Sorry for the delay on this again - I've been writing a lot for work plus life has been a tad hectic. Anyway - enjoy.

Robb

He felt almost as if he was hiding here, in this passageway, sitting opposite the strange doorway that he hadn't been able to open yet. There was so much to do, what with Father being away in The Reach and the King being at Castle Black.

He thought about Val for a moment and then closed his eyes for a long moment before forcing them open again. He had to wait until a raven came back from Castle Black, from the King and also the GreatJon. He had to plan this out and not be impulsive. He wanted her and he knew that she wanted him, but the last time he'd thought with his cock instead of his brain he'd ended up with crossbow bolts in his chest and then a knife in his heart.

So he had to be more… clinical about this? Was that the word? He'd heard Tyrion use it once. Hopefully he had that right.

He closed his eyes and warged once again into Grey Wind so that he could stare at the mysterious door in the wall opposite them both, drinking in every detail – and then he jumped back again and then sketched a few more details of the door on the piece of paper he'd pinned to the corkboard on his lap. Yes, he hadn't imagined it. The hand prints in the middle of the door were different. They were smaller, with just three fingers and a thumb. They were for a Child of the Forest.

"It always sends a slight chill through me when you do that," said a voice to one side and he looked up to see Tyrion and Dacey watching them both. "It's the white eyes. Disturbing."

He laughed softly and handed the drawing over to the pair. "Aye, Mother can't really watch any of us warg even now, she always grimaces and puts her hand over her eyes." He scratched Grey Wind behind the ears, making the Direwolf huff with pleasure. "But warging is the only way to see that damn doorway."

There was a pause as Tyrion and Dacey looked at the drawing, before looking at each other. "Aye," Tyrion said eventually. "These runes though… they are in the language of the First Men. And an archaic form at that."

"Robb, the crypts are amongst the oldest parts of Winterfell," Dacey said quietly. "And the runes are old as well. And we're not entirely sure what they mean."

"'Plain can… sing? talk? to plain, singing? freedom? in the sky-birthed.'" Tyrion said as he looked at the picture. "I know, it makes little sense. I think that the concept behind some of the words has been lost or changed over the years."

Plain? A memory stirred for a moment in his mind, something about Father's vision when all of this had started, but he thrust that aside. "The handprints must mean something though."

"Yes, but what?" Dacey stood in front of the door and ran her hands over it. "I feel nothing. Not a thing, not a line and-" She froze for an instant as just for a second very faint lines appeared in the stone, as if the doorway had shimmered into partial sight for a heartbeat. "What was that?"

"That was the door!" Robb breathed as he stood hurriedly. "Do that again Dacey!"

She ran her hands over the wall again, but this time nothing happened. "I don't understand."

"Wait," said Tyrion, clasping his hands together and rubbing them in a line from his chin to just under his nose. "Wait." And then he stepped forwards and ran his hands all over the wall, watching carefully as he did so. "Robb, can you please warg into Grey Wind and then tell us – howl or something – when my hands pass over one of the handprints. Point with a paw or something."

He sat back down, placed a hand on Grey Wind's head and shifted again, suddenly seeing through the eyes of his direwolf. Tyrion's hands were moving in roughly the right direction and when they finally passed over the rightmost of the three sets of handprints he wuffed with emphasis, which felt strange indeed. Tyrion froze. "Robb? My right hand? Or my left?"

He shifted back and then stood. "Left."

Tyrion looked at the wall. "And we see nothing. Very well. Time to test a theory. "Dacey? Put your hand – either of them – where my left hand is as I remove it. Ready? Go!"

Dacey put her hand on the wall on the spot they had indicated – and then they all gasped as faint, faint lines started to appear on the wall, going upwards and outwards until the faintest of outlines could be seen of the carvings on the doorway.

"How did that…" Robb breathed and then went still. "Wait…"

"The Nightfort!" Tyrion all but crowed. "The lock on the crypts there! When others tested it was intact, but the moment that you touched it, it fell apart! Magic! Magic tied to House Stark! When I touched the handprint there was nothing there, but when Dacey – who is part Stark – touched it, it activated! We have our answer!"

"What if I touch the other set of human handprints on the left?" Robb gazed at the wall, assessing roughly where the other carvings were. "Dacey, place your other hand about two inches from the one on the wall, that should be the right place." And then he strode over and ran his hands slowly over the place where he was sure the other carvings were.

The faint lines seemed to shimmer for a moment and then deepen and appear more distinct. They were more visible now and the carvings could be seen more clearly, but they were still tenuous in places.

"I'm not a full Stark," Dacey whispered in disappointment. "Robb – we need your brothers and sisters!"

