A month. One long, dreary, unbearable month that had felt like a year, locked in his rooms with guards outside. Normally Edrick never spent any time in his room, unless it was to sleep. He spent his mornings training in the yard, a few hours in the afternoon with the Maester and the rest of the time doing whatever he liked about the castle and Wintertown with his cousins and Theon Greyjoy. Being stuck inside all the time made him feel like a caged animal. He was quite probably going mad being confined within the same four walls, all day and all night, for over four weeks. After the initial scolding from his mother, she had tried to ease his punishment as best she could, understanding why he did it but berating his recklessness. Having told the queen she had switched his hands, she had had Aileen bring him his training sword to practice with inside, and let him have visitors if they were discrete, which was better than nothing. But there was little she could do about letting him out.

Today, however, the castle was mostly deserted. Everyone had gone hunting; the king and his men, Uncle Ned and his men, Loreon the king's bastard, Ren, Robb, Theon, Jon, maybe even Bran, and possibly his mother. It seemed like all the men in Winterfell were gone, meaning there were fewer people with the chance of catching him. Edrick had put on the roughspun tunic and breeches of a stable boy and slipped out of the window, climbing down the thick creeper that sprawled up the wall to the ground; he had done this several times, ages ago, just to prove he could, but not being as good a climber as Bran had fallen and fractured his wrist. He hadn't tried it since, until now.

Enjoying the fresh air for a moment, Edrick quickly ducked into a doorway and kept to the shadows as he snuck around, for the most part staying out of sight if he kept his head down, not that there were many people around to see him. He smeared some dirt on his face and rubbed straw in his hair just to make sure. No one would look twice at a grubby stable-boy. Now, where to go now? The downside to everyone being gone was that there was no one to keep him company. He would go and find Aileen if he could, but she and Morganna would be trapped with the other ladies in dull embroidery sessions. Sansa would give him the cold shoulder for attacking her precious prince, if she didn't turn him in to her mother; she had been the only one of his siblings and cousins who hadn't visited him in the last month (even Theon had come twice, and Ren had brought his friend Loreon a few times). Arya would be impossible to find as ever, and she was probably with the other ladies too; her and Morganna had both complained that his fight had made everyone so much stricter, though his sister had stopped complaining after a while and instead started babbling about her new friend the princess. So Edrick was alone. That was fine. At least he was out of that hateful little room.

He ran to the godswood - gods, it felt incredible to run - as that was the only place where he would be able to practice in secret, out of earshot. None of the southerners dared go in there. However as Edrick moved deeper and deeper into the trees, much to his annoyance he heard the faint murmur of conversation through the undergrowth. Cursing under his breath, he was about to turn around and find somewhere else to go - the First Keep, perhaps, no one would be there - but then he recognised one of the voices.

"I don't like this," His mother was saying. Edrick froze; she might actually cane his hands if she caught him out here where he could be seen. "Ned's place is here, not King's Landing. I'd even rather you were the Hand," Her tone was sarcastic. "Think of the honour,"

"Gods forbid," A man drawled. "It's not an honor I'd want. There's far too much work involved," What was his mother doing out here, alone in this man's company, whoever he was? And why was she talking about Uncle Ned? Edrick inched closer, feet light and almost soundless on the ground. Luckily for him, there was a thick barrier of undergrowth between him and the pair; they were unlikely to see him, unless they got any closer, particularly as covered in dirt as he was. His mother would likely run him through if she caught him eavesdropping on what was clearly a private conversation. Part of him - a part that sounded like Aileen - was saying to turn back and forget this ever happened, but the larger part was telling him to stay and find out what exactly was going on. Something wasn't right here, that was true, but that was the reason he wanted to stay.

Carefully peering through the dense bushes, from what he could see, there were two figures sat side by side on a fallen tree. The thin woman in a dark reddish-brown dress was undoubtedly his mother, but the man's back was to Edrick, face concealed. He had blonde hair, but from this far away that was all he could make out.

"It's not the work that puts you off," His mother said dryly, and the man snorted. There was a pause, and when she next spoke it was almost reluctant. "Ned knows. Everything," Knows what?

