Chapter 2: Child of the Sand

Nameless

She was sitting beside the cool mud-baked walls on the other side of which lay the inner fishery district belonging to the older dockworks westward under the winter night sky cast over a Braavos that slowly came to slumber. Nameless turned around, and found the Wolf haunting over lesser mortals that buzzed around him like persistent bloodflies by the door; decrypt, malnourished men with schemes and diseased whores with paid-passions eyed the prospective suitor in hopes of perusing his apparently deep pockets while the Wolf bartered with the Master of the establishment, aloof of all others around him.

The tall man in question had both hands over the counter, his torso leaning in while brandishing a set of well-maintained dentures as he eyed the barkeep who scowled behind himself, scratching away at his sweaty neck and then turning back with a yawn and some words of resignation to the quiet man who waited opposite him. The Wolf stood around for some time longer, stubborn in his ways; she remembered while watching him, a familiar stare like one in the scenery of snow from years gone.

Nameless bit her tongue, the metallic taste of her life essence engulfing her taste buds as pain radiated out her jaw; soon sipping some of the ale to make it go down better. She turned back; the man was walking to her now, still looking over and around him during which he eyed each soul individually, counting two scores and four in the two-storied establishment they proffered, her having already spotted all those around her, finding them all wanting. Except...

The man appeared before her, calling for her attention as she looked up, "so, do you still eat, Lil'? Gods now, I knew you'd grow into a narrow, buxom one looking nice in those fancy dresses, someday." He toasted while standing, bringing a few cheers from the people who were soon becoming part of her ongoing torment.

She eyed them past the Wolf, quickly bringing back the hushed silence of before.

Nameless looked back at the man, always was a runt of the litter, a greater one than even you, she recalled, involuntarily taking a sip of bloodied ale down her gullet once again, her fist clenched under the table, not an inkling of pain on her serene, glamoured face. Serenity once wholly reclaimed; she re-analyzed the man as a threat this time, finding familiar motions in examining his crimson cloak heavy with a plethora of amenities no doubt. And that ring, Nameless reminded herself, taking a bloodless drink this time as the man came to sit having once conversed with the locals after her outburst.

Reclining back slowly he sighed, and then turning to her, "So, what will it be?" He asked with a ready smile as he met her like an old friend.

She spoke at once, wondering whose words those had been, "Pie." she replied with a sole word.

A pause on an expressionless face and then a nod, reaching his hand out and calling a scullery maid who came to him at once, the Wolf smiled fakely, the moist-eyed woman in heat left unfulfilled as she sulked away, looking a frightened way towards her first before she turned to leave. Right, Nameless remembered, starting to take a sip of the ale as she saw a man's wrinkled hand below her holding the tankard, wide and worn by age. Not a girl's at all, not now anyway, and perhaps never a girl's ever again.

Once the people around them were more accustomed to their presence; she spoke, asking the first of her many questions, speaking first she asked, "You can see through my glamour?" Arching an eyebrow at the man as she enquired.

"Yes," he replied, "And that absolutely horrid suit," he replied once having eyed her with a smile, a quiet tisk like the kind he used to make whenever he found her in some mess back in their tiny selves years ago. She straightened, starting to speak when he interjected first, "Father, Lil', really?" he took a sip, hiding a shrug behind the wooden tankard, "Don't you think that's a bit direct?" He enquired casually over the curved rims about their dead father as he enjoyed the ale.

"I wear whosoever is asked of me." She said simply.

"Impressive" he chuckled, putting the tankard down as he leaned in now, interested, "So it's like poetry, huh? Daughter kills father, father kills his son", he shook his head, mirthful eyes meeting her as he leaned back again, one leg coming over the other below them, "Jaqen write that one for ya?"

She was left wide-eyed, he knows you killed him. You failed, Nameless, you got caught, frowning his way as he shook his head once seeing her aggravated expression, starting again he began once more, "Look, " he came close to her, his hands on the wooden surface as his other reached quietly into his coat lapels, the ring coming before his eyes and soon a twist of his wrist allowed her vision of the silver jewelry and its intricate craftsmanship.

"Was supposed to be good luck from her, oh well," He said wistfully, grinning like a fool as he remembered something lurid on that face. Nameless was left staring as the scullery maid soon returned with two plates of the same food; two half-cut pies with chunks of whole mixed meat, a common meal for the docks, she remembered. A few minutes passed, the food slowly disappearing before both the famished kin as she chewed quietly, always eying his hands whilst they weren't still, once they both finishing the Wolf spoke up, "It's quite something really," he began slowly, "eating through a glamour, I mean. Jaqen taught you well, Lil'", he smiled after uttering the odd comment so casually passed. He doesn't fear you, Nameless then realized, seeing the man enjoy his food at no expense of her presence.

"Don't call me that, I'm not Lily," Nameless said irritably, quickly catching her lips at mentioning her common, old name rather than the one the Wolf had called her. No doubt her tongue would be left bruised senseless by tomorrow, she grimaced.

The man smiled, reaching for the ale as he spoke, "Oh yeah? Then who are you?" He asked into the air, looking her way finally.

"I am no one." She quietly replied, meeting his gaze.

