Title Quote:

"Some battles are won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens."

Tywin Lannister, A Storm of Swords

The thought to pinch himself had crossed Brandon's mind a lot since yesterday, to wake himself up from this strange dream. Pain was supposed to do that, rip you from your nightmares. His burning face and the repeated slaps he had gotten showed Brandon, sadly, that either pain was not a sufficient tool to wake him from truly horrendous dreams or this twisted world he was in right now had become reality. But really, for Kyle to slap Brandon awake to tell him that he was snoring and therefore making a sound, thus deserving of a slap was really over the top.

Brandon had after all never meant to bring his friends in trouble, and the king would have stopped the mummery with the fire and the noose soon enough. King Aerys might be mad but his councilors could not be that stupid. Right? Everyone was just overreacting, and father would soon tell Brandon it was all an elaborate joke, planned by the king with his trusted Warden of the North to teach a wayward son a lesson. It had to be. The king could not be that mad, the councilors could not be that stupid and father could not be so uncaring for Lya and so uncaring for Brandon.

I am ashamed of you.

Over a fucking Dornishwoman, for gods' sake?

Ned might bitch about it for a while, apparently snitch to father on Brandon, but Brandon could get Ned a hundred Dornishwomen and make this right again. So, the Dayne whore had a nice piece of ass, what of it? All this most fair lady of the realm was pure horse shit, that one Lyseni he'd once had in White Harbor was definitely more beautiful than Ashara fucking Dayne. Brandon briefly wondered, if the Lyseni still went for a gold dragon the hour?

Brandon might have to plow the trout for a while first, with father hot on his ass, but Catelyn Tully would not hold Brandon's attention for long, he knew. Sure, she was pretty, but oh so proper. Oh, so boring. There would not be any excitement in their marriage bed, no, the trout would probably lie cold turkey – or trout, ha – and pray to her Sevens for the fun to be over and for Brandon's seed to germinate. Bleurgh!

Could you be any more dull? To be fair, as Brandon thought on it, Catelyn's sister was probably worse. After all, Catelyn Tully was at least pretty. Er. Prettier. All this trouble with wenches would be over as soon as they'd all left the Crownlands. Brandon would be heir again or his future father-in-law would probably have a fit. And Brandon's friends would be his friends again.

All of them were too tense right now, sitting in their saddles around Brandon and casting him nervous looks. Yes, they better be nervous, for when this farce was over Brandon would make them his friends regret their part in it. Brandon allowed a small grin to grace his face, he could almost picture it. Brandon also sent his smile in the way of that one lady up on the balcony that was looking their direction.

Curious, though, the lady did not even try to meet Brandon's eye. Was she looking at Elbert? Interesting, he'd question the Arryn later on the girl of the blue fish on silver and white. Did Jeffory and Elbert get some tail at the feast yesterday?

Father returned to their group, his business with the king apparently done. Rickard Stark had left early that morning and spoken of arrangements to be made, then sent Ethan to the saddler and asked him to organize an additional padded child's saddle that could be placed on the same horse with an experienced rider. Had the old wolf found a Snow he had left behind years ago, looking to take the child north so it wouldn't melt down here?

Brandon had to suppress a grin at the thought. His father could act it, but he was not so different from his true heir. His old man took the contraption Ethan held up for him and fastened it onto his own saddle. Brandon thought back for a second to when he must have been five or six, he remembered riding the same style with his mother. If he would ever again find a lady that could capture his heart as completely as his mother had his father's? A lady like Barbrey? After all, Rickard and Willam did close that option for him…

Father addressed the whole group, telling that their last member would arrive soon and that they could finally escape all this infernal stench. The Northern guards released a few chuckles, probably reminiscent of the crisp air of the North, smelling of pinewood and ice and home. Two women approached, one of Brandon's age but more pretty than beautiful, looking exotic but a little frail as well. Her slender form was less to Brandon's taste, though her silken robes showed off ample skin.

The lady was clutching a little girl, looking Dornish like her mother, and the little girl in turn was holding a tiny black kitten at her breast. Princess Elia, Brandon realized after a second. The crown prince's wife entered into father's presence together with another woman that drew Brandon's eye away from Elia Martell.

The princess' companion was her polar opposite, obviously older, more his father's generation, clad in a dress that covered almost her entire body but could not hide the formidable curves the woman obviously had. She must've been 38 already but Brandon's expert eye estimated there was not even a little sag to them. Her. Her silver gold locks reminded him of that Lyseni already for a second time today. The only detraction to the queen's appearance seemed a heavy inclination to the use of face paint in Brandon's opinion.

