Chapter 259

Asha stood at the entrance of the tent, her chains dragging noisily against the ground as she glared furiously at Aegor. Her eyes burned with rage, her body trembling slightly, giving off the impression that she might lunge forward at any moment and strangle him with her iron shackles.

The two guards tightened their grips on their spears, the tension in the air growing thick and icy.

After what felt like an eternity—though it was probably only a minute or so—Asha finally broke under Aegor’s calm yet unyielding gaze. This man, who had no qualms about forcing wildlings to shout “Winterfell forever,” was clearly devoid of any sense of honor or limits. Asha had no doubt that if she kept pushing, he would carry out every one of his threats.

Clenching her teeth, she turned back into the tent, stomping over to the stool she had earlier refused to use. She sat down heavily, still brimming with anger, and hissed, “You win. But the Ironborn in Moat Cailin aren’t my crew. They have no respect for me. I’d love to hear how you plan to address that. And aren’t you worried I might join their defense instead of coming back?”

...

“Join them? You and I both know that’s impossible,” Aegor said, relaxing his previously tense expression and cracking a sly smile. “Hundreds of men you’ve never met, trapped in a besieged keep with no hope of victory, and then a lone woman shows up? Even if I ordered you to stay, would you dare spend the night there?”

He leaned forward, voice sharp with mockery. “I’ll make you a wager: if you so much as close your eyes in Moat Cailin, by dawn, every man inside that keep will have had their turn with you.”

Asha’s expression darkened, but before she could respond, he pressed on. “I don’t need you to stay there. I need you to bring them a proposal they can’t refuse and force them to decide today: fight and die, or surrender and take the black.”

She folded her arms impatiently. “Keep talking. Do I have to drag every detail out of you?”

“You’ll tell them this: if they surrender before sunset, the Night’s Watch guarantees their lives. If they refuse, both the southern and northern armies will launch a final assault, and not a single Ironborn will see tomorrow’s sunrise.”

“Big words,” Asha sneered. “Robb Stark’s two thousand couldn’t take that keep after weeks of trying. What makes you think your farmers can break through by sundown?”

“Because of the wildfire,” Aegor replied evenly. “You remember it, don’t you? That green flame burning in the wet sand on the beach? It doesn’t go out, no matter where it lands. If I were to hurl a hundred jars of it into Moat Cailin with trebuchets, what do you think would happen? Unlike Deepwood Motte, Moat Cailin isn’t worth preserving. Burn it to the ground, and it’ll only take a few weeks to rebuild.”

He leaned back, his tone growing colder. “Whether or not I can take the keep in a day is my problem. Convincing them they’ll all die if they don’t surrender is yours.”

“So you want me to lie to them?” Asha asked with a bitter laugh.

“I didn’t say that,” Aegor replied, his calm smile never wavering. “How you persuade them is up to you. Tell them the truth about my forces, or make something up about Northern reinforcements flanking them. I don’t care. I only care about results.”

“Figures. You’ll do anything to win,” Asha said with a bitter nod. “But here’s the problem: I don’t trust you to keep your word. If even I can’t trust you, how am I supposed to make them believe you’ll spare them?”

...

“During wartime, trust isn’t a luxury,” Aegor said, his tone patient. “As the Chief Logistics Officer of the Night’s Watch, it’s my duty to ensure the survival of both the New Gift settlers and the brothers of the Watch. You, as a leader of the Ironborn, directly threatened that mission by disrupting the supply lines from the North. If I hadn’t acted decisively, the New Gift would have starved, and the Wall would’ve fallen. The White Walkers would’ve swept south, and humanity would’ve been extinguished.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. You can despise me all you like. But here and now, I’m speaking to you not as an enemy, but as a man to a woman. I promise to do everything in my power to convince Robb Stark to honor the terms I’m offering. This is not a tactical lie. This is a promise. Whether or not you believe me is your choice.”

“Choice?” Wylis Manderly scoffed, breaking into the conversation with a derisive laugh. “She’s a prisoner. What choice does she have? Her life is in our hands.”

...

As much as Asha hated to admit it, the fat lordling wasn’t wrong. With her 53 surviving crew members in Aegor’s grasp, he hardly needed to justify himself to her. Yet, despite her loathing for the man, his words carried an irritating air of sincerity.

Not that it mattered. She had no choice.

“I don’t care about the lives of those men in Moat Cailin,” Asha said after a long silence, her voice cold and measured. “But you’ll guarantee the safety of my 53 crew members. If you break your word, I swear on the Drowned God—so long as I breathe, you’ll never sleep soundly again. Now, enough talk. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Relieved to be dealing with someone who understood pragmatism, Aegor nodded. “You’ll have a decent meal before you leave. Afterward, you’ll carry a flag of truce to Moat Cailin. I’ll provide a written agreement stating that the Night’s Watch will take all who surrender into their ranks. Your job is to convince them to accept. How you do that is entirely up to you.”

“And?” Asha’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

“An hour after you enter the keep, I’ll launch a single jar of wildfire between the towers as a demonstration. That should make your argument more convincing. Remind them: they have until sunset to surrender or flee. If they don’t, both armies will attack.”

“Straightforward enough,” Asha said dryly. Both knew convincing the Ironborn to surrender would be the hardest part. Worse, she had little time to prepare. “I’ll need a weapon to defend myself. My uncle’s men aren’t exactly reliable, and now that Euron has abandoned them, I wouldn’t put it past them to turn on me.”

“You’ll get your weapon back when your chains are removed, and the flag of truce is in your hands,” Aegor promised. “Anything else?”

“If I’m the one doing the persuading, then no. That’s all.”

“Good. Then I’ll wish you luck, Lady Greyjoy—though I doubt you’ll need it.”

...