Varys walked through the dark tunnels of Maegor's holdfast with ease as he knew the secret tunnels beneath this part of the Red Keep like the back of his hand.
He found it amusing that right now, above his head, Stannis Baratheon had placed much of the ladies in the court in Maegor's holdfast. There were no nefarious intentions in the Baratheon king's actions in the beginning, but now the situation was no longer the same.
It was glaringly obvious what the man was doing after Jon Arryn was murdered. Stannis Baratheon was cordoning off the Red Keep and the entire city in the hopes of capturing Petyr Baelish, the man behind the alleged assassination of the Hand. But all those restrictive actions in the hopes of catching a wee Vale lord would not only prove fruitless but also wouldn't do any favours for the king.
Varys finally reached the small holding cell deep under Maegor's holdfast. The oil lamp he was carrying dimmed slightly, but he passed the fire to the candles in the area. The dark cell lit up, and Varys smiled at the prisoner inside.
"I'm back, my friend." Varys said cheerfully at his esteemed prisoner, "Look! I even brought you your favourite sausage and cake."
Only a muffled groan could be heard from the prison cell, but he was not let down by the dull reception. He was always one to look at the brighter side, even in the dark spots of this massive castle.
"Oh, don't be like that. I assumed you'd be happy to see your saviour." Varys said with an affronted look as he stared at the bound man by the chains inside the cell.
Baelish spat tiredly from inside the cell, making Varys titter. Even after getting starved for days and bound closely against the cell wall, the defiance was yet to bleed away from Littlefinger's tired but heated gaze.
"Oh my! You still remain as ungrateful as ever, Lord Baelish." Varys tutted as he took a small bite of the cake, "Here I was, your colleague and admirer of many years, bringing you some delicacies that you like but rudely spurn my generosity…"
"Then again… this is not the first time you've been ungrateful to those you owe much. Lord Hoster Tully comes to my mind." Varys said with an amused titter as he watched Baelish strain against the chains, "The poor man was so heartbroken when the inconsequential heir of a remote land in the Vale betrayed his trust and impregnated his younger daughter."
"What do you want?" Baelish asked gravelly.
"What makes you think I want something, my young friend?" Varys asked with his lips tilted in amusement as he set the plate of food inside the cell close to the reach of his prisoner.
"Otherwise, I'd be dead. There is no reason to keep me alive unless you need something from me." Baelish declared tiredly, "What do you want? What is your price, Spider?"
Varys stared at the thin Vale lord for a moment before breaking out into fits of giggles.
"Oh, my! It'd seem I have severely underestimated your sense of self-importance, Lord Baelish. For you to think that I have need of you…" Varys shook his head disappointedly and tittered while pressing his mouth against the sleeve of his robe to muffle the sound.
He couldn't help but stare at the man with disappointment. It was true he considered Petyr Baelish a dangerous foe, but the circumstances have changed considerably in the past few years. Baelish's usual ploys were severely disrupted, with a dedicated Small Council administering the realm under the watchful eyes of King Stannis. Under King Robert, the Vale lord had thrived, but Stannis was wholly different from his brother.
To make matters worse for the Master of Coin, one of Baelish's schemes had spectacularly unravelled at the seams, thanks to the Northerners making themselves more assertive. Varys watched all of this from afar with amusement and prodded things along in the right direction, forcing Jon Arryn to take action. As he expected, Jon Arryn arranged for Lord Royce to investigate the involvement of the Sistermen and the lords of the Fingers.
From there, it was a mad scramble by Littlefinger, who tried every trick in the great game to survive the coming storm until finally realising the only way forward was to remove the Old Falcon from the board. Varys still marvelled at how easy it was to manipulate all the pieces on the board against each other to do his bidding.
But he genuinely mourned the passing of Jon Arryn. The man was old and a capable administrator. The man had flaws, but Jon Arryn was someone who earned his respect. It was too bad the man's finest quality was his loyalty, which unfortunately meant there was no space for the Old Falcon when House Targaryen reclaimed the Iron Throne.
