“ Jon is meeting with several Northern lords in his solar,” Doran explained, “ I will tell him that you are awake. Lady Meera was with the Queen and Princess Shireen this morning, though I am not sure where she may be right now. Her own chambers, I suppose,”
He then smiled kindly, as he moved the pillows under Bran’s head to help him sit up comfortably, “ And I am Doran Martell, the First Steward here at Castle Black and a friend to your brother. I apologise, I realise that your fever must have made it difficult to remember me. I was tasked with caring for you – as we no longer have a maester with us. I am relieved at least to see that I have not failed,”
“ Here,” he held the bowl of hot soup in one hand, and a spoon with the other, “ The fever had taken so much meat from you, and you barely had any when you arrived,”
‘ doran martell –– i remember . ‘ he remembered the wall looming over them , him and meera . so tall and concrete , an object never to be moved or passed through . and yet they did pass through , for the second time in their lives , coming back to the world he had grown up in , far away from the cave and the children and the magic .
he remembers the warmth slowly reentering his frozen body , creeping up his fingers and toes and thawing him from outside in . he remembers hands , warm and gentle , wiping at his forehead and spooning soup past his chapped lips . but that had all felt like part of his fever dream , a woven tapestry of scenes from different ages and different lands flickering just past his lids .
‘ thank you . ‘ he opens his mouth for soup , though the thanks wasn’t just for that . it was for all the care in the time before , too . the time spent tending to the needs of a boy half dead , a boy who had seen too much . he tries to conjure up a smile , though his face feels as though it’s still half frozen .
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