Warg Maiden

Edited xXFallenSakuraXx52

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones


Chapter 7: Traitor

Imogen's POV

I lay on my bedroll, tossing and turning, having dreams I have not seen in a long time—flashes from the past, the present, and the possible future. Once more, the Three-Eyed Raven showed himself in his animal form, a raven with three eyes. Cawing at me, as the flashes of a young boy with dark hair and eyes. One with a dire wolf, falling from a tower. A cripple. Suddenly, I found myself in a small clearing surrounded by weirwood trees and a heart tree that faced upon a pond. The boy stood there, confused, as he looked at me. I examined my condition, wearing a gray woven dress, a leather vest, and a wolf-skin cloak in my Dire attire.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"I could ask the same," I replied.

A raven flew across us and landed on the heart tree. It took me a moment to examine the boy and then back at the Three-Eyed Raven. I scowled, walking over to the bird.

"He is only a child," I bellowed.

"As were you," the Three-Eyed Raven said in a deep voice.

I tensed, "You stole me from my clan. You tricked me. Now, you use others to lead the child to the slaughter. Let him live his life, not an eternal slumber."

"Imogen!" the Three-Eyed Raven cawed.

I rushed to the boy, placing my hands on his shoulders, "Listen to me, boy. Do not fall for his tricks. No matter what he offers you, do not accept. For if you do, you will lose yourself. You will no longer be you. You will forget everyone you love."

"What do you mean?" the boy asked, and then his eye went towards my neck. Seeing the tattoo that resides on the right side of my neck took the shape of a wolf's head. "That's my house sigil."

The Three-Eyed Raven cawed, trying to break the conversation. I took out my dirk and grabbed the boy's hand, cutting his palm while I cut my own. Entwining our fingers, I started chanting in the language of the Children, doing a spell to protect his mind and soul. I stared into his dark eyes, seeing he had the blood of the First Men and Andal. He was more than a warg, but a greenseer—a powerful greenseer too young to lose his identity.

The Three-Eyed Raven cawed and attacked, breaking the vision.

I was woken up as my body convulsed.

"Imogen!" Ygritte called out.

These episodes were common with those of magical abilities. Greensight is a taxing thing that takes a toll on the mind and body; my body is tense and twisted. A bright light covered my vision. I felt hands on me as my head was moved onto someone's lap while a piece of leather was placed in my mouth. The method is to prevent grinding my teeth and from biting my tongue off.

"I'm right here with you," Ygritte murmured.

The seizure continued as my body convulsed. Another person grabbed my legs, preventing me from kicking. At the same time, with one hand, I held onto Ygritte's arm, grasping onto reality.

"What's wrong with her?" Jon asked.

"Warging and visions take their toll," Ygritte answered. "The more you join with the animals, the harder it becomes."

"The worst feeling is when being killed inside the animal," Orell muttered.

After a while, the seizure ended, and I regained control of my body. Ygritte removed the leather from my mouth and helped me sit up, and Orell adjusted my legs.

"What did you see?" Orell asked.

"I saw a boy," I mumbled. "A boy who fell from a tower...into the Three-Eyed Raven's temptation. I tried to warn him."

Tormund came over, patting my shoulder, "It's up to him to decide, lass."

The Free Folk knows of the Three-Eyed Raven. They know the deity who observes everything in history as he watches everything and knows everything. Wargs and Greenseers still fear the deity, knowing that for the entity to live, he must have a human host. I was almost that host, falling into the temptation that he gave in the form of Bloodraven. If it weren't for the Children of the Forest helping me keep a hold of reality, I would have lost myself.

Now, a young boy of possibly ten years of age is falling under the deity's spell.

Jon knelt to my level and looked at me, "You said you saw a boy falling from a tower. Did he give you a name?"

I shook my head, hoping the incantation I did could make his mind stronger by putting up a barrier. So, if the boy were to fall victim to the Three-Eyed Raven, it would be the Raven falling into the subconscious and not the boy, or at least make them equals. The Children did not want to lose me, so they created a spell. As everyone started packing up, I removed my glove, staring at my left hand to see a cut had formed. Anyway, I secured my glove and got ready for the day.

As we made our way east, Orell walked beside me.