Tyrion smirked and then turned his head so that he faced the part of the passage that led to the outside. "BRAN!"

There was a confused noise for a moment and then a cautious tousled head hoved into view in the distance. "What?" The word was said with a combination of suspicion and annoyance that he had been discovered, and judging by the sudden muttering of others in the distance his little brother was not alone.

"Get your sisters and then come down here!" Robb roared. "Maester Luwin too!"

There was a further confused noise and then the head vanished. Robb looked at the others and rolled his eyes. "The Terrible Foursome are still convinced that Vermax's eggs are somewhere in Winterfell. And they think that they might be behind the doors here."

Tyrion and Dacey both rolled their eyes at this, but then looked back at the lines on the wall. "What can this be?" Dacey breathed.

It was Arya who arrived first, an Arya who had mud on her feet and a smear of either dirt or dust on her cheek and Robb smothered a smile at what Mother would say on seeing her. Arya Underfoot had obviously been exploring again. "What's going… on?" She came to a halt in the passage and looked at the wall with wide eyes. "What's that?"

"Magic," the three almost chorused, before eying each other and then laughing a little.

"Something our ancestors hid, Arya," Robb answered her. "Tied to our blood. Arya, can you go over to where Dacey is now and put your hands where hers are now?"

"Why?" Arya asked, but she still moved over to Dacey, who showed her where to place her hands. And then as she did so she froze as the lines shimmered again and then deepened. Excited, Arya looked about. "This is magic?"

"Aye," said Robb, and then he looked around as Bran arrived with others. Sansa and of course Domeric were amongst the first, then Mother and Maester Luwin – and then the curious remainder of the Terrible Foursome and of course Shireen. All slowed and gaped at the doorway.

"It's magic that's linked to the Starks," Tyrion explained with an expansive gesture at the door. "Dacey's hands gave us the hint when she touched the right place on the wall by accident. Stark blood activates it."

"Does it open?" Edric asked, as eager as any of them. Then he frowned. "There are no dragon eggs on the carvings."

"Edric," Mother said gently, "I fear that this was closed and unknown when Vermax was here. This is ancient."

The young Baratheon frowned in confusion at that, but then looked at the door again. "But does it open?"

Everyone looked at the door – and then Tyrion walked forwards and pushed at where the doors joined. But nothing happened. "I had to push as there's nowhere to pull," he muttered as he stepped back and then sighed.

"It's the third handprints, isn't it?" It was Domeric who asked the question, or rather stated the obvious and Robb nodded thoughtfully as he looked at them.

"Three fingers and a thumb and small hands at that." He felt as if he had dropped a Dragon and found a Stag. "The hands of the Children of the Forest."

"Who are, sadly, anywhere but here," Tyrion mused. "There was one North of the Wall, but she died as Mance Rayder told us. And there are, based on the Green Man's cryptic comments, some on the Isle of Faces. Which is reassuring, because they were thought to be extinct. Perhaps a raven to House Whent at Harrenhal or another lordly house close to the Isle?"

As Mother seemed to think this over and then turn to Luwin there was a sudden interruption: "Iknowwherethere'saChildoftheForest!"

Everyone stared at Bran, who had turned bright red and was shifting from foot to foot uneasily.

"What was that sweetling?" Mother asked uncertainly.

"I know where there's a Child of the Forest." Bran said the words in a less rushed manner. And they all stared at him.

"You do not!" Arya said with a combination of indignation and confusion.

"I do too!" Bran snapped.

Robb swapped a glance with Mother, who knelt by his brother's side. "Sweetling, are you sure about this? This isn't something you've… dreamt?"

But Bran shook his head vehemently, before drooping slightly as his friends all stared at him with a mix of betrayal and bafflement. "I met her more than a week ago. She's called Quicksilver. And she told me that I had to keep her presence a secret. She said that I couldn't tell anyone until the right time." He looked at the doorway. "Isn't this the right time?"

There was a moment of quiet confusion. "And this Quicksilver is… where?" Mother asked, bemusedly.

"The Godswood, Mother," Bran said quietly. He looked deeply uneasy. "I gave my word to her that I wouldn't tell anyone about her. I had to keep my word! But this… this is important isn't it Robb?"

He looked at his brother and realised that he was very serious and indeed on the brink of tears. "It is, Bran. It's alright, you did the right thing. So, you saw her there?"

Bran seemed to slump more than a little in relief. "Yes." His brow wrinkled in confusion. "She said that we're linked somehow. And… she kissed me. On the lips, cheeks and forehead. Like it meant something."