However, what absolutely baffled Brandon about the queen's look was, well, her look. Not her appearance, the look in her eyes. Brandon knew that look; oh he knew it all too well. He had seen it a hundred times directed at him; how could he not know it? It was a look, not of infatuation mayhap, but of definite interest. And it was directed at Brandon's father.

Had the old man charmed himself a fucking queen? The balls of him! Oh, Brandon would get to the bottom of this when they were out of the city, he so would.

With the queen almost-but-not-quite eye fucking his father, the entire host dismounted as one and dropped to their knees, Brandon included. The king's wife motioned for them to rise and held out her hand for his father to kiss, which Rickard Stark did definitely longer than propriety demanded. Brandon would have liked to imagine the queen to blush, but he could not tell with all that mascara on her face.

Rhaella Targaryen did not even offer her hand towards any of the other nobles in the party, though she did share acknowledgements with both Jeffory and Elbert. Of course, the two had met her at the banquet yesterday that they would not yet divulge any information on. Courtesies behind them, the queen and the princess stepped up to the old wolf and talked a little, luckily within earshot of Brandon.

"Lord Stark, your requests from yesterday has been seen to. Grand Maester Pycelle sent his fastest raven before midnight, he should arrive at his destination soon and your new wedding guest will probably arrive at Riverrun before you. It has been to my pleasure to endorse your invitation personally. As for that other matter, the princess and I were most happy to comply with your request. Elia was most satisfied with your decision on her lady's behalf."

Brandon wondered about the look of disdain the queen shortly flicked his way, but he probably just imagined it. She could not be angry with Brandon over his discourtesy to the king now, could she? After all, it was her gods that ruled in his favor at the trial. But Brandon did not have the luxury to ruminate on the matter as the princess stepped up to his father and held up her daughter to him, which Rickard quickly took from her before listening as Elia Martell spoke.

"Lord Stark, I have sent for Lady Lysa already to take up her place as my lady-in-waiting as soon as it proves convenient. I believe she shall make her way over shortly after her sister's wedding, don't you think? By the way, I never did express my thanks to you for the removal of Connington from court. The man was not fond of me and took every chance to express that opinion to my husband. A shame Connington will never be able to give Rhaegar an heir of his own. Good riddance, we're better off with him gone. The man had no brains for politics, only the wardrobe."

"Thank you both for your help, my queen, my princess. Princess Elia, talking of letters, you will be most pleased to know that I have written to my heir to bring his lady friend along from the Eyrie, to introduce her as his companion for the wedding. I believe princess Rhaenys will be glad to see a familiar face again when we meet them off Darry along the Riverroad. Your lady is as close as a sister to you, did you not say? Mayhap I shall look favorably on her union with my son."

There was too much information in his father's words that was too outlandish for Brandon to comprehend for a second. Ned and a lady friend, coming down from the Vale? He would question Elbert so hard on the subject! And the new addition to the group was the little princess? Preposterous, why should they care to look out for that vile dragon's spawn?

The girl was too little anyways, not worth much and a girl besides. Why did father let himself get shafted so much? They should have stayed around until Lyanna was back in their hands again, not settled for a girl-child and her kitten instead. But nobody seemed to pay Brandon any regards in his brooding, princess Elia leaning down to ruffle her daughter's hair and talking to her soothingly, lovingly.

"My little sun. Listen to Lord Stark, do you hear? He'll take care of you for some time, and Balerion will watch over you with Auntie Shasha joining you in a few days. I will come get you as soon as I can, just you wait for me."

Princess Elia pressed a kiss to princess Rhaenys' temple before addressing Rickard again.

"Lord Stark, Dorne stands in your debt. Word will reach my brothers through trusted channels, so they know of your service to me. They will not believe the rumors that will spread about you in the coming days but know you for the man of honor you are. I hope we can share another drink together, when this whole sorry business is finally over."

Did his father charm the queen and the princess? Brandon had so much to learn on this ride to come. They all saddled up after they bade each other a final farewell, Rickard pressing another kiss to the queen's hand that stretched the limits of propriety. Did she squirm a little there, or was that again wishful thinking on Brandon's part?

