Chapter 81 Winter Raven
The upheaval in the King's bedchamber spread like the swiftest winter raven, instantly reaching every corner of the Red Keep.
The morning sun had just fully entered the guest room of Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns from The Reach.
"He... he really said that?"
For the first time, Lady Olenna's face, usually composed and sharp, lost its usual composure and sharpness.
In her hand, she tightly clutched a golden The Rose that had just been cut from its stem, still dewy.
"Yes, Grandmother."
Margaery Tyrell was already fully dressed again.
Her emerald green queen's gown was as luxurious as ever, but her pale complexion could not be hidden no matter what.
She repeated Aegon's "slaughter order" to Olenna word for word, repeating the warning about "The Reach's thorns" and being "ten thousand times more miserable than Pyke."
"Hiss—"
Lady Olenna gasped.
The scissors in her hand slipped, and with a "snip," they cut the most perfect The Rose, which was meant to be her brooch, in half.
Petals scattered all over the floor.
"A... madman," Lady Olenna whispered, her voice containing a tremor she herself hadn't noticed.
"No," Margaery shook her head gently, her brown eyes gleaming with a more complex light than ever before, "He is not mad, Grandmother."
"He... is a god."
"A true god who can grant you everything when merciful, and will burn the entire world when angry."
Margaery stepped forward and picked up the broken The Rose.
"We made the right bet, Grandmother," her voice was soft but firm, "We House Tyrell did not choose Baratheon, or Stark... We chose a true dragon."
Lady Olenna fell silent.
She slowly closed her eyes.
After a long while, she let out a long sigh.
"You are right, Margaery. The Rose can only climb upwards by clinging to the strongest support."
"From today on," her voice regained its usual decisiveness, "put away all your inappropriate thoughts. Put away your brother's ridiculous pride."
"You have only one task."
Lady Olenna stared at her granddaughter with her cloudy yet still sharp eyes.
"Bear him a child."
"An heir flowing with Targaryen and Tyrell blood."
"As long as there is this child," her voice was extremely low, "no matter how terrifying he becomes in the future... we House Tyrell will be his most indispensable 'family.'"
"I... understand, Grandmother." Margaery nodded heavily.
She knew that in this grand gamble called "marriage," she had already staked everything... Meanwhile, in the King's study in the Red Keep.
Aegon had already changed into a black, close-fitting outfit convenient for movement.
Sansa Stark stood before him.
She had also changed her clothes.
No longer the grey gown of mourning, but a deep black, form-fitting gown.
Her auburn hair was tied up high, braided into a neat ponytail.
Her eyes were still swollen, but her gaze no longer held confusion and sadness, only a coldness like the deepest winter outside Winterfell.
"Have you thought it through?" Aegon asked her calmly.
"I have, Your Majesty." Sansa's voice was hoarse, yet firm.
"Very good." Aegon walked around the large mahogany desk.
"In King's Landing, you were once a 'little bird' confined in a cage."
"You learned to sing, learned to please everyone you hated."
He walked up to her.
"But, from today on, I don't want you to be a 'little bird' anymore."
"I want you to be a 'winter raven.'"
"A winter raven soaring above winter, moving through the night, bringing death and secrets."
Sansa looked up, puzzled, at him. "Your Majesty, do you mean..."
"Varys, the eunuch, he ran away." Aegon's voice was very flat, "But his 'intelligence network' spread across the Seven Kingdoms is still there."
"I need someone to take his place."
"I need a pair of eyes that can help me see into all the dark corners of the Red Keep."
"I need a pair of ears that can discern every lie for me."
Aegon reached out and gently stroked Sansa's cold cheek.
This gesture should have been intimate, but it made Sansa feel as if she were entwined by a cold venomous snake.
"You, Sansa Stark," his voice was full of seduction, "you understand 'lies' better than anyone."
"You hate 'betrayal' more than anyone."
"Your sorrow, your pain, your hatred... these are your most powerful weapons."
"I now appoint you," he withdrew his hand and put it behind his back, "as the 'Grand Steward of the Red Keep.'"
"All the handmaidens, servants, and guards are at your command."
"Your task is not to manage their daily needs."
"But rather..."
He turned around and looked out the window at the huge dragon-head stone carving.
"To monitor them."
"To find out who among them is plotting."
"Who is lying."
"Who... still harbors ill intentions."
"I want you to be my 'Master of Whisperers.'"
"Do you dare?"
Sansa's breath hitched sharply!
He actually wanted to give her such important and dark power? A Stark who had just lost everything?
"You... aren't you afraid I'll betray you?" she asked the biggest question in her heart, "Like... Theon?"
"Hahahaha..."
Aegon laughed. The laugh was low and hoarse.
"You won't."
He turned his head, his black dragon eyes fixed on her.
"Because I am the only one in this world who can give you 'revenge.'"
"Your hatred is the strongest collar I have fastened around your neck."
"The more you hate this world, the more loyal you will be to me."
Sansa fell silent. She had to admit, this demon king was completely right. She had nothing left but hatred.
"I... accept your appointment."
She slowly knelt on one knee, in a new, cold, and loyal posture.
"My King."
"I will be your sharpest 'eyes.'"
"Very good." Aegon nodded with satisfaction, "'winter raven'... Go. Go weave your network."
"Yes."
Sansa stood up, without a moment's hesitation, and turned to walk out of the study.
Her figure was still slender, but the fragility of a "Northern girl" had completely disappeared, replaced by a chilling aura of deadly resolve... In the shadows of the study, a figure in a red robe slowly emerged.
"You are forging a very dangerous dagger, Your Majesty."
Melisandre's red eyes gleamed with a strange light.
"A dagger tempered with ice."
"So what?" Aegon didn't care at all.
"No matter how sharp a dagger is," he walked up to the Red Priestess, "it cannot harm a dragon."
"It will only become the most convenient tool in my hand."
"I'm more curious about you, though."
He pinched Melisandre's chin.
"My 'Red Priestess.'"
"The Long Night in the North is about to descend."
"Has your lord of light given you any new 'revelations'?"
Melisandre's body trembled slightly.
Under his touch, she felt a power hotter than her own flames.
"The fire is telling me..." her voice became somewhat ethereal, "Your enemies are not only in the North."
"Across the sea..."
"Another 'Dragon Star' is also rising."
"She brings fire and blood..."
"Coming to Westeros."
Chapter 82 Dragons and Ravens
The air in the King's study seemed to freeze.
Melisandre's prophecy about 'another Dragon Star' echoed like thunder in Aegon's ears.
But there was no surprise on his face.
Only the cold ruthlessness he had long understood.
'She's finally here.' This was Lin Hao's inner thought.
'Daenerys Targaryen.'
'Stormborn.'
'Mother of Dragons.'
He had been waiting. Waiting for this 'aunt' of his, in name.
Waiting for this true opponent who possessed three other great dragons.
'Where is she?' Aegon's voice was cold and calm.
Melisandre was slightly taken aback by his calm reaction.
She had expected the King to be shocked, to be angry.
But he wasn't.
It was as if he had known everything all along.
'In... Slaver's Bay.' Melisandre composed herself and answered respectfully.
'The flames tell me she has already conquered Astapor.'
'She has eight thousand Unsullied with her.'
'Tens of thousands of Dothraki followers.'
'And...'
'Three dragons.' Aegon finished her sentence.
Melisandre's red eyes narrowed sharply!
'You... you saw them too?'
'I don't need to see.' Aegon slowly walked towards the massive map of Westeros.
His finger traced across the Narrow Sea.
'She is my blood kin.'
'She is another lost hatchling.'
'I can feel her presence.'
