Edited by: Gladiusx. Beta reader: Deimos
16th Day of the 8th Moon, 299
Pentos
The Eunuch
Varys watched over the grounds in his friend Illyrio's manse as preparations for the journey ahead were almost finalized. He would have wished to take a more subtle means of travel, yet due to political and religious strife, Essos was ripe for conflict. He stared down from the balcony as lines of hired blades, a few Unsullied, and hundreds of workers prepared the carts to be taken to the docks. Varys reminisced on how things had gotten so out of control that he was forced to play his hands prematurely.
It had taken him longer than he desired to arrive in Pentos, having been forced to flee King's Landing over a moon ago. At the time, he felt that assassinating Tyrion Lannister was the most prudent choice; the way the little lion stared at him during that council meeting told that he had seen through all the horse shit that Varys came up with on the mysterious savior of Sansa Stark. Many people underestimated Tyrion Lannister, but not him. Varys knew that such a man could be a true danger to him and their plans, one that needed either brought to his side…or silenced.
It was such a disaster, perhaps the Spider's biggest misstep so far. Even now, more than a moon later, the former Master of Whispers bemoaned his moment of panic. Killing Tyrion was a wise decision, yet the failure! Oh, the failure…how could he have foreseen that the dwarf would have one of the Kingsguard for himself? One that was eager to prove himself, no less. Westerosi knights were renowned worldwide for their martial prowess, and the kingsguard were the finest swords of the Seven Kingdoms. No wonder Arys Oakheart had managed to slay a dozen of his catspaws who would not have been allowed to wear armor or even carry swords.
Only men-at-arms or nobles were allowed that privilege in King's Landing.
Worst of all, Varys had missed the crucial council meeting that doomed him. Perhaps if he was present, he could have reassured the boy king of his loyalty and knowledge, yet his disguise as the gaoler did not allow him access to such lofty places in the Red Keep. By the time the bounties were issued, Varys had already committed to the murder, and once Tyrion survived, he knew that his time in Westeros was numbered, and he needed to go.
Normally, the journey to Pentos would take less than a sennight on a fast ship, yet with the lack of docks or any ships in the city, he had been forced to trek to Duskendale for a vessel.
It was a miracle he had managed to send a messenger bird to Illyrio. Normally, pigeons could not travel across the Narrow Sea without stopping to rest. However, through a clever implementation of relay boats, which would wait halfway to Pentos, Varys could send word ahead of his arrival. That such a method would cost plenty of gold to keep those boats afloat, their sailors fed and rotated, and sworn to secrecy was of no issue. Robert Baratheon was eager to fund anything to receive faster reports over the Targaryen siblings, and neither the Lord Hand nor the Boy King had seen fit to ask him where the gold was going.
A pity that with Stannis' fleet prowling in the Narrow Sea, those boats had to be brought ashore. Still, it was a shamefaced Varys who met his dear friend in his manse when he arrived a moon ago.
"To think you would make such a mistake, My Friend." Illyrio laughed when he told him about his panic and why he returned so early. "Decades of service in Westeros and careful planning, nearly all thrown to the gutters due to Magic of all things."
"You believe me?"
"Of course I do! Our bond is deeper than anything this world could break, and our ambitions are lofty indeed for me to doubt you in anything."
They were watching a group of scantily clad dancers perform a show in the gardens. His friend's two greatest vices were food and the pleasures of the flesh. Varys lacked the tools to comment on the latter, but a pat on his fat belly reminded him that he had partaken too much of the former; perhaps he should take the opportunity of the upcoming sea journey to shed some of that weight.
"The Sunset Kingdoms are not the only place that had woes of the magical kind." Varys had turned swiftly to his friend; the mere talk of magic had given him a terrible feeling and an acute reminder of what it had cost him. "The Red Priests have suddenly gained conflicting visions, with each head priest of each temple accusing the other of heresy. Then we have the power struggles, and it seems like every lowly acolyte has suddenly gained the ability to commune with the flames and true fire control."
"Control of fire? Was that not just smoke and mirrors? I recall the charlatans used special powder to ignite flames and placed plants in the crowds to stir them up into a frenzy."
"For the lowly acolytes and initiates? Yes. But the higher clergy's magic was real enough, and they utilized their powers to ensure their positions and that of their people for decades… At least that was the case until the first day of the last moon." Varys' eyes widened, and Illyrio nodded, "Coincides with the appearance of that rogue that kidnapped the Wolf Maid, does it not?"
