Myrcella is too amazing.
Arya marveled inwardly, her palm slightly sweaty as she gripped the small sword under the covers. Her heart rate was beginning to spike sharply. Aegor, that bastard, had actually come knocking at her door, just as her little sister said he would.
Her ears and the hairs on her body stood on edge. She imagined herself transforming into a predator. Still shielding her sword-gripping left hand with her body, the little wolf-girl, like a true wolf, kept her breathing steady, avoiding any gasp that might dull her senses. She tried to sense the intruder's every move without turning her head, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The door creaked slightly as the man shut it behind him, then spoke, saying he wanted to talk. Heh. He had already broken into Winterfell, and now he had the nerve to come see her? If he truly believed that everything would be forgiven just because she once liked him, or because they had shared a bed, then he was treating the Direwolf like some foolish dog.
(Arya Stark has nothing more to say to you. But Needle is very willing to have an "open-heart" talk with you!)
The line flashed through her mind, dramatic and fitting, though sadly unspoken. At least now there were only two people left in the room, and everything was progressing according to plan. Today, he would pay for his arrogance and betrayal.
"What's there to talk about? Get out."
Though her words drove him away, Arya was secretly gathering strength, preparing for the one strike that would matter most. Based on what she knew of Aegor, this man would never back off after just one insult. He would only shamelessly stay, clinging on and trying to talk his way through it—just like he always did. Last night, her own guard captain's scolding had reminded her of one hard truth: the vast gap in strength between a young girl and a grown man. No matter her skill with a blade, it would never be enough to bridge that gulf. Aegor might not be as invincible as outsiders imagined, but he was still a Ranger. The safest plan for assassination was to wait until he approached, unsuspecting, and then strike when he least expected it.
She had even imagined the words she'd say in farewell to the man she once liked, whispering them tearfully after burying her blade in him. But Aegor just stood at the door, several meters away, and said instead, "Robb is fine. He suffered only minor injuries. I've sent him back to his room and arranged for special care."
Not a single Stark had died in the battle. That was the premise for any meaningful negotiation, and also Aegor's main reason for daring to step into this room unarmed. He had to say it first before taking another step closer.
"Hmph."
Upon hearing it, Arya's heart stirred. The hand gripping Needle relaxed slightly, then tightened again.
Her brother might really be fine, but it didn't change the fact that her home had been surrounded, stormed, and taken—by the very man she had once admired. A faithless man was worse than any enemy. Who knew how many loyal guards, retainers, and servants who had watched her grow up were injured or killed in last night's chaos? And now, the one who caused it all dared to think that saying Robb was fine could somehow smooth things over?
Her fury didn't subside. It burned even hotter.
"Do you dare tell me how many people died in Winterfell last night?"
"Counting the civilians trampled during the chaos, less than a hundred." Aegor slowly took one step forward, silently closing the distance by half a meter. Eighty-something was technically less than a hundred, though the actual number of wounded was far greater, especially with the effects of the bombardment. Still, telling the full truth at this moment would be unwise. "But Arya, you need to understand one thing. No matter the number, the ones who truly killed them were Roose Bolton's men, not the soldiers I brought from the Gift."
"Can you be any more shameless?" Arya snapped, her trembling voice rising sharply. "You gave the order to attack Winterfell. And now that it's done, you try to shift the blame with nonsense? I was blind before. I may be your captive now, your hostage even, but don't think I'll pretend to believe your lies. Get out of my room!"
"You can choose not to believe me, but I must finish what I came to say." Seeing Arya so furious, yet awkwardly forced to remain seated and motionless on the bed, because of the sword hidden beneath the covers, stirred a storm of emotion in Aegor. Regret: this girl who used to sneak into his bed now wanted his life. Bitterness: things had come to this mostly because he refused to remain a Night's Watchman. Relief: as long as she still planned to wait until he walked over before attacking, and his vigilance kept her at bay, she could only sit and wait with the sword in her hand...
You can't argue properly while sitting. This distant standoff gave him the chance to speak, to try to strip away her hostility, piece by piece.
...
"By all rights, I should be Beyond the Wall right now, leading a campaign to wipe out the remaining White Walkers. But not long ago, I received a secret envoy from the Dreadfort. Lord Bolton sent someone to tell me the Stark family only pretended to agree to my request for Northern neutrality. In truth, they were secretly plotting to overthrow my command of the army and my rule over the Gift, planning to ambush me while the Night's Watch was away and leave me to die Beyond the Wall..."
