~The Dragon's Sister || Game Of Thrones (Currently Under a Rewrite)

What He Wants

Ships were already sailing to Kings Landing as Bran stood in his room in his wheelchair, focusing on staying in his own little world with little disturbances. There was something he had to do, something no one else could interfere with.

   All he heard to enter his own "world" was to focus on the silence, on the face of the Weirwood tree back in Winterfell that was possible destroyed. The only reason he was to warg because he had to finish something urgent; he had a meeting with the undead. 

   Bran's eyes flickered for a moment before they rolled into the back of his head, having his mind to unwind and travel into the perspective of another. Where he was going he had no idea if it were safe or not from being detected, though there technically was nothing holding him back. He had no fear this time, he wasn't a boy anymore.

   As his perspective soon changed, he could no longer hear the distant shouts of men readying for the attack, the noise of Drogon flying to Kings Landing, or the sound of the creaking wood where his wheelchair sat on.

   There was nowhere he was going in particular, if he was to explain whether he was going to the past, future, or even the present. He was going to the present, though it was neither that either. 

   He knew where he was when his brown eyes opened, revealing for him to be in a new surroundings that he still remembered when he went with the last Three-Eyed Raven. It was the place where the Night King was created.

   He saw the tall Weirwood tree where the man of the First Andals tied against it, he saw the ritual insignias on the ground where the Children of The Forest plotted on making him into the Night King. 

   But there was no Children of The Forest, no predecessor, not even the man tied up against the tree. He was the one by the tree.

   He was standing as he had been allowed before, though he simply stood besides the tree instead of moving. There was someone in front of him, and he could recognize him as the man behind the monster. 

   It was the man that became the Night King, though he was more humanely-looking with short hair and brown eyes that were darker than Bran's. There was no fear flickering in his face, there was a patient look on him as he simply sat on the grass in the middle of the ritual that created him in the first place as a monster.

   Bran didn't move. He had never truly seen whoever the Night King was before becoming a monstrosity, at least even get the chance of speaking with him. It came to him in a dream that coaxed him, however. So he had to at least try and listen to them.

   "Do I frighten you, young man?" The man asked, his voice a bit rough like his father but just like Jon's.

   Slightly hesitant, Bran raised his chin up, as if he were examining the man. "Somewhat." Bran answered.

   "That is understood. A bit of fear can carry on to swift obedience and respect." The Night King said, not even a hint of blue in his eyes. "It has come to my attention that you have come to this meeting to speak with me, is that correct?"

   "Yes, but I don't know what is to be included of your words."

   "It is not just my words that are to be focused on, Branden Stark, it is your choice that is vital." 

   "And what choice do you wish of me to say of?" Bran questioned.

   "The choice that determines the last war; The Battle of Ice And Fire."

   The man then stood up, wearing simple clothing and a nice tunic that almost made him look normal to Bran. But he had to remember that he wasn't truly in reality, that is could possibly just be fake.