"Indeed. What is the situation in Essos, then? My little birds do not stretch across from Westeros, I fear."
"I'm sure you noticed the signs of fighting and scorch marks on your way from the docks?" Varys nodded. Pentos looked like it was gearing up for war with itself when he arrived, yet it was not bad enough to cause trade to stop. "The power of the Lord of Light has proven to be very real, too real. Priests challenge other priests for the slightest chance of increasing their influence and prestige. Upstart acolytes challenge apprentices, who challenge their teachers for positions in the temple. With the highest members of the clergy secluding themselves as they feuded with the nonsensical visions their god sent them, the rest of the temple had gone into anarchy."
Varys nodded as he gazed at a couple of the dancers; the two women were twins and must have been blessed by both the gods of Valyria and the Lord of Light. A thick curtain of curls the color of burnished silver cascaded down their ivory shoulders, and their beautiful faces were adorned by two smoldering indigo gemstones. They swayed in ecstasy to a drummer's frantic rhythm as the slight fabric struggled to hold their bountiful teats and bouncy butts; perhaps it was more likely they were blessed by the love goddess of Lys.
One would think they were merely bed slaves from the Valyrian pleasure island if not for the fiery performance they were doing. Flames danced along their fingers and up their arms, caressing them like a warm blanket and licking their hair and brows. They clearly felt no discomfort as they danced on the specially prepared marble stage that would not risk catching fire.
Even for a eunuch like him, Varys could appreciate the beauty of the girls, and there was no doubt they were young girls, barely the same age as his dear nephew.
"I take it that the reason I am seeing several of those priests in your employ has to do with those troubles in the Red Faith?"
"Verily so. I have managed to recruit many of the disenfranchised members of the temple. Many of them were sold off by their parents to cover debts, or simply slaves sent from other temples." Varys nodded along; not even the Braavosi treaty could force the followers of the Red God to abandon their habit of taking in slaves for the temple - it was far too useful as they helped keep the peace and offer a home to them. "Apparently, with the sudden manifestation of their powers, they do not seem as eager to swear themselves to crotchety old men. Many feared the loss of their powers if they abandoned the temples, but when that didn't happen, whether from R'hllor's generosity or some other unknown reason, they decided they could have better lives elsewhere."
"Lives such as being dancers?"
"Ah, do you like those two? I picked them myself before they could be sold to the temple. Unspoiled, talented, beautiful, and most importantly–loyal. They would make excellent attendants to our king and handmaidens to the queen later on. We will need more of your sister's blood, for there are so few of us anymore." Varys questioned the wisdom of that choice. The Westerosi were notoriously picky and a foreign king would already be a hard lemon for them to swallow. Add to that two witches as mistresses? Still, if what he heard from across the Narrow Sea was true, it would not be the strangest thing for a king, and Varys would admit to loving the idea of having more True Targaryens around - his sister's Blackfyre blood combined with his friend's Brightflame blood; they shall cleanse the sickness that plagued the Targaryens with new purer dragon blood.
"Apparently, you don't need to swear yourself to R'hllor to be blessed by the flames." Illyrio was saying as he guffawed over his cup of wine, "Or perhaps it was not the Lord of Light, but some Dragon God from Valyria?"
Varys chuckled deeply along with his friend. It did not matter whatever deity blessed them with good fortune; they would need all they could get in their attempt to install his nephew on the Iron Throne. Their ambitious plan was merely one of many, many schemes that he and his sister's lover had planned over decades. Varys could not have predicted Robert's rebellion or Aerys' madness, yet they had proven to be a great boon. While Illyrio managed to entrench himself in Pentos and spread his web over Essos, Varys had used his position as Master of Whispers to greatly help empower their clandestine operations.
Who would have thought that the Blackfyre's greatest supporters would be the unwitting kings of the kingdom they planned to usurp?
"Are the Red Priests the only ones with such woes? From my understanding, magic does not differentiate between temples and people. So long as you have the blood for it, and Essos is plentiful in magical blood."
"Indeed, I have heard tales from Braavos that the House of Black and White had recalled all of their agents and closed their doors. Who knows what plots they are brewing? The Moonsingers have clashed a few times with the Red Priests of the Bastard Daughter. Apparently, the erratic visions the fire worshipers received from their god had led them to somehow interpret a coming conflict with the Moonsingers."
