Weiss

The gardens of the Red Keep were as nice as Lord Varys had described, though the flowers weren't exactly Weiss' favorites. The gardens were designed to be as gaudy and flamboyant as possible, to show off the Crown's wealth and the Queen's expensive taste, which was ironic, as Tywin was the one funding the whole affair. Weiss had honestly expected that the Queen was Lord Tywin's only daughter, and as the richest man in all Seven Kingdoms, it was natural if Queen Cersei ended up a bit spoiled. Weiss had been that way back on Remnant, before Beacon, before she made friends that helped her to change into a better person, even if it did take some time and effort on her part. She had to learn to stop saying Faunus related slurs under her breath whenever Sun annoyed her, or when they ended up fighting the White Fang.

"You did not seem surprised that I knew who you were, my Lady." Lord Varys said with a soft voice as they walked through the garden, admiring the objectively pretty aesthetic. He walked beside her, around a foot away, so as to keep up the facade of him respecting Weiss as a noble lady.

"You are the Master-of-Whisperers, my Lord, it is your duty to know the dealings of the realm, is it not?" Weiss gave him a glance out of the corner of her eyes. For all his soft appearances and effeminate mannerisms, she still felt an air of restrained lethality off him.

"It is." He giggled. "Yet there is much I don't know. Sometimes, even the birds cannot reach the highest crag, their poor wings give out before they can reach the top."

Ah, so his spies couldn't find much information about her. That made some sense, the Westerlands were located at the far side of Westeros, opposite the Crownlands. Weiss wasn't as well known outside of the Lannister heartland, after all, she hadn't competed in any tourneys yet and her feats had been during the Greyjoy Rebellion and in the training yard. Add in the near iron fisted control of Lord Tywin, and even the Spider might find it hard to seek answers about her.

"Some birds use the wind to reach the mountaintop, yet that is still a risk. They might crash into the rocks and die." Weiss gave him a controlled smile. "The Seven have truly blessed us, for we are not birds to bounce around according to the wind's whim."

"Indeed." Lord Varys seemed amused as they paused in front of a rose bush. The lush green clashed with the vibrant red, as he bent down to sniff one of the flowers. "These were a gift from House Tyrell, for Queen Cersei's nameday."

"They're beautiful." Weiss said, widening her eyes on purpose. She had a role to play, that of a naive, pious girl. That, and to be fair, they were quite beautiful. She certainly could see why the Reach had gifted them to the Queen.

"Beautiful, yes, but I would never dare to grab one." Lord Varys dramatically took a step back. "They have thorns you see, and my skin is so very soft, and I faint at the mere sight of blood."

He was trying to lower her guard, Weiss noticed. Why else would he approach her when she was without her guards?

"If you enjoy the fragrance of a rose, you must be prepared to accept the thorns which it bears." Weiss said, quoting from the Seven-Pointed Star. On top of his mannerisms, she suspected this was old hat to him, after all, the big strong men of Westeros would never view a weak, seemingly effeminate man as a threat anytime soon.

"Baelor the Blessed?" Lord Varys asked, one eyebrow raised, in what someone might mistake for curiosity. Hm, so now he was trying to paint himself as being ignorant of the Seven. He may very well have, once upon a time, but he'd been here for a couple of decades at this point. She'd eat Kalimeris if he truly didn't pay attention to something as massive as the local Faith.

"The Seven-Pointed Star." Weiss corrected. "Would my Lord care to join me the next time I pray? I visit every seven days to offer seven prayers."

"Lovely." Lord Varys took another step, heading towards the shade the fruit trees offered. Weiss followed his lead, interested in what his endgame was here. "I will endeavor to make room in my busy schedule. I serve at the Crown's convenience, so I fear it may be later rather than sooner."

Weiss was about to speak, when her ears perked up at the sound of rustling amongst the flower bushes. The duo paused for a second, as a small shadow emerged from the flower bushes. Lord Varys took a small step back in faux-concern, which made Weiss sigh internally.

