Apologies for the delay on this one, which has been re-thought three times. The last two times were in hospital. My only remaining grandparent has declined rapidly since I saw her at Christmas and we are all fearing the worst. I might be a bit... odd these next few days, either writing to take my mind off things or losing my temper a lot, which I hate.

Kevan
He waited until the bells marking midnight had long since faded before he finally moved. He had returned to his chambers after a cheerless supper with his brother, who either brooded in silence or snapped at servants for not moving fast enough.

And now here he was, dressed in a black robe with soft shoes, slipping through the tunnels and passageways of Casterly Rock as if he was an elderly and incompetent faceless man. Well. Perhaps not that elderly. But at least he was dressed in black.

Getting to the North Passage would not be a problem. He had grown up here at Casterly Rock and he knew every inch of it, every flagstone, every brick, every stone in the walls. And, of course, every secret by-way and abandoned passageway. Even a few secret ones. He was quite proud of how well he knew the Rock. He'd spent a lot of his childhood years with thoroughly scraped knees and elbows from his explorations. He smiled sadly for a moment. Those had been good days. They were too young then to realise the mess that Father was making of things. Too young to notice the gloating smiles on the faces of the Reynes. Well… Tywin was starting to notice.

And then there were his younger accomplices in their explorations. Tygett. Gone these many years. And Gerion. Who had vanished on yet another quest to find Brightroar. He sighed to himself. Where had Gerion died? Tywin had tracked his ship to Volantis, where he had apparently then been planning to sail into the Smoking Sea. If he had, then he had never sailed out of it again.

This would not do. He was wool-gathering again. No, it really would not do. He slipped around a corner and then squinted ahead. Yes, the room should be just down here. The door was closed, but it was never locked and always swung shut. He slipped in and then placed the lantern that he had brought onto one of the barrels in the room. Lighting it carefully he then lifted it into the air and looked at the far corner of the room. Yes, the old wooden chest was still there. He pulled it out carefully with the handle facing him, to reveal the hole in the wall behind it.

It took some wiggling and a fair bit of puffing – when had he last done this and when had he put so much weight on? – but he finally squeezed himself through the hole, going feet first and then bending to get rest of himself through, as well as the lantern. Heh, he remembered the first time that Gerion had found this place. He had been totally unable to keep the secret.

Kevan reached back through the hole, pulled the chest back to hide it, more out of habit than need and then turned and slid down the short passage that then led to a hole in a wall of another passage, this one being tall enough to walk along. He had often wondered who had made the hole, and why. Well, not much point worrying about it now.

He strode carefully down the passage, ignoring the dust by pressing his cloak against his nose and mouth. This place had long been deserted. It was arrow-straight and was well-constructed. He paused for a moment and then looked at the walls for the first time since… well, he couldn't recall. They were smooth and well-carved. How odd. There were no chisel marks whatsoever.

This was interesting, but he had more important things to do and he strode on. Down the passageway, turning right into another, up a tight spiral of stairs and then up to the door. It opened with something of a groan but that didn't matter. He was in the North Passage and the far end had been sealed by Tywin years ago, so no-one would hear the noise.

He set his shoulders and took a deep breath. Yes, the pull was still there. It was maddening, this vague indefinable sense that he had to be somewhere else. It was, if anything, stronger here. Near the room that had so fascinated his father. Poor, weak-willed Father. Always so ready to believe the best in everyone. Always so willing to believe promises made by people. And always so fascinated by this damn room. By the past.

He knew that the very memory of Tytos Lannister infuriated his brother. But he had been their father. He had been a good man. True, he had been a fool at times, but he had always been fascinated by the history of Casterly Rock. Of the Lannisters and where they had come from.

Once, when he had been far younger, he had asked Father why he was so fascinated by the North Passage. "Holes in our past," Father had said. "The Lannister family history has too many gaps. I would fill them in! And those runes might just do that!"

And so Father had spent a little too much time trying to decipher them. Even though, as Father had said, along with various Maesters, the runes made no sense whatsoever. So why was he here? What in the name of whatever hells existed was he playing at?

He didn't know. And that frightened him, in a deep part of his mind that he didn't know even existed.

He sighed and then started up the passageway. And as he drew closer to the door he frowned. He could see light there. Yes, there was a bar of light under the bottom of the door. He slowed to a halt and then peered at it. Someone was in there. But who?

"I knew that you'd come."

The voice made his heart stop for a second and he wheeled around, shining the thin beam from the lantern in all directions. Eventually he caught sight of his brother's face, albeit at a place that was lower than he expected. Tywin Lannister was also dressed in black and was sitting with his back against the wall. He had a smear of dirt on one cheek and he looked… shaken. Well, as shaken as Tywin ever looked.

Various replies flitted through his mind, until he finally settled on one. "I had to come here."

"Even though I had forbade it?"

"The pull was too strong." He paused and decided to risk an impertinence. "I see that you felt it too."

Tywin worked his lower jaw for a long moment as his eyes smouldered – and then ran a hand over his eyes. "I did. I tried to resist this… strange pull here. I could not even sleep a wink. So I came here." A tiny, wintry, smile crossed his face. "Did you use that secret passage as well? The one that we discovered when we were children?"

Kevan nodded slowly. "I did. I take it that you did too?"

"I did."

Another nod. Then he looked at his brother in puzzlement. "Why are you out here in the dark? Why did you leave your lantern inside the room?"

