Chapter 119

Daenerys paused at the entrance from her sleeping chambers to her dressing room. "I wasn't aware I'd summoned you?"

"Never been good at doing as I'm told." Daisy was wearing the same clothing she'd worn the day before. She was leaning against the wall by the large windows of the room.

She didn't bother looking at the servants who clearly didn't have a clue at what to do trapped between the two of them. "I presume you've come for a reason?"

"The North intends to move forward with an alliance, however, one that does not involve the conceding of territory." Daisy pulled a letter out from the inner lining of her gambeson.

Dany walked forward, taking the letter from Daisy's hand. She was keenly aware, though she did not acknowledge them of the others in the room. No word of this was private. She could guess it was exactly why Daisy had chosen here and now. "Just a letter, no advice to go with it?"

"Do you want my advice?" Daisy raised a brow in challenge.

"No."

Daenerys stared at the great green and gold fields of Highgarden as they ran endlessly out from the fortress. It was beautiful, truly. She could feel the tension of her advisors and powerful members of her developing court behind her. They'd been silent since the report from Willas had been given. Three of Varys' little birds had been caught in the night. Their tongues long since cut out of their mouths. Proof of his treason had not been conveniently found, but mutilated children were enough that Daenerys would not suffer him to live.

She had watched and listened for weeks now. Everyone had opinions and goals. It grated to do so little. To sit and wait. Westeros was foreign in a way that was galling. But she'd leashed herself long enough. She was a dragon. "Lord Tyrion." She turned to face the room. "You will take my terms to Lord Varys. He will speak the truth to you, or he will do so to her Holiness."

"Your Grace, it may take some time for his tongue to loosen." Tyrion cautioned.

She flicked her eyes to him. "You misunderstand me, he speaks with you today and faces his fate before Drogon tonight, or we all will find out just how poorly her Holiness takes a threat towards a Stark. These are my terms, he may do with them as he wills. But I will not suffer a man who has mutilated children nor committed treason against me to see another day past this one."

"In the meantime," Daenerys turned her attention to Olyvar Martell, "I believe there are duties I would have my new Master of Whispers carry out."

Olyvar straightened, hands folding behind his back. "Anything your Grace." It was nearly impossible to tell he'd not known she intended to give him any position up until this moment.

"You will approach the Northern delegation for their new terms." Dany looked to Jorah. "Fetch Robert Baratheon's bastard and bring him here as well as Ser Davos. I would speak to both of them."

"Your Grace." Jorah bowed his head and then exited the room to see to his duty without delay.

She let her gaze turn on Lord Willas. "Then it would seem I need my Master of Laws to act outside that role and continue preparing my armies for war. This peace will end by moon's turn. At which time I will go North because this alliance will happen."

"Your Grace, the terms of the alliance are sure to change. Drastically so now that his Highness is known to be of two royal Houses and rides a dragon." Tyrion cautioned.

Daenerys knew the contents of the letter she'd received. She had heard so many people give her so much advice she could near forget who had told her what. Not that she had, but it was unending all the same. Unending in a way she found insipid. "The Vale was always going to be loyal to the Starks. To pretend that loyalty would ever falter has been folly. The Dead are coming, if we delay this alliance our forces will never make it to the North in time to prevent all of mankind from perishing. Make this alliance happen, and do it quickly."

"Your Grace." Tyrion dipped his head. "Do you understand what you are accepting the loss of?"

Willas cleared his throat. "For gods' sake, Lord Hand. We make our offer and we take what we can and let our Queen decide when it's more settled. But Jon Stark is Rhaegar's only living son and a dragon rider as well now. The North would be fools to give him to us for less than a King's ransom."

"I don't disagree with you, my Lord," Tyrion replied. "But I would think our Queen would wish to be aware she may be losing half a kingdom for this alliance."

Daenerys wasn't going to listen to this debate go in circles once more. "My father lost half the realm, and I will not put it to the torch to reforge it as it was."

"A wise decision, your Grace." Tyrion cleared his throat. "Certainly a necessary one as I assume we would all prefer to not be ripped apart by the Dead. I do wonder what you are willing to sacrifice for this marriage? And what you would like to still gain?"

Olyvar spoke as he set his cup of wine down. "Lumber, favorable trade of course. I should think we could even ensure some measure of agreed support in any conflict with third parties beyond Cersei if we word it correctly. The Starks are loyal, Sansa Stark will be invested in her cousin's success as your consort. And I doubt she would hold any love for the slavers in Essos who will likely give you trouble throughout your reign."