"You need to be careful with your greensight," he murmured.

"I haven't used greensight in over a year," I whispered.

"Remember, you are a warg," he said.

I nodded. I was born a warg. I may have adapted to become a greenseer, except I was not adequately trained. Not in the way the Wisemen were trained during the Age of Heroes. If I hadn't been tossed aside, I would have been the Three-Eyed Raven. But once we separated, I learned of the deception after grieving the loss of my friends and lover. The only thing I got out of it, other than the etching of my skin, is knowledge of being a powerful warg. I know things and tricks when warging. Only the abilities consume a lot of energy and will result in seizures.

Orell stopped, resting a hand on my shoulder, "I'm here for you."

I stared into his eyes and saw that he was speaking the truth. Orell is a strong Warg, the strongest in his clan since his familiar was an eagle. However, I raised a brow and glanced at Ygritte and Jon. Just a few days ago, he was confessing his attraction toward Ygritte. Orell sighed, shaking his head. I am not in the mood for a relationship. Love is just a distraction. I only care about getting my family, clan, and the Free Folk on the other side of the Wall. But should I consider my options…to have a companion?

Orell noticed I was contemplating his offer. He knew I wouldn't make the decision now, but the thought that I would consider it was enough for him. So, with a slight smile, we started making our way.

.o0o.

There was a sense of a storm coming. The clouds were becoming dense, and the winds were picking up. Either we find a place to shield ourselves or carry on through the rain. We continued onward until spotting a cottage out in the field. We all spread out, though the leading group of Tormund, Ygritte, Jon, Orell, and me remained. We all slouch and kneel behind short brick walls as Orell warged inside his eagle and scouted the area. After several minutes, he returned to his vessel and faced us.

"Only one old man and eight good horses," Orell reported.

Tormund looked at Jon, "What's one old man doing with eight horses?"

"He breeds them for the Watch," Jon answered.

"How's he keeps folks from stealing them?" Ygritte asked.

"The Watch protects him," Jon answered.

"Not today they don't," Orell murmured. "He's selling horses, he's got some gold in there."

"And proper steel," Tormund assumed.

"Let's carve him up," Orell suggested.

"We just take the horses and go," Jon insisted. "The old man's no threat."

"I keep telling you," Orell said, glancing at Tormund.

Tormund gave Jon a questionable look.

"He's an old man," Ygritte reasoned. "A spear through the heart's a better way to die than coughing up your last with no one but your horses to hear."

The thought disturbed me. I never took part in raids. The Dire Tribe never raided or pillaged. The only time we are ever in battle is because another clan or tribe attacked us. When I fought the Night's Watch, I merely fought men who were coming too close to an innocent village; they attacked me with an intent to kill or attempt to rape me. My family holds a code of honor through my father's bloodline. Is there true honor in killing a defenseless man?

"The Watch might send a few men looking for a horse thief. They'll send a lot more to hunt down murderers," Jon explained.

"I hope so," Tormund murmured.

"He has a good point," I whispered. "Mance wants us to be discreet. It's too early to expose ourselves."

Tormund paused, contemplating the options. However, Tormund was a true warrior at heart with a steadfast vendetta against the Crows who killed his friends and brothers. Especially his sons, who were murdered by Crows, leaving him only his two daughters.

"Killing crows in their castle is tough," Tormund said. "Killing them out here in the open, that's what we do." He then raised his voice so the others could hear. "Spread out. Surround the hut and move in."

"Tormund, just get the horses," I implored.

"You stand watch," Tormund ordered.

I took a deep breath and nodded. This was a kindness Tormund was allowing me to stay behind. These were the differences between the Dires and the other Clans. The group climbed over the fence and began running towards the cottage. I observed over the wall, seeing the men going forward, running fast. That was when I saw Jon taking Longclaw and banging it on the large rocks. The clashing sounds caught the horses' attention, which brought the Breeder out of his home. The Breeder panicked quickly, freeing his horses before getting on one to make his escape. Ygritte stopped, drawing her bow. Jon came over as Ygritte fired, causing her to miss. Ygritte turned around, glaring at Jon.

He is still a crow, or he is not a true killer? I thought.

