Mess
Lord Varys, the Great Hall of the Red Keep
What a mess, He thought with some delight. King Robert hadn't even let the trembling messenger finish what he was supposed to say before he picked up his war hammer and squashed the boys head like a melon. The Hand of the King was horrified by the brutality of it.
“Robert, calm yourself!” Jon Arryn had to dodge an errant swing when the king turned to abruptly in his direction. “That was your squire! That was one of Lord Selwy-”
“I don't care!” Robert Baratheon roared. “We had the numbers! We had the advantage, how did we lose?!”
If only the poison he had slipped the bull of a man would kick in, he thought with an internal frown. The poison wouldn't kill him, or at least it wasn't meant to, but if it didn't work soon, it just might.
“I know not, your grace,” Lord Arryn responded. “Reports vary but the consensus was that the Northern forces are allied with Dorne and the Riverlands. For this instance at least.”
“And what about the fucking fleets?!” Robert spat. “We should have made landfall by now.”
“I haven't heard anything, your grace.” Varys finally spoke then. It was a lie of course, the Braavosi fleet had joined that of the Merman Fleet of White Harbor and the Stone Sails of Skagos to crush the eastern invasion. If any of them made it out, the Lyseni Fleet would catch them. Or not, it didn't matter really.
He had learned the North had reconnected with the Children of the Forrest before he lost his spies there. But that didn't mean that they knew everything about what went on here and they needed a friendly hand to help when they needed it.
Varys had been more than happy to provide that hand. He may have thought that Prince Rhaegar's foolishness would have done the realms in, and it nearly did. But King Aerys had not seen fit to listen to him when it came to disinheriting his wayward son. So, Princess Visenya was a claimant to the Throne because of it, just like her aunt and uncle who still lived along with their mother. If Varys' plan worked here and now, his second plan could go into effect.
“And what of you, you old cunt, have you anything useful to add?” Robert snarled at Lady Olenna, who merely shrugged even as her guard bristled at the way she addressed.
“I haven't heard a peep out of my nephew but perhaps they had gained some ground on the Western front.”
Another lie, he knew. Lady Olenna had ordered Paxter Redwyne to assist the Iron Born Ships in destroying the Lion Fleet. He suspected that they would be sunken wrecks by now.
The King roared and swung his hammer at one of the dining tables. It cracked under the force of the blow. He swung again and it shattered this time. Robert panted with exhaustion before he gripped his chest and dropped his hammer.
“Jon,” He said weakly, stumbling forward. One of the royal guards caught him before he hit the floor.
“Call the Maester!” Lord Arryn shouted as he moved to help his former ward.
Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Red Keep
“Well that was very dramatic wasn't it,” The Eunuch kept his face blank as she spoke. “It took your poison long enough to work.”
He shrugged at her halfhearted accusation, “King Robert is a large man, and I only used a small dose. And I'm afraid that my talents don't lie in the practice of medicine.”
She harrumphed, “Still if it had worked later than it did, you and I could have ended up like the squire, melon head and all.”
“And we couldn't have that now could we? Shame about little Jacob Tarth. He was Lord Selwyn's only living son. I doubt he will be pleased.”
No, he wouldn't, Olenna thought to herself, feeling a bit of pity for the man, not that it would do him any good but still. Tarth was a small and lush island, but it was the sheath of the dagger known only as Ship Breaker Bay, and the house of Tarth knew how to navigate through it. With the right words and incentive, House Tarth could be persuaded to let anyone into that part of the Storm Lands. Something to think on for another time, she reflected.
“So now both the King and Queen have fallen ill, I wonder which one will survive first.”
“Only the King will live, if you can even call what he'll be like living.” Varys murmured. “He'll be nothing more than a human vegetable so little Durran Baratheon will be without both parents.”
Tywin's cunt of a daughter had grown sick after she had given birth, no thanks in part to her. The woman was bed ridden, had been for a few moons now. Pycelle suspected her of the deed, but he wouldn't be able to prove it and she doubted that he could prove that Varys had poisoned the King. His little show of weakness was easy to see through, just Like Varys' show of sadness was easy to see through.
He delighted in the fact that both royals were now basically rendered useless. She knew that he was fond of Princess Elia and her children. His actions now showed that.
“Do you honestly think this will convince Lord Arryn to sue for peace?” She really doubted it. The old man was just as scared of the young Northern Dragon as his foster son was. There was no way that he would just let this go.
“At the very least, Jon Arryn will have to meet with Rickard Stark. Whatever they decide to do is up to them. I trust that Lord Tywin will be able to travel to Dorne unmolested?”
