Apologies (yes, I know) for the delay on this. First I had to deal with the US-centric edition of my magazine, then I was sent off to lovely Vermont (I recommend Burlington's Festival of Fools a great deal) for a conference and then I was told at no notice that the Bermuda edition had to go into production almost straight away, causing much muttering on my part.

I can now breathe a little on this.

Warning: the next chapter will contain THE THING FROM THE HIGHTOWER. You have been warned.

Jaime

He sighed as he saddled his horse and then cinched the various bits correctly. There had been a time when he would have had a squire or a groom to do this. These days he did it all himself – as there was no-one else. Not for the Kingslayer.

Turning from his horse he caught sight of Addam, who was leaning against a post and looking mulish.

"I still think that I should go with you."

"No," Jaime said, with a wry smile. "The offer is appreciated though. But you were not invited and given the nature of the man who did the inviting, that might be important."

Addam pulled a face. "You don't even know where you're going – just 'North of the Wall'."

"I've always wanted to travel and see something of the world," Jaime quipped, before sobering. "Addam, I know you. Don't follow us. Besides, I need you to do something for me."

His oldest friend pulled another face before sighing. "Very well. What?"

"Train Joffrey whilst I'm away."

This bought him a stare and another sigh. "Will he listen to me?"

"He will. I've told him to. A command from his father."

"You do know that I might have to kick his arse to get him to listen at times, don't you?"

"Kick away." He stared at his feet for a moment. "You might kick some sense into him. The boy still harbours dreams of returning to King's Landing. I see it in his eyes at times. Cersei spoilt him too much. And now he's here and only now starting to come to terms with it all."

"I know. The men have been talking of him. And few like him." Addam strode towards him and held out a hand. "Very well. I'll keep an eye on the boy. And kick his arse about the training yard when required."

"Good," Jaime said as he clasped the hand of his friend. "Thank you Addam. And yes, I'll tell you what this trip North of the Wall was all about when we get back."

As he led his horse out into the courtyard he could see that the Green Man was already there, along with the Blackfish and Brienne of Tarth, all of whom were talking quietly with the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon. As he approached they looked at him, nodded and then the three in green cloaks mounted their horses.

As he also mounted his horse he could see that many others were watching them all in the courtyard in front of the gate, from the King, who was watching from a high balcony with Ser Barristan Selmy and Father next to him, to a group of recruits that included a pale-faced Joffrey in front of Ser Alliser Thorne.

And then, after a wave of the arm from the Green Man they were off, trotting slowly across the courtyard and then into the tunnel that led beneath the Wall. As they rode he could hear the echoes of hooves on the stones beneath them and not for the last time he wondered about the men who had first built this monstrous thing.

He shivered as they rode out of the far end of the tunnel and then faced the winds there. A cold North wind was blowing, one that seemed to promise snow and ice and he thanked Tyrion's meticulous notes about what to wear at the Wall and in what order he should wear it. He thought about his little brother for a moment and then smiled. He hoped that he was truly as happy with his wife as his letters had said.

"Perhaps I should now tell you where we are bound, Ser Jaime?" The Green Man's words broke into his reverie.

"Perhaps you should. Where exactly are we off to? You merely mentioned a wander North of the Wall."

"We head towards the Fist of the First Men and then I think North-East from there. I will have a better idea once we get closer. The ties between North of the Wall and South of it are still strengthening but I should have a good idea of our destination soon."

This made no sense and something must have been seen on his face, because the Green Man laughed softly. "Aye, I know. Sounds like madness? It's not. We ride to a place that the Children of the Forest have known for many a year. They are not a people who use maps that we men would understand."

More madness. "Ser Duncan – Green Man – the Children of the Forest are extinct, or so my brother told me."

The three riders in green all laughed at that and he felt his cheeks flush in anger. "What?"

"Your pardon, Ser Jaime, but they are very much alive," said Brienne of Tarth with a smile that made her look almost comely. "We have seen them on the Isle of Faces. Your brother merely was misinformed." The smile faltered. "They were protected on the Isle from those who would have killed them."

"Speaking of things that would have killed them," The Green Man broke in, "Ser Jaime, should at any point on our trip North I tell you to get off your horse at once and hug the nearest tree – you must do so."

"I must?"

"You must. Because if I do so, it means that an Other is approaching and that time is of the essence and that if you don't do exactly as I order then you will die." He said the words in a way that made Jaime look at him suddenly. He was very serious.

"Very well." He licked his lips, which suddenly seemed to be very dry. "And what will we be doing at this place?"

The Green Man seemed to go somewhere within himself for a long moment before returning. "Tell me, Ser Jaime, have you ever heard of Lord Brynden Rivers?"

He blinked at that. Then he frowned. "Tyrion once told me of him. He was a bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy, one of those legitimised by the fat fool. Bloodraven, some called him. He was… a Hand of two kings, I think and then sent to the Wall by…" And then he blanched and eyed the Green Man. "Aegon the Unlikely."

The old man smiled slightly at the mention of his dearest friend. "Quite right, Ser Jaime, very good."

"Why ask of him?"

"We're off to meet him."

He gaped at the Green Man. "But… that's not possible! He'd be…"

"As ancient as I am?" The Green Man looked at him with a grin and a gleam in his eye, before sighing and shaking his head a little. "I went to the Isles of Faces and learnt much there. He… did not. From what I sense from the earth, the water and the trees he extended his life in a different way. And we must talk to him."

And then the Green Man clapped his heels to his horse and led them in a gallop north through the trees.

