I never intended to leave that cliff hanger looming for so long and I'm sorry about that! There is truly no other excuse than a busy personal life that has led to very little time to write, though in the brief moments I've been able to sit at a laptop and feel awake enough to focus on fanfiction, I have been doing a lot of planning. Now it looks like there will be a short sequel story to this one as the Epilogue that I had initially planned has now grown into the beginnings of a plot, while my Tyrell story is fully planned out, my Tully story is fully planned up to Season 4 and I've even had a look at rewriting As High As Honour…

But enough about future works… I'm back now with this chapter and I hope you all enjoy it!

I own nothing but the OC's. Everything and everyone else is the property of George R R Martin and HBO.

Another area of the Red Keep with an excellent view of the Dragonpit was from Luke's own chambers, and as soon as he woke up the King felt a pull in the depths of his thoughts to go stand out on his balcony and look over at the dragons. Shirtless, he braved the colder weather as he watched the dragons conversing in the distance as they flew above the Dragonpit, listening in to their roars and screeches. Luke felt himself getting agitated internally, feeding off of the emotions that Valaxes was feeling, and wincing as Rhaegal nipped out at the black and crimson dragon warningly before the green and bronze wild dragon launched itself higher, flying away to the North.

Confused, Luke wondered what had gotten into the unridden dragon to lash out at Valaxes, and also at what was being conversed between the two beasts that would stop Valaxes from exerting the control that was similar to that of an alpha wolf that the black scaled dragon usually had over his siblings. Determined to find out and eager to put a stop to Rhaegal's antics Luke rushed around his chambers looking to change into his riding gear, clasping a thicker red cloak for warmth onto his shoulders before he went to leave his rooms.

Strangely however, the door was locked. Luke rattled the doorknob around forcefully to try and unwedge it, but it was to no avail. Then he began to bang his fists on the doors. "This isn't funny!" He called out. "Franklyn, Taron. Open this door at once!"

There was no answer. Luke tried punching the doors with more force this time, trying to use the momentum of the doors rattling around on their hinges to force them open. Again it was to no avail however.

"Quiet!" An unrecognisable voice called from the other side, and the hairs on Luke's arms rose up as the realisation of something being wrong settled in.

"I order you to open these doors now." Luke snarled loudly. "Do so, and I shall be merciful."

"We do not follow your orders." The man behind the doors called back, before speaking to his companion slightly quieter, yet still audibly. "Fetch his Lordship."

Luke heard footsteps grow quieter as an armoured knight walked away from his chambers. He punched the door one final time before this time resorting to kicks. The oak was the best money could buy however, and even one as strong as Luke could not break the hinges. Giving up, Luke roared out his frustration, tipping over a nearby table and throwing an empty decanter at the doors, letting the glass smash into tiny pieces.

He was left waiting for 10 minutes before a recognisable voice was heard on the other side of the door. "The castle has been taken, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell stated. "House Tyrell are in command now."

It took a moment for the owner of that voice to register in the Valyrian's mind, and after a moment of laughter at the sheer audacity of his Goodfather, anger settled in. "You fucking traitor." Luke snarled. "After everything I have done for you? After giving your daughter a second chance?"

"After betraying my daughter sinfully!" Mace Tyrell cried out. "After your sister-lover squeezed out a bastard boy! The realm remembers the Blackfyre's, and I shall not have further wars rage because I refused to do nothing!"

Luke grimaced, but he realised then that his attempt to keep secrets had backfired horribly. "How many are dead?" He asked morbidly. "My Kingsguard? My council?"

"Locked away." Mace said, much to Luke's relief. "There were only a dozen red cloaks that refused to surrender."

Luke closed his eyes, thankful for the loyalty that those dozen had shown him, but even more grateful that most lived. "And what is it you want?"

"In time." Mace called. "You shall hear my demands in time." He then spoke quieter to the guards outside his door. "That door remains locked until I return."

"As you command, Lord Tyrell."

Footsteps then departed once more, and Luke swore at the top of his voice. "The damned fool." He snarled, his eyes moving over to the stacks of books and papers on the Long Night. "He's doomed us all."

Inside, however, he knew that this was a mess of his own making, and as he walked back over to the balcony his eyes travelled eastwards, to where Dragonstone would sit, and he truly hoped that the Red Keep was as far as Mace Tyrell's coup would reach.

