Jojen Reed One Shots

Robbed Of Eternity

Bran sat in his chair, his eyes on the fire. Himself... somewhat lost in his own body. But even beside the flame of the fire, he felt cold.

The door to his chamber opened with a whine. But they refused to come into the light or his line of sight. Simply allowing the door to swing shut behind them.

Bran's cold eyes flickered towards the door, but he didn't move. "Y/n," he said, his voice hollow.

She stepped from the shadow, her thick green mossy coloured dress hung over her body, fur on her shoulders littered with snow from the Winterfell courtyard. Her hair was in a long braid. And a scar across her left eye.

"You've changed." He stated,

"Shouldn't be a surprise to you. Given what you are now."

Bran turned his eyes back to the fire, his gaze distant. "Perhaps. But it's still a sight to see."

"I didn't come to reminisce."

"Then why are you here, Y/n?"

"... I want to know what happened to my husband." She spoke in her commanding voice.

He hesitated for a moment, his mind recalling the memories he had seen as the Three-Eyed Raven. "He's dead." He said, his voice cold and blunt.

"That much I know." She spat. "He went north with you, gods be damned Brandon! Tell me! Beyond the mere answer that he's dead. How did he die, what did he say, how did it happen! How did you... In all your knowledge, allow this."

"It was beyond my control, Y/n." He tried to explain, "We were travelling beyond the Wall...beyond my sight." He paused, closing his eyes as he recalled the memory. "We were ambushed...attacked by White Walkers..."

"That's not good enough!" She screamed, kicking a table, letting the wine smash on the floor.

Bran didn't flinch at her outburst, but his expression remained stoic. "I can't change what happened, Y/n." He said, his voice firm. "I see what the trees show me."

"You promised me..." She said, "You promised... He'd come home... I went to war for you... And your cause... I let my home burn for you... On the promise he would come home."

"Y/n..." He called out to her, his voice now barely more than a whisper.

"... I don't believe you." She shook her head, "... How do I know you didn't let him die? How am I to know your gods didn't order it? How do I know that you didn't allow it... Leave him to die in the snow because it was necessary for you. For your magic. For all of this."

"I would never allow something like that to happen," he said, "Why would you think me so cruel?"

"Because if nothing else... I have learnt that only death pays for life. Blood has to be spilt for the sake of magic." She picked her head up to meet Bran's eyes. "Whose death, paid for your life, Brandon? What blood was sacrificed! For the magic you now hold!" She yelled. "... Because to me, it sure does seem like the gods in there madness led my husband, like a lamb to the slaughter, for you. To be the sacrifice for your magic."

"You're angry, and you have every right to be," Bran said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn't ask for this power. I didn't want any of this."

"... I didn't want any of this. All I wanted was my husband."

"I know..." He said softly. "And it's not fair." They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the crackle of the burning embers in the fireplace. Finally, Bran spoke. "I can show you-"

"I do not want to see it." She choked. "I cannot bear to see it."

Bran could see the pain and torment in her eyes. "I understand." He said softly. "But sometimes, remembering can help us heal." He paused, his eyes on the fire. "I lost my father...my mother...my siblings." He murmured, his voice filled with sadness. "I carry their memories with me. Their love. Their pain. Their death."