Sorry about the delay on this. But here's the new chapter!

Ned

He came awake with a start, his heart pounding. The Tower of Joy again. The fight outside and then the scream and his run inside to find his dying sister. And the baby. This time he'd found them both dead. It was a dream that he had had before. And it always made him want to sit in a corner and weep.

Cat stirred in her sleep for a moment and he thanked the Old Gods that he hadn't woken her up. She needed her sleep. She was showing now and he'd had to talk to Sansa about taking on a little more of the burden of running Winterfell, to help her.

But it was all for naught, as a heavy fist slammed against the door. "Lord Stark!" It was Ser Barristan's voice. "I beg your pardon Lord Stark, but I am here on his Grace's command!"

Cat stirred and came awake as he stood and pulled a shirt on, before walking to the door and opening it a crack. "Ser Barristan?"

The Kingsguard bowed quickly. The guard to one side did not look happy, but then Ned peered at the southerner more carefully. He looked pale and shaken. "Your pardon for the interruption at so early an hour Lord Stark, but his Grace would like to see you immediately."

Alarm went through him. "What has happened? A message from King's Landing?"

"No, my Lord." Ser Barristan paused and looked a little wild-eyed. "It is… hard to explain. But his Grace is waiting for you at the grave of the Lady Lyanna Stark."

This time unease went through him. "Very well. Give me a moment to dress appropriately." The Kingsguard nodded tersely and Ned shut the door so that he could pull on breeches, boots and a leather jerkin.

Cat looked at him as he dressed. "Robert wants to see you?"

"Aye," he muttered as he stamped his way into his right boot, which was not co-operating with his foot. "And Selmy looks like he's seen a ghost. Something's up."

He kissed her gently, told her to get back to sleep and then strode out of the room, with Selmy a step behind him as they passed down the corridor. "What happened?"

For a long moment there was nothing but silence from the older man, and Ned looked over to see that his face was working as he visibly wrestled with something. "We saw a light under the door to his Grace's chambers," he said eventually. "We were alarmed. But when we went in we saw that Stormbreaker was… it was… Lord Stark, it was glowing. As we entered it was floating above his Grace, but then he reached out and took it and it… shone. With light."

Ned stopped walking for a moment and then stopped and stared at the Kingsguard. "Truly?"

Ser Barristan stared at him, his eyes haunted. His answering nod was heavy and stunned. "Truly, my Lord."

The rest of their journey to the crypts was carried out in silence as Ned wondered what on earth was going on. Just before they reached the crypts something occurred to him. "Ser Barristan, you said that the Selmys were swordbearers to the Durrandons and that you had old records sent by your brother. Are there any references to such a thing happening in the past?"

"Ah… I will have to look at what my brother sent," Ser Barristan said thoughtfully, as they reached the door. Ser Arys Oakheart was standing there, as pale as the older Kingsguard still was, and he nodded to them as he opened the doors for them.

As the doors closed behind them Ser Barristan looked at him. "Ser Arys will guard the entrance and will allow no-one else in. I am to take you to his Grace, as I was ordered to."

Not knowing what else to do Ned nodded. They found Robert sitting in front of Lyanna's statue, looking up at her face. He looked as if he had gotten dressed in a hurry, his hair was wet and there was a strained look on his face. Stormbreaker was to one side, leaning against the nearest wall. As they approached he looked at them and then smiled slightly before sighing gustily. "Ned. Thanks for coming. Ser Barristan, I need your services for one more thing."

"I am at your Grace's command."

"I need you to witness an oath I am about to swear."

This startled Ned, as well as Selmy by the look of it. "Of course your Grace."

There was a pause as Robert stood, looking at Lyanna's statue again. "I, Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of my name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby swear by the Old Gods and the New that I will not harm the son of Lyanna Stark, nor will I allow others to harm him, or reveal that he even exists."

The very air seemed to congeal around Ned as she stood there, rooted to the spot with horror. He knew that he should say something, deny something, do something, but he was so stunned that he didn't have the faintest idea what on earth he should do. And from the look on the face of Ser Barristan Selmy he felt the same way.

