ASOIAF/GOT: The King On The Wall

The noise in the hall quickly faded, and all eyes turned to the entrance as the guard escorted the Queen into the hall.

Before crossing into this world, Aegor had come across a saying: the Game of Thrones production team had limited funds and couldn't afford actors who combined youth, beauty, and acting skill, so they prioritized the latter. The result was that many characters in the series appeared older or less attractive than described in the books, while some supporting roles turned out stunningly beautiful. Seeing the queen in person, Aegor couldn't help but feel this sentiment confirmed.

The woman before him was far younger and more radiant than the Cersei he had seen on TV. She exuded charm and grace, her long golden hair shining under the light. A gem-studded crown rested on her head, complementing her bright blue eyes with emerald inlays. She wore an innocent smile as she entered, not sparing a glance for the Northern Guard beside her. If one didn't already know the depths of her scheming nature, who could imagine such a beautiful exterior concealed a heart as ruthless and venomous as hers?

Following closely behind was the king, arm-in-arm with Lady Stark, who also appeared much younger than her on-screen counterpart. The king had the ruddy complexion and thick beard Aegor had expected, but he was far taller than imagined, a towering figure of both fat and muscle.

Next came the Stark and Baratheon children. Aegor barely spared them a glance. They looked somewhat different from their depictions in the show, but he wasn't inclined to spend time identifying each one. With everyone distracted by the arrivals, he finally had the chance to sample the fish on the table. Since acquiring the obsidian dagger that had saved his life, he hadn't had the opportunity to eat anything better than the bland rations served in the Night's Watch canteen.

The two Lannister brothers followed the children. Jaime Lannister entered in striking contrast to the others. Tall, handsome, and imposing, he wore a red silk tunic, black high boots, and a satin cloak draped over his shoulders. He carried himself with such regal confidence that he looked more like a king than the man at the head of the hall. The dwarf walking beside him, however, was the one who truly caught Aegor's attention.

Tyrion Lannister was unmistakable. Among the characters in this world, he was one of the few Aegor could identify without the aid of costumes or house sigils. It wasn't just his stature that made him stand out, it was the intelligence and wit lurking behind his sharp features.

This man, Aegor thought, is probably the most worth befriending in the entire story of Game of Thrones. If he could get close to Tyrion, perhaps there was a way to escape the Night's Watch without risking desertion or execution. The dwarf had connections, influence, and a pragmatic mind. But as quickly as the idea came, reality reasserted itself. Aegor was just a lowly ranger. How could someone like him approach a Lannister, let alone forge a relationship?

Lost in thought, he watched as the Lannister brothers passed by, heading for the more prominent seats reserved for their family.

The final arrivals were Benjen Stark and Theon Greyjoy, the young ward of the Lord of Winterfell. After they took their seats, the hall erupted in a flurry of toasts and polite congratulations, and the feast officially began.

---

Jon Snow and the younger servants at the table still wanted to hear more of Aegor's tales about patrolling the Wall and encountering wildlings, but Aegor had grown disinterested. "I've told enough of my stories," he said, deflecting their attention. "How about you tell me yours? I've never been south of the Neck since coming to Westeros. Who can introduce me to life in the south?"

---

The good thing about spending time with this group of youthful, relatively innocent boys was how quickly they warmed up after a few drinks. Under the influence of wine, one of the Lannister servants launched into a dramatic tale of accompanying his knight on a wild adventure outside King's Landing.

Beneath the table, Jon's direwolf pup gnawed contentedly on a bone, oblivious to the lively chatter above. On stage, Jon listened intently to the other boys as they swapped tales of war, hunts, and scandalous escapades. Aegor, however, had already drifted into his own thoughts.

"Jon, how are you tonight?" a familiar voice interrupted. Benjen had left his seat to check on his neglected nephew.

"Very well," Jon replied brightly. "Uncle, I heard from Aegor that the Night's Watch is in desperate need of men. When you leave, take me with you."

