Chapter 27

“It’s easy to make assumptions,” Aegor thought, reflecting on his repeated mistakes since arriving in this world.

From misjudging the number of White Walkers during their first encounter and nearly losing his life, to the failed attempt at interfering with key events and ending up embroiled in the aftermath, it all stemmed from the same flaw: overconfidence in assumptions. He had believed Jaime and Cersei wouldn’t dare sneak into the First Keep while others were nearby, only to be ignored outright. He’d assumed Bran would climb from the base of the Keep like a normal child—only for the boy to scuttle across rooftops like a squirrel. In both cases, his plans had been rendered useless by the stark, indifferent reality of human (and inhuman) actions.

He spent most of the night wracking his brain, searching for a way to avoid the consequences of what was to come. But no matter how hard he thought, no solution seemed feasible. Exhausted, Aegor forced his eyes shut and drifted into an uneasy sleep, unable to recall when exactly his exhaustion overtook him.

Sleep brought clarity. When the first rays of dawn streamed through his small window the next morning, Aegor lay in bed for a minute, staring at the ceiling, before a daring idea took root in his mind.

If avoiding the plot wasn’t an option, what if he embraced it instead?
----


The night before, half of Aegor’s sleepless deliberations had been spent on ways to protect Bran from the impending assassination attempt. The other half was consumed by schemes to absolve himself of any connection to the events if the attempt still happened. Neither path had borne fruit. The reason was simple: in every plan, Aegor had shackled himself with one restrictive condition—he couldn’t get personally involved.

The assassin sent to kill Bran with a Valyrian steel dagger—who had given the order? George R.R. Martin’s original work only hinted at possibilities. The show’s writers left it ambiguous, leading to endless debates on fan forums back on Earth. Was it Cersei, seeking to silence a witness? Joffrey, acting out of petty malice? Or even Littlefinger, orchestrating chaos from afar? Each theory had its supporters, all armed with seemingly persuasive evidence. Aegor had no definitive answers.

How could he prevent an assassination when he didn’t even know who was behind it, or when they would act? And if prevention was nearly impossible, clearing himself of suspicion afterward was even harder. His training sessions in the old courtyard weren’t exactly a secret, and everyone knew he’d been the first to find Bran after the fall. The accident was directly connected to him. How could he claim innocence under such circumstances?

Faced with these daunting challenges, Aegor realized his attempts to remain in the shadows were naive. If he couldn’t stay out of the narrative, then perhaps he should throw himself into it instead.

Normally, Aegor prided himself on being rational and cautious, but a deep stubbornness lurked beneath his calm exterior. He didn’t seek trouble, but when trouble found him, he wouldn’t back down. If he couldn’t prevent Bran’s assassination or clear his own name, then why not abandon the constraints he’d placed on himself and break through with brute force? What if he simply warned the Starks directly about the danger?

The idea gained traction. Initially, he considered anonymously leaving a note, but that wouldn’t exonerate him if things went wrong. To ensure he wasn’t suspected, Aegor needed to play the part of the whistleblower.

He would find a Stark family member and tell them outright: someone wanted Bran dead.

The first person who came to mind was Jon Snow, but Aegor quickly dismissed the idea. Jon was still just a boy, his reliability questionable. That left only one Stark he knew and had access to: Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night’s Watch.

And as for the person he would accuse? Aegor settled on Joffrey Baratheon. The prince was already a prime suspect in many theories—Tyrion had suspected him in the original story. More importantly, Joffrey’s status as the king’s son made him a volatile figure to implicate. If Eddard Stark believed the accusation, his anger would likely remain controlled due to Joffrey’s royal status. Moreover, the Baratheon name would shield Tyrion from being dragged into the fallout.

Aegor had nothing to lose. If there really was some unseen force guiding the events of this world, determined to preserve the original storyline, then let it try and stop him.
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Bran’s fall delayed the king’s planned return to King’s Landing. Robert had intended to bring Eddard south as his new Hand, but with the Stark boy hovering between life and death, Robert chose to stay and support his grieving friend. For one night, the king even kept vigil by Bran’s bedside alongside Ned.

Aegor bided his time, waiting for the chaos to settle before approaching his superior, Benjen Stark.
----


“What is it?” Benjen asked, his voice weary. Between arranging for reinforcements from the Wall and worrying over his injured nephew, the man looked utterly drained.

“My lord, I’m not sure if I should speak of this…”

“You’ve come this far. Spit it out.”

“This is about your nephew, Bran,” Aegor began cautiously, feeling a pang of guilt as he prepared to lie. “That day, when he fell, I was the first to find him because I was practicing archery nearby with Ser Jaime. Later, I overheard a conversation that made me uneasy.”

Benjen’s expression darkened, but he motioned for Aegor to continue.

“I heard Prince Joffrey speaking with a knight I didn’t recognize. They mentioned Bran’s condition—that he might never walk again—and how it would be more merciful if he didn’t survive.”

Benjen’s brows furrowed deeply.

“And then,” Aegor pressed on, “the prince said he would give Bran ‘mercy,’ like the Braavosi do. He even showed the knight a Valyrian steel dagger, claiming he’d taken it from the king’s armory.”

Benjen’s face grew graver with every word. “Go on.”

“Joffrey mentioned hiring a sellsword to carry out the deed. I didn’t see the dagger myself, but I heard him say its handle was made of dragonbone.” Aegor hesitated before adding, “It might just be a child’s boasting, but I thought it best to inform you. Adding a few more guards to Bran’s room couldn’t hurt.”

Benjen stared at Aegor for a long moment before speaking. “Do you understand the gravity of what you’re saying?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“To accuse the future king of plotting murder, without evidence—that’s treason. Do you know the penalty?”

“I do.”

Benjen’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then here’s what you’ll do: return to your quarters and speak of this to no one. No one, do you hear me?”

“Yes, my lord.”
----


As Aegor left Benjen’s chambers, he exhaled deeply. His gamble had been played. Now, he could only wait and see what would come of it.