Chapter 10: Stay of Execution

Our entrance into the city was anticlimactic, to say the least.

Contrary to expectations, nobody came out to greet us as we neared the walls of the city. When we reached the gates, they were opened quickly enough, and we made for the Red Keep in earnest. I led our little party through the city streets, with Lady Catelyn behind me, and Tyrion near the back of the party, in the custody of Bronn, who's loyalty I suspected he had turned long ago. When we reached the gates of the keep, Ser Arys Oakheart was stood in his white cloak, waiting to greet us, "My Prince! The Lord Hand bids you, Lady Stark and Lord Tyrion to make haste for the throne room."

I dismounted my horse, letting one of the boys take it to the stables, and the rest of the party followed my lead. As we walked, I began to quiz Ser Arys, "I would have thought either my uncle or Ser Barristan would have rode out to greet me. Might I ask why they did not?"

Arys nodded, "Ser Barristan is accompanying His Grace in a hunt in the Kingswood, my prince, and Ser Jaime has left the city."

Shit. I hoped I was wrong, but I expected that meant that Jaime had still confronted Lord Stark at the brothel. I moved past the issue, "I see. Might I ask to be informed as to what reason the Lord Hand has seen fit to summon me, Ser Arys?"

"The Lord Hand did not give me one, my prince." He looked back at our party, at the Lady Catelyn and my uncle, and neglected to speak further on account of our arrival in front of the doors to the throne room. He pushed the doors open, and we streamed in, a dozen Lannister men and an equivalent number of sellswords and knights from the Riverlands. Lady Catelyn's party had been larger at the beginning of our journey, but we had whittled away at their number with our campaign of doubt, till only the most steadfast or desperate remained. In the chambers, Lord Stark was sat in the Iron Throne, looking appropriately impressive, in spite of the fact that he had a sheen of sweat on his skin caused by the pain his leg gave him. If there had been any doubt in my mind at how events had transpired in my absence, the sight of his wounded leg swiftly set them at ease.

Above, the galleries were filled with various lords and ladies who watched the business of court, and I spied Sansa sitting in them, her expression shifting from bored stiff to interested at my arrival. Below, besides the various petitioners at court, were stood Pycelle, looking as though a strong wind might blow him over, and Varys and Baelish. Varys looked smug at my arrival, and Baelish concerned, though he made an impressive attempt at appearing unfazed. I offered Lord Stark a small bow, "My Lord Hand."

His voice was strained as he spoke, "Prince Tommen."

"We have come to seek justice, my lord, at the hands of His Grace the King. Your lady wife has levelled the accusation of murder upon my uncle, and we have come to seek trial and judgement from the King, as befits an accusation of this magnitude. I wish for nothing more than for the full details of this case to come to light and to let the truth be revealed before the world, and for justice to be delivered."

"Oh, interesting," murmured Varys. Baelish looked calm, which surprised me. Then again, he was an exceptionally good liar, and under his facade of calm, he may well have been sweating buckets.

Lord Stark just looked at Catelyn with an impatient expression on his face, and then turned his gaze back to me, "The King is on a hunt, my prince, and due to my own personal involvement in the case, I cannot be expected to be fair in my delivery of justice."

Tyrion spoke up, his eyes focused on Littlefinger, "That's fine, Lord Stark, I'm happy to wait. I've some matters that need attending to as it is."

Baelish met Tyrion's gaze, and then turned back to face Lord Stark, "My lord, might I suggest that Lord Tyrion is kept in one of the cells? Given the nature of the accusation, it would not be safe to let a suspected murderer wander the keep. Assuming he's guilty, who knows who might be his next victim?"

Tyrion's gaze grew angry, "I need to be able to prepare for my trial, Lord Baelish. I cannot do that from the inside of a cell."

Pycelle concurred, "And who knows how such a move may be perceived by Lord Tywin or the Queen? Lord Tywin is already massing his forces at Casterly Rock, my lord, who knows what he might do next in the face of such move?"

Baelish addressed Pycelle in a tone that bordered on accusatory, "You would risk the lives of Lord Stark's children for the sake of how such a decision might be perceived?" He turned to Ned, "I beseech you, my lord, to have Lord Tyrion imprisoned for the few days till his trial. I do not know of his guilt, my lord, but letting him run free to appease his father is surely a risk." He shrugged, "If Lord Tyrion is innocent, he loses a few days, If Lord Tyrion is guilty, then we are all safer for it. It is only common sense, especially in light of the letter you received earlier."

