Chapter 332

Aegor rarely found his own imagination amusing, but he couldn't help smiling as he pictured Arya awkwardly stammering while trying to convince her fiancé to join the Night’s Watch—or scheming elaborate ways to facilitate her future husband’s infidelity with her sister.

He had given her the ideas she wanted, but once she tried to act on them, she would quickly discover that reality was far more complicated than she anticipated.

...

There had been far nobler individuals than Harrold who joined the Night’s Watch, with the most notable recent example being Maester Aemon Targaryen, who nearly became king. But Aemon had chosen the black to prevent a civil war, while Harrold’s entire hope for his family rested on this marriage. Their motivations were worlds apart and utterly incomparable.

Unless Arya had a skilled team of advisors orchestrating an elaborate conspiracy to frame her fiancé for some unforgivable crime, no amount of hinting or persuasion about the virtues of the Watch would work. At best, Harrold might donate some money to the Wall to please his betrothed, but he would never don the black himself.

As for seducing Sansa... Aegor didn’t know this “Heir Harry” well enough to gauge the odds, but they certainly wouldn’t be high. The Hightons weren’t even remotely on par with the Starks in history, strength, or prestige—they weren’t even a cadet branch of the Starks, but a minor family lucky to have an Arryn grandmother. If not for that connection, they wouldn’t have even been considered for a match with Arya.

For such a small house to think they could choose between the Stark sisters was laughable. Even if Arya were unattractive, Harrold’s family would still be thrilled to marry her, as this alliance was their one chance at advancement. If Arya were to create opportunities for Harrold to cheat with her sister, and if he noticed the scheme, he’d likely interpret it as a loyalty test and grow even more cautious.

...

Marriage alliances were never truly within the control of the younger generation. When Arya inevitably realized this, she would likely return to Aegor, demanding a “better” solution that didn’t exist. To avoid further harassment, Aegor decided to abandon his original plan of staying in Winterfell longer and promptly left for Crown's Rest. From now on, unless absolutely necessary, he resolved to avoid staying in Winterfell whenever he passed through the North.

...

The newly repaired Kingsroad made for an excellent travel experience, and Aegor returned to his headquarters in just a few days. Construction in the outer district of Crown's Rest was nearing completion. After ensuring that essential buildings and facilities were in place and that sufficient space was reserved for future expansion, work on the outer walls surrounding “Crownsfort” began in earnest. Once fully built, Crown's Rest would become a fortress town with a stable population of 700-800, a transient population of over 1,000, and the capacity to accommodate up to 5,000 people. This central stronghold in the Gift would secure the area like a stabilizing anchor, discouraging any would-be troublemakers.

Navigating through the busy and chaotic outer district under construction, Aegor and his guards passed through the castle gates and headed toward the core area, moving past rows of warehouses and dormitories. There was much to be done, and he had to tackle tasks one by one. The highest priority was finalizing the location and groundbreaking of the naval port and welcoming the craftsmen sent from the North to assist with construction. If Robb Stark hadn’t ordered their deployment, Aegor would have had to hire skilled labor from across the Seven Kingdoms at a high cost. Beyond their official work, Aegor planned to privately negotiate with some of them, offering generous payment to encourage them to set aside fears of "teaching students who might surpass them" and train the Gift’s locals in their crafts.

It was for this reason that he had personally gone to Winterfell, only to be so harassed by Arya that he fled back. Still, since Aegor had taken full responsibility for the naval port’s construction, he was bound to meet the Northern craftsmen sooner or later.

For now, he decided to check on the alchemists’ progress with the dragonglass bombs. As he was mulling over his plans, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Aegor West!”

There weren’t many people in Crown's Rest who would address him this way. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch looked up to see a tall, slender woman striding toward him. She was stopped by the guards when she got within two meters.

“So, it’s Lady Asha.” Aegor recognized her and nodded politely. His eyes dropped to the chains still locked around her ankles, confirming that no major mishap had occurred in his absence.

Months of captivity had dulled the once-proud daughter of House Greyjoy, leaving her looking worn and haggard. Thankfully, her figure hadn’t suffered much. Aegor’s gaze briefly swept over her long legs—impressive even without boots—before he coughed lightly. “What is it? Do you need something, or have you remembered new information to share?”

