Chapter 19 Robb, Bran

Robb

Robb walked through the courtyard of Winterfell. Under his feet, there was a thick layer of crystalline ice. Around him, frozen soldiers with horrified expressions from wounds that never had a chance to bleed, frozen in time when inflicted. This was the image of a battle frozen in time, but there were no enemies there, only his soldiers and men, those he personally recognized and rewarded for their efforts in battle.

Robb walked among them alone, feeling a cold that pierced to the bones and a deadly exhaustion that made him hesitate to take the next step. Nevertheless, Robb advanced towards the main tower, and after a struggle with frozen doors, managed to make his way to the lord's hall.

In the hall, once sealed by armored doors and a wall of assorted objects forcibly removed, just like the doors that were bent and whose steel supports were cracked due to supernatural cold, were the servants who had been left behind when his father traveled to King's Landing.

In the hall were also his mother and siblings embracing each other, all frozen, motionless, and frozen like winter.

Robb looked at them and, with frozen feet and numb hands, continued walking towards the throne, stopping about five meters away, to gaze at the being that in turn looked at him, with eyes as blue as stars, fine features, and skin as pale as white jade combined with ice crystals. Over his slender figure, an ice armor filtered the light, splitting it like a prism, giving it a faint rainbow effect that shifted across its surface. In his hands, held over his legs in a sign of aggression he had once made himself, a thin ice blade with a crystalline ice handle. The sword looked fragile as glass but was capable of facing steel and making it shatter like ice.

"You've lost the war, this is nothing but a play to my eyes, you're just boring me," Robb said indifferently, though he already felt one foot in the grave due to the cold.

"':£€π×," said the White Walker. His voice was the sound of ice cracking, as if he himself were an ice statue, and the act of moving his mouth was an unnatural act that caused his throat to crack.

The voice was not a voice, less a sound. Neither words nor a language, it was a reality that reached his mind and formed like a landscape in full creation.

"You are a beautiful creature, but what is your purpose and that of your kind?" Robb asked, ignoring the creature's threats, because like this dream they had plunged him into, it meant nothing to him.

"*:$!+°°€{°^^," said the White Walker, and a reality of mockery and replicas were created in his mind.

"My purpose and that of my kind?" Robb asked, forcing his frozen face to show a smile. "My purpose is to live. My purpose is war. My purpose is to laugh, be happy, cry, feel pain, love, walk, and run. My purpose is whatever I fancy, and that of mine is no different, though, as you'll understand, not all are free to fulfill this purpose," explained Robb. The White Walker responded with disdain and raised a hand.

Now Robb was at the Wall, and with the sound of a horn, it cracked, and an ice dragon flew beyond it, approaching and unleashing a storm that brought eternal winter with it. Robb, watching the remnants of the Wall, was frozen and died, but his consciousness expanded across the Seven Kingdoms, seeing the storm ravage and the dead advance to become an unstoppable army.

The years passed, and the world ended up immersed in a glacial darkness, void, and desolation. In this way, all their efforts would be in vain because the Wall could fall at any moment, at the will of the White Walkers, whose power was absolute…

The ice covering Robb's corpse cracked, and he, with skin as milky as a corpse and eyes as blue as stars, extended his hand. In the frozen air, the White Walker appeared, being held by the neck. He tried to speak but couldn't because Robb held him firmly. The White Walker's eyes looked at him in disbelief.

"Your purpose is death, I understand that, but you shouldn't disdain humans just when I've told you that my purpose is whatever I please. If I want to be death personified, nothing can stop me, so using your magic means nothing, especially when you've been kind enough to show it to me," said Robb's corpse, and his voice was brittle ice that shattered the reality created by the White Walker, overlaying a reality created by Robb.

The new reality was a modern city, where the streets were more potholes than streets, houses weathered by time, suffering decades without a coat of paint. Streetlights were a tangle of wires, and people walking around seemed to have seen better days, their clothes worn, their faces long.

