After Robert Baratheon agreed to his request, the king finally relaxed and drifted into a deep sleep.
This time, it was genuine rest.
His breathing became slow and steady, and for the first time in many days, the weight on his shoulders seemed to fade.
But the man who stepped out of the royal tent carried no such peace.
Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, emerged with heavy thoughts in his eyes.
Only moments earlier, he had felt much the same as Robert.
There was only one difference between them.
Robert truly was father to his bastard children.
Ned was not.
Yet both men knew the same fierce love a father could feel.
That love was why Ned had refused Jon Snow when Jon wished to become commander of the City Watch. It was also why he had finally revealed the greatest secret of Jon's birth.
"My lord."
Jory Cassel waited outside the camp. The moment he saw Ned, he stepped forward respectfully.
Ned gave a quiet nod, took the reins of his horse, and mounted without another word.
He turned back toward King's Landing.
Unlike the king, he had no time to rest.
The duties of the Hand were endless, and every night he returned to the Hand's Tower burdened with work.
But while honest men labored above ground, the night below the Red Keep concealed many secrets.
Beneath the Red Keep
Far beneath the castle, in a cold and hidden cellar, Varys stood with his hands tucked inside his sleeves.
Before him loomed an enormous dragon skull.
It was the remains of Balerion the Black Dread.
The greatest dragon of House Targaryen now rested in darkness, discarded in a chamber few living souls had ever seen.
Once, Balerion had carried Aegon I Targaryen during the Conquest. Its shadow had passed over castles and armies alike. Its flames had melted stone, steel, and pride.
It had been born in old Valyria before the Doom, one of the dragons brought by the Targaryens to Dragonstone.
Later, Aegon had claimed it, ridden it, and with it forged the Seven Kingdoms into one realm.
The beast's jaws had once been large enough to swallow bulls whole.
Its wings had been said to cast shadows over entire towns.
Its fire had destroyed Harrenhal, where Harren Hoare and his sons burned within their mighty towers.
Now only bones remained.
Torchlight flickered across the blackened skull, casting long shadows like ghostly wings over the walls.
Varys stared at it silently.
Power.
Glory.
Fear.
All gone in the end.
A Visitor in the Tunnels
Then, from the darkness behind him, came the soft sound of footsteps.
Measured.
Rhythmic.
Confident.
The tunnels beneath the Red Keep formed a vast hidden maze, unknown to almost everyone. They had first been built by Maegor I Targaryen as escape routes and secret passages.
Over the years, they had become useful for many less noble purposes.
Varys turned.
A heavyset man approached carrying a torch.
He wore fine reddish-brown silk robes, and every finger glittered with rings of gold, silver, ruby, sapphire, and tiger's eye.
His beard was forked, his hair golden, and though he was large, he moved with surprising lightness.
It was Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of Pentos.
"I thought you would arrive later," Varys said calmly.
"I nearly got lost in these cursed tunnels," Illyrio grumbled. "Whoever built them was mad."
Varys gave no smile.
"I left markers for you."
Illyrio shoved the torch into an iron bracket on the wall.
"I only hope the news you give me is clearer than your directions."
Then he stepped closer.
"Tell me, Varys. What do we do next?"
Daenerys and the Dothraki Problem
Illyrio's face darkened.
"I cannot delay matters much longer. Daenerys Targaryen is already three months pregnant."
Varys frowned.
That was serious.
The wedding between Daenerys and Khal Drogo had long passed. By custom, the khalasar should have returned to Vaes Dothrak.
There Daenerys would be presented before the Dosh Khaleen and participate in the Stallion Heart ritual.
Instead, the massive Dothraki host still lingered near Pentos.
"That city is under immense strain," Illyrio continued bitterly.
"Merchants can barely trade. Citizens live in fear. Every day I wake to new complaints."
He spread his jeweled hands.
"And most importantly, I have spent enough gold already."
Varys sighed.
"We had no reason to keep them there so long, Illyrio. No one expected the war in Westeros to end like this."
That much was true.
The conflict between lions, wolves, and stags had seemed a perfect opportunity.
Instead, events had shifted too quickly.
A War Ended Too Soon
For a long moment, both men stood silent beneath the dragon skull.
Then Varys spoke softly.
"It ended too fast."
"I do not know whether to rejoice that peace has returned… or curse that the war was over before we were ready."
Illyrio nodded.
"It looked like chaos would tear the realm apart."
"Instead, the Baratheons have become stronger."
