“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.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep