Sansa

"You managed to get this together fast," she said quietly to the king.

"A good king is always ready to throw a good party," he replied. He walked off to find his queen and make his grand entrance, and Sansa searched for her own escort. She found Renly muttering something to Ser Loras and waited until their conversation had finished. "Lord Renly," she said politely.

He turned. "Ah. Lady Sansa. Is it time already?"

"Just about."

He took her arm and they walked towards the hall where the ball was being held. She had been surprised, at first, how easy it had been to convince Robert to do this, but then, the man loved parties. It had taken him only two weeks to make it happen. She pitied the poor servants who had had to do it all on such short notice, but this was the only way she could think of to truly get the information she needed out of Renly. She had tried to have a regular conversation with him, but hadn't found a natural way to bring the subject up. When she had gotten even close to the issue of his brother, he had brushed her off. And any time she approached anything political, or anything that might be vaguely uncomfortable, he simply ended the conversation and walked away. After a week of this, she had come up with her solution. If they were dancing, well then, Renly couldn't walk away, not without being rude.

If he was onto her, he said noting as they headed inside. They took their seats beside Robert and Margaery, and ate their meal in near silence. She knew better than to bring anything up with Robert so close. Though she was working to save his life, she hardly wished to work with him, and had things she wished him not to hear.

When the time came for the first dance, she followed Renly out into the hall. He was a graceful dancer, she realized after a moment. She was good at dancing, too. And even better at dancing with words.

"You must be excited for the birth of your niece or nephew," she said quietly after a moment.

He frowned. "You shouldn't speak of such things. Officially, no such thing is true."

"We can all see it, my lord. Do you not think your brother should announce it by now?"

"What Robert does is up to him."

"Yes. But you're not happy with his choice to delay, are you?"

"I don't agree with all that he does. But he is our king." She did her best to make sense of his tone, but it was rather impressively neutral.

"Do you think you would be a good king?"

"What sort of question is that?" He sounded offended by the question, and missed a step in the dance. But they kept going.

"Just trying to be conversational. Do you think you have what it takes to make those difficult decisions?"

"I should like to think so. I have been Lord of Storm's End since Robert took the throne."

"Yes. An honorable position. I suppose you didn't expect to be lord."

"No. But I was only eight when Robert took the throne, I didn't expect much of anything before then." He spun her around, then said, "Why are you asking all this?" He didn't sound suspicious, exactly, more chagrined.

"Well, what am I supposed to ask about?"

"I don't know. The things that interest a young lady."

"Oh, like the weather and pretty flowers and the like?" Her face flushed. "Do you think I'm some insipid girl with no mind for anything real, as your brother does?" She had gotten too heated there, had revealed too much, but she was so tired of being underestimated.

Renly raised his eyebrows. "I certainly don't. I've not forgotten that time you insinuated you wanted to marry me. And not in the way of some girlhood crush, you were trying to make a political alliance. It was far too bold, but it was savvy."

She smiled a bit to herself. "Sometimes you need to be bold. And sometimes, perhaps, one should just say what they think."

"You're trying to bait me," he said finally. "But into what?"

She was starting to realize she may have underestimated him. "You're too suspicious."

He snorted. "No, Stannis is too suspicious. I'm just observant. You and your father are plotting something. I just can't decide if Robert is in on it."

"My father's not even here."

"No, but he sent you. Well, that's fine, my lady. Your plots can be your own, as mine remain to me. But I've got a proposition for you."

"And what's that?"

"Loras Tyrell."

"What about him?"

"Marriage. To you."

She was so surprised for a moment that she missed a step. "Truly? The queen mentioned it, but..." But if Loras married, he'd go back to Highgarden, no longer free to frolic around the capital with Renly. Was that what he wanted? She couldn't say such a thing aloud, of course.

"It's a good match for House Stark, is it not?"

"I don't deny it. But does Loras want that?"

"We've discussed it."

"I'd have to discuss any such thing with my parents."

"Of course. But if you can be bold, why not I?"

She chuckled slightly. "I'll think on it."

