Prologue
Rugen drank his sour wine and tried to ignore the loud noise around him. The tavern was full of retainers of the Red Keep, enjoying drinks, food, gambling, and loud conversations. The surroundings allowed him little time to complete.
The Downhill, a very unoriginal name for a tavern located at the foot of Aegon's Hill, was frequented by all types of workers from the Red Keep, such as Rugen, who was appointed to the position of undergaoler in the time of Mad King Aerys. The largest and oldest tavern in the city, its construction dated back to the time of Aegon the Conqueror, officially, the building order was given by Queen Rhaenys. She also expanded it from the original one-room wooden building to the three-floors brick construction, which functioned as a canteen for the Red Keep workers. Many Targaryen- probably even the Queen who built it – used it as a base for networking.
"We be paying for this. The gods will have their due," the grey-haired woman of around forty said. A most interesting, but not unusual conversation, in a table occupied by a family.
The man, her husband by the looks of it, coarsely reprimanded her. "King Robert is a hero, woman. You don't know what you say."
"Where was the hero when the Lion was sacking and raping our city? The Targaryen's are kin to gods, my father always said."
"If you ask me, that Lion woman is the problem,"
The father clouted the green boy in the head. "No one asked you, son, and have some respect, she is your Queen."
"I'll tell you, she killed King Viserys."
"Shut your mouth woman! The spider has ears everywhere. That boy was no King, the Dragons rule ended with his father."
Rugen tasted the sour wine and ignored the food in front of him. Afterward, he cleaned his coarse black beard. He placed the coin on the table and ordered another cup. Upon seeing the silver, the innkeeper was quick to attend to him.
"They say the little queen was with him." "They say the little queen was with him," spoke a woman from a close table. A full-breasted youth, this one Rugen remembered seeing about the Red Keep, serving as a maid. She had a commoner prettiness to her that would attract the eyes of higher-ranking men. "She was his twin. My mother said they ran the bells when they were born." The oldest matron nodded, clearly remembering said event. "The killer came when they were sleeping."
"Did they kill the little queen?" The youngest girl at the table spoke with bright eyes.
"No, she fought them. Like the dragon queens of old." A maid spoke with a fairytale-like voice. "I heard that they tried to kill her too. The little princess too, I am sure."
"I remember Queen Rhaella." A matron spoke, from another table. "She used to visit the orphanage and bring the kids clothes and toys, even sewn some there. A queen mending the clothes of the poor. That was before she was hidden away in the castle."
"Before she grew sick with childbed, I remember. She visited the Sept all the time," One of the Red keep sept workers say with sad eyes. "Always gave the coins she had with her to the beggars."
"She was such a pious and generous Queen! She must be crying in heavens for her little girls," the matron spoke with a sad voice.
"That Lannister Queen never left the red walls unless it was to piss on the likes of us." The forty years old woman spoke. Her distaste unmasked. "She probably sent them to kill Queen Rhaella's children."
"Perhaps the witch did it herself, using some lion dark magic." The Matron spoke.
"Like her father did to the Silver Dragon's princess."
The Matron put her hands on her chest. "Poor Princess Elia and her babes! Those lions are all kingslayer's, and our brave king is married to one."
"The gods will curse all of us for it."
"Woman, if they curse anyone is those lions." the husband said, clearly concern with the conversation. Many we're listening, with various degrees of agreement but uneasiness.
The young maid spoke in a conspiratorial tone to the woman who kept ignoring her husband, "The Queen did some sorcery that made her children look like lions. I'll tell you. She cursed Lord Stannis' daughter too."
"Probably kill his wife too." The wife agreed.
"I hear she threw herself out of the walls of Dragonstone," Some young man spoke from a table next to them, by now most of the area was paying close attention to them.
"Did your mother ever tell you the story of queen Helaena?" The maid asked the boy who almost drooled when looking at her.
"Of course!" said woman affirmed with pride. "In the time of the dragons there used to play a mummer's show about it in Alysanne's square."
"They said Queen Helaena and her daughter threw themselves into their deaths. But my mother always said her daughter had been thrown to death by some jealous lord who wanted to make their daughter a queen."
"I bet they were lions."
"Wife!"
"They raped and murdered my two sisters! You wouldn't have a wife if I wasn't at the fishmarket at the time."
"I am sorry," The maid lamented, and the matron gave her a mournful look.
"The orphanages were full of girls and boys afterward. We had no space for so many. Now they are in the streets, the Gods only know how they make a living, while our orphanages keep being filled while falling to pieces."
