Chapter 22

The broken bricks and stones from the abandoned watchtower were scattered across the ground of the old inner courtyard. Winterfell had seen a summer snow not long ago, and while most of it had melted, faint traces of white lingered on the rubble.

The risk of being struck by falling debris was the primary reason the castle's residents rarely ventured into this part of Winterfell. Neglected for years, the courtyard was overgrown with weeds that reached from ankle to knee height, and a few scraggly shrubs struggled to grow amidst the ruins.

Aegor had spent considerable effort clearing the area so he could train there daily. He had painstakingly removed weeds and moved scattered bricks and stones out of the way.

His black Night's Watch cloak served as both an unmistakable badge of identity and a kind of protective charm. The North held the Night's Watch in high regard, and Benjen Stark's act of bringing Aegor to Winterfell for a feast had cemented the image of him as the First Ranger's trusted companion. This made it easier for Aegor to execute his plan. Though the castle servants were curious about why he chose such a desolate corner for practice, none objected, and some even offered assistance.

It wasn't long before Aegor claimed the abandoned yard for himself—a small, neglected piece of Winterfell where he could train in peace.

He had considered sealing off the stairs leading to the First Keep with stones and debris to eliminate the problem at its source. However, as a mere guest, he ultimately lacked the authority to alter the Stark family's castle and reluctantly abandoned the idea.

--

The king's stay in Winterfell was nearing its end. Early this morning, Robert had led a hunting party into the Wolfwood west of Winterfell, hoping to bag a wild boar or bear to serve at the feast marking his last night in the North. The prince accompanied him, as did all the adult men of House Stark, including Robb. However, the queen had remained in Winterfell, and her brother Jaime had opted to stay behind as well, choosing to spend time with her rather than join the hunt.

For the Lannister siblings, this was the perfect opportunity for a private rendezvous.

For Aegor, it was a day of mounting tension. After watching Benjen depart with the hunting party, Aegor rushed to the yard he had claimed. He resolved to remain there until the hunting team returned, ensuring the Lannisters had no opportunity to meet in secret.

Of course, he couldn't just sit idly by, so he began his usual sword training.

--

The sun climbed higher, and the temperature steadily rose. Aegor had already completed a set of cutting drills on the scarecrow and was transitioning to archery practice when an unexpected voice interrupted him.

"If I'm not mistaken," a deep, magnetic male voice spoke from behind, its tone casual yet brimming with energy, "you're the Night's Watchman who crossed the Sunset Sea to Westeros, was caught by the Wall's patrols, and supposedly killed a White Walker?"

Aegor turned, startled. "Your Grace—! Good morning. Yes, that's me..."

Standing before him was Jaime Lannister, with Queen Cersei at his side. While Jaime acknowledged Aegor with a polite nod, Cersei barely spared him a glance, her expression cold and aloof. She clearly had no intention of conversing with someone she considered so far beneath her.

Aegor's mind raced. Jaime and Tyrion were close brothers, so it wasn't surprising that the Kingslayer had heard of Aegor's supposed feats. But why would Jaime go out of his way to speak with him? And why had he brought the queen along? Aegor's heart sank as he pieced it together: They're scouting for a place to meet in secret.

While Aegor held no personal animosity toward Jaime, their positions were now at odds. Seeing the siblings together, he couldn't help but curse them inwardly.

Though he cursed them in his thoughts, Aegor's face betrayed none of it. Instead, he quickly adopted a look of humility and deference. Jaime might be manageable, but Cersei was another matter entirely. Unlike her brothers, she was vindictive, arrogant, and entirely capable of abusing her power. In a world as dangerous as this, one could not afford to offend someone like her, a person who would act without restraint or consequence.

"Your archery isn't bad," Jaime remarked, his eyes scanning the arrows embedded in the straw target. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Hand me the bow."

--

Back at the Wall, Aegor had once toyed with the idea of crafting dragonglass-tipped arrows from leftover shards after forging obsidian daggers. He'd hoped these "dragonglass arrows" might allow him to kill White Walkers from a distance.

But the plan was far from simple. Arrows, like ammunition in a modern army, were closely monitored by the Night's Watch. Stored in the armory, they were issued only with strict documentation, and any unused arrows had to be returned. Losing even a single arrow outside of wartime came with harsh penalties. Unsurprisingly, soldiers were forbidden from modifying or tampering with them.

