"Discuss important matters?"
Petyr, who had received the same invitation, twitched his nose, faintly catching the scent of something abnormal.
Normally, he might have been amused by such a clumsy excuse, but in today's tense atmosphere, he frowned deeply.
Although a subtle rift had formed within the alliance, he and Aegor still shared common interests and hadn't yet fallen out completely. If there were truly important matters, why would he invite an enemy to discuss them?
His instincts whispered that something was wrong, but reason told Petyr he couldn't refuse.
He hadn't slept well the previous night either, frightened by his own imagination—or rather, by the imagination sparked by Aegor's words, "once and for all."
He had tossed and turned for the first half of the night, guessing whether Aegor might act recklessly under cover of darkness, debating whether to warn the Unsullied guards to stay alert, and straining his ears for the sound of soldiers' footsteps amid the wind and snow outside his door.
Even though nothing happened by dawn, he still felt a deep sense of helplessness when groggily awakened by the reveille.
Why was this happening?
Once, during King Robert's reign, he had indeed been full of ambition and malice, constantly scheming to climb higher and gain greater power. But now, as Daenerys Targaryen's Hand, he had never been more loyal, sincere, and upright.
He placed the Queen's interests second only to his own life. He had painstakingly taught and assisted Daenerys, helping her avoid one trap after another. He wholeheartedly devoted himself to planning her great cause of unification, sincerely working to win over potential allies, and openly opposing the treacherous Varys.
Everything he did was for one goal: to put the Queen back on the Iron Throne.
Such a simple and well-intentioned goal, yet he kept encountering unreliable allies.
Leaving Daenerys aside—her Dragonblood often caused her wisdom and temperament to swing wildly between a wise queen and a mad monarch. At times, she was decisive and accepted advice readily. At others, she could not distinguish loyalty from deceit, acting impulsively. When she was stubborn, she was like a dragon indeed. No one could predict what she would do next.
Just when she had stumbled upon the loyalty of the Night's Watch and the support of the Gift Army, like a blind cat catching a dead mouse, Petyr thought he had finally found an ally with both sense and capability. Who would have thought that man would also explode at the slightest provocation? A few gentle jabs from Varys had caused Aegor to lose his composure, erupting in public, offending his superior, and even shocking his own ally. With emotional control like that, if he were taken on the Southern Expedition to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, what could he be relied upon for besides brute force?
Despite his frustration, Petyr—already seasoned by Daenerys's temperament—remained clear-headed.
He understood that, given his background, wealth, and history, he had no right to change allegiances or freedom to choose allies. Even if he felt he was serving a queen who wasn't wise and had a fool for a teammate, all he could do was coax them like overgrown children, smooth their feathers, carefully placate and guide them, and gradually steer both the Queen and the Gift Army toward the right path.
Wait.
After a rapid internal struggle, he suddenly realized he should ask one more question.
"Will Her Grace attend this luncheon?"
"No, the Lord Commander said it would just be the three of you."
Petyr let out a small sigh of relief. If Daenerys had also been invited, he would have had to suspect Aegor was planning to wipe out the Queen's forces and start anew. Since she wasn't...
Varys would definitely stir up trouble once the Northern Lords arrived. At such a critical moment, he couldn't afford to waste energy dealing with his own allies. If he didn't attend the luncheon today and hear clearly what Aegor wanted, he wouldn't sleep soundly for the next two days.
He dared not, and could not refuse.
"Go inform your Commander that I will make some preparations and arrive shortly."
After sending away the Gift Army messenger, Petyr summoned a few familiar Unsullied and ordered them to discreetly observe various parts of the castle. Once they returned and confirmed that Daenerys had indeed not been invited, and that there was nothing unusual in the Gift Army's camps throughout the city, he clenched his teeth, called for two Unsullied, and braced himself to attend a luncheon that likely brought no good.
...
The path along the way was the same as usual. Those training continued training, those feeding dragons kept feeding dragons. When he arrived at the Gift Army's mess hall, he even saw two familiar Unsullied and Aegor's guards chatting by the door—the eunuch had arrived before him.