"Oh bloody hells Ned, stop doing that 'I am Ned Stark, Statue of the North' thing that you always do when you're startled." Robert was busy sitting down again, before looking back up at Lyanna's face. "Sit down. You heard my oath. And you know that I keep my oaths. Ned, sit down."

After a long moment he finally coaxed his reluctant limbs into life and joined Robert on the floor before the statue. "Robert…"

"I told you that I'd been dreaming about her, Ned. Chasing her, whilst she trys to tell me something, me unable to catch her." Robert ran a shaking hand over his face. "Tonight… tonight I caught her. But I don't think that it was a dream."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "What… what are you saying?"

"From what she said… Ned, I think it was her. Lyanna. Her ghost, spirit, call it what you want. But it was her. I know it was her. My she-wolf. The Knight of the Laughing Tree."

There was an odd startled noise from Selmy and they both looked over at the stunned Kingsguard. "Your pardon your Grace, my Lord, but – the Lady Lyanna was the Knight of the Laughing Tree? The Mad King thought that he was some kind of plot against him!"

"Nay," Ned said with a sad smile. "She witnessed three squires beating a Northerner that they were making fun of. She decided to teach them a lesson in the lists. Beat them all. She was a superb horsewoman."

"Fiery, she was," Robert agreed, looking at the statue again. "She did the right thing. I would have thumped their skulls, she beat them all and made them look small. There was no plot. But I knew it was her by the way that she rode."

Selmy absorbed this – and then he laughed. "So Aerys's fears about that knight were all for nothing!"

"Aye," Robert said. Then he sobered. "But it was her, Ned. I'm sure of it. She said that the walls between the living and the dead were thinner here in Winterfell, especially as she's buried here. And then she said three things. The first was a warning to you – watch the West. Something about Maege Mormont's warning and the Others trying to outflank us. Mean anything to you?"

He thought back to Castle Black and Maege's words about freezing fogs off the Frozen Shore. "I think so," he said thoughtfully. "I'll send a raven."

"Then…" Robert paused, his eyes moist suddenly and Ned looked away awkwardly for a moment as his old friend wiped his eyes. "Then she said that I need to be the Storm King and that to do that I have to let her go. Her memory that is." He looked at Ned, his face almost gaunt for a moment as his nostrils flared with emotion. "I don't know if I can do that Ned. I just don't know. She said that I have to if I'm to be what's needed for this war, but after all this time…"

Ned pulled a face. And then he swallowed. "And the third thing?"

Robert stared at the statue again, his eyes still red. "She went down on her knees and begged me to spare the life of her son. Our Lyanna – on her knees Ned! She begged me to spare him! Gods, I think she was afraid of me. Of me, Ned!"

He closed his eyes tightly, but then remembered Robert's earlier vow. "But you agreed."

"Of course I bloody did, I'm not a monster! He's your nephew, he's Lyanna's son. That trumps whatever Targaryen blood he has." He sighed and then looked at Ned. "I'm not stupid Ned. Oh, I shout and I bluster and there are times when my temper gets the better of me, but I'm getting better at it. I drink ale more than wine these days so I'm not in my cups half the time. And while I was waiting for you I did some thinking. Jon is Lyanna's son. Don't start like that Ned, you heard my oath. I won't hurt the boy. He looks so like you though…"

He sat there, his mind reeling. Gods, there had been a time when he would have been panicking by now. He'd been in fear of Robert finding out for years and now… "Robert, I couldn't tell you. Lyanna begged me on her deathbed to protect him. To save him."

"Save him from me? Gods Ned, how could you think that I'd kill a child! A babe in the arms of that maid!"

"Because you laughed at the bodies of Jon's half-siblings. You laughed Robert."

