Arya
"You know-"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish."
"I didn't need to; I knew exactly what you were going to say."
"You did not!"
Arya just shot her cousin a dry look. "You are utterly predictable, Tony." She looked down at the merchant table, considering the different masks the man was selling. While the Feast of Unmasking was a rather interesting celebration and she had grown to enjoy many aspects of it the need to have a different mask every day was tiring. And then there was the fact that many times she needed to have multiple masks.
"It simply won't do if you rewear the same one over and over," Mystique had told her when Arya had protested that she could just reuse the one from the first night again. "It is something of good standing and breeding and we want to make a good impression."
"But what does it matter if I make a good impression?" Arya had demanded, chasing after Mystique when she'd tried to leave. "Who cares what kind of impression I make?"
In the oddest case of deju vu she had suddenly thought of the visit of the King to Winterfell and how her mother had spent two weeks getting her all sorts of new dresses for the different feasts they would be holding. Arya had hated that, saying that there was no need for her to constantly be measured by the seamstress for new garments, but her mother had said…
"You represent us," Mystique had stated, parroting back Lady Catelyn Stark's words.
Arya hadn't understood that. Toad represented the Brotherhood. Duke too. And while they did enjoy making their masks, unlike Arya who'd gotten bored rather quickly after the first one, they didn't get the attention she got when it came to what she had to wear. Arya had said as much, pointing out that it was unfair.
Finally Lady Deathstrike had huffed and snapped out, "Are you truly that dense? You will be the Warden of the North when Magneto takes over Westeros. You are already a princess through your father and are the closest thing in Braavos to royalty for us."
Arya had sputtered at that. "I… I am no princess! And Robb-"
"Will never do," Lady Deathstrike had informed her. "He is the old guard and not one of us. We need those we can trust and that is you. He will be given a small keep, of course. But you will be the Warden of the North and thus must represent the North and the Brotherhood."
Arya had gone to her room after that, chewing on those words. She'd gotten Magneto to pledge that he would spare her family, that they would face no punishment when he arrived back in Westeros to claim the Iron Throne. But it seemed that her hopes that life would go back to what it had been before King Robert had arrived and torn their family apart were for naught. Robb would never be the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. It would be her… she would be Warden. She would rule. A few years ago the idea of her being in charge would have made her giddy but now with age (and not the physical age thanks to her being given her powers) she saw just what kind of burden was being placed on her… and the problems it would cause.
Arya shook her head and focused on the masks, pulling herself from the memories of that revelation. They didn't matter right now. She needed to focus on finding a new mask for the feast tonight. She wanted something completely different from what she had been wearing before because honestly if she heard one more 'pussy' joke she was going to phase her hand through-
"You have no idea what I was going to say," Tony repeated, folding his arms over his chest. Arya didn't look at him, still annoyed that he was able to get away with a simple black cloth mask that wrapped around the top of his head and was tied in the back.
"You were going to suggest that if I went with you to investigate the Mandarin then you wouldn't be breaking Magneto's rules," Arya said simply as she picked up a mask that looked like two fish tails. Completely different, rather pretty with the shimmering blue and gold scales, and from the weight of it or lack there of she was pretty sure that it wouldn't be cumbersome to wear. Not as nice as the cloth one she was allowed to wear in the training yard (because even when practicing with Needle she had to be masked during the feast; there was even a mask she had to wear when she fucking bathed!) but decent enough.
"Investigate is such a..." Tony waved his hand about, "…inaccurate word."
"And by that you mean I nailed it right on the head what you want to do," Arya said, reaching into her pocket and handing over a few coins to the merchant before slipping the mask into the shoulder bag she was wearing. She still needed at least three more masks but seeing nothing else on display that interested her Arya moved on, Tony following after her. 'Gambit was supposed to be here to help me keep Tony from doing something stupid,' she thought grumpily, glancing over at the betting hall Gambit had gotten sucked into. 'Though is it truly being sucked if you dive into it gleefully?' she thought in annoyance. Gambit had been warned about such distractions and normally he was pretty good about staying on task but Mystique had made the mistake of not giving him the actual orders to stick with Arya that morning and with the Feast going on Braavos had exploded with nearly ten times the amount of distractions.
Arya herself would have loved to look at some of the fun and interesting things going on. There was a circus that was showing off rare and exotic animals near the docks; Gendry had heard that they'd even managed to get a hold of an elephant much like what the Gold Company had! There were games of chance and foods from all over the world and performances and-
The young woman shook her head. No, she needed to first get her shopping done and then find something entertaining to do if she had the time that would also distract Tony.
"We just take a walk around the grounds," Tony suggested. "Just look at it. I hear the architecture is rather stunning."
