Chapter 437

The inner keep and outer city of Crown’s Rest combined were no more than one-fortieth the size of King’s Landing. From the air, the entirety of the town lay in clear view beneath Daenerys as she approached on Drogon. Even from afar, she could see smoke rising from the city—a shade darker and the settlement seemingly larger than it had been two days prior.

As she drew closer, the changes became starkly apparent.

The once orderly rows of snow-capped rooftops had been reduced to charred ruins, the blackened remains of the residential district still emitting thin wisps of smoke. It looked as if she had unleashed her dragons on the town herself in a fit of sleepwalking. Beyond the walls, the sight was even more startling: the pristine white snowfields had been trampled into a chaotic mess of footprints and drag marks. Scattered across the plain were dozens of large, smoking pyres, around which groups of workers bustled back and forth. Lowering Drogon slightly for a closer look, Daenerys realized that the pyres weren’t burning coal but the mangled remains of bodies.

Human and animal corpses, intact and dismembered alike, were piled onto the flames. Among them were giants—so massive they had to be carted to the pyres by teams of men. The urgency was clear: the defenders were racing against time to dispose of the dead, fearing that any delay might see them rise again as wights. With reconstruction efforts and the tending of the wounded also underway, Crown’s Rest had no time for the solemn funeral rites befitting such a victory. Instead, the bodies of allies and enemies alike were sorted into piles and burned. The ashes of the fallen defenders would later be buried outside the walls, with a memorial erected in their honor when the time allowed.

Even now, the dozens of pyres accounted for tens of thousands of bodies, with more corpses being dragged from the gates. What kind of battle could have produced so many dead in less than two days, Daenerys wondered, that it dwarfed every war she had witnessed combined?

She couldn’t have known that only a few thousand of these casualties were the defenders’ kills. The rest were obliterated by the dragonsteel bombs. Surveying the aftermath of what should have been a triumphant victory, Daenerys felt a mix of emotions: awe at the Night’s Watch’s combat prowess, relief at their apparent victory, but above all, an unshakable unease. Had she arrived too late? Had she missed her chance to cement her alliance with Aegor and secure the loyalty of the prophesied “strongest follower”?

Circling the battlefield on Drogon, Daenerys spotted troops gathering outside the eastern gate of Crown’s Rest. Suspecting that Aegor was among them, she guided Drogon downward, landing smoothly in an open space nearby. The wind from Drogon’s wings scattered snow and ash, but this time, the soldiers of Crown’s Rest didn’t cower in terror. Instead, they watched with awe and curiosity, restrained only by their discipline.

Aegor sheathed his sword and hurried toward the dragon with his guards, arriving at Daenerys’s side the moment she dismounted.

“Your Grace,” Aegor greeted her formally, his tone filled with genuine respect. “For you to travel such a great distance and arrive so swiftly, on behalf of the Night’s Watch and all the people of the Gift, I offer you our deepest gratitude.”

“No need for such courtesy, Lord Commander. If anything, I owe you an apology for my ill-timed departure two days ago. It was an absence that could have been avoided.” Daenerys nodded gracefully, her heart easing somewhat at the warmth in his voice. “I hope I have not arrived too late?”

“You couldn’t have come at a better time.” Aegor’s expression was calm, but his words concealed the truth. He suspected the Others had timed their assault to coincide with the dragons’ absence, yet he couldn’t afford to voice such accusations. “The defenders of the Gift and the Wall stood united, repelling the enemy’s earlier waves. However, the remnants of the foe, realizing they could not defeat us, have bypassed the Gift entirely and are now heading south toward the undefended North. I am preparing to lead a force in pursuit. This campaign was fraught with peril, but now that you’ve arrived with your dragons, victory is assured.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’m relieved to have made it in time,” Daenerys replied, suppressing her smile. She was about to suggest they set out immediately when a thought struck her. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Then, Lord Commander, our previous agreement still stands, does it not?”

“Of course.” Aegor nodded without hesitation. He had once believed that the defenses of the Gift were unbreakable and that the dragons were more a luxury than a necessity. But the ferocity of the enemy’s assault had shattered his pride. Now, he had no illusions: Daenerys’s dragons were essential to securing victory. “Your Grace, you have my word. By aiding the Night’s Watch in battle, you have earned our loyalty. We will fight for you and your claim to the Iron Throne.”
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Daenerys wanted to trust Aegor. She wanted to believe that helping him secure this victory would earn his allegiance. But her life, filled with betrayals and hardships, made her cautious. Reflecting on their earlier conversations, she realized with a sinking feeling that their agreements had all been verbal, made in private with no witnesses or written records to bind him. If Aegor used her dragons, then discarded her once the battle was won, what recourse would she have beyond retaliation?

The man before her could be her strongest ally—or her greatest threat.

A bold idea came to her. In a measured tone, she said, “I trust you, Lord Commander. However, since you affirm that our agreement remains valid, might I request a gesture of that commitment here and now? Would you kneel before me and swear your loyalty—publicly?”
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Aegor froze. A wave of resistance surged through him at the request.

It wasn’t just the implication of being cornered—it was an instinctual revulsion. Before his transmigration, like any modern person, Aegor had regarded kneeling as a humiliating and outdated display of subservience. Even in the four years since he had arrived in this world, he had never willingly knelt to anyone, alive or dead. The idea of bowing to a woman younger than him, no matter how regal, struck a nerve.

But his rational mind quickly reined in his emotions. In this feudal world, kneeling wasn’t inherently humiliating. It was a solemn gesture of allegiance, one Daenerys had every right to request. More importantly, her demand was logical—she wanted to increase the cost of his betrayal by making his oath public, witnessed by thousands. It was a smart move, even if it felt opportunistic.

Aegor weighed the consequences swiftly. Prolonged hesitation would make him seem untrustworthy, and Daenerys’s request was strategically sound. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and nodded.

Turning to the assembled soldiers, Aegor raised his hand for silence. He unsheathed his sword once more, then knelt on one knee before Daenerys, resting the blade across his thigh.

“In the name of all the gods, old and new, I, Aegor Rivers, swear my fealty to Queen Daenerys Targaryen,” he declared firmly. “I vow to fight for your safety and honor, to defend your rightful claim, and to uphold your cause until my dying breath.”
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Daenerys had heard countless oaths of loyalty before, but none had ever filled her with such satisfaction and relief. She understood that her request might have stirred resentment in Aegor, but her instincts told her it was worth it. The man before her, along with the forces of the Gift and the Night’s Watch, would be pivotal to her cause.

Smiling faintly, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, signaling both closeness and acknowledgment. Then, in a rare moment of inspiration, she responded in kind.

“As Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of My Name, I swear that you will always have a place at my court, at my table, and in my councils. I will heed your counsel, value your advice, and honor your loyalty with my unwavering trust.”

For the first time since arriving in the Gift, Daenerys felt she had secured an unshakable ally.