A Future We Would Make Ourselves

By littlelights

Disclaimer: I am not making any money, blah, blah, blah.

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Chapter 14

When the King in the North arrived with his troops to Castle Black, they were greeted by the fierce roars of three dragons and the busy activity of a large camp. The Wall hadn't changed much. It still looked solid and impenetrable. And the Night's Watchmen bustling around the grounds looked cold but otherwise at fighting strength.

Jon, flanked by Ser Davos, Lord Gendry, and Lord Tyrion, were escorted to the queen's tent, a remarkable thing of beauty in an otherwise forbidding place. The four men were ushered in, and found the Dragon Queen immersed in a conversation with a familiar face.

Sitting up in a chair, chatting away was Bran Stark. Whatever the young Stark had said made Daenerys smile broadly. It was a contrast of a blinding golden light of a queen, and the darker, mysterious presence of a lean younger man in free folk attire.

For a moment, Jon couldn't breathe. Here was the last remaining member of his Stark family who was still alive, and the gangly young man held the queen rapt to the sway of his words.

Queen Daenerys nodded to the newcomers, which caused Bran to turn his head with excitement. "Jon!" Bran exclaimed with delight. "You're here!"

Jon couldn't help himself. He moved swiftly through the tent and stooped to embrace the young man like a brother. This wasn't the half desperate sadness of finding Sansa, or the anxious hope of seeing Arya. It was Bran; the intelligent and sensitive boy who'd been surrounded and protected by good people both north and south of the Wall. The last time Jon had seen him, Bran had been unconscious after his fall from the broken tower of Winterfell. The boy he knew was replaced by a lanky youth just a few years shy of true adulthood. It was a marvel, and the grace of having the three Stark siblings back in his life again knitted some of the holes in his chest torn asunder by circumstance and sorrow.

Everything seemed possible now.

"I should ring your head like a bell for the worry you've put us all through," Jon said gruffly. "But I'm too pleased to have you back safe, I'll leave the bell ringing to Arya next time you see her."

"As long as Sansa's there to bind my wounds, I'll let Arya have a go." Bran replied with a shaky laugh.

Jon released him, and gave him a once over. "You're taller."

Bran shrugged his shoulders. "Still can't walk. You have a beard."

"A bit."

"I was telling your aunt, the queen, about learning to shoot a bow in Winterfell and how Arya hit the target from a spot behind me."

It was then Jon remembered to adhere to custom and pay courtesy to the other sovereign sitting nearby. Jon was unsure of what to say in light of everything he'd learned about his past. Lord Tyrion had assured him that the queen was pleased with the recent revelation regarding their kinship. He considered himself to be an ally of the dragon queen, and in the past, they had a cordial relationship based on mutual respect. Whether a familial bond would be forged to the strength of the ones he shared with Robb, Arya, and Bran was anyone's guess.

He shouldn't be this wary of her. Deep down he knew he shouldn't. But part of him was so conflicted about how to approach that particular familial subject, the best device he had to begin a conversation was to incline his head slightly. "Your grace. My lady aunt. I'm pleased to see you again." He said the words with such sincerity, he could see the queen was just as pleased to hear them.

The queen smiled graciously, her face lighting up like a sunny day, and extended her hand. Jon held her small hand in his for a moment. She had such a strong grip for such a small woman. The light in her eyes wasn't anything short of happiness. "Nephew, I cannot tell you how pleased your return has made me. What your cousin Bran has discovered has been the one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. I never thought I would have part of my family back. I thought I would be the last of my line."

"You were not the last until your uncle, Maester Ameon died. I overheard him say once, 'A Targaryen, alone in the world is a terrible thing.' He feared for you being on your own so far away. You were in his thoughts constantly. I've thought about him on the long march here. He knew so much. I wish you could have met him."

The queen nodded, and guided Jon to take the chair next to her. "You must tell me more about him soon, as I know Lord Tyrion delivered unwelcome news. I'm pleased to have you back by my side, my Hand."

Lord Tyrion smiled and bowed. "I couldn't agree more, your grace."

"Lord Gendry, Ser Davos, your company is most welcome here. Please all of you, sit. We have much to discuss." The queen gestured to the chairs around the table. They were pulled away to make a smaller circle closer to the fire in the tent.

