Note:
Set during the Nazi time. Bran and his family are just some of the jews being hunted down. Not historically accurate.
Warnings:
Major character death, bad language, boy's love and probable.. ahem.. gay sex.
Please don't continue if you're not into that sort of thing.
Enjoy. :)
No wings for flight
Bran was dreaming.
Somehow he was a wolf, running through the fields of endless fog, hunting his kill. In the distance he felt that there was something waiting for him. A light. Green like moss, bright yet somber. It was quite complex. He could never comprehend the depth of it's light. He was so magnetically drawn to it that he ran towards it faster. Faster and faster until he felt like he was flying. He felt almost free.
But the sky changes and the clouds are tainted red like the blood of his kill. But somehow he knew this was more sinister, more foreboding. Then the full moon shines it's disc of gigantic white through the endless scarlet. But somehow he has no desire to howl to it- he almost fears it. More so when the black sign appears on it's face. Then he feels, he knows that it was the sign of death. - The Nazi Flag
In the distance the light lay forgotten and overshadowed.
He felt lost without it - then he was falling.
Falling towards the swirling sky of red, white and black.
Bran wakes up to the smell of burning and the loud screams he hears outside. Screams both of terror and cruelty. A mix of men with harsh, sadistic voices and weeps of torn, mourning women.
Their mansion was in total chaos, stewards were running to and fro trying to pilfer the last of their items before they flee. Their kitchens and guest rooms were stolen of their simple refineries. Anyway, whatever that's not taken now will be taken away by different men later.
In the confusion, Bran realized what was happening. They were here. They were finally taking him and his family. Immediately he flee through a back window.
Not caring if he was only in his pajamas and indoor shoes. Not caring for the biting cold and the deathly snow and the hard drop to the ground. He had to run to the midnight darkness before they catch him.
In his fall he sprained his angle. But he only cursed away the pain and kept running for the distant tree line that surrounded their town. He was fast. He was about to reach it.
But he wasn't fast enough. His sprained ankle slowed him. And a firm hand to the collar stopped him and flung him backwards when he was mere inches away from the tree line.
"Haben sie, du kleine saukerl!" A tall arian man said. "Got you, you little bastard!"
His eyes were cold and menacing as he towered over Bran who was now desperately clawing at the hand on his collar. The man gave him a hard backhand slap that sent red sparks through his eyes. The man then dragged him by the collar back to their mansion.
Bran could feel the fabric of his shirt digging into his throat as his collar was pulled with all his weight being dragged along. It made him dizzy and he stubbled to get his feat under him, barely managing with the quick pace of the man and his now erratic breathing. His sprained ankle was no help too.
Small drops of red painted the clear snow crimson. He realized between ragged breaths that it was his blood coming through his nose and ankle. Thinking it was only sprained now would be positive thinking.
Finally he was once again flung into the common room of the mansion. He landed heavily on the marble floor. Immediately he started gasping for air. Through the sparks in his eyes, he could see his other family members being forcefully brought from their rooms by more uniformed men and taken to an outside truck parked on the snow and packed full of bloody screaming, wailing people. It was a terrible sight, Robb and Arya were screaming in outrage, shouting curses. Rickon and Sansa were helpless and confused. Ned and Catlyn were complying with glum submission trying to calm the others and get to their children.
Jon was lucky. He had already travelled to further north of Germany for his new job last year.
And Theon. Where was Theon?
Bran had barely anytime to see all this as he was kicked in the gut, lying on the floor.
"Sie denken, Sie können Vergangenheit durch mich bekommen, nicht wahr?!
Huh, du kleiner saukerl, du arschloch, du kleiner Scheißer!
Sie sind nur eine Ratte aus dem Gesicht der Mutter Deutschland ausgerottet werden! " The man screamed as he continuously kicked Bran.
"You think you can get past through me, huh?
Huh, you little bastard, you asshole, you little shit
You're just a rat to be exterminated off the face of mother Germany!"
In the distance he could hear crazed men singing 'Deutschland uber alles' - the theme song of the Nazis - 'Germany over everything'.
Bran went into a fetal position but it barely seemed to help. The man seemed intent on kicking him to death. Bran could only cry and groan in pain. Next the arian started stomping on Brans legs, over and over until Bran intensely screamed when something crunched in both his legs.
His father finally heard this through all the commotion and turned to him, he struggled against his captor towards Bran's tormentor.
"Sir! Sir, please he's only a boy. Sir he means no harm just, please. Please let this one go." Ned Stark said in german, voice heavy with desperation. The words coming out rapidly.
"Dieser kleine saukerl versucht, von mir zu entkommen …" The aryan lazily reasoned, then spit on Bran. "This little bastard is trying to escape from me …"
"I know, I know but please, Sir," Ned yanked one of his arms from his captor. With it he tore the silver brooch from his own chest. The symbol of his family line - the gray direwolf. He placed it on the man's hand. "He didn't mean it, let him go."
The aryan paused for a while, considering the bribe. With one last kick to Bran's already misshapen legs, he went away, muttering curses under his breath. Soon he would join the men outside in singing their putrid song.
Ned tried to help Bran stand up. Bran howled in pain. Sweat and blood ran though his whole body.
"Father? It hurts." Bran pants, barely making it out as a whisper. "I can't feel my legs." He can't feel his wings. Tears leaked from his eyes without his notice. They have been severed from him.
Ned wanted to assure him it would be alright. But Starks don't give false promises.
Ned despaired and wanted nothing more than to stay there and tend to his son's wounds, but he knew he had to get to that truck before his captor decided to drag the both of them. He strengthened his hearth and his will, he lifted the already unconscious Bran off the floor and carried him to the truck. Further into their doom.
The only thing Bran remembered as he drifted into nothingness was the sharp pain and the name on the Nazi officer's name tag.
Lannister
This is my first fanfic. Please excuse me if I've made any mistakes. Reviews would be much appreciated.
Mostly rated M for language, but may contain more M worthy things later.
Thank you of reading.
