Updated 4/13/19: Edited for a smoother read.

Chapter 20

Varys 1

Lord Varys walked through the gardens of the Red Keep toward the council chamber at a measured pace, his arms sedately tucked into his sleeves, and his face a placidly neutral expression. The birds chirped and insects buzzed around the garden, belying a peace that would soon not exist outside these walls. How easy to forget the world is bigger than this, Varys thought and sighed inwardly.

How was it possible for things to change so quickly? Barely two months ago, King Robert was at Winterfell with three heirs to his name. In the span of a day, he had no heirs and his queen and her brother on the chopping block. In another day, he was taken prisoner, the Kingslayer was saved from the executioner's block, and Aemon Targaryen, First of his Name, claimed the throne. He still didn't quite believe it.

A little bird at the Citadel had informed him that Ned Stark had written on behalf of King Aemon Targaryen requesting old Septon Maynard's journal to be sent to High Garden. This bird was fortunate enough to be tasked for the job and had read the pages to find, yes, Septon Maynard had annulled Rhaegar Targaryen's marriage to Elia Martell, and in its place had married Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Immediate validity to the claim that both Ned Stark and Aemon Targaryen were making. He had hurriedly written to his merchant acquaintance Illyrio Mopatis and requested that one of the dragon eggs meant to be gifted to Daenerys would be spared to give to Aemon in the future. It was the truest way to know the legitimacy of the Targaryen blood.

Of all the things he could have missed, he was astounded he had missed something this gigantic. The only thing that assured him was that Lord Baelish had obviously missed it too. The only one who hadn't seemed to have missed it was Jaime Lannister.

Eddard Stark was known to be a notoriously bad liar, so how had he managed to slip this past the entire realm? Perhaps it was because no one wanted to look too closely at a man grieving for a good portion of his family who had died as a result of the Targaryen family. Or maybe no one had wanted to look too closely once a delicate peace had been attained for fear it might rip apart like cloth in a strong wind. Whatever the case, Ned's once bastard was now claiming the kingship, his army was gathering at Moat Cailin, and Jaime Lannister was now his Hand, adding the substantial Westerlands to his forces.

That was yet another baffling detail. The Starks and Lannisters could barely be called acquaintances. Even less so once Ned had coined the Kingslayer as Jaime Lannister's new moniker. Despite having lived in the same place as Jaime Lannister for the last seventeen years, he knew very little about the man. As far as anyone could tell, no one save the king or Ser Barristan had heard Jaime utter more than two dozen words in the last decade. But Aemon Targaryen had saved Jaime from beheading and made him his Hand.

The Lannisters always pay their debts, Varys thought mockingly. Maybe it was as simple as that. Jaime Lannister owed Aemon Targaryen his life, but his instinct - and he detested relying on something so fickle - left him with an overwhelming feeling that there was considerably more to that than appeared on the surface. Jaime had accepted then Jon Snow as his squire, which was just as peculiar since he had refused every squire in the country before that.

But now a Lannister was in the second most powerful position in Westeros, even if not officially sanctioned, and his little birds had been aflutter when Jaime appeared at Casterly Rock. His father had arranged a wedding for him and apparently disobeyed written orders to take the army to King's Landing. How very odd, Lord Tywin. Normally, you would be the type to make such a decisive military decision and yet you decided to idle away your weeks by arranging your son's wedding to ensure your family's legacy over securing the capital. If Tywin had done as ordered, Varys had a feeling he'd be walking to a council meeting with Tywin at the head rather than that buffoon Renly.

There had been a fight between father and son and the son had walked away victorious. Not two days later, the wedding was cancelled and the Westerlands army was slowly but surely marching its way towards the capital. Instead of joining his father's army, though, Jaime had hopped on another boat, this one bound for the Reach.

