AN: This story is also known as The Butterfly Effect on Archive of Our Own, by Blank_Ji

An AU story where there is no Night King/White Walkers/Wights trying to breach The Wall. Ned's execution and the Red Wedding happens. Jon got stabbed when he tried to save Arya from the Boltons (as per book). Theon (allegedly) burned Bran and Rickon. And Arya did everything the TV shows highlighted (up until Season 7 episode 1).

This is my first fic, so my apologies for any lacking in this work. As English is not my mother tongue, I am bound to make grammatical mistakes. I hope you can bear any mistakes on my part and enjoy the plot! It gets better as the chapter goes (as said by my lovely readers), so give it a shot.. You might be surprised...or not. Entirely up to you.

And oh, If you have any inquiry, you can leave a comment on my AO3 account since I can't reply to comments here.

P.S: Dany will start to appear in Chapter 8. Alright then, shall we start?

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In which it all begin

*Year 304 After Conquest (AC) - Present Day*

What was vengeance supposed to feel like?

When Arya slits Walder Frey's throat from ear to ear, she thought she was going to feel better. But, at that time, even though she was smiling as the old man looked upon her, bleeding to death, she was not feeling any better. The hollow inside her chest was still there and she cannot shake the feeling that it was digging deeper instead. So, she travels into the South after cleaning The Twins with Frey's blood, making sure everyone that orchestrated The Red Wedding paid their due. Nevertheless, there are two more names to cross and then maybe she will feel whole again.

King's Landing was still the same as when she first arrived with her father and sister, Sansa. Arya was just one and two at that time and now she was one and eight. A woman grown. Sneaking into the castle was easy. She can do it with her eyes close. Finding Cersei Lannister and The Mountain, however, was a different story. When she did find them, the queen was often within the presence of someone, making it hard to get to her alone.

When it was finally night time, she used a skill that she developed with Bran a long time ago and climbed the wall before entering straight into the Queen's chamber.

The Queen of Westeros was lying soundlessly on her huge four—pastor bed. Arya looked down at the woman and took out her favourite dagger from her belt. Ever so silently, she climbed up the bed and pinned the woman with her weight. The edge of the knife was at the Queen's throat and if she wills it, the blade would cut open her flesh effortless like cutting through butter.

When the older woman finally realizes another presence on top of her, Arya pushed her small weapon deeper until it brought blood. Any thought of escaping immediately vanished from her victim's eyes.

The Mountain was nowhere to be seen, but she bet he was close. Maybe he was guarding outside the chamber at this very moment. She decides she cannot waste any more time than necessary. But, that does not mean she cannot enjoy her kill.Arya straightened her back and cleared her mind, putting her killer face on to get the job done.

"I'm Arya Stark" she whispers. Cersei's eyes grow wider every second the words sink in.

"N-No, it can't be." Cersei spat back. Arya smirks at that.

"Yes, it can… and I'm going to kill you for everything you have done to my family." She counters before bringing her face closer to Cersei. "Your reign is now over, Your Grace."

"Wha- Wait!"

Cersei's words were cut short when Arya slid the edge of the blade from right to left, leaving a huge opening of her skin. Blood was coming out of her slitted throat and she flailed around the bed in a panic. But, it did her no good. She was going to die, any second now. Her emerald green eyes were slowly drawing out of life and her body was thrashing weaker than before. A loud thump echoes at the same time as Cersei Lannister drew her last breath.

Arya slowly gets off of the dead body, grey eyes never leaving the dead woman as her emptiness drowns her further. She was not at all feeling fulfilled and it confused her. Perhaps it was because she still had one name left to scrap. And then, maybe after that, she will feel better.

A low guttural sound was filling the room and Arya looks up to find half a dozen men, wearing the lion's armour. They were the Queen's guard and one of them stood out as he practically towers over everyone else. She recognized the man immediately. It was the Mountain and the growl was coming from him.

Arya drew her skinny sword out of her belt. With the dagger in her right and Needle in the left, she was ready to kill her next target. The Mountain seems to take that as an invitation as he took a step forward and lunged at the small girl.

Arya used all the tricks she learned over the past years. From the Water dance to the Faceless Men techniques against the half-giant. She silently thanked the other men that they were not intervening. Perhaps they thought she was going to lose.

She proved them wrong when her Needle finally found an opening at the Mountain's underarm. Even with armour, Needle can easily slip through. Though, The Mountain doesn't seem to be affected in the slightest by the cut whatsoever. Frustrated, she danced around him some more as she studied him from a distance at the same time. When she found another opening, the dagger flew from her fingers and it landed in his right eye. He staggered backwards at the force, bending down to take the dagger out. Arya took the chance and dashed towards him, pulling out another smaller knife from her sleeve. She plunged the blade to his left eye so hard, it was a surprise the blade didn't go out the other way. He screams as he flailed around the room blindly. His sword long forgotten on the floor as he tried to pull out both knives on his face. It only took a second as Arya picked his longsword up and rush back at him. She swung the sword over her head, putting all of her force into plunging the blade to his neck.

The choked breath of The Mountain was loud to her ears and with a scream, Arya finished swinging the blade sideways so hard that it flew right off her grips - cutting his remaining neck further. The clattering sound of the steel sword along with a thump on the floor was heard soon after. The young girl let out a heavy breath as she looks down at the Mountain's head lolling back and his near-headless body crashing down.

She finally succeeds. Her list was finished. She had killed every person in this world that had wronged her family. She was done. But, her heart was still empty and the hollowness was still there. She should be feeling better, isn't she? But, she's not. Not in the slightest.Why?

She didn't have the time to linger much on that thought as movements caught her eyes. The other men had finally made their moves against her. But, it was of no use. They were nothing compared to the Mountain.