"Dear me, the Braavosi honor the Moonsingers more than any other faith. I take it the city had to intervene?"
"They did, yet it ended in catastrophe. The Red Priests went on a rampage that burned part of the Arsenal and a third of the Braavosi fleet. However, there were not many of the fire worshipers to begin with, and they were as mortal as any man. After dealing with the ringleaders, the rest of the city purged the temple and its followers." Varys' eyes widened, such madness! "The Magisters here are clamoring to use this chance to break away from Braavos. To use the troublemaking Red Priests here as our vanguard in an assault against the Braavosi."
"Then, the city truly is gearing up for war?"
"Perhaps, yet war is an opportunity. Since we were not allowed to hire Free Companies, the city had prepared a Citizen Army for decades. Trained by Westerosi knights, they are eager to test their mettle in battle."
Varys was not knowledgeable on matters of war, yet he knew waging it was not a simple matter. He had seen those citizen soldiers, second and third sons, and many free bond servants marching and training. True, they were well armed and trained in Westerosi formations, yet they lacked the martial spirit that those from the Sunset Kingdoms have instilled since young.
'Green as piss,' Robert would describe them.
"But accommodating so many Faiths in a single city has caused even more problems for the Braavosi." Illyrio continued, "Followers of the Silent God claim their god has spoken, prophesizing a calamity from the sea, which coincided with the burning of the Arsenal. The entirety of the Patternmaker's Maze had suddenly disappeared overnight; it was almost as if they were swallowed by one of their mazes."
Varys gulped his cup of wine in worry as Illyrio briefed him on the many problems in the Free Cities. With the death of Khal Drogo, many of the Khals abandoned their ambition to invade Yi-Ti and returned to harass Western Essos in great numbers - almost as if they were escaping from something. In Volantis, the woes of the Red Faith were far more brutal and destructive than in other cities; The Old Blood was attempting to mediate between the many conflicting factions of the most popular faith in the world, yet the First Daughter was clearly heading to civil war.
Surprisingly, the Three Daughters remained silent, yet knowing them, such a false peace would soon fall apart at the earliest provocation. Illyrio mentioned rumors of Lyseni ships meeting with Corsairs from the Basilisk Isles, yet it was known that Stannis Baratheon had hired many sellsails and pirates from the Stepstones. Perhaps Lys was seeking an opportunity to invade and take over the islands? The moment they did so, however, would immediately provoke a response from Myr.
The Tyroshi's lust for slaves was already in a fever pitch; their docks and harbors were full of warships awaiting the outcome of the siege of King's Landing. If Stannis won, Varys doubted they would have the audacity to attack, but if he lost or the siege took too long, then he wagered the eastern coast of Westeros would suffer massive raids without a Royal Fleet to protect them. It might even drag the other daughters from any potential conflict to swoop in and reap the benefits.
So many unexplainable things happening, so much magic in Essos, and with the shadow of war approaching these lands, it behooved them to expedite their plans. Illyrio might have other plans or schemes in Essos and had gotten attached to Pentos, yet once his son was king, they could channel the full might of the Seven Kingdoms to support Pentos as the first foothold for their resurgent empire.
For their ambition was not merely claiming the Iron Throne; no, that was merely a stepping stone. The Valyrian Freehold was the sole dominant power over much of Essos, yet for some inexplicable reason, they never ventured to Westeros aside from a couple of colonies on the Narrow Sea. Varys and Illyrio wished to change that, yet instead of working from the East, it shall be from the West.
It would take a long time, a plan spanning several generations, yet they would make it work, even if they were not likely to be alive to see that dream come to fruition.
It had been weeks since that discussion in the gardens, and now, Varys was prepared to set sail for his nephew. Illyrio had managed to contact Jon Connington and had them sail away from Volantis before any trouble could shackle them to the city. They awaited them in the town of Vaelysaar on the mouth of the Orange River, east of the Disputed Lands and west of the Orange Coast. The Golden Company had a contract there that expires soon, but would await their arrival.
"Our first goal is for Aegon to assume command of the Golden Company. Though he may need to prove himself to the Brotherhood of Exiles, it should not be a pressing issue, but what comes next may be so," Illyrio had explained a sennight ago as they reviewed the maps of Essos. "Volantis is on the cusp of civil war, yet you would have to pass through their lands on your way to our wayward queen - perhaps Aegon may bloody himself in the coming civil war. I would have liked to purchase a few centuries of Unsullied but Astapor has been incredibly stingy as of late. I will trust your judgement on which faction to contract with, but we need to expand our strength, not squander it."