The men tried to grab the horses, but they galloped about. Sighing at how pathetic they looked, I came over and, taking a deep breath, warged all seven horses to behave — stopping in their panic and trust in us. Orell nodded in approval.

"You all rummage the place to see what you can find! The rest of you, follow me," Tormund ordered as several men, and I got on the horses for the chase.

We had to stop the Horse Breeder from reaching Castle Black or any of the Crow Posts. Our plan would be compromised if word got to the Southerners that wildlings had crossed the Wall. Orell and I rode together as Jon and Ygritte got on another horse. Tormund took the lead as we chased after the Breeder. It was a lengthy pursuit as the rain started to fall, and a storm came in.

It was getting late by the time we reached an abandoned windmill. Orell, having enough of the chase, told me to warg into the Breeder's horse. Having no choice, I secured my arms tightly around Orell's waist before warging into the horse. The horse neighs from my intrusion until succumbing to my command. The rider kicked my side, trying to make me go faster, but I stopped, allowing the others to circle around us. The Breeder tried to kick me again, except I stood on my hind legs, bucking the elderly man off.

A sound of an arrow came rushing in; thus, I quickly escaped, only to be struck in the ass. A shot of pain struck me as I neighed before turning around, glaring at the shooter, which Ygritte paused, looking at my body and then at the horse. She gave a nervous smile, realizing her mistake. I rolled my eyes as a member came over, taking the reins and having control of the horse before I warg back into my body.

I shook my head, feeling the numbing pain in my thigh, and glared at Ygritte.

"Sorry," she mouthed.

I rolled my eyes.

Orell and I got off our horses and searched the area. The storm was so strong that thunder and lightning struck every other minute. A new sound could also be heard along with the thunder. It sounded like shouting — a constant repeat of the word Hodor. Orell and I examined the sound, trying to figure out where the shouting was coming from. It sounded like it was coming from the abandoned windmill.

Suddenly, I felt a strong presence — familiar energy- when I was with the Three-Eyed Raven, and he was teaching me how to warg. A moment later, the shouting stopped.

"You sense that?" I asked.

Orell nodded, there was another Warg nearby.

Tormund passed by us.

"I heard shouting up there," Orell reported.

"Thunder," Tormund said, looking up at the windmill.

"I know the difference between shouting and thunder," Orell countered.

"Maybe it's ghosts," Tormund joked with a laugh.

Orell disagreed as he called upon his eagle. I felt it was more than a ghost, so I called upon Frigg to scout out the abandoned windmill. Meanwhile, Tormund walked over to the Breeder, who was on the ground. The elderly man drew a dagger, aiming it at Tormund. The giant man knelt at the older man's level.

"That won't help you, grandpa," Tormund said, offering a hand to take the weapon.

The older man sighed in defeat, handing his dagger over to Tormund. Tormund examined it and tossed the small blade aside.

"Where you riding?" Tormund asked.

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" the Breeder replied.

"No, it doesn't matter now," Tormund agreed.

Orell came over, "Cut his throat, or he'll tell the crows we're here."

Tormund got up, drawing his blade, "You understand."

The Breeder lifted his hand, "Let me stand at least. Let me go with a bit of dignity."

Tormund accepted that request and helped the man stand up on his feet. The older man groans, still injured from his fall.

"Make the Crow kill him," Orell suggested.

Jon was surprised, glaring at Orell.

Orell came over and glared right back at Jon," You're one of us now. Prove it."

All eyes were on Jon. It was definitely time for Jon to prove whether he was a wildling or a crow. Jon sighed as he drew Longclaw. He aimed his sword at the Breeder's neck. The older man hesitated.

"She looks sharp," the man said.

Jon nodded.

The man closed his eyes, giving his prayer to the gods. Jon stood there, allowing the man to finish the prayer. However, the man was still muttering those sacred words. I thought the North only had people who worshiped the Old Gods. Not worship those of the Seven. Is this man worshiping all Seven gods?

"Just do it," Ygritte told him as she gave him a warning look. "Do it."

Jon was still hesitant.

"I told you," Orell said. "He's still one of them."

Jon put both hands on the sword.

"Go on, boy," Tormund encouraged. "Go on!"

