ASOIAF/GOT: The King On The Wall

Regardless of the reasons why Benjen originally joined the Night's Watch, Aegor had to admit that he was, without question, a dedicated chief ranger. The lean and hardened man had received word from a raven that the king was expected to arrive in the North within three weeks. Knowing that the journey from Castle Black to Winterfell would take no more than two weeks, Benjen busied himself for several days overseeing defense patrol arrangements before finally preparing to leave. Fortunately, Will had managed to return to the Wall just in time to corroborate Aegor's story. This shifted Benjen's plans; he decided to take Aegor along to Winterfell to report to the Warden of the North.

Aegor couldn't help but feel thankful that not everyone sought personal comfort the way he did. If it had been him in Benjen's place, receiving an invitation from a brother who happened to be the Lord of Winterfell, he would have packed his bags and headed south the same day. Compared to the Wall, even Winterfell known by southerners for being cold and gloomy seemed like paradise.

Some people, Aegor thought, are so noble that their sense of duty is beyond the understanding of ordinary folk. He didn't presume to judge others by his own standards just because he couldn't relate to them. He genuinely admired Benjen's honor and commitment to his duty, but Aegor himself had no such ties. He wasn't born or raised in the North, and he didn't have a brother who ruled as the Warden of the North. To him, this land was as foreign as its customs. It felt akin to being conscripted into a war with no allegiance to either side, forced to swear oaths under the threat of mutilation, and expected to live and die for a cause he didn't believe in.

He had no illusions about his own character. He wasn't noble or selfless, and no grandiose, poetic oath could change that. Aegor simply couldn't accept such a fate.

Even if he stripped away any personal motives, he believed that with his knowledge and understanding of the world, he could contribute far more elsewhere than by being confined to the Wall, battling White Walkers until his dying breath.

Opportunities, after all, came to those who were prepared. Will, who had witnessed Waymar's death firsthand from the safety of a tree, might have seemed like the more obvious choice to accompany Benjen to Winterfell. But the chief ranger had chosen Aegor without hesitation. Part of the reason was that Will was still too weak to make the journey. But more likely, it was because Will wasn't "presentable." Compared to the skittish poacher who stuttered and spoke with a thick accent, Aegor was articulate, clear-minded, and composed—qualities far more suitable for addressing the Lord of Winterfell.

Besides, rumors were swirling that Will had been left deeply shaken, perhaps even mentally unhinged, by his encounter with the White Walkers.

---

They departed in the afternoon. To save time, they planned to take the Kingsroad, passing through the Wolfswood directly to Winterfell. They wouldn't stop at Last Hearth or Deepwood Motte. As with patrols beyond the Wall, they carried enough provisions to sustain them, though for ease of travel, they each brought two horses.

Snow fell lightly from the sky as the two of them rode out through the gates of Castle Black. Though the road they followed was technically part of the Kingsroad, it bore little resemblance to the grand highway farther south. Here, it was barely wider than a forest trail. The true Kingsroad began at King's Landing and ended at Winterfell; the northernmost stretch they rode on was little more than a nominal extension.

They rode south in silence and soon approached Mole's Town. Cresting a gentle slope, Aegor couldn't resist glancing back.

Castle Black stood on the southern side of the Wall, where its icy shadow did not fall. The Wall itself, despite its immense height, didn't dominate daily life for the Night's Watch, it was easy enough to ignore its presence. Aegor, for one, had quickly learned to avoid craning his neck to look up at it. But no amount of willful ignorance could make the Wall disappear. It stood there, towering and immutable, as if it had existed since the dawn of time and would endure until the end of the world.

Now, as they moved farther away, the Wall's full outline came into view. What had once loomed above him like an insurmountable barrier had become a distant, gray-blue expanse stretching endlessly along the northern horizon. It extended east and west, fading into the cold mist until it disappeared entirely.

From a distance, its scale was even more awe-inspiring. It was the largest structure ever built by man in this world, the tallest and most formidable creation in Westeros. The towers and barracks of the Night's Watch at its base seemed like mere children's toys scattered in the snow. The men in black patrolling below looked no larger than ants.

In Aegor's old world, such a place would have been a prime tourist destination. Visitors would flock to it for a chance to marvel at its grandeur, to take a break from the chaos of city life, to bask in the quiet majesty of nature. People would stand atop the Wall, gazing out at the vast Haunted Forest below, describing it as "spiritual" or "soul-cleansing." It would have been a perfect retreat for urbanites desperate to escape the grind.

But here, the existence of the White Walkers changed the Wall's purpose entirely. It wasn't a tourist attraction; it was a last bastion, a military fortification standing against humanity's annihilation. It was the frontline of a war for survival.

This trip to Winterfell, Aegor realized, might be his last chance to escape before the next patrol beyond the Wall. If fate allowed, he hoped never to return.

---

"Aegor," Benjen's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're a stranger here. I know you're resentful about being forced to serve on the Wall, but let me give you some advice: don't even think about running. Many have tried, and the cost of desertion is always heavy."

"I understand," Aegor replied quickly, alarmed that his thoughts had been so transparent. "I've sworn a sacred oath. I'll fulfill my duty until the end of my life. Where I come from, the culture is different, but the value placed on keeping one's word is no less important."

"Good." Benjen nodded, letting the matter drop. "My brother, Eddard Stark, is a practical man, very much a northerner. He doesn't care for excessive ceremony, but he is still the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. The Stark bloodline is ancient, and their legacy is long. There are certain courtesies and taboos you must observe when addressing him. I'll explain them to you now. Forgetting them won't cost you your head, but it would still be impolite."

"Understood." Aegor nodded earnestly. He cast one last look at the Wall, his expression complicated, before turning his attention to Benjen's words.

---

They traveled by day and rested by night, passing Mole's Town and the ruins of Queen's Crown. As they moved farther south, the land grew more populated. Though the Night's Watch was granted the Gift, an expanse of land north of the Wolfswood, meant to provide taxes and resources to support the Watch, its population had dwindled over the years. Frequent wildling raids, coupled with the Watch's declining strength, had driven most of the Gift's inhabitants south, seeking safety under the protection of northern lords. Now, only a few villages near the Watch's strongholds remained.

Ironically, the abandonment of the Gift had made the North safer. The uninhabited land, combined with the Wall itself, created a double barrier. Few wildlings were willing to risk crossing the Wall and then starving in the desolate Gift just to raid villages under the protection of houses like Umber or Karstark. With such raids becoming less profitable, fewer wildlings attempted them. Many northern lords credited the Night's Watch for this improvement, and they continued to provide food, clothing, and supplies to support the brothers in black.

The journey to Winterfell was uneventful for Aegor and Benjen, save for a brief encounter with a group of wildlings fleeing south. Upon spotting the two men in black cloaks, the wildlings quickly retreated into the forest. Unlike Waymar, Benjen had no interest in pursuing them. He let them go without incident.

As the road widened, they crossed a stone bridge spanning a swift river. Farms and settlements began to appear, clusters of homes forming around sturdy stone walls and timber beams. The road grew busier with travelers and merchants. Nights were no longer spent camping in the wilderness.

Two weeks later, as Benjen had predicted, they arrived at Winterfell.