Littlefinger spoke smoothly, "The Boltons will never swear loyalty to you, and you cannot accept the allegiance of those who have violated the rights of guests.
The situation is the same with the Freys of the Riverlands.
By marrying Sansa, you can easily win the loyalty of the northern lords and overthrow the Boltons without difficulty.
The North is special—its people only recognize the name Stark.
If your queen is Sansa, then the Riverlords who once swore fealty to Robb will also join your banner."
Aegon looked at Littlefinger with an unreadable expression and asked meaningfully, "Marrying Lady Sansa may help in ruling the North and the Riverlands. But how much would it aid in winning over the Vale?"
Littlefinger smiled brightly. "Your Grace, Lady Catelyn and I were childhood companions. Our bond goes beyond the ordinary. My love for Sansa is no less than her father's."
Your love for Sansa's body surely surpasses Eddard Stark's!
Aegon sneered inwardly.
He did not know that Alayne Stone was actually Sansa, but he had once heard his aunt Daenerys analyze that Littlefinger was involved in the Purple Wedding—the death of Joffrey—kidnapped Sansa, and likely cuckolded Tyrion as well.
For that, Aegon had even felt genuine sympathy for the dwarf.
Now that Sansa was truly by Littlefinger's side, did that mean Tyrion had indeed been made a fool of?
Damn it, it seems it's my turn to play the fool now!
Feeling deeply unsettled, Aegon said calmly, "Duke Baelish, forgive my bluntness, but your influence in the Vale doesn't seem to be of much help to me."
"Heh, Your Highness, surely you don't think that earlier meeting was the real reason I invited you here?" Littlefinger chuckled.
"Then this is the real reason?" Aegon asked flatly.
Littlefinger nodded slightly and said with disdain, "Bronze Yohn is an old-fashioned knight who values his reputation. He has great prestige in the Vale, but prestige and fame are not the same as power. Otherwise, Barristan Selmy would be king of the Seven Kingdoms."
"You can influence the decisions of the Lords Declarant?" Aegon asked seriously.
"I can lead the Vale to swear allegiance to you," Littlefinger said with confidence.
Aegon did not ask how he planned to do that. He pondered for a moment, then asked, "If I compensate you in other ways, could you still bring the Vale to my side without me marrying Lady Sansa?"
"What kind of compensation?" Littlefinger asked with interest.
"The Eyrie," Aegon said softly, his eyes glinting.
Littlefinger's pupils contracted, his heart skipped a beat, but his face remained calm as he asked in confusion, "Aren't I already in the Eyrie?"
Aegon smiled faintly. "Duke Baelish, living in someone else's home is quite different from owning it yourself. I know that from experience.
In Slaver's Bay, my aunt treated me with nothing but kindness, yet I still felt more at ease in Storm's End.
I haven't deceived you or Lord Royce.
Robert Arryn had no part in the Rebellion, and the Targaryens are not the Lannisters—we would not harm an innocent child.
But the Targaryens have no reason to protect the lands or titles of House Arryn.
I can leave the grudges of the past generation to my aunt's Great Trial.
But I will not, without benefit, help the Arryns, Starks, Baratheons, or Tullys hold on to the precarious or already-lost positions they once had.
For example, I took Storm's End, and the Baratheons lost their ancestral seat forever.
Likewise, now—no matter who it is—as long as he can lead the Vale to swear allegiance to me, even if he seizes House Arryn's title through dishonorable means, I will still recognize his claim."
Littlefinger shook his head. "Your Grace, you misunderstand. I have no ambition for the Vale."
"Duke Baelish, it's just the two of us here. I've been perfectly honest—can't you offer me a little sincerity in return?" Aegon said with irritation.
"Ah," Littlefinger sighed softly. "When your grandfather executed Lord Rickard and his son, he still demanded that Jon Arryn hand over Eddard and Robert.
Tell me, what choice did Lord Jon have?
As we all know now, for the sake of two sons not of his blood, he was the first to rise in rebellion against the Iron Throne.
It was also he who arranged the marriages between the Tullys, Arryns, and Starks.
Throughout the Rebellion, Jon Arryn paid the greatest price, yet never sought any reward. The safety of his two foster sons was enough repayment for him."
Like a storyteller, Littlefinger spoke slowly.
"You mean to become the 'Jon Arryn' to Robert Arryn and Sansa Stark?"
Aegon widened his eyes in disbelief.
"Lord Jon was my benefactor," Littlefinger said calmly (he rose from Seagard through Lysa's favor and later advanced in King's Landing with Jon's help). "He was also my idol—just as young knights idolize Ser Barristan."
"I wish to learn from Lord Jon," he said with apparent sincerity.
His eyes were clear, his expression earnest—Aegon almost believed him.
"My daughter Sansa is beautiful, gentle, pure, and kind, noble by birth. Why do you keep rejecting her?" Littlefinger asked curiously.
Aegon replied, "To be honest, even setting aside her identity, Lady Sansa is the most charming woman I have ever met in both appearance and temperament. But I cannot betray the loyalty of one person."
"Who?"
"Tyrion. He is my friend and has taught me much about what it means to be a man. He is still my Hand of the King. His reputation may be poor, and he does the work of a Hand without bearing the title, but he remains loyal to me."
"I cannot take another man's wife!" Aegon said firmly.