"I will do my best to increase our ranks and enrich our coffers, but I will need all of our resources in that region to help our king."
"Naturally, you shall have them. I will connect you with my spy network in the region, along with a couple of other sellsword companies you could ally with. Yet, you will have to both contend with the company's own spymaster as well as make sure our queen is secured." Varys nodded, he understood that he will not be expected to strategize or be involved with the military aspects of a campaign, yet a war of shadows and intrigue was more his domain. "I have received word from Qarth, Daenerys Targaryen has just left the city and is heading west, either to New Ghis or Slaver's Bay. Her dragons are very much real."
"I am surprised she managed to leave the city so easily. Did not the Warlocks face trouble as well?"
"Yes, some sort of inner turmoil had caused them to shut their doors to all visitors. My sources tell me that our erstwhile Targaryen had even been turned away when she visited the House of the Undying with her dragons."
"That's good to hear. I would rather not have our queen's mind poisoned by those wretches." Varys shivered at even more problems of magical nature sprouting around the corner, and it was bad enough that they were forced to reassess their plans with Daenerys - her fate should have been to be married off to the savage and sully the last of the Targaryen name, while Aegon would marry any of the plentiful maidens of the High Lords of Westeros. Now, they could not afford to leave her to her own devices, not when she had dragons on her side. "I remember you sending Ser Barristan Selmy and a ship to pick her up. How fares the old knight?"
"Our knight has managed to get in contact with her and convinced her to leave the city. And not a moment too soon, for the city was visited by a plague ship from Yi-Ti. It was suspiciously timed after a certain red-hulled ship, with a golden kraken on the sails, had docked in the harbor, and a one-eyed man with another dragon on his shoulder entered the House of the Undying, then left with several warlocks in tow. Once the Silence had left, the plague ship struck, and the entirety of Qarth is now locked to all outsiders."
Varys' heart nearly skipped a beat, and he stared in shock at his friend, who nodded grimly. Euron Greyjoy with a dragon… Dragons had been extinct for nearly two hundred years, yet now it seemed anyone could hatch them, even non-Valyrians! It was clear had it tamed even, keeping it on his shoulder like a pet cat. J-Just how did the Crow's Eye manage to do it?
What was next? Grumkins and snarks?
Were the White Walkers real too?
Would the Deep Ones crawl out of their dark, watery halls and plague the lands once more?
"While I'm sure such news is dire for the Qartheens, I doubt it will affect us or our goals." Varys shrugged, "Regardless, my little birds have brought me news from Westeros. Specifically, the North."
"Oh? I thought you always complained about how difficult it was to plant your birds in that frozen wasteland."
"It most definitely is, but this news comes from the Vale, yet it is about the North. Sansa Stark has arrived in White Harbor and wed her pet sorcerer. The man had proven his mettle by slaying a massive sea monster and showed it off to the entire city like a trophy."
It was ironic that Varys complained about the existence of yet another dragon, but here, they had a different kind of dragon problem. Sea Dragons, the sailors have been calling them despite just being gigantic monstrous eels with no wings, have surfaced in the Shivering Sea. Yet another woe for the Braavosi that further encouraged rebellious sentiment in Pentos.
"This does not bode well, Varys. This Perseus character has proven to be extremely powerful. If he could slay a sea dragon, what stops him from slaying a true dragon? You told me of the tales of his personal prowess against humans, as well as his water magic. By marrying the Wolf Maid, he has firmly aligned himself with the Starks."
"There are always ways to get rid of such high-profile nuisances," Varys waved his friend's concerns away. "A borrowed knife while that monster is sleeping, or even when he is in the thick of battle, would solve that problem."
"And if his sorcery proves too much?"
"Then we treat with the North. In the end, the land of the North might be large enough to be the same size as the rest of the kingdoms combined, yet they are poor and not as populated as their size would suggest. At best, we welcome them back into the fold, promising them a princely title, royal marriages, and support for the Night's Watch. At worst, we acknowledge the kingdom's independence and forget about them. The North was always left to their own devices anyway, and they did not provide much in the way of taxes."
