Chapter VI: The Raven

Bran put his hand over the tree, his head lolling back and his thoughts being replaced by visions; past, present and future.

He searched among them for his sister. His older sister with dark brown hair and grey and chillingly cold eyes. He searched for her among the vast cold of the North, but she wasn't there. When he looked further south, he found her finally, his sister once lost to time and tragedy, riding her horse faster than most men could, running towards his voice. Bran concentrated harder, trying to talk to her again, like he had done earlier.

Arya. Arya.

She stopped abruptly, pulling the reins of the mare, her eyes darting around herself in caution and anticipation alike. Bran saw the hilt of a sword peeking through her cloak, wrapped closely around her body to keep off the chill.

Arya jumped down from her horse, her hand clasped over her one and only weapon and stood still as if to make out from where his voice was coming.

Bran was standing right behind her, looking at her lovingly, seeing her for the first time in years. and he felt the need to hug her tightly, to tell her he had missed her, and that he was so, so happy she was alive. But she couldn't see him, not even if he tried his best to make her. Perhaps it was better she couldn't.

Bran smiled at her, taking in how much she had grown in height, even though she looked to be a few inches shorter than him. It had been years, but it had felt like decades. He remembered the times both of them had run around Winterfell, getting all covered up in dirt and mud, and Arya covering up for him, telling their Mother it was her fault and not his.

Bran took a deep breath, pushing his feelings away in some deep corner of his heart. For now, he needed to guide her and help her, even if she wouldn't and couldn't know it. He needed to help all of them.

"Bran?" She asked in a hushed breath, and he heard the tremble in her voice. "Are you here?"

"Yes," he replied. "I am here, Arya."

He saw the look of relief on her face, and her eyes glisten with tears. Arya laughed softly, and fell to her knees with a sob.

"You're alive," she murmured. "You're alive, Bran."

Bran laid a hand on her shoulder, feeling his own tears hit his eyes, but he swallowed them down.

"I cannot see you," she said, aghast. "How can I not see you but hear you?"

"It is not wise for us to meet yet, dear sister," he said.

"When will we, then?" She asked, trying to trace the direction of his voice but Bran knew she wouldn't be able to.

"Not now," he replied, sadly. "I need you to listen to me meanwhile. Will you?"

"Yes," she replied, looking up. Her cloak was flowing about her knees.

Bran smiled. He knew everything Arya had been through, and it was high time she felt happiness, or what kind of joy she allowed herself to feel. He gripped her shoulder.

"Close your eyes," he told her, shutting his own in the process. Arya readily did what he asked, wiping what remained of the tears with the back of her fist. Bran's real body inched closer to the weirwood tree, while the one standing beside Arya kept his eyes closed.

"Open."

He was gone. He was back in his body and had disappeared from beside her. Arya slowly opened her lids, blinking once, twice, before her eyes fell on the darkness. Moments later, two bright yellow eyes stared back at her. Bran saw his sister's disbelieving expression, eyes brimming with new tears ready to spill again. Arya reached out her hand reluctantly, and the beast inched closer. Bran suddenly felt sad, remembering Summer, but the look of joy on his sister's eyes was enough for him for now.

In a flash of seconds, they were staring eye to eye and Arya was sobbing openly, her mask crumbling down and turning to tears of joy. Arya wrapped her arms around the direwolf, almost jumping on her, sobbing and hiding her face in Nymeria's fur. The wolf was as big as Summer had been, if not bigger. Bran watched as Nymeria licked Arya's face when she pulled away. Arya hugged her tighter, crying and laughing at the same time, and Nymeria howled into the soundless night, breaking the silence as it echoed through the darkness.

They both had their best friends back.

Bran pulled his hand away, still smiling. Beside him, Meera was looking at him curiously, placing her hand over his arm. Bran nodded his head at her, feeling satisfaction dwell within him.

"It is done."