For Those of You reading my new fic the Ghost, I know I promised to get through this one first but complications have arisen and things are going a bit slower. I shall work as well as I can and hope that things turn out for the best. So I won't estimate the finish date yet. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!


Bran

Lost. Bran never knew where he was or when, only that he was lost. The moment the Night King's blade struck him, he felt like a great wave of the ocean-or the Wall itself- had toppled onto him. He was falling into places unknown, into realms he could not distinguish from dreams or reality. Sometimes, he found himself in a state of the mind he could not explain. It was neither sleeping nor was it being awake, but both. Everything was out of control. His visions would take him from one place to the next without him desiring to go willingly. As soon as he would adjust to one time and place, he would be jolted somewhere else. He couldn't remember how long he had been like this. Was this how he would spend the rest of his life? Or worse, was he stuck in an eternity of this confusion where every moment lived together simultaneously? He couldn't make sense of any of it. The visions were no longer like watching falling snowflakes. Now he was watching a blizzard and stuck in the centel.

Bran watched the First Men slaughter the Children of the Forest, and as the fighting was reached its height, he found himself watching the two enemies ally against the White Walkers. He stood in one of the towers of Harrenhal as Balerion the Dread descended from the sky and unleashed the greatest dragonfire he had ever seen. When the flames surrounded him, Bran was in a different castle engulfed in flames. All around, people screamed as they burned alive. Then he was in a great hall, and in the center was a silver haired man wearing a crown before an altar with several dragon eggs. It was the tragedy at Summerhall. Before the ceiling collapsed over King Aegon the Fifth, the ground beneath Bran gave in and he found himself falling out of a sky cell at the Eyrie. He passed through a blanket of clouds and instead of falling to the Vale, he fell with thousands of other men atop the Wall as Viserion destroyed it during the battle against the dead. He felt the cold wind biting at his fingertips. Amidst all the screams, a lone raven called out and flew down after Bran, a three eyed raven. It was diving straight for him.

In his mind he could hear the raven's voice, that of a woman. 'Why do you continue to fall? Spread your wings and fly.'

Her words were easier said than done. With everything happening so fast, Bran had no time to focus. When the other men hit the ground and turned into pink mists, Bran fell through the snow like it was a layer fresh powder.

A wave of seawater rushed over Bran's feet at the edge of a shoreline. The sun was setting just as the moon was rising and all around there were nothing but racky plains. The moon starting to race across the sky and in mere second it had set and the sun rose again. The two celestial bodies kept rising and falling, faster and faster each time they went. Then the voices started to speak. Bran was all alone on the beach, but he felt as if an army was surrounding him.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

"Any man who must say 'I am the king' is no true king."

"Stay too long and you'll drown."

"Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?"

"Everyone is mine to torment."

The sounds were overwhelming. Bran fell to his knees and clasped at his ears, begging in his mind for something to make it all stop.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

After hearing the words Eddard Stark once said to him long ago, everything stopped. The voices, the sun and the moon, only the waves of the ocean continued to rise and crash. But tide began to quickly rise and Bran was now knee deep in water. From the ocean's horizon, a great wave was coming like a charging Dothraki horde, only far more destructive. The waves instantly englulfed him, yet he remained standing where he was, watching the water rushed through him. Only when the sea tore the land beneath his feet was he swept by the waters and tossed side to side. He was slammed into the seabed and swallowed up.

Bran was spat out of the earth onto a grassy hill. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath, but as fast as he arrived, he was on his feet like it had never happened. But the strain of everything drained him. He felt like he was fighting ten battles at the same time. Then, for the first time, he found himself somewhere he could only describe as still.

He looked around to see vast green hills and dozens of gatherings of trees. Then, he began to recognize the landscape. He had seen this place before, many times. He was in the North, in Winterfell, though there was no castle. At the moment, the land which would once hold one of the greatest castles in the world was locked in a fierce hills lay covered in snow and two armies charged one another. On one side were tens of thousands of First Men alongside hundreds of giants and Children of the Forest riding direwolves and wielding weapons of dragonglass. On the other side was the army of the dead and the White walkers, more than Bran had ever seen.

