A/N: Apologies for the terrible delay with this chapter. It turns out July was a much busier month than I expected, but hopefully we're back on track for regular updates from now on. And I'm sure you've all noticed the shiny new cover art for this story! It was created by the ridiculously talented Giulia at The Black Cat, honestly my favourite artist of all time. If you'd like to check out more of her work, please check out the links in my profile. And now, back to chapter 4!


CHAPTER 4

"Bran, over here!"

Bran was steering himself carefully into the playroom when he heard Big Walder's enthusiastic shouting. He could see the familiar blocks of their Minecraft world racing by on his screen.

"I've started on the animal pit already. You better hurry up if you want in."

Bran hesitated. "Actually, Walder, I don't feel like it today."

Big Walder's mouth gaped open, and he stared pointedly at the iPad resting on Bran's lap. Bran angled his chair away hastily. "Maybe later?" he said, as he pushed his wheels in the opposite direction.

He was already eagerly searching the room for someone else. In the corner where he'd seen him last, there he was, just as he said he would be. Jojen was immersed in his tablet, resting it on his drawn-up knees. Bran was struck by how frail he looked. In dreams he seemed so much more solid.

Jojen pulled out his earphones as Bran slid his chair into the empty space beside him.

"Look at this," he said by way of greeting, offering Bran the screen.

Bran skimmed his eyes over the walls of text in the open browser. "Dream-walking?"

Jojen nodded, scrolling up and down the page seemingly at random. "It's an old practice, dating back to the Children of the Forest. This article says they could deliberately achieve a dream-walking state." He paused long enough for Bran to read a paragraph. Beside the text was a beautifully illustrated picture of the Children – or at least, an illustration of how someone thought they should look. Bran had seen similar pictures in his old storybooks back at home.

Not for the first time, Bran found himself reflecting on how much Jojen actually knew. As his eyes wandered over the words, his thoughts wandered over to the boy beside him. He seemed to be watching Bran for a reaction, perhaps even with a held breath. It seemed to Bran that the article might be nothing but a gateway to a conversation Jojen was too awkward to begin otherwise. He could empathise with that at least. "It says there are different levels of dreaming," Bran said, once he had finished reading.

"Many of them. By falling asleep again in your first dream, you can progressively move through deeper levels, to infinity."

"That's never happened to me."

"Nor me. But it's probably a good thing," Jojen shrugged, settling back into his chair properly. "Apparently if you go too far, you can get lost in the higher reaches of your own dreams."

Despite Jojen's warning tones, Bran found that the idea of being lost in a dream wasn't entirely horrifying to him. At least if that happened he'd be stuck in a form that could walk. "So you think that's something we could do?" Bran said, lowering his voice so as not to be heard. Big Walder was still watching their conversation intently, accompanied by a death glare.

"Probably not," Jojen conceded. "But it's interesting, don't you think?" He barely paused for an answer, but the flash of something in his eyes meant that Bran didn't really mind. In all the times Bran had seen him, dreamlike or otherwise, he had seemed somehow hollow. His green eyes were always nothing more than deep stagnant pools, but just then, there was a ripple of excitement under their surface. "What it does say is that when you dream, your soul leaves your body. Given what happened with Hodor, I think that sounds like a clear explanation of your powers."

Bran thought about that day, about how it felt to fly free around the room. If souls were real, tangible things, he could easily believe it had been his that went on such a journey. It had been an astounding thing – until he saw how scared Hodor had been. He could see the boy's face now, eyes blank and lips quivering. Hodor hadn't been back in the playroom since then, and Bran would be lying if he said he hadn't missed him.

As transfixed as Bran was, he didn't notice a nurse approach where they sat. She spoke suddenly, and he jumped in alarm. "Sorry to interrupt, boys." From a tray in her hands, she offered Jojen a small paper cup with his name scrawled on. "Here you are." She waited long enough to see him swallow the tiny tub of rattling pills before swanning away to hand out more.

