Bran was seated with his hands gently folded in his lap in the maester's turret in Winterfell. He was sore all over and covered in angry red scratches and purple bruises. But he was joyous and wore his scratches and bruises as badges of honour, badges that he had proudly earned while training with sword and training on horseback.
Two weeks had passed since he had been able to walk again and two days since he had started to train and yet at times he feared it was all a dream and he would wake up and find all this a vagary and himself a cripple. He pinched himself and immediately regretted it as he winced in pain but couldn't keep the smile off his face that came unbridled. No. This wasn't a dream, this was all real.
All this had started the day the red comet had stained the skies. Bran had asked Septon Chayle about the comet while they were sorting through some scrolls snatched from the library fire. "It is the sword that slays the season," he had replied, and soon after the white raven had come from Oldtown bringing word of autumn, so doubtless he was right.
He had heard some of the other men say it's an omen. It means that Robb will win a great victory in the south. Osha, the wildling woman, had brought to Bran even more whispers about the comet. She had said she heard some other fools say it's Lannister red. Means the Lannisters will rule the seven kingdoms before long. Heard a stable boy say it's the colour of blood to mark the death of your father. She had ended with her own words. She had said that the stars didn't fall for men. That the red comet meant only one thing - Dragons. But for Bran the red comet would forever be synonymous with the day the two men had arrived, men who had helped him walk again.
The day that Bran shall never forget.
It was evening and Bran was in the maester's turret below the rookery talking of children of the forest. It was one of Bran's favourite places. Luwin was hopelessly untidy, but his clutter of books and scrolls and bottles was as familiar and comforting to Bran as his bald spot and the flapping sleeves of his loose grey robes. He liked the ravens too.
The door opened and Alebelly stepped in.
"Maester Luwin, m'lord prince," he said slowly, "Two riders are at the gates. They want to see you, m'lord prince."
Luwin frowned. "Do they carry banners?"
"None."
Luwin's frown deepened. "Did they give their names?"
Alebelly nervously bobbed his head as his eyes wandered from one face to another. "No, but they . . . they said . . . they are here to cure broken Bran, m'lord prince."
"Did they?" Bran asked, his voice full of hope.
"They did, m'lord prince."
"Did you hear Maester Luwin? They say they can cure me."
But Luwin didn't share in his optimism. His frown if possible deepened even further. He looked at Bran sadly. "I've treated you myself Bran and there's nothing that can be done further. I've half a mind to turn them away. Nevertheless, I shall see them. Bring them here."
Alebelly nodded and left.
"I shall fetch Hodor. He will take you back to your bed chamber. I shall see these men alone."
"No. I will stay here and hear for myself what these men have to say."
Luwin peered at Bran and let him be. He knew it was one battle he won't win.
Few minutes past, the door opened again and two men stepped in.
One was an old man with white hair coming out of his nose and ears. He was short and squat with enormous hands, a thick neck and a strong jaw. A ponderous metal necklace of two dozen heavy chains wound together covered him from throat to breast. The links were forged of every metal known to man: black iron and red gold, bright copper and dull lead, steel and tin and pale silver, brass and bronze and platinum. Garnets and amethysts and black pearls adorned the metalwork, and here and there an emerald or ruby. He bore a ring, rod and mask made of Valyrian steel.
The other was a young man. He was tall and muscular. His emerald eyes shone with life and wisdom. Long raven locks that fell to his shoulder framed his handsome face. He stood proud and carried himself with grace. On his left shoulder was a beautiful snowy owl that made Bran's face bloom. The owl took to wings and nestled in the rafters lost to Bran's eyes.
"Archmaester Marwyn," referenced Luwin, his voice coloured with surprise and sham.
Marwyn made no mention of vilipend in maester's voice whether to avoid any awkward situation or simply too used to it Bran could not tell.
Bran had of course heard of him. Marwyn the Mage they called him. People said that Marwyn kept the company of queer people and spoke in queerer tongues. They whispered that he believed in many curious things and had travelled the lands beyond the narrow sea and studied with warlocks and shadowbinders. Maester Luwin had not talked of him kindly and didn't appeared pleased now to have him in his turret.
It would perhaps take someone quaint to heal him, Bran thought, someone like Marwyn the Mage perhaps.
"Maester Luwin," Marwyn said politely, "Allow me to introduce my travelling companion and a man of many many talents - Harry Potter."
The young man bowed low.
Luwin pulled two benches and beckoned them to seat. Marwyn sat down but Harry wandered off towards the bookshelves.
"Alebelly tells me that you say that you can cure Bran," Luwin started courteously.
"We can," Marwyn was curt and concise.
"With all due respect Archmaester I myself have treated Bran and I do not believe that there's anything more that can be done."
"By men like us I could agree. But there are those with abilities far beyond ours, abilities that we can only dream of. By such men there's certainly more that can be done."
"Ah, yes . . yes we all have heard of your outré beliefs, your escapades with shadowbinders and warlocks. Perhaps, it is a mage that you bring to Winterfell," Luwin said, his eyes bright with amusement.
"Why yes, it is indeed a mage that I bring to Winterfell," Marwyn said, his eyes equally bright with amusement.
Luwin certainly had many choice things to say about mages but instead he said, "We all dearly wish that Bran could walk again but it just isn't possible."
"We all think many things impossible until we witness otherwise. For instance, things like that," Marwyn graciously waved his hand towards the table in the middle of the room.