They made their way to the Dragon Gate and Brandon was bursting with questions, but it seemed he would have to wait a little longer. The guards stopped them, and a rather portly man approached them, bald and effeminate almost. A most disconcerting combination. Who did this man think he was, to stop the Lord Paramount of the North like a peasant? Picture Brandon's surprise as his father greeted the man not derisively, not enthusiastically, but guarded and with his iciest mask in place.

"Lord Varys. I am not surprised to see you, to be honest, but I had expected to meet you outside the city gates on the way. Coincidentally, of course."

"Please, Lord Stark, I have come to the conclusion that would only be an insult to your intelligence. May I compliment you on your most splendid performance during your days here in the capital?"

A eunuch, Brandon realized. The high pitch was grating, though his father did not show a single reaction. What was it that this man wanted from them? Father seemed a little uncertain as well, and that was enough to leave Brandon wary.

"I appreciate the compliment, Lord Varys, but I would of course never perform like a mummer at court. It is, therefore, unnecessary."

The two man shared a short chuckle, and both were obviously faking it. So obviously that it seemed they wanted the other to know. Rickard continued on.

"I knew you would approach me, for I must intrigue you, Lord Varys. As the king's spymaster I cannot remain a mystery to you. It must be grating to have your bird's confined to White Harbor in the North, with little purchase to be found elsewhere."

"You are frightfully well informed. Tell me, Lord Stark, why do I not seem to find any other in your kingdom willing to help our king?"

The bald eunuch did not at the least appear frightful, only amusedly interested.

"Lord Varys, I fear lonely street urchins and orphans are not prepared to face winter when it comes truly knocking. We huddle together in our holdfast and what little food we have is difficult to spare for strangers when the summer snows threaten the harvest."

Rickard spoke of doom smilingly, and Brandon thought of old men going hunting at the height of winter. His father had called Brandon callous, but he did not belief he shared this disregard for the life of children.

"Yes, I did not face this problem on the warm shores of Essos. Still, your network here in the south is most surprising as well. You are well informed, and I cannot tell by whom. It is most irksome, Lord Stark. How ever did you manage that?"

The way these two spoke of people like things was most irksome to Brandon, though he kept his mouth shut still.

"Why, Lord Varys, there are wolves in all the woods of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, and the direwolf rules them all. Leave me with my mysteries. I'll not go raiding dragons' graves in return.
'Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.'"

At that the eunuch stumbled and blanched, stunned into silence. He did look frightful now as he gazed at Rickard again. Why, was the man scared of Lord Lannister?

"Who knows?"

The not-man's voice was nothing more than a croak.

"At the moment?"

Rickard wore a sardonic smile as he answered.

"None of import, truly. But the ravens are sent and the riders on the way since yesterday. I shall trust in your discretion should you deem it vital I want information to… disappear. Know that I am really ambivalent to your plans, but contingencies for my death and that of my heir are being put in place.

"Depending on your choice, Varys, I will either bring winter and shelter for you myself when I ride south again, or leave you with all the others in my way to burn in a pyre you will never be able to contain. Did you know spiders deal badly with both extremes, should they fail to find their corner to hide early enough?"

Rickard almost made the bald man cry, it seemed, for Lord Varys gulped like a fish before a quick curtsy and a hasty retreat. The things Brandon would enquire on during their ride continued to grow.

They left through the Dragon Gate shortly after and were not met with anymore hindrances on their way out. Brandon tried to start a conversation with his father and his friends several times but was shut up rather quickly each time, even given a guard of his own the permission to 'slap my stupid son unconscious should he speak before we have ridden for three days'.

Brandon's father paid all his attention to the little princess for the rest of the day, bringing in Ethan and the others at times to help distract Rhaenys Targaryen in rotation. The little girl luckily did not start to cry like a little bitch the moment they were out of her mother's sight.

Princess Rhaenys did slow their group down a little, though. They could not ride their horses hard the entire day with the small girl around. They would arrive at Darry in 12 days after setting off from King's Landing and for the first three days of the journey, true to his father's words, Brandon was not included in the hushed conversations of the group.

When those days had passed his father sent Brandon's friends to explain to Brandon what had transpired at the capital and the moves Rickard had undertaken with Elbert and Jeffory at the banquet because Rickard himself 'could not be bothered to translate his actions into words an idiot could understand'.

The thinly veiled contempt Jeffory and Elbert showed Brandon stung. They did not need to uphold the charade any longer, did they? They'd left the capitol, there was no reason to lie any longer. The tale Jeffory and Elbert spun was fantastic beyond compare.

