Chapter 40

The stark contrast to the grand banquet hall during the king’s feast was striking. With many of the long tables and benches removed, the previously crowded hall now felt spacious and empty. When Aegor entered under the escort of a guard, the room was already filled with people.

A row of guards lined the walls. At the high seat once occupied by Eddard Stark now sat Robb Stark, flanked by Maester Luwin and his mother, Catelyn Stark. The young lord’s boyish face carried an air of authority that betrayed his inexperience, a hastily assumed demeanor of a castle lord.

The inquiries Aegor had made earlier that morning—wasting time prying for information from the servants—now felt unnecessary. Sitting directly before him was Lady Stark, unmistakably present. She looked much older than before, her wearied face resembling the aged, sorrowful figure from the series. She seemed closer in years to Maester Luwin than to the younger, more vibrant woman Aegor had first encountered.

Catelyn hadn’t gone to King’s Landing. She hadn’t met Littlefinger or been deceived about the dagger. This deviation from the original plot relieved Aegor—there would be no need to navigate the perilous encounter between her and Tyrion during their journey south.

In the center of the hall stood the other members of the Night’s Watch who had arrived before him, along with Tyrion and his guards. Aegor joined the black-clad brothers, taking his place among them. As he did, Robb began to speak.

“Welcome. I was occupied with castle matters last night and couldn’t greet you personally. If the hospitality was lacking, I offer my apologies.”

The young lord’s formal tone betrayed his inexperience, his words stiff and unpracticed, clearly memorized for the occasion. Aegor noted that Robb carried no drawn sword and spoke without hostility, a sharp contrast to the original timeline. This subtle shift was undoubtedly tied to Aegor’s intervention. He was no longer a bystander in the story, and retreating from its unfolding events seemed impossible.

“No need to apologize,” Tyrion replied with a sigh. “Though I am curious—when will your brother arrive?”

Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway as a towering figure entered, carrying Bran in his arms. It was Hodor.

“Well, the boy survived,” Tyrion remarked, turning to look up at the child cradled in the giant’s arms. “I’ll admit, I find that hard to believe. You Starks have remarkable luck.”

“Northmen must be hardy to survive,” Robb replied, his tone curt but lacking the bitterness from the original events. “Hodor, bring my brother here.”

“Hodor,” the gentle giant said with a cheerful grin, jogging forward and carefully placing Bran in the seat beside the lord’s chair. The boy clung to the armrests, his lifeless legs swinging helplessly above the floor. The imposing chair, once a symbol of Stark authority, now dwarfed him, emphasizing his frailty.

“Tyrion Lannister,” Robb said, gesturing toward Bran. “You wanted to see my brother. Here he is.”

Tyrion studied the boy for a moment before speaking. “Bran, I hear you were quite the climber. Tell me, how did you fall?”

Aegor’s heart nearly stopped. His mind raced back to the lie he had crafted under Jaime’s threats. If Bran were to blurt out that he had been frightened by Jaime or distracted by Aegor’s shouting, the consequences could be catastrophic.

“I don’t know,” Bran finally said, his voice soft. “I couldn’t have fallen.”

“He doesn’t remember anything about the fall,” Maester Luwin interjected. “Or how he climbed there in the first place.”

“How curious,” Tyrion murmured.

“My lord,” Lady Stark said, her voice weary and drained, “Bran is still weak and needs rest. If there’s nothing urgent, I’d ask that he be excused.”

“I’ve a gift for him,” Tyrion replied, turning toward Bran with a grin. “Boy, do you like horses?”

“He can’t ride,” Luwin said with a sigh. “His legs are... useless now.”

“Damn that,” Tyrion scoffed. “With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride.”

“I’m not a cripple!” Bran snapped.

“And I’m not a dwarf, then,” Tyrion retorted dryly. “Imagine how thrilled my father would be to hear that.”

Catelyn and Robb bristled at his bluntness, while Theon Greyjoy laughed aloud. Only Luwin maintained his composure, patiently asking, “What kind of horse and saddle do you mean?”

“A clever horse,” Tyrion explained, pulling a rolled-up drawing from his belt. “The boy can’t use his legs to command a mount, so the horse will need to respond to reins and voice commands. Start with an untrained yearling—one that can adapt without needing to unlearn bad habits. As for the saddle...” He handed the drawing to Luwin. “Give this to your saddler. He’ll know what to do.”

Luwin’s eyes lit up as he examined the sketch. “This... this might actually work. Remarkable. Why didn’t I think of this?”
----


Aegor stood silently among the Watch brothers, watching the familiar scene play out with subtle but significant changes. He prayed the day would pass without further incident. All he wanted now was for the journey south to continue smoothly, free of complications.

“Can I really ride?” Bran asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely,” Tyrion assured him. “And I promise, boy, once you’re on that horse, you’ll be as tall as anyone.”

“Thank you,” Bran said with a shy smile. Even Catelyn managed a weak, grateful expression as she added, “Your kindness is deeply appreciated, my lord. If you’d like, we would be honored to host you for lunch and dinner.”

“There’s no need,” Tyrion said with a polite bow. “I’ve had my fill of northern feasts. I’d much rather enjoy the local color at the inn in the winter town outside your walls.” Turning to the Watch brothers, he added, “Aegor, Yoren—tomorrow at dawn, we ride south. You’ll find me on the road.”

With that, Tyrion exited the hall, his guards trailing behind. The remaining Watch members exchanged polite words with Robb before following their leader out.
----


“Aegor?” A guard stepped forward, stopping the transmigrator in his tracks. “The young lord wishes to speak with you. Please follow me.”

Aegor’s heart sank. Speak with him? Why? Had his involvement in Bran’s fall been exposed? Or had his fabrication about Joffrey’s attempted assassination of Bran been uncovered?

Guilt and fear gnawed at him as he followed the guard back into the hall, dread coiling in his gut. Whatever awaited him in that small northern chamber, he knew it wouldn’t be a simple conversation