"Hahaha, Maester Varys, guess what the King just said to me?"
The ancient, gray, and cold castle stood silent.
Goose-feather snow drifted down from the sky.
The green leaves in the courtyard were dotted with clusters of white snow. The ground was soaked with melting slush, black mud clinging to their boots.
Rickard laughed heartily as he unfastened his sword belt and black cloak, handing them to a servant. Side by side with a young maester, he walked toward the towering stone gate.
Hmm… Dany had "traveled" again.
Not a real journey through time, but a vision through the trees—perhaps reading the memory stored within them?
Previously, she had seen the Red Keep as it was nineteen years ago. Now, she stood in Winterfell.
And she saw Rickard once more.
The Duke of Winterfell, nearly twenty years younger than the last time she had seen him.
For some reason, Dany sensed in this younger Rickard the same aura she once felt from his eldest son, Brandon.
It wasn't the wild recklessness of a bloodstained sword.
It was more like the fierce blood of the direwolf of House Stark.
She wasn't entirely sure.
"The rumors were right. Our King…" Young Rickard tapped his shaggy head with a grin. "Something's not right up here."
"What strange idea has he come up with this time?"
The maester, named Varys, didn't correct the duke's impropriety. Instead, he joined in, joking about the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Perhaps it was because they were both still young—their bond was close, their words as free as friends.
"The King wants to build another Wall," Rickard said with a laugh.
"He claims that if we build a second Wall five hundred kilometers north of the current one, we could annex all the land in between.
The Seven Kingdoms would gain at least three hundred thousand square kilometers of new territory!"
"Haha, the King often has wild notions. We ought to be used to it by now.
Back when he was still Crown Prince, he discussed with Lord Tywin a plan to dig a canal linking the Trident and the Blackwater, bringing water all the way to Dorne.
That way, the desert could be turned into farmland.
Dorne, spared from harsh winters, could grow rice and wheat year-round—enough to feed all of Westeros." Varys chuckled and shook his head.
He went on, "Last year, right after he took the throne, he wanted to gather the armies of the Seven Kingdoms to seize the Stepstones and tax every ship crossing the Narrow Sea.
If Lord Tywin hadn't stopped him, who knows how that would have ended!"
Rickard's laughter faded, replaced by a sigh. "King Aerys means well—he wants to expand the realm's borders.
But all his plans are far too unrealistic.
Why do you think Brandon the Builder chose to build the Wall where it stands now?
Because that's the narrowest point of the continent—only about five hundred kilometers wide.
Push it five hundred kilometers farther north, and the workload increases tenfold.
And today, we don't even have one-tenth of Brandon the Builder's skill or manpower.
As for that canal through the whole continent, even with the strength of the entire realm, it would take a hundred years to complete.
Everyone dreams of seizing the Stepstones to control the Narrow Sea, but has any kingdom ever succeeded?"
Varys gave a knowing smile. "Each time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin to decide whether they'll be great—or mad.
Without a doubt, Aerys landed on the mad side.
My lord, this is your opportunity."
"What opportunity?" Rickard asked, puzzled.
"The North is vast, but it's too small for your talent and ambition. The Starks may be Kings in the North, but even kings can rise higher.
You should set your sights beyond the Neck—past the Riverlands and the Vale—to the heart of Westeros: King's Landing.
Lord Tywin became Hand of the King at twenty. Your abilities are no less than his. Perhaps… you could even surpass him," Varys said softly.
What the hell? What is this maester trying to do?Dany was stunned.
At first, she hadn't paid much attention to the conversation between the two northerners.
Even when they mocked her poor father's "brilliant ideas," she didn't care.
After all, even a conqueror as mighty as the Dragon Queen herself couldn't escape gossip and slander.
How could the Mad King ever hope to win the hearts of all his subjects?
She had only meant to linger here a while longer to familiarize herself with her "time-travel" ability. But now…
She had just stumbled upon an earth-shattering revelation!
The "honest and upright" Duke of the North wasn't hearing such treasonous words for the first time.
His expression showed no confusion or surprise. Instead, it was thoughtful—almost eager.
"This is our kingdom. Leave. Leave."
Just as Dany was focusing intently, trying to "fast-forward" to see whether Rickard truly harbored ambition, that irritating three-eyed crow appeared again.
Swish—swish—ah!
In an instant, Dany's figure vanished from the Duke's study and "teleported" beneath a massive weirwood tree.
Under its white canopy, by a dark pool, Dany saw Bran.
Bran gazed with deep longing at a middle-aged man sitting beneath the tree, wiping a black greatsword with a sheepskin cloth.
Dany appeared so suddenly that she materialized right beside him.
The next moment, the sorrow and yearning on Bran's face vanished, replaced by a blank, hollow stare.
He glanced at Dany once, and she was instantly pulled away—out of the trunk and roots of the tree—returning to the dim cave filled with tangled weirwood roots.
"You shouldn't have done that," Brynden sighed.
"Why not?" Dany blinked, disoriented, her head still spinning from the temporal dislocation.
"If I were to take your dragons, your throne—would you allow it? You're trespassing upon powers that belong to the greenseers," said Brynden.
"That's a bit overbearing, isn't it?" Dany replied with irritation. "The earth is there, the trees are there. Why should only you be allowed to use them?"
"For a million years, only those granted the true inheritance of the greenseers have been able to safely walk the edge of the river of time. Ordinary ones easily lose themselves within it.