"As are the cells when we get captured for going off where we shouldn't," Arya stated firmly, moving to another merchant that was selling masks. "The place is a fortress, you know that." Mystique and Sabertooth had both made it clear that storming the Mandarin's manse was a death sentence just waiting to be carried out on any fool that attempted it. The cult leader had guards all over the high walls and had made sure there were as few entrances as possible into the building, meaning that one would be spotted quickly if they tried to get through.
"All the more reason for me to take a look," Tony argued. "There is always a weakness. I met a man once who said with enough rope he could break into the Eryie or Casterly Rock and get into the lord's bed chamber."
"And I can say that with enough oars I can make a boat that can fly," Arya quipped as she tapped her chin, selecting a small but rather elegant pink mask. Two down, two more to go… for now. And thankfully this seller had far smaller masks than the first so Arya was sure she could find a few that would work for her.
"That is unlikely to happen," T'Challa stated, walking over to them. He was wearing ornate pants and shirt with a long black and gold jacket over that and a mask made of woven reeds and topped with river flowers. Beside him was a bald woman who hadn't been at the party, wearing a red dress that Arya saw at once was much like the dresses she herself wore; designed for fighting, not for parties. A long spear was held in her hand and Arya's quick eye determined that while the woman wasn't gripping it in a death hold she also wouldn't let it get knocked out of her grasp easily. She had the firm, steely look of a fighter and Arya wished that they had met in the training yard as she knew at once she could learn much from the woman that wore a mask that looked like the bony jaw of a great beast, its fangs running down her cheeks.
"You never know," Tony said with a smile, clasping hands with the Prince of Wakanda, Arya doing the same though she could tell T'Challa had been expecting her to offer her hand for him to kiss. "The world is full of wonders… why not a flying boat?"
T'Challa merely smiled at that before glancing at the woman, Arya frowned as she saw… something… pass between them. "May I present my guard Okoye." The bald woman merely nodded. "And just what are you two doing this morning? Shopping as we are?" He nodded behind him to a porter who was currently standing watch over a cart filled with different goods. It wasn't overly full but it certainly had more than Arya would buy in a month's time.
"I am," she said. "Tony is trying to convince me to invade a manse."
T'Challa shot her cousin a look but Tony merely stared back, his smile having dropped. "My wife is missing and the people that took her are part of the cult that manse belongs to. I want to get in, grab her, get out, and maybe if I have time find a way to set it on fire."
"Ambitious," T'Challa commented.
"I'd settle for flooding if that was easier." Tony was trying to keep his tone light but Arya could tell he was getting frustrated. Honestly, she was rather sure he'd have run off at this point if he didn't know for a fact she could outpace him easily and she'd threatened to phase through his body and crush his testicles from the inside out if he attempted to ditch her.
So Arya merely gave him a flat look and said, "Magneto is handling it."
"His negotiating with the man that kidnapped my wife."
"He is working to get her back without getting anyone killed," Arya charged. "Something I would have thought you'd want."
Tony brow furrowed, lips pressed together. "You know you sound frighteningly like Pepper when you talk like that."
"Hmmm," Arya muttered. It wasn't that she didn't feel bad for Tony. She truly did. Only a few short years ago she would have been leading the charge herself right into the manse to save Pepper. But her escape from King's Landing and her time with the Brotherhood had shown her how foolish such actions were. It would shock her family when they met again but Arya Stark had managed to learn some restraint in her time away. A bit of patience. The ability to be still and quiet rather than rush about. Tony's plan… wasn't a plan. He was just reacting, wanting to hurry in and save the day. Which was honestly how he'd ended up in Braavos with a mostly destroyed suit, half of the Narrow Sea in his lungs, and a bracelet on his wrist that ensured he didn't go running off half cocked.
"Would it help if I spoke with this Mandarin?" T'Challa asked. "I have a way of getting people to… open up."
"I'll let Mystique know you offered but I think we'll be fine, thank you." Magneto had assured Arya that he would have Pepper freed soon enough. Arya knew that if worst came to worse the Brotherhood could overpower the cultists, even with their powers as they would be no match for the Brotherhood's might. But she respected Magneto and was willing to allow him to try things his way first.
"Perhaps," Tony begins only to be cut off when Gendry and Toad run over, panting hard and looking like they had just lapped Braavos several times.
"There you are!" Gendry exclaims, grabbing Arya's hand and giving it a tug. "Come on!"
Aryan though phased out of his grip after a moment, causing the young man to stumble. "What is going on?" she demanded.
"We saw it… in the Preacher's Square," Gendry said, sucking in mouthfuls of air as he moved to grab her hand once more. But Arya purposely stpped back, not allowing him to latch onto her again. "Come on! We have to save her!"
