Bran was bored. Father and the King had gone hunting, taking most of the men and the Visitors with them. That left Bran's options for company Mother, Old Nan, or his siblings. But his mother was all teary over Bran leaving with Father tomorrow, Bran knew all Old Nan's stories, and his siblings were two girls and a baby. Bran might have been able to hang out with Jon, but the older boy had been all broody, lately. As Bran understood it, Jon was debating whether to join the Night's Watch or staying in Winterfell. And his time to decide was running short.
It went without saying Jon couldn't go to King's Landing. A bastard wouldn't be accepted at court, and if Jon's real parentage got out then the King would order Jon killed.
Bran daydreamed briefly. He was going to ride a real horse, Father would be the Hand, and Bran would live in the red castle of King's Landing, where Old Nan said there were ghosts and the skeletons of dragons. Bran was so excited he could hardly wait!
With nothing to do, Bran decided to engage in his favorite activity: climbing.
Bran had been climbing as long as he could remember. It drove Mother insane with worry, but Father had accepted it was just part of who Bran was. He was positive he'd found every secret route to get around Winterfell from the rooftops.
Before he started, Bran put on his climbing gloves, his gift from the Visitors' feast. Bran was convinced they were magic, even though the Visitors had said on numerous occasions that they didn't use magic, merely science the people of Westeros didn't understand. Anyway, the gloves stuck like glue to anything Bran touched, letting go if he gave a little roll of his hand. He felt that with the gloves, his climbing abilities had gone from those of a squirrel to those of a spider.
His wolf pup, still unnamed, began to howl as Bran climbed the trees of the godswood.
"Shush! You're worse than Mother," Bran told the direwolf.
The direwolf sat down, but Bran could swear his eyes were worried.
Bran jumped from the trees to the roof of the armory and was out of sight of his pup. The howling started up again. Bran rolled his eyes. He decided that, since this might be his last chance to climb in Winterfell for years, he should go to his favorite spot in the broken tower. Bran was swinging from the gargoyles of the First Keep when he heard voices. If his gloves weren't doing the hard work for him, he'd have lost his grip. The First Keep was always empty.
"I don't like it," a woman said. "You should be the Hand."
"Gods forbid," a man's voice replied lazily. "It's not an honor I'd want. There's far too much work involved."
Bran maneuvered around the window the voices were coming from, coming up to hang just below it. A firm pull up and he'd be able to see into the room and see who was talking. Bran knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but they were talking about the Hand, and Father was the Hand now.
"Don't you see the danger this puts us in?" the woman said. "Robert loves the man like a brother."
"Robert can barely stomach his brothers. Not that I blame him. Stannis would be enough to give anyone indigestion."
"Don't play the fool. Stannis and Renly are one thing, and Eddard Stark is quite another. Robert will listen to Stark. Damn them both. I should have insisted that he name you, but I was certain Stark would refuse him."
"We ought to count ourselves fortunate," the man said. "The king might as easily have named one of his brothers, or even Littlefinger, gods help us. Give me honorable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night."
Bran puzzled out what the man and woman were talking about. The woman, who seemed close to the king, wanted the man she was with to be Hand. The man didn't, and thought Father becoming Hand was a victory. Who were they? Would they notice if Bran took a quick peek?
"We will have to watch him carefully," the woman said.
"I would sooner watch you," the man said. He sounded bored. "Come back here."
"Lord Eddard has never taken any interest in anything that happened south of the Neck," the woman said. "Never. I tell you, he means to move against us. Why else would he leave the seat of his power?"
"A hundred reasons. Duty. Honor. He yearns to write his name large across the book of history, to get away from his wife, or both. Perhaps he just wants to be warm for once in his life."
"His wife is Lady Arryn's sister. It's a wonder Lysa was not here to greet us with her accusations."
Bran gulped. This didn't seem fun anymore. This woman sounded dangerous.
"You fret too much. Lysa Arryn is a frightened cow."
"That frightened cow shared Jon Arryn's bed."
"If she knew anything, she would have gone to Robert before she fled King's Landing."
"When he had already agreed to foster that weakling son of hers at Casterly Rock? I think not. She knew the boy's life would be hostage to her silence. She may grow bolder now that he's safe atop the Eyrie."
"Mothers." The man made the word sound like a curse. "I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." He laughed. It was a bitter sound. "Let Lady Arryn grow as bold as she likes. Whatever she knows, whatever she thinks she knows, she has no proof." He paused a moment. "Or does she?"
"Do you think the king will require proof?" the woman said. "I tell you, he loves me not."
"And whose fault is that, sweet sister?"
Bran had a sudden intuition. He had the gut feeling that the man and woman were the Queen and the Kingslayer. But he'd have to make sure. If they'd just stop talking for a moment…
"You are as blind as Robert," the woman was saying.
"If you mean I see the same thing, yes," the man said. "I see a man who would sooner die than betray his king."
"He betrayed one already, or have you forgotten?" the woman said. "Oh, I don't deny he's loyal to Robert, that's obvious. What happens when Robert dies and Joff takes the throne? And the sooner that comes to pass, the safer we'll all be. My husband grows more restless every day. Having Stark beside him will only make him worse. He's still in love with the sister, the insipid little dead sixteen-year-old. How long till he decides to put me aside for some new Lyanna?"
The man sighed. "You should think less about the future and more about the pleasures at hand."
"Stop that!" the woman said. Bran heard the sudden slap of flesh on flesh, then the man's laughter.