When his comrade Gary discovered Aegor tinkering with arrowheads, he had not only reprimanded him but also forbidden him from continuing. The reasoning was simple: if Aegor were caught, he'd face severe punishment. Unlike a dagger, which could be easily concealed, modified arrows were too conspicuous. Reluctantly, Aegor abandoned the project, which was why he'd been forced to rely on a dagger when facing the White Walkers.

Despite this setback, Aegor continued practicing archery. Encounters with White Walkers were rare, but wildlings were a constant threat. As someone who valued his life highly, Aegor naturally preferred long-range combat over the risks of close-quarters fighting. His dedication to archery meant his skills with a bow were far superior to his swordsmanship.

--

While Aegor's skills were better than most Night's Watchmen, they weren't remarkable enough to warrant praise—or interest—from someone like Jaime Lannister, one of the finest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms.

What is this guy playing at?

Suspicious but compliant, Aegor handed over the bow.

Jaime accepted it, testing its weight and flexing the string with practiced ease. He selected an arrow, adjusted his stance, and took aim at the target.

This was the closest Aegor had ever been to the Lannister siblings. Despite himself, he couldn't help but observe them. Jaime was tall and striking, his handsome face exuding an effortless confidence as he focused on the target. Beside him, Cersei's figure was as elegant as it was alluring, her cold beauty undiminished even by the impatient scowl on her face. Though a mother of three, she retained the air of a woman in her prime. In any world whether Westeros or Aegor's own, these two would have been regarded as stunningly attractive, the kind of people whose appearance alone could turn heads.

Their beauty, however, did nothing to excuse their relationship.

--

The first arrow flew with a dull thud, striking the target only a few inches from the center. The arrow's shaft quivered as it came to rest.

Not bad.

From a soldier's perspective, Aegor had to admit Jaime's technique was impeccable. Every movement, from drawing the bow to releasing the string, had been executed with seamless precision. Judging by his composed demeanor, Jaime hadn't even exerted himself fully. His skill and strength were clearly worthy of a Kingsguard.

Jaime, however, seemed dissatisfied. Muttering under his breath, he nocked a second arrow. This one struck dead center, landing right next to the arrow Aegor had shot earlier during his practice.

"Tsk," Jaime clicked his tongue in mock frustration. Without hesitation, he reached for a third arrow.

"How long are you planning to stand here shooting arrows?" Cersei's voice was icy, cutting through the moment. "Surely Casterly Rock's training grounds are big enough, or has the White Sword Tower run out of bows?"

"Heh. My apologies, dear sister," Jaime replied with a shrug, turning to flash her an insincere smile. "One more, I promise."

With that, he loosed the third arrow. This time, it struck the very center of the target, splitting the wooden pole beneath the cloth covering.

"Not bad." Jaime handed the bow back to Aegor with a playful grin. "Keep practicing, Night's Watchman. Knowing there are skilled men like you guarding the realm makes it easier for me to sleep at night."

"It's my duty," Aegor replied stiffly, choosing his words carefully. After a brief pause, he added a polite compliment: "Your Excellency's archery is excellent."

Though Jaime's skill far outstripped his own, Aegor had no interest in evaluating or befriending the Kingslayer. What he wanted was for these two to leave his carefully-occupied yard and find somewhere else for their schemes.

But instead, Jaime's gaze drifted toward the ruined tower.

"What's wrong with that tower?" he asked, his tone casual but curious. "Why does it look so dilapidated and neglected?"

Chapter 23

"That used to be a watchtower in Winterfell. I heard it was struck by lightning and burned down over a hundred years ago. After that, it was abandoned." Aegor's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly steadied himself and replied honestly. He didn't dare to fabricate anything that anyone in Winterfell could easily confirm. "I went inside once. It's filthy, chaotic, and the staircase has completely collapsed."

"It deserves to be abandoned. Winterfell doesn't need a watchtower," Cersei said, casting a scornful glance in the direction of the ruined tower, a faint sneer playing on her lips. "Who in their right mind would lead an army to attack and capture such a cold, miserable castle?"