Jon growled, raising his sword only to stop in mid-swing. Suddenly, Ygritte fired an arrow directly into the Breeder's heart, killing him. Everyone was on guard, drawing their weapons as I drew Dark Sister. Jon went on the defensive as Ygritte locked in another arrow. I gave Ygritte a pleading look not to do this.

"He's a crow," Orell yelled. "He'll always be a crow. And here's his crow wife guarding him. He'll stab us in the back first chance he gets."

Tormund paused as he was the leader of our group. After a moment, he said, "Kill him."

Ygritte was about to fire an arrow when Jon shouted, elbowing her and practically knocking her to the ground. Orell rushes in to attack while Tormund approaches Ygritte, pinning her down. The men go after Jon, and only one by one is cut down. The Valyrian steel slices through their furs and damages their vital organs. Meanwhile, Tormund gets hold of Ygritte.

"He's one of them," he tried to talk reason into her.

"No!" Ygritte screamed.

"Do you hear me?"

Ygritte suddenly bit him. Not wanting to lose my friend, I rushed in, immobilizing her. She scrambled, trying to punch and kick me, but I dodged each blow and tackled her to the ground. I secured my arms around her and forced my weight onto her legs. Tormund rushed in, helping me keep Ygritte down.

"You're not gonna die for one of them," Tormund yelled.

Suddenly, two direwolves appeared out of nowhere, attacking two of our men. Amid the creatures' interference, Orell charged at Jon. He left himself open. Jon took his sword and stabbed Orell straight through the chest. Jon said something to Orell; at that exact moment, Orell's eyes turned white, warging into his eagle to save his spirit.

Jon yanked his sword out, only to be attacked by an eagle. Tormund had a good hold of Ygritte, so I got up and drew my sword, attacking him. As I went for the strike, the eagle moved out of the way. Jon instantly turned to the side, avoiding the blow, and grabbed Longclaw. I swung again, and he lifted his back, blocking it. The moment our blades clashed, sparks flew. Never has Dark Sister created sparks when striking other blades. Ignoring the prospect, I muster all of my strength to keep Jon down. He groaned when he moved his leg, trying to kick me. I pulled back, striking him again.

Just in mid-strike, a gray direwolf tackled me down into the mud. I cried out from the unexpected weight, shoving my left arm into its neck before warging into the beast. My eyes turned white; however, I did not see through the eyes of the wolf; instead, I stared into the boy's dark eyes from my dreams. I scowled, forcing my abilities on him, disconnecting the boys warging from the direwolf. I had the beast off me into submission.

When I got up, I looked around and saw that Jon had escaped. Ygritte shoved Tormund off her, chasing after Jon, only to stop, seeing her lover abandoning her. I turned to the sky, commanding Frigg to follow him. Frigg complied, though kept to the sky, allowing her white feathers to mask in the storm. Sighing, I came over to Orell's body. I knelt down and closed his human eyes. The eagle swooped down and landed on my shoulder. I glanced at Orell as he ruffled his feathers.

A warg can escape death if its human vessel is destroyed or beyond survival. However, this second life inside the animal is short-lived. The longer a warg stays inside the animal, the less of its human memory it has, and over time, it will become more beast than human.

Tormund came over, looked around, and saw that only Ygritte, himself, and I remained. He glanced at the two direwolves who were still under my control.

"Think they are of use?" Tormund asked.

I stared at them; one was gray with sprouts of sandy fur, while the other had dark fur. I could tell he was already bonded when I warg into the gray fur one. I've used enough energy to maintain the horses and stop these two from killing the rest of us.

"No, they're too wild," I lied. "Let them cause hell for the farmers."

Tormund gave a scuff of a laugh and nodded. Nothing else was said, I bobbed my head, and the direwolves rushed out. Although, I took a glance at the windmill. The warg was in there, and he was not alone. Even though he was just a child, I will have a word with him when it is dark.

"You were right all along," Tormund said to Orell.

Orell flapped his wings, giving a screech at Tormund.

"What did he say?" Tormund asked.

"Just because I'm a warg doesn't mean I speak the language of the animals," I muttered. "Knowing Orell, he's probably said,'I told you so. Can't trust a crow."'

"Aye," Tormund grumbled.

Orell nodded by nipping my ear.

I sighed and looked at Ygritte.

