Chapter 22

The crumbling stones of the abandoned watchtower lay scattered haphazardly across the overgrown courtyard. A recent summer snowfall in Winterfell had long since melted on the ground, leaving only faint white traces clinging stubbornly to the stones.

The tower’s precarious state was the main reason the courtyard saw so few visitors. With no one maintaining the area for years, weeds had grown ankle-high, nearly reaching the knees in some spots, and even a few scraggly shrubs had taken root amidst the debris. Clearing these obstructions to make the courtyard usable for training had cost Aegor considerable effort.

Clad in the black garb of the Night’s Watch—a conspicuous badge of identity and a shield of respect in the North—Aegor had established himself in this forgotten corner of Winterfell without trouble. The North’s cultural respect for the Watch, combined with Benjen Stark’s visible support for Aegor, had cemented his reputation as a trusted ally of the First Ranger. While servants and guards were puzzled by his choice of such a desolate spot for his exercises, none had objected. Some even went out of their way to assist him, lending tools or clearing debris.

It didn’t take much to claim this neglected courtyard as his personal training ground.

At one point, Aegor had even considered hauling stones to block the staircase leading up the First Keep, cutting off access entirely. But as merely a guest in Winterfell, he ultimately decided against remodeling the Stark family’s castle.
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The days slipped by, and Robert’s time in Winterfell drew to a close. Early one morning, the king led a hunting party west into the Wolfswood, hoping to bring back a bear for the farewell feast. Prince Joffrey accompanied him, along with all the adult men of House Stark, including Robb. The queen, however, stayed behind at Winterfell. So did her brother, Jaime, who opted to keep her company rather than join the hunt.

It was the perfect opportunity for their secret trysts—a fact Aegor realized even before the two participants. Watching Benjen Stark ride off with the hunting party, Aegor immediately made his way to the courtyard he had claimed. Today, he resolved to remain there the entire day, ensuring neither the Lannister twins nor Bran Stark had the chance to converge at the First Keep.

Of course, sitting idly wasn’t an option. He started with sword drills, slashing at the straw dummy.

The sun rose higher, and the chill of the morning gave way to a pleasant warmth. Aegor had just finished his sword practice and was now firing arrows at the target when an unexpected visitor appeared.

“If I’m not mistaken,” came a voice from behind, deep and magnetic, tinged with casual amusement, “you’re the ranger who crossed the Sunset Sea to reach Westeros, was conscripted by the Night’s Watch, and claims to have killed a White Walker?”

Aegor turned and froze. “Your Grace, Ser Jaime... Good morning. Yes, that would be me.”

Jaime Lannister nodded at him. Behind the Kingslayer, Cersei stood, her expression blank and cold, not deigning to acknowledge Aegor beyond a dismissive glance.

Jaime’s interest wasn’t surprising. He was close with his brother, Tyrion, who had likely shared the tale of Aegor’s exploits. But Jaime’s presence here, of all places, set Aegor on edge—especially with the queen in tow. (These two, looking for somewhere to fool around?)

Aegor didn’t dislike Jaime personally, but circumstances dictated his wariness. Seeing the Lannister twins together stirred an instinctive curse in his heart.

Still, curses remained internal. Outwardly, Aegor quickly adopted a mask of respectful deference. Jaime was approachable, but Cersei was another matter entirely—a vengeful, spiteful woman with far too much power. In a world as dangerous as this, someone like her was the last person Aegor wanted to offend.

“Not bad,” Jaime remarked, eyeing the arrows lodged in the target. “Hand me your bow.”
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Aegor hesitated briefly but handed over the longbow.

In truth, Aegor had once planned to craft dragonglass-tipped arrows using leftover obsidian scraps from making his dagger. But arrows, like ammunition in modern militaries, were tightly controlled by the Watch. Every arrow was signed out, accounted for, and returned—or else the archer would face punishment. Experimenting with official supplies was strictly forbidden.

When Aegor’s tinkering was discovered, Garry had chewed him out thoroughly and ordered him to stop. Unable to hide something as conspicuous as arrows, Aegor had no choice but to abandon the project. Thus, when faced with a White Walker, he had only his obsidian dagger to rely on.

Despite this setback, Aegor had continued practicing his archery diligently. He valued his life too much to neglect such training. While fighting wildlings was a far more frequent occurrence than facing Walkers, Aegor, as a modern man from a world of guns and cannons, naturally preferred long-range combat over close-quarters battles.

Over time, his archery skills had surpassed most of his brothers in the Watch, though they still fell far short of being impressive enough to merit Jaime Lannister’s praise—or challenge.

What was the Kingslayer’s game?

Uneasy, Aegor handed the bow to Jaime and watched as he drew an arrow from the quiver, tested the string, and took aim.

For the first time, Aegor had a close view of the Lannister twins. He couldn’t help but marvel. Jaime’s tall, commanding presence and focused intensity as he drew the bow radiated charisma, while Cersei’s cold beauty remained striking. Her poised figure and noble features made it hard to believe she was the mother of three children. Together, they could have been Hollywood-level celebrities in Aegor’s previous world. Their shared history made their forbidden relationship almost understandable.

Almost, but not acceptable.
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Jaime loosed his first arrow. With a dull thunk, it struck just a few inches from the target’s center. Not bad.

From his experience, Aegor silently assessed Jaime’s form and performance. The shot was smooth and efficient, a testament to the man’s strength and skill. He was certainly fit to be a Kingsguard, if nothing else.

Jaime muttered something under his breath, displeased with the shot, and nocked another arrow. This time, it struck dead center, brushing against Aegor’s best shot of the day.

“Not bad at all,” Aegor thought, though he remained wary of Jaime’s intentions.

“I’m impressed,” Jaime said, handing the bow back with a grin. “With rangers like you guarding the Wall, I can sleep soundly at night.”

“Just doing my duty,” Aegor replied diplomatically, adding a touch of flattery. “Your skill with a bow is remarkable, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze shifted to the crumbling tower nearby.

“What’s the story with that old ruin?” he asked, his tone suddenly thoughtful. “It looks like it hasn’t been maintained in centuries.”