Chapter 346

A noble scion who had run away from home returned—so what? At a time when humanity and the living stood on the brink of survival against the dead, was this really worth the fuss? Yet in Aegor’s eyes, this event immediately leapt to the top of his priorities, overtaking everything else.

As the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and the supreme commander of the Wall's defenses, Aegor needed to question this boy, the last living soul to return from beyond the Wall, about the current situation and the movements of the army of the dead. He had to ascertain when and where the enemy would launch their final assault and calculate how much time he had left to prepare. As an ally of the North, he also had the responsibility of ensuring the safety of Robb and Arya’s brother—Lady Stark’s beloved son and Winterfell’s rightful heir—returning him to Winterfell alive and unharmed. Most crucially, as a transmigrator with foreknowledge of events, Aegor had to contact Bran Stark, who had likely now "evolved" into the greenseer.

Whether Bran had inherited this power or been overtaken by it, he was the second extraordinary individual Aegor had encountered after Melisandre. Like the Red Woman, Bran stood firmly on the side of the living. As a “deluxe” warg, a greenseer’s ability to scout through weirwoods and ravens was invaluable. If Aegor could bring Bran to his side...

Aegor had countless reasons to value Bran’s return, and he quickly took action. Dropping everything, he gathered his trusted guards and braved the biting wind, hastening to Castle Night.

The ancient fortress appeared far more intact and presentable than during Aegor’s last visit. Thanks to his promises—such as "post-war residency rights" and "no forced expulsion for those who stay loyal to the Night’s Watch"—several mountain clans had taken root along the Wall, gradually adapting to life in stone houses. They even started repairing and expanding the settlements during their free time. Flint’s clan had been particularly productive: the disorderly tents and crumbling walls were now replaced with newly built wooden-and-stone homes.

“Lord Commander,” Torgan Flint greeted Aegor at the gate, his gruff voice full of pride. “This time, I’ve locked every door, big and small. I’ve even stationed men outside Bran Stark’s room to guard it day and night. Even if the Wall falls, he won’t escape again!”

It seemed that Bran’s disappearance under his watch last time had left Flint with a deep psychological scar—he didn’t even realize how excessive his precautions now seemed, treating Bran like a prisoner.

“Well done.” Aegor tossed the reins to an aide and followed Flint toward the hall. “When and how did he show up?”

“You told us to keep an eye on the well, and we’ve been doing that strictly. This morning, the first kitchen sentry heard noises from the well. After investigating, they found a young woman and a crippled boy at the bottom. Since we remove the bucket and rope at night, the woman couldn’t pull the boy up by herself, so she made noise. Of course, we now know the woman is Meera Reed, and the boy is Bran Stark. As for the big stablehand and Jojen Reed…”

The big stablehand and Jojen Reed were undoubtedly dead. Summer, Bran’s direwolf, was likely gone too—an animal’s fate held little weight for Flint, who hadn’t even noticed the wolf’s absence.

Aegor frowned. It seemed his butterfly effect hadn’t significantly altered events beyond the Wall. Bran’s transformation into the greenseer still occurred, and the same losses remained. Was this an inevitable outcome, orchestrated by the previous greenseer, or…?

“I’ll find out,” Aegor said, nodding. “You’re dismissed. Take care of the horses and prepare a carriage—I’ll bring Bran back to Crown’s Rest with me.”

“Understood.”

...

After exchanging pleasantries with the commander of Castle Night and giving a few brief instructions, Aegor was led to Bran’s temporary quarters.

When he arrived, Meera Reed emerged from the room. Despite her petite and wiry frame, she exuded a strength and vitality that belied her size—small wonder she had managed to lead a crippled boy out of Winterfell, survive beyond the Wall, and return unscathed. Yet at this moment, the resilient huntress had red, swollen eyes, her face tear-streaked.

Upon seeing Aegor, Meera quickly wiped her face, choking out an apology. “I’m sorry, my lord. We’ve caused you so much trouble…”

This was no empty courtesy. Meera and her brother had fled home without a word, forcing Northerners, the Night’s Watch, and mountain clansfolk to expend tremendous effort tracking them. Even the ambush on Commander Mormont had stemmed from an incident involving Meera and settlers. But as a noblewoman, who could truly hold her accountable? Now, she had brought Bran back alive after an arduous journey and looked utterly forlorn—who could scold her?

“You young ones are so troublesome,” Aegor sighed. “What happened?”

“I… I don’t know…” Meera’s eyes welled with tears again as she shook her head. “I don’t know what foolish thing I did bringing my brother out there. Bran… Bran isn’t the same anymore. He’s… different. Everything about him is strange…”

“It’s fine. I understand.” Aegor truly did. After a few comforting words, he patted her shoulder. “Go rest. Once I’m done speaking with Bran, you can accompany us back to Crown’s Rest. I’ll arrange for you to return home later.”

...

After sending Meera off, Aegor dismissed the guards and entered Bran’s room.

The thick wooden door creaked open, letting a wave of humid warmth hit him, momentarily stinging his eyes. Aegor inhaled deeply, pausing a moment before closing the door behind him to survey the room.

It was clear the room hadn’t been vacant before Bran’s arrival. Despite keeping Bran under strict watch, the Flints hadn’t forgotten that he was the brother of their liege lord. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, warming the space. The furniture and bedding were of the highest quality available along the Wall and in the Gift.

Seated in a large chair by the bed was Bran Stark, the young and once-spirited boy now looking pale and solemn.

“Lord Commander,” Bran greeted calmly. “Hello.”

“Hello, Bran.” Aegor sat across from him without ceremony. Gone was the boy who had once performed acrobatics atop the Wall. Now, his quiet demeanor was tinged with sorrow, giving him the air of a melancholic young noble.

“I’m glad you’re alive. But as Lord Commander, I have duties to fulfill and can’t spend much time chatting. I need you to answer a few questions. Why did you go beyond the Wall? How did you end up in the well? What happened on the other side? I have no clear understanding of what you’ve been through. Can you explain?”

These were all questions to which Aegor already knew the answers, but they served his purpose: concealing his identity as a transmigrator with foreknowledge.

Bran’s pale face remained expressionless. “That’s… a very long story. If I were to tell it, we wouldn’t sleep tonight. But as the Lord Commander, don’t you have more pressing matters to worry about?”

Bran’s unwillingness to recount his tale suited Aegor just fine—if the boy truly began narrating everything, Aegor would have been stuck feigning interest in a story he already knew.

“I’d like to know when the White Walkers will attack, how the Watch should defend, and how to destroy them entirely. Can you answer that?”

“Opportunities are for those who prepare, Lord Commander,” Bran replied cryptically. “And thank you for taking care of my family, especially Arya, after my fall. As it happens, I can answer your questions now. For reasons you cannot yet understand, I see everything—what is, what was, and what will be. The Long Night approaches, and those who stand against the dark need someone who can see clearly. I can help.”