This part of the story was one of the hardest to write. Hopefully, the last two months will have paid off. Enjoy
Bran
Hours, days, weeks, months, time seemed to have no meaning in the moments they were being spent with Winter Lily in the Cave of the Three-Eyed Raven. There were no indications that time had passed at all and yet it felt like a lifetime was being spent. Whether it was the light of the sun or the moon, the light from outside never faded or dispersed.
But all of that was so minuscule to Bran. Compared to being in a cave with another three-eyed raven and the part of himself he left behind nearly two years, everything else seemed pointless.
This other version of himself was who he was once before. He was younger, but there were not many differences in appearance to tell either Bran apart from the other. This version, this Brandon Stark wasn't the Three-Eyed Raven. This was who they were before they were touched by the Night King and before he was shown everything.
The Bran that was lost could still feel his emotions. To the Three-Eyed Raven form of Bran, this was both nothing and everything to him that was truly magical and mysterious. He hasn't cared for feeling anything ever since he left the cave, but deep down he has felt the pull to find these feelings again, a pull to find who he once was.
Winter Lily stood between the two of them. "Do you see why you cannot leave now?"
"Yes." They both replied in unison.
Winter Lily looked dumbfounded. "This will be difficult addressing each of you."
"No, it won't." The Younger Bran said. "I have an idea." He closed his eyes and after a few seconds opened them, revealing the white color of a warg's eyes. His body changed instantaneously and now a dire wolf stood where he once did, but not just any dire wolf.
"You became Summer," Bran said.
'You can address me as such, Bran.' Summer's voice spoke through the mind.
It didn't seem very fair to Bran to be the one who gets to keep the name. He wasn't Brandon Stark anymore, he hasn't been for a long time. But hopefully, he would be soon. He looked to Winter Lily. "What is this?"
"The Bran who you were and the Bran who you are now are two sides of a coin. At one point, you were the side that was Brandon Stark, but that night when the dead came, that coin flipped to its other side, the side of the Three-Eyed Raven, and became too heavy to turn back. But now, if you ever wish to wake up, you need to stand the coin up on its edge so that both faces can show."
It made sense and at the same time, it didn't. Both Bran and Summer understood what she meant, but not how. They were both separate beings from the other, two different people of the same person. How were they supposed to become of one body and one mind?
Winter Lily scoffed at the two of them. "You each have something the other needs, so you must learn to share."
'I am perfectly ready to share what I must,' said Summer, 'but it isn't something you simply just hand out on a platter like horns of ale.'
"He's right," Bran told Winter Lily, "I've felt some things, but I don't know what spurned them. And I don't know what it is I must share with him."
"Enough," Winter Lily almost shouted, "you ask twenty questions before I can give one answer." Both Brans, or rather Bran and Summer, calmed down and silenced. Winter Lily had a great deal of stress about her. She turned to Bran directly. "For the past two years, you've been the Raven. For those two years, your have expanded for powers more than Brynden could have ever imagined. But doing so distanced you from him." She pointed to Summer. "Our gifts give us the power to separate us from this world, but if we do it for too long, we forget ourselves."
Voices of the past began to speak from passages of the cave.
"I know it's tempting, but if you're trapped in Summer for too long you'll forget what it was to be human." Jojen's voice said.
Meera's voice came from a different tunnel. "You'd forget us, Bran. You'd forget your mother and father. You'd forget your brothers and sisters. You'd forget Winterfell. You'd forget you."
"It is beautiful beneath the sea, but if you stay too long you'll drown." Brynden Rivers' voice whispered from the weirwood roots.
"At this point." Winter Lily said, "You're tied to an anchor, forever to drown. But luckily for you, I am the knife that will cut you loose. We need you to remember how to feel."
'So where do we start?' Summer asked.
Winter Lily placed her hand on Bran's shoulder and Summer's mane and took them to Winterfell, but long ago. "We start with the easiest of emotions, anger."
The walls of Winterfell were bare of banners bearing the direwolf of House Stark. They were instead littered with the skins of flayed men with the same painted over them in blood. The towers and keeps were in flames, smoke rising as high as a dragon could fly.
In the courtyard, amidst the smoke and flames, a pale-eyed man stood above a Stark King of Old who was kneeling against his will. He was wearing a cloak of human skin and a crown of human bones nailed together. Surround them were flayed sons and daughters of the Stark King, hanging from the walls and nailed to giant crosses.
"You will suffer for this, Royce." The Stark King said. "Winter is coming." Royce, the name of many of Red King's of House Bolton.
"And yet it isn't here when you need it," Royce replied before he pulled an iron dirk from his belt and slashed it across the Stark King's eyes. Royce didn't kill him, he only blinded him. "And now you will burn in the darkness. But do not fret, I will send your regards to the rest of your kin when we find them." Royce turned away and exited the castle ground as the flames consumed everything within the walls. But when the flames reached Bran, Winter Lily, and Summer, they had not a single effect on them.
"The first victory the Boltons won against the Starks," said Winter Lily.
"Old Nan told me stories about this," Bran said. "She didn't shy from the truth about the Red Kings."
The fires were brushed away by a great gust and the entirety of the castle transformed. Winterfell was back into how it was meant to be.