Someone, perhaps Dacey, seemed to gasp at that, but he didn't know why. He looked at his brother. "Bran, can you take me to this Quicksilver?"

Bran looked at him solemnly. And then he nodded.

Bran

He was both excited and dreading this. Keeping Quicksilver a secret had been the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He'd wanted to tell his friends so very badly that there was an actual Child of the Forest living in the Godswood – but he couldn't.

And now he'd had to tell everyone and he could feel their betrayed looks on his back even as he led Robb to the Godswood, with Summer and Grey Wind flanking them and Mother and Dacey following them. They seemed to be having a strained talk about something.

But before they got to the Godswood Dacey called on them to stop for a moment. He turned and looked at her – and also at Mother, who had a peculiar look on her face.

"What's amiss?" Robb asked with a frown.

"Firstly, we need to warn people not to hurt Quicksilver when she comes with us," Dacey said quietly. "This is too important to risk her life. No-one has seen a Child of the Forest here in Winterfell in centuries. People will be surprised."

"A good point," Robb said slowly. He looked around. "JORY!"

The Captain of the Guard, who was walking with his uncle in the distance, strode quickly over to them. "Lord Robb?"

Robb glanced at Bran. "According to Bran there's a Child of the Forest here in the Godswood. Warn the guards and household staff that if they see her – her name is Quicksilver – they are not to harm her in any way."

Bran nodded firmly – and then realised that the Cassels were both gaping at Robb with astonishment. "Erm… as you say, my Lord." And with that they strode off, talking and then splitting apart.

"There is something else," Dacey said quietly. "Bran? Those kisses she gave you? What order were they in again?"

He frowned in puzzlement. "Um." And then he pointed at his forehead, his left cheek, his right cheek and then, blushing, his lips.

Dacey pulled her skirts up a little and then knelt besides him. "We know very little about the Children of the Forest," she muttered and there was regret in her voice. "But my father gathered as much as he could about them in his research. And we know that they had certain values, certain ties to the world around them." She touched her own forehead. "Thought," she touched her left cheek, "Eternity," she touched her right cheek, "Dedication," and then she touched her lips, "Heart."

Bran stared at her. "Does that mean something?"

"It means that you two are linked. Firmly linked." She seemed to be amused by something and then she looked at Mother. "Your good-daughters will be… interesting."

Mother blinked at this – and then she went white. "Are you sure?" She said the words in a strangled manner that made Bran look at her worriedly.

"I am." And then Dacey stood again. "Cat, sometimes things are the way that fate has written them. I think that this is one of those things."

Which was confusing, but before he could ask what she meant she walked off towards the Godswood and he scurried to follow and then lead them, Summer again bounding by his side.

As they entered the Godswood he looked about worriedly even as he took a deep breath of air into his lungs. He did so love this place, the smells of grass under his feet and wood and leaves and water were all things that made him feel connected to the Old Gods. Where was Quicksilver though?

As they walked towards the Heart Tree he wondered if he should call out to her – and then he stopped dead in his tracks when she stepped out from behind the tree. She was wearing a red jerkin this time and her hair seemed to be braided slightly differently.

Robb also stopped and his eyes widened as he saw her. Mother and Dacey also came to a halt. The direwolves, oddly, did not – they strode over to Quicksilver, sniffed at her face and hands for a long moment and then sat down almost at her feet as she smiled at them. And then she looked at him. "Hello Bran."

He strode up to her, ignoring the odd noise that came from Mother. "Hello Quicksilver. I'm sorry, I know I said I'd keep you a secret, but we found this door in the Crypts and Robb said we need a Child of the Forest to open it and… you're not upset are you?"

"No, I'm not. It is as I had dreamt it. It's time." She looked at Robb and the others. "Hello. I am Quicksilver, as Bran has already told you."

He looked back at them. Mother was pale as a ghost, Robb looked flabbergasted and Dacey had an odd smile on her face.

"I greet you with earth and water, air and stone, in the name of the Old Gods," Dacey said suddenly in the language of the First Men. "Little sister."

Quicksilver smiled and bowed at that. "I thank you for your greeting, your welcome and your protection." And then she looked at Robb. "So, you are the one. When you came back the trees on the Isle of Faces spoke your name."

He frowned in confusion. Came back? Robb had never been away!

"Much has changed," Robb said slowly. "And much forgotten. Your pardon – I never thought I'd ever see a Child of the Forest. I thought you were all gone."

Quicksilver smiled. "We were protected on the Isle of Faces. We… waited. And now that the Call has been sent and the true enemy identified, we can walk the land again. Through the secret places that the Green Men have tended."

