Chapter 399

Even the White Walkers hadn’t managed to scare the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch this much—Arya Stark had once again succeeded in startling him.

The moment Aegor received Myrcella’s urgent report, he sprang into action. For half a frantic hour, he led men aimlessly combing through the residential quarters, only to come up empty-handed. Realizing the futility of their approach, he stopped and reassessed. This kind of blind search was pointless. What he needed to do was think like her. If Arya had a target, where would she go? With that in mind, he decided to wait for her to come to him—at the heart of the matter.

Aegor hurried back to the tower on the Isle of Faces. He stormed up the stairs, ignoring the bewildered look from Daenerys as she delicately sipped her soup. Rushing to the top, he peered out the window and, sure enough, spotted Arya precariously crossing the frozen lake on a makeshift crutch of tree branches. She was already halfway across, right at the center. He wanted to yell out and stop her, but he feared startling her into falling and plunging through the ice. Holding his breath, he watched as she crossed safely and reached the island. Only when she stopped to “study” the two guards standing at the base of the tower with a murderous glint in her eye did he finally make his move. Quietly, he slipped down the stairs, circled around, and came up behind her.

“What do you think you’re doing, sneaking around like this?” he growled, grabbing her arm. “With skills like yours, you think you’re ready to be an assassin?”

“I wasn’t doing anything!” Arya jerked her arm, trying to break free, her voice full of feigned innocence. “What assassin? I—You’re the one sneaking up on me!”

“Where’s your sword?” Aegor’s eyes swept over her. No Needle in sight.

Thank the Old Gods, she hid it under her coat, Arya thought, relieved. Emboldened by her secret, she straightened up. “What sword? I’m just curious what the Mad King’s daughter looks like, that’s all!”

Aegor wasn’t fooled by her bravado. Needle was a sword, not a dagger; it couldn’t be fully concealed. He scrutinized her more closely, noticing the faint outline of a hilt beneath her coat. Without hesitation, he reached for it.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Arya yelped, backing against the wall and pressing herself against it to protect the sword. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hand it over,” Aegor barked. He stepped forward, grabbing at her as Arya stubbornly clung to the sword, twisting and squirming in his grasp. From an outsider’s perspective, it might have looked like he was trying to strip her—not exactly ideal optics for the Lord Commander. Despite her spirit, Arya was no match for a grown man. She quickly found herself overwhelmed, and her resistance began to falter.

“No! You… You’re a brute! I’ll scream!”

“Go ahead and scream!” Aegor snapped, furious. “Let’s see who comes running to save you!”

He finally got hold of Needle’s hilt through her coat but hesitated. Was the blade properly sheathed? If they kept wrestling, there was a real risk the sword could slip and hurt her. Making a split-second decision, he pinned her with one arm and, with the other, delivered two sharp smacks to her rear.

The crisp sound echoed in the cold air, and Arya froze in shock. Her budding assassin spirit seemed to dissipate instantly, leaving her stunned and defenseless. In the silence that followed, Aegor pulled Needle from beneath her coat, scabbard and all. A moment later, the pain and humiliation of what had just happened hit her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob.

“She killed my grandfather and uncle!” Arya wailed through her tears. “And you… You’re treating her like a guest! What are you doing, Aegor? I’ll tell Robb! I’ll tell my mother! You’re a traitor!”

Aegor blinked, caught off guard by her outburst. For a moment, his mind wandered—how could someone so skinny be so… springy? He shook off the thought. Not the time. Arya had been caught red-handed threatening his guest, nearly derailing his plans. He hadn’t even started scolding her yet, and here she was, crying like the victim.

“Listen,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “the Mad King killed your family. She’s his daughter. When that happened, she wasn’t even born yet!”

Arya ignored him, crying harder. Aegor glanced nervously toward the tower. The last thing he needed was for Daenerys to hear the commotion and come out to investigate. Desperate, he pulled Arya into a tight hug, squeezing her until she stopped struggling. He shot a glare at the guards watching the scene unfold and held her there, ignoring her squirming until her sobs quieted into sniffles.

When she’d calmed down, he bent down, wiped her tears away, and locked eyes with her. “I don’t care how much you hate the Mad King’s daughter. Right now, she’s my guest, and no guest in my keep will be harmed—by anyone. Do you understand?”

“I’m just your guest,” Arya said bitterly, her red-rimmed eyes glaring at him. “That’s all I am to you.”

Aegor resisted the urge to scratch his head in frustration. “Of course you’re my guest,” he said carefully. “But you’re not like her. You’re my favorite guest—the most welcome. Whenever you visit, it makes me happier than I can say.” He crouched to her level, softening his tone. “But even though you’re my favorite, she’s still a guest. If anything happens to her here, I’m responsible. If those dragons of hers decide to torch the place in retaliation, it’ll be on my head. Do you get that?”

“You hit me,” Arya muttered, her voice low and sullen.

Aegor sighed, pressing his temples. “If you’d just behaved, I wouldn’t have had to.” He paused, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You want to stay with me? Get rid of that betrothal of yours? Become the first female ranger of the Night’s Watch? Then we need to stay alive long enough to make that happen. If Daenerys and her dragons help us defeat the White Walkers, then fine. We’ll use her. After that, I’ll throw her out myself.”

Arya hesitated, her expression softening slightly. But then she bit her lip and repeated, “You hit me.”

“For the love of—!” Aegor clenched his fists. “Fine. Keep this up, and next time, I’ll pull your pants down and spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Arya shot back, her eyes blazing.

“Oh, you think I won’t?” Aegor smirked, recognizing her defiance as a sign she’d calmed down. He ruffled her hair and mockingly patted her back. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Want me to rub it for you?”

“Get lost!” Arya shoved him, wiping her tears and scowling. “Fine, I won’t kill her today. But give me my sword back!”

“I’ll keep it for now,” Aegor replied, handing Needle to a nearby guard. “Leon, take Lady Stark back to her room.”

Arya glared at him as the guard dragged her away. “If you don’t give it back, I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing,” Aegor interrupted, turning on his heel.

With Arya safely out of the way, he let out a long breath. The confrontation had rattled him, leaving his carefully crafted plan for Daenerys in tatters. But he couldn’t delay any longer. Straightening his cloak, he stepped inside the tower to face the Mother of Dragons. Time to improvise.