They were taken to the outside of the castle, an army was camped at the outskirts and a group of twenty riders and fifty men at arms bearing a peace banner waited outside the camp with the army behind them to meet with some approaching Ironborn. One of the Ironborn carried one of their own over his shoulders, bound and a sack over his head.
The riders except for one carried shields bearing the Bolton sigil. The own without was someone far too familiar. Ramsay.
"I would be lying if I said I am pleased you have surrendered," Ramsay told the Ironborn as they halted. "I had a bet going with some of my men whether or not you would surrender. And now I owe a few silver stags." Some of the men behind Ramsay chuckled heartily. He dismounted his horse and approached the Ironborn alone, carrying no weapon. The only thing he had was a parchment rolled up in his hand. "I am Ramsay Snow, son of Roose Bolton."
The Ironborn carrying who had to be Theon stepped forward. "Dagmer Cleftjaw," he announced before tossing Theon to the ground. "And here is our great prince." Dagmer knelt down to Theon and pulled the sack off his head.
Ramsay's face pulled back being exaggeratingly surprised at the sight of Theon. "Compared to you lot he's the prettiest Ironborn I've ever seen." that raised some laughter on both sides. Ramsay raised up his hand, displaying the parchment. "As promised by the King in the North, Robb Stark, you are hereby pardoned of your crimes and allowed safe return to the Iron Islands. All that is left is to hand over your weapons and you are free to go." Ramsay lowered the parchment and eyed it curiously in his hands.
"Our weapons?" Dagmer asked. "That wasn't part of the deal."
"No, but if you haven't noticed yet, you are Ironborn after all. What's to stop you from reaving and raping your way back home?"
Dagmer rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and eyed Ramsay cautiously.
"Come now," Ramsay said, "do you not think me a man of my word?"
There was a cold silence before Dagmer undid his sword belt and he and the other Ironborn turned over there weapons.
Ramsay smiled at them. "Well Dagmer, I must thank you greatly. You've just won me my money back. I bet those same men that you would make the wrong choice." he raised his hand and dozens of Bolton men flooded around the Ironborn and seized them without any struggle at all. "The right choice would have been to die fighting. That would have been far less painful."
"What are you doing? Robb Stark promised us our freedom!"
Ramsay's smiled died. "Do I look like Robb Stark to you?" He tossed the parchment aside and turned his gaze to Winterfell. He walked passed them and unintentionally stood face to face with the Older Bran. "The Starks have ruled the North for long enough. I think it's time to decorate the land with something other than Direwolves. I was thinking about planting twenty of my father's banners around the castle. If you ask me a banner is a little too… simple. But luckily for me, I have twenty Ironborn instead." He turned back to his men. "Put them in chains, we'll flay them after we take care of the great prince of the Iron Islands."
The moment the Ironborn heard what their fate would be, they all began to struggle and some of them even screamed for mercy.
"Milord Ramsay," one of the soldiers said, "shall we retake the castle now?"
"Retake it? No… no there is much more to be done before we take the castle." Ramsay turned his head to Winterfell. "Pick a dozen or so of the castle residents and take them prisoner, do what you will with the rest. After that, burn it."
The Bolton men were welcomed into the castle at first but immediately began to attack. Some of the men desperately tried to resist and fight back but it was hopeless. Farlan the kennel master was forced to watch his daughter Palla raped before a spear was driven into his back. Mikken's head was pressed down on his own anvil when a large Bolton man swung one of Mikken's hammers and crushed his skull.
Summer had begun to growl furiously and even tried to attack some of the men, but he merely passed through them like a ghost. He looked over to Bran as his attempts failed again and again. 'Do something! You have the power to help them!'
"I can't," Bran replied, "the ink is already dry. I can't change what has already happened."
'Horseshit. You can, but you don't want to. You don't care about them anymore. You don't care about anyone. Not our people, not our family, not even your friends!'
"And yet it was you who caused this. You let the Night King touch you, you who let the dead into the cave, you who got the others killed!" Bran didn't realize it until then, but he was clenching his fists tightly and raised his voice. "Because of you, I drove our only friend left away from us. I drove Meera away." The anger that flared up within him had dispersed, replaced with regret.
Palla screamed out when another man took his turn with her. She was clawing at the ground and face red with tears.
"Fuck it." Bran warged into a crow nestled at the top of the broken tower. He flew down to the rapist and fluttered before him, clawing at his face and tearing through one of his eyes. The man released Palla as he began grasping his eye and screaming. An arrow found its way into the crow and Bran was brought back to himself.
Palla crawled away as the man rolled on the ground, bleeding from his eyes. Some of the other Bolton men laughed at him and took Palla with the others they would take prisoner.
"I'm sorry I had to show you this." Winter Lily told them. "But it was the only thing that you hated so much. To see your home and your people torn away from you. Through this, you remember anger. But now, it's time you remember sadness."
The moment the Bolton men set the castle aflame, the three of them were taken away from this horrible moment in time to the present.
The three of them stood at the top of the portcullis, looking down into the courtyard as a sobbing man drove a wagon into the castle and revealed the bodies inside. When the last of the bodies was revealed, Edric Dayne emerged from the onlookers, shrieking out in horror when he saw the woman who lay there.
