When Ned Stark pondered about King Robert Baratheon's visit the past few days, he thought the most startling event would be seeing his old friend again. He was prepared to find his friend changed, maybe sadder from his many years of ruling. Yes, it was a surprise; he never expected Robert to grow so fat and so, for a lack of a proper word, unruly.

But the biggest surprise was the constant stares the Kingslayer gave him and his family. Not the ones he expected, the arrogant, stares of a man who through he was better than him, but ones of pity. As if the Starks were people the man actually worried about despite their rival's family's history of fire and treachery. As if the Lannister family, as Lysa Arryn's letter had informed them, did not kill his dearest mentor, Jon Arryn.

He couldn't help but think about the Kingslayer when he should be enjoying the welcoming feast for his dear friend who he had not seen in many years. While Robert yelled about, questions piled in Ned's head.

Why did the Lannister offer to teach Bran swordfighting? Why did the Kingslayer walk around the keep, as Jorry informed him, looking at ever tower? He apparently even walked around the library. What was the man planning?

"Ned. King Robert just spoke to you." Catelyn whispered in his ear.

He turned to see Robert looking at him, his beard soggy with wine. A serving lady was smiling in his lap.

"I apologize, your grace," Ned said. "Can you repeat your question?"

"I was saying Ned, what do you think of this lass?" He grinned at the serving lady.

"She's a good servant." Though he wanted to, it would be improper to ask his king to leave the girl alone and respect his queen's dignity in front of the crowd.

"That she is." Robert laughed before going into a story about some brothel he once visited and a girl who bathed him before committing the dirty deed.

Ned looked away, wishing he could be somewhere else; somewhere where he did not have to listen to Robert deface himself with his misdeeds in front of the whole of Winterfell.

The Kingslayer walked in his line of sight, nodding at another Kingsguard knight, before grabbing a glass of wine and moving to leave the feast.

Ned could only imagine what treachery the dishonorable man was getting up to in his keep. Already he saw the man trick his son Bran in an unfair fight on the training yard.

Maybe, he was being too curious. He should be concentrating on the feast and entertaining Robert. But Robert was happily drinking along; perfectly entertained by the serving girl in his lap and some lady guests of Winterfell who came to hear his stories.

He told Catelyn that he was going to the privy. She squeezed his hand before he left, telling him that Robert would be back to normal in the morning. Hopefully, she was right. Though Ned doubted it. His old friend seemed to now be on an endless state of drunkenness.

Ned went through the door the Kingslayer had left a few minutes before. He followed the sounds of the Kingslayer's footsteps through the cool outdoors. The night was quiet besides the sounds of footsteps and wind. He followed the Kingslayer outside the walls and to the forest that led to the Godswood tree. The Kingslayer stopped when he reached the Godwood tree.

What was the Kingslayer doing at his family's sacret tree? Maybe, the Kingslayer was a devout follower of the Old Gods. But that didn't sound like a Lannister. They cared far too much for a life of gold and power and murder.

The Kingslayer made a sound that could be considered laughter or could be called a sorrowful sight. It was hard to tell. before sitting next to the tree. "What a day," The Kingslayer whispered before sipping from the goblet of wine he stole from the feast. "Why did you do this to me, Bran? Why?"

Bran. Did he mean his late brother? Did Brandon even know Jaime Lannister?

He gurgled before shaking his head. "I woke up to the shouting of men. Bran. What a surprise it was. So many people shouting with joy. And all for the glory of almost arriving in Winterfell."

Ned flinched at the revulsion in the Kingslayer's words.

"Yes. Isn't it great to come to such a boring wasteland. Full of people who don't even know the dead are coming." The dead. Did the Kingslayer believe the rumors of the wights? He would think that the Southerner would care less for the folklore of the North. "You should be here instead, Bran. Here at your favorite tree." The Kingslayer took a large gulp from his wine. "What's the point? You should be here. Not me." He drank again. "You basically said that for me that there was no afterwards. But it was you who got no afterwards. You, the Three-eyed crow or raven or whatever everyone called you." He spit out some wine, whipping his chin. "What is the point? I did your plan. The realm has a chance to be saved, but for what. What can I do? You're the one who was meant to handle this, this." He pointed angerly at the tree. "But no. I'm here instead. The man with shit for honor and no clue what to do." He squirmed and moved to lean against the tree. "Everything's was destroyed. Everything. How can I expect to stop it?"

