"Mother above, is that really you, Tyrion? You've grown so tall and handsome. The change is enormous."
Inside the dim stone cave, the murky air carried the faint fragrance of pine torches. As the bearded, limping, burly warrior approached from the opposite side, Tyrion caught a familiar scent of cosmetics.
It was Varys, the plump eunuch disguised as a bearded warrior.
Before the Holy Light Tower was illuminated, Tysha had carried four coffins and taken Jaime and Tyrion away from the sept.
The two brothers worked through the entire morning, finally burning the four bodies into ashes, placing them into four clay urns, and hanging them around Tysha's neck.
Then they infiltrated the narrow beach behind the Red Keep from the direction of Blackwater Bay and entered a cave on the cliff.
The underground passage leading into the Red Keep was filled with many traps. The ones belonging to Varys had already been marked, and those set by Kevan with Lannister soldiers had mostly been cleared over the past few months. Only the last few hundred meters of the stone path remained.
Before reaching that final stretch, Tyrion and Jaime encountered Varys.
"You haven't changed at all, still sneaking around in the shadows, plotting your schemes," Tyrion sneered.
Varys planted the torch into the stone wall, stepped closer, and carefully examined Tyrion. Confused, he said, "Strange. After recovering from the curse, your appearance resembles neither King Aerys, nor Prince Rhaegar or Viserys in the slightest.
You don't even look like Lady Joanna. You and Jaime are still brothers, yet you share almost no resemblance. Instead, you look somewhat like a foreigner, not even of Andal descent. Why is that?"
Reminded by Varys, Jaime also reacted. "You really don't look much like an Andal."
His rough, calloused left hand clumsily touched and squeezed his brother's face before shaking his head. "Not a Faceless Man's mask either."
"Are you insane?" Tyrion slapped his hand away and shouted, "This is High Valyrian blood, royal blood!"
After shouting, Tyrion stepped forward, grabbed the greasy, dirty wool tunic on Varys's chest, and demanded, "Don't try to change the subject!
The Dragon Queen will settle accounts with you for murdering Rhaegar's two children. Now tell me the truth. Were you already planning to kill my father back then?"
"Which father?" Varys smiled. "King Aerys was killed by your brother, which has nothing to do with me. As for Lord Tywin, you killed him yourself. That shocked me."
"Don't deny it. You wanted to kill my father! Tywin, who secured victory in the War of the Four Kings, was your greatest enemy.
I always found it strange. No matter how hypocritical or lustful my father was, there was no need for him to play with my second-hand woman. Besides, he never touched prostitutes. Everyone knew that."
Varys shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted revenge on the Mad King's son. The Mad King violated his wife, so he played with the Mad King's son's woman. That might have given him the thrill of vengeance.
Like your Tysha. Where is she now? Perhaps he hid her away, just like he hid Shae.
Maybe when he was with Tysha or Shae, he shouted, 'I'm bedding the Mad King's son's woman.'"
"Tysha…" Tyrion's body trembled, his gaze turned distant, and doubt crept into his heart. Could it be that after those soldiers took turns with her, his father hid her away for himself?
No.
Suddenly, the dwarf recalled the moment he shot his father on the privy that night.
Why had he shot him?
Because when he asked where Tysha had gone, his father paused, then sneered, "Oh, Tysha, I remember. Your first whore. Where else would a whore go?"
Because of that single sentence, he had not intended to kill him at first, but he was provoked, and then…
"Bastard!" Realizing this, Tyrion was certain he had been manipulated by Varys.
With his left hand gripping the eunuch's clothing, he slammed him against the wall. His right index and middle fingers heated and elongated, transforming into two slender, slick "worms."
At their tips, a mouth split open, filled with rice-grain-sized teeth.
Like Jenny, he transformed part of his body into dragon-worms.
"Hiss!" Before Varys could react, the snake-like creatures slid into his nostrils.
"Seven gods above, what is this? You've turned into a monster?" Varys cried in terror.
As he struggled, he immediately screamed in agony.
"Ah! It hurts, my heart, don't chew on my heart!" Blood seeped from his nostrils.
"Stay still. Don't move. Don't try anything," Tyrion sneered.
"I won't move. Just stop biting me. Damn it, what kind of monster have you become? Are you still Tyrion?" Varys asked in horror.
"Tyrion, your fingers…" Jaime's face changed in shock.
"Hmph, this is sorcery," Tyrion said proudly. "I have inherited the legacy of Valyrian archmages. I am no longer what I used to be."