"One day the dragons will back," the maid spoke with vehemence. "You'll see."
"Careful of what you say girl, or you'll end up like Princess Elia." The matron warned her, not unkindly.
Rugen's gaze fixed on the fearless maid with the honey-colored hair. The pretty thing would have caught the King's eyes by now and would be dead if she kept talking like this. In his mind, Varys the Spider wondered how she was so well informed and decided to keep an eye on her. Her performance was pre-arranged by someone. Someone who was supporting the Dragons from across the sea.
.
24 day of the Nine Moon of 295 AC
Varys walked into the Small Council chamber, shocked to find the King of the Seven Kingdoms present. And sober.
Robert Baratheon sat in the middle, garbed in the finest doublet of black velvet with the crowned stag embroidered in gold thread, and heavily on his dark hair sat the crown. In his face was a look similar to one Varys suspected he gave Prince Rhaegar in the Trident. Shockingly, for a man known for his shot temper, he was not roaring his fury. Instead, he was staring at the piece of parchment in front of him. His brother was frowning, and Varys could almost hear his teeth grinding.
He could not say what was written in that letter, at least to cause such a look. Did he know about his incestuous wife? Queen Cersei had spent her day prowling around with her broad of children, not in the Black Cells, so it could not be that.
Jon Arryn's expression was one of deep thought and worry, a familiar one on the Hand of the King and true ruler of Westeros' face, but more protruding than usual. That worm, Pycelle, was already in the room, and even his frail act did not hide the fact that much like Varys, he had no idea of what could cause the King to come to a Council meeting instead of whoring and drinking his way into an early grave.
Even Barristan the Bold was present, a silent white shadow. Lord Renly, unlike most times, was quietly trying to figure out what troubles his older brothers.
He took his place and ran in his mind through the possible people that could be worrisome for the Baratheon regime: the Greyjoy's were spent from their idiotic rebellion; the Reach was without consent on anything, neither faction would be brave enough to commit treason; the Riverlands were silenced by Hoster Tully when he cut off the heads of the Targaryen loyalist after the War, with Raymun Darry, the Lord of Darry, left with only a little son as his only heir and little support, it assured he would not cause the crown troubles; the Vale and the West had their loyalist firmly on the crown stag.
Doran Martell kept his secrets well guarded, and although he was a more dangerous player than most gave him credit, he was exceedingly cautious. Prince Oberyn was loyal to his brother foremost, his boldness was kept in check.
Nothing big should but happening, and not knowing what new move was made troubled Varys.
The Velaryon's? No. The Crownlands would not move without a king, and they were still rebuilding from the Usurper's War. Besides, despite Stannis Baratheon's many defects, he held a firm hand on the most loyal houses of the old regime.
Every important man in Westeros was alive and of fine health, so it could not be it either.
His Queen had just returned from her much needed time off in the Jade Sea. Making the little Velaryon blood in her veins justice with the amount of gold she made from trade. She had no time to do much scheming. And he would know if she did so. The little princess was proving her brightness with her studies with Lemore and Haldon, and there was little she could do to cause such a storm, despite her moniker.
After they were all seated, the Lord Hand looked at his son in all but blood and took a deep breath, "Visenya Targaryen has contacted us."
Only his years of experience kept Varys from showing any expression that would denounce his loyalties, but even he could not hide his shock. She did what!
"She didn't use your birds, Lord Varys?" The newest master of coin, Petyr Baelish, spoke. His tone was condescending, but Varys used to work for Aerys, so it failed to hit him. What troubled him about Baelish was that he was a very clever wildcard. Varys did not like that, no matter how much Petyr amused him. A worthy opponent, Varys missed those true, but he had enough headaches in his future, to have more caused by the Master of Coin.
"An oarsman from a trading galley called the Summer Maid came to me and would not give the letter to anyone but me and the Lord Hand."
Clever. Jon Arryn would be the best bet, but he was a man difficult to contact, and to enter the Tower of the Hand by secret ways would make it worse. Stannis Baratheon was a master of ships who personally did his duties, which meant inspecting the ships on the bay once a week. His character would also assure that he would bring the letter its valuable attention.
"Pretty name for a ship, but very appropriate for a fanciful princess," spoke the fanciful lord on the room. Lord Stannis' thoughts mirrored Varys's, but unlike him, he did little to hide it.
"She is no Princess!" Robert roared at his younger brother who raised his hands in deference.
