"Varys" whispered Baelor, his eyes wide with confusion and to some degree, betrayal.

"Ahh yes, I bet your quiet surprised to see little old me, given your family and position in the capital anyone else wouldn't be quiet as shocking, and yet here I stand" said Varys smiling, unaffected by the way his prisoner was looking at him, used to the criticism and hate of those around him.

"Curse you, Spider, I should've known you couldn't be trusted" spat Baelor, "I demand to know why you've taken the liberty to kidnap me from my chamber and the reason for these infernal chains", emphasizing his point by rattling his chains.

"You, my dear friend, have been brought to this most secret and austere location, is that you have been found guilty of practicing the evil, vile and abominable thing that is Magic" Varys exclaimed.

Baelor's eyes widened slightly and it was as if the very breath was removed from his lungs, scared of the fact that not only had someone discovered his long kept secret, but that one person happened to be one of the dangerous, most devious people in the Seven Kingdoms.

"How did you-" he began

"Know" finished Varys, cutting Baelor off. "Let's just say, a little birdie told me. Now, tell me anything and everything you know about this Magic, where does it come from, how long have you had been able to do it. If I find your answers satisfactory, maybe today won't be your last".

Baelor opened his mouth to ask a question, closing it with a sharp click when he heard that he very well may die. He would ask his questions when his life didn't hang in the balance.

Varys walked over to Baelor and grabbed him by the shoulders, and heaving with all his might he was able to prop him up against the stone wall, for although he hated magic and anything to do with it, he wasn't a cruel man.

Baelor struggled as Vary's meaty hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, unwilling to allow a person who he had once trusted to touch him, though seeing as his entire body was covered in chains, his attempts proved quite futile.

Baelor glared hatefully at Varys as he the Master of Whispers sat beside him, and he wondered how he had ever trusted him in the first place. His drill master would scold him somewhat awful if he knew he had been captured unawares, especially if they knew it was by the castles resident Spymaster, a man who couldn't fight to save his life.

Seeing as Vary's was just sitting there with a patient smile on his face, and knowing he wasn't going to get out of this situation any other way, he leaned back against the wall and began the tale of how he was able to control Magic.

"It all began 7 years ago. It was the middle of the coldest winter in over a century, the fields were frozen, the stores were closed and everyone was hauled up inside while uncontrollable weather ravaged the countryside. I remember being hauled up deep inside Winterfell, which because of the hot springs underneath the foundations was the warmest castle in the north. One night, while sleeping in my bed I was awoken by a strange noise, it sounded almost as if the very wind was whispering my name, I, of course, ignored the whispering, thinking it was just a figment of my imagination."

"The next night, the whispering returned, only this time it was telling me to go to the Godswood, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years and home to an ancient weirwood heart tree, a sacred place where my family has prayed to the Old Gods for hundreds of generations. Again I ignored the voices, but as the days wore on I became irrational and slightly deranged due to the countless sleepless nights that I had suffered at the hands of the never ending whispers, and after a week of unending madness that was sending me insane, I gave in to the voices, left Winterfell under the cover of darkness and made my way deep into the bowels of the Godswood."

Baelor looked toward Varys, who hadn't said a word and was paying rapt attention to his story; his facial expression was guarded, so it was hard to guess what he was thinking regarding his tale so far. Clearing his throat he continued from where he had left off.

"And as I stood there, in that dark, primal place, in front of that ancient weirwood heart tree, whose bark was white as bone, whose leaves were as dark as blood and whose long and melancholy face was carved deep into the bark, that the whispering finally began to fade and my mind was once again free form torment. I waited there in the freezing cold for what felt like hours, waiting for something to happen, for anything to happen, and just when I had lost all hope and was about to leave, something extraordinary occurred. I watched in amazement as a spherical ball of light emerged from the Weirwood, and transformed into the form of a child. There I stood, a young boy who had barely reached 7 name days and yet I was one of the privileged few in the entirety of the known world to have come face to face with one of the Children of the Forest, a small childlike creature who had unusual eyes, a thin, graceful figure and only three fingers and a thumb."

"I knelt before the ethereal being, not wanting to be disrespectful, the being told me to rise, its voice deeper and far wiser than he ever would have expected from someone so small and childlike. What followed was by far the most eye-opening and enlightening conversations in my entire life. The ethereal being told me that my family, and the entirety of Westeros, were both in grave danger, from an ancient enemy that would see the destruction of the world. It didn't tell me who the enemy was, or when they would attack, and that the only way to overcome this enemy was to unite the Seven Kingdoms for once and for all. It told me that because of the blood that flows through my veins, the blood of the First Men, that I had been chosen as the defender of Westeros, and as such, it was my duty to bring about this unification. "

Varys watched on as the young Stark told his story, not knowing what to believe. Whilst he wasn't a particularly pious man himself, he had witnessed many things that suggested that there was some form of Supreme Being out there, whether it is the Old Gods, Drowned God or even the New, he didn't know. His attention turned back to Baelor, who had continued his story unaware that his audience wasn't paying attention, only this time; he noticed that his prisoner's expression had turned darker, more sinister, in nature. He found out the reason why, a moment later.

"When I finally awoke the next, I remember all that had happened the night before, of how I had accepted the role of the Protector of Westeros and had been given the ability to control magic, all without knowing the sacrifices that I would one day have to make. That is the reason I am able to perform magic."

"That is", and at this, he turned towards Vary's and said with a mischievous grin, "...if you believe in such things".