Chapter 620

"A tragic yet utterly meaningless finale."

Seated atop his horse, watching his soldiers tend to the wounded, gather the dead, and round up prisoners, Aegor delivered his verdict on the battle.

Stannis had had a chance to retreat.

He could have left his men to cover his escape, crossed to the south bank of the Blackwater, and lived to fight another day.

Instead, he had chosen to play the role of Westeros’s own Xiang Yu—refusing to flee east of the river, staying behind to fight to the bitter end.

Under his personal command, the last remnants of the Baratheon royal army fought bravely and honorably. Their final, desperate charge toward Aegor had almost rekindled in him the same sense of danger he’d felt fighting the White Walkers.

Almost.

But they were too few.

Outnumbered four to one, they had chosen to fight on open ground against a force that had stood its ground against the undead and had just crushed the Golden Company.

The outcome was inevitable.

Even without cannon fire or explosives, Stannis’s troops were swallowed up like embers thrown into a lake—scattered, drowned, and extinguished.

Not a single one even made it close to Aegor.
----


It wasn’t long before the body was found.

The captured soldiers pointed it out almost immediately.

Even the wildlings, who had no concept of kings, understood what they had done: they had just slain the chieftain of the largest rival tribe on the continent.

The argument over who had struck the killing blow nearly led to a brawl, until Aegor and his personal guard approached on horseback.

Silently.

That was enough.

The moment they realized they weren’t getting a share of the glory, the argument died down, and they slinked away to loot the rest of the battlefield instead.

Aegor gave only one order regarding the body:

No desecration. No humiliation.

Beyond that, he did not dampen his soldiers’ mood.

As they cheered and carried the corpse away, the sun had just begun its descent past midday.

The short-lived Baratheon dynasty had not even lasted long enough to see the sunset on its final day.
----


The bad news came soon after.

According to his scouts, two small boats had escaped during the battle, ferrying what appeared to be Stannis’s family across the Blackwater.

Aegor wasn’t overly concerned.

After all, what could they even do?

The Stormlands had been bled dry by the wars against Renly, the Golden Company, and the Long Night. Even if Stannis’s wife and daughter safely reached Storm’s End, there were no powerful lords left who could still raise the stag banner in defiance.

No, he wasn’t worried.

He was annoyed.
----


What to do about Stannis’s family?

This should have been Daenerys’s problem.

Aegor had been careful not to get involved, lest he be caught in the political fallout.

But now, with Stannis dead and his last-ditch breakout failed, the problem had fallen squarely into his hands.

If he wanted to prove his loyalty to Daenerys, the simplest solution would be to do what Tywin had done to Rhaegar’s family:

"Accidentally" lose track of them, then present their corpses to the queen.

Clean. Efficient. And it would completely erase a potential threat to her new dynasty.

But there was a problem.

Daenerys had personal grievances against House Baratheon.

Aegor did not.

Killing Stannis in battle was one thing.

Murdering his defenseless widow and child? That was another.

It was ugly. It was dishonorable. And it was beneath him.

Of course, if he were truly committed to absolute loyalty, he could still arrange an "accident."

He had men who could do this sort of thing.

Only they weren’t here.

Roose Bolton and Warner Buckwell were both masters of ruthlessness—one was a nobleman feared across the North, the other a traitor turned exile with nothing to lose. Either could have handled the dirty work perfectly.

But Bolton was stationed a hundred miles north, keeping an eye on the Westerlands and the Vale.

And Buckwell? He was leading the attack on the Red Keep.

Far too distant to fix this problem immediately.
----


The wildlings were an option.

They would have no problem killing two unarmed nobles.

But discretion? Covering their tracks? Keeping their mouths shut afterward?

Forget it.

The Dornish?

They’d be more than happy to do the job.

But nobles would never kill other nobles unless there was a personal grudge or a very good price.

They would almost certainly take the prisoners alive, then dump the problem back onto him.

Aegor exhaled, frustrated.

And then—

A shout in the distance.

He looked up—

And saw the two boats that had escaped earlier...

Returning.
----


Rushing down to the docks, he found the boats surrounded by his soldiers.

And among the gold-cloaked figures disembarking, he spotted a familiar face.
----


“Lord Commander,” the elderly knight knelt on one knee, placing his sheathed sword at Aegor’s feet.

“I am Jastelyn Bywater. I surrender to you, alongside Queen Selyse, Princess Shireen, and the remaining garrison of the River Gate.”

He raised his gaze, voice steady.

“In accordance with the chivalric code and the laws of war, I ask that you guarantee our safety.”
----


Fucking hell.

Aegor stared at the old man who had once saved his life.

At the woman and child cowering behind him—whether from fear or rage, he could not tell.

And in his heart, he cursed Stannis.

That stubborn bastard…

When had he suddenly become so cunning?

Jastelyn Bywater was not the type of man to sell out his king.

Which meant—his surrender had come from higher up.

And that could only mean one thing:

Stannis’s last act had never been about breaking out or killing Aegor.

From the start, his plan had been to evacuate his wife and child—

To get them out of the Red Keep before it fell to Daenerys.

To deliver them, alive, to Aegor—

The one man who had no personal grudge against House Baratheon.

And in doing so, Stannis had forced his hand.

By dying, he had erased Daenerys’s greatest rival claim.

And by ensuring his family surrendered publicly, in front of witnesses and a man bound by honor,

He had made it impossible for Aegor to kill them without ruining his own reputation.
----


You bastard.
----


Aegor dismounted, scowling.

He pulled Bywater to his feet, accepting the surrender.

A few words of reassurance, orders for proper lodging, and then—

He turned, voice sharp.

"Prepare to move out! We ride for the Red Keep—immediately!"
----


If Stannis hadn’t told his men of his true plan, then the Red Keep’s garrison might still be resisting—

Unaware their king was already dead.

If that was the case, then Shireen Baratheon was now his strongest weapon.

If he played this right—

He could use her to end the siege without further bloodshed.