"It was the name of one of Corlys Velaryon ships," Stannis Baratheon said shortly. But there was something in those dark eyes that not even Varys trained eye could comprehend.
"Properly named for someone who traveled to the Far East," Varys offered.
The name in truth came from the little princess. Daenerys Targaryen idolized the Sea Snake. If Visenya Targaryen idolized anyone, she did not vocalize it. Although, Little Daenerys had to know the name from someone. Extensive lessons on the Sea Snake's life and accomplishments were not part of the girl's studies.
"She truly went that far?" Renly asked almost wistfully, his eyes finding Stannis who looked even more uncomfortable, and wasn't that interesting,
"My contacts in Essos say she went as far as Qarth." Illyrio actually spoke of Asshai but Varys doubted. She did trade with the Shadow Lands, those precious stones she brought said as much, but she didn't need to go there. Dragon's blood opened many doors in Essos, more than Westerosi imagined, and Visenya was taking full advantage of it while building a little empire while doing it. Varys had doubted Illyrio when the man had taken the girl under his wing, and bounding with her as if she was his daughter, but it had paid off ten times over.
Petyr Baelish whistled. "Corlys Velaryon made a lot of money in those fanciful travels," the master of coin spoke, and Varys could barely keep his expression still.
Varys could imagine what was going on Jon Arryn's face. A beautiful princess with money, a dangerous outcome, for the best claimant to an indebted throne, but that was the unpredictable result of Viserys Targaryen's murder.
"The man was one of the most powerful lords of his time," Pycelle spoke, clearly misspeaking history. "The girl probably got someone to do it for her and took the credit. Who would accept a woman in a ship?"
"Oh some men would not mind I assure you," Baelish spoke lewdly.
"She sure is enjoying her first taste of freedom." Renly Baratheon had no idea how true those words where.
"Rumors and speculations don't matter," Jon Arryn cut the conversation, driving to the point. "This letter does. She wished for a parley."
Silence fell onto the chamber. A parley? Is she out of her mind? She cannot parley with people she one day is to go to war with.
"Fucking dragonspawn!" The King roared. "Parley! As if I would parley with filth like that!"
From the corner of his eyes, he saw Ser Barristan flinch. The White Sword once had a shadow by the name of little Visenya. The little girl had adored him. Despite the many years that went by, the brave Kingsguard could not have forgotten a girl that was the closest he had to a granddaughter.
"We should," Jon Arryn spoke with caution, "Viserys has been dead for over a year. The country blames us for cutting his head in his bed."
If Viserys had been poisoned, people's opinion might have been different, but the gruesome assassination left many shocked. Varys knew that neither King nor Hand were behind it. However, most of the country did believe so, and Robert Baratheon did little to deny it. The tourney he organized afterward's might have been to celebrate Joffrey's nameday, but people saw it as a celebration of another kind. Worse, the commonfolk who always loved King Robert turned their hatred toward his Queen and her father. They were already little loves in King's Landing, but now people publicly spoke against them. A better queen would try to win them over, Cersei Lannister preferred to order tongue to be cut and heads to adorned walls.
"Alive Viserys Targaryen was a joke at a dinner table, dead he is a martyr the likes of Daeron the First. His widower is branching out to us." Jon Arryn gave his King a pointed look. "The heir to the Targaryen name. All she asks of us is to hear her out in a neutral location. She is not demanding a damn throne, not even Dragonstone. The Seven know she could go to Dorne or to Mace Tyrell and ask for support and we would have a war."
"Lord Tyrell has a son of age with the Prin- girl." Renly said with awareness. Yes, you're in bed with the youngest son, so you know how much Mace would love the idea of a King he would call grandson. I am counting on that.
"And she has another girl to trade for alliances. Dorne has no lack of princes or hot-blood. Nor does it lack reasons to go to war." Jon Arryn intervened.
The Wall would fall faster than Visenya would sell Daenerys off like that.
"She proposed a meeting in Pentos, but also added that we probably wouldn't consider the place a neutral grown."
"Could we not convince her to come to Dragonstone? Or Duskendale?" Pycelle proposed and almost half the room scoffed.
"I am sure even a girl raised in exile is well aware of what happened the last time she was in Dragonstone, and of what happened the last time a Targaryen went to Duskandale," Stannis shut down the ludicrous proposal.
Tywin needed better cronies.
"She refuses to set foot in Westeros for the meeting," Jon Arryn informed the Grandmaster dryly. "Braavos would be the best place. The Sealord of Braavos could act as a broker for the meeting."
