Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Please bear with me, everyone. I will try my best to make up for it before the end of the month. Thank you.

Jon slowly climbed the stairs, knowing this was the last time he would climb them, yet trying to push the thought away. Ghost followed silently beside him. It was snowing outside, and snowflakes drifted into the castle gates. The square was bustling with activity, but within the thick stone walls, it was still warm and quiet, a stillness Jon found almost unbearable.

He reached the door and stood alone for a long time, his heart filled with dread. Ghost nudged his hand with its nose, and he found courage in the gesture. He straightened his shoulders and stepped inside.

Lady Stark sat by the bed. For the past two weeks, she had been watching over Bran day and night, never leaving his side. She had meals brought to the room, as well as a chamber pot and a small, hard cot, but people said she hadn't closed her eyes once. She personally fed Bran a mixture of honey, water, and herbs. She hadn't left the room, so Jon had been avoiding it.

But he couldn't wait any longer.

He stood in the doorway for a long time, not daring to speak or approach. The window was wide open, and the howling of a direwolf rose from below. Ghost heard it and lifted its head.

Lady Stark turned her head. At first, she didn't recognize him. After a long pause, she blinked and asked, "What are you doing here?" Her tone was flat and devoid of life.

"I came to see Bran," Jon replied, "to say goodbye."

Her face remained expressionless. Her once thick auburn hair hung limply, tangled and disheveled, making her look as if she had aged twenty years overnight. "You've had your way. Now go."

He wanted to run, but he knew he might never see Bran again in his life. Instead, he took an uneasy step into the room. "Please, let me see him."

A cold glint flashed in her eyes. "I told you to leave," she said coldly. "You are not welcome here."

In the past, her words would have sent him fleeing in terror, shamed and tearful, but now, they only fueled his anger. He was about to swear his oath to the Night's Watch, and he would face dangers far more terrifying than Catelyn Tully Stark. "I am his brother, at least.", he said.

"Do you want me to call the guards?"

"Call them," Jon said fiercely. "But you won't stop me from seeing him." He crossed the room and stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at Bran.

She was holding one of Bran's hands, but it didn't look like a hand, more like a claw. The patient before him was not the Bran Jon remembered. He was gaunt and emaciated, his legs twisted under the blanket in a sickening way. His eyes were sunken, like two black holes, open but seemingly blank. He looked like a frail, lonely leaf, a gust of wind enough to blow him away.

But beneath the broken frame, his chest rose and fell rhythmically with shallow, rapid breaths.

"Bran," he said, "forgive me for not coming to see you sooner. I was afraid." He felt tears streaming down his face, but he no longer cared. "Bran, please don't die. Robb, and Arya, and Sansa, we're all waiting for you to wake up…"

Lady Stark watched him, her expression cold. Jon guessed that her silence meant she allowed it. The direwolf howled sadly outside the window again. Bran had never found a suitable name for the pup.

"I have to go," Jon said. "Uncle Benjen is waiting. We're leaving for the North immediately. We have to leave before the heavy snow falls." He remembered how eager Bran had been to travel, and his heart ached at the thought of leaving his brother, injured as he was. Jon wiped away his tears and leaned down to kiss his brother's lips lightly.

"I only wish he could stay here with me," Lady Stark said softly.

Jon looked at her warily, but her gaze was not on him. She seemed to be speaking to him, but her mind was elsewhere, as if no one else was present.

"I prayed day and night," she said blankly. "He's my precious boy. I prayed seven times to the seven faces of the gods in the sept, prayed that Ned would change his mind and let Bran stay with me. Perhaps the gods have granted my wish."

Jon didn't know what to say. "It's not your fault," he managed after an awkward silence.

Her eyes found him, filled with venom. "Don't you dare pity me, you motherless bastard."

Jon lowered his eyes. She was caressing one of Bran's hands. He took the other, holding it in his, feeling how fragile it was, like the bones of a small bird. "Goodbye," he said.

As he reached the door, she called out to him. "Jon," she said. He really should have just kept walking, but she had never called him by his name before. So he turned around and saw her staring at his face as if seeing him for the first time.

"What?" he asked.

"It should have been you lying here today," she told him. With that, she turned back to Bran, weeping, her whole body convulsing violently. Jon had never seen her shed a tear before.

The way back down to the courtyard was long.

Outside, there was chaos everywhere. People were shouting, loading goods onto carts, fitting horses with reins and stirrups, and leading them into the stables. Light snow was falling, and everyone was eager to finish their tasks and get inside.

Robb was at the center of the whirlwind, calmly giving orders. He seemed to have matured suddenly these past few days, as if Bran's accident and his mother's near breakdown had forced him to be strong. Grey Wind was at his side.

"Uncle Benjen is looking for you," he told Jon. "He was supposed to leave an hour ago."

"I know," Jon replied. "I'll go right away." He looked around at the hustle and bustle, the noise and confusion. "I didn't think saying goodbye would be so hard."

"Tell me about it," Robb said. The snowflakes that landed in his hair were gradually melting from his body heat. "Did you see him?"

Jon nodded, unable to speak, unsure of what he might say.

"He won't die," Robb said. "I know he won't."

"You Starks are a tough lot," Jon agreed. His voice was weak; the encounter had drained him of every ounce of strength.

Robb immediately sensed something was wrong. "My mother…"

"She… was very kind to me," Jon told him.

Robb breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," he grinned. "Next time we meet, you'll be all in black."

Jon managed a smile. "Black suits me. How long do you think it will be before we see each other again?"

"Not too long," Robb promised. He pulled Jon close and hugged him tightly. "Take care, Jon."

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