Chapter 545

The amused glint in Daenerys’ eyes faded. Petyr Baelish rubbed his forehead in exasperation, while Varys allowed himself the faintest trace of a smile.

The room fell into utter silence.

The Unsullied who didn’t understand the Common Tongue glanced around, waiting for their comrades to translate, while those who did understand all turned their gazes toward their Queen. None of them had the mind to explain.

Daenerys furrowed her brow. She had a problem.

Judging by the facts, the Unsullied had indeed wrongfully detained Arya. As a guest in Winterfell, she had, technically, overstepped her bounds.

Under normal circumstances, admitting fault and offering an apology would not have been a big deal.

But she couldn’t agree to Aegor’s demand.

The men who arrested Arya were her guards. Their overreaction stemmed from their duty to protect her. If she forced them to apologize over a misunderstanding, what kind of precedent would that set? Next time, when they saw something suspicious, would they hesitate? Would they start second-guessing themselves, afraid of making another mistake?

Her safety could not be compromised for the sake of one girl’s hurt feelings.

And beyond that—everyone knew why House Stark had sworn fealty. They had simply waited too long to choose a side. They were lucky to be accepted at all. To now turn around and act as if they were owed something? Ridiculous.

If it had been House Stark making this demand, Daenerys would have immediately ordered them all imprisoned in the dungeons, stripped them of their lands, and granted the North to the Boltons.

But it wasn’t a Stark making the demand.

It was Aegor.

Her Lord Commander. The man she had placed so much trust in. The de facto ruler of Winterfell.

If she refused, she would be openly opposing him.

If she agreed, she would be humiliating the Unsullied.

Which path should she take?

Had Aegor simply not realized how inappropriate his demand was?

Or was his bond with House Stark so deep that he was willing to defy her?

If it was the former, then perhaps he was not as clever as she had thought.

If it was the latter… then his loyalty to her was not as unwavering as she had hoped.

Disappointment welled in her chest, quickly turning to irritation.

But she swallowed it down.

Her war was not yet won. She still needed this man.

She would let him have this victory.

She was no longer the naive fifteen-year-old girl who had once wandered the Free Cities, lost and powerless. Her time ruling Slaver’s Bay had taught her how to handle situations like this.

After a moment of silence, she devised a solution.
----


Before the gathered crowd, Daenerys rose from her chair.

With slow, deliberate steps, she descended the short platform and made her way toward Arya.

She paused beside Aegor, casting him a long, unreadable look.

Then she turned to the Stark girl and smiled.

"Lady Stark, I regret what has happened today. But I ask that you understand—my guards were merely doing their duty. They made no mistake, and thus, there is no one who must apologize."

Arya tensed, expecting some kind of condescending lecture.

But instead, Daenerys placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and softened her voice.

"But it is true that you were treated roughly, and that was not fair to you. This is my fault—I did not account for how my presence might disrupt your life here in your own home."

Her violet eyes locked onto Arya’s with quiet intensity.

"For that, I sincerely ask for your forgiveness."

Arya’s first instinct was to spit at her feet.

But Petyr was standing right behind her, blocking her way. She had nowhere to go, no way to escape this closeness.

She wanted to recoil from Daenerys’ touch, to pull away, but something—something she couldn’t name—made her freeze.

Up close, the Dragon Queen was even more beautiful than she had looked from afar.

And stranger still…

She didn’t seem so crazy.

Arya’s face flushed.

She quickly buried the thought, forcing herself to focus.

She knew this was the best possible outcome. Her mother and siblings were still in Winterfell—she couldn’t risk angering the Queen over her own pride.

"Fine," she muttered. "I… forgive you."

Her face, however, made it very clear she wasn’t happy about it.

Daenerys beamed.

"Thank you. Now, have you had breakfast yet? No? Come, join me."

"Absolutely not—" Arya started, but then paused.

Wait.

Her sword.

"Wait—my sword!"

"I will have Missandei return it to your room." Daenerys took Arya’s arm and—without looking back at Aegor or Baelish—simply walked out of the room, leading the stunned girl with her.

No one had expected this outcome.

Missandei, still holding Needle, rushed after them.

The Unsullied quickly reformed their ranks, following their Queen.

Even Varys hesitated only a moment before slipping out behind them, his expression unreadable.

Within seconds, the audience hall—tense and suffocating just moments ago—was nearly empty.

Only Aegor and Petyr remained.
----


"You idiot!"

Baelish had stood in stunned silence for a full ten seconds before he finally exploded.

"If Her Grace hadn’t thought quickly, how exactly were you planning to get out of that mess? I already explained everything to her before you arrived—she knew Arya wasn’t a real threat! Varys was waiting for you to make a mistake, and you—you—walked straight into his trap!"

"Lord Hand," Aegor said coolly. "I appreciate your concern, but I am not interested in discussing this further today."

Without another word, he turned toward the door.

Petyr fumed.

But the more he thought about it, the more something else bothered him.

Daenerys had been angry. That was obvious.

And yet, instead of reprimanding Aegor, instead of standing her ground—she had defused the situation.

She had compromised.

Not because she feared the soldiers he commanded.

But because Aegor mattered to her.

More than Petyr had expected.

More than Varys had expected.

And that was a fact he could not afford to ignore.
----


Petyr quickly reined in his frustration and caught up to Aegor.

"You made two mistakes," he said, lowering his voice.

"First—" he continued, "you made it too obvious how much you care for the Starks. The Queen noticed. And she is a woman before she is a ruler. Even if there’s no romantic attachment, she will never tolerate being placed second to another woman."

"Second," he said sharply, "you demanded an Unsullied apologize. The Queen’s personal guard."

"Even if it had been you, me, Varys, or even Robb Stark himself—none of us would have had the right to demand such a thing."

"If her father, Aerys, had been sitting on that throne instead of her, he would have had you burned alive for such an offense."

Aegor did acknowledge the validity of the point.

But his mind was already elsewhere.

"Lord Hand," he said, slowing his steps.

"In the land I come from, there is a saying: ‘A thief may steal for a thousand days, but a man cannot guard his house for a thousand days.’"

Petyr narrowed his eyes. "And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"

Aegor’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

"I mean, my lord… Have you ever considered solving our problem the easy way?"