Bran sighed exasperatedly like he had heard this all before, "Okay, Lady No-one", he twisted his wrists, the ring soon in his palm again and then around his thumb as he spun the ring gem side-up on the smooth, wooden surface. Letting it spin for a second then reaching it with his two forefingers and turning it around first before speaking, "I know someone who wants this, badly." he reached the object back into his crimson cuffs before waving it a few times before her, looking around once then speaking softly, "You're not the first to try, but you are the first I'm having dinner with, the others weren't quite so pleasant." That easy smile forming effortlessly on that face she was being reminded of.

She flushed, seeing the man now grown so large over the years, and yet find that grin to remain; one that could still make her heart skip a beat. He had been so thin once, a lanky boy atop the big white tree or over the tall towers ruined generations ago. She remembered losing herself in his dark, slanted eyes over a horizon of snow, the northern breeze forcing them close when-

"Hey, sister?" The wolf called out, breaking her vivid reverie.

She looked up; alert at once, "Your magic, it's..." he said while he pointed with his finger slowly, looking around soon after to make sure no one paid them any mind.

Of course, Nameless had done it again. Sighing inward she placed the ladle down beside the recently brought-out soup bowl, "Excuse me, I shall return as her." She replied with an even tone, no pleasure in the act she was about to perform; slowly turning as a few heads rounded her way while she quietly made her way past the main door, exiting into the nightly streets of Braavos.

Torrhen

11 months ago

The Lord of Winterfell had his eyes closed, a quandary he worked out in his head as the Maester waited for his command, where was Elly? He found himself wondering, in Winterfall's long hall sufficiently lit under candled scones circling a metal chandelier above as he looked about to find his usual attendants among the mass of lesser sworn men who wore swords and shields marked in the gray on white Stark wolf. Tor looked around, turning left, winter really is coming, he mused absentmindedly as his eyes fell for a second over the glass panes lining the eastern wall; a frost creeping in slowly, getting deeper by the day it seemed.

He turned to the chain-laden man, bringing his mind to the matter at hand, "Maester," The Lord began, "Any news of Brandon?" He asked seriously, no better time than now with Elly not in attendance he figured.

The room was returned to the silence of prior once he had spoken to his advisor, all looking at each other as Tor scanned each of them in turn. The maester finally spoke, a bow as he went on, "No word from the six kingdoms, my lord." he fumbled into his wide cuffs and pulled out a letter, "Lady Rhaenys has assured us that none of that description has been seen in the sands to the south as well, the King having personally seen to it, according to her words naturally." The balding man ended with a caveat.

Tor nodded, a hand to his chin as the armrest supported his pondering head tilted to one sight, now substantially weightless without the crown poking his forehead, duty is heavier than any crown, son, Tor remembered, eyes glazing over his dominion before him as he heard an old voice inside him suddenly. He spoke once having considered some more, "I see. So then what of Essos? Said he was going north, a ship from gulltown bay and he could be by Braavos in days. Already out into the land, perhaps." he worried out loud.

He turned to the housemaster, "Master Talen, what of the horse that was found at the Wall?"

"The same one, me 'lord, I know them as one of my own girls, it's the one I gave you.", he nodded with a bow, I'm sure."

Tor took it in slowly, remembering the last time the two brothers had met. He had feared more from the man; his mission to subjugate the crown-princess and take her maidenhood had sounded an outlandish plan, still did. As a king back then he had been left wide-eyed and shocked, calmly wondering at his proposal once the younger of the two had explained. It's the dragons, brother. That's how they pop one out. Get one of those for the House, be wise safekeepin' when winter comes, he remembered his narrow-eyed wink, a moment spent in silence and then off on the horse, the same horse that was the subject of inquiry in the hall before him.

"So he went by foot then? Or another horse?" Tor turned to the Maester as he asked, "Send word to the Watch, and see if there are any missing horses or mares, maester. Any by moletown or the hamlets surrounding as well." he rose; bringing the meeting to an adjournment, "Someone must have seen him." He brooded quietly out the stone passage leading into the inner rooms and hallways of Winterfell.

Tor was already deep within the nocturnal groves adjoining the castle walls by the time his feet had led him to the pond that stood by at its center near the great heart tree, the Lady of the Winterfell sitting quietly beside the still waters, head bowed low in prayer, Tor saw as he came close. "My lady?" Tor asked gently, coming around and kneeling beside her, he saw her pondering pale face turn towards him.

"Tor", she turned to him, smiling brightly his way, looking tired still. He came close, taking her hands as they both sat on the floor of dried leaves, she went on after they had settled down, "After Theon died," she spoke softly, "he never did get a burial, a proper one as is custom for the Kings of the North." she turned to him, waiting on his word.

"Yes, you're right, Elly," he said feebly, "I had forgotten in all the commotion, he shall have a grand feast." he proposed with a smile. Elayne nodded, then turning to the still pond before them both, eyes glazing over as she went into one of her reveries beside her husband. His mind went back to the maester's words as well, seeing a still surface like glass in the quiet enclosure; not seen at all, he wondered, thinking about his brother, a smile growing lightly over him, how do you do it, brother? He only questioned, finding himself back near the Winterfell clearing once he had decided that Bran could not be found if he didn't want to, so be it, brother.

He was quietly wondering if he should really broach the topic of Bran at that point, considering how things had ended between them; his brother and their dead father. He turned to her, still lost in her own world when he pulled her out with a press on the palms; she turned, coming with a question to meet his gaze. "Elly, the Queen's invitation just arrived today; King Aegon is throwing a feast as proceeding ceremonies after his crowning. All High Lords have been personally invited," he smiled, "including the northern host." He finished.

