Prologue

"Walk with me brother."

Something in his tone told him that this would be the moment that he had been waiting for since his elder kin's return days before. At first he felt somewhat confident as he followed closely behind. While he could not deny his nerves, this was a talk they had to have and he wanted – no, he needed this if he was to move on, in more ways than one. But as he realised where he was being led, as they passed through the ironwood door and began the descent down the narrow, winding steps, he felt a knot growing in his stomach.

Why here, he wanted to know, why has he chosen this place of all places? Maybe, he thought, the man leading him through the dimly-lit chamber had developed a sense for the dramatic. That was new. Then, there would be something new wouldn't there? The war would have changed him; it had changed them all.

Well, his mind was clear. He had thought on this long and hard, and would not have it dismissed as the whim of a man too young. The news that his brother had sent ahead of his return had made his decision for him; he would not deny that, though the idea had first appealed in a happier time. Yes, he needed his permission. He felt he did, but had he not earned it? He had remained here; he had done his duty.

They paused where there were no statues. Those would come later. Maybe he would see them one day, maybe not. They would only be a reminder of all that they had lost, for which he felt more than grief. He looked to his brother and saw that his eyes were focussed down, out of the light and into the long shadows it cast against the walls. The awkward silence that replaced the sound of their footsteps unnerved him further so he seized the initiative.

"Father always said a man could find honour in the Watch," he began.

"Aye, he did."

"You believe it too."

It wasn't a question, but there was no hesitation in his response.

"Aye, I do."

The stillness between them resumed for a moment and the initial sense that he had gained his agreement was replaced by uncertainty. He had anticipated an argument. What was his brother thinking?

"Do you know the words of my lady wife's house?"

The question surprised him but his learning made the answer come to his lips without any apparent thought.

"Family, duty, honour."

"Her father told me you find the most meaning in the order. All are important, but it is family before duty and it is duty before honour. That's the message."

"They're not our words," he replied quietly; a weak response that he would regret when he later reflected on the conversation.

"They're not our words," he agreed, as he finally turned to look him in the eye.

"Our words are a warning brother, and more. Winter is coming. We don't know when, but it is coming, and we must be prepared for whatever it brings. When the time comes, we will need our family around us to help us . . . to help us to remember our duty and to uphold our honour. You will not go."

Angered and bewildered, he went to speak, not even sure what was to come out of his mouth before he was silenced while drawing breath.

"Can you swear on our sister's bones that she would want that of you? That she would want you – only barely a man – to live out your days on the Wall? Can you swear on the memories of our father and of our brother that they would approve of you leaving me here with a wife not of our lands and a babe for an heir? Can you?"

There was no hiding now as he willed himself to look up to meet the icy stare.

"What I did," he began, trying to find the words, but in his hesitation his brother interrupted.

"What you did? If peace is to be found at the Wall brother then I have a greater claim than you. Whatever you believe yourself guilty of, I assure you it is little next to what I have done, what I have seen, since we last met."

He looked away and his voice softened.

"Maybe if I was a better man I would let you go with my blessing, but I can't, I won't. I will bind you here because you are family and we are too few, and you will stay and do your duty to our family, and there will be honour in that too. I will give you estates to manage, your own keep, a title, a wedding to a fine Northern bride. Maybe in a year or two – there's no rush – though I have had offers already. You will be my right-hand man, my sworn shield; you will . . . you will help me to do all that I must."

The cold hardness returned as his brother's eyes found his again.

"You will accept this and speak no more of leaving us."

And no more words were spoken as his brother left him alone with the tombs of their kin; his steps echoing as he walked through the dark hall of the dead. And in that moment Benjen Stark realised that he would serve his brother still until the day when his bones might be laid here too.