Just how it had come to this, Margaery had no idea. Since Luke had returned he had been great, still a little aloof but attentive and most importantly he had been within the Red Keep and not scurrying about the realm. The Queen of the Seven Kingdom's had truly believed a new leaf had been turned and their marriage would go from strength to strength with the arrival of their second child. And yet here she stood, 7 and a half months pregnant and back to stressing about her goodsister, only this time with good reason.

Varys had told them about the bastard boy born on Dragonstone, and while he had left out the obvious truth of who had fathered the child, even a man like her Father had managed to piece it all together and despite her protests, he had staged a coup to remove Luke from the Iron Throne in order to protect both Aegon and her positions.

What nobody had intended, was for the body of Jon Connington to be laid out on a table in the Throne Room as the Silent Sisters worked on preparing his body. The stones had been laid over his eyes, and Margaery couldn't help but frown at how blue they had been painted despite the Lord Hand's own eyes being a hardened brown.

Beside the Queen stood the newly widowed Shireen Baratheon, who had a surprisingly morose look on her face as she stared down at the body. "He was kind enough to me." The Baratheon said quietly. "I knew he had no wish to marry me but he did it because he was commanded to. I respected him for that honesty, strangely. He let me live at Storm's End however I liked as he knew he would never step foot in the castle despite being Lord."

Margaery smiled, appreciating the honesty that grief brought on. "He was a cold man, but a good one in the end. He wanted what was best for the King in all matters, whether the King agreed or not."

"I'm actually a bit sad that he was killed." Shireen whispered. "What will happen to me now?"

Margaery didn't know fully, but she could imagine that her Grandmother had already begun plans on introducing Shireen to Loras in order to tie the Stormlands into the southern alliance that House Tyrell was trying to produce. "We mourn. You spend time with your sister and Lady Alys, and we go from there."

Shireen nodded at that. "I can do that." She said. "And… I want to talk to the King about Storm's End too…"

Margaery knew that wouldn't be possible. "Nothing will be decided soon." She insisted. "Take the time now to mourn your loss, no matter your relationship with Lord Connington that will be expected. When the time comes for decisions to be made, I am sure you will be included." It was a lie, but Margaery wanted to offer the 17-year-old as much hope as she could in the circumstances.

Thankfully, the girl smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Your Grace, for being such a friend to me." Shireen stated, before turning around to her loyal friend and protector standing just out of the way. "Ser Davos, I would like to go now."

"Aye, My Lady." Davos Seaworth nodded, escorting the Stormlander away from the Throne Room and leaving the Queen alone with her family guards.

She stared down at the pale face of Jon Connington with so many thoughts running through her mind. Did Luke even know that his mentor and friend was dead? When would she be allowed to see her husband? And above all else, she wondered if despite being a simple accessory to what had taken place in the Red Keep that day if she would ever be forgiven.

It took a day and a half for Luke's doors to unlock, and the King was close to diving towards Blackfyre and forcibly fighting his way out until he saw who had entered. "Varys." He breathed out with relief. "Good, we need to plan…"

Behind the eunuch marched in half a dozen guards in Tyrell armour, and Luke's heart sank. "Take the sword and any other weapon you can find." Varys commanded. Luke went over to stop Blackfyre from being taken, but he was too late, as it was quickly picked up by a Reachman and handed over to the eunuch.

"This is your doing, isn't it." Luke surmised, looking around as the Tyrell soldiers began searching his room. Even he was roughly searched, though he had nothing but clothes on his body other than the key to his relics chest that was permanently around his neck.

"No, it isn't." Varys admitted. "I thought it was far too early to enact such a coup. Unfortunately, my influence is only so great and Lord Tyrell decided that the insult of a pure Valyrian bastard was too much."

"Then why are you here?" Luke asked bitterly over the room being ransacked as every sharp object that could be considered a weapon was taken.

Varys sighed in an excessively dramatic fashion. "Lord Tyrell believed me to be more of a friendly face than himself or the Queen. I am here to discuss their demands."

Scoffing, Luke moved over to his armchair. "You expect me to believe that Varys, the spider that is always ten steps ahead, did not foresee this reaction when you told him of my son's birth? Give me some credit for not being as thick as an aurochs."

Varys smirked, joining Luke in sitting down opposite the Targaryen. "Leave us." He commanded to the guards, and waited until the door had been shut behind them to continue. "I knew it would lead to bloodshed eventually, but my plan was to wait until after the coming battles in the North. Perhaps you would fall in those battles, heroically of course. And then we would herald in Aegon, the Sixth of his Name. A babe, under a regency that could be moulded into a truly great King."

