The stew at Castle Black was sour and crusty, but Bran gobbled it like wolf devouring sheep. Food helped lessen the visions, and with a full belly, Bran saw the common hall clearly. Meera Reed sat beside him, gulping the stew with equal exuberance. Around the hall, hunched sullenly over their bowls were few dozen men in black. The wildlings have not reached Castle Black yet, Bran knew, although he did not know how. In front of them was Eddison Tollett, Acting Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, staring at them with eyes big and black.
No amount of reiteration could convince Dolorous Edd that the broken boy in front of him was heir to Winterfell. At the very least, Bran was grateful the watchers let them pass the gate. The fact that the Night’s Watch allowed wildlings to cross the Wall was for their favour, and though Bran was content with the men in black treating them as such, Meera did not stop insisting Castle Black send ravens to Winterfell about the return of their lord. They finally did, more out of precaution than anything, with a shoddy sketch of his face.
“I think I understood something about your visions that may help, Bran,” said Meera cautiously, when the common hall finally left them alone. Bran felt a sense of dread, knowing he was in fear of what was to come next, even though not knowing what. “You were able to see clearer with the Three-Eyed Raven… but that may not only be because of instruction. Could it be the weirwood trees?”
The dread that lurked in Bran now felt fresher; he suddenly wished Meera had not said that. True, his visions were never entirely clear, and when he touched a weirwood, they became stronger. He had considered that and knew it to be plausible, but every time he thought of that a picture of the Three-Eyed Raven came to his mind – old, tired, trapped in a cave, waiting for death.
Days after meeting the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran had to concede to himself that even he could not heal his legs. Knighthood was not for him… but Bran hoped he could be of some help in the battle to come, perhaps slipping into the skins of a soldier to help in the war against the dead. Were they all for naught? Is my destiny to simply find a tree and curl inside of it?
*
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