A faint, unreadable glint flashed in Aegon's eyes.
It was excitement.
It was anticipation.
It was the loneliness of a peerless master finally meeting a worthy opponent!
'A true challenger.' he murmured in a low voice.
'Your Majesty!' Melisandre eagerly stepped forward, 'The flames show that she is another 'chosen one' of the lord of light! Her fire is as hot as yours! She might be...'
'Might be 'the prince that was promised'?' Aegoninterrupted her, a deeply mocking curve playing on his lips.
'Melisandre.'
'You must remember.'
He spun around abruptly, his black dragon eyes piercing the witch's very soul!
'There's no such thing as a damned 'lord of light' in this world, and no such thing as 'prophecy'.'
'So-called gods.'
'Are merely more powerful 'forces'.'
'So-called 'prophecy'.'
'Is merely a'script' used by the weak to comfort themselves!'
He pointed at Westeros on the map.
'I am the god!'
'My words are 'prophecy'!'
'Daenerys Targaryen, if she chooses to submit to me, I can grant her the glory a Targaryen deserves. She will still be the Princess of Dragonstone.'
'But,' his voice suddenly turned cold, 'if she also wants to seize my throne...'
'I will personally break her dragon wings.'
'Pluck out all her dragon scales.'
'And let her and her three little lizards become Night Fury's dinner.'
'You,' he stared at Melisandre, 'continue to watch your flames.'
'I want to know her every move.'
'I want to know when her ships launch.'
'Withdraw.'
'...As you command, Your Majesty.'
Melisandre bowed deeply. In the face of such absolute dominance, she felt a flicker of doubt in her faith for the first time.
She slowly retreated into the shadows... Three days later.
King's Landing, Mud Gate.
Robb Stark, clad in the direwolf armor of the North, swung onto his horse.
Behind him were five thousand elite Northern cavalry.
And ten thousand well-equipped 'Black Dragon' infantry, 'gifted' to him by Aegon, reorganized from the Second Sons and Stormcrows.
This mixed army of vengeance, with its banners obscuring the sun, exuded a murderous aura.
Aegon stood on the city wall, looking down on it all with indifference.
Beside him stood the new Queen Margaery.
And Sansa Stark, who had changed into a long black dress.
'Your Majesty!' Robb shouted from horseback, looking up, 'I am ready!'
'Go.' Aegon's voice was unruffled, 'Remember my command.'
'Yes!' Robb nodded heavily.
He took one last look at his sister.
'Sansa!' he shouted, 'I... I swear to you! I will bring back that traitor! I will avenge Bran and Rickon...'
'Brother.'
Sansa interrupted him.
Her voice was soft, yet unusually cold.
So cold that Robb, below the city wall, shivered.
'Your oath is meaningless.'
Robb froze.
Sansa faced the cold wind of the North, her auburn hair flying wildly.
Her blue eyes, once full of romantic fantasies, now held only a dead chill.
'I don't want oaths.'
'I don't want your 'vengeance'.'
'I want you to 'bring him back'.'
'Alive.'
'Do you understand?'
Robb stared blankly at his sister on the city wall, so familiar yet so strange.
He felt as if he was looking up at another 'Aegon'.
A Queen of Frost.
'...I... I understand.' Robb replied with difficulty.
'Depart!'
He abruptly turned his horse around, not looking back.
The torrent of vengeance rolled northwards... On the city wall.
Margaery looked at Sansa's cold profile, a strange chill rising in her heart.
She quietly leaned closer to Aegon.
As if only the dragonfire emanating from this demon king could dispel the cold from the 'winter raven'.
'Your Majesty...' Sansa looked at no one, she merely curtsied slightly to the King, 'The matter you entrusted to me already has a lead.'
'Oh?' Aegon became interested.
It had only been three days.
Had this 'raven' already caught a worm?
'Among the handmaidens in the Red Keep, one person is very suspicious.' Sansa stated calmly.
'Her name is Shae.'
'She is Tyrion Lannister the dwarf's secret mistress, hidden in the Red Keep.'
'Tyrion?' Aegon's eyebrow raised slightly.
This was an unexpected bonus.
He had thought this dwarf would flee back to Casterly Rock with his tail between his legs.
He didn't expect him to dare leave spies in King's Landing.
'Is she spying on you for Tyrion?' Margaery couldn't help but interject.
'No.' Sansa shook her head.
'She is spying on me.'
Sansa's gaze shifted to Aegon.
'She is asking about everything concerning me.'
'My daily routine, my preferences, and even... my relationship with Your Majesty.'
Aegon understood instantly.
'Heh heh... Interesting.'
'This dwarf wants to...'
'...incite me.' Sansa spoke the cold word for him.
'He thinks I'm still that 'little bird' who can be manipulated at will.'
'He thinks the Starks and Targaryens have a blood feud.'
'He wants to use me against you.'
Aegon smiled.
'Then,' he looked at the 'Ice Dagger' he had personally forged with interest.
'My winter raven.'
'How do you plan to repay this 'kind' dwarf?'
A very faint, yet chilling, curve slowly formed on Sansa's lips.
It was her first'smile' that day.
'Of course, I will...'
'Cooperate with him.'
Chapter 83 The Dwarf's Trap and the Raven's Counterattack
The sunlight in King's Landing streamed through the study window, falling on Aegon's face.
His smile became playful at Sansa's icy words: "cooperate."
"Oh? 'Cooperate' with him?" Aegon raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to continue.
A shrewd glint sparkled in Sansa's eyes.
"Tyrion Lannister thinks himself clever. He believes that I, a Stark girl 'imprisoned' by the Targaryens, must harbor resentment."
She walked slowly to the desk, her fingertip lightly touching the lion sigil representing Casterly Rock on the map of Westeros.
"He will send me 'goodwill' through Shae. Perhaps 'assistance,' perhaps 'secret messages,' or even 'unfavorable' remarks about you."
"And I," Sansa looked up, meeting Aegon's dragon eyes directly, "will turn his scheme against him. I will present myself as someone 'tormented' and 'eager for revenge.'"
"I will let Shae see my 'suffering' and 'struggle.' I will make her believe I am still that 'little bird' who can be exploited."
"And then?" Aegon asked with interest.
"I will transmit false intelligence to Tyrion through Shae." Sansa's voice was soft, yet carried the venomous ruthlessness of a viper.
"I will tell him some inconsequential court secrets, some ambiguous military deployments, some 'information' that can 'gain his trust' without causing any substantial harm to you."
"But more importantly..."
Sansa's lips curved into that chilling arc once more.
"I will give him a misconception."
"What misconception?" Aegon asked.
"Although the Red Keep is under your control," Sansareplied, "it is still fraught with danger. People's hearts are unstable."
"I will hint to him that there are many forces within the Red Keep secretly supporting him."
"Some old nobles who are dissatisfied with your rule, some fence-sitters who long for the Lannisters to regain power."
"I will make him feel that the rule of King's Landing appears strong, but is actually fragile."
"I will entice him into believing he can shake your foundation through me and those 'hidden' allies."
Aegon's gaze grew deeper.
He looked at this girl, once a pawn in others' hands, who had now learned to strike back in the most vicious way.
He saw the seeds of a black heart nature he had planted in her growing wildly.
"A bait?" he whispered softly.
"A delicious trap," Sansa corrected.
"He wants to turn me. And I will lure him back."
"Lure him back to King's Landing."
"Back to... under your claws."
Aegon burst into laughter.
"Good! Very good!" He walked over to Sansa and pulled her into his embrace.
The gesture was full of possessiveness, yet devoid of any lust.
He was merely admiring this sharp "dagger" he had forged with his own hands.
