Chapter Text
Bran is the first, seeking somewhere to hide so his Lady Mother would not shout when she discovers he had been climbing the walls again (and slipped so many feet back to the ground when he heard the sounds coming from the window above him). So he runs and climbs and still his wolf chases at his heels, until they’re both tumbling into a wardrobe in a room Bran doesn't think he's ever entered before. Which should be strange, he knows all the rooms in Winterfell; he's even climbed the windows outside and peeped through–
But what does it matter, because now both he and the wolf pup are cold and wet, lying on the ground next to a big old tree that looks burned and cracked. A blanket of thick, fluffy snow is laid over everything around him.
Bran has never seen snow so deep, and he runs in it with his wolf, scooping up handfuls to form into balls for the pup to chase.
They play until they tire, and then they sit and rest under a tree. It's old and twisted, cracked as though it once burned from the inside. Bran's wolf rests his head on his knee, and Bran giggles at the absurdity of it all.
It is then they hear the sound.
It’s almost like hoofbeats, but if hoofbeats sounded like footsteps, crunching through snow.
His wolf cocks his head.
(and bran is sure he feels his confusion, his interest)
A… something comes from among the trees. It’s taller than him but smaller than Father and Theon, with red hair like Bran’s own and a little pointy beard, but its feet are cloven hooves, like Bran’s pony.
Bran screams, because this must be a monster like Mother or Old Nan talk about.
The something screams too, high-pitched and panicked. It throws its arms up, scattering the brown things it had been holding. Bran's wolf springs upon one and tears it open, delightedly shaking the end of a scarf.
Bran hurries out to catch him, pulling him away and gathering the other items before his wolf can tear into them.
The something comes out from behind its tree. "Child?"
Bran frowns, peering up at it. It's not a deer or a cow, it's definitely a person, but it has little stubby horns on its head.
"Were you hiding from me?" he asks.
"No!" says the thing, but he still looks scared, like people do when they speak to Father. "I just– I was, um– I didn't want to scare you."
Bran laughs, because now he's heard the stories and met one of the monsters and it isn't so scary.
"What are you?" he asks. He's not heard of a thing like this from Old Nan, and she tells lots of stories.
"Well, I– I'm a faun," says the thing – a faun. Bran doesn’t know of fauns. He shall have to ask Old Nan.
“And what about you? You must be some… beardless dwarf?” says the faun.
Bran scoffs. “I’m not a dwarf! I’m a boy!”
The faun makes a funny noise and takes a step back. “You mean… You’re a Son of Adam?”
Bran laughs, because he’s never known anyone that doesn’t know who he is before. “No, silly. I’m Brandon Stark of Winterfell, and my father is Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King.”
“Yes, but you are human ?”
“I’m not a wolf,” Bran replied, and looks at his wolf, which has sat at his feet to think about the faun with him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh, we were climbing, but then I had to hide so I hid in this wardrobe and… now we’re here.”
Wherever here was. Further North than Winterfell if it had such snow.
“Is this The Last Hearth?” he asks as he decides it must be.
“Last Hearth? Is that a place in Narnia?”
“Where’s Narnia?” Bran asks, thinking of his father’s maps so he can place it.
“My dear boy, you’re in it! Everything from here, all the way to Castle Cair Paravel on the Eastern Ocean, every stick and stone, every icicle, is Narnia.”
“Is this Beyond the Wall then?” Bran asks, deciding it must be.
“A wall? No, no. I’m sorry, we seem to be getting confused. You introduced yourself, so please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus.”
“A pleasure,” says Bran, like Father and Robb.
“Well, Brandon Stark of Winter Fell, how would you like to come and have dinner with me?”
"Oh, no. My Mother wouldn't like that."
The faun giggles, and it's a funny sound. "It's only around the corner! We can have toast and tea by the fire!"
His wolf grumbles softly.
"I don't know," Bran says.
"Please? I have so few friends."
And Bran only has his siblings. He agrees, and so he returns to the faun's house with him.
It's a funny little place, not at all protected from the winter cold, but the faun sees him inside, his wolf following.
They sit by the fire and eat sweet foods Bran has never tried before, speaking about their fathers and wars.
"My father went away to war," Tumnus explains as Bran drinks his tea. "A long, long time ago. Before this dreadful winter."
"Old Nan says I'm a summer child. I've never seen winter before," Bran says.
"Then you are most lucky. We haven't even had a Christmas in a hundred years."
"I don't know what that is."
"Oh, it's a wonderful time when we all get presents. But that's all gone now. Even the music."
"Music?"
