Margaery found the Grand Maester, predictably, surrounded by books. He was pouring through a mountain of them, flipping page after page filled with runes of the First Men. The man was so engrossed in what he was doing that he failed to realize that the queen was standing in the doorway.
"Grand Maester," Margaery said gently, not wanting to frighten the man.
"Huh?" Sam said, looking up from the book. "What?"
It took a second before he realized who he was addressing. He promptly shut his book and scrambled to his feet, bowing his head.
"Sorry, your grace," he said, going red in the cheeks.
Margaery smiled and closed the door behind her. "It's alright, Sam. Are those the books Jon sent you?" she asked, walking over to his desk.
Sam nodded and took his seat as Margaery sat across from him. "I was hoping that I could find anything else that could be helpful, but I've found nothing."
"What exactly were you hoping to find?" Margaery asked curiously.
Sam leaned back in his chair. "I've read everything I could get my hands on about wights and the Others. They don't seem to have any sort of strategy. They win by slamming down like a wave on whoever they're attacking. They're almost like the Unsullied. They show no fear, they show no emotion, they just keep coming after the living until they're destroyed."
"Go on," Margaery said.
"Even though I am not my father, some of his lessons have stayed with me. I realized that to minimize loss and keep morale high, the leaders of the First Men were going to have to fight a defensive battle." Sam explained. "I was hoping that, well, I was hoping that they had built a structure before the Wall that helped them win the war."
"I would be surprised if they built anything during the war," Margaery said with a slight shrug.
"As would I, but I owed it to the king and others to check again," Sam said, slamming the book shut in frustration.
Margaery noticed a silver direwolf head embossed on the cover of the book. The same wolf head that flew from the Stark banners. She leaned forward and grabbed the book, flipping through the pages.
"Is this Bran the Builder's biography?"
Sam nodded. "That's his. I also have Lann the Clever, the Grey King, Garth Greenhand, and Durran Godsgrief."
"I assume they knew each other."
Sam nodded. "It's a very good story if not for the living dead and whatnot. Bran Stark rallied the clans in the North and brought them south after giants began to flee south and wights started attacking villages." he started. "The other four men wrote about having an interaction with one of the Old Gods, claiming that it was the gods that drove them to rally the clans to fight back against the rising darkness."
"Did Bran Stark not have one of these interactions?" Margaery curiously.
Sam shook his head. "He did, but it happened as he was crossing the Neck. The goddess, as he described her, told him to head south to the Isle of Faces where Lann, Durran, and all the others had assembled as well."
"So the Old Gods played a role in the Long Night?"
"It looks like it." Sam sighed. "The rest is history. The First Men rallied and drove back the Others, the Wall was built, and the five men went on to become legends."
Margaery nodded, looking at the other four books on Sam's desk. It wasn't hard to tell which book belonged to who. Garth's had a rose, Lann's a lion, Durran a stag, and the Grey King had a trident. A question suddenly popped into Margaery's head.
"The Old Gods appeared to all five men?"
Sam nodded. "Yes."
"Even the Grey King?"
Sam snapped his fingers, understanding where the queen was going with her questions. His eyes lit up as he got to talk about one of his favorite subjects: Books.
"That's a very interesting story, your grace," he said. "The Grey King was a devout follower of the Drowned God, but during his meeting with the Old Gods, he saw what the Drowned God truly was. I believed he described him as the "very expression of death and madness"."
"Sounds about right," Margaery said, repressing a shudder as she pushed away thoughts of Euron Greyjoy.
"During the final battle against the Others, the Grey King was nearly killed before the Drowned God intervened and saved his life." Sam continued. "For that, the Drowned God made the Grey King swear to follow only the Drowned God and to lead his subjects in the same direction. The man himself would never sail on the Ygg again, but it didn't take long for his men to become the ironborn as we know them now."
"Why did the other clans not do anything?" Margaery asked. "They fought side by side with the man."
Sam shook his head. "I'm not sure why your grace. By my guess, they simply didn't have the time. Bran the Builder was busy building the Wall, Storm's End, and he was also rumored to have helped with the Hightower. House Stark and House Bolton also went to war again. The Riverlands and the Reach became embroiled in power struggles. Dorne as well. The Vale and the Stormlands had their problems, but they were on the eastern side of Westeros and as such never had to deal with the raids."
