Your ride to Winterfell was a long and awkward one. Meera sat at the back of the carriage and spoke no words for the entirety of the trip. Bran looked to be zoned out and unable to concentrate. Looking at him made you think back to the conversation you had yesterday. You wondered what he was feeling. Though, you started to agreed that maybe you'd never understand.
You were unreasonably angry with him for the words he chose to use. Sansa has told you growing up men had a poor choice in words, and they often don't know how to express themselves correctly. But, the way Bran spoke to you in the cave the night he confessed his feelings was all the right words and more. And, what Bran said to you last night still felt as genuine. You believed he wasn't sure how he felt anymore.
Maybe, Meera was right. The resentment of going all that way only to have all your friends die along the way probably did make you feel some resentment towards him. Then, for Bran to take away his confession of love probably opened those wounds for you. Though, a part of you had felt selfish.
Bran had felt that way about you all this time, while you looked off into the distance at other men. He held his tongue until he felt like it was the right time to tell you. Then, the Gods took the opportunity away. Could you really be mad at Bran when he was going through all this change? It's not as though he had chose the journey you all went on, or to be the three eyed raven. He was forced to be. And, you knew what it was like to be forced to be something you're not. So, why is it you're still so upset?
Your questions would have to wait for another day to be answered. The cold gray familiar walls of Winterfell had just peaked over the horizon. The deep burgundy of the weirwood trees leaves rested above the small Forrest inside of Winterfells castle. You felt a feeling you never thought you could. It felt like a place you actually belonged. Even though you never really belonged here, it's the only place you ever really felt safe. The only thing that could have ever resembled a home to you.
"We're home." You announce.
"He's home." Meera corrected you. You did not argue with her statement, as it had resembled the truth.
Riding down the path to the gate had reminded you of the day the King rode down to take Ned away from the north. The day everything had changed. Coming down this rode seemed like a
small undoing of all that chaos. It felt like you were taking a piece of your own destiny back.
Before the horses even reached Winterfell the gates began to open. You knew someone must have told Sansa of your arriving. As your carriage made its way through the now open gates you looked up at all the balcony's looking for her long red locks. Once you spotted her amongst the surrounding crowd you commanded the Nightsmen riding the horse that carried you to stop. Then you jumped up and out of the carriage and turned to face your long forgotten memory.
She ran to you too, your arms locked around each other's. Though, you and Sansa were never close growing up, you could feel the familiarity in her scent, as she could in your own. She held you tightly then released and pulled back to get a good look at you.
"You've changed." She noted with a smile "you're a woman now."
"As are you. A beautiful one." You laugh.
"You flatter me. I couldn't compare to you." She disagrees. You both smile as you studied each other's faces. Her smile slowly faded before she spoke again "You look like you father."
She had said father, but you knew she had meant Targaryen. You looked Targaryen. She might not have known it, but being called beautiful a thousand times could never compare to being told you had looked like the identity you had thought you lost. Your smile widened even more, which seemed to confuse Sansa. You had spent all those years trying to hide who you were, only to stand in front of her now proud of what you are.
Her eyes shifted behind you when she saw them lower Bran out of the carriage and into his chair. She released her grip on you and walked over to him cautiously. Unlike the run she had used to greet you. It wasn't until she was a few feet away that she finally lunged at him and embraced him in a hug.
"You're home." She cheered as she held him. "You're finally home."
"Yes." Bran's monotone voice sang. Sansa leaned back and looked at him oddly.
"Is everything alright?" She asked him confused by his tone and words.
"Everything's fine." He assured her, but not really assuring her much at all. She nodded her head and chose not to address the subject here any further. You shared another more awkward smile with her before speaking again.
"Maybe we should head inside." You suggest.
"Oh, yes. You must be freezing. I know how you hate the cold." Sansa says in an apologetic tone. You walk behind Bran and grab the back of his chair to lead him into his childhood home. Meera and Sansa followed you close behind.
Once inside one of the servants waiting in the room began to light a fire. You wheeler Bran in front of the flame to warm him up. Sansa has offered Meera a cup of tea, which she gracefully accepted.
"You all most he starving." Sansa said as Meera sipped her tea.
"Yes, a little hungry." You say. Sansa looks over at her handmaiden and give her a nod, motioning towards the kitchen quarters. Her handmaiden quickly obliged and rushed to fetch you all some food.
"I'm actually more tired, my lady." Meera says softly "it's been a long journey."
"Of course." Sansa agrees. "I'll show you to a room you can use." Both Sansa and Meera stand and begin to make their wait out of the room. "Oh, ___." Sansa said Before she leaves "you can stay here if you'd like, too. I have Brans room prepared and you can have Robb's old bed."
"Thank you, my lady." You smile weakly.
"No need for the formalities." She corrects you. "You're home now too." With that she rests her hand in Meeras back and leads her out of the room to what you assume to be Jon's old bed.
"You don't like the idea of sleeping in his bed, do you?" Bran asks after they are out of earshot. You got goosebumps as he had spoken the words you were just thinking.
"Are you able to read minds too?" You ask him. Bran shakes his head.
"I can read faces."
You huff slightly. He was right. Sleeping in Robb's old bed just wouldn't feel right. Your mind began to replay memories of his bright hazel eyes, and his curly auburn hair. His bright smile and fierce personality. All the childhood memories you had with him. Then, you remember what the Nightsmen had told you happened to him. How the Frey's cut off his head, and made him wear Gray Winds.
