The Songs of Winter | Robb Stark

Chapter 29

Aida Stark

I blink my eyes open, feeling disoriented as I take in the dimly lit room. It seems to be night, and the air is cool against my skin. As I turn my head slightly, I hear a gentle humming nearby, soft and melodic. My gaze drifts down to see Varys seated in a chair beside my bed.

Noticing that I've awakened, Varys smiles softly and rises from his chair. "Good, you're awake," he says, stepping closer. "You had me worried for a second there."

"How long have you been there?" I ask, my voice hoarse as I attempt to sit up. Varys is quick to assist me, supporting me with his hands.

"About ten minutes, so don't flatter yourself," he replies, a small grin flickering across his lips.

"What happened to me?" I ask, a note of concern creeping into my tone.

"You fell into unconsciousness. The Maesters said it was due to overexerting yourself in your condition, especially with the heat, not to mention... your back," he explains, his voice steady yet laced with concern.

"You saw my back?" I inquire, my heart racing at the thought of my injuries being exposed.

"No," he shakes his head, "but I've been informed. It was unwise not to seek treatment sooner. The Maesters bandaged your wounds and agreed to check on them weekly."

Bringing my hand to feel the bandages, I sigh in relief, grateful yet frustrated. I spot a glass of water on a stand next to my bed and lift it to my lips, the cool liquid refreshing. Setting the glass down, I turn to Varys with an accusatory look. "By the way, it would have been kind of you to inform me that the place you were sending me had a group of rebels intent on harming the Queen. And don't tell me you didn't know, because you know everything."

"I did know," he admits, his gaze unwavering.

"And you sent me anyway," I respond, my voice rising slightly with indignation.

"As I said before, we couldn't make a stop in the North, so it was this or nothing. Now, tell me, Lady Stark, what do you think of the Queen?" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

"She's kind and seemingly compassionate," I answer honestly, recalling our brief interactions.

"But..." Varys prompts, his brows knitting together.

"But... today at the fighting pits, she had a conversation with the fallen Hizdhar. She basically said that if Meereen doesn't meet her expectations as a successful city, it may be laid to waste," I continue, a chill running down my spine as I remember her words.

Varys's brows furrow further at this revelation. "And what do you believe she should do if Meereen is deemed an unsuccessful city?"

"I'm not sure," I admit, my thoughts swirling. "But I know it shouldn't involve killing thousands or millions of people. The inhabitants here might seem grotesque at times, but even so, there are good people among them. They don't deserve to lose their lives simply because their city is considered a failure."

"It was one conversation, but it's all I needed to know that she believes her opinions and thoughts are the be-all and end-all. If you don't align with them, you're to be laid to waste," I state, my voice firm and unwavering.

Varys shrugs, a hint of resignation in his demeanor. "Most kings and queens think that way."

"Most kings and queens also rarely live past the age of thirty due to that mindset; it's often their downfall. I'm not looking to support someone on the Iron Throne who holds onto the same views as past rulers. I want someone who is willing to learn from their mistakes," I counter, my conviction unwavering.