I share your hesitations and doubts about the Princess Ellaria, but she holds Dorne fast, and will secure the Stormlands for us. Red Ronnett's army has been disbanded, so we must rely upon her men. Your own men are needed to secure this city, the Reach and the West. Especially, now that Lord Baelish has returned to the Vale "

"I agreed that certain castles in the Dornish marches would be ceded to her. I fear she'll swallow the whole region. "

"Perhaps. But, truly does it matter? It is admirable that you should wish to secure Joanna Baratheon's inheritance, but Ellaria's ambitions don't imperil your rule."

Daenerys sipped from her goblet of wine, as she and Lord Varys discussed the state of the Realm in the Small Council Chamber. She frowned. "I've no desire to create an over mighty subject."

The eunuch smiled. "The point about over mighty subjects is that they overreach themselves. They make themselves hated by their peers. Did you know, she enjoys feeding her enemies to a pair of she-bears? That is, when she is feeling merciful; she can be extremely creative towards her captives. When the time is ripe, why, remove her. Indulge her; make her think she has your confidence; smile at her. And, then strike at her, when her guard is down. Or if you prefer a more subtle approach, we can remove her more discreetly. Dornish princesses die from "chills". They choke on olive stones, and fall from their horses." He smiled nastily. She knew this was a man of devilish cruelty and cunning. "And, what does that say about me, " she wondered, "that I should have taken such a man into my service?"

She drank another draft of wine, before frowning. Then, she gave a sudden gasp. "Is there a problem, your Grace?" asked Varys, solicitously.

"I feel...indisposed" she muttered, wincing again.

"I'm sure you would do. Please, your Grace, I bear you no ill will. You must understand, I do this for the Realm."

"You? You've poisoned me?" she said, shocked.

"I can assure you, there will be very little pain. But, I fear it is necessary."

"Why Lord Varys, why? I took you into my service, and you kept me safe. Why now?"

"Alas your Grace. The Realm needed you. There was no one else, I believed, who could have overthrown Cersei. But, Olenna Tyrell outwitted her. Still, the last thing the Realm needed was for Tommen and his beautiful wife to establish a dynasty of their own. I needed you to overthrow them. Despite your own best efforts, I might add."

"What are you talking about?" she gave another gasp.

"The Field of the Cloth of Gold. You and Margaery were becoming fast friends. There was a real danger that you might even work out a peace agreement together. That was the last thing I wanted. Lord Tarly had already put out feelers to me. I knew that he planned treachery, and I encouraged him in his plans, with aid of Princess Ellaria, I should add. I knew what Ser Garlan intended at the banquet. I realised that you were likely to survive a fire (I certainly did not divulge that piece of information to Tarly). After such a rank act of treachery, there could be no peace. I was sure you would win the ensuing war.

"He was right to accuse the pair of you of treason."

"I daresay he was. Naturally, he and his accomplices had to perish. Very viscerally."

"Was Margaery Tyrell involved?"

"No. I was adamant she must not be informed. She might have told you what was afoot."

"But, why kill me?"

"The Realm needs a new ruler". She saw his eyes gleaming, almost with lust; if a eunuch could feel lust.

"And that ruler is you?" she guessed.

"That ruler will be Tyene Martell. A swift march with her army through the Stormlands, and Princess Ellaria will be able to place her daughter on the Iron Throne. Her daughter will need a Hand, to guide her, to ensure she makes the correct decisions. That Hand is me."

"A bold and brilliant scheme. " She saw the eunuch grin. "A pity for you then, that my servants should be more loyal to me than they are to you" the Queen replied drily. "Tyrion!" she yelled, swiftly drawing her dagger.

Her Hand burst through the door with a group of guards, with swords drawn. And a young kitchen girl.

The Spider looked for a route of escape, but there was none. He shrugged, and smiled ruefully

"Martha. That is your name?" she addressed the girl.

Yes, your Grace. "

"Show us what Lord Varys asked you to place in my food." The girl held up a small vial. "Devil's Dance is it not, Lord Varys?"

"It is."

" Martha got cold feet. She went to Lord Tyrion. See now, my lord. You have a choice. You can take the poison you intended for me, or you can face a more public execution. Which would you prefer?"

" I should prefer to die with a glass of wine in my belly, your Grace." He poured himself from the carafe. Tyrion took the vial from the girl, and emptied it into the goblet. Varys raise it to her in salute. "Well played, your Grace" and then downed the draft in one.