Strength of the Realm Found in Bonds: Varys (293 AC)

Varys was listening to the latest song from one his little birds – one granting him leverage over an up-and-coming merchant newly-arrived from Lys via his lustful appetite for very youthful flesh – when there was an unscheduled knock at his door. At that sign, the bird quieted down and flitted away the same way she'd come, leaving Varys alone to attend to his guest himself. And without anyone to attend to him, Varys went to the door and opened it himself.

"Ah, Lady Strength, what an unexpected joy it is to see you," he invited her inside with a open path and a pleasant smile.

"I wish that I could say the same of you, Lord Varys," Strength took the offered way and sought out one of the only two seats in the spartan chamber.

"And once again, my Lady Strength, I must remind you that I am, in fact, not a Lord," Varys softly closed the door behind her. "No matter how some might instinctively refer to me as such."

"Is that why you refer to me as a Lady, milord?" Strength looked at him from her seat with an exaggerated look of dignified smugness. "Instinct?"

"Nay, my lady," Varys shuffled over to his seat. "I am perfectly aware of my words, and have chosen such as a constant reminder that you hold a position that entails great responsibilities for you to uphold."

"Is that reminder for me or for you?" Strength inquired.

"For everyone who hears it," Varys answered. "But I doubt you came here to ask me about what the Seven Kingdoms thinks is your true or appropriate stature, is it?"

"No," Strength admitted.

She then leaned in toward him, prompting him to do the same. "I have questions for you regarding Dolls."

At that, Varys simply sat back, a knowing "Ah," escaping his lips. "And what is it about Dolls you think that I would know that others do not? If you wanted to know what Dolls live where and in how many numbers, you could have simply asked Lord Renly or Grand Maester Pycelle, as the registration of Dolls falls under both of their jurisdictions, or even the Master of Coin with how Dolls so easily affect commerce to both its benefit and detriment."

"I came to you because you are the Master of Whispers, Lord Varys," Strength emphasized. "And that's what I want to learn about Dolls. What is it about Dolls that people are whispering about?"

Varys heard Strength's words clearly enough, but upon listening to her voice, it was clear as day to him that there was far more that she was saying that she wasn't speaking.

"They whisper many things my Lady," Varys cryptically hinted. "Most of it unprovable or simply false."

Varys had long appreciated the blunt and honest nature of the creature before him; he sometimes thought that Strength was akin to how Robert could have turned out under Jon's foster care had he been a girl, with blessedly less appetite for drinking and whoring but distressingly more taste and aptitude for fighting.

"I'm not asking about whether or not Dolls hold the souls of lost girls taken by grumpkins and snarks," Strength attacked. "I'm asking about Visions."

The way she was approaching him spoke volumes about her perceived need for secrecy, but also reflected how amateur she remained in the art of espionage.

"You've heard something about them," Varys deduced. "And you came to me looking for comparisons."

Strength nodded. "I have heard it said for some men that when they saw death coming for them, their life would flash before their eyes. Apparently for us Dolls, when we approach death, we see our lives from before the Arrival."

Varys nodded gravely at that. "I have heard much the same. But I have also heard that those who do experience Visions only remember one or two fragments from them, generally an image, a feeling, or both."

"I've heard much the same," Strength confirmed, "but what I have heard isn't that much, admittedly. And put together they don't paint a very clear picture. I feel as though I'm missing a lot of pieces to a really big puzzle."

"Well then," Varys leaned in. "Let's look at what pieces we do have, shall we?"

"Alright, guess I'll go first," Strength offered. "My curiosity with Visions started when one of my friends at the Starlight Manse shared that she had experienced one last year during that whole debacle with the Gold Butcher."

"I remember that time very well," Varys shuddered. "Not even at the height of Aerys's madness was the city in such a state of fear. Even I was afraid at the time for mine own safety."

"Yeah, well, all that aside," Strength redirected, "she told me that she remembered two things very clearly: a tight metal box, and a deep sense of failure."

"Ahhh," Varys enounced. "Well, that is a very stark contrast to what one of my little birds sang of a different Doll from one of Oldtown's Dollhouses, who spoke of a bright light and experiencing complete satisfaction."

"She sounds like one of Piercing Comet's followers," Strength suggested. "Her vision sounds a lot like the one she gave when she declared for the Faith."

"She is one of the more devout Faithful," Varys answered.

"It's just that, there's one thing about the Visions that I find particularly interesting, especially when put into context with everything else about Dolls." Strength noted.

"And what is that?" Varys inquired.

"Out of everything about the Dolls, the Visions are the one thing about us that is the most familiar with how magic used to work."

Varys went very quiet at the mention of magic.

"There isn't much that I know regarding magic," Strength admitted, "but I do know that being able to see the future is among the powers that magic was able to grant, so allowing someone to see into the past shouldn't be too much of a stretch."

"True enough," Varys agreed. "And the thing about magic that most people forget is that all magic comes at a price, and that price is usually blood."

"Yeah, I've heard that," Strength said. "But then that's what I found so odd. Dolls can do pretty much anything a Man can, and without having to worry about the limitations of flesh, on top of being able to heal and manifest massive weapons and works from seemingly nowhere."

Varys found Strength's words far too familiar.

"There's a question on your mind, one that plagues you even now. I have had that same question for twelve years. I would hear it from you."

Strength was still for a moment, one that felt as though it stretched for much longer for the tension that filled the air.

Then she spoke: "What price was paid to make us?"

"No one knows the answer to that question, I'm afraid," Varys confessed. "You can either believe that you were sent by the Seven as Piercing Comet and the Faith claim, or you can bet your money on mummer's stories like The Metalsmith in the Moon or The Daughters of the Stars. Either way, the only certainty is that you are not of this world, and thus you are not bound by this world's rules the same way that Men are, so one can hope that an equivalent price wasn't paid for your creation."

Strength let out a harsh chuckle at that. "Sorry, but I have seen and done too much to hang my hopes on our creation being some divine act of kindness and justice. And whoever it was that did make us, whoever was willing to pay the price required to do so? I can only pray to the gods that I never meet them."

Varys reached out his hand in empathy and laid it on Strength's hand. "So do I, my friend."