"That's Edric's wife, Neela." Winter Lily told them.
"Mama!" A little girl rushed out of the crowd to the woman Edric was holding in his arms. She had the same hair and eyes as Edric did. "Mama!" She fell to her mother's body and began to weep as much as her father did. Edric tried to keep her away, but his efforts were in vain,
"In times of war, even those that don't wield a sword are casualties," said Winter Lily. "But it's always their deaths that are grieved the most."
Bran had seen more death than any living man. He witnessed the slaughtering of the Children of the Forest, the massacre of Hardhome, the butchering of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, Maelor Targaryen being torn to pieces by a mob at Bitterbridge. Cruel death never ran short in Westeros, and there would never be an end to it.
But this was a torture for Edric's daughter, a pain no child should suffer. Summer whined as Ashara's crying was loud enough for everyone to hear.
Sansa had burst from the crowd and taken Ashara into her arms and away from the bodies. "No!" Ashara cried out. "Mama!"
Though the Bran, Summer, and Winter Lily were too far to hear normally, Sansa's whispers were as if she were right next to them. "Don't look," she begged, "don't look... please don't look." She was just as horrified at this as most were, but she had a great pain she shared with Ashara. She knew the weight of seeing a greatly loved one taken away. Sansa was near in tears as Ashara cried into the fur of Sansa's cloak.
It didn't take long for someone else to cry out at the sight of the dead. But this time, it was a woman.
"No! Talla! Not my Talla!" Lady Melessa Tarly fell to her knees when she saw her daughter Talla dead with the others. Samwell was with her and knelt down to her, embracing her and trying to give comfort. He didn't shed tears, but the pain in his heart showed on his face.
Before things could get worse than they were, Jon had ordered for the bodies to be taken away for care and prepared for a burial. Whether or not he would have them burned on a pyre or have their bones sent to their homes was yet to be said.
The four Dornish children were identified as Oberyn Martell's bastard daughters, Ellia, Dorea, Obella, and Loreza Sand, all of them were Tyene's sisters by their mother. Now she and Sarella Sand were the only ones alive with Martell blood.
'Cersei did all of this, just for a message.' Summer said.
"This isn't a message," Bran said, "it's just evil."
"No! Mama!" Ashara cried out one last time before her voice changed into Sansa's and the three of them were at the Great Sept of Balor.
"No! Father no! Somebody, please help him!" Sansa was held back by one of the Kingsguard as Illyn Payne lined Ice with father's neck.
Bran stood directly in front of his father and watched as his family's ancestral sword was brought into the air. As the sword was brought down, Bran heard his father muttering in a whisper. "I kept my promise, Lya-" Ned Stark's words ended as the blade cut cleanly through his neck.
Bran felt a stab in his chest, but it was no knife or arrow that made him feel pain, it was misery.
Summer began to howl out, his voice rising above the crowd's but heard only by Bran and Winter Lily.
"I'm sorry." Winter Lily said. "He never deserved this."
"No," Bran said, "he didn't." He turned his head and saw Sansa pass out in horror and Joffrey looking proud. But Cersei, she was the only one who looked aggravated at this.
Bran had never truly met Cersei Lannister, but something about her demeanor affected him in a way he could not yet describe. There was a curiosity, one had often had as a child, one that led him to that tower. This feeling drove him to explore once more.
The steps to the Great Sept changed into a bedroom in the Red Keep. Cersei's face had suddenly transformed into what she looked like now. She was sitting at a small table in a light robe with a chalice of wine in one hand and a raven scroll in the other. Daario Naharis was sitting on her bed, pulling his shirt back on.
"Are you sure it wise to have those girls killed like that?" Daario asked. "No one would look to you as queen anymore, just another murderer. And the last person who sat on the Iron Throne who was called a murderer was a certain Targaryen, a mad one."
The Cersei of the now smirked as she sipped her wine. "Let the peasants say what they will. When they see me they shall fear me. There is no greater way to keep them in line."
"And what about the Targaryens? Once they see that you broke the truce, they and their armies will have more cause than any to attack. Even with the spike pits, the wildfire, and the scorpions, our chances to win this battle are slim."
"I've never fought in any battle, but I know to learn from those who have. Stannis Baratheon led six thousand men north of the Wall and broke an army of one hundred thousand wildlings without ever meeting the entire force. They attacked a group of seven hundred and captured their King Beyond the Wall. After that, the rest of the wildlings dispersed. Cut off the head, and the body perishes. While those fools at Winterfell grieve, they won't notice the approaching blade. By tomorrow's end, the war will have been won and their army will scatter about and we will destroy every last one of them."
Daario helped himself and poured a glass of the wine. "The last time I ever saw the dragons, Drogon's head was the size of a horse but Rhaegal and Viserion were smaller. From what the spies reported, Drogon is now the size of Balerion the Dread, Rhaegal could devour a small horse in one bite, and that blue one is as large as Drogon was when Daenerys left the Bay of Dragon's for good. Are you sure you want to anger three beasts as powerful as them? A dragon with a rider flies and attacks in coordination, but a wild dragon, and an angry wild dragon… not even I am so curious to witness what would happen."
