Yeah, I don't own asoiaf, funnily enough. I'm not good enough at killing people.

This takes place in A Storm of Swords I: Steel and Snow, after Theon takes Winterfell, but before Bran escapes and it burns to the ground. Spoilers! I haven't written for GoT before, so hopefully this is good enough. Enjoy! (And please R&R. Thanks x)

"Did I do right, Maester, to yield to Theon? Or should I have fought?"

"You did what you must, Bran. That was courageous."

Bran snorted unbelievingly. "Courage. I have no courage. I'm not brave like Robb, or strong like Jon. I'm just Bran. Bran the cripple. Bran the broken."

"You do not believe me." The Maester said simply. "Very well. And you are right – you are not Jon. You are not Robb. You are Bran. And that is a wonderful thing to be.

I shall tell you a story – Nan says you like the ones with blood best. But I think that it is the Bran who longs to be someone else who says that. I think the true Bran likes stories that matter best. I think he likes stories that mean something to him, even if he doesn't know why.

I happen to know one such story. It is a story about a simple being – not the bravest or the quickest or the best, but the one who looked around him and saw the magic and the wonder in the world."

"Once upon a time, when the woods were young, there were creatures who were full of magic and wonder. They protected each other and slept under the roots of a colossal yew tree. One day, whilst the ice storms were raging outside, the oldest of the creatures poked his head out of the hole. 'Brothers, sisters,' he said, 'The times are hard and we have very little food. We must venture out into this storm, or we will surely starve.'

His two sisters cried and begged for him not to go, but the eldest creature, who was strong and lean, merely shook his head and replied 'If I do not leave now, then we may starve before this storm is finished. This is the Winter – we can never be sure when the sun will come again. I will journey to the East, to see what I can find.'

And so the eldest brother left the hole and ventured out into the woods beyond, promising to bring back fresh meat. He walked for many days, trudging through deep snow, his thick coat protecting him from the rain of ice. After a week of walking, he found a cave in which a doe and her fawn had taken refuge. The creature killed the doe and her fawn, before setting out again, continuing to head east. If I leave the doe and fawn in the snow, the eldest brother thought, then the cold will preserve their bodies, and I can easily find them again on my way back home. With my strength, he thought, I will be able to carry much more than a doe and her fawn.

After another week of walking the eldest brother found a badger's set, which he raided, and once again left the bodies outside in the snow. With my strength, he thought to himself, I will be able to carry much more than a set of badgers.

After yet another week of walking, the eldest brother happened upon an injured wolf, which he jumped upon and killed. He decided that he would return to his brothers and sisters, and give them the wonderful food which he had killed. With my strength, he thought, I will easily be able to carry the wolf, the set of badgers, the doe, and her fawn.

So the eldest brother turned around, and headed back west. On his way, he came across the badger set which he had buried in the snow. He uncovered them all, and continued on his way. Soon enough, he came across the doe and her fawn hidden in their cave, adding them to his load, he set out on the last leg of his journey. However, in his hurry to escape the freezing ice storm, the brother had not rested, for nowhere was as warm and cosy as the hole beneath the yew tree. His burden grew heavier and heavier, until finally the eldest brother succumbed to exhaustion and the cold, and collapsed. The ice soon froze his body, and the eldest brother moved no more.

A month had past, and soon the other creatures began to grow restless. Eventually, the middle brother, who was proud and vain, decided to set out. 'Since my brother has not yet returned, let us assume that he is dead. I will journey to the West, to see what I can find.'

And so the middle brother left the hole and ventured out into the woods beyond, promising to bring back fresh meat. He walked for many days, trudging through deep snow, his luscious coat protecting him from the rain of ice. After a week of walking, he found the remains of a barn in which an old fox had laid down to die. I will not strain myself, he thought, by dragging a dead fox along with me. His fur would dampen my fur, and make it dull. I shall leave him here to die, and find him when I return.

After another week of walking, the middle brother found a dove's nest, which he raided, and left the eggs under the tree. I will not strain myself, he thought to himself, by carrying the eggs with me. They would rot and make my fur smell. I shall leave them here, and find them when I return.

After yet another week of walking, the middle brother happened upon a frozen rabbit, which he dug up and thawed. He decided that he would return to his brother and sisters, and give them the wonderful food which he had found. I have found a mighty feast, he thought, befitting one of my stature and looks. They will revere me.