He saw Elly nod slowly after listening for a while, turning to the pond as she made calculations wordlessly in her mind, "We will need to leave soon then, the feast will naturally end before the first sowing, yes?" She asked, turning pointedly to him.

Tor agreed gently, feeling out of his depth in these southron matters, Elly more in familiar waters right about then, the fresh-faced oldtown girl got up, seeming visibly animated, "I should confound Septa Tamerlyn in that case, start the preparations at once." A smile then for him, a quiet embrace and show of affection telling him they'd be okay before she turned to leave. Tor nodded, rising as well as he called out to Elly once more.

"I was looking for Jon; he was supposed to be here somewhere…" Tor asked about the boy to his mother; an agile child of nine summers old who already resembled the brash undertones of a younger Brandon by then, he grimaced with an inward smile.

"He's a spirited one, like a certain uncle of his." she eyed him knowingly, looking a strange way at him, Elayne spoke once more before moving on from the weirwood grove as she came very close, "Is he safe?" She asked, looking genuinely concerned, he could not tell how glad he was to see her so.

He was left quiet, considering for a second then nodding, "I'm sure he is, wherever he might be." He saw Elly nod, coming close and giving him a light peck on the check.

"I'm glad, husband. For that its worth, he was and is a hero, though the songs will never sing of him or his deeds, the North remembers." She ended hauntingly.

Tor only stared, watching the southron women utter ancient words; he nodded in return, smiling meekly as she receded into the corners around the winding paths out the forested enclosure. Tor sighed, turning back to the pond, feeling a rustle on the wind then, a low blow that whispered his name. Father, is that you? The cool winds spoke no more, a silence Tor found himself in the dusking day.

Bran

The Drakebane reached for his temple, the pain still a light throw of drumming against the inner walls of his mind as he tried his best to hide it on the surface. He looked around, the low chatter and shuffling of nondescript people who wouldn't stab him if he were to take a doze right about then, or he thought.

He turned to the door, the food having been finished by now as he waited for his sister to come back. Lily, he still couldn't believe it; an assassin for the secret Braavosi house of the dead, the Faceless Men, he wondered. Already finding his sister to be adept in the arts, martial and otherwise, it seemed. How many years had it been? He wondered, thinking back to older, more naive days in the snow. He reached for the ring he had gotten a year back, from inside dark crimson sleeves the three-headed dragon appeared a certain strange in the low candlelight off scones stuck on the wall nearest him.

His mind went back to the silver-haired fawn he had fleeced it off, her flushed face in anguished ecstasy still fresh in his memory; the ring a reminder of her sweet embrace for the end of days, as he had originally figured. Bran sighed, feeling the still healing scar behind him as he brought down his arm from before him, the last attack had left a decent-looking scrape on his back, now they know I can bleed, he smiled. Well, it might just be time to show them what he was really capable of, he decided.

The door to his right creaked open, revealing a Lyanna Stark that entered the room in dark, tightly wound trousers with a darkened skirt under a gray, padded gambeson cut off at her arms, dark sleeves and blacker gloves over them, her left hand held the hilt of her blade to her side. She came quietly, a few onlookers trying to catch a glance of her but Bran could tell from his worsening vision that she was trained on him from the second he came into her vision.

She sat down quietly, the sword resting more casually on her lap below them as she looked at him, a frown growing as she asked soon enough what was eating away at her, "How did you know, about Theon Stark?" Voice even and face a mask unreadable; Bran focused on her, or tried to at least, meeting those hazel eyes that had been once so afraid of the man she now so casually invoked, reaching for the ladle and taking a few spoonfuls of the still-warm soup when he didn't reply at once, still sitting through the drumming against his inner skull, feeling he was up to his neck at that point.

"You think I forgot this?" Bran said with a glee however outwardly, revealing the pin-like blade down from under his side that made Lily look down, at once furious, ladle down and hands on the table leaning in, "Give it back." She said darkly, a whisper of death reserved only for his ear.

He wrinkled his face into a slow smile before speaking wistfully, "Now hold on a while, I gave this to you didn't I?" He said simply, "I was there you know? Over the wall and above the tree, both times sister," he smiled,'' I saw what you did, honoring the old gods. They get so much done through us, don't they?" He trailed off closing his eyes.

He went quiet, feeling a shudder over his skin as he felt the pain resurface fully now, eyes seeing four in place of one now when he reopened them, barely holding on at that point. Lil's eyes were somewhere else, considering his words. He reached for the tankard, missing it by a foot as he saw four of those before him as well, Gods, what is this? He moaned, trying to keep his head up until he was forcibly pulled into sleep's staunch embrace quite abruptly.

Visenya

11 days after crowning

The eldest dragon-prince examined the far away mud-baked huts over the hills west and north out before her eyes, from here King's Landing was still a distant vision in the minds of few; nothing but a simple midland out hundreds of leagues every which way. Most men could not see what she did over the murky expanse, ordinary men did not envision greatness, and they only recognized it once in its inescapable embrace has permeated the whole.

