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Chapter 697
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 19:32:24 +0000 UTCNow this—this was a negotiation.
Aegor silently savored the intoxicating taste of victory—a fine vintage called "submission at the gates." Straightening slightly, he prepared to critique the little queen’s performance.
"Lady Margaery, you’ve spoken at length—your throat must be parched. Have some water."
He lifted the pitcher, poured her a cup, and slid it across the table. Only after withdrawing his hand did he finally begin to speak.
"First, I must acknowledge—your offer of a timely donation would indeed help alleviate the Gift’s financial strain in the aftermath of war. However—" He paused briefly before his tone took a sharp turn.
"That said, the Night’s Watch fought against the White Walkers to protect all of humanity—including the Reach. Supporting our cause is the duty of every living soul.
"So, from a moral standpoint, I will gladly extend the gratitude of the Watch and the Gifted Army for House Tyrell’s generosity.
"But from a practical standpoint?
"I refuse to recognize it as a bargaining chip in this negotiation."
Margaery felt her face tighten.
She had expected pushback. Every term she proposed had room for compromise, every offer prepared for haggling.
What she hadn’t expected was for him to upend the entire table on the first move.
He had not merely devalued her offer. He had ripped it out of the negotiation entirely, leaving her no room to retract it—because what kind of fool would say, "Well, if it’s not part of the deal, then we won’t donate at all"?
Especially when the Reach nobility still had a noose around their necks—a potential war crimes tribunal hanging overhead, waiting for the Queen’s judgment.
Damn him.
She forced herself to swallow this bitter pill, reaching for the water Aegor had just poured.
Looking on the bright side, at least he hadn’t outright rejected her donation. That meant the worst-case scenario had been avoided.
"Now that we’ve discarded that irrelevant item," Aegor continued, "allow me to summarize the real points you’re presenting."
He leaned back slightly, his tone measured and casual.
"You claim that if the Queen accepts House Tyrell’s surrender and allows them to broker peace in the Reach—
"First, it would shorten the war, allowing the realm to focus on rebuilding and repelling the slaver lords' offensive.
"Second, it would ensure that reparations are extracted efficiently, draining the Reach nobility as thoroughly as possible.
"And third, allowing Reachmen to govern the Reach would restore stability more quickly than an occupation by foreign forces."
Aegor nodded slightly, pausing for effect.
Margaery’s sudden arrival had, admittedly, caught him off guard. Who could have anticipated that after orchestrating a battle of one hundred thousand men, he would be sitting down for peace talks by nightfall?
But unlike the past—when he had been the underdog in negotiations, carefully preparing arguments for men who outranked him—this time, he held all the cards.
If he hadn’t fully decided how to carve up the Reach yet?
No problem.
He could take his time.
She wouldn’t dare rush him.
With this luxury, he leisurely pieced together his next moves.
----
"The slavers do have some momentum," Aegor admitted, "but they are a fractured coalition, bound by neither unity nor loyalty. An overseas war is already beyond their natural reach. At best, they can make a strong first push, nothing more. They lack both the will and the means to truly endanger the realm.
"The Queen has urged me to move quickly, yes—but she also made one thing very clear:
"Not a single soldier is to return east until the Reach is fully secured."
Half-truth, half-lie.
This statement could mean one of two things—either the eastern warfront wasn’t as dire as Margaery claimed, or Daenerys believed that fully subjugating the Reach was more important than securing the Narrow Sea.
"Yes, allowing Reachmen to govern themselves would be the fastest and most stable method," Aegor admitted. "But what makes you think speed and stability are the only things the Queen desires?"
This second blow was lighter than the first, but it still hit hard.
----
Margaery had no time to process or challenge his words before he changed tactics entirely.
Aegor had planned to dissect her argument point by point, refuting and escalating his demands in a structured fashion.
But then he had a revelation—
Why was he even bothering with this "proper" debate approach?
This wasn’t an academic exercise.
This wasn’t some carefully structured examination.
He didn’t need a blade.
He needed a shovel.
Rather than haggling over her terms, he would dig up the entire foundation beneath them and build his own.
----
"Lady Margaery," he began, refilling his own cup now, "you’re a clever woman."
"You see that the Queen is not simply here to rule—she is here to reshape the world."
"But your upbringing and environment have placed limits on your perspective."
"In your eyes, weakening the Reach and strengthening the Crown—that alone is already an earth-shaking ambition.
"But tell me—
"What if I told you that what the Queen truly desires is something far greater?
That she is not merely strengthening the monarchy, but forging an entirely new order?"
Aegor let the words sink in before continuing.
"The official name of this endeavor is the Greater Crownlands Plan."
----
Of course, he wouldn’t be handing her the full details just yet.
If he laid out the entire plan now, there was no doubt that every remaining Reach lord—Oldtown’s Hightowers included—would rally for one final, desperate rebellion.
But the name alone was enough.
Anyone with a shred of intelligence would immediately understand: The Queen wants more than just vassals. She wants control.
----
"Forget the notion that this is a simple peace treaty, Lady Margaery."
"Focus now.
"What I am about to say is a personal favor—one I will not repeat."
Aegor snapped his fingers lightly, drawing her full attention.
"The Queen seeks not merely to restore House Targaryen.
"She made that abundantly clear months ago when she melted the Iron Throne—openly declaring to the Seven Kingdoms that she has no intention of preserving the old world.
"She is creating a new one.
"A world where the old powers—the great noble houses, the ancient feudal lords—will have no place."
----
"House Tyrell does hold certain advantages—your legal claim, your knowledge of the Reach, and, of course, our personal history."
"And to your credit, you are at least smarter than the other doomed Reach lords.
"You sensed what was coming.
"And because of that foresight, you are here."
"Which means you have a choice to make."
Aegor’s voice was eerily calm.
"Will House Tyrell embrace this new world?"
"Or will it be ground to dust beneath it?"
----
In truth, there was no choice.
Aegor wasn’t worried about whether Margaery would accept his terms.
He was only concerned with ensuring that House Tyrell truly complied—that they wouldn’t feign submission while scheming in secret.
----
"House Tyrell’s very existence is a historical anomaly," he continued.
"You were raised from mere stewards to High Lords only because Aegon the Conqueror sought to humiliate the Reach lords, to keep them divided."
"For three centuries, your house has struggled to shed that image—to elevate itself from a pawn of the dragons to the true masters of the Reach."
"You almost succeeded."
"And in the final stretch, you panicked."
"You gambled recklessly—on Robert’s wife, on Renly’s rebellion, on Aegon’s war.
"And every gamble ended in failure."
Aegor sighed, shaking his head.
"You sought legitimacy.
"And instead, you lost everything."
He finally leaned forward.
"But now?"
"Now, I offer you a true path to power."
"Are you ready to hear my terms?"