“Of course and the men I hired to guide them through the Reach will make sure that my idiot son doesn't find out,” She shook her head in exasperation. “I should have had that boy whipped more often. Maybe he would have something akin to brains at the moment.”
“From what I understand, the male Tyrell's have always been...soft headed shall we say.”
“Understatement of the damn century,” She muttered, taking a sip from her wine. “So then, which dragon are you going to support, the Northern one, the two that fled with their mother, or the little Stag that doesn't have enough dragon blood to grow scales at this point?”
“I will support whomever is best for the realms,” Varys replied. “The continent has seen enough war to last a lifetime. We don't need anymore.”
“So you won't be supporting those black dragons then, Brightflame?” He looked at, startled. That was the most expressive he had ever been and she snorted. “It wasn't that difficult to find out, you know.”
He said nothing at first, “If any of the Lyseni dragons prove to be the best option, then yes I will support them. But I think the only way that this will happen is if they are considered by a Great Council.”
“They all need to be considered by a Great Council. Frankly, the Mad Kings remaining children have the best chance of getting it at this point.” Mainly because they are the least 'offensive' options, she added in her mind. The Baratheon whelp would almost immediately dismissed because he was the son of a Usurper, one whose entire campaign had been partially based on a misunderstanding.
Visenya Targaryen was a part of that misunderstanding and that would definitely not be a point in her favor. Then there was the fact that she was being raised in the North. And while Olenna knew that the North produced some hearty warriors, their ways were considered too strange and out dated.
“Prince Viserys has the best chance really, since he is the only male Targaryen left. Mayhaps Princess Visenya will be chosen but that seems unlikely. Same with young Daenerys.”
Because of the first Great Council, she knew. They had decided that the male line took precedence over the female line even if said female was descended from the older male. It wouldn't matter if Visenya was Rhaegar's daughter, she may be dismissed altogether.
“At least the North will come back into the fold if one of the Dragon's are chosen,” Varys continued. “Lord Stark will honor the pact his ancestor made.”
“Until he's given a reason not too,” Olenna countered. “I can easily see himself raising the defense of his lands, which now includes all of the Frey Lands as you said earlier in the council meeting.” What the hell had that foolish boy been thinking in letting them go? She thought with exasperation at the actions of the Tully heir. Already he had proven to be a bit of an idiot by letting that happen.
“Say that little Viserys is crowned king, and the Starks swear their fealty as they are expected to do. What if Viserys demands more than he can actually demand. Like the hand of Visenya or that she should live here in the Capitol, or better yet, her head on a pike? What do you think Lord Stark is going to do then hmm? The man went to war because his son was attacked and his daughter had been kidnapped or so he was told.”
“Now he has fought to make sure that his granddaughter is safe and I doubt he would send her anywhere South of the Twins, not even if she demanded it. And not even if a marriage to one of the Southern sons was in her best interests.”
Which is a damn shame really, she would have made a great match for Willas, She grumbled in her mind. Or if she wanted to keep her name, Garlan or Loras could have been made into a consort of some kind but it wouldn't happen she knew.
Lord Rickard had made many Southern friends in his youth, both high and low born alike. Now enough of them were dead or had betrayed his friendship in some fashion. The South had turned its back on him and now he was turning his back on them. What a gods be damned mess this is.
“I'm sure that Lord Rickard could be persuaded to see reason,” Varys replied though he seemed to do so reluctantly. It would have been better if he kept his mouth shut but at least he didn't have cheese in his ears like most men did. He understood that the situation wasn't as simple as people seemed to think.
“Politically, the best option is Viserys. He is young enough to be molded into whatever he needs to be, he could easily be brought here to the capitol, and since people find it important, he has a cock as well. The smart choice is Visenya, she is the sole surviving child of the eldest son, she's even younger than Viserys and she would bring the North with her and all its benefits. We need those benefits to truly heal the Seven Kingdoms.”
Varys said nothing, he just sipped his wine. After a moment he spoke again, “Then let us hope that a smart decision can be reached.”
“I think you are asking a little too much of the Nobles that dwell here. They aren't always the smartest lot to deal with. You should know by now that, Ser Brightflame.”
“I am not a Knight my lady.”
“You're not a Lord either,”Olenna said dismissively. “Now if you don't mind, us older people need more rest than you young ones do, so if you don't mind...?”
She trailed off and he simply nodded his head, “Of course my lady.” He seemed neither insulted by her lack of address for him or even the dismissal she had made. He just quietly left and she sighed after he did, thinking about the challenges that lay ahead.
What a gods be damned mess.