"Then I'm sure you will see to it that my interests are served." Daenerys was not going to go over every tiny detail when she had 'wise' men to argue it out for her, and other 'wise' men to ensure it truly was in her interest. "While I am in the North, you, my council will be responsible for securing my claim here in the south."

Willas gave a nod. "Your Grace, my brother Ser Garlan will command and lead the men of the Reach that will accompany you North. He, as well as my cousins of House Redwyne, will be there to support you. In the south, Prince Martell, Lord Lannister and I could lead your forces so long as you appoint certain members of your Dothraki to positions of leadership."

/

Crann dropped onto the bench by Podrick in the great hall. "I cannot' feel my arms." His sweat had soaked his shirt and left him chilled but…the heat from the forges made it near a relief to be cold.

"You look terrible." Podrick pushed a mug of ale towards him.

He grimaced. "I don't remember sleeping." How long had he been in the workshop? He'd lost track of days a while ago.

Podrick shoved a bowl of stew in front of him. "What have you been hammerin' at?"

"The casing. Have to forge the pieces together. If the angles are wrong we have to start from the beginning." Crann was awed as their work began to look more and more like a round doorframe. Huge, metal, and utterly confusing. But a door all the same.

"Best eat then, Queen wants you when you're fed." Crann grimaced, his stomach swooping. Oh, he didn't want to report to the Queen. That…that was not news he wished to bear.

Crann turned his hat in his hands as he stood before the Queen in her private solar. His eyes refused to leave the ground before her desk. "Your Grace."

"I presume your work continues well then?" The Queen's voice was kind as if good news for his and Fitz's project was not an endlessly approaching time of departure for her lover.

He twisted the felt fabric of his hat. "Aye, your Grace. Very well."

"Good, do you have an estimate of when the project will be complete?" How she didn't sound upset, he didn't know.

Crann bit at his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. "A week…maybe two."

"Ah."

He dared to flick his eyes to her and flinched at the expression already hidden from her face. Would that their project was not nearly done.

/

Gendry refused to shuffle as he stood before the Targaryen Queen. "Your Grace." He gave the best bow he could before straightening.

The Queen stared at him and Ser Davos as they stood there between her Dothraki guards. "I shall be blunt, do you care about your people, Gendry?"

"Your Grace?" His brow furrowed.

Her eyes were piercing as they looked at him. "You are aware of what this war is doing to the common people, are you not."

Gendry's mouth tightened. "Aye, you're Grace." He could still taste the stench of rotting corpses and stones held with morter and blood. The stench of dirty pens full of shit, piss, and still living dead.

"Prince Jon has offered you a place in Winterfell's forges from what I understand." Her purple eyes were riveting as she stared at him. "A good future, a secure one. You would be as safe as any of us in the days to come, and will no doubt do well with the favor of the Starks. Your skills would be of value, you may not even be required to take up arms against the Dead. There is no shame in that future."

Davos spoke up. "Forgive me your Grace, but what are you getting at? He'll be out of your way in the North."

"He would, and I hold no animosity towards him if he chooses that. However, if you want to end this war, to protect your people, I can offer that to you." And her eyes cut away from Davos back to him.

Gendry felt his spine straightening how it really shouldn't in the presence of those more powerful than him. "I'm just a blacksmith, your Grace."

"But you are also the son of Robert Baratheon. The only living son of any close relation of that House left living. If you wish for a good life, a happy one, go North. But if you wish to save lives and make your life mean something beyond yourself, I would legitimize you and name you Lord of Storm's End and Protector of the Stormlands." Her voice was not sharp in its command like 'Arry's had been, nor cold like so many Lords in the smithy had been. There was a fire, a belief there that made him listen.

He felt like his stomach had dropped out from under him. "I wouldn't know how to be a Lord." Gendry swallowed. "Your Grace."

"And I was never taught to be a Queen, Ser Davos there was never taught to be a Lord either. Yet he's spoken at length in defense of you. There would be duties required of you, you would need to learn. But you have the choice. A good life of your own, or a hard one for the good of your people."

And Gendry…he remembered the purpose he'd felt with the Brotherhood before they'd sold him. The chance to do something about the injustices all around him. The deaths and horror people like him suffered as Lords marched their armies across their lands. That the Lannisters would have him dead for a father he hadn't even known was his. The insults spat at him, the hits if he dared look at anyone straight on. How his shoulders hunched naturally, and since he'd begun to try and stand straight he'd ended up in more than one fight. The Red Witch and Stannis who had meant to serve him up as a blood sacrifice. "I'll do it, Your Grace."