"Don't say that. For some wolves, no amount of gold or silver can compare to their own den," Jaime shrugged and laughed. "But honestly, what's the point of that fortress?"

Aegor pretended not to catch the Lannister siblings' thinly veiled disdain for the Starks and reluctantly introduced the First Keep to Jaime. After hearing him out, Jaime nodded without much reaction and casually asked, "Brother of the Night's Watch, why are you training here? Isn't the Winterfell training ground just nearby?"

"I… prefer to be alone," Aegor stammered, unsure of how to explain. Feeling awkward, he hurriedly added, "It's too noisy there. It affects my concentration."

"Is that so? Then I hope the wildlings you meet in the future are gentlemen and ladies who also prefer peace and quiet," Jaime said, his lips curling into a mocking smile. It was clear he didn't believe Aegor's reasoning. "Dearest sister, shall we go in and take a look?"

"Here?" Cersei frowned, glancing up at the crumbling old tower.

--

What's going on?

Why can't I change the course of events even though I'm here?

Are these two really so bold as to completely ignore my presence and carry out their schemes here?

Aegor felt like an invisible hand was tightening around his throat, leaving him breathless. "My lord… it's filthy and abandoned inside. There's nothing but rats and spiders."

"I don't expect to find anything of value. I'm just curious," Jaime replied with an easy confidence, turning to glance at his sister. "Sister, if you aren't afraid of mice and spiders, why not join me for a look? Who knows? We might find some hidden Stark family heirloom tucked away in a corner."

Cersei and Jaime exchanged a glance. Though Cersei hesitated outwardly, deep down, she was intrigued. The idea of sneaking into an old, dilapidated tower with her beloved brother had a certain allure.

"You're not young anymore, and you still want to play adventurer?" She frowned, feigning disapproval. "Fine, do as you wish. Just don't do anything reckless."

"That's called staying young at heart. A queen who frowns all day will only age faster. Come along." Jaime began walking toward the First Keep. Before he left, he gave Aegor a light pat on the shoulder. "Brother of the Night's Watch, keep practicing. Her Majesty and I will just take a quick look. We'll try not to disturb you."

What else could Aegor do? Jaime hadn't asked for permission; he had merely informed him. The bond between the Lannister siblings was well-known—close to the point of infamy. It wasn't Aegor's place, as a mere Night's Watch recruit, to intervene. If he didn't know the plot, who could have guessed what the two of them might do once they entered the First Keep?

All he could do was nod reluctantly and watch the siblings disappear into the tower.

--

What should I do?

Aegor was at a loss. It had been a long time since he felt so insignificant, so utterly powerless.

Confronting them head-on was out of the question. Following them inside to interrupt their "exploration" might only make things worse. Jaime's words about continuing his training echoed in his mind, and Aegor could only imagine how things might play out if he tried to insist on tagging along. If he got thrown from the tower instead of Bran, that would be a truly pathetic way to go.

And then there was the bigger picture—his future at the Wall. He needed Tyrion's help to leave, but offending the two most powerful Lannisters would doom that plan. Who knew what fate might await him if he alienated them now?

Countless ideas swirled through his mind, but one by one, he dismissed them. Finally, he decided to do what Jaime had suggested, stay and keep practicing.

At least this way, he could keep watch for the couple while also ensuring that no curious child showed up to climb the tower.

It wasn't possible to stop the queen and a Kingsguard from "visiting" the First Keep, but he could certainly stop a young boy from getting involved. Even if Eddard Stark and his wife found out, surely they wouldn't blame him for that.

The plan wasn't completely derailed yet. Gritting his teeth, Aegor walked over to retrieve his arrows. He pulled them from the target, placed them back in his quiver, and returned to continue practicing.

…

Aegor fired arrow after arrow, each shot releasing a bit of his pent-up frustration. Surprisingly, his focus improved under the pressure, and more than half of his shots hit the target's vital area. His accuracy was far better than usual.

Before long, his quiver was empty. Drawing a bow repeatedly was exhausting, and Aegor's arms throbbed with fatigue. Shaking out the soreness, he wandered to a nearby chair, intending to sit down and read for a bit.

"You shoot really well."

The sudden voice startled him so badly that he nearly jumped out of his skin. Spinning around, Aegor looked up—and there he was.