The song ended, and he let go of her, walking into the crowd. She was approached then by none other than Ser Loras. "Care to dance, my lady?"

She took his hand as the next dance began. She had almost made this match before, and she could certainly do worse. But did she want to marry someone from another great house? To do so would pull her away from Winterfell. And that was a thought she really didn't like.

Arya

Mother sighed as they packed up their tents and got ready to get back on the road. "I've grown tired of travel."

Arya laughed bitterly. "So did I, at least the land sort. Dragged all the way through the Riverlands and back by a man who saw me as a prize to be sold and who I dreamed of killing every night."

"What?"

"The Hound," Bran said. "He found her, and was going to sell her to Robb. Then Robb died, so he was going to sell her to Aunt Lysa. Then she died. Then Brienne of Tarth fought the Hound for her but she snuck away and sailed to Braavos."

"Braavos?"

"I trained with the Faceless Men," Arya said. "That's where I learned a lot of my skills."

"Oh." She shook her head. "So Sandor Clegane wanted to sell you? And you wanted to kill him?"

"He killed Mycah." Another person their journey back through time had saved, she thought with satisfaction.

"Who?"

"A butcher's boy I befriended. He annoyed Joffrey so the Hound killed him."

Mother shook her head. "There's so much of your life I'll never know. I feel like you can't possibly tell me all of it."

"I could show you," Bran said. "I think I've figured it out. Like I said, I can't give you back your memories, but I could show you bits. If there's anything in particular you want to see."

"There isn't," Arya said. "Trust me, Mother."

"Perhaps not," she said. "But Bran, I'm quite interested in how this power of yours works..."

"I can't really explain the how," he admitted. "I guess the old gods chose me."

Arya could see in Mother's eyes that that hadn't been the right thing to say. They seemed haunted and afraid, and Mother shivered slightly. "If the gods chose you," she said slowly, "then you are doomed to that fate, are you not?"

"Nobody's doomed to any fate," Arya said. "Didn't Sansa and I prove that?"

She looked at her for a moment, then said, "Yes, yes of course." But Arya wasn't sure if she was convinced.

Ned

He rode up to the gates of Castle Black shivering, and felt a bit irritated with himself. He was the Lord of Winterfell, he shouldn't be cold. But Winterfell was scorching hot compared to this place, especially with winter soon upon them. He looked with dismay at the disrepair that the castle had fallen under, wishing he had heeded Ben's warnings earlier. Wishing Robert was the sort of man who would do anything to help the Night's Watch.

He wasn't too pleased with the man who came out to meet him, either. He remembered little of Ser Alliser Thorne, but he knew he had fought on the side of the Mad King during Robert's Rebellion, and that didn't exactly do much to endear him to Ned. Two other men stood with him, other officers of the Watch. "My lord hand," Thorne said with a clearly fake smile. "What an honor it is to have you here with us."

"Where's Mormont?" Ned asked by way of reply.

"The lord commander is off on a long ranging north of the wall," he replied. "For months now." Ned knew this, of course, but he must act like he didn't, he could hardly tell him that his son had seen the events up north in his magic visions.

"And my son?"

"Ah, yes, your bastard," Thorne said. "He went with them."

Ned nodded. "Very well. Who is acting as lord commander?"

"The officers are acting as a collective, for now."

"Then I need to speak with all the officers."

"We're all here," said the man on Thorne's left.

"I don't see Maester Aemon."

"Ah. Yes." Thorne looked annoyed. "Why don't we have some of the new recruits show you to a room, and we will arrange a meeting this evening after supper."

"If you must," Ned said. "But this is urgent business. I should like to get it done as soon as possible."

"But how urgent is it truly?" the other officer asked.

"Urgent enough that the Hand of the King rode all the way north to the Wall in order to discuss it." Ned had no patience for these games.

They exchanged looks back and forth. "Come on then," said Thorne.

He followed them to what he presumed was where Maester Aemon did his work. The old man looked up when they entered. "Who's here?"

"It's Lord Eddard Stark," he said. "The Hand of the King."

