Bran is sitting in his room and looking out the window. He sees Rickon play with Shaggydog and thinks about how the direwolves are growing up. He'll never be able to play with Summer though. That asshole crow was a liar.
Bran: Fucking lying crow. I can't fly. All I can do is just sit here, doing nothing.
Old Nan: Yes, all crows are liars. Let me tell you a story about a crow. There once was a crow from Nantucket...
Bran: GODDAMNIT, I hate your stories, you hag! Leave me alone!
Old Nan: They're not my stories. They are stories from days of long ago.
Bran: Whatever. You know what I mean. You old bitch. Hell, you were always old. I bet they called you Old Nan when you were teaching all those other Brans from back in the day. And you keep mixing us up.
Old Nan: Besides, you love these stories.
Bran: Yeah, I used to. Before I was crippled here and listening to you all day long. But now I just hate them.
Old Nan: Well, I know a story about a boy who hates stories. It goes like this, *ahem*... once there was--
Bran: --Ugh. I think even I'd hire an assassin to kill me now. Life sucks. Father promised to take me South with him. And that I'd get a horse. Do I get any of that now? No. And even the people who stayed behind ignore me. Robb spends all his time running the castle and being depressed. He's no fun.
Old Nan: Let me tell you a story about Bran the Builder. It's your favorite story.
Bran: NO IT'S NOT! STOP MIXING ME UP WITH OTHER BRANS! The only stories I like are the scary ones.
Old Nan: Oh, the story about Bran the Builder is pretty scary. You see, he built the wall to keep away the Others. Yes, thousands and thousands of years ago a winter fell like no other. It was the long winter and a night came that lasted an entire generation. And from that night came the Others - cold creatures who hated all things warm. The sun, fire, sweaters, cocoa, the outer corners of Hot Pockets, and mankind with its warm blood. They swarmed the towns of the first men and began to kill them all. Then, there came a brave warrior named the "Last Hero," to save the world from darkness.
Bran: Oh snap, this story is getting good. Tell me more! Is this dude Azor Ahai? I have got to know if this dude is Azor Ahai!
Old Nan: Patience dear Bran, I'm getting there. You see, the last hero set of with his sword, a dog, his horse, and twelve companions. But one by one all of them were killed until the Others finally came upon him, surrounding him and--
Maester Luwin bursts in through the door.
Luwin: --Hey there, sorry to interrupt. You've got to come to the Great Hall. Tyrion Lannister just showed up.
Bran: WHAT?! FUCK THAT! We're just getting to the good part!
Luwin: No, you have to come. Don't be impolite. He comes with a message from your brother Jon.
Bran: Oh, well let me just walk on down there then. OH WAIT.
Old Nan: Come now, Bran. We can complete the story another time. Let's get Hodor to come take you.
Hodor shows up.
Hodor: Salutations, my dear friends. It is I, Hodor. I am here to ameliorate your current situation wherein your ambulatory conditions are severely limited your loss of autonomic function in parts of the body below the level of your spinal lesion.
Bran: Oh shit, I think we're re-interpreting Hodor in a crazy new direction here. I'm not sure I like this.
Hodor: Please, allow me the courtesy to be your chauffer from henceforth, dear Brandon.
Hodor picks up Bran and carries him down to the Great Hall. There, Robb is waiting and sitting in his father's chair But even Bran can tell Robb is doing a shit job at being courteous to Tyrion. He's sitting there with a sword in his lap.
Tyrion: Bitch, that's pretty rude. You're supposed to treat your guests with a little more respect than that.
Robb: Whatever, fuck you, Imp.
Tyrion: Oh, I see how it is, boy. What goes around comes around though. Maybe one day you'll be a guest in someone's house and they'll violate the courtesies that guests are supposed to get.
Robb: Pfft, whatever. Doubt it. That will never happen. And don't call me "boy." I'm a lord.
Tyrion: If you want to be treated like a lord then you have to act like one.
Robb: Whatevs. Just give Bran whatever stupid message it is you have from my half brother.
