Chapter 530

As the meeting concluded and the council dispersed, Aegor left the chamber with a deep frown, his mood undeniably sour.

He now understood why independence had always been a persistent ideology throughout history, across all lands and cultures. Better to be a rooster’s head than an ox’s tail—from a personal standpoint, the phrase held undeniable truth.

When he had ruled the Gifted Lands, he had been his own master. His goals were clear, his plans unchallenged. He decided what needed to be done, and the moment an idea formed, he could immediately set it in motion without hesitation.

Now, as part of a larger government, every decision required consultation. Every plan, no matter how well-formed, could be overridden. It was infuriating.

For years, he had been the one giving orders, the one making decisions. Now, he found himself in the unfamiliar and deeply frustrating position of being overruled.

Aegor narrowed his eyes, his mind already shifting from frustration to problem-solving.
----


“Lord Commander.”

A voice, quiet yet distinct, cut through his thoughts from behind.

“I wonder if you might have time to take a walk with me.”

Aegor turned, spotting Petyr Baelish standing casually behind one of the stone pillars of the great hall. The man had left the meeting moments before him but had clearly been lying in wait.

A walk—a meaningless invitation among common men, but among politicians, it was anything but.

Aegor adjusted his expression, smoothing his frown into a polite smile. “Lord Baelish! Of course, I have time. In fact, I have many matters I’ve been eager to discuss with you. I would welcome the opportunity.”
----


One was the Queen’s longtime Hand. The other, a recent but rapidly rising power. Their first private conversation as colleagues was bound to attract some attention, but not enough to raise suspicion.

Engaging in light conversation, they walked together out of the hall and into the cold night air.

The sky was dark, and the snowfall had not ceased. The wind howled through the streets of Winterfell, threatening to extinguish the braziers lining the walls. Fewer men were about now—most Unsullied and Gifted Lands soldiers had retreated indoors to escape the worsening weather.

Aegor signaled his guards to keep their distance as the two men made their way toward the small sept that Eddard Stark had once built for his wife. Only when they reached an open space, free of eavesdroppers, did Littlefinger shift his tone.

“You were present at the meeting, Lord Commander,” he began, his voice low and measured. “Tell me—have you ever wondered why a man as intelligent as Varys, a master of courtly intrigue, would propose such a blatantly foolish course of action?

"Why would the Spider, of all people, encourage the Queen to waste her time in the North?”

Of course Aegor had thought about it.

But Petyr Baelish was not looking for his opinion—he had come with a theory.

Feigning curiosity, Aegor played along. “I admit, I do not know. I would be honored if the Hand would enlighten me.”
----


Baelish smirked, satisfied by the deference.

“I won’t hide it from you, Lord Commander,” he said smoothly. “From the moment Lord Varys defected to the Queen, bringing with him a wealth of intelligence, he and I have been at odds.

"I assumed, at first, that our differences were a matter of perspective—that we served the same master in our own ways. That we were both striving, in our own fashion, to secure the Queen’s rule.”

His expression darkened.

“That assumption, I now realize, was naive.

"If I had not assumed his intentions were pure, I might have been prepared for his maneuver today. As you, too, no doubt experienced—when the Spider made his move, we were both caught off guard.”

Aegor nodded slowly, keeping his silence.
----


“Now, I do not mean to criticize Her Grace, but you must have noticed something about our Queen,” Baelish continued.

“She is remarkably pliable—before she has made a decision, she is open to persuasion. If you understand what she desires, it is possible to guide her thoughts, shape her choices.

"But the moment she makes up her mind?” He chuckled bitterly. “Then, my friend, no argument in the world will change it—not until reality itself forces her hand.”

Aegor didn’t need Baelish to tell him that.

They had both lost today’s debate.

And Daenerys would not be swayed now, no matter how foolish her decision proved to be.
----


“We’ve already lost the first round,” Baelish admitted. “So instead of wasting our breath trying to convince her otherwise, we must now ask ourselves:

"Why did Lord Varys push for this course of action? What does he stand to gain?

"And more importantly—how do we counter it?”
----


Aegor barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

We?

Since when were we a team?

But for now, their interests aligned. He let it pass.

“I would be most interested in your insights,” he said instead.

Baelish wasted no time.

“My first suspicion was that Varys is simply trying to undermine the Starks while elevating the Boltons.”

He smirked knowingly.

“You and I both have an interest in House Stark’s survival. You, for your own reasons. I, for mine.

"And we both know that the Starks were forced into their allegiance. Even if Robb Stark were sincere, he alone cannot command the entire North to follow his lead.

"But what happens when the Queen realizes this?”

Baelish spread his hands.

“Simple. Her opinion of House Stark will decline. Her trust in them will wane. And in contrast? The Boltons, who came willingly, will rise in her favor.”

Aegor’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Yes.

That had been his suspicion as well.

But Baelish wasn’t finished.
----


“However,” he continued, “the more I think about it, the less I believe that’s all there is to it.”

His voice dropped lower, eyes narrowing in the dim light.

“Varys is no fool. He knows this decision will delay the Queen’s war effort. He understands that stalling in the North gives our enemies more time to prepare.

"And yet, he chose to do it anyway.”

Aegor’s heartbeat quickened.

Baelish turned to him, his gaze sharp as a blade.

“So tell me, Lord Commander—who benefits from Daenerys Targaryen delaying her conquest?”

Aegor exhaled slowly, the answer hitting him at once.

Many people.

The false king Stannis. The Lords of the Vale, the Riverlands, the Stormlands.

And…

His stomach twisted.

The other Targaryen.
----


“The Spider is no common schemer,” Baelish murmured. “He is meticulous. Calculating. And I realized something, Lord Commander—he has been far too eager to push for an alliance between Daenerys and ‘Aegon VI.’”

Aegor’s fingers curled into fists.

“You’re suggesting…”

“I am convinced,” Baelish interrupted, his voice unwavering. “Varys has no true loyalty to our Queen. He has been using her as a tool—positioning her, waiting for the right moment to maneuver her into submission.

"Because his real king is Aegon.”

Aegor inhaled sharply.

And in that moment, he knew—Baelish was right.

They weren’t just dealing with a schemer.

They were dealing with a traitor.