"Save… save who?" Arya asked, confused even as she felt a bit of tension run through her body. Had one of the Brotherhood been captured? Or was it another mutant like them who had been grabbed by a zealot? The Preacher's Square never resulted in good things, Arya knew that much. Mystique had been firm that she never go there unless with an escort because there were always fanatics that had no problem sacrificing someone to their god. Oh, the Sealord frowned upon it and those that did the deed were quickly killed… but the ones that used the sacrificial blade were looking to become martyrs. Arya had heard that some would purposely walk up to guards, should they not be caught soon enough, and hand them the bloody knife with a smile before asking to be beheaded right there, so they might join with their god or gods or demons or whatever else they might worship.
'And being avenged isn't that nice if you are dead,' Arya thought before looking at Gendry. "Who do we have to save?"
"The Followers of R'hllor," Toad finally stated.
"What?" the young woman asked, puzzled. "Why would we save those fools?"
"No… they have…" Gendry wheezed, "a direwolf!"
Arya's blood ran cold.
"Tony, come on!" she shouted, rushing forward, the others hot on her heels, She glanced back to make sure her older cousin was indeed following before she began to weave her way through the marketplace, ducking and spinning through small gaps to give her a bit more time. Her mind thought of Lady, killed because of that bastard Joffrey and his stupid pride and the Queen's malice and her sister's lies and her father's misplaced loyalty. She thought of poor Nymeria, who should have been at her side but instead had been cast out into the wilds. Arya dreamed of her direwolf some nights, of her hunting with her own pack and she desperately wished that were true and not just her imagination.
She thought of the two direwolves and knew at once she had to save this one from the followers of the Lord of Light. She couldn't let that poor animal die. Maybe it would be small… a puppy perhaps… and she could keep it as her own. The new direwolf would never replace Nymeria but she would give Arya a small bit of home. She could teach him or her to fight along side Lockheed, working together as the Blackfyres and the Starks were now through her and the Brotherhood. Or if it was fully grown and too wild she would plead with Magneto to charter a ship and take it back to Westeros, so that it might return to where it belonged.
'I won't let another direwolf die so long as I breathe,' she thought to herself as she emerged from a back alley and entered Preacher's Square.
It wasn't actually a true square, according to Mystique. If one were high in the air they'd see it was rather mishapened, crocked on one side while another corner was almost dented it like a serving bowl that had been dropped. But it was the place where the many different religions that all held houses of worship in Braavos could come and try and gain new followers. Braavos was a Free City and that included their religion; unlike in Westeros where it was mostly the Faith with some outside of the North worshiping the Old Gods here all religions were welcomed. There were septons of the Faith, of course, and they looked down their nose at the 'heathen gods' but that mattered little to the people of Braavos. A septon had about as much weight as a Painted Devote or the followers of the multi-legged cat god Tubu. So every religion was allowed to set up a place of worship and the Preacher's Square was where they could mingle. The curious and those needing help in a desperate hour were able to walk through that marketplace of the divine and select a religion much like others would choose a place to eat.
The tented stage the followers of R'hllor had set up wasn't hard to miss. The Red Priests weren't known for their subtly, after all. The fabric covering the stage was a bright red with bits of reflective crimson metal attached to it so that when the clouds shifted just so it looked like flames were actually dancing along its surface. There were torches everywhere giving off their dark smoke and Arya could tell just from the way the people within were shifting about that it was rather hot in the tent, most likely from a bonfire. Arya couldn't help but wonder if Aerys Targaryen hadn't been a follower of the Lord of Light; like them he loved flames and burnings and was fanatical to the greatest of faults.
Pushing those thoughts aside Arya made her way into the tent, stay towards the back so she wouldn't be noticed. A Red Priestess was on the stage, wearing her red and orange robes, crying out prayers to the lord of Light and Shadow. Her hair was the color of honey but she had woven bits of red and black beads into it, to try and hide the strands and better represent the fires that she so loved. On either side of her braziers burned but they didn't seem nearly as hot as her fiery speech.
"The Night is dark and full of terrors! This is known! And as the fires burn brighter so too does the cold try and become sharper and stronger, so it might force it back!" She raised her hands above her head. "We see it now in the flames! Visions of men who wield the sun itself, the great fire in the sky, against their foes across the Narrow Sea! Where though are the Men of Iron? Why do they not come here to serve the Lord of Light who has blessed them?"
'Tony,' Arya thought to herself as Gendry moved to stand next to her. 'Jon.' She shouldn't have been surprised that tales of the two of them were spreading in Essos but it was still so very odd to realize that her brother was so famous that people who had never met him, who had no idea what he even looked like, spoke of him as the Red Priestess did.
