Chapter 568

Myrcella glanced up at Aegor with cautious, pleading eyes, sensing that she was still far from being out of danger.

"My lord… you’ve been unconscious for two days and nights. Shouldn’t you drink some water… eat something first?"

Aegor released her, but the moment his grip loosened, the girl collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Whether from sheer terror or because his hold had left her breathless and weak, even she wasn’t certain.

As she spoke, her eyes began to glisten, but it wasn’t simply fear that filled them. Aegor had assumed she was on the verge of tears because he had frightened her too much, but in truth, the bitterness in those unshed tears outweighed the fear.

"I’m not going to help you go home."

Aegor had long since guessed that Myrcella’s attempt to get close to him had a purpose, so he cut off her hopes before she could even ask. "Has the Stark family mistreated or bullied you?"

It had only been a few minutes since she accidentally stumbled upon Aegor’s deception, but for someone as sharp as Myrcella, that was more than enough time to piece together the situation. As Arya’s closest friend and roommate, she had already noticed that the "culprit" behind this grand poisoning incident was the very same man who had falsely accused Arya and nearly got her executed by the Unsullied.

She couldn’t fathom how Aegor had managed to orchestrate such an intricate setup in such a short time—let alone how he had manipulated events so precisely that the man had killed himself while under the watch of the Unsullied. But at least she now understood the outcome:

Someone had played a petty trick against Arya.

And in the blink of an eye, Aegor had annihilated them and everyone behind them.

Aegor shook his head, unwilling to play along with her performance. "Enough games, girl. Explain why you didn’t leave with Lady Catelyn. What exactly were you hoping to accomplish by staying behind in my room?"

"Lawrence Snow?"

"The queen herself personally came to verify your condition. She saw you with her own eyes and even touched you to confirm it was real. If even Her Grace was convinced, do you think the word of Robert Baratheon’s daughter means anything? Do you think you can threaten Aegor, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the man the queen trusts?"

"Not just you—if the entire world called you out as the mastermind, as long as the queen still believes in you, you have nothing to fear!"

Seeing that Aegor wasn’t going to let her brush past the issue, Myrcella tensed again. She inhaled deeply, swallowing hard as she forced her breath to steady. Buying time with those few seconds, she rapidly assessed the situation, realizing that honesty was her best chance at convincing him to lower his guard.

"The truth is… I saw that the room was empty, and I overheard Maester Qyburn say you might wake soon. I just… I just wanted to wait a little, to see if you would wake up."

Her voice wavered as she lowered her head, her fingers gripping the fabric of her sleeves.

"I wanted to speak to you privately. To beg for your help."

This was yet another unexpected twist.

Catelyn Stark, as Robb’s mother and one of the most politically influential women in the North, certainly had the power to interfere in the inheritance of House Horwood. When she said "most likely," it could be interpreted as "all but guaranteed."

...

Before Aegor could ask anything further, Myrcella pressed on.

"Robb and Lady Catelyn have arranged a marriage for me. My betrothed is Lawrence Snow."

"Next year, or the year after at the latest, I will be sent to marry him."

"How many times has she helped you? How many times has she advised you, given you valuable insight? The night you stormed Winterfell, she even set fires inside the castle to reduce casualties for your Gifted Army. Are you really willing to kill her?"

With Myrcella’s intelligence, Aegor doubted she still harbored childish fantasies of being a princess who must marry a prince.

Aegor had no idea who Lawrence Snow was, but judging from the surname, he was clearly a bastard.

True, Myrcella herself now carried the name Snow, but even so… this was too much.

Aegor frowned deeply. He had initially assumed the Starks had treated her well and wouldn’t subject her to mistreatment. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Killing was one thing. Killing in self-defense, eliminating obstacles, executing traitors—those were necessary. But strangling an innocent girl to death with his own hands?

That was different. That was a line he hadn’t yet crossed.

...

Inside his mind, two miniature versions of himself were locked in fierce debate—one a devil with sharp horns urging him to finish the job, the other a soft-spoken angel warning against unnecessary cruelty.

The argument was unresolved, but the real Aegor sighed, already loosening his grip.

"So, you don’t like the boy?" He frowned even deeper. "House Horwood may not be as prestigious as the Karstarks or Umbers, but it’s still one of the top ten houses in the North. For the Starks to arrange this match for you—it means they’re treating you like one of their own daughters."

"I understand that, but I…" Myrcella’s face flushed, and she shook her head, as if mustering every ounce of courage she had.

"My lord, you know that I’m just a little younger than Arya. So… though I was spared for a while, in the end, I still couldn’t escape the same problem she faced."

Aegor raised an eyebrow. The same problem?

Was she talking about… reaching the age of menstruation? That was hardly a pressing concern.

And why was she bringing him into it? Did she want him to rub her stomach or something?

Feigning ignorance was a smart move. But this wasn’t some minor misunderstanding—she had uncovered a massive political conspiracy. No matter how well she pretended, he couldn’t simply pretend along with her.

"No… I’ve never even met him. How could I say whether I like him or not?" Myrcella shook her head again, stumbling over her words. "It’s just… spending my life in a cold, dark castle, where my only battlefield is the childbed, where my duties are to serve my husband and raise children… that isn’t the life I want."

"I know this is selfish, but I still have to ask, my lord—when you leave for the South, could you… take me with you?"

Her voice was desperate, filled with trembling hope.

"You once promised Arya that after the war with the Others, you would change the Night’s Watch laws to allow women to join."

She swallowed, forcing herself to look him in the eye. "I thought… maybe I could join too."

"Oh, how poetic. Have you forgotten the tale of 'three men making a tiger'? In this cruel world, can we really afford to hand over such a deadly secret to anyone?"

There had been no abuse, no mistreatment.

And yet, she was now forced to scheme and argue for her own survival, trying to convince another girl’s protector that she wasn’t a threat to his plans.

How could she not feel bitter? How could she not feel utterly powerless?

"No…"

If only she had someone like Aegor to protect her—someone strong, domineering, and ruthless enough to actually keep her safe, instead of someone like Jaime or her father, who acted recklessly and endangered eve