Chapter 46
STEFFON BARATHEON
They may have won the war against Stannis and Renly, but that did not mean that they had run out of wars to fight. Even apart from the Others beyond the Wall, there were still many enemies coming for them.
Euron was one of them and was wreaking havoc across the North with his armies. With terms reached with the Starks, the North had finally begun to fight back, but Euron was as shrewd and competent a commander as any. His absolute disregard for honor and human life made him an absolute menace to deal with.
There were reports that he had hung up entire villages, drowning them in the Seas to please his God. The Bear Islands were the heaviest hit region, and according to the missives, the entire population of the Islands had been forced to flee into the Northern mainland just to save themselves from the Ironborn's wrath.
But even more dangerous than him were the enemies across the Narrow Sea. Viserys Targaryen had just slaughtered the greatest Khalasar in centuries and killed Khal Drogo. That simple act had won him great favor with the Magisters and Princes in Pentosh, who would undoubtedly shower him with gold and gifts to earn his favor.
He had the Unsullied at his command, along with several sellsword companies. But his most dangerous resource was his innocent sister and the three dragon eggs in her possession. The eggs had not hatched yet, but if that miracle was to repeat itself.
It would be disastrous for him and his family.
But there was another King vying for the Iron Throne. One who also had the Blood of the Dragon running through his veins, though he still did not know which Dragon it truly was. Red or Black.
He did not know where he was, or what he was planning, and that made him different than every other enemy aiming for his head. So, one way or another he had to deal with him.
He could try to force him out of hiding, but the Seven Kingdoms simply did not have the resources to fight three wars. They barely had the resources and will to fight one, and they had three enemies to face before even considering the Great Evil beyond the Wall in the North.
No.
He had to do something. In the end, the solution was rather simple if not dishonorable. But Steffon would much rather be alive.
One of his great accomplishments during the war had been the capture of the Spider, and the bald man was the reason for many of his troubles. It had been he who had told Joffrey about his and Tyrion's plans. He had also helped his brother plot the hit on him, and so the man owed him a great debt, and he planned on paying him back.
He had tried to flee Renly's side during the war, but his men had caught him in the attempt, and ever since then, he had been locked up in the Black Cells where Qyburn had been working tirelessly to prolong his miserable life.
It had taken a long time to nurse the bald man back to health, and now he was hale and healthy. The captivity had made him thin, and his face was marred with dirt as Steffon stood in front of the former Master of Whispers.
"It seems like I underestimated you, my Prince," Varys began, and the bars of the Black Cells separated them as Steffon raised a brow.
"Well, you did try to kill me," and Varys did not deny the accusation.
"The assassination was your brother's idea. I was more in favor of something less permanent," and what difference would that make?
"Yet you were the one who hired the men, and gave them the dagger," and Steffon reached into his belt and took out the Valyrian Steel blade that had saved his life.
Varys looked at the blade before he met his eyes once more.
"If you are here seeking answers, then I am afraid I have none to offer," Varys and Steffon gave the guard a nod, and he unlocked the cell, and he walked in himself, as he toyed with the Valyrian Steel blade in his hand.
"Really?" Steffon asked, and Varys eyed the dagger and realized its implication well enough.
"Do you think I am afraid of pain?" Varys asked with a slightly mocking tone, and Steffon had the guard drag in a chair and sat himself down opposite to the man.
"You tell me," Steffon replied.
"I can assure you, any pain you and your men can inflict on me will be nothing compared to what I have already suffered," and he did not doubt that.
"You see, I am not much fond of pain either. Steffon sheathed the dagger and put it back in his belt.
"And the truth is that I do not need answers from you, my lord. No. I know each and everything about you already," and Varys chuckled.
"Do you really?" he asked, and Steffon leaned back in his chair.
"If you truly are so confident, then let us play a game, my lord?" and Steffon was interested now.
"Each of us will speak three things about each other. Three secrets that no one else knows," and Steffon leaned forward.
"Whoever knows more will be the victor," and that was an interesting proposition indeed.
"I believe you would seek freedom as your reward?" and Varys nodded.
"But what can you offer me, Lord Varys?" and for it to be fair, he would have to offer something of equal value.
"I have been the Crown's Master of Whispers for over three decades. I can assure you I have many a secrets buried in my heart. Secrets that could shake the foundation of the Iron Throne," and the truth was that Steffon already knew what he needed from the man.
Dorne had always had a tumultuous relationship with the Iron Throne. It was no different today, and though Doran offered him loyalty and subservience in his letters, Steffon knew the truth well enough.
The Martells loathed his family and would not hesitate to exact their revenge for the sins committed against their family. He could expose their plans, but that would only invite another war, and he had enough wars to fight already.
No. The best way of taming Dorne right now was to break it from the inside, and he had the perfect person in mind for that already. Now, he just needed the weapon.
"So be it," Steffon offered, and he turned towards the guard, for the secrets they were about to utter were not meant to be heard by anyone else.
"Leave us," he ordered, and the man hesitated.
"But, your gra..."
"The man is chained to that chair. I will be fine," he assured the guard.