"Well, then you will speak with Lord Willas Tyrell of the particulars. I will not give you the name Baratheon, but I will name you to the Baratheon lands, holdings, and titles from before the rebellion." She stood from her seat and it was…he towered over her and yet it did not feel that way. "Your great-grandmother was a Targaryen, only the last in a long line of marriages between our two Houses. The founder of your line was the legitimized brother of the founder of the dynasty I am heir to. I believe that makes us something like family. I am asking a great deal from you, do not think I will do so without support or aid."

And…his mouth felt dry as he realized this otherworldly Queen was claiming him as kin, distantly, but kin all the same. "I…thank you, your Grace?"

"You shouldn't thank me, this will be more burden than gift. I hope you prove worthy of it." And something about how she looked at him made him wish to live up to her expectations. She gave him the faintest nod. "Then you two are dismissed for now, my Lords."

"Ow!" Gendry snapped his head around to where Davos had just slapped him upside the head as soon as the door had closed. "Wha' was that for?"

The man stared at him utterly unimpressed. "For agreeing to be a damned Lord without thinking about it for two minutes you great lug."

Gendry's shoulders tightened. "If I can make what I do matter…how can I turn that down?"

"By using some common sense. Half the men here will want to kill you or get control of you and the Stormlands won't bow to ya easy." Davos sighed as he looked at him. "I'll help you."

He bit at the inside of his lip. "Did she mean it, that we're kin?"

Davos shook his head as he clapped Gendry's shoulder. "Aye, she meant it. Come on then, if you're to be a Lord we'd better tell Prince Jon and get you some help before we leave you with the Tyrells."

Gendry let Davos half drag him towards the Northern rooms. "Wha's wrong with the Tyrells?"

"They're going to eat you alive," Davos replied with resigned misery.

/

Tyrion stared in the flickering torchlight at Lord Varys. The man was sitting on the ground in the Tyrell dungeon. He had thought this man his friend. "You know, you have always surprised me, but I was not expecting this."

"Foolish on your part, trusting me that is." Varys seemed resigned. "They sent you here all alone to ask my confession then?"

Tyrion wondered how much of their friendship had been lies, likely all of it. "The Queen offers you terms."

"My secrets are mine, and mine alone. I'm afraid I'll be taking them to the grave with me." He smiled. "I'm sure you understand."

With a sigh, he pulled over the stool from the wall before climbing upon it and sitting. "I understand completely, but we're going to need to have a very productive conversation, or else things will go very poorly for you."

"What will they do? Rip me to pieces before burning me alive? I've made my peace with my end. Have you made peace with yours?" Varys's voice was galling in how he sounded no different than he sounded trading gossip in the gardens.

Tyrion shook his head. "Oh no, our Queen has worse for you. Answer my questions and you will be burned alive by dragon fire. Not the worst way to go, I hear it will be quick. However, if this conversation is not productive, you are to be handed over to Quake, to do with as she pleases."

Varys's eyes were dark as the light flickered on his face from the torch. Dark and silent. Finally, he spoke. "I see, there is no third option I suppose?"

"I'm afraid not." Tyrion wondered if he'd missed it because he'd wanted to think they were friends or if he'd missed it because Varys was talented. He hated he knew the answer to that. "Why do it? What could possibly be worth all this death? It can't be the good of the realm."

Varys stayed mild. "Oh but it is, just not this realm. Westeros isn't all there is to the world you know."

"So her Holiness was right, you serve a master in Essos, someone not too far. Pentos perhaps?"

He made a slow 'ah'. "She really is remarkable, this god. I might even admire her if things were different. So few seem to understand the brilliance of what she's done. I should have known she'd find me out in the end."

"Apparently she's had you found out since a few days on Dragonstone," Tyrion remarked casually. "Wasn't sure who your master was though. Had some fascinating ideas about it."

"I see, I suppose you wish for me to confirm or deny those theories." Varys hummed. "Some free advice, you should flee this place, run as far as you can, because when Daenerys Targaryen flies North to fight the darkness there you won't last long I'm afraid."

Tyrion turned the ring on his finger. "Is that right?"