She was still standing there staring out where Jon had taken off. I took a deep breath and walked over to her. Once I was beside her, I did not touch her, knowing she did not want to be touched. Her lover betrayed her. The one thing you don't want to do is betray Ygritte. Anyone who dares cross her will receive an arrow in return, and the amount you hurt her is the number of arrows in you. Her previous lovers learned that the hard way.

"Ygritte," I started.

"You were right," she whispered.

"Go," I told her.

She looked at me, surprised.

"Tormund and I will take care of the bodies. You deal with him," I said. "He's your responsibility."

Ygritte opened her mouth to speak.

"Frigg will guide you," I said.

Ygritte nodded. Tormund, seeing how hurt Ygritte was and knowing Jon was a dead man, allowed her to go and kill the Crow. She took a horse and left. Meanwhile, Tormund and I piled our fallen comrades onto the horses and made our way back to the Breeder's cottage. Only I rested my hand on Orell. Even though Orell's spirit is secured in his eagle, what we could have had to discuss... couldn't happen. We met up with the others, and as the storm proceeded, we decided to spend the night.

However, there was a certain Warg I needed to see…

.o0o.

The Windmill

Brandon Stark was still comprehending what had just happened today. This morning, he had a strange dream of being in the godswood back in Winterfell, where the Raven with three eyes stood while a woman faced him. There was a wild beauty about her, let alone some resemblance to someone he couldn't quite put his finger on. Her hair was pulled back yet wild with white paint in it, her gray eyes were surrounded by dark charcoal, and her face had blue paint with symbols around her eyes and forehead. He watched the woman glaring at the abnormal Raven, telling the blackbird to leave him before coming over and telling him not to trust the bird before cutting his hand and speaking another language. What surprised him the most was the tattoo on her neck.

Why was she wearing the House Stark sigil on her neck?

At first, Bran thought the woman was a Stark ancestor. Many Starks had dark hair and grey eyes. Although, in the past few generations, House Stark has been inheriting more of the mother than the father. Since Rickon, Sansa, and Robb resemble more of their mother, while he and Arya have more of their father. Arya was the only one who appeared to be more Stark than anyone in the family. Well, there was Uncle Benjen, who had dark hair and gray eyes.

When the Raven woke him up, Bran asked Osha and Jojen about the dream. When he described the women, Osha tensed.

"You must be careful with a Dire," Osha warned.

"A Dire?" Meera asked.

"Dires are one of the oldest clans since the beginning. Wolf's blood flows through their veins."

"The raven called her Imogen," Bran added.

Osha tensed again, "We better hope not to cross her."

"Why?" Rickon asked.

"Imogen is a powerful Warg," Osha explained. "She was taken as a girl and came out as something more. She can control more animals and see things, just like you."

"Have you met her?" Bran asked.

Osha shook her head, "And I don't want to."

Bran looked at his hand, seeing the fresh mark as if he was scratched, and stared at Jojen, "What does she mean by, don't trust the raven?"

"I do not know," Jojen answered.

The young cripple started second-guessing himself if he should see the Three-Eyed Raven. Something did not feel right. Maybe he should focus on returning to Castle Black, ensuring Rickon is safe, and talking with Jon. Then he remembers Jon was with the wildlings. Not sure if he has defected or was being held hostage. Let alone Uncle Benjen was missing, most likely dead. So, they continued onward until coming by an abandoned windmill and used it as shelter through the storm.

That was when the confrontation happened outside. Hodor was already afraid of thunder and lightning. Now add the Wildlings attacking an elderly man with Jon there. Something happened, with Hodor being so terrified that he warged inside him. He was controlling Hodor to calm down. It was an out-of-body experience, seeing through Hodor's eyes before returning to his own body.

It was entirely different from his dreams of controlling Summer. Then, he does the same with Summer and Shaggydog to help Jon fight the wildlings. He saw a woman attacking Jon and had Summer pounce on her, ready to kill, until the woman did the same and warged inside the direwolf. He realized it was Imogen from the dream, except she saw him and broke his control over the wolves.

Bran was terrified that the wildling woman would enter the windmill immediately. Instead, she focused on collecting the dead and took off with the Wildling with the red hair, going west, while the second woman with red hair went after Jon. So much energy was taken from him that he couldn't do anymore, and he fell unconscious. All he knew was that Imogen was real.

