Silence.
The Three-Eyed Crow's blue eyes, seemingly devoid of all human emotion, slowly swept over the king and duke standing before him. "The White Walkers are coming—"
A cold gleam flashed through the king's eyes when he continued, "Wherever I am—the White Walkers will go—every corpse and living creature along the way—will become slaves driven by him—"
The Three-Eyed Crow's gaze passed over them again as he continued, "At this time—at this moment—personal hatred—is meaningless." As his words fell, Lord Eddard's fists clenched tight.
Meaningless?
Sansa was Bran's sister—
The Direwolf's gaze grew ever colder. "You are not a Stark."
The blue eyes met those winter-gray eyes for a while before the Three-Eyed Crow slowly spoke. "I am a Stark—and I am also the Three-Eyed Crow—I am the guardian of all living beings—and the recorder of their history—"
His eyelids slowly lowered. "The White Walkers are coming—they killed me—to completely erase—all traces of every living being—in the past and present—the long night is descending—"
He paused.
Lord Eddard's broad chest rose and fell several times before he forced out a hoarse voice. "Will you give Bran back to me?"
After a long silence, the Three-Eyed Crow opened his eyes. "I am already the protector of living beings."
After another suffocating silence, the Direwolf's lips trembled uncontrollably as he slowly exhaled a foul breath. Bran, my child—
He still stood where he was, with only sinew, bone, and flesh barely holding up his tottering body.
"I understand."
Grief and fury intertwined. The Direwolf withdrew his gaze, then gave Gryn a slight nod. "Your Grace, please permit me to take my leave."
With that, he turned around. He paused instinctively, his gaze nearly falling upon his child again, but in the end, he did not waver.
Taking a great stride, the Direwolf