A tale of Brandon's father leading all the nobles at court around by their noses in an act so intricate that he managed, within one feast, to clip the wings of the crown prince's faction, claim the little princess Rhaenys as a bargaining chip away from the royal family to hold against both prince Rhaegar and princess Elia while making them both indebted to the Starks for the little girl's safety. All the while having the rest of the wider court believe Rickard was at odds with the Dornish and ingratiate himself with the king so that the mad dragon thought there was no truer subject to the throne than his Warden of the North.

Father showed the court a simpleton and they swallowed it, all the while dancing in the palm of his hand. And, for fuck's sake, Rickard Stark managed to charm the queen!

There was other stuff Elbert and Jeffory talked about, but apparently, they had not lured any southern ladies into their chambers during their stay, only charming specific houses on orders of his father. They did not divulge either if his father and the queen were doing more than just eye fucking each other, but at least Ethan seemed to react with reproach to Brandon's opinion suddenly.

Hah, as if, the young Glover was probably just jealous of the charm all wolves apparently had. Brandon had still not gotten any word on Ned's lady friend out of Elbert after Jeffory had held the man back when Brandon first questioned Elbert, only cold looks every time afterwards he tried to bring it up.

Finally, Brandon's isolation seemed to be over after five days as his father invited Brandon to privately step out with the Warden of the North for a conversation during their lunch break, pawning off little Rhaenys to Ethan. Brandon did not know if he was allowed to broach a subject himself. So, out of caution, he waited for his father to start the conversation. However, Brandon did not expect his father to start with the most unimportant topic there was.

"Son. Tell me what you know of Dorne."

Really, Dorne? Father did not have anything more pressing to talk about than Ned's whore of yesteryear? Brandon could feel his blood pumping as he spoke.

"You want to start with talking of whores and vipers, far on the horizon that interest us nothing in the North? Does that shit about Ashara Dayne bother you that much, even now that Ned found himself another floozy in the Vale? I'll apologize to him when I see him, but I do not see the point why Neddy is so angry still over a fucking loose Dornishwoman!"

Rickard only regarded Brandon coolly, the same way his father always had since their conversation where Ashara Dayne first came up. Finally, Rickard spoke with Brandon, but in a tone as if his son was a mere servant.

"Yes, I want to talk of Dorne. Your bigoted opinion is disgraceful, Brandon, it's what they think of Dorne between the Marches and the Neck. The same places where they speak of us as wild savages cowering to trees and fucking with animals to keep warm in the winter.

"Sadly, you did not prove the royal court wrong in those thoughts when you barged into the throne room, foaming spit running down your beard and screaming for the head of the prince. When I arrive back at Winterfell, I will call upon Lord Dustin to chastise him for his failure in raising you and ask Lord Cerwyn why the fuck I never heard of your conduct from him.

Now, Brandon, let me tell you of Dorne. The only other place that the dragons did not subjugate by force of fire beside the North. A place with a people just as united as us Northmen in spirit, something no other province can claim. And that with three distinct peoples, not just a singular people like we have up North. So, here is your second chance, Brandon. Try again. What do you know of Dorne?"

Brandon had to scramble for a second. The accusation stung, especially as it rang true. Had he acted the picture of a savage? He hastily thought of his lessons on Dorne, but only came up with short descriptions.

"Um, Dornishmen, Salty, Sandy or Stony. The first kind live on the eastern coast, heavy with Rhoynish blood. House Nymeros Martell is Salty. Dark of skin and eye. Sandy, dessert dwellers, fewest amongst the Dornish. Never beaten on their home ground for long, bleeding armies in the dunes. Darker still, not from their blood but burnt by the sun. Stony Dornish, First Men or Andal. More alike with the rest of the realm, though culturally deeply suffused by Rhoynish and Dornish influences. The foremost House amongst them are the Yronwoods."

"Yes, Brandon, all that is correct. Not much, but it is correct."

Father shot Brandon a short nod before turning grim as ice again.

"Now tell me, as a Stony Dornish house, do you think it might have offended the Daynes, the third most powerful house of Dorne, beloved by the entire region for the Sword of the Morning and with current ties to the Targaryens and a serving Kingsguard amongst their peers, to have you loudly and blatantly lie about having dishonored their darling daughter for the realm to hear? You could have lost us our trade relation with the whole region for a whole generation, you imbecile!