In this crowd, a child begged for alms, wearing rags, dirty skin, and an expression beyond hope, resigned to death. The White Walker seemed stunned, indecisive, and unable to understand.

"You are winter and death; despair and misery are not part of your purpose, and you have never felt them, despite looking at them because you are one of their causes. What do you think of them?" asked the brittle ice mixed with words that had become Robb's voice. He left the White Walker on the ground, but it didn't respond; it seemed to be in shock, so Robb looked at him with disdain.

"Have you ever felt the hunger that makes your stomach ache?" Robb asked, and the White Walker held his stomach while an icy groan came out of his mouth. "I guess not," said Robb, shaking his head, and the scene changed.

Now, a thin young man in battered clothes received a diploma on a platform. While others celebrated, he just picked up his diploma and went to see if he could get some food at the celebration, with nothing else mattering. The youth mocked him, most simply ignored him.

"Have you ever felt loneliness?" Robb asked, but the White Walker's expression was only one of shock. "Then, neither have you," said Robb, and the scene changed.

The young man was now a twenty-year-old man with a battered face, carrying boxes in a warehouse.

"Have you ever felt like you could die from exhaustion?" Robb asked, and the White Walker fell to his knees.

Robb made a small grimace, and the scene changed again to a lonely office, and a middle-aged man who drew plans, reviewed statistics, and printed sheets of texts and plans, day after day, month after month.

"Have you ever felt that your life has no purpose?" Robb asked as images of the man at work interspersed with a small three-by-three room, with wooden furniture at the end of his life, sofas that seemed taken from a dump, and a bed that sounded and seemed to fall apart at any moment.

The scenes unfolded, and the years passed. Disease and pain came and went. Death also made its presence felt around him, and a sense of helplessness and defenselessness arose as the city, increasingly desolate, seemed to refuse to die.

The man grew old and could no longer work due to illness, dying a few days after leaving his job.

The White Walker that continued by his side shattered the world with a scream of pain and death. He no longer heard, and his mind closed to avoid seeing and trying not to feel.

"That's right, death is the ultimate end of life. This is the most terrifying knowledge that every living and self-aware being must face at some point in their life," explained Robb.

The scene changed back to the frozen landscape and the roaring storm that was the ruins of the Wall.

"Everything is cold, ice, and darkness. In my former life, I wouldn't mind trading my suffering for this. But now, I am someone else, and I know that life is more than pain and despair; it is warmth, love, and light. So, I won't give it up," said Robb, and his appearance returned to normal. He looked at the White Walker, who had gone mad and moaned on the ice like a condemned soul.

"Life is terrifying; even death sometimes doesn't seem so bad, only relieving a life of miseries, the blessing of the condemned or the punishment of the unworthy and unfortunate," Robb concluded.

Robb looked beyond the ruins of the Wall, towards the desolate horizon.

"Death and winter are what they are and what they want, or so it could be said. Stay where you are now, ignore us, and there will be peace between us," proposed Robb, and the storm blew harder.

"Then come, and I will show you all the pain of living," Robb threatened.

The storm descended as he spoke, and dozens of White Walkers began to materialize in front of him.

"$#*":;₡^₲π£—the sound of brittle ice returned, and Robb sighed.

"Fools!" Robb said, and Grey Wind appeared at his side, howling to the storm. More direwolves appeared and joined his call.

Behind Robb, the storm ceased, and the sun came out, while a large crow covered the sky, facing the ice dragon. His brothers appeared at his sides, and behind him, his armies and lords.

The white Walkers intending to advance stopped in their tracks, and as the scene changed, they hurried to disappear…

Robb woke up at midnight and sat on his bed to look around. Grey Wind, who slept beside his bed, got up and looked at him, tilting his head. Robb brought his hand to the right side of his face, which was as cold as if it were made of ice.

"You could have died," said a crow perched on a shelf with a screech.

"I've already died twice; once more didn't seem so terrifying," said Robb with a smile. "Have I been marked?" Robb asked because he could feel the White Walkers with him.

