Chapter 42-INTERLUDE
VARYS
He had felt dejected when he was forced to flee Kingslanding. All his years of effort were destroyed in but a few months by one player he had chosen to ignore. It was not wrong to say that he had watched Cregan Stark grow before his eyes.
The boy had intrigued him quite a bit ever since his arrival. His eyes, demeanour, and words did not match his age, yet despite his suspicions, he had chosen to blind himself to the boy and focus on the more credible threats.
The Stark boy had taken advantage of his lack of insight and had chosen to hide himself. Hiding himself in the shadows of the plots and plans that were hatched around him, he had bided his time, waiting patiently as he uncovered their secrets.
And then he had struck. At once and with all his might, unravelling both his and Baelish's plots in but a single strike. How he had managed to do such a thing remained a mystery to him to this day.
Yet the boy had struck and had managed to outplay both him and the cunning Petyr Baelish.
Yet wise and cunning as he was, the boy could not out outrun his fate. The seeds of discontent and treason sown by him over several decades had come to fruition one way or another through the aid of some unexpected actors, and war now engulfed the Seven Kingdoms.
Thousands were dead, and yet a single sword had not even been drawn. The spark had come from an unknown party, one who had carried out the greatest of travesties, as they burned down the Great Sept of Baelor, killing thousands, including the King and his heir, the Prince Tommen, sparking a war that would engulf the Seven Kingdoms.
There were various rumors about who was behind this atrocity. While Stannis Baratheon lay the blame on Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer, for this, the truth was something far more convoluted.
Jamie Lannister did know of the caches of wildfire hidden underneath the city, yet the man was in Riverrun, powerless to do anything like this. No, the culprit in his mind was the red-haired witch, one who had managed to turn the dour Stannis Baratheon away from the gods of his forefathers, and he and his wife took to the worship of Red God.
Melisandrei—and he had heard rumors about her as well, rumors that reminded him of his own dark past, as he was confronted once more with the harsh reality that magic had begun to reemerge.
"To think that war would swallow up the Seven Kingdoms even without your intervention," added Ilyrio as they rode through the flat terrain along with five hundred guards to meet up with their rather interested charges.
"I may not have begun this war, but I did lay the groundwork for it," he added, reminding Illyrio of his years of effort, who nodded before having a large burp.
"But to think that there was so much wildfire hidden underneath the capital and no one knew about it," and much to his own embarrassment even Varys had forgotten about it, with the passage of the years, and yet somehow a woman had not even visited the capital once in her lifetime had known of it.
And she had made good use of it, killing the King and his heir in a single attack while causing absolute chaos within the capital. The situation was far worse than anyone realised, as tens of thousands of people burned to their deaths, and in a city teeming with greed, hunger, and crime, the attack had caused mass lawlessness.
According to his own sources, the situation was so bad that the Red Keep had not opened its gates in days, as the keep remained divided with the Queen and the new Hand each trying to consolidate power.
But the fires of war raged all over the continent.
"The attack on the capital was a surprise, though my own little plan worked perfectly and has compounded this into a perfect storm," he spoke to Illyrio, who lay on a feathered bed in one side of the carriage.
The carriage was large, divided into two parts, each having a luxurious silken feather bed, allowing one to rest and sleep with no qualms. A servant stood there beside Illyrio, fanning the magister who chose to indulge in exotic foods to rid himself of the dreariness of their journey.
Varys himself entertained himself with whispers and tales from the continent, rejoicing at their tragedy as war engulfed the entire continent.
"Lysa Tully slew her sister and flew the Riverlands. She also tried to kill the Stark boy," and that had needed a little motivation from him.
"But alas! She failed in that part. But no matter, both the North and the Vale gather their armies as we speak, while Stannis Baratheon heads towards the capital with his entire might, claiming the Queen to be a traitor and calling her children a product of incest," the last bit was another one of his ploys, another partying gift to the realm he had served for a hundred years.
"Kinslaying and incest! Such savagery, but what more should one expect out of those people?" Illyrio taunted, and the people of Westeros were called as savages by many people here across the Narrow lands.
"Lysa Tully was a mad woman, and it was easy to manipulate her into believing that her own nephew and sister were the ones responsible for her lover's demise. By killing Catelyn Tully, she has made it certain that the Vale and the North will have to go to war," and that was his victory, even though his plan with the Queen and her incest had been somewhat foiled.
"Though I am more concerned about the Lannister Queen and her children, of which only two remained," for the Queen had done something which had taken him by surprise as she gave birth to a daughter with the King's locks.
Joanna Baratheon, her youngest daughter, born but a week ago after a rather long and challenging labor, lacked her mother's Lannister features and was born with the Black Baratheon hair and blue eyes of her father.
