Chapter 743

“This… I implore Your Grace to reconsider!” Aegor had, of course, caught the Queen’s implication, but he had to feign ignorance to properly make his case. “You are the sole legitimate ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the head of the Targaryen Empire, the center of all policy and power—indeed, even the prophesied ‘Prince That Was Promised’ in the eyes of R’hllor’s followers and the soon-to-be-established new faith. You are sacred, unique. If you were to suddenly take a husband, it would shatter your aura—make the world abruptly realize that you are, after all, just a woman…

“Not to mention, what of your husband’s identity? How much power and glory would he claim from you? What role would he play in the religious order forming around you? Each of these questions is a thorny issue.

“Furthermore, given your unmatched stature, who in the known world possesses the status, renown, and qualifications to wed you? No matter whom you marry, it will be a step down. Entering any noble house as a wife would completely disrupt the balance of power within the empire. Your marriage is not just a private affair—it is a matter of imperial and global stability. Your Grace must think carefully!”

“That is indeed the perspective of a diligent Hand of the Queen,” Daenerys remarked, watching him with a half-smile. “Most of your points, I agree with—except for one.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice laced with amusement. “Right here, in this very room, there is a man who is a hero of humanity, a conqueror of two great Free Cities, and the chosen agent of R’hllor on earth… A man who belongs to no noble house.” Her violet eyes gleamed. “Are you saying even he is unqualified to marry me?”

There was only one man in the room.

She might as well have replaced “this man” with “you” and thrown the marriage contract directly into Aegor’s hands.

Daenerys had never been one for coyness. She was no blushing maiden but a ruler who had weathered storms both literal and political. To her, love and marriage were not things a queen waited passively for; she seized what she wanted.

Her proposal to Aegor was not made lightly. If asked, she would say it was his talents, his abilities, and his personal charm that drew her in—that their shared ideals and battles had forged a deep bond between them.

That was not a lie. But beneath these rational justifications lay deeper, more calculating motives:

Only through marriage could she fully rein in such a brilliant and formidable man, ensuring that he remained by her side.

Only by binding his achievements to her own could she lay claim to his triumphs.

And most importantly—

Only through their union could her heirs one day inherit, seamlessly and without dispute, the Wall’s domain, the Stormlands, the wealth of the Night’s Watch, and the highly profitable military-industrial complex that churned out coin like a royal mint. It was a move that would further centralize power and solidify the strength of the empire.

…

Aegor had expected her to respond favorably, but this level of directness caught him slightly off guard. He could no longer play dumb.

Rising swiftly from his chair, he crossed the short distance between them in two steps and took a seat beside her. Without hesitation, he grasped her right hand in both of his, pressing it to his chest.

“I am overwhelmed by Your Grace’s favor,” he said, his eyes locked with hers in apparent sincerity. “But I am a man of the Night’s Watch. I have sworn never to take a wife, never to father children—”

“You do know that a king has the authority to release a man from his vows, don’t you?” Daenerys interjected. She disliked having to spell things out, but she was willing to make allowances—Aegor, after all, came from a culture different from Westeros.

“I do.” Aegor nodded, but his expression remained troubled. “Yet, Your Grace, you must understand—the Night’s Watch vow is sworn before oneself, not before any king. A royal pardon does not erase my oath—it merely proclaims that my breaking of it is permitted and will not be punished.

“In this, Your Grace’s authority shields me, but it does not cleanse me of my transgression.”

He exhaled. “For an empire built upon the loyalty and oaths of millions, nothing is more disastrous than having one of its rulers be a known oathbreaker. No ruler is perfect, but a sovereign—no matter how honest—must never openly disregard the very principles they ask their people to uphold.

“If I were to accept Your Grace’s ‘release’ from my vow and marry you, I would be staining your reign with my betrayal. I would sully your divine and righteous rule with my own dishonor. I would make you—"

His voice dropped. “—a queen condemned by history.”

“So that’s a no?!”

The warmth vanished from Daenerys’s face.

She hadn’t expected to throw herself forward, only to be met with a cold shoulder. Scowling, she tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it fast.

“Fine! Go be a Night’s Watchman, then! I have suitors lined up from the Great Sept to the Dragonpit!”

Aegor knew he had pushed far enough. Maintaining his persona was crucial, but angering the queen too much would be unwise.

“Your Grace, my heart, my life, my everything is yours!” He slid from his seat to kneel beside her, still clasping her hand tightly. “At your command, I would march through fire and blood—why would I hesitate to remove a simple black cloak? There is no man in the world who wishes to marry you more than I. But if I can so easily forsake my vows to the Night’s Watch, what proof would you have that I would not also break my vows to you, to the realm, to anything?

“I cannot, for my own selfish desire, place you in a position of dishonor. I cannot risk casting a shadow over the empire we are building together.

“But there must be a way—” His grip tightened. “A way to resolve this problem.”

Daenerys frowned, pouting slightly. Though annoyed, a voice in her mind whispered that Aegor was, in truth, thinking of her well-being. Perhaps she had been too hasty.

Sighing, she crossed her arms. “Then think of one.”

Aegor already was.

He wasn’t stalling just to toy with her. His concerns weren’t merely about appearances; they were deeply entwined with his resources, his position, and the structures of power he had painstakingly built.

When he was just a common soldier of the Night’s Watch, he had been prepared to abandon his post at the first opportunity. But now? That same black cloak had become a source of influence, a shield, a title that granted him authority. He had no reason to throw it away carelessly.

Finally, he spoke.

“I see two paths forward,” he said, still gripping her hand. “The first: You abolish the Night’s Watch entirely, replacing it with a royal military force. This would free every brother of the Watch, allowing me to be just one among many who leave. Given a year or two, the matter of my vows would be forgotten. However, this would also eliminate a convenient system for disposing of political prisoners and criminals.”

Daenerys listened intently.

“The second,” he continued, “is for Your Grace to declare that you are wed—not to a man, but to the realm itself. A queen who dedicates herself wholly to her empire, forsaking personal marriage in favor of the people. With the right policies and public support, this could win immense favor among the populace and strengthen your rule.”

He paused before adding, “And I would swear to remain at your side, to serve you unwaveringly, just as faithfully as I have worn this black cloak—until my final breath.”

Daenerys had nearly settled on the first option, but the second caught her off guard.

Marry the realm? The idea was so absurdly grand that it almost… fit.

She imagined her epitaph: Daenerys Targaryen, Founder of the Empire—The Queen Who Wed Her People.

It was ridiculous.

It was… glorious.

A slow smirk crept onto her lips. “I haven’t decided yet,” she murmured. “But… stay tonight. Tell me more about this ‘marriage to the realm.’ I need details before I make my choice.”