His old friend groaned and covered his eyes with one large hand for a moment. "Gods," he spat bitterly. "That day. That terrible fucking day. I wish I could take it all back, Ned. There've been horrible days in my life, the day that I saw my parents' ship founder right in front of me, the day that you arrived at King's Landing with Lyanna's bones, and then there's that day."

The hand came down and Robert stared at the wall. "Jon taught us a lot Ned. You more than me at first until he got it into my thick head that this was important. He taught us everything about how to be a lord. But what he couldn't teach me was how to be a king. On that bloody ride down from the Trident, after Jon prevented me from joining you in your ride to King's Landing because of my wound, all I could bloody think about was 'how do I act like a king?', and I didn't have a bloody clue.

"And it didn't feel real at first. Not until I saw the Red Keep on the horizon. And then your messengers arrived and said that the Lannisters were in the city and that Tywin Lannister had turned his cloak and all of a sudden it was all very real. Especially when I met the Old Lion and looked into those cold green eyes of his. In that moment I knew that he was dangerous. That I had to show no fear here, I had to be a king, I had to stand up straight in front him. So when he showed me the bodies I did the first thing that entered my head. I laughed.

"I knew it was a mistake the moment I saw Jon's face. Lannister was happy, but Jon wasn't. And then there was your face… When we had that argument I was angry, with myself, with the Targaryen's for me being wounded, with Tywin bloody Lannister for putting me in that position, with you for being right. And afterwards, after you left in a fury, I wanted to sit on a stair and cry. Jon found me in the stable the next day, trying to saddle a horse and fucking it up because I was still injured. I wanted to ride out and join you. Apologise. Fight with you. Jon told me not to be a bloody fool. Said I was still injured. Said that the Realm needed a king again after having a madman in charge for so long. So I stayed. I've always regretted that day Ned. But did you really think that I would have killed Lyanna's babe?"

"I didn't know Robert," Ned said in some anguish. "And I couldn't take the chance. My Father was gone, my older brother was gone, my sister was gone, the number of Starks had halved. I had to protect the pack. He may have been half-Targaryen, but he was half-Stark and that was more important. And I had to protect him from the Lannisters. If Tywin Lannister had heard that one of Rhaegar's children had survived, even as a bastard, he would have ordered his death."

There was a long silence in the darkness of the crypts, with only the occasional hiss and crackle of the torches breaking that silence. "Well," Robert said eventually, "He's a Stark. And he's Lyanna's revenge."

Eyebrows raised Ned looked at him, and Robert laughed shortly. "Lyanna said that Rhaegar wanted a daughter. Wanted a Visenya, who he presumably would have legitimised and then married to his son Aegon. Like the Conqueror, you understand? But she gave him a son instead. And he's all Stark! Looks so much like you, Ned. That's one in the eye for the shade of Rhaegar bloody Targaryen, the raping piece of shit."

Robert's eyebrows came down into a thunderous scowl. "She said that he did rape her Ned. She said that he lied and lied and lied to her and that when that failed she had his Kingsguard hold her down and…" His voice trailed to a halt, his face red with fury. "Gods damn them all for that. She was just a girl. Sworn knights against a girl. She said that she threw the fact that they were no longer knights in their faces every day after that."

There was another strangled noise from Ser Barristan and they both looked at him. He was as white as a sheet and looked as if he wanted to cry. "Your pardon your Grace, my Lord," he said eventually. "I knew them all. Or at least I thought I did. For them to have done what they did… When Rhaegar started to get obsessed with prophecy he… changed. Became driven. He loathed his father for what he did to his mother but to do it in turn to your sister Lord Stark… well it is beyond me. Although in his last days his melancholy was very deep, as if he regretted everything. Especially after his second trip to the Isle of Faces."

Ned's eyebrows went up again. "Rhaegar went twice to the Isle of Faces? I never knew that. Why did he go there?"

"I do not know, the Green Men said that only he could be allowed to talk to the Green Man. Afterwards he was… different. Knowing what I know now, I wonder if his orders to me and the others of the Kingsguard at the Trident were designed to keep us away from him as he sought out you, your Grace. I don't think that he thought he'd survive meeting you."

