Jon kept the hood on his borrowed cloak up as one of the other watchmen shuffled past him, bundled in furs to keep out the worst of the bone-biting cold. Jon lowered his head and raised his hands, warming them against the brazier. His eyes flitted back and forth, terrified that he was about to be caught. He was supposed to be asleep in the room next to his father's, preparing to meet with Mance Rayder in the morning.
Unbeknownst to his father, and several others, Jon had met with Mance the night before, where the two men had had a very short and productive conversation. It was very much like the conversation Jon had had two nights ago with five brothers of the Night's Watch, men who had arrived at the Wall with Jon, but unlike him, had taken the Black.
Flashback
"Right, I got 'em," Grenn grunted as he led the four other men into the room. Behind him followed Edd, Pyp, Toad, and Stoney.
All four men had been a part of Jon's group when they were preparing to take the Black. Their friendship had gotten off to a rocky start after Jon thrashed Grenn, Edd, and Toad in the sparring ground. He had been trained by Ser Rodrick and none of them had even picked up a sword before that point. A three-against-one fight was still unfair since Jon was undoubtedly one of the best warriors in Castle Black before he had even taken the Black. However, some wise words had shown Jon that he should help the lads get better instead of showing off his skill.
They, and a few others, were the only good thing that Jon experienced during his brief time at Castle Black years ago. They were his friends, and he had abandoned them to fight alongside Robb in the Riverlands. Thankfully, Grenn and the others understood and harbored no ill feelings towards Jon.
"What's the matter?" Edd asked, crossing his arms.
"The Lord Commander won't let the wildlings under the Wall," Jon said, gazing at the five men. "I'm sure you all know why that's a problem."
They all nodded. Like Grenn, they had all seen the wight that the First Ranger had brought south. That was all it took for them to believe that the Long Night was coming and then an army of the dead was marching south. None were exactly godly men and facts and logic made a lot of sense to them. One half of an undead creature was all they needed.
"I mean to let them through," Jon said, making his intention clear. He wasn't like Margaery or Tyrion. He couldn't dance around a subject with words the way they could, and with men like this, men who had spent years in a bleak, frozen hell, it was better to just get right to the point.
"And you want us to help you." Toad said, crossing his arms. "What's in it for us?"
"They kill you for treason," Pyp added fearfully. "It's a death sentence."
"As lord of Long Lake, I can protect you," Jon promised. "The Night's Watch won't be able to touch you."
"How can you be sure?" Pyp asked fearfully.
"Lads, if I can't protect you, then I know a dozen others who can," Jon explained, a grim smile coming across his face. "I wasn't exactly having a day off in the south, you know."
"You think the king will protect five traitors?" Edd scoffed. "Or Lord Stark?"
"If they can't, then there's always the King's Company," Jon said.
"Who?" Grenn asked.
"It's a group of warriors, adventurers, sellswords, anyone who needs a place to go," Jon explained. "Adventure, good food, pay. You'll be making a difference as well."
Thoros's group sounded far more appealing than whatever punishment they would receive here or even spending the rest of their lives on the run from the Night's Watch. Jon couldn't blame them. The weight of leaving the Watch had followed him for a few days, battling with his desire to save his father and be with Robb, but after he passed the Neck and spent time in the south after the war, he understood why more people lived down there the in the North.
"What do you say?" Jon asked. "Will you help me?"
Grenn, who Jon already knew was with him, nodded firmly. Edd shrugged and nodded, clearly fine with the offer. Pyp nodded as well, although he still look fearful. Toad glanced at Stoney, waiting for the fifth member of the group to decide.
Stoney gazed at Jon for a long moment before nodding slowly. "I'm with you." he rumbled. That was enough for Toad. He nodded in agreement as well.
Jon now had his group.
Flashback
"We're ready," Pyp whispered as he walked by, his large ears tucked under his hood.
Jon nodded and glanced at the massive man next to him. Halder, more commonly known as Stoney, was an incredibly strong man who had been named to the builders almost as soon as he reached the Wall. Grenn, Edd, Pyp, and Toad took up the rest of the room. The last three and Jon would keep a lookout while Grenn and Stoney opened the three gates under the Wall.
"Right lads, let's get to it," Jon grunted, stepping away from the winch and towards the door while the two large men set to work.