I was concerned at the direction events were taking, "What letter?"

Varys spoke in Ned's stead, "From Lady Lysa, my prince, accusing the Lord Tyrion of the death of the former hand, Jon Arryn."

I couldn't help the look of surprise on my face. It had occurred to me that Littlefinger would hear of the events that occurred at the inn, and I had relished the thought of watching him sweat, but I hadn't expected this. That fucker looked calm because he had prepared for this very moment, and likely requested the letter from Lysa the moment he had heard what had happened. From the looks of things, the reply had arrived just in the nick of time to save him. With the accusation of the death of Jon Arryn behind him, he knew Robert was likely to be wroth with Tyrion, and unlikely to listen to reason.

Unfortunately for me, It was also a semi-plausible accusation to make, as unlike in canon, Tyrion had spent the last few years in the capital rather than at Casterly Rock. Though it was unlikely to hold up to serious scrutiny, it didn't really need to, for it would muddy the waters enough to grant Littlefinger a way out of what I had thought to be a sure thing. Matters were not made any better by that fact that he had announced this accusation in open court, and therefore had ensured that it would come up in future, trial or no. It was apparent to me now that Littlefinger would not so easily be entrapped.

Of course, I could expose the truth of his boasts here, in open court, but who was to say he would not retaliate with the truth of my parentage? Robert was still alive, so if the truth broke out, in the midst of his rage, he would almost certainly abandon his hunt, and come to smash our skulls in. If I was to try something of that nature, then to ensure my survival, Robert would have to die first. However, if Robert died first, then there was no guarantee that Littlefinger would not find some way to weasel his way out of Lord Stark's grasp at the outset of war, and we would find ourselves imprisoned regardless, ultimately leading to the same conclusion. And with Tyrion looking increasingly likely as if he was going to spend the next few days in a cell, my ability to concoct schemes and adapt to the situation was severely handicapped.

Like me, Catelyn also looked surprised, as did Tyrion, who's tone was laced with a mixture of sarcasm and anger when he spoke, "Oh, did I kill him too? One wonders where I found the time."

Ned and Catelyn shared a look, and he spoke firm and clear, in a voice that brooked no argument and reeked of finality, "Justice cannot be dispensed till the King is present, and I am not a man who will shy away from my duty in the face of the name Lannister. Lord Tyrion will be treated with all honours befitting his station, but he will be imprisoned in the top cells of the dungeons regardless. He will only be released two days before the trial, such that he is given adequate time to prepare his defence."

Tyrion made to protest, "Lord Stark, you cannot-"

Stark spoke over him, clearly annoyed and in pain, "Enough!" He stilled himself and sighed, "Enough, Lord Tyrion. You will get ample opportunity to speak at your trial." He addressed Pycelle, "Grandmaester Pycelle, have a raven sent to Lord Tywin, inviting him here to see to Lord Tyrion's defence personally, if he should so wish. That should stop him making any rash decisions."

Tyrion did not look pleased, but he did not seem angry either, knowing he would be safe and perhaps even comfortable in the top cells, "Very well, Lord Stark. I can't imagine that my father, sister or brother will be best pleased, but if that is your decision, then I will respect it. A fair trial is all I ever asked for."

With that, court soon wound down to a close. As the petitioners filed out, so did many of the men in Lady Catelyn's party, leaving her with maybe five loyal Riverlanders. Lord Stark stood, with much difficulty, from the Iron Throne, descending the bladed steps slowly, taking care to avoid cutting himself on them. Once on the same level as us, he ordered Lord Tyrion escorted to the top cells, and once he was gone, he hugged his wife and made to leave for the Tower of the Hand and his chambers with her.

Just as he was about to leave, I spoke up, "Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn?" He turned around looking thoroughly irritated and exhausted, "Would you mind terribly if I were to sup at your table tonight? I have not seen your daughters in many moons, and Arya and I became fast friends in Winterfell. I should like to see her again, if at all possible."

He and Catelyn shared a few hushed words, which I couldn't quite make out, before he turned back to address me, "Not today, my prince. I should like to dine with my family alone tonight. Why don't you dine with Princess Myrcella and the Queen instead? I have it on good authority that they miss you terribly. You can always sit at our table tomorrow, if you should so wish, my prince."

