Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Varys was scheming.
But then, he always was. Another scheme was nothing new. But unlike most of those he had lately been involved in, it was important. Vital. Crucial. Elemental.
He couldn’t fail.
Not when they were so close to success.
Not when the Blackfyres will soon once more rise up to the very top. And while they may have to permanently abandon their name for a chance at success, it would just mean that no one will be able to prove anything. Especially when ‘Aegon’ himself is kept ignorant of his true birth name. And if it pains both him and Illyrio to have to call their son and nephew by the wretched Targaryen name instead of the rightful Blackfyre, no one has to know.
But not all things were running according to plan.
And that annoyed him.
Were his ‘little birds’ really so incompetent as to lose one single boy? He didn’t think so. But somehow, they did. And now the whereabouts of the ‘real’ Aegon Targaryen, the one birthed by the wolven bitch, remain unknown. And that, that he cannot, will not stand for. He will not have a wildcard with such potential out of his control in his Game.
At least getting the boy to the Wall, forced to swear vows will now be a matter of not if but when. Now that Eddard Stark has finally lined up all his support behind Robert, now that he has chosen a side, chosen to play the Game, he will not stand for such a compromising factor such as the potential rightful heir to the Iron Throne hidden in his domain. And inducting the boy into the ‘Black Brothers’? In the North it is even considered honorable. To bastards of course. And the odd youngest son among them.
He is still frustrated as to why his machinations hadn’t worked.
It wasn’t just that the only thing the boy inherited from the Starks was his appearance. And he was rather lucky for it. Because had he not? Had he been the spitting image of a true Targaryen? Obvious to everyone around him? Had he been a potential figurehead for another rebellion? Varys would have been the first one to snap that babe’s neck. He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t have a real threat for Aegon Blackfyre’s future rule. Especially when it wasn’t hypothetical.
But even though the boy looked nothing like a Targaryen, he still had a better claim to the Iron Throne than their Aegon. So he had to go. But as long as he wasn’t a political threat and living in the middle of nowhere, fathering no children, he could live. Who knows when Varys or Aegon would have need of him? So the Wall was the perfect solution. Far enough away to be out of sight, out of mind, and not entirely unobtainable should they ever have need of such a strategic resource.
But regardless of how many ‘little birds’ he placed around ‘Jon Snow’ growing up, no matter how many times they sung their tune about the honor of a service at the Wall, ‘Jon Snow’ remained deaf to their songs and to his machinations.
Well, no matter.
That problem is now almost solved.
They just had to find him.
That is all.
It shouldn’t be too difficult anyway.
How far could an unprepared child run in the North anyway?
If only Varys knew… because not that day, the day after or the day after that was ‘Jon Snow’ found. And he would never be. Because ‘Jon Snow’? The Northern bastard of the honorable Ned Stark whose existence many Southern Lords always remember to note in the utmost irony? He is gone. If he even existed in the first place. And Draco? He isn’t his replacement. No. He is something better.
And unlike ‘Jon Snow’, he will make sure that his life will matter more than a single pawn sacrificed at the very end of the Game just before it had its chance to reach the end of the board.