"Is that news?" The man didn't sound surprised, whatever they were talking about. He didn't really sound like he cared. "I thought he'd known for years,"

"He always suspected," He could almost hear his mother's doubtless eye roll. "Ever since he walked into the throne room the day Aerys died, more so after the last visit to the city, but he never knew. Not until recently,"

"From the way he looked at me since that day, I thought that was partly because you told him," The man laughed. "So it was just personal hatred all along, then, he didn't even know the worst of it," What they were saying made no sense. There was some big secret, that his uncle may or may not know, and that his mother did not want getting out. Edrick remained more quiet and more still than he could ever remember being. His mother didn't laugh.

"This isn't good, you do realise?"Gods, what was she so scared about people knowing?

"We ought to count ourselves fortunate," The man seemed unconcerned. "If Stark knows, he'll keep it quiet, if he's as like you as you say he is. Others wouldn't. Give me honourable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night,"

"Ned is not my enemy, for all that you consider him yours," His mother said sharply. "He's my brother," Well that was a relief. For a moment it had almost sounded like she was plotting a betrayal, not that Edrick believed she would. He was considering just leaving the eavesdropping at that and returning to the castle, before it got even weirder, but what the man said next made him stop in his tracks.

"Who despises me," He said. "Most likely doubly so, now he knows I impregnated his sister then as good as left her to the dogs," Wait... That meant this man was Ren's father! Gods, no one knew that. Now he just had to get a better look. He couldn't exactly go back to his brother and say he'd heard their father but didn't get his name or face. But what was his mother doing still seeing him? She was married to Edrick's own father.

"Neither of us were in any position to do things differently back then, and he would know that," She was saying. There was a pause. "Speaking of ambitious enemies... I have a nasty feeling that before Arryn died he was working with Littlefinger on something. Watch him carefully when you return, just in case,"

"I would sooner watch you," The man said, his smirk audible. "Come here," Edrick hadn't heard anyone talk to his mother like that before. It was utterly disgusting. He had spent enough time around people like Ren, Loreon Storm and Theon Greyjoy, as well as many guardsmen and soldiers, to have some knowledge of certain subjects (Aileen would have laughed and said he eagerly asked about them, but that would be an exaggeration). Either way, he did not ever wish anyone to see his mother in that light. She was always so... dignified. Strict may have been the right word. It was odd, to say the least. Oh gods... The man reached out and took her face in his hands, kissing her thoroughly whilst trying to pull her into his lap. Edrick felt nauseated, averting his eyes, struggling not to burst into the clearing and yell at the man to get his hands off her. Thankfully, after several seconds, his mother shrugged him off.

"We're not done talking," She said, and the man groaned.

"Can't it wait?" She ignored his bored tone.

"Jon Arryn,"

"Not this again," The man sounded weary. "I told you, I had nothing to do with it - "

"I know you didn't," Murder, they were talking about murder, of the Hand nonetheless.

"- and I highly doubt my sister did, either. What reason would she have to murder the Hand of the King? It's not like it would benefit her, it was obvious the next would be Stark, which is certainly no improvement. Father wouldn't waste his time on it. Giana is far away, and would never do anything so like Cersei on principle, and as for my brother..." He laughed. "Arryn was an old man. Old men die every day. No one else is suspicious but his widow, so why are you?"

"He knew something, about you," She said shrewdly. "Something big. I don't know what it was, but it can't have been about Ren," A nasty, knotted feeling was growing in Edrick's stomach, and his whole body felt oddly numb. He couldn't believe his mother would do something like this. Had been doing, for years, most likely. "That's not big enough, neither of us are that important for the Hand of the King to get personally involved, not for a bastard born before the end of the rebellion. I saw him with Stannis. Stannis. You tell me what was going on there,"

"I swear to you, none of us had nothing to do with his death," The man ignored the rest, clearly humouring her. "What more do you want me to say?"

"Lysa Arryn still claims you did it," His mother sighed. "You as in your family. That's dangerous enough, whether any of you did or not,"

"Lysa Arryn is a mad old sow, grieving for her husband," The man scoffed. "Who would take her seriously? Remember that whole ridiculous fuss over her son?"

