The Dragons of Winter

Chapter 17

Varys

Click.

The pieces had fallen together and the stag was attacking the wolf.

The stag wasn't angry, or furious, but livid and falling to countless pieces of glass, ready to hurt anyone. He had a haunted look in his bloodshot blue eyes, always talking about his Lyanna that was his no longer, who had never been his. Even though when someone else mentioned her, he'd throw them out of the room, roaring and sobbing.

Varys had planted his own pieces into his web; his birds were whispering gossip about the black dragon, born from ice and fire, as well as the Targaryen beauty, who had woken dragons from stone alongside the black dragon. Songs were being sung about the beautiful Stark girl being forced to marry a stag, who left her life behind and ran away with a mysterious and handsome dragon prince before falling in love.

Soon enough, Varys' web had grown, reached out into regions of Westeros leagues away from its origin. Small villages full of smallfolk, Lords in their castles and people alike were telling tales of the dragons who were once thought to be dead to the world.

On the other side of his web, Robert Baratheon was in his chambers, plotting with Petyr Baelish.

And somewhere on the web of scattered plots and pieces lay Lord Eddard's daughters, pieces that Varys had yet to move. Soon, he told himself.

Arya

"You are worried about your father, Arya child." Syrio told her once more after she refused to dance.

"Yes." She told him bluntly, glancing at her sister, who had agreed to come with her to her dancing lesson. Her blue eyes were watery and red, with big wet tears leaking from them and touching her pale cheeks that looked like they were going to crack at any given second.

We have to stay together.

"Remember what I told you child. You are sad, that is good." He told her in his strange accent.

"Father is in a cell. The king will kill him!"

Syrio gave her his knowing smile and passed her wooden sword into Arya's small hands that so desperately wanted to kill that stupid fat king, "What do we say to the god of death?"

"Not today." She finished, swinging the sword against Syrio's with such speed and aggression it made Sansa jump in her seat.

"Arya Stark, your father wants to see you."

Arya felt her heart pound a little harder when she saw a dozen men storm into the room, their gold cloaks whipping around their feet and their golden armour causing the room to echo.

Fear cuts deeper than swords.

"My father wouldn't send you, and I don't have to go with you if I don't want." She spat, raising her sword while ignoring the growing urge to run away in fear.

"Take her, and the other one too!" One of the men commanded, stepping forward for Arya and Sansa to see that the man was Meryn Trant.

"Are you men or snakes that you would threaten a child?" Syrio Forel said in his Braavosi accent, placing his arm in front of Arya protectively.

"Mind your place, dancing master." Ser Meryn Trant barked, "TAKE THEM!"

In blur of motion, Sansa screamed and hurtled towards Arya, who was standing behind Syrio. She watched in terror as her dancing master and friend pointed his wooden stick at the big kingsguard, holding steel swords and covered thick in golden armour.

One of the men walked forward, hacking his sword at Syrio. He's too slow, Arya thought as she watched the Kingsguard struggle to hit Syrio's fast moving frame. One hit on the head from her Braavosi dancing master was all it took for the man to fall onto the floor, crumpled in a heap.

Arya watched as it happened again and again, each man ending up in a pathetic mass on the floor.

Fear cuts deeper than swords.

"Bloody idiots!" Meryn Trant spat as he lunged and struck Syrio, who blocked the brute of a man. Whack, hit, whack, hit. Arya almost believed that Syrio would survive, almost.

Snap! In one blow, Syrio's wooden sword had broken into two pieces.

"Run!" Arya cried out, wanting desperately to pull her friend away from the stupid guard.

"The first sword of Braavos does not run, Arya we are done with dancing for the day." Was all he replied, before saying, "What do we say to the god of death?"

"Not today." Arya could feel tears running down her cheeks now, and she let them.

"Now, go." Syrio told her before Arya took Sansa's hand and ran.

Jon

"In a cell…" Daenerys cried. She was sitting on the bed, her violet eyes awash with shock and anger. Jon was sitting on the bed too, but he was just looking into the corner. His eyes were frozen, giving nothing away. "Jon, we have to go and help them!" She urged, grabbing his cold hands and placing them into her own.

"We can't."

Daenerys' eyes widened at his flat words, yet she continued to speak, "Yes we can. Jon, Arya is in Kingslanding and so is Sansa. Imagine how afraid they are!"

"The King won't spare them Daenerys!" Jon shouted, not meaning to raise his voice.

"He might, if we rally the Northern army with ours." She persisted, her eyes full of determination.

"What army Daenerys? We don't have one!"

"Not yet, Jon…"

Arya

"Sansa faster please!" Her sister was sobbing as the two sisters were dashing deeper and deeper into the dungeons where Arya had seen the fat wizards and the dragon skulls.

"There's a way out Sansa, follow me!" Arya explained quickly, hauling the crying Sansa through a set of iron barred gates and into a small tunnel. She looked like she wanted to cry even more as the smell of the tunnel hit her nose. Yet on and on they staggered, tumbling over dead rats and each other. Sansa ceased to cry once daylight began to peak through the darkness. She even let a watery smile appear on her face as her feet touched the floor outside the keep.

Arya scanned her eyes around the yard; there were few people around, and those who were were rushing around, paying no mind to the two girls. There were two chests lying on the ground, tipped over with their contents scattered across the dust. Arya was about to grab Sansa's hand and run when something small and shiny caught her eye amongst the scattered garb. "Needle!"