"Have you spoken to Lord Baelish recently?" Jon asked.

"I take it you've made a decision which he will not find appealing." Daenerys said astutely.

"I took Sansa Stark as my wife three days before leaving Winterfell. If Lord Baelish is intent on taking the Iron Throne, it will be difficult to do so without the north. I've asked Arya to stay in Winterfell to help guard my wife. I fear for her safety now that we're wed."

Daenerys clasped her nephew's hand gently before withdrawing it. "Lord Baelish is still operating under the assumption that he can apply pressure in the right places to acquire Lady Sansa. He may petition to marry the younger sister, Lady Arya."

"Arya and I were wed a week before the king and Lady Sansa took their vows," Gendry supplied.

Bran smiled. "You married Arya?" He looked at Gendry with an expression of happy disbelief. "That makes you my goodbrother. I never imagined Arya would wed. How did you get her to agree with that?"

Gendry smiled back at his new goodbrother. "It's a long story, which I promised her I'd tell you later."

Queen Daenerys looked pleased, but thoughtful. "Jon, you and Lord Baratheon have thwarted Baelish not once but twice over. Still, we need Eyrie. The Knights of the Vale are fresh and have not fought in more than the battle for Winterfell."

"We could offer his lordship another young lady from the north," Ser Davos suggested. "Brandon Hightower has a sister and cousin who are both of marriageable age."

"Leaving his lordship to have the pick of the two?" Lord Tyrion remarked. "I'm sure they're lovely girls, but the Hightower name is not enough of an enticement for Littlefinger."

"There are the Manderlys," Gendry pointed out. "The older daughter seems to have a good head on her shoulders. She has a good name and an important family."

"Same thing," Lord Tyrion reminded him. "A Manderly or Hightower girl does not equal a Stark. No other family is its equal. And now a Targaryen and a Baratheon have cornered the market on Stark women. There are no other viable candidates in the north, nor from the Riverlands, nor the Reach, nor Dorne to satisfy Baelish's ambition and finding a noble match worthy of his step-son Robin Arryn, the Lord of the Vale is looking very unlikely. Even if the lad is sickly, unintelligent and unaccomplished, he commands the greatest number of fresh warriors in Westeros."

Jon agreed. "And Lord Baelish is pulling the strings."

"A master puppeteer." Lord Tyrion stated. "Baelish wanted a Stark. Marrying Sansa or Arya would have fit into his lordship's plans nicely. There is no one else we can offer which would have suited him as well."

"I don't agree," Queen Daenerys said confidently. "Let's put him close to power to see how he'll bend it. Lord Robin Arryn is of marriageable age, don't you agree?"

"He's young, but not too young," Lord Tyrion acknowledged.

"Good." The queen said simply. "There is someone who would be most suitable for Robin Arryn."

From the expressions on their faces, no one in the tent liked where this line of thinking was headed.

"Who did you have in mind, your grace?" Ser Davos queried.

"It's quite simple really." The queen replied. "Me."

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It was sometime after supper when Jon could finally carry Bran back to the tent the younger Stark brother was sharing with Meera Reed. Ghost padded next to them, happy from a full belly and a fresh kill he found nearby. Whatever Jon's misgivings about Bran sharing a tent with a girl were swept away when he saw Howland Reed's daughter sitting outside the shelter sharpening a spear and binding dragonglass to the tip. Her face was contorted in concentration, quick fingers binding the dragonglass firmly in place. She seemed satisfied with the work and finished it off.

"Meera." Bran yelled. "This is my brother, Jon." He said it so easily Jon had almost forgotten how much it meant to hear it.

"Cousin, Bran." It pained him to correct the younger man, but it was necessary. It was just enough of a separation to keep his marriage to Sansa above board.

"You're my brother in every way that matters." Bran said quietly. "That will never change. It will never change for Arya, and it wouldn't have mattered to Robb or Rickon either."

"It's not the same for Sansa," Jon pointed out.

"And it's good the two of you were never close," Bran shot back. "She never saw you as a brother. It made it easier for you to marry her."

Jon said nothing, but he mentally agreed.

Meera held the tent flap open for Jon as he carried Bran inside. "Hello, Jon. I've heard a lot about you."

"Lady Reed." Jon greeted.

"So formal. Should I call you your grace?" Meera replied.