Margaery crossed her legs and patted her lap thoughtfully. "Do you think, if the Drowned God intervened then, do you think he'll intervene now?"
Sam frowned and looked thoughtful. After a moment, he merely shrugged.
"I'm honestly not sure, your grace."
"Hmmm." Margaery mused, her mind flashing back to the attack on her and her son. If the Drowned God had been able to do that, she feared for Robb's safety.
"Your grace?" Sam asked.
"Do you think he'll go after Robb?" Margaery asked, putting the question out in the open.
"I don't know," Sam admitted. "Do you?"
"He came after me," Margaery answered quietly. "What's to stop him from going after my husband?"
"He's surrounded by soldiers?" Sam offered.
"As was I." Margaery countered. "Two of the best warriors in Westeros and it still took another three warriors to bring down Euron Greyjoy."
Sam spread his hands. "I'll draft a message immediately, your grace, and send it at once."
"Thank you, grand maester," Margaery said, shifting in her seat. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course," Sam answered immediately.
"What exactly did you study at the Citadel?" Margaery asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is there a particular area of study you would like to know more about? I can send a message back to Oldtown if I don't know the answer myself."
Margaery gave the large man a kind smile. "That's very kind of you, maester. I was wondering what you knew about, well, pregnancy."
Eddard Stark
The lord of Winterfell gazed over the map of the Wall as Lord Commander Qhorin placed markers where each region would guard the Wall. From the look of things, Robb was bringing more men than needed to guard man the castles. Thirty-four thousand men―ten thousand valemen, riverlanders, and westermen along with two thousand crownlanders and the King's Company―to go along with the ten thousand northmen, five thousand ironborn, and countless wildlings.
Mance and his free folk had control of Long Barrow, Hoarfrost Hill, and Woodswatch-by-the-Pool. Woodswatch was led by Tormund while the Magnar of the Thenn's had Hoarfrost Hill. The former wildling monarch had so many men that several wildlings were rebuilding other fortresses and even clearing the King's Road north for Robb and his men.
The northmen, under the command of himself, the Greatjon, and Rickard Karstark, were repairing Sentinel Stand, Greyguard, and Icemark. Castle Black, Eastwatch, and the Shadow Tower remained in the hands of the Night's Watch, but their garrisons had been supported by the ironborn, the clansmen of the Vale, and the skagosi. Stonedoor, Oakenshield, and Sable Hall had been set aside for Ned's goodbrother and the warriors of the Riverlands. Torches, Greenguard, and Queensgate were for Yohn and the valemen. The last three castles―Westwatch-by-the-Sea, Deep Lake, and Rimegate would be in the hands of the westermen, led by Jaime Lannister.
As it stood, each castle would be garrisoned by about three thousand men. The castles under the joint command of the Night's Watch, Ironborn, and tribesmen would have half that, but Ned hoped that the men of the Stormlands, the Reach, and Dorne would make up the numbers.
"What about the rest?" Qhorin asked after he and his steward finished laying out where the first wave of men would live.
"The war will have started by the time they reach us," Ned answered. "We will add men where they are needed. As of now, we'll plan to disperse the men of the Stormlands between Eastwatch, the Shadow Tower, and Castle Black. They will be our weak links among the Wall."
Qhorin's steward gestured weakly at the one castle which had been ignored during their entire conversation. It was the strongest castle that the Watch possessed, but it was also filled with the most horror stories in all of Westeros.
"Does the king truly want the Nightfort?"
Ned shrugged. "The decision is out of my hands. Besides, we need every castle to be manned and the king will do what he must."
The steward bowed and left the room. When he was gone, Qhorin scowled and took a deep swig of his ale.
"Idiot," he muttered.
Ned shrugged. "It was a reasonable question."
"No, it wasn't." Qhorin shook his head. "Can't question madness."
Ned sighed internally. He was trying to avoid another 'debate' with Qhorin about the matter.
After Bran had informed Ned that it was time to man the Wall, he had then stated that Robb must command the Nightfort. At the time, Ned had thought nothing of it. Bran said many things and most of the time, they proved to be important. It was only after Ned's return to the Wall was he reminded, several times, why the Nightfort had been abandoned and the darkness that haunted the place.
