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Chapter 548
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:29:24 +0000 UTC"Discuss important matters?"
Petyr Baelish’s nose twitched as he caught a faint whiff of something… unusual.
Under normal circumstances, such a clumsy excuse might have amused him. But given the tense situation, it only made him frown deeply.
Though cracks had begun forming within their fragile alliance, Petyr and Aegor’s shared interests meant they hadn’t yet turned against each other. If there truly were "important matters" to discuss, why would Aegor invite an enemy to the table?
Petyr’s intuition whispered that something was off, but his logic told him he couldn’t refuse the invitation.
He hadn’t slept well the previous night, haunted by the possibilities that Aegor’s cryptic words about a "permanent solution" had conjured. He had spent hours tossing and turning, wondering if Aegor might do something rash under cover of darkness. Should he warn the Unsullied to be more vigilant? Should he listen for the crunch of boots in the snow, signaling the approach of soldiers?
Nothing happened, and morning arrived uneventfully. But when the wake-up call stirred him from his fitful sleep, he still felt drained.
Why was he so on edge?
Once upon a time, as Master of Coin under King Robert, Petyr had been driven by boundless ambition and cunning schemes. Every day, he’d dreamed of climbing higher, of seizing more power. But now, as Hand of the Queen to Daenerys Targaryen, he’d never been so… loyal, so cooperative, or so honest.
He had put Daenerys’ interests just below his own survival, meticulously guiding her and selflessly offering his advice. He’d helped her navigate countless traps, strategized tirelessly to unite her realm, and genuinely sought alliances wherever possible.
All for one simple, sincere goal: to place her on the Iron Throne.
And yet, despite the purity of that goal, he was constantly undermined by unreliable allies.
Daenerys herself was a challenge—her Targaryen bloodline seemed to make her swing wildly between brilliance and madness. One moment, she was a wise ruler, decisive and open to counsel; the next, she was irrational and obstinate, her temper as unpredictable as a dragon’s.
When Aegor and the Gifted Lands army pledged their support, Petyr had thought he’d finally found a competent and level-headed ally. But to his frustration, Aegor was another impulsive wildcard. A simple provocation from Varys was all it took to make him lose control, publicly erupt in anger, and jeopardize their unity. With such poor emotional discipline, what could Aegor possibly contribute to the southern campaign besides brute force?
Still, Petyr understood his position.
Given his lowborn origins, questionable reputation, and limited resources, he had no choice but to stick with this alliance. Even if Daenerys was a volatile queen and Aegor an unpredictable ally, he had to treat them both with care. They were like unruly children who needed constant guidance and patience to steer toward the right path.
Wait.
He paused his internal grumbling as a thought occurred to him.
"Will Her Grace be attending this luncheon?"
"No," the messenger replied. "The Lord Commander said it would just be the three of you."
Petyr exhaled quietly. If Daenerys had been invited, it might have meant Aegor was planning something far more dangerous. Without her presence, the stakes seemed slightly lower.
With Varys undoubtedly planning some scheme for the Northern lords’ arrival, Petyr couldn’t afford to waste his energy dealing with internal disputes. He needed to confront Aegor directly and get to the bottom of this.
"I’ll be there shortly. Inform your commander."
Once the messenger left, Petyr summoned a few trusted Unsullied guards and sent them to gather information around the castle. After confirming that Daenerys had not been invited and that there were no unusual movements in the Gifted Lands’ barracks, he reluctantly called for two more Unsullied to accompany him. Bracing himself, he headed for the luncheon that he doubted would bring any good news.
----
The journey to the dining hall was uneventful. Soldiers trained in the yard, dragonkeepers tended to the beasts, and everything seemed normal. When Petyr arrived, he saw two familiar Unsullied chatting casually with members of Aegor’s personal guard outside the doors.
Even the Spider, for all his cunning, apparently wasn’t bold enough to provoke a military leader on his home turf.
With a wry smile, Petyr pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room had been rearranged. The dining tables and benches, normally scattered throughout, had been stacked against the walls to clear the center space. Only a single table remained, set with an array of dishes. The air was warm, heated by the fireplace, and the room offered no hiding places for ambushes.
Apart from a servant standing by, the only other people present were Aegor and Varys. Petyr immediately noticed the seating arrangement: Varys sat at one side of the table, while the seat opposite him remained empty. Aegor had taken the head of the table, equidistant from the other two—a position that symbolized neutrality.
It wasn’t a comforting sign, but its meaning wasn’t yet clear.
"Apologies for the delay," Petyr said as he strode confidently to the empty chair. He might feel uneasy, but as the Hand of the Queen, he couldn’t afford to show it. "I was detained by other matters."
"You’re right on time, Lord Hand. Please, take a seat," Aegor said, gesturing for him to sit. Then he nodded to the servant. "Pour the wine."
Petyr watched silently as the servant poured wine for all three of them. No one spoke or moved as their glasses were filled.
"Good afternoon, my lords," Aegor began, breaking the silence once the servant had left. He rose from his seat, placing both hands on the table as he leaned forward slightly. "I’ve asked you here because I’ve identified a problem—one that exists within the Queen’s inner circle. That is to say, among us three."
Neither Varys nor Petyr reacted immediately, both content to let Aegor explain himself.
"After speaking with you both and observing your actions over the past few days, I’ve come to a conclusion. The two of you are divided on a critical issue: whether to acknowledge Prince Aegon’s claim and how to engage with him. This disagreement has created tension, which you’ve carried into your roles as the Queen’s advisors."
Aegor’s tone hardened.
"Forgive me for being blunt, but allowing personal feelings to cloud your judgment is both petty and foolish. It damages your reputations and makes me question your loyalty to the Queen. So today, I’ve decided to act as a neutral mediator to resolve this conflict. It’s time to put an end to the infighting and restore rationality and wisdom to the Queen’s council."
----
The crackling of the fire and the muffled chatter of guards outside were the only sounds in the room. Varys shot Petyr a sideways glance, but to his surprise, Petyr seemed just as confused as he was.
Since Daenerys had landed on Westerosi soil, this was the first time they’d both shared the exact same thought:
What in the Seven Hells is this man talking about?
They weren’t a quarreling couple needing mediation. They weren’t bickering over minor misunderstandings or emotional grievances.
They knew each other perfectly well. They understood each other’s motives, ambitions, and goals with startling clarity. Their animosity wasn’t born of miscommunication but of cold, calculated opposition.
Their conflict was a battle to the death—one that could only end when one of them was defeated or destroyed.
And now, here was Aegor Wyst, speaking as though he could mediate their irreconcilable enmity like a marriage counselor.
It would’ve been laughable if it weren’t so baffling.
But as absurd as it sounded, neither of them dared mock him.
Aegor might be brash and impulsive, but he wasn’t stupid. If he’d spent an entire day and night preparing for this, then there had to be something more to it.
Whatever his true intentions were, both Varys and Petyr knew they’d have to play along—for now.
