A/N: I don't own a Song of Ice and Fire, the Hunger Games, or the song this fic is named after. Please tell me I'm not the only one who thought Bran and Rue would be cute together.


It was true that Bran had been having strange dreams later. Very strange dreams. However, until now none of them had involved a very dead-looking girl seemingly appearing out of thin air. If it had been anyone else who had appeared like that, he woud probably have alerted the whole castle, but this girl was too young to possibly be a threat. In fact, she reminded him of his sister Arya: small and slight, wearing boy's clothes from head to toe... well, she looked like he imagined Arya might if she had dark skin and light brown eyes. And if Jaime Lannister had suddenly taken a violent dislike to her. Now, where did that thought come from?

"Who - " he asked, at the same time the girl asked, "Where - " They stared at each other for a few seconds, until she looked away.

"I'm Rue."

"Bran. Bran Stark. You're in Winterfell." He noticed she had given no last name. Possibly she was a bastard and did not want that to be revealed. Or possibly she didn't know what her last name was - it happened sometimes, when people grew up without their parents. Whatever her last name was, she did not look too good. She had blood splattered all over her clothes, and tear stains on her cheeks.

"No offense, but you look like you should be dead."

"I should be dead. I have no idea what I'm doing here." The girl winced. He didn't blame her. It couldn't be comfortable knowing you might very well be a ghost. She seemed perfectly solid, though. He remembered the stories Old Nan had told him about the dead coming walking. But they were supposed to have blue eyes, cold, piercing blue eyes, and they were only supposed to live on the other side of the Wall.

"Well, there will certainly be some questions asked when everyone wakes up and they find you here."

"We need to tell them something." Her response was immediate. He supposed it was only natural for her not to want people to know the truth. Noone would feel easy around her if they did. Yet somehow he trusted her. Too much damn resemblence.

"First of all, we'll need to get you into some proper girl's clothes. And you'll need to clean yourself up a bit. Call yourself Rue Martell. We can pass you off as Father's ward: You left off before hearing news of his death, and once you did you were almost here so you didn't want to turn back. You got lost and this was the first room you came to. It won't work on Mother or Robb, but it'll be a while before they come back from the Riverlands and by then maybe we'll think of a way to get you back to where you came from."

"I - I don't want to go back."

"You can't stay here forever. Put on one of Arya's dresses, they should fit you. Third room across the hallway. Then go to the kitchen - down one flight of stairs, you'll see it immediatly - and scrub your face a bit." She nodded wordlessly, then hesitated.

"Will you come with me?"

"No. Can't." He offered no more explanation than that and Rue sensed he didn't want to say any more, so she didn't force the issue. Then she gave a sudden giggle.

"This Arya you speak of will get the shock of her life if she wakes up to see a random stranger making off with her clothes." Bran couldn't help but grin back, but then his face saddened.

"She won't. She's not here."


Ten minutes later she was back, looking much more presentable in a pale rose gown, with her hair combed back neatly and left loose over her shoulders. She had lit a candle so she could see, but it was starting to burn out. She could barely stiffle a yawn, and neither could Bran.

"Stay here for the night, at least. Tomorrow we'll figure out what to do in the long run."