She was sliding her small sword into her belt when a voice from behind her caused her to whip her head around; it was the stable boy.

"What do you want?" Arya demanded.

"I want you wolf girl, so does the King!" That made her want to run away, but something caused her to remain there, watching the plump boy advance towards her. He wheezed when the blade went through his stomach, his pale shirt instantly turning into a dark crimson as the boy slumped onto the floor.

All Arya could do was take her horrified sister and run.

Daenerys

When Daenerys had lived in Pentos with Viserys, all he ever talked about was seizing an army and then the throne that he believed to be his. She could remember her brother in his chambers, trying to figure out how to obtain an army, though mostly he made someone else figure it out for him. How he'd broken down after the armies had refused him, and how he had beaten Dany to release his rage.

She had pretended not to hear them whispering beggar King as Viserys walked by, but at night Daenerys reflected on what Westeros really thought about her family. Now I know, Daenerys thought as she fed Rhaeanna, and now I'm not weak or a slave to a half-mad brother.

Rhaegal shrieked, demanding to be fed. Jon usually feeds him, Daenerys noted sadly, thinking of how Jon was in his chambers, away from her and the dragons. He thinks we can't save Ned, but we can. Daenerys knew they needed an army. But from where?

A loud knock on her door interrupted her thoughts; it was Illiryo Mopatis.

"Princess, a man requests audience with you." He told her, stroking his thick beard with his hand cast in golden rings.

"Who is it?" Daenerys asked, putting down the uncooked meat for Viserion.

"Ser Jorah Mormont."

Seeing the bear's apologetic face again made her feel like the vulnerable naïve child she had been when she last saw him.

He let me go, she remembered, as Ser Jorah stood before in silence. He had a long scar reaching from his left eye to the corner of his frowning mouth- did he get that scare saving me? Did one of the men hack at his face while I hurtled away on the back of a horse? How I ran…

"Ser…" She said as she realized she had not said a word to him.

Jorah Mormont stepped forward, his brown eyes fixed on Dany. He's staring at me… did King Robert send him? She thought, slowly edging towards the guards stationed behind her, not allowing her eyes to leave him.

"My Princess…" He began, remorse clear on his hardened face, "Forgive me for my actions against you. I longed for my home, you were my chance to get it back." He was on both knees now, his eyes not leaving Dany's, "I am no longer in service of the usurper, and I pledge my alliance to you and House Targaryen."

Daenerys couldn't ignore the trusting look that warmed the Bear's eyes, "Ser… the chance to thank you for saving me ran by as fast as the horse I escaped on rode away." She watched as his face softened as she continued to speak, "So, I owe my gratitude to you, Jorah Mormont. I see the world differently now after you let me go."

"Thank you, my princess I –" His words echoed around the room as she cut the bear off by raising her hand.

"Yet, how can I be certain that you wouldn't have continued to deliver me to the capitol if the men had not attacked us? I fear I cannot be certain-ser." She announced, making sure to project her voice.

"Princess, I knew from the time we set foot on Westeros that I didn't want to take you to the King." Daenerys wanted to speak, but something inside of her allowed him to continue, "Yet every time I decided to set you free, I remembered my home, tucked in the North. I wanted my home, where my family are…"

A melancholy look passed over his sun-kissed face and glassed over his eyes. I know that look well; I wanted a home too…

"Then when those men threatened to take you to the King for me, I knew they would hurt you. Those men were beasts, Princess."

Dany felt a part inside of her, demanding for her to command the man to leave; he served the usurper! It said. And yet another part pleaded for her to let him stay.

He saved me…

"Ser Jorah the andal, of House Mormont…" She began, watching his eyes that were still firmly locked into her own, "I give you my permission to serve me and House Targaryen, but if you ever betray me, you will be wishing you had never conducted such an act."

His eyes grew wide as she spoke, "Thank you, your grace. I am in your debt from this day until my last." He gave her a final nod before whipping his body around and walking away.

"Wait!" She called after him, "Walk with me, Ser Jorah. I want you to meet my nephew."

Varys

"Thank you, little bird." The child curtsied before dashing out of the room below the keep.

This past week has been rather eventful, Varys thought as he pulled out a small piece of parchment and a quill. And my friend across the water will be keen to know my whispers and schemes. The Spider began to write in High Valyrian, no spy of the King or Baelish shall know the contents of this letter, if it's written in an alien tongue.

Once he had scribbled the last Valyrian words in handwriting that was not his own, he scanned his eyes over the parchment;

The King is tormented by ghosts of wolves and dragons. The daughters of Eddard Stark have escaped the capital, with thanks to the younger one's Braavosi water dancer. I have accommodation waiting for them, and across the water they will encounter a third dragon.

The North as yet to join the war, but soon the Lions and Stags will be at each other's throats, and the wolves' too. Their forces will weaken, and the dragons will be saviours in the eyes of the common folk.

From your Dear Friend.

It was a great risk, to send such a letter. Varys knew. Yet the spider also knew that if any information were to not reach his friend in Pentos, he would be taking a risk even greater.

His little bird had arrived fast, ready to bestow the parchment to his next bird, waiting at the docks. Varys gave the child the letter and watched him run out of the room, as silent as a shadow in the night.

The dragons will rule again one day.

NOTES: I managed to find some time over the holidays to write this chapter, which is slightly longer than usual by the way Hope you enjoyed, and please, please write a review, as they really motivate me to write this. I procrastinate, okay?