You and Bran had know each other since you were kids— mainly because you had refused to leave his side after he and his friends rescued you from a burning village just on the outskirts of Westeros. He had seen it in a vision, and despite not telling you the full extent of what he had seen, you still chose to repay him for saving your life.

Maybe that had been the reason you ended up here. Back in the gates of Winterfell. It felt odd— being classed as family by one of the highest ranked men and women in all the seven kingdoms, and quite frankly, it always seemed to put you slightly on edge.

Eddard Stark took you in like a second daughter to him, and since that day forth, you had never been that same shy, vulnerable girl that you had been when your house burnt to the ground. You had never been the same girl that you were when the Lannisters had taken your parents’ lives.

—

Then everything happened. Plenty of years had passed with nothing but peace in Winterfell, and for once in your life, you felt completely protected from whatever threats lay beyond the walls. But that was all cut short when you realised one of your biggest threats had been in the walls the whole time.

A spy. A Lannister soldier had been caught snooping around Bran’s quarters in search for proof of the Three Eyed Raven, and had been caught by some of the nobles passing through the halls.

Despite being hung less than a few hours after he was caught, everyone in Winterfell knew it was far too late. The Lannisters would be on their way as they spoke, and so they had to prepare for what they knew was coming. War.

The fight was brutal once the Lannister army stormed the gates, but… nothing about that war had managed to hurt you more than what happened to Bran. Jaime Lannister had made a beeline for him, and as a result of it, Bran had been left paralysed. Sure— he was lucky he hadn’t been murdered like a lot of the other men… but him being rendered completely inable hurt you far more.

—

Ever since that day, you had blamed yourself for what happened to him. Told yourself that, maybe if Bran would’ve left you at the burning village, this wouldn’t have happened. Nor would his father had died.

To try and make it up to Bran and the people of Winterfell, you became his personal guardian. No one had to tell you, or order you to do anything. You did it all on your own accord. You owed him your life, and even if you couldn’t give him that, you could give him what you could manage.

But he was cold. Understandably, but painfully so. There was no light behind his eyes, no smiles, no playful banter and gestures. Just a blank stare and a stiff body.

The old Bran was gone, and yet you still loved him.