Chapter 447

"First, see to the wounded and burn the bodies. Those are the priorities. Set up camp where we stand, and leave the less urgent tasks for daylight. Though we’ve won, guards must still be posted for the night. Assign only the most reliable men to watch over the queen—there can be no accidents, whether from others or… herself."

Warner Buckwell nodded solemnly. "I will oversee it personally. Rest assured."

The Night’s Watch and the Gift’s forces were a motley assembly. United against the Others, they had fought together as humans. But how many of these men, having survived the harrowing battle of ice and fire, still had the will to fight for the queen's cause? Aegor couldn’t be certain, even in his own mind.

Among those who followed him, only the original Night’s Watch logistics team, who were loyal to him, and the faction of Watch nobles with ambitions similar to his own, could be considered trustworthy. Everyone else had their own motives and reasons to distance themselves from Aegor’s cause—or worse, could be turned against the queen with the right persuasion or bribes.

It wasn’t just himself Aegor needed to protect. His caution now extended to the key figure of his chosen faction: Queen Daenerys herself.

...

After giving Warner Buckwell a stern reminder, Aegor led a contingent of guards across the battlefield, guided by a messenger to the Northern army’s camp.

"Lord Stark," Aegor greeted as he approached.

Robb Stark sat slouched on a pile of supplies, surrounded by nobles holding torches. He looked pale and worn, his posture stiff with pain. It was clear he was injured, though the specifics of the wound weren’t immediately visible.

"Commander Aegor," Robb replied weakly, returning the greeting.

As the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and now a proclaimed supporter of Queen Daenerys, Aegor was present in full battle gear, ready to fight himself. Luck, however, had favored him. He had charged onto the battlefield alongside his men, shouted, "All forces advance!" and—before he could even swing his sword—the battle had been decided. He emerged unscathed, with the undeserved reputation of a fearless leader.

In the past, Aegor might have praised Robb’s bravery and strategic foresight in bringing his forces north to aid in the battle. But those days were gone. Now, as a sworn bannerman of the queen and an integral part of the "anti-stag faction," it would have been improper to grovel or ingratiate himself to a rival noble.

Their greetings were brief and hollow, and silence soon fell between them. The quiet stretched awkwardly until, after several tense moments, Robb broke it with a question he already knew the answer to.

"The Targaryen queen is here?"

"Yes," Aegor replied frankly. "She’s with the Night’s Watch forces."

Robb frowned. "Why would she help us? No… let me rephrase that. How did she happen to arrive at precisely the right moment?"

Aegor shrugged. "When the Others began their march, I traveled south to request aid from King Stannis. I received no help. But as luck would have it, my ship was intercepted by the queen’s fleet in Blackwater Bay. One thing led to another, and I struck a deal with her: if she brought her dragons north to help us win this war, I would swear fealty to her and lead the Night’s Watch in reclaiming her Iron Throne."

This was true enough. Aegor had never counted on Stannis to provide assistance. But he couldn’t very well admit outright that he had scouted potential allies, weighed his options, and ultimately chosen Daenerys as the best bet. Blaming the current king’s refusal to help created a more palatable narrative for his decision.

Robb’s brow furrowed. "You never mentioned this before. Were you deliberately concealing it?"

What kind of question is that? Aegor suppressed a sneer. "Lord Stark, this was an internal matter for the Night’s Watch. I had no obligation to inform the North."

Of course. Robb couldn’t argue with that. As much as he wanted to remind Aegor of the Night’s Watch’s sacred vow to remain neutral in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms, he knew it was pointless. Aegor, as Lord Commander, knew the rules as well as anyone, and his actions were clearly calculated. No amount of moralizing would change his mind now.

The realization left a bitter taste in Robb’s mouth. His worst suspicions were confirmed: Aegor, the shrewd outsider, had used his position to serve his own interests and was now slipping out of their control.

Robb’s anger simmered beneath the surface, but he held back. He owed his life to the queen’s dragons, which had saved him from being torn apart by wights. He couldn’t afford to antagonize Aegor, at least not yet.

But Robb’s restraint didn’t extend to the men around him.

"Quite the scheme, Commander!" roared Clay Seven, the new Lord of Sevenhill. His father had perished in the battle, leaving him to inherit the title. Though some might have seen his rise as good fortune, Clay himself felt only grief and rage. "You let the dead march south unchecked, knowing they’d weaken the North, just so you could lick the boots of the Mad King’s daughter! Congratulations, your plan worked. But let me tell you this: even with our losses, the North can still stop the Watch if you try to betray us!"

...

Aegor had to admit, the Northerners weren’t entirely wrong to suspect him. If Daenerys hadn’t entered the fray and if he hadn’t violated the Watch’s neutrality, they might have seen him as merely negligent. But now, with a queen and her dragons in tow, it wasn’t hard for them to imagine darker motives at play.

Clay Seven’s accusation likely echoed the thoughts of many, including Robb himself. After all, what better way to justify betrayal than to frame it as necessity?

But in truth, Aegor had considered—and rejected—such a plan. It was tempting to think of using the Others as a tool to weaken rivals, but it was the kind of short-sighted thinking that had doomed countless rulers before him. He wasn’t foolish enough to rely on an enemy as uncontrollable as the Others.

"That’s nonsense!" Aegor snapped, his indignation genuine. "If I had any such intention, I could’ve delayed the queen just minutes earlier, and you wouldn’t be standing here to accuse me. Don’t use your filthy mind to guess at my motives!"

His forceful denial, coupled with the cold logic of his argument, silenced some of the murmurs. But his blunt, disrespectful tone fanned the flames of the Northerners’ tempers. Several lords, mourning the losses of their men and kin, shouted angrily, some pushing forward as though ready to strike him.

Fortunately, Aegor had anticipated hostility and brought sufficient guards. His black-clad soldiers formed a protective wall around him, their weapons at the ready. The angry lords were too exhausted and injured to push through, and with the queen’s dragons still nearby, any escalation would have been suicide.

"Enough!" Robb’s voice cut through the chaos, hoarse but commanding. He glared at Aegor, his anger barely contained. "Your decisions are your responsibility. But let’s set this aside for now. Tell me—are my mother, Arya, and Bran safe?"

...