The moment the two forces met, a wolf's howl echoed throughout the land and the battle was already over. Only a few thousand living survived and pushed the dead back. Standing next to Bran was a man wielding a greatsword that resembled Ice, but the blade was regular iron. The man had long brown hair and a thick beard. He wore a bronze crown on his head adorned with iron swords. He was a King of Winter, a Stark. He raised his sword and the light of the sun gleamed off the blade, reflecting it over the whole valley. He spoke aloud with a booming voice like a dragon. "This is our Victory! This is our world. Let men of ice and their wretched puppets know from this day until the end of time that this is where they were defeated, this is where we won, this is where winter fell!"

The men, giants, and children of the forest all cheered for the man. "Brandon! Brandon! Brandon!"

The next thing Bran knew, summer had returned to the lands and the all men and the giants were working to build Winterfell. The stone was newly shaped and clean of any erosion. The castle was paler in color than what Bran had grown up in.

Without choosing to be, Bran was in the Godswood of Winterfell except there were no trees. It was all just a large patch of dirt. He could see Brandon the Builder gathered with some of the Children of the Forest. One of them had a seed in her hand and gently planted it into the ground. The Children began to move and sing while Brandon merely watched. The words of the Children echoed on the air and rippled in the soil of the earth. Within moments a red leaf attached to a pale white stem sprouted from the ground where the seed was planted.
The Children ceased their singing and the child who planted it turned to Brandon.

Bran recognized her. "Leaf," he muttered under his voice.

Leaf took hold of Brandon's hand and placed it over his chest. Her words of the common tongue were heavy with an accent of the old tongue. "Listen to the earth, listen to the water, listen to the trees. They will whisper of the man who conquered winter, the man who defeated death. They will sing their songs for you, Brandon Stark. They will remember you, and they will repay you."
Brandon looked confused. "Repay me?"

"This home of stone, it shall be yours, even when you join the earth to sleep forever you will remain here to watch over your blood. Your children, their children, and all of your blood after them shall watch over their kin. Until the day comes that spring is lost, the Starks shall be forever."

She smiled at him knowingly, but then her head turned slowly and she was now looking directly at Bran. In fact, all of the Children were. Their gazes pierced right into him.

Bran didn't say anything, he felt too afraid. He took a step back and felt a hand wrap around his ankle and pull him down into the ground. Bran sank down quickly and fell into a cave he once knew. The weirwood roots and moss had covered every inch of the walls and ground. The only thing missing was the Three Eyed Raven before him, Brynden Rivers. The roots that entangled him were empty and there wasn't a single trace of him or any of those that died that night. One thing was for certain though, he felt calm and at peace. The strain on his mind was fading away and he finally felt he had some time to gather himself.

From one of the tunnels, the three eyed raven from the Wall flew in and perched itself on one of the roots low to the ground. It fluttered its feathers and stared up at Bran. It cawed out to him and took flight once more. Circling around in the cave, it flew behind the weirwood roots and didn't appear on the other side. Bran walked around them but saw no trace of the bird. Instead, appearing from behind the roots was a woman. She looked just a few years older than him. She had short curly brown hair and a freckled face. Her eyes were hazel brown and she had a comforting smile about her. She wore a long black dress with a mantle over her shoulders of silver wolf fur. Flowing down her back like water was a thick black cloak.

Bran didn't recognize her and at the same time he did. Something about this woman calmed him. "Who are you?"

She snorted at him and slowly walked towards him, her movements gilded with grace. "I would've thought the raven would have given me away." A northern accent was present in her voice. For being a Three Eyed Raven she had a pleasant mood about her.

"I assumed what you were, but who are you?"

She stood face to face with him. "You can call me Winter Lily, and I'm here to help you get out of this pandemonium you're trapped in. How else do you think you've stayed in one place for as long as you have now?"

Bran hadn't paid attention to that until now. Ever since entering this state he had been going from one place and time to another, but now he was at a moment that he could stay at. "You're doing this?"

"I had a wonderful teacher."

"Then can you wake me up?"

Winter Lily's eyes fell to the ground but she kept herself smiling. "Only you can do that. But first you have to find something you lost." She held a small hand out to him. "Come, let me show you what you have missed in your sleep."

Bran looked down to her hand and back to her. She was always smiling at him and he didn't understand why. Regardless he took her hand and the too of them were taken from the cave to the North. They were in the army's encampment along the Kingsroad, three days from Winterfell. The sky was clear and the fresh snow lit the world like an early from the cold light of the full moon. In the distance, a lone wolf could be heard howling into the night.