"We need your help," Bran said. "The door?"

"Then we shall open it." She strode up to him, took his hand and led him across the Godswood in the direction of the Crypts. The direwolves followed them at once and then the others seemed to shake themselves out of their shock and came as well.

When they walked out of the Godswood he could hear the mutter as people saw Quicksilver, but Jory and his uncle seemed to have spoken to a lot of people and no-one seemed too alarmed. He could understand if some had been, but she was not a threat to anyone as she strode next to him, her hand in his. It felt… right, her palm on his and he seemed to sense a pulse from that hand, a strong and steady one that said that she was calm.

As they entered the passageway that led to the door he could hear the muttering from Arya ahead of him, protesting at having to wait – and which suddenly stopped when they came into view. "Hello," he said as they approached a very wide-eyed Maester Luwin, Arya, Sansa, Edric, Robert, Ned, Domeric and Tyrion. "This is Quicksilver."

The Child of the Forest swept them all with her red eyes. "I am honoured to meet you all." And then she turned to face the doors, which could just still be seen as Arya had one hand on the wall. "Arya, please put your other hand on the Wall. Robb, please do the same on the other side."

Arya did as she was told – but then frowned. "How did you know my name?"

"I know many things," Quicksilver said as she waited for Robb to move into place. "I am glad to know that you have been turned from one fate in a future that will now never be."

"What?"

"Another time. Now…" She placed her hands on the small handprints in the middle of the door – and then Bran gasped as the door glowed brighter and brighter, as if the sun was suddenly shining from it briefly. And then Quicksilver pushed – and the door opened with a groan and a scrape of stone on stone, each part of it swinging back into the darkness beyond. There was a chamber in there, in shadow.

There was a stunned silence that was broken by Maester Luwin. "I shall fetch lanterns, my Lords and Ladies." And then he strode off with a surprising turn of speed for man who was so old. Bran edged up to the door and glanced into it. It was dark in there. And there was a smell of… stuffy air?

"Bran, please step back," Tyrion said softly. "We know that door hasn't been open for some time – the air might be foul."

"Like under the Godswood at Storm's End?" Edric asked. "Ser Barristan Selmy warned Father against the air there."

There was a pause as they waited – and then Edric, Robert and Ned turned to him. "Why didn't you tell us about her?" Edric said with a flail of his hands in frustration.

"She told me not to!"

"Why?"

"She was a secret!"

"We can keep a secret!"

"Would you have believed me without seeing her?"

The other three looked at him as if they were both impressed by his point but also disgusted by it.

"They would not have," Quicksilver said with a sigh. "You humans sometimes can only see as far as what is in front of you."

Footsteps heralded the return of Maester Luwin and the Cassels, both of whom looked at Quicksilver as if they doubted the evidence of their own eyes and Bran found himself realising that she had a point. They all bore lanterns in both hands and they were quickly shared about.

"Right," said Robb with a bit of a quaver in his voice, "Let's be about this." And then he stepped into the doorway. Bran gulped and then followed him in, with the others joining them.

The room was wide, with well-dressed stone on all sides and flagstones that looked… well, less worn than the other parts of the floors of the Crypts. Some had runes on them, like a pattern that repeated itself here and there. But there was very little dust? How could that be? And then he saw the throne. It had to be a throne, surely? It was stone, large and impressive, and it sat on the far wall opposite the doorway. And it was carved all over.

Robb and Tyrion stopped dead in their tracks as they saw it and Bran looked at them in confusion. They had almost identical looks of shock on their faces. "Robb? What's wrong?"

"It's like the chair at the Nightfort," Robb muttered as he lifted his lantern and stared at it. "The… throne, if you can call it that, that only a Stark can sit in, as otherwise it sends them mad. Why would there be another one here?"

"Because they are linked," Quicksilver said solemnly. "A Stark who sits in one can talk to a Stark that sits in the other. The Wall can talk to Winterfell and Winterfell to the Wall. And more than that. Winter fell here. Hence the name. The first King of the Others was fed to the Heart Tree here. There has always been magic here, in the very stones under Winterfell, in the warm water that pulses through it. Bran the Builder built something special that has endured. And those two thrones… they were grown out of the same stone, by a Stonesinger."

"Stonesingers," Dacey whispered the word, before looking at Tyrion. "Wargs are rare. Greenseers are rarer still. But Stonesingers… men and women who can shape stone with their voice and a gesture… they are so rare that few have ever been recorded."

"Bran the Builder was one," Quicksilver said quietly. "It's in the blood of Starks. It has slept for a long time. It's time for it to wake up." And then she looked at him.