It seemed that even someone as resourceful as the Spider dared not openly offend a Lord who commanded an army in Winterfell, where he had no support.
Pushing open the door with a mocking attitude, removing and hanging up his coat, Petyr glanced around the mess hall. The room had clearly been rearranged and was as warm as spring thanks to the fireplace. The usual officers' dining tables and benches had been moved and stacked against the walls. Only a single table remained in the center of the cleared space, laden with ample food, wine, and water.
There were no hidden rooms, screens, or wardrobes. The layout was clear at a glance—there wasn't a single place to conceal ambush troops.
As for the people present, besides a servant standing at the table, there were only the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the Master of Whisperers already seated. Petyr immediately noticed that the last empty chair was opposite the eunuch, while Aegor sat at one end of the long table, equidistant from the other two—occupying the main seat, symbolizing neutrality.
This was not a good sign, but for now, he couldn't guess what it meant.
"Delayed by trivial matters, I am slightly late. Please forgive me, my Lords."
Petyr apologized with his mouth, but strode confidently toward the only remaining seat. After all, he was the Queen's Hand, and held a rank half a step above the other two. No matter how uneasy or nervous he felt, as long as there wasn't a blade in his gut, he couldn't show weakness.
"Just in time. Please, have a seat, Lord Hand," Aegor said with a nod, then turned to the servant. "Pour the wine."
Petyr took his seat, quietly watching the servant move around the table, pouring wine for everyone. Each was lost in thought, and no one spoke first or made any move.
"Good afternoon, my Lords." Only after all three goblets were filled and steaming with wine, and the servant had been waved away, did Aegor clear his throat and rise from his seat. "I invited you both to lunch today because I have discovered some issues within Her Grace's council—namely, among the three of us. Out of loyalty to the Queen, I believe these issues must be addressed as soon as possible."
Even with the minds of Varys and Petyr, they couldn't guess what Aegor was planning. Naturally, they had no way to respond or counter. Both simply watched him silently, waiting for what he would say next.
"After several conversations with the Lord Hand, and based on my own observations and analysis over the past few days, I now have reason to believe that you two hold differing views on the matters of recognizing Prince Aegor's identity and how to engage with him. These disagreements have led to conflict, which you brought North and have since blended into your advice to the Queen," Aegor leaned slightly forward, placing his hands on the table. Using the advantage of height, he observed their expressions before continuing, "Please forgive my bluntness, but I find it distasteful and foolish to let personal feelings interfere with official duties. This damages your Lordships' status and image, and even leads me to question your loyalty to Her Grace. Therefore, I've decided to act as a neutral mediator today, to resolve this childish opposition between you and restore reason and wisdom to this council's service to the Queen."
...
The firewood in the hearth crackled softly. From beyond the wall, one could faintly hear the voices of the Gift Army soldiers and the guards of Varys and Petyr chatting.
Varys, bewildered, secretly glanced at Petyr, only to find the latter looked even more confused than he was.
Since Daenerys had landed on the shores of the Crownlands and declared her return to Westeros, this was the first time the two of them shared the exact same thought.
What nonsense is this Lord Commander of the Night's Watch talking about?
They were not a couple whose marriage was crumbling due to miscommunication or emotional issues over trivial matters, needing a third party to mediate or counsel them. Quite the opposite. They were already deeply familiar with each other. They had guessed each other's thoughts and intentions countless times over, and had calmly and logically designated each other as enemies precisely because they knew their interests were irreconcilably opposed.
This hostility was a battle to the death, one that could only end with surrender or total defeat. And now, someone was seriously suggesting that he was going to mediate between them?
What a joke.
Yet the man saying this was someone they absolutely couldn't ridicule.
The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch might be quick-tempered, but he was no fool. After a full day and night of reflection, he had still chosen to do something so foolish. What were his intentions? What was he really after?
Even the two most cunning men in the Seven Kingdoms, seated in this room, could not figure it out.
(To be continued.)
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