The grinding of half-frozen gears and the rumbling sound of the massive gate rising sounded like a bear's ear-shattering roar to Jon, but they had planned their moment very carefully. It was nearly three in the morning, and it was still two hours until the night sentries would be relieved and allowed to find their warm beds. All of Jon's compatriots had assured him that no one would hear a thing. Each man had earned Thorne's ire at some point in time and was forced to take a night shift as punishment. They knew as well as anyone that the sentries were most likely dozing off, only kept upright by the spears they held.
"That's one done," Edd said from next to Jon, glancing over his shoulder. "Two more to go, boys."
Grenn and Stoney set to work on the second gate, finding their rhythm in moments. When the second gate was nearly up, Jon held up his hand, its meaning repeated to the two men.
"Stop!" Pyp whispered quickly.
The two men gritted their teeth as they held the gate aloft, stuck between the ground and the brackets that held them. The gate was a thick wall of oak and iron, several feet high and several inches thick. That's why it took two normal men to lift each gate, but Stoney was one of the strongest men in Castle Black, and he was proving it now as he and Grenn held the gate aloft.
Jon watched as the watchman huddled around the fire, warming his hands. He never glanced towards the room where Jon and his companions worked, too lost in his boredom and longing for his bed.
"Keep going," Jon ordered, glancing behind him.
Grenn nodded and the two men began heaving on the levers, muttering curses as they spent their strength slowly lifting the gate inch by inch upwards. Soon, the second gate had been lifted as well.
"Almost there," Jon muttered, his hand hovering near the hilt of his blade.
"If this works, you owe us at least a week's worth of ale," Edd grunted quietly, a grim smile on his face.
"You'll have it," Jon promised. "I'll make sure you're all drunk for a month if we get this done."
"I'll hold you to that," Edd replied.
The two men kept watch over the walkway for a few moments longer until they heard the satisfying clunk of the third gate setting into place. As soon as it was set, Jon drew his sword and turned towards the others as they armed themselves. Pyp had a spear. Toad and Edd both had swords. Grenn scooped up a double-bladed axe while Stoney retrieved a large stone mallet from a loop on his belt.
"Right, let's finish this." Jon sighed, leaving the room and making his way down into the courtyard, the five brothers behind him.
By the time the six men reached the tunnel's entrance, it was clear that their work had not gone as unnoticed as they had hoped. Ser Alliser, accompanied by half a dozen men, was striding towards them. Janos Slynt, with a smug look on his face, walked by his side. It didn't take a smart man to know that it had been Slynt who had woken the Lord Commander.
"What is the meaning of this!" Ser Alliser roared, gripping his sword.
"Ser Alliser, the free folk must be let through the Wall," Jon replied firmly. "You refused to act, so I have done it for you. For all of us!"
"You have no right to act!" Ser Alliser hissed, stopping just a foot away from Jon. He snarled at the five men behind Jon. "This is treason. You will all be tried and I will see you punished."
"These men are under my protection," Jon said, closing the gap between him and Thorne. "You will not touch them."
Ser Alliser roared and drew his sword, stepping back as he did. Jon raised his weapon, holding out his hand to stop the men behind him.
"Stay back," he ordered, not wanting the men to kill their former brothers after already betraying them. "Ser Alliser is mine."
The old knight wasted no time in launching himself at Jon, his sword cleaving through the air at him. The two men met in a screech of blades as their deadly dance began, trading blows as they turned in a circle. Ser Alliser was a good fighter, strong and sure with his strikes, but Jon, as many others have noticed, was nearly natural with a blade. Exceptionally fast, surprisingly strong, and with experience that came from many battles.
Jon forced Ser Alliser back, his sword flashing in the torchlight as he took over the fight. The older knight grimaced and tried to regain the offensive for himself, but every attempt was broken within a few strikes from Jon. The older man wasn't bad, but he was outmatched.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jon noticed Janos slinking around him, a hand within the folds of his cloak. Jon disengaged from Ser Alliser and slashed at Slynt's midsection, causing the man to stumble backward, his dagger falling from his hand.
Suddenly, Jon and Ser Alliser were pulled back as multiple sets of hands grabbed them. Ser Alliser fought against them, all manner of curses spewing from his mouth as Jon allowed himself to be dragged away from the fight.
"Stop this madness!" Father bellowed, stepping forward. He was backed by Eddard Karstark and at a dozen Stark guardsmen, all with their weapons drawn. Ghost was at his side, snarling at Ser Alliser.
As soon as Jon was released, he swiftly made his way back over to his companions. Ser Alliser held his ground in front of Father, his sword having been wrestled from his hand before he had been let go.