"Fire is life!" the priestess declared. "We are clay, born from the fires of our Mother's wombs! Quenched in her birthing fluids! Made strong as steel! Life is fire and fire is life and to strengthen one you need the other!" She spun slowly in a circle, making gesturing of blessing to the two brazers beside her. "But there is some life that mocks the flame. That forgets the heat and the warmth and chooses to embrace the cold! And so to make it serve R'hllor this life must be returned to the flames that it has scorned!"
With that two red priests, lesser members of the faith if their more plain looking robes were any indication, stepped forward, carrying a large iron cage.
Arya let out a sigh though she didn't know if it was of relief or disappointment. "That isn't a direwolf," she told Gendry softly.
She understood why people would think that direwolves were just larger wolves. No one had seen direwolves in generations in the North and they weren't found anyplace else in the world, if she remembered Maester Luwin's lessons. But she had raised one for nearly a year, seen Nymeria grow from a large-pawedp up to a fierce huntress. She knew a direwolf when she saw one and the wolf that was currently growled and snapping at the bars of the cage it was trapped it was not a direwolf. Its head was too small. The body too lean. The jaw didn't have the muscles of a direwolf. Even claiming it was a juvenile was wrong because she could tell it was fully mature yet was smaller than Lady had been at her death.
That didn't mean Arya didn't pity the poor creature.
'Trapped in a cage, paraded about for people to look at,' she thought. 'Told it is wrong because it doesn't fit into what others think it should be.'
She wanted to free it. She truly did. But Arya knew that she simply couldn't do that. If she moved now to attack the red Priestess she would be beset on all sides by those gathered who worshiped the Lord of Light. And even if she escaped it would bring down wrath upon the House of Black and White and that was the last thing Mystique and Magneto wanted.
So all Arya could do was shut her eyes as the two priests grabbed onto the wolf's throat. There was a whining cry and then the sound of the cage opening following by a whooshing noise and the crackle of flames. Toad reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder and Arya finally opened her eyes to see the wolf's body had been placed in the right brazier, the fur already burning as the stench of roasted hair filled the air, making her crinkle her nose.
The Red Priestess though didn't react at all as she turned towards the burning wolf, staring into the fires. "The direwolf is a creature of ice and snow despite living. We commit its sinful form to the flames so it might be cleansed and help us see the truths of the Lord of Light!" She waved her hands about the flames, making them dance before she reached into her pocket and pulled out some sand, tossing it in and causing the flames to turn yellow for a moment before they returned to their orangish red state.
"We can go," Gendry said softly. "I'm sorry."
"You were trying to help," Arya replied softly. "And I want to see what she has to say."
The Red Priestess looked into the fire. "I see an army of the dead, marching towards man's foolish attempt to use the cold to fight the cold. I see a star wielded by one with skin of ice but a heart of fire battling against one with a head cloaked in warm blood but whose soul is frozen." She tilted her head, swaying back and forth before speaking again. "I see a pit of shadows reaching out towards an unlikely hero, allowing him to wield the darkness and poison the forces of madness. Which is good… the night is full of terrors but shadows are the children of flame and aid it against the night!" Now she moved around the brazier, as if she were trying to look through a window only to find she didn't have the best vantage point. "I see a king with a golden crown… and a golden shroud." She moved again. "I see a giant made of emeralds standing before a burning dragon, waiting to see which will bend the knee."
She fell silent.
"…that's it?" Toad whispered. "Don't they usually end with some grand and bold prediction of doom?"
Arya had been thinking the same thing, though she didn't voice her thoughts just in case someone heard them. Instead she watched the priestess as she pulled away from the flames and shook her head.
"The flames reveal much… but only so much. The sacrifice was good but there are better lives to be given to the R'hllor!" She made a flourishing motion with her hands, one Arya quickly realizes was supposed to look like some sort of ritualistic move but in reality was her signaling the two Red Priests beside her to retrieve something, for moments later they came forth with a box. It was made of gold with rubies inlaid in the surface to look like flames and she reached in carefully, like a mother going to lift up her newborn child. "From the sky fell a demon who sinfully wielded the sun's fire! We have captured him and binded him and tonight will sacrifice him to the Lord of Light and learn the great mysteries R'hllor has to show us!"
And with that she lifted up a very familiar gauntlet.
Tony hadn't been inactive since coming to the House of Black and White. Magneto had allowed him into the smithy and Tony had taken Gendry on to help him rebuild his armor. There were parts he did all by himself but Gendry had assisted often with the basic metalwork and Arya had often visited to watch her cousin and Gendry work. She had seen how Tony shaped the metal, careful to get it to form just the right lines so that when it was placed with its brother pieces all would lock into place or move as one without scratch or grinding against one another. It truly was an art and not for the first time Arya cursed that she'd been born a girl because she thought she'd rather like being a blacksmith.
