The Boy in the Tree.
Summary:
While in the cave with the three-eyed raven, Bran starts having visions about his family and comes to the conclusion he can actually intervene and change their future. In each chapter we follow the ghost of Bran interacting with the different members of his family trying to stop them from making terrible mistakes which will lead them to their doom. Will he succeed? Will he be able to save his family?
Note 1: The narrator of this story is the spirit of Bran that will be travelling in time and space while his real body remains at the cave.
Note 2: Each chapter will be like a story on its own since Bran is trying to change things in the life of different members of his family. There is no continuity between the different chapters, and whatever changes Bran causes to one timeline will be erased when the chapter ends. The new chapter will start from the beginning again.
Note 3: Warning! There will be scenes of graphic violence and even implied (not graphic) rape. But then again, this is a show where a girl was burned alive, a woman and her baby were eaten by dogs and a man had his head crushed like a grape ...
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1) The boy in the tree.
A boy is lying in a cave. He is sleeping next to a tree. No, wait! He is not sleeping, his eyes are open, but he cannot see me – his eyes are white! And he is not next to the tree. He is within the tree! His arms and the roots are one and the same. I can't tell where the boy ends and the tree begins. He looks tall but very thin. His clothes are dirty and shabby, even torn in some places where I can see he has outgrown them. There's something odd about him, about his posture. His legs. His legs do not seem right. Too thin, too bent. Something about the boy calls to me. He looks familiar…
The boy is not alone. His sole companion is a young girl with a net and a spear for weapons. She also looks tired and malnourished. Maybe they have been here for a while. Or maybe they are resting after a long journey. No, she is not resting. She is watching the boy. Sad worried eyes which dart between the boy and the entrance of the cave. I wonder what she is thinking. Why does she feel the need to protect the boy? Who is she? Who is this boy? Why am I drawn to them?
It's me! I can see him. I can see myself! Suddenly it all comes to me: my family, my father and mother, my siblings, my house, my wolf. Summer! The wolf? Where is it? Why can't I see him? Where are his siblings? I can't feel them. They are either all gone or too far for me to sense them. Where are my siblings, the children? Are they all the same? Am I and the wolf the same?
Images flood my brain: a dying mother wolf with six puppies, a father and a mother proudly looking at their children, a fat King and his beautiful Queen, the Queen and her brother, a window, an arm reaching out to me … the ground. The ground is moving, it's getting closer. Or am I getting closer to the ground? I'm falling! And then darkness…. I can hear voices now:
"Bran has had an accident!"
"He won't make it!"
"I will miss you son, but I have to go. Duty calls"
"I can't do this Ned. Please stay"
"Goodbye little brother"
"He will never regain the use of his legs"
I know these voices. I can see their faces in my head: father, mother, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Rickon, Jon, Theon, Maester Luwin, Old Nan. … How do I know these names?
I am assaulted by more images and more visions. They are very clear and very vivid. Some of the faces look familiar and I recognize some of the voices, but I do not know these places. Have I been there before? It's all very confusing.
A broken man kneeling in front of an angry crowd. There is a girl sobbing near him and a blond boy with a smug smile. "Ser Ilyn, bring me his head" the boy says. And the girl faints.
A wedding. People dancing and playing. No, they are not dancing, they are not playing. They are fighting; and they are dying. "On my honor as a Tully on my honor as a Stark" a crying woman begs. But her voice is not heard.
A long journey. A girl disguised, her long red hair gone, now tainted black with grief. I can't hear her name, but I know she has changed it. Stark, Lannister, Stone, Bolton. She's home, but she does not feel at home. She's crying. She longs for happier times.
Another girl. She fights. She survives. But she does not love, nor is she loved. She has had many names and faces, none of them real. She is no-one.
A scared little boy on the run and his companion. Is she his mother? She behaves as such, but they both know she is not. Where are they? I can't tell. They are lost.
A young man. Black hair, black beard, black clothes. He holds a great title, a great honor. But his companions do not think so. He has fought many battles, but he falls to the ground in a pool of blood. Has he perished in battle? No, but he falls nonetheless. All he sees is darkness. More black. Then red. Then white. He is back, but he is lost.
Pain and blood. Missing limbs. Agony and humiliation. A young man who no longer feels anything. He has been reduced to nothing. He has become nothing.
.
.
.
I can hear the dogs barking and the wolves howling. The Gods speak to me: the Old Gods and the New. The trees call me; their essence runs through my veins.
I am the wolf. I am the boy. My name is Bran Stark of Winterfell and now I can see everything. I know these people. They are my family, and I can save them.
