Howland sat in the Great Hall of his castle when his daughter walked in, her husband in tow. He looked up at them as they entered, hand in hand.

It was still a bit weird to him that his daughter had a husband. She who only recently had been a little girl who sat in his lap. But supposedly she was an adult now. He actually liked the boy she had married. Gendry was honest and true. Just like his father. And he and Meera seemed absolutely infatuated with each other. It was what Howland had always wanted for his daughter, he just had a hard time getting over that it was happening already.

Only moments ago Meera was a little girl getting into all kinds of trouble in the swamp. Befriending crocodiles, swimming into beaver's nests, climbing trees way too high. And she had always roped her little brother into her shenanigans. It happened on more than one occasion that Howland had to climb a tree himself to save Jojen, who couldn't get down by himself. But Meera could always get herself out of any situation.

But those moments were over. His children were gone. Jojen was dead, and Meera was a married woman. Who seemed to engage in activities that could result in her having children of her own soon.

"I thought I wouldn't have to hear your nightly activities if I placed you in the dock house," Howland said with a slight chuckle. "I realized last night I was wrong."

Howland enjoyed embarrassing and shocking his daughter. It was one of the greatest joys of parenthood to see the grimaces on her face when he talked about things no child wanted to hear their parents mention.

If she only knew what Howland and Ser Swann had been up to the same night. They had the decency to be quieter though. Perhaps he should tell her to see more uncomfortable grimaces on her face though. He decided to save that for another time though.

Meera blushed and Gendry looked down at the floor.

"We didn't mean for... you to hear that," she said.

"You're young and you're just married, you should do... what you were doing," Howland replied. "But do you have to be so loud?"

"Sorry, we'll try to be... quieter."

Meera's cheeks were red from embarrassment. Her husband still couldn't meet Howland's eyes.

"I'll just find something to plug my ears with tonight..." he said. "But I assume that's not what you came here to discuss."

Meera shook her head and shared a look with her husband. They both sat down opposite of Howland before she started speaking. Apparently, this was a sit-down kind of conversation.

This was about Jojen, Howland realized that now. Meera was about to tell him the truth she didn't want to tell.

It was silent for a moment before she finally spoke. In a quieter and more reserved tone than usual.

"Father," she said. "I need to tell you about what actually happened up North, about what happened to Jojen. And what happened to Bran."

Howland looked up and nodded. He had known this moment would come and he had dreaded it. Of course, he wanted to know, but he knew the truth would probably hurt.

His son had died, and Howland hadn't been there to save him. Maybe he could have saved Jojen if he had been there, just like he did when he climbed those trees.

"Does your husband know?" he asked and nodded towards Gendry.

His daughter nodded.

"I told him some of it," she replied. "In the capital, that night when I disappeared."

"I knew you were with him," Howland said with a smile. "I'm glad you found someone you trusted enough to tell."

"We didn't do anything... untoward that night," Gendry said, sounding slightly nervous. "I swear."

"Son, don't worry," Howland said and stretched out his hands towards his son-in-law. "You're married now, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to hold anything against you."

Gendry took his hand and shook it, seemingly assured that he didn't want him any harm. Howland found it quite amusing how anxious his son-in-law was to get his approval. But it made sense, the boy had never had a father, and he had grown up in a completely different position in society. A position where having relations with a lord's daughter would have been punishable with death. Gendry might wear a lord's name now, but he was still a blacksmith at heart. Which was good, because Howland had met way more blacksmiths he liked than lords.

Meera glanced at her husband and took his hand.

A deep breath. Another look. A squeeze of the hand. Then she told the truth.

"The king," Meera said. "He's not Bran Stark."

"What do you mean?" Howland replied, a bit confused. "I've seen the boy, he's Ned's son. I know he is."

"He was Bran Stark. When we first met up with them he was. But he's not Bran Stark anymore. He died. They all died. Jojen, Hodor, Summer. Except me."

"What happened? Tell me, Meera. You can tell me anything."

She looked over at Gendry again, tears in her eyes.

"I haven't... told you this part," she said. "I never told you about the cave. Or about what really happened to Jojen."

"You know I love you regardless," he said. "Nothing can ever change that."

She looked over at her father. Unable to meet his eyes she instead looked down at the table, nervously letting her hand trace the lines of the wood.

"I killed him," she said in a tiny voice. "Jojen. He was in pain, dying. And I put a knife in his throat."

Suddenly so meek. Not at all like her usual self.

"You spared him pain," Howland said, tears in his eyes. "You did the right thing."

She nodded up still looked down. Her husband put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.

Howland felt the need to do the same, so he got up and walked around the table. He sat down next to his daughter and took her in his arms.

"Meera," he said. "I hope you know I would never blame you."

They sat there for a moment in silence, both Howland and Gendry holding Meera from each side. Her curly hair smelled sweet of water lilies against his nose. The same smell as when she was a little girl.

"I need to tell you the rest too," she said eventually, drying tears from her eyes.

"Whenever you are ready," Howland responded.

One more look at her husband. A kiss.

"You know this part," she whispered to Gendry.

Then she looked over at her father again.

"After Jojen died we arrived at a cave," she said. "That's where Bran died. A man was there, at least he looked like a man. He called himself the Three-Eyed Raven. Bran and Jojen had seen him in their visions. They believed he called us there so that Bran could become the Three-Eyed Raven in his stead. He would receive powers that could help us fight the threat from the North. But I thought he would still be Bran. That he would still be the sweet boy I knew."