She knew Tony's work and recognized it once when it came to the black and silver armor the Red Priestess raised above her head.
"Ser Jaime," she whispered, knowing at once that the gauntlet belonged to Tony's lost friend Rhodey. He had last been seen flying out of control after the attack by the Manadin's forces… Tony had hoped he'd washed ashore and he had… only he'd landed in the hands of the fanatical followers of the Lord of Light.
Turning she left the tent and hurried to the nearest back alley. "This is bad… this is really bad. We have to stop them." This wasn't like with Pepper and the Mandarin, where they could wait and try and help her through official channels. According to Magneto the Mandarin could be reasoned with, could have deals struck with him. The Followers of R'hllor were insane, that was simply fact. They were mad and any attempt to try and get them to give back Rhodey would mean the man dying all the sooner.
It had to be them.
"Tony-" Arya said only to blink when she realized… her cousin wasn't there.
Gendry and Toad turned almost comically to realize that Tony wasn't there behind them. Arya let out a low snarl and rushed back out of the alley, twisting her head this way and that, trying to find him in the crowd. She didn't spot him but she did see T'Challa and Okoye, who were talking to a follower of the Panther Goddess Bast, who was bowing his head to the prince and wiping some red pigments on T'Challa's forehead. Arya, not caring what that was about, hurried forward, Okoye having already noticed her and moving to intercept.
"He is busy," she said firmly.
"Tony," Arya asked, not caring what the woman said. "my cousin. Have you seen him?"
Okoye frowned at that. "He said he had to go on your errand."
"My errand?"
"When your intended arrived-" Gendry and Arya both squeaked at that, "-he said that he needed to get the spices you had failed to deliver."
"Spice… Pepper. Gods damn you Tony!" Arya snarled.
T'Challa looked at Arya as he finished with the priest of Bast. "What upsets you, young one?"
"Tony has run off to get himself killed and doesn't realize that his best friend, Rhodey, has been captured by the followers of R'hllor. They are going to sacrifice him tonight… we have to save him."
"Then save him," T'Challa said simply.
Arya blinked at that.
"You are blessed with gifts, are you not?" he asked. "Use them."
She shifted at that. Mystique and Magneto… they wouldn't…
As if seeing the excuses she was about to give voice to dancing on her tongue T'Challa said out loud, "To honor those you are loyal to is important… but not if it means harm to the innocent. This man… does he deserve to die?"
"No."
"Do you have faith in your Brotherhood that they will stand with you should these Red Priests come after you."
Toad spoke up. "We're always with her."
T'Challa smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Then I believe our only course of action is to save this man."
"…our?" Arya said, confused.
The Prince of Wakanda smiled even as Okoye glowered at him suddenly. "You aren't the only one with gifts. Nor… are you the only cat that prowls Braavos."
Jaime
"Let's me," Jaime said softly to Osha, holding out his arms. The wildling looked at him for a moment before nodding, placing Bran carefully on his back, using a belt to tie the boy to him while Bran wrapped his arms around Jaime's neck. Normally he would have just hitched his hands under Bran's legs to give the boy some support but he needed his arms to be free so he could begin climbing the ladder.
He looked around the crumbling structure, honestly in awe of where he was standing. He'd never thought they'd make it. He had been sure, even with them all assuring him they knew how to avoid prying eyes, that their group would be captured. Him and Osha would most likely have a meeting with the headsman while the children and Hodor would be sent back to Winterfell. There were nights when he'd closed his eyes only to suddenly call out to them all a phrase from a favorite bedtime story his Uncle Gerion had told him: "Good night, Bran, good work, sleep well, you'll most likely get me killed in the morning."
But capture had never come and now Jaime Lannister found himself standing in the crumbling remains of a fallen Night's Watch castle, about to descend into a dry well so he and his companions might use a secret passage to get across the Wall.
To the Lands of Always Winter.
"Any idea what castle this is?" he asked suddenly, needing to focus on something, anything, other than the sheer absurdity his life had become.
"None," Meera admitted.
"Why does it matter?" Osha asked. "Castle's a castle and we aren't looking to stay here." Below them in the dry well they could hear Hodor give an echoing 'Hodor'.
"Thank you for agreeing with me Hodor!" Jaime called out with a smile as he waited his turn; it had been decided to have Hodor go down first, for if the ladder couldn't support him then they'd have to find a different way around. Summer had run off and Jojen had merely stated that he knew how to get through but they wouldn't be able to follow that path. Jaime hoped so…as odd as it was he'd come to like having that wolf around. It was nice to have the nastiest creature in the forest on their side. "I was purely just curious," Jaime stated. "We could talk about something else, if you like. The current state of Essos politics?"
