SUMMERHALL AND WHAT FOLLOWED AFTER:

CHAPTER ONE:

"What do you mean, you don't know where he is?" Arya said. "I thought you knew everything!"

"There are no ravens beyond the Wall," Bran said.

"Beyond the Wall?" Arya asked. "I thought he was at the Wall. With the Night's Watch – that was his sentence, wasn't it?"

"There is no Night's Watch anymore," her sister Sansa interjected. "It was gutted by the War, and then it just gradually disintegrated. Castle Black is deserted."

"Deserted?" Arya asked. "Where did they go?"

"North," Sansa said. "Not all at once. Jon, however, never even stopped at the Wall. He crossed the Wall with the Wildlings and never came back. The rest of them went bit by bit. They couldn't go South, obviously."

"As long as he stayed there, I had no objection," Bran said, a shrug in his voice. "I could sense him there for the first year or so, and then he disappeared. Not all at once; gradually. I didn't really notice it at the time it was happening."

"Perhaps he's dead then," Bron said, from the other side of the table. "Good thing if he is."

Arya bristled, and she glared at him.

"Don't give me that look, little wolf," Bron said to her, amused. "It's what everyone around this table would prefer, only they're too tight-arsed to say so directly."

The other members of Bran's Small Council muttered resentfully, but no one seemed to deny it, Arya noted. Well, with the exception of Ser Brienne, who shook her head.

"When did you last hear from Jon?" Arya asked her brother.

"I've never heard from him at all," Bran said. "Not since we saw him off to the North." He makes it sound like Jon was going on a pleasure trip.

"You weren't concerned by that?"

"Why should I be?"

Arya gave it up. "Have you sent anyone beyond the Wall to talk to him?"

"No," Bran said. "We've been busy."

"Lord Hand?" Arya tried again.

"Not I," Tyrion said. "I didn't think he'd be interested in hearing from me."

Bron snorted with laughter. "You might well. But you did make a mistake there, Tyrion. You should have arranged for a quiet assassination as quickly as possible. Keep the Dothraki and the Unsullied happy, and remove an armed and angry bastard from behind you."

"What makes you think he's angry?" said Tyrion.

"Silence is not golden," said Bron. "In this case, it's hostile."

"Sansa?" Arya turned to her sister. "You're closest to the Far North. Have you heard from him?"

"No," Sansa said. Something in the furtive way she said it warned Arya off.

"Just one big happy family!" said Bron, with a nasty grin.

"Davos?" Arya asked quickly. "You were his Hand. Have you been in touch with him?"

"No," Davos said. He fidgeted in a way that suggested discomfort.

"A loyal man!" Bron sneered.

"I managed his resurrection," Davos said. "If that wasn't loyal, I don't know what was."

"You had to do that," Bran said in his dead voice. "Otherwise the rebel Night's Watch would have killed you."

Since it was his King was contradicting him, Davos said no more.

"Maester?" Arya said to Sam Tarly. "What about you?"

"No," Sam said. If Davos had been apologetic, Sam's tone was defiant.

"So much for so-called friends," said Bron. Arya devoutly wished he'd shut up.

"I arranged for his election as Lord Commander, didn't I?" Sam said. "Yes, he helped me when I first went to the Night's Watch, but I paid him back."

"By ensuring that he was elected to a post that he had neither the experience or the expertise, besides being far too young," Bran said. "And you did that because Alestor Thorne would have done for you if his candidate had been elected. The result was fairly predictable."

"I was sixteen years old myself then!" Sam cried. "What else could I have done? They wouldn't elect me! It had to be Jon!"

"Indeed," said Bran.

Arya could see that Sam was angry, but like Davos, under Bran's eye he said no more.

"Then no one has heard from him in five years?" Arya said, looking around the table.

There was a discreet, reluctant cough.

"Sir Brienne?"

Brienne face was red. "I did send him a letter, about six months after he left. I just wanted to say – I just wanted to tell him that I thought he had done the right thing, and was being unfairly blamed. Like Jaime was, with King Aerys."

There was quite a long silence.

"And did you get an answer?" Arya asked, finally.

"Yes," Brienne said. "He did send me a letter."

"You still have it," Bran said, looking at her.

"Yes," Brienne said, getting redder.

"Fetch it, then," said Bran, as much as he might speak to a dog, if he had one.

Brienne fetched the letter, obedient as ever. Bran unfolded it and read it aloud.

"Dear Sir Brienne:

I wished to contact you and thank you for your kind letter. It meant much to me to receive it as I have heard nothing from anyone else south of the Wall. I was happy to hear of your appointment; I can think of no one who deserves it more than you, and will give more faithful and loyal service to my cousin.

I have been asked by Tormund Giantsbane to give you a message on his behalf. He made me swear to write exactly what he said, and I was obliged to promise that I would. Please understand that Tormund does not wish to hurt you; on the contrary, he has the greatest admiration for you. But he is a man who says what he feels. He says to tell you that he was sorry to hear that prancing nancy-boy disappointed you, but what can you expect of a sister-fucker anyway. Tormund proposes that you marry him, and he believes that you and he would have amazing children that would rule the world. You would never want for anything he could provide, he says. I hope you are not offended, Tormund is a rough soul, but also an honourable man who means well. I know of no other man worthy of you.

Regards, Jon Snow"

"Oh, yeah, he's pissed," Bron said. "Six months in, you say? Yes, that was easily long enough to realize he'd been had."

"Excuse me," Tyrion said. "I did not deceive him."

"Sure, you did, Tyrion, not that I blame you in the slightest. If he was stupid enough to fall for your line, it was entirely his own fault. But the fact is, you conned him into killing that silly dragon cunt, something that everyone around this table wanted to happen, but didn't have the guts to do themselves."

The Small Council muttered resentfully once again. Once again only Brienne shook her head.

"And then, you made sure he took the fall, and everyone else happily divided the pie. Charming."

He noticed Arya glaring at him, and added: "And don't exclude yourself from that number, little wolf. You happily buggered off for five years, and left the sorting of the wreckage to others. Nobody here should take any criticism from you, if ask me ."

Arya restrained herself with difficulty, helped only by her uncle, Edmure Tully, who said: "The letter doesn't seem angry to me." Arya wondered yet again how the son of Hoster Tully and the nephew of Brynden Tully could be so damn stupid.

Bron snorted. "First two sentences," he said. "And he refers to his Grace as his cousin, not his King. Ends by saying that a dirty savage is the only honourable man he knows. He's pissed."

"You do him too much credit," Sansa said. "Jon says exactly what he means."

"Well, it means he isn't going help us, for sure, unless we offer him a great lot of money for the privilege. And if the books are correct, there's no money available to be offered. Of course, we could offer him the money and then not pay. We could see just how stupid he really is."

"Jon wouldn't do it for money," Sansa said, contemptuously, though whether of Jon or Bron – or both – Arya couldn't tell. "You'll have to convince him it's for the greater good."

"Well, we might be able to do that if we could contact him," Bron said. "But we can't."

He looked at Brienne a moment, and said: "How did you send him your letter?"

"I sent it by crow, and he answered the same way,," Brienne said.

Everyone looked at Bran, who shrugged. "That was four and a half years ago," he said. "Four years ago, the Wildlings started killing crows and cleared the North of them."

"And you weren't concerned by that?" Arya cried.

"Why should I be concerned?"

"They're obviously wanting to hide something from you, Bran."

"I doubt it," Bran said. "What have the Wildlings to hide?"

Arya glanced at Sansa, who was rolling her eyes. What good is knowing everything that's going on if you know so little about life that you can't interpret the information properly? I think we're in trouble.