He could not open his eyes, so he could not see who the visitor was. However, since there were only two outsiders who had entered the room, their identities were actually easy to guess.
Sure enough, accompanied by soft, rapid breathing mixed with a hint of nervousness, a smooth and tender little hand touched his face, feeling here and there, and even pinching his nose as if doubting its authenticity. Then it slid downward and into the quilt, holding his arm for a moment to feel his abnormally low body temperature. After that, it moved to his chest and gently pressed for a few seconds. After confirming that his heart rate had not changed significantly, it withdrew with some reluctance.
Is that it?
Did I get away with it?
Just as Aegor breathed a sigh of relief again, the little hand unexpectedly slipped back into the quilt from another edge. This time, it no longer probed around, but moved quickly with a clear target.
Although his body was temporarily difficult to move, his unparalyzed nerve endings still faithfully and sharply relayed every touch sensation to his brain.
Aegor immediately felt his hair stand on end.
Regardless of his image in the eyes of outsiders, if one removed his identity and ignored his status, he was still a perfectly normal man physiologically. It was impossible not to be nervous in this situation without any psychological preparation.
What does this little girl want to do? Could it be that she wants to determine whether he is faking death?
But does she know that such a reaction is divided into psychological and reflexive types, and is not entirely controlled by the higher centers of the brain? It can occur even in patients who are truly asleep or even in a coma, and cannot be used as a method to test whether someone has been poisoned.
Wait, it is too much to expect an underage native of this world to understand so much. She most likely does not know.
Then I have to do my best to curb my body's reaction.
Aegor was not a secret agent or a spy, so he had not received training in such an obscure skill. Normally, this would be nothing more than fantasy. However, he had been struck by Melisandre's series of hibernation spells and Maester Qyburn's paralysis potion, a double blow. Not only were his reactions slightly delayed, but after his heart rate slowed and his blood pressure dropped, the blood supply to various parts of his body also became a serious problem. As long as he persevered a little longer, it would be enough to drag things out until the people around him noticed something was wrong and came to his rescue.
Within two or three seconds, Aegor had a clear understanding of how to deal with it. However, things did not develop in the direction he expected at all. After a brief exploration and familiarization with the structure, Missandei quickly plunged further downward. Before he had any time, and before he could possibly prepare, she did not hesitate to close her fingers and grasp.
---
If pain is graded from zero to ten, then depending on individual physique, tolerance, and willpower, the pain experienced by different men would fluctuate between ten points, ten points, and completely beyond description.
Because of the dense network of nerves and the lack of forceful contact with external objects other than friction, the pain caused by injury here was not only extremely intense but also extremely unfamiliar. Without targeted experience or training, no one could endure it purely through willpower. In an instant, a terrifying and violent wave of pain surged into Aegor's brain from below, instantly sweeping through his entire consciousness. It was like condensing all the pain of a woman's labor into half a second of release. Faced with pain far beyond the threshold of tolerance, reason had no time to function. All the decisive plans, the calculations of faking death to deceive the Queen, the grand strategy of conquering the Seven Kingdoms and establishing control over the King's Landing region, were completely washed away. In that instant, only one thing remained in Aegor's mind.
Pain.
He should have curled up and shrunk into a ball. He should have covered his lower abdomen and been in so much pain that he could not speak. He should have been twitching and rolling in agony, unable to breathe. In short, he should have made violent movements, completely exposing the fact that he was faking death, rendering all previous preparations and groundwork useless. That would have forced him to resort to the fallback plan, the worst possible option, killing the dragon and kidnapping the Queen.
But Maester Qyburn's paralysis potion produced a miraculous effect at this moment. As a medical item used to assist surgery, although it could not truly paralyze a person, it could make every movement much softer and weaker than usual, and slower by two beats. This characteristic led to the following result. The peak of pain that should have passed in half a second was forcibly broken apart and spread over several seconds. This seemingly insignificant weakening was already enough for Aegor, who would otherwise have jumped up, to suppress his instinctive reaction. His bending and rolling were reduced to much milder leg clenching, twitching, and wriggling.
This degree of movement would not have changed the inevitable outcome of being exposed, because Missandei's hand had not left. With zero distance contact, no matter how slight the movement, it could not escape her perception.