"And thus the world will see the true nature of the dragons. Creatures that bring nothing but fire and death that must be exterminated from the world."
Summer growled at Cersei and lunged at her, but the room vanished as did the people in it. The three of them were back in the cave. 'What did she mean by that? Cutting off the head?'
"Mance Rayder was the head of the Wilding army, so the head of the Targaryen army is Jon and Daenerys," Bran replied before turning to Winter Lily. "Take us to Jon."
They were brought to the Godswood. Jon was with Ser Davos, Tyrion, and Ser Jorah and Ser Lorimas who were acting as his guard.
"What is the latest report from our people in King's Landing? What do they say about Cersei's caches there?" Jon asked as he paced back and forth.
"I spoke to Varys, but he has heard nothing. Any news from south of the Neck is hard to come by," Tyrion admitted with a great sigh.
Jon turned to Ser Lorimas. "Have you heard anything about your men? Anything at all?"
"I'm sorry, your grace. Neither Will nor I have had any contact with Rolly and the others since we parted ways."
Jon was angry, far more than Bran had ever seen him. "This has gone too far. I want our armies to ready to march on the capital as soon as they possibly can."
"We cannot act rashly either. If anything, that is what my sister will expect." Tyrion was trying to calm him down, but it was having no effect on him.
"And while we sit here and do nothing, Cersei could be stealing children from their homes and sending their bodies with throats cut like she already has. We can't wait any longer!"
"Your grace," Ser Davos intervened, "we do need to end this as quickly as can, but while the wildfire is beneath the city and Cersei alive to order it lit at any moment, we need to be cautious about our every move."
"Ser Davos is right," Tyrion nodded his head towards the smuggler. "Cersei can be unpredictable at her worst. She is little better than Aerys was when my father reached the city gates, probably worse actually. We need to take extreme caution, even though I understand every fiber of your being says otherwise."
"Your Grace," Ser Jorah said, "may I suggest something?"
"Anything at this point."
"Perhaps we can clear out the city of people before the wildfire is lit. I've heard rumors from Lannister men about what Cersei is doing to the people. If they knew, maybe they could run before it's too late."
"And what rumors are these?" Tyrion asked.
"From what I've heard, Cersei's grain store's have emptied. She collects the dead from the streets and butchers them for the small folk."
Both Tyrion and Davos tensed from disgust. "Instead of listening for whispers, we should start spreading our own," Tyrion said. "It could work, but what if Cersei catches on?"
"All of this is rides on Cersei." Ser Davos reminded. "I think that if we are to have any chance, the best one is to rid ourselves of the one in charge before she has the chance to destroy everything."
"What do you mean?" Jon asked.
"I mean that maybe if Cersei were to die before the fighting started, the city could be saved and the sellswords cornered."
"No, we're not sending assassins. We're not stepping down to her level."
"I'm not talking about sending an assassin, I'm talking about sending the right person."
'Jon's alright, but what about Daenerys?' Summer asked. 'What's she doing right now?'
The godswood transformed into the Lord's Solar of Winterfell. Daenerys was speaking with Varys at the desk. They were both upset, Varys more than Daenerys.
"Your grace," Varys said, "I would ask for forgiveness for my failures. However, there are too many for me to be deserving of it."
"The fault is not your's Varys," Daenerys told him, "we've all been too trusting that things would go how we wanted them. We failed to let ourselves see that Cersei would go back on her word. We were drunk from our victory, of our survival."
Winter Lily had a sympathetic look towards Varys. "It's not his fault. Cersei's spies have been doing everything they absolutely can to intercept Varys' little birds. He had not a single bit of power to prevent it from happening."
"Regardless of what the excuse may be," Varys continued, "Cersei has managed to thwart me at my own game through Qyburn, a feat only done by Lord Baelish." There was almost a wistfulness in his tone before he spoke again. "But unlike Littlefinger, Qyburn is not driven by a quest for power."
"I don't care what Qyburn is driven by. He's a dangerous enemy and I wouldn't mind if he met the same fate as Petyr Baelish." Daenerys said with a hint of hatred. "As far as you know, where do your little birds remain silent?"
"Throughout the Crownlands, and the southern borders of the Riverlands-"
Varys was startled by a knock on the door and then the wagon driver entering, closing the door behind him. "Apologies, your grace." His voice shook with fear. "I didn't mean to disturb, but I'm too afraid I might not survive to beg for your mercy. The king wouldn't see me and neither will the Stark Lady. Your grace, I didn't kill those people, I just drove wagon. Please, show mercy upon me!" He got down to his hands and knees and almost broke down in tears. "They made me watch as they killed those women and children. I didn't do anything, I swear it by all the gods!"
"What is your name?" Daenerys asked.
"Benjamin, your grace. Please, I'm no one special."
"You have nothing to fear, Benjamin," Daenerys told him. "I will not punish a man for the sins of others-"
"Forgive me for interrupting, your Grace," Varys said, "but who allowed you into the room? The guards would have announced you and asked for your permission to enter."
There was sudden stillness in the room that even Bran felt. Something wasn't right. Cersei said that everyone would be distracted with grieving while the head was to be cut off.
