Apologies for the delay on this. I had to cover a conference in Dallas and I am literally exhausted. It's been a long and horrible year, with three family funerals, my wife was in a car crash and then she had an operation. I have two weeks off work coming to me in November and I am desperately looking forwards to them. Anyway - on with the story.

Robb

Grey Wind was still a little unsteady on his paws at times, especially when he was tired. Robb looked at him fondly and then ruffled his fur on his back, before scratching. The little Direwolf closed his eyes in ecstasy for a long moment and then seemed to almost fall asleep, because when Robb stopped scratching he didn't react. After a moment though he seemed to awaken, opened his eyes to give him a sorrowful why-have-you-stopped? look, sneezed and then shook himself.

He grinned for a moment and then ambled down the corridor towards Father's solar. The door was open and he peered in. Father was working at his desk, the large amount of paperwork that never seemed to diminish to one side. He knew that it was always new and never old, that Father worked steadily to keep it that way, but when he tried to imagine himself doing it… well, his imagination failed him.

The closest he'd come to that had been in the last days of the war, before the wedding at the Twins. So much to organise for the counter-attack against the Ironborn, so much to arrange to keep Tywin Lannister off his back. He sometimes wondered, with a wince, what must have happened after his death in that terrible world.

Enough. Time to return to this world. He knocked on the doorframe and then entered at Father's gruff "Come!", before closing the door behind him. Grey Wind ambled over towards the fire, yawned again and then fell asleep.

"You sent for me Father?"

Father leant back in his chair and stretched. "Aye. I've come to a decision about the Mountain Clans from the Vale."

"An interesting collection, are they not?"

"Aye." He was silent for a moment. "When I was being fostered in the Vale, what feels like a very long time ago now, something happened that I'd forgotten about until now. I was travelling to Gulltown on business for Jon Arryn, when I was approached by a lone Clansman from the Mountain Clans. Said he had a message for me, from the head of the clan, whose name was Daner."

Robb frowned. "One of their leaders is Rhys, son of Daner. Could it be the same man?"

"I think so. I mean to talk to him before he leaves for the Wall. The thing is – I was never able to talk to this Daner. There was always something else to do, Jon Arryn didn't want me anywhere near the Mountain Clans… and now I wish I knew what he had to tell me?"

A short silence fell. Eventually Robb broke it. "You are sending the Mountain Clans to the Wall?"

"Not quite," sighed Father. "I'm sending them to the Gift. They won't be ready for the Wall just yet and the Gift… Well it will need to be restored. The Mountain Clans will be able to make a start on that. Besides, I can use them there to prove a point to the Night's Watch. First that First Men are being drawn towards the Wall and that we'll need the Gift and the New Gift to help prepare before another Long Winter is on us. We need men – and women! – there to restore centuries of neglect. And they can pave the way for the Wildlings.

"That's the second thing. We need the Wildlings now. We need their numbers, we need their hardiness and we need their skills in existing North of the Wall. If we sent Southerners to the Gift and told them to restore it, half would be dead by the end of the first month of even a short winter. And the Mountain Clans are near enough to be like Wildlings to prepare the way."

He stared at his Father. This was thinking on a strategic level that he had only partially thought about before. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Father leant back a little further in his chair and smiled at him.

"We need to think on a different scale, my son. And we must have plans beyond plans. I'm not just having the Broken Tower quietly repaired because of… well, something that might never happen. I'm also getting the tower prepared by be fully restored. If disaster strikes, if the Others break through the wall, then they will come here. Why, I do not know, but all the oldest tales tell of the Others assaulting Winterfell, or the place where Winterfell was founded. Why? Is it the hot springs here? If the Wall falls – and may the Old Gods stop it from happening! – then we will need to defend Winterfell. And every tower, every scrap of wall, every storeroom will play its part."

He stood up and then walked over to Robb, before placing his hands on Robb's shoulders. "We must be ready for anything. And… there is something that you must be aware of. I've sent for Jon. You need to be aware of who his mother was, just as he needs to know that the Old Gods sent you back. All three of us have been touched by them. There must be a reason for that. Especially as you and I have a journey to make."

Robb stared at Father quizzically. "Where to Father?"

"Castle Black. I am summoning the Lords of the North there."

Ice seemed to slide up and down his back for a moment. "You are calling the Banners?"

"Nay – not just yet. I am summoning the Lords there to tell them of my decision. That the Others do indeed come. That the Wildlings must be allowed South of the Gate and into the Gift. That the castles on the Wall must be repaired and reoccupied. That I am ordering this as the Warden of the North, before the South can come to our aid. And that the Night's Watch must accept this."

"You doubt Lord Commander Mormont?"

"The Old Bear? Never! The man's a Mormont and they are Northern down to their toenails. I just doubt some of those men under his command. How many heard the Call? I know not. They have to know that they have not been abandoned by us. That we will help them to the best of our ability. But the Gift must be made ready, the Wildlings must be brought South of the Wall. And we need proof of wights. I'll be taking that cage with us. Hopefully Benjen has carried out his mission.