The servant who had been recounting his daring exploits fell silent, scooting aside to make room for Benjen. The chief ranger sat down, took Jon's glass, and examined it. "Summerwine," he said after a sip. "Nothing tastes as sweet. How many glasses have you had tonight, Jon?"

"I'm not drunk," Jon replied quickly.

"I never said you were," Benjen said with a slight smile, setting the glass down. He glanced toward the high table where his brothers sat before turning back to his nephew. "To be honest, the Wall does need young men like you right now."

Jon's face lit up with pride. "I'm a better swordsman than anyone I've ever trained with. Hullen says I'm one of the best riders in Winterfell."

"Good."

"You agree?" Jon said, excitement creeping into his voice. "If you tell Father, I know he'll agree, too."

Benjen's gaze shifted to Aegor, who shrugged, silently assuring him he hadn't encouraged Jon in this. Turning back to Jon, Benjen said carefully, "Jon, the Wall is a hard place for a boy."

"I'm almost a man," Jon countered. "I'll be fifteen on my next nameday. Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than trueborn children."

"That's true," Benjen conceded with a small smile. He poured himself more wine and drank deeply.

"Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne," Jon added confidently.

Benjen shook his head. "That campaign lasted an entire summer, and Daeron lost ten thousand men to conquer Dorne and another fifty thousand to hold it. Someone should have told him that war is no game. And let's not forget, Daeron Targaryen died at eighteen. You haven't forgotten that part, have you?"

"I haven't," Jon said, his cheeks reddening, whether from embarrassment or the wine. Straightening his back, he lifted his chin. "Uncle, I've made up my mind. I want to serve in the Night's Watch."

The table fell silent. Some of the boys, envious of Aegor's adventurous tales, had daydreamed about joining the Watch themselves. But none had made a decision as serious as Jon's. Most of the servants, though of modest birth, were still legitimate heirs to their families. Jon, on the other hand, seemed increasingly alienated from his siblings as he grew older, leaving him without a place to belong.

Benjen smiled faintly. "Jon, you must understand: the Night's Watch is for men who have no ties to family. We take no wives, father no children. Our duty is our wife, and honor our mistress."

"A bastard has no honor," Jon said firmly. "I'm ready to take the oath."

"You're only fourteen," Benjen replied gently. "Before you've been with a woman, you can't truly understand what you're giving up."

"I don't care about women!" Jon snapped, his frustration boiling over.

"If you knew, you might care," Benjen said kindly. "If you truly understood what the oath costs, you wouldn't be so eager to take it."

"I'm not your child!" Jon shouted.

"It's a pity you're not," Benjen said, rising from the bench. He patted Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own. Then we'll talk."

"I'll never father a bastard!" Jon's eyes burned with anger as he spat the words. He didn't seem to notice the hall falling silent around him. His voice, steady and filled with resolve, carried across the room. "Never!"

Everyone stared at Jon, the tension thick in the air. With tears threatening to spill from his eyes, Jon stood abruptly. "Excuse me," he said stiffly. Then, before anyone could stop him, he turned and stormed out of the hall. On his way out, he collided with a serving girl, knocking over a bottle of wine. Laughter erupted in his wake, but Jon didn't look back. He shoved aside a yellow-robed servant who tried to help him and disappeared into the night, the direwolf pup close on his heels.

---

Aegor sighed, almost covering his face in frustration. He finally understood what it meant to be naive. Here he was, wracking his brain for ways to escape the Night's Watch, while a boy barely old enough to shave was clamoring to join.

Benjen's gentle warnings had been clear enough, he had tried to tell Jon that joining the Watch meant sacrificing everything for a lonely life of service. But Jon, too young and idealistic, had taken his uncle's words as a slight, an insult to his pride.

You're embarrassing yourself, Jon, Aegor thought with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Still, a flicker of guilt tugged at him. He suddenly remembered something and stood up. "I'll go check on him."

"Leave him be," Benjen said, waving dismissively. "Let him cool off." But after a moment of hesitation, the chief ranger changed his mind. "Forget it… Go on, then. Just make sure the drunken fool doesn't hurt himself."