Hodor brings Bran forward and Robb helps sit him up in a high seat.
Tyrion: Ah, Bran. So great to see you alive and well. I'm glad the stories are true about your recovery.
Robb: Yeah, and you better remember that, Lannister.
Tyrion: How did you fall anyway?
Bran: Fall? The hell with that! I never fall.
Luwin: Tyrion, I am afraid that Bran doesn't really remember what happened.
Tyrion: Hrm, oddly convenient for plot purposes. So, do you like to ride?
Bran: Oh man, you're really fucking with me now, huh? That's a pretty messed up thing to say to a kid who will never be able to ride again.
Tyrion: Is that so? Well I promised Jon Snow at the Wall to give you a give that will make you happy. Now, CHECK THIS OUT!
Tyrion pulls out a complex schematic with some Leonardo Da Vinci next level engineering on it. Everyone gasps in amazement. It's of an amazing saddle that can support Bran and help him ride.
Luwin: HOLY SHIT! The fabled cripple saddle of legend! Since long before the Andals and the Rhoynar had come to Westeros... there were legends of such a magical machine. Where did you get this?
Tyrion: Uh, I just sort of drew it up when I was coming back from the Wall.
Luwin: Why it's genius! I'll start building it immediately!
Bran: Oh man, fuck that. Why is everyone calling me a cripple? I'm not a cripple!
Tyrion: Yeah, and I'm not a dwarf.
Robb: Hrm, I'm pretty suspicious of this. Why would you want to help Bran?
Tyrion: Uhhh... I dunno. Maybe it's because humans should try to be fucking nice to each other? Besides, it wasn't hard to come up with. It's sort of based on my own special saddle.
Rickon then arrives with the thee direwolves - Shaggydog, Grey Wind and Summer. They all start growling at Tyrion and then start to move towards him.
Theon: I think they want to eat you, bro.
Tyrion: Oh shit, not again!
The Stark boys call their wolves back.
Robb: I apologize, Tyrion. Let us give you guest's honor for your kind gift. We'll find you a nice room here and--
Tyrion: --Look, no need for that shit. You don't want me here and I don't want to be here. Let's keep it real. There is an inn outside of Winterfell where I can stay. That will be fine.
Robb: Well, these Night's Watch men who escorted you down... I will ensure that they get rooms and a dinner.
Bran: Oh hell yeah, I'm really looking forward to this feast tonight! Now that I know I'll be able to ride a horse again, life is about to be the bee's knees!
Bran is carried back to bed after the meeting and dozes off for a bit before that night's big dinner. As he sleeps, he dreams of climbing. But then it all starts to get dark with scary gargoyles. He starts freaking out and screaming. He wakes up to find Hodor.
Hodor: Calm yourself, Brandon. Please, consume some of this chamomile tea. You were having a nightmare. Named, obviously, after the Old English "mare", a mythological goblin who torments people with frightening dreams. Of course, these days we don't belief in such mischief, no sir! Freud theorized that our dreams are driven by unconscious wish fulfillment. Jung countered that the focus was more on desire. However, I tend to side with the assessment of Fritz Perls and his Gestalt theory wherein our dreams are seen as projections of--
Bran: --This is going to get real old, real fast. Just take me down to dinner.
They go down to dinner and get with the friendly small talk with the Night's Watch.
Bran: Hey man, how are things up on the Wall? Must be pretty good, right?
Yoren: Oh wait... I forgot to say earlier your Uncle Benjen is almost definitely dead. Lost in the Haunted Forest.
Robb: No!!!! That can't be true! You're lying!
Yoren: Wow, you are really shitty at pretending to adult.
Bran: If Benjen is in the forest then the Children of the Forest will save him! Old Nan told me all about them.
Luwin: Now Bran, the Children have been dead for a long time.
Yoren: I dunno, there is some creepy shit up that way. Who can even tell these days?
Later that night, Robb carries Bran back up to his room.
Robb: Bran, I'll find you a horse and you'll be able to ride. Everything will soon be A-Ok!
Bran: Yeah, and then everyone will come back? Mom and dad and everyone?
