"So?" Daenerys, seated behind the table, straightened and stared at Aegor, who had entered the room before her for the third time, still empty-handed. The sense of crisis in her heart finally broke its limit. As she spoke, her hand quietly closed around the dining fork from the kitchen, hiding it under the table without a trace. "Where is that book?"
---
Although the assassination ended in humiliating failure, Arya inadvertently helped Aegor accomplish something he had considered, then rejected after weighing the pros and cons, which was to give the Mad King's daughter a "welcoming gift."
Information gathering and transmission are time-sensitive. Even Varys, known as the Master of Whisperers, is by no means omniscient or omnipotent. Daenerys actually had no idea that one of the biggest obstacles to conquering the Seven Kingdoms, the younger sister of the Warden of the North, Robb Stark, was in the same castle as she was. Aegor had been rushing around looking for Arya, who had vanished with her sword. He should have returned with the book, yet he went in and out of the tower repeatedly, empty-handed and without a word of explanation, looking flustered and moving quickly. It was hard not to imagine the worst. The girl's screams, sobs, and voice from outside the tower afterward tightened Daenerys's nerves to the extreme.
If she had not been certain she had not brought Missandei with her, Daenerys might have thought Aegor was already laying hands on her handmaiden, and that she herself would be next.
Although what she overheard confirmed the commotion outside was not riot or bloodshed, the whispers between Aegor and Arya were inaudible through stone walls. Even so, the many abnormalities still made the Queen feel trapped, and she grew extremely tense.
She should not have come.
Although she had a heartfelt desire and expectation for the contents of The Prince (Part Two), she had already sent ships and men to fetch the book. Even if this ancient work was truly so decayed and fragile that it could not be transported, there were literate people among her subordinates who could take the time to copy it in full and bring it back to Dragonstone for her to read at leisure. Yet a subtle, almost imperceptible impulse tempted her, making her uncontrollably want to come in person. Coupled with the Red Priest's tireless persuasion, warning her that the final battle was about to break out and that she, as the Prophet, could not be absent, she finally, as if guided by a ghost, made this decision. At a critical moment when the encirclement of King's Landing in the South was taking shape and the war neared stalemate, she would personally ride her dragon north to visit the border of her realm.
Coming was her own wish. But the reason Daenerys dared to dismount and enter the castle in Crown Town, a place unfamiliar to her and without her soldiers, was influenced by others. First, she believed what Moqorro saw in the flames, that she would be welcomed by the Night's Watch on this visit to the Gift. Second came from Aegor. Although her attempt to lower her stance and offer an olive branch had been rejected in their last meeting on Dragonstone, which had been quite embarrassing, the Commander's adherence to principle, graceful manner, and proper speech and bearing had left a good impression, and the Gift he gave had pleased her. She had only realized this a little late.
Though she wore a cold face and put on haughty airs toward Aegor, deep down, Daenerys had developed some respect for this Commander of the Night's Watch.
It was precisely because she believed this rational, principled man would not do anything foolish that she accepted the invitation and unusually agreed to venture alone into a castle that did not swear to her, to read the complete version of The Prince in person.
But now, the other party's series of abnormal actions and the commotion at the door made Daenerys regret trusting others too readily.
If the deterrent of her dragon was still not enough, and the Night's Watch Commander insisted on doing something foolish, her three children could certainly avenge her, but in that moment, no one could save her.
Though terrified, she did not panic. She was Daenerys Stormborn, the destined ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the proud Daenerys, the prophesied hero, not a delicate girl who would flinch at a fright. Even if she was trapped in a tiger's den, filled with unease and fear, she gritted her teeth and swore in her heart that if the other party dared harbor ill intent or behave with disrespect, they should not expect her to submit or endure. She would never kneel or beg, not even in death.
While gripping the dining fork for emergencies, Daenerys secretly used the rhythm of her soul to call Drogon. A Dragonrider and the dragon that accepts them share a subtle and indescribable resonance. Though a "call" through this mysterious bond is not as immediate as ringing a bell or blowing a horn, it has been proven time and again to work.
In a moment at the shortest, and not more than an hour at the longest, her three children, led by Drogon, sensing her unease and anxiety, would fly to fetch her.
---
The glowing charcoal crackled softly. Once tidied, with the stove relit, the ground floor of the tower was much warmer and more pleasant than when she first entered. It made a fine place to trick a queen.
Aegor had no idea Daenerys was on full guard against him. If he dared get too close, or made any other odd move, she would fight for her life with the fork.
Fortunately, he had no such intention. Though he yearned physically for close, even zero distance contact with the Queen before him, his strong rationality and well-set habits of courtesy made him stand still across the table, beginning the talk within a comfortable distance.
