Chapter 430: Distant Water Cannot Quench a Nearby Fire
The first night of the soul-stirring Great War had ended. But for the vast majority of Westeros south of the Gift, where no flames were visible and no horns or explosions could be heard, it was merely another ordinary winter morning. Thick layers of clouds sealed away the sunlight; the sunrise was entirely invisible, leaving only a faint lightening of the eastern sky. Were it not for the crowing of the roosters, most people would likely have lost track of the time.
Winterfell, silent for a dozen hours, began to stir. Maester Luwin dressed and washed, and as was his custom before breaking his fast, he checked the rookery. He found several new ravens: one from White Harbor, two from Iceway Port, and two others from Castle Black and Queenscrown, respectively.
They hadn't been there when he checked before bed late last night; they must have arrived in the small hours of the morning. As the only city in the North, it was not unusual for White Harbor to report in... but for the Gift to send four birds at once was rare. Realizing something significant had happened, Luwin shook off his drowsiness. With a mixture of curiosity and dread, he swiftly untied the messages from the ravens' legs, moved the birds to their cages with some scraps of meat, and opened the letters from the Gift first.
With a single glance, the old Maester's expression shifted violently. Clutching the parchment, he hurried toward the Great Hall.
A moment later, Robb Stark, having just finished breakfast, burst from the hall and rang the bell in the courtyard to summon every household official in the castle. The sleepy Winterfell woke up instantly as if pricked by a needle, erupting into a frenzy of activity.
The four gates swung wide. Countless retainers and guards, fully armored and mounted, swarmed out. The rookery became a blur of motion as raven after raven was released to every corner of the North.
The legendary enemy had finally come. On the northernmost frontier of the Seven Kingdoms sat the first naval port the North intended to use against the Iron Islands; more importantly, the Mother and youngest sister of the Lord of Winterfell were currently at the Wall visiting the front-line troops.
Whether out of public duty or private loyalty, by reason or by emotion, the North could not remain a bystander. The command Robb sent out was simple and direct: summon the banners and march north to support the Night's Watch.
On the same afternoon the North began its mobilization under House Stark's command, within the walls of Rosby—north of King's Landing and now flying the three-headed dragon banner—the Queen's two advisors sat in a drafty, gloomy hall, waiting and facing each other with visible agitation.
Daenerys had left the Gift yesterday afternoon to fly south. After more than a night in the air, she arrived at the Rosby command center behind the siege lines of King's Landing at dawn. Exhausted and famished, she ate a small meal and went straight to rest. Upon hearing of her return, Varys immediately sent a raven to Jon Connington, urging him to bring his nephew to see his aunt as soon as possible. Since King's Landing remained sealed, crossing the Blackwater didn't take much effort. Prince Aegon arrived at the castle under a cavalry escort half a day later, but the Queen was still asleep in her chambers. Thus, the two high officials, each harboring their own schemes and neither wishing to miss the moment the Queen awoke, were forced to wait in the outer hall.
(With such a heavy burden, how can the Queen sleep so long?)
(The young truly can sleep!)
Littlefinger and the Spider both harbored their own silent criticisms. They watched the sky turn from dark to light and back to dark again. The Queen had been in her bedroom for nearly ten hours; why hadn't she emerged?
Just as both men were reaching the limit of their patience, Daenerys's sluggish voice finally drifted from the bedroom.
"Missandei?"
"I am here, Your Grace!"
The young handmaid stood up from her chair by the hearth and scurried into the Queen's chambers.
Another half-hour passed before the Queen, assisted by Missandei, finished her toilet and emerged, looking radiant and refreshed once more.
"Your Grace!" the two men cried in unison, instantly surrounding her. Varys's voice was slightly louder, and he managed to speak first. "Your nephew, Prince Aegon Targaryen, has arrived at Rosby accompanied by Lord Jon Connington. They have been waiting for you in the guest room for half the afternoon!"
Petyr, as Hand of the Queen, was displeased at being preempted but quickly followed up: "The military reports from the Free Folk regiments and the Unsullied are ready for your review at any time... The Tyrell forces and the Golden Company have reached the south bank of the Blackwater, and the Dornish are on their way north. You..."
"I've slept myself hungry. Missandei, go to the kitchen and get me something to eat," Daenerys said, covering a small yawn and softly interrupting the frantic reporting. "Anything will do; I'll still be having dinner later. This Prince Aegon arrived today? How did he know I had returned?"
Varys blinked and answered quickly, "Lord Connington had previously expressed his desire to meet you through various channels. As soon as you returned this morning, I immediately wrote to inform him. Since the Golden Company and the Reach lords are just across the Blackwater, you cannot take the city without them. Since you must meet them sooner or later... I hope Your Grace will forgive my initiative. Shall you see them now, or keep them waiting a while longer?"
Daenerys frowned. She was a Queen and could not voice her true thoughts like a willful child, but in the depths of her heart, she truly did not want to see this Prince Aegon.
It wasn't a desire to slight her visitors or a lack of diligence toward her duties... but rather, her internal feelings regarding this nephew who had suddenly appeared were complex.