"Moulded into whatever you wish him to be." Luke spat. "You'd take away his freedom."

"We would give him clarity." Varys countered. "We would raise him as myself and Illyrio tried to raise his boy, to understand what it is like for those you consider beneath you. Aegon would be raised to value all of his subjects, not just the noble few."

Shaking his head, Luke chuckled. "It would never work. My great-grandsire tried to do just that after his many travels across the continent and he was rebuffed at every turn."

"The Unlikely lacked one thing that your Aegon would not." Varys smiled. "A Dragon."

"So your great plan to raise a truly humble King beloved by the people would be to have him force his opinions on his Lords through the threat of a dragon?" Luke raised an eyebrow.

"It is not perfect." Varys admitted. "But the boy is young, he will learn humility, he will learn patience, and he will learn mercy. Traits I am not sure you have, Lucerys."

Luke sank into the comfort of his chair as he pondered all that. "So that is why you turned on me?"

"There were a number of reasons." Varys admitted. "It was meant to be your nephew that was saved and spirited across the sea, but Rhaegar knew Aerys would never let his son out of sight for long enough until it was too late for House Targaryen whereas you were the thirdborn, the spare of Aerys' spare. Even after the Sack of King's Landing and the tragedy that befell your family that's all you were meant to be, the spare, the iron fist to Viserys' rule. The sword to put down dissenters. We of course put into place a contingency in a pretender to Rhaegar's son, but you murdered him in the Rhoyne. You murdered Illyrio's boy and turned your swords on Pentos. From that moment on Illyrio was against you. Myself however, I still believed in the plan as you were shaping up to be exactly what we needed. But then you murdered your own brother."

"Illyrio murdered my brother." Luke stated the long-standing lie.

Varys giggled. "We both know the truth, Lucerys. You had Viserys killed for raping and murdering your bed slave and then you publicly blamed it on Illyrio. A smart move, but one that showed me that perhaps you were not the man to rule long term if you were so quick to simply murder your opponents. Unfortunately, you were all we had in hopes of restoring the dragon to the Throne. And of course, you birthed the dragons."

"The Gods smiled on my sister and I that day." Luke said.

"And I frowned. We had done too good a job in raising you to be strong, with a dragon at your back you would be the Conqueror come again, I saw it clear as day." Varys explained. "I had hoped that you would learn through your trials as you crossed the Narrow Sea, that being a King would turn you away from your sellsword past and the realm could know true peace and prosperity. But then before you had even won your crown you murdered a child for nothing more than who his Father was… it was at that moment that I realised my mistakes in planning your now inevitable ascent, and I had to plan for the future. I hoped the Tyrell's might temper you, that their influence might turn you into the King we had hoped for. You went on your tour of Westeros and brought the wars to a close making friends of Starks and Lannisters while Margaery had the son we would fall back on and I believed that maybe, maybe you could finally be what we had wanted. So I tested you with the Sparrows…"

"That was you?" Luke interrupted, surprised and angry at the fact. "You made me blame the Tyrell's…"

"It was a test." Varys explained. "To see if you could be pulled away from the dangers a close relationship with your sister would provide, and a test to see how you would react to an understandable uprising. If you had listened to Lord Connington and your wife and dissuaded them peacefully, then I would have been content."

"But instead I resorted to burning them." Luke finished for him. "A true Targaryen."

"The Targaryen's of that ilk were a stain on the realm." Varys stated bluntly. "They sewed it together as one through fear and threatened to burn it to ashes more than once. How many have died that would have lived had the family politics not existed?"

"The realm was at war constantly before Aegon and his sisters arrived." Luke shook his head. "The only place that would have been better off is the Night's Watch."

"In your opinion." Varys countered. "But I know full well the dangers that your House can bring those they dislike. My ancestors were forced away for the actions of a few. Hunted and murdered simply because of yet another unworthy Targaryen King."

His eyes were staring intently at Luke, and suddenly the darkness in them had a shade of another, familiar colour. "Purple…" He whispered. "You are…"

"My heritage is unimportant." Varys said firmly. "My ancestors ruined themselves chasing the Iron Throne, restoring the Black Dragon has never been my goal. All I want, is a stable, peaceful realm. That will never be possible with you sat atop the Iron Throne. I know all too well the dangers a Targaryen Bastard can reap, and so to stop that before the whispers could begin, I told Lord Tyrell. If your biggest allies turned against you, then forcing your abdication would be easier."

