Apparently that thing that had happened while they were away was Lord Stark's second youngest son, Bran, had fallen while climbing one of the towers.

There was not much that could be done, except wait. Wait to see if the boy regained consciousness.

His mother, Lady Stark, remained at his bedside, while Lord Stark did his best to handle his remaining children as he also readied to leave to Kings Landing.

It seemed as though everyone was trying to continue with their duties, offering well wishes for Bran's recovery.

Though a certain Prince, was noticeably not among them.

Prince Joffrey stood outside the dog kennel with his protecter, Sandor Clegane, also known as The Hound.

He was peering down at his uncle Tyrion, who appeared to have fallen asleep after having too much to drink.

"Better bitches than you're used to, huh uncle?" Joffrey jested.

Tyrion staggered to his feet before exiting the kennel.

"We ride for Kings Landing today," Joffrey informed his uncle, who would not be joining them.

"Before you go, you will call on Lord and Lady Stark and offer them your sympathies."

"What good will my sympathies do them?"

"None. But it is expected of you. Your siblings have already done so."

"Of course. Perfect Princess Aelinor."

"Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her. Your absence has already been noted."

"Besides, I can't stand the wailings of women," Joffrey said, laughing as he turned to his sworn protecter, The Hound, as if expecting him to join. Of course, he did not.

When he turned back around, he was met by a slap.

"One word and I'll hit you again." Tyrion told him.

"I'm telling mother!" Another slap.

"Go! Tell her! But first, you will get to Lord and Lady Stark and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are, that you are at their service, and that all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

"You can't..." Joffrey started, only to be struck a third time.

"Do you understand?" Finally seeming to get the message, Joffrey stormed off.

"The Prince will remember that, little lord." Sandor told Tyrion.

"I hope so. If he forgets, be a good dog and remind him. Time for breakfast." He walked off to the dining hall. It was empty save his siblings, Aelinor, Myrcella, Tommen and a few servants.

"Bread. And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down. And bacon, burned black." He ordered from a maid.

"Little brother." Jaime greeted.

"Beloved siblings." Tyrion returned, joining them after shifting Tommen down to make room for himself.

"Is Bran going to die?" Myrcella asked, getting straight to the point. 

"Apparently not."

"What do you mean?"

Aelinor looked at her mother, noting the look she shared with her twin.

"The Maester says the boy may live."

"It's no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain."

"Careful mother. One might think you wanted the child to die." Aelinor said, receiving no words, only a look.

"Only the gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray. The charms of the north seem entirely lost on you."

"I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous even for you."

It was unfathomable to Cersei why Tyrion  wanted to journey to the Wall.

"Where's your sense of wonder ? The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch, the wintry abode of the White Walkers."

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." 

"And go celibate ? The whοres would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."

This caused Aelinor and her siblings to snicker.

"The children don't need to hear your filth. Come." She stood, gesturing for her children to join her.

They had final preparations to do for the journey home.

All four left, leaving only Jaime and Tyrion.

"Even if the boy lives, he'll be a cripple, a grotesque. Give me a good clean death." Jaime said.

"Speaking for the grotesques, I'd have to disagree. Death is so final, whereas life... Life is full of possibilities. I hope the boy does wake. I'd be very interested to hear what he has to say."

"My dear brother, there are times you make me wonder whose side you're on."

"My dear brother, you wound me. You know how much I love my family." 

After leading her children to their rooms to finish packing, Cersei decided to pay a visit to the fallen young Stark boy.

Lady Stark rose as she entered. 

"Please." Cersei gestured for her to resume sitting.

"I would have dressed, your Grace."

 "This is your home. I'm your guest." She moved closer, looking at the young boy who possibly held her fate in his hands, even if he did not know it. "Handsome one, isn't he ? I lost my first boy, a little black-haired beauty. He was a fighter too... Tried to beat the fever that took him. Forgive me. It's the last thing you need to hear right now."

"I didn't know." 

"It was years ago. Robert was crazed, beat his hands bloody on the wall, all the things men do to show you how much they care. The boy looked just like him. Such a little thing... A bird without feathers. They came to take his body away and Robert held me. I screamed and I battled, but he held me. That little bundle. They took him away and I nevr saw him again. I couldn't bring myself to visit the crypt. I pray to the Mother that she return your child to you."

"I am grateful." 

"Perhaps this time she'll listen. "

With that, Cersei left Lady Stark to herself, to do what mothers do best; watch over their child.