Ned shouldn't be here. It was not right to listen to a drunken man's confessions. But he was curious. Now more than ever before. It appeared that the Kingslayer knew his brother, Brandon, at least well enough to shout at him at the tree, as the Kingslayer had said, that Brandon loved so much.

While Ned barely talked about it - preferring to move on with the love of his children, nephew and Catelyn beside him - there wasn't a day that went by where he did not miss his older brother. The brave and handsome and special brother of his memories. The confident leader that he could never hope to be. The Warden of the North that could have made Catelyn so much more happier than his sullen self.

"Yes. The realm was saved thanks to you," the Kingslayer was now shouting. "But what am I supposed to do next. Say something, giving me a sign. Something beyond, you will know what to do when he creeps behind you."

A raven cawed suddenly. The sound made Ned flinch, causing his foot to step on a leaf that let out a loud, crunching sound.

The Kingslayer turned, his brow arching intensely in Ned's direction. "Whose there?" Should he announce himself? "Answer me, you fool. Are you one of those lecherous stalkers that lurk in the North."

"I beg your pardon, Kingslayer." Ned walked passed the shadows casted by the moonlight. "I came by to pray before I noticed you hear, speaking to my brother. I did not want to bother you, Ser."

"Too keen on your honorable reputation to admit that you decided to eavesdrop." The Kingslayer smirked.

"I only meant to not disturb…"

"No need. No need to apologize." The Kingslayer drank from his goblet again. "I don't really care. You can listen to my drunken ramblings all you want."

"I did not mean to.."

"You never meant to. But you always did find a way to become involved in whatever plot that's coming."

"And what plot would that be." Could he get the truth about Jon Arryn without even having to sneak around Kings Landing?

"The dead. The dead are coming. In six, maybe, seven years' time, if we're lucky. The dead, White Walkers and wights they are called, with the Night King leading the whole damn army of the dead." The Kingslayer shivered as he talked, fiddling with the bark of the Godswood tree.

It appeared that the Kingslayer was stuck in a state of drunken lunacy. "You heard about the folk tales in the north. They're nothing to fear. Just dark stories to teach our children."

"That's what you and all of us believed at this time. But we were wrong."

"Believe what you want." By the Old Gods, Ned knew that the man was old enough to know logic from fiction. Ned knew better than most that there was no way to reason with a drunken fool. "I better leave you to your prayers."

Ned turned to walk away.

"Stop." Ned stopped and waited for the Kingslayer to continue. "Brandon told me that I would know what to do when someone came. I think it was you."

"You knew my brother. Didn't you? What did he tell you before he died." He needed to know.

"I'm not talking about your brother." Ned laughed at the Kingslayer's words. Who else could he be talking about? "I'm talking about your son."

"Are you telling me that you are blaming an ten-year-old boy for all the treachery you done?" That was entirely ludicrous. But what Ned could expect from an oath-breaker.

"I am not blaming him," the Kingslayer said softly. "The Stranger knows that it is me who deserves his blame and fury. But he forgave me or said he did. It does not matter. He did bring me here as punishment. A punishment I deserve more than most."

"I am not your confessor," Ned said. He needed to go before the Kingslayer went on a list of his sins to try to garner his sympathy. He should provide no sympathy for a man without honor. "I took too much of your time for confession. I apologize for dis-."

"I know. But Bran wanted you to help me. The Long Night is coming and maybe we can help each other make sure it does not come to pass."

"There you go talking about my brother. I don't know what type of relationship you both had, but don't expect the same kind from me." This was the price of his curiosity. A moonlit conversation with a drunken madman, hating himself for the pity he felt and the knowledge that his own choices had ensnarled him.

"Of course, it would not be logical to think that I'm talking about your son. For he is young, but I am. I'm talking about your eighteen-year-old son who has the power to turn back time and see the future and other confusing things that are beyond our comprehension. I still do not understand, and I am living through one of his magical gifts."

"I see." Ned said shortly.

"You do not." The Kingslayer sighed. "But that is fine. Maybe he meant someone else."

Ned doubted the Kingslayer believed those words. Though Ned hoped that he would give his ramblings to someone who actually cared about his welfare.