A black cat with bright yellow eyes stood in their path, giving them an uninterested look. It was fat, either having found a patron or a secret entrance into the pantry, and yawned, continuing its journey to the bushes that sat on the other side of the path. Yet, despite its size, it moved with such grace, one would easily mistake it for being a far more lean animal.

"Ah, why hello there, Blake." Lord Varys took a few steps forward once again just as the cat disappeared into the bushes, the last thing being visible was its tail flicking in response to someone calling its name. Weiss' eyes widened slowly in shock as she paused midstep. Blake? Was her dear old friend reborn as a cat? Or was this a coincidence? She recovered quickly, though Weiss was still shaken on the inside.

"A strange name for a cat." Weiss said out loud, feigning ignorance. Her eyes stared at the bushes where the cat disappeared. She swore she could see a yellow glimmer in the bushes, before it disappeared once more.

"She is one of Prince Tommen's favorites, the boy loves animals you see, and the cat was a gift from one of his cousins." Lord Varys explained with a giggle. "The Queen had been enraged that Lady Baratheon chose one of that color."

Black cats were a symbol of bad luck according to the Seven, gifting such a cat could be considered an insult or a threat. Yet, whatever internal power struggles the Royal Family had was none of Weiss' business. There were still people who would say Princess Rhaeny's fate had been sealed once she'd been gifted the kitten she wound up naming Balerion.

"I see." Weiss placed a finger on the tip of her chin. "I must offer Seven prayers, to prevent any misfortune from occurring. May I have your leave, my Lord?" She didn't need to pray, but given she had known a man whose Semblance was literally bad luck, it couldn't hurt. And Weiss also needed time to gather her thoughts and adjust her plans.

"Of course, my Lady. I enjoyed our stroll, as brief as it was." Lord Varys smiled with his eyes. "We should have another soon, before you return to Lannisport." That likely wouldn't happen, Weiss was going to be far too busy. And if need be, she would find something to occupy her. Hmm, maybe she should visit the Great Sept? Further reinforce her image as being pious before the melee?

She gave the Master-of-Whisperers a bow with a calculated smile. "That sounds lovely, Lord Varys."

Lovely and dangerous.

Stannis Baratheon

Lannisters were an annoyance to deal with, King's Landing was crawling with them, to the point he swore they outnumbered the rats. Even before Lord Tywin arrival a few days before, Red Cloaks outnumbered the men of the Vale, the Hand's very guards as well as the swords from the Narrow Sea that Stannis brought and the Stormland men-at-arms that Renly surrounded himself with. The Goldcloaks didn't even enter into this equation, as they would more or less fight for whoever offered the most gold, in this case, the Lannisters. The Royal Court was filled with ambitious lions, snakes and parasites, despite Stannis' best attempts to keep them out. It was Robert's and Jon Arryn's fault, they had invited in the Lions, placed Renly as the Master of Laws, and Jon had handpicked an old friend of his wife's, 'lord' Petyr Baelish as the Master of Coin, after a short stint as a customs collector. Yet, that didn't mean Stannis would shrink back from doing his duty, even if he was just the Master-of-Ships. He would hold the realm together, even if he was the only one holding the ropes.

"You summoned me, Lord Hand?" Stannis said with gritted teeth as he stood before Jon Arryn. The Tower of the Hand was one of the few places in the Red Keep, no, in all of King's Landing, where they could have a conversation without the Spider's or Littlefinger's spies lingering about. Probably. The Master-of-Ships arrived with a report about the execution of several deserters from the Royal Fleet, Littlefinger's men, if he had to guess, based on their attitudes and general interest. The Spider and Lord Baelish had been trying to put spies on Dragonstone for years, to no avail, thanks to Malora and Melisandre.

