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Chapter 552
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:30:49 +0000 UTCVarys and Petyr Baelish had weathered many storms in their lives, encountering dangers and crises far more perilous than this. Yet, neither of them had ever experienced a meal as turbulent and unpredictable as this one. For all their worldly knowledge, both found themselves silently thinking the same thing—“You live long enough, and you see everything.”
After the emotional rollercoaster they had endured, the two lifelong schemers reached an unspoken agreement: they would placate this volatile third party with retreat and feigned submission. With some effort, they managed to calm the Night’s Watch Lord Commander and diffuse the tension.
Aegor, appearing to have firmly established his dominance over the Queen’s inner circle, seemed immensely satisfied. No longer putting on frightening theatrics, he finally settled down to enjoy the feast, chatting amiably with Varys and Petyr as though they were old friends. The topics ranged from the upcoming Lords’ Assembly in Winterfell to his ambitious plans for the southern campaign.
“Chatting,” however, was a generous way to put it. In reality, the two conspirators, still shaken, had no desire to argue or genuinely discuss anything. Their only thought was to humor the brute, ensure he ate and drank his fill, and escape this room with their lives intact. Their responses were carefully managed, subtly steering the conversation in a way that made Aegor believe he was in control. At most, they occasionally threw in a harmless question or a trivial suggestion to maintain the illusion of engagement.
Sleep-deprived and still reeling from the earlier threats, Varys found himself overwhelmed by exhaustion now that the immediate danger seemed to have passed. Though he had feigned eating and drinking to keep up appearances, the fatigue hit him like a tidal wave the moment he relaxed. His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish, and even the effort to speak felt burdensome.
Petyr, too, was on edge but masked his wariness with his usual charm, nodding along and offering the occasional insincere compliment. But the room’s brief lapse into silence unsettled them both. The quiet stretched for several seconds as Aegor chewed and swallowed the last bite of food on his plate. Finally, he put down his utensils and cleared his throat.
“Ahem—I’ve been thinking,” he began, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. His deliberate, almost ceremonial movements—left, right, up, down—felt less like simple table manners and more like an assertion of authority. He folded the napkin and repeated the motion, as though savoring the moment, before finally continuing, “The plan we discussed earlier… I believe it has a few minor flaws.”
Both Varys and Petyr steeled themselves for whatever absurdity would come next, only for Aegor to cut himself off mid-sentence. He lowered the napkin and leaned back, his piercing gaze flicking between the two.
“I’m pleased that we’ve reached a consensus today, and I’m grateful for your loyalty to the Queen,” he said, his tone deceptively calm. “But given our vastly different backgrounds, experiences, and worldviews… how can we guarantee that future disagreements won’t escalate into irreconcilable conflicts?”
Here we go again, the two thought in unison, their patience wearing thin.
Petyr forced a smile, suppressing his irritation. “Lord Commander, differences of opinion are inevitable. Isn’t it normal to have healthy debates? Lay out our thoughts, weigh the pros and cons, and let the Queen decide. Surely, that’s the natural course of things?”
“Healthy debates,” Aegor echoed, chuckling softly. “Perhaps, when everyone shares the same goals and works toward the same interests. But that’s not always the case, is it?” His tone shifted, growing sharper. “You two are undoubtedly brilliant, and I won’t deny that. But your noble upbringing and rigid way of thinking mean you will never fully grasp the Queen’s vision as I do. In such moments, your talents are not assets—they’re liabilities. They cause unnecessary friction and waste valuable resources.”
(Is he implying we’re… expendable?)
Varys inhaled sharply, his earlier calm replaced by renewed vigilance. “Surely, Lord Commander, we all serve the same Queen, striving to place her on the Iron Throne. Is that not a shared goal?”
Aegor shook his head. “At best, we share a master and happen to be on the same ship. But true understanding of the Queen’s aspirations? Only I possess that. And so, I have devised a comprehensive plan—one that will ensure her swift and decisive victory. She will take the Iron Throne and shatter the ‘wheel of history’ she seeks to break.”
Petyr’s chest tightened as the implications of Aegor’s words set in. “And what plan might that be, Lord Commander? Surely, we would be willing to support it if it aligns with Her Majesty’s interests.”
Aegor smiled faintly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t doubt your willingness, but I fear your minds are too entangled in old habits and self-interest to fully embrace what must be done. Therefore, I have come to a conclusion. To prevent the inevitable conflicts and power struggles, the best course of action is simple.”
He paused, his smile deepening into something far more sinister.
“You must leave the Queen’s side. From here on, I alone will guide Her Majesty to her rightful destiny.”
Petyr and Varys exchanged stunned glances, their minds racing. Leave the Queen? Resign their posts? It was unthinkable. Even if they agreed, the Queen herself would never allow it.
Before either could form a coherent response, Varys felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. His limbs grew heavier, his thoughts slower. Panic set in as he realized the source of his discomfort.
Poison.
The realization came too late. Struggling to stay upright, Varys clutched the edge of the table and tried to rise. “Lord Commander, I…”
But the words never left his lips. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.
“Varys!” Petyr shot to his feet, only to stumble as the room spun around him. His breath hitched, his vision darkened, and within moments, he too fell, lifeless, beside his old rival.
Aegor watched their deaths in silence, his expression cold. Only when the room was still did he loosen his collar, revealing a golden necklace set with a crimson gem. The jewel pulsed faintly, its eerie glow reflecting in his eyes.
“Well,” he muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That went smoother than expected.”
