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Chapter 511
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:15:04 +0000 UTCMyrcella could understand Aegor’s motivation to reclaim the Iron Throne out of gratitude to the Queen for her aid, but she couldn’t accept his decision to march south and become an enemy of the North. In her worldview, that was not how things were supposed to work.
The Night’s Watch was tasked with guarding the Wall, defending against the White Walkers and wildlings to ensure the safety of the Seven Kingdoms. Doing anything beyond that was a breach of duty and pure recklessness.
Daenerys Targaryen flying north on her dragons to take part in the epic war between the living and the dead was certainly noble and praiseworthy. The Night’s Watch had every reason to ensure her safety, support her actions, and show her gratitude and respect afterward. But ultimately, the Dragon Queen was merely protecting what she considered her property—the Seven Kingdoms.
If everyone acted according to their personal whims rather than adhering to societal roles and responsibilities, the entire world would fall into chaos.
The Night’s Watch breaking its neutrality to help the Queen conquer the Seven Kingdoms was a prime example of misplaced priorities and selfishness, a grave mistake.
As much as Myrcella held to these principles, she also knew that there were far worse injustices in the world. Take her own existence, for instance: by conventional moral and ethical standards, her birth was a mistake. Her parents were never supposed to be together or have children.
As someone who technically shouldn’t even exist, how could she have the right to pass judgment on anyone? Aegor had indeed made a mistake, but at least he had a justifiable reason. He might now be branded a traitor and villain by the North, but that didn’t erase his consistent kindness, sincerity, and care toward her, her “uncle,” and her two brothers. Anyone in the world could hate Aegor, but she couldn’t.
In truth, Myrcella didn’t just tolerate him; she admired him. Aegor was almost everything she envisioned in a “hero.” Mature but not dull, strong but not brutish, righteous but not rigid, courageous but not reckless. Despite holding great power, he treated others with incredible gentleness and attentiveness.
What set him apart even further was that Myrcella could tell his qualities weren’t a façade. Either he was the greatest actor alive, or this was simply who he truly was.
No wonder Arya liked him!
Sometimes, Myrcella couldn’t help but envy her so-called “sister.” Why was it that Arya, an impulsive troublemaker, could have someone like Aegor to protect and accompany her when she stumbled into danger, while Myrcella—mature, wise beyond her years, and far more reasonable—was cast as an abomination from the moment she was born? Why had she been condemned to a fate of rootless suffering, like seaweed adrift on waves, while Arya had someone to shield her from life’s storms?
Was this punishment for sins in a past life, or was the world simply unfair, where fools thrived while the wise suffered?
Whenever she thought along these lines, Myrcella would shake her head vigorously, ashamed of her own foolishness. She didn’t believe in past lives, and Arya wasn’t stupid. The difference in their fates lay in one thing alone: parenting. Arya had parents who cared for her, while Myrcella’s were immature and selfish, too childish even for a child to rely on.
Had just one of her parents been responsible and dependable, or had any hero stepped forward to shield her at a crucial moment, as Aegor had done for Arya, Myrcella would never have had to endure so much hardship.
Still, Myrcella acknowledged that most of her suffering was emotional rather than physical. Aside from her brief period of imprisonment and being forced to live under an alias, she hadn’t faced deliberate cruelty. The pain came from being uprooted, separated from her loved ones, and forced to lie about her past. These experiences, though invisible, left deep scars.
Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that Aegor was a bad person. Despite his mistake, she owed him a great debt. Deep down, she trusted him.
As a “third daughter” of House Stark, Myrcella now lived alongside Sansa and Arya. She had already learned of the Boltons’ plan to march on Last Hearth to attack the Queen through their casual conversations. Yet she hadn’t warned Aegor immediately for two reasons: she couldn’t, and she shouldn’t.
Winterfell was on high alert after being ambushed for the first time in centuries, and the gates were tightly sealed. There was no way the guards would have let her, a young girl, leave the castle. Besides, if she had warned Aegor then, he could have sent a raven north to alert the Queen, potentially trapping thousands of Northern soldiers and ruining a well-planned Stark military strategy.
Aegor was a friend, but the Starks were now her family. Since her hardships, Myrcella had become painfully clear-eyed. One might like their friends more than their family, but in the grand scheme, family came first. Aegor’s kindness to her brothers couldn’t compare to the Starks’ protection after her true identity was revealed. If her personal feelings caused her to betray the Starks, leading to a disastrous defeat, she’d be no better than her parents.
Fortunately, after days of silent prayer, the situation turned. News of the Bolton army’s successful ambush of Last Hearth reached Winterfell, tilting the balance decisively. The castle’s defenders, relieved of their fears, lowered their guard, and Myrcella saw an opportunity to repay Aegor without endangering the Starks.
She didn’t know what she’d do if the Starks found out, but she resolved to take the risk. At worst, she’d confess and lose their hard-won trust. At least among good people, even a mistake wouldn’t lead to total ruin.
When Myrcella finally informed Aegor, his reaction was far from what she expected. Instead of panic, he seemed calm, even skeptical. “Where did you hear this?” he asked.
“I saw Maester Luwin receive a raven from the north and rush into the keep. Soon after, the news spread throughout the castle!” Myrcella’s voice grew urgent. “If Robb hasn’t already told Ser Rodrik to warn you, then he will. And if he offers you terms, you’d best accept. But if he says nothing, it’s even worse—it means the Starks have no intention of giving you a chance to surrender. You need to leave tonight!”
Aegor crossed his arms and frowned deeply. He didn’t doubt Myrcella’s honesty, but he also didn’t believe the Boltons were capable or willing to launch such an attack. If this wasn’t a lie but also couldn’t be the truth, then it had to be something in between: misinformation.
The chill that ran down his spine confirmed his suspicions. Something had gone wrong in his carefully laid plans.