"And yes, I said us. You are coming with me. You fought well in that world that you saw. Now I need to complete your education in other respects. The GreatJon, Roose Bolton and Howland Reed all know how important this is and will be coming with us. The Karstarks will need to be fully persuaded, as they are cussed beyond belief. The Glovers and the Cerwyns will be easily persuaded, Maege Mormont alike. House Dustin… well, I have had ravens from both Barbrey Dustin and her father, Lord Ryswell, promising every support. I will know the measure of their words. I will summon both to Castle Black."

Father walked back to the map. "Tyrion Lannister will come with us as well. He has a part to play in this, given the message from the Old Gods to him. He must go to the Nightfort. Why? I know not – just that it must happen."

A silence fell, which Robb eventually broke. "When will we go?"

"In a few days. And we will travel with all speed. Luwin is sending out the ravens even as we speak."

Robb nodded. And then knuckles rapped against the door. "Enter!" Father barked. The door swung open to reveal Jon on the other side.

"You asked to see me Father?"

"I did." He paused and rubbed his chin. "Jon – Robb – you both have secrets you must tell each other."

He sighed and looked at his half-brother. Well. This would be… interesting.

Jon

He stared at the closed door for a long time. He had an odd feeling that he knew what this was about. Father had hinted a little about it and he had then worried about it ever since. Robb may not have been his actual brother, but he felt as if he was. He had promised to fight at his side. Someday Robb would be Lord Stark of Winterfell and on that day Jon would lay his sword at his feet and swear to obey him, no matter what.

He'd thought long and hard about the revelation that his real father had been Rhaegar Targaryen. And he'd come to one conclusion: he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his father's family. They had brought nothing but death, fire and madness to Westeros. Yes, they'd united the Seven Kingdoms. But the cost…. Oh, the cost…

And then there was the fact that one of his grandfathers had killed his other grandfather. For nothing, other than the wings of madness that had been fluttering through the mind of Aerys fucking Targaryen.

No. No, he would never accept anything that came from his father's side. He was a Stark now. He'd have a hold somewhere in the North, he'd marry some woman that he would hopefully grow to love and he would keep his head down – and ready his sword to place at Robb's feet one day.

And he needed his brother to be his brother and not to treat him any differently. Which was why, if this was the meeting that he had been dreading, he was so nervous.

Ghost, who had been sitting by his foot and regarding him gravely, butted his head against his leg, as if to encourage him. Jon sighed before looking back at the door – and then finally knocking on it.

"Enter!" Father barked from inside and he opened the door, Ghost scurrying on before him. As he closed the door behind him he could see that his Direwolf had run up to the fire, where Grey Wind was already asleep. And yes, Robb was standing with Father. He walked up to them.

"You asked to see me Father?"

"I did." Father seemed to hesitate for a moment, as he rubbed his chin. "Jon – Robb – you both have secrets you must tell each other."

And this brought a sigh from Robb, which was odd. Jon looked at his brother. Robb looked as if the weight of the world was suddenly on him. "Father?"

Father placed a hand on his shoulder, before doing the same to Robb. "I need you both to listen to me. We are Starks. We are a pack. The pack is weakened when we keep things from each other – even for the best of reasons. Now, this is not going to be easy for either of you, but there is a war coming and we do not know what will happen. The North wind is going to blow and I don't know where it might take us. You two need to trust each other and there's only one way that can happen – with the unburdening of yourselves.

"Jon – Robb has been touched by the Old Gods, just as you have been. Only in his case… more directly."

He stared at Father and then at Robb. "More directly? The Old Gods used me to pass on a message for Tyrion Lannister."

Robb smiled wanly. "Oh, they brought me back from the dead."

There was a long moment as he stared at Robb. If this was a joke then it wasn't very funny. Not that Robb seemed to be joking. Or even amused. He was pale and wincing slightly, as if some terrible memory was going through his mind. "What?" Jon said eventually.

Robb sighed and then ran a hand through his hair. "The Old Gods brought me back from the moment of my death. I was fated to die in about two – almost three – years. At the Twins. There was a war you see. A terrible war. I did my best, but it wasn't enough. And… I died."

Eyes wide, he stared at Robb. From the way that he was talking… by the way that Father was watching him with a look of total seriousness on his face… "You died?"

"I died. And I was sent back. By the Old Gods. Because everything had gone wrong and the Others were coming. There was no warning. Nothing. The Long Night was coming and I was losing a war in the South."

"I… I don't understand. Where was father whilst all of this was happening?"

Father lifted his chin a little. "Me? Oh, I was dead. According to Robb Jon Arryn died and King Robert came to Winterfell to make me Hand of the King. So I went South with him to King's Landing. And I died there."

Horror stole over him and he felt his legs quiver. "What?" he whispered. The thought of Father being dead was something that… he couldn't even begin to imagine it. To have father gone from this world… no, it was unbelievable. "No. No. That's… not possible."

"I'm afraid it is," Father said gently.

"How?"

"King Robert died. A 'hunting accident'. Prince Joffrey became king. But he's an unstable, proud, stuck-up little piece of shit." Robb spat the last words harshly. Then he looked at Father, who nodded slightly. "And he's not King Robert's son. He's mad because his true father is his own uncle, the Kingslayer."