"My winter raven," he whispered in her ear, "you have not disappointed me."
"I will give you all the power you need, all the informants you need."
"Go. Go and lure that foolish the imp back for me."
"I want him to personally taste how Lannister gold is burned by dragonfire!"
"As you command, my King."
Sansa broke free from his embrace, a cold fire of revenge burning in her eyes.
She turned and left... the study door closed again.
Aegon stood alone before the map of Westeros.
His gaze traveled from the North, through King's Landing, and finally rested on the distant land representing Slaver's Bay on the map.
Daenerys.
He could already feel the power surging in that land.
Three dragons.
Eight thousand Unsullied.
Tens of thousands of Dothraki riders.
And that "silver-haired queen" "chosen" by the lord of light.
"Heh..."
Aegon's lips curved into an arc brimming with fighting spirit.
"Come, my 'aunt.'"
"Let Westeros once again ignite the true dragon's war!"
"Let's see whose flames are hotter!"
He reached out and pressed heavily on the map.
As if to grasp the entire continent in his palm.
And at the same time.
Outside the Mud Gate.
Robb Stark's Northern army had long since vanished beyond the horizon.
Leaving behind only rolling dust and the lingering scent of revenge in the air.
Winter has come.
And the real storm has only just begun.
Chapter 84 Raven's Net and Dragon Guard's Oath
Sansa Stark, now the Red Keep's'Steward of the Household,' was walking through the castle's intricate servant passages.
She wasn't wearing the black gown symbolizing vengeance, but rather a simple yet finely made grey steward's uniform.
Her long hair was neatly pinned up, and her face, once full of fantasies, now bore only a nearly numb serenity.
She was like the cold stone statues on the Red Keep's walls.
She was inspecting.
This was her 'duty' as'Steward of the Household.'
She walked past the laundry room.
She checked the kitchen.
Finally, she stopped outside a small, underground maid's room.
"Shae." Her voice was soft, yet it clearly penetrated the thin wooden door.
A frantic rustling came from inside the room.
Moments later, the door was pulled open a crack.
Shae, the exotic maid with a thick head of black hair, looked out with fear.
She, of course, recognized Sansa Stark—the 'little bird' from the North, the woman her 'the imp lover' Tyrion had sworn to protect, and the person Tyrion now most wanted to 'contact.'
"Miss Stark... no, Steward." Shae nervously curtsied.
She thought her identity had been exposed.
She thought this new 'minion of the demon king' had come to arrest her.
But Sansa merely looked at her calmly.
"You're fired." Sansa spoke coldly.
Shae's face instantly turned pale!
"My lady! I... what did I do wrong? Please..."
"You didn't do anything wrong." Sansa interrupted her, "You shouldn't be an ordinary maid anymore."
Shae was stunned.
"Starting today," Sansa turned sideways, clearing the passage outside the door, "you will be my personal handmaiden."
"...What?" Shae suspected she had misheard.
"I need a 'clever' person to look after me." Sansa's gaze swept over Shae's eyes, which clearly showed panic and calculation, "And you, you seem very 'clever.'"
Sansa turned and started walking back.
"Pack your things. Move to Maegor's Holdfast, to my chambers."
She did not look back.
Only at the corner of the corridor, she seemed to speak to herself inadvertently.
Her voice was very soft, but just loud enough for Shaebehind her to hear.
"...At least, Lord Tyrion was 'gentle.'"
"Unlike this... 'monster' I now serve."
"Every day... is torture."
With that, her figure disappeared into the darkness.
Leaving Shae alone, stunned in place.
Her face first showed confusion, then shock.
Finally, a faint 'glee' and 'pity' appeared in her eyes.
She had caught the 'bait.'
And Sansa also tightened her 'net'... Meanwhile.
Red Keep, Throne Room.
Aegon sat upon the grotesque iron throne.
There was no carpet under his feet, only cold stone slabs.
In the center of the hall, three heavily armored warriors knelt on one knee.
Their armor was no longer the ridiculous pure white of the Kingsguard, but a black dragon scale armor that seemed to devour light.
These were Aegon's newly established Dragon Guards.
No longer seven men.
Only three.
The first was Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers. His face no longer held its former frivolity and pride, only a heartfelt reverence after witnessing the King's black heartwarning.
The second was Daario Naharis. This mercenary leader from Tyrosh had his signature blue beard meticulously trimmed. His eyes were fanatical and bloodthirsty. He pledged allegiance not to a country, but only to the strongest 'King.'
The third was a stern-faced Northerner. He was Harrion Mormont, Robb Stark's personal guard captain left in King's Landing—a fierce warrior who had witnessed 'Aegon's' blood in the North.
Queen Margaery and Melisandre stood on either side of the throne, quietly observing the ceremony.
"Loras Tyrell." Aegon's voice echoed through the hall.
"Here, my King!" Loras answered loudly.
"You were the Knight of Flowers. But 'flowers' are fragile."
"From today, you are no longer a 'flower.'
"You are the 'Claw' of the Dragon."
"Do you accept?"
"I accept! Your Majesty!" Loras shouted.
"Daario Naharis."
"My King." Daario grinned.
"You follow strength. And I am strength."
"You are the 'Poison Fang' of the Dragon."
"Tear apart all enemies for me. Do you accept?"
"With pleasure, my Black Dragon King." Daario let out a low chuckle.
"Harrion Mormont."
"Your Majesty." The Northerner's voice was as steady as a mountain.
"The North needs vengeance. And I grant vengeance."
"You are the'Strong Shield' of the Dragon."
"Guard my back for me. Do you accept?"
"In the name of the Old Gods and the New,
"I swear my life."
"Very good."
Aegon rose from the iron throne.
"You do not need to swear to the Seven Gods."
"You do not need to swear not to marry, not to father children, not to own land."
He drew the black valyrian steel sword at his waist—Dark Sister.
"You only need to swear to me."
He walked to the three men, touching each of their shoulders with the sword.
"Swear to the Dragon.
"Swear to the Fire.
"Swear to the Blood.
"Your lives belong to me.
"Your honor also belongs to me.
"Traitors..."
He sheathed his longsword.
"...shall die without a corpse."
"We swear our lives!!!"
The three Dragon Guards swore with thunderous roars.
Margaery looked at her brother Loras's fanatical yet fearful eyes, and her heart tightened once more.
She knew that from this moment on, House Tyrell and this black dragon were completely bound together... That night.
The King's bedchamber.
Margaery was extremely gentle.
She performed everything a Queen, an ally, a 'hostage' could do.
She hoped to conceive a dragon-child as soon as possible, as her grandmother Olenna had instructed.
Aegon did not refuse either. He needed an heir.
However, in this union filled with politics and desire, Aegon's black dragon eyes pierced through the ceiling, looking towards the distant East.
Sansa's 'net' had been cast.
The small fish Tyrion was about to take the bait.
Robb in the North was hunting down Greyjoy.
Everything was under his control.
Except for... the three burning dragonflames in Slaver's Bay.
"Daenerys..."
He whispered in his heart.
"Your game should end.
"The deck of Westeros is about to be reshuffled."
Chapter 85 Two Chess Games
King's Landing, Flea Bottom.
In the basement of the Spotted Cat tavern, the air was filled with the sour, musty smell of cheap ale and mildew.
Tyrion Lannister, wrapped in a large hooded cloak that covered half his face, tapped impatiently on the table.
Beside him, the sellsword Bronn was idly wiping his short sword.
"She's late," Tyrion grumbled in a low voice, a hint of imperceptible tension in his tone.
"Punctuality isn't a virtue for whores," Bronn replied without looking up. "Perhaps she found a patron who offered more."