"Lyanna was happy when I told her how I'd killed him," Robert rumbled, his eyes dark with thought and memory. "And there was something hunting her. I'll tell you everything later. But I need to know something first. What do you plan for Jon?"

"He will be a bannerman for Robb," said Ned firmly. "That's all he wants. He will found a cadet branch of House Stark and I already have a few ideas for keeps that can be rebuilt for him. He will follow Robb should he ever call his banners."

"Does he know his true parentage?"

"He does. It horrifies him."

This seemed to surprise Robert. "Horrifies?"

Ned sighed. "He doesn't want anything to do with his father's family. And he hates the fact that one of his grandfathers had the other grandfather burned alive. And above all he doesn't want to go raving mad like Aerys."

There was another long silence as Robert looked at him, before chuckling slightly. "Aye, there is that. The Targaryen trait of going raving mad every now and then. Tell the boy that it worried me at times when I was younger." He paused. "Who else knows?"

"Cat. I had to tell her eventually. Robb, because of something else that I need to tell you about. And there's a handful of men on the Wall, just in case he ever had to flee there and join the Night's Watch."

"Hmmmm." Robert paused as he looked at Lyanna's statue again. "It's a good plan. It'll keep him safe. Let me know if you need any coin to help. Lyanna would want him to be supported."

Ned nodded. He felt slightly sick now, as the shock and adrenalin of this entire conversation burnt off. "Thank you Robert. I'm sorry for all of this."

"Don't be daft Ned," Robert snorted. "She told me that she made you swear on her deathbed. You did the only thing you could. You did the right thing, even though it had to be a secret. You always knew how to do the right thing. I always envied that about you Ned. In King's Landing everything gets mired in filth and lies and self-serving cant. It's good to be here and away from all that. Never change Ned. Please. Never change."

He nodded in response – and then a yawn ripped its way out of him. "Your pardon your Grace. It's been a hell of a night."

Robert smiled. "Aye, I'm sorry to get you out of bed. Get back to your Cat, Ned. I'll get some sleep myself. Oh – one last thing. Lyanna said something odd. She said that the Old Gods were stronger than they had been, but that they had their limits and that they couldn't bring her back as they'd brought Robb. Does that mean anything to you?"

Oh gods. He sighed. "It does. Remember your first day here, when I said that I had a source of intelligence that you wouldn't believe? It was Robb. But it's a long story and it needs Robb to be there. I'll meet you in my solar after breakfast Robert. You need to hear it all in full."

As he walked out of the crypts and out into the outside air he looked up at the sky and the stars that blazed down. "Thank you Lyanna," he whispered. "Thank you."

Willas

He arrived at the gate just before sunrise, accompanied by a small group of guards. And there he waited, staring up the road to Highgarden. He was tired despite the sleep he'd had earlier, interrupted by the odd nightmare of the confrontation at the gate. He scrubbed at his face with both hands for a long moment. Too much to do. Too much to think about.

Frankly he didn't dare leave Oldtown. Not if Otherbane was the only thing that could keep back whatever the Seven Hells that thing in the gate was. The booming was still there, like a hollow heartbeat that no-one could ignore. Grandfather had quietly asked him to stay as long as he could, at least until a solution could be found.

He had a feeling that such a solution would mean asking Ned Stark for help. It made him want to laugh quietly. When was the last time that the Reach had asked the North for help? Before the Field of Fire? The Andal Invasion?

And the arrival of the man who had sent out the Call would bring its own… problems. He didn't like the mood in parts of the city. Febrile was the word. Not quite unrest, but scratchy excitement and the odd bout of feverish muttering. The Starry Sept was still stunned by the death of the Septon, but the fact was that he did not trust the men and women in it. How many of them had ties to the Faith Militant? He didn't know. Which worried him.

"My Lord?"

He looked up at those words. The senior guardsman was pointing up the road and as he looked he could see the flickering of banners in that direction as a party of horsemen rode towards the gate, escorting a carriage. As they got closer he could see that the leading riders bore the banners of Highgarden and he sighed a little and stepped forwards.

