Myrcella had really had a hard time these past few days, but Aegor could rest assured: it had nothing to do with him forgetting her. On the contrary, his neglect had actually made things slightly easier for her.
Because he was the main source of trouble for most people in the castle.
With a trust and courage that, even in hindsight, felt almost like possession, the little princess had chosen to believe in Aegor and assist him in attacking her "new home," Winterfell. The fact that no members of House Stark had been harmed during the change of power was certainly good news, but it only relieved half of the weight she carried. Myrcella still had to worry whether what the Night's Watch had said about Roose Bolton and the Queen was true, and whether she had been used, due to her youth and trustfulness, to act against the people she cared about.
Fortunately, all the tension and fear had come to an end today. As the Queen led the Unsullied into Winterfell and, accompanied by Lord Bolton, formally entered the castle as its mistress, the previous rumors that the "Mad King's daughter had been eliminated by the Dreadfort army" naturally collapsed in the face of undeniable fact. Having witnessed it all with her own eyes, Myrcella finally let out a long sigh of relief and lowered her guard completely. She hadn't been deceived. That mysterious foreigner of unknown origin was as reliable and trustworthy as she had hoped. Her seemingly reckless gamble had, in truth, protected House Stark and saved them from annihilation.
After this "conspiracy" that tested trust, the imagined Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the real Aegor West overlapped perfectly in her mind. Myrcella suddenly felt as if she had known him for many years. He seemed familiar and close.
The courtyard was crowded, full of watching eyes. Myrcella was careful with her expression and behavior, afraid this meeting might be misinterpreted by those with ill intentions. "It's alright. Are you free now?"
Very busy—but Aegor didn't say that aloud. First, it was hard for anyone to say "no" to such a lovely girl. Second, from what he knew, Myrcella wouldn't bother him for anything trivial.
"I am." He didn't stop walking, but slowed his pace slightly so that Myrcella's small steps could keep up. "What, Arya still thinking about how to kill me?"
"No, no. She's still fuming on the surface, but after seeing how Lord Bolton followed behind the Queen today, a lot of her anger has faded." Myrcella followed beside him happily, her tone lively. "Although I don't understand why you let her keep her 'Needle,' even if she still wants to stab someone, it won't be you. If I had to describe her mood now, I'd say Arya is most upset because… she can't like you anymore."
That was a strange way to put it. Aegor turned to glance at the little princess and asked, "What do you mean 'can't' like me anymore?"
"Well, how should I explain it?" The little princess twisted a lock of golden hair near her ear and frowned slightly. After a moment, she brightened. "It's like… if someone had asked Arya before, 'Miss Stark, why do you like a Night's Watch man?' she would have definitely snapped, 'Mind your own business!' But if someone asked her now... um… well, you understand, my lord. It's not that she doesn't like you. It's that she can't like you anymore."
So that's what it was. Aegor understood. He even guessed what the second half of the sentence was that Myrcella didn't dare say—Now, if someone asked Arya, "Miss Stark, why do you like a traitor?" That would be an awkward question. She couldn't get mad or answer easily.
Humans are social creatures. No matter how loudly they declare they don't care what others think, they are still influenced by public opinion.
He had indeed resorted to underhanded methods and, in a sense, was viewed as a traitor. He didn't even have the right to be angry about it. He could only nod with a bitter smile, indicating that he understood what she meant. "Thank you, and please ask Lady Meave to keep an eye on Arya. Don't let her do anything foolish that could hurt herself or others. If anything seems wrong, come to me immediately…"
Before finishing the sentence, he suddenly had the urge to smack himself. It wasn't enough that he was treating Arya as a tool to maintain ties with the Starks. Now he was even instructing another girl, a year younger than her, to monitor her. On the path to becoming a great villain, he was certainly marching forward step by step.
"I'll keep an eye out, but I actually came to speak to you about something else today." Myrcella seemed to realize the topic had made things a bit awkward, so she quickly changed it. "I was bored and thinking randomly, and suddenly realized something that might be very useful to you, something I think you haven't noticed."
"Oh?" Aegor raised his brows, interested. "Tell me."
"Didn't Last Hearth fall and its people get massacred during the White Walkers' southern invasion? The Umbers, one of the North's great houses, were wiped out. That left behind a sturdy castle and a vast stretch of land without an owner. The Night's Watch is currently occupying it temporarily with good reason. But, my lord, have you thought about how to handle it in the future?"