No sooner had he spoken than the wooden door to the basement creaked open.
Shae's figure, under the dim oil lamp, appeared particularly frail and flustered.
"My lord!" She hurried to the table and placed a small cloth pouch in front of Tyrion; it contained the bounty he had given her last time.
"I don't want your money anymore," Shae's voice was tearful. "It's too dangerous! That Miss Stark… she, she's become the King's dog! She's now the Red Keep's steward!"
Tyrion's brows furrowed, but a glint flashed in his eyes.
"Slow down, Shae, what happened?"
Shae immediately embellished her account of Sansa'promoting' her to personal handmaiden.
She emphasized Sansa's cold gaze and the unintentional, pain-filled whisper that had escaped her lips.
"'Unlike this monster I now serve'… 'Every day is torture'…" Tyrion repeatedly chewed on these phrases, his expression gradually shifting from grave to one of confident control.
"I knew it," he said triumphantly to Bronn. "She hates him. How could a Stark truly submit to a Targaryen? Especially such a cruel, black heart King."
"It might be a trap," Bronn warned. "The girl has been in King's Landing for a long time; she's not as foolish as you think."
"No, she's just a frightened little bird." Tyrion waved his hand, pushing the bag of money back, even adding another one.
"This is your reward, Shae. You did well. Now, I need you to do the next thing."
He lowered his voice: "Stay by her side and gain her trust. Tell her that there are still friends in King's Landing who care about her. Tell her that the Lannister lion has not forgotten the alliance of the North."
"My lord, you mean…" Shae's eyes flickered with greed and confusion.
"I want you to be her only hope." Tyrion's smile turned sinister. "Then, have her tell me what that monster… is truly afraid of."
He watched Shae's retreating back, feeling that he had once again taken control of the game.
He thought Sansa was a pawn he had set.
Little did he know, he himself had long fallen into the raven's net… Red Keep, King's Study.
Unlike the dark and damp Flea Bottom, here, there was only calm and absolute power.
Beside the massive map of Westeros hung a larger, though cruder, map of the continent of Essos.
Aegon's finger pointed to the area on the map named "Slaver's Bay."
Before him stood two people.
The Red Priestess, Melisandre.
The Dragon Guards Captain, Daario Naharis.
"The revelations of the flames are becoming clearer," Melisandre's voice carried a sacred fervor. "The silver-haired Queen has taken Yunkai. Her three dragons are like a natural disaster on the battlefield. The slaves call her… 'Mhysa,' Mother."
"A girl who's very good at winning hearts," Daariogrinned, revealing his golden teeth. "In Essos, slaves, like gold, are hard currency. She's essentially undermining the foundations of all the Free Cities."
"I don't care how many slaves she freed," Aegon's voice rang out coldly. "I only care when her dragons will learn to cross the Narrow Sea."
He turned and looked at Daario: "I need to send a 'gift' to Slaver's Bay. To my dear 'aunt'."
"A gift?" Daario was somewhat surprised. "Your Majesty, do you wish to show her goodwill?"
"No." The corners of Aegon's mouth curved into a cruel arc. "I will send her a 'truth.' A truth capable of tearing a rift in her seemingly impregnable faction."
He took a pre-written parchment from his desk drawer and sealed it with wax.
"Daario, you have extensive connections in Essos. Find me the most reliable and inconspicuous messenger. Have him take the fastest ship to Meereen."
"Deliver this letter into one person's hands."
"Who?"
"Ser Barristan Selmy."
Melisandre and Daario were both stunned.
Barristan "the Bold," former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the most legendary knight in Westeros.
Had he not been driven out of King's Landing by Cerseilong ago, his whereabouts unknown?
Aegon, of course, knew that Barristan was currently by Daenerys's side, disguised as "Arstan," serving as her Queensguard.
He also knew about another of Daenerys's most trusted advisors… "What's in the letter?" Daario asked curiously.
"A kind reminder." Aegon's smile was like a devil's.
"In the letter, in the name of a 'nephew,' I 'kindly' remind Ser Barristan that a traitor is hidden by the Queen he serves."
"A spy who has been selling all her intelligence to the Spider in King's Landing from the very beginning."
"Ser Jorah Mormont."
"Boom!"
This name, like a thunderclap, exploded in Daario and Melisandre's minds!
They couldn't understand how the King knew such secret information!
It was practically a divine oracle!
"Your Majesty… this…"
"Execute it." Aegon gave them no chance to question. "I don't need her dead. Not yet."
He turned his gaze back to that distant continent.
"I only need to make her stop trusting anyone."
"I want to cut off her right and left arms."
"I want to fill her surroundings with suspicion and doubt."
"When a ruler loses the weapon of 'trust'…"
He slowly clenched his fist.
"She will not be far from being abandoned by all."
"Westeros is my chessboard. And Essos…"
"The same."
Chapter 86 The Secret Network and the Granary
Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast.
Sansa Stark's residence was no longer her small, maidenly room.
Aegon had granted her an entire luxurious suite on the upper floors of the main tower.
This place had once been the residence of a queen, with expansive views and beautiful decorations.
But at this moment, there was not a trace of warmth here.
All the windows were only open a sliver.
All the fireplaces burned with the smallest flames.
The room was filled with a cold and solemn scent, a mixture of old stone and the leaves of Northern weirwoods.
Sansa was sitting at her desk, going through the Red Keep's servant roster.
She wore a pair of silver-rimmed, clear-lens glasses.
This added a touch of unapproachable authority to her still beautiful face.
"Thump, thump, thump."
The door was knocked rhythmically.
"Come in." Sansa didn't even lift her head.
Shae tiptoed in, carrying a pot of hot tea.
She was now Sansa's only personal maid.
"My lady." Shae placed the tea on the table. "Your Dornish red tea. I added your favorite honey."
"Hm." Sansa remained focused on the roster.
Shae stood to the side, hesitating for a moment.
She bit her lip, a perfectly measured expression of "worry" and "sympathy" on her face.
"My lady... you look very tired." She tentatively began, "You shouldn't work so hard for that monster..."
Sansa's hand, turning the page, paused slightly.
She slowly raised her head and took off her glasses.
Her blue eyes, the swelling long gone, were now clear and cold.
But the moment Shae looked at them, that coldness shattered.
It was replaced by a fleeting glimpse of "fragility" and "fear."
"...You heard everything?" Sansa's voice was extremely low.
"What?" Shae feigned confusion.
"Last night." Sansa's body trembled slightly. "He... the King, came again.
"He was furious. Because of that Red Priestess."
Shae's eyes instantly lit up!
This was exactly what Tyrion wanted to know!
"He... what did he do to you?" Shae quickly stepped forward and took Sansa's hand, feigning empathy.
"He didn't touch me." Sansa pulled her hand back in disgust, but to Shae, this movement looked more like a victim's stress response.
"He was just roaring." Sansa's voice was filled with "lingering fear."
"He was cursing that witch. Saying she was a liar!
"Saying her lord of light couldn't see anything!"
"He... he seemed to be afraid of something.
"He mentioned 'the East'... 'a storm'..."
"He's very uneasy. He trusts no one!
"He even suspects the new Queen and her family!"
Sansa seemed to have "let something slip," and immediately covered her mouth in fright.
"No... no, Shae, I didn't say anything. Forget all of this quickly!"
"I swear, My Lady!" Shae immediately raised her hand. "I didn't hear anything!
"I'm always on your side!"
"Get out." Sansa turned her head, put her glasses back on, and her voice returned to its cold tone.
"Yes... yes! My Lady, please rest well."
Shae suppressed the wild joy in her heart and backed out of the room.