Littlefinger smiled faintly and asked, "Is that the greatest obstacle between you and Sansa?"
"More or less," Aegon nodded, hesitating. "Actually, my cousin Arianne also has thoughts of marrying me."
Littlefinger rose, retrieved a leather envelope from a cabinet by the wall, and returned to the table.
This time, he didn't sit back in his original seat but instead took a place very close beside Aegon.
As Aegon looked at him in confusion, Littlefinger opened the envelope and drew out a large piece of parchment, about the size of a certificate.
"Take a look."
Aegon took it, and the first thing he noticed was the bright red seven-pointed star seal in the upper left corner of the white parchment.
It was a contract written by a septon of the Faith of the Seven—
a declaration nullifying the marriage between Tyrion and Sansa.
It bore the handprint and official seal of High Septon Meribald.
"This is real?" Aegon's eyes widened in disbelief. "But Tyrion and Lady Sansa were married in the Great Sept. How could it be invalid?"
"The Lannisters murdered her father, brother, and mother; stripped her family of its titles, lands, and castle; and destroyed House Stark entirely. Do you think Sansa would willingly marry Tyrion?" Littlefinger countered.
"With High Septon Meribald's reputation, he has every right to overturn a marriage conducted by his predecessor."
After learning that Tyrion was by Aegon's side, Littlefinger had sought a respected septon to dissolve Sansa's marriage. Sansa herself could swear she was coerced, but having a septon as guarantor made it far more legitimate.
The most esteemed septon near the Vale was Meribald.
The old man was then on the Claw Peninsula, organizing refugees to help the Dragon Queen build her fortress—the "Third Line of Defense" against the White Walkers—just across the Trident River from Gulltown in the Vale.
At first, Littlefinger had planned to bribe the old septon with grain, for such a favor would surely anger the Lannisters.
But Meribald had only asked Sansa a few questions before readily agreeing to annul her marriage to Tyrion.
He understood the blood feud between the Starks and Lannisters, and he knew how Lady Stoneheart viewed that marriage—nearly driven mad by it. So he could, with a clear conscience, dissolve that unjust union in the name of the Seven.
Well, the Imp still didn't know about it.
"Who is this Septon Meribald, and what gives him the authority to dissolve a holy marriage performed by the High Septon himself?" Aegon asked.
Of all the septons in Westeros, he only knew the High Sparrow.
"Are you aware of the Dragon Queen's relief efforts in the Riverlands?"
Aegon's eyes lit with understanding. "So it's him! My aunt told me about him—Septon Meribald, the one who rides a donkey to help the poor, day after day for decades. A true man of faith."
Littlefinger nodded, his expression complicated. "From the moment he earned the Dragon Queen's recognition, the name of Saint Meribald began to spread across the Seven Kingdoms. He has every right to dissolve Sansa's marriage."
"Saint Meribald?"
"He has saved countless lives."
Aegon's lips twitched. Saint Daenerys, Saint Sparrow, and now Saint Meribald—throughout thousands of years of Westerosi history, there had been only one Saint Baelor, and now suddenly there were three.
Still, they hadn't exactly cheapened the title.
Perhaps he should start calling himself Saint Aegon.
"Sansa appealed to Septon Meribald, accusing the Lannisters of forcing her to marry Tyrion. The septon accepted her claim.
According to the teachings of the Seven, any sacred vow made under coercion is invalid.
Therefore, your union with Sansa would harm no one. Tyrion never even consummated the marriage.
I swear before the Father Above—Sansa remains a pure maiden. Ser Brienne of the 'Kingsguard Without Cloaks' can attest to it."
Ah yes, after Brienne's fame spread, her oft-repeated question—"Have you seen a red-haired maiden?"—had become something of a legend.
Everyone knew she was searching for Sansa, and so everyone assumed Brienne believed Sansa was still a virgin.
"Marriages can be dissolved, but feelings are harder to resolve," Aegon said after a pause, shaking his head.
"Your Grace, forgive my boldness," Littlefinger said softly, his tone carrying a faint but unmistakable trace of mockery. "Who is the king here—you or him? Should a monarch's destiny be bound by the feelings of his subject?"
"Heh. Tyrion is my Hand. If you mean to sow discord between us, you'll be disappointed," Aegon said coldly.
Littlefinger waved his hand dismissively. "You are free to trust the homeless Tyrion, and you may even support his marriage to Sansa.
The question is, Sansa is not alone—she represents the power of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale.
In the future, when you face a Hand who holds sway over the West, the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale, will you still be able to sleep soundly?"
The cold smile on Aegon's face slowly faded.
"Tyrion would never betray me," he said in a low voice.
"Indeed, not while the Dragon Queen lives. No one dares betray House Targaryen. But if you depend on her for everything, why return to Westeros at all?
A true king must hold power in his own hands," Littlefinger murmured.
Aegon hesitated.
At least one thing Littlefinger said was true—Sansa represented power, and that power should rest in his hands.
Sensing his wavering, Littlefinger smiled. "You could always choose another noble lady for Tyrion, to preserve the bond between lord and vassal.
You've already shown such consideration for his feelings; he ought to think of your greater cause in return."
Aegon seemed almost persuaded.
"But Dorne also appears to have marriage plans for me," he said thoughtfully.
(End of Chapter)
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