#isaachempsteadwright

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."

"What happened… I do not wish to see. I want you to tell me." She sniffled back tears

Bran took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task he was about to undertake. He turned his eyes to her, his expression grave. "Very well. The attack by the White Walkers…It was a massacre. We were taken off guard, outnumbered.” Bran's voice grew sombre as he continued to recount the events. "Jojen was badly injured, gravely injured. He wasn't going to survive it." Bran explained the horrible truth, how Meera had killed Jojen in mercy far beyond the wall.

The moment he finished, she screamed out in grief, the closest sound he'd ever heard like it … Was his mother, Catlynn Starks' scream when watching his brother rob die.

When she finally regained her breath, "his body … What did you do with his body?" She begged

"We couldn't carry him with us." He said, his voice soft and filled with sadness. "We had to leave him behind. We…we burned his body, to prevent the White Walkers from… from getting to it."

Y/n shook her head, tears in her eyes. "No… Say it is not so…" She fell to her knees in the spilt wine and broken glass, the sharp slivers cutting into her skin,

"We had no choice." He tried to explain, a hint of desperation in his voice. "The White Walkers… they take the dead and turn them into wights. We couldn't let that happen to Jojen."

She cried. "No… No… He was not born of fire…" She muttered, "Targaryens are born of fire and thus must die in flames. Those who swear to the lord of light will burn, but no… Not Jojen…" She begged. "He was a man of house Reed! Of the neck! The marshes and the mud men… and you… You robbed him of eternity." She grew angry, directed at Bran, "to rob a Reed of the marsh… It is to rob a Stark of his iron crown in the crypt of Winterfell. A promise made of your eternity…" She whimpers, "and you burned him…"

"You're right. He was born of mud and reeds. Of the swamps and the marshes." He said, his voice heavy. "But he was also a man. A man who fought bravely, and died a hero." He paused, his eyes on the flames. "I will carry his memory with me always."

"I do not care if he died a hero… Or a fool." She spat. "I care… That I will never see him again…" She cried. "He will never be with his ancestors, he will never … Be with our daughter…" She completely broke down, "he is with the wrong gods…."

"His soul is at peace, Y/n." He said softly. "He has found his way to the gods-"

"… but he will never be with Sara."

Bran's eyes softened ever so slightly. "No… he won't." He agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she will know of him. She will know her father was a brave and honourable man," he explained, "And she will grow up surrounded by people who loved her father, who will tell her stories of how he fought and died at his family's side."

"She will never know such stories…"

Bran's brows furrowed, confused. "What do you mean? She has you. You can tell her stories about Jojen."

Y/n shook her head, wiping her tears. "You don't know?'

Bran's eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. "Know what?"

"Sara is dead."

Bran felt as though the air had been knocked out of him. He was speechless, stunned by the news. "How…?"

"… She came before the battle. Forced her way out of me. Demanded to arrive." She said her hands were resting on her still swollen stomach, yet to lose the weight of carrying Sara. "I fought as long as I could before the pain became too much. I brought her into this world… Right there on the castle floor. She was so beautiful… So perfect, the sweetest little whimpers." She explained, "… When the castle fell… they ripped her from my arms…” She said her hand resting briefly over her scarred eye, “They killed her."

"I… I had no idea…" He tried to find the right words, but nothing seemed adequate.

"he's dead. As I'm sure you can guess." She sniffed, "I laid her to rest in greywater… In the marsh waters… Where jojen was meant to join her… Now they are lost to each other."

“Y/n I-”

“I did all that you asked of me, I gave you my husband… I let you take him from me… I went to battle with a baby in my belly… I watched my home burn… I gave birth to my daughter on the cold floor of this castle without a single hand of aid… They ripped my newborn baby from my arms and butchered her like a piglet… they raped me on the castle floor… Cut my eye and left me to die… I crawled out of that castle, barely even surviving with my daughter in my arms… I did everything I had to do to bring my baby home, to lay her in the marshes with the family she never knew… where I will one day be with her… where he was always supposed to go….” she cried, “Where all of us could be together. You robbed me of a husband, and of eternity with the man I love; you robbed Jojen of his birthright, his eternity with me, and robbed him of his daughter! You robbed Sara of this world and stole her father away. That is a debt… that can never… ever be repaid.”

Bran's heart ached for the first time since the great tree, and his words left him in a way that he knew was not the raven… but was for once. Brandon. "…I'm so sorry, Y/n."

She scoffed, picking her head up. “That’s the worst part, Bran…” she said, meeting his eyes, “I know you're not.” She shook her head, “Becuase you're not you. Not anymore. So everything… everything I lost… was for nothing.”