"I have not agreed!" The King protested loudly, the Lord Hand turned to him sharply, like a father punishing his troublesome son. "But I can see how we could win from this. With luck, we can send those girls to the Faith."
And have Tywin murder them as soon as they enter the Motherhouse. Unlikely. Varys tried to imagine Visenya Targaryen and even Daenerys Targaryen as Septas. I must tell this to Illyrio, he would enjoy a good laugh.
"We could send an envoy to treat with her," Renly spoke, in his blue-green eyes, and Petyr Baelish green-grey ones Varys could see greed.
"The letter implies what she wants," Jon Arryn spoke, and Stannis sifted in his seat. "Dragonstone. She is willing to bend the knee for Dragonstone."
"The foolish woman cannot expect such a thing," Pycelle spoke. "Not even Viserys, who was a male, was allowed such a deal."
Something - an idea - was forming in Varys' mind, from Stannis tension to the desire from Dragonstone, the picture became clear. Of course. Stannis Baratheon was Robert Baratheon's heir, even if they did not know of it of yet. She's playing a smarter Rhaenyra, for she would make sure to have trueborn children. But Stannis. Varys did not want Stannis as King. Willas - intelligent, kind, perfect-consort - Tyrell was the plan.
"Dragonstone belongs to Lord Stannis."
"Widower Lord Stannis." Jon Arryn confirmed his suspicion.
"She cannot mean-" Pycelle said nervously.
"It's implied," Lord Stannis spoke with a tense tone, his opinion on the possibility of marrying the queen in exile, as many called in the streets, who rumors (and Varys's little birds) said she was beautiful, was impossible to read.
"I will not have Stannis wed to a dragonspawn." Someone should remind King Robert of his grandmother's name.
"We should see what she was to say and offer. I am sure soon the country will know she contacted us. If she has the means to do this, she has the means to make word get out. We cannot look like we are unwilling to listen out to two girls because we fear them." Jon Arryn once again proved that he was the voice of reason.
"I'll go myself," Jon Arryn spoke in a clear tone. "I'll send word back to the girl that we'll send an envoy to Braavos to speak of a possible meeting, but I won't say who. I shall write to the Sealord and ask for him to act as a neutral party in the negotiation. It might gain us some credit with the Iron Bank."
"Lord Arryn, are you sure?" Renly asked. He could not stop looking at his middle brother in shock since the revelation. "You are the Hand of the King, Lord of the Eyrie, and Warden of the East."
"Which makes me the perfect envoy to do so. I speak with the King's Voice, and my presence will show that we are serious. His Grace, for obvious reasons, cannot go. Everyone is aware of my role in the War, and I am old enough to remember more than the Mad King's reign, so I can treat with her without judgment."
"Perhaps you should send her a book on the Dance of the Dragons to remind what happened the last time a woman decided she should be Queen."
"While I am sure you are joking," Varys could almost hear the 'Robert' in the end. Jon Arryn did have a troublesome foster child. "We should give the girl something like a peace offer. It is common in such a delicate situation."
"You want to give her a gift!"
"Robert, for all we know, the girl thinks we kill her family and strangled her brother and husband when he was in bed with her. The least we can do is making this process less tense."
"How old is she?" Petyr asked as if he did not already know.
"She is no more than nineteen, I believe"
"Perhaps a gown? Girls like pretty gowns."
"She traveled half the world. I doubt some pretty silks will charm her to us." Stannis scoffed, for once knowing more of women than his womanizer of a King and brother. "There is a portrait of her mother in Dragonstone."
The room grew silent with shocked that the most severe man had such a thoughtful idea. Varys, who had not seen the girl in years, but had words of her character to the point he knew her better than most, knew she would esteem such a gift more than any of the men at the table could understand.
Jon Arryn was the first to recover. "We shall give it to her."
"You need guards and a Kingsguard." The King spoke, almost certainly imagining sending an army.
"If His Grace won't find it predispose, I would like to go." The Lord Commander volunteer and Varys cheered internally. "This is as much as negotiation as a way for His Grace to see of her character. I met more Targaryen's than anyone alive. Allow to me assess the girl to see if she is her father's daughter or not."
"I'll allow it," the king spoke and then swallowed hard. "Stannis will be two days behind you. If – and if – her deal is that good, I want her wed and bedded before she set a foot in my Kingdom. Might as well wed her to Stannis than some petty lording who won't know how to reign her in."
Stannis gritted his teeth, but everyone knew he would comply.
