Chapter 507

As the supreme commander of the army, Aegor had issued strict orders to his officers: discipline the troops and prohibit any form of harassment or harm to civilians.

For an army in this era, such a command was a high standard. Yet, given the Gift's relatively small and manageable force, coupled with his fearsome reputation earned through numerous exploits, Aegor was confident his orders would be strictly followed. He wanted the North’s common folk to witness the stark difference between his "pseudo-modern army" and the "barbarian horde" they likely imagined.

Unfortunately, reality proved otherwise. By the time Aegor’s army reached the outskirts of Winterfell—one night earlier than anticipated due to their grueling pace—the surrounding villages and the winter town outside the castle were completely abandoned. Not even a rat could be found. Even if Aegor had allowed or encouraged looting, his soldiers would have had no targets.

Young Robb Stark, while short-sighted in grand strategy, proved to be a competent lord in protecting his people.

Though Aegor was disappointed to miss the opportunity to showcase his army’s discipline and professionalism, the abandoned winter town still had its advantages. With a simple wooden palisade added, it became a perfect temporary encampment. Moreover, the absence of civilians meant there was no need to worry about spies or assassins blending in during the siege.

The Gift’s army took over the deserted settlement without resistance, and as soldiers fortified the site into a defensible base, Aegor ordered his communications division to release ravens. In Daenerys's name, a bold proclamation was sent across the North:

“By the authority of Her Grace Queen Daenerys Targaryen and the Night’s Watch, all military forces marching outside of authorized towns and castles are hereby declared traitors to the realm. Any such forces will be considered enemies of the Queen and the Night’s Watch and dealt with accordingly. The consequences of disobedience will be borne by the offenders themselves.”

With this audacious declaration sent, Aegor turned his attention to initiating negotiations with Winterfell. Not to demand their surrender outright—but to talk.

Despite the Gift’s army advancing with the appearance of an all-out assault, Aegor had never prioritized taking Winterfell by force. His grand strategy hinged on the element of surprise, ensuring the North couldn’t assemble a large army to meet him in open battle. By catching them unprepared, Aegor aimed to destabilize their response, exploiting opportunities to break their forces piece by piece.

An all-out siege would be a gamble. Though he had formidable troops and gunpowder weapons, the North's soldiers were renowned for their ferocity. If they had advance warning, they could gather tens of thousands to oppose him. Even in victory, the cost would be devastating. Worse, the bloodshed might push the North into an unending cycle of vengeance, undermining his broader goals.

Instead, Aegor planned to feint an attack on Winterfell to lure the Stark bannermen into open engagements, striking them down one by one. This controlled approach would allow him to showcase the Gift’s military prowess and superior weaponry while minimizing losses and avoiding unnecessary grudges. If he could secure a series of victories, the North’s famed "hard men" would soon realize that resistance was futile.

Aegor’s true goal wasn’t conquest through brute force but negotiations on his terms. After displaying the power of his army, he would coerce or persuade Robb Stark into compromises—or even full cooperation with Daenerys’s cause.

Still, Aegor couldn’t deny to himself that his decision to spare the Starks was influenced by personal sentiment. It didn’t align with the cold, pragmatic persona he aspired to project. But he wasn’t the same man who’d arrived in this world as a nameless recruit of the Night’s Watch. Now, with greater resources and confidence, he allowed himself this small indulgence: to protect his former apprentice Arya Stark and her family.
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To Aegor’s surprise, before his envoys could set out for Winterfell, the Starks sent a messenger to him first.

Ser Rodrik Cassel arrived unarmed, escorted by two officers, to the Gift’s temporary command post—an inn in the winter town, repurposed for its spacious accommodations. When the elderly knight entered, he was greeted by a hall filled with Aegor’s black-clad officers and personal guards, who stood silently at attention.

“Ser Rodrik,” Aegor greeted him with a polite smile. “It’s been some time. You look as hale as ever.”

“I only regret that the White Walkers didn’t finish you off, Aegor the Chameleon!” Ser Rodrik snarled, his voice heavy with fury. He cast an accusing glare at the surrounding soldiers. “And you lot—following this treacherous wretch for fame and fortune—aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?”

The soldiers didn’t flinch, but Aegor blinked, caught off guard.

Chameleon?

It took him several seconds to recognize the nickname, which had originally belonged to Theon Greyjoy in a different timeline. In this version of events, however, Theon had never betrayed the Starks, having taken the black after his father’s failed rebellion. Theon's heroic sacrifice against the undead had erased any chance of him earning the label of a turncoat. Now, it seemed fate had passed the title onto Aegor.

History’s inevitabilities, or mere coincidence? Aegor wondered, his lips curving into a faint smile. But to Ser Rodrik, that smile was nothing short of contemptuous arrogance. The old knight’s face flushed with anger, and he spat on the floor.

“You dare smile? The Starks treated you as a friend, and this is how you repay them?” he roared.

“I wear black, Ser Rodrik,” Aegor replied calmly, his smile fading. “The Night’s Watch serves the realm, not House Stark. Queen Daenerys Targaryen represents Westeros’s best hope, and my oath to fight for her is a fulfillment of my duty. It is the truest expression of the black I wear.”

Aegor’s sharp rebuke silenced the room. Leaning forward slightly, his tone hardened. “But what about you? Plotting to ambush the Queen while I marched north? Inciting rebellion within the Gift? Turning on the men who fought and bled to save humanity itself? This is how the Starks repay their so-called friends?”

“Lies! Robb would never stoop to such treachery!” Ser Rodrik sputtered, momentarily at a loss for words.

No, they wouldn’t. Aegor had fabricated those rumors himself, planting them in the Gift to fuel resentment and justify his campaign. But he wouldn’t admit that. Instead, he adopted the guise of a commander misled by these rumors, demanding an explanation to justify his invasion.

“If these accusations are false, let Robb Stark himself clarify them,” Aegor said. “Send him to meet me—not another messenger. Then, perhaps, we can resolve this misunderstanding.”

“You want Robb to walk out here and hand himself over?” Ser Rodrik snapped. “Do you take me for a fool?”

Aegor waved off the knight’s outrage, his expression turning bored. “Enough, Ser Rodrik. I assume you were sent here to deliver a message, not argue. Speak—what does Robb propose?”

Reluctantly, the old knight relayed Robb’s terms. “The offer is simple: relinquish your position as Lord Commander, disband your army, and return to the Gift. The Starks will guarantee safe passage for you and your Queen out of the North.”

Aegor nodded slowly, then responded with his own terms: “Lower your weapons, open the gates, and swear fealty to Queen Daenerys as the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. In return, I will guarantee the Stark family remains Wardens of the North under her reign.”

Ser Rodrik laughed bitterly. “You’ve gone mad, Aegor. Madder than the Queen you serve.”

“I hope the next time we meet, you’ll bring Robb’s decision, not insults,” Aegor replied smoothly. Then, dismissing the old knight, he ordered his officers to continue preparations.

As Rodrik was escorted out, Aegor smirked to himself. The Starks clearly intended to use negotiations as a stalling tactic, buying time for their bannermen to gather. Little did they know, Aegor’s true goal had always been those reinforcements.

The trap was set.