"I understand where she was coming from," His mother said, slightly amused. "I would hardly be eager to have your father foster a child of mine. Look at how you four turned out,"

"Mothers," He chuckled, shaking his head. "I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." His mother elbowed the man sharply in the side, making him yelp. "Gods woman, your elbows are sharp. Let Lady Arryn think what she likes. Whatever she knows, whatever she thinks she knows, I was not part of any scheme to kill Jon Arryn, and there can be no proof otherwise,"

"Do you think Robert will require proof to clap you in irons?" His mother asked, a hint of... softness in her voice. Sickening. And more than a little strange.

"No," The man admitted a little sourly but then his smirk became audible once again. "But I have you fighting my corner, my lady. I'm fucking the sister of the Hand of the King, that must count for something," His mother made an outraged noise, the man laughed, and Edrick wanted to vomit, or even better, run out there and stab the man in the heart. You'd better be fucking grateful for what I find out, Ren, I wouldn't sit through this for all the gold in Casterly Rock. "Besides, Robert fawns over you. Haven't you forgotten you could have been queen?" His tone was deeply sarcastic. That was a joke, it had to be.

"That's not down to Ned," His mother said. "The King still looks at me and sees my sister. Somehow. Having Ned in court will only make it worse. Gods, this is a mess already and no one's even left Winterfell yet,"

"We haven't left the godswood yet," The man murmured, tone changing somewhat. "You should think less about the future and more about the pleasures at hand," His mother snorted.

"Does that line work on all the nice girls?" He laughed.

"Who said you were a nice girl?"

"I'm not a girl for sure, I'm two-and-thirty,"

"And you're not very nice either," Edrick winced.

"You'd know," By the gods...

From that point on, the conversation ceased. Edrick took no joy in spying on his mother and her... dear gods, her lover, but he had to see who that man was, who his brother's father was, a man that his own uncle apparently despised, who his mother was seeing behind his father's back. And this was his only chance. Deciding to risk it - both seemed distracted, to say the least - he crept slowly through the bushes, attempting the impossible task of avoiding looking at her, whilst trying to peer at the stranger's face.

He must have made a noise, because his mother's eyes snapped open, straight to the place where he was hidden. She couldn't have known it was him, but she knew that there was someone there, and that was enough. There was one horrible moment where she narrowed her eyes, then she was pushing the man away with hurried hands, wriggling out of his tight grasp.

"Jaime," She muttered tersely. "Jaime, stop, someone's there,"

Everything seemed to happen at once. Once the man - Jaime Lannister, Ren's father was Jaime Lannister, the fucking Kingslayer! - realised where she was looking, he reacted alarmingly fast, leaping to his feet and crossing the clearing to the bushes in several long, swift strides before Edrick could even blink, sword drawn. He realised then that one of the most dangerous men in Westeros was after him and hastily tried to run, but he was in too much of a hurry. He barely made it fifteen metres before he tripped on an exposed tree root, hitting the ground hard. Groaning, Edrick tried to scramble to his feet, but then a strong hand closed around his arm, hauling him roughly to his feet like he weighed nothing, and bending his arm behind his back. He struggled, trying to get away before his mother came and recognised him. The Kingslayer smelled of her; that and the soft, arrogant laugh he gave when his escape attempts were unsuccessful made Edrick brindle with pure rage. I'd smash your pretty face in if I could, you Lannister bastard.

"I wouldn't," He felt the cold edge of a lethally sharp sword at his throat, and swallowed, ceasing his struggling. "How old are you, boy?" The question was said lightly enough, but was still somehow menacing.

"Twelve," He more angry than he could ever remember being, but at the same time more scared, though he tried not to show the fear. His mother surely wouldn't let the Kingslayer kill him. But his mother wasn't here. He tried to lunge away, using all his strength, but the man hauled him back, with barely any effort.

"Twelve," Lannister, and the self-loathing in his voice was terrifying. Edrick could feel him tightening his grip, preparing to slice the sword across his throat. "The things I - "

"Edrick!" He had never seen such horror on his mother's face as she finally pushed her way through the bushes, hurrying towards them. "Jaime, stop, stop it, that's my son," Jaime. She calls him Jaime. After a tense moment, the Kingslayer obliged, letting go and shoving Edrick towards her; he stumbled, and she caught his arm. He didn't move away; his legs felt rather like jelly, his whole body shaking with mixed adrenaline, fury and relief. It took him a few seconds to notice it, but as he looked at his mother he saw she was deathly still. Her face was deathly pale even as she released his arm, drawing her own tightly around her waist in unease. She was scared, he realised, but trying to hide it. Then he saw her bodice was still partly undone and quickly looked away, flushing.