And there went any chance I had at preventing his realisation. Sansa would fight with Arya tonight, and her words would inspire the revelation of incest. The window of opportunity wasn't just closing, it had outright closed. Even if he didn't come to that realisation, there was no way of verifying that, and so from now on I would have to act as if he knew. And even if I could verify his ignorance, there was no guarantee that it would last. Eventually, either Varys or Baelish, in their effort to stir the pot, would find some way to let the truth slip to Lord Stark. Inevitably, that meant only one thing: Ned Stark's head would roll.

Such a shame.

Saving Ned Stark was not a plan that I had considered likely of success, but the realisation that such was the case was nonetheless disheartening. Of course, the next step was to prevent confirmation. If I could find a way to stop him and my mother meeting in the godswood, if I could sow the seeds of reasonable doubt...

It was decent plan, but it begged the question of how? The pair were not likely to listen to me, and any distractions I could offer them would not last forever, and the two would inevitably butt heads at some point or another, and Ned Stark was too honourable to not act on his suspicions. Even if by some miracle I did manage to pull it off, it would only serve to delay the coming conflict, not avert or avoid it, for Stannis and Renly would not stop scheming. And who was to say that Varys or Baelish would not spill the beans in Ned's stead, or that he would not speak of his suspicions without any proof?

The possibilities were endless, and they were all a tad too risky for my taste. I liked Ned, but I still though it better that his head should roll than mine.

Anyhow, with that course of action set in my mind, the next step was damage control. When Joffrey came back from the hunt, I would have to make an effort to make nice with him. I hated the bastard, but he was soon to be the font of all power in the capital, and having even the smallest amount of influence with him would be a great boon, lest I get pushed to the sidelines till his death. It was not a bad fate to be consigned to, but it was less than ideal in any case.

That just left the Starks. Ned was destined to die, but that need not be the fate for his family. If at all possible, I was going to work to secure the fates of Sansa, Arya and Catelyn. Arya was due to escape on her own, which just left Sansa and Catelyn to consider. Once things went to shit, I didn't doubt that Littlefinger would do what he could to cast himself as a hero in Catelyn's eyes in the hope of winning her favour, and so I reckoned that he could be counted on to secure her escape. Perhaps some nudging would be required, but she could be saved and delivered, by sea, to White Harbour or Gulltown.

Naturally, given that I had spent the entire ride over very publicly questioning his honour in front of Lady Stark, relying on Littlefinger was not ideal. If I could find some way to secure her escape without having to rely on Baelish, then I would consider that the most ideal case. But people in court had already seen her face, so the question of how I was going to hide her until the opportune moment to have her spirited away came to mind. Arya was one thing, but Lady Catelyn's presence would be harder to mask.

Of course, keeping her here, in King's Landing, was always an option, but not one that I was particularly keen on. It meant she wouldn't be with Robb, and if she wasn't with Robb, then she would not be in a position to release Jaime Lannister, provided that he would be captured, of course. It could just as easily not happen, but it was a risk I would rather not take. Better for me that she was there to sing the song of mercy into Robb's ear than not.

Even better if, as in canon, Ned intended to have the family spirited away aboard a ship, then perhaps that method of escape would still prove viable? If I could find a way to get Catelyn and Arya out of King's Landing before my father died, I would consider it a great victory. I held out little hope for Sansa, as she was possessed by an infatuation with Joffrey, and likely could not be dissuaded of it.

If war was inevitable, then the Lannisters would need a hostage. Keeping all three Stark women was a risk, because Joffrey would start violently venting his frustrations on them when the tide of war turned against him, seeing them as disposable, but a hostage would still be needed. Though I felt somewhat scummy thinking it, Sansa was the ideal choice. If she was a lone hostage, her value increased, as Joffrey could not kill her, for fear of losing the only leverage he had.

And then there was the Red Wedding to think about...

In spite of my best efforts, I could not see a clear way out of that particular mess. I rubbed my eyes, and decided that what I needed was to take my mind off the issue and attack the problem later. As such, I made my way to one of the terraces of the keep, where I knew I was likely to find Myrcella. Sure enough, she was there, tending to some roses she had planted earlier in the year. When she saw me approach, a wide smile broke out onto her face, and she ran up and hugged me tightly, almost bringing me down with the force with which she crashed into me.

