After the envoy sent by Daenerys left, and the stoker woman who knew nothing was also dismissed, Aegor, supported by Harvey, who had already sheathed his sword, and Maester Qyburn, managed to sit up with difficulty. He sat trembling, drenched in cold sweat, for a full half minute without speaking, finally catching his breath from the excruciating pain.

He thought he had accounted for everything, but he hadn’t expected that this unremarkable little maid at Daenerys’s side would be so ruthless.

For a moment just now, he truly believed he would die from the pain.

“Well done.” Wiping away the pea-sized beads of sweat from his forehead, Aegor spoke through slightly numb lips. “The timing of the rescue was perfect, and the acting was convincing. Commendable.”

This praise was sincere. The situation just now could only be described as hanging by a thread. If Harvey had faked his episode a second earlier, Missandei would have been intercepted before she could act, which would have inevitably raised her suspicions. A second too late, and Aegor’s instinctive reactions—clenching his legs and trembling—might have been noticed, forcing him to abandon the act and detain her by force.

Although it was Aegor who had told them beforehand to stay alert and be ready to adapt, in all fairness, even if he had done it himself, he doubted he could have done better.

After spending so much time with him, his subordinates had unconsciously picked up seven or eight parts of his acting skills. This was likely the result of being influenced by proximity… being near vermilion makes one red.

At least today, that skill proved useful.

“The rescue was indeed handled well, but I wonder whether it truly fooled that girl,” Qyburn said worriedly. “I saw her glance reluctantly at Lord Aegor’s bed before she left. Though she said she would inform Daenerys, I wonder whether she meant to ask her to come, or not to come.”

The room fell silent. What Qyburn said echoed everyone’s current concern, but there was nothing they could do. Even if they suspected something, they couldn’t stop Missandei from leaving.

Melisandre looked at Aegor. “When she took that last look before leaving, you didn’t move, did you?”

“No, I held back.”

Ninety percent of the sharp pain in his body had subsided, but the remaining pain was still too intense to bear. Fortunately, the dragonglass embedded in his chest seemed to sense the host’s severe injury and began to heat up, sending waves of warmth toward the wound. Aegor didn’t dare and didn’t have the time to touch the wound. All he could do now was hope that this treasure enchanted by R’hllor was powerful enough to handle this rare kind of injury.

Their plan to deal with Daenerys’s envoy had narrowly avoided being exposed. Naturally, he hoped Missandei had been fooled, but Aegor had climbed step by step to where he stood now, relying on the principle of never placing hope in others—especially not someone ruthless.

Refusing Qyburn’s offer to examine the wound, he began organizing the execution of the third step of the plan in an orderly manner, just as they had originally prepared.

This final step was divided into two parts, depending on the outcome: Daenerys comes, or she does not.

Qyburn and Melisandre formed one group. They were responsible for the ideal outcome—Daenerys coming to visit. Their task was nothing more than preparing the necessary speeches, procedures, and rituals. Not only was the workload small, it had been completed well in advance and only awaited the final execution.

As for the other group—more precisely, the entire Gift Army—they had to prepare for the worst-case scenario: Daenerys withdrawing from Winterfell with the Unsullied. Their responsibilities included not only engaging the Unsullied guards in combat and capturing Daenerys alive amidst the chaos, but also preparing cannons for dragon hunting, and guarding against movements from the Dreadfort troops and Robb’s northern allied forces outside the city. These tasks were not only difficult and burdensome, but the real challenge lay in how quickly the soldiers could act upon receiving the sudden command.

To preserve the realism of this grand performance, and to reduce the chance of future leaks, the truth behind this poisoning incident was known only to a select few in the inner circle—less than five. This meant that over four thousand Gift Army soldiers inside and outside the castle genuinely believed that Aegor had been severely poisoned and was on the verge of death. Under these conditions, receiving a sudden order and executing it without question was a severe test of their organization and discipline, and even Aegor himself had no confidence it would succeed flawlessly.

Orders were transmitted swiftly from the Lord Commander’s chamber through Harvey’s mouth. The soldiers of the various Gift Army units, woken softly by their officers and comrades, began to rise one by one, quietly dressing and arming themselves.

If everything went well, the next round of news would inform them that the Lord Commander was safe, the earlier assembly was just a false alarm, and they could return to sleep.

If not, the Gift Army command would announce that “the poisoner was sent by Daenerys,” and immediately use this as justification to launch a betrayal and mutiny that would shake the Seven Kingdoms and both sides of the Narrow Sea, its infamy possibly surpassing the Red Wedding in the original timeline.

In the tense atmosphere, time seemed to slow. After more than ten long minutes, news came from the night watch outside the chamber: shortly after Daenerys’s two envoys returned to their guest residence, a large number of Unsullied began passing along orders and moving around, and moments later, they escorted Daenerys herself… toward the Gift Army camp.

The suffering had not been in vain.

Aegor quickly lay back on the bed, signaling Harvey to pass along the order to halt the Gift Army’s movements, and urgently urged Qyburn and Melisandre, “Quick, bring the medicine, and give me two more spells. My body’s starting to burn from the pain!”

—

Aside from his manhood suffering a sudden misfortune, everything had gone according to plan in Aegor’s mind. If he had to point out any hidden threat or potential danger, it would be that Daenerys had seen through the deception and in those few short minutes had prepared a counterstrategy—sending a group of people as decoys to paralyze them, while she herself quietly slipped out of Winterfell by another route.

