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“You’re leaving.” Bran said for Arya as she walked through the Godswood towards him.
She stopped near him, her eyes taking in the Weirwood first. “I thought you’d already know.” She explained why she came to him.
“And you want me to tell Jon and Sansa for you,” he finished her thought for her. She tilted her head down, nodding once. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.
Frowning, she stared down at him. “You knew. The whole time you’ve been back, the whole time I’ve been back – you knew.”
“Yes,” he said easily. He could read her anger, but he couldn’t respond to it. He remembered being able to feel, but his view of it now is through distance, secondary. But he could give her the truth. “I saw his birth,” he continued. “And their wedding,” he added. Her frown turned into a glare. “More from your list are dead, more who you added for taking him away from you.”
“There’s still names on it.” She excused, ignoring his point.
“Yes,” he repeated, looking at her. Cersei, The Mountain, he knew. More who had hurt Gendry. “Would you like to know about their wedding?”
“Why would I want to know about that?” she snapped, huffing as much as he thought she may still be capable of. He understood the change, the way she couldn’t give people what they expected of her, what they expected from what she used to be. Still, it affected her more than it could ever affect him again. Arya could still come back, Bran could not.
Looking over her, he repeated something he’d said more than once now. “Because she loved him, and he loved her,” he said simply. Those words have connected with a few people now, a few priorities, the things that pull at people; the emotion he can no longer share; it’s why he chose them. They affected further than a single vision he’d witnessed. “It was just them, among the trees.” He added, thinking of her in a similar setting, perhaps right here, but he wasn’t sure if it’s what remained of the Stark part of him recognising a sister, more than what will be. There was something about it that threaded through each part of what he was though, enough that he was sure it was worth saying to her.
“I’m not a Lady.” She refuted, rejecting everything he was trying to show her. Again, he saw more composure than she’d ever had when she used to say the same thing. But the words are still the same as when they chased each other around Winterfell, when both of them could fully feel. Still, he remembered her stubbornness from then, and without feeling it now, he connected it with Lyanna Stark, because in her is from where he also remembered it.
He blinked at her. “But you love him, and he loves you.” He said. An explanation, a reason. Past and present. Something connecting him to then, and to now. Something that served to ground him. He won’t change Lyanna Stark's time, her fate and what her choices set in place – what lives now. But Arya stood in front of him, and while he was no longer the brother she remembered, he could give her the truth. Her choices hadn't been fully decided yet.
Arya stared at him. She looked sad now, more regretful than he’d seen on her for a time. “Take care of Sansa.” She finally said, her decision at least for now, made.
“She has her own choices to make, like you.” He stared at her, into her, trying to see. The Mountain, dead, Sandor Clegane, dying, with Arya over him, him almost in her arms. He looked further, widening as much as he could. Gendry, wounded, Arya crying. He couldn’t see it all enough to be sure it’s exactly what will be, but it’s there.
“Goodbye Bran.” She said, trying to show her choice, but he knew it wasn’t all, even if she won’t accept it right now. Faintly, he thought she might hug him, but she didn't, an action showing the choice to leave it all. In some ways who he was now should be easiest for her most of all, to understand, to accept, but he thinks it’s not. Maybe because they were close, maybe because she saw choice in herself where he had none. He knew the change of Jon was hardest for her, because they were close. He also knew she'd relied on it, to get her home. And without it, she no longer felt home here. He couldn't help her with that.
“Goodbye Arya.” He gave back. It was not the last time they’ll see each other. It was not the last time she'll see any of them, or here.