"Alright, see, it's alright," Lannister was saying to her smoothly, but there was a slight strain in his voice that said he was trying to convince himself of that too. His mother only gave him a sharp look; whatever she saw in his face made her mouth set in a hard line.

"Put that away," That look was not to be argued with, and she nodded at the sword, giving the Kingslayer a warning look. Edrick realised the man was eyeing him in a way that uncomfortably reminded him of a cat stalking its prey. Surprisingly, he did as she asked. Edrick stood between the two, in one of the most awkward silences he'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing. What do you say in a situation like this? Jaime Lannister, it seemed, had the perfect - or perhaps not so perfect - answer.

"Ross," Don't fucking call her that. He nodded down at her bodice with a small smirk and she cursed him under her breath, fumbling with the laces with still-shaking hands. Lannister watched for a second before apparently taking pity on her, tutting and batting her hands away to do it himself, even as she scowled at him. How he managed to sort that complex tangle, Edrick didn't know. He'd clearly done it many times before. Bastard.

"I wasn't spying," Edrick said, to her, not him. The Kingslayer gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Weren't you?" His tone was heavy with sarcasm. "Tell me, boy, did you realise it was your own mother you were peeping at just then, or were you enjoying yourself too much?" His smirk cut like a knife. "Or maybe you did realise and continued, regardless if she was family or not,"

"You fucking - " Edrick opened his mouth in outrage, stepping forward angrily, preparing to knock the blonde prick into the dirt like he had done his nephew - he's twice your size, Aileen's voice in his head reminded him, he's got two decades more experience, not to mention he's one of the best swords in Westeros, even Ren can't beat him - but as normal when Aileen wasn't there, he waved that part of him down. Only for his mother to cut him off, perhaps for the best.

"You cannot say a word about family," She snapped at Lannister. "Be grateful for the choices you made, this situation could have been a lot more dire for you," The man actually gaped at her for a moment before laughing in incredulity at her nerve at a time like this. Edrick didn't get the joke, nor did it distract from the unpleasant situation at hand. The laughter had a definite air of gallows humour. "What did you hear, Edrick?" She turned to him. He hesitated, unsure, but he couldn't lie to her, she always knew when he tried.

"I heard the Kingslayer is Ren's father," She held his gaze, compelling him to continue. "And even my mother think you killed the Hand. Lord Arryn," He looked accusingly at Lannister, who turned to Ross with a raised eyebrow.

"I suppose you'd be opposed to just throwing him off the battlements and be done with it," He drawled, only sounding half joking. His mother threw the man a dark look.

"Do that and you'll follow him," She didn't sound like she was joking at all. The Kingslayer smirked.

"Well we have a problem then. What do we do?" He shrugged. "The boy will tell someone he believes trustworthy - they won't be - then it'll spread, your brother will kill me, my sister will kill you, the legitimacy of your three trueborn children will forever be in doubt, and our son will forever be known as the Kingslayer's bastard. If he survives my sweet sister, that is, which is about as likely as her husband going celibate," His mother was ominously silent at that. Clearly she agreed.

"What do you mean?" Edrick asked suspiciously. "Why would your sister kill your bastard son?" Bastards couldn't inherit, everyone knew that. Though that didn't stop Lady Catelyn hating Jon. That was different though, Jon was her husband's son, not her brother's.

"Cersei is rather... possessive," Lannister said. His mother snorted. "She had Robert's bastards at the Rock killed, you know. Then sold their mother to slavers. Might be a little tricky to get revenge on a Stark - it was impossible with a Lannister, after all, she still hasn't forgiven Giana for that - but she'd manage it, eventually," Edrick didn't see why the queen would react as badly to her brother's bastard as her husband's, but again, his mother was not disagreeing.

"I won't tell," He eventually turned to his mother, knowing he was making the right decision but feeling somewhat uneasy about it nonetheless. His desire to beat the Kingslayer's pretty face in with a mace was by no means diminished, either. "I can see why it would put us all in danger. Forget the queen, Father would kill you for this alone," By this, he meant seeing the Kingslayer alone in the woods. He hesitated before continuing. "I think you should tell him, though. Ren, I mean,"

"And what good would that do?" Lannister said sardonically.