Ned had, of course, raised these concerns to his son.
Flashback
Ned and his son were alone in the shadow of the stables. It was night and only a few sentries walking atop the Wall were awake. Everyone else had swiftly found their beds and went to sleep. Their days were long and filled almost entirely with training, checking defenses, and helping construct weapons of dragonglass.
"Robb, and only Robb, can command the Nightfort," Bran repeated.
Ned huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head. "That's not a good enough answer, Bran."
Bran frowned. "Regardless of your beliefs, father, I do not have all the answers. I merely echo what I am told by the gods."
"The Old Gods usually make sense," Ned grunted.
"Or do you think what they say makes sense because it comes from them?" Bran countered.
"Then explain what you think it means, Bran." Ned sighed. "You have some….connection to them."
If Bran had the ability to move anything below his waist, he would have shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious that he had an idea of why Robb was being sent to the Nightfort, but he was scared to voice it.
Despite what had happened to Robb, and the large change that had taken over Bran, the young greenseer still viewed the king as his brother.
"Evil attracts its own." Bran started. "The Nightfort has its history and the Others will no doubt be drawn to it."
"That doesn't explain why Robb must be there," Ned said.
Bran took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. It was clear that he did not want to have this conversation, but Ned wanted an answer.
"The Gods don't see people like you or I do," Bran said finally. "They see their souls. They see if they're good or evil. Robb's soul shines brighter than the others because his goodness affects more. The Great Other, the Night King, his shines bright as well, but for the wrong reasons."
Ned frowned, trying to comprehend what his son was saying. Then it all clicked.
"You're offering Robb up as a sacrifice!" Ned growled.
"Not as a sacrifice, but as a….champion, of sorts," Bran said, trying to sound reassuring. "Only one with a soul like Robb's can hope to stand against the Night King." the young man shook his head. "No, not stand against. Outlast. Robb's relentless desire to do good, to be good, is the only thing that can compare to the Other's desire to see us all dead."
"What about Rhaegar's prophecy?" Ned asked.
"I never said Robb would defeat the Others. He serves as a beacon. So long as he lives, hope for humanity lives." Bran explained. "Rhaegar's prophecy refers to the one who will end the darkness once and for all."
"Who might that be?"
"We both know exactly who that is, father," Bran said, seeing through Ned's thinly-veiled deception. "Rhaegar was indeed the Prince that was Promised, born amidst salt and smoke. However, it is his final song, the Song of Ice and Fire, his son, who will end the darkness."
Ned ran a rough hand over his face. "God's help me."
"They did," Bran said with a hint of sarcasm. "They gave you two son's who will save the world."
Flashback
"Drop the subject, Qhorin," Ned said. "Is there anything I must know before I ride back to Greyguard?"
"Your brother has landed at Eastwatch." Qhorin replied. "I will send him to you when he gives his report to me. He….he also reports seeing dragons."
"That will be Jon and Daenerys," Ned said. "Have you prepared for them?"
"As best we could." Qhorin grunted. "I have my best builders at the Nightfort as we speak."
"What of the walkways between castles?" Ned asked.
Atop the Wall, there were walkways between all the castles. It was not only an efficient way of sending messages between garrisons, but it was also a good way to send reinforcements and supplies.
"We're still in the process of putting down gravel, but it's nearly complete." Qhorin promised. "Believe me, Lord Stark, we've poured through every book in Aemon's library. Whatever we can do to prepare, it's been noted or is currently being worked on."
Ned nodded. "Of course, apologies. I will return when the king is close."
Ned, ever since the rebellion, had always been the one in charge. He gave the orders and always wanted to make sure that everything was prepared. He needed to remind himself constantly that, although the Night's Watch worked with him, he was not in charge of them. They still had independence from Westeros.
"Thank you, Lord Stark." Qhorin said, sensing his awkwardness. "Ride safely. The snow is thick."
As Ned walked out of the solar, he heard Qhorin mutter behind him.
"Thank fuck for those shovelers."
Catelyn Stark
Cat, Arya, and Rickon stood in the center of the courtyard as dozens of heavily armored men rode in, armed to the teeth. For a moment, the Lady of Winterfell was transported back to the Tourney at Harrenhal, when the giant ruins were decorated with dozens of banners and there seemed to be color everywhere. Now, many of those banners were entering Winterfell. Runes and lions, fishes and eagles, a broken wheel, and a charging boar. There were no less than half a dozen houses present from all three regions.
