The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

9.05

In the heart of Dragonstone and overlooking the sea, Tyrion finds himself edging closer to an unfortunate death at the hands of his Queen who has never looked worse than she does in this moment. Heavy eyelids that have not seen sleep. Burning eyes from the many tears spent for Missandei. And a vengeful bearing as her hair has been thrown back haphazardly...because her companion was not there to braid it for her.

It is him and Varys, Daenerys and Grey Worm—but it is only the latter two that look positively murderous upon both of the former...for reasons they understand. But standing there and knowing he could now look death in the eye without fear, Varys still feels his heart beating heavily upon his sternum, a sense of premonition wracking through him as what is to come...but never has his instinct been so wrong.

"We will storm the city, my Queen. We will kill your enemies. All of them," Grey Worm passionately attempts to reconfigure the plan that does not only involve them—but thousands more of Northerners, Dornes, and other mainlanders. It is naïve to think that this is both logical and better—to make decisions on the basis of emotion alone.

And as such, Varys steps forward as Daenerys reverberates with Grey Worm's call only to pause in harmonic motion as the man stares her straight in the eye. Because Varys knows he cannot stand by as thousands of innocent men, women, and children are killed simply because Missandei—one woman—was taken. Not only is it inhumane...it is simply madness.

"Your Grace. I promised you I would look you in the eye and speak directly if I ever thought you were making a mistake," Varys reminds her, emphasizing heavily and with a passion that he's never quite expressed before as he tells her, "This is a mistake."

But Daenerys does not seem moved by his fulfilled promise, promptly reminding him, "They took Missandei."

"Cersei needs to be destroyed, but if we attack King's Landing with Drogon and the Unsullied and the Dothraki, tens of thousands of innocents will die. That is why Cersei is bringing them into the Red Keep. These are the people you came here to protect. I beg you, Your Grace. Do not destroy the city you came to save. Do not become what you have always struggled to defeat," Varys begs of her in not a voice void of emotion, but emboldened by pure reason. And yet, as he stares at the locked jaw of the Dragon Queen, Varys instantaneously knows she is no longer capable of distinguishing reason from emotion. She sees him as a traitor, if anything.

"Do you believe we're here for a reason, Lord Varys?" she asks strictly, and he stares at her with potent hopelessness as Tyrion looks to the madness in her eyes. "I'm here to free the world from tyrants. That is my destiny and I will serve it, no matter the cost."

Daenerys shifts sideways to the other edge of the table, Tyrion watching her with due cause of worry as he attempts to reason with the conflicting sides—the perpetual balance between them—"It could be a fortnight before Jon and the allied armies make it to King's Landing. In the meantime, demand Cersei surrender. Offer Cersei her life in exchange for the throne." But she just stares at him, not looking even inclined to listen to his words, nonetheless follow in their direction. Tyrion huffs in irritation, "If there's a chance to avoid the coming slaughter, we should make the effort."

"Speaking to Cersei will not prevent a slaughter," Daenerys replies, prompting Varys's head to visibly fall in utter disappointment at this failed woman even as she blindly commands them with her ridiculous ideas, "But perhaps it's good the people see that Daenerys Stormborn made every effort to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused. They should know whom to blame when the sky falls down upon them."