“Neither.” Asha placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know how long you plan to keep me locked up.”

“How long?” Aegor chuckled. “Allow me to explain: the reason you’re here is that you spared the members of House Glover when you took Deepwood Motte, and your uncle returned the hostages. The Northern lords had no cause to execute you but didn’t want to release you either. Winterfell didn’t want to allocate men or resources to guard one prisoner, so they sent you to the Night’s Watch. While you’re in Crown's Rest, you’re technically still the North’s hostage. I’m merely providing free custody as a favor. So, how long you remain here depends entirely on Robb Stark.”

“So if that boy forgets about me, I’ll be locked up here forever?”

“Well... in theory, yes,” Aegor admitted after some thought. “But as far as I can see, you’re not exactly locked up. Who gave you permission to leave your quarters?”

“My lord, allow me to explain...” Crown's Rest’s warden stepped forward. “You ordered that Lady Asha not be mistreated, and I believed that confining her indoors for too long would harm her mental and physical health. Considering her brother is one of Crown's Rest’s archery instructors, I allowed her limited movement under constant supervision. She’s always escorted by at least two guards and only permitted within certain areas.”

Even prisoners deserve some fresh air. Convinced, Aegor nodded. “Fine. But she’s not to leave the inner castle, especially not near the core areas or the lake. The shackles stay on.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Damn it,” Asha muttered through gritted teeth. “You’re the Lord Commander now, aren’t you? Fine—then I demand to join the Night’s Watch!”

“Regrettably, the Night’s Watch does not accept women,” Aegor replied with a shrug. “Lady Asha, not everyone treats prisoners so generously. You eat the same food as the soldiers, sleep on clean bedding, and even have access to baths and outdoor time. This courtesy isn’t due to orders from Lord Stark but my gratitude for your role in convincing the ironborn to surrender at Moat Cailin, sparing many lives. Be thankful for these privileges and don’t push your luck.”

Asha glared at him, her eyes blazing with defiance, but after a moment, she calmed down and posed another question. “The North is building a fleet on the western coast and has entrusted port construction to the Night’s Watch, hasn’t it?”

How did she know that? Aegor frowned but quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn’t exactly a secret in Crown's Rest, given the recruitment of laborers from the Gift. Even if Asha knew, she had no way of sending the information out—especially now that her murderous uncle Euron controlled the Iron Islands.

“Correct,” he answered.

“I’m the best captain in the Iron Islands—no, in all of Westeros!” Asha declared, lifting her chin proudly. “I can train sailors and officers, help design ships, and plan harbors. Anything to do with ships—I’m your expert.”

Aegor laughed. Why did all the noblewomen he knew have such wild imaginations? Arya wanted to avoid marriage, and Asha wanted to train an enemy navy and oversee Northern ports. “Lady Asha, you’re, what, twenty-four? Twenty-five? Yet you sound as naïve as a fourteen-year-old. Do you think the North would let an ironborn teach their sailors? White Harbor and Bear Island have plenty of capable shipbuilders and navigators. They may not be as skilled as you, but they’re good enough. Thank you for your offer, but your help isn’t needed.”

“I—” Asha was momentarily at a loss for words. After a pause, she tried again. “Then at least give me something to do. I’ll go mad from boredom! I’ll do anything!”

Anything? Aegor wasn’t sure if he was overthinking it, but he suspected Asha understood the implications of her words. Still, she wasn’t Melisandre—someone whose loyalty was unquestionable despite her ambitions. Asha was firmly in the “don’t let your guard down” category.

...

“Well, Crown's Rest is short on laundry workers. If you’re willing, I can arrange it.” He maintained a detached tone. “I promise that if the Watch ever needs to expand its navy, I’ll consider your skills. For now, stop bothering me—take her back and keep an eye on her.”

The two guards flanking Asha immediately moved to escort her.

“Don’t touch me!” Asha struggled but couldn’t break free. Before being dragged away, she shouted one last time, “Fine, I’ll behave like a prisoner—but I have one last request. Tell my brother that attacking the North wasn’t my decision—it was Father’s! Tell him to stop acting like I’m his mortal enemy every time he sees me!”

Not my problem, Aegor thought, barely holding back an eye roll. Instead, he nodded. “I’ll get to it—when I have the time.”