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She doesn't know for how long she had walked and how far she had gone. Her clothes were drenched with blood. Others' and her own. She had fulfilled her goal and now she has nowhere else to go. She can go back to Winterfell, but it can never be her home again. Home was supposed to be Father and Mother, her brothers, Jon, Robb, Bran and Rickon. Even her sister, Sansa. But, now they were gone and she was still here,alone.

Her legs gave out and she falls down onto the muddy ground. As she props herself up, a familiar face caught her attention. It was a deciduous tree with a face carved on their barks. Arya knew it too well. It was a weirwood tree. She cannot help but to fixed her gaze at the solemn face, drowning her in its bloodied eyes.

She had long left the belief of the Old Gods from her Father, and The New where her Mother once practised. The only God she knew was Death and it never disappoints her so far. But, seeing the weirwood tree now, a feeling so foreign to her was emerging. Her eyes clouded with unshed tears as the memories of her family played at the back of her mind. She missed her family with every part of her body. They were her life once. But, now living doesn't sound that fascinating anymore.

If only she could see them again one last time. She would give everything she has if she can change the fate of her family. She was even willing to offer herself more than once if it pleases the Gods. As she leaned on the tree bark, close to the Gods face, she pleads for whichever Gods that were listening to give her a chance to save her family.

A whistle of winds blew through the leaves, making an inhuman shrill sound echoes through the forest. It was as if the Gods were replying to her. Arya cannot help but let out a chuckle at her ridiculous thought. There was nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. Her job is done. Her lists finished. Now, the only thing left to do is to rest and perhaps then she can find her peace. She closed her eyes and let the wind became her lullaby to sleep.

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*Year 298 After Conquest (AC) - Old Past*

The throbbing pain inside her head was the first sense that she gained. Then, she felt her skin comfortably warm against the soft material under her. The smell came next. Though the air was not smoky, she can smell the pine as it burns. The crackling sound was proof of that. These were awfully familiar.

Her eyes shot open and she was greeted with the familiar surroundings of her room back in Winterfell. The steel helmet was on top of her side table. She always placed it there, reminding her of the dream in becoming a knight one day.

Arya was lying on her bed and everything in her room was in place, like the last time she remembered. She got up and instantly regretted her decision. The throbbing was making her seeing black spots. But, she shrugs it off and climbs down her bed anyway, slowly striding towards the door and open it. She was greeted with yet another familiar hallway. This place was clearly her home. But, why was she here? The last thing she remembered was the weirwood tree.

Maybe this was a dream. A vivid one.

"Good Gods! Arya Stark!" a disembodied voice billowing behind her. Arya spins around so fast, ready with her stance to attack back whoever it was. "Why are you in your small clothes, young lady?" the voice continues.

The young girl looks up at where the voice was coming from only to find a woman at the end of the hallways. A woman that she had longed for. "Mother?" she asked, frowning. Her voice barely came out as a whisper. She stood silently as the woman, her Mother, Catelyn Tully-Stark strides towards her.

The older woman raised her brow while shaking her head disapprovingly. "Arya, go back to your room and change to proper attire for the day." Catelyn finished. Arya tries to make a sound but gives up when none comes out.

"Well? Go on now. Do I need to get Septa Mordane?" Catelyn orders the second round. When her mother keeps eyeing her, waiting for her daughter to move, Arya's limbs moved on its own. She was so used to her mother ordering her around that her body seems to obey every command she said in response, even after a long time.

The young girl walked back towards her room where she came from but stops short halfway. She looks to her mother's retreating form and pinches her arm so hard that the skin was going to leave a bruise later.

The pain was real. That can only mean that her mother was also real. But, how was this possible? This was all too good to be true. This must be some kind of magic. Whoever did this to her must be messing around with her head. That would explain the throbbing that only worsens every minute.

She turns around and walks back towards her intended path. She was going to end this dream once and for all. How dare they mocked her with this memory. As if reliving it for the past years hadn't been enough.

The hallway soon leads her to the common hall and what she sees makes her stop abruptly, her breath caught in her throat.

They were all there. Her family was here.

"Arya, I told you to change your clothes before you break fast, didn't I just now?" Catelyn's voice was booming along the hall, making her other children stops their meal.

All the faces were now thrown Arya's way and she can clearly see all of them. Her father, Robb, Jon, Sansa, Bran and Rickon.

She heard a sigh coming from the head of the table and there was her father, Ned Stark. "Arya, listen to your mother." He speaks up before shaking his head. His lips were curving upwards slightly. If it were anyone else, they would not notice, but she did.

"Are you trying to get to the kidney pie, Arya?" Robb interrupts not before shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. "I'm afraid, Jon here had the last one." He continues.

Bran let out a chuckle as he starts digging his own meal again.

Arya trails over the edge of the table and finds Jon looking at her with guilt. "Sorry, little sister. I'll ask for Old Nan to cook another." He said with a sheepish smile. A smile that she once dreamt of.

As she swallows and lets all the faces sink into her mind, she cannot help when the tears start to brim under her eyes. And when it finally spilt at the sides of her face, she let them be. How she had missed them. She was worried that she would forget all their faces, but now seeing them again, she could proudly tell herself, she didn't forget. She notices Sansa was looking at her with shock and confusion, probably because of the tears which had profusely streamed down her face now.

Arya concludes then, that this was not a dream. It was all too real. If it is not a dream, it can only mean one thing.

"Am I… dead?" she asked. Her voice was deafening to her. Everyone was watching and staring at her like she was crazy. Confusion and worry etched on their faces.

She heard someone calling her name before the throbbing pain inside her head overwhelms her and swallows her into darkness.