He had a similar concern in regard to the Warden of the North. But he was more than happy to let the Martells try their hand.
"No, Littlefinger. I have no use for you. I'm merely keeping you here because it suits me that you remain alive and would serve as a rather wonderful gift to a prospective powerful friend." Varys said serenely, enjoying the look of shock, anger and desperation shining in Littlefinger's beady eyes.
"I suggest that you adjust to living in this dark, cold place. The Targaryens built this place for holding their worst enemies. Consider yourself honoured for being mattered enough in this Game of Thrones to warrant this hospitality." said Varys before turning to take his leave but paused halfway.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I thank you for the chaos you've unleashed in the city with your hasty escape attempt. I'll be sure to make use of it in the most useful manner in the coming days."
Varys dipped his head slightly as a sign of respect before retracing his steps.
He emerged from the secret tunnels beneath Maegor's holdfast and made his way straight to the Small Council chamber. There, he found the King sitting at the head of the table with the Commander of the City Watch, Ser Eustace Brune, standing rigid to the side with a worried look. Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Arys Oakhart stood behind the king, ever watchful in their white cloaks. Ser Davos Seaworth stood a respectful distance behind the king, but the Onion Knight stood closer to the Kingsguard knights.
"I'm afraid I have disappointing news, your grace. Lord Baelish has most likely escaped, as has Lady Arryn. Ser Mandon Moore has led the search on your orders, but I have reason to believe they've taken the Rosby Road, and we may lose them soon." Varys reported calmly.
"So, the incident at the Iron Gate…?" Ser Davos prodded with a curious look.
"It was Lady Arryn and her guards. It seems she fled the city in secret or at least tried so. The fighting broke out when the guards recognised Lady Aryn's party and tried to send a rider to the Red Keep." Varys informed the men gathered there.
"The men of the City Watch can attest to this, your grace. There are many witnesses to the incident. Lady Arryn's guards attacked and killed most of the guards guarding the Iron Gate before making her escape." Ser Brune said.
Varys smiled internally upon hearing that. It was his luck that Littlefinger chose the Iron Gate to make his escape. He wasn't the least bit bothered by Lady Arryn and her son's escape since he managed to intercept Littlefinger. Capturing Littlefinger was almost too easy. All he had to do was buy the services of Littlefinger's men, who were happy to deliver their master in exchange for a fat sum of gold and a promise of a manse in Pantos.
Of course, those men were now being enjoyed by the fish at the bottom of the Blackwater.
"Why make an escape like this?" Stannis asked with a frown.
The answer to that question came when the doors to the Small Council chambers opened, showing Grandmaester Gormon.
"Your grace, it was poison!" the Grandmaester said, haggard from running all the way, "It's beyond doubt now. Someone used Tears of Lys on the Lord Hand."
"And we all know who – Littlefinger." Varys pitched in, startling the men in the chamber.
"Lord Baelish?" Stannis asked with a thunderous look.
"Yes, your grace. I'm not aware whether Lord Arryn appraised you about a situation in the Vale involving the Sistermen."
"He did." Stannis nodded with pursed lips.
"Did Lord Arryn also inform you that Lord Baelish was implicated in the pirate activities of the Sistermen and the Three Sisters and the Fingers playing host to Myrish pirates harassing the North's ships?" Varys asked.
One look at the King's face let him know that the Lord Hand was not forthcoming with all the details.
"On orders of Lord Arryn, I have been gathering information to ascertain the claims made by the prisoners taken by the North. As we speak, Lord Yohn Royce is investigating the Fingers under the orders of the Hand. We hoped to approach you with evidence of Lord Baelish's involvement, but now…" Varys trailed off, leaving the rest to their imagination.
"Now it's all but certain of that traitor's involvement, and he poisoned my Hand." Stannis said with gritted teeth.
All were silent in the Small Council chamber as they watched the King stew in silent rage.
"What is Lady Arryn's role in all this?" Stannis asked, looking straight into Varys' eyes.
"I'm afraid either she is a willing accomplice, or Littlefinger has spun a fantastical tale to manipulate her, your grace."