"I wasn't talking to you," He glowered, and turned to his mother. "He's always been a bastard. People would treat him better if he wasn't,"

"Ren will still be a bastard, even if he knows who his father is," Lannister raised an eyebrow. "He'll never be a Lannister, never be a Stark,"

"Well he deserves to know," Edrick insisted stubbornly. Who asked you?

"Gods, you're as stubborn as your mother," Lannister narrowed his eyes. "But at least she has some sense. Ren is my squire. He's better off not knowing, and you'll be better off if you don't tell him,"

"Don't threaten my son," His mother interrupted with a glare. Lannister ignored her.

"Tell me, boy, would you be delighted to find out that I was your father? That the infamous Kingslayer, well regarded as the most dishonourable man in the Seven Kingdoms, fucked your mo - " Edrick threw himself at the man in fury, wanting nothing more than to scratch his eyes - eyes as green as Ren's - out, only to be stopped by his mother hurriedly stepping between them.

"Enough," She didn't raise her voice, but it was enough to get them both to fall silent. "I will tell my children, if and when I want to tell them," She turned to him, deadly serious. "Edrick, for whatever love you hold me and your siblings, swear to the Old Gods that you will never breath a word of any of this to anyone unless I tell you otherwise. That includes your father, Aileen, Morganna, Robb, everyone. And don't talk about it with Ned, there's no need,"

"I swear," Edrick said immediately. She nodded, seeming ever so slightly less tense as Lannister snorted, muttering something about the honour of a Stark. I'm a Bolton. "Just - can I ask," She raised an eyebrow. "If you hadn't stopped him, he would've run me through with that sword, and you know it. He's a Lannister. An oathbreaker. Kingslayer. So why him?" He saw that Lannister, who'd been sneering as he spoke, had fallen silent at this last question.

"Your uncle asked me the same thing," She smiled bleakly. "You didn't even begin to think that the death of Aerys is one of the reasons, did you?" He stared at her. "The sight of the Targaryen king bleeding out on the steps of the Iron Throne was the greatest gift anyone has ever given me," Edrick had no reply to that, remembering with a sinking feeling that his mother had suffered greatly under the Mad King. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what she'd been through at his hands, and wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. But Jaime Lannister had no reply either, which spoke more than any clever quip he might have come up with.

Edrick merely nodded.

"I won't tell," He repeated. Then turned and walked away, still feeling slightly sick, blood pounding in his ears, louder than the fiercest storm. Neither of them stopped him.


Bran Stark easily climbed across the rooftops of the castle, as he had done so many times before. He didn't even have to think about it, his body moved instinctively, finding nooks, ridges and holes in the bricks to pull himself up on. He wasn't afraid at all. He had been climbing around this castle since he could walk, and never fell, not ever. He loved the challenge, loved the adrenaline and loved the fact that it was his thing, the thing that he would always be best at. Like Aileen and her books, Ren and his sword, Aunt Ross and her horses.

That day, however, for the first time, he heard voices coming from one of the towers of the First Keep - the one nearest the Broken Tower - as he neared the window. He was so shocked he nearly lost his grip. Only ravens were ever up there, yet this sounded like there were people, two of them.

"I do not like it," A woman was saying. There was a row of windows beneath him, and the voice was drifting out of the last window on this side. "My father should be the Hand."

"Of course," A young male voice replied, eager to please. "Lord Tywin is the only logical choice,"

Bran hung, listening, suddenly afraid to go on. They might glimpse his feet if he tried to swing by.

"Don't you see the danger this puts me in?" The woman said, not seeming to be paying much attention to the other. "Robert loves the man like a brother."

"Surely not," The man said weakly, clearly struggling for a response. "What of Stannis and Renly?"

"Stannis and Renly are one thing, and Eddard Stark is quite another. Robert will listen to Stark. Damn them both,"

The man was silent.

They were talking about Father, Bran realised. He wanted to hear more. A few more feet... but they would see him if he swung out in front of the window.

"We will have to watch him carefully," The woman continued. "Lord Eddard has never taken any interest in anything that happened south of the Neck. Never. I tell you, he means to move against me, against the Lannisters. Why else would he leave the seat of his power?"

