I seem to have written this rather fast.

Brynden

As they approached Castle Black he could almost feel the Wall, like a presence in his head. There was something there, something that he couldn't put his finger on, like… the opposite of a shadow? That made no sense, he knew, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He could see blonde hair loom into view out of the corner of his eye and he knew without even looking that it was Brienne. "Do you feel it too?" She asked the question with something in her voice that said that she felt the same thing that he did.

"The Wall? Aye, I feel it. Like… something I can't put into words."

She nodded and eyed him for a moment. There was something between them as well, something that he really couldn't describe, or put his finger on either. He liked her, liked her more than any woman he'd met in many a year, but he had no idea how to approach her at times. He was too old for her.

But there was something there…

He looked back at the Wall and then ahead at the approaching bulk of Castle Black. The King was near the head of column, with the other Lords, but the Green Man was further back. He'd asked why and the old man had smiled sadly and said that today he'd meet an old friend who had until recently thought that he was dead.

Castle Black may have had bulk, but there was no way that their full party would be able to be accommodated in it, so some men had been left behind in Moletown, whilst others were in Queen's Crown, which was bustling again. Even then he could see that some temporary structures had been constructed to one side.

He had been to Castle Black once before, years ago, escorting some 'volunteers' for the Night's Watch from Gulltown who Jon Arryn had firmly wanted gone from the Vale in the wake of Robert's Rebellion. Then he'd noticed how shabby Castle Black looked, how worn.

Now, however, the place looked transformed. He could see new tiles on roofs, new walls, new buildings, a flood of carts coming to and from the place, along with horsemen. As they approached the gates he could see that the place was bustling, but that bustle was quietening down as ranks were formed of man of the Night's Watch, headed by old Jeor Mormont with an older man next to him with the chains of a Maester.

As the King dismounted the assembled men and women in the courtyard knelt and he took the opportunity to look around at the faces. Yes, that brat Joffrey was there, a conflicted look on his face, but where was the Kingslayer?

The King gestured and then as the assembled throng stood he stepped up to the Old Bear and clasped arms with him. "Lord Commander, good to see you again."

"Your Grace," Mormont rumbled. "Castle Black is yours. We must talk in my solar."

"Aye," Robert Baratheon said – and then, his face, working a bit, he looked at the Maester. "Maester Aemon?"

"Your Grace," the old man said with a creaking bow. "Be welcome to Castle Black."

"Maester Aemon, we are kin," the King said haltingly. "You are, I believe, my great-grand uncle? You remind me of my grandmother, who I loved most fiercely."

"Rhaelle," the old man said with a fond smile. "She was so young the last time I saw her, but she often wrote to me about how happy your grandfather made her."

The King nodded choppily and seemed for a moment to be deeply moved. And then he smiled. "We will talk later of her. I have… well, there is much that I must repair with you."

Armour creaked to one side as someone approached and then the old man looked at the Green Man as he walked up to them and then pulled down his antlered hood. "Aemon."

Aemon Targaryen was pale as he looked at the other man. "Duncan. I heard from the Lord Commander that you had survived." He visibly searched for words for a moment. "It seems that I have much to talk about with you. And you are the Green Man now?"

"I am," the tall man said quietly. "So we must talk of more things than you might think."

The King cleared his throat to one side, before taking Stormbreaker from Ser Barristan and then striding out into the courtyard, where all the assembled men and women looked at him. He looked back at them levelly.

"The Call has been sent," the huge man called out in his deep voice. "The Realm has answered! We know what marches on the Wall. We know what comes for us all! Castle Black and the Night's Watch – all of you! – will have the full support of the Realm. This I swear, by the Old Gods and the New!"

He drew his sword and thrust it in the air and as he did so the assembled throng raise their arms and drew swords of their own as they cheered him deafeningly. And as they did the runes on the bracers he wore shone.

Edmure

His sister was dead and he did not know if he should wear black or not. Based upon Father's aspect he did not think that he should. Father refused to speak of her, even after news came that Jon Arryn had taken her head in the Red Keep. He had looked at the message without flinching, passed it to Edmure so that he could read it, beckoned with his fingers for it back – and then crumpled it and threw it into the nearest fire, where it vanished.