The horsemen recognised him as they approached and reined in, the carriage slowing at the same time. As it came to a halt he walked forwards, acknowledging the bows of the riders and suppressing the need to wince with every muttered "My Lord", before getting into the carriage, placing Otherbane to one side.

Mother and Grandmother were both sitting opposite him and both looked tired and strained. "Willas!" Mother cried, before jerking forwards and hugging him. He let her. She was red-eyed but she always gave the best hugs and above all she smelt of home. After a long moment she released him and went back to her seat, where she regarded him with a worried look. "Are you well?"

"Of course he's not well, he's the Lord Paramount of the Reach now," Grandmother snorted. She did not hug him. If she had that would have been worrying. Instead she gave him a wintry little smile. "You have my sympathies Willas. Now – take us to him please."

He nodded and then leant out of the window. "To the docks before the Hightower!"

As he leant back in again Mother frowned at him. "Not the Starry Sept?"

"No," he sighed as the carriage lurched on its way. "The Starry Sept is being watched for signs that the Faith Militant have wormed their way into it. And the fact that it was the Septon of the Starry Sept who started all this… No, he's at the sept at the Hightower. It's not as big or as beautiful, but it's safe there."

This earnt him a 'Harrumph' from Grandmother, who leant forwards to peer out of the window at the streets of Oldtown as they rolled down the street. "Your message was… terse. What exactly happened?"

He hadn't been looking forwards to this and the uncertainty must have shown on his face, but oddly enough it was Mother who commanded him: "Tell us, Willas. Tell us what happened."

So he sighed and then he did. Everything. The argument at the Hightower, how the Septon had been allowed admittance, Father's embarrassment, the descent to the Gate and then… and then what had happened there. And then Father's last moments.

By the time he finished Grandmother had squeezed her eyes closed and Mother had both hands at her mouth as she wept silently. He sat there awkwardly, not knowing what to do or to say. The silence stretched on until the carriage shuddered to a halt.

"The docks, my Lord," a guard said as he opened the door. "Lord Hightower has sent his personal barge."

Willas nodded as he retrieved the ancient spear, got out and then helped the two women to exit the coach. As Mother got out she wiped her eyes one last time and then schooled her features as befitted Lady Tyrell. Grandmother eyed her for a moment, nodded curtly and then they all boarded the barge.

As the oarsmen stretched out for the Hightower he settled Otherbane in its leather holder at his back and then mentally prepared himself. He was not looking forward to this. Going anywhere near the Gate brought back unpleasant memories and he was truly worried about what it all meant.

Garlan and Loras were still standing vigil in the Sept when they arrived at it. They both looked up and then went to Mother at once, who hugged them both before looking at the lonely figure on the bier in front of them all.

Mother strode up to the bier with Grandmother and then looked at Father's body. He had been dressed in fine robes rather than in his armour, which was a good thing as he would have looked… scrawny in it.

"He's… he's so thin," Mother whispered as she stroked Father's face gently. "How could that have happened?"

"It was the thing behind the Gate, Mother," said Loras, a haunted look on his face. "Confronting it… took its toll on Father."

Mother nodded slowly as she just stood there, looking at the body of her husband, before taking his hand and lifting it to her cheek for one last time. And then she sat in the chair that Garlan had brought over for her.

As for Grandmother she stood on the other side of the bier looking down at her son for a long moment, before she leant down and kissed his forehead. "My poor dear boy," she whispered just loud enough for Willas to hear. "Rest in peace. Sleep until the morning comes."

Willas stood there, his mind filled with memories for a long moment. And then Grandmother straightened up, smoothed Father's hair a little and then made her way over to Willas. "Right," she said firmly. "Show me this bloody gate thing that killed my brave but foolish son."

"Grandmother," Loras was foolish enough to say, "It's dangerous and-"

Grandmother silenced him with a glare and then looked back at Willas. "Show me."

