TYRION

Alone in his dimly lit cabin, Tyrion poured himself a goblet of Arbor red. And then another. And another. Head swimming, he found his way to a chair and there he sat with his head between his hands until a soft rap at the door dislodged him from the fog. He discovered Varys on the other side clad in a silk lavender robe, his hands clasped together in front of him, and a wry smile that had slid across his face.

"My Lord, forgive the late hour, but sleep does not come easy at sea for me."

"Nor, I." Tyrion reached out to steady himself on the doorway, but his hand missed, and lurched forward into the perfumed eunuch.

"My Lord, has been enjoying the ample supply of Arbor red I see." Varys gathered up the swaying Lord of Lannister and herded him towards the seating area.

"How astute of you to notice, Lord Varys. Will you join me in a toast?"

"To what are we toasting, my Lord?" Tyrion reached across himself and pulled his goblet off the bureau, slopping some red on his lap. A grin spread across his face, though Varys continued to look perplexed and intrigued.

"Our great Northern alliance!" Tyrion toasted Varys, gulped what was left in his goblet and wiped the spittle from his chin with the back of his hand. Varys wordlessly eyes him. "The Masters of Whispers does not know?" Tyrion let out a booming, condescending laugh. He knows, the Spider always knows. After all, he is here.

"My Lord, if I may," Varys edged closer to Tyrion in his seat and grabbed the goblet from his hand. He cleared his throat. "If you're attempting to ask me about what to do with our two lovers, I'm afraid you'll find no solution from me."

Tyrion balked. "Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

"Be that as it may," the Spider began, "they are the song of ice and fire."

"I wasn't aware you worshipped the Lord of Light, dear Varys. Or heeded prophecy."

"I heed the word of no god, my Lord, but I do heed the word of our Queen." This gave Tyrion pause. "She has chosen Jon Snow."

"And we promised to check her worst impulses." He stood from his chair and began to pace across the swaying cabin.

"And you believe this is one of our Queen's worst impulses?" Varys looked thoughtfully after Tyrion, studying him intently. Tyrion did not know how to answer that. He had admired Jon Snow from the moment they met in the courtyard at Winterfell. Had seen such promise. But now... In so many words, Dany had proclaimed in front of her entire small council that she wished to be with Jon Snow. We sail together, she had said. Together, and at what cost? The firelight had dimmed, and shadows distorted his face as he continued his pacing.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Why?" demanded Varys. "An alliance with the North makes sense. It won't be achieved without difficulty, of that I am quite assured, but a Stark and a Targaryen... "

"We've already seen what happened when a Targaryen fell in love with a Stark. The kingdom came crashing down. We are still tumbling headlong," Tyrion snapped.

"Rhaegar and Lyanna." Varys shifted uncomfortably. The ghosts of the two lingered in the air for a moment, filling the room with a pregnant silence.

"Rhaegar and Lyanna," Tyrion repeated. "Do you think the North is like to forget what the Targaryen's did to their greatest House?" The North Remembers.

"Their King in the North has, why shouldn't his bannermen follow?"

"Why did you come here, Varys," Tyrion interjected. He stared at the Spider with great intent, demanding an answer. He knew the Spider and it was unlike him to let such recklessness go unmatched without a plan to counterbalance it all.

"Only to tell you this: You've heard the story of how the three dragons came to be. One is now dead. I believe our Queen may be able to get with child now." He's thinking about the damn succession.

"Ah, yes, the maegi." Tyrion countered skeptically.

"The maegi who killed the Khal, and traded the life of he and Daenerys' son for those of the dragons." Rhaego. "My Lord, I know my limitations. My life has been meticulously made of my own volition. This is something beyond our control." Varys stood and moved towards the door.

"We cannot afford distraction." Tyrion rounded as Varys flowed past him, leaving the scent of lavender in his wake. "Jon is a good man. An honorable match for Daenerys. But you saw when she left for beyond The Wall with three dragons and returned with three. Would you have everything she sacrificed turn to dust? All for naught?"

Varys paused and turned towards Lord Tyrion. "I wouldn't call it distraction." That wry smile bloomed across his face once more.

"What then would you call it, Lord Varys?"

"Destiny, my Lord. I would call it destiny." With a brusque bow, Varys swept from the doorway and back down the hall towards his own cabin, leaving Tyrion alone with the weight of it all.