Currently, there were as many people claiming Prince Aegon was the real deal as there were those calling him a pretender. But even setting aside that judgment for the moment, she still felt uneasy. As the Last Targaryen, Dany should have been overjoyed to learn a blood relative survived. But in truth, she felt a significant amount of resentment. No matter how the past was beautified, the fact remained: this Aegon Targaryen had grown up in safety while she and her brother Viserys lived their entire lives under the shadow of Robert Baratheon's assassins, drawing the fire for him.
She and her brother had been the targets; she was the one who walked into the pyre to hatch the dragons; she and her followers had tasted every bitterness and hardship along the way. Now that she had prepared everything for the reconquest of Westeros, a nephew who had grown up in comfort and faced nothing suddenly appeared—claiming a higher place in the succession and bringing a band of mercenaries to share the fruits of victory? How could she swallow that without grievance?
Of course, this sudden nephew had not come empty-handed; the combat prowess of the Golden Company was beyond doubt. Theoretically, marrying this nephew and becoming his Queen was the most stable and secure plan. Such a step would make the siege of King's Landing a trivial affair, and the Iron Throne would be hers for the taking. Once, she could find no reason to refute this optimal path. But now, after being educated by that Lord Commander up at the Wall, Dany finally understood where the problem lay.
The theory supporting her marriage to Young Griff was actually the ingrained pattern of Westerosi feudal history!
How ridiculous—she claimed she wanted to break the wheel, yet for a long time, she hadn't even been able to jump off the wheel, escape the rules of the lords' game, or change the inherent mindset of nobles playing at power! Living in such a fog, how could she ever realize her ideals?
But now, her mind was clearer than ever before.
A kingdom is easily won but hard to rule. Marrying Aegon Targaryen and bringing the Reach and the Golden Company into her camp was indeed the shortest shortcut to the Iron Throne. But when the day came for her to settle the realm and begin her reforms, what if her nephew-husband, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and his interest groups refused to support her? If they thought her dreams were mere whimsical nonsense? As a mere Queen Consort, where would she even begin her dream of building a world without oppression?
She had to be the Queen. She had to choose the harder path.
However, clear as her thoughts were, Daenerys had no justifiable reason to refuse a visit from her nephew. Like a child arranged for a blind date by her parents, she had to go through the motions even if she were determined not to speak a single word after the meeting ended.
"This once, I will let it pass. Next time, consult me or my Hand of the Queen before arranging a meeting on my behalf," Daenerys said, shooting Varys a look of slight displeasure. She turned to Petyr, who was about to start an old refrain. "I will see this Prince Aegon now. During dinner, report to me on what has happened during the days I was away. After dinner, arrange meetings with the envoys from the Reach and Dorne. Tonight, draft a reasonable itinerary; tomorrow, I will fly Drogon over the siege lines surrounding King's Landing—I want every one of my soldiers to be able to look up and see me."
Varys glanced at Petyr with a smile. The latter nodded helplessly, swallowing his a thousand words. No matter how much he wanted to say, as a servant, he could not publicly question a decision his monarch had already made.
As the entourage escorted Daenerys toward the guest hall for this historic meeting between two Targaryens, the soldier assigned to supervise the Rosby rookery rushed through the door.
"Your Grace! A cage of ravens that Lord Moqorro took to the Wall recently all flew back suddenly at midday. They all carry the exact same message—things about 'Others' and 'dead men.' I didn't understand it and wondered if it was some secret code or signal you agreed upon with him, so I brought it to you immediately."
"What?" The reluctance and weariness on Daenerys's face instantly vanished, replaced by an air of solemnity. "Give it to me!"
Taking the slip of paper and scanning it, the small Queen's expression turned to one of absolute resolve. She made a sharp turn away from the guest hall and headed straight for the exit.
"Your Grace, where are you going?"
"An emergency has occurred. I must return to the Wall at once."
"What? But you've only been back for a day! You've only slept; you haven't done anything yet!" Varys was so frantic he looked ready to spit blood. Everything was so close to fruition; how could such a bizarre accident happen? "Prince Aegon is waiting for you! Your Grace should at least see him before leaving!"
Though he had wanted to thwart Varys's matchmaking plan, even Petyr didn't understand this. He felt compelled to oppose this seemingly absurd behavior. "Your Grace, even if there is an emergency at the Wall, the fastest you could get back is tomorrow. If the Night's Watch cannot hold, your arrival won't change that; if they can hold, a few more hours won't make the difference. Rest for the night, finish your business tomorrow, and then depart. It won't be a problem!"
...
It took ten minutes to walk from the castle to the clearing. The two advisors followed her the whole way, their throats going dry with persuasion to no effect. Daenerys had called for Drogon the moment she saw the warning; as the group approached the clearing, the massive shadow of the Black Dread was already passing overhead, descending to the center of the yard.
"I am going to fulfill a promise now—a promise I value greatly. Are you trying to persuade me to break my word?" Daenerys turned to her advisors, her eyebrows narrowing in anger. "No more talk. Go back to the castle and tell Prince Aegon he can either wait for me here or return to his camp and come back when I am here again. Until I return, do not attack King's Landing!"
"Your Gra~ce!" Missandei panted as she chased after them, clutching a small food box. "The pastries you wanted... are you not eating?"
"Give them to me!" Daenerys, already preparing to mount the dragon, reached out a hand to the handmaid and took the box. "Drogon flies steadily. I will find time to eat on the way!"
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!