You don't actually possess time-traveling power. Everything you've seen has been along another's trail—like following footprints left upon the river's surface. You just happened to…"
He paused, then sighed. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand even if I explained. Just know that we protect this power to keep others from abusing it."
Dany lifted her chin, sneering. "So you're saying everywhere I go, it's because Bran has been there first? What's so hard to understand about that?"
"Besides, I am the queen. Only the power that rests in my own hands can be used justly. Now, this queen suspects that you have used your ability to travel through time within the trees to commit crimes harmful to humankind.
You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say will be used as evidence in court.
Now, hand over your tools of crime and let the queen—who represents both the nation and all of humanity—take them into custody!"
Brandon closed his eyes and sighed. "Go, Leaf. See our guests out."
The little squirrel-person named Leaf walked up to Dany without saying a word, staring at her with large, catlike eyes.
Even Dany's thick skin couldn't withstand that gaze.
"Let's go." She stood up and muttered to her five companions.
"It's around two in the morning now. We can imagine how dark it is outside. If there are White Walkers lying in ambush, both Bevos and the queen are doomed." Bevos grumbled loudly while lighting a torch.
"There are only wights nearby. The White Walkers won't come," Leaf said.
"Are you sure? I still think waiting until daylight would be safer," the Great Bear said doubtfully.
"This is a sanctuary! Just as the White Walkers cannot cross the Wall, they cannot come here either," the squirrel-person insisted.
"Hodor."
Their movements were loud—armor clanking and voices echoing—waking the other squirrel-people, Reed, and Hodor in the corner.
"Do you want to come with us?" Dany stopped at the exit of Brynden's cave and looked toward the Reed siblings.
"No need. We'll leave with Bran."
At her words, the crannogwoman's face brightened with faint hope. But after glancing at her silent brother, she hesitated and declined.
"If you stay, you'll die," Dany said to Jojen.
"This is my destiny."
Jojen's voice was softer than a feather, frailer than summer snow.
"Come with me and you can change that fate right now," Dany said.
"When I was six, I already knew my purpose—to help Bran become the Greenseer. I never intended to change that destiny," Jojen replied.
"Six?" Dany frowned.
"When I was six, I caught the Greywater Fever, a sickness from the Neck. I was dying when the Three-Eyed Raven saved me and gifted me the 'Green Sight.'" Jojen sighed.
Dany pondered silently.
Most likely, Jojen was a part of the Three-Eyed Raven's grand plan for Bran.
Back then, the Raven gave Bran the 'Spring of Green,' and now, with interest—the gift of Jojen's prophetic dreams—was being returned to the new Three-Eyed Raven.
Comparing a Greenseer to a Dragonlord:Greenseer = Dragon Spirit,Green Dream = Dragon Dream (not Dany's dream-dragon, but Daenys's prophetic dreams).
Both Greenseers and Dragon Spirits possess some prophetic ability, though far less refined than the true "Green Dreams" or "Dragon Dreams."
That much is clear from how Daenys Targaryen escaped the Doom while Valyria's grand sorcerers perished entirely.
Perhaps ordinary Greenseers had their flaws—just as Brynden once said, they could lose themselves in their communion with the trees.
Maybe the Three-Eyed Raven was a Greenseer perfected by the gift of the "Green Dream."
Jojen was Bran's sacrifice.
The complete Bran would inherit the power of the Green Dreams—from Jojen himself.
Realizing this, Dany looked at Jojen with sympathy.
"What about you? Will you come with me? Maybe we could return to Greywater Watch in a couple of days."
She turned to Jojen's sister, Meera.
"I'm staying. Jojen and Bran need me," the crannogwoman said firmly.
Dany rolled her eyes, glancing at Bran, who sat nearby piloting the "Hodor Gundam."
"Your brother's doomed. Bran will end up like Brynden, seated upon the weirwood throne, fused with the trees, and trapped here forever."
"Hodor, Hodor!" Hodor's eyes widened in terror.
Bran was not yet fully the Three-Eyed Raven—there were still traces of human emotion within him, though they were fading quietly.
Meera looked at her brother sorrowfully, then spoke with unwavering resolve: "I'll stay with Bran."
"Hodor!" Hodor's large eyes misted over, nearly brought to tears.
Dany stared at the two oddly, then asked, "Do you like Bran?"
"I—I don't…" Meera's thin, sallow face flushed red.
"I don't know," she whispered, lowering her head.
"Wow! Give it a few years, and when Bevos comes back, maybe he'll see a few little Three-Eyed Ravens running around!" Bevos laughed, clapping his hands.
The Great Bear shot a glance at his sworn brother and shook his head. "Bran's spine is broken—just like yours. How's he supposed to have children?"
"Poor guy," the fat eunuch said sympathetically to Meera. "He's even worse off than Bevos. At least Bevos can still be a White Knight."
"Well, there's always a way," Dany said.
"Right! They could pray to the Mother!" Bevos exclaimed in realization.
"You want the Three-Eyed Raven to pray to the Seven?" The Great Bear's expression twisted.
"You used to believe in the Old Gods, and now you worship the Seven, don't you?" Bevos shot back.
"The Three-Eyed Raven is practically the High Septon of the Old Gods!" Garth bared his teeth.
Dany looked at Hodor meaningfully. "If the body doesn't work, you can always use someone else's."
(End of Chapter)
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