"Marked? Didn't you see how they fled?" asked the Three-Eyed Crow. "You've taken this mark yourself. I don't think they're happy about it," said the Three-Eyed Crow.

Robb raised his hand, and the cold increased in the room. Grey Wind retreated as his fur stood on end.

"Even though I can wield this magic, it seems to still be something that belongs to them," said Robb with a smile.

"They'll want you dead for this," warned the Three-Eyed Crow, but his tone was amused. It seemed he enjoyed imagining the White Walkers trying to figure out how to prevent him from using his magic, unable to approach his mind because he threatened to make them feel life in all its splendor.

Robb got up from his bed and went to sit on a couch to grab a book that was there and start reading, while waiting to see if the White Walkers would fulfill their threat and attack with everything they had.

Robb didn't call his guards or rush for his armor. He sat in the darkness of his room and awaited the dawn. His eyes no longer needed light thanks to the magic of the White Walkers.

With this, Robb now wielded three magic's; now, he only lacked the Targaryen fire magic in his collection of magic's. However, that was a magic obtained through Targaryen blood, and as far as he knew, he didn't possess a Targaryen bloodline.

…

In the morning, after getting ready and having stewards bring him water, Robb left his room with the Three-Eyed Crow perched on his shoulder. Due to the proximity of the White Walkers, they were always together. Outside his room, a guard of ten men awaited him, and like the maids, they looked at his right eye with a certain caution.

"A battle trophy," explained Robb, pointing to his eye.

His guards shivered. Since their lords and army learned of his magic, they looked at him with double caution, and Robb supposed that bearing the mark of the White Walkers on him, in the form of a distinctive blue eye like a star, would make them take a step back.

Robb walked among his guards and headed to the dining hall of the Night's Watch. As he expected, his lords were shocked to see him, and the Night's Watch almost ran out of the hall.

…

"In summary, I am cursed," explained Robb to his lords, the Lord Commander of the Watch, Maester Aemon, his brother Jon, and Melisandre, who had kept a distance of ten meters from him since she saw him, so she was now on the other side of the room. Far from calming his lords, this made them more nervous.

"What does that mean?" Jon asked with a concerned tone.

For a while now, Jon had become part of his guard because he didn't trust that the lords and brothers of the Night's Watch would remain calm. Robb looked at Melisandre.

"It means that the magic of the Great Other is upon him, just like his eyes. He is no different from a wight. In the worst case, the White Walkers can use him as their puppet at any time. In the mildest, they can see through his eyes. His flesh is also cursed," explained Melisandre, and his lords spat on the ground, cursing her for lying so shamelessly.

"She is not lying," said Robb. "The White Walkers didn't like that I took away their army, so they went all out to kill me. Usually, the Wall could protect me, but we have very little information about them, so I accepted their call and have gained a lot of information from them.

"But in the middle of this conversation, I realized I could get more if I took some calculated risks, which left me with this curse.

"Under normal circumstances, Lady Melisandre would be right, and the White Walkers could use me as their puppet for what I've done, but apparently, I haven't pleased them, and they ran away when I tried to have a friendly chat with them.

"However, I understand if you don't trust me to continue being the Lord of the North…" Robb raised his hand to interrupt those who wanted to intervene. "Lords, this is a serious matter, but I have no concern about it because in Winterfell, there is already an heir and many acceptable replacements, so you can decide this matter with ease," said Robb, and he stroked Grey Wind's head. Then he nodded and left the room.

Exiting the Lord Commander's office, Robb headed to the Wall's elevator and ascended to the top. Grey Wind didn't like the top of the Wall, but things were somewhat dangerous, and he stayed by Robb's side. His guards were also on alert.

Robb already knew that some northern lords wouldn't allow someone carrying a curse to rule the North, so he preferred to step down as Lord rather than condemn the North to a civil war. But that would be the extent of what he would give up. He wouldn't let anyone raise arms against him.