After separating from his brother, Jaime sauntered into the courtyard where he saw the bastard son of Lord Stark.

"A sword for the wall?"

"I already have one." 

"Good man. Have you swung it yet?"

"Of course I have."

"At someone, I mean. It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realize we're nothing but sacks of meat and blood and some bone to keep it all standing. Let me thank you ahead of time for guarding us all from the perils beyond the Wall... Wildlings and White Walkers and whatnot. We're grateful to have good, strong men like you protecting us."

"We've guarded the kingdoms for 8 000 years."

"Is it "we" already? Have you taken your vows then?"

"Soon enough."

"Give my regards to the Night's Watch. I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force. And if not? It's only for life."

Aelinor approached them. "What is it with my uncles and their love for terrorizing Lord Stark's kin?"

If only she knew how true those words were.

"I wasn't terrorizing him. Was I, Snow?"

Jon shook his head.

"See? No terrorizing. Merely extending my gratitude to the soon to be member of the Night's Watch. Now that I have, I should get going."

Without waiting, he left almost as soon as he'd appeared.

"Tell me the truth. Was he bothering you?"

"No, Your Grace. He was simply curious about my decision to join the Watch."

She stared at him for a few seconds.

"Alright. If you say so." She looked behind him. "I think he's done."

Jon turned to see his gift was in fact finished.

"Hopefully this isn't the last time we meet. Though I have a feeling we will see each other again. Until then, Jon Snow."

Arya was in her room, finishing up packing when Nymeria, her direwolf, named for the fierce Warrior Queen, began pickup up things in her mouth and carrying it to her owner.

"Thank you, Nymeria. Septa Mordane says I have to do it again. My things weren't properly folded, she says. Who cares how they're folded ?! They're going to get all messed up anyway. "

"It's good you've got help." Jon said from the doorway.

"Watch. Nymeria, gloves." The direwolf only stared at her.

"Impressive."

"Shut up. Nymeria, gloves!" Again the direwolf did not move.

"I have something for you. And it has to be packed very carefully."

"A present?"

"Close the door." He ordered, to which she did. When she turned back, he was hold a small sword. "This is no toy. Be careful you don't cut yourself."

"It's so skinny."

"So are you. I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."

"I can be quick."

"You'll have to work at it. How does it feel ? Do you like the balance?"

"I think so."

"First lesson: Stick them with the pointy end."

"I know which end to use."

"I'm going to miss you. Careful. All the best swords have names, you know."

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I've got a needle of my own."

After leaving Arya with her new sword, Jon made his way to Bran's room.

His father's wife looked up as he entered, a scowl instantly appearing on her face.

"I came to say goodbye to Bran."

"You've said it."

Ignoring her, Jon made his way to his brother's bedside.

"I wish I could be here when you wake up. I'm going north with Uncle Benjen. I'm taking the black. I know we alwys talked about seeing the Wall together, but you'll be able to come visit me at Castle Black when you're better. I'll know my way around by then. I'll be a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. We can go out walking beyond the Wall, if you're not afraid."

"I want you to leave." She told him, which he obliged after placing a kiss on Bran's forehead. She went to resume her work when a figure caught her attention. Ned. "17 years ago you rode off with Robert Baratheon. You came back a year later with another woman's son. And now you're leaving again."

"I have no choice."

"That's what men alwas say when honor calls. That's what you tell your families, tell yourselves. You do have a choice. And you've made it. I can't do it, Ned. I really can't."

"You can. You must."

Jon met his brother in the courtyard as he prepared his horse.

"You've said goodbye to Bran? He's not going to die. I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill." Jon teased.

"My mother?"

"She was very kind."

"Good. Next time I see you, you'll be all in black."

"It was alwys my color."

"Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark."

The pair shared one final hug before Jon followed after his father.

Much of the ride was spent in silence. However, when it grew nearer to them parting ways, Lord Stark decided to speak up.

"There's great honor serving in the Night's Watch. The Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years. And you are a Stark. You might not have my name, but you have my blood."

"Is my mother alive? Does she know about me? Where I am, where I'm going? Does she care?"

He had so many unanswered questions about his mother. But, when he asked his father, he would often skirt around or change the subject entirely, as though it pained him to speak of her.

"The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. I promise."

If only they had known, this was they last they would see each other. Perhaps they would have spoken longer. No matter, what's done is done.