"Your son opened the gates." Ser Alliser snapped, anger burning through his being. "He said these turncloaks are now under his protection."
"Then they are under mine as well," Father said heavily, not looking at Jon. "Jon is not only my son but my bannermen. Any man under his protection is also that of the Lord Paramount of the North."
"Eddard Stark, the honorable lord of Winterfell, protects treasonous curs." Ser Alliser snarled. "How fitting."
Eddard Karstark started forward, but a firm hand from Father held him back. "No, Eddard," Father said, his voice ominously calm. "Ser Alliser, that is three times you've sullied my name in my presence. I will stand for it no longer."
"What will you do?" Ser Alliser challenged as the sound of footsteps grew closer and closer.
"Eddard, collect the rest of our men and get them out here," Father ordered, keeping his gaze on Ser Alliser. "We'll stay right here until all the Free Folk are through the Wall. After that, we're returning to Winterfell." Father finally looked at Jon. "You and your companions shall return to Long Lake and wait till you have word from me."
Jon sheathed his weapon and nodded. "Yes, Father."
Father looked back at Ser Alliser. "The Night's Watch shall receive no help from myself or any lord of the North until you, Alliser Thorne, are no longer Lord Commander."
"This is madness!" Ser Alliser bellowed. "You swore to…."
"I swore to nothing!" Father roared, his eyes blazing with fury. Jon had never seen his father so angry, and he wished he never saw it again. To him, there was no sight scarier than a calm man losing himself to anger. Especially a man such as his father.
"I came here to find a peaceful resolution so that we could be ready to fight the Others. The men of Westeros, the Night's Watch, and the Free Folk, but you and your pig-headed pride gave us no other choice!"
Ser Alliser looked ready to murder father, but the men of Winterfell stepped closer to their lord, ready to defend him at a moment's notice.
"This didn't have to happen, Thorne," Mance said, adding his voice as he emerged from the tunnel. Behind him, a line of hardened, weary faces went further than the eye could see. Flanking the King-Beyond-the-Wall were four warriors. Jon recognized Tormund, the earless Magnar of the Thenns, Rattleshirt, and a sour-faced burly woman. Mance's wife Dalla was at his side, accompanied by a beautiful blonde woman whom Jon didn't recognize.
"Mance." Ser Alliser growled, a hand unconsciously drifting towards the empty scabbard at his side.
"Lads, go open the gate," Jon ordered, looking over his shoulder at his companions.
Mance heard the order and nodded to Jon and his father before following the five former brothers. A few of the black brothers who had accompanied Ser Alliser moved forward to stop the wildlings, but Eddard Karstark and a few men cut them off. It was becoming painfully apparent that Alliser and his supporters were very outnumbered.
"This isn't over." Ser Alliser promised, glaring at Jon and his father.
"No, it's just begun," Father replied, returning the glare.
Daenerys Targaryen
"My lady, the king requests your presence." Ser Robar asked politely, coming up from behind Daenerys.
"Very well," Daenerys said, knowing that the meeting was going to happen eventually. The ship was halfway across the Vale and was making great time towards the Wall. Daenerys knew that she wasn't going to make it to the Wall without Robb questioning her at some point along the way. He had allowed her to join his voyage, but he had only postponed his interrogation of her.
"Ser Barristan," Daenerys said, gesturing for her protector to follow.
"He's requested that you come alone," Ser Robar said, keeping his gaze on Daenerys.
"Very well," Daenerys said again slowly, following the Vale knight across the deck and under the stern where the three cabins were located. Robb's door was at the very end of the short hallway. After a quick knock and an equally quick 'come in', Ser Robar opened the door and ushered Daenerys inside.
Brienne sat across from the door, her sword laid on her lap with her hand resting on the hilt. There was barely enough room for Daenerys to stand up, so she could imagine how much trouble the tall warrior woman would have if a fight broke out in such a confined space. Ser Garth, the other kingsguard, sat next to the king, his helm tucked under one arm as the two men played a game of cyvasse.
Daenerys was very familiar with the game, though she had never played herself. It was a complex game of strategy that included ten pieces: rabble, spearmen, crossbowmen, light and heavy horse, trebuchet, catapult, dragon, elephant, and the king. Each piece could destroy or equally be destroyed by other pieces. The trebuchet and catapult, for instance, could kill the dragon, a piece that could kill the other eight pieces on the board. The ultimate goal of the game was to kill your opponent's king.