Robb looked at the horizon and smiled because the White Walkers had left the vicinity, and he could barely sense them, so they must be really far away.

"As long as you stay in this place, they won't dare to approach," said the Three-Eyed Crow on his shoulder. Robb looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Old man, don't think I'll stay here freezing my balls off. I've already fulfilled my duty, and my family is safe now," grumbled Robb. The Three-Eyed Crow fell silent.

…

At noon, the Wall wept because the White Walkers were far away, and Jon approached him with a look of disgust and anger.

"Jon, forget it, I'll take a break, and Bran needs some responsibilities; he'll end up a ruffian if he keeps having nothing to do. Besides, I'll be better off on my own," said Robb.

"Robb, Father wouldn't agree with this," growled Jon.

"Jon, Father lost his head over his political decisions," said Robb with a sigh. "Now pay attention because as soon as I leave the Wall, the White Walkers will return to roam this place, and they'll seize any opportunity to attack," warned Robb. Jon clenched his fists, but it was evident that the Old Bear hadn't sent him there to take care of Stark matters. Jon nodded reluctantly.

"The White Walkers don't have an army, but that doesn't mean they're defenseless. They can bring down part of the Wall whenever they please. You shouldn't leave more than the watchers on it. As for the fortresses, they can't bring down the entire Wall, so distributing the defending forces among several fortresses is the right option.

"As for the Free Folk, in my room, there's a book with plans for building a city for them," said Robb with a smile.

This was part of his plan from the beginning. His plan was to offer the comforts of civilization to the wildlings and then ask them if they wanted to return, but now all of this would be in Jon's hands.

"Jon, you'll be our representative at the Wall; it depends on you whether this construction project is carried out. I've already sent for maesters, master builders, and workers. This city will be the starting point for the northern railway," said Robb with a smile.

Robb knew it would be challenging to make the wildlings his workforce, but gold and comforts could sway the majority, and for the rest who preferred to plunder and steal, there would be an army ready for war. Thinking about it, Robb looked at Jon. He was too soft, and for his plan to succeed, things couldn't be taken lightly.

"Jon, I've promised the wildlings refuge, but I've also warned them that they would be expelled if they broke our laws. Make sure they don't forget it and set an example at the slightest sign of disobedience. Trust me, you won't want to lead a city with tens of thousands of people living in anarchy," warned Robb.

"Robb, I'm a brother of the Night's Watch; I won't become lord of a city," reproached Jon.

Robb looked at him with disdain. He had imposed himself on an army of stubborn old men, and they had done what he wanted. Jon was far from escaping his will.

"Jon, as soon as the city has laid its foundations and a suitable residence is built, a formal lord will be appointed, and that will be Arya. She'll need an assistant," said Robb, and Jon looked stunned. "I'll send a maester to advise you on administration. You know Arya is annoyed by all administrative matters," added Robb with a smile.

…

"Don't worry, Ygritte won't demand that you legitimize her children, and Bran can give them their own house. I'll make sure Stannis grants them a noble house. Although if everything goes as planned, that won't be too important in the future," explained Robb to Jon, who, after several minutes, was still in shock, realizing there was no way to refuse his request.

…

"Robb, Arya can't be a lord," said Jon, stuttering, half an hour later.

Robb ignored him and looked into the distance, a group of ten Night's Watch brothers approaching the Wall, escorting a couple of carts.

"Send these specters to King's Landing. Stannis will need to show them to his lords. I suppose that over time, there should be no fewer than twenty thousand men guarding the Wall, although with firearms, this number will be reduced to about five thousand, saving some coins for the realm, especially the North.

"The railway will also save us thousands of coins in transportation and provide us with a fast and efficient trade route. There are many ventures I plan to establish. I'll keep the salt and sugar for myself. Those that yield more for the family and the rest as a favor tribute to the northern lords and some of my peasant battle commanders, although I'll have to assign maesters to assist with administration.