Lysa was gone. And he, if no-one else did, mourn her. Yes, in her last days she had been quite mad. But she had been there to help bring him up. That counted for something. So he had quietly, in the Sept, mentioned her in his prayers. It mattered to him at least.

And he needed as much help as possible, because Father would not last forever, he knew that. Yes, he'd rallied, but the bad days, where Father could do little but sit in a chair in his solar, a blanket on his lap, still happened, like today.

As he approached Father he looked up from the message on his lap. "It would seem," he said wryly, "That your search of Oldstones was for naught. The Shield of the Riverlands was not there. It was instead in the Foxhold, just over the border, in the Vale. The Cawlishs had it all along."

He thought about this. "Aye, but the Cawlishs are gone, surely? Lord Cawlish is dead, he had no son to inherit."

Father sighed. "Jon Arryn gave the Foxhold to a Lord Cassley, the man who caught… Baelish." He hissed the name with venom and hatred. "Cassley's steward at the Foxhold was Lord Cawlish's bastard daughter, who Cassley had legitimised for reasons that I thought were unclear – until now. He has married her. At the Red Keep. Where she bore the Shield of the Riverlands. So – it is denied to us."

He raised his eyebrows at that and then sighed a little. Truth be told, he had been worried about the hunt for the Shield. It had at times seemed to be a hunt for a myth and even if it had been found he wasn't sure about if he should wield it. "Does it have… powers?"

"Apparently it shone when she first picked it up." Father shook his head and then passed a hand over his forehead as if fatigued, before laughing softly. "Edmure, this past year has been like nothing I can ever remember. Legends and myths have sprung to life almost beneath our feet. And I am not well. I'm sorry my boy. A great burden will be on your shoulders soon."

"Don't say that Father, there are many years ahead of you yet!" He put his hand on Father's shoulder and was encouraged by the strength in Father's hand as he grasped his arm.

"Thank you my boy, but we both know that my recent rally is only delaying the inevitable. Now – you spoke of marriage and I might have found someone for you, although not the person you might have thought."

"Oh? Who is she?"

"Roslin Frey."

"Father – a Frey?!"

Father sat back and satisfaction danced in his eyes. "This one's different. You'll like her. Trust me on this Edmure."

He sighed. "Let us talk again after I meet her."

Renly

There were times when he almost had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing out loud in the throne room, when fools stood before the Iron Throne and did foolish things. In this case the fool in question was Lord Piglott, a minor lord from the border of the Crownlands and the Stormlands who bore an unfortunate resemblance to, well, a pig.

Obviously there were times when courtiers mispronounced his name.

Lord Piglott today was standing in the throne room, one hand hooked into his belt and the other stiffly waving in the air as he stated his case before Jon Arryn, who was sitting on a chair just below the Iron Throne and who looked as if he was not particularly impressed by the performance.

Sadly Lord Piglet – Piglott – did not seem to be noticing that fact. He was more fixated on the fact that his suit was firstly one that was set against Lord Kellington, who was not sadly present despite being summoned, and secondly was based on an obscure law of the First Men.

Or so the bloody man obviously thought about that second point. Renly knew rather different, hence his amusement.

Piglott continued to drone on, obviously oblivious to the fact that Jon was looking at him as if he was wasting his time. His suit was a land ownership matter, not a particularly significant one, but one that he obviously thought that he'd win.

The volume under Renly's arm said otherwise. It was a set of notes about legal matters that had been all but codified under Renly, in one of the few things that he had to admit he'd achieved as Master of Laws. He had come to wonder about just what his legacy might be, something that nagged at him.

Robert had rediscovered his strength and was doing what he did best – campaign. Yes, he had denounced Cersei's children as bastards, but he'd legitimised three of his bastards. House Baratheon had expanded a little but it was still on the precipice of disaster. Stannis was Robert's heir for the time being and was being a surprisingly good Hand.

And what was Renly doing? He needed to be the Lord of the Stormlands that it needed. The Stormlands were going to war soon. A war on the Wall, against creatures out of legend. He wondered what Father would have thought of all of this. He had so few memories of him and Mother.

Piglet – damnit, Piglott was continuing to drone on and from the drumming of Jon's fingers on the arm of his chair he was close to telling him to get to the point. And then he heard a door boom open and the sound of boots approaching.

