The next morning dawned grim and grey, a typical Northern day, but with what King Robert called blood on the wind, indicating that there would be a good hunt ahead of them. Winterfell's provisions were hardly low, but they welcomed any addition and Robert had no desire to, as he put it, "sit on my arse for the next week". He, most of his retainers, Joffrey, Ned, Robb, Jon, Theon and a number of Winterfell men-at-arms would ride out to hunt some boars for the evening meal, leaving the Lannister household behind, including the Mountain. Ned intended to keep a close eye on Joffrey, still suspicious with him regarding the weirwood tree. Meera and Jojen were with Maester Luwin, writing a letter to send to their father at Greywater Watch; no ravens could find the place, for it was constantly moving through the swamps that it protected, but the letter would be taken south by a rider and passed on to one of the crannogmen. Bran was left to his own devices, so he decided the time was ripe for some more climbing. The Great Keep was easy enough, but he wanted a challenge. So he chose the Broken Tower. No one really went near that area of the castle, so there would be little chance of being caught. He enjoyed climbing; it made him feel free and daring. Winterfell's walls were ancient and craggy, with many hand and footholds to assist in climbing. Bran climbed higher up the Broken Tower, towards the part that gave it it's name, using the ivy to further assist his climb. But as he approached the open part of the tower, strange sounds reached his ears. Odd moans, grunts and groans of passion, not what he was expecting to hear. He shinned round the edge towards the broken part, inching closer to peer in and see what was going on. Two people were engaged in what was obviously very passionate sexual relations; Bran wasn't ignorant of that, despite how shocked his mother would be if she knew. He moved closer, trying to see who it was, saw the blonde hair of both of them… and his jaw dropped. It was the Queen, on her knees and gasping, and behind her mounting her was her twin brother, the Kingslayer. Bran knew at once that this was not right; brothers and sisters did not do this together. He made to scramble away but in doing so his foot caught a loose stone and it fell with a loud noise. Both of them jolted up and saw him; the Queen let out a shriek and fell backwards.
"He saw us! Stop him! Stop him, he saw us!", she cried.
Bran scrambled away and down the ivy, grabbing and seeking the holds that would aid his descent. Above he could see the Kingslayer looking down at him with an odd expression. Was it pity, or fear? No time. He scrambled down to ground level and darted through a door into the castle, away from the tower that would be forever tainted by what he had just seen.
Above, in the tower, Jaime Lannister was pulling his boots on almost lazily whilst his sister stormed and ranted about the place, angrily tearing into first him, then the boy, then him again; him for not finding them a better place to do this, the boy for having the gall to discover them. He found that part amusing, even as he squirmed inside with fear.
"Our secret is discovered! And you assured me this place was safe!", she was storming.
"I thought it would be. I mean, who expects a boy to be climbing on the walls?", he replied.
"He can't be allowed to tell anyone!"
"He won't tell. And if he does, who'd believe him?"
"I don't believe you. And I don't want chances taken. Go after him and make sure he stays quiet."
He raised an eyebrow.
"How?", he asked.
"I don't care. Any way, permanently, if you have to.", she said.
He blanched; she wanted him to kill a child, never mind that, the son of their own host. Did she even comprehend how much of a big deal that was? He knew he could hardly talk about violating rules, the man who murdered the king he was sworn to protect and who buggered his own twin sister, but killing a member of your host's family under their roof, breaking guest right, was absolutely unthinkable. Not even Father, at his most ruthless, would have contemplated it.
"You want me to kill him?", he said incredulously.
"If you have to.", she said with a dismissive shrug, the weight of it evidently lost on her.
"I won't.", he replied.
She looked like he'd just struck her in the face.
"What?", she said dangerously.
"I won't.", he repeated.
"You won't?"
"I won't. Do you have any idea of what you've just asked? Murder a young boy, nay, a boy who is the son of our host? Our heads would be on spikes before the day is out."
"So, what? We leave him alone and hope that somehow, either he won't tell anyone or he won't be believed?"
"More or less."
Something deadly flashed in her eyes for a moment.
"Well, if that's your answer….", she said ominously.
And she stalked out, muttering to herself. Meanwhile, Bran leant against the wall of the corridor, catching his breath and trying to come to terms with what he had just seen. The Queen and her brother, together intimately! By the Old Gods! He had to tell Father! Or Mother, since Father wasn't here. But would he be believed?
Bran didn't know how he could possibly have snuck up on him wearing that armour, but some sixth sense warned him just in time to dodge a massive greatsword as it was swung down towards him, cleaving a chunk out of the stone wall instead of cutting him in two.
"What?!", he gasped.
And then he realised and the realisation nearly made him void into his smallclothes. Towering over him, so large that he seemed to fill the entire passageway, was the huge knight that had ridden in with the King, the one they called the Mountain. Very apt, since from where he trembled he looked about the size of one. There was feral bloodlust burning in his eyes as he stared down at the boy and brought the huge sword up to cleave him in half again.
"Wait!", he cried.
It wouldn't have made any difference had he not said it, because the huge man was intent on killing him. But this was Winterfell, this was the North and he was a Stark. The sword collided with an overhead iron candelabra and this fell onto the Mountain's head. It did not kill him, but he suddenly found himself tangled in the wreckage of it and Bran's fear-addled mind unfroze. With a terrified squeak that was drowned by the furious roar of the Mountain, he turned and ran for his life.