It was easy to see Jaime's path from there. Another bird had forwarded the message that Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch, the notorious butchers of the Targaryen infants, were chained and on their way to Dorne. He will scoop up the Reach. Aemon would be a fool to send him to Dorne, but sending the Mountain and Lorch will go far to soothe the Martells' righteous anger. It was surprisingly simplistic and ingenious at the same time. While Jaime negotiated with the southern allies, King Aemon would march through the Riverlands and by the Vale where he was all but assured those forces by virtue of the family ties he shared. The only lands left unaccounted for were the Stormlands and the Ironborn.

The Ironborn were unlikely to pick sides and even less likely to honor an alliance even if one was brokered. Neither side could rely on them. Renly had already gathered the Stormlands, but Robert had taken some Crownland soldiers North and North they stayed. That army was crippled. Furthermore, Stannis had yet to even send a message to Renly insuring that he could be relied upon.

The Targaryen army was still two months away, but Baratheon's doom was all but assured. He would begin having to make his own preparations to either flee or make contact with the new king. At this point, he was only coming to the meeting to once again urge Renly to open negotiations, but he had even less sense than his eldest brother. He didn't have much hope for Lord Renly's chances.

Nearly twenty years I have been laying the groundwork for Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen to return and claim their throne and now a trueborn son of Rhaegar has stolen it right out from under all of us, Varys thought and shook his head in dark amusement. Targaryen rule would return as he had wished so long ago.

He stepped inside the council chambers to find Lord Renly, Ser Loras Tyrell, and Lord Baelish already present. Baelish gave him a sneering smile, Renly nodded at him, and Loras looked at him with a marked disdain and suspicion. He paid it little mind. Maester Pycelle was the last to totter in and he greeted everyone generally in a gravely and feeble voice. He sat down next to him.

Varys instantly made a mental note, but focused at the front of the table. Pycelle never sits next to me unless forced to. The table was large enough to seat eight so there were plenty of spots still available.

"Thank you for joining us. As I'm sure most of you are aware by now, I have successfully raised the Stormlands and the defending army marches in to fortify our city day by day. Jon Snow may have found it easy to take my brother hostage, but he'll find it less so to obtain his seat of power," Lord Renly sneered. His paramour Loras couldn't resist sending him a glowing and smug smile.

Fool. You're only prolonging the inevitable.

"Furthermore, my dutiful friend Ser Loras has informed me that his father may be willing to provide forces on the condition I marry his daughter Margaery. With the forces of the Reach to supplement our forces, Jon Snow, will not find us so easily won."

"With all due respect, Lord Renly," Varys began. "I would not be so sure about the negotiations for the Reach coming through for you. My little birds have informed me that King Aemon has already offered a marriage and his Hand Jaime Lannister has boarded a ship bound for the Reach to secure it."

"My own father would never abandon me," Loras shouted at him.

"I have no doubt your father cares for you very much, but Aemon has the North and the Westerlands. He will soon have the Riverlands and the Vale. And if my little birds are correct, he will also soon have the Reach and Dorne. This is not a war that can be won."

"Always the doom and gloom, Varys. Please, tell me, were you also uttering bittersweet truths into the Mad King's ear?" Renly grumbled at him.

"Indeed I was," Varys replied.

"Jaime Lannister may be the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms, but he doesn't have enough brains to fill a wine cup. He also has a notoriously short temper. I wouldn't be surprised if Lord Tyrell tosses him out on his ass when he fails to win those negotiations."

"Don't underestimate the Kingslayer," Lord Baelish suddenly spoke up. "My own informants tell me he had a war of words with his own father and won. He's craftier than he looks."

"Jaime only won against his father, because his father has been dying for his heir to be return to him. Jon Snow granted him that; Tywin is all but assured to fall on his knees and kiss the ground where his son walks," Loras piped up.

"Of course," Baelish replied with an unctuous smile. "I imagine you're right, Ser Loras. I have arranged for the Kingslayer to run into some trouble out on the open sea though."

Varys frowned at Petyr Baelish and narrowed his eyes. The best known threat on the ocean were the Ironborn, but surely Jaime Lannister, the best sword of the Seven Kingdoms, wouldn't have too much trouble with them.

"That sounds promising, Lord Baelish. I hope we will hear good news shortly," Renly replied gleefully.