Looking to one side he saw a tall man in riding garb, a bandage around his head, with a young man – no, wait, a young woman – next to him. A daughter, by the resemblance. Both stopped, bowed to Jon and then glared more than a little at Piglott, who noticed them and then fell silent for a moment in what seemed to be a genuine moment of shock.

"Lord Kellington," Jon said as he acknowledged him with a nod. "Your presence here is most welcome."

"Thank you Lord Arryn," the man replied. "My apologies for my delay in getting to King's Landing, we were delayed by an attack by would-be outlaws on the road."

Renly pricked his ears up at this, as did Jon. "Would-be, my lord?"

"Men drably dressed but rather too well equipped to be normal outlaws, my lord. We drove them off thanks to my daughter here, who joined me at the last minute with more men."

He narrowed his eyes at this – there was something about this matter that made him wonder about the truth of this attack. And then Piglet – damnit, Piglott – stepped forwards again. "Lord Arryn, if I may continue to state my case?"

"You may not," Jon said in a voice like iron. "Something about it has bothered me for some time now. Lord Baratheon, as Master of Laws what say you about this case?"

Jon was laying on the formality and he suppressed a smile as he stepped forwards. "Lord Piglott has correctly stated that his suit is based upon a law of the First Men. However, he has not stated the law in full, which is where it fails rather badly." He hefted the book up for a moment. "There have been previous attempts at using this law to satisfy land ownership disputes. Those attempts have always foundered on the complete recitation of said law."

Piglott glared. "My Lord! I must protest! I have stated the law in full! Who says I have not?"

"A previous Lord Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister." As Renly said the words he could see Piglet go white. "Who stated in these notes that he had been informed on this law by one Lord Surestone, a noted expert on the laws of the First Men."

Piglott seemed to hem and haw a bit over this. "I am not familiar with this Lord Surestone," he eventually said stiffly. "Surely he must have-"

Whatever he was about to say was forestalled when Jon raised a hand. "Lord Piglott, I knew Lord Surestone. We fought together at the Stony Sept and again at the Trident. He was of the North and knew it and the laws of the First Men very well. Lord Lannister recommended him to me as an expert on those laws. Lord Baratheon, you say that the full law has not been quoted by Lord Piglott?"

"It has not, Lord Arryn."

"Would you please read the full law?"

He did so, in a level voice that hid how much pleasure he was getting from the clear discomfort of the piggish lord in front of him.

Jon drummed his fingers for a long moment on the arm of his chair as he considered. "Lord Piglott, it would seem that your suit against Lord Kellington is much diminished by this."

Piglott blustered verbally for a long moment – but then, finally nodded reluctantly.

"Lord Kellington, what say you?" Jon called out.

"Lord Piglott's suit is entirely diminished by this, if not destroyed, my Lord," Kellington snapped as he glared at his adversary. "And I must say that I am somewhat suspicious about the attack upon my party on our way here. These 'outlaws' were very well equipped and were commanded by a young man who fled upon being defeated and who bore an strong resemblance to Lord Piglott." From the way he said that last word he was making a great attempt at pronouncing it correctly.

This resulted in more bluster from Piglott, before Jon cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Enough! Lord Piglott, your suit is denied, as it has no standing in law. Lord Kellington, you own the land whose ownership has been disputed. Please provide further information about the attack against you and your men to my seneschal. It will be investigated."

Piglott went even whiter, bowed hurriedly and then all but fled the hall, his men following him. Renly sighed and then strode down to clasp hands with Lord Kellington, who nodded at him and then at the approaching Jon Arryn. "My Lords, my thanks. This has been a most unpleasant affair. Piglet's efforts to gain that land have been annoying."

"Piglott, Father," his daughter said dryly, and Renly looked at her. She was tall, thin, not in the least buxom, but had a look about her that made him feel… confused. She looked at him and then nodded. "Lord Baratheon. I am Bethany Kellington."

He took her proffered hand, bowed over it and then released it and watched as father and daughter talked with Jon about the matter.

"Give that man an inch and he tries to take a mile," Jon said eventually. "Send word if you have trouble with him again. And Quill will get to the bottom of this attack against you, I promise you."

The Kellingtons bowed at this, made their excuses and then strode off. He watched her – no them – go.

He suddenly had much to think about.