GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond the Ice

The contrast to the king's feast held in this room not long ago was striking. Now, with many of the long tables and benches removed, the hall that had once felt crowded and narrow seemed spacious. When Aegor entered, led by the guards, he found that most of the attendees were already present.

A row of guards stood stationed by the walls. Robb Stark sat in the high seat that once belonged to his father. To his right and left were Maester Luwin and Lady Catelyn, respectively. Robb, seated in the center, exuded the air of a young lord, his youthful face beginning to show traces of the authority he would one day wield.

Aegor's earlier questions to the maid before breakfast had been unnecessary; Lady Stark was right here, sitting in front of him. Compared to the last time he had seen her, she seemed to have aged twenty years. Her haggard face bore a resemblance to her older appearance in the television adaptation of this world. She looked only slightly younger than Maester Luwin seated beside her. Yet, despite her weariness, this was undeniably the real Catelyn Stark.

Aegor noted the implications of her presence. Catelyn hadn't gone to King's Landing, hadn't encountered Littlefinger, and hadn't been deceived about the dagger. This meant he didn't have to worry about helping Tyrion avoid conflicts with her on the way south.

In the middle of the hall stood the other Night's Watchmen who had arrived earlier, along with Tyrion and his entourage. Aegor quietly joined Yoren and the black-clad brothers, blending into their ranks. Once he was in place, Robb spoke.

"Welcome. I was occupied with duties last night and wasn't able to greet you personally. I hope I haven't failed in extending proper hospitality," Robb said, his tone formal yet slightly awkward. It was clear he was speaking as a host for the first time in his young life. His words lacked polish, as though they had been hastily memorized, but his effort was evident.

Aegor's attention was drawn to Robb's demeanor. The boy had not unsheathed his sword, nor did he address Tyrion with hostility. It was a subtle but significant departure from the original course of events. Aegor knew this change was tied to his own actions, and the realization made him feel more entangled in the unfolding plot.

"You're too kind," Tyrion said with a sigh. "So, when will your brother arrive?"

At that moment, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. A large figure entered—Hodor, carrying Bran Stark.

"Oh, the boy survived after all," Tyrion remarked, turning to look at Bran. Cradled in Hodor's arms, the young Stark still managed to tower over the dwarf. "I must say, you Starks have remarkable luck."

"Northerners must be tough to survive," Robb responded evenly. Though his tone held no hostility, it was far less brash than in the original events. "Hodor, bring my brother here."

"Hodor," the giant replied cheerfully, trotting forward. He gently set Bran down near the high seat where the rulers of House Stark traditionally sat. The boy gripped the chair's arms as he settled into the seat, his useless legs dangling in the air. The chair's grandeur made him look smaller than he was.

"Lord Tyrion, you wanted to see my brother. He's here now," Robb said.

"Bran, I hear you were quite skilled at climbing," Tyrion began, studying the boy intently. "Tell me, how did you fall that day?"

Aegor felt his heart race. If Bran mentioned Jaime Lannister, or worse, if he implicated the "noisy" Night's Watchman who had been on the tower that day, it would lead to trouble.

But Bran's response was a relief. "I don't know. There's no way I could have fallen."

"The boy remembers nothing of the fall or the events leading up to it," Maester Luwin added softly.

"How peculiar," Tyrion remarked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"My lord, Bran is still weak and needs his rest," Lady Stark interjected. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, as though she barely had the energy to maintain politeness. "If there's nothing urgent, please allow him to return to his chambers."

"I have a gift for him," Tyrion said, nodding toward her before turning back to Bran. "How would you like to ride, boy?"

Maester Luwin sighed. "My lord, the boy's legs are no longer functional. He cannot ride a horse."

"Rubbish," Tyrion said bluntly. "With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple!" Bran's voice was sharp, defensive.

"Then I'm not a dwarf," Tyrion replied with a smirk. "I'm sure my father would be thrilled to hear that."

Catelyn and Robb looked displeased, but Theon Greyjoy chuckled. Maester Luwin, ever patient, asked, "What sort of horse and saddle are you referring to, my lord?"

"A clever horse," Tyrion explained. "The boy can't guide his mount with his legs, so the horse must respond to reins and voice commands. I suggest an untrained yearling. That way, you don't have to retrain a seasoned horse." He pulled a rolled parchment from his belt. "Give this to your saddler. He'll know what to do."

Maester Luwin took the parchment with curiosity, unrolling it to examine the detailed drawings and notes. "I see. You've laid it out very clearly. Yes… this could work. I should have thought of this myself."

---

Aegor stood among the Night's Watchmen, silently observing this familiar yet altered scene. He prayed that the interaction would end quickly. His only wish was for everything to proceed smoothly until they could depart southward, uninterrupted.

"Can I really ride a horse?" Bran asked, his voice filled with hesitant hope.

"Of course," Tyrion assured him. "And I promise you, boy, when you're on a horse, you're as tall as anyone else."

"Thank you for your kindness, my lord," Lady Stark said, forcing a polite smile as she looked at her son's happiness. "If you'll stay for lunch or dinner, we would be honored to host you."

"You're too kind, Lady Stark," Tyrion replied, bowing slightly. "But I've had my fill of Northern hospitality. I'd prefer the atmosphere of an inn in Winter Town over the formality of the castle." He turned to the Night's Watchmen. "Aegor, Yoren, we'll head south at dawn tomorrow. You'll find me on the road."

With that, Tyrion exited the hall, his guards following close behind.

The remaining members of the Night's Watch, along with the dozen rangers who had escorted Tyrion back, lingered briefly. Despite the reduced numbers, their presence kept the hall from feeling too empty. Robb addressed them with some hesitation.

"Brothers of the Night's Watch, you are always welcome in Winterfell. If you need anything, let the servants know, and we will do our best to assist you. I also hope to have the honor of dining with you tonight."

Though his words were formal and slightly awkward, the Night's Watchmen didn't seem to mind. After thanking him for his hospitality, they departed, led out by a ranger.

As Aegor followed the group, a guard stopped him. "Aegor?"

"Yes?"

"The young lord wishes to speak with you. Please follow me."

Aegor froze. What could Robb Stark possibly want? Had he somehow been caught in his lies about Bran's fall or Joffrey's plot to kill the boy?

He felt a pang of guilt. Though he hadn't acted with malice, he knew there would be no reasoning with the Starks if they discovered the truth. Either revelation could derail everything he had worked for.

Feeling uneasy and powerless, Aegor followed the guard into a small room in the northern wing of the hall. Inside were a table, two chairs, and Robb Stark, waiting for him.

***

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