Chapter 533

Ha!

Aegor didn’t need much time to judge. Myrcella’s proposed plan was indeed both “reasonable” and “legitimate.” The Northerners might grumble, but until the Queen’s reign fell apart, they wouldn’t have the justification or excuse to openly oppose it. It was a flawless open scheme.

He raised his eyes, casting a surprised look at Myrcella.

The idea was undoubtedly good—perhaps even excellent—but on a grand scale, it was merely an upper-mid-tier political tactic. It wasn’t some unprecedented, earth-shattering move. If Aegor had spent some time brainstorming with his advisors, they could likely have come up with something similar. What truly surprised him wasn’t the scheme itself but the fact that such a cunning political maneuver came from the mouth of a wide-eyed, innocent-looking young girl.

It seemed the old adage held true: you can know someone’s face but not their heart. Myrcella’s ten years of life as a princess in the Red Keep hadn’t been wasted, after all.

Growing up in the political center of the Seven Kingdoms might explain why this girl could come up with such a plan, requiring a certain level of political intuition and sensitivity. Aegor felt slightly reassured by that thought—only to be quickly engulfed by another, larger question. Why was this girl repeatedly exhausting her brain to offer him advice?

Was it out of gratitude for his care of her and her brothers? Or was she trying to emulate Ganyu Luo, the twelve-year-old prime minister of legend, by using her display of intellect to recommend herself and join the Queen’s camp as his little advisor?

Aegor studied the little princess with a gaze full of curiosity and questions. But Myrcella, flushed under his scrutiny, eventually turned her head away without explaining, leaving Aegor no choice but to nod and play dumb.

“A good idea,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll make time to arrange it. I’ll ensure the search for the true—or false—Umbers proceeds in secret. We won’t let this opportunity slip through our fingers.”

“Mm-hmm.” Myrcella nodded and looked up at him, as if her role in the conversation had ended, though her expectant expression suggested otherwise. Her hesitant, pitiable demeanor was a textbook example of “having something to say.”

Aegor felt a slight itch on his scalp. He had a vague idea of what Myrcella wanted to say, but he didn’t dare ask. His subordinates and advisors weren’t exactly brimming with talent at the moment, and recruiting bright minds to strengthen his team was the logical move. However, not everyone could be brought into the fold.

If Myrcella were a gentleman like Ser Denys Mallister or an old fox like some seasoned bannermen, Aegor could have directly asked her what she wanted, then bargained for mutual benefit. If Myrcella were a boy, he would have clapped her on the shoulder, laughing heartily, and said, “Kid, you’ve got talent! Stick with me.” Even if she weren’t the daughter of Jaime Lannister and Cersei—a child bearing the Baratheon name but unmistakably a product of incest—he might have taken her in as a secretary, an advisor in all but title.

But she wasn’t. She was a girl, a former Baratheon princess and granddaughter of Tywin Lannister. From every angle, she was a potential threat to Daenerys—a reminder of the enemies that had toppled House Targaryen. In these turbulent times, when Aegor was struggling just to keep his footing in the political quagmire surrounding the Queen, taking this princess under his wing would be a reckless move.

People might assume he was captivated by her youth and beauty—that would be a minor scandal. But if rumors began to swirl about political collusion, and those rumors reached Daenerys, the consequences would be disastrous.

With Varys and Roose Bolton lurking in the shadows, that “if” wasn’t really an “if.” It was a “when.” And that was a risk Aegor couldn’t afford—or rather, refused—to take.

He’d once thought of granting Myrcella a wish as a reward for her work as his little informant. But now, trapped in this treacherous mire where even he could barely protect himself, it seemed there was nothing he could safely give her.

Myrcella, for her part, seemed to understand her precarious position. Her expression turned disappointed, even a bit aggrieved, but she quickly lowered her head and swallowed her words, not wanting to make things harder for Aegor. Instead, she softly asked, “Lord Aegor, how long will you and the Queen be staying in Winterfell?”

…

Originally, they were supposed to leave in a few days. Now? It seemed they’d be stuck here for at least ten days, maybe two weeks.

The thought irritated Aegor, but he held back a frown, ready to offer a polite response before excusing himself to attend the next strategy meeting. But before he could answer, a thunderbolt of realization struck him, illuminating half his mind.

Wait. This wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

He had never seriously considered Last Hearth before—not out of any moral integrity, but because it was insignificant compared to his grander plans. Myrcella’s suggestion had seemed like a harmless, opportunistic move, one worth acting on but not worth much thought. Yet now, in light of Daenerys’ recent, less-than-prudent strategic decisions during the war council, the situation had subtly but significantly changed.

Daenerys’ demand was that every Northern lord without exception recognize her legitimacy and support her campaign to conquer the South. Under these conditions, using political machinations to claim Last Hearth’s ownership had gained a new, crucial significance. It was no longer just about seizing a single lordship—it was about securing a seat among the Northern nobility.

If there were, say, ten major Northern houses apart from the Starks, and Daenerys demanded unanimous loyalty, Myrcella’s plan would allow Aegor to use the new “Lord Umber” to swear allegiance to her. That would reduce the number of houses he and Littlefinger needed to sway by one—a small but valuable decrease in pressure.

The beauty of the plan lay in its flexibility. Even if Aegor had to fabricate a claimant, he could openly admit the truth to Daenerys. As long as this “Lord Umber” controlled Last Hearth and pledged loyalty, he would be the legitimate Lord Umber as far as their faction was concerned. Whether or not he had real Umber blood wouldn’t matter to Daenerys, and Aegor wouldn’t risk being branded a deceiver.

A simple move had evolved into a masterstroke, thanks to perfect timing.

His mind racing, Aegor’s expression shifted from feigned regret to astonished joy. He turned his gaze back to Myrcella with renewed appreciation.

“Lord Aegor?” Myrcella, unaware of the implications unfolding in his mind, met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She couldn’t understand why his mood had suddenly changed.

“Thank you for the advice, Lady Myrcella,” Aegor said warmly. “As it happens, your question about how long we’ll stay in Winterfell ties into a dilemma I’ve been grappling with. You’re clever—perhaps you can offer another brilliant suggestion?”

He smiled as he spoke, then explained the key points of the war council’s discussions, even hinting at Littlefinger’s suspicions about Varys and Young Aegon’s connections.

Ordinarily, such matters—intrigue among the Queen’s inner circle—would be considered “family secrets” and never shared with outsiders. But in their short acquaintance, Myrcella had proven herself both intelligent and discreet. Reliable people always earned a measure of trust.

After hearing everything, Myrcella frowned in confusion. “Why is the Queen so set on antagonizing the North? Shouldn’t her priority be marching south to resolve the chaos in King’s Landing? Isn’t the Iron Throne her ultimate goal?”

(I think the same thing!)

Aegor almost wanted to shout it out loud. Even a thirteen-year-old could see what Daenerys couldn’t when her stubbornness took over.

“I completely agree,” he said, sighing. “But the Queen’s mind is made up. No one can persuade her otherwise. Do you think this task can be accomplished?”

The little princess’ disappointment vanished as she began to think. Her face grew serious, her brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, she hesitated.

“There is a way,” she said cautiously, “but it would require great courage, trust, and readiness to face the worst possible outcome. Would you like to hear it?”

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