"Arya!" Of course, Myrcella wasn't foolish enough to ask who "he" was. She rushed forward without hesitation. "Don't do anything stupid!"
She wasn't as strong as Arya, which was nothing to be ashamed of, but their height and weight were nearly the same. As long as she threw herself at Arya's waist and held on tightly, she could definitely stop this murderous little assassin.
That was what Myrcella thought, but she didn't expect that this time, Arya wouldn't wrestle with her at all. Instead, gripping the small sword tightly in one hand, she used her free hand to shove Myrcella away, making her stagger back several steps before catching herself on the edge of the bed.
All three girls were stunned. Arya looked apologetic, realizing she had used too much force. Sansa was frightened by the weapon in Arya's hand and the furious, almost feral expression on her face. As for Myrcella, she was suddenly reminded of the day her fate changed. That day, in the Queen's chambers in the Red Keep at King's Landing, during the confrontation between her mother and the two "Fathers," hadn't she also tried her best to mediate, to ease the tension and prevent things from escalating, only to achieve nothing?
Was tonight going to be the same? Between the Starks and Aegor, the two people she loved and cared about, was a life-and-death struggle unavoidable?
"I'm sorry..." Arya's good upbringing made her apologize instinctively, but as soon as the words left her lips, the guilt was overwhelmed by the fury still bubbling within her. She took a deep breath and charged out of the room without looking back.
Myrcella pulled herself out of the dark memory. Amid confusion and helplessness, she suddenly steeled herself. Tonight, no matter what it took, she would not let history repeat itself.
"Sansa, don't just stand there. Come with me and stop her!"
Sansa, the eldest of the three, had instead become the most indecisive in the moment. Hearing Myrcella's words, she snapped out of her daze. Seeing the determination in Myrcella's expression, she nodded, quickly pulled on a coat, and ran after her.
They thought they wouldn't be able to catch up, but as they clattered down the stairs, the scene in front of them made them breathe a sigh of relief. Harris Moran, the captain of the guards ordered to stay in the main keep, had faithfully carried out Robb's instructions and was now blocking the furious second daughter, who looked like a bristling wolf cub, at the door.
"The rebels are attacking out there, and you, a grown man, are hiding behind the keep's door like a coward?!"
The captain of the guards was completely unfazed by his young lady's taunt. He looked down at Arya expressionlessly, not moving an inch from the entrance. "If Lord Robb orders me to be a coward, then I will stay curled up in my shell until the world ends."
"You, you, you..." Arya stammered at the brazen response before finally finding something to say. "You're not even as brave as I am, a girl! If you're going to cower here, I'll go out and deal with the enemy myself!"
She pushed hard toward the door, managing to make the captain of the guards take one step back.
But that was as far as she got. Arya was strong, but only compared to girls her age. In front of a healthy, full-grown man...
Harris Moran had stepped back, but not because he lost balance. He leaned into the door bolt behind him and held firm, still blocking the exit. This time, he didn't budge at all. "My Lady, you now have two choices. Either return to your room on your own, or be carried back by me."
Arya looked like she was about to explode. She stopped wasting words, took a step back, raised Needle, and took up a fierce but precise stabbing stance. "If you don't move, don't blame me for being rude!"
"Arya, what are you doing!" A strong female voice rang out from the second floor. An older and younger Lady Stark were descending the stairs together. The voice belonged to the elder — her mother, Catelyn Stark.
"Mother! I..." Arya turned her head, ready to explain, but in that brief moment of distraction, she felt a sharp pain in her wrist. The captain of the guards had seized the chance to snatch the sword from her hand and twisted it away.
"My Lady, two pieces of advice. First, don't draw your sword unless you have the resolve and courage to use it. Second, don't get distracted when you're pointing a weapon at someone."
"Give it back!" Arya was in no mood to hear a lecture. Furious, she ignored her mother's shouting and lunged forward to snatch Needle back.