The first to dismount and reach her was her brother, a brilliant smile breaking through his snow-covered beard.
"Sister!" he said happily as the two siblings embraced.
"Edmure," Cat sighed quietly. "You're beginning to look like Father."
"Aye, I finally decided to take his advice and grow up," her younger brother chuckled as he pulled back. He knelt in front of Arya, tilting his head as he looked at her.
Arya scuffed her boot on the cobblestone. "I know. I look like my Aunt Lyanna."
Edmure's smile softened. "No, you like Arya," he said, "you're just a little taller than I remember," he glanced down at the slim sword at her side before adding, "and much more deadly."
Arya beamed at her uncle, which made Cat's eyes water just a bit. Edmure, despite any flaws he may have, certainly knew how to talk to people.
"This must be Rickon!" Edmure said as he moved on to Cat's youngest. "Let me take a look at you, lad! You'll be a good looking as a Tully and as tall and strong as a Stark!"
As Edmure finished up greeting Cat's kids, another man whom she knew reasonably well approached her. She was not a small woman, but the Bronze Yohn towered over her, looking fierce in his distinctive bronze armor. When the older man reached her, he bowed deeply.
"My lady," he said kindly, "thank you for your hospitality."
We are always welcome to receive friends of House Stark," Cat said as she curtseyed. "It has been some time since Winterfell has been graced with your presence, my lord."
Yohn took a small moment to look around. "I was heartbroken to hear about what those foul Boltons had done to your home. There hardly seems to be a scratch on it?"
"The foundations were still strong and there is still quite a bit of fight in these old walls," Cat said with a satisfied smile. "There was much to replace and repair, but we certainly didn't have to start from scratch."
Yohn nodded. "I am glad to it, my lady. Have you heard any news from your husband?"
"He asks that you report to Qhorin Halfhand at Castle Black. He will direct you to the castles you will defend," Cat answered. "Nine castles have been set aside, three for each army. They should be in working order by the time you arrive."
"Thank the gods for that," Edmure said, joining the conversation.
Cat gestured towards the great hall. "Please, my lord, brother, let us sit and eat. I've had the kitchens prepare a hearty stew and fresh bread for your arrival. I'm sure it's been a long, cold ride."
A grim smile touched Yohn's weathered features. "A stew and bread sound perfect, my lady. The gods know we need to warm our frozen bones."
As the two men strode towards the hall, Cat was about to follow them when she felt someone tug on her sleeve. She looked down and was surprised to see Arya by her side, but her daughter wasn't looking at her. Arya's glare had been turned on a man who was across the courtyard, stabling his horse as he spoke with a rangy, copper-haired man who bore the burning tree of House Marbrand.
"Why is he here?" Arya practically spat.
"I don't know," Cat said, feeling her anger boiling in her stomach. "Don't go around causing trouble, Arya. Robb wouldn't have allowed him to ride north if he did not trust him to behave himself."
"He should be dead for what he did," Arya growled.
Cat couldn't help but agree. Although she felt slightly shameful for wrongly accusing and arresting Tyrion Lannister for the part she thought he played in the attempted assassination on Bran, her anger had been turned on Jaime Lannister when she had found out that it had been the knight, not his brother who had pushed her son from the tower.
"Leave it be, Arya," Cat ordered, trying to convince herself as well as her daughter. "He will be gone from here in the morning. We will deal with his presence for a single night."
"As you say, mother," Arya said seriously before stalking off.
Line Break
Cat exited the keep, taking a deep breath of the cold air as she wrapped her thick cloak around her. It was impossible to be outside for more than a few minutes without being dressed from head to toe in furs, but Cat wasn't planning on staying out long. She just needed to step away from her great hall which had been turned into a war room.
Strangely enough, she was not alone outside. Standing on the other side of the courtyard, looking up at the Broken Tower, was Jaime Lannister. He looked to be alone, which Cat found odd since Ser Addam Marbrand, the copper-haired man, seemed to shadow his every step.
"Ser Jaime?" Cat called, her curiosity getting the better of her as she crossed the courtyard.
