Fire And Blood

Westeros I

Varys

With his hands tucked in the opposing sleeves of his patterned damask robes, Varys glided through the vast halls of the Red Keep, his soft-soled slippers whispering against the stone as he made his way to the council chamber. It was that time yet again: another meeting of King Joffrey Baratheon's Small Council.

King Joffrey. Varys had to suppress a weary sigh. King Aerys II, the Mad King, was still so very fresh in mind, even after a decade. Poor Queen Rhaella. How much she had endured under him and how many babes she had lost before they could even see the light of life and take their first breaths. And still, she had been the flicker of hope during those dreary days in the Keep. Despite how others might have claimed that it had been evident from the beginning, King Aerys's madness had been born from the grief and suffering he had experienced throughout the early years of his reign. There was a time when he had been a rather charming and pleasant man.

King Joffrey, however...his madness was sadistic. There were those who just did not belong on a throne and such a one was Joffrey Baratheon. A bastard born of an illicit affair between Lord Tywin's children, he did not even have a claim. That Lord Stannis had eventually found out was a pleasant and welcome surprise and now, the realm was plunging into war. A shame, but a necessity. Sometimes, a house had to be torn asunder in order to remove the rot and be built sturdier than ever. He would assist in the rebuilding and reach out a hand to the rightful heirs of the monstrosity Aegon the Conqueror had forged from the swords of his many enemies and with Balerion the Black Dread's dragonfire.

Illyrio had told him of fantastic tales, tales that none of them, not even he, the Spider, had ever been aware of for all these years. Who would have thought that the venerable Lord Eddard Stark had it in him?

But this also brought a challenge, a welcome challenge, but a challenge nonetheless. The Stark girls and the Poole girl, held hostage still, suffering under the Queen Regent's and King Joffrey's little games. They did not deserve this, no. These girls were just poor, innocent victims caught in a game, in his game, in his and Illyrio's game. Their very presence here meant that they were pieces to be played and he would have to make use of them to his and his dear friend's advantage. Gently and with care, of course. Yes, they did not deserve this, but once you got caught in the webs of the game it was impossible to break free.

Varys gave a nod to the Kingsguard opening the door for him and stepped inside of the meeting chamber. Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Petyr Baelish, Tyrion Lannister and the Dowager Queen Cersei all sat around the beautifully carved table in the centre of the room. A collection of greed and schemes, of trickery and bribery.

Varys smiled pleasantly at them and took his place at the table before the acting Hand of the King commenced with the meeting. He listened with half an ear only. Much was a repeat from the previous meeting, after all. Lord Stannis's shameless spreading of "mere rumours", of course, the rather dire state of the Crown's finances, of course, and Lord Renly gathering a worryingly large host of supporters in the Reach and Stormlands, of course. A bit of bickering between the Queen Regent and Lord Hand – it was growing tiresome, to say the least.

"Lord Varys," Tyrion Lannister addressed him finally. "Did your little birds chirp anything new into your ears?" It drew a chuckle or two.

Varys smiled indulgently. "They have indeed," he said. "Perhaps you may have heard of rumours coming from Essos when wandering the docks on your way to visit the pillow houses?"

"I certainly was not paying attention to the seamen's idle chatter when looking forward to my dear Edna," the Lord Hand quipped.

Varys kept his smile as he shifted in his chair.