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Chapter 410
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:48:35 +0000 UTCAfter personally "offering himself" to calm Arya’s seething jealousy with a bit of sweetness, the situation finally stabilized. The Stark girl ceased her attempts to assassinate the Mad King’s daughter, while Daenerys—completely unaware of the threat she had narrowly avoided—settled comfortably into her new role as a recluse in the tower on the lake island.
There, she passed her time peacefully, engrossed in books such as 'The Night’s Watch' and 'Their Fantastical Adventures'—one of the many Aegor had brought her to stave off boredom—while she waited for the great battle to begin.
Of course, as her host, Aegor made regular visits to the tower, feeding her more details about the feasibility of the Great Crownlands Plan to keep her engaged—lest the fish slip off the hook. Occasionally, he would take her for a tour along Crown’s Rests’s walls to prevent her from feeling like she was under house arrest.
At the same time, he discreetly sent a trusted subordinate to accompany Lady Catelyn Stark at the Wall, delaying her return to Crown’s Rest in order to avoid further complicating the situation.
One day passed. Then another.
The dragonglass bombs had been distributed along the Wall, and Lightbringer had been delivered to every planned stronghold. And yet, the final battle, poised to erupt at any moment, did not come.
Instead of news of the dead, it was an unexpected message from Icebreaker Bay that reached them first—trouble from the living.
A Northern patrol fleet had sighted a large number of warships within the frozen waters of the bay.
It seemed that the ironborn, who had been raiding along the Riverlands and Westerlands’ shores, had learned of the previous patrol’s crushing defeat. Despite their numerical advantage, their lone survivor had barely managed to escape.
Now, having regrouped, they had returned with their full force, seeking vengeance—while also intending to crush the fledgling Northern navy before it could become a true threat.
At present, Icecanyon Port had only three operational warships. A fourth was still under construction. Worse yet, there were only enough experienced sailors to properly man two of them.
With shortages across the board, challenging Euron’s fleet—numbering in the dozens, if not hundreds—was out of the question.
Thus, the Northern fleet had wisely chosen to withdraw into the harbor the moment they sighted the enemy.
If the ironborn attempted a naval assault, the port’s fortifications—catapults, scorpions, and wildfire bombs—would annihilate them from a distance.
If they attempted a land invasion, they would find themselves facing a heavily fortified stronghold, garrisoned by over a thousand men.
Under Aegor’s direction, extensive defensive preparations had been made—not just for the ironborn, but for any potential threats. And now, the joint Northern-Night’s Watch fortress port had become an impenetrable fortress.
A porcupine bristling with deadly quills, leaving the enemy no place to strike.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Wall, another event unfolded.
Ten days ago, Daenerys had dispatched a mission fleet to Eastwatch.
Two ships had set sail, carrying men tasked with retrieving the complete 'Sovereign' from the Night's Watch and delivering it to Dragonstone for her study.
However, Daenerys herself had grown impatient and flown ahead on Drogon. And once she arrived in Crown’s Rest, she had been thoroughly convinced to stay.
The book-fetching party had, in effect, become meaningless.
Still, things were not as bad as they seemed.
The fleet carried dozens of Unsullied—living men, and formidable warriors at that. More importantly, they had brought Moqorro—a powerful priest of R’hllor, equal in standing to Melisandre.
With two of the Red Temple’s high priests now stationed at the Wall, the odds against the White Walkers had significantly improved.
At the very least, they now had more supernatural weapons at their disposal.
However, before Aegor could figure out where to house Moqorro and his Unsullied, Daenerys had summoned him.
"Lord Commander," she said softly, "I spent the night pondering your proposal, and a new concern came to mind."
Her violet eyes met his.
"The Great Crownlands Plan is undoubtedly the best path toward breaking the wheel. But… the Reach sided with my father and brother during the Usurper’s War. And now that I have returned to Westeros, they were among the first to send envoys acknowledging my claim.
"A noble house that has never wronged me—one that has shown nothing but loyalty. How can I refuse their support? How can I justify turning them into my enemies?"
Aegor already knew the answer.
But what caught his attention was how Daenerys had phrased her words.
"We."
She had spoken in a way that included him—subconsciously acknowledging him as one of her own.
That alone told him what he needed to know.
Certain things, which had once been too delicate to say outright, could now be spoken openly.
