You

I could tell you the story about Brandon the Builder, old man said. That was always

your favourite. Thousands and thousands of years ago, Brandon the Builder had

raised Winterfell and some said the wall. Brandon knew the story, but it had never

been his favourite. Maybe one of the other Brandon's had liked that story.

Sometimes, then, would talk to him as if he were her Brandon, the baby she had

nursed all those years ago, and sometimes she confused him with his uncle Brandon,

who was killed by the mad king before Brandon was even born. She had lived so

long mother had told him once that all the Brandon's darks had become one person in her head.

Over the years since the Game of Thrones was written, old man's memories of so

many Brandon's running together has grown from an endearing detail to a

metastatement on the history of how Stark, on the cyclical nature of the world,

possible magical elements within the bloodline, while simultaneously

suggesting darker deeds that stand in contrast to the heroic feats of

architecture attributed to him. Speaking of dark, was there a Brandon the bad?

Actually, there was. And a Brandon the good. There have been all kinds of

Brandon's who have led all kinds of lives, including the awful feats of certain

Brandon's like his murdered uncle. That one probably isn't Brandon's favourite

story either. Regardless, Westeros itself will continue conflating Brandon's with

other Brandon's as old man capably demonstrates. That includes the

maesters whose records of these ancient Brandon's are barren. Historical confusion

is not just possible, but likely given the lack of the written records. The

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