Harris Moran held the sword high out of reach. Lady Catelyn and her daughter-in-law were now quickly descending the stairs, their faces filled with anger. Just as the hall of the main keep was thrown into turmoil, the second round of explosions echoed through the air.
This time, the target was the inner gate leading directly to the castle. Because the synchronization between the two demolition teams had weakened and the drawbridges had been added to the targets, this round of "thunder" was disjointed and irregular, ringing out five or six times in uneven bursts before falling silent. But while the rhythm was lacking, the volume and force of the blasts were much stronger than before, with no outer walls to block the sound and the targets much closer. The vibrations seemed to rise from the depths of the earth, deep and violent. They could feel the tremors beneath their feet. The walls of the main keep buzzed, and from the rafters above, a few strands of dust — perhaps resting quietly for hundreds of years, having witnessed generations of Starks — were shaken loose.
The room fell silent for a breath. In that moment, Myrcella ran to Arya's side and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.
"Apologize. Quickly!" she whispered into Arya's ear.
"What?"
"Are you out of your mind? If you go out now, it's pitch black. Do you know where to even find Aegor to kill him?"
As they came down the stairs, Myrcella had already thought it through. To persuade and protect Arya, blocking her by force was useless. She had to speak Arya's language if she wanted a chance at success.
Arya hesitated, stunned for a brief second. Seeing this, Myrcella quickly went on. "There are two possibilities. One, that bastard never gets into Winterfell, in which case you'll never find him and your plan is just wishful thinking. The other, he has already gotten in — but think about it. We're in the main keep. Every other part of Winterfell combined isn't half as important as this place. So if you go out, you might not find him, but if you stay here, you're guaranteed to see him!"
Arya turned the idea over in her mind. Suddenly, it made sense.
"But he took my sword."
"Then go apologize to your mother and say you'll only use Needle for self-defense. Promise not to cause any more trouble. That's your only chance of getting it back."
As she spoke, Catelyn and her daughter-in-law approached. Arya didn't have time to think more. She turned around and repeated exactly what Myrcella had taught her.
"Hmph. There are thousands of grown men in this city. Do you think it's your place to defend anything?" Catelyn clearly didn't believe the excuse, but at least she was satisfied with her daughter's attitude. After giving Arya a long look, she nodded toward Harris Moran. "Give it back. And guard this gate well. Unless Robb returns, no one is to go out or come in."
The captain of the guards puffed out his chest. "Don't worry, my Lady. Anyone who wants to get through this door without permission will have to step over my dead body."
...
It was another assassination attempt foiled before it even began. Minutes after the plan failed at the very first step, Arya followed her two companions back to the room, sulking in frustration. The only comfort was that by yielding to Myrcella's advice, she had managed to get her sword back.
"What was that thunder just now?" With a real sword now in her sister's hand, Sansa no longer had the nerve to call her crazy. She rushed to the window, pushed it open, and peered outside, then let out a sharp gasp.
The room they shared had a window facing northeast. Through it, they could now clearly see the gates on the northeast side had been blown wide open. The two glowing serpents of torchlight, which had been blocked from their view before, had now clearly passed through the breach and entered the city. Part of their "bodies" was already locked in combat with the sentries, while the "heads" moved as if they knew the way, heading straight toward the heart of the castle. They were about to collide with the two other torch-lit serpents that had emerged from the garrison camp.
The Gift Army had actually breached both the outer and inner gates of Winterfell in one swift strike and charged inside? Myrcella, who also saw the scene, was stunned. But the first thought that came to her was, if Aegor had the ability to break through so easily, why had he needed her to set that fire?
There was no time to think deeply about the question. She snapped back to reality and quickly grabbed the person next to her, who looked like she was about to explode again.
"Don't do anything rash! Aegor probably didn't come into the city with the rebels at all. He's probably still at his old camp outside, directing everything from there. Just wait here. Once dawn comes, he's sure to come knocking at your door!"
(To be continued.)