"If you believe that's prudent," Illyrio clearly misliked the idea of relinquishing half the kingdom, and so did Varys, yet he had not survived and thrived for so long by not being pragmatic. "Though having such a power untamed is like a lance pointed at your back. How can we expand into Essos without consolidating the Seven Kingdoms first? If the North remains free, it could very well sow the seeds of doubt and rebellion amongst the rest of them. Dorne-"
Varys raised his hand, smiling. "Yet there is only one Perseus. Knights and swords and spears might be the backbone of any force, but they pale before the might of the dragon. Fret not, my friend. Plans shall be made to deal with the North as things come. For all we know, they will stumble down and fall with the rest."
They had ended their meeting then, and now, Varys was prepared for a long journey by sea. He only prayed that their voyage would not face troubles and that the Mother of Dragons would be easy to find once he had finished setting up his web in the region.
Preferably in New Ghis. Varys misliked Slaver's Bay, such an uncouth name. Wars took a long time, but a ship from the Orange Coast to the Gulf of Grief and back shouldn't take longer than a moon.
He tittered as preparations were finally set, and they were on their way to the docks. Varys had never prayed before, but with the resurgence of magic and the gods, perhaps he ought to try praying too.
A*H*M
19th Day of the 8th Moon
Maidenpool
Jaime
A figure sneaked into the town's alleys, careful to avoid the lanterns and torches lighting the streets. It was the hour of the wolf, yet the town was buzzing with activity as troops wearing the salmon sigil of House Mooton hurried up and down the streets. Maidenpool was a town in name, yet it was still large enough to be considered a city. However, their lords, the Mootons, did not earn a city charter, and thus could not claim to own a city and all the power and prestige that came with it - the ability to tax merchants and place customs, and other things that his brother would be more suited to explain.
Never had Jaime Lannister ever thought he would be sneaking into the streets of a town he had visited several times.
After he had been rescued a moon ago, he and his brother's men sailed that ferry all the way to Harroway before they were forced to abandon it when they found the patrol barges full of Tully men sailing the opposite way. Jaime and his three remaining saviors, the thief, the poisoner, and the murderer, had shaved their heads and dressed as wandering beggars as they made their way to Darry, the only confirmed Lannister stronghold in the region, only to find it besieged by Northmen.
The castle was small, yet it was well-provisioned and garrisoned. Still, It was only a matter of time until the castle either surrendered or the Northmen took it by storm, yet Jaime could only wonder about Roose Bolton's wits as he sent his troops to their deaths, assaulting the walls. Strangely, none of them wore the flayed man livery, but rather, most of them wore either a merman or a moose coat of arms.
Still a terrible strategy, and Jaime felt he had learned something important about the Northern army and its commanders.
They did not linger and moved on, heading east towards the Widow's Ford. The roads were dangerous, and in the first week, the poisoner was killed by wolves as he went for a piss during the night. In the second week, the thief was killed by poachers that the fool tried to steal dried meat from, and merely a few days ago, the murderer simply disappeared in the middle of the night.
Jaime had thought he had abandoned him, but his meager belongings remained in camp. He could have sworn he saw small grey figures sneaking around the woods they camped in, yet Jaime was busy puking his dinner out that day after eating a mushroom that grew he thought was edible. In hindsight, that white tree was most likely the stump of a weirwood rather than what he thought was a birch.
His nights had been unpleasant and disturbing since then, with dreams that he could barely remember. It definitely involved wars, for he had seen all kinds of men fighting first, against each other, then against what must be demons from the seven hells. Whispers in the night kept him awake; a soft woman's whisper in his ear, telling Jaime to repent, that he still had honor and not allow himself to be led astray.
Jaime scoffed, he had no idea what that mushroom he ate was, but it definitely awakened his more imaginative side. Repent? A lion did not concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Though, he did wonder who that voice was, and if it would speak to him again; it made him feel…warm. Warmth he had not felt in a very long time.
Still, Jaime continued on his lonesome and managed to make his way to a nearby fishing village, where he spent the last of his coin to hire a fisherman to take him to Maidenpool, arriving two days ago. Since then, Jaime had kept the beggar disguise, which helped when thugs in the alleys tried to mug him, only for him to take all the coin they had.
He might not have a sword, but he was still a knight of the kingsguard.
It was barely enough for a couple of nights in a crowded tavern called the Stinking Goose and hardly enough for a couple of meals. Once settled in the only available room that smelled as bad as the tavern name suggested, Jaime tried to glean as much information as possible about the war.
It irked him to engage in all that skulduggery, yet his time as a captive in Riverrun had taught him to temper his recklessness. That same recklessness had nearly killed him in the Whispering Woods, and Jaime very much liked his head to remain on his shoulders.