"You wish for me to abdicate?" Luke raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I wish for the bastard to be sent away, to be raised elsewhere in a life that will never threaten the peace." Varys insisted. "If you send the Princess away in exile, she will agree. She cannot fight with you, she has not that strength within herself. If the Princess and the bastard leave, then the damage will be negated and you can rule here peacefully."

"I spent years without my sister, Varys." Luke shook his head. "You know me too well to understand that I will never issue such a command."

"Then abdicate. Go and live with your true love and your bastard in Essos. Never return to Westeros and allow Aegon to take your place."

Without being able to help himself, Luke laughed. "And leave the vultures to pick at my son? Never." He rose to his feet. "You will burn for this. You, Mace Tyrell, anybody that I find has conspired for this incessantly foolish plot."

Varys didn't react to the threat as he simply smiled back at the King, rising to his feet. "I shall leave you to think about it and return in a few days." The eunuch bowed slightly. "Your Grace." He said finally, before departing.

The King forced himself to wait until he heard the click of the locks in the door before he flew into a rage. Everything made sense now, and Luke cursed himself for not seeing it. He returned to the balcony, not seeing Valaxes flying overhead any longer, though he had no internal sense of worry that the dragon was in any danger. "We need a miracle now." He whispered out to the air, though his mind was racing back through all of the sinful actions he had performed up until this point. Valarra, Viserys, Daenerys, Ronnal Waters… there were more that followed as he thought on Lys, Qohor, Pentos… all the people he had killed for getting in his way…

Sighing, Luke slowly walked over to his bed and sunk into the mattress, the misdeeds of his past repeating themselves over and over in his mind.

The Small Council was exactly that, small. Ser Barristan was away on Dragonstone whilst Lord Velaryon hadn't been found inside the castle during the Tyrell coup, but Prince Oberyn had been locked up along with the remaining Kingsguard, leaving the only people sat inside the Small Council chamber to be Varys, Mace Tyrell, Gormon Tyrell and Margaery. Sighing at the sight, the Queen felt dread fill her.

"This is stupidity." She voiced, glaring at her Father who was now proudly wearing the Hand of the King pin on his doublet. "Do you really think we can hold the Red Keep for long?"

"Paxter shall hold Blackwater Bay, while I have command of the entire City." Mace Tyrell pouted. "Once the news of the King's indiscretions spread, then the support for our actions will grow."

"Providing our version of events spreads the quickest." Varys explained.

"And that is your job as Master of Whispers." Mace Tyrell informed.

Varys nodded. "Though, I can only work certain miracles. My little birds are not infallible, I have no idea right now where Lord Velaryon is."

Mace scoffed. "Velaryon is unimportant, the power of Driftmark ended with Oakenfist." He waved away. "Uncle, I have a list of new appointments here, I will need ravens sending."

He handed the Grand Maester a list, and the elder Tyrell man began to read it. "Lord Redwyne as Master of Ships, Lord Rowan as Master of Laws, Lord Beesbury as Master of Coin, Garth Tyrell as Royal Steward…"

"Are we really going to ignore the other Kingdom's?" Margaery asked.

Mace frowned. "Do you trust any other?"

Margaery didn't, but the thought of filling the court with Reachmen didn't feel right. "We are just inciting further bloodshed father." She tried to plead. "Let us return to Highgarden, we shall take Aegon and return to safety."

"We have the Red Keep." Mace said frustratedly. "We have the King, we have the Lady of the Stormlands recently widowed… we have the key to the South in our grasp! Our position is favourable, Margaery."

Sighing at her correct guess from earlier, Margaery voiced it. "So you do mean to wed Loras to Shireen." She said sadly, feeling pity for the younger girl despite the love she had for her brother.

"Loras, your cousin Luthor, any unmarried man with a name of Tyrell it matters not." Mace stated. "Storm's End will fall under the Tyrell banner and its future shall be with House Tyrell, as shall the Red Keep."

Margaery shook her head, but there was only one person who would be able to dissuade her Father of whatever grand plan he had concocted. "On your head be it, Father." She said, standing up carefully with her hand protecting her stomach. "If you'll excuse me, I must see my son."