"All this talk is getting very tiresome, sister," the man said. "Come here and be quiet."
Bran heard nothing then but moaning the sound of flesh slapping flesh. Figuring now was his chance, he pulled himself up to look.
Inside the room, a man and a woman were wrestling. They were both naked. Bran could not tell who they were. The man's back was to him, and his body screened the woman from view as he pushed her up against a wall.
There were soft, wet sounds. Bran realized they were kissing. He watched, wide-eyed and frightened, his breath tight in his throat. The man had a hand down between her legs, and he must have been hurting her there, because the woman started to moan, low in her throat. "Stop it," she said, "stop it, stop it. Oh, please . . . " But her voice was low and weak, and she did not push him away. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, his tangled golden hair, and pulled his face down to her breast.
Bran saw her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, moaning. Her golden hair swung from side to side as her head moved back and forth, but still he recognized the queen.
He must have made a noise, because her eyes opened and she screeched.
Bran desperately tried to climb away, but before he could, the Kingslayer grabbed him and pulled him up into the window.
"He saw us!" the queen said in a panic.
"So he did," her brother said flatly. "How old are you boy?"
"Seven," Bran said, a deep fear filling his guts.
Jaime Lannister turned back towards his twin sister. "The things I do for love," he bit out, before pushing Bran out the window.
Bran fell and fell, before his gloves made an odd beeping sound. Just before he hit the ground, he simply stopped falling. Bran let out a breath. Gravity technology. Prophet had said that the gloves had an emergency feature in case he fell. Or, in this case, he was pushed.
The gloves stopped beeping and Bran fell gently about a foot to the ground, much less deadly than a four story fall. He got to his feet and ran to find his mother. Someone had just tried to kill him! That was the kind of thing mothers wanted to know right away.
Bran found his mother and the whole story came pouring out of his lips, too fast to make any sense. Mother forced him to slow down and explain it one detail at a time. He explained how he'd been climbing, which got a sigh from Mother, and then he'd heard the Queen and the Kingslayer talking in the First Keep. Mother got much more interested at that. He repeated the conversation as well as he could remember, and then he told mother how they'd been wrestling naked and Jaime had his hand between Cersei's legs. Mother turned pale and just a little green at that. When Bran got to the part where the Kingslayer had pushed him out the window, Mother looked nothing like a Tully and every inch a Stark wolf.
"Thank you for telling me this, Bran. You may have to tell the King the same thing. Now, no more climbing for the day." Turning from Bran, Mother said very clearly "Prophet, you saw what happened. Bring my husband and the King back to Winterfell." Then Mother summoned the guards. "Find Cersei and Jaime Lannister and apprehend them. Use manacles if you have to. Get them and bring them to my husband's solar. Now!"
Within an hour, Bran was in Father's solar, the Queen and Kingslayer staring at him with incredulous horror, as Bran repeated the story of what happened to the King, who was seated behind Father's desk. Father and Prophet stood to the side.
The King's face was turning very red. "So, you've been dishonoring me by fucking your brother, my wife?"
Cersei spat at the king. "You've dishonored me since the day we were married. I was there, your bride in your bed, and you called out a dead girl's name. I was simply making us even."
The King turned to the Kingslayer. "And you, Lannister? You have anything to say for yourself?"
"I'd hoped the fall would kill the boy and all this could be avoided," Jaime said glibly.
Prophet spoke up. "I'm afraid the betrayal goes deeper than you realize, King Robert." Prophet held out his hand and light came out of it, forming into the shape of over a dozen boys and girls of varying ages.
"What is this?" Robert asked, his anger forgotten for a moment in exchange for curiosity.
"A hologram, or a manipulation of light. Anyway, the children you see are your bastards. Do you notice something they all have in common?" Prophet asked leadingly.
It didn't take Robert long to notice. "They all have black hair."
"Exactly. And what color hair do Cersei's children have?" Prophet pointed out.
Bran was honestly scared of how angry the king got. "You mean you couldn't even bear me a child? You fucked your brother and tried to pass off golden-haired whelps as my own?!"
Cersei said nothing, but she glared defiantly from her place on her knees.
"Give me a sword, I'll kill these two here and now!" the king bellowed!
"You can't do that Robert," Father spoke up.
"I'm the King. Don't tell me what I can or can't do!" the King bellowed at Father.
"If you kill them, Tywin Lannister will declare war. Have Jaime take the black. Make Cersei join the Silent Sisters. Send the children to Casterly Rock, let Tywin at least have his grandchildren, bastards though they may be. You made me your Hand to advise you, Robert. So take my advice," Father said steadily and soothingly.
The King took a few deep breaths. "Fine. Jaime Lannister, I hereby order you to join the Night's Watch. Failure to comply will result in your death. Cersei Lannister, I hereby order you to join the Silent Sisters. Failure to comply will result in your death. Your bastard children born of incest are hereby banished to Casterly Rock, never to leave the boundaries of the castle for the rest of their natural lives. Now get them out of my sight," Robert ordered the knights holding Jaime and Cersei's manacles.
They were dragged off to the cells that Winterfell rarely saw used. Robert sunk into Father's chair. "Seven hells," the King breathed out. "How could I not notice?"
Mother turned to Bran. "Bran, we don't need you anymore. Go to your room until dinner. Go on."
Bran went to his room, and he took off his climbing gloves. "These saved my life. Thank you, Visitors," Bran said, knowing they could hear him. They heard everything. Bran hopped on his bed and scratched his wolf pup.
"I think I'll name you… Summer."