Dark Sister sat against her hip affixed to the belt around the mail she wore, feeling none of the sway of a breeze smelling of earthy soil that wafted inward with the westward wind. She turned, moving away from the veranda over the mansion she now presided over, the makeshift palisade walls and wooden pools latticing the structure to her left where the beginnings of the Red Keep were soon materializing with each passing whole moon. Here in the mansion; she was alone, a single housekeeper woman working only when the sun was up, who now soundly slept thus.

Under the nocturnal shroud over the hills, she turned downward, moving through the large stairway into the main hall exiting her chambers. Slowly moving out into a chill outdoors, feeling herself in her mail and wool as she looked around, Vaghar was still close, high enough to remain unseen above gloomy clouds fast forming to bring summer showers again.

She turned and walked south, ignoring the humid weather of her newly forming castle. Moving past the transient tents set up beside the hard-packed road that led down to the tent of the Spymaster who was the object of her quarry. She walked into the officer camps and turned left at a clearing near a large tent set up against a winding stump colored white. Wierwood, no doubt, recently hacked off on a request from the newly crowned King of Westeros. She walked in, finding the inner folds of taut layers over wooden posts six in pairs of three that held up the sizable interior with a thick carpet below, The man was over his desk as usual, busy in his act of scribbling.

Vi moved aside, going over to the wine table and pouring herself a cupful, slowly moving to the man and taking a seat beside him by a cushioned chair that was set out to a window slit into the thick drapes around them. "Is it done?" She asked, taking a sip as she turned his way, finding his fingers caught in a freeze as that too small handwriting was too minuscule to make out from where she sat. What do you have to hide, spider? Vi wondered, bringing one leg over the other, folding her battle skirt and making her mail click and clank a bit.

"The work is still ongoing, my Queen. I would advise patience." The bald man replied.

"You said that the last time I came here." She said softly, "Before five assassins went missing, this sixth one, what is his progress?" She asked quickly after with a stare.

"A her, your majesty." the smooth-faced eunuch turned to her, the page he wrote upon folding quickly into already made creases as he dropped the quill back into the darkened pot, "She has just been contacted, I am yet to receive the word but I know this, the man is still in Braavos. We will have word shortly; I promise you this, my queen."

"I see." she replied, rising as she rounded over to a wooden bookshelf by the corner of the tent, tracing her mildly painted fingernail over the worn bindings as she spoke on, a menacing hint in her voice, "Find the ring, Spider. You can imagine the cost of failure, yes?" She asked darkly.

"Yes, your majesty" Malphis replied, Vi, turned and found the man nodding from where he stood beside the chair by then. Vi gestured with her head, moving around him as he followed her wordless beyond the drapes into the cool, darkening sky.

She ended a few steps before the white stump when the silk draped man paused on her call, round head turned down to the dead hunk of wood rooted to the earth. Visenya spoke a question, to begin with, "And what of these, hmm? How many know, Spider? Expect you, of course" she asked with a smile as she saw the man sweat and wonder with eyes set towards the starry sky upward. He spoke soon, revealing names and possibilities, more names and possible co-conspirators in the Wolf camp than on hers, which was good.

Bunch them up, all in one place, she mused, turning to the eunuch again, "I see, then send a pigeon to Winterfell at once, a feast in the Serpent Manor, all the High Lords bound under my brother by the oath of fealty, under the second queen's seal, spider." She eyed him closely.

"As you command, my queen." the spymaster bowed deeply as he receded into the darkened path down into his tent quietly. Vi sighed, feeling a restless Vaghar far above the skies of the Stormlands, no doubt wanting some game soon. She smiled, walking to the edge over a small cliff that was empty of people, hugging the eastern bay over the banks of Blackwater, dark and reflecting a full circle over its still surface.

The flying serpent slashed a ripple onto the still moonlight water soon later, the beast growing larger before her by the second as it came and gusted air and dust before and slowly landed beside her, a low hum and growl as it found her palm above its head.

Vi smiled, reaching back to her flowing silver hair and tying it into a small bun sturdy against the winds that would soon harass her. She stepped onto her then, reaching for familiar cavities and crevices as she sat atop the fire-breathing beast, soon flapping wings and off and away towards the stars under a pale, rising moonlight.

Bran

11 years ago

A cool breeze swayed in from south past stained, broken window panes cracked and shattered centuries ago, the wind whistling past Bran's ears from behind him as he watched the bustle of the giant castle fortress town below. From here the ancient stone-walled grove was still larger than any enclosure around him; its thin peripheral twigs and dried leaves falling finally onto the narrow upper stone parapets to his right, upswept and unmanned for generations.

He fell quietly into the leaf studded stone surface, a small gush of few dried scraps around him as he rose, leaning against the stone under the high morning sun as he examined the King's Keep to his left from there, high but still no match for the old broken keep below which he stood. He looked down far below, still hundreds of feet above the wetted earth from a westerly rain.

He started to move, from here a path over half remaining ledges and fortunate cracks made a path straight to the outer window of the door outside his Lord's study. Well, a straight path was a simplification, at times catching his life with nothing but five digits as he looked at tiny commoners moving hurriedly below, small as ants. Recovering, he went on, finding little obstruction once past the main ledge line over the fort wall, now under the stone parapets running under the King's quarters. The hollowed-out walls here were sealed clean off but not without their fixed ledges and hidden methods of traversal, required as it was for the maintenance of boiling water that ran in between the two thinner walls.

