Bran was sitting near the weirwood tree, thinking. What he has seen… This could very well change the destiny of the Seven Kingdoms in a matter of seconds. But he needed to find more. The curiosity was too overwhelming. It made no difference to him that Jon was actually his cousin, not his half-brother. He loved him the same, even more actually, as now he knew how Jon must have felt for all those years, being considered a bastard. He almost cried thinking about all the moments his mother, Lady Catelyn, mistreated the boy, forcing him to eventually leave Winterfell and join the Night's Watch. Jon's place is not at Castle Black, Bran considered, but on the Iron Throne in King's Landing. But even as Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the southron lords would probably not accept a bastard on the Iron Throne. Bran needed to find more. He owed that to Jon.

"Meera… Please, help me!"

"Again, Bran? Remember what the Three-Eyed Raven said!"

"Don't worry, I… Now I can control it. It's not like before."

"Fine. But be careful, Bran!"

The young Stark smiled at Meera. She was lovely and kind. His feelings for her were strong but what kind of life he can offer her? He can't give her children, he can't move without help. He wouldn't want her to become a glorified nursemaid or a servant. But now, what he feels doesn't matter as much as what he knows, and what he will know now. Helped my Meera, Bran approached the weirwood tree and touched it. His brown eyes became white again and he felt like he was thrown in a vortex. Bran opened the eyes and found out that he wasn't in the North anymore but in a luxurious room, somewhere in a southron palace. In front of him, a young man with long white hair and purple eyes, dressed into a red and black doublet with dragon motifs on it was sitting at a table, drawing something. Sitting on the other side of the table was a knight in armor and a white cloak with brown hair and brown eyes. Bran immediately recognized the knight as the man that fought his father at that tower in Dorne, the birthplace of Jon Snow. He was Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, Sword of the Morning.

Prince Rhaegar…

Before Bran could approach the table to see what the white-haired man draw, Arthur Dayne arose from his chair and started to speak:

"So…"

The Targaryen looked at Ser Arthur:

"So… what? If you have something to tell me, Arthur, just tell me already. I can feel how you're judging me with your eyes. I prefer you to do it with your words instead!"

"I can't dare to judge my prince. But I must say… Was it wise?"

The prince smiled and reached for a pitcher full of wine and two glasses. He poured some for him and for Ser Arthur.

"Drink, Arthur!"

The Kingsguard knight obeyed immediately. Both him and the prince sipped their wine.

"Tell me, friend, before you were a Kingsguard, at Starfall, have you loved anyone?"

"Of course, my prince! My father, my mother, my older brother, my little sisters."

"No, no, you misunderstood me. Have you loved anyone as in… a woman?"

Arthur Dayne blushed but Rhaegar asked him a question and his vows compelled him to obey any order of a Targaryen:

"Yes… When I was a boy of twelve!"

"Ha, ha! That must be that Dornish blood of yours. Tell me, did you even had hair down there?"

The prince started to laugh while his friend was visibly flustered. But he had to answer, nonetheless:

"I presume I had, my prince. This girl… she was the daughter of one of mother's handmaids. She was older than me, I think fourteen. Her eyes were beautiful, green like an emerald and her smell was of roses and fresh mountain air."

"This is why I like you, Arthur. You can be a romantic when you want to be!"

"Yes, my prince."

"So? Go on!"

"Agh… One night, she slipped out of her room and into my bedchamber. She said to me that she loved me and she wanted me to make her my woman. I knew what that meant from my brother Roland whose greatest pastime was to tell me what kind of things he did with girls… I told her that would be unjust and dishonorably but when she touched me…"

"You said fuck honor and went for it!"

"Yes. I'm not proud to say it but I took her maidenhead that night and the next day, my parents found out. My father was proud of me, said that now, I was truly a man but my mother started to rave. She was very religious, you know? So, she convinced father to send me away to be fostered at Sunspear."

"And that's why you disapprove of what I've done?"

"I don't disapprove. I simply believe it caused so much grief for nothing."

"You exaggerate, my friend. You know, sometimes I wonder why you can't be a little more like Jon."

"How, redheaded and angry?"

The two started to laugh:

"No, no. A bit more… laid back, you know, relaxed."

Bran knew from his history lessons with maester Luwin that the man they were talking about was Jon Connington, the former Lord of Griffin's Roost and the Mad King's Hand who lost the Battle of the Bells. Many said that Connington was the one who ended any chance for the loyalists to win against Robert Baratheon's rebels as he refused to burn down the Stoney Sept, instead preferring to find and fight the storm lord all by himself. Bran continued to listen to Arthur and Rhaegar.

"So, Arthur, I have an idea. Look at this piece of paper!"

"It's a… map? Or a blueprint for something?"

"No, it's Winterfell. The outline of the courtyard, the towers, the lord's chambers, as Jon remembered it."

"Jon was just a boy when his father took him to Winterfell."

"So what? The castle couldn't have changed much since then."

"Maybe but… Why are you so obsessed with Winterfell?"

"Well…"

Rhaegar left for the balcony. Both Arthur Dayne and Bran followed him. Bran had to be careful not to influence them in any way as even a touch or even a whisper could change the history as everyone knows it. From the balcony, Rhaegar looked across King's Landing and sighed:

"I would give anything just to hold her in my arms now. Even this… burden of being a prince."

"Not just a prince, a future king."

"Then the burden is even higher. Sometimes I just want to throw myself from the highest window in the Red Keep, just to end it all…"

Suddenly, a voice was heard from inside the room:

"Then we would have to rename the city to Prince's Landing."

A tall knight, a Kingsguard as well, with long brown hair and a bat motif on his white armor approached the balcony.

"You and your humor, Oswell…"

"What?"

Prince Rhaegar started to laugh. Oswell Whent was well known across the realm for cracking jokes even in the direst of situations.

"That was a good one. Now, listen, lads. I have something to discuss with both of you. I have an important scheme in mind, but I want you to swear to me that you will not tell anyone, not even your sword brothers."

"Of course, my prince!" said Arthur Dayne, "but why the secrecy?"

"Because they won't understand just as much as you would!"

"Tell us, prince Rhaegar!"

"I plan a little expedition to Winterfell to gaze upon Lady Lyanna."

"Again with this? Since you named her the queen of love and beauty at that damnable tourney, you can't think of something else."

"I agree with Ser Arthur. Don't forget that she is betrothed to Lord Robert Baratheon, your second cousin."

"Robert would never love Lyanna as much as I love her. How many bastards does he have already? He can't keep to one bed and Lyanna has no need of a whoremongering brute. Besides, when I saw her and her eyes… I knew it… she loves me too."

Arthur Dayne sighed:

"You know I would follow you to grave, but can't you reconsider?"

"No, I have to see her face again."

"Then it's done. We will follow you North. But tell me, my prince, do you plan of just gazing upon her or do you plan to, you know…"

"Please, not another joke!"

Before anyone could say anything else, Bran awoken. He was back in the present, back near the weirwood tree.

"Bran, are you alright?"

"Yes, Meera, don't worry!"

"What did you see?"

"The beginning of it all!"