And then Tywin sighed. "I did not leave my lantern inside." He reached down and then opened up the latch on the lantern that Kevan had not known was even there. He peered at it. It was surprisingly stealthy for the Lord of Casterly Rock. Then he looked back at the door. "Then who is in the room?"

"No-one." Tywin almost whispered the word, and there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down Kevan's back. "See for yourself."

He went to the door slowly and then opened it. The light inside wasn't coming from a lantern. Or a candle or anything like that. No, it was coming from the walls. From the runes themselves. They were shining, as bright as the sun at sunset. He… well, he gaped at the sight. Then he caught himself and snapped his jaws closed. He'd always known that there were runes here. They were faint in places, hard to make out. And impossible to read. Father had tried again and again, but apparently the runes had always been illegible. Now… well, he could see every stroke. Every rune.

Kevan backed slowly out of the room and then slowly closed the door. When he turned back to his brother he could see that Tywin was watching him with a certain amount of wintry amusement in his eyes. It was disconcerting. And then the amusement flickered and died as Tywin looked at the door again.

"We… we need to get the Maester. To read the runes." Kevan stammered the words and then stopped when Tywin shook his head.

"No. There's no need. I know what they say." He caught Kevan's incredulous gaze. "What, you didn't think that I wasn't interested in succeeding where our unlamented father failed? I taught myself when I was young. The room was still illegible to me, but it came in useful when I was Hand of the King to Aerys. All those compacts and contracts between the major families, especially those with the blood of the First Men, often recorded in some of the earliest records – and in runes of course."

"But you can read them now?"

"As clear as day. Would that I could not."

He waited for a moment. Finally Kevan prompted: "So? What do they say?"

"They tell of… of Lann the Clever. And they state a warning."

"Lann the Clever?"

"Yes. You remember how Father always wondered how the Lannisters took Casterly Rock from the Casterlys?"

He nodded. "I've wondered that myself."

"As have I on occasion. The answer is a simple one. He inherited it. He was a Casterly himself."

Kevan stared at him again. "What? I thought that he was supposed to be an outsider who tricked his way into getting Casterly Rock from Lord Casterly? And you always tell me that you think he was an Andal who arrived centuries before the Andal invasion."

"I was wrong," Tywin said bleakly. "We were all wrong. And having read the runes I know why the family has tried to suppress the truth. Lann was the second son of Lord Casterly. When word went out from Winterfell, from the Stark in Winterfell, that help was needed in a campaign against the Others… well, Lord Casterly refused to go. He stayed on the Rock. Said that his men were needed here. His eldest son agreed.

"Only…. Lann disagreed. He went North with every man who would listen to him. He went North to Winterfell. To fight the Others! And grumpkins and snarks and everything else. He was a hero. And then when he returned to Casterly Rock his father ordered his execution, for disobeying him, for stripping men away from Casterly Rock and… for not being a coward, although he might not have put in those words. But not a man would draw a sword on Lann. Not on Lann the Clever. Not on Lann the Brave. Not on Lann the Loyal."

Confused, Keven looked at him. "Loyal?" There had been something odd in the way that Tywin had said that last word.

"Loyal. Oh, not to his father. To the Stark in Winterfell. Who had saved Lann's life in battle against the Others."

Ah. That was it. A debt had been owed to the Starks. His brother disliked such a thing, even though it had been from so long ago. "And what happened?"

Tywin curled a lip. "Lann defied his father. And his brother. He took control of the Rock and he exiled them. And he refused to use his family name. Refused to be called a Casterly. After a time people simply called him The Lann. And then they'd point to him as the 'Lann is there'. And so after time, and after his own son Lann was born, it became 'Lannister'. So there you have it brother. The true history of our family. Courtesy of these Gods-bedamnned runes."

They sat there in silence for a long time as Kevan absorbed the information and then pondered on his brother and his prickly honour. Tywin was always keen on making sure that people feared House Lannister. Feared and respected them. Well, Castamere had gone a long way towards that. What was he mulling over now? Did the story of Lann add much to the lustre of House Lannister? Yes – and no. A cowardly forebear who was replaced by a brave son. And that son had been called to Winterfell. Oh, Kevan could think of any number of reasons why Tywin would not want this news to be widespread.

"You mentioned a warning," he said eventually. "What was it?"

Tywin stirred. "The runes themselves. The fact that they glow. They say that if they glow then… then the Others have returned. That Winterfell must be warned. That the call must go out."

Once again Kevan found himself staring at his brother in some shock. The call? Did that mean that voice that had spoken to him?. "The runes say that?"

"They do," Tywin replied curtly. "And now…" His voice trailed off.

"And now?" Kevan prompted gently.

"And now I must confess that I know not what to do. The fact that the runes glow seems, well, to confirm what the Maesters say. That magic has indeed returned. I cannot explain it otherwise."

Another silence fell. "Will you send word to Winterfell?" Kevan asked eventually.

"I do not know," Tywin whispered. "This is… unexpected. I might send word to Tyrion, telling him to ask most closely about the Others and to send ravens at once with Stark's replies. As for this room… well, I will transcribe the runes by myself, as I can read them. I do not trust anyone else."

There was something else though, judging by his voice. Something that was still disturbing him. "Tywin – what are you not telling me?"

A flicker of the eyes in his direction, proof that Tywin Lannister was rattled. "Two other things. First that the runes say who carved them. 'Twas Lann himself. Second that… that Lann said that should the call to Winterfell come and the men of Casterly Rock not heed it, that… that doom would follow." And then he pulled a face of angry stubbornness.