Making his way over a window ledge he finally arrived at the fourth level where his father would currently be. Diving in through the grail less window as he reached in, finding Wolfram standing guard as he saw Bran come in once he was already walking towards him wordlessly and quiet, his pronounced cough bringing the aging man to him at once, surprised and alarmed but soon only annoyed, "You." He snarled, "Go on in then, the Lord's expectin' ya." He said with a swampland grin, more teeth among the whole missing than not.

"Take it easy, Wol," Bran said with a passing hand as he pushed inward with a force, the door yelping open as the warm air soon greeted his barely sensible limbs and the digits affixed to them. Soon warming up against the crackling fire that burned enclosed in the stone pit and relaxing after their exertion.

"Father," Bran spoke, bringing the man's eyes off his large desk, penning a letter no doubt.

"Brandon." He said with some finality, writing a few more words before looking up soon enough, "Go on then, out with it." He said sharply, a growing frown over his now disturbed face.

"So, you won't stop will you?" Bran asked as he moved around, going over to the grill-lined windows with thick panes that thwarted the deepening frost. His mind drifting back to the little, scared girl he was enquiring about, remembering Talen just then, Still gotta get that sword...

"No, I won't. Who will stop me? You?" His Lord's words brought him back, making him turn away from the square's commotion down below.

He faced the man, still busy over his quill, "I can't command you, father." Bran began but soon got interjected by the man who was busy conducting two acts at once

"No, you can't. Too loyal a dog, aren't you?" He said with a chuckle mostly to himself in his deep voice echoing the quiet hall, not looking his way.

Bran stood quiet, waiting for a while during which old Theon still had sway over him, it must have been a great feeling, something Bran didn't doubt. Finally having enough of the old fool he spoke up, moving close to his table and placing both hands with a forcible thump and meeting dark, confused eyes that had shot up at his sudden show. "I want to leave, to the wall, tonight," Bran said with a calm demeanor, sure and serious with his voice.

"Is that all?" Theon spoke finally, the King of the North leaning back over his wooden chair, lacquered dark with a cushion sewn in, "Hmm…" The man audibly pondered, turning away from Bran as he rose from that chair and walked to the window he had been looking out from moments ago.

"I suppose that could be arranged, have you off my shadow. You've tainted my name well enough, bastard." The cold words came from his back; Bran stood listening, too hardened by then for the angry man's words to have any sway over him like once"

"I aim to please." He said with a smile, a bow that the King could not see.

"Heh", Theon smiled as he turned his head sideways, speaking thus, "They'll slap that grin off your face over there, son. Let's see how you like living like a baseborn of your kind, with all the brothers you could ask for there."

"Seems wonderful" Bran agreed with a smiling nod as the King turned around and came to him, hands behind his back as he watched him over his hooked nose. Fourteen summers old and already at shoulders with the old King, the dark eyes considering him for a second before nodding in agreement.

A few more words about provisions and steeds were then discussed, the King surprisingly generous to fund him all the way to the frozen depths up north where Bran was headed. Soon walking out of that room without a farewell, turning wordless out the double door moving right, not hearing a Wolfram who was calling behind him as he traced the window outward to quietly fall to the stone parapets below on instinct, Wol coming to the window and standing wordless, looking down at a quiet Bran who walked slowly through the northern walkways leading to the main fortress east.

He was in the inner castle walkways and halls a few minutes later, rooms on both sides of him peppered with stairs and pathways that wound and wove stone and housed the royal stark family in its many chambers. He minded his every step, hearing the usual commotion into the distance somewhere down the layers of walls. Footsteps were his best guide through though, slowly making his way carefully to the inner keeps where Lily would be grounded in her chambers as usual.

The door latch opened with an audible click, slowly pushing against the hardwood to find a girl staring out the window, her head turning at once to see who had come into her room, a shot of fear and disgust in her eyes that softened a bit and then soon disappeared completely when she saw her half brother. Smiling hopefully she came close, Bran reaching for her but she was already too deep into him, her head planted deeply as he slowly reached around her, falling over her as Bran came fully into their final embrace.

"So", she said quietly, "You're leaving?"

"Yep," Brandon breathed out gently, feeling her bony head and heaving chest before him, smelling flour and Morningstar in her depths, feeling the embrace as he internally realized and decided it was time. This is how it's gotta be, he told himself, You can't protect her, not anymore.

She strained her arms, slowly coming down as Bran gently reached her toes to the floor, him only later realizing her dive over him from the bed. He smiled, seeing her hard, hazel eyes that looked quizzically at him, trying to form sentences but falling short.

Bran smiled, feeling all her half-formed phrases and under-developed emotions, smiling he brought his forehead forward, reaching behind her. Lily's soft, cool skin touching his as he closed his eyes, letting her see through him, letting her know her own powers.

A few minutes had passed, they were both leaning against the large window to the left of her feathered bed messily kept, and both their backs to the door as the two siblings were lost in usual chatter peppered in with humor and jabs that permeated their interactions, a jovial competition in their spirits. "I hear it might get cold up there…" She said suddenly, bringing them back to the topic of his departure.

Bran smiled, "Not that much, the beds are harder than the winters are cold" he winked, making her smile as she looked over the northern horizon, from here their sights were blocked by the endless thickets that rose and grew over the northern stretch until the Kingsroad reemerged and led to the Last Hearth and the icy peaks and shores further ahead.

