Day 9
The Ghost of Christmas Past looked upon the Master of Whispers as they wandered along the streets of Essos. "Do you remember this place? I hope you do… it is from your childhood."
"Ah yes, the delightful Christmas memories of me having my cock removed because some deranged sorcerer believed it would give him magical powers." Varys rolled his eyes at that, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. "Come now, Spirit, there must be other souls that need your services. I merely provide information, that is all."
"You take advantage of the poor and the needy in order to give yourself positions of power."
"What you call 'taking advantage' I call providing for those that have no where else to turn. I allow whores to do something other than open their legs to diseased men. I give hungry children the means to get something other than a bowl of brown. The hard working men who are robbed of their rightful pay by cruel masters are given it back. All they have to do is share what they know."
"And using that information to influence men and women to war?"
Varys smiled at that. "If you believe they weren't going to go to war already then you do not understand humanity and should not be lecturing me, Spirit. It is in man's very nature to fight and battle. I merely direct them to the best outcomes for all of mankind."
"You do not keep Christmas in your heart."
"And how do you define Christmas, Spirit?" Varys tutted. "I suppose based on your childhood we would have different understandings of it."
"My… what?"
Varys giggled at that. "Oh, the stories I have heard about you, Spirit, and what you have done. How is your dear Aunt… or should I call her your sister? That is the truth of it, isn't it? Your real mother had an affair and to hide the fact your family claimed you to be the child of a dead daughter. She was already disgraced so who would care?"
"How… how do you know that?" the Spirit whispered. "I didn't even know all that."
Varys gently patted the Spirit on the shoulder, leading them away from the scene they'd created for him. "Oh, my little birds tell me stories… speaking of, aren't you tired of taking people through visions of their past? Wouldn't it be nice to relax for one Christmas?"
"I… suppose."
"Let's talk."