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Chapter 50: Moves and Reactions.
🕑 Added 2024-08-24 04:41:16 +0000 UTCAuthor's note: It was getting way too big, so I’ll add the other POVs in some later chapters. Next, we're back to Robb. Hope y’all enjoy this chapter.
King's Landing.
Varys (Some hours after the escape)
"What do you mean he escaped?" the Queen asked in a shrill tone to the poor Janos Slynt, who was kneeling and shivering in fear at the bottom of the throne room.
"I don’t know what happened, my queen," the leader of the gold cloaks defended himself, and, to be honest, I couldn’t fault him for it. It was literally my job to find out about these things, and I was just as clueless as he was. I hadn’t heard anything from my little birds positioned in that part of the Keep, and I feared the worst. They were usually quick to give me information about events as important as this one.
The disappearance of the late Hand was what everyone had been talking about for the past hour, and I feared silencing the news would be nigh impossible. The massacre that took place in the black cells during his escape was astounding—not just because nearly every guard stationed there was dead, but because it had been done mostly without anyone noticing.
Shivering at the thought of someone managing that right under our noses, I tried to calm myself and think logically. No one knew how he had done it, but during his escape, more than forty guards lay dead in the Keep. It was unthinkable. The worst part was that we hadn’t yet counted all our losses; we needed to focus on the crucial pawn we lost because of this.
I was completely sure he had outside help. I considered myself good at reading people, and I knew for a fact that Eddard Stark wasn’t capable of this. Either he was the best actor in the Seven Kingdoms, or someone was protecting him from the shadows.
This incident reminded me more than ever of the importance of information, for this had caught me completely off guard. The void that the North had become in the past few years was now biting us in the back. I was sure poor Baelish was shivering in his boots for his actions. He had promised to help the poor Hand against the Lannisters, but he cut his losses and changed allegiances on the fly. A shame, since it now appeared that the North was stronger than we’d thought.
That was a scary thought. Over the past few years, the North had trained so many soldiers, and a sliver of doubt crept into my mind. Could it be that they somehow knew about the Lannister bastards? Or was it simply a coincidence that they amassed such strength just as the war was starting?
I didn’t know what to think for now, but I needed to focus on the present. One of the more interesting facts I learned in this short time was that Maester Pycelle asserted most of the guards had died from poison. Yet, apart from one, only a single guard had been injured. No single poison had been used, and many had died from different symptoms. It was strange.
It was confusing, and my only hypothesis was something I didn’t want to say out loud. I didn’t want to talk about magic, as that would likely lead to scoffing and the loss of credibility. There wasn’t much to gain by bringing it up anyway, especially since I needed the Lannisters gone for the plan we’d concocted with Illyrio to move forward. Young Griff was growing up nicely, already backed by the Golden Company.
I wasn’t entirely sure placing him on the throne would be best for the smallfolk, but it was hard to imagine him being worse than the last few kings. Jon Connington had done a wonderful job raising him, and I hoped the North having Eddard Stark back would just be a hiccup in our plans.
The new king had the mannerisms of the late Robert Baratheon with the madness of Aerys Targaryen. I couldn’t believe how someone so young could be so twisted, but war was the only way forward. The Seven Kingdoms needed to be weakened to facilitate Young Griff's rise to power.
If that didn’t work, I still had young Daenerys in the background. From what I had heard, she was in Vaes Dothrak at this moment, and I truly felt for her—so young and going through so many hardships. She had just lost her husband and son, and her group was divided, but I hoped Jorah Mormont could protect her during her travels.
Shaking my head to focus on the present, I paid attention to what was happening beneath the throne, trying hard not to roll my eyes at the almost rabid queen of the Seven Kingdoms, with her son acting much the same way. This was a problem. When Tywin Lannister called for his son Jaime to help him command part of the army, there would be no one left to curb the worst parts of the Dowager Queen’s and the new king’s behavior.
I gave it a few days until the news would leak, either by Littlefinger’s hand or mine, and the problems for this new dynasty would begin. There was a need for caution in how we acted, but I was sure both of them would ignore our counsel.
Cersei Lannister was vain, and she thought she knew better than everyone else. I still wasn’t sure how she would respond to this escape, but I knew it would only aggravate things. And the less said of the new king, the better.
"If you don’t find him, I’ll have your head, Janos!" exclaimed the newly crowned king with a sneer. I tried not to scoff. Wherever Eddard Stark was, it would be impossible to find him. He and his group had escaped hours ago, and they would be stupid if they hadn’t run as fast as they could.
"Leave, and don’t return until you have Eddard Stark back," commanded Cersei. "He is a piece we cannot lose to prevent the North from rebelling."