The man said something too quiet for Bran to hear.

"His wife is Lady Arryn's sister," The woman said. "It's a wonder Lysa was not here to greet us with her accusations,"

Bran looked down. There was a narrow ledge beneath the window, only a few inches wide. He tried to lower himself toward it. Too far. He would never reach.

"I'm sure Lady Lysa is too fearful to talk, your grace," The man sounded out of his depth. "She is... a weak woman. Not a lioness,"

"That weak woman shared Jon Arryn's bed," The man mumbled something again, and the woman gave a scornful laugh. "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."

"But she hasn't got proof,"

"Do you think the king will require proof, cousin?" The woman said disdainfully. "He is the king," Silence.

Bran studied the ledge. He could drop down. It was too narrow to land on, but if he could catch hold as he fell past, pull himself up... except that might make a noise, draw them to the window. He was not sure what he was hearing, but he knew it was not meant for his ears.

"But Lord Stark is an honourable man," The man was saying. "If anything, he surely wouldn't betray his king?"

"He betrayed one already," 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?"

Bran was suddenly very frightened. He wanted nothing so much as to go back the way he had come, to find his brothers. Only what would he tell them? He had to get closer, Bran realised. He had to see who was talking.

The man mumbled something.

"That is what you think of after all I've just said?" The woman said scornfully. More mumbling.

Bran pulled himself up, climbed over the gargoyle, crawled out onto the roof. This was the easy way. He moved across the roof to the next gargoyle, right above the window of the room where they were talking.

"Well I suppose," The woman sounded like she was considering something. "There's nothing else to do in this godforsaken backwater of a castle. I only hope you've improved since last time, cousin,"

Bran sat astride the gargoyle, tightened his legs around it, and swung himself around, upside down. He hung by his legs and slowly stretched his head down toward the window. The world looked strange upside down. A courtyard swam dizzily below him, its stones still wet with melted snow.

Bran looked in the window.

Inside the room, a man and a woman were wrestling. They were both naked. Bran could not tell who they were. The woman's back was to him, as she pushed the man up against a wall. There were soft, wet sounds. Bran realised they were kissing. He watched, wide-eyed and frightened, his breath tight in his throat. The woman grabbed the man's hand and moved it between her legs, turning them around so it was her against the wall. Her hands buried themselves in his sand-coloured hair, and pulled his face down to her breast. He was only a few inches taller than she was, and much younger.

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. Suddenly her eyes opened, and she was staring right at him. She screamed.

Everything happened at once then. The woman pushed the man away wildly, shouting and pointing. Bran tried to pull himself up, bending double as he reached for the gargoyle. He was in too much of a hurry. His hand scraped uselessly across smooth stone, and in his panic his legs slipped, and suddenly he was failing. There was an instant of vertigo, a sickening lurch as the window flashed past. He shot out a hand, grabbed for the ledge, lost it, caught it again with his other hand. He swung against the building, hard. The impact took the breath out of him. Bran dangled, one-handed, panting.

Faces appeared in the window above him.

The queen. Bran vaguely recognised the young man beside her as one of the king's squires, a Lannister of some sort.

"He saw us," the woman said shrilly. The man said nothing, mouth uselessly agape, eyes wide with horror, and she turned to him angrily. "He saw us,"

"I know," The man looked rather pale and sick. "I - I don't know what to do,"

Bran's fingers started to slip. He grabbed the ledge with his other hand. Fingernails dug into unyielding stone. The man reached down. Bran seized his arm and held on tight with all his strength, but the man struggled to hold him, looking to the woman helplessly. Tutting, she reached down too and together they pulled him up to the ledge.

"What are you doing that for?" The woman demanded, looking at him with disdain.

"Well we can't just let him fall, he's the Stark boy," He turned to her with wide eyes, whilst she stood back with arms folded, and Bran took his chance. He jumped up to the gargoyle, hauling himself up with strength he didn't know he had, and escaped over the stones. He heard shouts from behind him but didn't look back, heart pounding in his chest as he climbed, back across the castle, back down the Broken Tower, back to the godswood, back to Summer, who was still waiting impatiently.

In his haste, his foot slipped as he climbed down the Broken Tower. He was only ten feet off the ground, and screamed as he fell, hitting his head, and everything went black.