If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !
/-\
Daenerys sat high upon the Iron Throne, her violet eyes fixed upon Petyr Baelish like a dragon regarding a mouse that dared to scurry across its shadow. The parchment lay unopened upon her lap.
Tyrion Lannister spoke again. He stepped forward, his short legs clicking lightly against the floor, his mismatched gaze never leaving the Lord of Harrenhal. He wore a smile, sharp and thin, though anger coiled beneath it like a snake waiting to strike.
"Of course you are loyal, Littlefinger" Tyrion said dryly in answer to Baelish's protestations of loyalty.
Without asking leave, he made for the side table where a decanter of Dornish red waited. He snatched it up, filled a goblet to the brim, and drank deep before pouring another. His movements were slow, as though to show how little he cared for Baelish's delicate web of words.
"You are so loyal, Lord Baelish," Tyrion went on, swirling the wine in his cup, "loyal to the point of sending a raven towards Pentos." He paused for effect, savoring both his drink and the look of stillness creeping into Baelish's face. "Do not trouble yourself with denials. I've already read the contents of that letter. I know where it was bound. To enemies of Westeros, to those who harbor grudges, either against the Queen or against her King."
The hall murmured at that, but Tyrion did not stop. His voice sharpened, his smile fell away.
"Such as my sister, for example," he said, his tone thick with bitterness. "Cersei. A woman who can do nothing now but drink herself to sleep in her exile in Pentos. If she had received your letter...and gods know how stupid she can be, she would have swallowed every word. She would have tried something rash, something that would end not in triumph but in her death… and the death of her remaining children."
The smirk was gone from Tyrion's face now. He set down his goblet with a sharp clink against the stone and stepped closer to Baelish, his eyes hard with fire.
"So not only was your act treason and conspiracy against the crown," he spat, "but you endangered my brother and the last of my family. No matter how vile my sister may be, no matter how twisted her soul.." His voice cracked, heavy with a rare and naked fury. "I would still rather see her breathing than laid cold beside her children. And you, Lord Baelish, would've stolen even that away."
The court shifted uneasily. A Kingsguard's gauntlet tightened upon his sword hilt.
Baelish's face was calm, too calm, lips curved in that ever-present half-smile. Yet for the briefest instant, his eyes flickered, the faintest crack in that smug mask of his.
Daenerys's gaze shifted from Tyrion to the parchment at last. With slow, deliberate fingers. She unfolded the letter and read silently, the words dancing in the firelight. A faint smile touched her lips not warm, not cruel, but amused, like a queen reading a jest too poorly written to sting.
She rose then, her presence filling the chamber, her voice ringing out clear and sharp.
"Chaos, you say, Lord Baelish?" she asked, stepping down from the throne, the parchment fluttering at her side. "You believe my beloved King would falter in his quest in the North? That his strength, or mine, would crumble before the storm?"
She descended the steps, each word cutting deeper, her violet eyes glowing faint in the torchlight.
"You are naive," she declared, her voice like fire licking over steel. "Naive, and not so clever as you claim. What you did was a miscalculation, and a grave one. Even if your raven had flown true, even if your words had reached the strongest enemies this realm has ever seen…"
She came to stand before him now, close enough that the Kingsguard shifted at the ready. Her chin lifted, her tone sharpened into a queen's final judgment.
"…Aeron and I would have deterred them. we always shall."
The silence that followed was deafening. The lords in the chamber dared not whisper. Baelish bowed his head the smallest fraction, lips curling faintly as though even caught, he sought to make a game of it. But his eyes betrayed what his tongue could not, the rare glimmer of fear.
"Remind me again, Lord Varys," Daenerys said, turning her gaze to the Spider who stood by her side. "The Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, he was executed here, was he not? Publicly."
Varys inclined his bald head, his expression unreadable, his hands folded neatly before him.
"Aye, Your Grace. Executed for treason he did not commit. His blood stained this city, though he sought only to protect it. His death was a falsehood born of schemes."
Tyrion, who stood nearer, let out a bitter laugh, though his mismatched eyes burned with anger.