"Indeed, we need to find him as quickly as possible," interjected Petyr Baelish. "It is in our best interest if he cannot return North to rally his army. Even after the new taxes, the North has continued to grow in strength, and I’m afraid they will have a lot of support if they know how to act."
I tried not to smirk, mostly to avoid the king’s wrath, but it was hard when I could see the beads of sweat running down Petyr’s face.
"What do we know about the reinforced door?" asked Ser Jaime with a grim tone.
Ah… the "crumbled door," as the servants who saw it had called it. "I’m afraid what you’re thinking is correct, Ser Jaime," I said, speaking for the first time during the meeting.
He looked at me in alarm and sighed despondently. "Was it wildfire?"
"Indeed it was, and I’m afraid to say it’s more potent and easier to control than what the Mad King had," I continued with a sigh, wondering who the madman was who thought it was a good idea to use wildfire inside the castle. The astonishing part was that it had only burned through the door and nothing else. It was targeted, showing it was of a better quality than what the Mad King had used.
"These are bad tidings… I hate to ask this, but it is necessary," said Ser Barristan with a frown.
I looked at him, wondering when he was going to leave. I could see the small signs that he was thinking about it, but I wondered who he would join. I should steer him toward Daenerys, as I was sure she would need all the help she could get.
"What do you mean, Ser Barristan?" I asked, trying to finish the meeting soon so I could find out what had happened to my spies.
"If he is an enemy of the crown, why didn’t they burn the Red Keep entirely?" he asked grimly, and I could see the effect his words had on the rest of the council. Ser Jaime, Baelish, and Cersei all paled rapidly.
"I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to that question, Ser Barristan," I dipped my head, and I truly didn’t.
"Maybe his honor stopped him?" Baelish asked, his nervous tic making me want to laugh at his face.
"It’s his honor that got him into this mess," I said, shaking my head and pouring salt into the wound. "I’m afraid he will learn from his mistakes in the war to come."
The Queen stood up and paced around for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "What have your birds told you, Lord Varys?" she asked, and I frowned.
"Nothing, I’m afraid," I said, dipping my head low. "It is most unusual; they are usually quick to inform me about events such as this, and I had people positioned near the cells."
"Useless, all of you!" the King raged, and I could see the tension in the eyes of most of those present.
The Queen also saw it and decided to cut her losses. "Find out, Varys. We’ll have another meeting when we have more information," she said, holding her head high.
"Yes, my Queen," I said, before leaving the council meeting to investigate personally.
Three weeks later.
“What news do you have for us, Lord Varys?” the queen inquired, her voice steady but her face betraying subtle signs of strain. Her usually flawless appearance was marred by faint stress lines and hastily concealed dark circles beneath her eyes.
"Bad news all around, my queen,” I replied, suppressing a grimace. The impending war would ravage the realm, and the thought of the smallfolk suffering for the whims of the powerful weighed heavily on me.
“Get over it, eunuch,” the king sneered, his arrogance clear to see. I masked my irritation with a simpering smile and bowed my head slightly, answering in my usual servile tone.
“Of course, my king.” I offered a light chuckle, dipping my head lower in mock deference. “We now have the total count of casualties from the late Hand’s escape. Sixty-eight guards perished in the line of duty.” My voice adopted a somber tone, though my sympathy was not entirely genuine.
“Anyone of note?” the queen asked coolly. I shook my head, raising an eyebrow at her detached response.
“Not a significant loss then,” she said dismissively, oblivious to the fact that her callousness was the final straw for Ser Barristan Selmy.
As the legendary knight rose from his seat and began unfastening his white cloak, I recalled our last conversation. I had ensured he would have assistance in fleeing to Daenerys across the Narrow Sea. Everything was in place for his departure.
“What do you think you’re doing, Ser Barristan?” the queen’s voice was calm, though a touch of forced authority crept in as he approached her and the king. The guards around us tensed, their hands inching toward their weapons, but I could see the uncertainty in their eyes.
“I’m done with this farce. I’m leaving,” he declared, his tone firm and resolute.
“Why would we allow you to leave?” Joffrey spat, his voice dripping with disdain.
“There isn’t a single person here who could stop me before I gutted you like a pig, boy,” Ser Barristan said evenly, his words laced with cold truth, and the tension in the room surged.
“Leave, and never return!” the king screamed, his false bravado failing to mask the fear in his voice.
Ser Barristan offered a curt nod and strode toward the exit, never faltering. I gave him a subtle nod, reassuring him that everything had been arranged for his journey. His path to Astapor was clear, though he would have to manage the rest on his own.
“That was... tense,” Lord Baelish said with a sly smile, breaking the silence. “Shall we continue? There’s still much to discuss.”