"You're sure they escaped the city.?" Stannis asked after a brief moment of silence to think.
"I'm afraid so, your grace. For now, they've taken the Rosby Road. They might be trying to take a ship out of Duskandale or making the appearance to do so to throw us off the trail. I'll have my little birds scour the Crownlands for the traitors, your grace." Varys said with a bow.
"Find them! I want them both found, and we'll wring the truth from their tongues." Stannis ordered before turning his blazing blue eyes on Grandmaester Gormon, "Send ravens to all the Crownland lords. Petyr Baelish is a traitor, and anyone who brings him alive to my court will have the favour of the Iron Throne."
Varys retreated to a dark corner in the chamber and keenly observed King Stannis as plans were made. It'd be all for nought because conflict was brewing in the underbelly of the city, not on account of Jon Arryn's death but because of religion. However, Varys knew how to use the Hand's death as fuel to fan the flames of the simmering discontent among the two groups.
****
Robb Stark was getting tired of sitting in one spot for so long that he feared he had become a tree with roots firmly planted in the seat. He had to suffer through the discomfort because of his station as the heir to Winterfell. He was the next head of House Stark after his father, which made him obligated to attend this meeting.
Though bored out of his mind, he tried to focus on what Prince Oberyn was saying to the best of his efforts.
"House Nymeros Martell follows the Rhoynish inheritance laws. The firstborn, regardless of gender, inherits Sunspear, which in turn makes them the future ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne. My niece stands to inherit Sunspear. Therefore, her firstborn must take the Martell name and become the heir of Sunspear. Is this acceptable?"
Robb looked from Prince Oberyn to his father to see whether his father had any objections.
"I understand the need for seamless succession, and it's a reasonable request. We are in agreement." said Eddard, agreeing with the Prince's condition. "I assume the scribe can add the note…"
"Wait a moment, Lord Stark. In case my niece delivers more than two children we'd like the first two to have the Martell name. We have to secure the succession, and as you know, the future of newborn children is uncertain in their formative years."
"That's a bit unreasonable." said Eddard, frowning at the Dornish Prince, "We cannot know whether Harrion and Princess Arianne would have more children."
"Oh, trust me. Arianne prefers to have more than three children, and I suspect Harrion would be happy to make that happen." Prince Oberyn said with an amused smirk.
Robb's cheeks flushed red at the implications of Prince Oberyn's words. He had the disturbing image of Harrion and Princess Arianne with a room full of children in his head, and no matter his efforts, that image refused to leave his mind.
His mind wandered when his father started pushing back, arguing for Harrion's second child be named Stark and inherit Avalon. He didn't know whether Harry even cared enough for any of his children with Princess Arianne to inherit Avalon. Knowing his brother's dalliances with Nymeria Sand and Alaenera, he suspected his brother would have more than enough children to inherit Avalon. But he didn't say that out loud and instead powered through the negotiations.
He eyed his father once again as his father was off his normal self after word reached from the south about Jon Arryn's passing. The news from the south was few, and anything they heard from word of mouth was heavily embellished. Rumours coming from the south spoke of the capital being locked down and Lord Arryn being assassinated using poison.
Such rumours kept his father on edge, and he knew why.
The possibility of another war breaking out was too much for his father, especially with tempers flaring over the situation with the Sistermen. Another raven came from White Harbour yesterday, and Robb was not surprised to see that it was about the pirates. His brother threatened direct action against the Sistermen and the Vale with the latest pirate incident. This couldn't have happened at the most unfortunate time, as Jon Arryn's death threw everything into the wind. His father hadn't said anything so far about the issue, but Robb couldn't see any other way except to go to war against the Sistermen.
Finally, a recess was called after going back and forth for a while, and Robb took the opportunity to find his elusive brothers, whom he hadn't seen since sunrise. Therefore, he went straight to Maester Marwyn, who arranged for one of the Valkyrie to lead him to his brothers. He was quite surprised to learn that his brothers were spending time in the magic trunk where the dragons lived. He'd have thought they'd be out doing something with the fleet, as he knew his brothers were planning attacks on the Three Sisters.
