Varys during Sack of King's Landing.

….

She must die. The girl too, but the boy will live.

His steps are always quiet, imperceptible, drowned in the surroundings, yet Varys now felt the thunderous sound of every step. The burden of responsibility walked with him, not giving him the peace and clarity he normally felt. Red walls, why red walls. He knew, red hides the unwanted, red hides the beast, red hides death, the mirror of the powerful who trample on the innocents of this world. The golden lion, draped in a red cloak, opened its jaws and stared at the dying three-headed black dragon with a hungry gaze. The dragon, who lost his red cloak, his right to be a beast, a right to live.

Reluctantly, he looked at the city, tall towers of smoke spiraling towards the sky. A magnificent sight, the flames of the burning houses danced merrily on the floors of the smoke towers. The wails of thousands of victims brought Varys back to reality, this is not beauty, this is death and he could see the ruthlessness of Tywin Lannister painted on the horizon. Once, Varys respected the man, his skills as a leader and administrator, Tywin was a king who was not a king. No crisis was greater than him, no challenge swayed him, alone in his power to restrain Aerys. Also Aerys' biggest mistake, if only the king said yes to proposed marriage.

The rebellion would be doomed even before Jon Aeryn thought Robert should be a king of anything. Before the Lion of Casterly Rock, Moon Gate would not be an insurmountable obstacle. Instead of here, siege engines would now be targeting Winterfell, and the Arryns would be seeking mercy from their sky dungeon. But it wasn't meant to be, like many things that aren't meant to be.

It wasn't meant to be… and he returned to the cursed tournament again, more cursed than the haunted castle where it was held. Varys never hesitated, but the hesitation then was greater than Harrenhal himself. Should he have let the heir to the throne carry out his plan? And remove Aerys from throne. The prince scared him more than Aerys. Aerys Targaryen's madness was familiar to him, the same scourge that afflicted his predecessors. An evil that he, or the sharp mind of the King's Hand, could conceal, but, prince. His visits to ratched mage, the summoning of sorcerers, playing with forces that have no place in this world. He remembered a voice from the flames, a voice that would interrupt his every dream. The sorcerer called out and voice answered, in an evil and corrupt tongue.

He entered his chamber, a small shadow stood quietly in the corner. An uncertain, barely audible voice called out to him, "Varys, is that you."

Varys looked at the short boy, unbathed and dressed in rags. Standing by the candle, he revealed himself and offered the boy a smile. He spoke to the boy in a warm voice, full of tenderness, "My child, have you brought what I asked for".

The boy's face showed apprehension, "there were so many, I… could hardly choose".

Varys nodded and laughed softly, taking the baby from the boy's arms. All babies look alike. "Mother got a gold coin," Varys asked the boy. The boy just nodded.

"Good, my child, you may go. Tell others to take cover and stay away from the men in red cloaks".

The maids looked at him in confusion as he replaced the babies. The prince has lighter hair, he noticed. Detail, though only for the sharper eye. Down the narrow corridor, he crawled carefully, surrounded by complete darkness and accompanied by the dull breathing of a small boy. The stench of the drain directed him to turn left, after which he straightened up and continued to walk normally in the dark, listening to the sound of the sea. Alarmed by the presence of an unknown stranger, the rats scurried across the floor, disturbing the pleasant sound of the sea with irritating whining. A glittering passageway revealed the exit, and Varys found himself on a sandy beach, with the huge silhouette of the Red Keep overhead. The impact of powerful waves isolated the beach from the events in the city. Here, King's Landing is still the old one, as it was yesterday, peaceful and unchanged.

The Lannister plunder of the city was, regardless, in progress. He sat on a stone, in the shade, on a pleasant sea breeze awaited the sailors. When everything was over he would join maester Pycelle and wait for the arrival of Robert or King Robert, he thought. He stood at the breaking point of history, soon the last 270 years would be absent and foreign, a memory which rather dwells in oblivion.

A sailor, with a heavy Pentoshi accent, called from a distance. The large boat, kept on the waves.

Dressed in dirty, torn clothes, with a stained face, Varys was unrecognizable. "Where is the galley," he asked in a disguised voice.

The sailor, with teeth ruined by scurvy, calmly replied, "far from the shore. Safer, you know, because of the lions and other parts of animal kingdom".

He laughed at his own joke. Measuredly, Varys returned a smile, leaving the impression that he was amused.

"And the milk," he then asked the sailor. With little interest, the sailor said, "We have a goat on board, it will do." He handed the boy to the sailor, as if it were any unimportant cargo. The importance of the cargo, even he could not determine, and Varys knew the world up and down.

….

She died. A girl too. Varys, like an invisible statue, stood in the middle of Princess Elia's room. Bloody carpets, bloody beds, feathers from pillows everywhere, broken porcelain. And the Red Walls, he thought. Always red walls He was deceived, the red walls did not hide anything. But the red cloaks did.

He stood in the chambers of a woman who died, protecting a child that was not hers. The Dornish princess was smart, Varys believed she knew, her son was somewhere else. And yet, she died saving the boy. Lions have no mercy. Would the stag have had more mercy, if he had come first. Regardless, Varys knelt before the stag and asked for mercy, for himself. Offered his skills.

In King Robert's eyes he saw that he would survive. Robert is too blind to see the threat. To them, Varys was a eunuch who amused the king with gossip, no different from a court jester. Robert's new good father-in-law did not hide his disappointment, that many were spared. The heads, on stakes, were supposed to decorate the walls of the Red Keep. Tywin, would left no room for petty threats.

The old Hand of the King once valued Varys's services more than Aerys himself, but now, now Varys was someone who knew too much. Varys could read it on the Lion's face, others did not, others saw measured silence, enthroned in a slightly frowning look. Ned Stark also looked at Varys with disapproval. The young lord of Winterfell felt uncomfortable anywhere where truth was elusive, where it was equally important what was in the shadow and what was visible. Where the unknown presses on the known with its weight.

Fortunately, the aged Jon Arryn, the brain of the rebellion, was wise enough to recognize the value of Varys, now that the loyalty of many meant little, and word and oath were worth less than a piece of bread. Now the most expensive thing was what Varys offered, knowledge, knowledge of what was happening behind the scenes, in the chambers of great lords, friends and enemies. Varys stood among them, as he stood in the bloody chamber of Princess Elia, as only he knew how… silently, motionless and above all unnoticed.