Then, you began to think of Summer and Jojen. How Hodor screamed as he tried to hold off the wights. You tried to imagine what it must have been like to be left behind like that. To be abandoned by the people you tried to protect. Then, you look at Bran. He had given you a look like he had just seen what you were thinking. Though, maybe all those memories were written all over your face.
"You could stay with me." Bran suggests pulling you away from your thoughts.
"Huh?" You wonder with tightened brows.
"You could stay with me, in my bed. If it would make you more comfortable." Bran repeats. You instantly want to say no, but hesitate when you think about it. It would be more comforting to have some company. For the last couple of years you had slept with Bran and your other companions. Nights would only be lonely and full of those awful memories if you were to lie alone.
"Thank you." You say "I think I will for tonight."
"Ah~ would you look at these lovebirds." Said a slimy slick voice behind you both. You look over to be met with the squinted eyes of a middle aged with a pointed goatee. "What I wouldn't do to be young and in love again."
"Who are you?" You ask him aggressively. The man only smiles at your temper.
"A Targaryen!" He announces eagerly "I mean you, of course, you are a Targaryen." It felt weird hearing those words out loud in this environment. Ned and Catelyn would have scolded anyone who dared called you that name publicly. "You must be, ___. Boy, have I heard things about you."
"Who are you?" You ask again in a growl.
"He is Petyr Baelish, known by many as littlefinger." Bran comments. The older man looked at him in amusement.
"And, how would you know that?" He asked cheerfully. But, there was a small glimpse in his eye that almost seemed threatening. As though, he didn't want Bran to know who he was without him saying it.
"I see things." Bran admits.
"Ah~ interesting." Littlefinger said, obviously not interested.
"Bran, why don't I take you up to your chambers now?" You say still eyeing Littlefinger. "I'll have the handmaiden bring us our food." You stand and grab the back of his chair to lead him out of the room. Only to be stopped by the pesky old man.
"I insist that I help you." He says as he injects himself between you and Bran. "This is no job for a lady."
"I'm not a lady." You correct. Littlefinger smiles ever wider now.
"Oh no. Not yet you aren't."
"Huh?" You ask. But he only continues his smile as he wheels Bran down the hallway. You hesitantly follow behind the men.
Once at Brans doors Littlefinger jumps ahead and opens then wide for you both to enter. You take over wheeling Bran and move him into his old bedroom. It had smelled the very same since you had left it. But, most of his old stuff was gone. You looked down at Brans expressionless face and wondered if he missed all these old things. Or, if he was too occupied with everything else in the world.
Littlefinger gives a slight cough from the other side of the room, ripping your attention away from Bran. "If I may have a word, my lady." He said as he nods his head toward the hallway. You give him a strange stare.
"Go ahead." Bran encourages. "I'll be fine."
"It's not you that I'm worried about." You say under your breath. Against your better judgment you make your way past Littlefinger towards the hallway. He follows and closes the large wooden door behind him. You take a few steps away from the room, but stop before you get too far out of earshot. Littlefinger seemed amused by you caution.
"I'm not here to harm you." He tells you. Yet, you still seem unconvinced. "I only have a proposal, one you may not seem too attracted too at first, but, one that could change your life for the better."
"What is it you want." You demand to know. He lets out an amused huff.
"Do you wish to restore your forgotten ancestry?" He asks eagerly. You raise a brow unwilling to believe the possibility.
"Why are you asking me this?" You wonder.
"I know it must be hard for you to admit, especially in this place. Your whole life you were meant to deny it, but, now the times have changed, old Kings are dead, new Queens will not rule for much longer. And, the north is a separate kingdom. You just realize the opportunity this gives you, right?" He asks you.
"What is it you're suggesting exactly?"
"I'm suggesting you restore the Targaryen name, you take back your fathers and families honor." He smiles evilly as he looked into your eyes.
"Impossible." You deny.
"Quite the opposite." He counters.
"How?" You ask "how would this be possible?"
Littlefinger's eyes trace the cold stone walls and land on Bran's wooden door. "With him." He answers. Only confusing you further.
"Bran?" You question. The gray haired man nods.
"He is the King of the North. He will now rule all of the North. And, he is in love with you." He begins to explain. You had to stop yourself from jumping in and correcting him. He was in love with you. Now, you weren't so sure anymore.
"How does that restore my family name?"
"You marry him." He says finally getting to his point. "You marry him, you become Queen of the North, and you take back your Targaryen name." You look up at him stunned. He was seriously suggesting you marry Bran. A light pink blush covered your whole face as the thought wrestled in your brain.
"I- I couldn't." You try to argue. "We couldn't."
"You could. And, he would. I can see it in his eyes. All you'd have to do is give him some heirs, and you could have a Targaryen/Stark child born to rule the seven kingdoms." You tried to dissect his words one by one. The idea of giving Bran a heir nearly caused you to lose your balance. And, somehow that wasn't even the craziest thing he had said.
"I don't want the Seven kingdoms, neither does Bran." You say. Littlefinger shakes his head.
"You hate the north." He reminds you. "You feel lost here. That will never change, girl. If you want to be a Targaryen, you have to be a dragon. You have to be the flames that burn down all those that dare try to take away your heat. That is what a Targaryen is. That is what you are."
His words made you realize something. He spoke as if he wanted to set you free, but, he only wished to control you too. To use your anger and resentment for his own gain. You looked into his cold greedy eyes, and gave him the largest smile you could manage.
"Yes, I agree." You lie "I must be a dragon."