"Dark magic!" Varys said with disgust. "You've fallen, studying blood sorcery."
Tyrion sighed. "I know you hate magic.
But reality is cruel. Gods, magic, demons, dragons, monsters, all of it is real.
Burying your head in the sand like an ostrich won't help. The Others are in the north, with millions of wights like a tide, and a cold god casting forbidden spells at will.
Without powerful mages, humanity will be exterminated, just like countless races before it."
"Evil sorcerer!" Varys remained unmoved.
"Forget it. There's nothing to say to a deranged non-magical fool like you." Tyrion forced himself deeper into the eunuch's body, making him sweat in pain, before continuing.
"Once I learned of your plans with Illyrio, that your true king is Aegon, and that you intended to overthrow the Lannister Iron Throne, everything made sense.
A Lannister with Tywin is at its strongest. Your plot would never succeed.
So you had to find a way to kill him.
That night, you planned to kill him yourself. If I hadn't turned back, you would have framed me for his death."
Varys remained silent.
Tyrion smiled coldly. "When I was Hand of the King, we were good friends. You often used the Red Keep's secret passages to bring Shae into the Tower of the Hand for me.
Silent, unseen.
Unfortunately, when my father returned to King's Landing as Hand, he stayed in the same tower, in the same bedroom I used.
You used the same method to bring Shae to the same bed.
If I had simply left quietly, you would have returned to the Tower, killed Shae and my father, and left traces pointing to me.
In fact, after I killed them, I left no trace, and there was no third person present. Yet the next day, everyone believed I did it."
"Why? Shae. She was my greatest trace. That poor woman might have thought she could seduce the new Hand, not knowing my father hated prostitutes the most." The dwarf's smile was bitter.
"Is this true?" Jaime asked, his voice trembling.
If it was true, then he too had been manipulated by Varys.
Varys looked at Tyrion. "Remove the thing from my nose first."
Tyrion shuddered in disgust. "If you don't tell the truth…" he sneered. "Let me tell you, I've experienced all kinds of filth in Slaver's Bay."
Varys looked at him with pure terror.
A chill ran down Jaime's spine, and he hurriedly stepped back, as if Tyrion carried a plague.
"I misunderstood you," Varys said sincerely. "I thought you practiced dark magic because your nature had twisted. Now it seems you are still yourself. Nothing has changed. This kind of sorcery suits you well."
"Stop talking nonsense!" Tyrion jabbed him again.
"Yes, you're right. Now pull them out, it hurts!" Varys cried.
The dwarf then withdrew two twenty-centimeter-long, blood-stained fleshy tendrils, writhing like worms in midair, baring their tiny teeth and hissing.
It was a horrifying sight.
"Seven hells, what have you experienced in Essos these past two years?" Jaime exclaimed, his scalp tingling.
"Explain your conspiracy clearly," Tyrion kicked the shrinking eunuch and demanded angrily.
Varys sighed. "You're right. As long as Lord Tywin lived, the Lannister Iron Throne was unshakable. That was my thinking back then. Now, it seems somewhat laughable."
"Ten Tywins wouldn't be enough to face the Dragon Queen. A hundred Tywins couldn't defend King's Landing against the Others.
It's not that he wasn't strong enough. It's just that he, like me, belongs to a 'real world' without magic, gods, or dragons.
The world now is too mad. Old-fashioned players of the game of thrones like us have been eliminated." Varys sighed.
Jaime's face darkened. "When I forced you to release Tyrion, was that part of your plan as well?"
"The objective was already set. The rest was simply adapting to circumstances," Varys replied.
"Smack!" Jaime stepped forward and slapped him hard.
"That's it?" Tyrion looked at his brother coldly. "I thought you would stab him. Last night, when we met again, you didn't show me any mercy."
"If I hadn't shown mercy, you'd already be dead." Jaime looked dejected, speaking bitterly. "Let the past go. Our father plotted against others, so others could plot against him. In the game of thrones, who is innocent?
At least Varys truly saved you back then. Later, he saved me as well. And father was killed by you."
The dwarf stood there, frowning in silence.
Varys glanced at them and reminded, "If you still have business to attend to, hurry.
When I came in, Stannis was deploying troops outside the Iron Gate. By now, the battle may have already begun."
"No rush. I still have a few questions," Tyrion waved his hand and asked, "You're a foreigner. Why involve yourself in Illyrio's conspiracy? It makes sense for him to help his son take the Iron Throne, but what benefit do you gain from it?"
(End of Chapter)
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