"The guards?" Benjamin asked. He looked up and the fear had all disappeared from his face and was replaced with an emptiness of emotion. "The guards are dead. The Dothraki don't wear much armor so sticking them with a knife is rather easy." Before anyone could react, Benjamin reached into his sleeve and pulled out a knife, small enough to be concealed and sharp enough to kill. With a great speed, he dashed forward as Varys got out of his seat to stand in between him and Daenerys. Except the queen wasn't the intended target. The knife pierced Varys in the chest, puncturing his right lung. Varys coughed out as his mouth filled with blood and instantly fell to the ground.
"Varys!" Daenerys shouted out, but no one was close enough to hear. She back out of her chair, throwing it down in front of her.
"A woman tries to run, yet she moves away from the door." The driver reached a hand to his chin and pulled away at his face. It came off like a mask and his hair and body changed instantly. He grew taller and his hair was now red with a white stripe. "Two of five names have now been given to the Many-Faced God. Melessa Tarly and Varys the Spider. Now only three remain. Tyrion Lannister, Sansa Stark, and Daenerys Targaryen."
Summer growled at the Faceless Man. 'We have to do something! We have to stop him!'
The Faceless Man showed a hint of a smirk. "A man cannot be stopped, especially by those who are only spectators to death."
Summer ceased growling and instead whimpered. He became afraid. 'What is he?'
Daenerys became wide-eyed. "You're a Faceless Man, like Arya."
"The girl named Arya Stark knows our ways, but she is no Faceless Man. She gave the Many-Faced God the death that was owed, just as I must. And now the third name shall be given, but not until Daenerys Targaryen makes a choice."
"A choice?" Daenerys asked.
The door began to bang constantly. Someone outside the room was trying to break through the lock.
"Daenerys Targaryen must die, but to kill her would kill the lives she carries. So Daenerys Targaryen must give a man two names to repay what he takes."
Daenerys shook her head. "I will not. I will not trade the lives of my children so that others may die!"
The man looked displeased. "Then the lives are forfeit-"
"Ilyara Naeron" Varys muttered through the blood in his mouth. "You are Ilyara Naeron..." Varys said no words after that, nor did he breathe.
The man stood in place, terrified of what was just said. He then began to cough. At first, it was light but then it became heavy and water began to erupt from his mouth. Now he was choking and he collapsed to his hands and knees, dropping the knife aside. The water would not stop and soon it was like he was spitting out a river. His skin purpled and his eyes began to bulge. Soon there were colorings of blood in the water.
After a period and frustration, the man collapsed to the ground and the water stopped coming out of his mouth. And slowly, his face began to slide away. His body changed again. His hair grayed and size shrunk. His skin wrinkled and after the man's face was gone, a woman far into her years remained.
"Illyara Naeron," Bran said, "who was she?"
"She was one of the first Faceless Men. Besides that, she was no one." Winter Lily explained.
The door finally broke open and Jaime Lannister tumbled in, Valyrian steel sword in hand. This startled Daenerys and she fell back on her knees. He stepped forward slowly, scanning the room and the bodies that lie dead. Ser Jaime knelt down to Varys' body and closed his eyelids.
The moment his fingers made contact, the three were taken to a memory not too long ago, to the day Ser Jaime arrived in Winterfell with Ser Bronn and the Dothraki. Ser Jaime was found by Varys.
"I was in a great anticipation for your arrival, Ser Jaime," Varys admitted. "My little birds sang a song about you even I found hard to believe, but find that I must know. Did you really try to kill your own sister?"
"The woman who calls herself Cersei is not my sister. She died the day she killed our child."
"My my, how far you have fallen to openly to admit your taboo. Yet now you have nothing else to do but rise back up. So tell me good Ser, if your sister does not sit upon the Iron Throne then who does?"
"A Mad Queen who I have no doubt will kill every single soul that is marching north to fight the dead. Even with such a truce, I think we are all going to see her draw blood before she is willing to step down from the Iron Throne. But what makes me worry is how. She's become more dangerous than I ever thought."
The vision faded back into the present, Daenerys struggling to get up. Ser Jaime held his hand out to help her. "Your Grace, are you alright? What happened here? Who is this?"
She took his hand but before she could give her answer, Daenerys winced and cried out as she started to get to her feet. She fell back to the ground, both her hands covering her belly.
"Your Grace!" Jaime rushed to her side, "what's wrong."
"The babies…" she started, but her attention shifted over to the door.
Ser Jaime turned around and saw two men in Lannister armor with their swords drawn entering the room. His left hand went to the hilt of Widow's Wail. "What are you doing here?"
They practically ignored him and looked directly at Daenerys. "For the Queen." Each of them muttered.
Ser Jaime drew his Valyrian sword to defend Daenerys as the first of the two men charged forward. With his first block, it was obvious that his skill was still far behind what it was with his right hand. He made use of his golden hand and backhanded the first man across the face, causing him to trip over Varys' body. The second man had already swung his sword at Jaime but didn't expect him to catch it with the golden hand. Ser Jaime stabbed Widow's Wail into the second man's armor at the chest a killed him.
Ser Jaime didn't even have his sword pulled out of the man's chest when he realized that the first man was right next to him with his sword raised. There was an instant moment that Ser Jaime knew that he was going to die.