"Thinking about this, it's impossible to industrialize the kingdom relying solely on maesters and craftsmen. We'll need schools, and I believe the wildlings will be an excellent option to start this educational project," said Robb and took out paper and charcoal to hand them to Jon, who hesitated for a few seconds before taking them and reluctantly began jotting down all his instructions.

"… And finally, Melisandre will stay as your adviser on magical matters. Be cautious with her because she wants you dead to fulfill her prophesied hero," warned Robb, and Jon looked at him with a expression of pure despair. "Relax, we're all with you, keep the ravens close," comforted Robb.

As a final recommendation, Robb advised Jon to keep Jaime and Brienne close, as they felt a debt to him, so they would be good bodyguards, as well as Samwell Tarly and his other companions.

…

Two weeks later, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, some black brothers, his brother Jon, Melisandre, and the northern lords who had accompanied him there, who once didn't see the Wall as a place where they should be but now didn't want to leave, old Karstark even wanted to join the Watch, although Robb had told them it was unlikely the White Walkers would attack. All these people had come to bid farewell to him, who was no longer the Lord of the North, and his presence in the place, with a curse that could be used to spy on things there, didn't reassure the leaders of the defense, although none of them dared to say it because they knew Robb and knew these would be his last words.

The group had also come to see the first ships with materials for the new city. Now that they were at peace and with the railway project, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms wanted a part of this enterprise and were collaborating in everything that was asked of them. Some even offered bribes to have the railway pass through their lands, but Robb didn't need money, and he would ensure the route was the most appropriate.

"Jon, remember that money is not a problem; prioritize materials and people. I'll try to send you all the iron I can get. The Braavosi and Manderly artisans will take care of turning it Into steel," reminded Robb to Jon as they watched the ships being unloaded at the port, which would soon start expanding because it was really small.

The lords and brothers of the Night's Watch looked at Jon. The Old Bear glared at him with hostility. He wanted Jon to become the Lord Commander, but Robb wouldn't let his brother rot at the Wall when he knew the White Walkers wouldn't show their faces there. Jon would be a lord, whether he liked it or not.

Jon looked him in the face… Well, half of the face, because Robb now wore a wooden mask to cover the half of his face that had lost color and his White Walker eye, not to scare the people around him. Robb smiled at him, and Jon sighed with frustration.

…

Bran

"Bran!" his mother scolded him, and Bran grimaced, withdrawing his gaze from his nephew, who was in the belly of a Frey.

Bran was seated in the lord's chair in Winterfell's hall, and as it was already morning, he had to be in his lordly position…

No, it wasn't his lordly position; it was his nephew's lordly position, who used the pathetic excuse of not being born yet to get out of his work. He was a miserable worm…

"Bran!" his mother scolded him again, seeing that he was looking at his nephew again, hiding in his mother's belly.

Bran made another grimace and looked at his mother, who was organizing her small court to start receiving the day's visitors, alongside Maester Luwin, Ser Rodric, some knights, and Wylis Manderly. Robb's wife and his jobless nephew, who was his nephew, were also there.

"Hodor," advised Hodor, who was by his side.

"Hodor, this isn't fair. I'm the fifth son; at most, I can be asked to be a knight. They can't ask me to be the lord," complained Bran. "Jon should be here; his oaths weren't valid, but when he learned they could bring him back to Winterfell, he hurried to swear again. It's not fair.

"Sansa and Arya are older than me, but they went on vacation. And my nephew, who should be here, excuses himself by refusing to be born. It's not fair! Robb is truly cruel! I should have exposed him earlier!" complained Bran, who had been in the lord's position for a month, and his days of responsibility-free were forgotten.

"Brandon Stark!" scolded his mother, and she seemed upset and ready to scold him for an hour, but then her expression turned sad and hopeless; she even shed a tear.

"Your brother has fallen victim to a curse," his mother said in a whisper, and everyone in the room shivered.

Bran said nothing because, at this point, if he kept complaining, he might be locked in his room for half a day without being given food. Still, Bran rolled his eyes in his mind and looked at his useless legs.