"And for what, Brandon? Showing up your younger brother? Who, just so you know, apparently managed to smooth out the whole problem you caused without me even hearing about what happened. The princess and the queen seemed bedazzled over letters that Ned wrote to Lady Ashara, fucking bedazzled! Lady Dayne and Ned will meet us after Darry, where we will stay for a night. Where you will confess - in front of the entire Darry household - the offence you committed at Harrenhal against lady Dayne when we arrive."

Brandon could not help but gape at that. His little brother, sending women swooning? With words? Ned, the Quiet Wolf? What a load of shit was his father talking off? And Ned was still with the Dornish broad, even after Brandon's exclamation?

Ashara Dayne was not the first noblewoman Brandon had boasted of deflowering, even if it was the only case where he had actually not managed the deed. True, the boast had been a little unsavory. But that his father would dishonor his son over this matter, over the honor of a Dornish woman? That could not be. Brandon spoke up, voicing his protest.

"But father, you cannot mean that! If the problem is truly that dire, we can surely take care of the problem without disgracing me in such a manner! How will the lords ever accept it when you reinstate me as your heir after I have been made the mockery of the whole the realm?"

Rickard looked at him then, and Brandon's father laughed. Loud and long, without inhibitions before speaking again.

"Gods, you fool. Did you think this was a game, these last few days? Brandon, you will not, cannot be reinstated as my heir. You almost killed me, you almost killed your friends and you almost caused the civil war we have been standing on the edge of for years now! You were about to squander all the cards we had stacked in our favor since before I send Ned as a ward to Jon Arryn and arranged for your betrothal with Hoster Tully's daughter.

"Ned is my heir now. And I am not disgracing you, Brandon, you did that yourself. It is all your own fault with your deplorable conduct at Harrenhal. I have spoken with Elbert and Jeffory, Ned is deeply in love with his Lady Ashara and with a union between the two and with princess Rhaenys in the North with us we might just pull Dorne to our side in the coming war.

"Trust me, Brandon, for the smallest chance of that happening I will have you scream your transgressions against Lady Ashara at every keep we stop at for the world to hear or I might just agree when Hoster pressures me to marry you to Lady Lysa instead of his elder daughter.

"Did you know the younger trout sister had an abortion recently? The father being the boy you almost killed when he challenged you for Lady Catelyn's hand? You may fear the older sister will bore you in the future, but the younger is an instable little floozy that is likely to slit your throat in the bedroom some night. But be my guest, don't try to make amends.

"But know this: If Lady Ashara was my daughter, or the woman I loved, I would clamor for your head. How did you ever get Ned to forgive you after Harrenhal?"

There was silence between them. Brandon took his time to process all that was said. It was true, there was no going back, his future was in pieces. Winterfell would be Ned's. Brandon was no longer the heir. He would still marry Catelyn Tully, and that was if Brandon was lucky.

A fortnight past the image of a boring marriage to Catelyn had been hell, so Brandon had welcomed the reprieve his sister had seemed to give him by being abducted. Now Brandon would be at his brother's mercy and in danger of marrying a psychotic bitch that would want to see Brandon dead. His father was looking at Brandon as he deflated, neither satisfaction nor pity on Rickard's face. Only indifference. Rickard Stark was still waiting on his son's answer.

"Lya." Brandon croaked his sister's name out. "Ned forgave me for Lya's sake. Whoever Ned may fall in love with, I doubt my brother will ever love another more than Lya and Ben. And me, before that day. We took care of Lya together after the prince shamed her and continued sticking together for Lya. Ned forgave me, but he did not forget, and there was rage still in him when I saw him off the last time. But Ned forgave me, for Lya's sake."

Rickard regarded Brandon for a second before speaking again.

"Brandon, what you loudly claim to do in the name of the pack, Ned does silently without question. Your brother will make a great Lord someday and I advise you, son, to do better by him. You have much to make up for. Your performance at Darry will be the first step on that journey. Now come here."

And Brandon's father pulled him into a hug then, the first in a long, long time and Rickard held Brandon close as he spoke.

"My son. You have fallen far and landed hard and I cannot shield you anymore then I have done at the moment, but I am happy, so incredibly glad, that you are alive. You are my son and I love you, despite what you have done. I would have stepped up to fight for you had there been a dragon in front of me in that room, not just a madman with his pyromaniacs and lackeys. Never doubt that."

