Chapter 371

It seems the queen is rather impatient. After a brief hesitation, Aegor decided to stick to the plan despite two consecutive mishaps. "In the North, an unprecedented army of the dead led by White Walkers, unseen for thousands of years, is poised to attack. A historic battle is on the horizon. The Night's Watch has made countless preparations, but one crucial element is still in progress—a material capable of countering the White Walkers, currently being produced day and night at the Night's Watch industrial compound. It is the focus of everyone’s hope."

Petyr Baelish couldn’t possibly guess that this seemingly harmless Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch standing before him was the mastermind behind the note that had caused him so much trouble. At this moment, Littlefinger, whose only thought was securing his position as the queen's Hand, had no time to weave new schemes. His brows furrowed as he assumed another opponent had arrived to dissuade the queen from attacking King's Landing. "So, you’re asking us to delay the attack on King’s Landing to avoid disrupting your Night’s Watch operations? That’s impossible! Her Majesty has already been back in Westeros for some time; if we don’t act quickly to prove her authority—"

"Lord Petyr," Aegor interrupted, recalling that when Littlefinger fled overseas, the industrial complex was still in its infancy. Littlefinger’s understanding of the Night’s Watch operations likely stopped at their first office near the eastern garrison in King’s Landing. "The Night’s Watch industrial compound isn’t inside King’s Landing but a few miles southwest of the city, by the Blackwater River, surrounded by tall black walls. It’s so close to King’s Landing that it might not show up on maps, but in actual combat, as long as commanders issue clear orders, soldiers couldn’t possibly mistake it for their real target!"

Petyr relaxed and fell silent. His entire focus was on persuading the queen to attack the capital as soon as possible. As long as Aegor wasn’t here to oppose that goal, he wouldn’t antagonize him. After all, Petyr’s life philosophy was to avoid creating unnecessary enemies, especially not someone like Aegor, who had resources and influence. To a high-level player like Littlefinger, “friends” were assets with multiple layers of utility: pawns to exploit in a crisis, scapegoats to sacrifice, or offerings to make in a power play.

"I understand," Daenerys said, her tone hinting that she grasped Aegor’s intentions. "You want me to ensure that, during my reclamation of King’s Landing, the industrial compound you mentioned remains untouched, so as not to disrupt the Night’s Watch’s production of this material that can ‘counter the White Walkers.’"

"Your Majesty is wise," Aegor replied, still unable to fully acclimate to Daenerys’s commanding presence, which seemed to radiate like an aura. "The Night’s Watch fights against the enemies of all the living, protecting Westeros itself. Whoever sits on the Iron Throne wouldn’t wish to rule over a land of scorched earth and wights. I trust the wisdom and fairness of the Dragon Queen to understand the Night’s Watch’s efforts and agree to this small request, which poses no harm to your interests."

"You’re quite skilled at flattery, Lord Commander, but it won’t work on me," the queen said with a faint smile, though it was clear she wasn’t entirely immune. She had heard far more extravagant and sycophantic praise before. "I won’t forget that if the Night’s Watch fails to stop the dead, the North will suffer first—and the North supports my enemies."

Her casual smile, however, left an entirely different impression on Aegor. To him, she seemed to gather all the beauty in the world into that single moment. If her usual appearance and demeanor could be rated as perfect tens, then this fleeting expression multiplied those tens into a hundred. Aegor suddenly realized, to his horror, that he felt an almost irresistible urge to abandon all his plans, kneel before her, and offer everything he had—his resources, his forces—just to win her favor.

The self-control he had always prided himself on now felt laughably weak in the face of Daenerys’s almost supernatural charm. He even wondered if his sudden infatuation was some kind of interference from R’hllor, pulling him toward this destined “Child of Prophecy.” Was he just a pawn in this grand magical chess game, his efforts merely paving the way for her rise?

Luckily, Aegor retained enough presence of mind to recognize this for what it was: an enchantment, not outright control. Unlike others who had fallen helplessly under her spell—Jorah Mormont and Daario Naharis, for instance—he still had some semblance of autonomy.

"Lord Varys," Aegor said, shifting his focus to the Spider to avoid Daenerys’s overwhelming presence. "I’ve heard your network of spies spans all of Westeros, unparalleled in intelligence gathering. Surely you remember the incident a year ago when the Night’s Watch captured a ‘living’ wight and sent it to King’s Landing to demonstrate the threat to the realm's lords and ladies?"

Varys, ever the diplomat, smiled and nodded. "Indeed, I do."

"And it’s true, isn’t it, that ordinary weapons cannot kill wights? That even piercing their hearts, severing their limbs, or decapitating them won’t stop them?"

"True," Varys replied smoothly. "The Night’s Watch put on a spectacular show, Lord Commander. That performance, coupled with the subsequent mass marketing of dragonglass, earned you profits surpassing all the funds your predecessors managed to secure in a decade."

"That’s my skill," Aegor retorted unapologetically. "Not a single copper of what I’ve earned came from stealing from the queen. Besides, why not mention that I’ve killed more White Walkers than the last 997 commanders combined? War costs money, and every coin earned from selling dragonglass has gone toward fortifying the Wall."

"Your Majesty," he continued, turning back to Daenerys, "you say the North supports your enemies, and I can’t argue with that. But even if the Stark banners can rally 30,000 swords, that number pales in comparison to the million wights waiting beyond the Wall. Would you rather face mortal men, susceptible to hunger, fear, and disease, or an endless army of tireless, unkillable dead that won’t stop until every living thing is destroyed?"

"I’ve heard wights fear fire," Daenerys replied dismissively. "Too bad Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion are out hunting, or I’d gladly demonstrate dragonfire for you."

"I’ve heard that the flames dragons breathe come from a liquid secreted by a gland near their chest, though I’ve never had the chance to verify it," Aegor shot back reflexively. "But regardless of whether that’s true, no dragon can breathe fire endlessly. A million wights, Your Majesty. Even if your dragons burned themselves dry, they couldn’t destroy them all. And as they march south into the Riverlands and Crownlands, a million will become two million, then five million. Death will swallow the world, leaving you nothing but an empty Iron Throne."

Daenerys regarded him silently for several moments, then chuckled softly. "Lord Commander, your eloquence is as renowned as they say. But save your breath for now. Your request is reasonable, but bypassing your compound during the attack on King’s Landing will require extra time and effort from my commanders. So I’ll need something in return—a gesture as small for you as this request is for me, yet of great significance to me."

The young queen rose gracefully from the stone throne that had once seated her ancestors and now her enemies, descending the steps with regal poise. "I want you, as Lord Commander, to publicly declare to the lords of Westeros that the Night’s Watch recognizes me as the one true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."

...