Osha had lit a candle in the darkness.

"Is that safe?" Meera asked.

"They're long gone," Osha assured, setting a candle beside Bran.

Rickon hopped down from the window and sat in front of his brother. Bran turned his attention to Jojen, who was next to Meera.

"You were right," Bran said. "I can get inside Summer's mind whenever I want."

"Of course you can," Jojen said. "North of the Wall, there are wildlings who can control all sorts of animals, just like that woman. But you did a lot more than that. You got inside Hodor's mind."

As they glanced at the unconscious man.

"They can't do that north of the Wall," Bran doubted.

Osha bit her hand, shaking her head.

"No one can do that . . anywhere," Jojen added.

Osha disagreed. She knew Wargs could go inside people's minds. However, it was forbidden. A taboo that the Free Folk made. There were two laws a warg can never do. They can never control another human being or lay with a beast. Taking away someone's freedom makes you no better than a southerner. Osha was not chastising Bran for breaking that sacred law because they were in grave danger. Hodor was about to blow their cover…but the next time it happens, she will lecture Bran about the laws of the wargs.

Bran then got excited and turned to Rickon, "When I was looking through Summer's eyes, I saw Jon."

"Where?" Rickon asked.

"He was with the wildlings," Bran answered. "They tried to kill him, but he got away."

"He'll be heading back to Castle Black, then," Osha concluded. "That's where we should go."

"For all we know, Castle Black's already under attack," Bran countered. "If this many wildlings got through—"

"I already told you." Osha interrupted. "I'm not going north of the Wall."

"Everything Jojen told me is true," Bran said. "You saw what I did to Hodor. I have to find the Three-Eyed Raven."

Osha leaned over, taking Bran's hand, "Listen to me, little lord."

"Don't worry. I'm not asking you to come with me," Bran murmured. "It won't be safe for Rickon."

"Me? I'm coming with you," Rickon protested.

"No," Bran disagreed. "You and Osha and Shaggydog head for the Last Hearth. The Umbers are our bannermen. They'll protect you."

"I'm coming with you," Rickon implored. "I'm your brother. I have to protect you."

Bran gave a small smile, "Right now, I have to protect you."

Rickon's eyes water, and his lip quivers, ready to cry.

"Robb's at war, and I'm going beyond the Wall. If something happens to us, you're the heir to Winterfell," Bran explained.

Rickon shook his head.

Bran turned his attention to Osha, "Would you know how to find the Last Hearth?"

"You Southerners build your big castles and never move," Osha replied as she gathered their things. "You're easy to find."

Rickon stood up, feeling offended, "We're not southerners." Then he looked at Bran, "And I don't want to leave you."

"Shh, shh," Osha murmured as she stood up, wrapping an arm around the little pup. "Come here, little soldier. You and me, we're gonna have some adventures."

"You don't have to do any of this," Bran said, making it an option rather than an order since Osha has been their prisoner.

"Your family took me in and was good to me when they had no cause to be," Osha replied, comforting Rickon. "Shh. We'll be fine, you and me. The Umbers are great warriors. Even I heard about them growing up. They'll teach you how to swing a sword."

"I know how to swing a sword," Rickon countered in tears.

Osha kissed the top of his head before helping the youngest lord up.

Bran was surprised, "You're leaving now? It's the middle of the night."

"I learned to walk in darkness," Osha said, grabbing their things. "Say your goodbyes, little man."

Rickon rushed over, hugging his brother. Bran hugged him back. Meera and Jojen watched, giving them privacy until Osha approached them.

"Keep this one safe," Osha said. "He means the world to me."

Osha has made the two youngest Stark boys her own children. She was strong, but inside she worried about Bran's safety beyond the Wall. She learned about encounters with wights from her late husband. Meera merely nodded, as did Jojen. With nothing else to say, they left the windmill. The storm had passed, and the moon appeared between the clouds. Shaggydog took the lead, leading towards the east where the Last Hearth is located. Little did they know of a warg hiding amongst the ruins with an eagle next to her.