She waddled out of the Small Council chambers as fast as she could, quickly flanked by her new guard in Ser Willam Wythers as she slowly made her way to her sons chambers, intent on writing a very strongly worded letter to her Grandmother…

Monford Velaryon was many things. He was the Master of Driftmark, the Captain of the great ship Seadragon, the Master of Ships, the Lord of the Tides. What he was not, however, was faithful to his Celtigar wife.

The Velaryon's family had fallen greatly in the century and a half since the death of Queen Daenaera. They had often remained as the Master of Ships under the Targaryen monarchs, but the wealth and power that had been so crucial in the Dance of the Dragons had withered away slowly, and as a vassal to Stannis Baratheon they had been of no note. It was an easy decision for Monford to turn his cloak again to fly the banner of the red dragon, and as such he had become a key part of King Lucerys' council.

The proximity to King's Landing had also given the Lord of the Tides a regular haunt in the Street of Silk. Littlefinger's old brothel had been given to one of the whores that he had taken under his tutelage when the Valeman had been executed, and despite the red-headed Northerner semi-retiring from actively taking part, she was Monford's favourite and he paid handsomely to lie with the woman, often spending entire nights inside. This was a similar night, and Monford Velaryon awoke to the feeling of pleasure down below.

"Mmm." He mumbled tiredly. "A man should be woken up like this every morning."

The red head lifted her head up from between his legs. "You get what you pay for, milord." Ros grinned.

Monford chuckled, placing his hand on her head to return her to her ministrations. A few minutes later and he was spent, noticing that dawn had long since passed as the light streaming in through the red curtains looked more like it was closer to noon and knowing that he was expected back at the castle he reluctantly removed himself out of bed and allowed Ros to help him dress, the sea green robes tied together with a silver belt. As he pulled on his boots, he smirked back up at the brothel owner. "Are you free again tonight?"

Ros smirked, lightly slapping Monford on the shoulder. "You're incorrigible. I'm sure your wife wouldn't approve."

"My wife." He grinned, standing back up and placing his hands on her cheeks. "Doesn't do what you do with your mouth. Let her fester on Driftmark, it is you that I am with, is it not?"

Ros laughed. "I'll be free." She nodded.

Monford pressed his lips to her own, tasting himself on her but not caring in the slightest. "Until then." He said, before wrapping himself up in a hooded cloak.

Without waiting for a response he confidently strolled out of the brothel's main chambers, ignoring the remnants of the previous night's occupants and the cleaners as he strode out into the cold morning air. His horse was tied up outside just where he left her, and as he mounted the mare he thought on his dalliance with the Northerner. He knew he didn't love the whore, but he definitely felt more for her than he did for Renei Celtigar.

Cheerfully humming Her Little Flower the Velaryon Lord turned onto the Street of Sisters, before sticking to the edge of the city's central square and making for Castle Way. As he turned up to the main route to the Red Keep however, he noticed a lot of changes. Instead of Targaryen men, there were Tyrell forces out patrolling. Even the Gold Cloaks for the morning patrol were different. He slowed his horse down to a walk as he carefully made sure his hood covered both his face and his lengthy silver hair, and he made sure to listen into the conversations from any nearby guard.

It was the third pair that unwillingly gave him the important news that Jon Connington was dead, and that Mace Tyrell was the man in command at the Red Keep. Swearing silently, Monford knew that to go into the Red Keep would be far too dangerous. Instead, he cut a right and followed the Hook over towards the harbour intent on getting aboard the Seadragon and sailing away. If the Red Keep had been overrun, then Monford knew that Dragonstone needed to be told about it.

I got a few comments in Chapter 13 mentioning how disgusting the marriage of Jon Con to Shireen was, and I agree in principle. Jon was a really intriguing character though, stuck in love with a man that's been dead for almost 25 years at this point and he had no interest in Shireen whatsoever, to the extent that he largely ignored her and left her to her own devices. She knows well enough she could have faced a lot worse when being forced to wed an enemy purely for her claim and I wanted to portray that here too.

I also wanted to show how the rest of the castle feels about Mace Tyrell's coup, we'll get to Varys in a minute but with Margaery and Olenna disagreeing with it, it goes a long way to show how prideful he is and his lack of true planning.