Once that was done, she broke the hug and began chattering as all children do, peppering me with questions about the Wall and the inn at the crossroads and anything else she found interesting. I answered her questions as best I could, laughing and japing and enjoying her presence all the same. Off in the corner, I spied my mother walking onto the terrace, and choosing to stay and watch us from a seat in the corner, a small smile on her face as she watched her children laugh and play.

It was one of the last few idyllic moments I had before everything would go to hell, and I savoured it. My worries forgotten, my plots put on hold, I was a child again.

Alas, like all good things, this came to an end just a few hours later. Mother rose from her seat, sauntered over, and embraced me, "Oh, sweetling, how I've missed you!" She pulled back from her hug and sized me up, "Look how big you are! You will grow strong like your uncle Jaime, I can tell."

That comment killed my mood, but I laughed and acted happy at the praise all the same. She escorted the two of us to the dinner table, and the three of us sat and ate. Unusually, mother was surprisingly chipper, and she was shockingly patient and attentive the whole evening. I suspected it was the joint absence of Jaime, Robert and Joffrey that was the cause of the almost functional dynamic we seemed to have for the moment. Without Joffrey to demand her attentions she could focus them on her other children, and with Jaime gone, she likely felt lonely enough to enjoy it. I suspected my long absence also had something to do with it as well.

Dinner passed in pleasant fashion, and after mother tucked us into our beds, sleep came and went. I was woken by the light streaming through the curtains, and after breaking my fast, I made my way to the training yard. Ser Barristan was still absent, on the hunt with his King, but there were knights and squires aplenty. My first bout was with another squire, perhaps two years my senior, who came at me with all he had. In fact, none of them held back, having all been long-ago convinced by Ser Barristan and myself that I needed to fail to win.

And, as usual, fail I did. Bout after bout was a loss, with the rare win interspersed throughout. It was rarely a complete whitewash, but it was apparent to me that my skills with the sword had atrophied in my almost year-long absence from the capital. I set about rectifying the problem with gusto, and by midday, I was covered in bruises and sweat. Even still, the practice in the yard paid off, as I got to meet Bronn, and even managed to covertly discuss his future employ when the eyes of the crowd were averted.

For a relatively small number of dragons, I now had a killer of my own. Technically, at least if anyone asked, he was still very much Tyrion's man, but from now on, upon my asking, he would also, on occasion, be taking orders from me.

I bathed, collected the required coin from my chambers, handed them to Bronn, and then made my way to Varys's apartments, taking a long detour past the godswood to see my mother and Ned conversing, as expected. I paid it little mind, for there was not much to be done about it at this point.

When I arrived at his apartments, I approached the servants standing outside his doors, who went inside, presumably to notify Varys of my presence. I had to wait a good few moments before he finally appeared, "My prince, what a pleasant surprise!"

The odour of perfume was pungent, and almost revolting in its intensity. If I didn't know it was a technique he specifically employed for his craft, I would have assumed he was trying to mask the odour caused by some horrific malady. Nevertheless, I gave no indication that I was in any way affected by the smell, and I soldiered on with my purpose, "Lord Varys," I gestured to the door behind him, "Shall we?"

He bowed and smiled, "Of course, my prince."

We went inside, and he sat me down at the table in the middle of his room, and sent for some tea. When it arrived, he poured me a cup, and being wary of the possibility of poison, I only played at sipping the piping-hot contents of my cup. Once pleasantries had been exchanged, I decided to cut to the chase, "Lord Varys, as you can imagine, this isn't purely a social call. I do have some specific business I came here to see to."

His expression was one of mock-sadness, "Oh, I am so disappointed to hear that, my prince. I had thought you had simply come for the pleasure of my company."

I nodded, "And your company is indeed most enjoyable, Lord Varys, but if enjoyment was the goal, I'd be playing with my sister, not taking up your valuable time."

He waved his hand in an over-exaggerated gesture of dismissal, "Oh, nonsense! I always have time for you, my prince."

"And I appreciate that, Lord Varys. Nevertheless, I should like to get down to business."

He sipped his tea, looking amused as he did so, "Please, whenever you are ready, my prince. I am all ears."

"Very well. As you know, my uncle is currently languishing in a cell here, in the Red Keep. He is due to receive a trial at the hands of the King." Varys nodded, "Well, on the ride over, we prepared something of a defence for him, in the case of a trial. A series of logical arguments that would tear Lady Stark's accusations against him to pieces and reveal them for the misdirected rage and desire for vengeance that they are."

