of the Stark family. Zipporah raised an eyebrow at the smaller man. He was in a different state than when she had last seen him. His once fine clothes were now wrinkled and discolored, and it was quite apparent that he had not bathed in sometime.

"One, you need a bath. Two, I have seen some things—" Zipporah began with a scrunched expression. The stench radiating off of him was nearly intolerable. Her mind flashed to the stories her father used to tell about the great tauntauns of the ice planet Hoth.

Zip, they smelled something awful, and wouldn't you know it? Han Solo used one to help Luke Skywalker survive the cold. He smelled for weeks after. Poor Chewie, Zip. Poor Chewie.

"Things you need to explain." Lord Stark interrupted in a very serious tone. His face was grim with worry.

"I need to explain?" Tyrion replied with wide eyes. "I don't mean to be rude, but your tone is quite affronting. And, if I remember correctly, I am your guest."

Ignoring his comment, Lord Stark pressed, "Your brother and sister have been intimate."

"Of course they're close. They're twins." He offered with a shrug. Robb and Zipporah simultaneously rolled their eyes.

It didn't take much for the young force wielder to lose her temper. This world of manners perplexed her. Pleasantries were unnecessary. Her mind quickly flashed to Han Solo's quip, "Bring 'em on, I'd prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."

How was beating around the bush going to solve anything? Tyrion Lannister was not dumb nor was he unreasonable. In her mind, it made more sense to rip the Band-Aid off rather than slowly pull the Band-Aid off, hair by hair.

"They're fucking." Zipporah snapped. "Your nieces and nephews aren't Baratheons. They're pure Lannister."

A look of pure horror crossed Tyrion's face, but it was swiftly replaced by a bored expression. The Wolves of Winterfell were accusing the Lions of Lannisport of committing incestuous acts? Tyrion glanced at each face and then went back at Zipporah. Her flawless face was void of any tells of falsehood.

Without any warning, images flashed before his eyes. His mouth hung open as he watched his siblings interact when they were alone. The monstrous act committed by his brother and sister stunned him. He had always made snide remarks about their closeness, but he had never dreamed that they actually were together in that way.

The vision ceased, and Tyrion found himself staring at a very concerned Stark family.

"I—" he started but stopped when Robb held up his hand in acknowledgment. Robb's face displayed solemn understanding. Zi could hear Robb's mental remarks of pity.

"Your facial expression speaks louder than any words possibly could." Robb murmured as he glanced at his lord father studying the imp.

A silence hung in the air. The Starks studied the Lannister before them while he struggled to find a way to reason out the most recent development in his family. If this ever spread to the rest of Westeros, the Lions would be ruined. What did he care? His father despised him, and his sister dubbed him a murderer at birth. The only regret Tyrion could think of was possibly seeing Jaime suffer. Nevertheless, it was abundantly clear to Tyrion which side he would take and who he would make alliances with.

"Jon Arryn is dead." Lady Catelyn stated to the room. "A fever." The news added to the already thick air in the room. Robb glanced at Zipporah who seemed to be thinking over the information. Her blue met his, she seemed to be asking for permission. Robb gave her a simple nod. Whatever she knew; she needed to share.

"Poison." Zipporah corrected as she moved to stand in front of the room. She felt like she was becoming more and more like General Leia, versed in politics and military strategy. In this moment, she missed the General. Leia Solo would have known what to say or what to do. Zipporah was trying her best not to doubt herself, but this world was tricky.

"Who committed this murder?" Lord Stark asked angrily. Zi felt the righteous anger emanating from the older man. He had been close to Lord Arryn? She was unsure of the relationship, but she could see his sorrowful thoughts.

"I am so sorry, my love." Lady Catelyn murmured as she moved closer to him.

"The force has not shown me his face, but a clue was given some time ago. A regular hand, but weirdly small fingers. I'm not sure what it means. What the real is issue is that the king is coming to Winterfell and force tells me that a darkness is coming with his party. We need to make preparations for this darkness. To counterbalance it."

The room remained silent, and she pressed forward, "The King, he's coming this far North, there's only one thing he's after, right? He's going to ask you, Lord Stark, to be the new Hand. You can say no, but you won't. We can work with that."

"How so?" Lady Catelyn asked in a sullen tone. Robb watched his wife mull over what to say to make his father's departure easier. He wished he had her insight. She shared her world with him quite often, but in moments like these, he wished he could take some of the pressure off of her.

"We will have a Stark as the second most powerful being in Westeros. Now, Lord Stark, you can't bring any of your children. A house divided is a house conquered."