Robb: Of course, we'll all be a happy family re-united again one day. For sure.
Bran: Fucking lying crow. I can't fly. All I can do is just sit here, doing nothing.
Old Nan: Yes, all crows are liars. Let me tell you a story about a crow. There once was a crow from Nantucket...
Bran: GODDAMNIT, I hate your stories, you hag! Leave me alone!
Old Nan: They're not my stories. They are stories from days of long ago.
Bran: Whatever. You know what I mean. You old bitch. Hell, you were always old. I bet they called you Old Nan when you were teaching all those other Brans from back in the day. And you keep mixing us up.
Old Nan: Besides, you love these stories.
Bran: Yeah, I used to. Before I was crippled here and listening to you all day long. But now I just hate them.
Old Nan: Well, I know a story about a boy who hates stories. It goes like this, *ahem*... once there was--
Bran: --Ugh. I think even I'd hire an assassin to kill me now. Life sucks. Father promised to take me South with him. And that I'd get a horse. Do I get any of that now? No. And even the people who stayed behind ignore me. Robb spends all his time running the castle and being depressed. He's no fun.
Old Nan: Let me tell you a story about Bran the Builder. It's your favorite story.
Bran: NO IT'S NOT! STOP MIXING ME UP WITH OTHER BRANS! The only stories I like are the scary ones.
Old Nan: Oh, the story about Bran the Builder is pretty scary. You see, he built the wall to keep away the Others. Yes, thousands and thousands of years ago a winter fell like no other. It was the long winter and a night came that lasted an entire generation. And from that night came the Others - cold creatures who hated all things warm. The sun, fire, sweaters, cocoa, the outer corners of Hot Pockets, and mankind with its warm blood. They swarmed the towns of the first men and began to kill them all. Then, there came a brave warrior named the "Last Hero," to save the world from darkness.
Bran: Oh snap, this story is getting good. Tell me more! Is this dude Azor Ahai? I have got to know if this dude is Azor Ahai!
Old Nan: Patience dear Bran, I'm getting there. You see, the last hero set of with his sword, a dog, his horse, and twelve companions. But one by one all of them were killed until the Others finally came upon him, surrounding him and--
Maester Luwin bursts in through the door.
Luwin: --Hey there, sorry to interrupt. You've got to come to the Great Hall. Tyrion Lannister just showed up.
Bran: WHAT?! FUCK THAT! We're just getting to the good part!
Luwin: No, you have to come. Don't be impolite. He comes with a message from your brother Jon.
Bran: Oh, well let me just walk on down there then. OH WAIT.
Old Nan: Come now, Bran. We can complete the story another time. Let's get Hodor to come take you.
Hodor shows up.
Hodor: Salutations, my dear friends. It is I, Hodor. I am here to ameliorate your current situation wherein your ambulatory conditions are severely limited your loss of autonomic function in parts of the body below the level of your spinal lesion.
Bran: Oh shit, I think we're re-interpreting Hodor in a crazy new direction here. I'm not sure I like this.
Hodor: Please, allow me the courtesy to be your chauffer from henceforth, dear Brandon.
Hodor picks up Bran and carries him down to the Great Hall. There, Robb is waiting and sitting in his father's chair But even Bran can tell Robb is doing a shit job at being courteous to Tyrion. He's sitting there with a sword in his lap.
Tyrion: Bitch, that's pretty rude. You're supposed to treat your guests with a little more respect than that.
Robb: Whatever, fuck you, Imp.
Tyrion: Oh, I see how it is, boy. What goes around comes around though. Maybe one day you'll be a guest in someone's house and they'll violate the courtesies that guests are supposed to get.
Robb: Pfft, whatever. Doubt it. That will never happen. And don't call me "boy." I'm a lord.
Tyrion: If you want to be treated like a lord then you have to act like one.
Robb: Whatevs. Just give Bran whatever stupid message it is you have from my half brother.
Hodor brings Bran forward and Robb helps sit him up in a high seat.
Tyrion: Ah, Bran. So great to see you alive and well. I'm glad the stories are true about your recovery.