The moment the door closed.
Sansa's lips slowly curved into a cold smile.
Tyrion, you clever little fish.
The first lure has been cast.
Hope you like it... At the same time.
Red Keep, Small Council Chamber.
Aegon convened his first informal Small Council meeting since his ascension.
It was informal because not everyone was present.
And the atmosphere was suffocatingly oppressive.
Aegon sat high on the main seat.
Melisandre stood behind him like a red shadow.
Queen Margaery and her grandmother, the Queen of Thorns Olenna, sat side by side.
Margaery's father, Lord Mace Tyrell, sat nervously at the far end, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"...So, Your Majesty's meaning is." Lady Olenna's aged voice broke the silence. "Your wedding and gifts have exhausted the gold you 'borrowed' from the Lannister?"
"'Borrowed'?" Aegon chuckled. "The Queen's choice of words is amusing.
"I 'took' it."
"That's not important." Olenna waved her hand. "What's important is that the treasury is empty. And King's Landing's five hundred thousand hungry mouths are full.
"War has ravaged the Riverlands. The North is preoccupied. Without food, Your Majesty, no matter how terrifying your Dragon is, the people will rebel."
"That's why I called you here." Aegon leaned forward.
"House Tyrell is the wealthiest house in the Seven Kingdoms.
"The Reach is the breadbasket of Westeros.
"Now, my people are hungry.
"My granaries should open."
"Your Majesty!" Lord Mace Tyrell immediately stood up, his plump face beaming with a false smile. "House Tyrellis of course willing to share Your Majesty's burdens! We..."
"Mace." Olenna coldly interrupted her foolish son. "Sit down. Let the King finish."
Mace awkwardly shrank back.
Aegon looked at the Queen of Thorns with appreciation.
He liked talking to smart people.
"I don't need your donations." Aegon raised a finger.
"I'm here to do business.
"I will issue a food price control order by royal decree.
"Starting tomorrow, the prices of all bread and grains in King's Landing will be uniformly reduced by seventy percent."
"What?!" Mace jumped up again!
This was worse than outright robbery!
This would cause House Tyrell to lose everything!
"Your Majesty! This... this doesn't comply with the rules!" Mace was sweating profusely with anxiety.
"Rules?" Aegon smiled.
"I am the rules."
His gaze bypassed Mace and looked directly at Olenna.
"House Tyrell will become the sole food supplier in King's Landing.
"I will use my Dragon Guards to help you clear out all competitors and the black market.
"You will lose money.
"But," he paused, "you will win the love of all the people of King's Landing.
"They will praise the generosity of House Tyrell.
"They will sing of the benevolence of Queen Margaery.
"They will forget the Lannister's gold.
"They will only remember the Tyrell's bread."
Olenna's pupils suddenly constricted!
She instantly understood Aegon's true intentions!
This demon king!
He not only wanted the Tyrell's grain!
He also wanted House Tyrell to buy the people's hearts at a loss!
He wanted to completely tie House Tyrell to his black dragon warship!
Making House Tyrell his benevolent face for ruling the common people!
This was a conspiracy!
This was poison wrapped in honey!
"Of course..." Aegon leaned back in his chair, revealing a "benevolent" smile.
"If the granaries of The Reach unfortunately 'catch fire.' Or the transport ships 'sink.'
"My Night Fury hasn't had a full meal in a long time either.
"It's very interested in the fertile rose gardens of The Reach."
"Whoosh—!"
Margaery and Olenna's faces instantly turned ashen.
This was a transaction.
And a naked threat.
Olenna slowly closed her eyes.
After a long while, she opened them again.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Her voice was hoarse and weak.
"House Tyrell..."
"Is honored to serve the people."
Chapter 87 Bait, Public Sentiment, and Poisonous Letters
King's Landing, Flea Bottom.
The air in the cellar of the Spotted Cat tavern was as murky as ever.
Tyrion Lannister, by the light of a greasy candle, carefully read the "intelligence" Shae had brought back.
Bronn stood behind him, impassively cleaning his sword.
"Fears the storm from the east..." Tyrion murmured, "Doesn't trust the Red Priestess... Suspects House Tyrell..."
He smiled.
A smug smile, as if his intelligence completely outmatched his opponents'.
"Bronn, did you hear that?" He shook the note filled with Shae's "observations." "Our 'black heart King' has been on the iron throne for less than a month and is already starting to get paranoid!"
"A king who already suspects his own allies (Tyrell) and his fanatic (Melisandre). How long do you think he can hold on to the throne?"
"All I know is, he has a big lizard that breathes fire," Bronn said without looking up, "and you can't even go back to Casterly Rock."
"Patience, Bronn, patience." Tyrion was unfazed by his taunt.
"This is our chance!"
A calculating glint flickered in his small eyes.
"That monster suspects Tyrell. And Tyrell is now being forced to 'bleed' by him. This is a godsend!"
"That little bird is our 'eyes'.
"She is now that monster's'steward'. She has access to all his secrets!"
"You want to turn House Tyrell?" Bronn stopped cleaning his sword. "Are you crazy? The Queen of Thorns is much smarter than you."
"No, no, no." Tyrion wagged his finger. "I don't need to turn them. I just need to add another crack to their already fragile alliance."
He looked at the note again.
Sansa's performance was flawless.
Tyrion had completely bitten the bait tailored for him.
"Shae," he turned to the handmaiden who was still pretending to be scared nearby, "you did very well.
"Go back and continue to reassure her. Tell her that hope is on the horizon.
"And while you're at it, 'casually' ask her about..."
"The exact time and route House Tyrell uses to transport grain daily."
...Meanwhile.
King's Landing, Grain Street.
Unlike the gloomy cellar where Tyrion was hiding, this was a sea of cheers.
Thousands of King's Landing commoners were queuing up.
They were receiving cheap bread and flour at stalls adorned with House Tyrell's "golden rose" banners.
The price was indeed as stipulated by the King's decree — a seventy percent reduction.
This was practically giving it away for free!
"Thank you, Queen!"
"Long live Queen Margaery!"
"Long live House Tyrell!"
Cheers rose and fell in succession.
Margaery Tyrell stood on a high platform.
She wore a emeraldgreen gown symbolizing harvest, and on her face was her signature sweet and benevolent smile.
She personally handed a warm piece of bread to a ragged little girl.
"Don't rush, child, eat slowly. There will be enough bread."
Her performance was perfect.
The people adored her.
They chanted her name.
As if she were the true orchestrator of this "benevolence."
Not far away, in an extremely luxurious carriage.
The Queen of Thorns, Olenna, watched it all coldly through a gap in the curtains.
"Grandmother..." Margaery's brother, Loras Tyrell (one of the Dragon Guards), stood by her side, whispering, "We are burning a mountain of gold every day.
"Father is going mad with worry."
"Let him worry." Olenna's voice was icy.
"Do you see, Loras?
"The look in those people's eyes."
"They are cheering 'Tyrell'.
"They are not cheering 'Targaryen'."
"That black heart little king..." A flicker of extremely complex light passed through Olenna's eyes.
"He points dragonfire at our backs.
"Yet he personally places the most magnificent crown of 'popular support' on our heads."
"He is feeding his people with our gold.
"And at the same time, he is feeding the reputation of House Tyrell."
"This is a transaction where we lose our shirts, yet we have no choice but to smile and drink the poison to quench our thirst."
Loras half-understood, half-didn't.
He only knew that he was now very afraid of the man sitting on the iron throne... Far to the east.
Slaver's Bay, Meereen.
Unlike the undercurrents in Westeros, this place had just experienced a baptism of blood and fire.