"Doesn't anyone see that I'm crippled?" Bran wondered in his mind. How was it possible that Robb was cursed and already left the job, but he, who was crippled, was put to work in his place? That was an absurdity among absurdities. Besides, Robb wasn't cursed; the White Walkers fled from him terrified, and they didn't even want to see him. It was Robb who took that curse into his own hands. It was a trap to make him work. Bran had no proof, but no doubts either.

The problem for Bran was that when he told his mother about it, he ended up punished in his room for half a day without being given food. Robb had sacrificed himself for his family and humanity. Robb was a saint, and Bran was the evil brother who spoke against him. Even his mother, who until a month ago, due to fury, broke the quills she used to write letters to Robb demanding he bring Sansa and Arya back, now cried for him and prayed to her gods to protect him, so Bran was defenseless.

"Hodor," reassured Hodor, who knew of his hardships, having been a victim of his brother Robb's malice.

Robb had been angry because Bran had played some small pranks on the stern King Stannis and the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, and now he punished him by making him a lord.

Bran never wanted to be a lord. He wished to be a wandering knight, living adventures across the Seven Kingdoms, climbing mountains, and visiting fortresses. Then, the Kingslayer made him crippled, and Bran thought his whole life was ruined, becoming a cripple. But when Bran believed he had no future, he encountered magic and knew that his destiny was never to be a knight. He was a greenseer, a creature of legends; a knight was nothing compared to that.

Bran got excited, and after thanking the gods, he started training so that when his treacherous brother finished the war, he could go on adventures with Hodor and travel the world because the Seven Kingdoms were just the aspirations of a poor knight; as a greenseer, he would travel the entire world and be famous everywhere.

Bran no longer cared about being a cripple because he was a greenseer. Although he couldn't undo what had happened to him, moving his body using magic was something he was learning to do. He had seen that white Walkers could move entire bodies, and wondering if he could do the same, he searched and found what he was looking for.

Bran had thought he needed to escape Winterfell first to achieve what he wanted, but he didn't have to because while watching the enemy lords for his brother, he came across a maester named Qyburn who apparently had the same goal. So, Bran secretly communicated with him, hidden from the old man Robb had sought to watch over him, and in exchange for his knowledge, he got him gold and a passage to the Free Cities.

Now, Bran could walk again, moving his body with magic and will. But before he could go on an adventure, that evil being his brother Robb had cursed himself and thrown the position of Lord of the North onto him to get rid of all responsibilities and prevent him from going out to earn glory and fame.

Bran could only lament his misfortunes in solitude because his only support was Hodor, who, like him, seemed to know the level of malice in his brother Robb…

"The White Walkers also fled terrified of Robb," thought Bran.

"Lord Stark, our first visitors have arrived," Maester Luwin said. Bran looked at him coldly.

"I am a greenseer!" Bran scolded. He was a living legend, not a lord, which were common humans easy to intimidate and mock.

"Lady Olenna Tyrell…" The spokesperson spent five minutes introducing the entire entourage of visitors.

After their presentation, Bran had to endure the insincere greetings from the old lady, her useless son, and the puppets of her grandchildren. Even her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell, was there, dragging along her new husband, her useless uncle, Edmure Tully, who let himself be dragged there because his father, Bran's grandfather, Hoster Tully, awaited him in his castle to teach him to be a responsible lord…

Bran got tired of so much nonsense and raised his hand because no one told him why they were there. He assumed they were waiting to negotiate with an adult.

"Lady Olenna, my responsibilities are many. Please do not waste my time introducing me to all your followers, and tell me the reason for your visit," Bran said, looking into the old lady's eyes. She blinked, though her reaction was the least noticeable, as her companions opened their eyes wide in surprise.

"My matters are complicated, Lord Stark. We are here to discuss our involvement in the construction of the railroad," Lady Olenna said with a small smile of contempt. Bran ignored her because all his petitioners saw him that way.