He opened his mouth, say the gimlet look in her eyes, shut his mouth and then held out his arm so that she could hold it as he led her out of the Sept and off to the stairway that went downwards. As they descended she looked at him briefly. "And how are you, Willas? You are now Lord of the Reach and I know that it can be a heavy burden at times."

It was a good question and he sighed as he thought about it. "I'm tempted to say 'Ask me again in a week', but that would be the wrong thing to say. It's been… hard, Grandmother. There's a lot to do. And now with all this..."

She harrumphed as they started down the next flight of stairs carefully. "Has the blizzard of ravens started to arrive yet with messages from Lords with available daughters?"

"Oh yes," Willas smiled as they reached the bottom and then headed for the black steps. "Lord Hewett has sent several ravens already with suggestions about his various daughters, and that's going to just be the start of it."

"It is and…" Grandmother paused and looked down at the steps. "Who made these steps?"

"No-one knows," he said grimly. "The bottom course of the Hightower is all made from this stone."

"Yes, but the steps are made for feet smaller than ours." Then she stiffened. "Ah. I think I feel it."

They continued down to the bottom of the stairs and then along to the doors, where guards with sweat on their foreheads seemed to relax slightly at the sight of Willas and Otherbane. At a nod from him they opened the doors and they passed through until eventually they were standing before the Gate, which was booming at its usual rate.

Grandmother hissed with some undefinable emotion the moment that she laid eyes on it and she now stared at it with narrowed eyes and a mouth set in a grim line. "So that's it," she said eventually. "The thing that killed your father."

"Yes," he sighed. "And it worries the life out of me. Grandfather too."

She took a step forwards and squinted at it, before waving her walking stick at the frame. "What do those runes say?"

"We don't know. I've had Maesters from the Citadel here and Samwell Tarly is researching it as a part of his task of finding out more about the early history of the Reach."

Grandmother harrumphed again. "It still amuses me that Randyll Tarly, a man who revels in hitting other men on the head until their brains ooze out of their ears has a son who knows what a book looks like." She looked at the flagstones in front of the gate. "So where did your father rescue this fool of a septon?"

"Just beyond the marker there," he replied, pointing. "And just beyond that was where I killed the Septon of the Starry Sept. Or his corpse at least."

Grandmother shivered a little. "Walking dead. A touch of the North this far South? Chilling. And you said that the… whatever it is behind the Gate was afraid of you?"

"I was holding Otherbane, Grandmother. I think that it was afraid of the weapon, not me."

Another harrumph. "Perhaps. Perhaps. Do you know what it is? And the booming noise?"

He eyed the Gate. "I have a suspicion," he muttered in a low voice. "But it's best not discussed here."

Grandmother stared at him quizzically – and then she paled slightly and stole a glance at the Gate, where the booming was still filling the air. "You think it can hear us?"

"Best not to take the chance," Willas replied, before leading her back out of the room, giving it one last glare over his shoulder as they left the room.

Going up took longer than going down, especially as Grandmother was tiring. But eventually he ushered her into Grandfather's solar, where there was a pitcher of wine, some glasses and some honeycakes waiting, as well as Grandfather himself and Aunt Malora.

"Alerie mentioned that you went to see the Gate, Olenna, so you might need some wine after that," Grandfather said as he poured some wine into a glass and then handed it over. "I'm sorry about Mace, but by all the Gods, why did he have to allow that idiot access to the Gate?"

Grandmother took a sip of wine, mumbled at a honey cake and then pierced the Lord of the Hightower with her gimlet gaze. "And why," she snapped, "Did you allow it all in the first place? Why did you not tell them all that it was none of their business?"

That bought her a wince and a sigh. "Frankly I hoped that they'd leave after becoming properly afraid of it," he said, pouring wine for them all. "It terrifies most people. I didn't realise that Septon Alyston was so set on raising his profile in the Faith that he would try and get that close to it. I'm just sorry that Mace died saving a man who was already dying."