What was this about? Aegor was confused and shrugged. "We occupied Last Hearth out of necessity. If the North demands it back, then both in reason and sentiment, I have no grounds to keep it. To avoid disputes, it should be left for the North to decide how to deal with it."
"You are right not to provoke the North's deep-rooted distrust of outsiders." The little princess lowered her voice, as if afraid of being overheard. "If it's left to the North to handle, the final outcome will be one of two things. Either the noble houses reach a consensus after some struggle and eventually find a distant relative—someone with Umber blood through marriage—allowing him to reclaim the name and rebuild the family. Or, they can't agree, and the title will be struck from the rolls… the castle will become ruins, and the land will be divided among those whom House Stark and neighboring families favor."
She paused, then added, "Neither result benefits you, but in fact, a method that would let you legally and justifiably absorb this land is right in front of you. You just haven't realized it yet."
Aegor didn't follow her train of thought. Nor was he particularly interested at first. Right now, he was more focused on how to deal with Varys and how to push the Queen south as soon as possible to unify Westeros and establish a new kingdom centered around King's Landing. In this grand plan, the land he aimed to claim was vast. A small lordship like Last Hearth was like a sesame seed next to a watermelon—neither wealthy nor strategic. Holding onto it would contradict his plan for Northern autonomy, and its ownership had hardly even crossed his mind.
But that initial moment of disinterest passed quickly. Aegor returned to rational thought. The Umbers' land was indeed a lordship, and given the North's vast territory and sparse population, it wasn't small at all. In terms of area, it was nearly half the size of the old Crownlands, almost as large as the entire Gift. Even after the devastation, the population still exceeded twenty or thirty thousand. Offending the whole North for this piece of land and jeopardizing the greater goal of unifying the Seven Kingdoms would be foolish—but the key was, Myrcella had just said "legally and reasonably absorb."
If this clever girl truly had a way to let him take Last Hearth without inciting Northern resentment, Aegor was more than willing to consider it.
"Go on."
"Do you remember that Lord Mors Umber's only daughter, who was abducted years ago, reunited with her father as a resident of the Gift after you allowed the Free Folk through the Wall?"
Of course he remembered. That reunion had been orchestrated by Aegor himself, with the goal of softening the Umbers' fierce opposition to the Gift's settlement plan. It had worked.
"I remember. What about it?"
"She and the Wildling who took her had two sons."
That was true. But the Umbers had brought them back.
Aegor frowned. "Was that Lady Umber or her sons not inside the castle when Last Hearth was attacked?"
"I'm not sure, but I overheard Lord Robb complaining about it once, during a meal with Arya and the others. He said, 'Crowfood Mors's two grandsons are too used to living with the Free Folk. They keep running off to Crown Town.'"
Ah, so that was it. If either of those boys was still alive and in Crown Town, then he held the closest living male relatives of the Umber bloodline. Of course… they were just "bastards" born after their mother had been taken by Free Folk. But if the Queen legitimized them—something within her power—then they would become the most eligible heirs to Last Hearth. This was the method Myrcella spoke of, the way to "legally and reasonably absorb" the lordship.
Aegor instantly understood. He turned to his orderly. "Harvey, what are Crowfood Mors's two grandsons called?"
"I don't know, my lord!"
The well-trained soldier straightened up and gave the safest answer in the most impressive tone.
"Were they in Crown Town when the White Walkers broke through the Wall?"
"I don't know, my lord!"
"Are they still alive?"
"I don't know, my lord!"
Three questions, three "I don't knows." But Aegor didn't blame him. If he himself hadn't even thought of this angle, expecting a regular officer to make such a keen deduction was asking too much.
"Find out immediately. If they're still alive, send someone to bring them to me. Quietly."
"Yes, my lord!"
The swift exchange of questions and orders, typical of soldiers, happened so fast that Myrcella didn't even have time to interject. Watching the soldier leave to carry out the command without delay, she suddenly understood why the Night's Watch had been able to defeat the White Walkers and the army of the dead.
"Um, my lord… I think their names are Angus and Benny." The little princess pulled back her gaze and said softly. Then she lowered her voice even further, as if feeling guilty. "They were most likely in Crown Town when the White Walkers came through. But even if they weren't, and they're gone, my lord, you could actually… find someone to impersonate them. Boys grow fast, and everyone who knew them at Last Hearth is already dead, killed by the wights."
(To be continued.)