Varys's expression sharpened.
"Not stronger," he said quietly. "Weaker."
Illyrio looked interested.
Varys continued.
"Robert will never allow one of his bastards to inherit the Iron Throne."
"If he tried, many would abandon him."
"His brothers would oppose him."
"And the Westerlands have been bled dry by war."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Perhaps fate has given us another chance."
Illyrio frowned.
"So we still wait?"
"What else can we do?" Varys replied. "We need time."
Dangerous Suggestions
Illyrio's fingers turned one of his rings.
"What if we made the Baratheons weaker still?"
Varys looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"At first I considered removing Eddard Stark," Illyrio said. "A second dead Hand would damage Robert greatly."
Varys shook his head at once.
"No."
"The first death was hidden by conspiracy. A second would draw too much attention."
Illyrio leaned closer.
"Then Robert himself."
"Kill him now. Throw the realm back into chaos."
The eunuch's face hardened.
"No, Illyrio."
"Robert's death would create disorder only briefly. Another king would sit the throne soon enough."
He stepped forward.
"And Robert—only Robert—is useful to us now."
"Also, Eddard Stark must live."
Illyrio blinked.
Varys's tone remained cold and certain.
"Only with Robert and Ned together can we more easily obtain what we want."
Illyrio was silent for a while.
Then he nodded reluctantly.
"You are right."
The Bastard Who Ruined Everything
The two men turned to the larger issue.
Neither named him immediately.
But both were thinking of the same person.
Karl El.
The bastard who had unexpectedly shattered careful plans.
Illyrio cursed under his breath.
"We prepared so much. Money, spies, alliances."
"Everything was moving according to design."
"And then a bastard appeared from nowhere."
Varys sighed.
"I helped shape events myself."
He spoke quietly, almost clinically.
"I found ways to draw Renly Baratheon away to Storm's End."
"I maneuvered Barristan Selmy toward the Riverlands."
"I eased paths that others believed hidden."
He looked annoyed for perhaps the first time.
"And still, it was not enough."
Illyrio struck one of Balerion's massive teeth with his fist.
"How did he do it?"
Varys remembered the throne room.
"I saw him break through the city's defenses."
"He killed two members of the Small Council without hesitation."
"He had excuses prepared before the blood was dry."
The eunuch's face grew pale.
"I believed for a moment he might kill me as well."
Illyrio stared.
"You should be grateful you survived."
Reassessing Karl El
After a long pause, Illyrio spoke again.
"If he is truly as capable as you say…"
"Could he become one of us?"
Varys was taken aback.
Then he slowly considered the idea.
At last, he nodded.
"It is not impossible."
"He is young."
"He is talented."
"And if one day he supports Aegon Targaryen, our cause would become far easier."
Illyrio's eyes brightened.
"Yes."
"The destroyer of House Lannister aiding our prince…"
"That would be a worthy alliance."
Varys rubbed the hidden dagger inside his sleeve as he thought.
Originally Karl El had been a threat.
Perhaps he could instead become an asset.
The idea pleased both men.
For the first time since arriving, Illyrio smiled sincerely.
"I look forward to that day."
Removing Him from the Board
Yet Varys remained practical.
"He will soon leave King's Landing."
"The Westerlands are not easy to rule. Even Tywin Lannister needed years to secure them."
"Karl El's roots here are shallow."
"In time, people will forget him."
Illyrio relaxed.
"And the Gold Cloaks loyal to him?"
Varys answered at once.
"I will arrange for him to take them west."
"If he leaves with no support, what can he achieve?"
"He will spend his strength feeding soldiers and securing lands."
"The more men he takes, the better."
Illyrio chuckled.
"Yes."
"When he learns power costs coin, he will remain in the west and abandon dreams of court."
"He will understand this great game was never meant for a bastard."
Birds and Gold
At last, Varys turned back toward Balerion's skull.
"For now, we need funds."
"And birds."
Illyrio frowned.
"How many?"
"Fifty, if possible."
"So many?"
"The kind I need must be young," Varys said quietly. "Young, clever, and able to read."
Illyrio grimaced.
"Older ones would survive more easily."
"No," Varys replied.
"Young ones are safer."
He smiled faintly in the flickering dark.
"Treat them kindly, and they will keep their mouths shut."
The torchlight danced across the dead dragon's skull.
Two conspirators stood beneath the bones of vanished power, already dreaming of the next king to rise.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)