Aegor

"...I sentence you to die by beheading a week from now, the hour the sun rises," Aenys announced. Aegor observed Calla as Aelor was taken away. She was trembling, lowering her head, biting her lips. He would hold her hand to comfort her, but they were in the middle of a small council, and that was a sign of weakness for all to see.

Besides, he should not be the one comforting her when he was the one pushing for Aelor's death. The boy accepted his sentence well enough, but even so, kind Calla did not want that. He regrets what he did, she argued, he wants to make up for his mistakes. We have killed enough of his kin. We have let enough people die.

The defeat in the North and Donnor's death still weighed heavily in her mind, clouding her eyes with sorrow. Calla survived, but nothing he said or did could make her forget what happened. The cruel fact was that she needed to remember everything that happened that day. All the details of the hopeless fight, all the futile attempts in resisting the monster's march, everything must be examined over and over until they found a solution.

But at least he wished she had not faced Donnor's grieving mother… and told her how the Lord of Winterfell died.

Calla had insisted to inform Lorra Royce of Donnor's death herself, and Aegor did not have the heart to stop her. She had been crying for so long on the ride to Winterfell, her voice was dry when she approached Lorra. "Lady Stark…"

But Lorra already knew. "My son isn't with you," she observed, "Donnor is dead, isn't he?" Her voice shook, but her gaze was steel. Standing in the middle of Winterfell's courtyard, the strong snow was threatening to bury her, yet she did not move.

"...Yes," Calla murmured, raising her head to meet Lorra's gaze. "He died saving my life, defending the North from the monster. He is a brave man and worthy Lord of Winterfell. We couldn't… recover his body…" Aegor could see Calla's eyes welling up again, but she held the tears back.

Lorra bit her lips, "He was eager to prove himself, so he rushed into trouble without thinking twice and got himself killed," Lorra whispered, "That's what Donnor is like. I shouldn't let him go with you. He…" she shook her head, "He was really taken with you, you know. Haven't seen him so worked up since little Brandon died."

"Huh?" Calla blinked, a drop of tears leaking out.

"The babe he brought home. Said it was his with a lass he fancied. So young, so wild…" As Lorra's expression twisted, Aegor could see her clenching her fists. "The babe lasted not through his first year, but Donnor didn't learn his lesson. Still riding out to Winter Town with no notice, still gets into fights recklessly… still thinks that he'll be able to prove himself if he can impress a princess." She smiled at Calla, but the smile was sad and vacant.

"I don't…" Calla blurted out, frowning, "I'm married and twice his age."

"That's what I told him. But Donnor is stubborn. It's my fault as his mother that I can't rein him in…" Lorra gritted her teeth, her voice lowered to a growl, "But it's you who led him to his death."

Calla gasped, taking a step back. Lorra followed her, closing in the distance, the mask of calmness dropping from her face. "Why didn't you stop him? Why did you allow him to fight? Why did you let him die?"

Lorra extended a hand to grab Calla's shoulders, but Aegor managed to step in beforehand. "Lady Stark, your pain is understandable. But the North is in its peril and we need you to stay strong. Please come with us to King's Landing— with all your remaining children. The monster might tear its way through Winterfell's defence at any time. House Stark must survive, so the North will too."

Lorra frowned, "There must be a Stark in Winterfell." Her voice rose as she glared at him, "You failed to protect my eldest son, Lord Rivers. What makes you think you won't get the rest of my children killed as well?"

"They will be in King's Landing, far away from the monster. The monster that killed Donnor is right behind us. The Wall has fallen, and Winterfell might as well," Aegor listed out the facts evenly, "You may leave when we arrive in King's Landing if you wish. But we must all evacuate the North. We do not have much time."

"Lady Stark, I cannot express how much I'm sorry for Donnor's death," Calla said, standing at Aegor's side. Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips were trembling, but there was strength in her voice. "He died for us, the people currently in the North. He wanted to buy us time to escape, to find a way to defeat that monster. The last thing he would have wanted is for his family to die with him."

"You act as you know him better than me, Princess," Lorra mumbled darkly, "Donnor is dead. I have spoiled him too much, letting him make his decisions because he's the Lord of Winterfell. I won't make the same mistake again."

"But—!" Calla cried out.

"I'll send my children away. It's too soon for another Stark of Winterfell to die," Lorra continued slowly. Aegor could feel Calla sighing in relief, but Lorra was not done yet, "But someone will have to stay. Winterfell cannot be abandoned. There—"

"There must be a Stark in Winterfell," said Lady Umber, pushing through the heavy snow effortlessly to make room for herself, "but you're no Stark, Lorra. You don't have the blood of the kings of Winter in your veins." Proudly she announced, "I have."