Bran wouldn't let that happen, so he warged into the man's mind and tore his thoughts apart. The man froze in place and dropped his sword before falling to the ground shaking violently. Ser Jaime used this chance and pulled his sword free and stabbed it into the shaking man's heart, killing him instantly.
Bran felt a searing pain in his chest when he returned to himself.
'Why would you do that?' Summer asked. 'He's the one who crippled us. He's the one who pushed us out a window to kill us!'
"I didn't do it for him," Bran replied. "I did it to save Daenerys. If Jaime Lannister dies, then no one will protect Daenerys and her children."
The floor suddenly shook violently for only a brief moment and was followed by a flash of green light from the window. Both were obvious signs of something terrible. "Wildfire," Bran muttered as he dashed to the window, not seeing that Ser Jaime was right next to him. They looked outside and could see that the Winterfell armory has been almost completely destroyed and was covered in the green flames of wildfire.
Without warning, an explosion of wildfire happened but this time it was in the Winterfell forges. There were many who were near and became consumed by the flames. A third explosion happened at the storerooms followed immediately by a fourth in the Great Keep, but the blast only destroyed half of it.
The outside began to fill with screams of pain and panic, but they were soon overpowered by battle cries of men in Lannister colors spilling into the castle grounds.
Bran, Summer, and Winter Lily were taken outside to the courtyard were the Lannister men were entering and attacking. There were coming in by the tens and all had this crazed devote look about them.
"The Lannisters are attacking," Bran stated.
"Not all of them, just the undying loyalists to Cersei." Winter Lily corrected. One of the Winterfell guards was charging straight for her, but he was meaning to attack a loyalist behind her. The moment before he would have collided with her, Winter Lily brought Bran and Summer to the battlements, giving them a full view of the chaos.
The Loyalists had taken the castle by surprise and slain many who got in their way, be it soldier or just one of the residents. But they were about to be met by a small force of thirty men charging to meet them. Jon led them men at the van with Ser Jorah and Ser Lorimuss behind him. Among the charge was Brienne and Podrick followed by Edric Dayne who looked more bloodthirsty than anyone there.
Jon carried a spear in one hand and a Stark round shield in the other. He thrust the spear into one of the loyalists with a mighty war cry as the two forces met. The shaft of the spear splintered and broke in half before Jon tossed what remained aside, but before he could draw his sword he had to use his shield to beat another man's head bloody. The shield dropped from his arm before he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his sword and drew it. The moment Jon clashed his sword with an attacking ax, the ax blade shattered into pieces and the Valyrian steel of the sword began to make a noise, almost as if it was singing.
Jon gripped his sword with both hands and thrust it deep into the loyalist's chest, killing him instantly. At long last, the blade had its first kill. With every swing, every kill, the blade of Jon's sword would ring in a harmony.
"What is that noise?" Bran asked openly. "I've never heard a sword ever sound like that."
Winter Lily smirked down as she watched the battle. "It is the song of the sword. The noise is the power it holds."
'But what is it?' Summer asked.
"The sound of magic. There is no greater thing imbued with such power. So much that some of it escapes into a song of ice and fire. No sword has ever been more perfect for its wielder."
"What do you mean by that?" Bran asked.
"Jon," Winter Lily said. When Bran's confusion continued, she explained further. "Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Rhaegar was the Last Dragon and Lyanna was a daughter of Winter. Fire and Ice. This weapon was made for Jon, reforged in dragonfire after it was plunged into the chest of the Night King. They are together the songs of Ice and Fire."
The song was broken then by a man roaring out in hatred. Bran, Winter Lily, and Summer turned their attention back to the battle and saw Edric Dayne charging into the fray with Dawn and First Light in his hands. The moment the loyalists were within his reach, he tore through them without even a hint of hesitation or remorse. Dawn and First Light carved through all the steel that met their edges. But his form and technique were horrible. He was killing, but if anyone tried to they kill him just as easy.
Edric impaled a man with both of his sword and shouted like a wild animal at him as the life left his eyes. He was no knight or lord in this battle, just an angry killer. His fury was blinding him to everything around him. He kept pushing forward while everyone else was pulling back to form a solid defense. He fought two men at once and they could barely block his flurry of strikes, but it was then that Edric's rage blinded him to see the blade that slashed down at him, cutting across his chest. He dropped his swords and fell to the ground, alive but injured. He was saved when a crossbow killed one for the men he was fighting and a spear the other before getting dragged back by one of the Northmen.
There were still dozens of loyalists in the courtyard, all of them proving their skill and cutting down most of who came to challenge them alone as Edric did. But reinforcements from the camps were coming. A giant stormed through the portcullis with a small tree trunk he was using as a club and started to crush anyone wearing Lannister red. There were a few more giants rushing to the castle followed by many other soldiers to aid in the attack. But some of the loyalists fought their way to the gatehouse and succeeded in taking it and dropped the gate, cutting off any reinforcements. The giant already inside was facing men with spear and wore no armor to protect him from them except for a whale's rib bones around his chest. But after a spear pierced into the giant's chest, he fell down and died.
'Enough of this!' Summer growled at Bran. 'We can't just watch this any longer, it's not right!'
