"Join the Night's Watch?"
These young ladies, unwilling to marry properly was one thing, but now they wanted to put on black to escape trouble... The Night's Watch was the shield that guards the realms of men, not a professional engagement termination service.
After finishing this internal complaint, Aegor quickly realized something: her suggestion was feasible.
Myrcella wasn't simply asking for help. In a subtle way, she was reminding him that there was another option. Instead of silencing her, he could keep her by his side, under constant watch.
Putting her life in his hands, giving him the power to silence her whenever he wished, meant there was no longer any need to rush.
Having a dangerous secret held by "Lord Tywin's granddaughter and niece," "a daughter of House Stark," or "the future Lady Hornwood of the North" was an intolerable risk. But if it was held by someone close, within arm's reach, someone who only knew a little of the truth... the risk still existed, but it dropped to a level just below the danger line.
In short: he didn't have to destroy the flower. He could pick it, tuck it into his pocket, and take it with him.
"Mhm!" Seeing his tone soften, the girl quickly added, "I can do many things! Besides basic reading and numbers, I know the history, culture, and geography of Westeros and the Free Cities. I understand the noble lineages of the Seven Kingdoms, the basics of the Citadel and the Faith. I can help you write letters, take notes, tally simple inventories, and remind you of names and places if you forget. I can bring you water when you're thirsty, fetch food when you're hungry, and massage your shoulders and back when you're tired!
Since Lord Petyr has unfortunately passed, the position of Queen's Hand is vacant. It's likely you'll hold that post in practice for some time. With countless affairs to manage, surely you need someone beside you to assist, schedule meetings, and remind you of tasks. Instead of looking for the perfect candidate, why not let me try?"
It was clear she had rehearsed these words many times. Rushing to say them all in one breath was a true test of her lung capacity. Myrcella paused for a quick breath, then continued before he could interrupt, as though afraid she wouldn't finish.
"The Princess of House Baratheon is gone. I will never mention my former identity again, nor contact my grandfather or uncle—unless you ask me to. My Lord, I know this puts you in a difficult position, but... please consider it!"
Her self-recommendation was filled with content and sincerity. She not only offered a practical plan for what she would do if she left with Aegor—serving as both personal secretary and aide—but she also took the initiative to distance herself from the Lannisters, doing everything she could to reduce his wariness.
Her reasoning was solid, her logic sound. If Aegor's earlier question had been, "Give me a reason not to kill you," then he had just received several.
Looking at this young girl, struggling desperately to survive, speaking with nervous determination and teary eyes, Aegor truly wanted to slap himself.
He had never been a good man. Perhaps in the eyes of many, he was a villain. But being seen as a villain by others and feeling like one himself were two different things. And the latter... even the cruelest villains found it hard to accept quietly.
"All right. Don't be nervous. No one's getting hurt today. Here, have a drink of water, and we'll sort this out together."
Aegor forced a gentle expression onto his face, stiff after two days of pretending to be unconscious. He reached for the kettle on the table, poured a cup of lukewarm water, and handed it to Myrcella.
The little princess accepted it with both hands, eyeing it nervously as if afraid it might be poisoned. She trembled as she raised it to her lips and took slow sips, moistening her throat while sneaking glances at Aegor.
Her urge to plead for mercy was stuck in her throat, but Myrcella realized she had already said too much. She fought to swallow back any unnecessary words. Everything that needed to be said had been said. Anything more would only hurt her chances. Whether she "died accidentally" today or turned disaster into fortune would depend on the man in front of her.
...
Aegor picked up another cup, poured some water for himself, and held it in his hands to warm them as he organized his thoughts.
If this absurd accident hadn't happened, he never would have agreed to Myrcella's request.
It wasn't that he doubted her ability or her suitability for the job she offered herself for. No matter how clever, capable, kind, beautiful, or likable she was, it still wouldn't outweigh the risks that came with her identity. Taking her with him would certainly give him a useful, pleasant assistant, but it would enrage the Starks, worsening their already strained relationship. And once Daenerys learned who she was, what would she think of him harboring such a dangerous liability?
But now, this seemed like the only way he could spare her, ease his conscience, and still sleep well at night.
Thinking of that, Aegor glanced again at Myrcella, still appearing frail, pitiful, and helpless. He couldn't help but wonder: had she figured out that, under normal circumstances, he would never agree to take her, and so deliberately stayed behind after realizing he was faking unconsciousness? Had she created this entire situation to force him into a corner?
Seeing his gaze, Myrcella trembled again. Aegor had to temporarily put the suspicion aside.
If she really was that clever and daring, then even if she had used him, he would not feel wronged.
"I cannot let you join the Night's Watch." After a moment of thought, Aegor set his cup down. "The black cloak represents duty, vows, and honor. It is not a toy, and certainly not a tool to escape a betrothal."
"If you want to leave Winterfell, there are other reasons." Before Myrcella could react with fear or despair, he gave her an alternative. "You can claim you were inspired by R'hllor, convert to the Red God, and become a follower of the Lord of Light, apprenticed to Lady Melisandre."
"Mhm!" Myrcella nodded quickly, without hesitation.
"You'll move out of the main keep immediately and stay temporarily with Lady Melisandre. Before we march south with the Gift Army, you are not to leave your room. Any issues with that?"
"No, none." The girl, who had just been nodding, now shook her head like a rattle-drum. Aegor was still taking precautions, but since she had no ulterior motives, she had no objections.
"Lastly, tonight, I'll send someone to invite Lady Catelyn to your new quarters. You'll tell her the truth. Thank her for her care, and let her know you chose to leave on your own, not that I abducted you for some purpose. Can you do that?"
To look Catelyn in the eye and say, "I don't want to be your daughter anymore," would undoubtedly hurt her and the Stark family deeply. It was the last thing Myrcella wanted to do. But hurting someone's feelings, no matter how terrible, was still better than being Lady Hornwood for the rest of her life. Compared to dying, it was nothing.
Her hesitation lasted less than half a second before she replied, "Uh... no problem."
...
In Myrcella's eyes, she had survived a disaster.
But for Aegor, the matter was far from over.
He liked Myrcella very much. But she was a hot potato, and for someone like him, who had climbed to such heights, she was a timebomb. In the treacherous world of politics, personal preference always came second to safety. Before allowing her near Catelyn again, Aegor would make every effort to verify the truth of what Myrcella had told him.
If it all checked out, then good. If even a sliver turned out to be a lie... he wouldn't have the time or the nerve to question her intentions. He would have to choose the safer path and act without mercy.
A short while after the "interview" ended, Qyburn's anxious voice sounded from outside the door. A few seconds later, the former Maester pushed open the door in a panic, only to freeze in shock at the sight of the Lord Commander and Lady Meave sitting across from each other, chatting as though nothing had happened.
"My Lord... this?"
Aegor rolled his eyes at him. The matter was settled. He wasn't in the mood to scold him for carelessness.
"Go invite Lady Melisandre. Lady Meave has something to discuss with her. Also, I'll be 'awakening' ahead of schedule tonight. Go prepare, and inform all parties in the city."
(To be continued.)
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