"You hate politics," Meera pointed out.
"I never said they'd be good conversations," he teased. Meera merely scoffed before she began to climb the ladder, leaving Jaime to turn to Jojen. "How did you know this was here?"
"I dreamed it," he told him.
"Is that your answer to everything?" Jaime snarked. "If you sidestepped some bear shit would you proclaim it was because you saw in a dream a foot descending into foul muck and knew that it must shift to avoid such a fate?"
"If stepping into the bear's droppings would save Westeros… then yes." Jojen paused. "Otherwise I just saw it."
Jaime shook his head at that. "Right."
"You don't believe in much, do you Ser Jaime?" Jojen asked.
"How old are you? 10? 11?"
"Thirteen."
Jaime nodded. "I have nearly lived 3 times your lifespan. In that time I have traveled all throughout Westeros. I think the only kingdom I have yet to visit is Dorne and I nearly got to see its wonders when I was a child. But I have walked along the shores of both the Sunset and Narrow Seas. I have seen rooms in the Red Keep that haven't been visited by any but rats and vermin in a century. I have seen Harrenhall restored to the closest thing that could be considered glory. I have fought in wars and known peace. You were born during the last Winter but I wager you don't remember much of it. Just snippets of a dream. I saw people shivering and dying in the streets of King's Landing from that winter and that was a mild one. And through all of that I have not seen a scrap of anything to prove to me that there is anything fantastical or magical in the world."
"Then how do you explain the magical?" Bran asked, reminding Jaime that the boy was still clinging to him. Osha had begun to climb down the well at that point and Jaime could hear Summer barking down below, meaning the wolf had managed to find a hole to wiggle through.
"If my brother were here he would give all sorts of answers about science and how what we believe is magic is really just the way of the natural world." Jaime shrugged. "I, on the other hand, have found that in reality magic and the unexplained are either one of two things: hope or fear."
"Hope and fear?" Bran asked.
Jaime nodded, glancing back at the boy. "When something wonderful happens in their life some men will claim they did it but others, either because they feel it is undeserved or simply that it is so unbelievable that they would achieve such things, will claim it magic or the gods. A battle is suddenly won but a commander doesn't feel it right to claim he was the reason that victory was achieved so he will say the gods did it. A man wins a tournament and he will say it was the favor a girl gave him instead of his own weapon and skill. People are very quick to dismiss their own skills." He paused. "I think that's why so many hate me." He wanted to shrug but didn't want to jostle the boy. "I'm an arrogant man. I won't deny that. But for some they don't hate me because I am that way but rather because they want me to never claim I am good because it is sinful or wrong. But never let anyone tell you that you aren't good at something Bran and it is another magical invisible being that has made you special. It is you."
Bran nodded at that. "And fear?"
"People don't like it when tragedy strikes at random. The world needs to have order." Jaime smiled fondly. "There are people that think my brother should have been a maester but Tyrion would never have played well with those gray old men. 'They like to have everything in its own little box and when the world is completely cataloged they will catalog the catalogs' he once told me. I admit I don't follow much else of what he said but I have found that people don't like believing that sometimes horrible things happen to people. There has to be a reason. It makes them feel better to know that there is order in the world. A man's father didn't die because of some sudden sickness he was cursed by a witch. My cousin was rendered brainless by that mule because a demon took it over to punish the Lannisters."
He paused, swallowing.
"You… you didn't fall because some faceless god decided you must lose the ability to walk, Bran. I shoved you out that window. It was me. Because I am a horrible man. I wish to the gods it had been a curse or a spell but it because I'm a bastard and I am sorry."
He waited for the boy to strangle him. He would have strangled himself if he were Bran Stark and finally gotten confirmation of what had happened. He knew that Bran knew he was the cause of his suffering but they'd never spoken it. But Jaime had felt in that moment, before they crossed through the Wall, that Bran deserved to hear those words.
"Were."
"…pardon?" Jaime asked.
"You were a bad man." Bran shifted on him. "Not anymore."
The dust of the castle burned Jaime's eyes, making him blink back tears.
"Your brother wouldn't say that," Jojen said as he moved to climb down the well.
"What was that?" Jaime said, having been too lost in his own shock and surprise.
"Your brother wouldn't say that magic wasn't real."
Jaime blinked at that, staring at the pale quiet boy as he sat there, one leg dangling over the edge of the crumbling well, the other safely on the ground. He didn't seem to care if he fell… either way, to be honest. It meant nothing to him. If Jaime were someone else, someone who cared to look deeper at such things, he might have thought that was a metaphor for something.
"Pardon?" he finally said, shifting Bran.
"Your brother wouldn't say magic wasn't real."