"No," Bran said, "it isn't." he felt a spark of desire arise within him. "I'm won't just be the watcher while everyone fights and dies!"
'Finally.'
All Bran could do was warg into an animal at the moment, but a flock of ravens wasn't going to be enough. He needed something far more dangerous with wings. He reached out and searched the skies and the lands for were his solution was and sure enough, he found Lyarras with her brothers, miles away on a hunt but flying back when they sensed their parents in danger.
He felt himself and Summer both warg at the same time into Lyarras, something that only Jon was able to do until now. Her mind was in a state of panic as she flew with her brothers back to the castle.
'You're faster than them,' Bran told her, 'Jon needs you now.'
Hearing his words, Lyarras flew past Drogon and Rhaegal and a far greater speed and left them behind.
The castle was on the edge of the Horizon, but rising into the sky were two towers of smoke, one of them tinted a putrid green, but the other as black as Drogon's hide. There was a fire of evil in the castle and another coming from where all of the men were camped. Getting closer, Lyarras could see that a great portion of the tents were set afire, most likely by the bad men attacking.
Lyarras screeched out as she swooped down onto the castle walls, perched just above where the fighting was. There were too many of Father's men to use her fire, but enough of the bad men that she could just reach her neck down and feast on their bodies.
She bore her teeth and latched them around two men at once, piercing through their steel skin as easily as flesh. She bit down hard and separated their legs from their bodies. The taste of blood was satisfying, but she was not hungry. She spat out what remained and looked for more to kill. There was a long line of men with bows shooting at her on the walls, and none of Father's men were near. She opened her mouth and let out her flames on them, enjoying their screams as they tossed and turned. She crawled down into the courtyard, stepping on many who got in her path. She sank her teeth into another man who was rushing at her with a sword and tossed his body at his allies.
Amidst the fighting, she spotted father forced back with his men. One of the bad men cut through the man next father who wore a dragon on his steel skin and was going to kill Father. Lyarras couldn't let that happen. She let the heat build up with her to unleash a father, but before she could one of father's men in green clothes took the blow meant for him. He was cut across his back and yelled out. Father noticed this and killed the man who attacked father's savior. Father pulled the man away from the battle, staining his clothes in his blood. Father was swarmed by his own men, he was safe now and the tides were turning.
Bran returned to himself and gasped for air. Warging into a dragon took a great amount of energy from him. "I can't believe I did that again. It felt incredible. What about you, Summer?" But when bran looked up, Summer was gone, nowhere to be seen. "Where did he go?"
"He's right here, he's a part of you again like he once was." Winter Lily smiled proudly at Bran. "My work is done, but you need to go save someone who needs you now and wake up."
Bran and Winter Lily were both in his room when she said that. He was laying on the bed, asleep as he had been for months. At the foot of his bed was Meera, holding a dagger in her hands. She barred the door with his wardrobe and there were men trying to break in.
"Meera," Bran whispered. He looked back at Winter Lily. "Thank you... for everything."
Winter Lily's smile broke for a second and she looked sad.
"What's wrong?" Bran asked.
Winter Lily began to cry. "This is the last time I ever get to see you."
"What are you talking about? Who are you?"
She smiled at him. "You won't remember me or most of this when you wake up. Now close your eyes."
Bran couldn't. What was it about this woman that intrigued him so? He wanted to ask half a dozen more questions, he wanted to know so much. But then he thought maybe he will know, but not today.
"Close your eyes." She whispered to him.
Bran let his eyelids fall down like entering a wonderful sleep well deserved. The weight of the sight began to vanish and he could feel the world around him disappear.
"Until we meet again, father."
Meera
The barricade was holding strong, though a wardrobe was hardly a barricade. But the pounding from the outside wouldn't stop. Ever since the rumbling and the boom from outside, there were men shouting and sounds of steel clashing against steel.
Meera knew the sound of a battle when she heard it and wasn't taking any chances. She moved the wardrobe in the room to block the door and it was long until someone started trying to break in. But even if they did manage to get in, all Meera had was a dagger and no armor, only her clothes from the swamps and her cloak.
She stood by the bedside with her dagger in hand, watching for the moment when the wardrobe would be moved just enough for someone to finally break in. She could feel herself shaking with fear. She was supposed to go home today, but the bodies that were delivered put a hold on that. Instead, she was trapped in a room with only herself and the Three-Eyed Raven. He was asleep on his body as he always was, never uttering a sound or moving an inch.
A sudden splintering of wood sent a shiver throughout Meera's body, The wardrobe shifted and the door was cracking open every time it was banged. She tightened her grip on her dagger as a man's voice from the hallway called out.
"We only want the cripple! Just give him to us, and you live!"
"Leave now and you can live!" Meera retorted.
"A fuckin girl? Now we definitely won't kill you, it's more fun when there's a struggle."
The mercy of being chained up at the mercy of the Night's Watch at Craster's Keep flashed in her mind. They were going to rape her had Jojen not stopped them and the true brothers of the Watch arrived. But now there was no one but her and however many were outside the door.
Meera stepped backward and leaned to Bran's ear, praying that he would hear her. "Help me," she whispered.
The wardrobe was pushed over as the door was forced open. There were three men in Lannister armor, two of them had swords in hand but the one leading them had a battle ax.