After gradually acclimating to the mysterious allure Daenerys exuded, doing so became a pleasure, a challenge to himself. Only those who can act counter to instinct can accomplish great things, right? Resisting temptation and acting like a normal person rather than kneeling at her feet felt like a high-intensity exercise in rationality, with the same satisfaction as lifting weights, breaking limits and becoming stronger afterward.
It was a pride and persistence most would not understand. Even if gods existed who could influence people's subconscious, even if he, a mortal, could not entirely resist such means, he must be the hardest to sway.
…
"The book is very good, Your Grace." He ran through his lines in his mind, but his face already wore a perfectly calm smile. "Before that, I would like to ask a question. After enduring countless hardships to return to Westeros, do you only wish to reclaim what rightfully belongs to you, an iron chair, and the submission and fealty of the Seven Kingdoms?"
"What does my purpose have to do with the Night's Watch?" Daenerys grew more wary. She could not guess what Aegor wanted. Was there a standard answer to this question? If she answered wrong, would the guards outside rush in to seize her, or even execute her on the spot?
"It does." Aegor heard the hesitation and unease in the Queen's tone, and knew it was not proper to keep her in suspense. He answered directly. "If the answer is yes, then I must say the book you want, and the advice I intended to offer, are meaningless to you." He spoke openly. "With the talents of the two Lords, Petyr and Varys, used properly, having one would be enough to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms. Now you have won over both. You need only recognize the identity of Prince Aegon in the South and agree to marry him. Then, in a few months at the shortest, or a year at the longest, you would surely sit the Iron Throne, as Queen, of course. Even if Your Grace wants to be sole Queen, as long as you do not mind the trouble of doing more to win the Riverlands and Dorne from Prince Aegon, with the great advantage of fame and wider recognition, and if you are willing to spend more time and risk riding your dragon into a few battles, it would not be too difficult either."
"That is not for the Night's Watch to consider." Daenerys cut him off with a stern face. "I came for that book. Whether I read it or not, and whether I use what I gain after reading it, is my business alone, and you cannot interfere. If I recall correctly, the Commander told me a moment ago he would get it for me at once. All I want to know now is, where is the book?"
This Queen's mind is quite clear, Aegor thought.
It seemed trying to handle her as he had Arya, by dodging the main point and using a hastily devised trick to divert the subject onto his track, would be difficult.
"I must confess something first, Your Grace." Since he could not avoid it, he faced it. "I deceived you on Dragonstone." Aegor spread his hands with an apologetic look. "The book I promised you is not in my possession. More precisely, it does not exist in this world. It exists only in my mind."
"Oh?" Daenerys did not look very surprised. Instead, she narrowed her eyes. Indeed, was it time to act? The expression meant to show anger and threat appeared on her face and exuded fatal temptation. "I must confess as well. My understanding of the laws and customs of Westeros is shallow. However, as far as I know, the crime of deceiving the monarch is not lightly punished anywhere. Did you deliberately lie to lure me here?"
"Indeed, as to that, I can only beg forgiveness." You are a monarch, but I have not acknowledged you as mine, Aegor certainly did not say aloud. He chose his words carefully. "I had to resort to that tactic to deceive Your Grace on Dragonstone out of necessity. But I was genuinely afraid that if I answered truthfully, Your Grace would detain or restrict me and order me to write the complete version before letting me go. The Gift and the Wall are facing severe challenges, and this place cannot do without me now."
Admitting he had lied was the most dangerous step in this conversation.
Aegor had tried to bypass it with a trick and failed. Without a clear explanation of where the book was, the talk could not continue. But once he admitted to deceit, another problem arose. Given Daenerys's temper, upon discovering she had been deceived, she might rise in anger and leave, refusing to hear any more. Should he stop her or not?
Aegor held his breath. "Besides that concern, there was another consideration. I could not judge from a single meeting. Is Your Grace that… the Queen I heard about in rumors?"
…
Daenerys despised deception, and her face filled with anger she could not hide, but she did not rise and walk to the door as Aegor feared. Intimidated by the "welcoming gift" Arya had just caused, and worried Aegor might suddenly tear off his mask and turn violent, she clutched the fork under the table and counted time, trying to buy moments while waiting for Drogon to sense her unease and come. How could she dare stand without cause?
"Oh, which version of me did you hear about?" Daenerys had heard how enemies slandered her. She lifted her chin proudly and asked with contempt, "A tyrant who feeds living men to her dragon, a witch who bathes in the blood of virgins, or the first slut of the Great Grass Sea who enjoys mating with stallions?"
"None of them. A rational person can filter the closest truth from disordered tales." Aegor smiled and shook his head. "Beneath those countless rumors, I peeled back the mist and saw one who wishes to control her own fate, correct the world's injustices, and make this world better. An idealist."
(To be continued.)
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