Monford Velaryon is also a pretty blank slate. In my plan I have the entire family tree of all the major Houses in this story, including Velaryon and Celtigar. Tying them two together made sense, but from a man who had a bastard brother, I felt like having him be a bit of a whoremonger was an interesting idea, and it gave me a way to tie it back into the Littlefinger plot by explaining what happened to his brothels. Of course, him being with Ros that night gives the loyalists a chance…

And on to Varys… I've used a number of fan theories in my portrayal of him including the Blackfyre theory, but to me it doesn't make much sense that the show version of the character is gearing up for a secret Blackfyre Restoration, now that (f)Aegon is long since dead. Instead I felt his plans to be more along the lines of he wants to be the one to steer a popular leader into what he thinks of as the right path. He could have done that with (f)Aegon, he might have been able to do that with Viserys and he can definitely do that with a toddler. Luke on the other hand as mentioned was always supposed to be the force behind the throne, loyal to it's leader and an enforcer against those that defied Varys' chosen ruler. Having him actually take the throne backfired on him and the tests he put in place didn't help. Varys' actual plan as stated was to have Luke die in the War for the Dawn, to give him a heroes legacy while being able to steer Aegon through a regency, but Mace Tyrell's pride made that backfire.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter anyway! I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Next Time: Margaery tries to find some form of peace agreement. The Velaryon's return to King's Landing, but not alone…

Reviews:

Juristen: They never actually acted out like this before so getting rid of them would be arbitrary. Robb also isn't actively going against his oaths, but he cares for Jon a lot more than Luke.

kageknuser2710: Aegon wanted sexual favours in return for courtly positions… Luke is in love with one person that he can't be with… there's similarities in the bastard being produced but not in their characters.

C.E.W: It will take a lot for Luke to forgive any Tyrell, but this isn't a family wide plot, it's Mace Tyrell acting rashly. If he gets out of it, the punishment will depend on Luke's temperament.

pronick857: Nope, this is all Mace's idea. Interesting theory about Jon… and as for the sequel idea, I think this story will be it for this world, but I already have an idea about where the kids end up in the future so I may stick that on as an epilogue, or a couple of short stories.

hshs69162: Aerys made Viserys his heir after Rhaegar died and he was inevitably going to lose the war, so that was never going to stand up with anybody. Luke isn't just going to hand over the Iron Throne no matter what, but back then the succession went Rhaegar, Aegon, then Aery's sons.

Guestmessianic: Monarchies work on a settled line of succession, and the wars happen when people disregard that for personal or political agendas. If Joffrey wasn't perceived as the eldest son of the King he would never have ascended. You explained the part about power, which is true, but I never once said that Jon would actually use his claim to try and gain support because obviously that wouldn't happen, my point is that by order of births and succession technically at the time of Aerys, Jon is before Luke. Now? Not so much. Also no, the order isn't wrong because women don't inherit the Iron Throne when there's an available male candidate. That's why it went Baelor – Viserys II instead of Baelor – Daena. You're right in terms of Lordships, but not the Iron Throne. They're literally making a show about why the Lords don't trust Targaryen women to rule now. The only question mark I had is whether they'd chose a Baratheon before a woman, hence including both versions in the response.

Greed720: It makes perfect sense to me, but I guess it might not for you at that point because the readers don't have all the information when the story isn't finished that I have in my head and in my plan for future uploads. This chapter explains a lot more of course. I don't hate my original characters at all. I may shine more of a light on Robb because he's my favourite character but even then he's not some omnipotent god (as you will see in this story later on). If you find my stories annoying though, I'm not forcing you to read them. I write what I myself want to read and I upload them on the off-chance others might like the same.

SpartanWolfj6: Mace Tyrell needs to hope that his coup works and Luke decides to just leave, because otherwise Luke will be baying for blood as of right now. The other Tyrell's would need to work their political magic in order to survive, but they won't be trusted for a long time even if they manage to get Luke to forgive them.

Zhorvak: The first obstacle would be Jon himself!

Lightningscar: I wouldn't call Mace cowardly myself, but when he's in his right mind he's savvy about moments he can win and moments he can lose (Robert's Rebellion being the prime example). He's seen Margaery and Luke's relationship deteriorate and now there's a threat of a new Blackfyre situation, which the Reach felt heavily throughout the years (King Maekar died due to what could very easily have been a potential Blackfyre Rebellion in the Reach). It was Varys in the end, but unintentionally. I hope I explained him properly here in that regard. He knew Luke wasn't right long term and had the chance this time to mould the unquestionable heir to the Throne, but Mace rushed in and ruined Varys' still in motion plans.

Behold the Exalted One: Thank you!