Meera held her dagger to them and they only sniggered at her. But their smiles disappeared when the leader looked at Bran, terrified.
Meera stole a quick glance at Bran and saw his eyes were wide open and pure white.
Seconds later, there was a loud snarl and a grey blur that tackled one of the men in the hallway. He screamed out for only an instant before there was a snapping of bones and tearing of flesh.
"It's one of the fuckin wolves!" The other two men charged into the hallway, shouting out battles cries that were short-lived.
"For Cerse- gah!" The leader was knocked back into view and was on the ground, looking like he was about to shit himself from fear. He tried crawling away, but the snarling dragged him out of sight and the last noise he made was a scream that could crack glass.
Moments later, the largest of the Direwolves trotted into the room with blood staining the fur around her mouth. Instead of snarling, the direwolf looked calmly at Meera.
"It's Nymeria, isn't it?" Meera asked as if expecting an answer, but the only one she got was the direwolf leaving the room. "Thank you."
Worried that more would come, Meera sheathed her dagger and ran into the hallway. The floors were stained with blood and all of the Lannister men had their throats ripped out. Meera retrieved one of the swords and stepped back into the room, not expecting to hear a familiar voice.
"Meera."
She was completely shocked to see Bran's eyes back to being brown. His voice was hoarse and dry, but it ought to be given how long it's been since he spoke.
"You're finally awake." She spoke plainly. "Was that you in the wolf?" she wanted to feel happy, but she remembered what he would be returned as. Nothing. She had to remind herself that he wasn't Bran, he was the Three-Eyed Raven.
"Meera-"
"There's probably more coming, so we need the door shut again-"
"Meera!" he called out and he sat himself up. "It's me."
She almost laughed. "I know it's you, who else would you be?"
"No Meera, it's me. It's Bran."
She froze for a moment when she finally realized what he was trying to mean. "Bran? Not the Three-Eyed Raven?"
"I'm still the Three-Eyed Raven, but I'm Bran again." For a moment he looked scared, and she didn't why. In fact, she felt scared too, scared that this was just a bad dream or just her imagination.
"Are you sure you are? Are you sure you're not just remembering how to be Brandon Stark?"
"I don't need to remember how, I am Brandon Stark."
Meera walked over to him slowly, almost as if he was a direwolf that would lash out at the wrong move. But when she was close enough, she knew it in her heart that this was Bran. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him and he did the same to her. "I didn't think you'd come back."
"Neither did I. I thought I'd be lost forever. But I made it back."
She let him go and took a moment to look at his eyes. Before, they were devoid of anything except color, but now she saw emotion in them.
He smiled up at her. "So what did I miss?"
Finally, she broke into a small fit of laughter and shoved him in his shoulder. "There's a battle going on outside the castle." She sat down by his side. "What happened to you? After you fell asleep."
He looked puzzled and shook his head. "The last thing I remember was getting attacked by the Night King. After that… I only remember seeing you."
She scoffed at him playfully.
"You were here, in a dress, telling me goodbye."
Meer's smirk vanished when he said that. It was the night of the feast that she came here to say her farewell to him and her confession.
"You said there was something you wanted to say after made it to the castle. What was it?"
Meera swallowed when he asked. She wasn't ready to tell him now. "Something for later, when the war is won." Speaking of war made her remember that there could still be men coming for Bran. "We should get you out of here. There might be more looking for you."
"No, the rest are going after Daenerys." He stared off into the distance. "But she needs help. She's about to give birth to her children."
"She… what?"
"And outside, Jon's leading the men and retaking the courtyard. They've almost won." Bran began to pull the blankets off him. "Can you take me to him. I want to go see him."
"Are sure it's safe?"
"I'm sure."
While Meera struggled to help Bran, four Stark guards came to the room. "Mi'lord, are you alright? When the battle began, His Grace told us to come here and protect you," one of them said. "We didn't expect to find you awake. It's good to have you back."
"We are fine, but I need to see him," Bran told him. "And the Queen is in danger. You must go to her now!" Two of the men departed for the queen while two stayed to assist Bran. With their help, Bran was outside in the courtyard in minutes, Meera trailing behind his chair. His eyes scanned the area until they found what they were looking for. Jon was there and looked unharmed, but Lord Reed…
Meera noticed where his gaze fell. "Father!" she yelled, taking off in a run to where her father lay in Jon's arms. He looked up as she approached moving out of her way when she reached them. He was bleeding heavily from a wound on his back, a large gash.
"Meera, he…" Jon could not get the words out.
"I was paying back...a debt long due, Your Grace," Howland muttered. " Your mother saved my honor at Harrenhal. Saving her son was the most I could hope to do for my friend." His gaze shifted over to Meera. "I will not say do not weep for me, Meera, for I know it shall a long time until I see you again." He took her hand in his, his skin felt ice cold. "Be strong for me… for our people, my little… winter lily." Howland's eyelids drifted closed and his whole body went limp.
Meera couldn't help herself. She was never given the chance to grieve for Jojen when he was left to die. She fell onto her father's body and couldn't hold back her tears or her moans of sadness. She was alone now, the last of the Reeds.
Next chapter will come much quicker, I promise