"Nonsense," Arya cut him off. "Robb never planned to kill you!"
"Oh? Never planned to kill me?" Aegor's tone turned playful, and a bit of tension eased from his shoulders. A biting dog doesn't bark. A she-wolf truly aiming to kill him wouldn't stop to argue. His slow-boil strategy was starting to work. He took another step forward, stopping beside the small round table in the room. "So you're saying at least the part about him planning to overthrow my control of the Gift while I was Beyond the Wall is true?"
Arya realized she had let something slip and fell silent. At the same time, a thought struck her: not only had Aegor lied to everyone, Robb had also considered deceiving him, but had just failed in the end...
"At the time, I didn't believe the envoy's words, and I rejected Bolton's offer to join him in rebelling against the North and overthrowing Stark rule." Aegor didn't linger on the subject. He continued fluently, delivering the half-true, half-fabricated story he had prepared—not to fully convince her at once, but to plant seeds of doubt. That alone would be enough. "I trusted in Robb's integrity. Even if there was truth to the rumor, I had my own means of dealing with it. I didn't need Bolton's help, nor did I intend to let myself be used by him."
Arya said nothing, not because she had no retort, but because arguing drained energy. And she needed that energy for one thing only: the strike. Shouting herself hoarse now would rob her of the strength or precision to land a killing blow later.
Better to let him ramble. No matter how long he talked, she was determined to end him today.
Step by step, Aegor reached the head of the bed. He stood less than two meters away from her, but dared go no closer. "Then I suddenly realized something. If the Boltons were already plotting rebellion, they wouldn't just wait for my cooperation. They'd act on their own. Maybe they'd seize the chance while Robb led the Northern army south to meet the Queen and the Night's Watch. They'd strike from behind, attack an empty Winterfell, and once they succeeded, attack from both sides. The Stark family would be crushed in a single campaign."
The story was fiction, but in spinning it, Aegor came to a real realization: he should have expected Bolton to act on his own. His past enemies—whether Wildlings, White Walkers, or fellow Night's Watch commanders—simply hadn't been cunning enough. He had grown overconfident in his information blockade and the speed of his lightning raid south. That was how he ended up needing to take Winterfell by force.
"To be honest, I thought to myself: if Bolton was lying, I'd ignore him. If Robb truly betrayed his promise and turned against the Gift, and the Dreadfort rose up in response, then he was just paying the price for breaking faith. He would deserve whatever came to him." Aegor forced back his emotions and spoke in a low, steady voice. "But in that entire castle, there was one person I couldn't ignore. One person who was not like the rest. That was my clever, brave, and kind little apprentice. No matter what happened, I couldn't leave her behind."
Her eyes stung. Tears welled up. Arya choked back a sob. "Lies! If you hadn't brought the Mad King's daughter here, who in the North would've turned traitor? It was you pledging yourself to her that gave the Boltons ideas. You stormed into Winterfell, killed people from the North, took my home and you have the nerve to say it was for me?"
If Daenerys hadn't come, the North might already be filled with corpses—or wights. And he, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, would likely be dead. How had he become the villain?
Aegor wanted to tell her that without Daenerys's help, the Night's Watch would've lost. That he supported her not just for her dragons, but because a unified realm could stand strong when the White Walkers returned. That only a united Seven Kingdoms could ensure the Night's Watch would be supported in future wars.
But all those ghost stories caught in his throat, and he swallowed them.
Under his repeated suggestions, the little she-wolf seemed to be starting to believe the part about Bolton's betrayal. But when she mentioned the Mad King's daughter, what she truly cared about was that he had come as an enemy to the Stark family for another woman. And on that point, he had no excuse.
"Arya, I'm no good with sweet words. But look—I'm here with you, not with the Queen. Shouldn't that tell you who I care about more?"
The tears finally spilled over. Not out of being moved, but from sheer grievance. She wanted to believe everything he said. But a voice deep within her insisted it was just another trick from a cunning, rotten man, said only to win her—and her family—back.
Perhaps sensing the danger, Aegor remained several steps away and didn't move closer. She should have waited for the perfect moment. But the truth was, if she let him keep talking, she would believe him.
"You're with me... but it's for her!"
Arya screamed. And before her tears could fall, with a sharp whoosh, she drew Needle from under the covers like a flash of silver.
(To be continued.)