"An excellent question," Aegor said. "Before answering, allow me to clarify something for you:
"Are the lords of the Reach truly loyal to House Targaryen?"
He didn’t hesitate.
"In order to answer that, we must separate ‘House Tyrell’ from ‘the Reach.’
"The Tyrells were elevated by Aegon the Conqueror. They were granted their position by your ancestors.
"Naturally, they must be loyal to House Targaryen—because their very legitimacy depends on it.
"But the true nobility of the Reach—the countless houses of Gardener blood—have never forgotten the insult of being ruled by a mere steward."
Daenerys shook her head.
"That is nothing more than unfounded suspicion," she interrupted. "The vast majority of Reach lords sided with my father and brother during the war.
"If they had any treacherous intentions, with their military strength, they could have easily joined the rebellion and crushed my family outright."
"Indeed," Aegor acknowledged.
"But why did they remain loyal?
"Because the rebellion left no place for them.
"The stag, wolf, trout, and falcon had already formed an alliance. Even if the Reach turned against the throne, their betrayal would have been nothing more than a gesture—a latecomer adding to an already victorious cause.
"They would have gained nothing from trading a Targaryen king for a Baratheon one.
"To them, both Baratheons and Targaryens were nothing more than outsiders and upstart conquerors.
"They did not want to replace a strong king with another strong king.
"What they wanted… was a weak king.
"A king too feeble to curb their ambitions.
"That is why they never fully committed to either side.
"They never sought to win.
"They only sought to watch the war drag on—to watch both king and rebel grind each other into dust."
Aegor’s voice was calm, deliberate, persuasive.
In that moment, he was no longer simply explaining.
He was playing the role of the whispering serpent.
The whisperer to the queen.
And as for the men he sought to condemn?
They were not worthy of loyalty.
Their sins were numerous. Their weaknesses abundant.
So many handles to seize.
He had no reservations about it.
"Now, let us examine what the Reach actually did during Robert's Rebellion," he continued.
"Let us look at their actions, not their words."
And then… he began.
....
"The vanguard of the Reach army, led by Lord Randyll Tarly, drove back Robert Baratheon’s forces at the Battle of Ashford—but they made no effort to pursue the enemy. Then, when the Reach’s main host arrived at the battlefield, instead of aiding the royal army to the north, they marched eastward, pillaging and burning as they advanced, before laying siege to Storm’s End.
"At this point, their actions still seemed reasonable. But what came next was nothing short of bizarre—an army of fifty to sixty thousand Reachmen, both land and naval forces, encircled Storm’s End, where the defenders numbered barely a thousand.
"For an entire year.
"They sat there for a whole year, feasting, drinking, and holding tourneys outside the castle walls, completely ignoring the brutal war raging to the north. Not once did they send reinforcements to aid the royalist forces. And in the end, they never even managed to take the damn castle."
---
Daenerys still attempted to defend the Reach lords.
"But Storm’s End was the stronghold of the Usurper," she pointed out. "Laying siege to it was hardly meaningless.
"At the very least, the Reachmen were better than the treacherous Lannisters."
---
"A strategic decision to besiege Storm’s End is not something I would condemn," Aegor conceded. "If that were all they did, then at worst, it was an error in judgment—not a crime.
"But there are three other actions of theirs that cannot be so easily explained—three things that call their true loyalty into question."
---
"First—the siege of Storm’s End never required such a massive force.
"Ten thousand men would have sufficed. Even if we assume they feared the rest of the Stormlands might rally to break the siege, twenty thousand would have been more than enough.
"Yet they left more than thirty thousand soldiers stationed there, doing nothing, while Rhaegar led the royalist army into battle at the Trident.
"Three thousand more men could have turned the tide of that battle.
"Your brother, in his final stand, commanded an army of barely thirty thousand—and he only lost narrowly.
"Now, Your Grace, imagine—if Rhaegar had three times that number at his command, with thirty thousand Reachmen reinforcing his lines… what do you think the outcome of the war would have been?"
---
Before Daenerys could respond, Aegor pressed forward.
"Second—after Rhaegar fell at the Trident.
"The Lannister army marched thousands of miles from Casterly Rock to King’s Landing. They deceived the city’s defenders, entered its gates under false pretense, and slaughtered your kin.