"Lady Olenna, I fail to see what we need to discuss. The previous Lord Stark has already sent plans and a construction route for everyone involved in this project, including you," said Bran. He was already bored of saying the same; the railroad was not going to deviate from the established plans. Lady Olenna frowned.

"The previous Lord Stark did not know the terrain of the Reach; the chosen land is certainly appropriate but far from our most productive farmlands," said Lady Olenna suspiciously. She assumed Bran wouldn't understand what she was saying.

"Lady Olenna, in about three to four years, the current railroad area will be an industrial zone for the Reach. Crops are raw materials; the greatest profits come from processing these raw materials. For this, you should be thanking me, not complaining and wasting my time," said Bran.

Bran had seen Robb's memories, and, of course, he knew where his brother had gotten everything he was doing. Bran was the one who had traced all the paths and plans for the railroad, considering the future and trying to be as fair as possible to everyone. Bran had seen another world where kingdoms that were raw material producers lived in poverty, while those where they were processed were rich.

Bran knew this and could turn the Reach into his backyard, but he wanted to be fair because he was a hero. However, these fools understood nothing; they were too ignorant, and he had to make an effort not to deceive them. Lady Olenna thought for a few seconds.

"What is an industrial zone and the processing of raw materials?" asked the ignorant old lady reluctantly. Bran smiled.

"Lady Olenna, moving things is not the only use of the steam engine…

…

Bran spent half the morning giving sometimes tedious explanations. Humans were not greenseers, and they could not gain knowledge unless it was through their simple senses. That was a nuisance for him.

…

Two days later, Bran watched Robb from the top of the walls of Winterfell as his mother went out to greet him with a hug, and Winterfell's guards shouted praises, giving him his best nickname so far, which was the Golden Wolf, and calling him the hero of the North.

"I am the hero of the North," Bran thought with a sigh. He also wanted to go out and earn fame and glory, but he was stuck in the lord's chair, and unlike Robb, he didn't have a war to allow him to leave Winterfell because the lords of the Seven Kingdoms came there to bother him, and he had no excuse to leave.

"Hodor, we have been defeated!" said Bran.

"Hodor," said Hodor dejected.

This defeat at the hands of his brother was his own fault. He had him in his hands but let him go, and now he was a prisoner and couldn't go out for adventures. He had thought he was free, and that Robb couldn't do anything to him.

Bran looked at Robb, who had grown several inches since they last saw each other. But what had changed most in him was his musculature because he had been training every day with a sword and a spear.

Robb wore a wooden mask on his face with carved runes, which the Children of the Forest had made for him and sent via raven, to try to interfere with the White Walkers' vision and prevent them from taking over Robb's mind.

Bran grimaced. The White Walkers had fled terrified of Robb. Bran had seen it all. He had been scared too, but not for the same reason as the White Walkers.

What had scared Bran was the world from which the other soul that was now part of Robb came. As for living conditions, he had been witnessing the miseries that the war had caused in the Seven Kingdoms for a year, and the things he saw, including the death of his father…

Bran's heart skipped several beats, and he hurriedly set aside those memories. His father's death was something he still couldn't face.

Death was something terrible and terrifying for anyone, but now Bran had a new view of it due to what he saw of the White Walkers.

Bran, like his brother Robb, had understood the fear of death. The fear of the unknown, of emptiness, and of nonexistence. It was a primal fear that accompanied all living beings.

The White Walkers understood this fear and used it against humans. What the White Walkers did not know, and what made them flee in terror, was life.

Bran was amazed when that White Walker went into shock from feeling hunger. Loneliness, fear, even pain were things that scared the White Walkers. Life was terrifying for them because they were the emptiness of death, and life was the unknown.

In a way, Bran understood the White Walkers. Life required courage, and those who gave up along the way were claimed by death.

Author's Note: In the next chapter, we will continue with Robb and Bran, then we will see what becomes of Tyrion in exile.