The former knight turned around, just as surprised to see Cat as she was to see him.
"Just Jaime now, my lady," he replied with a tone that stunned Cat. It was calm, humble, and apologetic. He bowed his head and began to walk away. "I'll take my leave…."
"Why are you here?"
Jaime stopped and turned to face her. "Here as in Winterfell or here as in…" his words trailed off as he gestured to the tower.
"The tower."
Jaime looked up at the tower. "This is where it all began, didn't it? What happened…everything that happened…it started here."
Cat shook her head. "Your sister started it when she murdered Jon Arryn."
So much had been cleared up for Cat after the war. Cersei had killed Jon Arryn because he had gotten too close to discovering the truth about Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. Lysa, under Petyr's instruction, had sent a letter to Cat and Ned telling them that the Lannisters were plotting something. Then there was the matter of the attempted assassination, which Petyr had duped Cat into believing Tyrion Lannister had been responsible for, causing Cat to kidnap the Imp and start a war between the Westerlands and Riverlands…
If Cat had been smarter or less trusting of those she thought her friends, then perhaps things would have worked out very differently.
Jaime glanced at her before nodding. "I stand corrected."
"What are you doing out here then?"
"While Cersei may have started everything, this is where things started for me," Jaime answered, amending his previous statement. "Who knows what might have happened if…"
"If you hadn't had thrown my son from the tower because he caught you with your sister?" Cat asked bluntly.
Jaime smiled slightly. "You've certainly developed some Stark bluntness after so many years up here, my lady."
"It seems you haven't gotten rid of that vile humor of yours, Kingslayer," Cat shot back.
Jaime's smile wavered before it disappeared. "I am sorry for what I did, my lady, truly. I was a different man back then. A lesser man."
Cat resisted the urge to scoff. "Has a year truly changed who you are at your core, Jaime?"
The ex-knight merely shrugged. "If I hadn't, why would I be here?" he asked before walking off.
Robb Stark
Robb squatted down, running his hands through the cold waters of the Gods Eye, his mind lost to the past. He had felt the presence of the Old Gods when he had been on the Isle of Faces, just before he met the Green Man for the first time. However, the last time he interacted with them, he had been in this very spot. He had heard the voices of his aunt and uncle, telling him that they were proud of him as well as something else.
Make sure you know when to end it.
Those had been his Aunt Lyanna's words, and looking back now, Robb could see what she meant. Robb had tried to find a peaceful resolution so that he wasn't dragged into another war with the Targaryens. However, after the attempt on his life, he knew that he had to draw a line in the sand. She wasn't just speaking about the war, but peace as well.
"A little late for a late-night walk, isn't it?" the Green Man joked as he joined Robb on the beach. Like the Battle of the Gods Eye, the man wore an iron breastplate over boiled leathers and wool clothes. An axe of chipped dragonglass was slung through a leather loop by his side.
"Just taking in the view," Robb replied, shaking the water from his hands as he rose to his feet. "Do the Old Gods intervene in human history very much?"
"What do you mean?"
Robb made a vague gesture. "During the War of the Five Kings, I encountered the Old Gods three times. The first was after I was nearly killed by a shadow demon sent after me by Stannis Baratheon. Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, spoke to me in a dream. When my army was preparing to face Tywin at High Heart, I went to pray before a Heart Tree. My Uncle Brandon and my Aunt Lyanna spoke to me. They gave me advice. After, they spoke to me again here, in this very place."
The Green Man nodded slowly. "The Green Men are sometimes told prophecies of what will happen. We were once told that the black dragon will be slain by a raven and that his last descendent would be known as the monster to all who see him."
"You're talking about the Blackfyre Rebellions," Robb said. "Daemon Blackfyre was the first to switch the Targaryen sigil, making his a black dragon of a field of red. He was said to have been killed by his half-brother Brynden Rivers. Bloodraven. His last of his line, Maelys the Monstrous, was slain by Ser Barristan during the War of the Ninepenny Kings."
"We were also told about the alliance of creatures that would topple the red dragon," the Green Man said.
Robb smiled slightly. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about a direwolf, a stag, a falcon, and a fish, would you?"