There was a moment of silence and then Grandmother nodded reluctantly and drank some more wine. "Very well. Understandable. Now – earlier, downstairs, Willas would not tell me what you think the thing behind the Gate is."

Willas swapped a glance with his grandfather and aunt for a moment before leaning forwards. "Grandmother, based on what I saw at the Gate and above all from what Father said just before he died, I think that the Drowned God is behind the Gate."

Grandmother just stared at him and he realised that for the first time in his experience she was astonished. "The Drowned God," she said eventually. "Willas, my boy, are you feeling alright?"

"I am fine Grandmother. But Father said that what was behind the Gate was dead but would not die. And that it was a god. Does any of that sound familiar?"

"The Ironborn doggerel…" Grandmother breathed. "But that's…"

"It would explain why the Ironborn are so obsessed with Oldtown, even though they don't know why," Malora said as she stared at the books on the table to one side. "It also explains why House Hightower has always been so focussed on the Hightower itself and keeping it safe."

"'Hold the Hightower', my father told me on his death bed," Grandfather muttered savagely. "He never said why. Just 'Hold the Hightower and protect the Gate' and nothing bloody else." He all but threw some wine down his throat and then stood up and walked over to the table. "All these books left by my ancestors. Books that talk of magic. Books of so-called spells. Nothing about the history of this place. Nothing about what might be required to fight a bloody god. Damn my ancestors! Damn them!"

Willas and the others stared at Grandfather for a long moment, until he rubbed his forehead and waved at them all in apology. "Your pardon. I just hope that something is found in the Citadel. We need information. If this is indeed the Drowned God…"

"We will have to send word to Winterfell and ask Ned Stark to come here," Willas sighed. He caught Grandmother's questioning look. "Before he died Father said that what was behind the Gate was afraid of Ned Stark's fist or something like that."

"The Fist of Winter?" Grandmother sat up in her chair. "Ned Stark has found the hereditary weapon of the old Kings of Winter in Winterfell, called the Fist of Winter. If it's anything like Otherbane…"

"I'll write to Lord Stark at once," Willas muttered. "If he's the one thing that whatever it is behind the Gate fears then we need him."

"He might have more pressing things to deal with," Malora sighed. "Everyone who heard the Call is heading North. Ned Stark was last heard of at the Wall. Well… who knows where he is now? Or what he's dealing with?"

"I'll write to him! Grandfather, I'll need two ravens for identical messages, which I'll sign myself." Willas said forcibly. "In the meantime – I must stay here, at the Hightower. If Otherbane is the only thing that can keep the thing behind the Gate at bay, then here I stay. Besides – I want to be here to keep an eye on the Starry Sept. We can't let the Faith Militant get a hold there."

Grandmother swapped a gaze with Grandfather and then they both nodded and muttered "Good" virtually in unison, before Grandmother pulled a slight face. "Your father will have to be buried in Highgarden as soon as possible. Your absence will be… noted."

He shrugged in response. "It can't be helped. Garlan will preside over Father's funeral. I'll… I'll pay my respects later."

There was a pause as everyone seemed to absorb this, broken by a hurried knock on the door. "Enter!" Grandfather snapped, and the door opened to reveal a somewhat rattled Maester.

"My Lords – a raven from King's Landing brought this." He handed the note over to Grandfather, who read it with what seemed to be rapidly mounting astonishment.

"Good Gods," Grandfather said eventually and rather faintly. "News from Winterfell – His Grace the King has divorced his wife after she was discovered in, erm, 'fornication' with her own brother, the Kingslayer. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella Baratheon are now all Hills after being declared bastards born of incest."

There was a very long moment of silence as everyone stared at him and then everyone bar Grandmother seemed to stand up and stare at the message in astonishment.

"Well," said Grandmother eventually. "Thank the Gods your Father is dead. As otherwise he'd immediately be plotting to throw Margaery into the arms of Robert Baratheon." And then she grinned fiercely. "Oh, how the Old Lion must be raging!"