Bran Stark, the second son of Eddard Stark, stood before him. The boy had chestnut hair, blue eyes, and a youthful face that seemed to glow with vitality. Despite his young age, Bran already had the kind of charm that made him the darling of Winterfell's womenfolk.

At this moment, the boy, adored by everyone in Winterfell, was perched on the wall of the old inner courtyard, swinging his legs as he looked down at the Night's Watch recruit. "No matter how much I practice, I can't get any better. Even Arya can shoot straighter than me."

When had this damn kid climbed up there?

Aegor had no enemies in this world, and there were no White Walkers suddenly roaming Winterfell. He had been so focused on the entrance while practicing in the courtyard that he hadn't thought to keep an eye on the rooftops. Under the cover of the constant wind sweeping through the towers and buildings, Bran must have snuck up without a sound.

Aegor's heart sank as realization dawned. He had made a grave error.

He had occupied the training yard by the only entrance leading from the old inner courtyard to the Godswood, assuming Bran would have to pass by him if the boy tried to climb the ruined tower or head toward the First Keep. His plan had been simple: intercept Bran, stop him using the advantage of being an adult, or at least shout loud enough to alert the Lannister siblings hiding in the tower. Either way, he'd have things under control.

But Winterfell wasn't just any castle. It was a sprawling, ancient fortress that had grown organically over generations. Fathers built towers; sons added walls; grandsons constructed extensions. The result was a labyrinth of buildings, courtyards, and passageways, twisting together like the branches and roots of an enormous stone tree. For a nimble climber like Bran, the interlocking rooftops and walls were an endless playground, providing routes that bypassed the ground entirely.

Bran hadn't used the entrance to the courtyard at all. He had scaled the wall from somewhere else.

A strong sense of foreboding gripped Aegor. He stared up at the boy, forcing his voice to remain calm. "You'll get better as you grow up, Bran. Once your arms are stronger, you'll be able to shoot more accurately. But what are you doing up there?"

"Just playing. I haven't climbed the walls in a long time," Bran replied, smiling down at him. "I'm leaving for King's Landing with Father tomorrow, and I might not be back for years. This could be my last chance to climb."

Aegor glanced at the height of the wall, at least three meters. If Bran fell, there was no way he could catch him in time. Suppressing his growing panic, he tried to reason with the boy.

"It's dangerous up there. Come down, and I'll teach you archery instead."

"No need. I'll have plenty of time to learn in King's Landing," Bran said, still swinging his legs. "I heard the targets there are more than ten times the size of the ones at Winterfell. It'll be impossible to miss!"

"That's ridiculous. You can't become a sharpshooter by aiming at something that big," Aegor shot back, swallowing nervously. Then he noticed something even more alarming. "Why are you barefoot?"

"It's easier to climb barefoot. You don't make any noise when you're walking over the guardhouse roof without shoes," Bran said, clearly pleased with himself. He stood up on the narrow wall, balancing with his arms outstretched, while Aegor instinctively reached out as though he could catch him.

Bran began walking along the top of the wall toward the guardhouse. "I'm heading to the top of the ruined tower to feed the crows. You keep practicing."

Feed the crows? Are you kidding me? Aegor's anger flared. His concern for Bran overrode any deference he might have shown to the boy's rank. Forgetting their difference in status, he chased after him along the wall, shouting, "Bran, get down right now! It's too dangerous up there. If you don't take care of yourself, have you thought about how upset your parents will be?"

"I've never fallen," Bran replied without turning around. "Father says it's fine for me to climb. You'd never understand how beautiful it is up here unless you see it for yourself. Robb might inherit Winterfell, but I'm the only one who's seen all the rooftops within the walls and the hills beyond."

"Risking your life for a view—what's the point of that?"

"You're boring in black, you know that?" Bran said dismissively, snorting as he picked up his pace. "I can't explain it to you. I'm leaving now."

Without looking back, Bran jogged along the top of the wall toward the guardhouse, his obvious enjoyment of the danger only making Aegor more anxious.

Abandoning his bow and arrows, Aegor ran out of the courtyard and circled around to the guardhouse. Just as he reached the area, two guards emerged fully armed. Seizing the opportunity, Aegor hurried toward them like a man grasping at a lifeline.

"Your young lord is running across the roof! Why aren't you doing anything about it?" he demanded.