Winter Lily's smile grew. "He's getting closer."

"Who?"

"You'll see. Come, walk with me." She guided him into the camps, her dress flowed with the winds and reflected the moonlight like the surface of water. They came to the inside of Sansa's tent, she was sitting at her bed while Arya was seated in a chair.

"No!" Arya exclaimed. "I am not wearing a damn dress!"

"Arya, please?" Sansa begged. "It will only be for one night and making clothes is one of my strengths. You'll look beautiful."

Bran became confused. "A dress? What for?"

Winter Lily pointed back to Arya and Sansa, meaning to wait and listen.

"Sansa, I don't want to, I don't like being prettied up. I'm a fighter, not a lady." Arya looked disappointed in herself more than she was irritated at Sansa. "I just… I don't feel ready for this. I think I acted too rash, just like in Riverrun." Arya stared at her left arm.

Sansa sighed as she got up from the bed and kneeled down to Arya. "Arya, from what I've experienced, marriage is a different battle on its own. And from what I've seen between you and Gendry, no woman except you deserves him and no man expect him deserves you."

Arya smiled lightly at her sister and took a deep breath. "If it's for one night, then I'll were the damn white dress."

"If it will make you feel better, I'll make a pair of breeches to go with it."

Arya began to giggle uncontrollably as did Sansa.

Bran couldn't believe what he heard. "Arya, getting married?"

"Aye," Winter Lily confirmed, "the union Robert Baratheon wanted is underway."

A son of Baratheon blood and a daughter of Stark blood.

Bran and Winter Lily were now walking close behind the Northern guards escorting Rickon and two other men in plate armor from the waist up escorting Jon.

"You remember what to say?" Jon asked.

"Yes Jon, I've been practising the lordly customs and courtesies. Sansa has been training me more than Anguy did with archery."

Jon chuckled. "Well she is the best person to learn from. But if courtesies were left in the south, I think you already have all the makings to be to be the next Lord of Winterfell."

Rickon slowed his pace. "I never imagined I would become the one to inherit our home."

Jon stopped walking and everyone did. He turned to the guards. "Could you give us a moment?" The guards nodded respectfully and spread out far enough to give jon and Rickon some privacy. Jon stood face to face with Rickon. "I understand if your nervous, even more so if your afraid. But remember that father wasn't meant to rule Winterfell either, uncle Brandon was. He was the one brought up to be lord, but then he died and father had to take on the duties. He taught me and Robb everything I taught you."

Rickon shook his head. "It's not that. I'm just… I miss him. Father, mother, Robb. I miss everyone. They should've been here, but they all went south and never came back." Rickon looked up to Jon. "I don't want you to go south and never come back. It's not where we belong."

Jon knelt down to Rickon. "I am a Stark, but I'm also a Targaryen. And no words of bad luck will keep me from coming home."

Rickon hugged Jon tightly and Jon returned it.

Without realizing it, the Bran and Winter Lily where inside one of the command tents. Seated around table were Tyrion Lannister, Robett Glover, Rodrick Forrester, Gwyn and Torrhen Whitehill, and Lyanna Mormont. At the Head was Rickon and across from him was Jon. Behind both of them were two guards standing by. Bran recognized the two men behind Jon as the men from the Golden Company, Will Cole and Lorimas Mudd. Both of them wore fresh forged armor with the Targaryen sigil below the collar of the breastplate.

"What are those two doing here?" Bran asked.

"It is the duty of the Kingsguard to guard the King, is it not?" Winter Lily told him. "They offered their swords to the King and Queen and were granted positions for their valor in battle and loyalty to the Targaryens. For now, Ser Jorah is serving as Lord Commander."

"For now?" Bran asked.

Winter Lily's eyes widened. "Shh, they're about to begin." Bran noticed a hint of gloom in her eyes. She knew something but obviously wouldn't say what.

Jon was addressing them all. "My lords, my ladies, as much as we all want to deny it, the North is reaching the point of weakening greater than ever. Our fighting strength is less than ten thousand men and our foods stores may not last through the winter even with the food the lords of the Reach provided for the battle."

Lord Forrester spoke up. "I'm assuming you have a solution, your grace?"

Tyrion was now addressing the lords of the North. "As you may have heard already, young Rickon Stark has agreed to take up the position of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Most of those who sat at the table nodded in agreement pridefully. "But with very little experience and his house still rebuilding, we have asked him to chose those who he needs help." Tyrion nodded to Rickon who stood up from his seat at the table.