"Even if you did manage to knock Jaime Lannister out of the game, you'd now have Tywin Lannister wanting our blood. I guarantee you he won't care who gets in his way and the new King may be willing to set Lord Tywin on King's Landing again," Varys said, frustration mounting in his voice.

"But it gives us a chance to negotiate the Reach and count them among our allies."

"Forgive me, Ser Loras, but it would be quite dangerous for your father to commit to the Baratheons and then escort his daughter to a city that will almost certainly be besieged. Your grandmother would insist on waiting until after the war is won to seal this alliance with a marriage."

At this moment, Varys felt a thick piece of parchment slowly pushed onto his lap and he instantly trapped it beneath his fingers like the spider he is so often called. Without looking down, he slipped parchment into his sleeve. A message from Pycelle? He didn't have to strain too hard to wonder who it was likely to be from: the Lannisters.

"Maester Pycelle, you've been awfully quiet so far. What do you have to say in all of this?"

"I'm afraid my expertise lies outside of politics," Pycelle wheezed.

"Like when you counselled the Mad King to let Lord Tywin into the city?" Renly said with a raised eyebrow.

The old man sputtered. "Lord Tywin had long been a friend to King Aerys. It was not unreasonable to expect that he might come to defend an old friend."

Renly frowned at him. He obviously did not trust Pycelle. As well you shouldn't, Varys thought.

"Lord Renly, I suggest you open negotiations with King Aemon. Even if you did manage to secure the power of the Reach, you'd still be able to do little more than hole up inside the city. I am sure you're aware of your own brother Stannis and his army starving at Storm's End. Only this starvation will include innocent people," Varys pointed out.

"That's presuming that Snow has ships to barricade King's Landing's harbor. All of his current allies lack a fleet, save for Lord Tywin, but his ships have to sail around the entire continent. That would take at least six months. Meanwhile, when we win the Reach, we can use the Redwyne fleet to protect our trade routes. The people need not starve," Renly said.

Another futile council meeting, Varys thought. The two men had deafened themselves to all warnings, not unlike Mad King Aerys. Old Mace Tyrell might be fool enough to provide the forces Loras demanded, but he rather doubted Olenna Tyrell or Willas Tyrell would agree. They might even be willing to sacrifice their precocious youngest son to keep the rest of the family intact.

"Maester Pycelle, I wish to go over the stores of food and medicine with you after the meeting. Unless there are any more concerns," and Renly paused to allow for further conversation, "then I think we are done here."

Varys stood wearily and walked towards the door. He had perfected his gait so that he never looked like he was ever doing anything except going out for a stroll, but he made a beeline for his own room. Despite being the Master of Whispers and living at the Red Keep for so long, his room was small and sparse, save for a bed, a writing desk, and a fireplace. He pulled a chair up to the fire and pulled out the envelope. He studied the seal of the Lannisters very carefully, then broke it and unfolded the letter.

Lord Varys,

You're searching for a way out. While the moves the King and I make are quiet, they are obvious. In two months time, we will have four of the seven kingdoms as our allies. Taking King's Landing will be all but assured.

I will offer you the chance to retain your position as Master of Whispers in exchange for your assistance when the time comes to take the city. You have certain knowledge of secret passages into the keep. I suggest you keep that knowledge to yourself.

I will be in touch.

Jaime Lannister, Hand of the King

P.S. Keep a close eye on Daenerys

The letter hung limply in Varys' hands before he gave the extra flick to toss it into the flames. He watched it for a moment and then closed his eyes and resisted the urge to put his face into his hands.

Not enough brains to fill a wine cup, indeed, Varys thought with a sneer. Jaime Lannister suddenly seemed to have a information network on par with himself and Lord Baelish combined. How does he know I've been watching Daenerys closely? If Baelish doesn't watch himself, Lord Jaime will already know about this trap.

Had the former Kingsguard been merely biding his time since the rebellion?

I will have to keep a very close eye on him and King Aemon when they arrive, he thought. It was his job to walk a fine line, but it had never felt so precarious.