"You are a clever man, would be cleverer still if you applied yourself, but like so many of your countrymen, you believe yourself above the common rabble. As arrogant as your father, and not enough paranoia to guard your flanks. But I do like you, and for that, I will remind you of the truth you have forgotten. You are a dwarf and a kinslayer. The West will never be yours, they will never take your yoke. As a dwarf alone you may have managed it, but not with your father's blood on your hands."

Tyrion felt the pang at that. "Everyone has a price."

"Not enough for that I'm afraid, not for men like us." Varys looked away from him. "I have dedicated my life to my work, and I have lived my days surrounded by fools. Do you know why that creature or god or whatever she is is so dangerous?"

Tyrion didn't press on the questions he truly held. "I assume you're about to enlighten me."

"She doesn't care about any of it." He waved vaguely. "Not gold, power, lust, adoration, blood, none of it. She's dangerous the same way Ned Stark was dangerous. She does what she does because she believes that it is right, and unlike poor Ned, she knows how the game is played. Which is to say nothing of the fact she's not shackled by ideas like honor. Shockingly simple, radical for its simplicity really"

He frowned slightly. "Even now you try and turn me against the only path available towards peace? Against humanity's interest."

"Well, you can hardly blame me for trying. And like all poor advice, it's entirely true." Varys leaned his head back against the stone wall of his cell. "What do you believe she'll do to me?"

Tyrion wondered at the hate he felt, the cold hard kernel of hate. "Nothing you don't deserve."

"Deserve?" Varys laughed, it was a humorless sound. "Who are you to tell me what I deserve, Tyrion Lannister?"

He spread his hands. "Well, I'm the only one here. And I've had a lot of practice at it. Judging people that is."

Varys let a sigh. "Shall we get on with it then? You asking and I not answering will get terribly dull after a while."

Tyrion stared at the man he'd thought his ally and friend. A kindred spirit if one would. Someone looked down on similarly for what he lacked physically, a black sheep more clever than all the rest. He'd errored, and he disliked it immensely. "Very well then, your choice." He hopped off of the stool and turned toward the darkest corner of the dungeon where the light didn't touch. "He's all yours then I believe, Holiness."

The blackness vanished leaving just a rather shadowy corner, and a certain goddess standing there, one shoulder leaning against the wall. "So controlling light, stupid useful apparently."

"Here to force it out of me, Holiness?" But there was a pallor to his cheeks that said he was not as unaffected as he wished to appear.

Quake pushed off the wall walking over. "No, that never really works." She pulled open the bared doors like they shouldn't have been locked. She sat down in front of him, her legs folding underneath her. "There's no torture so horrible and painful it makes people talk. I should know, just pisses you off. And if you are someone who can be broken, well, you'll say anything to make the pain stop. Makes it kinda pointless if you don't know what's the truth and what's lies."

"I wonder who managed to torture you, Holiness." He replied though Varys was looking at her dead on from where he was seated on the ground, just an arms length from the god. A thing he hadn't done before Tyrion realized as he watched.

She waved a hand, "I think we're past Holiness. We both know I'm not holy at all."

"So if you're not here to torture me, why are you here?" Varys was looking at her with that spark in them that said he was interested.

Quake sighed. "Well, Dany kinda threatened you with me and if I wasn't here it'd make her look kinda weak."

"A conundrum there. I suppose it won't do for me to merely act traumatized before I get eaten by her dragon?" Varys offered, they all knew the answer.

She huffed with faint dark amusement. "I might have gone with that if you hadn't tried to kill Jon. That was a mistake. And let's be real, you've done monstrous things."

"So have you. A lake of blood was it not? And I doubt you earned that title Destroyer of Worlds through peace."

Quake looked at him consideringly. "I was sacrificed to prevent the end of the world. Tyrion tells me you know what it's like to be tied down and your flesh cut open against your will. I never wanted it, but I survived, I burned with the power I didn't want, two men died, and they named me Destroyer of Worlds for the world I was sacrificed to save. And here we are."

"Here we are." Varys finished for her.

She leaned back, her hands touching the stone floor behind her. "Wasn't the first time I was the price. Calling me an abomination isn't completely wrong you know." Quake was searching him for something. "Of course, I was born an inhuman, I suppose you'd call it a demi-god. A descendant of humans horrifically experimented on and changed by the gods to make them weapons. I doubt the first humans consented to have kids just so the gods could turn their children into slave soldiers for their wars. So rape as well as horrifying work to create us."