"Lord Glover, you are one of the few men of the North who know it more than anyone and a well experienced battle commander. In the forthcoming days, I would ask for your council and wisdom to strength the North."

Robett Glover nodded. "It would be my honor, my lord."

"Lady Mormont, you have as much of a strong rule as every other lord in the North. I would ask that you give council to me on how to rule fairly and just."

Lyanna smirked at him. "I will do what I can to help House Stark return to its strength."

Jon, Rickon, and Tyrion all looked pleased. Jon spoke up. "Thank you, Lord Glover, Lady Mormont. These positions will be considered a great honor and service to both House Stark and the crown. Tonight, you shall both provide what you have been asked of."

Lord Glover looked a bit confused. "How so, your grace?"

Jon nodded to Tyrion. "The King and Queen and I have gone over a few ideas to help bring back the lost strength of the North and at the same time establish strong relations with the Free Folk. Lord Glover, I believe you were told of the proposal to raise House Forrester allegiance to House Stark?"

"Aye, I was. The Whitehills will take their place serving under my House."

Torrhen Whitehill, a man of cold blonde hair, spoke. His eyes almost as cold as Roose Bolton's but a certain calmness resided in them. "There isn't much of our House left, your grace." He spoke with harshness in his voice. "My father was a fuck up who nearly brought it to ruin and Gryff was a fool who got killed by him." He pointed to Rodrick Forrester. "We have less than a hundred men left. Any resistance we try to stage will be met with the extinction of our house, so we have no choice but to accept."

Lyanna spoke up with her fierce tone. "You make it sound like you were already planning a rebellion. I can assure you that as long as a Stark is in Winterfell, no house in the North will ever hope to challenge them. Winter will always come for those who do."

Jon looked at Torrhen firmly. "There is always a choice, and your father and brother chose to desecrate Ironrath and House Forrester. Ramsay Bolton killed Ethan Forrester, but Gryff Whitehill killed Asher."

"Not before Asher killed nine of his men." Rodrick intruded, a smirk hinted on his mouth.

Jon shot him a look and Rodrick settled down. "They paid the price as did the men who fought for them. We can't keep letting old grudges destroy us again and again. Or is the North to suffer as House Martell has with endless vengeance?"

Gwyn Whitehill spoke calmly but hurt. "And what is it you propose? I tried to bring peace between our two houses but the Forresters just kept rebelling-"

"Enough!" Jon slammed his fist on the table. Gwyn was upset but kept a calm complexion. After a few moments to take a breather, Jon resumed. "To start the beginning of the end of the conflict between the two houses, Lord Tyrion has suggested a proposal of marriage between Lady Gwyn and a man of Forrester blood."

"A man?" Gwyn said. "Rodrick is already married and the next male heir is Ryon, a boy of twelve."

"They aren't talking about Ryon," Rodrick informed, "they're talking about my bastard brother, Josera Snow."

Jon nodded. "I've spoken with Josera and he has agreed to take a position as a lord. He will be naturalized and has chosen the name Icewood. He will be given the Dreadfort, but the lands it holds will be reduced and divided to the other lords. His House's status will be a lesser house serving under House Forrester."

Gwyn looked to Rodrick then back to Jon. "And if I say no?"

Tyrion sighed. "Then you won't marry him and live out your days as you choose. But you shall remember that there a chance to bury the conflicts between the families and it was passed by."

There was a pregnant silence before Gwyn took in a deep breath and sighed. "I'll do it. For the sake of my family I will do it."

Torrhen clenched his fist. "Is this our punishment? Highpoint will see another Whitehill leave its halls never to return?"

"Torrhen," Gwyn said, "just… don't." Torrhen was angry, but he listened to his sister. She was younger, but she clearly had more of a governing authority.

Everyone looked at each other and let things sink in. "I thank you for accepting this, Lady Gwyn. I understand if you hold discontent towards us for asking this. However if you were to take advice from me, I would try and get to know Josera before we reach Winterfell."

"Is that when we'll be wed?"

"A few days after we all settle in. You, Josera, and then four more weddings in one night."

Rickon's eyes widened. "Five weddings in one night?"

"Aye, Gwyn and Josera, Arya and Gendry, and the other three are the other reason we asked you here lord Glover."

