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Bran

           EvenOsha,hardasoldiron,seemeduncomfortable."Grimfolk,bythelookofthem,"shesaidassheeyedthelongrowofgraniteStarksontheirstonethrones.

           "TheyweretheKingsofWinter,"Branwhispered.Somehowitfeltwrongtotalktooloudlyinthisplace.

           Oshasmiled."Winter’sgotnoking.Ifyou’dseenit,you’dknowthat,summerboy."

           "TheyweretheKingsintheNorthforthousandsofyears,"MaesterLuwinsaid,liftingthetorchhighsothelightshoneonthestonefaces.Somewerehairyandbearded,shaggymenfierceasthewolvesthatcrouchedbytheirfeet.Otherswereshavedclean,theirfeaturesgauntandsharp-edgedastheironlongswordsacrosstheirlaps."Hardmenforahardtime.Come."Hestrodebrisklydownthevault,pasttheprocessionofstonepillarsandtheendlesscarvedfigures.Atongueofflametrailedbackfromtheupraisedtorchashewent.

           Thevaultwascavernous,longerthanWinterfellitself,andJonhadtoldhimoncethattherewereotherlevelsunderneath,vaultsevendeeperanddarkerwheretheolderkingswereburied.Itwouldnotdotolosethelight.Summerrefusedtomovefromthesteps,evenwhenOshafollowedthetorch,Braninherarms.

           "Doyourecallyourhistory,Bran?"themaestersaidastheywalked."TellOshawhotheywereandwhattheydid,ifyoucan."

           Helookedatthepassingfacesandthetalescamebacktohim.Themaesterhadtoldhimthestories,andOldNanhadmadethemcomealive."ThatoneisJonStark.

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