Imogen petted Orell's head, soothing the once-human warg. Orell was staying by her side. Aiding his friend the best he could and allowed her to know how long she would have if she were to save her spirit before losing her humanity in an animal. They waited long enough, ensuring Osha and Rickon were gone, before going inside.

At first, the small group of adolescents thought Osha had forgotten something; however, they were met with a wildling and an eagle. Meera tried to reach for her bow, but the eagle lunged forward and tackled her. Still recovering from Bran's invasion of the mind, Hodor remained unconscious.

"If I were you, I would sit down and listen," Imogen said.

Meera kept a protective arm in front of Jojen and glared at her. Imogen ignored the glare and approached Bran, sitting in front of him.

"We got a lot to talk about," Imogen said.

"You're a wildling," Bran accused.

"Aye, and a daughter of the First Men and a warg, just like you, boy," Imogen stated.

"Why are you here?" Meera demanded. "Are you here to kill us?"

Imogen shook her head, "I don't kill children. Now sit down and shut up."

Orell shrieked, which made the two Reed siblings sit down.

Bran stared at Imogen, who looked exactly the same as in his dream, except she was dressed in fur. Her neck was covered, and her face did not have blue paint on it.

"Why are you this far north, boy?" Imogen asked. "Shouldn't you be in Winterfell or south from here?"

Bran did not respond. Imogen sighed, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Look, seeing the Three-Eyed Raven in your dreams is never good," she explained. "I was around your age, maybe younger, when I saw him."

"What is he?" Bran asked.

"He has been a deity since the Old Gods. The last of the greenseers, once a mortal living amongst the Children of the Forest beyond the Wall. No one knows his real name. I doubt he even remembers it after many years of claiming a new host."

"A new host?" Bran asked.

Imogen nodded, "He cannot live forever unless he acquires a host. He can give the vessel longevity, but immortality is not possible. He trains a new pupil every hundred years to take his place."

"And how do you know all this?" Jojen asked.

Imogen looked at him, "Because I was going to be the next Three-Eyed Raven."

Their eyes widened.

"What has the Three-Eyed Raven promised you?" Imogen asked.

"I don't know," Bran said. "He helped me wake from my coma."

Imogen sighed as she took his hand, the one she had cut in his dream. "I cannot stop you. The choice is yours. However, I can help you save your mind before it falls into a deep slumber."

"What do you mean?" Meera asked.

Imogen paused, trying to figure out a way to explain it, "When you become the Three-Eyed Raven, you are no longer yourself. He becomes you, and you become a dream. I can help your friend gain control so he doesn't fall into an eternal slumber. Might as well call it death until a new host comes in."

Bran was surprised. If Osha were here, she would demand they head south now.

"If I were you, I would go home, head south, and warn everyone of the Others," Imogen advised. "The Long Night is coming again."

"The Long Night?" Meera asked.

"An eternal winter of darkness. It lasted for a generation, many fought against the Others. If you dare go beyond the Wall, no one can protect you against the Free Folk who hold a strong vendetta or the wights and White Walkers. The worst would be encountering the Night King."

Imogen's words sink in as they comprehend the dangers while the Wildling comes over to Bran, pulling out a dirk.

"If you dare go north and decide to seek the Three-Eyed Raven, allow me to help you to secure your mind," Imogen offered.

Bran paused, thinking about it before he gave the nod.

Imogen took his left hand and cut both of their hands, making a rune from the old children's language. Bran winced slightly, seeing a symbol he had not seen before. Imogen did the same on her own before entwining their fingers. She spoke in an ancient language while staring into each other's eyes. Bran could feel a weight in his head, almost like a headache. By the time the incantation was over, the headache had vanished.

"What did you do?" Meera asked, still cautious.

"A protection charm, so when the day does come . . .he will still be here and not the Three-Eyed Raven," Imogen said as she stood. "The choice is yours, boy. Choose wisely."

Imogen lowered her arm so Orell could climb on top of her shoulder.

"Imogen," Bran called out. "Why are you helping me?"

Imogen stopped at the top of the stairs before turning around to look at him. Her eyes showed the pain she went through.

"Because I don't want others to be taken advantage of by him ever again," Imogen replied before leaving.

The three adolescents watch her depart.

Bran questions if he should genuinely see the Three-Eyed Raven.


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