"Hand of the King," the maester said quietly. "And what brings you all the way here?"

"Many things," he said. "I'd like to strike a deal."

"A deal?" Ser Alliser sounded incredulous. "What do you mean by that?"

"Simple. I have near 200 men for the Watch. I understand that reinforcements are sorely needed."

"And what do you plan to ask for in return for these 200 men?"

"Two men. Released from their oaths."

All three of the younger officers looked aghast, but Maester Aemon's face betrayed nothing. "Released from their oaths?" Thorne said. "That's not possible."

"Not possible? Men can be released from their oaths by order of the king, no? I act with the king's power."

"If you believe you have that power, then why do you need to negotiate?" Maester Aemon asked.

"So there would be some trade. These aren't just thieves or poachers rounded up from cells, many of them are fighting men. I don't want to have to exert force. But there is also... something else I need the Night's Watch to do."

"Asking a lot, aren't you?" Thorne said derisively.

"I am. I would like to see the realm truly protected."

"What men do you want freed?" asked one of the other officers.

"My son, for one."

"Lord Snow?" Thorne said with a scoff. "Take him. If he hasn't already died up there."

"And a boy named Gendry."

"Gendry?" Thorne frowned. "He's the blacksmith's boy, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Him you can't have. His forge work is needed by the Watch."

"He can work in the forges of Winterfell," Ned said. "And send you his weapons."

"We got some shipments of dragonglass weapons from your son already," he said. "You'll send more?"

"We'll send them often. Stannis Baratheon has sent us a great deal of the stuff. And Gendry will work better at Winterfell's forges."

The men exchanged looks. "Fine," Thorne said. "You can have Gendry. Collecting bastards, are you?"

Ned hid his irritation. "Now for the other matter. The Night's Watch needs to negotiate with Mance Rayder."

All three of the men began to shout in anger. Maester Aemon still betrayed nothing.

"Negotiate with a wildling?" Ser Alliser said. "And this from Benjen Stark's brother!"

"My brother was no fool," Ned said. "He would listen. The wildling are not the greatest threat. They're running. They're running from the white walkers. From the Army of the Dead. And every time that army kills a man, that man gets added to their army. So every wildling they take, is another enemy the Watch will have to fight when they get here. Would it not be better to have those men on our side?"

"Fight alongside wildlings? You're mad, Stark."

"No. I listen. I listen when I am given a warning."

"And who's been warning you?"

"The gods," Ned said. But he'd had more warnings than that. More warnings even than his childrens' talk of the future. Only now did he fully understand the ramblings Lyanna had told him as she died. The prophecy, a song of ice and fire, her son uniting the realm against evil.

"The gods?" The men laughed. "Why would the wildlings fight with us, anyway?"

"If you let them come south," Ned said. "Let them hide behind the wall."

At that he was met only with silence.

"You are mad," one said finally. "We're here to protect the realm from wildings."

"You're here to protect the realm. And speaking for the realm, this is what is needed. You can find common cause with Mance Rayder, or at least try."

"Listen here, Stark," Ser Alliser said. "That will never happen. No loyal man of the Night's Watch would negotiate with a man like that. And we can't let them down south to pillage our villages and rape our women."

"You make a lot of assumptions about them," Ned noted.

"If Mance Rayder is so important to you, why don't you go meet with him, hmm? Rather than sending Black Brothers to do so at our peril."

"If you wish me to negotiate on your behalf-"

"Not on our behalf," he corrected. "The Night's Watch will never allow wildlings south, or fight alongside them. If you want to make common cause with him, you can do so with all your power of the crown. We still won't let them south."

"If I broker an agreement with Mance, would you at least consider it?"

"No, we-"

Only then did the maester speak. "I suppose we can consider anything. But favorable terms are unlikely, Lord Stark, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose I will find out," he said. "On the morrow, I will see Gendry released from his oath and escorted back to Winterfell, where the first few dozen of the new men will be waiting. Then, I will ride north myself to speak with Mance Rayder."

"He'll kill you," Thorne said. "And good riddance."

"I suppose we shall see."