It was a game that Daenerys did not doubt that Robb Stark was good, if not great, at. The Young Wolf had rapidly risen through the ranks of renowned strategists during the War of the Five Kings. In a game of strategy, it was not hard to guess who would win; the man who faced down Tywin Lannister or the knight who killed his men.
"Daenerys," Robb said kindly, gesturing to the open third seat between the two men. "Please, sit. Would you like some wine?"
"No, thank you, my lord," Daenerys said, accepting the invitation to sit. "What would you like to discuss?"
Robb glanced at her before making his move on the board. The king took his light horse and attacked Ser Garth's crossbowmen. Daenerys usually saw most players defend such a piece with spearmen to protect them from cavalry attacks, but she assumed that Robb had destroyed that piece with an earlier turn.
"You're heading north to see my father," Robb said finally, looking up from the game. "I would like to know why."
"I answered your question already." Daenerys countered respectfully. "That is my business."
Robb shook his head as Ser Garth took out his catapult with his heavy horse, but in doing so, the knight managed to trap his cavalry against a mountain tile. Robb quickly took advantage and moved his spearmen forward, avenging his loss and adding to the growing pile of defeated pieces he had taken from his sworn sword.
"So you did, but your answer did not satisfy me," Robb said, this time not looking up as the two men analyzed the board. "You said that it had to do with the Long Night. Thus, this conversation you want to have will also include me."
Daenerys huffed. "I don't see…."
"I do," Robb said firmly, gazing at her. His tone left no room for debate. "Now please, the answer."
Daenerys crossed her arms, annoyed that Robb had cornered her. She knew that she had no choice but to answer him. If he wanted, he could simply order her to tell him, but he had not reached that point yet.
"It's a long story," Daenerys said, trying to find a way out of the conversation.
"I have time," Robb answered immediately, positioning his cavalry pieces so that he could eliminate Ser Garth's trebuchet and catapult.
"Ever since our….conflict, my dragons have not been…." Daenerys said, choosing her words carefully. "Normal."
"Normal?" Robb asked, glancing at her. "They're dragons, my lady. They're not exactly normal to begin with."
Daenerys frowned. "Depressed, my lord." she nearly snapped. "No doubt because of the loss of their brother."
Robb nodded slowly. "Go on."
"I believed that Rhaegal was depressed for another reason." Daenerys continued. "I believe that there was another potential dragon rider at the battle and Rhaegal knew it too."
"Hence why he wouldn't fly to the east," Robb said. "I saw."
"Exactly," Daenerys said. "When your father visited me after the battle, we spoke about the role my brother played in the rebellion and he also told me the truth of his crimes against your aunt."
Robb didn't respond, his hand simply hovering over the dragon tile. He had managed to outmaneuver his kingsguard, taking out his crossbowmen, spearmen, trebuchet, and catapult. Now, all Robb had to do was move his trebuchet forward to take out Ser Garth's dragon before moving forward to take out the king.
"He admitted that the two had a child together, one born of….rape," Daenerys said, forcing out the last word. "That child is half Targaryen and should be riding Rhaegal when the Others attack the Wall."
"The Green Man confirmed this?" Robb asked, snatching up Ser Garth's dragon after slaying it with his trebuchet. All the knight had left were a few pieces, but none that could stop the dragon. Robb's own king was now protected by spearmen, his elephants, and both his cavalry tokens.
"He did," Daenerys said. "I need to know the identity of this child so that we can return to Dragonstone and begin training."
"And what if they refuse your offer?" Robb asked curiously as Ser Garth cleared the board after Robb's victory. "The child, I mean. What if you bring this option before them and they refuse."
"Refuse?" Daenerys replied. "Why would they? To be a part of a noble house? To ride a dragon? These are fantasies that men dream of. Fantasies that I can turn into a reality."
"Yes, but think about what you just said, Daenerys," Robb said. "Your brother forced himself on my aunt. Your father's crimes are well documented. Your former betrothed's right-hand man ordered the assassination of a child. These are all things that have happened in the past two decades. Put yourself in their place. How would you feel? Connecting yourself to a house with that sort of past."
Daenerys opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. She never really thought of it like that. Just like when she arrived in Westeros, she simply assumed that others would flock to her banner, rejoicing in the fact that the dragons had returned to the throne. She never thought for a second that anyone would refuse her.
"I will let you speak to my father." Robb continued. "If he decides to tell you the identity of this child, then so be it. But I wanted to warn you of what the outcome may be."
"You speak as if you already know his answer," Daenerys said. "Do you know the identity of the child?"