"Your grace?" Lord glover asked.

Tyrion spoke up. "As Lord Rickon mentioned, you have knowledge of the North politically and strategically. The North needs to strengthen itself in all directions and we would ask of your council."

"My council for what, Lord Tyrion?" He spoke to Tyrion as Torrhen did to Jon.

"Which castles could use lords in them once again. Alys Karstark has agreed to be wed to Siggorn of the Thenns and will take a new name, however she will remain governing over Karhold until her baby brother comes of age. But when he does, she and her husband and their children, should they have any by then, will have need of someplace to live, wouldn't you agree?"

Robbett glared at Tyrion. "You arranged for Lady Karstark to be wed to a Wildling?"

"We did," Jon told him, "as well as Wynafred Manderly and Roose Ryswell. All of them agreed to do this of their own will. Even Rickon has made the choice to take one for a wife when he is of age."

"Steal one." Rickon corrected. Jon and Tyrion were the only ones amused at that.

"All of them are marrying Wildlings?" Lord Glover locked eyes with Jon. "I didn't follow you into battle because you led an army of Wildlings, I doubted your leadership because you treated with Wildlings, I didn't trust having two thousand foreigners taking the black, and do you know what?" Everyone held their breaths. "I have been proven wrong every time." He looked defeated, but in a good way for him, as if he was finally understanding humility. "If Roose Ryswell is to be given his own lordship, I would suggest giving him a position to strengthen the Rills near the shore. They could become a line of defense for Torrhen's Square. Lady Wynafred and her betrothed…"

"Morgan of the Frozen Shore Men." Tyrion informed.

"They should reside in Old Castle to support her Grandfather and strengthen our navy. As for Lady Karstark, a place on her family's lands would be ideal, but there are fewer houses in the west and lands untouched and rich for settling."

"The lands may be rich, but it will take too long to settle." Jon informed. "Almost all the castle are in ruin and the winters there are worse than they are in the east. What about the Coldhill Fortress?" Jon suggested.

"Coldhill?" Tyrion inquired. "I'm afraid I do not know of that castle."

Lord Glover explained. "It's the castle that belonged to the ancient House Frost before they were wiped out by the Kings of Winter. It rests between the Grey Hills and the forest that surrounds Karhold. There are copper mines that were abandoned as well."

"Abandoned? What for?" Tyrion asked. No one gave reply, in fact they all looked dumbfounded. "Doesn't anyone know the reason?" Again, no one gave any reply. "You mean to tell me that there are mines that have gone untouched for centuries, no, thousands of years?" Tyrion was astonished at them all. He puffed out and slumped back in his chair. "Why is there never wine when you need it?"

Winter Lily chuckled. "It's not just the copper mines. There are many rich resources in the North, forgotten as time went on."

Bran shrugged. "The Northerners always valued keeping the land as a home rather than a place of profits and value." Bran flinched when he suddenly heard the howling wolf again, but this time it sounded like it was just outside the tent. There was something about the echo and the tone of the wolf's voice that resonated with something inside of Bran. Strangely, no one else but him was reacting to it. "What is that?" He went to step outside of the tent.

"Bran, wait!" Winter Lily called out to him, but he already set foot outside the tent and was already somewhere else.

Bran stood on a rocky ledge, looking down into the heart of a volcano. Hot air passed through him and brushed his hair back furiously. The lava was acting violently and there were constant blasts of it shooting high into the air. The molten rock was constantly changing its hot color from red to yellow as it shifted and turned.

Close to Bran's position was a ceremonial platform carved into the stone. Surrounding it were three stone dragons. On the platform were a dozen men, wearing elegant robes and chanting in High Valyrian. One of them was in the center and he held his arms above his head. A red light began to shine in the space between his hands and it grew to the size of an apple. The man fell to his knees and slammed the orb of light it the black stone floor and the light rippled all throughout the volcano. The Lava began to calm down and settle as the light flowed over it.

But without warning everything became much worse. The lava was now rising and the very foundations of the volcano shook. The platform cracked and split from the mountain. All of the men screamed as they were consumed by the lava. The volcano was on the verge of erupting before Bran was taken somewhere new.

