Chapter 288

Do we have a grudge or something?

Aegor nearly blurted it out.

The one who had spoken was a Karstark, someone Aegor barely knew. Meeting the man’s gaze, Aegor couldn’t tell if the words came from thoughtless bluntness or carried some hidden intent.

Despite the irritation simmering inside him, Aegor managed a polite smile and shook his head. “I don’t have much of an opinion.”

Robb chuckled. “No need to hold back. Sharing your perspective isn’t meddling in the Seven Kingdoms’ internal affairs.”

Weren’t you the one who just declared no business talk during dinner? A few drinks in, and you’ve already forgotten your own words?

Though he grumbled inwardly, Aegor wasn’t the type to shy away from speaking his mind. With the table’s eyes on him, he laid out his thoughts on the matter of Asha Greyjoy, weighing the pros and cons of different courses of action.

“Aegor’s argument is sound,” Roose Bolton unexpectedly chimed in, once again backing Aegor. “Keeping Balon’s daughter as a prisoner suppresses potential threats and ensures we maintain leverage in the face of any future shifts. And I doubt the North will crumble under the weight of one more prisoner.”

Robb, now visibly tipsy, flushed from his drinks, seemed to find it harder to think clearly. Rubbing his temples, he groaned and decided, “If most of you think Asha Greyjoy should remain imprisoned, so be it.”

Most of us? No one even voted.

Though the decision was ultimately inconsequential and didn’t impinge on anyone’s interests, the casual way Robb sealed the matter left Aegor with a growing sense of unease. As the lords resumed their revelry, Aegor glanced at Robb, only to find the young lord’s slightly glazed eyes fixed on him.

An ominous feeling crept up his spine.

And sure enough, Robb leaned forward with a playful smirk. “Since Asha Greyjoy is your prisoner, Aegor, it makes sense that you should be the one to oversee her custody.”

What?

Aegor almost sprang to his feet. “Lord Stark, she wasn’t exactly my personal prisoner. Besides, overseeing her requires manpower, and both the Wall and the Gift are sorely lacking in that.”

“And you think Winterfell isn’t?” Robb countered, laughing lightly. “My guards are spread thin—many were sent with my father to King’s Landing or joined me on campaign. We’ve emptied the dungeons just to bolster our defenses. Reopening and staffing a facility for one prisoner is hardly feasible. But Crown's Rest is already equipped to handle captives. What’s one more?”

If you would just approve the settlement plan outright, I wouldn’t be short on manpower, Aegor thought but dared not say.

His silent plea was met with a glint in Robb’s eye, one that clearly read:
You dragged me to the Gift to back your campaign for Lord Commander. Did you really think I’d do it without expecting something in return?

With no way out, Aegor sighed and relented. “Very well. If Lord Stark commands it, Asha Greyjoy will be transferred to Crown's Rest under my care.”

“Excellent,” Robb said, nodding in satisfaction. “Just make sure she doesn’t escape. From the Iron Islands to the Gift, it’s a long way. I doubt she’d get very far.”

Fair point. The Wall was infamous for its harsh, desolate surroundings. That was why it served as the Seven Kingdoms’ preferred dumping ground for unwanted misfits in the first place.

One more prisoner didn’t make much difference—at least not compared to the ongoing headache of deciding how to deal with Joffrey, Tommen, and the captured Ironborn already housed in Crown's Rest.

As Aegor mulled over his growing list of problems, fate seemed to have a cruel sense of timing. After the feast ended and he returned to his quarters, Jaime Lannister, of all people, came knocking.

“Jaime,” Aegor greeted with an uneasy smile, suppressing the urge to groan. “What’s the matter?”

Jaime wasted no time making himself at home, plopping into a chair with his usual nonchalance. “That wildling woman—Val—called for me today.”

“Val? The ‘wildling princess’?” Aegor quirked a brow. The title was an exaggeration; Val was merely the sister-in-law of Mance Rayder, the former King-Beyond-the-Wall. Still, the nickname had stuck. “She’s under house arrest in the Hardin Tower. How did she summon you?”

Jaime cleared his throat. “She didn’t exactly leave the tower. She sent a guard to fetch me, and I went to meet her.”

“Oh?” Aegor leaned forward, intrigued. “And?”

“She claims people have been lurking near the tower recently, watching her family. They’re not just gawking—they’ve been trying to talk to the guards, possibly to get them to lower their guard.”

Aegor’s expression grew serious. “Are you sure she’s not imagining things?”

Jaime bristled. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

Aegor sighed, leaning back in thought. The uneasy murmurs against Mormont’s decision to spare Mance Rayder had never entirely disappeared. Was someone plotting to use the former King-Beyond-the-Wall to incite chaos among the wildlings?

After a few moments of contemplation, Aegor made up his mind. “We can’t ignore the possibility. Move Mance and his family to Crown's Rest. They’ll be safer under my direct protection.”

Jaime nodded in agreement but hesitated. “When?”

“Not yet,” Aegor decided. “With the Northern lords here, moving Mance openly might cause a stir. Wait until I leave with the lords to inspect Eastwatch. When that happens, transfer them immediately.”

“Understood,” Jaime said, standing to leave.

“Wait,” Aegor called out.

He hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. “There’s something else you need to know. Robb Stark handed Joffrey and Tommen over to me. They’re in Crown's Rest as well. I thought you should decide—do you want them brought to the Wall, or should they stay where they are?”

Jaime froze, his entire body going rigid.

Though Aegor referred to them as Jaime’s “nephews,” they both knew the truth—Joffrey and Tommen were Jaime and Cersei’s illegitimate children, a forbidden product of their incestuous relationship.

The Kingslayer’s face twisted through a range of emotions before he finally growled, “If I say I don’t care, what will you do?”

Aegor shrugged. “I plan to establish a school in Crown's Rest. It’ll educate the wildlings and help integrate their families into our society. Joffrey and Tommen would stay there, among peers their age. It’d be good for them.”

“With wildlings?” Jaime sneered.

“Would you rather they stay at the Wall?” Aegor shot back. “Surrounded by criminals and men who’d look down on them at every turn? You can’t protect them here, Jaime. Face it.”

Jaime’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. Finally, through gritted teeth, he muttered, “I can’t protect them, but I can make anyone who hurts them pay—no matter who it is. Don’t forget that.”

With that, he stormed out, leaving Aegor shaking his head.

“Bloody fool,” Aegor muttered. “Doesn’t even ask about Myrcella, yet has the gall to threaten me.”

Still, Jaime’s temper tantrum aside, Aegor’s plan remained unchanged. At Crown's Rest, the stigma surrounding the boys’ parentage would fade among the wildlings, who cared little for the rules of the south. Protecting them wasn’t just a promise—it was a necessity.

For all his flaws, Jaime had a point: he couldn’t shield his children, but he could make their enemies suffer. And Aegor had no intention of being counted among them.