"Most impressive, my prince."

"It was, only, we seem to have encountered a problem."

"Lady Lysa's letter, I take it?" I nodded, "And you would like me to tell you about the contents of this letter?"

"Among other things. The timing of it's arrival, who it was specifically addressed to, any information I can use for my uncle's defence would be greatly appreciated. Previously, on account of the strength of my arguments and uncle Tyrion's own friendliness with my father, the King, I was certain of an acquittal. Now, less so. My father is quick to anger, and I can only imagine his eagerness to see blood spilled as justice for the heinous crime of killing the man my father loved and respected so deeply."

Varys sipped his tea with a glint in his eyes, "I see. Well, it came not two days ago, and was addressed, strangely enough, to the Hand of the King, Lord Stark."

"The Hand of the King? Not the King himself?". He nodded, "Yes, that is strange." I motioned for him to continue.

"As for the contents of the letter, I know just about as much as I told you in court yesterday."

I frowned, "You didn't read the letter?"

He shook his head sadly, "No, my prince, I did not. Lord Stark received the letter in the Small Council chambers, unopened, directly to himself. He read it, and then handed it to Lord Baelish to have thrown into the fire, only announcing the contents of the letter after it had been reduced to ash. I never had a chance to read it."

I couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Even still, I did not press the issue, as a picture of events was beginning to form in the back of my mind, "I see. You have been most helpful, Lord Varys." He smiled and bowed his head slightly, content to let the silence linger whilst he waited for me to leave. Instead, I stayed silent and unmoving for a minute more before I spoke again, now trying to sow the seeds for future plans, "Tell me, Lord Varys, from which land do you hail?"

"Essos, my prince. From a little island called Lys, to be more specific."

"Famed for it's pillow-houses, is it not? Lys, I mean?" Varys nodded, "Tell me, do they use slaves in those houses, or free girls?"

"I believe it is a mix of both, my prince. The attitude in Lys is very client-focused. If the paying customer desires a slave to alleviate their lusts, then a slave they will get. And if they desire a free girl, then they will get a free girl. The pillow-houses of Lys accommodate all tastes, my prince, provided one has the coin to pay for it."

"I hear you were born a slave in Lys, Lord Varys, and stayed as such till you found your way to Pentos."

Varys adopted an expression of sorrow, "Yes, my prince. Those early years were the worst ones of my life. But I made my fortunes and reputation in Pentos, my prince, and left my past behind."

I nodded, considering revealing to Varys my knowledge of his little plot with Illyrio with the hopes of backing him into a corner, but ultimately decided against it. I didn't need him sending blades in the dark after my head to keep me quiet, and so I opted for a different tac, "You became so successful that a certain Aerys Targaryen from across the Narrow Sea heard of your talents and brought you under his employ." I leaned forwards slightly, now looking Varys directly in the eyes, "Tell me, how was it to serve in the court of the Mad King?"

Varys feigned a shudder, "It was frightful, my prince. I should not wish to ever have to serve such a King again."

I offered him a soft smile, "Tell me, Lord Varys, does your memories of his cruelty seem... similar, to anyone you know today?"

He feigned confusion, though I could see from the glint in his eyes that he caught on to what I was getting at, "I don't think so, my prince."

I nodded, still smiling, "There will come a day, Lord Varys, when my father dies. The whoring and drinking and recklessness will finally catch up to him, and on that day my brother, Prince Joffrey will take the throne." I let the smile slip off my face in favour of an expression that I hope conveyed the gravity of what I was about to say, "His penchant for cruelty is well-known, my lord, and though I can hope it will not be as terrible in intensity or as vast in scale as that of the Mad King, I dare not leave it to chance."

He tilted his head to the side, expressing his interest in what I had to say, "Oh?"

"My mother tells me that I will become Hand of the King when I come of age, but that won't, gods willing, be for many more years. In the interim, when Joffrey takes power, I will be excluded from the matters of state and from meetings of the Small Council. You, Lord Varys, on the other hand..."

Varys looked concerned, "And what would you have me do, my prince?"

"When Joffrey takes the reigns, I should like for you to keep me, and only me, informed as to the goings on in the Small Council. If Joffrey does prove as cruel as I fear is possible, then I will work to curb that cruelty in the interests of the realm." I offered Varys a smile, "Don't worry, Lord Varys, I won't ask of you anything else. You need not fear becoming a traitor, and you can rest assured that whatever information you see fit to give me will be used to serve the interests of the realm at large."