"Lord Stannis." The Lord Hand said in greeting, not bothering to look up from the old tome that he had been reading. The Lord of the Vale was a busy man, ruling the realm while Robert whored and drank, and organized yet another tourney to keep his king content. He could respect the man's devotion to duty, if nothing else. "The blacksmith bastard was the spitting image of Robert, was he not?"

Why would he bring this up now while Lord Tywin was still in King's Landing? Stannis may not care for politics, but even he knew that making a move with so many lords of the Westerlands present was a bad move, even if more Valemen, Stormlords and Riverlords were due to arrive to compete in Joffrey's nameday tourney, the little shit. Of course, at the same time, doing it with everyone of import here would certainly disgrace the Lannisters for making his brother wear the horns of a cuckold.

"He was." Stannis answered plainly. The bastard looked more like Robert's son than his own welp by Cersei. That had been what had first caught his attention, especially after he thought about it some. "As did the others, the girls."

"And your own wife's hair is light and golden like a Lannister? Yet Lady Blake and Lady Shireen were born black of hair." The Lord Hand continued, looking up from the tome with cold eyes. The tome was a fat book, looking more akin to a shield than a collection of pages, even if it showed its age in the gray cover and faded lettering of the author's name on the binding.

"Indeed." Stannis remained standing. His daughters would arrive for the tourney in a few days, despite his wish that they remain on Dragonstone where it was safer. Of course, at the same time, it would not draw attention by acting like he suspected something was amiss. He knew the rumors of the Court, and he wasn't about to feed them.

"Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella have the Lannister look." The Lord Hand turned back to the tome, turning a page as he did so. "Yet every child with Baratheon blood has been born with dark hair."

They remained in silence for a few seconds, when Stannis spoke. "We must tell Robert, you must be the one to tell him the truth." Whatever his faults, Robert was his brother and his king. He deserved to hear the truth.

Lord Jon shook his head. "Not now, Robert's temper would overtake him and he'll demand the Queen's head, along with those of the children. Lord Tywin would never allow it." Left unsaid was that King's Landing was ill prepared for a possible fight with the Lannisters already in their midst. This, alas, needed to be handled delicately, less the Kingdoms tear themselves apart in the throes of another Dance.

"After the tourney then, when Lord Tywin departs." Stannis suggested. The moment the tourney ended, he would put Blake and Shireen on the first galley back to Dragonstone, with Davos at the helm.

"That would be for the best." Lord Jon agreed. "I shall instruct Renly to expand the City Guard, and bring more men from the Vale as reinforcements."

If they handled this the wrong way, thousands would die. As it were, hundreds were likely to die. Lord Tywin was a prideful man, and would not take this humiliation lying down, regardless of who was to blame or not.

"I will see the opinions of my Lords, and if needed a raven will be sent North. Ned hasn't been south in years, but he would never refuse a summon." Lord Jon continued. Ah yes, the Stark he had fostered alongside Robert, the one that he loved more than his own brothers. "We will need his help to ensure the Lannisters don't rise in revolt."

A foolish idea, summoning the Tully's would've been a better idea as the Riverlands bordered the Westerlands, yet there was little Stannis could do whenever Eddard Stark was mentioned. Jon Arryn was stubborn in that way. He supposed Eddard Stark being uninvolved in the local political scene did lend a certain advantage to him stepping in, even if he would take too long to arrive. Stannis just hoped this wasn't about to be a repeat of the Hour of the Wolf.

"If he does, we'll smash him in the field." Stannis said, his voice low and dark. He would do whatever it took to keep the peace, even if it cost the lives of Cersei's bastard children. "The Faith can take the girl, and the Wall for Tommen." Joffrey, the spoiled brat, would likely choose the sword over freezing at the Wall.

Lord Jon gave him a curt nod, closing the tome shut with an ominous thud. "For the realm."

For duty.

A/N

Butterflies are butterflying, looks like Jon found the book a bit early.

Next chapter we will reach 100k words!