The guards exchanged startled glances and then looked up. Sure enough, they spotted Bran scampering barefoot toward the First Keep.

"Don't worry about it," one of the guards said with a shake of his head.

"Lady Stark told us to chase him down whenever we saw him climbing," the second guard explained with a sigh. "But the more we shout or chase him, the faster he runs. He thinks it's a game."

"We can't catch him anyway," the first guard added with a shrug. "It's terrifying watching him up there, but it's happened so many times now that Jory told us not to bother anymore. I think the orders came from the lord himself."

"So, brother of the Night's Watch," the second guard said with a chuckle, "life at the Wall must be hard enough. Relax and don't trouble yourself with our young master."

The guards walked away, leaving Aegor standing there, helpless.

He watched as Bran ran along the rooftops, leaping lightly to the First Keep, his small figure quickly disappearing behind the guardhouse.

Aegor clenched his fists and stamped his foot in frustration before hurrying back to the passageway leading to the old inner courtyard. His plan had gone completely off the rails, but as long as he could find a way to warn the Lannister siblings in time, there was still hope to salvage the situation.

Chapter 24

"After all this searching, this is the 'good place' you found?"

"My dear sister, we've walked through every corner of Winterfell. This is the only spot without prying eyes."

"But there's someone downstairs! He saw us, and you even spoke to him! Are you sure he's really going to stay down there and not come snooping around?"

"Don't be afraid. If he dares to come up here, I'll break his neck." Jaime pulled Cersei closer, grinning mischievously. "Besides, isn't it thrilling to have a Night's Watchman keeping 'watch' over our good deeds?"

"This place is filthy!"

"Take off your leather cloak, spread it on the ground… Come now, stop fussing."

"Let me go, you fool!"

Cersei struggled in Jaime's grasp, but she couldn't escape. He held her firmly, as effortlessly as if she were a child.

"You keep acting like this, and one day, you'll bring about your own end!"

"Maybe," Jaime said casually, still smirking. "My dear sister is so charming, after all. But we're all going to die someday, so why not enjoy life while we can?"

"Spare me your nonsense!"

"Alright, enough talking. Since you're so worried about the man in black downstairs, let's have a look at him."

"What are you doing?" Cersei was shocked as Jaime nudged her toward the window. "You're insane!"

"Relax. He can't see us."

The two made their way to the small, dusty window. From the old inner courtyard below, they could see the Night's Watchman practicing his archery, focused on shooting arrows at the target. He didn't look up once, nor did he show any intention of entering the First Keep.

The window was narrow, built for defense rather than visibility. Even if Aegor were to glance up, he'd only see the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms looking down at him, with Jaime Lannister standing behind her. Their bodies, hidden below the neck by the windowsill, betrayed no hint of what they might be doing.

--

"Feel better now?"

"You're such a bastard." Cersei's voice was sharp, but there was an undeniable glint of excitement in her eyes. Even so, she hadn't come here today solely for this dangerous game with her brother. "Stop thinking about these things all the time. Let me ask you, do you know if Stark agreed to Robert's offer?"

"Do I need to ask?" Jaime replied with a smirk, his movements undeterred. "Knowing our king, if Stark had refused, do you think Robert would still be here, hunting merrily in the woods after more than ten days? Of course Stark agreed. Soon enough, we'll have a pure Northerner sitting on the Small Council."

"I don't like this," Cersei muttered, her face clouded with irritation. "You should be the Hand of the King."

"Spare me," Jaime said with a dry laugh. "I don't want that miserable job. There are far more enjoyable things I'd rather be doing."

"Can't you see the danger in this?" Cersei snapped, shoving Jaime's chest in frustration. She barely budged him. "Robert treats Stark like a brother!"

"Like a brother? If I recall, Robert doesn't even treat his real brothers well." Jaime's lips curled into a mocking smile. "But then, who could blame him? A brother like Stannis would sour anyone's mood."

"Don't be an idiot. Stannis and Renly are one thing. Eddard Stark is another. Robert listens to him, does whatever he says! Those two are insufferable. If I'd known this would happen, I would've insisted Robert name you Hand instead. I honestly thought Stark would refuse."

