Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or any characters/places/terms from it.
AN: After reading about the Bran time traveler theory for TWOW and ADOS, thought it would be a cool idea to write a fanfiction about it! Also requested by one of my friends. Takes place post ADWD and maybe even ADOS. Also, if you're a fan of The Walking Dead please check out my other fanfiction No Longer A Legend. But, for now, please enjoy.
The cold winds whistled through the crow's cavern, meeting with the harsh sounds of Skroth. The man sat on the weirwood throne; his feeble legs wrapped in dead roots. They pierced his shins, grasped his knees and made his feet immobile. It made no difference… his legs were always useless. After so many years, he still remembered the shock of losing mobility and freedom. You'll be a knight, or one of Robb's banner men, father had said. But that was years ago, everyone Bran knew was dead. It was the year 299 when father died, the beginning of winter. It was year 402 now, and winter was far from gone.
The yells grew louder, and deafening crash rattled the cavern walls. Hodor's frosty skull shifted in place and the crows squawked endlessly. Cold, Cold, one screeched. Trees don't feel the cold, Bran thought as he peered at his mostly wooden arms.
The crow grew quiet as Bran became one with the avian. He flew through the weirwood tunnels to find Leaf cross-legged and muttering chants near the cavern entrance. Her once bronze skin had faded to a pale white and the green foliage of her cloak shifted to the deathly colours of autumn. Although bony, her eyes were still two glass balls.
She recognized his presence. 'Lord Brandon… the ward-.'
Bran squawked and perched on a root. She was right. The Others had broken through the only magical barrier they had. Only barriers of stone were left, and the White Walkers' rams would turn them into dust.
There isn't much time left, Bran thought, now… I have to do it now. The warg squawked again, and Leaf's eyes widened.
'It's too dangerous,' Leaf insisted. 'Meddling with time… it is a costly thing.'
Bran agreed, but it had to be done. In truth, he should have gone long ago, back when the world still had a shred of summer left. Summer.
'Leaf, you must stay here and report any changes… by heart tree.'
'Lord Stark-.'
'I'll be in Winterfell. Use the Winterfell weirwood.'
Leaf stood up and nodded. Another crashsounded.
I'll be able to see Father, Mother, Robb, Sansa, Arya… Rickon Bran thought. Brandon Stark shifted his gaze into his own eyes and called to his direwolf. Leaf ran into the room, wet with tears, clutching a white stick.
'Take it,' she said. 'If anything goes wrong.'
He nodded and took the stick. The now grey-furred Summer jumped onto his lap and Bran closed his eyes. The weirwood roots tightened around his body and the white energy of time consumed them whole.