Chapter 565

After a private discussion with his confidants, Aegor lay back down and resumed playing dead.

Despite being poisoned and comatose, despite not appearing in public for days, he remained the most watched figure north of the Neck. His condition was a matter of great interest, and visitors came in a steady stream.

Yesterday and this morning, the visitors had been mid- and high-ranking officers of the Gifted Army and chieftains of various beyond-the-Wall tribes—Aegor needed them to see for themselves that his condition was stable so they could spread the word among the common soldiers. He could not allow his army of wolves and tigers to descend into chaos simply because they thought their leader was gone.

Now that every faction within the Gifted Army had paid their visit, it was the Starks' turn.

The reasoning was simple enough: while Aegor and his Gifted Army currently controlled Winterfell, the Stark family remained its rightful lords and masters. A "guest" being poisoned nearly to death in their home required, at the very least, a display of concern and regret from the hosts.

The two-day delay in their visit was due to the ongoing investigation. The Starks themselves had been under suspicion and kept under strict surveillance by both the Gifted Army and the Queen’s Guard. Only when the "culprit" was captured and committed suicide in the dungeon was their innocence fully established, allowing them to move freely once more.

Well—some degree of freedom.

"Creak—"

The sharp sound of the door hinges turning sent a shiver down the spine. The moment the door opened, the Starks, who had been whispering among themselves outside, immediately fell silent. First to step inside was Qyburn, followed by Lady Catelyn, Roslin Frey-Stark carrying her infant daughter, and then Rickon, Sansa, and Arya. Finally, trailing at the rear was an unexpected guest—Myrcella.

Or rather, her assumed identity: Maeve Snow.

It was Lady Catelyn who had insisted on bringing the entire family. Ever since the fall of Winterfell, she had done everything in her power to protect her children, forcing herself to tread the treacherous line of politics with caution. Though Aegor had led the army that took Winterfell, she understood all too well that open defiance and petty resentment would do nothing to ensure her family's safety. The truth was clear: Aegor was the only one in Winterfell capable of keeping the wildlings in check. He was also one of the few individuals willing—or at least pretending—to ensure the Starks’ protection.

Even if he was a despicable hypocrite, a hypocrite was still better than a true villain—at least the former had to maintain appearances.

As long as Aegor was alive, the Stark children remained safe. As long as others believed that the "friendship" between Aegor and the Starks had not been severed by past conflicts, their interests would continue to be considered in future decisions. Whether for the sake of their family’s survival or to prevent unnecessary offense, Catelyn had no choice but to grit her teeth and lead her children here to put on this performance.

The group lined up at the bedside, gazing at the motionless Aegor, his eyes closed as if lost in endless slumber. Their lips pressed together in silence, and the room grew so quiet that the sound of a needle dropping could be heard.

This was a staged act—meant for others to see. Their mere presence here was enough. As long as they remained in the room for a reasonable amount of time, their duty was fulfilled. Facing the man who had stormed their castle, upended their lives, and kept them under de facto house arrest, they had already shown extraordinary restraint by holding back their anger. There was no need for unnecessary pleasantries.

Besides, what was the point of exchanging kind words with a comatose man?

It was Catelyn who finally broke the silence, having dug deep into her reserves of patience and tact.

"Lord Commander looks well," she said carefully. "He should wake soon, shouldn't he?"

"In theory, yes," Qyburn responded smoothly. "From a purely physical standpoint, he is no different from a healthy man—his breathing, heartbeat, and body temperature are all normal. The only reason he remains unconscious is likely due to the lingering effects of the poison’s damage to his brain and nervous system. His body still needs time to fully recover."

A perfectly reasonable explanation—so flawless it sounded utterly convincing.

According to Aegor's original plan, he was supposed to "wake up" two days after the investigation stalled. However, with the unexpected appearance of a culprit who had conveniently committed suicide, the mystery was resolved ahead of schedule. There was no longer any need to prolong the deception. Aegor planned to "wake" tomorrow, and since the question had been raised, he saw no harm in letting the news spread early.

"That is good to hear," Catelyn said with a strained smile. "Winterfell’s stores still hold many ingredients and medicinal herbs that may aid in his recovery. If you require anything, Maester Qyburn, I can personally show you where to find them."

"Much appreciated, my lady. If we find ourselves lacking any resources, I shall be sure to seek your assistance. But for now, there is no need to trouble you."

Both were fully aware this exchange was insincere.

Catelyn was feigning concern. Qyburn knew she was feigning concern. And with that hollow exchange complete, silence once again filled the chamber.

Roslin Frey, holding her child, had little interest in Aegor’s survival. The untested and naive Sansa was too nervous to say anything at all. Arya, despite her past friendship with Aegor, was clearly struggling with her emotions, uncertain of what she could or should say. That left Rickon.

The boy’s expression was dark, his brows furrowed in obvious frustration. His beloved direwolf, Shaggydog, had been killed during the Gifted Army’s surprise attack on Winterfell. His hatred for the man lying on the bed was palpable.

With no one else speaking, Rickon finally voiced his resentment, his small voice filled with bitterness.

"Why... why do villains always have such thick skins?"

Though he didn’t name names, standing here beside Aegor’s sickbed, after hearing his mother and Qyburn’s conversation, there was no doubt who he meant.

The room tensed instantly. Catelyn hurriedly pulled her youngest son to her side, trying to stop him from speaking further. Qyburn, knowing Aegor would never hold a grudge against a child, chose to feign deafness. Ultimately, it was Myrcella—Maeve Snow—who stepped in to break the tension.

"If Lord Aegor could wake at any moment," she remarked, her keen eyes scanning the room, "why is no one here to watch over him? What if he wakes and needs water or food? Would he have to call out to an empty room?"

"Uh…"

The little blind girl had, once again, struck upon the most important detail. Even Qyburn, for all his quick thinking, found himself momentarily at a loss.

Only the most trusted individuals knew Aegor was feigning unconsciousness, but all of them had critical duties and couldn't afford to sit idly by his bedside. Yet leaving anyone uninformed to keep watch posed another risk—Aegor would be forced to remain completely still at all times to keep up the deception. That would drive any man insane.

A body lying still, motionless, only to rise and resume work the moment outsiders left—it was an unnatural sight, something no one should witness.

Why are all the girls in Winterfell so hard to deal with?

"This was an oversight on our part," Qyburn finally admitted, choosing the only response that made sense. With an air of humility, he nodded. "There should be a watchman stationed here at all times, but I suspect they must have stepped out for a moment. I will ensure arrangements are made so that the Lord Commander is never left alone again."

A clever answer, Aegor mused silently behind his closed eyes.

A promise meant nothing if the one questioning it had no way to check. Myrcella, confined within the castle, would never be able to verify whether anyone actually remained in the room after she left.

Satisfied, Myrcella nodded. She took one last look at Aegor’s face, and then—suddenly—her expression lit up with surprise.

"Wait… I think I just saw Lord Aegor’s eyes move!"