"Why do you hate Stark so much?" Jaime asked, casually unbuttoning his cloak. For convenience, he hadn't worn his Kingsguard armor today. "I don't like wolves either, but I'll take this over the alternatives. God knows who Robert might have chosen if Stark refused—Stannis, Littlefinger? I'd much rather deal with a man bound by honor than an ambitious snake with no limits."

"We need to keep a close eye on him," Cersei said firmly.

"You go ahead," Jaime replied, clearly uninterested. "I'd much rather keep my eyes on you."

"Be serious!"

Their exchange was interrupted by a sudden noise outside the window.

"What's that?" Cersei pushed Jaime away and leaned closer to the window, her expression alert.

"What now?" Jaime asked irritably, joining her.

Below, in the old inner courtyard, the Night's Watchman was still there. But now, a child was sitting on the wall beside him. Judging by the boy's Stark features, he had to be one of Eddard's sons, though Jaime couldn't remember his name.

The Night's Watchman seemed to be shouting at the boy, gesturing for him to climb down. However, the boy ignored him. Instead, he stood up, stretched his arms out, and began walking along the narrow wall like a tightrope. After a moment, the Watchman gave up shouting and left the yard, likely circling around to try to reach the boy from another angle.

"They're gone. Feel better now?" Jaime asked, turning back to Cersei.

"Feel better?" Cersei's voice was tense. She pulled away from the window, her expression dark. "How can I feel better? Eddard Stark has never involved himself in southern affairs before. Mark my words, he's coming for us. Why else would he leave the North, his base of power?"

"You're overthinking this. You feel guilty, so now you're imagining threats where there are none." Jaime's tone was light, almost dismissive. "There are countless reasons why Stark might leave the North—duty, honor, his love for Robert. Maybe he wants to go down in history as a great Hand of the King. Maybe he had a spat with his wife. Or maybe he just wants to escape the cold for a while and enjoy some southern sunshine."

"His wife is Lysa Arryn's sister," Cersei countered. "It's lucky that woman didn't come here with her accusations."

"You're giving her too much credit. Lysa Arryn is a frightened cow."

Cersei glared at him. "That cow slept with Jon Arryn."

"And a cow is still a cow, no matter who she sleeps with," Jaime retorted with disdain. "If she really had something to say, she would've run to Robert before fleeing King's Landing."

"You think she's stupid? The only reason she didn't is because Robert agreed to send her son to Casterly Rock as a ward. She knows her boy is a hostage. But now that she's back in the Eyrie, she'll feel emboldened."

"All mothers are the same. Having children burns their brains. You're all crazy." Jaime's lips twisted into a bitter smile, as though cursing the very concept of motherhood. "No matter what she knows or thinks she knows, she doesn't have any real proof. Does she?"

"Tell me, Jaime—what proof do you think Robert would need? He doesn't love me at all!"

"Sister, whose fault is that?"

"You're as blind as Robert!"

"If by blind, you mean I agree with him, then yes." Jaime's tone grew cold. "In my eyes, Eddard Stark is a man who would rather die than betray the king."

"He's already betrayed one king," Cersei snapped. "Or have you forgotten? I don't deny his loyalty to Robert, but what happens if Robert dies and Joffrey takes the throne? The sooner Robert dies, the safer we'll be. My husband grows more erratic every day, and having Stark by his side only makes things worse. He's still in love with that dead sixteen-year-old sister of his. Who's to say he won't cast me aside for some new Lyanna?"

"Stop worrying about the future and enjoy the moment in front of you," Jaime said smoothly, pulling her close again.

"Don't talk to me like that!"

The room fell silent, broken only by the faint sound of shouting from the courtyard below.

"My dear sister, I'm tired of this conversation." Jaime's voice grew husky as he pressed Cersei against the wall.

"Damn it, the walls are cold—"

"Jaime, stop! Go see what's happening out there!" Cersei pushed him away in a panic, her nerves suddenly on edge.

"Gods damn it," Jaime muttered, stalking to the window. If the Night's Watchman was causing trouble, Jaime vowed he'd deal with him later.

But what he saw made his blood run cold.

Below, the man in black was waving frantically, shouting, "Come down quickly, it's too dangerous!"

Jaime's confusion turned to alarm as he realized the words weren't directed at him. Following the Watchman's gaze, Jaime spotted the boy, climbing the outer wall of the First Keep, swinging precariously from one gargoyle to the next.