Jojen fell silent. Bran wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, but he busied himself with his iPad, mindlessly opening and closing apps until Jojen was ready to speak again. He found himself scrolling through his pictures. Most of them were of his family, and he couldn't help but grin back at their smiling faces. His father was in them too, looking as content as the rest of them. Those were the days before King's Landing.

Appearing out of thin air as she usually did, Osha was suddenly at his side. "How are we today, little lord? Sleep better last night?"

He nodded, giving her a small smile. These days he was sleeping more soundly. In fact, he was usually entirely unconscious by the time Osha appeared for her night shift, burying down beneath his thin blankets long before lights out. Whenever Jojen was in his dreamscape, sleep became entirely more appealing.

Osha shot Jojen a look. It wasn't a friendly one. "Open your mouth," she commanded suddenly.

Jojen glared back, and for a moment Bran thought he might protest. But he did as he was asked. Osha grabbed his chin and leaned forward to inspect him more closely. "Lift your tongue."

Once he had, Osha released him, seeming far from satisfied. She eyed him suspiciously as she walked away. When she was out of sight, Jojen flashed a grin and pointedly slid something into his pocket. It was his pills.

"Jojen-" Bran started, nervously.

"I know what you're going to say. And no, I shouldn't be taking them. If I have any chance of leaving here, it's without these dragging me back down."

"Don't they make you better?"

"They're making me worse," Jojen said darkly, turning back to his tablet. Bran didn't know enough to argue with him. He didn't know what the medication was for, or what it did. But he knew that if he skipped his painkillers like that, the spasms in his back would have been unbearable.

"Is that your family?" In a deft change of subject, Jojen was suddenly pointing at the picture still lit up on Bran's device.

He nodded. "Yeah, my mom, my dad. That's my big brother Robb, and that's Jon – though he's only my half-brother really – my sister Sansa, Arya, and the little one's Rickon." He paused over his younger brother's face. He hadn't seen him for six months. After what had happened, he didn't know if he'd even be able to face him ever again. Bran was in the picture too, smiling, standing, a protective arm around Rickon's shoulders. Some big brother he had turned out to be.

Jojen studied the picture for a long while, a hint of a smile on his face. "You have a big family."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have a sister," Jojen said, turning his tablet around to show Bran a picture of a young woman with dark curly hair. The Jojen in the picture with her was more robust – more like dream-Jojen – than the frail boy sitting there in the playroom. Both siblings were wearing huge grins. It didn't look like the picture had been taken that long ago. "That's Meera."

"Do you get to see her a lot?"

Jojen shook his head, a cloud of sadness resting heavily around him. He lingered over the picture for a moment before closing it. "She comes when she can."

From the way Jojen said it, it sounded as though those times were rare.

"Anyway, I want to try something," Jojen announced suddenly. "Based on the article we just read. You should try and step into someone else."

"What, here? Now?" Bran exclaimed, shooting an uneasy glance around the playroom. "I don't think I can just do it whenever I want."

"I think you could, if you tried. If your soul leaves your body when you dream, maybe you can do it while you're awake too. Maybe that's what you did with Hodor."

"I don't think you get it. I didn't choose to do that. It just… happened."

"Well, make it 'just happen' again," Jojen insisted, putting his tablet aside. "Try it on your friend there."

Bran turned awkwardly in his chair to see that Jojen was pointing at Big Walder. He'd apparently relented in the staring contest he'd been privately having with them, and had sullenly returned to playing Minecraft. "Why him?"

"You need someone without a strong will, someone whose soul will move aside to make room for yours. His strength is being sapped away by the cancer. He's dying."

"You can't say that, Jojen! The nurses told him he's getting better."

Jojen gave him a sceptical look, as though daring him to say that he really believed that. "Trust me, he's dying. I've seen it."

"How? What have you seen?"

"Listen, if you're going to do this, it needs to be now. We don't have much time, they'll be kicking us out soon."

"Fine," Bran said. It seemed wrong, if what Jojen said was true and they were taking advantage of a dying boy. But it wasn't as though this was going to work anyway, so what would it hurt to try? "What do I need to do?"

