Varys pov :
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In this treacherous game of politics, I, Varys, the Spider, have learned to sense danger lurking at every corner. It is my craft to navigate these perilous waters, but one shadow haunts my steps—the prince, Joffrey Baratheon.
Joffrey, with his growing influence and enigmatic demeanor, is a source of uncertainty. His newfound wisdom and assertiveness are unnerving, for they seem to hint at a deeper understanding of the game being played. I cannot help but wonder about the true extent of his knowledge and his intentions.
Is he merely a pawn in the hands of others, or has he embarked on a path to become a player in his own right?
'Only time will tell...' I thought as I asked one of my spies to invite the prince to the Small Council's meeting.
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In the Small Council Chamber, the gathering unfolded as I observed with a dispassionate eye. The room, adorned with aging tapestries and dimly lit sconces, held an aura of ceremonial solemnity.
Grand Maester Pycelle, a frail elder with an extensive knowledge base, occupied the next seat. His voice, oozing deference, carried the weight of a lifetime of scholarly pursuits.
Across from Pycelle, Renly Baratheon, the charismatic younger brother of King Robert, exuded courtly charm. He seemed more at home amidst political intrigues than on a battlefield, though ambition simmered beneath his pleasant exterior.
And indeed...we were the only ones in the chamber...
The atmosphere had grown oppressively heavy. Recent events had left us all on edge, and uncertainty hung thick in the air. The gods' inexplicable intervention, which led to Petyr Baelish's execution, had shaken us to our core. The absence of both the King and his Hand, who had departed for the Vale to confront Lysa Arryn, only added to the unease that gripped the remaining members of the council.
Around the table, the councilors exchanged guarded glances, their faces etched with worry. Each of us was acutely aware of the power vacuum left in the wake of Baelish's downfall and the potential ramifications of the accusations against him. In this climate of suspicion and mistrust, the council chamber felt like a pressure cooker, and the balance of power was more fragile than ever before.
And then there was the prince...an enigma in his own right. I couldn't help but observe how he had called upon the gods to speak, not once but twice, and both times, his call had been answered. Such events were unprecedented in the annals of recorded history, and it sent shivers down my spine.
The sudden transformation in the prince's behavior and appearance raised a plethora of questions. It begged the question: was there something more to this dramatic change? I ordered my network of spies to keep a vigilant eye on him, and their reports painted an intriguing yet puzzling picture.
Aside from his relentless regimen of training, voracious reading, and regular periods of prayer, the prince seemed to only require minimal sleep. It was as though he had become a relentless machine, dutifully serving some higher purpose. His actions and unwavering discipline suggested a level of commitment and dedication that defied the norms of his age.
The prince's transformation had not gone unnoticed, and it left many in the court and the city whispering about the true nature of his newfound abilities and the purpose behind his rigorous routine.
As I grappled with the unsettling reality of the gods' presence and their apparent indifference to the suffering that pervaded the world, a mixture of emotions stirred within me. Disgust simmered just beneath the surface, directed not only at the filth that plagued the realm but also at the gods themselves. Their existence was undeniable now, their influence undeniable. But this newfound certainty gave rise to a torrent of questions that gnawed at my mind.
The gods were omnipotent, their power unquestionable, yet they chose not to intervene in the lives of the weak, the impoverished, and the enslaved. Their aloofness, their silence in the face of untold suffering, was a bitter pill to swallow. My thoughts inevitably wandered to my own experiences, the scars of a brutalized youth that had left their mark.
Why, I wondered bitterly, had the gods not heeded my prayers during those dark times? The torment I endured, the pain and suffering inflicted upon me by a cruel sorcerer, had gone unanswered by the divine. It was a painful realization that cut to the core of my beliefs, leaving me with an unsettling mixture of anger, confusion, and a lingering sense of betrayal
"Hello there! I am sorry for making you wait for me" I heard a voice saying.
The prince was here...
He greeted us with a pleasant smile, but his presence sent a shiver down my spine. Behind the façade of politeness, all my instincts screamed that a monster lurked. It was not merely the dramatic transformation in his demeanor and appearance that unsettled me. There was something deeper, something amiss about the young prince.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
As he took his seat at the council table, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was no ordinary change. His newfound wisdom and composure were disconcerting, as if a different soul inhabited his body. Though he maintained an air of innocence, my years of navigating the treacherous waters of King's Landing had honed my ability to detect hidden motives.
His eyes, once brimming with naivety, now held a calculating glint. His speech, once impetuous, was measured and deliberate. It was as though Joffrey Baratheon had been replaced by someone entirely unfamiliar, a puppeteer pulling strings from behind the scenes.
I exchanged glances with my fellow council members, but we dared not voice our suspicions aloud. Instead, we sat in uneasy silence, acutely aware that the realm teetered on the precipice of an uncertain future, and that Prince Joffrey was a puzzle with far more pieces than we could fathom....
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Negary pov :
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The meeting turned out to be boring...who would have thought? Medieval bureaucracy sounds so cool after all...
Jokes aside , these guys knew what they were doing in their respective fields , but not much else. And since I was the appointed shot caller (by my dear ,,father,, while he was away searching for the "TRUTH OF TEH MATTER" as he put it... ) I took on the role of the late Master of Coin.
The dude literally spent all his time plotting schemes and then he borrowed money from the Bank of Bravos when it was time to show results.
Suffice to say , it wasn't hard for me to do better than that.
I had many ideas that could prove fruitful, like introducing casinos to Westeros or trying to use mana to make crops grow.
But that could wait until I am Crowned as king....fuck that's annoying.
I don't really need the crown , but giving it to someone else is more trouble than it's worth.
Stannis was quite insane and with Melisandre on his side I was not confident on being able to manipulate him.
