Chapter 4
VARYS—The Spider
It was rare for the King to sit on the Council, and even after the death of Lord Arryn, Robert Baratheon had left it upon his council to see to the running of the realm as he tried to drown away his sorrows in wine and women, not that he needed much reason to partake in those things.
Yet still, Varys believed it was better to do so with a reason. Just as now the King and his Queen sat at the Head of the table, as the Council gathered in full.
"How could this happen?" the King raged, and once more they all got to witness a hint of the Demon of the Trident, who had ended a three-hundred-year-old dynasty with a single swing of his Warhammer.
The years may have made him fat and slow, yet Varys doubted if there was still a man alive who could survive a swing of his hammer. Still, he was the King now, and he did not need to swing the blade by himself now.
"HOW?" and his voice tore through the room, yet no one dared to utter anything, until his own younger brother chose to add.
"Steffon, he is fine, right?" he questioned, looking to him as Varys nodded much to one person's disappointment.
"Yes, Lord Renly. The Prince is fine," and only through sheer luck.
"He is in Deep Den right now, and the whole matter is being investigated by Lord Lydden himself," and wasn't that a relief, for the realm could not bear to lose a Prince so soon after losing a Hand.
It would cause too much chaos, and they were not yet ready for it.
"Who would dare attack my son!" and it was the Queen who raged now, and it had been years since their King had let her sit on his Council, yet Varys doubted he could hardly deny her now when her own son had been the target of an assassination.
"I believe the report said that it was bandits?" their Master of Coin added.
"Such groups are pretty common. They must have hoped to earn quite a bounty by robbing a Prince, but thank the Seven that they picked the wrong retinue to rob," and now it was the King who spoke.
"NO!" and there was a dangerous glint in those eyes.
"These were not common thieves," the King declared.
"I have put down enough of them to know how they are. The letter said that they wore a steel plate and armor. No common thief can afford such steel," and for all his faults as King, Robert Baratheon had good instincts.
"Someone tried to kill my son!" and the King's fist hit the table and nearly toppled it over, as the glasses and goblets shook and spilled the wines, yet none dared to complain.
"I want them found!" he said, and he was impressed by how the man beside him did not react at all.
"It is your job to keep us safe! YOURS, YOU DAMN SPIDER!" the King had turned to him, and indeed it was, yet Baelish had been a player for long enough in this game by now.
"I apologise for my failure, your grace. I have failed you," and making excuses would not serve him well.
"Fail me again, and I will have your head!" the Stag King raged, as the Queen's icy gaze moved through the room.
"If this truly was a plot against your son, then one must wonder who would even dare to attack a Prince of the realm?" questioned Prince Renly, and the entire room grew silent at that question until Petyr Baelish chose to chime in.
"The Targaryens," and those blue eyes narrowed, as everyone turned their eyes on the Master of Coin, who leaned forward.
"Jon Arryn was a great man. The man singlehandedly kept the realm together after the war, and now, with his passing, the Targaryens must have sensed an opportunity to strike back," and the plot made sense, yet Varys knew it all to be a lie.
"The Targaryens are in Essos. Pentosh, the last I was informed," Varys cut, and he could not lose any more credibility than he already had.
"It would be near impossible for them to arrange all this in such a short time," and Baelish shrugged.
"And who is to say they did it themselves?" he answered, looking him in the eye, as Varys realised it for what it was. A threat of mutual destruction. For all his hubris, Baelish knew that he knew of his involvement in this plot.
Yet their Master of Coin was also aware of his own dubious loyalties.
"There are many who still call your grace a 'usurper'. They would need no reason or command to do you, or your family any harm," and the King's face was flushed in rage, as he refused to say anything.
"Kingslayer!" he roared, and the room turned still as the Kingsguard in question entered through the door.
"You summoned me, your grace," and he had not seen the Lannister man with such an expression before. His usual carefree smile had been replaced by a scowl, which made him wonder if this was how the young Prince looked.
It had been four years since the Prince had been sent away to foster with his grandfather at Casterly Rock, and word about him had been sparse at best. Varys knew not the details of what had happened for the Queen to send him away as she had, but he had a pretty good suspicion about the truth.
Still, in the four years since the Prince had not written even once to the Queen, and had refused to come to Kingslanding at all. At Casterly Rock, he was said to be an exemplary student and had learned the art of ruling at his grandfather's heels, though rumor was that it was not all he had learned.
The Prince was supposedly very frugal with his smiles and was said to have an expression similar to that of their Kingsguard.
"Take fifty men and ride to Deep Den, and bring my son back home safely," and if it were any other time, the Queen would have intervened by now. Yet, for all her faults, she did love her children and was even willing to part with her twin for them.
"As you wish, your grace," Jaime Lannister was happy to accept the assignment, as the King turned to them all one last time.
"I want this entire affair investigated thoroughly. I want to know who would dare harm my family," and so he was assured of their service, before his eyes finally turned to the empty chair beside him.
"Where is Stannis?" he asked, and to think that it had taken him so long to notice his brother's absence.
"Lord Stannis returned to Dragonstone a week ago," and now it was the Queen who cut in.
"Why?" she asked, and no one had an answer for her and Robert did not wait for one as he ordered.
"Well, I want him back here. By my side," the King ordered before the matter could escalate, as the Grandmaester answered in his pretentious tone.
"I will send the missive at once, your grace," and he had thought him asleep, with how quiet he had been.