"If it eases your heart, then I can assure you that even without these chains, I have no hope of killing your King in a fight," and with one final glance, the guard left, leaving them alone in that dark and damp cell.
"As you were the one who proposed this game, I believe you should go first," Steffon offered, and the bald man nodded.
"You are a bastard," he spoke, and he found himself chuckling at those words.
"I can assure you that this is no secret. Not anymore," Steffon countered.
"I know, though you knowing that is one," and now Steffon's chuckles died down slowly as Varys's smile spread.
"It was why your mother sent you to Casterly Rock, for she feared that you might speak about what you had witnessed," and whether he truly knew that all, or was inferring it from all the clues he did not know.
But he was right
"I believe you have two more secrets to share," Steffon countered.
"I believe I do," and those eyes narrowed.
"You have always known the truth about your brother, about the monster that he is, and you have loathed him ever since you were born," and that was no secret.
"You always believed that you would make for a better King than him," and Steffon shrugged.
"You only have one more secret to spill," and now Varys smiled.
"Stannis. The whole realm believes that you bested him in a duel, but that is not the truth, is it?" and he had to hand it to him, the man was a master at his craft.
"Poison," he repeated, and that was the truth of it. In a fair fight, him and Stannis would be nearly equally matched but Steffon was not the kind to gamble with his life on the line.
So, on the eve of his duel, he had struck a deal with Melisandre. A deal which had assured him of his victory.
"They can be such a useful weapon," and she had mixed a simple, odorless, and tasteless poison into his wine. It was nothing deadly. No. The liquid simply rendered him weak, and that was truly all the edge he needed to be certain of his victory.
How Varys had come to learn of it was a mystery to him, but soon enough it would not matter. With his words, he had just sealed his fate.
"I am impressed," Steffon applauded the man's efforts, and the sound of his claps reverberated in the cell.
"No wonder you were able to bring the Seven Kingdoms to their knees all by yourself," and then he leaned forward.
"Wasn't that your true intention?" and it was momentary, but he saw a slight frown appear on that face.
"You call yourself a Targaryen loyalist, but that is not really true now, is it?" and Steffon raised a brow.
"You plotted against Aerys, just as how you plotted against Robert Baratheon, for you are not loyal to House Targaryen. No," and he leaned forward.
"You are loyal to a different dragon. The Black dragon," and finally those eyes widened, and he could feel his chest quicken in its movements as he exposed his greatest secret.
"Blackfyre," Steffon whispered, and the name had long been forgotten, and the family was thought dead. But that was a lie.
"Isn't that your real name, Lord Varys. A name that you share with your sister," and finally, he opened his mouth.
"How?" he nearly gasped, and Steffon shrugged.
"How indeed," he answered with a smile.
"You spent nearly twenty years unraveling a dynasty of over three hundred years, and you succeeded in doing what your family failed to do in the last hundred years. You ended the reign of House Targaryen, but why would one man sacrifice so much of his life for a dream that is not even his own?" and he looked down.
"A dream that he cannot even pass on to his sons," and yet he had done all that.
"No," Varys finally broke, and he watched as the light vanished from his face and the pride was swept away by a realization filled with fear and pain.
"A boy born to a dying House. A boy born to carry a legacy of over a hundred years of pain and anguish. A Black Dragon disguised in the blood of the fallen Red Dragon," and Varys could not believe his ears.
"No," and he shook his head.
"Impossible," he repeated as his chest began to heave.
"How! How can you know that!" and Steffon's smile vanished.
"The same way I knew that Baelish was a traitor. The same way that I know about the betrothal you brokered between Arianne Martell and Viserys Targaryen," and that would be his reward, for he was certain that the man must hold a copy of the agreement, and that would be his weapon to bring the Dornish to their heels.
"Demon! You truly are a demon!" Varys shouted, but it was a third voice that answered those allegations for him.
"NO!" he is not, and he turned around and found Melisandre standing there behind them with a torch in her hands. The fire from the torch clung to her form, and one could see the protruding belly of hers.
"You are the Red Woman," Varys began, and Melisandre nodded.
"Indeed, I am," and she slid in through the open doors.
"You! You are the one who told him all this," and she shook her head.
"No," she answered.
"The Red God may favor me, but he did not reveal these things to me," and she looked at him now.
"He only showed them to him," and Varys shook his head.
"No. This is not the work of a God. No. This is a Demon's work," and Melisandre stepped forward until she stood in front of Varys, and she took out a small blade from her belt.
"NO! You can't kill me! NO!" and for the first time ever, he was afraid.
"I am not going to kill you," and in a display of her power, she caught the man's tongue and cut it away with a swift swing of the blade.
"AGHHHHHHH!" Varys's screams filled the cell, as she threw away the appendage to the ground before she licked off the drop of blood from her hand.
"Dragon blood," she whispered as she turned towards Varys, who had now paled.
"Let me show you a real Demon now," and slowly she began to cut away her robe to reveal her bare skin, and with a simple movement her dress slid off her body to reveal her entire being.
She took a step back, and slowly sat down on the ground, and her protruding belly began to shift as the light in the room began to dim, as darkness took hold of the room and only her screams filled the Black Cells.
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