And his father held him tight as Brandon's eyes moistened and he came to accept the truth. Brandon was not the heir anymore, he was less than a second son now, but he still had family that cared for him despite his failings. It was time Brandon did right by them, and it was time he apologized to his friends. But that would come later, for right now Brandon was warm and safe and protected by the mightiest wolf in the world.

When Brandon had calmed again and extricated himself from his father's arms, he thought of lightening the mood. Brandon knew he bonded well with people with his charms, but there was little to talk about that was happy right now. Brandon would marry Catelyn. He would disgrace himself in the coming days loudly and often.

His brother Ned would return with his new lady, but Brandon had gravely offended both of them. Brandon's sister was still taken. His friends almost died because of him. The king was mad. The continent was on the brink of war. The Starks were charged with protecting a bratty little princess.

His father had charmed the queen.
Perfect.

"So, father… How did you manage to charm our lovely queen?"

Brandon's father looked at Brandon, then far away towards the horizon as Rickard started to speak.

"You know, son, I will never love another woman like I did your mother. At the capital I have flattered and groveled before the king. I have lied and cheated and threatened the lords into every advantage they could not believe a Northerner would be savvy enough to grasp. I have whispered with the princess and I have smiled at the queen. I have gotten a look at the myriad allegiances of the forces of the Red Keep and manipulated all the relevant ones to our advantage.

"With the prince proving himself an idiot, the king a lackwit and all of the lords he surrounded himself with either imbeciles or traitors hidden too well for the king to suspect, I have only found two forces in King's Landing that were both capable and inclined to have the Targaryens survive the coming war. But while the princess is now looking out for herself and Dornish interests with the prince's infidelity, she will not care for Targaryen lives but for those of her children. The queen, however, is interested in keeping both her sons and grandchildren alive as well as keeping the Targaryens in power. She is the only competent force truly on the Targaryen side.

"But the queen is lonely, Brandon. She may have powerful friends in the realm, yes, but none that stand against the king in his moments of madness now. Those friends will only turn towards queen Rhaella for guidance when the other Targaryens show themselves to be causes completely lost. Make no mistake, Brandon, that time will come. But right now, the queen is lonely, and abused, and vulnerable.

"So, I gave the queen what she deserves and craves the most but what she doesn't get at the moment. Respect and attention. Make no mistake, the queen is a lovely lady and could have made a stunning consort for me if things lay differently. But while the queen might forgive me the murder of her royal husband in the war to come, she will not forgive me for killing her firstborn, for sending her second son and grandson to a place like the Citadel, the Wall or the Faith or for standing aside as the bedmates I shall chose for this war move to kill them.

"The queen will not, cannot forgive me for ending her family's reign and the Targaryen line within the next years. For that is what I will do, now that her mad husband has threatened to kill my son and her ingrate of a son is off somewhere probably raping my daughter."

And his father looked at Brandon again, Rickard Stark's eyes burning with icy fire that could freeze all the dragons that ever flew across the world as he spoke.

"But until I have accomplished all that I plan for the Targaryens, the queen is useful to me if she just believes I am well inclined to her. And she already has done more for my cause than she thinks, her signature to my letter will bring Tywin to my table to negotiate. Because in doing so she proved to Tywin that his son has a protector in the queen at the capital, a development that happened very recently in my opinion. And the old lion will know he has me to thank for that knowledge.

"If the queen survives the coming storm, if she manages to preserve even a scant amount of Targaryen influence over the realm, I might look to her again and see if I can reach out to the queen without compromising the destruction of all she now holds dear. Because, son, if I truly was looking to help queen Rhaella now, I would tell her of Varys. At the moment, the threat the Spider poses to the Targaryens is still small. As is his potential to be of use to me.

"But Varys' usefulness for me will grow as he sows chaos between the prince and the king for Varys' own purpose. As Targaryen disunity serves my interests, our lovely queen will sadly end up suffering on the side. I don't care enough Rhaella to let go of any of the cards I hold. Let the lizards in the capital devour each other in another Dance and open the realm for the wolves and lions and falcons to devour. We old beasts will expand our influence once again, for the first time in almost 300 years."

Rickard remained in silence afterwards and did not speak another word to Brandon as they rode off towards their day's destination. After another week on horseback they reached Darry and after they had been welcomed by the lord of the castle, Brandon screamed his throat raw as he bellowed out of his disgrace for all the world to hear. The next day they would meet Ned on the road.