Robb

He sat in Father's Solar and stared at the wall opposite with a certain sense of almost bewilderment. There was a Child of the Forest in the Godswood of Winterfell and she seemed to be linked in some fashion to his little brother. In fact, based on what had been said so far, there was an excellent chance that she would be his Goodsister.

Mother had retired to her room and was probably still recovering from the very concept of the possibility that Bran's future wife might not be human. It was a thought that made him sigh and then shake his head a little. To one side Grey Wind whuffled in his sleep.

In the meantime, there was the reality that was the chair in the room that they had discovered – the chair that made his hackles rise just looking at it. Yes, it was almost exactly like the chair in the Nightfort, or so he thought. The chair tied specifically to his family, or perhaps it might be better to say his blood. The chair that drove anyone who was not a Stark mad if they sat in it.

It was all important, he could tell that. His ancestors wouldn't have built them or placed them or whatever it was that they had done to create them, Bran the Builder perhaps? Was that the secret to all the things that his ancestor had built?

Knuckles rapped on the door and he looked up to see Tyrion standing there. "Robb. Do you have a moment?"

He waved a hand and the little man closed the door behind him, walked tiredly in and sat in a chair. "You seem to be as bemused as I am," Tyrion sighed. "It's been an… interesting day. A Child of the Forest, here in Winterfell. I thought that they were extinct. We truly live in a new age of wonders."

"An age that our ancestors predicted would come one day," Robb replied sombrely. "They knew it. They planned for it. And here we are, stumbling in the near-dark, wondering what they had planned, through the haze of the ages."

"'The haze of the ages' – you're waxing lyrical there, Robb." Tyrion said with a smile. Then he sobered. "There's no reference to the chair in any records here in Winterfell, I take it?"

"Not a word."

"Another secret that a Stark took to the grave?"

"More than likely. The door also requires a Child of the Forest. We don't even know the last time that one was here."

Tyrion nodded, before leaning forwards. "Then Dacey and I must go to Surestone as soon as possible. Not just to ascertain that the library there has been restored after Bootle's thefts, but to see if the old Lord Surestone had any records of anything that might be related to this. If the Surestones were indeed the recorders of the history of the North, then there might be records that we need to know about."

This made sense and Robb nodded thoughtfully. "I agree. When will you go?"

"In a day or so. A flying visit, as fast as we can. Not as fast as our now-legendary ride down from the Wall, but as fast as we can. I have a few Lannister guardsmen as an escort, but I'd be grateful for at handful of Stark guardsmen too, in recognition of Dacey's own Stark blood. We'll send them back of course and return with a few Surestone guards. Dacey has already sent word."

"Good," Robb said. "Agreed. A good idea."

A silence fell and then Tyrion looked at him quizzically. "I take it that you are awaiting a raven from the Wall?"

This made him smile slightly. "Aye."

"On if Val is an Umber or not, as declared by the King and also Lord Umber?"

"Aye." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Tyrion-" He looked at the door to make sure it was closed. "In that… other time, I… I did not act with… wisdom in my marriage. I married from, well, what I thought was love and the right thing to do after… I-"

"Say no more," Tyrion said with upraised hands. "A different time. A different world. The politics of this time have… changed. The North needs the Wildlings, the Free Folk, call them what you may. Your Father is right – they can grow the North in ways that few would have thought. Val is key to that. The fact that you love her and she loves you is a wondrous gift to you both. It's both political and personal – and the latter trumps the former in a way."

He nodded choppily. "Yes. But what if the King says no?"

"Then the King would be a fool, but the King is not of the North and is not a fool. Nor will he say 'no'. I will wager any amount you like that he says 'yes'. He would do anything for the son of Ned Stark."

Taking in a long breath he looked at the ceiling. Then he looked back at Tyrion. "I'll have a word with the Cassels. The guards you take to Surestone will be good men."

"Thank you, Robb." Tyrion smiled, got down from the chair and walked out.

Robb sat there for a while longer, before shaking his head and standing. Enough. Enough wool-gathering. And then he heard the sound of hurried boots in the corridor and looked at the door as Maester Luwin arrived there, puffing more than a bit as he held out a curl of paper that was obviously a raven message. "Lord… Robb… from his Grace… the King. From a… fast raven."

With a hand that he commanded to stop shaking he took the message. It was from the King. He read it and all of a sudden he stilled. He looked at Luwin and nodded. "Thank you. Where-"

"Outside… the Great Hall."

He nodded, clicked his tongue at Grey Wind, who had already woken up and was looking at him and then strode out, feeling almost dazed.

He found Val indeed outside the Great Hall, talking quietly with her mother, grandfather and very pregnant sister. As he approached they all looked at him – and then Val seemed to read something in his face and paled. "Robb? I mean, Lord Robb? What's amiss?"

"Nothing's amiss," he said thickly, before looking at the message, swallowing and then clearing his throat. "I have a message from his Grace the King, Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name. He has conferred with Lord Umber. Given the circumstances of your birth, but also what has happened since…" He straightened up and looked her in the eye. "You are Val Umber. Your sister is also an Umber. She is also Lady Rayder, after the ennoblement of her husband."

Dalla and her mother both gasped and then looked at each other, whilst Mors Umber nodded and grunted happily. Val, however, seemed to draw herself up almost regally and then looked at him.

"Thank you, Lord Rob," Val said after a moment.

"Lady Val," he replied. All of a sudden he seemed to be unable to speak properly – and then he swallowed and stepped forwards and caught her hands in his own. "I would be honoured beyond words if you would consider me as a suitor for your hand in marriage."

She just looked at him for a long moment. "Robb Stark," she said eventually, "You are a formal idiot. And I love you for it. You saved my life at least once. Yes." And then she kissed him, hungrily.