"Whatever you prefer," Jon said gravely. "You've traveled with Bran a long time in a place where titles have no meaning. Come, Ghost."

The white wolf panted happily has he joined the humans into the tent. Jon ensured Bran was comfortable in a cot and helped him sit upright. The tent was cold, and a small brazier sat unused in the center. Meera looked unapologetically at Jon and stated, "We're used to the cold. We haven't lit a fire since we came here. No need for one as we have shelter."

"Its fine, Meera." Bran was trying to sit up higher in his cot, and submitted to a simple elevated spot. "I'm sure we can start one if we need it."

"For the light, at least," Jon agreed. "I'll see to it."

Ghost sauntered up to Bran's cot, and leaned against it, nudging each man until they obliged him with a scratch behind the ears.

Meera accepted the subtle request to leave. "I'm off to fetch some more dragonglass. You need anything, Bran?"

Bran shook his head. "I'm fine. I have my brother with me."

"Well, then." Meera looked wistful for a moment, the memory of Jojen springing fresh in her mind. "I'll be off."

"Lady Reed," Jon said quickly. "Thank you for caring for Bran. It means more to me than you'll ever know."

Meera acknowledged his words with a nod. "It wasn't just me."

"I know," Jon replied. "But you're still with him. And your father should have arrived by now. He's been missing you."

"He didn't say that," the young woman smiled.

Jon couldn't help but smile in return. "No, but it's what I could tell by the look in his eyes on the ride up here. Go see him."

Meera left the tent with a final smile for Bran, leaving the cousins alone for the first time in nearly a decade.

To Jon, the years between them seemed a wide gulf. But he knew Bran had been able to see pieces of the past and the present, and wondered he didn't see their meeting differently.

"I saw you at Caster's Keep," Bran started. "Meera, her brother Jojen, Hodur, and I were taken captive by the men who killed your commander. I saw you fight them from afar. "

"What?" Jon was astonished. "You were right there? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted so badly to see you, to talk to you. I yelled your name, but you couldn't hear me through the sound of the battle. Jojen said if you saw me, you'd take me back to Castle Black. So I didn't try again. I'm sorry, Jon."

Jon nodded sadly. "He was right. I would have taken you back with me. What exactly did you do to find the Three Eyed Raven?"

Bran described his journey north to find the old Bryndn Rivers, the last greenseer. Of Jojen Reed's death, and meeting the children of the forest. Of training to see visions through the weirwood trees. The vision of the Night Knight. Fleeting the Three Eyed Raven before his training was complete. The death of Summer and Hodor.

Being saved by wraiths by Uncle Benjen.

"He's alive?" Jon could hardly believe it. It has been so long since anyone had seen his uncle. He'd given up hope for his Uncle's return. No one could have survived in the North for so long.

"He's living a half-life, Jon." Said Bran sadly. "The children of the forest put dragon glass in his chest to keep him from turning. He would have been a wraith when he died had it not been for them. Now he fights the army of the Night King when he can, picking off the roaming wraiths north of the Wall. He saved Meera and me, and made sure we made it back to safety. Uncle Benjen can never come back as long as the Wall is standing. I'm so sorry."

"He rode out to patrol north of the wall not long after I arrived to take my vows to the Night's Watch. He never came back. Part of me hoped he was holding on. I wish I could see him, talk to him one last time," The sadness in his words touched the heart of Jon's younger cousin. "I want to ask him if he knew about my mother."

"He's your one relative who's stayed the same, hasn't he?" Bran remarked. "Father became your uncle, and Aunt Lyanna became your mother. But Uncle Benjen is still the same."

"Aye, and I'm grateful. He was only adult who was always happy pleased to see me. When he called me nephew, he said it so proudly."

"And he would be here if he could, but the magic in the Wall keeps him north." Bran acknowledged. "I could see the regret and sadness in his eyes, Jon. He wishes things could be different. Uncle Benjen is fighting to keep the white walkers at bay. He's bought us all precious time."

Jon nodded. Ghost lounged against him, pressing his cold nose into Jon's chest.

"Did you really see her?" Jon asked quietly, not daring to hope. "My mother. And Prince Rhaegar. Is it true they loved each other?"

"Here, take my hand, I'll show you."

Jon looked at Bran skeptically. "Show me what?"

"Everything."

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