"But, Your Grace—if you remember your maps of Westeros, you’ll notice something peculiar.
"The distance from Casterly Rock to King’s Landing is twice that from Storm’s End to King’s Landing!
"Tywin Lannister’s men traveled twice the distance and arrived in time to sack the city…
"But the Reach army, stationed just outside Storm’s End, remained where they were—drinking, celebrating, feasting!
"They didn’t even attempt to move!"
Aegor exhaled sharply, his expression one of bitter grief.
"Storm’s End was the Usurper’s seat of power—yes, that much is true.
"But was it more important than the capital of the Seven Kingdoms?
"Was it more important than King Aerys himself?"
---
Daenerys' expression subtly changed.
She prided herself on being the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror. She knew Westerosi geography well enough to recognize that Aegor’s argument, despite his clear bias, was not unfounded.
---
"And finally—the most damning truth of all," Aegor continued.
"After King’s Landing fell, after Dragonstone came under siege, the Targaryen dynasty had not yet been completely wiped out.
"Your mother, Queen Rhaella, was on Dragonstone.
"Your brother, Prince Viserys, was on Dragonstone.
"And within your mother’s womb, you were on Dragonstone.
"The royal army had been annihilated on land, yes—but at sea, they still held the advantage.
"The North, the Vale, and the Riverlands had no significant naval forces.
"If the Reach had truly been loyal to the crown, all they needed to do was withdraw their army, fortify their homeland, and send the Arbor fleet north to support Dragonstone.
"Even if they couldn’t win the war outright, they could have at least secured your escape.
"They could have ensured that you and your brother reached safety beyond the Narrow Sea."
---
"But what did the Reach lords actually do?"
Aegor let out a cold chuckle.
"They immediately reached a quiet agreement amongst themselves—that ‘the war was lost.’
"And then, their fully intact army of fifty thousand men surrendered without a fight to Eddard Stark’s ten thousand.
"They negotiated a few comfortable terms, and with not a single casualty, they marched back home.
"And as for the Arbor fleet?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"They switched allegiances the instant the war ended.
"They sailed north under Stannis Baratheon’s command.
"They followed him to attack Dragonstone."
Aegor’s voice dropped to a chilling murmur.
"The ones who forced Ser Willem Darry to flee with you and your brother in the dead of night…
"Was it Robert Baratheon’s rebel forces?
"No.
"It was the fleet of the Reach—the very people who should have protected House Targaryen to the last."
---
The claim was mostly true.
Aegor had merely rearranged certain events—slightly adjusted the sequence of cause and effect.
In reality, the Arbor fleet never attacked Dragonstone.
Because by the time they arrived, there was nothing left to attack.
The true reason the last of the Targaryen navy never engaged them…
Was because it had already been obliterated—wrecked by the storm on the night of Daenerys’ birth.
The very storm that gave her the name Stormborn.
And the ones who had forced Ser Willem to flee so desperately had not been the Arbor fleet, nor even Stannis himself.
It had been traitors within Dragonstone’s own walls—men who had begun contemplating whether to hand over the last Targaryen children to the Usurper in exchange for mercy.
But with a simple shift in narrative, Aegor had successfully stirred something within Daenerys.
---
Memories surfaced.
She remembered Ser Willem Darry.
In her earliest recollections, the warmth of an elder had never come from her infamous "Mad King" father, nor from her mother, who had died giving birth to her.
No.
The only one who had ever cared for her as a child…
Was an aging knight, a gray-haired man who had abandoned everything to save her and her brother.
She remembered how he had rented a house with a red door in Braavos.
She remembered how, within those walls, she had her own room—how there had been a lemon tree outside her window.
She remembered how, even as sickness robbed him of his strength, Ser Willem still barked orders from his bed.
The servants feared him.
But he was always gentle to her.
He had never spoken a harsh word to her.
He called her “little princess”, sometimes “my lady”.
His hands were worn but soft like leather. His embrace was warm like a hearthfire.
But the day he died, the servants took everything.
The last of the money was stolen.
Soon after, she and Viserys were cast out into the streets.
The red door closed behind them.
Forever.
---
A sharp, familiar ache burned in Daenerys’ chest.
Grief.
And with it—rage.
Her last flickers of guilt about seizing the Reach were consumed in the flames of her wrath.