What he had learned from listening in on drunken sailors and fishermen in the taverns was very strange indeed. The most relevant news was why there were so many people in Maidenpool; the city was crowded beyond its limits with refugees from the Crownlands and King's Landing; apparently, his brother Tyrion had been busy preparing the city for a siege, and had evicted many of its citizens, sending the vagrants all over the Crownlands.
He would have scoffed at the tales of sorcery, and the Stark girl's escape if not for the bounty the town criers constantly reminded the citizenry. Ultimately, Jaime wasn't concerned with the girl's escape or some sorcerer; it was Stannis' march on King's Landing that worried him. He nearly decided to head straight to Mooton's castle and demand an audience, for the man was clearly loyal to the Iron Throne. Otherwise, he would not have allowed those criers to announce the bounties or risk his liege lord's ire.
In the end, Jaime had chosen to wait in secret when he learned there was an army approaching the town. This brought him to the present, where he scaled the walls of Jonquil's Tower to get a better view of the army when it approached in the morning. He could have waited for tomorrow, yet the past few weeks had him on edge, and Jaime could not sleep, fearing he would hear more whispers in the night - or worse, enjoy them.
He had only planned for a simple stroll earlier when he heard whispers of the approaching army. Before deciding whether to return to the Stinking Goose, Jaime was already on his way to the walls, only to find them manned.
In the end, he decided on this venture.
Settling on the tower's roof, Jaime yawned as the exercise helped burn some of his excess energy, though it had tired him a lot more than it should have. He was treated well enough in Riverrun, yet weeks on the road with little food aside from hard rations had weakened him and left him with little energy.
There were no torches or any source of light nearby, and the grounds beyond the walls were just as dark as the sky above him. He adjusted his cloak for comfort, putting on the hood, before closing his eyes, wondering what the future held.
Only to open them barely a heartbeat later at the sound of a loud horn blast that caused him to sit up and nearly hit his head on a crenelation. Jaime blinked his eyes blearily as the morning sun shone on him, but within moments, he was on his feet and staring at the grounds below.
He saw an army, probably about ten thousand strong, yet that was not important. Many banners were dancing in the wind, mostly Riverlands and Crownlands, yet there were also banners from the Westerlands.
One of them flew higher than anything else. The golden lion of Lannister!
.
.
.
"Quite the adventure you were in, nephew. None of us even knew of Tyrion's scheme to free you, so when we learned of your escape…"
Jaime could only nod along as he ate voraciously from the feast Lord Mooton prepared for him in his quarters. The moment Kevan Lannister demanded the craven William Mooton's hospitality, the man obliged and opened the city gates. His uncle had entered the city with his retinue and headed towards the castle, where Lord Mooton welcomed them with bread and salt.
And that was when Jaime announced his presence as he descended Jonquil's tower.
To say everyone in the vicinity was flabbergasted would be an understatement. The look on the timid Lord Mooton's fat face had Jaime burst out laughing. A sound that was apparently familiar enough for his uncle to recognize immediately and grab him in a tight hug.
Jaime smiled as he drank deeply from the mug of ale on the table, "Tyrion has always been resourceful and cunning. Not many in our family appreciate that about him."
"That he is," Kevan nodded as he sat on a tapered armchair and waited until he finished eating the last of his salmon. "You cannot imagine how glad I am to see you safe, Jaime."
"Me too, Uncle. I never thought I would find you here and with an army as well. How goes the war?"
"Not well. Last I heard, your father had treated with the Tyrells; we get forty thousand men, and they put a crown atop their Golden Rose of Highgarden along with other benefits I am not privy to; their combined armies are marching to King's Landing as we speak. It is slow-going due to the long distance, and Tywin had exhausted his supplies rushing to Bitterbridge, forcing Mace Tyrell to open his stores for them."
"I heard Stannis had left Storm's End. I also heard some very fantastical tales happening around there."
"You will be surprised to learn that the truth is even stranger than mad tales."
Jaime listened attentively as his uncle informed him of the happenings of the war. Robb Stark's campaign in the Westerlands continued with impunity, his former captor now last seen besieging the Golden Tooth. That report reached Kevan two days ago, and he had already used Mooton's ravens to send word to Casterly Rock to update them on the siege. Stannis had just landed on the shores of King's Landing a few nights ago, though they were not certain of the particulars of the siege. Jaime could only hope his brother and sister remained safe.