Luwin and Bran as one turned towards the table and what they witnessed shall forever change their understanding of possible and impossible.
Every piece of parchment folded and open, the bottles of ink full and empty, quills feathered and broken and books thick and thin all have sprouted little lean legs and hands and were dancing on the table.
Suddenly a scroll of parchment formed lips where there were none and whistled. The other pieces shuffled to sides and cleared a path in middle. The scroll of parchment broke into a trot and halfway down the table jumped and somersaulted in mid air and landed neatly on its feet. The others hooted and laughed and clapped and the sound that should had not even be a whisper was loud and clear.
The scroll of parchment raised a hand in air and other on its midriff and turned from one side to other and bowed. And then all together turned to face Luwin and Bran and Marwyn and bowed as one and then the lean legs and hands vanished and all fell back into their places as if they had always been that way.
That little display had put all scepticisms of Maester Luwin to rest and he had happily showed the duo to their rooms.
The following weeks the three had worked tirelessly to cure Bran of his affliction and Bran had walked again.
"A raven flew in earlier today from Castle Black." Luwin drew a letter from his sleeves and handed it to Harry.
Harry and Marwyn had stayed in Winterfell on the behest of Maester Luwin to assist in the governance of the castle.
"Is it from Jon?" Bran asked expectantly.
"It's from Lord Commander. He asks that we send more men to man the Wall," Harry said gravely as he read the letter.
"But we have no men to spare," Bran said exasperatedly.
"The cold winds are rising and the dead rise with them," Harry read out loud from the letter, his voice graver. "Lord Commander says that one of these dead men attacked him in his chambers."
"Aye, the dead did," Marywn said, "And it was only the timely intervention of Jon and his direwolf Ghost that saved his life. A fact for which Mormont is most grateful for he gifted his family's ancestral Valyrian steel sword - Longclaw to Jon."
Marwyn had spies throughout the Seven Kingdoms from the Wall to the Dorne and across the Narrow Sea in the free cities and the Slaver's Bay and far beyond, spies that he had arduously cultivated during many long years of his travel.
"The attack on Mormont by undead is but one of many vexing tidings that I have heard from the Wall. There had been reports of numerous Free Folk villages found empty and wildlings amassing, the discovery of wights in the Haunted Forest and the disappearance of Benjen Stark as well as other rangers. Night's Watch has ridden out in force to the lands beyond the Wall. The expedition force consists of three hundred brothers: one hundred from the Shadow Tower and two hundred from Castle Black - almost one third of the whole manpower of the Watch. Mormont himself commands the expedition."
"With such ill tidings from the Wall, more men to man the Wall will certainly put my mind at more ease but there is little that we have to offer in way of men," Luwin said. "Lord Commander would have certainly written to other great houses throughout the seven kingdoms. Perhaps, they will aid the Night's Watch."
A bitter laugh escaped Harry. "To most of the kingdoms, the Night's Watch is but a dumping ground for misfits and mongrels and nothing more. The Night's Watch protects the realm from snarks and grumpkins is what they say. Why, few months past you yourself would have dismissed these tidings as nothing but northern superstitions.
Luiwn bowed his head, the truth of the words heavy on his heart.
"So, no. No southern lords is gonna send even one man to man the Wall. The war will only further ascertain this. And it's not only the Night's Watch that needs more men. The Winterfell and almost every northern holdfast from White Harbour to the Last Hearth could do with more men and not to say the war that King Robb wages in the south. But the fact is that we have no men to spare, we are over extended as it is.
"And yet for all our laments of lack of men, we need only look to garner more men. There are hundreds of families in the Gift, families that the Night's Watch will no longer be able to protect from the wildlings. We can lure them inland with promise of food and shelter. That's for men closer to home. There's more away from home whom we can lure to the North. The war has uprooted many families, families that make way for King's Landing. The King's Landing has shut its door to the war refugees. The promise of food and shelter can lure those here as well. This should sate our thirst for men for a while."
"With the Riverlands torn by war, the supply of food to the North has come down to trickles and with the treasury stretched to the breaking point there is little scope for buying food from free cities; I'm not certain we can make good on promise of food. Besides more men, we also doubtlessly need more gold." Luwin lamentably noted.
"Aye, we doubtlessly need more gold. It will fetch us food and supplies and if need be sellswords." Marwyn agreed.
"But the North has very few goods of value to trade with?" Luwin observed.
"Something that can be remedied." Harry drew a pair of rolled paper from his belt and unrolled those on the table, others leaned in to see. "I've drawn drafts of war galleys and fishing boats and sailing ships. These drafts are with lots of improvements on the extant sea faring vessels. The Umbers have forests of tall pine and old oak. Lord Manderly has shipwrights and sailors in plenty. Together they can float vessels of these designs and then we can trade these vessels with free cities, especially Bravoos. These will fetch us more gold than any good that we have here in the North and not to mention benefits that we ourselves will reap."
"Trade of ships and boats. A novel idea and one with immense potential." Luwin perused the drafts, curious as small squirrel. "I see. You draw nicely. If these drafts can be truly realised then the fortunes of the North will change forever. I will at once send ravens to Lord Umber and Lord Manderly."
"Meanwhile, Archmaester Marwyn shall ensure that families of the Gift and the southern lands know that they shall find food and shelter here in the North." Harry prompted.
Marwyn nodded his consent and all departed.