"We Fauns have music for all the seasons. But we haven't danced in such a long time. Would you like to hear some?"
"Music?" Bran looks at his wolf, and it really is getting late, he should be returning to Winterfell. "I suppose, maybe for a little bit. But then we really do have to go. Mother shall be looking for us."
"I did wonder why your friend doesn't talk," says Tumnus, looking at Bran's wolf as he gets out a flute.
"Talk! But he's a direwolf!"
"All wolves talk here."
"They do?" Bran frowns at his wolf. "Can you talk?"
His wolf only yawns.
"Now, are you familiar with any Narnian lullabies?" asks Tumnus.
"No," says Bran.
He only knows the ones Old Nan sings, and the occasional one from Mother.
"Well, that’s good. Because this… probably won't sound anything like one."
Bran giggles and Tumnus plays the flute and it's a funny tune that Bran must have slept to because he wakes up to his wolf licking his fingers and Tumnus is crying.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm such a terrible faun."
"You don't seem terrible," says Bran, but inside he wonders if now Tumnus will be one of Old Nan's monsters.
"Oh, I am. I'm doing something terrible."
"Well, what are you doing?"
"I’m kidnapping you."
Bran freezes and his wolf snarls, his hackles rising.
"It was the White Witch,"
"A witch?" Bran asks.
"She's the one who makes it always winter, always cold. She gave orders. If any of us ever find a human wandering in the woods, we're supposed to turn it over to her!"
"But you wanted to make friends!"
His wolf snarls and Bran snarls with him, and Tumnus cries and grabs his arm to drag him from the funny house.
They race through the trees, his wolf growling at Tumnus's heels.
"She may already know you’re here. The woods are full of her spies. Even some of the trees are on her side!"
"The trees?"
"They talk, you know."
They come back to a part of the woods Bran knows, with the big, twisted old tree.
"Can you find your way back from here?"
"I think so," says Bran, because if he can't his wolf can.
"Alright." Tumnus touches Bran's shoulder. "Go well and be strong, Brandon Stark of Winterfell. I am glad to have met you. You've made me feel warmer than I've felt in a hundred years. Now go. Go!"
Bran runs and his wolf runs and then they're falling through cloaks and then they're on the floor of the empty room, all tangled together and he's laughing and crying because Narnia Beyond the Wall is a wondrous place.
It is still daytime in Winterfell and Bran thinks he must have been gone all through the night and arrived in the morning. The first person he finds is Sansa, and he runs to her, trying to tell her about Narnia Beyond the Wall.
"I'm sorry if you've been looking for me," he says.
Sansa frowns. "Mother's looking for you. Fat Tom saw you climbing this morning."
"But–"
"I need to finish my sewing," she says, and leaves him.
Bran discovers he's been gone no time at all.
He takes Arya to the wardrobe and leads her inside, but there's nothing there this time except wood.
Arya punches him in the arm. "You listen to too many of Old Nan's stories."
After seeing the snow, Bran names his wolf pup Summer, to remind him of better times when the winter comes.
Bran tells Old Nan and Rickon of Narnia Beyond the Wall, and Old Nan warns him that he must not listen to the lies of the wind and magic. But still Bran goes back, again and again, and investigates the wardrobe. There's no country there any more.
Until the night there is.
He falls out into the snow, Summer at his heels, and laughs at the joy of knowing he's right.
He's more careful this time, because the woods are full of spies, and Bran is on edge as he finds his way through the trees to Tumnus's house. He should check that the faun is well and the White Witch hasn't harmed him.
Tumnus is well, but fears when he sees him, shaking his head and trembling. "You mustn't be here, you mustn't! This place is too dangerous for you!"
"It's my duty to make sure you weren't hurt because of me," says Bran, even if he doesn't like the faun that tried to feed him to a witch.
"You must go! Quickly now! Do you remember the way?"
"Summer can find it."
Summer knows his way as surely as anything wherever he goes. When Bran runs with him in the godswood, he always knows the way home.
"Good, good. Go, now!"
They go, crunching through the snow, but when they reach the burned tree, Grey Wind is there, looking confused. Summer barks to see him and runs to play, but Grey Wind shies away.
"Robb!" Bran calls, looking around himself. If Grey Wind is here, Robb can't be far.
"You made it here too!"
But there isn't any Robb.
And Bran looks and looks and Summer looks and even Grey Wind obeys his order to look even though he's not Robb and still there's no Robb. All they find is some snow soaked red with blood and a statue of a short man.
Bran calls the wolves and finds the path home.
He needs to bring help.