He was in the middle of field of dry grass on the eve of morning. Frost formed at the tips of the grass blades. There was no sound of it crunching under his feet nor did he feel the trickling cold. There were hills and mountains around him covered in light patches of snow and from his intuition and abilities, he knew he was near the Red Mountains in Dorne. From out of nowhere behind him a squad of horses with riders galloped past him and soon they were followed by an army. He saw many of the riders flying banners, ones that he recognized. The Company of the Cat, the Long Lances, the Jolly Fellows, and the Ragged Standard.

Bran did not remember any time in history that these sellsword companies were ever in Westeros. This has to be very recent, they had to be under Cersei's employ. The direction they were headed for was east, towards the coast.

'Where are they going?' Bran thought. On a nearby hill was a dead tree with a dozen ravens perched on the branches. He warged into the flock and took to the skies, reaching high enough to see the valley around for miles. On the edge of the horizon were the shores of Dorne and a small white speck was resting on the border of the sea and the land. The flock passed the horses and the speck grew into a castle, a pale castle with purple banners housing a shooting star crossing a white sword. 'House Dayne, that's castle Starfall.' The sellswords were hidden by a hill and still too far away to be noticed by anyone on watch duty in the castle. 'Cersei's begun her attack, Jon needs to know.' But how could he tell anyone? He couldn't control where he went or reach anyone besides the children of the forest it seemed. 'Rickon, Rickon has the sight, I need to show him.' Bran used every ounce of his power and mind to take himself to Rickon, it didn't matter where he was, as long as he could go to sometime when they came home.

Bran felt something rush through him and he was standing in a tent filled with children, all of them were sound asleep. Sitting back against a nightstand with a girl resting on his shoulder was Rickon. He was beginning to wake up, but Bran felt himself starting to slip away from where he was. He had to act now. He locked eyes with his little brother just before he swooped down and touched his face with his hand. He felt himself pulled back into Dorne and Rickon was warged into one of the ravens. Bran could feel himself relieved, but it disappeared when the horsemen arrived and began their attack. By the time the castle had seen the army, Bran heard the howling wolf again and he was taken back into the cave of the Three Eyed Raven.

He fell to the ground and felt a pain in his back. He started to stand up, but his legs wouldn't move, he couldn't feel them. "No…" he tried to shift and turn so that he would feel them again, but it was to no avail. "No no no no no!" He started to panic before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned his and saw Winter Lily kneeling beside him.

"It's alright," she told him, "this was going to happen eventually."

"Eventually?" Bran asked, anger present in his tone.

Winter Lily place her hand on his leg and a sudden warmth entered Bran's body. His legs twitched before the jerked from his movements. He sighed out as he got to his feet.

"What's happening to me?"

"Your mind is losing track of what is the sight and what is real. Your legs will give out before you start to become lost forever." She stood up and faced him. "But that won't happen as long as you stay with me."

Bran wanted to feel afraid, concerned, everything he could to be panicking right now, but he felt nothing. "I heard a wolf howling again."

"Aye, it's how I found you."

"What is it? I've been hearing it ever since I was trapped in the sight."

"It's something you lost. If I tell you, you'll never find it. But if you find it as you are now, you can never regain it."

This was making no sense. But rather than questioning what Winter Lily meant, Bran was questioning who she was over and over again in his mind.

Winter Lily smiled at him. "I promise I'll tell you everything, but if I am going to, you need to listen. Not to me, but to yourself, to the things you want to feel but can't." She held her hand out to him.

Bran looked at her into her eyes and saw a familiarity in them, but he was not sure where he recognized them. He took her hand and both of them were taken back the the camps. It was the same evening that they were just at, only later into the night.

Bran followed Winter Lily beyond the camps, their steps not leaving a single print in the snow. They were approaching where the dragons had taken to nest. All three of them were huddled together in a large circle. In the center, wrapped in extra thick furs and leaning back on Drogon was Jon and Daenerys. Her belly was much bigger than it was at the battle, so big there was no way she could ride the dragons anymore. Clutched in each of their arms was a dragon egg. Daenerys held the red one Ser Jaime brought to them and Jon held a gray one Bran had never seen yet.

Winter Lily stopped Bran as the got close enough. "In just over a month, the Queen will give birth to the next Targaryens."

"Aemon and Matthias." Bran stated. He stood with Winter Lily in silence and listened to Jon singing to Daenerys, his children, and the dragons. His words seemed to echo in the night.

