Prologue

Varys I

283 AC

Varys felt as if he balanced upon a knife's edge. From where he stood on his balcony in the Red Keep, he can smell the thick acrid stench of King's Landing. The Air had a ripeness to it, a stale smell of human waste and foulness, but just under it something else, a thin almost metallic hint of blood and a stronger thick acrid smell of smoke rising from the Targaryen banners burning in the courtyard below.

A man's life can often be boiled down to two or three key moments, moments where his decisions change everything, moments where his choices had the potential to impact the very world around him. Varys knew that he was currently in such a moment. Even now as Lannister and Baratheon troops were rooting out the last of the Targaryen loyalists, Varys knew his moment of choice still held power.

Varys has served the realm, he has always served the realm, but he can't help but wonder is he still serving the realm by arranging for a merchant ship bound for Essos to race to Dragonstone ahead of Stannis Baratheon's fleet? Somewhere below him in the mess that is King's Landing a maid hides with a young babe, a babe with silver hair upon his brow. Did Varys serve the realm by ordering that substitution? Or has he simply added chaos to an already chaotic start of a new era.

It would be so simple to blame it all on a surviving loyalist, maybe one of the few commanders currently in the black cells destined for the wall, Ser Alliser Thorne or Ser Jaremy Rykker perhaps. To "reveal" the insidious plans of the loyalists the new King and ensure stability to his realm.

But for some reason Varys can't bring himself to do this, there's something about this new King that he finds concerning, the brief smile he glimpsed when the bodies of Princess Rhaenys and the poor babe of Pisswater were laid at his feet, or perhaps the fact that he is to wed Tywin Lannister's daughter, thus gifting the Butcher of Castamere a future grandson as King.

Whatever it is Varys knows that the realm needs an insurance policy, it needs a guarantee that should this new dynasty fall or prove to be just as mad as the Targaryens before, that a new start can be achieved, a wiping of the slate so to speak.

Even now, so soon after the fall, Varys has plans in motion, the last two children of Aerys are bound for Pentos, he will position them to gather an army, maybe a betrothal to a Triarch or perhaps even a great Khal of the Dothraki Sea. The heir, Aegon shall go to Essos as well, it is too dangerous to leave him in Westeros, too many potential threats, too hard to hide that distinctive Valyrian colouring in Westeros.

Varys' mind is a blur as he thinks hard and fast, contingencies and backup plans considered and then discarded, until he finally he determines the correct plan. Jon Connington has only just been exiled to Essos, his love for Rhaegar should carry over to Aegon, he will do as a suitable guardian. Since the death of Maelys, the Golden Company has lacked legitimacy in their desire to reclaim ancestral lands, perhaps they could be wooed to his cause.

Varys smiles as his plan begins to shape and form, to grow legs of its own and run, he can see exactly where to go, who will need to be bought, who to let in on the secret and who from the old loyalists will have to be disposed of, in order to prevent them seeking out these children before they are ready.

He feels a slight shift in the air, as a small child slips into the room behind him, the girl runs forward and waits for him to bend down so she can whisper in his ear and deliver her report.

Everything balances on a knife's edge.

And then with one simple action it all comes crumbling down around him.

There is another.

Another child, another claimant, born mere months after Aegon, but another trueborn child of Rhaegar.

A boy.

A boy with a Warden for an Uncle, a boy with one of the seven kingdoms allied to him simply by grace of his mother. A boy who by all accounts from this report, who has no Targaryen colouring and can be hidden in plain sight.

This changes everything.

Varys steps off the balcony and walks to his desk. He pours himself a glass of wine and sips it slowly, calming the rush in his chest as his heart thrums with adrenaline. He must be calm to think clearly, to see how the board might shift and change to accommodate this new piece.

It is clear that this boy must be brought under his control, he knows how badly civil wars between rival claimants have affected the throne in the past. Varys will not be responsible for starting another Dance of Dragons. If the boy remains in Westeros, some may try to push his claim over Aegon's, a Westerosi raised King preferable in their eyes over a veritable foreigner.

There are only two options, either the boy and subsequently his uncle must be removed from the board, or, the child must be brought under his control. The practicalities of killing a babe, whilst unsavory, would be rather simple. Removing a Lord paramount on the other hand, no, the boy must be raised with Aegon, brothers, if raised correctly will not stand against each other. In fact, their claim will be stronger should they present a united front.

However, there is an issue, it is too risky for Aegon to remain in Westeros and from what Varys understands of Eddard Stark, the man will never allow his nephew to be raised away from family.

He needs a place to hide both boys, a place where they can find allies or at least the loyalty of an army, a place where they will be in close reach of the Starks but outside the grasp of the Baratheon King.

He sips his wine and studies the map of the known world hanging upon the wall across the room.

There is one location that could suit, but he almost dismisses it for its insanity alone, to leave two babes in such a place would be paramount to ordering their execution, they would need strong men to guard and protect them if they were even to reach adulthood let alone forge an army in such a place.

Who would be mad and dedicated enough to risk such an endeavor, to choose exile to a frozen wasteland, to a sworn life of duty rather than to simply bend the knee to King Robert?

Varys can't help but laugh, the exact men loyal and mad enough are within his grasp, in fact they even share the same black cell and will spend their life in such a place no matter if Varys does not intervene.

He rings a small bell, summoning another two of his little birds to assist him, things must move quickly, men must be sent to redirect Lord Stark before he can enter the city, there are provisions to be arranged for, a ship's captain to be bribed and two men within the Black Cells will have to slip their chains and disappear as quietly as possible.

Varys must move fast, the future of the realm depends on it.