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Chapter 583
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:44:24 +0000 UTCAegor hadn't expected Asha to suddenly snap and attack him.
But that didn’t mean he panicked.
From the moment he stepped beyond the bounds of the Night’s Watch and onto the treacherous stage of politics, he had known the path he walked was fraught with danger. He had prepared himself to offend powerful figures, to become the target of endless accusations, threats, and assassination attempts—some rational, some utterly absurd.
For that reason, he was always ready.
Physically. Mentally.
Right now, he was fully armored, his sword at his hip, with only his head exposed. And beyond mere protection, he had been altered. The gift of R’hllor had changed him—his body temperature ran slightly hotter, his wounds healed a little faster, his reflexes and strength had improved in ways too subtle to measure but too significant to ignore.
By the time Asha lunged, Aegor had already moved.
He shot up from his seat in an instant, drawing his longsword in the same motion as he roared—
"Guards!"
If Asha Greyjoy had been fully armored and armed, perhaps he would have considered her a real threat. But she had nothing—no blade, no shield, not even so much as a leather jerkin. If he couldn’t handle this, he might as well crawl into a hole and stay there.
But there was a third person in the room.
And Tyrion Lannister, despite his short legs, was faster than expected.
Since his feet couldn’t touch the ground while seated, he couldn’t simply spring to his feet like Aegor had. So instead, he stuck out his leg.
At the very moment Asha rushed past him—
He tripped her.
Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the shackles she had worn. Perhaps it was sheer tunnel vision, her entire focus locked onto Aegor.
Either way—she went down.
Face-first.
Hard.
With a resounding thud, Asha Greyjoy—daughter of Balon, once-proud heir of the Iron Islands—kissed the dirt.
The tent flap burst open as guards swarmed in.
Some rushed toward Tyrion. Others pinned Asha to the floor, pressing their knees against her back and limbs. She thrashed, snarling, screaming, writhing like a wild beast trying to break free—
Then, just as suddenly as she had erupted into violence, her body slumped.
Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out cold.
----
The feast was ruined.
The wine, wasted.
As for the women Tyrion had been anticipating—
Gone.
The entire camp was in an uproar.
Aegor had seen Tyrion trip Asha. He knew his friend had no part in orchestrating this madness.
But the attack had happened during a Westerlands delegation visit. And the attacker had come with Tyrion’s party.
So—Aegor had no choice.
He ordered Tyrion to be politely escorted to a separate tent for the time being. His entire entourage was placed under guard. The camp’s security was increased to the highest level.
If there were more assassins, he wouldn’t be caught off guard twice.
Asha, meanwhile, had been thrown back into shackles before she had even regained consciousness.
But everything had a cause. Aegor ordered an interrogation at once, determined to uncover who had sent her.
Yet, when she finally woke, she denied everything.
She claimed to remember nothing—said she had blacked out almost immediately after entering the tent.
Aegor was furious.
Just as he was about to shift his focus to interrogating the Westerlands envoys—
The Red Woman arrived.
----
“How fascinating…”
Melisandre placed a hand on Asha’s forehead, eyes gleaming with intrigue. She clicked her tongue, almost in admiration.
“I believe this is a case of Spirit Seed Enchantment.”
Aegor narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that?”
“I’ve read of it before,” Melisandre mused. “But this is my first time witnessing it. It is a very obscure spell. Tell me—who cast it?”
Asha, bound to a chair, said nothing.
Aegor’s frown deepened. “Explain.”
“It’s not complicated, but casting it requires mastery of both hypnosis and mind control magic. The last recorded expert practitioner vanished in the Doom of Valyria. After that, the spell was considered lost.”
She smiled faintly.
“Well—almost lost. Some records did survive. The Red Temple in Volantis holds copies. Recreating the spell is possible. But in an age where magic is dying, few would waste their time reviving such a thing.”
As she spoke, her fingers glowed faintly. She probed the depths of Asha’s mind, searching.
“Those afflicted by this spell appear normal in day-to-day life,” she continued. “But upon encountering a trigger—a sight, a sound, a word—they snap. They become mindless puppets, executing whatever orders were implanted within them.”
Aegor felt a chill creep down his spine.
There were spells like this in this world?
For a moment, he longed for the simplicity of Earth.
“But,” Melisandre added, “it has weaknesses. The magic is demanding to learn. Those who master it usually have far better ways to control others. Worse—it’s easy to detect. Any enemy powerful enough to be worth using it on likely has wards or bodyguards who can intervene.”
She exhaled. “And in this case? It was poorly cast. Whoever did this was not an expert.”
She turned to Asha.
“Tell me—can you recall the last time you blacked out?”
Asha’s entire body tensed.
She understood now.
That strange sensation she had been ignoring for days. That unease lurking at the edge of her mind.
It had been this all along.
She had never truly escaped from Pyke.
Never narrowly slipped from Euron’s grasp.
It had all been a trap.
Euron had hypnotized her with that cursed eye of his. He had baited her uncle into a doomed rescue.
In a single move, he had solidified his rule over the Iron Islands, eliminated his final rival, and sent Asha back to Aegor—
As a walking bomb.
A message.
A warning.
And now—after all that—how could she possibly ask Aegor to help her reclaim the Iron Islands?
She had become a pawn.
A plaything of fate.
Her whole life had been a cycle of failures. She had struggled, fought, resisted—
For what?
If her hands had been free, she might have grabbed the nearest dagger and ended it.
But they weren’t.
And Aegor’s voice cut through the storm in her head.
“Can it be undone?”
Melisandre pulled her hand away.
“In theory? No.”
Asha flinched.
“But,” the sorceress continued, “as I said—whoever did this was sloppy. A true Spirit Seed Enchantment remains until death, triggering again and again. But this one? It was crude. One-time use.”
“You’re certain?”
“I am. But if you still don’t trust her…” She smirked. “Then simply keep her away from you.”
Aegor exhaled, rubbing his chin.
He could guess what had happened.
That madman Euron—
He had delved into the Doom and returned with more than just Valyrian steel and dragon horns.
And if he had mastered this spell more fully—
The thought was unpleasant.
His voice hardened.
“Asha Greyjoy—spare me the theatrics. Talk.”
“Tell me everything that happened after Ice Bay. Every detail about Euron—what you saw, what you heard.
“You failed to kill Crow’s Eye.”
His expression darkened.
“So I’ll have to do it myself.”
