The darkness engulfed the woods, searching through the fields for something. There was a sharp metallic taste in his mouth, why he did not know. All he knew was that he was terrified. Something was coming and he knew that when it did, it would change everything.
The darkness shifted, revealing a castle, made from stone, but with wooden defences. Deep within the woods. He supposed this was the Motte, but why was he here? Why had the dreams brought him here?
"To watch." A voice said. He turned and saw Summer. His direwolf was lying on his paws, watching and waiting.
"To watch what?" Bran asked.
Summer didn't reply, instead voices answered. Bran glanced down and he saw Kraken walking. He frowned. That wasn't possible, Kraken couldn't walk.
"Everything is possible here." Summer said.
"Where is here?" Bran asked, but again, his direwolf didn't answer.
The kraken were talking and laughing. Some were even doing that strange dance he'd seen Ser Jaime and Queen Cersei do. Or rather, they were wrestling like them. Summer snorted, but Bran ignored him. Instead, he changed his view. If this was Deepwood Motte, perhaps he could get a look into their defences, and see where he could help.
That's all he wanted to do. He wanted to help. After all, Robb was in the south fighting to take King's Lading and to become King. Jon was with him as well. Bran wanted to help. He wanted to make things easier. He wanted to prove that he was grown as well. And this, this was his way to help.
He saw their ships; they were moored on the small dock that the Glovers had. Bran looked at them. The ships were big, some had three sails others four. But none of them towered over him. Or the surroundings.
If I touch them here, will they be affected in the real world? Bran wondered.
"Wait." Summer said. Bran looked at his direwolf and raised an eyebrow. The direwolf replied. "Watch. Something is going to happen."
Bran watched and sure enough something was happening. The water near the Motte was shifting, changing, bubbling. He blinked and moved back when a figure appeared from out of the water. A giant. A giant with a trident and a tail. The giant said something inaudible and then more creatures appeared.
They were misshapen, dark creatures, with webbed hands and feed, and with eyes of the darkest red. There was a pale of black that hung over them. They moved to the ships and pulled at them and destroyed them. When there were no ships left, they moved onto the Motte.
Surprisingly they didn't destroy the castle itself, but they picked up the Kraken and crushed them or ate them. Ripping them limb from limb. The screaming terrified Bran. He closed his eyes and willed himself away.
The screams disappeared and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself in Winterfell. He heaved a sigh of relief, but that relief was short lived when he heard a crow caw. Bran turned and saw the three-eyed bird staring at him.
"What do you want from me?" Bran demanded.
"To make you see the truth." The bird replied.
"What truth?" Bran asked.
"The truth about the darkness and your family." The bird said.
"I don't understand." Bran replied.
"Then I will make you understand!" The bird replied, before he flew right at Bran.
Bran awoke with a start, his chest thumping. He blinked and was relieved when he saw that there was no bird in the room with him. Instead, Summer was sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed.
"I don't like Jojen." Arya said.
Sansa put down her needlework and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Arya frowned. "I don't know why, but there's something about him that just doesn't sit right with me. Plus Nymeria doesn't like him." Indeed, Nymeria had taken to growling whenever Jojen appeared. The boy had learned to avoid Nymeria and consequently Arya as a result. "I feel like he has bad intentions for Bran."
Sansa frowned. "What bad intentions?"
"I don't know, but I know that Bran is scared." Arya replied.
"Do you mean about the dreams he keeps having?" Sansa asked.
"Yes." Arya answered. "He thinks the one where the Ironborn take Winterfell will happen. And Jojen has convinced him that it will!" Arya had nearly knocked the Reed boy out for saying that. Bran had been terrified and had quietly asked Arya if she could sleep in his room that night. Something they hadn't done since before Rickon was born.
Sansa sighed, and Arya knew, she just knew that her sister was coming around to her point of view. "I admit that wasn't very kind of Jojen. And I also admit I don't like the way he loiters around Bran and the way he keeps whispering to himself when he thinks nobody is looking."
"Right?!" Arya exclaimed. That was another thing that she'd noticed the Reed boy doing a lot of. It was frankly unnerving.
"But then what are we going to do? He's here as a guest, he's had our bread and salt. We can't just kick him out because we don't like the look of him. Mother seems to think he's harmless." Sansa said.
Arya snorted. "Mother thinks everyone's harmless until she sees something with her own eyes." She would have brought up Joffrey, but she knew that was still too new of a wound, so she didn't. Instead, she simply said. "I suppose we could always convince Bran."
Before King's Landing, Sansa would've asked what she meant by convincing Bran. Now, however, her sister got it in one. "Convince him that Jojen is dangerous and that as the Stark in Winterfell, he needs to ask the Reed siblings to leave. But of course, we find a more palatable way of dismissing them."
"Exactly." Arya replied smiling.
Sansa exhaled. "Do you want me to speak with him, or will you do it?"
"I can make the suggestion to him. But I think he'll take it better if it comes from you." Arya said, Sansa knew how to be persuasive in a way Arya didn't.
Sansa nodded. "Very well." Arya leaned forward and kissed her sister's cheek before bounding out of the room. The better to get on with this.
Wendel stepped off the ship. Ironborn ships were of far inferior quality to that which was produced in White Harbour. But they had served their purpose. The men he had with him knew what they needed to do.
Goodbrother would move first, lure the Ironborn to where he needed them, then he would do the rest. He put his axe in the mud and waited. Marq came up to him. The younger man had aged considerably since what had happened at Pyke.
When he'd come to, he'd seemed almost disbelieving. But then, Wendel had to acknowledge that if he had seen his father do something like what he'd done at Pyke, he might be a bit shocked as well.
To his credit, the younger man had quickly adapted and accepted what he'd seen. That had allowed them to move on as quickly as needed. Balon Greyjoy was dead, as was Aeron Greyjoy. Pyke had been submerged into the deep of the dark. Those Ironborn who had managed to flee had fled, those who hadn't, well they were part of his army now.
Goodbrother returned a few moments later and said. "They're approaching. Asha Greyjoy is at their forefront."
"Good." Wendel replied. "You know what needs to be done." Goodbrother grunted in acknowledgement.
A moment passed and then another, then they heard footsteps. Then out of the clearing came the Ironborn. Asha Greyjoy, with her short hair and her long axe stepped into the clearing first.
Her eyes widened as she saw the host gathered before her.
"What the fuck is this?"
Wendel pulled his axe out of the ground. "Your death." He stepped forward and waited.
Greyjoy looked from Goodbrother to him and then said. "Fuck it, I'll take you fat man."
Wendel smiled. "I'd hoped you'd say that." He whistled, and the water began to churn, then slowly, but surely, the darkness started to rise. The misshapen forms started to emerge. Wendel stepped forward as they did so and got to the point. The first draw of blood made his heart sing.