"You don't' know my brother," Jaime retorted. "He is one to say that everything has a logical explanation."
"And now one of those explanations is that magic is real," Jojen said. "He learns it now from one far more ancient than all of us."
"Learns…" Jaime shook his head at that. "My brother isn't learning magic. He's too busy…" He paused. He honestly had no idea where Tyrion was. He wished he did know because he'd ask him if he truly didn't care if Jaime lived or died. He didn't want to believe that his brother had written him off. Of course he didn't want to believe that any of his family had written him off but he'd seen the letter from his father, knew his handwriting. It was that bloody letter which had seen him decide to escape Winterfell and join with these children and fools.
"I had a dream," Jojen said.
"Of course you did," Jaime grumbled, rolling his eyes. "You always have a dream. Not all dreams are real. I had a dream where my father wore dresses and sang songs to badgers but that will never happen." Bran giggled at that and Jaime smirked; he liked it when the boy actually acted like a boy. He was too dour at times.
Jojen though merely stared at him before continuing on as if he hadn't said a word. "I dreamed of three lions. The female roared as loud as she could but found all the animals refused to listen to her for her cub and the oldest of the lions now ruled the pride and she no longer mattered. The wolf and the serpent and the spiders all paid her little heed for they battled a great bird of prey while the mockingbird flittered about and the flowers spread their vines. In the east I saw a little lion who cast a large shadow walk into a cave that swirled with magic until he fell apart only to arise as magic itself. And in the North…"
"You saw a lion travel under the Wall. See, I can do it too."
Jojen though shook his head. "I saw a lion meet with an insect who led him to a great tree where he was given a choice. To remain blinded by the light and thus wander aimlessly, eyes shut against the glare of what was known… or to join with the shadows but see the dangers that were coming and thus fight against it as the beast he was supposed to be."
And with that Jojen swung his other leg over the lip of the well and climbed down.
Jaime just stood there, brow furrowed, trying to make sense of just what Jojen had been saying.
'That's why I hate riddles,' he thought to himself. 'Always have and always will. Everyone being cute and hiding what they really want to say.' He let out a huff.
"What are you thinking about?" Bran asked.
Jaime let out a dry laugh. "That I wish we were headed South instead of North so I could put Jojen, Varys, and Littlefinger all in the same room. They would drive each other insane!" He paused. "Or all of us so never mind on that."
Bran nodded and Jaime moved towards the well, figuring that enough time had past for Jojen to make it down. Down below he could see several torches flickering so at least he didn't have to worry about fumbling about in the dark. If it had just been him he wouldn't have been worried as he knew he could manage just fine. He'd climbed other places that were far darker before. Though normally that was to get to Cersei…
He forced thoughts of her from his mind. Remembering their times together would do no good, be they causing him to feel passion or rage. So instead he just focused on climbing down, one hand after the other, careful to not slip. Because it wasn't just him. He had Bran and he wouldn't let the boy fall.
'Not again,' he swore. 'Not again.'
"Its too quiet," Bran said finally as they were halfway down.
"Deep underground. Can't hear the wind or anything."
"No, I mean in the well. Summer isn't barking. And I can't hear Osha or Meera or anyone else."
That… gave Jaime pause.
The well should have magnified every sound and made it echo and bounce back to them. But instead it was utterly silent. Not a single word rose up to great them. Jaime licked his lips and looked up towards the lip of the well, which seemed very, very far away. He wondered if he could climb back up and convince Bran to wait there until he went down to find out what was going on. The boy wouldn't like it… honestly Jaime didn't like it. If something happened to him that wouldn't let him return then Bran would die. He would starve to death because he wouldn't be able to do anything but crawl about and even then-
The ladder made his choice for him, the rung his right foot was on cracking and Jaime had to grab onto the sides of the ladder, unable to stop himself but at least able to slide down so he didn't hurt either him or Bran. Still the fall was bone jarring and when they finally it the ground his teeth rattled.
He then looked up to see everyone was okay and he opened his mouth to yell at them because the bloody bastards had made him so worried-
"Oh. Good. I was wondering why you were taking so long."
Jaime stared in shock.
There was something else in the well.
Someone… not human.
She had the features and build of a human. She wore black and green leathers and had walked like a human. But there was a… wrongness… to her. Something that was clearly off. Her body was a bit to thin, arms looking more like bones that flesh and blood. Her skin was off too… there was a faint tint to it, a greenish-yellow color that was just light enough to make it utterly offputting. Her eyes were too large and dark for her face and her hair curled around her head in strands too thick, save for two bits that rose straight up. And yet even though he had never seen her he was struck by a memory…
"What took you so long?" she asked, staring at Jaime with a smile. "We were waiting for you. Didn't you hear us calling?"