Lady Umber was born Arrana Stark, a cousin to the main line of Winterfell— or rather, she was of the main line, coming from an older brother. Lorra glared at her coldly, her gaze emitting anger. "You're not challenging my son's birthright."

"I'm not," Arrana Stark snorted, "I'm challenging your ability to keep a clear head in the face of this crisis. Your little wolflings are not weaned yet. Go with them, and I shall stay. I shall hold my birthplace, the way my husband and children did."

Aegor felt Calla's gaze on him. When he met her eyes, he found them once again sad and guilty. The Umbers most likely died holding Last Hearth from the monster. But it was not Calla's fault. The Umbers could have left with them, it was their own stubbornness and pride that brought them down.

And perhaps losing all her family had given Arrana Stark a new perspective, as when she nodded at Lorra there was a tint of sympathy in her eyes. Lorra's eyes squeezed in suspicion. "You'll hold Winterfell for my son. And when winter ends, you'll return it to him. To us."

"If I still live," said Arrana nonchalantly.

Arrana did not live, most likely. They had lost contact with Winterfell a while ago, and they had gotten reports of towns south of Winterfell being attacked.

They did not have much time. The monster had already crossed half of the North. Within a year, no, a half, it would have reached the Crownlands. Escaping to Essos was an option, but one Aegor did not want to take. Gritting his teeth, he tasted something bitter.

He led them to safety years ago, he could do it again— and this would cost them everything. There would no longer be a homeland they would fight to return to.

Calla was the key. She was the one with the sword. Everyone knew that.

But she could not do it.

Countless times, he would ask her to recount the details of that day, hating himself for ripping her wounds open when they were still fresh. She told him everything, all of Brynden's cruel words, all of her struggles. It was an endless maze without an exit. No matter how many times they tried, they could not find out why she failed. Love? Was she not the kindest person in the world? Quick to forgive and full of compassion?

Similar to Aegor, Brynden was a jaded bastard. He certainly did not hold any love for the living, as everyone he had ever cared for was dead. It was outrageous that he would berate her for her lack of love.

Aegor loathed Brynden for everything he had done, loathed that they had no choice but to trust his words blindly. Yet, the worst was that he pushed it all on Calla. Calla should not be facing the monster alone. She should not have to bear the weight of the world all by herself. Aegor promised her that they would find a solution, together…

But as time passed, as they hit dead end after dead end, the hope of finding a way outside from Crystal and Brynden's instructions seemed to shrink more and more. Nothing useful from the Citadel, nor had they heard back from the men they sent to Essos. The Alchemist Guild offered wildfire, but those substances were far too unstable. Aegor recalled the tales of wildfire burning down the Kingswood in his father's reign. Besides, they would not have time to create but a few pots in time.

Today he must take leave to Dragonstone to chase another lead that might come up empty. Leaving Calla to face the guilt and the ever-looming time limit by herself.

"Aegor." Calla entered his solar, halting his thoughts, "May I have a few words?"

There were still some hours before it was time for him to embark… but seeing the way she frowned and bit her lips, he knew she did not come to say farewell.

"Yes, of course," Aegor answered, standing up. He did not want to talk to her across the table as her superior when it was only the two of them, not when she needed his support.

Calla took the hands he offered and squeezed it. He searched for the relieved smile he was hoping to find on her face, but her expression was still cloudy. "I know we need to think of a way to defeat the monster… but I can't take my mind off the sentence we gave Aelor. It's wrong to kill him."

"It's Aenys who made the final judgement," Aegor corrected her, "And he was right. Regardless of the blood in Aelor's veins, he betrayed his vow to the Night's Watch and rebelled against our rule. If we had given him any more mercy, it would be spitting on the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and inviting others to rebel. We can't do that. Especially not when these times of crisis."

"I know," Calla sighed, lowering her head, "You have said as much during the meetings. When I talked to Aenys, he told me that he didn't want to execute someone who's barely a man, but he had no choice."

"Aenys gave him a week to spend with his family. His mother and sisters had arrived in the Red Keep just an hour ago. This is the best we can do for him, Calla," Aegor said, trying his best to comfort her, "He won't live. But we have given him what he wants the most."

Calla went silent. Aegor expected her to protest, to fight. He had heard all of her reasoning. Aelor saved my life, she had said. His father died because of us. We sent him to the Night's Watch not caring that it would kill him, she would say…

But she did not. At last, when she lifted her head to face him, Aegor knew that she did not come to argue with logic and reason. She knew that it was a lost cause, and Aenys' decision was sound. Yet she still looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow that they broke his heart. "Is there… nothing else I can do?"