"I have something for you." Bran began, making her turn with a frown as he reached behind his cloak, the blade coming off his belt deftly as he turned it laterally and showed it to the girl child of eight summers gone. She watched the object quietly, wondering at it for a while her arm finally came over, reaching for the bladed part of the revealed steel that Bran slowly tisked and made her lookup. "You know how this works, right?"

"Yes, the pointy end goes in first." She said quietly, reaching for the hilt and getting around her palm as Bran looked on, wondering at her words and shaking his head with a smile to himself.

"Something to that effect, I suppose." He finally said, making her brighten up and turn his way.

She smiled, grabbing the scabbard placed aside and sheathing it all the way in, grabbing with both hands as she stared up, about three heads taller than her so Bran had to look down at her. Lyanna's thanks came quietly; him acknowledging it as they both wordlessly went back to watch out the windows again; seeing Roran and Samuel chase a stray dog across the puddle-stained courtyard bursting with activity.

They were both quiet, looking outward in silence and enjoying the slow breeze when Lily brought out her arms, the scabbarded sword before them both as she leaned over his arm, speaking a question into his ears, "Do you think I might have to use this?" She enquired without any expression, Bran saw as he turned, her eyes still over the dog being mercilessly tormented.

"That's not for me to say, sister," Bran said with a smile, a hand over her head, in the slowly descending sun lighting up her skin that was pale as snow, the lightest of curls woven out of the deepest raven black cupping her sullen face, she won't cry, her tears are already used up, Bran, he remembered the voice, a rustle in the wind, a murmur in his mind, the crippled crow whispering kind words of consolation into his ears.

Nameless

She saw the man fall unceremoniously, left as wide-eyed as the other people around her who were staring at the man who had dropped and then back at the young woman who had unceremoniously come and made a scene. Nameless got up, quietly walking to the barkeep who was starting to catch the endings of Bran's fall. She came up, a quiet expression as she requested aid to carry the man, a predesigned pouch appearing out her sleeves as she used both hands to press it quietly down those thick hands, her own slender fingers grabbing an essence of him as she receded.

She went back to the table before a few men were soon shuffling behind her, coming up. She reached for the blade, scabbarded in that same dark leather glove coming familiarly from below the sleeping man's lap. It's mine now, brother, she said, surprising Nameless as she watched two men carry him like a drunkard by the arms up the stairs that led to a handful of rooms down a hallway as she came up behind the pair that had decided to help after her generous compensation.

Soon the men were out, she left alone with the slowly breathing man who was out cold behind her on the double bed, the door closing softly and locking itself as she turned, the blade coming off its scabbard at once. She reached forward, the man's chest was heaving softly, a rise and fall through a thin cotton garment now that the crimson coat was hung against the chair nearby. Boots still on and hair a dark mess as Nameless came close, the blade rising before her as a knock came on the door.

Nameless paused, turning and swiftly making her way to the door, the sword slid into its coat and hidden behind her skirts by then, she reached for the latch and pulled the door open, finding the same scullery maid from below with a hand on her hip. Her other hand carrying sheets for the presumed couple, she realized, blushing.

"Couldn't keep his interest, huh?" She said softly, eyes finding the sleeping man in those dark pools. Nameless could only glare, this time without her glamour the woman left quite unimpressed by her as she handed her the folded sheets and made her way down the steps with a sigh.

The door locked and serenity once re-claimed; she began anew. This time the blade over his naked chest, she breathed hard, feeding weak down her knees as her hands trembled, the blade feebly shaking in the air as she straightened, breathing deeply and eyes finding darkness.

And then she stabbed.

Aegon

11 fortnights ago

The King of Westeros walked close over by the marbled railing of the newly furbished King's Hall here at King's Landing during the night of the feast, the first among many if Aegon's rule could last for the ages.

The white-haired king deftly walked across the carpeted row and found the grim lord from the North watching the eastern sea over Blackwater. He came to Torrhen Stark with a quiet smile, a bow from the Lord about twice his age who then quietly settled beside the young King, looking wistful with a smile as he spoke, trying to be polite and cordial, "It is a wonder, your majesty. The castle is coming along like magic, Winterfell took hundreds of years by comparison."

"It deserved it, my lord." Aegon nodded to him, "I had seen it from the clouds, many underestimate the guarded wolf", the King said with a smile, remembering a hundred feet tall walls that ran over the leagues of stone structures within, lined by another set of walls even higher beyond. A land siege would be impossible, anything above a cycle and winter would be the aggressor's true enemy.

"Brandon the Builder, I'm sure you've heard stories."

"Yes, only it saddens me that another Brandon of our times goes missing from the annals and the keen ears of the maesters at the Citadel." He said turning, now leaning over the marble railing as he saw the feast quietly progress within; he saw Rhyae in her red gown entertaining a dignitary from Lys as she was buzzed around by whores and prostitutes who dotted over her like a younger sister, the entourage of the man she conversed with who was from the island of lust. The strange company you keep, sister, he wondered, looking left and finding Torrhen lost in his thoughts, eyes back over the sea. No doubt wondering where his bastard brother currently was, dead or alive still to be determined.