Robb: Yeah, and you better remember that, Lannister.
Tyrion: How did you fall anyway?
Bran: Fall? The hell with that! I never fall.
Luwin: Tyrion, I am afraid that Bran doesn't really remember what happened.
Tyrion: Hrm, oddly convenient for plot purposes. So, do you like to ride?
Bran: Oh man, you're really fucking with me now, huh? That's a pretty messed up thing to say to a kid who will never be able to ride again.
Tyrion: Is that so? Well I promised Jon Snow at the Wall to give you a give that will make you happy. Now, CHECK THIS OUT!
Tyrion pulls out a complex schematic with some Leonardo Da Vinci next level engineering on it. Everyone gasps in amazement. It's of an amazing saddle that can support Bran and help him ride.
Luwin: HOLY SHIT! The fabled cripple saddle of legend! Since long before the Andals and the Rhoynar had come to Westeros... there were legends of such a magical machine. Where did you get this?
Tyrion: Uh, I just sort of drew it up when I was coming back from the Wall.
Luwin: Why it's genius! I'll start building it immediately!
Bran: Oh man, fuck that. Why is everyone calling me a cripple? I'm not a cripple!
Tyrion: Yeah, and I'm not a dwarf.
Robb: Hrm, I'm pretty suspicious of this. Why would you want to help Bran?
Tyrion: Uhhh... I dunno. Maybe it's because humans should try to be fucking nice to each other? Besides, it wasn't hard to come up with. It's sort of based on my own special saddle.
Rickon then arrives with the thee direwolves - Shaggydog, Grey Wind and Summer. They all start growling at Tyrion and then start to move towards him.
Theon: I think they want to eat you, bro.
Tyrion: Oh shit, not again!
The Stark boys call their wolves back.
Robb: I apologize, Tyrion. Let us give you guest's honor for your kind gift. We'll find you a nice room here and--
Tyrion: --Look, no need for that shit. You don't want me here and I don't want to be here. Let's keep it real. There is an inn outside of Winterfell where I can stay. That will be fine.
Robb: Well, these Night's Watch men who escorted you down... I will ensure that they get rooms and a dinner.
Bran: Oh hell yeah, I'm really looking forward to this feast tonight! Now that I know I'll be able to ride a horse again, life is about to be the bee's knees!
Bran is carried back to bed after the meeting and dozes off for a bit before that night's big dinner. As he sleeps, he dreams of climbing. But then it all starts to get dark with scary gargoyles. He starts freaking out and screaming. He wakes up to find Hodor.
Hodor: Calm yourself, Brandon. Please, consume some of this chamomile tea. You were having a nightmare. Named, obviously, after the Old English "mare", a mythological goblin who torments people with frightening dreams. Of course, these days we don't belief in such mischief, no sir! Freud theorized that our dreams are driven by unconscious wish fulfillment. Jung countered that the focus was more on desire. However, I tend to side with the assessment of Fritz Perls and his Gestalt theory wherein our dreams are seen as projections of--
Bran: --This is going to get real old, real fast. Just take me down to dinner.
They go down to dinner and get with the friendly small talk with the Night's Watch.
Bran: Hey man, how are things up on the Wall? Must be pretty good, right?
Yoren: Oh wait... I forgot to say earlier your Uncle Benjen is almost definitely dead. Lost in the Haunted Forest.
Robb: No!!!! That can't be true! You're lying!
Yoren: Wow, you are really shitty at pretending to adult.
Bran: If Benjen is in the forest then the Children of the Forest will save him! Old Nan told me all about them.
Luwin: Now Bran, the Children have been dead for a long time.
Yoren: I dunno, there is some creepy shit up that way. Who can even tell these days?
Later that night, Robb carries Bran back up to his room.
Robb: Bran, I'll find you a horse and you'll be able to ride. Everything will soon be A-Ok!
Bran: Yeah, and then everyone will come back? Mom and dad and everyone?
Robb: Of course, we'll all be a happy family re-united again one day. For sure.
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