"I do," Robb said simply, "but I will not be the one to tell you. That is not my place."
"But you know what is at stake!" Daenerys said. "Two dragons with two riders could drastically change the outcome of the Long Night. The grand maester and the Green Man both said this."
"I have no doubt they did," Robb answered calmly, "but I will not reveal what I know. It is not my place. I have sworn to keep it a secret, and that secret may only be shared by my father."
Daenerys shook her head. "Fine," she said bitterly.
"Daenerys," Robb said with surprising gentleness. "I understand. I truly do. Having two dragons would give us an edge that not even the First Men had, but this is not me answering you as the king. This is me answering as a Stark."
Daenerys saw his rationale. As a king and a commander, Robb knew all too well what an advantage two dragons would give him and his men. Mobile weapons that spew fire and are capable of destroying dozens of enemies in moments, not even the greatest inventor could rival them, but as a Stark, he was honor-bound to keep his father's secret.
"I cannot force you to tell me," Daenerys said. "You are right. This is not your secret to share, despite my….desires."
"Thank you," Robb said.
"May I ask you one question?" Daenerys asked.
Robb nodded as he and Ser Garth set up for another game. "Please."
"What do you think Robert would have done if he had known about the child?" Daenerys asked.
"That is a good question." Robb mused as he strategically placed his pieces and tokens. "There are a few things that could have happened. He could have tried to kill the child, bringing the might of the Westerlands and Stormlands down on the North. Of course, my father would have fought tooth and nail to defend them."
"Against his best friend?" Daenerys asked. "The two were like brothers, I heard."
"They were," Robb agreed, "but the Starks had been whittled down by three during the Rebellion. Blood is thicker than any bond, especially to the Starks."
"Could the North have prevailed against two realms?" Daenerys asked.
"I'm not sure," Robb grunted as the board was revealed. "Moat Cailin is practically impregnable. The Neck is a hazard for even the most commanding leaders, even one of Tywin Lannister's capabilities. The North may not have the fighting spirit the levies of the Stormlands fight with, nor the gold of the Westerlands, but you will not find a tougher band of warriors than those from the North. They live their lives battling the elements, digging and scratching to build a life for themselves and their families. When worst comes to worst, I will always take a few good northerners into a fight if given the chance."
"That is quite the proclamation," Daenerys said, slightly surprised. In the presence of three fine warriors, the king backed his homeland and his people.
"There's a reason the North has never been taken, my lady." Robb pointed as he analyzed the game before him. "Now, the other possibility is that Robert accepted the child as Lyanna's and let the matter settle."
Both Ser Garth and Ser Robar scoffed and chuckled at the statement. Daenerys looked at both knights curiously.
"Does that amuse you, sers?"
"Forgive us, my lady." Ser Garth apologized. "I and my brother knew Robert Baratheon well enough to know his manner of thinking."
"Not that he kept his thinking to himself." Ser Robar added.
"He was a man of passion who followed his emotions like a drunkard to drink." Ser Garth explained. "He would have accepted this child as Lyanna's, that much is true, but I would wager that he would still strike the poor thing down simply because it is 'dragon spawn'."
"Is that true?" Daenerys asked, looking at Robb. "Would he truly kill the child?"
Robb shook his head. "I'm not sure. All I know is that he was a man who had lost himself to grief. He ate everything he could see. Bedded any woman he could get his hands on. He was no longer the Demon of the Trident. That man had long since died."
"Grief is a drug that is not easily kicked," Brienne said quietly, speaking for the first time. "It turns men into puppets. Slaves of their own body. It turns the mind to mud and the spirit to a waterfall, spilling out of our very being."
"Well said," Robb said, nodding to his commander. "Now, why did you ask, my lady?"
"Simple curiosity, I suppose," Daenerys answered. "I had no doubt of what he would do to me or my brother if he ever caught us."
"Not that he ever could since the Spider was protecting you in the first place." Robb pointed out. "But it seems, oddly, that my father and Varys had the same idea."
"To protect the last of House Targaryen?" Daenerys asked.
Robb pursed his lips before shaking his head. "To protect those they care about."
That was a strange thought for Daenerys to wrap her mind around. Varys was not the first person she thought of when she heard the word 'care'. The eunuch was the epitome of mystery. Daenerys doubted every word that came from his slight amused mouth until he proved them right.
"For Lord Stark, that statement could be correct." Daenerys countered. "I would not be so quick to place the Spider on the same saddle."