"I hope your journey wasn't too treacherous?" He asked, remembering lizard-lions among the myriad beasts of the marsh and the Neck. Apparently, the northern host had passed without many affairs, old pacts and oaths no doubt keeping them safe, unlike his host that had tried to move up north.

"Yes, your majesty. It was quite uneventful." he said softly, then broaching a new topic, "I would congratulate you, your trials over in the East and now in the West have borne quick fruit. I've seen bloodier battles, my king." He said as he took a sip.

"I've burned thousands, Torrhen." Aegon replied, "You might have seen more blood but never that much death altogether, believe me."

"I...see" he bowed, "You are wise beyond your years Highness, I believe in you, no matter what my brother's interventions may have transpired, I would have knelt." he calmed down, smiling as he softly said after taking a sip, "I've read the doctrines, your majesty."

Aegon feebly nodded, remembering what had taken the last eight months of his life between the battles and the killings, getting it ratified and accepted by the old heads down west over by Oldtown, thankfully Balerion had come in handy for something other than burning it to crisp.

"Farm regulations, land redistribution, law of the land", Tor said into the air, "I hope you can deliver, the smallfolk will be your final judge on the matter." he ended softly, turning to the young King.

Aegon smiled, "Your candid nature is...quite refreshing." he said with a smile, turning over and finding the feast to suffocating by then, "Hey, listen…" he began, coming close to the bearded man with graying manes down his temples, "you wanna catch some air?" the young King asked with a spry rise in his tone.

The Lord from the frozen North only shrugged, wondering what his liege lord had in mind, Aegon only smiled.

The King turned back and found Torrhen to still be keeping up, moving beyond a rocky overpass as they rounded a small hill around the cut steps into its side. Above the low dome, they came upon a darkened mound, slowly humping as it rustled softly as its master approached. Tor came up close, the best rising and eyeing the stranger quietly.

The King went back to the Lord, him staring back at the beast as he found Aegon with a smile, "A fascinating creature, your majesty."

The white-haired youth turned, a smile as he spoke, "One of the last of his kind, a razor-tailed coal black." He sighed, "Balerion here will grow still, my Lord. Most likely thrice his current size." Torrhen was left wide-eyed, nodding as he turned back to look at the beast, both men quietly staring then into the windy distance over Blackwater; the distant horizon was a clear and smooth line over the silent sea and a manager of constellations above.

They were there for a while after a long rush of cool winds had passed and left a quiet in the air, Bran asked him what was on his mind, "Do you reckon his fighting days are over?" The Lord from the North asked, turning his way, leaning against the smooth rock jutting out of the earth.

"Dorne remains, Torrhen." The King grew quiet, "Westeros is yet to be united under all men."

The Lord nodded, "I suppose so. But their ways are strange, my King." Torrhen went on, "You will find them difficult if I remember my war histories correctly." he said broodingly.

Aegon turned to him, "I shall take your word for it." His mind remembering similar sentiments from the old heads down south, Dorne would be a challenge no doubt, a foot army would take a small fortune to mobilize across the midlands and then to the dunes of the south, one day at a time, he told himself, finding himself and changing his tone as he went on, "Come," he began, "the food must be out by now. Hopefully, people speak less with food in their mouths." The youth joked, the older man chucking behind him as they made their way back.

Bran

He was in a scenery of snow again, only this time his mind was broken up into a thousand different views and kinds of visuals as he shifted from beast to bird and back again as he kept up with the host that moved along with Theon Stark. All these disparate parts shifted and muddled his senses until the girl arrived, stoning him into position as all the hundred minds connected to him and created the word in his mind thanks to humanity's more advanced abstraction capabilities.

The scene was paused, the darkly draped woman now before a dark stallion that kneed and had both forelegs up, Bram walking around the scene and observing it for a few angles quietly as a set of wheels rustled the autumn floor behind him.

"Hey, kid," Bran said softly as he didn't turn around, over the years he had started piecing things together, things and times beyond his lifespan to be sure. The crippled crow who had whispered into him old truths and awakened his powers, his words to leave behind Lily for the wall, ultimately he had broken through. The boy now coming slowly beside him, grown somewhat, a light regal beard lining his face as he looked expressionless at him, making Bran uncomfortable, to be honest.

"You've never come here before," he said quietly into the hushed forest around them, looking around the orange-hued autumn scenery down an afternoon road.

"No, this one's new," Bran said quietly, watching from a distance as he saw himself come up, now the scenery was a show of quiet bodies laid against the ground, a few dry leaves falling gently over men with slit throats, his liege lord fallen among them, his dark cape coming around him. A lone crow came slowly down Kingsroad north as he stopped, the horse stopping quietly close as he hushed soft murmurs beyond that hood that was pulled over his face. The darkly dressed man came close, finding the cloak-ridden body and turning it around, a small slit of narrow steel over the heart, one clean thrust and back.

"You hid from this one." Young Bran confronted him.

"Did I?" Huh, I don't see why?" Bran said, eyeing the narrow wound that had ended old Theon's life in a heartbeat.

"So you didn't really become a greenseer, after all." the boy said, somewhat wistful and sounding surprised as well.

"I told you it wasn't happening, didn't I?" Brandon retorted with a smile, the boy was out of his chair by the time he turned to look, making Bran jump in surprise as he saw him stand over him, arms behind him and a dark coat draping his form, seemingly taller since the last time he had seen the younger Bran.

