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Chapter 272
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 23:11:58 +0000 UTCAegor knew very little about military strategy, and the plan he offered Robb was mostly conjecture. Though it appeared calculated and persuasive, whether it was truly the best option remained to be seen.
He didn’t know whether the North would gain more than it would lose from this arrangement, but one thing was certain: the Night’s Watch—and Aegor himself—had emerged as the biggest winners of the discussion.
First, Robb had sought advice from Aegor, a theoretically neutral member of the Night’s Watch. This not only deepened their personal connection with a shared secret but also left Robb indebted to him. With this bond in place, Robb would be less likely to scrutinize the land-grant plan too harshly during his inspection. Unless something went drastically wrong, he was unlikely to call off the settlement effort.
Second, Robb’s initial intent in inspecting the Gift was to assess the resettlement process genuinely. But after Aegor’s smooth persuasion, Robb added "discovering dire circumstances at the Wall" to his reasons for staying out of the war. With this shift in focus, his attention was no longer fully on the Gift, and the outcome of his inspection would likely change as a result.
Finally, with the North’s main forces no longer leaving their lands, they effectively became a powerful "reserve army" for the Night’s Watch. This greatly improved the margin for error in defending the Wall against the White Walkers. Even if something went wrong, the Watch would have enough time to send a warning, leaving room to salvage the situation.
...
The discussion had lasted far longer than Aegor anticipated, but he had successfully achieved the goals he’d set when heading south. Having completed his "earnest nonsense" act and fooled the new Warden of the North, Aegor’s fourth attempt to bid farewell finally went smoothly, and he left the lord’s solar without further incident.
His personal guards were still waiting outside. Nodding to them, he briefly bid farewell to two Stark retainers before leisurely heading back to his quarters with his men.
As the Chief Logistics Officer of the Night’s Watch and a key figure in driving out the Ironborn, Aegor had been granted a private guest room in Winterfell, even amidst the chaotic mix of soldiers and residents still occupying the castle. However, once he was out of sight of guards and servants, the relaxed expression vanished from his face. With a sharp gesture, he summoned the most reliable of his guards to receive urgent orders.
"You need to leave the castle immediately," Aegor said quickly. "Take about a dozen men, ride straight to Crown's Rest, and inform Yarm that the Warden of the North will depart for the Gift in two days. He must be prepared."
The young guard nodded solemnly. "Understood, my lord. What else do you need me to say?"
"Tell him the details I instructed before leaving still stand, but there have been some changes. The plan must be adjusted accordingly. Here’s what you need to relay to both the town mayor and the logistics officer..."
As Aegor walked, he listed additional instructions, his mind racing to cover as much ground as possible. With such limited time, it was impossible to account for every detail, but he had no choice. He had to send someone back immediately to deliver the message.
Some matters, he decided, would have to be left to his subordinates to handle.
...
"That’s all for now," Aegor concluded. "Tell Yarm and Humphrey that if they notice any gaps, they should take the initiative to address them. Leave immediately and travel at a normal pace—there’s no need to rush, but be cautious on the road."
"Yes, my lord."
Yarm and Humphrey were capable men—one had managed Lannister gold mines, and the other had been an accountant for the Westerlands’ merchant guild in King’s Landing. Handling people and logistics wasn’t beyond them.
As the young guard departed, Aegor paused to ensure he hadn’t missed anything, then shook his head and pushed open the door to his room.
"Lord Aegor?" a crisp, youthful voice called, stopping him in his tracks.
He turned to see a young girl emerge from the shadows of a corridor.
The girl appeared even younger than Arya, and Aegor was certain he didn’t know her. His first thought was that Varys had sent one of his "little birds" to deliver a message, but he quickly dismissed it. He was far too insignificant for the eunuch’s attention.
His second thought was that the girl was remarkably beautiful—her delicate features flushed from the cold, and thick golden hair spilled out from beneath her cap.
"It’s me," the girl said, as though she had been waiting for a while.
"And you are...?" Aegor prompted, abandoning his guesses.
"I’m Maeve. Maeve Snow."
Snow? Aegor’s mind raced. A Stark bastard? Yet everything about the girl—her refined demeanor, her noble bearing—screamed highborn. She could easily pass as Arya’s sister, a third Stark daughter. But the Starks had no such child.
"How can I assist you, Lady Maeve?" Aegor asked politely, masking his confusion with a courteous smile.
"I heard that my brothers... Joffrey and Tommen... will be joining the Night’s Watch under your command," she said softly.
Aegor froze. The girl’s identity clicked into place: Myrcella Baratheon, the former princess of the Seven Kingdoms.
Eddard Stark’s plan for her seemed to have succeeded. But why give her the surname Snow? If Jaime knew his only daughter was living as Maeve Snow, a fosterling in Winterfell, what would he think?
Pushing aside the idle thought, Aegor focused on the girl.
"Your information is correct," he confirmed.
Maeve nodded, her expression a mix of resignation and sorrow. "I don’t care about Joffrey," she admitted. "He deserves what’s coming to him. But Tommen... he’s kind. He’s innocent. Please... promise me you’ll protect him."
Seeing her tear-filled eyes, Aegor softened. "I promise to treat both of them fairly, Lady Maeve. No harm will come to them under my watch."
Maeve seemed relieved but hesitant. "Thank you, my lord... but could you—just a little—look after them? I know it’s selfish, but... I’ll do anything..."
Aegor sighed. "Very well. I’ll ensure they’re safe and well-treated, both physically and mentally. If needed, you may even petition Winterfell for permission to visit them. Is this acceptable?"
"Thank you... truly, thank you," Maeve whispered, her tears spilling over.
Aegor quickly signaled his guards to escort her away, wanting to avoid any further emotional outbursts. As she left, he found himself reflecting on her situation.
For a moment, he envied her siblings. If he ever had a daughter, he thought, he’d prefer her to be a mischievous, carefree child like Arya—someone who could grow up with joy and innocence, untouched by the cruelties of the world.
Of course, so long as she didn’t give him too much trouble.
...
"Do you know who she is?" he asked his men once she was gone.
"Isn’t she the late King Robert’s daughter?" one ventured.
"No," Aegor said sternly. "She’s just a foster girl at Winterfell. Her name, her origins—none of it matters. And you never heard this conversation. Understood?"
"Understood, my lord," the men replied in unison.
For all its flaws, Eddard Stark’s plan had been thorough. Out of respect for the late Warden of the North—and to protect an innocent girl—Aegor intended to keep Myrcella’s secret safe.
Sometimes, being a genuinely good person didn’t feel so bad.
