Hearing the sounds of slaughter outside the walls, Lord Gyles Rosby of Rosby lacked the courage even to leave his room.
He was simply too old.
His body was withered like kindling, his hair long gone. His bald pate was dotted with dark brown liver spots.
He looked like a piece of moldy, dried bread.
As Beric had said, he couldn't even run.
"My Lord, let's hand over Tommen and Myrcella. That Northerner said as long as he gets those two Lannisters, everyone else will be fine."
"But... but Queen Regent Cersei trusted us so much—" Although he was on the verge of accepting the invader's terms, the moral conflict and the will to survive battled in Rosby's heart.
"My Lord, at this point, with Stannis coming anyway, they are going to die regardless." The one persuading him was Lord Rosby's second wife.
She was only forty; she didn't want to die.
Finally, the old lord agreed. To survive now, handing over Myrcella and her brother seemed the only option.
Supported by his squire, Gyles put on the armor from his youth, though sadly, it no longer fit.
At a glance, it looked like a giant tortoise shell draped over him.
Not only ill-fitting, but even a bit comical.
Hakon, beside Jon, laughed without disguise.
Jon hadn't expended much effort in this siege.
Even if Gyles hadn't surrendered, he could have taken this castle, the closest to King's Landing, in less than half an hour.
Jon's clothes weren't even dusty, save for a bit of sweat on his forehead.
He approached Gyles and comforted him: "Ser Gyles, you have fulfilled your duty. I will make that clear to King Stannis."
For those who surrender, giving them a bit of dignity at this moment was equivalent to a promise, preventing them from harboring other thoughts.
Although Gyles was old, there were young people around him.
Jon couldn't get carried away and do anything excessive.
For example, Gyles's wife was forty or fifty, but even if she were a beautiful fourteen or fifteen-year-old, Jon couldn't entertain any improper thoughts.
Otherwise, he might pay a heavy price.
Jon's assurance put Gyles at ease.
Yes, I've done my duty. Does Tywin Lannister expect an old man to do more?
"Ser, you are a Northerner? May I ask where you are from?"
"Eddard Stark was my father. I am here to avenge him."
Gyles was startled. He widened his eyes to look closely at Jon and found his grey eyes and long face looked exactly like Eddard's.
"So it is Lord Robb."
Jon couldn't be bothered to explain. He directly demanded to see Tommen and Myrcella.
"Don't be afraid, Tommen. They are at most some mountain bandits. They can't break into the castle."
Myrcella, not yet ten, comforted her chubby younger brother in her arms.
But young Tommen was not satisfied. He curled himself into a little ball, burrowing into his sister's embrace with all his might.
Little did he know his sister was also trembling with fear. She was actually about the same age as Arya.
Myrcella, like her mother Cersei, had golden hair and a fair, exquisite face.
But now her face was devoid of color, looking like an extremely fragile porcelain doll.
Gradually, the sounds of killing outside faded.
Myrcella wanted to get up and check the situation through the window, but chubby little Tommen held her tightly, preventing her from going anywhere.
Myrcella felt apprehensive, her cheeks trembling involuntarily.
With a creak, the door opened. But the person who entered was neither the familiar maid who took care of them nor the kindly knight.
The person opened the door but didn't enter, retreating immediately.
Myrcella only heard a sentence that plunged her into an icy abyss. "My Lord, they are inside."
Myrcella stiffened her back, hugging her chubby brother tightly.
Tommen turned his head quietly, only to see a group of strangers reeking of blood.
Although those people didn't say a word, Tommen quickly turned his head back.
Myrcella realized these people had bad intentions.
She suddenly remembered the terrible legends she had heard in the Red Keep.
When her grandfather, Lord Tywin, sacked the Red Keep, the knight known as Gregor Clegane killed Elia and her two children.
They happened to be a sister and brother too.
The sister was stabbed many times.
As for the brother, Gregor smashed him directly against a wall!
Myrcella felt her whole body freeze, as if ice shards flowed in her veins.
She buried her face in Tommen, tears flowing uncontrollably.
"My Lord, it's best we kill them now. That way we won't fear the Tyrell and Lannister alliance continuing." Myrcella heard someone suggest to the so-called Lord. Her slender body trembled, and her chubby brother in her arms burst into loud wails of terror.
"No, are you guys really this cruel? Killing even children?"
Myrcella then heard a dissenting voice, which gave her a glimmer of hope.
But his next words chilled Myrcella to the bone. The rough voice spoke again: "We can raise the girl to bear children and train the boy as a slave."
The speaker was Hakon. Jon ignored his suggestion, staring intently at the siblings before him.
Logically, his best choice now was to kill them.
That would eliminate future troubles forever.
But Jon remembered when he first returned to Winterfell to be Robb's enforcer; no knights were willing to follow him in battle.
If he killed Myrcella and Tommen himself, Stannis would certainly be pleased, but morally, he would become the next Mountain.
For Jon, who aspired to be a lord in his own right, this was unacceptable.
Moreover, if he killed them, Stannis would benefit, while he would suffer the damage. Why do such a thankless task?
Beside him, Munda saw Jon hesitating. Thinking of how Jon saved the Darry bloodline and avenged Raymun Darry, he said, "My Lord, if you can't do it, let me."
Hearing Munda's words, Myrcella buried her head lower, as if she could disappear on the spot.
Finally, she chose to summon her courage, looked up, and said, "I... I beg you, don't kill... don't... I am the older sister. Kill me, but let my brother go, okay?"
Seeing Myrcella, at such a young age, knowing to plead for her brother, everyone was moved.
Especially with her pitiful porcelain doll appearance, even Munda, who had initially shouted to take the blame for Jon, felt his heart soften.
Jon remembered that when Robert brought them to Winterfell, Myrcella and Robb had even eyed each other.
Jon ignored Myrcella's plea and turned to Munda: "What are you saying? In this situation, what's the difference between you killing them and me killing them?"
Since Jon launched the mutiny at Harrenhal, House Darry was branded with his mark. There was no difference between him doing it and Munda doing it.
Jon knew very well that if he didn't want to become The Mountain, the best course was to hand them over to Stannis intact.
So he walked up to Myrcella and said, "Princess, I am Eddard Stark's son. You should know my father was killed by your brother Joffrey. As long as you obediently follow me, I will only kill Joffrey, not you. Do you understand?"