(Hmm , should I message Melisandre now or after I become king?)
Him getting the throne would just throw the realm into disarray...maybe.
I was not a seer unfortunately, so I could only rely on the information I had and educated guessing.
The dude would also probably try to kill me to make sure nobody would try to steal his crown.
Still , this whole thing was fishy as hell.
Why would the gods want the realm to be torn apart by civil war? And why would they allow me to kill Petyr , the man who singlehandedly started this whole fuckfest of a war in cannon if they truly wanted chaos?
And who the hell did that disembodied female voice belong to?
Questions... questions I didn't have any answers to...
But unfortunately I couldn't ponder on them any further because I was întrerupted.
"Your Grace, esteemed members of the Small Council," Grand Maester Pycelle suddenly began, his voice quivering with a veneer of humility that belied his shrewd intentions. He shifted his gaze toward my flesh golem, his eyes brimming with flattery. "In these uncertain times, with the gods making their divine presence felt more than ever, I propose a solution that would serve both the realm and the Faith."
He cleared his throat before continuing, "The Church of the Seven has long been a pillar of our society, offering guidance and solace to the people. However, it is clear that their influence has grown stronger of late, with miracles and divine interventions witnessed throughout the land."
Pycelle paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle in. "I propose that the Faith, in its wisdom, consider establishing a sacred order of priests trained in the ways of the Maesters. These priests, acting as both scholars and spiritual advisors, could be dispatched to serve noble houses across the Seven Kingdoms. By doing so, they would spread the word of the Faith and offer counsel to our lords and ladies, ensuring that the divine wisdom of the Seven reaches every corner of the realm."
He gave a pointed look towards me once again, his intent clear.
What a crafty old man.
By doing that he would expand both his influence, being the only one who could train new Maesters here in King's Landing and he would also curry favor with the ,,Blessed Prince,,
"Thank you for your idea, Grand Maester. I shall take it into consideration" I spoke , not bothering to mention that I technically could not tell the church what to do.
Practically, they were at my back and call. It wasn't even a secret , just a little known fact.
"You should think about the consequences of such an action , my Prince." Mr Homo said to me.
"Some houses may see such a decision as an affront to their freedom"
"I will take your advice to heart , uncle"
Dude , you just want to prevent me from spreading my influence so you don't get to talk...
Also , Varys was eerily silent for the whole meeting , studying me without even bothering to hide it.
Of course, I pretended not to notice , though I am sure he saw through me. It's true that I was playing more and more the role of the ,,spokesperson of the gods,, so he was right to be freaked out.
"As you wish, Your Grace," Pycelle replied, bowing deeply along with Renly. The Grand Maester's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, believing that he had planted the seeds of his proposal successfully.
"Very well. Grand Maester Pycelle, Ser Renly, you are dismissed for now. I appreciate your counsel."
As the two council members retreated, I turned my attention to the final person in the room, the ever-watchful spider. "Lord Varys," I began, "there is a matter I wish to discuss with you, in private."
With a practiced smile that concealed the turmoil beneath, Varys inquired, "Your Grace, how may I be of service to you? Your concerns are mine to address, and your interests, paramount." His eyes, however, hinted at a profound unease, hidden beneath the mask of politeness.
I leaned in, my voice low and measured, laden with hidden meaning. "You know, Lord Varys, the Iron Throne... it's a heavy burden, isn't it? So much ambition, so many treacherous hearts. I often wonder why anyone would desire it. Power can be such a fickle thing."
I paused for effect, my gaze steady on Varys. "But the gods, the people... they are constants, aren't they? Serving them, that's what truly matters. Loyalty to the gods and the well-being of the realm. Don't you agree, Master of Whispers?"
Varys, ever the master of subtlety, held his silence for a moment, his mind racing to decipher the layers of meaning behind my words.
(It was just bullshit, unfortunately for him)
At last, he nodded slowly, his voice measured. "Your wisdom knows no bounds, Your Grace. Loyalty to the gods and the welfare of the realm should always be at the forefront of our hearts."
Heh , I think the Raven was the last one who got hit by my bullshit and started spewing his own. Good job , Mr Eunuch, good job...
"I must admit, I've always been quite fond of dragons." I started , completely changing the subject out of nowhere.
"There's something awe-inspiring about their power and majesty. When I was younger, I used to read tales of Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons, dreaming of the days when dragons ruled the skies. It's a shame they're gone from this world, but perhaps, in some way, they still linger in our dreams and legends." I continued while smiling.
With my words, Varys fell into an eerie stillness, his facade of a smile frozen in place, his pupils dilating , and his breath caught in his throat.
It wasn't because I was scary , no no no.
In fact , I made sure to seem completely harmless.
The very picture of an inocent child talking about his dreams about dragons...and that was somehow even more unsettling.
Because I just indirectly told him that I knew about his true allegiance.
And I also told him I didn't give a damn.
"I... I understand, Your Grace," Varys stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "Dragons are indeed magnificent creatures, and your fascination with them is quite...intriguing."
"Of course it is...but I need one more thing from you , Mr Spider" I spoke with unwavering seriousness, a palpable weight to my words that left Varys visibly tense, his instincts probably telling him to run.
"I want...."
I allowed the silence to linger, the weight of my words settling in the air.
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"I want a dog"
"..."
"..."
"....You want a dog , my Prince?"
"Excuse my rudeness, Lord Varys , but did I fucking stutter?"
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A.N :
"I am not unusual, nor is my goal unusual.
It is the people who know what they want, who know what they actually strive for but do nothing to achieve it, that are both unusual and incomprehensible.
To me, at least."
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I will write the
full updated stat sheet next chapter.
Also , I have a very busy week ahead of me , so I might only be able to write a chapter every 2-3 days.
Cheers!