The queen nodded at him before turning back to me. “What about the rest of the kingdoms?”
I sighed deeply, not needing to feign my weariness. “I’m afraid war is inevitable.”
“Oh?” Grand Maester Pycelle asked, leaning forward. “What have you heard, Lord Varys?”
“I’ll start from the top of the realm,” I replied, taking a sip of wine to prepare myself. “Dorne remains silent. We have no reports of any movements from them.”
“Doran Martell is a snake without fangs,” the queen sneered. “What of the Reach?”
“That’s where our troubles begin, my queen,” I shook my head. “I'm afraid Lord Renly has crowned himself King of Westeros, and he holds the support of much of the Reach and parts of the Crownlands.”
“Treason!” Joffrey shouted with spittle flying from his mouth. “I am the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and I’ll have his head on a spike for this!”
“My son is correct,” Cersei said, placing a hand on Joffrey’s thigh in an attempt to calm him. “Renly will pay for his insolence. What do we know of his forces?”
“A hundred thousand strong,” I said gravely. “Lord Renly commands the largest army in this conflict.”
A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone absorbed the gravity of that number.
“And they have ample supplies, courtesy of the Reach’s fertile lands,” I added, noting the growing despair on several faces, while others already schemed in silence.
“And the Westerlands?” Cersei asked, attempting to regain control of her composure.
“Lord Tywin has entered the Riverlands, but not without cost,” I replied, carefully concealing my true emotions.
“Has something happened?” Pycelle interjected, perplexed. “Lord Tywin is a brilliant strategist. How could he struggle against the unprepared Riverlands?”
“That’s the problem,” I explained. “It seems they had forewarning. Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, left his post in the Bloody Gate and awaited them with a hastily assembled force. Though the Lannisters prevailed, it came at a great cost.”
“I trust my grandfather will emerge victorious,” Joffrey sneered. “What about the rest?”
“The Stormlands are divided,” Lord Baelish chimed in, “and Lord Stannis has also staked a claim to the Iron Throne. The Riverlands remain on the defensive, and there has been no news from the Vale, my queen.”
“Don’t you have a close relationship with Lysa Arryn?” I asked, steering the conversation toward him.
“Indeed I do,” he replied with a self-satisfied smile. “I could go to the Vale and secure her alliance.”
I couldn’t allow that. “I’m afraid your presence is too important here in King’s Landing, Lord Baelish. The crown’s finances require careful management in these difficult times.”
“Lord Varys is right,” the queen agreed, and I felt a wave of relief. I had thwarted Baelish’s plan, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep him contained for long.
“As you say,” Baelish bowed and resumed his seat. “What of the North?”
“That, my lords, is my greatest concern,” I said, turning to the room at large. “I have no spies in the North, and I’ve heard nothing of the late Hand or the forces the new Lord Stark has.”
“Do you think he’s reached the North by now?” Pycelle asked.
“No, I don’t believe so, but they must be close,” I answered grimly. “We know nothing of their numbers, their supplies, or their intentions.”
“Assume they join the war,” Pycelle mused, “either for themselves or to back Lord Stannis. How would that affect our situation?”
“It would change everything,” I replied, my tone darkening. “The North would ally with the Riverlands, and together they would pose a significant threat to Lord Tywin’s forces. Lord Stark, being half-Tully, would have every reason to support his kin.”
“And they are also connected to the Vale through Lady Arryn,” Baelish added. “Though the relationship between Catelyn and Lysa is strained, there’s still a chance they could align.”
“You make valid points,” the queen acknowledged. “We will send a message to the Vale, ordering them to bend the knee.”
“I doubt that will be enough,” Baelish said smoothly. “A familiar face would be more persuasive. Allow me to go, and I’ll bring the Vale to our side.”
Thankfully, the queen shook her head. “Lord Varys is right. The war will strain the capital’s economy, and we need you here, Lord Baelish.”
“What about the Imp?” she asked, her gaze sweeping the room.
“We’ve had no word of Lord Tyrion,” I replied, shaking my head. “It’s as though he’s disappeared.”
“Maybe he’s dead in a ditch somewhere, and we can’t find his body because it’s too small,” Joffrey laughed.
“What do you think, Lord Varys?” the queen asked, her tone curious.
“That’s certainly a possibility,” I said thoughtfully, masking my concern. If Tyrion were to turn against the crown, it would spell disaster. Unlike the Lannisters, I did not underestimate his cunning. He could be a formidable adversary.
With nothing more to discuss we started leaving the chambers, and I wondered how the war would continue. Some things weren't going according to plan, but I was sure we could prevail. I had several backup plans in case some of them failed, and I would do anything in my power to see the smallfolk thrive.