"I suppose, but still, I had to try." He said, shrugging.

Bran frowned, shaking his head as he stood, the boy still waiting for him to face him as the older crow saw his younger self vanish before him. Soon a gray expanse around them now, an ether of the mind in which two men from separate times interacted. "So, what do you want now, then?"

"Nothing," the boy shuffled, looking down sheepishly, "I felt your life fleeting, I thought…" he looked up, "I thought you had taken the mantle of the one-eyed crow."

The Drakebane frowned, "The one-eyed what?" He asked, waving his head as he rose, "I'm not dead yet, trust me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be talking" Bran realized

The young King of Westeros nodded, "Then I shall leave you to it. We will meet again, Brandon. You will complete the cycle, as it so happens. Now, I see it." the younger among them said with a saddened smile. The bastard only frowned in puzzlement, hands on his hips as the darkly dressed youth walked away into the gray expanse, soon gone before Brandon came out of it too.

He reached for his left eye that hurt first, or what remained of it as he soon found out. Finding the smell to be the greatest affront against his being just about then. Where in the seven hells am I? He moaned, wincing as he got up and felt his chest paining him familiarly as it had once in a scenery of ice. Again? He worried, the third death, he grimaced. This time by Lily's hands, no doubt. He smiled, grinning like a mad man as he found his feet and reached before a stain on the wall, missing it by a few inches as his fingers touched the wall, this will be a problem, he told himself sadly, his left hand reaching the eye closest, finding a dried hollow where sense had abandoned him, his sight now a strange experience after losing one of his eyes.

"There you are." A familiar voice called out behind him.

It was a younger Jaqen, in his same gray robes as he came close, examining the wound on his face with his eyes, arms still folded among bellowing cuffs that fluttered to the winds wishes. Bran stood quiet while the man quietly watched, finally receding as he smiled, "Doesn't look too bad." The man smiled amiably, Bran only frowned and shrugged.

"Lily do this?" He asked, looking around and trying to find his bearings; low walls in a backstreet down some shitty alley, apparently from what he could tell in the darkened night, remembering seeing four of her before his eyes the second before he had been pulled, this time remembering little of what he had seen in his fugue state.

"No, the eye rests in a rat's gullet, unfortunately," he said meekly.

"Ah, I see, a shame." feeling a fool within as he smiled into a hand that whipped his sweat masked face, the one-eyed crow, damn you, Bran, he cursed the crippled boy.

Bran turned around and felt the sting as he heard Jaqen's following words, "Yes. But, the wound on your chest, let me see it." He said coming close. He frowned, asking from where he stood, still shaky on his own two feet.

"Here?" Looking around with hands around him in question.

"No, come." He said, moving quickly now towards him. The man was quick, or maybe Bran was still out of it; a palm over his face as he lost himself in nothingness.

As suddenly as he had been pulled into the depths of the abyss, he was called back that abruptly, now sitting down. Back to a chair and his upper body naked as he felt a cool breeze sway in from hollowed-out patterns and silhouettes into the thick walls of the old house. "Interesting stories these scars tell, young Crow." The man rounded around him, here within the halls his glamour was

"I don't even remember half of them" He whispered out, seeing an older Jaqen come from behind him, hands behind those gray folds as he saw his graying manes down his face, his long nose jutting out against the dim moonlight slitting into the still room.

"Your body does, the years have taken their toll, I worry if it is ready for the endeavors to come. Your powers could come in useful" he advised, turning and coming close as he examined the deep gash thrice healed now.

"See anyone else with a prettier mug around?" Bran asked with a smile, Jaqen met his eyes with a chuckle as he got up.

"One can always keep fresh and young in other ways," He said, Bran slowly nodding as he realized his ability to see through the man's glamour here in the Faceless Halls.

"I can see that," Bran said, feeling the old man's breath down his chest as he came very close, too close for comfort by then.

"So, what happens now?" He asked, breaking the spell over him as he turned to his eyes.

"Lyanna, you must save her. The Qarthan have her." He said, moving back and straightening up.

Bran frowned, not following the undertaker's words, "A Sorrowful Man, a strong warlock from down south. Your head fetches a pretty price, young Crow." He smiled, "The order has decided to see its mission through as it so happens, although the contract has been passed to us." He said with a grave tone.

"But didn't Lily already stab me?" He asked, remembering the tankard and the troubled youth's face before his blurred vision.

"Yes, hence the contract has shifted, find her Bran. She will be sacrificed in your place otherwise." He spoke seriously. Bran rose, finding his feet quickly as vertigo eluded him, drifting almost mindlessly as he walking behind the robed man who had started moving. Soon enough time started to dilate and flex again around him, the pillars passing quickly by the pair as they made their way back to the two-faced door that led to the outdoors, "The western docks, over by the warehouse, third down the street." The man said, turning once he was at the mouth of the huge door.

Bran nodded, "Thanks." He said, trying to find the old man's face in the dark.

Jaqen only bowed, smiling as he spoke, "Valar Morghulis."

Bran gestured with his arm, not speaking the words this time. Jaqen only smiled, we shall meet again, stranger, Bran wondered, following old customs as he exited the half weirwood door under the starry sky over a nightly Braavos.

Sorry, this took a while, had to be careful to not break canon and have the whole trilogy planned out. Hope you enjoyed it, review if you liked it ;D