"Though the winds of winter blow
They will never scare the crow
Never shall we knock Death's door
For the lands above we'll soar
When the King came striking down
Our steel did break his crown
His touch turned all to ice
In the snows was his demise
And then the skies did fill with light
Our brothers have won the fight
The fires of the dawn did come
And the colds of winter undone
Then the one who was lost shall win
And the greatest of ages shall begin
When all finds peace in the end
The world forever we'll defend
The wolves will howl and the dragons cry
Through fire and ice together we'll fly."
Daenerys nestled her head on Jon's shoulder and let the words sooth into her soul. "I can feel them Jon. I can feel our sons listening."

"Do they like it?"

"Yes, they do."

Bran started to feel a flutter of envy spur inside of him and a weight over his heart. He felt sad, or rather he was starting to feel something again. He felt a tear trickle down his check and was quick to wipe it away.

Winter Lily noticed this. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I don't remember what this feeling means." He tried to focus on the memories he had as Bran Stark and the times he had felt like this. He felt this way when he had to focus on his studies while Rickon played with Shaggydog and Summer. At that point he'd no longer been able to walk, so there was no point for him to learn archery or how to fight. "I will never be able to have a moment like this in my life. I traded all chances of it happening when he became the Three Eyed Raven."

Instead of showing any sign of concern or sympathy, she smiled happily at him. "And yet here you are, feeling jealousy and sadness." She turned to face him.

"But how to I feel more? How do I be Brandon Stark when I can see every moment of everything happening all at once. There's so much to see, how do I focus on being what I was?"

"Learn to close your eyes to it all." She held her hand out to him once again. "Close your eyes." She whispered.

Bran let his eyelids weigh down like the fatigue of well deserved rest.

"What do you want to see?"

What did he want to see? What does he need to see? The war for the dead was over, but the war with Cersei had yet to begin. Starfall was attacked, who knows what other castles were as well. He should find a time and place that is vital to winning the war. But there was a part of him that didn't want to think about that, a part of him that desired something else, something for him. "Meera." He whispered. Bran felt Winter Lily take his hand.

"Open your eyes."

When Bran opened his eyes, he found himself in his room at Winterfell. He was lying on his bed as limp and silent as he was after his fall. His face had gone unshaved for a few days and he had a few whiskers sprouting all along his chin. But grasping him hand was Meera. She was sitting at his bedside and wearing a formal dress, something Bran would've never imagined her wearing.

The was a knock on the door shortly before it opened and Howland Reed walked in. Bran was starting to become very confused. "When is this?"

"The right place and the right time, two weeks after what we just saw." Winter Lily's smile disappeared and she motioned for Bran to go to Meera.

Bran walked over and stood behind Meera, watching her watch him. Her head was fallen down like she was asleep, but Bran knew she wasn't."

"Bran." Meera said.

Bran gasped when she said his name, thinking maybe she knew he was here, but her words were to the sleeping body on the bed. She lifted her head up and looked down at him.

"I don't know if you can hear me. Maybe if you wake up you'll see this happen. If you do, I'm want you to know that this is the moment I say goodbye."

For a second, Bran felt a pain in his heart unlike any he ever felt.

"I'm going home to Greywater in a few days. I've accepted who you are, I guess I wasn't just ready to when I left you here the first time. I wanted to say something to you, but I couldn't bare to after realizing that you're not who I brought to that cave. Now, if I say it, I'll be looking back for the rest of my days, and I can't let myself do that." She leaned forward and planted a light kiss on his forehead. "Goodbye Bran." She got up from her chair and swiftly left the room.

"Meera!" Bran started to walk after her, but Winter Lily grabbed his arm.

"You can't leave, or else you'll be thrown back into the chaos of the sight."

Bran looked at her then back to the doorway. He wanted to ignore her, he wanted to run, he wanted to shout, so he did. Bran tore his arm out of Winter Lily's grip and ran after Meera, calling out her name.

"Meera!" Bran was right behind her and reached out to touch her. The moment before his finger touched her hair, he heard the wolf howling again, this time it sounded right behind him.

Bran fell through the floor and was back inside the cave. He looked all around him and saw Winter Lily, standing before him and smiling more than she ever did. "Well done." she said.

"No! Take me back, I have to see her!"

A familiar voice spoke from behind Bran. "You can't go back." This voice was one Bran knew all too well, it was his voice. He turned around and saw himself crawling on the floor of the cave. "Not yet."