Daenerys Targaryen, Stormborn, mother of dragons, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen.
She stood at the top of the Great Pyramid, overlooking her new city.
Her three young dragons—Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion—played and chased each other in the sky.
Her Unsullied army controlled the entire city.
Beside her stood two of her most trusted knights.
"Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold."
And "Ser Jorah Mormont the Loyal."
"Queen," Ser Jorah was reporting, "the envoys from Yunkai have arrived. They are willing to surrender. But..."
"Your Majesty."
A soft voice interrupted Jorah.
An Unsullied guard came forward.
"Ser Barristan." The guard handed over a scroll sealed with black wax.
"A messenger from Pentos. He said this letter must be delivered to you personally.
"The letter is from Westeros."
Barristan was slightly stunned.
Westeros?
He had "died" there.
Who else would write to him?
He took the letter with a puzzled look.
When he saw the "three-headed dragon" sigil on the wax seal, which he knew all too well, his heart skipped a beat!
"Targaryen..."
He broke the seal.
The letter was short.
The handwriting was strong and powerful, carrying an undeniable assertiveness.
"To Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold:
I am Aegon Targaryen. Son of Rhaegar.
King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Your career as a 'white knight' has ended.
But your 'loyalty' is suffering the most shameful 'deception'.
A viper lurks beside the Queen you serve (my aunt Daenerys).
A spy who has been constantly selling all her movements to King's Landing (Varys and Robert) since her exile.
In exchange for his ridiculous 'pardon'.
His name is—Jorah Mormont.
—Aegon VI Targaryen.
The Dragon King."
"Buzz—!"
Barristan's mind went blank.
He felt the world spinning!
The letter slipped from his trembling hand.
"Ser?" Daenerys noticed his unusual behavior. "What's wrong? News from Westeros?"
Barristan did not answer.
He slowly turned his head.
And looked with an extremely strange and cold gaze at the bewildered... "Jorah Mormont" beside him.
Chapter 88 The Collapse of Trust and the Tightening of the Trap
Meereen, atop the Great Pyramid.
The blood-red twilight sun cast long shadows of the last three Targaryen followers.
Daenerys Targaryen's smile froze on her face.
She watched Ser Barristan Selmy's face, which had suddenly turned ashen and filled with shock.
She watched the parchment flutter from his hand.
"Ser?" Her unease grew. "What's wrong? A letter from Westeros... Is it good news?"
Jorah Mormont also frowned.
He instinctively stepped forward, intending to pick up the letter.
"Don't touch it!"
Barristan let out a low growl, almost a roar!
He was no longer a gentle old knight.
He was an enraged lion!
Jorah's hand froze in mid-air.
For the first time, such obvious panic appeared on his face.
"Barristan..." Daenerys was startled. "What on earth is going on?"
Barristan ignored her.
He slowly bent down and, with trembling hands, picked up the letter again.
His gaze was fixed on Jorah Mormont's face.
It was a look mixed with disdain, anger, and disbelief.
"I saw your 'pardon' at Robert Baratheon's Small Council."
Barristan's voice was hoarse and cold.
"I always thought it was a forgery Varys used to humiliate your father."
Jorah's heart skipped a beat.
All color instantly drained from his face.
"I... I don't understand what you're saying."
"You don't understand?" Barristan held up the letter.
"A man claiming to be the son of Rhaegar, our liege... a king calling himself 'Aegon Targaryen'... he sent me this letter from the Seven Kingdoms!"
"Aegon?" Daenerys was completely stunned. "Rhaegar's son? He's alive?"
"He told me in the letter." Barristan ignored Daenerys's shock; his eyes were only on Jorah.
"He told me there's a viper hidden by the Queen's side!"
"A spy... who has been selling the Queen's intelligence to King's Landing ever since Pentos!"
"Jorah Mormont..." Barristan almost squeezed out the name through gritted teeth, word by word.
"...in exchange for your 'pardon'."
"...No." Daenerys's body swayed.
She looked at Jorah in disbelief.
Looking at her most trusted companion.
Looking at her 'bear'.
"...Daenerys." Jorah panicked.
He was completely panicked.
He wanted to explain.
He wanted to grab the Queen's hand.
"...Is it true?" Daenerys's voice was soft, but it carried the terrifying tremor of dragonflame about to erupt.
"...I..." Jorah opened his mouth.
He saw Barristan's unequivocal gaze.
He knew lies were meaningless now.
"...Yes."
He admitted it with difficulty.
"Daenerys... Khaleesi... That was a long time ago!" he pleaded desperately.
"I stopped long ago! I fell in love with you! I swear, I've long been loyal only to..."
"Slap!"
A crisp slap.
Daenerys slapped Jorah across the face with all her might.
There was no fire in her eyes.
Only disappointment colder than the Land of Always Winter.
And the chilling cold of betrayal by her closest person.
"I thought you were my family." Her tears finally broke free.
"I am the Queen!"
"I am the mother of dragons!"
"And you, from the very beginning, were spying on me! Selling me out!"
"You made me look like a clown in front of Varys and Robert Baratheon's usurpers!"
"Daenerys... please..."
"Get out."
Daenerys turned away, no longer looking at him.
"Khaleesi?"
"I said, get out!"
She screamed hysterically!
"Get out of my sight!"
"Get out of Meereen!"
"If you're still in this city before dark..."
She turned back sharply, her purple eyes filled with murderous intent.
"I'll have Drogon burn you alive!"
Jorah Mormont was struck as if by lightning.
He stood rooted to the spot, looking at the resolute back of the Queen he deeply loved.
He then looked at Barristan, who was as indifferent as a stone statue.
He knew it was all over.
Aegon's poisoned letter was a fatal blow.
The strongest 'trust' by Daenerys's side had collapsed...Two days later.
King's Landing, Red Keep.
Inside Sansa's study.
Shae was excitedly reporting Tyrion's 'new instructions' to her.
"...My Lady, Tyrion... he's truly a good man!"
Shae had completely embraced her role as a'savior'.
"He said he wants to teach those House Tyrell, who profited from the nation's distress, a lesson!"
"He wants to intercept their grain fleet! And distribute the food to those who truly need it!"
"He says this is for justice!"
Shae gestured excitedly.
"He needs your help. He needs to know the exact route and time of the next grain shipment."
Sansa's face appropriately showed 'fear' and 'hesitation'.
"No, Shae, this is too crazy."
"This is robbery! It's treason!"
"The King will kill us! He'll flay us alive!"
"No, My Lady!" Shae quickly placed her hands on Sansa's shoulders. "Tyrion has a meticulous plan! He'll send the most elite mercenaries! They'll disguise themselves as bandits!"
"The King will only think it was done by ordinary mountain bandits! He'll only blame House Tyrell for insufficient guards!"
"This..." Sansa's eyes flickered with a 'persuaded' light.
"My Lady!" Shae added fuel to the fire. "Think of your brother! Think of Winterfell! Think of how this monster treated you! This is our first step to fight back!"
Finally.
Sansa seemed to have made up her mind.
She suddenly grabbed Shae's hand.
"...Alright."
"I'll help you."
"I'll help Tyrion."
"I'll check the records of the Master of Coin tonight. I'll give you an answer tomorrow."
"That's wonderful! My Lady! You are the bravest!"
Shae left excitedly...That night.
The King's study.
Sansa stood before Aegon, reporting calmly.
"Your Majesty. The fish has bitten the hook."
"He wants the route of the next grain fleet."
"Very well."
Aegon put down his quill.
A smile, like that of a hunter about to cast his net, appeared on his face.
"My winter raven, go tell that the imp."
"Three days from now. Dusk. On the King's Road, at the Blackwater Rush crossing."