Brother and sister. The words rolled through his mind and he felt nauseous. Just like the Targaryens.

"If Prince Joffrey's real father is the Kingslayer then… oh. You found out about this Father?"

"Apparently I did. And I died because of it. Betrayed, from what Robb said."

He thought about this. "Then Robb must have called the Banners to avenge you," he said softly. "I hope that I was at your side."

"No," Robb said sadly and shock roiled through him again. "You weren't."

"What? Why? What would have stopped me from doing that?"

"You joined the Night's Watch. You were on the Wall when it happened. Your oath to take the Black took precedence."

He stood there, feeling stunned. Well, perhaps it would be fairer to say even more stunned than before. "I was on the Wall?"

"From what I heard you were doing well. We didn't get much news, but from what we heard… well, you saved the Lord Commander's life when he was attacked by a wight."

He shivered a little. The very thought of wights even now made him uneasy. "I… I don't know what to say. I should have been with you. I'm sorry, I should have-"

"Don't talk rot!" Robb broke in. "You were defending the North on the Wall. And if you had been with me then it would have meant that we would both have died at the Twins."

A silence fell as he winced and absorbed this. "Did you die in battle?"

"No. I was betrayed."

"By who?"

"People who had been influenced by Tywin Lannister."

"Which people? Who were they?"

"The Freys. But it was Roose Bolton who wielded the knife."

He went very cold and still. "The same man who is inside our walls?"

"Yes," Father said heavily. "And you cannot kill a man for something he has not done yet. We need the Boltons. We need every House in the North."

"But he killed Robb!"

"In a future that has not happened! In a future where I was not there to advise him about what Roose Bolton can be like! Jon, I know how angry you must be. I was angry too. But we have already changed things. In the future that Robb remembers Domeric Bolton was dead by now, instead of being betrothed to Sansa."

This shocked him. "Dead? How?"

"Poison we suspect. And perhaps at the hand of his now dead half-brother."

"Ramsey Snow…" Jon breathed. He rubbed his forehead. He had a lot to think about. "This is… this…"

"I know that it's a great deal to take in," said Father. "But you needed to know. The only others who know so far are Lady Stark, Luwin and Theon Greyjoy."

And that hurt. "Theon? Why does he know?"

"Because he was touched by the Old Gods too. And because in the world that will not happen the Ironborn attacked the North. Theon did not understand the power that his own father had over him. Theon tried to face both ways but was forced into obedience by his father. He took Winterfell but then became a prisoner of the Boltons. Who… cut bits off him."

More shock. And then fury and nausea combined. "He took Winterfell?"

"And was part flayed for his crimes by the Boltons," Robb said with a wince. "Brother, you cannot be angry with Theon. He is already a different man."

He sighed. "Gods… so much to think about."

"Aye," Father said quietly. "And now it's your turn. Robb, there is something that you do not know about Jon. Who his mother was for a start."

Robb eyed Father. "I did wonder. Not that it matters. Jon's my brother."

Father's nostrils flared for a moment. "No, he's your cousin."

Robb stared at him. "What?"

"He's your cousin. His mother is buried here in Winterfell. She was your aunt Lyanna. I am not his father."

This seemed to utterly stun Robb, who gaped at first Father and then Jon and then back to Father. "But… I don't understand. Why would you have people think that he was your…. son…" And then his eyes widened. "You brought Aunt Lyanna's bones back from Dorne. Where the remains of the Kingsguard had been guarding her… and you brought Jon back then. Then his father was Rhaegar Targaryen."

"Yes," Father said curtly. "And that was a secret known only to your mother and I. I told Jon a few weeks back. Now you know it too. You must keep it secret. Because if the King discovers that a child of Rhaegar Targaryen lives then that child is in mortal danger."

Robb pulled a face. "But the King loved Aunt Lyanna! Would he really kill her child?"

"You did not see him after he was presented with the bodies of Jon's half-siblings in King's Landing. He laughed. I could not take the chance. I told everyone that he was of my blood. I did not lie. But it was not the whole truth."

From the way that Robb frowned Jon could tell that a number of pieces were falling into place. "So that's why Mother's been warmer to you of late."

"Aye." Jon looked at the floor. "I hope that you do not feel any less of me, now that you know the truth," he said in a voice that wobbled a bit more than he wanted it to. "I want nothing more than to be-"

He never finished the sentence, because all of a sudden Robb had him in a bearhug that would have impressed the GreatJon. "Don't be a bloody fool," Robb muttered in his ear. "You are my brother. You have always been my brother. You will always be my brother. You're a Stark. You'll always be a Stark. You're part of the pack. Winter's coming and I can't think of a better person to have by my side than my brother."

Jon closed his eyes and smiled as he felt that hug. When he opened his eyes again he saw the smile on the face of Father to one side. And then he knew that what he had feared, an estrangement from Robb because of the truth about his heritage, would not come to pass. And just for a moment he wanted to cry.

After a long moment Robb broke the bearhug and then slapped Jon on the shoulders with both hands. "Right then. Some ale?"

Not a bad idea. "Some ale."