After getting into the trunk with some help, he found himself in an entirely different landscape. When his brother had told him about this place, he was dumbfounded that something like this could be possible. It was magic that created a world within a world. He had never heard of such magic, not even in the stories told by Old Nan.
Robb shielded his eyes as gales of wind blew dust as Jon landed atop his golden dragon before him quite noisily. He just stared warily at the giant beast as Jon climbed down from the saddle on the dragon's back.
"Where is Harrion?"
"He should be coming right up there." said Jon, pointing to a flat grassland on the side of the hill where they were standing.
"Is that a bunch of strawmen?" Robb asked, squinting his eyes to see a row of them fixed on the ground.
"Oh, yeah. It's for training." said Jon.
"What training?" Robb asked.
A howl of wind and a flap of wings followed by a roar from Jon's dragon later, Robb watched with wide eyes as the ice dragon swooped in out of nowhere and breathed ice into the row of strawmen on the ground.
"Did that dragon grow bigger?" Robb asked as he watched the ice-dragon climb back into the sky from the dive in quick order.
"They both did. They've been growing much faster these days. I don't know why but Harry thinks the dragons are mirroring the strengthening of magic in the world."
"Really! Fascinating." Robb muttered. "So, what're you two doing with the dragons?"
"Training them for the war with the Sistermen." said Jon.
"Wait, what?" Robb looked at his brother with wide eyes.
"You know… the war. It is almost inevitable now." Jon shrugged nonchalantly.
"I don't think father wants things to escalate."
"It's not about what any of us want. The pirates are a problem, and they aren't going away on their own. We'll have to make them go away, and Harry thinks this is the best time to use the dragons on the battlefield." said Jon.
But Robb wasn't as confident as his brother in this plan.
"Are we really ready to declare the birth of dragons and showcase them by using them on a battlefield? Once we use them, it's a possibility that people will look closely into you, Jon and when they do and if they find out the truth…" Robb trailed off, gazing at his brother with a concerned look.
"Harry also has a dragon under his command. No one is going to suspect much, and even if they put together the truth, it won't matter. The North is now strong enough to withstand anything of Stannis Baratheon makes it an issue."
Robb could agree with that sentiment. At least, Stannis Baratheon won't be a threat as he suspected the Baratheon king would be busy dealing with other issues much closer to his seat of power. But there were others who'd be happy to use Jon's parentage to stir up trouble. After all, with a fire-breathing dragon under Jon's command and being a son of the Last Dragon, it'd be only natural that some might view Jon as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.
That particular fight would naturally pit multiple kingdoms against the North, which was not a good thing to think about. On the other hand, Robb thought Jon would do a much better job of ruling the Seven Kingdoms. With a dragon and the North's support, it was not unimaginable to see his brother as the king. In fact, he felt like Jon was owed that position as a right, considering the suffering Aunt Lyanna went through.
"Oh, you don't have to worry so much, brother." Jon said, patting Robb's shoulder, "No one is going to believe wild tales of dragons burning the Sistermen for a while. They'll just think it's the airship, and I bet the southerners will be too busy fighting amongst themselves to see the truth about what it is."
"I guess you're right." Robb said with a sigh before a playful glint entered his eyes, "What do you think the Dornish will do when they find we have dragons?"
"Ha! I'd bet they'll insist Harrion marry their princess within the week." Jon said with a smirk.
"I bet he likes that. He is smitten by those Dornish women. He thinks he is so secretive with those late-night dalliances with Prince Oberyn's daughter." Robb said, sharing a grin with his brother.
Suddenly, the ground shook as Winter landed nearby, with Harry staring at them both from atop the gleaming crystal-like body of the dragon.
"What're you two whispering about?" Harry asked.
"Just wondering the faces those Sistermen will make when dragons rain death upon their cowardly heads." said Robb, earning a wicked grin from Harry, which promised nothing but trouble for the Sistermen.
AN:
To read ahead of the update schedule; pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre.
For artwork related to the fic:
https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf