Author's Notes: Hey, sorry this copy didn't get updated as normal. 's Cloudflare was preventing me from uploading or updating any of my documents. I was finally able to figure out a workaround. Sorry for the lag in updates. Enjoy!

Chapter 140

Varys III

His unease began growing as he saw the landscape change from scrubby desert to the ancient and weathered ruins of Old Ghis. Just what have you been up to, Maelyx? He saw movement and his mouth opened in surprise. There were people here! Their bones sharply protruded, their skin like tanned leather from the harsh sun and the blowing sand. A few of them looked at his carriage as it passed with hollowed eyes, but they quickly looked away when his eyes connected with theirs. It seemed impossible that there would be people living there. He was surprised Maelyx hadn't put them to the sword yet.

Varys had been very careful when he fled King's Landing. He made sure that the ship register had the wrong destination. Then when they landed in Tyrosh, he immediately walked a mere one hundred feet to the next ship to Pentos. The captain of the ship had a question on his lips upon seeing him, but they were silenced the moment he dropped several gold dragons into his waiting hands. From there, he decided to lay low at Illyrio's manse and reconvene his old friend.

Of all the things that had happened since they last spoke, they regretted giving Aemon Targaryen the egg the most. Varys had been certain it would cast doubt upon his claim when he failed to hatch it. But despite the time it took, he still had. He's not sure he would ever live that failure down.

"It should've been bestowed elsewhere," Illyrio had hissed, his eyes flashing.

"Would he have had any better luck hatching it?" Varys had replied, his voice calm and even, though he felt a growing frustration. "You assured me those eggs were inert. Turned to dust."

"Even if it hadn't, it was a bargaining chip. It would've intrigued Princess Daenerys. We may have been able to approach her about a marriage, with the promise of a dragon egg as a wedding gift," Illyrio had said.

"She hadn't even hatched hers when I sent for the egg." There was little use in rehashing plans that had gone awry, but he'd already turned this one over in his head a multitude of times. It was a severe miscalculation. It seemed the Gods intended to keep laughing at him, which was confirmed when a month later he learned that the Healer had not succumbed to his poison.

"Tell me," Illyrio had begun, leveling him with an accusing stare, "what forced you to flee?"

"Many things. Alas, Aemon Targaryen is not content with whoring and drinking his kingdom away like Robert, nor is he given to madness like his grandfather. As more news trickled across the Narrow Sea, they were beginning to question my skills and loyalty," Varys said.

Illyrio had snorted in disbelief. "You are the one who controls the flow of information in King's Landing."

"Unfortunately, there was another," Varys replied.

Illyrio narrowed his eyes.

"Before I even killed Baelish, there was another encroaching upon my territory. I thought little of him at the time and that was to my detriment. A healer who set up shop to help the smallfolk of King's Landing. One by the name of David Reeft. While he was tending his patients, he sent his Shepherds out as feelers. Listening and learning."

"David Reeft?" That drew sharp attention from Illyrio.

Varys raised his eyebrows, the only change in his demeanor. "You know of him?"

"Yes, I considered brokering a deal with him to serve the people of Pentos. His reputation preceded him. He declined," Illyrio replied, with an angry jut to his jaw. "He and his Shepherds boarded a ship to Westeros that very night."

Now Varys was suspicious. Was their interaction exactly as surface-level as it appeared? A noble wanting to get in good with a healer? Or had David been snooping?

"Was he in your presence the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Where were his Shepherds?"

"Outside by their wagons."

"All of them?"

Illyrio hesitated. "My guards never saw any suspicious behavior from them."

And yet, Varys was certain there had been more to the visit than that.

"When did he come?"

"A mere two days before Khal Drogo was set to marry Princess Daenerys Targaryen," Illyrio had replied.

Varys felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. That clever bastard. Perhaps this was how Aemon had learned of Daenerys' whereabouts. It had surprised him just how much the king and his Hand had known. "And did he meet the princess?"

"She passed through the room during the negotiations. He glanced at her and seemed to barely give her a thought."

What did he get out of coming to Illyrio Mopatis' manse? How fortuitous that he was able to get in close with Aemon; it seems that had been his goal all along. With this new information, it became clear. Neither he nor Illyrio had thought much about David. His guise as the healer had shielded him from much suspicion. If Illyrio had had any untoward thoughts, he would've had David and all of the Shepherds killed before they could leave the manse grounds.

But to what end? Was it only power the Healer sought? Influence? The man had been consistent in his demands for helping the rabble of Flea Bottom. He had indeed made significant strides in that regard as well. But then why the guise of the healer? For safety? Was it even a guise given his legendary skills for healing? Perhaps he merely picked up new habits to keep him and his Shepherds safe. It was an interesting question to ponder.

"Where is David now?"

"Dead," Varys had said. "That will leave the king vulnerable without an informant he can trust."

Illyrio's eyes had once again become alight with satisfaction.

"That bodes well for our friend."

A couple of months had passed after that conversation. Varys had continued to keep his head low, relying primarily on Illyrio for his news. Still, he ventured out into the darkest of nights to tap the informants he'd long established in Essos. They could tell him little of interest given the distance between them and the Blackfyre, but one thing was certain: he had found a hole and he'd burrowed into it. The army had all but disappeared.

What is Maelyx up to? Varys wondered.

However, before he could approach Illyrio about it, the magister had come to him with a thunderous expression.

"It seems you have lost your touch," Illyrio had snapped. "The healer lives."

Varys had stiffened. Impossible! "That old bastard is harder to kill than a dragon."

"It's dangerous for you to stay here. If he's as resourceful as you say, he will know soon enough. You must go."

Varys had nodded and rose. They both knew where he was needed. The trick now was to find Maelyx Blackfyre. He first traveled to Lys. Though it was a small island, it saw ships from every major port in Essos. He cursed the healer with nearly every breath, as he was unable to ply information himself and was forced to rely on his informant in the city to inform him of the situation.

David was far too wily for his own good. The king had been using him as a secondary spider. Varys had grown too confident in his web to think another spider could muscle in on his territory. But he didn't muscle in so much as build his own web parallel to his. The last straw had been Captain Boderick. His little bird had been quick to inform him, but David had actually placed one of his Shepherds at court to scoop up the prize. Varys had considered having the sea captain killed, but once he'd spilled his secrets, there was little reason to bother with him. But David knew far, far too much.

At first, Lord Maelyx had been busy, traveling the region disrupting the trade routes, collecting more men and resources for his army, and slaves to serve them. He'd visited Astapor to see about getting Unsullied, but when he found the business had been decimated, he'd destroyed it again, and took the few boys already there for slaves. Apart from Astapor, he gave the other major port cities a wide berth, preferring to attack Hesh and Mantarys. It suggested to Varys that he had his eyes set on Meereen, first by weakening trade and then absconding with traveling merchants' wares.

But what are you doing here? Varys thought. Old Ghis was a ruin, destroyed by Valyria. Even after the Doom, no one had bothered to return and the ruins started to crumble to dust. He did see a couple of buildings with roofs so he thought perhaps Lord Maelyx was using it to shelter his army given that so few cared to venture here anymore. He just needed to be patient.

The carriage stopped. Varys saw someone garbed in a brown robe emerge from the shadows and pull open the carriage door.

"Lord Varys, if you'll follow me," the man said. He had deep lines in his face, but his eyes were clear and calm, though he seemed to have a peculiar air of superiority.

Varys stepped down without acknowledgment and they both walked into the dark doorway. Immediately, the scouring heat of the sun dropped to a pleasant coolness. On the outside, the doorway had appeared entirely black, but Varys' eyes adjusted quickly as they turned a corner and found the first burning torch. It was at this point that Varys could hear the low rumble of voices and they grew louder with every step, though he could not yet hear the words they were speaking.

"—tain Durigo and Captain Galdan, you'll take your scouts and go to Astapor and Port Yhon. We need enough ships to move an army. You have one week," Lord Maelyx commanded. "You all know what you need to do. Dismissed."

There was a scraping of chairs as the captains and commanders stood. Varys looked at each of them carefully as they walked past, their expressions unreadable. Some of them gave him curious looks back, but otherwise remained silent.

"Xono, you may enter," a deep voice said.

They walked into the room and bowed, "Lord Varys, Your Grace."

Varys struggled to keep himself from shivering. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd last seen the man in front of him. Back then they'd been the joyful and lightened eyes of a boy, but now they glinted like amethyst jewels and there was no warm smile to greet him. Maelyx had allowed the dark dye he'd been using to fade so that the silver sheen of his Blackfyre ancestry shone proud even in the darkened room. A jagged scar ran from the top of his forehead, across one eye and down his cheek to the edge of his jaw, but aside from that scar he lacked the monstrous features his father was known for. His skin was a roughened tan from his time in the desert and a slight silver shadow decorated his jaw and upper lip. When Varys had last seen him, he'd been as eager and lanky as a young wolf. His time in the Seven Fires had sharpened him in both wits and malice.

He wore his armor like a second skin. His breastplate was a burnished black color and along its edges, flames had been etched and painted red. A patch on the plate above his heart bore the Blackfyre black dragon against a red field. Under his greaves and pauldrons, an intricate weave of interlocking scales ran down his arms, making him look every inch a human dragon.

Maelyx was standing, but he gestured with a hand to a seat at the oblong table. With some trepidation, Varys pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat himself. "Xono, bring us refreshments. Wait for my signal."

"Your Grace," the servant bowed and walked out.

"Now, Lord Varys," his title was spoken like the warning hiss of a viper, "you're going to entreat me with the tale of how you fled your post in King's Landing. If I don't find your explanation satisfactory, I will tie you between two posts and slit your belly for the vultures to feast."

Varys had been threatened countless times before, but he'd always had contingencies. His role had been to pave the way for King Maelyx and Queen Daenerys to assume the throne of the Seven Kingdoms. Though he had been the Master of Whisperers for twenty-two years, all of his plans had collapsed with the coming of Aemon Targaryen. He thought he might salvage something once the new king settled in, but it was not to be.

Still, he knew the ins and outs of the Red Keep. He had spied extensively on an untold number of King's Landing's denizens and his web still stretched from the Sunspear in Dorne to the Wall in the North. Though it would not be as easy to supplant the king as it had once been presumed, there was still power to be tapped.

"Your Grace, I'm afraid much of the groundwork that I had laid for your eventual coming has been undone by the mere presence of Aemon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar. If it had been King Robert or—even better, Queen Cersei's bastard Joffrey—little would have stood in your way. But Aemon is able and competent, making allies of once disparate factions, and has brought the kingdom together.

"Furthermore, he brought in another spymaster. And I believe he set that spymaster to actively work against me. I attempted to poison him before jumping ship to Pentos. He lived," Varys said, hoping the bitterness he felt at that didn't leak into his voice.

Maelyx furrowed his brow further as he listened to these events, but remained calm. Now that the worst of the news was past, Varys plunged forward excitedly. "All hope is not lost, Your Grace. I have painstakingly built a web spanning the whole of Westeros. There are even a few whores who relay that spymaster's business to me. It will not be a hardship to make our plans and pinpoint the best place to invade. And better, it will be easy to know when."

The king's eyebrows lifted, his interest clearly piqued. "How do you imagine that?"

Varys allowed himself a small smile. "Aemon has convinced the kingdom that a great threat will be attacking from the North: the Night King and his Army of the Dead. Preparations are already underway and much of the kingdom's coffers have been going towards paying for supplies, fortifying castles, and mining on Dragonstone. The king will not have enough money to wage two wars on two fronts."

Maelyx nodded and Varys could tell that his mood had shifted. "That is far less dire than I had feared. Far from ideal, but so few of our plans have remained intact. We'll have to keep a close eye on the west for when the king begins shifting his forces northward. Do you know much of this Night King threat?"

Varys shook his head. "It's overstated. Even should an undead army attack, they will have to get past the Wall. In order to get an army of significant numbers through, there would have to be a hole in the Wall. Such a thing doesn't exist."

"Hmm, perhaps this whelp will come to the same conclusion and refrain from shifting his forces so far northward," Maelyx prodded.

"While Aemon is far cleverer than I expected, stopping the Night King is an obsession and has guided many of his major decisions. Given how much effort he is putting forth, it seems unlikely that he will do anything other than blunder forward."

"And this threat is … real?" Maelyx asked disbelievingly.

"He showed nearly all of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms an undead man. He cleaved it clean in two with his sword and it still moved. Even the priests of R'hllor can't keep a severed body alive. I know even less about this Night King, but I am unconcerned," Varys replied.

Maelyx nodded. "Very well. What about this spymaster? Do you foresee any trouble with him?"

"He is tenacious and an excellent opponent. If he has a weakness, it may be that he trusts all of the people in his employ a little too much. I'm afraid my attempt to poison him will have enlightened him to those dangers. He will be little more than a fly. His web is small and it will take him decades to reach the length and breadth of mine," Varys said matter-of-factly.

"He will not have decades. What's his name?"

"David Reeft. He passes as a healer and is the leader of a group known as the Shepherds."

Maelyx paused and narrowed his eyes. "I've heard of him. His name has been floated among the upper nobility. A few insist he has a magic touch that can heal all ailments. I presumed they over exaggerate?"

"Indeed. While he does seem to be fairly knowledgeable on the subject of healing, he is not able to save them all."

"Good, but he may have informants in some of the nobility. I don't think I have to remind you to be cautious," Maelyx pinned Varys with a pointed look.

"Of course not. Unlike my little birds, we may know a few of his information sources. It will be easy enough to mislead them as to our plans," Varys said, feeling his confidence growing with every sentence he spoke. The healer may have gotten on the good side of Aemon Targaryen, but he is a squire trying to play among the knights. I will crush him.

"Do you think it will be possible to … convert this David to our side?"

Varys balked. He and the healer were hardly equals in the realm of spying. The thought of sharing even the remotest credence with David chafed Varys, but he was nothing if not practical. If it would make it easier to supplant Aemon Targaryen, then it should be done. "I'm uncertain how possible that will be. He started as a humble healer in the heart of King's Landing with the king's ear and is now a healer with a whorehouse, generating his own wealth. He lives simply and contentedly."

"He's still just a man," Maelyx said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "and every man has a price."

The king rose from the table and it was only then when the servant walked in bearing his tray of fruits, bread, and wine.

"Eat, rest. We will talk further about Westeros and its capabilities tomorrow."

Varys rose from his seat at the table and said, "If I may, Your Grace, what is it you have planned?"

Maelyx regarded him for a moment, his violet eyes as chill as an early spring morning. "Time enough for that now that you'll be at my side from here on out. We leave when my scouts return in a week's time," he replied with a cold smile. With that, he was gone.

Varys settled back down into the chair and nibbled on the victuals. Though he'd spent the last two weeks subsisting on hardtack and a few tart oranges, he found he had little in the way of appetite. He'd managed to survive the ire of yet another king, but now he felt the agony of his failures settle upon him.

Under normal circumstances, he was quite good at making adjustments to plans where needed. But none of them had gone right.

The way the plan had been going, Maelyx had taken the Seven Fires sooner than expected. But while he'd been ravaging in the west of the Dothraki Sea, Aemon had swooped in and stolen Daenerys out from under their noses.

Varys thought he had masterfully expunged the Targaryens from Westeros only for this dragonspawn to clamber his way back onto the throne. Aemon would have a few years to revel in his crown, but he'd only been in a single battle in his time as king. The likes of King Maelyx Blackfyre would use his mercenaries to dash his soldiers upon the rocks like a stormy sea. They just had to wait.

Aemon LIII

King Aemon Targaryen, First of his name, Rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men

Know, Your Grace, that I intend the greatest respect with which I am giving you this news. The black dragon has been spotted raiding the cow pastures of my farmer's herders in recent weeks. About once a week, he strikes like lightning, taking a cow, and flying off with it. My people are terrified and they are concerned with the loss of their stock. I have already compensated them, but it would be most ideal if you can tell me the measures you are taking to control this behavior. Winter is coming, after all, as House Stark is so fond of saying.

Lord Hugh Grandison, Lord of Grandview

The letter trembled between Aemon's fingers. It was just as he had feared after Drogon's intervention with Victarion Greyjoy. He was now deliberately flying far afield in search of food despite the wealth of options available to him in King's Landing. The food they provided, though, was slain for them and all but cooked. The dragons knew best how to cook their own food after all.

It was something he had meant to address far, far sooner, but Drogon had been driven out of his mind by the conundrum facing him by telling Dany the truth about his life. Then she'd gone into labor, much to his horror. She and Aemma had pulled through, he had to spend weeks attempting to make up for his original deceit. Dany had been cold to him for quite some time, but her anger had eventually thawed in the light of the new life they had created together.

Aemon tossed the letter down and strode out of his solar back to his quarters. He rifled through his trunk and found the black book that he'd stashed away from Casterly Rock. They had a new truth to face and they would have to face it together. He'd read most of it before the Ironborn situation had pushed it from the forefront of his mind. It was still not as helpful as he would've liked with regard to training the dragons, but there was still yet more to read.

With the book in hand, he went in search of Dany. It wasn't terribly hard to find her most days as she preferred the company of their daughter to the noble ladies, though she still held tea once a week. They regularly traded off holding court on the throne, though with her pregnant once more, she would ask Aemon to hold court in her stead.

He found Dany and Aemma in the godswood. They smiled upon seeing him.

"Dada," Aemma squealed, rushing over to him, her dark curls bouncing with her energy.

"Hey there, my little bean," he said, swooping down to pick her up and hold her in the air.

She screamed and giggled.

Dany smiled as she walked closer. "To what do we owe the honor of this occasion?"

"Must I need a reason to see my bean and queen?" Aemon asked.

She chuckled and shook her head. "I know you better than that." Then she bent down to pick up the book he dropped to grab Aemma. "I can't imagine this is for a child." She flipped through a few of the first pages and her eyebrows went up her forehead and she gasped in pleasant surprise. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in the Lannister library at Casterly Rock. I thought it might have some use."

Dany frowned. "That was a while ago."

"Yes, well, in all of the … excitement, I forgot about it."

She nodded. "I suppose I can see that. We have been busy this past year."

"Indeed. Might I entice you to the solar? Have you had lunch yet?"

"Lunch sounds lovely," Dany said.

Aemon turned to lead them away, but when he saw Aemma's nursemaid, he passed her off. "Bye, little bean. I think you would find lunch rather dull."

"Official business then?" Dany asked.

"But daaaaa," Aemma cried, reaching a chubby hand out to him.

He reached back and gave it a little squeeze. "It's just for now. We'll have dinner together. I'll read you a bedtime story tonight, I promise."

Though he smiled at his daughter, her purple eyes still filled with tears and she began wailing.

"Aww … don't cry, darling, it's only for a few hours."

But she wouldn't be placated and continued to scream. The nursemaid smiled pleasantly, gave the barest curtsy, and started carrying her away.

"You're so mean," Dany said, but her eyes were playful. Once Aemma was able to speak, she had a tantrum more than once a day. Aemon had learned some hard truths that, even as king, he could not give his child absolutely everything to appease her, though he did his damnedest.

As they walked, Aemon made small talk. "How has your morning been?"

"Lovely. Lana tells me that one of Aemma's favorite things to do is sit and read stories."

"Oh?"

"Well, be read to, but it's one of the few things that calms her. She's learning quickly. You can see it in her eyes," Dany said, her own eyes sparkling with her happiness and pride.

"And what of the other little one?"

She rolled her eyes. "This one still upsets my stomach and makes my heart burn through much of the day. I fear he may actually be a dragon," she grumbled.

"He?" Aemon asked, his face showing his excitement and surprise.

Dany shook her head. "The grand maester has not said, but I think he's a boy."

"Watch. It will be a girl again," Aemon said with a wink.

"I overheard David sniping at the grand maester about declaring the sex. He says it's not possible to know the sex before birth," she replied.

"Well … the grand maester was wrong after all," Aemon muttered, glancing surreptitiously around the halls so that he's not overheard. He didn't want Brunal to think he had no faith in him. He found the declaration of sex before the birth to be more of a white lie with little in the way of consequences, but he could imagine a wrong determination to stoke the ire of some lords. It mattered not to him what sex the baby was. He wanted a male heir, but that was up to the Gods.

They reached the solar and he opened it, offering Dany to walk through first. She strode in and saw the curled letter on his desk. She picked it up and read it. He rang for lunch. Then he watched her face and saw the crease in her forehead and the troubled frown.

"How do we address this?"

"Well, it seems fair that we should compensate Lord Grandison for covering the losses. But we need to start exerting our control over the dragons," Aemon declared. He tapped the book. "This may have the information we need."

Dany heaved a great sigh. "Drogon has become so wild. He hardly listens to me."

"But you are still his mother. He's always come back to you."

"Us."

Aemon grimaced. "You heard what he did on Pike. To Victarion. What he nearly did to me. I am not bonded to him."

"Do you think it's a matter of bonding?"

"It seems to. After all, we've both been reading the chronicles. By all accounts Prince Aemond would have been burnt to a cinder if Vhagar hadn't accepted him as her rider. It was a near thing," Aemon sat back in his chair and sighed. "I had hoped that if both of us worked to bond with all of our dragons that we could control this, but it seems a dragon will only listen to one rider."

Dany shifted uneasily. "Rhaellon doesn't have a bond. Do you think she'll go wild much like Drogon?"

Aemon twisted his mouth into a grimace. "Impossible to know. She doesn't seem as headstrong as Drogon, but … she is a dragon."

"Do you think … Aemma is her rider?"

"I don't even want to think about it." Aemon blanched. "We agreed, we would not introduce the children until they were ten."

Dany regarded him with annoyance. "The dragons are not stupid. They recognize kin. They'll know not to hurt our children."

He frowned. "Until we know they are under our control, I'd prefer neither Aemma nor this child be introduced to the dragons before their tenth birthday."

"I suppose I can agree to that," Dany replied.

A knock sounded at the door. "Lunch, Your Graces," Ser Daemon announced.

They were quiet as the servants placed the entree on a nearby table, pouring out wine or water. Once they were alone again, they moved to the table and began eating. They ate in silence, neither one realizing how hungry they were until they sat down.

Dany was the first to break the silence. "When were you hoping to put this bonding into practice?"

Aemon stared at a fork full of greens ponderously for a moment. "Under normal circumstances, I would prefer after the birth of this child."

Dany quirked her mouth knowingly. It'd be another six months before the child made its way into the world. He'd already left the issue long enough.

"I'll be careful, but … I don't fear him. He won't hurt me."

"I wish I could be as confident," Aemon replied with a shudder.