"There will be thirty carts of old House Tyrell wheat. With only twenty House Tyrell guards."
Sansa's blue eyes flickered slightly.
"Your Majesty, is this true intelligence?"
"Of course." Aegon smiled.
"Except, the old wheat is moldy, poisoned grain that I dug out from the dungeons."
"The twenty House Tyrell guards are fake."
"Ambushing at the crossing will be my Dragon GuardsCaptain, Daario Naharis, and his five hundred Black Dragon elites."
Aegon stood up and walked to Sansa.
He looked down at his 'raven'.
"Go."
"Tell that the imp."
"His 'justice' is coming soon."
Chapter 89 Closing the Net and Settling the Grievance
Blackwater Rush Crossing, one of the busiest thoroughfares on the Kingsroad.
But tonight, it was dead silent.
Even the usually noisy croaking of frogs had vanished.
Thick fog rose from the icy river, shrouding the banks like a death shroud.
"I hate fog," Bronn muttered, cursing under his breath as he huddled behind a massive oak tree. "Fog hides archers."
"Don't be nervous, Bronn," Tyrion Lannister hid on the other side, his small eyes gleaming excitedly in the darkness. "According to my intelligence, there are only twenty Tyrell household guards, a bunch of idiots."
"Your intelligence," Bronn snorted, "comes from a frightened little bird and a whore whose head is full of gold dragons. I still trust my sword more."
Tyrion had hired a dozen of the most desperate sellswords he could find in Flea Bottom.
He firmly believed this was a perfect raid: it would strike a blow against the King's prestige, intercept food to win over the people, and prove to Sansa Stark that he was her "savior."
"...They're coming," Tyrion whispered.
"Creak—creak—"
The sound of wheels rolling over mud came through the fog.
Thirty wagons, flying the Tyrell "Golden Rose" banners, slowly approached the crossing.
Just as the intelligence had said, the guards were sparse, appearing to be no more than twenty.
"Now!" Tyrion gave the signal!
"Awoo—!" Bronn was the first to charge out, his sellswords behind him also yelling as they rushed towards the convoy.
The battle erupted.
Then... the battle ended.
Incredibly fast.
Those twenty "Tyrell guards" offered almost no resistance.
They were like paper cutouts, instantly scattered and knocked to the ground, "wailing."
"Ha!" Tyrion walked out from behind the tree, smugly. "See, Bronn! Easily defeated!"
Bronn, however, frowned and kicked a guard who was "rolling around" on the ground.
"...They're faking it."
"What?" Tyrion was taken aback.
"They're not hurt at all!" Bronn's expression changed instantly. "It's a trap!!"
"Quickly..."
"Too late," a flippant voice with a Tyroshi accent came from behind them.
"Swish! Swish! Swish!"
In an instant, fire erupted everywhere! Hundreds of torches lit up on the hillsides flanking the crossing! The thick fog was instantly dispersed!
Five hundred elite soldiers in black Dragon scale armor had completely surrounded the entire crossing, making it impenetrable!
All their bows and crossbows were aimed at the dozen ridiculous bandits in the center of the riverbank.
Daario Naharis, wearing splendid black Dragon Guardsarmor and chewing on a foxtail grass stalk, slowly walked out.
Behind him were Loras Tyrell and Harys Mormont.
Three Dragon Guards were gathered here.
The desperadoes Tyrion had hired all dropped their weapons with a "thud" and knelt on the ground.
Bronn gripped his short sword, looked around, and finally released his hand in resignation.
"Fuck!"
Tyrion's body felt as if it had plunged into an ice cave. He stared blankly at this inescapable net. He knew he was finished.
"Lord Tyrion Lannister," Daario stepped forward, grinning at the the imp with his characteristic gold tooth. "My King heard you were hungry and specially prepared thirty wagons of 'feasts' for you."
He walked over and kicked open a sack. A pungent, musty smell wafted out. Inside were black and green poisonous wheat.
"This is..." Tyrion's voice trembled.
"This is food the King gives to rats," Daario's smile vanished. "And you, you are the fattest rat."
"You... how did you know..."
"You want to know why?" Daario squatted down and leaned close to Tyrion's ear. "Because the winter raventold us everything."
"...The raven?" Tyrion was bewildered.
"Oh, right, you might be more familiar with her other name," Daario showed a malicious smile.
"Sansa Stark."
"Boom—!"
The name was like an invisible heavy hammer, striking Tyrion's skull hard! His mind went blank!
Sansa? That "little bird"? The girl he thought was suffering, struggling, and crying out for his help?
She... she had been acting from the beginning? She had been planning against him from the start? She was the hunter who had set the trap?!
"No... no... impossible..." Tyrion collapsed to the ground, distraught. This blow was even more despairing than being surrounded by five hundred men.
"Nothing is impossible, little lion," Daario stood up and waved his hand. "Take them all back. The King wants to settle accounts personally."
...At the same time. Red Keep, King's study.
Aegon was dealing with military reports from the North.
"Your Majesty," Sansa walked in, her face devoid of any emotion.
"They've been caught," she stated calmly. "Daario is already on his way back to the Red Keep, escorting Tyrionand Bronn."
"Very good," Aegon didn't even lift his head.
"So," Sansa paused, "that messenger... Shae. She's still waiting for 'good news' in my room. Do you need me to deal with her now?"
Her voice was cold.
As if dealing with a "companion" she had once spent day and night with was like brushing a speck of dust off her clothes.
Aegon finally put down his pen.
He looked up, watching this increasingly ruthless raven with interest.
"No," he smiled. "She still has one last use."
He stood up. "Come, my winter raven. It's time for you to personally feed your little sparrow."
...Throne Room. Brightly lit.
Tyrion Lannister and Bronn were heavily thrown down at the foot of the iron throne's cold steps.
Aegon looked down from his high position at his prisoners.
"Tyrion Lannister," the King's voice echoed in the empty hall. "You have committed treason. You not only conspired to intercept the King's supplies, you also attempted to poison the people of King's Landing with highly toxic grain."
"I didn't!" Tyrion suddenly looked up and roared. "That poisonous grain was yours! It was your trap!"
"Oh?" Aegon feigned surprise. "Where's the evidence? Everyone present only saw you and your sellswords robbing the grain, and the grain was poisoned. There is both human testimony and physical evidence."
"You... you tyrant!"
"I am a tyrant?" Aegon laughed. "A tyrant who distributes cheap bread to the people? And you, this Lannister hero, want to poison them? Who do you think the people will believe?"
Tyrion was speechless.
He knew he was doomed to die, and would bear the most vicious infamy.
"However," Aegon changed the subject, "I am a benevolent King. I can give you a fair trial."
He clapped his hands.
The side door of the hall opened.
Sansa Stark walked in expressionlessly.
Behind her, two black Dragon Guards were escorting a trembling woman.
—Shae.
Shae let out a desperate scream when she saw Tyrion, tied up like a dumpling, at the foot of the steps!
"My lord!"
"Shae!" Tyrion was also stunned.
"Tyrion Lannister," Aegon's voice was full of malicious amusement.
"You can choose trial by combat. Your champion," he pointed to Bronn nearby, "against my Dragon Guardscaptain, Daario Naharis. If he wins, you and he can go to the Night's Watch at the Wall."
"And if he loses?" Bronn asked coldly.
"You die," Aegon said concisely.
"Or..." The King's gaze turned to Shae, who was already paralyzed with fear.
"You can testify. Testify against your accomplice, testify against the person who instigated you to contact Tyrion, the true 'traitor.'"
Aegon's finger slowly rose, pointing to... "...Sansa Stark" beside him.