Fortunately, Aegor was not fighting alone. He had allies. The men from the Gift standing by the bedside would not simply watch Daenerys's handmaiden meddle with and torment their Lord Commander.
---
Here, Aegor was struggling against excruciating pain he had never experienced in his life.
On the other side, the little scribe's face was red and burning, and her heart was lodged in her throat.
Although she had once been a slave, Missandei was still young when Daenerys liberated her from the Good Masters. Her extraordinary talent for languages was discovered, and her master chose to train her as a scribe and translator rather than a bed slave. Slaves had clear divisions of labor and rarely worked multiple roles. This meant that, strictly speaking, this was her first time having such direct and unobstructed contact with the body of the opposite sex.
Shyness was only a small part of Missandei's emotions at that moment. Fear and nervousness dominated her heart. She knew very well how dangerous her actions were. If her suspicion was wrong, she would merely be guilty of disrespecting the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. With the Queen's backing, she would likely be fine. But if her guess was correct, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, who was faking death, would certainly leap up in fury under her grasp and wave his hand to order her capture. At that point, even Daenerys herself would become a target, let alone protect her and the maester who had come with her.
After gripping him once, Missandei released her fingers and held her breath, waiting for the result. But things again did not develop as she expected. Someone did leap up in rage, but it was not Aegor lying on the bed. It was the accompanying guard who had been standing by and watching her the entire time.
"What are you doing!" The guard captain, Harvey, roared like thunder. With a clang of metal, he drew his sword.
For a girl about the same age as Myrcella, Missandei could be considered intelligent and brave. However, no matter how loyal she was to Daenerys and how willing she was to sacrifice for her, she was still only a little girl with no strength to even tie a chicken. The courage she had gathered out of loyalty and responsibility had been completely spent on the act of touching the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. When a burly, fully armed adult male soldier with a ferocious expression and menacing presence advanced toward her with a drawn sword, she was so frightened that she screamed and stumbled backward. She tripped over the stool by the bed where the two previous "doctors" had been sitting and fell flat on her backside, facing upward.
"What are you doing?" Melisandre had seen everything. She reacted immediately, putting on a confused expression and asking as if unaware.
"You saw what this filthy brat was doing just now!" Harvey gripped his steel sword tightly, his voice suppressed but filled with rage, as he advanced toward Missandei, who had fallen to the ground.
"What can a little girl do?" The Red Priestess raised her eyebrows, stepped between them, and pretended to confront him. "Put down your sword."
"Lord Commander is unconscious and his life is uncertain. It is bad enough that that damned Queen does not come to visit, but she even sends a handmaiden who dares to feel around on Lord Aegor while he is unconscious. What kind of decorum is this!" Harvey looked furious, almost out of control, as he glared fiercely at Melisandre. "Old witch, Lord Commander respects you, so the brothers give you face. If something happens to him, you will be no different from a fart in our eyes. Get out of the way!"
Melisandre narrowed her eyes, a fierce light flashing within them, and her tone also turned cold. "Oh? And what if I do not let you?"
The guard and the Red Priestess confronted each other for a moment. Harvey then pretended to back down in fear, took a step back, and redirected his verbal attack toward the little scribe, who was rubbing her backside and struggling to stand. "Hey, you little slut. If you are short of men, just say so. There are plenty of brothers in this camp for you to choose from. Stay away from people you should not touch!"
The maester sent by the Queen had been discussing detoxification with Qyburn just moments ago. In the next instant, the situation had escalated to drawn swords. The sudden change left him frozen in place, not daring to utter a word. Finally, Maester Qyburn bent down and, with a kindly expression, helped Missandei, who was still shaken, to her feet.
"Harvey, calm down. This girl was only trying to wake Lord Commander by providing stimulation. This is a very common medical procedure and there was no malicious intent. Do not make such a fuss." The old maester pretended to soothe the enraged guard while steadying the little scribe. He gently pushed her toward the door and tilted his head to whisper a reminder to her and the equally terrified porter. "Quickly, Lord Commander has been poisoned. The most panicked are these confidants who followed him from the south. If you provoke them, they are truly capable of anything right now."
"Y yes. I I will go inform her now!" Missandei was so frightened that she could barely speak clearly. She dragged her maester along, nodding as she backed away. After casting one last glance at the sickbed of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, she hurriedly opened the door and fled.
(To be continued.)