Chapter 569

"Join the Night’s Watch?"

These noble ladies—one after another—refusing to marry properly was one thing, but thinking that throwing on a black cloak would somehow free them from their troubles? The Night’s Watch was the shield that guarded the realms of men, not a professional service for breaking betrothals!

Yet, after his initial irritation, Aegor quickly realized that her proposal was feasible.

Myrcella wasn’t merely begging for his help—she was also subtly reminding him of another option. Instead of silencing her, he could take her with him. Keep her close. Watch her at all times. If she was willingly placing her life in his hands, then he wouldn’t need to act in haste—he could decide her fate at his leisure.

Having the "granddaughter of Tywin Lannister," the "third daughter of House Stark," or the "future Lady of House Horwood" holding his most dangerous secret was unacceptable. But a girl who lived under his watchful eye, who knew only fragments of the truth, who had no chance to act outside of his control? The risk was still there, but it had been reduced to a level he could tolerate.

Put simply: he didn’t have to crush the flower—he could pluck it and carry it with him instead.

"Mhm, mhm!" Seeing his hesitation, Myrcella seized the opportunity and quickly added, "I can do many things! Besides reading and arithmetic, I’m familiar with Westerosi and Free City culture, history, and geography. I know the noble lineages of the Seven Kingdoms, the structure of the Citadel, and the workings of the Faith! I can help you write letters, keep records, and organize supplies. If you don’t recognize a lord or need a quick briefing on a region, I can whisper the details in your ear. I can bring you tea when you’re thirsty, order food when you’re hungry, and even massage your shoulders when you’re tired!"

She took a sharp breath, only pausing for a split second before continuing, as if terrified of not saying everything in time.

"Now that Lord Petyr is… gone, the Hand of the Queen’s position is empty. For a long time, you’ll likely be the one handling those duties in practice. You’ll be too busy to manage everything yourself—you need someone to assist you. Instead of searching for someone new, why not give me a chance?"

Her voice was trembling slightly by the end, her eyes brimming with tears, yet she didn’t let herself falter.

"The Baratheon princess is gone! I will never speak of my past identity again. I will never contact my grandfather or my uncles unless you wish me to. My lord, I know this puts you in a difficult position… but please, consider it!"

Her pitch was well-prepared, thorough, and undeniably sincere. Not only did she provide an immediate answer to the question of what she would do after leaving with him—becoming his assistant and administrator—but she also took the initiative to distance herself from House Lannister, minimizing his concerns. It was logical, clear, and well-argued.

If Aegor’s first thought had been "Give me one good reason not to kill you," Myrcella had just given him several.

Looking at the small girl before him—her fragile frame trembling as she struggled to secure her own survival—Aegor suddenly wanted to slap himself.

He had never claimed to be a good man. To many, he was undoubtedly a villain. But there was a difference between being seen as a villain and feeling like one. And the latter… even the most ruthless men struggled to accept.

"Alright, don’t be so nervous. No one is getting hurt today."

Forcing his face—stiff from days of pretending to be unconscious—into something resembling warmth, Aegor picked up a lukewarm pitcher from the table and poured a glass of water, handing it to Myrcella.

She accepted it with both hands, eyeing the liquid warily, as if it might be poisoned, before hesitantly sipping it. She drank in small, careful sips, occasionally sneaking glances at him from over the rim of the cup.

She had already said too much—so much so that the words she wanted to say remained stuck in her throat. Myrcella knew that begging further would only make things worse. She had done everything she could. Whether she would "accidentally die" today or "turn misfortune into fortune" depended entirely on Aegor’s final decision.
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Aegor poured himself a cup of water as well, letting the warmth seep into his fingers as he organized his thoughts.

Had this absurd situation not happened, he would never have considered accepting Myrcella’s request.

Not because he doubted her abilities—he had no doubt she was capable. The problem wasn’t her, it was her identity. No matter how intelligent, useful, or charming she was, it wouldn’t change the fact that she was the Kingslayer’s daughter. The political consequences of taking her with him would be dire. The Starks would be enraged, further worsening their already strained relationship. Worse still, how would the queen react when she learned of this decision?

And yet…

Right now, this seemed like the only option that both spared Myrcella and allowed him to sleep soundly at night.

Aegor studied the girl before him, still so small and helpless, and a sudden thought struck him.

Had she planned this?

Had she known that, under normal circumstances, he would never agree to take her? So, upon realizing he was faking his coma, had she deliberately stayed behind—forcing an "accident" to happen, trapping him into taking her along?

His gaze darkened, and Myrcella immediately began to tremble again. Seeing that he was frightening her, Aegor let go of the suspicion for now.

If she truly was that bold and clever… well, even if she was using him, it wouldn’t be undeserved.

"I can’t let you join the Night’s Watch." After a pause, he set his cup down. "The black cloak is a vow, a responsibility, an oath of honor. It is not something to be used as a loophole to escape a marriage."

Myrcella’s face fell, her lips parting as if to plead—

"However," Aegor continued before she could despair, "there are other reasons for you to leave Winterfell."

Her breath caught.

"You will declare that you have been called by R’hllor and have chosen to devote yourself to the Lord of Light. You will become a follower of the Red God and study as Lady Melisandre’s apprentice."

"Yes! Yes!" Myrcella nodded so quickly she nearly knocked over her water cup.

"From today, you will move out of the Great Keep and live with Lady Melisandre. Until the army departs for the South, you are not to leave her chambers. Do you have any objections?"

"None! None at all!" Myrcella, who had been nodding just moments ago, immediately switched to shaking her head, like a little drum. Aegor was clearly still wary of her, but since she wasn’t planning anything treacherous, she had no complaints.

"Finally, tonight, I will summon Lady Catelyn to your new residence. You will speak to her yourself. You will thank her for her care and make it clear that this is your choice—that it was not my doing. Can you do that?"

Telling Lady Stark herself that she did not want to be her daughter anymore? That was a cruel demand, one that would surely wound the entire Stark family. But compared to being trapped in House Horwood forever, or worse, compared to death, it was nothing.

She hesitated for half a second.

"…I can do it."
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To Myrcella, this was the moment she knew she had survived.

But for Aegor, the matter was far from over.

He liked Myrcella. But she was a liability. And in the game of power, personal affection came second to survival.

Before he let her speak to Catelyn, he would verify every word she had said.

If she had been truthful—then all would be well.

If she had lied, even slightly…

Then he would take the safe option.

And kill her.