Varys feigned relief, "I am glad to hear that, my prince."

"So, is that a yes?" Varys looked uncertain, though I could tell he was intrigued at the possibilities for sowing chaos that this new line of intrigue would bring. I looked him dead in the eyes, cutting to the chase, "What do you want, Lord Varys?"

He feigned confusion, "My prince?"

"What can I do to set your mind at ease, Lord Varys? To understand both the necessity and the simplicity of what I am asking you to do." I stared him down once again, "So, I ask again, what do you want?"

He spoke as if the words coming out of his mouth were obvious, "Only what is good for the realm, my prince, and for the common people."

I concurred, "As do I, which is why I'm asking this of you. Only asking, mind you, I wouldn't dream of issuing orders to a man as wizened and as expert in his craft as you."

He hesitated for a moment longer, though I guessed it was entirely feigned, before he nodded his head, "Yes, my prince. I will do as you ask, for the good of the realm."

I allowed a wide smile to break out on my face, "I am most gladdened to hear it, my lord."

He reciprocated with a small smile on his face, "As am I." He sipped his tea, and continued to speak, "May I ask you a question, my prince?"

"There is no guarantee I will answer, Lord Varys, but you may ask."

He set his now empty cup back down on the table, "Why me, my prince? You could have gone to your mother, or any one of your uncles, or any one of the other members of the Small Council. I hear you are close with the esteemed Grandmaester. With all these great and powerful people at your disposal, why me?"

I thought my answer through, eventually landing upon one I found satisfactory, "You mean the uncles who are not here, Lord Varys? Uncle Renly is on a hunt with father and uncle Stannis is in Dragonstone. As for my mother, she is too blinded by her love for Joffrey to ever see the truth. I don't begrudge her that love, for every mother should love their children, but one has to admit it does have a tendency to make her behave... irrationally, from time to time. As for the other members of the Small Council, I don't trust them."

Varys's eyebrows climbed comically high on his forehead, "A serious accusation to make, my prince."

I snorted, "Not as traitors, Lord Varys, just as self-interested. I don't trust Lord Baelish because his only goals are power and wealth. He has no nobler ambitions in mind. I don't trust Pycelle because he is my grandfather's creature, through and through. I love and respect my grandfather, Lord Varys, but that doesn't mean I want him knowing my every thought."

Varys looked to be reappraising me, "And yet you trust me? It is often said that I am the most untrustworthy man in the capital."

I shook my head, "I don't trust you, my lord, at least not with my person. And yet, when I offered all that it was in my power to give you, which, given my status as a prince, is not inconsiderable, you asked for nothing but the best for the realm. I don't doubt your self-interest, my lord, but I also believe that, given your experiences as one of their number, when you say you want the best for the smallfolk, you mean it. Our interests are in alignment, my lord, and for the moment, that makes you trustworthy."

Varys seemed satisfied, "I see, my prince. A most astute observation."

I smiled and stood from my chair, "Well, I won't take up any more of your valuable time, my lord. I will see myself out." I looked Varys in the eyes once more, "Needless to say, the contents of our discussion is to remain strictly between us, yes?"

Varys looked amused, "What discussion, my prince?"

"Good answer." I walked to the door, and just as I was about to open it, a thought struck me, and I looked back at Varys, "Can I ask you one final question, my lord?"

"Of course."

"Has my uncle Stannis sent a ship to Eastwatch-by-the-sea in recent months?"

Varys gave me a slow, uncertain nod, "I believe he has sent several, my prince, stuffed to the brim with dragonglass, oddly enough. May I ask why?"

"Oh, think nothing of it, Lord Varys." I offered him one last smile, turned, opened the doors, and left Varys behind.

Baelish was planning something, Tyrion was languishing in a cell, Ned and my mother were on-track to butt heads in a very bloody way. War was brewing, and it looked increasingly likely that there was little that I could do to stop it. In spite of my efforts, I had only managed to secure a stay of execution, and it appeared as if it was all to be for naught. Even still, I walked back to my chambers with a spring in my step.

At least something was going to plan.


Tommen is making moves, but so is everyone else!
I struggled to write Varys, so let me know if I got it right.
Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. Not quite happy with how this chapter came out, so it may be subject to a rewrite in the future