If that had happened, without an informant by Daenerys’s side, Aegor would have had no effective way to respond.

But such an extraordinary, godlike move did not occur in the ancient castle buffeted by the cold wind. The person who arrived was indeed Daenerys Targaryen herself. The only twist was a small interlude at the door: the dozens of Unsullied accompanying the Queen exerted unseen pressure on the tense night watchmen and the Lord Commander’s guards. For safety reasons, the guards at the gate refused to allow them entry. After a brief standoff between the two loyal guard forces, a compromise was reached through Daenerys’s own concession and Harvey’s timely mediation: Daenerys could bring her maid and two Unsullied into the room, and the Gift Army side would also send in two soldiers selected by Harvey.

Thus, a moment later, the Dragon Queen sat on the stool by the bed that had just tripped Missandei earlier, gripping one of Aegor’s hands with a worried expression, feeling the coldness of his skin, no longer showing any wariness or suspicion toward him.

“Lady Melisandre, the method you mentioned earlier… can it guarantee his recovery?”

“There’s a ninety percent chance.” The Red Priestess stood to the side, speaking in a straightforward tone with no attempt at concealment. “But I must be honest. Since the Lord Commander has been poisoned and unconscious for half a day, his brain may have sustained damage. After waking, there is a certain probability of memory loss, decreased intelligence, or even… remaining in a coma forever, becoming a husk.”

This dialogue was crafted by Aegor, who had specifically ordered her not to omit or alter a single word. Melisandre hadn’t understood why such a speech was necessary—if Daenerys lost her nerve after hearing that blood magic could fail, wouldn’t that be counterproductive?

The Red Priestess’s concerns were not unfounded, but what she didn’t know was that the latter part of the speech had been tailored by Aegor to match Daenerys’s personality and past experiences. Upon hearing Melisandre’s frankness, Daenerys immediately thought of her first husband.

Khal Drogo had also suffered a life-threatening injury, and had likewise been saved by blood magic. But deceived by a malicious witch, she had sacrificed the child in her womb in confusion, exchanging her first and only true-blooded dragon son for a body that could no longer think. In the end, she had to smother her husband herself.

That trauma had haunted her ever since. Even years later, Daenerys would still wake from dreams of placing the pillow over Drogo’s face, soaked in tears and cold sweat.

What if this time… the same blood magic only brought Aegor back in body, but not in mind? What then?

Would she once again have to end the life of someone she cared about?

Just as she was lost in her memories, Melisandre’s voice pulled her back to reality.

“But I must also remind Your Grace, the probability of these worst-case outcomes increases the longer the Lord Commander remains in a coma. Whether to save him or not, Your Grace must decide quickly. If not, please make preparations to withdraw from Winterfell. If you intend to save him, we must begin immediately. If the Lord Commander’s condition, which could have been fully healed, worsens due to a moment of hesitation, it will be too late for regret.”

Daenerys nodded, looked down again, and stared at Aegor’s face. Though she hadn’t known him for long, for some reason it felt incredibly familiar. Usually filled with heroic vigor and boundless ambition, now it was calm, pale, and lifeless. She tightly gripped his cold hand again.

“Your Grace, please save the Lord Commander!” Harvey pleaded loudly, kneeling in full armor with a loud clatter. “If Lord Aegor can survive this crisis, the entire Gift Army will remember Your Grace’s mercy and repay it with unwavering loyalty and valor!”

Daenerys didn’t immediately rise to help the kneeling man. She only glanced at him, then turned back without even shifting in her seat, still staring at Aegor’s face, struggling with her thoughts. She was the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the queen to whom the Gift Army had sworn allegiance. Her status was worth more than a thousand gold coins, deserving of any ceremony. What she was about to decide… was whether or not to shed blood to save the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. If she chose to, the price and meaning of that act would be more than enough to earn the Gift Army’s gratitude and devotion.

“Your Grace, you need not worry too much,” Qyburn quietly stepped forward, bent down, and whispered. “Lord Aegor’s might is known throughout the Wall and Beyond. As long as he lives, even if his mind is damaged or he remains unconscious, he will still serve as a powerful deterrent to the Wildlings. You only need to tell the outside world that he is temporarily in a coma and will recover in time, and allow representatives from the Gift Army to visit. When the tribal leaders see his steady breathing and strong heartbeat, they won’t dare cause trouble. At that point, whether Your Grace sends the Gift Army back to The Gift or Beyond the Wall to eliminate threats, or chooses to win over and absorb the tribes, it will be far better than letting the situation spiral out of control.”

Though confident in Daenerys’s regard for him, Aegor didn’t dare tempt fate. While he deliberately stirred her painful memories by planting the possibility of failure, creating a sense of loss to strengthen her resolve, he had also made sure to offer her enough practical reasons to save him. He couldn’t risk arrogance ruining the entire plan.

The firewood in the hearth still crackled, but with Missandei, Daenerys, and the soldiers constantly moving in and out, the temperature in the room had dropped significantly. In this slightly cooled air, Daenerys sat silently for a full minute, thinking. Then, she released Aegor’s hand and stood up. Under the watchful eyes of over a dozen people, she turned to the still-anxious Red Priestess and gave her final decision.

“Since there is no time to waste, begin at once.”

(To be continued.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep