GOT: The Great — Chapter 297 - Littlefinger Could Not Escape Death After All

Drogo knew he couldn't keep relying on the Great Stallion's prophecies and the Lord of Light's visions to fool people. He needed hard evidence.

When he sent the Second Sons' deputy commander to the Wall to find Ygritte, he passed along a message for Jon Snow: don't kill Janos Slynt.

Jon took the advice. When Janos defied his orders, Jon didn't behead him, he had him locked up instead.

Now Drogo pointed to the man accusing Littlefinger and said, "This is the former Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing — Janos Slynt. He was there the day Baelish held a blade to Eddard Stark's throat. And he had a hand in it."

Janos Slynt wore a black Night's Watch cloak, the fur trim on his shoulders worn bare, the coarse fabric underneath showing through. His wrists were shackled. Two Thenns had escorted him in.

He'd been locked up in Castle Black for a good while. The weight had fallen off him, and the loose flesh of his face now hung slack.

"After King Robert died, Lord Baelish came to me and told me to outwardly follow the Hand of the King's orders." He paused, then continued. "Then, when Lord Eddard moved to confront Queen Mother Cersei, I was to turn on him at the last moment and catch him off guard."

He stopped and licked his lips. "He turned me with the lordship of Harrenhal. He knew I was a butcher's son. He knew I dreamed of being a lord."

"Not long after that, Tyrion Lannister had me exiled to the Wall to serve in the Night's Watch."

He raised his shackled hands and pointed at Baelish. "And you, Littlefinger — you became the new Lord of Harrenhal."

Baelish stood at Bronze Yohn's side, all color gone from his face.

"Slander." He spread his hands and turned to face the hall. "A corrupt official banished to the Wall — a man who sold positions, took bribes. Corrupt, greedy, and utterly without honor. You would take the word of someone like that?"

Drogo waited to see if anyone would answer Littlefinger's defense before he spoke again.

"Barristan Selmy serves as my Kingsguard in King's Landing. I can fly back to collect him and return inside a day." He let that sit for a moment. "When Barristan stands here and tells this hall what happened that day, I don't think anyone will accuse Barristan Selmy of lying."

He walked over and rested a hand on Janos's shoulder. Janos flinched and pulled his neck in.

"I kept Janos Slynt alive and made him a witness for one reason, because he knows what went on behind the scenes." He turned back to Baelish. "He knows all your dirty dealings, Lord Baelish. Every last one. He remembers." He looked at Janos. "Don't you?"

"Yes." Janos nodded frantically.

Baelish's mouth hung open. He had nothing left to say.

Drogo walked back to his seat. "There's also the matter of sending someone to kill Bran Stark. The dagger that assassin carried was yours, Valyrian steel, dragonbone hilt, one of the rarest blades in all of Westeros."

"You told Lady Catelyn it was the Imp's doing. Said it to her yourself. But that dagger is yours. You can't deny it."

Lady Stoneheart's hand wrenched itself free from beneath Sansa's and came down on the table as a fist. The wine cup toppled. Red wine soaked into the weave of the tablecloth and spread, slow and dark, like blood pooling from a wound.

She rose to her feet. The eyes behind her veil burned with a light that did not belong to the living.

Her voice was like a millstone grinding bone, forcing each word out one at a time.

"You sent the assassin. Bran was seven years old, he was only seven. You made me seize the Imp. You made me take him to the Eyrie. You made me do something foolish."

Her voice climbed higher and higher. The last word tore itself from her throat and came out as a hoarse, broken rasp.

Sansa stood. She didn't look at Baelish. She just moved to her mother's side.

Lady Stoneheart's hand was shaking. Sansa reached out and laid her own hand over the back of it, pressing down and holding it there, holding until the trembling slowly stilled.

Sansa didn't cry. Her eyes were just a little red, lips pressed tight together. From start to finish, she never once looked at Baelish.

"Before you ever came to Rosby, I already knew everything you had done," Drogo said. "But the crimes you committed against the Starks, those happened before I crossed the sea. Before I married Sansa."

"So I gave you a chance. Otherwise I could have killed you that day in Rosby."

He paused. "I thought you were a clever man who knew which side to stand on. I have three dragons and hundreds of thousands of Dothraki riders, how could you back the wrong side?"

"I genuinely cannot understand it. What I understand even less is that after I took King's Landing and captured the entire Lannister family, you still sent assassins to kill me."

"Explain it to me, Lord Baelish. Why?"

Baelish's eyes filled with tears, his expression hollowed out with regret.

"Lord Tywin sent me to Braavos. That's where I heard what you had done in Essos."

"You champion the Provincial Governor System. You abolished the lords and replaced them with your own officials."

"I spent half my life scheming and calculating to reach the seat of Lord of Harrenhal, how could I stand by and let you take it from me?"

"Damn you." Drogo's voice stayed flat. "My policies aren't set in stone. Lands I take by force, I abolish the lords and install governors. Lands that submit willingly, the lords keep their titles. But I implement the inheritance division decree."

"Every one of your descendants has the right to inherit your lands. No longer does the eldest son alone swallow everything whole."

The backs of Baelish's knees buckled as if someone had yanked the bones out from under them. He went down hard, no cushioning, his knees cracked straight into the stone floor.

"Spare my life." He looked up. His lips were trembling. "I, I still have influence in the Vale. I can help you persuade the Vale lords to pledge loyalty. Harrenhal, I don't want Harrenhal anymore. I beg you. Let me start over. I have savings in Braavos. All of it, you can have all of it."

"Chaos is a ladder." Drogo looked down at him. "Your favorite line. You've climbed to the top of that ladder now. What's up there?"

Baelish's mouth hung open. His throat worked. No sound came out.

Drogo jerked his chin toward Tormund.

Tormund drew his dagger and walked over.

Bronze Yohn stood off to the side, sword already lowered to his flank. He glanced at Baelish kneeling on the ground, slid the blade back into its sheath, and stepped back one pace.

Tormund grabbed Baelish by the hair and wrenched his head back. The dagger drew across his throat in a single motion.

Blood sprayed across the stone floor. Baelish pitched forward, face striking stone, and did not move again.

His blood ran along the cracks between the flagstones, following the slope, trickling all the way to where Janos Slynt stood.

Margaery Tyrell had sat at Drogo's right hand the entire time and had not said a single word.

She held a cup of warm wine in both hands, rim resting against her lower lip, eyes fixed on the pool of blood since the moment Baelish fell.

Now she set down her cup and tapped the rim once with a fork, light and unhurried.

"You all know Harrenhal is cursed, don't you? Not one Lord of Harrenhal has ever come to a good end." She took a small sip. "And now it's vacant again."

Sansa turned to look at her. The two women held each other's gaze for a breath, then each looked away.

Drogo waved a hand at Janos. Back to the Wall. Back to your brothers.

Janos was hauled to his feet, shackles clanking and rattling as he was dragged out of the hall, crying and thanking everyone the whole way, his face a mess of snot and tears.

Bronze Yohn stood in the center of the hall. The Vale knights he'd brought with him stood beside him, all of them staring at the body on the floor that was still slowly bleeding out.

➤ Next: Someone Wants to Become a Dragon