"Get down now!" Jaime shouted.

The boy turned, startled by Jaime's sudden appearance in the window. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Then the boy lost his balance and his hands failed to grasp anything. With a terrified scream, he plummeted from the wall of the First Keep.

"Gods—"

Jaime's mouth hung open as he stared, frozen in place. He had not expected things to escalate so quickly, nor had he intended for the boy to fall. For a split second, he considered reaching out to grab him, but it was far too late.

The child's small, fragile form crashed to the ground below. Jaime stood at the window, still as stone, his expression blank.

In that moment, the boy's name surfaced in his mind.

Chapter 25

"What happened?" Cersei's voice was sharp, her wide eyes betraying her panic as she heard the boy's scream.

"He fell," Jaime said abruptly, turning from the window. He grabbed his windbreaker and hastily threw it on. "Hurry, we need to get down there."

"Who fell?"

"Bran Stark—Eddard's second son!"

"Damn it," Cersei hissed, her face pale. "Did he see us?"

"No, but we can't take any chances. Move! I'll get to the Night's Watchman first."

--

Half a minute earlier, when Aegor had separated from two passing guards and returned to the old inner courtyard, Bran was already climbing. The boy had made his way from the roof of the guardhouse to the outer wall of the First Keep and was shimmying horizontally toward the ruined tower along his usual "route."

Aegor knew he couldn't stop Bran directly, so he resorted to shouting loudly. He didn't expect Bran to obey but hoped his voice would alert the pair in the First Keep to respond in time.

The first part of his plan worked, Jaime had indeed appeared at the window. But things took an unexpected and disastrous turn. Aegor, standing in the courtyard below, saw it clearly: Jaime hadn't pushed Bran. Instead, the sudden appearance of the Kingslayer at the window startled the boy, and in his panic, Bran lost his grip and fell.

The dull thud of Bran's body hitting the ground echoed in the courtyard. The boy now lay sprawled on the dirt, his eyes closed, completely still. A scattering of bright yellow corn kernels from his pocket, the feed he had intended to bring to the crows in the ruined tower lay around him, starkly contrasting with the lifeless form of the boy.

Aegor stared at Bran's small, motionless body, his thoughts a chaotic mess. His first instinct was to shout for help, but the Lannister siblings were still in the First Keep. If their affair was exposed during the rescue, Aegor's carefully laid plans to leave the Wall would collapse.

Even worse, he now found himself entangled in the incident. Aegor had been shouting at Bran moments before the fall. Would he be blamed for distracting the boy, or would the fault lie with Jaime for scaring him?

The situation spiraled further in his mind. A Night's Watchman being held responsible for the fall of Bran Stark, the nephew of the First Ranger and the son of Lord Eddard Stark, how could Aegor hope to escape such a scandal unscathed? The consequences would be disastrous.

Aegor shuddered at the thought.

--

Footsteps broke through his haze of panic. Jaime emerged from the entrance of the First Keep at a dead sprint, reaching Bran's side in seconds. He knelt beside the boy, checking his breathing and heartbeat. After a tense moment, Jaime stood, his expression no longer casual and cocky. His eyes now gleamed with something cold and dangerous.

The Kingslayer turned on Aegor, grabbing him by the collar. If not for the height difference, Jaime might have lifted him off the ground entirely. His voice trembled with urgency. "Tyrion said you were the smartest soldier he's ever met. So listen carefully, you saw him fall on his own. Understand? That's what happened. That's the truth—for both your sake and mine. Got it?"

Aegor, though startled, quickly pieced it together. Jaime's meaning was clear: there were no witnesses to the event other than the two of them. If they agreed that Bran had fallen on his own, they wouldn't need to worry about who was truly at fault—at least, not until Bran woke up.

But Aegor wasn't about to shoulder the blame alone. He met Jaime's gaze and replied evenly, "I understand… Yes, he fell on his own. But let's be honest—who's going to believe the word of a lowly Night's Watchman like me?"

Jaime's eyes narrowed. He hesitated for a moment, then relented with a begrudging nod. "Fine. I'll testify for you. But you keep me—and her—out of this. Understood?"