Robb tilted his head, then nodded and amended his previous statements. "To protect the future then."
"For whatever reason, that is still a strange concept to understand," Daenerys admitted. "When speaking of Varys, I mean."
"The truth is strange, my lady," Robb said.
For a young woman who had raised three dragons, Daenerys could only nod. The truth was indeed strange.
Howland Reed
Howland found his daughter in the training ground, slamming arrow after arrow into the target thirty feet away. There was a stiffness to her form, but that little to affect her accuracy as each of her arrows either hit dead center or were closer enough to count. Her green eyes were hardened with an expression that wasn't hard for Howland to understand. It was sadness tinged with anger.
She still wore her jerkin sewn with bronze scales, but now she wore a dark brown cloak that was pushed back from her shoulders, giving her more range of movement and the ability to reach over her shoulder and select another arrow from the quiver on her back.
Howland watched her silently until she ran out of arrows. When she reached back and found that she had emptied her quiver, she stamped across the snow and began to retrieve her arrows, pulling them from the frost-hardened hay and sliding them home. Before she moved back to her firing position, she sighed and looked over at where he was standing under the balcony, garbed in his dark green cloak and hiding in the shadows.
"How long?" she asked.
"Not long," Howland replied. "Who taught you?"
"Osha. Lord Rickon's sworn sword," Meera said. "Not much to do around here."
Howland nodded slowly. "You're good."
"Thanks," Meera replied, gazing at her father before a slight smile came across her face and she strode towards him, immediately brought him by his warm embrace.
Howland sighed in relief, thankful to have one of his children back with him again. When he had heard of Winterfell being taken by the ironborn, then burned by the Boltons, he was worried, any father would have been, but he trusted that Jojen had fate on his side and that Meera's training would see them through whatever dangers they do face. Howland was a man of practicality and faith. Together, his children possessed both.
"Father," Meera said, pulling back. "I have to tell you about…."
Howland was already shaking his head. "I know, child," he said softly, pulling her back in. "Bran told me everything."
"I never saw…I knew but…I just didn't think…" Meera tried to explain, her voice slightly muffled by her father's cloak, but Howland continued to reassure her.
"It's ok, Meera," Howland said gently. "Jojen knew what his fate was before he ever left Greywater. He faced it with courage and defended his family. There is no better, more honorable, way to go to the gods."
"I tried, father," Meera said, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back tears. "I tried hard to keep him safe. Both of them."
"Death waits for no one, my dear," Howland sighed, pulling his daughter back and gently cupping her face in his hands, his green eyes gazing into her red-rimmed ones. "We loved Jojen fiercely and protected him as much as we could, but we are no match for fate. Do not punish yourself."
Meera sniffed. "Then why do I feel guilty. He died protecting me, father."
"Because you feel as if you can't repay him," Howland explained. "I have felt the same as you and because they're gone, we feel as if we still owe a debt we can no longer repay."
"What do you mean?" Meera asked before her eyes widened. "The Knight of the Laughing Tree."
Howland nodded sadly. "Lady Lyanna saved me, a man she hardly knew, from three vicious boys. She even took it upon herself to punish the masters of those squires in the joust, demanding after her victory that they do better. There's not a day that goes where I wished that I had taken some chance, some moment to repay her kindness. She had saved my life, and before I could do anything, I was in Dorne, standing in the room as Ned held her hand and the life left her body."
Howland looked away from his daughter as painful memories assaulted his mind. He did not know Lyanna Stark as well as he would have liked, but even in the short time he spent with her at Harrenhal, he liked to think that they had become friends. After she had saved his life, he made a vow to himself that, whenever she needed him, he would be there for her. It was a vow that Howland had never had the chance to keep.
"I am sorry for all that life has put you through, child, and hopefully the gods will allow you some happiness," Howland said, looking back at his daughter.
Meera nodded. "I just want to go home, but I can't yet."
"The Three-Eyed Crow?" Howland said, already knowing the answer.
"I swore to keep him safe," Meera said. "I couldn't…I have to."
Howland nodded. "I know."
"Will you return to Greywater?" Meera asked.
Howland shook his head. "No, I will remain here for now."
"But mother…"
"Mother will understand if I choose to remain with my daughter and ensure that at least one of her children returns to her," Howland said firmly. "Now, go find your bed. Tomorrow, we'll see how good you are with your spear. If you mean to protect the Three-Eyed Crow, then you best be prepared to defeat any who wish to clip his wings."