"…no," Jaime finally said, looking to the others who suddenly seemed… annoyed?
"You told us to be quiet," Meera said to the interloper.
"Did I?" the strange woman said before shrugging. "I meant for you to tell him to come. But he did come so I suppose it doesn't matter much." Jaime opened his mouth to ask what in the Seven hells was going on only for the woman to suddenly be RIGHT in front of him. It had been instantaneous! One moment she was ten feet away the next he was stumbled back because she was RIGHT THERE!
Only… as he did stumble back the woman grabbed his arm to easily pulled him steady, showing that despite how thin and weak she looked she was decidedly strong. He could feel her fingers squeezing his arm through his leathers; not enough to hurt but a grip that was made of iron.
"Oh," she said, staring at him with those dark eyes of her. It actually hurt to keep making eye contact with her because those dark pools seemed to suck up his thoughts. "You… have so much hate," she whispered. "In here." She tapped his chest.
"I'm Tywin Lannister's son," he said, trying to sound glib. "Hate is something one learns quickly under his roof."
"Yes," the woman agreed. "For yourself."
Jaime frowned. "For myself?"
The woman nodded. "You hate yourself… who you were. Who you've become." She smiled, her teeth he found to be a bit too white. "But it will get better. If you let it. And I never blamed you." She pulled away and smiled at Bran. "It is good to see you Brandon. The Three Eyed Raven has been waiting for you."
"He… he has?"
Jaime spoke up. "The who?" he gestured at the woman. "And who are you?"
"Your old friend!" the woman said, kneeling down and petting Summer who suddenly cocked his head to the side.
"We just met," Osha informed her though unlike Meera there was no annoyance in her voice. Instead there was a level of respect Jaime had never heard her use before.
"Did we?" the woman frowned at that. "I'm sorry… something the possibilities make things get rather confusing." She shrugged before looking at Jaime. "I am Mantis, a Child of the Forest and temporary aide to the Three Eyed Raven. I have been sent here to help you travel to the Great Weirwood."
Jaime just stared at her, not even noticing that Hodor had ambled over and taken Bran from his back.
It … it was impossible. A Child of the Forest.
"It isn't," Mantis told him with a smile. "Impossible, I mean. "
Jaime started at that. "Did… did you read my mind?" He scowled at that as soon as he said the words. "No… you couldn't have. No one can read minds."
"Some can," Mantis said. "But I didn't." Before he could feel better about that Mantis continued, letting out a laugh like church bells. "I'm not like Summer." Jaime glanced towards the direwolf, wondering what kind of joke was that, only for Mantis to just keep speaking. "But I can see briefly into what might be. The different possibilities. In one you said that this was impossible. But here you did not. It makes things rather confusing but that is okay, confusing is wonderful because it means you are alive. If everything is predictable and organized it probably means you're dead. I was dead." She paused. "Thank you for being kind to me. Not in the possible future… in the past. When I was only Rhaenys. Thank you Ser Jaime."
Rhaenys.
No… no no no.
She… couldn't… Jaime felt like his head was swimming. But as he looked at her he saw her features. Both as a little girl… and the Dornish Princess who had always seemed so sad within the Red Keep…
But she had died. Been murdered. Because he had been lazy and slow and sat on the damn throne instead of rushing up to save her! She couldn't-
Mantis paused before letting out a breath. "Good, none of us died in here. That is good. Come, come! Let us hope none of us die along the way. My human half remembers dying… it wasn't pleasant for her and she was quite glad my titan half didn't allow her to perish."
Jaime took a step forward, placing his hand on the pommel of his sword. No way… there was no way he was going to follow this strange woman who spoke nonsense and just expected them to follow her! It was a trick or a trap or… something, he didn't know! But he wasn't going to let any of them dumbly follow after her! And she couldn't be her! It was a trick! "What are you-"
Osha grabbed his wrist, her face hard and firm. "She is a Child of the Forest. Do NOT draw steel to threaten her!" She looked at Mantis who was talking to Meera and Jojen. "The last time you Southerners tried to cut their kind down they flooded much of the world!"
Jaime found himself slowly letting go of the sword. Though he still didn't move as Mantis led the others through the tunnel. He stood there, looking about as if he expected reality to reassert itself and for everything to make sense again.
"This… this can't be happening."
'It is.'
Jaime started at the other voice in his head.
'Down here.'
He looked down… to see Summer staring at him.
'Mantis said Jaime needs to accept the impossible if he is to protect Summer's boy,' the fucking direwolf mentally told the utterly floored Jaime. 'So Summer can't hide that Summer can do this anymore. Come now. Summer will explain more. You may give Summer scratches on head.'
Jaime, utterly dumbfounded, followed the psychic direwolf.
