Chapter 40: The New Lord of Winterfell
The contrast with the last time he had enjoyed the King's feast in this room was stark; with many of the long tables and benches removed, the hall that had felt so cramped and narrow that night now seemed cavernous. When Egger followed the guiding guard inside, many people had already gathered.
A row of guards stood against the walls. Robb Stark sat in the high seat that originally belonged to his father, with Maester Luwin and his mother seated on either side of him. The Young Wolf was wedged between them, his youthful, green face already wearing the dignified air of a castle lord.
All the questions Egger had asked the maid before breakfast turned out to be a waste of breath. Lady Stark sat right there at the front. Compared to her last appearance, this mother looked as if she had aged twenty years overnight. Her haggard state now closely resembled her aged depiction in the television series, appearing barely a few years younger than the old Maester beside her—but clearly, it was her.
Catelyn hadn't gone to King's Landing, which meant she hadn't seen Littlefinger, and thus hadn't been deceived regarding the matter of the dagger... This meant that on his journey south, Egger wouldn't have to worry about helping Tyrion avoid a confrontation with her.
Standing in the center of the hall were the other Night's Watchmen who had arrived before Egger, along with Tyrion and his guards. As Egger took his place among Yoren and the other men in black, the youth in the master's seat spoke.
"Welcome. I was occupied with the castle's affairs last night and could not welcome you in person. Please forgive any lack of hospitality."
Robb spoke with the tone of a master. Welcoming guests as a lord for the first time, his lines were somewhat unpracticed and stiff, clearly learned on the fly. But what Egger noted more was that he hadn't displayed a drawn weapon, nor used a hostile tone to greet Tyrion... This change was subtle, yet inextricably linked to Egger's actions—he was no longer a bystander to the plot, nor could he easily withdraw from it.
"You're too kind," Tyrion sighed. "So, when will your brother arrive?"
...
The sound of heavy footsteps came at just the right moment as a massive silhouette entered the hall from the doorway. It was Hodor, carrying Bran.
"Oh, the boy lived after all." The dwarf turned, looking up at Bran, who sat higher than him in Hodor's arms. "Hard to believe. You Starks truly are hard to kill."
"Northerners must be hard to kill to survive," Robb said. Though he wasn't exactly friendly, the intense hostility from the original timeline was clearly absent. "Hodor, bring my brother over."
"Hodor," the giant grunted with a smile, trotting forward to place Bran beside the high seat of House Stark. The rulers of Winterfell had sat in these great chairs for generations; the boy gripped the armrests as he sat, his crippled legs dangling in the air. The massive chair made him look so small and weak.
"Lord Tyrion, you wished to see my brother; he is here now."
"Bran, I hear you were quite the climber," Tyrion watched the boy for a moment before finally speaking. "Tell me, how did you come to fall that day?"
The hair on the back of Egger's neck stood up. Under Jaime's threat, he had technically misreported the circumstances of the incident. If Bran were to say, "I was scared by Jaime Lannister" or "I was startled by that annoying Crow named Egger," there would be massive trouble.
Bran's answer allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief: "I don't know. I never fall."
"The boy remembers nothing of the fall, nor of the climb before it," Maester Luwin said softly.
"How strange," said Tyrion Lannister.
"My lord, Bran is still very weak; he needs rest," Lady Stark spoke up feebly. Exhausted in mind and spirit, she found it difficult to even maintain politeness. "If there is nothing of importance, let him return."
"I have a gift for him," the dwarf nodded to the Lady of Winterfell, then turned back to Bran. "Boy, do you like to ride?"
Maester Luwin sighed. "My lord, the boy's legs are useless now. He cannot ride."
"The hell he can't," Lannister said. "With the right horse and harness, even a cripple can ride."
"I'm not a cripple!"
"Then I'm not a dwarf," the dwarf smirked. "My father will be delighted to hear it."
Robb and Catelyn looked displeased, while Theon Greyjoy laughed nearby. Only Maester Luwin remained patient and expressionless, asking, "What kind of horse and harness do you mean?"
"A smart horse. The boy can't use his legs to signal the mount, so you must adapt the horse to him. Teach it to understand the reins and recognize its master's voice. I suggest a yearling, untrained, so you don't have to break old habits." Tyrion pulled a rolled parchment from his belt. "Give this to your master of horse; just follow the instructions."
Maester Luwin took the parchment like a curious gray squirrel and unrolled it.
"I see. You've drawn it quite clearly, my lord. Yes... this should work. I should have thought of it myself."
Standing among the Night's Watchmen, Egger watched this familiar yet altered scene, hoping it would end quickly. He wanted nothing more than to continue south and reach his destination without any further complications.
"Can I really ride?"
"No question." The dwarf told him with certainty. "And I promise you, boy, on a horse, you'll be as tall as anyone else."
"Thank you for your help, my lord." Seeing Bran smile, Catelyn forced herself to manage a faint grin. "If you would care to join us for lunch and dinner, we..."
"You are too kind, Lady Stark." Tyrion bowed. "But I've had my fill of Northern meat and ale lately. Rather than stay in the castle, I'd prefer to experience the local flavor at an inn in the winter town." He turned to the Night's Watchmen standing aside. "Egger, Yoren, we head south at first light. You'll find me on the road."
Tyrion turned and walked out, his men following close behind.
Twelve Night's Watchmen remained. With a full dozen rangers escorting the Lannister, Tyrion's return trip to Winterfell had been entirely devoid of peril. Thanks to so many Crows, the hall still felt somewhat full. Robb turned to them hesitantly. "Brothers of the Black, you are always welcome in Winterfell. If there is anything you need, tell the servants; we will do our best to provide. Beyond that, I hope to have the honor of your company at dinner tonight."
His speech was still somewhat unnatural, but the Night's Watchmen took no offense. After thanking him for his kindness, the group left the hall under the lead of a junior ranger officer.
...
"Egger?" A guard stopped the transmigrator as he followed Yoren's group toward the gates. "The Lord has words for you. Please come with me."
Words for him! Egger felt a chill. What words? Had his lie about Bran's fall been discovered? Or had the fabrication regarding Joffrey's intent to assassinate Bran been exposed?
With a guilty conscience, Egger grew nervous. He had done those things with no ill intent, but there was no reasoning with Great Lords. If either matter came to light, his plans would be utterly ruined!
Furthermore, inside Winterfell, he was powerless. That sense of helplessness returned as he followed the guard to a small room north of the hall. Inside was only a table, two chairs, and Robb Stark.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!