The Green Man shrugged. "Some prophecies were easier to understand than others. We certainly didn't see the rise of Daemon Blackfyre, but we always knew that the Targaryen Dynasty would be toppled. We just never knew when. One of my predecessors thought that it would happen during the Targaryen Civil War."
"So do the Old Gods speak often or…?"
"After the Andal invasion, their influence and power dwindled," the Green Man explained. "They pass their knowledge onto the Green Men, but they haven't spoken directly to man since the Age of Heroes. They have, however, occasionally influenced the thoughts of men who still have the blood of the First Men running through their veins. House Stark has always been one of their favorites."
"What do you mean?" Robb asked.
"Why do you think House Stark has survived for so long?" the Green Man asked. "House Martell was founded by an Andal adventurer who rose to true power when Nymeria landed. House Baratheon grew from the loins of Orys Baratheon, the bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror, and Argella Durrandon. House Tyrell arrived in Westeros as an Andal knight and they eventually married into House Gardener, but only through a female line. House Tully didn't rise to power until after the Andal invasion, and even then, they only gained true command of the Riverlands after the Conqueror landed and destroyed Harren the Black with his dragons. The Arryns descend from Andalos itself and have very few drops of First Men blood in their veins. The Lannisters are the only House that can compete with the Starks, but Lann Casterly allowed his original family name to fade as House Lannister took over and, the Lannisters have forgotten what gods their founder respected and prayed to. Only House Stark has kept to its roots as First Men, even repelling the advancements of the Andals. They have always been looked after by the Gods."
Robb frowned. "Torrhen had a direwolf with him when he appeared in my dream. I'm guessing that has something to do with all this."
The Green Man nodded. "The direwolves were given to the Starks of Winterfell as a symbol of their relationship to the Old Gods. Redwind was the first, named after the leader of the Children who gave her life to help defeat the leader of the Others. Bane was the last…"
"He was Torrhen's companion," Robb said. "He said that when direwolves once again stood by the side of the Starks, we would take back our crown."
"Indeed," the Green Man said. "We've spoken about many things, your grace, but I do not believe that I've answered your question. Yes, the Old Gods have spoken to humans before, but it has been a very long time since they have done so. Now, they use their weakened influence whenever it seems right."
"Do you think they have intervened very much in this war?" Robb asked. He was surprised when the Green Man let out a hearty laugh.
"Robb Stark, they have intervened more than you can imagine," he said as his laughs receded. "They charged the Order of the Green Men to awaken the deep forests and seek out the Children of the Forest when the second Long Night came again, but that was centuries ago. More recently, they helped your brother, Bran, through the mentorship of Bloodraven, to realize his true potential and powers."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "They must have been very active then."
"They've poked and prodded people in the right direction is all," the Green Man said. "Besides, why else would Roose Bolton have betrayed you? You have the might of four realms under your banner," the man shook his head. "No, the Old Gods needed an event that would send Bran Stark heading north. The burning of Winterfell was the push he needed."
Robb frowned. "I thought the Old Gods looked favorably on my house. Now you tell me that they were responsible for my mother being captured and my home burned to a crisp?"
"Yes, but did they allow your mother to be killed by the Boltons? What about your father being rescued by the Company of the Rose? Do you think Torrhen Stark just came up with the idea for a backup plan in case the Targaryens torched the North from the Neck to the Wall?" the Green Man asked. "The Old Gods have always and will always look out for House Stark."
"Then explain Robert's Rebellion," Robb demanded.
"You would not be alive if Ned Stark had not married Catelyn Tully," the Green Man answered seriously. "I will correct myself. The Old Gods have always looked out for House Stark, but their work is not always nice. They convinced Rhaegar to go after Lyanna, helping him realize that Jon would help in the Long Night, although he was never given that much information."
Robb's head spun. "I need time alone."
The Green Man nodded. "Of course, forgive me. As I said when we first met. I am not so good with explaining things," he apologized. "I will leave you with this, my king. The Old Gods have always done what they thought was best for House Stark. No matter what has happened, think about where you are now? Your father and mother still rule the North from Winterfell. Sansa may one day be the Lady of the Vale. Jon has come to terms with both sides of his family. And you, your grace, have a wife, a child, and a crown."
Without another word, the Green Man turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Robb alone to contemplate his new view of the Old Gods and pondering what else they had planned for his family.