He clenched his teeth in fury when he learned of the attempt on his brother's life. Varys had not been seen since, yet Tywin Lannister had placed a ludicrous bounty on the eunuch's head for attempting to murder the Hand of the King. Jaime scoffed inwardly, no matter how much his father disparaged Tyrion, he was still a Lannister, and any who insults the name of Lannister in any shape or form would be retaliated against with extreme prejudice.
"And who are you?" The proud Lord said, "That I must bow so low."
Tywin Lannister was never one to suffer insults or fools, though Jaime wondered what made the Spider so bold as to attempt such a reckless scheme.
"Wait, Sansa Stark wed some pretty boy she just met? Without her House's approval?"
Jaime snickered as he imagined the look on Catelyn Stark's face when she got the news. When he had first learned of the girl's escape, he feared she would go straight to the Vale and marry one of the heirs there to bring the so-far-neutral kingdom into the war. Sansa could have even betrothed herself to her cousin, Robert Arryn, yet she instead eloped with some rogue?
"A pretty boy who personally slaughtered over a hundred men in his escape from the city, used wicked sorcery to flood King's Landing, and somehow caused a massive cache of wildfire hidden under the River Gate to explode, destroying everything from the docks to Fishmonger's Square."
Jaime's heart dropped. Wildfire? "B-But, wildfire loses potency when–"
His uncle's eyes widened as he suddenly stood, "You knew about them?!"
A heavy lump formed on the back of Jaime's throat. This was his biggest pride and his greatest shame. He still remembered the fear, the hesitation that day. The weight with which all of his vows pressed on his shoulders.
Obey your liege.
Protect the weak and the innocent.
No matter what, a vow would be broken. But which one was he supposed to break?
Kingslayer, Stark called him, and many more echoed after him. They were not wrong. But… did it matter?
Jaime could have told everyone about the wildfire, but he had sworn to protect the king's secrets. His pride had taken enough hits that day to be accused of more oathbreaking.
In the end, Jaime had decided not to say anything. There had been some doubts in his mind, but when nothing blew up, he just dismissed them….
Yet he could no longer remain silent. "Yes, the king, the Mad King, had those caches planted all over the city in an insane attempt to blow it all." His throat went dry. He could still remember the smell of charred meat and the gurgle as Brandon Stark strangled himself in a bid to reach that sword. He still remembered the mad cackles that day, he still remembered Rhaella's wails when he guarded her room at night. "'Burn them all' he said, 'Let Robert rule over the ashes.'"
"Is that why you killed him, Jaime?"
"What other choice did I have?" A hoarse laugh bubbled out of his throat.
His uncle stared at him as if he had seen him for the first time. Kevan paced towards the window and gripped the edge tightly before sighing and returning to his seat. "Why didn't you tell us? We could have announced it to the kingdom, and you would have been lauded as a hero."
"The Kingsguard keeps his king's secrets." Jaime shrugged, yet it sounded hollow, and his uncle saw through him but simply shook his head.
"I will need you to make an extensive list of where all the other caches are. It is not too late to tell Tyrion of their existence, and with the city under siege, they are a huge risk."
Jaime's guts clenched in worry, did his vows of silence doom his brother to a fiery death? No, Tyrion was cunning and resourceful. Most importantly, he was a survivor.
"Very well. What other tales do you have of that man?"
"Who, the sorcerer? Tyrion mentioned his name, Perseus, and said that he could control the sea."
"Control the sea?" Jaime stared at his uncle like he just said dragons were soaring in the skies again. "What do you mean he can control the sea?"
"According to hundreds of eyewitnesses, the man caught up to Myrcella's fleet, which was on its way to Dorne to be betrothed to Doran Martell's son," Kevan explained, and Jaime sucked a breath - that was the first he heard of that. "And then he simply raised the sea to the sky and threatened to drown them all if your niece didn't surrender. Poor Myrcella had no choice but to comply, and any hopes of gaining the spears of Dorne were gone with her."
Silence settled in the room, and Jaime could hardly think of any witty reply. He dearly hoped his uncle was simply pulling a jest, but no, his grim face and the fact Kevan Lannister rarely made any jests, told him the bitter truth. His daug–niece was now in Northern captivity, most likely in White Harbor. Jaime felt restless; he needed to do something, or at least change this grim topic to something more useful. There was nothing he could do now, and the only silver lining in the whole tale was that Sansa Stark was still Eddard Stark's daughter.