She wanted to save Aelor so much because she failed to save Donnor and the North, he could see that. "You can ensure that other people leave him be. Let him stay uninterrupted in his last days with the ones he loves." And away from schemers that would seek to break him out from his house arrest.

Calla nodded, but it was heavy and slow. She did not cry, but Aegor almost wished that she did. The tears were still there, she just hid it from him.

Aegor hated that he could not wipe them away.

"Uncle," Daena put a hand on his table to support her weight as she sat down, "we need to talk."

"Be careful." Aegor shot her a quick glance before returning to his papers. He needed to finish this before departing. "You should have sent a message to me and I'd meet you before I leave. It's dangerous to climb the Tower of the Hand when you're expecting."

"It's too important to send anyone else. We must talk now." Daena said, collapsing into her chair. She was sweating and breathing heavily, her swollen belly looked ready to burst, yet she remained her unyielding and willful self. Impatiently tapping her fingers on his table to get his attention, she spoke quickly, "I talked to my husband's brothers yesterday, and I have discussed it with Calla. I think there's merit in sparing Aelor Targaryen's life."

Aegor narrowed his eyes. "You as well, Daena? Calla has her reasons, but I know you to be more pragmatic than this. Is one talk with them enough to sway you?" She could be doing it for Aerion… except the fool clearly cared not for members of his own house.

"I'm pragmatic," Daena claimed, lifting her head proudly, "We need to view this in the long term. When we survive the monster, what is the plan in regards to Aegon and Aemon?"

"There's no longer a Night's Watch for them to return to," Aegor replied, his gaze lingering on the papers he was working on, "If there's a need to rebuild the Wall and the Watch, they'll be sent there and continue as how they were before. Otherwise, perhaps there are other celibate orders we can send them to. I recall one of them was studying in the Citadel before the war."

"Yes, that's Aemon," Daena said, "And all that you said shows that we don't have a plan yet."

"Daena," Aegor sighed, finally turning his head to meet her gaze, "I have an hour before I depart. Get to the point."

"We stopped one rebellion, but it had cost us much. If the Night's Watch had reported back Aegon's finding truthfully and collaborated with us, we would have known the direness of the situation sooner. We can't let this happen again. We have two choices: killing all of them so they will never be a threat again, or…" Daena smiled, "attempting to mend the rift."

Aegor shook his head. Daena talked about being pragmatic, but he only heard naiveness. "No act will mend the rift outside of returning the Iron Throne— and not even then. The kindest we can do is to let those who obey us live until the end of their natural lives, ending the Targaryen line with them," quirking a brow at her, he added, "or marrying them into House Blackfyre. Either way, their line must end."

"So you chose the first option," Daena crossed her arms, "Even so, they're all young. It'll take many years until the end of their lives. In the meanwhile, we need insurance. Someone who won't rebel because he owes a great debt to us… and will be able to stop his kin from rebelling by his mere existence."

"Ah," the corners of Aegor's lips lifted. Daena grinned back at him, thinking that her plan had been accepted. "Because Aelor is from a senior line, holding him alive and grateful will effectively stop others from rebelling. Interesting thought."

"But the drawbacks of this plan massively outweigh its benefits," Aegor continued, and Daena's face dropped, "Your plan concerns the thoughts of the remaining Targaryens, but not executing a turncoat of the Night's Watch damages our reputation across all the Seven Kingdoms. Aelor must die. There's no other way."

"I have a way around that," Daena said.

Aegor stared at her pointedly. "Explain."

"Our reputation won't be hurt," she said. After a pause, she started again, "Calla really wants to help. She understands the reality we face, but she still thinks it's unfair to let Aelor die when we caused the tragedies in his life. It'll hurt her badly if she is to see him die."

"Daena, your plan," Aegor warned her, "Attempting to distract me won't work. We have little time left."

"You're supposed to care about Calla's feelings." Daena pursed her lips, "She loves you more than anyone else."

"I care," Aegor did not bother to say more. If she did not see it, then no words would convince her. "If you have a plan that will save her from more pain, tell me and I'll consider it."

If there was anything that could help Calla, he would do it. But he doubt Daena's plan would be useful. She needed more experience to consider every part of the picture.

Daena put a hand on her chin. "My plan is kind of a… compromise."

Compromise is a way of putting it, Aegor thought after hearing her plan. But there were some modifications he must add.

Because that was what Calla would want.