"But you don't think he is?" Howland asked.

"I know he's not. I doubted it at first, but after I talked to him in the capital I knew. Because Bran Stark, the boy I knew, cared about me. And whatever he is now doesn't care about anyone."

"Why didn't you tell me then?"

"It was too late. You had already elected him as king. And you believed in the quest. We all did. I did and Jojen did. I couldn't let you think he died for nothing."

Howland nodded. He could understand why she didn't tell him then. Even if he wished she had.

"So why did Jojen believe what he did then?" he asked. "His visions were always right before."

"He was always right," she replied. "But this time we were tricked. I think something sinister seeped into his visions and led us astray. It wanted us to think we followed the old gods when we followed something else, something opposite of what Jojen believed in. Not the old gods, but their enemy."

"Something used you to do their bidding?"

"I believe so. It used me. It used Jojen. It used Bran. And it's not done using him."

"What does it want?"

"I don't know... I wish I knew."

"We'll find out together then," he said and patted her hair lightly.

"So you believe me?" Meera asked. She looked over at her father, now able to look him in the eyes again.

"Of course I do. You're my daughter. I always believe you."

"You're not mad that I didn't tell you?"

"When have I ever been mad at you, Meera?"

"Probably that time I brought home a litter of baby crocodiles and put them in your bed..." she said and smiled. Howland was happy to see her smile again and he chuckled a bit at the memory. It was true that he had been slightly perturbed with her at the time.

Meera's husband looked slightly concerned at this memory. Perhaps he would check under the sheets carefully for crocodiles before he went to bed that night.

"Well, I was a bit mad that time, I admit that, "Howland said. "They chewed through all my sheets."

"And your best boots..."

"But have I ever been mad at you for any non-crocodile related incidents?"

"No..."

"And I'm not mad now either. I wish you had told me earlier, but I understand why you didn't."

"It could have put you in danger if I told you. He knows things. Things no one should know. I think he can see it somehow, things both from the past and the present. Even when he's not there."

"So why are you telling me now then?"

"Because you deserve to know. And because... I talked to the hand of the king when I was in the capital, and he told me something. He told me the king didn't know I was coming, even though he usually knows everything."

"He couldn't see you?"

"It seems that way... perhaps because I was in that cave with him. Somehow his powers don't work on me."

Howland nodded, it made sense.

"Maybe that was the reason then," he said.

"The reason for what?"

"That you had to go on that mission. It wasn't to help Bran Stark, it was to stop whatever this entity that has taken over his body wants to do. Because if you hadn't been there no one would be able to."

Meera looked at Howland in surprise.

"I never... thought of it like that," she said. "Bran could have done what he did without us... but then I wouldn't have been in that cave with him. Maybe Jojen's visions were right after all."

"But the visions didn't mean what he thought they did."

"So what do I do now? He, whatever he is, is king. How do I stop him?"

"I don't know. But I know we need to. We need to follow the path your brother set you upon long ago."

Meera took her father's hand.

"Let's go ask him then. Let's ask him what to do. Jojen will guide us," she said.

***

The garden around the heart tree glowed in orange as the sunlight made its way through the red foliage. The place felt warm and welcoming. This was where the people who had passed still lived. Their spirits lived on through the tree.

It was safe here, she could feel it. The king couldn't get to them. The weirwoods wouldn't tell on them.

Bran had said that he could see the world through the weirwoods, but maybe it was the other way around. Maybe the weirwoods were watching him and trying to find a way to fight him. Because the weirwoods were good, Meera could sense it.

All three of them went up to the trunk of the tree and put their right hand on its bark. Her husband on her left side and her father on her right side. She had instructed her husband beforehand on what to do since he wasn't used to northern ceremonies.

"Jojen," she said. "If you can hear me. I think I know now. I know what it was all for. And I will need your help to do what I need to do to fight him, whatever he is. So please show me the way."

Green light suddenly embraced her. It was all around her, sweeping her away from the Godswood. Far away from her father and husband.

Instead, two boys stood in front of her. Jojen and Bran. Still so young. Forever young. She had become a married woman since she last saw them, but they remained the same. Frozen in the moment of death.

Behind them stood the other. The others who had been on their journey, and who were now dead. Hodor, Summer, Osha, and Rickon.

Above them was a cloud of ravens. Circling them all. Cawing louder and louder.

"You're holding the weapon, Meera," Jojen said. "The sword to fight the darkness."

"Use it when life is bleeding out of you," Bran said. "And I will save you."

That was all they said. Then the ravens descended upon them all. Enveloping them in darkness.

The darkness turned green and soon she was back with her husband and father again. She sat on the ground by the tree trunk. Where her brother always used to sit.

"Are you alright?" her husband asked, looking very concerned. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

She nodded, still a bit confused about what had happened. "I'm fine," she said and found his hand. "What happened?"

"You passed out," her father said. "Your eyes turned white. Just like your brother used to do."

She looked around. Everything around her still glowed in orange. Not green. This was not a dream.

Something was in her hand. A branch of weirwood. She looked at it, remembering Jojen's words from the dream.

"You grabbed that as you fell," her father said. "You held it so tightly I couldn't make you let go of it."

She nodded. She understood now.

"Can we bring some branches of weirwood with us to Storm's End?" she asked. "I think we'll need it. Jojen told me so."