Lady Catelyn closed her eyes in relief. Her children would be safe in the North. Northerners were loyal to House Stark. If there were any signs of trouble, the northern houses would rally for the Stark's. Lord Stark gave a reluctant nod. Zipporah knew he would be lonely in King's Landing, but the Starks could not afford to be divided. If they separated, they would be easily taken advantage of.

Tyrion looked long and hard at the Stark's, giving the room the impression that he wished to abstain from the drama, but he astonished them, "I will depart with Lord Stark and assist him however I can. Dealing with my sister is quite the task. Now, please tell me how we are going to deal with my sibling's sin?" The smaller man could not help but wander over to the ale bottle and pour himself a drink.

"When the time is right, I will tell Robert. We will deal with that when the time comes."

"Forgive me Lord Stark, but when is it the right time to tell a King that his Queen is fucking her brother who happens to be part of the King's Guard?" Tyrion quipped.

"He has a point." Jon stated to the room. "We can accept that Lord Stark will be the Hand, but we cannot allow King Robert to believe that his Queen is faithful."

Robb nodded at his cousin and proposed, "Tell King Robert upon your arrival at King's Landing, however, we cannot allow the Queen and her brother to know that we are aware of their behavior."

"That's going to be terribly hard." Sansa murmured as she held Lady close. The direwolf licked her hand in comfort.

"It is, and it will be. We are House Stark; we're always grim." Robb affirmed with slight smile.

"Aye. We can play the hardened Northerners. No one but King Robert will know the difference." Jon added to his cousin's play.

"Sansa, you must not show the prince any interest," Lady Catelyn warned, "he is not fit to be your match." The red headed girl nodded with understanding. There was no way in seven hells that she'd volunteer to marry a man born of his mother and uncle.

"The weather is turning. It will take the king's party much longer than normal to reach Winterfell. During this period of time, we will ready Winterfell for his arrival and ready ourselves for a battle of wills." Lord Stark announced as his eyes stared into the roaring fire across the room.

Zipporah closed her eyes and searched for any more pertinent information. A darkness was settling on the broken tower. It needed to be repaired and used for something.

"Sir, the broken tower needs to be repaired and put to use immediately. Idle places are the devil's playground."

"Who is the devil?" Questioned Tyrion as he took another sip. This girl from the stars was quite strange, and her sayings quite amusing.

"He's the leader of hell. He is the ultimate wielder of the Dark Side."

"Ah." Was all Tyrion could muster as he downed his ale. Robb chuckled at his wife, and the smaller man's expression toward his wife. She could be very perplexing when she wanted to be.

"Yeah, anyways, we can't mess up. The Dark Side is very crafty, opportunistic, and powerful." She paused and recalled the sith code, "Peace is a lie. There is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The force shall set me free. This is the way of the Dark Side. We must be balanced."

"How many of those little sayings do you have?" Tyrion lightly questioned.

"Uh, a lot. Why?" Zi responded with a slight smile.

"Just curious. You'll need all the little sayings and more to deal with Cersei."

"I find your lack of faith disturbing." Zipporah commented with a smug grin. Upon her comment, she felt a tug at her force signature. There was something trying to get her attention.

"Well, I'm naturally pessimistic; especially when it comes to my family." Tyrion returned with an equal grin, but she did not see it. Her eyes were closed, and she was listening to whatever was trying to get her attention, however, she could not fully hear or understand what the being was saying. Assuming it was a he, she assessed the entity before her. He was extremely short, rivaling Tyrion in height, and he seemed sick. He leaned on a cane for support. Dressed in a dark cedar brown cloak and cream colored pants and his face obscured By shadows, he gave her a feeling of unease. His garb suggested that he was of the Jedi Order, but clothes were but a marking, not a real indicator. The outer appearance could be faked. Warning signs went off in her head, but she desperately blocked out any remaining noise of the room in Winterfell and focused in. The stone room disappeared around her, and a humid, swampy landscape surrounded her. The swamp was dark and brooding, yet there was something familiar about it. The being pointed its cane at her and shifted. Was it speaking? Was it mute?

Searching for any hint of noise, her ears finally made out, 'Fear is the path to the Dark Side... Fear leads to anger... anger leads to hate...' He took a deep breath and sorrowfully stated, 'hate leads to suffering.'

As soon as the message was delivered, the short thing and its world vanished. As she returned to the present, her mind registered a warm hand squeezing hers in comfort. Robb was staring at her with concern while the rest of the room seemed to have departed. Tyrion was the only other person left. He appeared to be studying her with interest. He was guessing what she had seen.

You left again. Are you alright?

I received a warning. A reminder from my world.

What was it about?

What fear and anger lead to.

Where do they lead?

Suffering. We must be careful.