"First you need to relax, and focus. You need to be in a peaceful enough state to emulate sleep."

"I wasn't peaceful last time," Bran frowned. "I was panicking."

"Then it was most likely down to a strong surge of emotion. But right now you don't have that external influence pushing you on. So you need to relax. Close your eyes."

Bran sighed and leant his head back in his chair. He shut his eyes tightly, and tried to will away all conscious thought. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's not working."

"You need to focus on him," he heard Jojen say. "Focus on what he's doing, what he's feeling."

"How can I see what he's doing if I've got my eyes closed?"

"Use your mind's eye," Jojen explained, as if it was just that simple. "It's your third eye, Bran. You need to learn to open it."

Bran didn't have the faintest idea what that meant, but nevertheless, he tried again. He emptied his mind, folding himself in the darkness of non-thought. There was a crack in the black, where a tiny sliver of light shone through. Is that what Jojen meant? That was a question, and it blurred his focus. He dismissed it, concentrated instead on moving towards the tiny glimmer of light. In the dark space, he didn't have a body, or hands to pry apart the fracture, but he imagined doing just that. It resisted, as though it was sentient. It pushed back at his metaphorical hands as though trying to ensnare them inside itself. He realised he was focusing too hard, forcing it. He stopped trying.

Then the crack flew open.

Light rushed in and a wind whistled by him, as though he was travelling at high speed. He heard the beat of wings. When the light subsided, he found he was staring into a familiar Minecraft landscape. For a moment he thought perhaps he'd fallen right inside the game. Then he lifted a pale white hand and touched it to his smooth head. The skin he wore was not his own, and yet he knew all the secrets contained within it. He could feel the growth pulsating inside his skull, sapping away the very essence of him and pushing him further into the Stranger's bony grip.

The pressure made him panic. He found himself standing quickly, desperately afraid. The iPad fell from his lap as he thrashed. Somewhere nearby, someone else was screaming, but no one in the playroom had opened their mouths. Only Jojen was watching, a triumphant grin on his face. He tried to call out to him for help, but he couldn't make Walder's mouth work properly. Maybe this was what Jojen meant when he said you could get lost in dreams. Maybe he'd gone too far. Maybe he'd have to remain in Walder's body as it slowly wilted away, bit by dying bit. Jojen was walking towards him, and he wanted to tell him no, to go back and shake his crumpled body over there in the wheelchair and wake him up from this terrible nightmare. Jojen's hands rested instead on Walder's shoulders, but he never would have known they weren't his own.

"You need to calm down or you'll lose yourself."

Someone else was trying to fight Jojen off, but Bran held firm. Seeing those moss green eyes gave him his one and only anchor to his existence as he knew it. As himself, not as cancer-ridden Walder. He was Brandon Stark. His name came back to him, and his possession weakened. Suddenly that other person inside him was sobbing, and the body was too. Jojen hooked two frail arms around it and pulled him close. Bran could feel the warmth of his body.

"It's alright," Jojen was saying. "You're okay."

And suddenly, he was okay. He was Bran. Sick and disorientated and crippled, but himself again. From a distance, he could see Jojen with his arms still around the sobbing Walder.

At the sound of Walder's tears, Osha ran to them, forcing them apart. "What did you say to him?"

Jojen was the picture of innocence when he stared back at Osha, wide-eyed. "He was upset. I was just trying to comfort him."

Bran watched a wave of self-composure flood over Osha. He had never seen her so obviously biting her tongue at a patient before. She pulled Big Walder under her arm protectively, where he shivered and cried into her chest. "It was in my head!" he wailed.

"No dear heart, it's in recession now, remember?"

She thinks he means the tumour, Bran realised with a jolt of guilt.

Jojen reached out for Walder again, a genuine concern on his pallid face, but Osha pulled him swiftly out of reach. "Just… just go back to your business."

Jojen retreated without another word, returning to Bran with a knowing smile on his face.

"Will he be okay?" Bran asked, the words thick in his mouth.

"He'll be fine," Jojen replied, his eyes alive with excitement. "But you'll be even better."