Chapter 24 : Eagle's Nest

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They arrived at the Gates of the Moon, standing beneath the towering peak of the Giant's Spear, gazing up at the sheer rock walls that loomed above them.

The winding path, snaking along the ridgeline high above, and the endless flights of stairs were nothing short of a nightmare for those who feared heights.

If one looked up, they could see the precariously perched Stronghold of the Sky. Raising their gaze further, another fortress came into view—Snow Castle. Beyond that, nestled against the mountainside, stood Sky Haven. And at the very peak of the climb, the final white stone tower, was the Eyrie itself.

Night had already fallen, and the imp immediately declared that he would not ascend in the dark, even if his life depended on it. Cole shared the sentiment. Walking an unfamiliar and treacherous path in the dead of night was a surefire way to learn how to "fly."

"We'll spend the night here," Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, announced, his words like an anchor calming the unease among the group.

The Gates of the Moon were held by Ser Nestor Royce, High Steward of the Vale. Cole vaguely recalled that the unfortunate knight slain by the White Walkers early in the war—Ser Waymar Royce—belonged to this very family.

Lady Catelyn's sister, however, was eager to summon her, insisting that she ascend to the Eyrie overnight.

Tyrion and Cole were confined to a chamber once again, their belongings promptly confiscated.

Sitting on the floor with nothing but straw beneath them, the two stared at each other in silence. Finally, Tyrion voiced the question he had been holding back. "Did you truly see all of this in your dreams? I always thought the tales of Dreamwalkers were as much nonsense as the legends of the White Walkers."

"I really should have listened to you," he admitted, regret heavy in his voice. He could have avoided this entire ordeal, but his love for comfort and indulgence had led him here. Because of that, two loyal retainers had perished, and the few friends he had were now entangled in his misfortune.

"You could have stayed out of this, like Yoren did," Tyrion continued. "She only wanted me."

"You haven't paid me yet," Cole said with a shrug. "And it was twice the agreed-upon sum. It's hard to come by such a generous employer." He smirked. "Besides, I don't believe you were in the wrong. You made that saddle for the boy, after all."

Tyrion was touched. He had always considered himself incapable of love or concern, cold-hearted like the White Walkers—incapable of anything but indifference. Just like his nickname, the 'Imp.'

"At least we don't have to worry about those mountain clans anymore. I might actually get some proper sleep," Cole muttered, lying back on the hay. The past few days had been grueling, the weight of survival pressing down on him. Watching the people around him fall, one by one, had made death feel closer than ever before.

He had never imagined that a few lines in a book could lead to such danger.

Tyrion lay back as well, though whether he was comforting Cole or himself was unclear. "My brother will come for me."

"Can the Lannister army even breach the Eyrie?" Cole asked.

"There is no castle that is truly impregnable," Tyrion said, "but my father won't march an army here. He would never risk my life for that." His tone was laced with disdain.

"I've heard that Lord Tywin Lannister is a capable man. At least, when he served as Hand of the King, the realm was stable."

Tyrion scoffed, resting his hands behind his head. "Yes. And then he killed his king and let his men rape the princess."

Well, discussing Tywin with Tyrion was clearly not a good idea. Cole changed the subject. "Have you thought about what's going to happen next?"

"Did you see something in your dreams again?" Tyrion's eyes snapped open. "They wouldn't dare kill me, surely."

"Don't be so sure. The Vale is ruled by a woman and a child right now. Reason might not be enough to save you."

Tyrion instantly thought of his sister, the so-called queen. She was nothing like a true Lannister—aside from her face, she had none of their cunning.

"If I die, you won't escape either," Tyrion said dryly, spreading his hands in resignation. "You heard Lady Stark. To her, you're just a 'Lannister lackey.'"

Exhausted from the journey, both men drifted off, with Tyrion succumbing to sleep first, his body worn down from the ordeal. He did not wake until he was roused roughly the next morning.

Outside the door stood Bronn and the minstrel, Marillion. Bronn smirked and greeted him with a jest. "I wonder if Lord Lannister had pleasant dreams."

"I dreamt of an old man rudely dragging me from bed at dawn," Tyrion grumbled, clearly displeased.

"Mind your tongue, dwarf. This is not your Casterly Rock," Ser Brynden said flatly.

The knights of the Gates of the Moon had received orders to escort the imp up to the Eyrie.

Then, unexpectedly, Blackfish turned to Cole. "Would you like to come along, lad?"

Cole frowned in confusion, but the old knight offered a rare smile. "Little Cat asked me to watch over the boy traveling with Tyrion. That must be you."

"I don't quite understand, Ser Tully."

"She said you've contributed the most to this journey. Without you, she wouldn't have made it this far. She also asked me to tell you, 'You are still young. Don't lose yourself by keeping company with the devil.'"

"I think you must be mistaken."

Blackfish gestured to a soldier. "Give the boy his belongings," he ordered, then turned back to Cole. "If you want to come, then come."

Tyrion's large head was full of questions. So, he was the only criminal here?

Cole simply shrugged at him, as if to say: I have no idea why this is happening.

In truth, it was Catelyn's compassion—her maternal instincts shining through. She couldn't bear to see a boy Robb's age meet an early end. Noble criminals had certain protections, but Cole was no noble, and he himself admitted he was no knight.

Thinking of the boy who had saved her from the mountain clans multiple times, Catelyn felt she had to do something, leading to this moment.

Call her foolish, but she loved her children dearly. She had traveled thousands of miles to King's Landing for them, and she had the courage to capture Tyrion. She was tough, compassionate, grateful, and far smarter than most noblewomen, but ultimately, her perspective was limited.

Compared to those like Cersei, who thrived on power, Catelyn was far less cunning—even her husband, Eddard Stark, was no match for the queen in that regard.

As a player in the game of thrones, Catelyn was unfit. She only wanted a peaceful life, unaware that the realm was already in turmoil. No one, especially her family, could remain untouched. But as a mother, she deserved respect. Orphans like Cole, who had lost family twice over, had never known a mother's love.

Cole followed the group up the "ladder." The paths between the first three fortresses were still wide enough for donkeys, but beyond that, the road was too narrow, forcing them to proceed on foot. As they neared the summit, the howling wind cut like a knife, screaming like a demon's wail. Tyrion's legs trembled—whether from fear or cramps was unclear.

Though the Eyrie's size was limited by the peak, its seven white towers were closely connected. It could house hundreds. Yet as they entered, they found it eerily empty, a desolate place devoid of life.