Chapter 26

“What happened?” Cersei asked sharply, her eyes wide with alarm as the boy’s scream echoed.

“He fell,” Jaime replied grimly, spinning away from the window and grabbing his cloak. He draped it over his shoulders hastily. “Hurry, we need to go.”

“Who fell?” Cersei’s voice trembled.

“Bran Stark. Eddard’s second son.”

“Damn it,” she hissed, her face losing all color. “Did he see us?”

“No, but we can’t take chances. You finish dressing quickly—I’ll head down first to intercept that Night’s Watchman!”
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Half a minute earlier, when Aegor returned to the training yard in the old courtyard after speaking with two passing guards, Bran Stark was already scaling the outer wall of the First Keep. Following his usual path toward the ruined tower, the boy moved with the reckless confidence of familiarity. Aegor knew there was no stopping him, so he deliberately raised his voice, calling out to Bran—not because he expected the boy to listen, but in hopes the Lannister siblings inside the First Keep would hear and take action.

The first part of his plan worked, but events spiraled out of control. From his vantage point, Aegor clearly saw that Jaime hadn’t pushed Bran. Instead, the boy, startled by Jaime’s sudden appearance at the window, lost his grip and plummeted.
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A dull, heavy thud sounded as Bran hit the ground. He lay motionless on the cobblestones, eyes closed, his small body eerily still. A pouch of cornmeal, intended to feed the ravens atop the ruined tower, spilled from his pocket, the golden grains scattering across the courtyard—a stark, mocking contrast to the lifeless figure.

Aegor froze next to Bran, his thoughts a chaotic mess. His instincts screamed at him to call for help immediately, but he hesitated. The Lannister siblings were still inside the First Keep. If rescuers arrived and discovered their illicit affair, Aegor’s plans to leave the Wall with Tyrion’s help would be ruined. Worse still, Aegor himself was now entangled in the incident. He had been shouting at Bran moments before the fall. Who would shoulder the blame—Jaime, whose sudden appearance had startled the boy, or himself, for distracting him?

A Night’s Watchman causing the Stark heir to fall from a tower? The thought alone made Aegor’s blood run cold.

Footsteps echoed from the keep. Jaime Lannister sprinted out, his golden hair catching the light as he rushed to Bran’s side. Kneeling, he checked the boy’s breathing and pulse. After a moment, Jaime stood, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by an intensity that was almost terrifying.

He grabbed Aegor by the collar, his voice trembling with suppressed urgency. “Tyrion says you’re the smartest soldier he’s ever met. So you should understand this: that boy fell on his own. That’s how it happened. It’s better for both of us. Do you get me?”

Aegor met Jaime’s piercing gaze, and understanding dawned. The truth wouldn’t matter if no one else had witnessed the fall. As long as Bran “fell on his own,” the matter could be contained—at least until the boy woke up.

But Aegor wasn’t about to take the blame alone. “I understand... but I’m just a lowly ranger. Who’s going to believe me?”

Jaime’s jaw tightened. He clearly didn’t want to compromise further, but after a tense pause, he relented. “Fine. I’ll back your story—but you leave the queen out of this.”

Aegor nodded quickly. “Of course. The queen has nothing to do with this.”
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Under ordinary circumstances, Jaime would never have exchanged more than a few words with someone like Aegor. But now, with their fates unexpectedly intertwined by Bran Stark’s fall, the two had no choice but to cooperate. They hurriedly concocted their cover story, each understanding the stakes if the truth came to light.

By the time Cersei emerged from the First Keep, her face taut with barely concealed panic, Aegor had already left to fetch help.
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Winterfell, which had enjoyed years of quiet after the Rebellion, was thrown into chaos. Guards scrambled to carry the injured boy to the Great Keep, where Catelyn Stark, Maester Luwin, and several healers—including a physician from King’s Landing—worked frantically to save him.

When King Robert returned from his hunt that evening, the castle was still steeped in tension.

That night, Bran’s direwolf howled mournfully outside his window, its cries echoing across Winterfell. Aegor lay in his own chambers, sleepless and restless. Though he had avoided immediate suspicion, the accident weighed heavily on his mind.

Bran’s penchant for climbing was no secret; everyone in Winterfell had worried about the boy’s daring stunts. To most, his fall seemed an inevitable, tragic accident. But for Aegor, who had tried and failed to prevent it, the incident felt like a cruel twist of fate. Worse, he had become inextricably linked to the event, no matter how carefully he had tried to avoid it.

A few days later, Eddard Stark summoned Aegor for questioning. With testimony from Jaime, the two guards, and Aegor himself, the Lord of Winterfell quickly dismissed him, satisfied with the account.

At first glance, it seemed as though Aegor had escaped unscathed. But beneath the surface, he couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. Bran’s fall, so perfectly aligned with the original timeline, made him question whether he was truly free to alter events. Was it all a coincidence? Or was there some unseen force ensuring that the story played out as it was meant to?
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Aegor forced himself to stop dwelling on abstract fears. He had more immediate problems. While he wasn’t officially suspected of causing Bran’s fall, his involvement had tied him to the narrative in a dangerous way. If the assassin later attempted to kill Bran, suspicion would inevitably turn back to the circumstances of his fall.

And when that happened, Aegor’s presence in the old courtyard—his training, his shouts—would be scrutinized. Worse, if he had already left for the South with Tyrion, the Stark family might see him as part of a Lannister conspiracy.

Caught between two powerful houses, Aegor found himself in an impossible position. The Starks could easily pressure the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch to summon him back to the Wall, or worse, declare him a deserter. And the Lannisters? Cersei’s paranoia and ruthlessness meant that any perceived threat—especially one who knew her secret—could find himself silenced permanently.

Aegor clenched his fists in frustration. His first real attempt to meddle with the story had landed him in deeper trouble than ever. If he had just stayed out of it, things might have been simpler.

But it was too late for regrets. He needed a way to untangle himself from this web before it tightened around his neck.
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