"What?!" Tyrion and Shae simultaneously looked up in shock!
Sansa also trembled violently! She looked at Aegon on the iron throne in disbelief!
He... what was he doing?! Was he betraying her?!
Aegon's face revealed a profound smile.
"Come, Tyrion. Choose."
"Will you choose a trial by combat with a ninety percent chance of death, or will you drag your 'little bird' with you... to hell?"
"Now tell me, what is your 'justice'?"
Chapter 90 The Settlement of the Pieces
A deathly silence hung in the Throne Room.
Every crackle of the burning torches sounded deafening.
Tyrion Lannister's mind raced.
He looked at Aegon, high above.
He looked at Daario, his face cold and bloodthirsty.
He looked at Bronn, who had once fought alongside him but now wore a grave expression.
He looked at Shae, cowering and trembling at the Guards's feet.
Finally, his gaze fell upon Sansa Stark's face.
Sansa's body trembled slightly, her face drained of color.
She was also looking at the King.
Her blue eyes were filled with shock and fear, which she tried desperately to suppress.
She thought she was the hunter.
She thought she was the King's hound.
In the end... was she just a pawn to be discarded at any moment?
The King was using her as bait.
Bait to test Tyrion's last shred of "humanity."
If Tyrion chose to accuse her... she had no doubt that this black heart demon King would laugh and throw both her and Tyrion into the dungeon!
At this moment, Sansa truly understood what it meant to "serve a king as if serving a dragon."
"Your Majesty..."
A voice broke the deadlock.
It wasn't Tyrion, it was Bronn.
The sellsword slowly straightened up and glanced at Daario:
"Trial by combat? Me, against him?"
"If I win, we go to the Wall; if I lose, I die."
Bronn scoffed.
He turned to Tyrion:
"the imp, I still haven't received the gold and women you promised me in the Arryn Valley last time.
And now, you want me to risk my life against a Dragon Guards Captain for your pathetic little life?"
"...Bronn." Tyrion's voice was hoarse.
"I'm a sellsword," Bronn shrugged, "I sell my skills, not my life."
He unbuckled his sword and threw it on the ground.
"I'm out. I won't be his champion."
This action completely extinguished Tyrion's first path to survival.
"A wise choice." Aegon nodded approvingly.
He liked people who knew how to adapt.
Tyrion's heart sank to the bottom.
He had only one choice left.
He slowly raised his head and looked at Sansa.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He hated her—
Hated her betrayal,
Hated her deception,
Hated how she had made a fool of him.
He just had to open his mouth,
Just had to say: "It was her! Everything was orchestrated by Sansa Stark!"
And he could drag this traitor down into the abyss with him!
He could watch her icy mask shatter completely!
"I..." Tyrion began.
Sansa's body tensed to the extreme.
Just then—
"It was her!!"
A sharp female voice pierced the hall!
It was Shae!
She scrambled up from the ground, rushed to the foot of the iron throne, and shrieked hysterically, pointing at Sansa Stark:
"It was Sansa Stark!
It was her! Everything was her idea!
Your Majesty! You've been deceived by her!"
Shae had completely broken down.
She thought she had grasped the last straw.
"She told me you were a 'monster'!
She told me you were afraid of the'storm from the east'!
She sold the grain intelligence to Lord Tyrion!
I was just a messenger! I don't know anything! Your Majesty!!"
Shae frantically kowtowed,
Spilling all the "secrets" between her and Sansa.
Tyrion was stunned.
He looked at Shae, who was like a madwoman,
Then looked at Sansa, who stood at the center of the storm.
And Sansa, after her initial trembling,
As she listened to Shae's accusations, one after another,
She instead calmed down.
She slowly closed her eyes,
When she opened them again, her blue eyes held only an icy, dead silence.
She met the King's scrutinizing gaze,
And slowly walked forward,
Stopping in front of Shae.
"...Poor thing."
Sansa's voice was as light as a feather,
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
Shae suddenly looked up: "You... you..."
"Your Majesty," Sansa turned and gracefully curtsied to the iron throne,
She didn't even glance at Tyrion,
"This handmaiden, Shae, is Tyrion Lannister's spy planted in the Red Keep, and his mistress.
I had already reported this to Your Majesty.
I promoted her to personal handmaiden precisely to monitor her and find her handler.
I didn't expect her to be so deranged, turning on me and trying to slander me after being exposed.
As for the things she said..."
Sansa's lips curved into a cold, mocking smile,
"...Your Majesty, do you think I would be so foolish as to tell your'secrets' to a prostitute whom I already knew was a spy?"
"You... you're lying!!" Shae shrieked, "You venomous woman!!"
"I'm lying?" Sansa looked down at her,
"You said I passed information to Tyrion,
Then may I ask, what 'information' did I pass?
Was it a 'trap' to make him walk into his own demise?"
"I..." Shae was speechless.
She finally realized the fatal logical flaw!
Tyrion also felt as if struck by lightning!
A bone-chilling coldness rose up his spine.
He finally understood,
He completely understood.
Sansa wasn't asking him for help,
Nor was she using him.
She was "executing" the King's orders!
She and the King had put on a flawless act together!
From beginning to end, he had just been a clown, played in their hands!
And Aegon's so-called "choice" just now,
Wasn't testing him, Tyrion,
But rather testing Sansa Stark!
Testing whether she would break down and beg for mercy when faced with the desperate situation of "being sacrificed,"
Or if she would... remain utterly ruthless and turn the tables, just like now!
She passed the test.
Aegon showed a satisfied smile on the iron throne.
"Excellent."
He clapped his hands.
"Sansa Stark, my 'winter raven,' you have done very well."
He publicly declared her victory,
Which also amounted to a death sentence for the other two.
"Your Majesty... no... please..." Shae despaired.
"Daario," Aegon didn't bother to look at her anymore, "This woman slandered a high-ranking minister of the King, an even greater crime. Drag her away and hang her in the Red Keep's dungeon. Let all the servants witness it; this is the fate of traitors."
"No—! Tyrion!! Save me!! Save me—!!"
Shae's screams were roughly dragged away by the Guardss, disappearing at the hall's entrance.
Tyrion closed his eyes.
There was no sadness on his face, only a deathly pallor.
"So, what about me?" he asked hoarsely.
"You?" Aegon stood up,
"Your game with the Lannister is over, Tyrion.
But your game with me has just begun.
You are a talent, too valuable to kill.
Moreover, your surname is very valuable.
You will be imprisoned in the dungeon beneath the Blackwater Rush.
You will write a letter to your father, Tywin Lannister, telling him you are a guest in King's Landing.
Until he hands over Casterly Rock and all the gold in the Westerlands, you aren't going anywhere."
"You..." Tyrion opened his bloodshot eyes,
"You wish! My father wouldn't for me..."
"He will," Aegon interrupted him,
"Because I also have Jaime Lannister. He would not stand by and watch the Lannister lose two heirs at once."
"As for you," Aegon looked at Bronn,
"You are very clever. Daario will arrange a position for you in the 'Black Dragon' legion. Your salary will be ten times what it was before."
Bronn paused, then flashed a mercenary smile.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
"Take him away."
Aegon waved his hand.
Tyrion Lannister was dragged away by the Guardss like a dead dog.
As he passed Sansa Stark, he used all his strength to raise his head.
He stared intensely at the beautiful face he had once "protected."
"You killed him," he whispered,
"You killed that 'little bird.'"
Sansa's eyelashes trembled slightly.
She didn't lower her head,
But simply stared coldly at the empty hall ahead.
"Winter has already come," she replied softly, "little birdcannot survive. Only ravens can feast on carrion."