"Of course. Her Majesty has nothing to do with this."

Jaime's lips tightened, but he seemed satisfied. On an ordinary day, Jaime Lannister wouldn't have spared Aegor a second glance. But today was different. Circumstance had forced them into an uneasy partnership, first Jaime's ill-fated encounter with Aegor while scouting for privacy, and now their shared involvement in Bran Stark's fall.

After a brief but tense exchange to align their testimonies, Jaime straightened and stepped away. Moments later, Cersei appeared, emerging from the First Keep with an anxious expression. Aegor nodded silently and left the courtyard to call for help.

--

Winterfell descended into chaos, the likes of which hadn't been seen since Robert's Rebellion.

Guards scrambled to carry Bran's unconscious body to the main castle on a stretcher. Lady Stark and Maester Luwin were summoned immediately, along with a physician who had accompanied the king's party from King's Landing. Every person in Winterfell with even a semblance of medical knowledge was enlisted in the effort to save the boy.

The rescue efforts continued uninterrupted until the king's hunting party returned that evening.

--

That night, Bran's direwolf howled outside the window of his room. The mournful cries echoed across Winterfell, as though the wolf were calling for its fallen master.

Aegor lay awake in his room, tossing and turning.

Bran's penchant for climbing walls was well known to everyone in Winterfell. Nearly every resident of the castle had worried about the boy's recklessness at some point. To them, this fall was a tragic but foreseeable accident, a direct consequence of his climbing obsession.

For Aegor, though, it was a nightmare.

No one immediately suspected him of wrongdoing. He was just the Night's Watchman who had stumbled upon the scene. It wasn't until Eddard Stark returned to Winterfell that the Lord of the North summoned Aegor to ask for details.

Aegor stuck to the agreed story, recounting how Bran had fallen on his own. Fortunately, the two guards who had seen Aegor earlier, as well as Jaime Lannister, corroborated his version of events. Lord Stark, after a long moment of contemplation, dismissed Aegor with a wave, his brow furrowed in thought.

While it seemed that Aegor had avoided suspicion, the incident left him deeply shaken.

--

Bran's fall had shaken more than just Winterfell, it had shaken Aegor's entire worldview.

He prided himself on his materialist perspective, believing that everything, no matter how strange or magical could ultimately be explained through science and logic. Whether it was the White Walkers' sorcery or the Lord of Light's miracles, Aegor assumed there were underlying systems of rules governing these phenomena. With enough time and knowledge, he believed he could understand and perhaps even harness these forces.

But despite all his efforts to interfere with the timeline, Bran had fallen at the same time, in the same place, and under nearly the same circumstances as in the original story. Was it coincidence, or was there some unseen force compelling events to align with the original narrative?

Aegor forced himself to stop dwelling on such existential questions. He had more immediate problems.

Though he had escaped suspicion for now, he remained deeply entangled in the plot. If the timeline continued as he remembered, an assassin would soon attempt to kill Bran in his bed. When that happened, the Stark family would undoubtedly revisit the circumstances of Bran's fall.

And when they did, Aegor—the Night's Watchman who had been training in the secluded old courtyard and was the first to discover Bran's accident would certainly come under scrutiny. By that time, Aegor might already be far from the Wall, traveling south with Tyrion. But even if Tyrion had no connection to Bran's fall or the assassination attempt, his Lannister name would cast a long shadow.

If the Starks decided that Aegor was a Lannister collaborator, his fate would be sealed. The North's reach extended far, and it would be a simple matter for Eddard Stark to demand that the Night's Watch recall Aegor or even declare him a deserter.

On the other side, the Lannisters posed an equal, if not greater, threat. Cersei's vindictiveness was well known. A Night's Watchman who might have discovered her secret and refused to take the blame for Bran's fall was a liability she wouldn't hesitate to eliminate.

Aegor was caught between two powerful forces, neither of which he could afford to antagonize.

He clenched his fists in frustration.

"I wanted to stay detached from this mess, and the first time I interfered, everything went wrong," he thought bitterly. "If I'd known this would happen, I would've stayed far away."

But self-pity wouldn't solve his problems.

Now that things had come to this, Aegor knew he needed a plan. He had to find a way to escape the web of suspicion tightening around him. But what could he do to break free from this precarious situation?

...

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