Tyrion swallowed as he stood there in the flickering torchlight watching, he could see the sickly pallor of Varys.

"Then of course I was dying so they put the blood of the gods in my veins. It healed me, didn't even make me sick since I was compatible with it. But in humans? In humans, it drove everyone they tried to heal with it mad. Carving, constantly carving, sometimes in their own flesh. It's how we knew I wasn't human actually, I didn't lose my mind. And then of course the temple and terrigenous, and suddenly I had powers. Then of course Hive did something to my blood so he could use it to exercise his own powers. He called what it turned humans into 'Drones'. Mindless drones forced to obey his will. Of course then the serum at the end of the world. So many things in my blood over the years."

Tyrion cleared his throat. "Fascinating as this is, Holiness, but why is your blood important?"

"Because I'm not going to torture you, I don't enjoy hurting people. But people have died trying to get their hands on the blood of gods. So I wonder, what would it do to you?" Her voice hung in the still air of the dungeon.

Varys's hands were shaking as he folded them into his sleeves to hide the tremble. "And you say you don't enjoy causing pain."

"I don't normally. I could list out the crimes they think you've committed, the ones I know you've committed, but that'd be beside the point. You tried to kill my friend. You tried to cause a war between a friend and the woman I love. And you're not totally wrong; I'm not gonna lie, a part of me is going to enjoy this." She pulled out a tiny cup, actually, it was a gilded egg cup. As she did so she slid a thin knife out of one sleeve.

Tyrion watched in a muted, nauseous horror as the goddess sliced her palm open before fisting her hand and bleeding into the small cup. His throat felt dry as he realized this was really going to happen.

Varys spoke, his voice soft. "I presume there is no other way?"

"You've dedicated your life to a cause. All of it, decades gone for it. There's nothing I could offer, or anyone could do to you that would make you talk, we both know that. It'd be an insult to both of us to try anyway. Or am I wrong?" She wrapped a piece of cloth around her hand, staunching the bleeding, and set the small cup before him.

And Varys sat there, his gaze never leaving the goddess's eyes. Finally, he leaned forward and lifted the small thing. "Well, to the end of my work then." With that he drank it, his face twisting in some disgust, but he swallowed nonetheless, leaving his lips tinged faintly red from the blood. "Unpleasant flavor I'm afraid."

"I think anyone who thinks blood tastes good has a few screws loose," Quake replied, but her eyes were hard as she watched him.

Tyrion would have asked something, but he held his tongue as Varys slumped forward with a sound like he'd been hit in the gut.

Varys's arms tightened around his own waist as he looked up at the goddess with wide, panicked eyes. And then his skin began to melt. It was like hot tallow as it began to bubble and run, his mouth opening in a scream as his eyes were hidden by great slides of skin coming to form something…something else. And beneath that molten, melting skin were flickers of gold. His hands hit the ground as he came to his hands and knees, screaming as his fingers bubbled. Then all of him was bubbling.

It was terrible, inhuman, the sound he was making was unlike any sound Tyrion had heard before. More wail than cry. All of his skin bubbled, flickering with a molten gold color as if he was burning from the inside out. That sharp, horrible wail cut off as his open and gaping mouth was sealed as the flesh melted into itself. Even in its melting it followed no laws of nature, it was forming him into something…something new. The bubbles grew, places where the gold looked nearly to rip him apart. And then he exploded, the pieces of him were like wet tallow as they slid down the walls where they'd hit. Not a bone in sight. Merely melted sludge. Melted sludge splattering the stones, the walls, the ceiling, the bars.

It was utterly silent before the goddess rose to her feet. A neat circle around where she'd sat where none of the…melted flesh had touched. As she herself was untouched by it. She walked out of the cell and paused at his side. "He wasn't wrong, you know. When Daenerys leaves for the North they will tear you apart."

Tyrion swallowed, giving a stiff nod of his head. He realized absently, that he hadn't been touched by the…remains of what had been Varys either. "Holiness." He managed to acknowledge.

She patted his shoulder. "Oh, and Tyrion, whoever he was working for he had personal stakes in their cause, and not from Pentos. He's a good liar, but he gave away more than he thought." And then she began only to leave before pausing. "Be sure to mention what just happened to Varys. I think that will work to deter anyone from trying to use my blood."

"Yes, Holiness." He croaked.

"Good, see to it that the remains are burned. All of it." And with that, she left him there in the dark and the horror, alone.