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Chapter 713
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 19:37:19 +0000 UTCMyrcella realized her mistake the moment the words left her mouth. She instinctively wanted to cover it up, to smooth things over, but she hadnât expected Aegor to react so quicklyâor so strongly. She tensed, shrinking back slightly, and obediently stopped what she was doing. Circling around the sofa, she hesitated before carefully gathering the hem of her gown and lowering herself into a seat, tentative and wary.
The sofa was meant to comfortably seat two, yet even with an extra person, there was still plenty of room. Aegor glanced sideways, amusedâMyrcella was barely perching on the edge, as if afraid to truly sit down.
âWhatâs wrong? Afraid youâll break something that belongs to House Hightower?â he asked, laughing. Without hesitation, he reached over, an arm looping around her waist as he pulled her backward, pressing her more firmly into the seat. âIf I tell you to sit, then sit properly. No need to be so polite.â
That was all it took for Myrcella to lose her precarious balance and properly settle into the sofa. The natural curve of the cushions caused her to shift slightly toward him, and she could feel the faint warmth of his body through the fabric of his clothes. Aegor, enhanced by the Lord of Lightâs gift, radiated more heat than most, and for someone as unaccustomed to physical contact as Myrcella, the sensation left her utterly rigid.
âI⊠I wasnât worried about that. Itâs just⊠my lord spends all day laboring over matters of state. If even your rest is something you must share with others, thenâŠâ
âEnough,â Aegor cut her off, his earlier sharpness fading as he returned to his usual, easygoing tone. âI know my own limits better than anyone. Letâs put it this wayâI've never felt stronger, more energetic, or more alive than I do now.â
It wasnât empty reassurance. Beyond the thrill of victory and the subtle strengthening effect of the dragon scale, there was something else. The current situation he found himself in was challenging, yet not overwhelmingly so. A high-stakes game, but one without immediate danger. Tense, yet exhilarating. Demanding, yet manageable.
And that, for someone like him, was the ideal state to be in.
âBut what about you?â Aegor shifted the conversation. âA young girl like yourself, choosing to follow a war host on campaign⊠it canât have been easy for you. Iâve been too busy to check inâhow have you been holding up? Any struggles? Anything I can help with?â
âNo, no, nothing like that! Iâve completely adapted to following you,â Myrcella answered quickly, shaking her head like a little drum. Realizing that sounded dismissive, she hurriedly added, âTraveling at your side, Iâve seen the lands beyond castle walls, witnessed great historical moments, and learned more than I ever dreamed possible. My knowledge and experience have grown far beyond what they once were⊠and most importantly, I can finally breathe the free air beyond the Red Keep! Iâm happier now than I ever was in Kingâs Landing or Winterfell.â
She spoke too quickly, too earnestly. It was enthusiasm, but also carelessness. Myrcella instantly regretted her words. Worse yet, she noticed that Aegorâs arm, the one that had drawn her in, still rested lightly behind her back. It didnât move, didnât press, didnât tighten, but the awareness of it made her flush. The heat in her face spread, her mind stalled, and even her usually sharp tongue felt clumsy.
âIâm glad to hear that.â Aegor smiled, nodding slightly. âBut, MyrâMyrcella. With the conquest drawing to a close, governance must now begin. As both Lord Commander of the Nightâs Watch and Hand of the Queen, Iâll be busier than ever. And that means your workload as my assistant will increase significantly.â
He pinched her arm lightly, then ran his fingers over the curve of her shoulder, as if gauging her frame. âDo you think you can handle it?â
Myrcellaâs face turned an even deeper shade of red. Whether it was from his touch or the implications of his words, even she wasnât sure. âI can! I have absolute confidence in my ability to manage your affairs, ensure the smooth running of all your duties, and shield you from any unnecessary disruptions.â
Aegor chuckled. âYour confidence is admirable. Butââ He didnât continue his teasing gestures, instead resting his hands on her shoulders as he met her gaze, choosing his words carefully. âI am very satisfied with your work. However, you are still a young woman. Putting you in such an exhausting and critical roleâone that treats you more like a beast of burden than a proper assistantâfeels rather⊠inhumane. More importantly, this role requires stability.â
âI can endure hardship!â Myrcella interrupted, suddenly anxious. The more she listened, the more she felt something was wrong. Was he about to dismiss her? Just for an offhanded remark?
âCalm down.â Aegor patted her back lightly in reassurance. âIâm not replacing you. I merely have an idea: I plan to split the role. Two positionsâone assistant to the Lord Commander of the Nightâs Watch, and one assistant to the Hand of the Queen. Dividing the workload, ensuring stability, and providing backup for emergencies.â
Myrcella stiffened. The White Walkers were gone. What workload could possibly justify an assistant for the Nightâs Watch?
âThese two positions arenât even remotely the same!â she blurted, growing uncharacteristically serious. She had already lost so muchâher name, her place, her identity. But this role, this work, was her anchor. She wasnât like Arya Stark, who had years of companionship and deep-rooted ties with Aegor. She couldnât just pout and expect indulgence. Instead, she had to fight for her place. âIf you insist on creating another position, then let me be your Handâs assistant!â
Aegor sighed. âListen, girl. In principle, Iâd love to grant your request. But this is a position that demands stability. And like it or not, as a woman, you will inevitably be affected byââ
âI have never fallen ill in my life!â Myrcella shot back immediately, ignoring the embarrassment of discussing such things with a man. âMy lord, no matter how you phrase it, you still donât fully trust me. You still see me as a Lannister at heart. What must I do to shed my lineage? How can I prove myself worthy of the same trust you give Nina?â
Aegor remained silent.
There is nothing you can do, he thought. As long as Tyrion still considered her family, she would always be a Lannister. And even Nina had earned his trust through action, through undeniable achievementsâand through a certain⊠private arrangement that was better left unspoken.
But he didnât say any of that aloud.
Aegor wasnât blind. He knew that if both his Handâs assistant and his Master of Coin came from the Westerlands, it would skew the balance of power in Daenerysâ court. While their interests currently aligned, making immediate action unnecessary, it was still a factor he had to consider.
âIâll go to Lady Melisandre right now!â Myrcella abruptly stood, eyes brimming with unshed tears. âIâll take a sacred vow before RâhllorâIâll swear never to marry, never to bear children, and devote my entire life to the Lord of Light. If I become a priestess, Iâll no longer be a Lannister. Iâll no longer have any family obligations. Iâll belong only to you.â
Aegor blinked.
âŠWas that even an option?
A Westerosi nun?
For some reason, an unrelated historical figure flashed through his mindâWu Zetian, the Tang Dynasty empress, who had first been sent to a monastery before later seizing power.
The golden-haired girl before him was delicate and charming, an easy object of sympathy. But then again, had anyone suspected that young Wu Zhao would one day become Chinaâs only female emperor?
Before he could finish the thought, Myrcella turned, ready to leave.
âWait, waitââ Aegor instinctively reached out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back down onto the sofa. âThereâs no need for that! I was just having a casual conversation with you, discussing workload distribution. No need to be so hasty! If you can guarantee stability, then I wonât make any immediate changes. Happy?â
He sighed.
He had only intended to give her a final chance to reconsider her place. Instead, he had nearly driven her into religious seclusion.
Before he could say more, a voice shouted from outside.
âLord Hand! Weâve found someone in one of the guest chambersâhe claims to be of House Redwyne and insists on meeting you. What are your orders?â