"I grow tired of this," and with that, the King rose, and his council rose with him before he left the room, followed soon after by the Queen, who left with her brother. Afterwards, the room became filled with some chatter, as the room began to empty out until only him and the Master of Coin were left.
Petyr Baelish stood beside the window as he looked out at the city. Varys had a pretty good idea about the kind of man the Master of Coin was, yet the man had outplayed his hand.
Now the question became whether he was going to protect him or let him fall on the sword for this treason. Whether his little game was still of benefit to him and his cause, or had it become a liability?
"Quite a tragedy, wouldn't you say?" Varys began, and the man's face was turned so he couldn't quite see his expression, though it would not be one of sympathy.
"Indeed," the Master of Coin agreed, though not fully.
"Still, it makes me wonder why someone would even attack Prince Steffon?" and that made the tall man still.
"The Prince has been away from the capital for some time now, and even before that, he was not the kind to offend anyone," and unlike his elder twin, Steffon Baratheon, was more level-headed and calm.
He had been a rather bookish boy, yet one not entirely lacking talent with the blade. Most importantly, he lacked his brother's cruelty and possessed a far saner mind, which made him a threat to his own cause.
Joffrey Baratheon was chaos. He tried to hide it with his smile, yet the boy's true nature was clear to him. He was a cruel and vindictive boy who would be no different from the Mad King once he was upon the throne.
He was precisely the kind of King they needed on the throne for their plans to succeed, yet, compared to him, Steffon was quieter, kinder, and definitely smarter, which made the elder Prince greatly jealous of his brother.
"Well, you are quite curious about this matter?" and now he turned to face him, as Varys nodded.
"A Royal Prince was attacked. Of course, it intrigues me," and still he did not give himself away.
"The Prince does not need to make enemies. His father is the King, and many within these lands still hold loyalties to the Conqueror's bloodline," and Varys scoffed.
"The Targaryens are penniless, and their supporters have all bent the knee. They would not be able to do such a thing even if they so desired," and those lips turned up at those words as he walked up to him.
"And you would happen to know what they desire?" and he was beginning to question his utility with every passing second.
"Still, I have heard that the Prince had been tasked with reviewing the Crown's ledgers," and the games he was trying to play were all useless.
"Lord Tywin has been growing more and more reluctant to give the Crown more loans for some years now, some say at the very advice of Prince Steffon, who supposedly believes that the Gold is being stolen by some bad actors," and hence these 'bad actors' had tried to have him killed. Unsuccessfully.
"Prince Steffon is a child," and he may have been once, but he no longer was. He was now a man grown, who had learned the game at the hands of the man who had served as the Mad King's Hand for some twenty years.
One could have no better teacher for the art of ruling than Lord Tywin, and even the Old Lion of the Rock had been forced to sing praises of his charge. It was a testament to the young Prince's prowess, and now that very Prince was coming for Petyr and his ledgers.
"No more. He is a man grown, who has learned the game at the heels of the Old Lion," and none would dare question those credentials, and finally, the mask cracked as those lips thinned.
Petyr's eyes narrowed as he sat down beside him.
"What are you trying to say, Lord Varys?" and he smiled.
"Well, what I am trying to say is that I truly pity the person who did this, for if the King or worse yet, the Queen were to get their hands on them," and he clicked his tongue, and shook his face.
"Death would be a mercy to them," and while the King may just end their life. The Queen would not offer them the mercy of a quick death, nor would her father. They would make an example out of them, and if the way the tall master of Coin had paled was anything to go by, he knew it as well.
"Unless..." and now he was offering him a chance at redemption.
"...they were careful and wiped away any trace of their involvement," and despite the troubles that he had caused him, Petyr Baelish was a useful pawn in his game, and Varys wished to use him for as long as he could.
The man had made his task much easier, and so the least he could do was offer him some advice.
"After all, with the King set to leave for Winterfell soon. The journey to and from Winterfell just might be enough to have the storm blow over," and so, given his usefulness, Varys would keep his secret for as long as he could.
Prince Steffon was as much a threat to him as he was to Baelish, and with this botched assassination attempt, it had become nearly impossible to target him. So, he would much rather have Baelish here in the Capitol besides him in case it became evident that the Prince needed to be handled.
"I see, you have given it much thought," and of course, he had.
"Unlike the one who planned the assassination," he taunted, as those lips tightened.
Still, if I were you, I would begin gathering and cleaning up all those ledgers. I have heard that Lord Tywin has even sent Lord Tyrion to help Prince Steffon with his duties," and with those words, he rose and headed for the door until Baelish's voice halted him once more.
"Still, I have a question of my own," and this time he turned to face him.
"The Gold Road is rather safe, and no lord or lady has ever had a retinue of more than a dozen guards with them," and that was indeed the standard for most lords.
"And?"
"Yet thank the Seven the Prince had a retinue nearly double that. It pains to imagine what may have happened had he been travelling with a standard retinue," and indeed, if he had been travelling with the standard retinue, the end result might very well have been different.
"Well, we can only be thankful that he had the foresight to be prepared for such an outcome," and that had been bothering him as well. While there was a simpler explanation that the guards were not just guarding the Prince but his uncle as well, yet still, the more he learned about the whole thing, the more it felt as if someone had expected this ambush.
"And that is my question?" and Petyr's smile had vanished now, and his following words were laced with rage and frustration.
"Was it foresight that had him more than double his guards, or was it information?"
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