"And that falsehood," he added, "unleashed a war that consumed half the realm. A war that need not have been fought. My sweet, vile nephew Joffrey was a monster, but he was not alone in his cruelty. Lord Baelish here.." Tyrion turned sharply, his wine forgotten in his hand.."was one of those who enabled it. Whisper by whisper, smile by smile, blade in the dark."
Daenerys stepped down from the throne, her silver hair catching the light as she looked upon Baelish with a dragon's cold disdain. Her voice was calm, almost soft.
"Petyr Baelish," she said, "you stand accused of high treason and conspiracy against the crown. You would sell the peace of the realm for the chance at chaos, even now, when the world bleeds and my King fights to protect it."
Baelish bowed deeply, his hands folded over one another, his voice honeyed and smooth, though a tremor escaped it.
"Your Grace… I am loyal beyond measure to the realm, My intent was only.."
"Your intent," Daenerys interrupted, her tone sharp as a blade, "was to see the realm fractured. To open its veins so you might drink from the blood. But you are mistaken. You thought Aeron an ordinary king. You thought me an ordinary queen. You were wrong."
Her words fell like a sentence already written.
"From this day forth, you are stripped of all titles, all lands, all honors. You are no Lord of Harrenhal, no master of coin, no Littlefinger. You are nothing but a traitor to the seven kingdoms and its people."
The hall erupted with murmurs, lords and courtiers whispering, glancing one to another. Baelish's smile faltered, his eyes darting, the mask of composure cracking.
Daenerys's voice rose above them, firm and merciless.
"And for treason against crown and realm, you shall die. Publicly, before the eyes of King's Landing, so the people may see what becomes of those who conspire against their Queen and King."
Baelish's composure finally broke. He dropped to his knees, his voice thick with desperation, his hands clasped before him like a beggar.
"Mercy, Your Grace! I beg you. I have ever served the realm. I have given counsel, coin, and loyalty. I.."
Daenerys's eyes narrowed. Her tone was cold, though almost mocking in its softness.
"I shall grant you mercy, of a kind. A choice."
Baelish's eyes flickered with hope, desperate and wide.
"A choice, Your Grace?"
She inclined her head.
"Yes. You may choose the manner of your death. Dragonfire… or steel."
The words struck him like a blow. His face paled, his lips trembled. He stammered, his voice breaking.
"Your Grace… please… I beg of you, not this...mercy, true mercy..."
"Steel, then," Daenerys declared without hesitation, her voice hard as iron. "Clean. Without terror. I would not frighten the good people of this city with the screams of dragonfire."
The Kingsguard moved forward, gauntlets clinking, their white cloaks brushing the floor as they seized Baelish by the arms. He struggled weakly, his voice rising in frantic protest.
"No, please, Your Grace! I have only ever..!"
"Take him to the dungeons," Daenerys commanded, her tone final. "His execution shall be scheduled. The city will see justice done."
The guards dragged him from the chamber, his pleas echoing off the stone until they faded into silence.
Tyrion broke it first, exhaling a long sigh.
"I truly do not understand," he muttered, shaking his head, "why he would try something so foolish."
Varys's voice was soft, measured, as he turned his calm gaze upon the Queen.
"Unfortunately, Lord Baelish sees opportunities in everything. It is his curse. Never satisfied with what power he holds, always reaching, always scheming. Sometimes his gambits bear fruit. This time, they did not. And now he pays the price. He still sees King Aeron as a mere monarch, one who might be toppled with the right dagger in the dark. But we have seen more. We have been in his court. Our perspective is… very different."
Daenerys studied the Spider, her violet eyes narrowing with quiet curiosity.
"You say," she asked, "that you would conspire behind me, if Aeron and I were ordinary folk?"
Varys bowed his head slightly, his voice calm but honest.
"I have always placed the realm above all else, my Queen. That is my duty. But it was never my intention to betray you. The truth of why I stand here is this: I see in your reign and in King Aeron's the possibility of true order, and of peace. If the power you both hold rested in the hands of Cersei, or Joffrey, or men like Baelish… the realm would have burned long ago."
Daenerys was silent a moment, then with the faintest shadow of a smile, she turned back toward the Iron Throne.
"Let us hope, then," she said softly, "that this peace is not squandered by fools like this one."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"