He prayed to the Mother and the Maiden that the girl would treat his Myrcella well. Jaime flinched as he almost thought he heard a woman's whisper in the wind, yet he shook his head - he must be very tired indeed to be hearing voices.
"So what are your plans, Uncle? I saw plenty of troops but little horse."
"That is true. Tywin had taken all the horse with him, and most of the troops you see are levies. Lorch is busy training them in Harrenhal, but I fear now that Darry has fallen to the Northmen, they will march onto that hideous castle."
"So we make for Harrenhal? Break the Northern Army while they are busy sieging the castle?"
"A sound idea, but no. At least, not yet. First, we need more men and supplies. I aim to head to Crackclaw Point and raise more men from there."
"From the Clawmen? I doubt it would be easy. They are notoriously surly and are more likely to fill you with arrows than give you guest right."
"Nevertheless, I have no choice. Stannis' army is massive, estimated at forty thousand troops without considering his fleet. If he brings his men ashore, that could be another thirty thousand."
Jaime's blood ran cold as he realized the gravity of their situation. Mace Tyrell would not be able to bring the full might of the Reach in a short time. Forty thousand men were not even half of what the Reach could muster, but Stannis had fifteen thousand of them, while the rest were needed to protect the Dornish Marches or stayed behind for one reason or another. With the Roses joining them, nothing would stop Robb Stark or Edmure Tully from marching to the Reach and laying waste to half the kingdom while they were busy dislodging Stannis Baratheon from the walls of King's Landing.
"I will need your help, Jaime." His uncle's words woke him from his stupor. "There is so much to do, and we need more men. More supplies as well, but fighting men would be of more use. We leave in a moon at most, with whatever forces and supplies Mooton and the Clawmen shall spare."
"Maidenpool has remained unmolested by the war. I'm sure he could muster around three thousand men, and he already had. I've seen their troops training and marshaling over the past couple of days."
"That's good to know. I can tell the craven will not personally join us; the man seemed to have lost all wits and courage after nearly getting mauled by a giant wolf near the God's Eye. He claimed that packs of wolves have terrorized his people over the last few moons and that he will need to keep men-at-arms to deal with them."
Jaime grimaced, "That could only be Arya Stark's direwolf. She let her escape when Cersei called for its head near the Ruby Ford."
"Ah, your sister." Kevan did not hide his disgust over Cersei's handling of affairs. He looked ready to go on a tirade about her - most likely how she allowed Ned Stark to lose his head or let Sansa Stark slip from their grasp - yet his uncle took a deep breath and shook his head. "It doesn't matter, we must make haste. I shall go and try to treat with the Clawmen, but I need you here to take command of the army and train them as best you can. Continue sending forces to gather supplies, it's too late for Tywin and Mace Tyrell to beat Stannis to King's Landing, instead, they plan to let him thin his numbers on the city's walls."
"And then?"
"Once we are ready, we will march to King's Landing. Hopefully, Tyrion could hold the city long enough for all of our armies to make it and force Stannis to a battle."
Varys fucked up. It happens. He acknowledges his fuckup and will try to work around it. I feel this is much better than the infallible persona GRRM had created for him. No plot armor, no random plot devices for him…just schemes upon schemes and contingencies.
Vaelysaar is an original city. The Disputed lands must have something worth fighting for, and this is but one of many cities that litter this fertile region.
We get hints of what's happening around the world as well. I was tempted to write a Daenerys POV, but I already struggled so much with two fresh POVs. Nevertheless, I think I managed to tell what happened, though not show which is a shame.
Regarding the siege of King's Landing, this will be dragging on for a long time. Sieges irl took weeks to just set up the lines, and moons as they battered down the walls or sapped the gates. Yes, King's Landing is missing its River Gate, but it's built along the Blackwater Rush where Stannis will struggle to land his forces and march into the city. Not to mention, Tyrion has been very busy over the past two months. Rebuilding the gate and the wall is impossible, but filling them with rubble is far easier, and the mouth of the river could be easily blocked with chains and other debris that would make turn any amphibious landing into a nightmare.
I had planned to write more POVs in this chapter, as I mentioned with Dany, but it didn't work out with the time constraint. Expect more fresh povs in the coming chapters.
If you would like to read five chapters ahead, or simply support me, look me up on Patr(eo)n under the same pen name.