So the middle brother turned around, and headed back east. On his way, he came across the dove eggs which he had concealed beneath the tree. He uncovered them, and continued on his way. Soon enough, he came across the old fox in the barn. Adding them to his load, he set out on the last leg of his journey. However, being proud, vain and foolish, the middle brother stopped to admire his reflection in a frozen lake. To his horror, the harsh weather had ruined his fur. In an attempt to wash away the snow sticking his coat together, he made a hole and jumped into the lake. But in his haste he had forgotten how cold the water would be. The ice soon froze his body, and the middle brother moved no more.

Another month passed, and soon the other creatures began to grow restless. Eventually, the youngest brother, who was wise beyond his years, decided to set out. 'Since neither of our brothers have yet returned, let us assume that they are dead. I will journey to the South, to see what I can find.'

His sisters laughed at his impudence. 'You?' They asked, 'You are the least of all of us. You have neither strength like our eldest brother, nor beauty like our middle brother. You are small and defenceless. You do not speak except to put your opinion in where it is not wanted. You should not go. You fail in everything. You would die, and we should be left here alone and defenceless. Not that you provide any defence – small and weak as you are. Why, even we would do better than you.'

But when the youngest brother asked why they did not go, they merely shook their heads and made excuses. 'We are ladies,' they said, 'and so it is not our job to fetch the food.'

This did not seem right to the youngest brother, but he heeded their advice, and settled down for the return of his two older brothers.

After a week more of waiting, the youngest brother decided to follow his head and heart and set off to find food and shelter. His sisters let him go, muttering that he should not be so foolish, and that if he wanted to throw his life away, so be it, but if he walked out of the hole, then he could never come back. The little creature left anyway, for although he was not the biggest, strongest or prettiest creature, he was the cleverest. If I stay, he thought, then I will surely starve. If I leave, then I have a chance of finding a better place. I shall go South for that is where the weather is warmest, and I shall find a new family to share my life with.

And so the youngest brother left the hole and ventured out into the woods beyond, promising leaving behind the laughs and teasing comments of his snide sisters. He walked for many days, trudging through deep snow, the ice freezing his paws. He took refuge in holes beneath tree trunks and gaps in riverbanks to protect him from the storm. After a week of walking, the weather began to ease. The ice rain stopped, and the snow became less deep. This was the right way to come, he thought, for the woods seem nicer already. If only my family had ventured with me.

After another week of walking, the clouds burst and the sun shone bright. The youngest brother nuzzled the snow, and saw soft grass growing underneath. This was the right way to come, he thought to himself, for the sun is shining and the birds begin to sing. If only my family had ventured with me.

After yet another week of walking, the snow melted away, and flowers began to grow. The youngest brother stopped and stared in awe. Having come from the cold, cold North, he had never seen such bright colours or abundance of life before. He decided that he would rest the night beneath a great oak tree, whose leaves were broad and green. This was the right way to come, he thought, for the woodland is peaceful and horrors have not reached it. There is no cold here. Here is the Summer and the Spring, and when the Winter does come, it quickly fades. The sun shines out even brighter, for the darkness is just a passing thing. My family would not have been happy here. They would have reached out for the beauty and destroyed it, for they know only the way of the dark. I am glad that they did not venture with me. With that thought, the youngest brother, wise beyond his years, dug a hole beneath the oak tree, and settled down to sleep.

And he lived happily ever after, until the end of his days."

Bran looked up at the Maester. "But why did the youngest brother win? He wasn't the strongest or the bravest. Why didn't the eldest brother survive? He was the eldest – why didn't everything belong to him?"

"Because he was foolish and greedy – he had strength, yes, but strength alone is not enough. You need courage too." The old man replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"But he did have courage. He was the best of all the creatures. You said so yourself."

"He needed courage of a different kind. The courage to do what is right, no matter the consequences. The courage to stand up for those who can't, and the courage to fight those who seek to oppress. The courage to walk away without fighting. The courage to love. The courage to see what is truly there, not what you are told you see.

The youngest brother had the courage to seek out a better life, rather than live the one he was told that he must have. He had a choice, even if the others could not see it. Brute strength and beauty can wither and fade, but wit will never leave you. He knew what could do, and what he could not. He knew that if he stayed and mindlessly obeyed orders then all would be lost. He had the courage to leave. He did not run away. He was not afraid of death, or wanting of glory. He did what he had to. Sometimes duty can take courage that you did not know you had.

Yielding to Theon took courage, Bran. A lesser man would have fought. And then he would have died, leaving no-one to protect the common folk. You wielded. In many ways, you are braver than Robb, braver than Jon. You are certainly braver than Theon.

Know your limits Bran. Know your limits and stick to them. You may not be able to walk, but in many ways that is good. Use your wits. Be the youngest wolf, not the oldest. Strength comes in many forms, Bran. Very rarely do men have more than one.

Because, sure enough, Winter is coming. And we must be strong."