"And why is that?" Illyrio asked as their carriage shook after hitting a stone.
"Because she gave birth to a black daughter. This will raise many questions about the varacity of Stannis Baratheon's claims," even though they were true.
None of her initial three children were Robert's, but of the three, two were now dead.
"I see, but I doubt it will matter much," Illyrio added disinterestedly, much to his surprise.
"How can you say that?" he asked, as Illyrio tried to push himself into a sitting position and failed. So, the servant came in and supported him from the side as his friend managed to sit up, and he wiped his dirty hands and fingers.
"Regardless of Stannis's claims, the death of the usurper and his eldest son has caused a succession crisis," Varys thought, and as he considered it, Illyrio's words began to make sense.
"The claims about incest matter little now. A war over the Iron Throne is now imminent, for the Lannisters would want to support the claim of their own daughter, while Stannis and his allies will rally around him. Indeed, the truth mattered little when it came to wars.
And now war had begun.
"Still, our purpose has been achieved, and now it is time for us move things on this side of the Narrow Sea," and that was entirely different and far more complex matter.
"The brother is menace, completely incapable of inspiring leadership. However, the girl, she has been quite a surprise," Illyrio began, and even in his youth Prince Viserys had shown signs of possessing his father's madness, though one could hardly call any Targaryen normal.
Yet, if the boy reminded Illyrio of his own father, it would be hard to gather support for him, even in a fractured Westeros.
"In a short time as Drogo's wife, she has managed to soften the brute. Though hardly unexpected, given that the Dothraki do love to ride a beautiful mare, and he laughed at the taunt, Varys did not miss his intentions.
"But it is evident that a son comes before a daughter," and Illyrio shrugged.
"Maybe, but I fear that few will gather at the call of Viserys Targaryen," and so his opinion was clear.
"You wish to sacrifice the boy rather than the girl," he confirmed as Illyrio nodded.
"It would be the wiser choice," but that was not the only thing they had to consider.
"It also ties up rather neatly with our grander plot. Without the boy, his path to the throne would be made even easier with the girl beside him," and in the end, the Dothraki were tools to them. Blunt tools made to crush and weaken the Seven Kingdoms for the real invasion.
"But you said so yourself, that the Dothraki care little for the brother. And love her as he may, Drogo will not cross the Sea with his kahalsaar for a dead good brother," and that was why they had to make certain.
"Indeed, I agree. However, the Khal may not ride for a dead good brother, but he wouled cross the Seas for a dead child...." and that made his eyes widen, as Varys' lips turned up.
"He would indeed....
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CREGAN STARK
Cregan out little stock in curses and folk tales, but as he stood in front of the Heart Tree in the Godswood, he wondered if there was indeed some truth to the mysteries surrounding this eerie castle.
He had been here for a few weeks, and in that time, all his plans had become unraveled. The fires of chaos that he had hoped to control had spread all over the continent, and a great war was set to engulf the entire continent.
His own mother had paid for his mistakes, as her own sister plunged a knife in her back as revenge for the death of her lover. And his fists balled up in rage as he thought of Lysa Tully and her damned lover, Baelish. The bastard was troubling him even beyond the grave.
And for all her faults, Catelyn Stark loved her children. Loved him, and now the woman was gone. Killed by her own sister, who had pushed them into a great war.
Though she was not alone in that, for Kinslaying seemed to be becoming a norm, as Stannis Baratheon struck in the capital. His sorceress had used the wildfire caches beneath the city to blow up the Sept of Baelor, plunging the entire city into chaos.
The King and the Prince had been inside the sept, having come down there to say a prayer for the Queen busy in the birthing chamber, before the explosion killed them and tens of thousands of small folk along with them.
And all of it was his mistake. His, for in his games and plots, he had misjudged the danger posed by Lysa Arryn and those wild-fire caches—and he had now paid a grave price for his mistake.
For the past few days, he had been apoplectic, with regret, pain, and rage churning inside him. Perhaps this was what he had been warned about by Jojen and the Three-Eyed raven.
He had chosen to ignore them, chosen a path unknown where tragedy could strike at any time and place, where any small mistake could cause a disaster that could unravel the entire world. Until now, he had been able to keep a handle on things, but this was his first setback.
And given the brutality of this world, it would not be the first. For the song had changed—and he was the one playing the chorus.
"So, you are finally back on your feet," and he looked back and saw Tyrion Lannister walking towards him, and the little Lannister Lord had been somewhat of a blessing for him in the se troubling as he helped him deal with the rapidly evolving times.
The man came and stood beside him as Cregan stared at the blood eyes of the heart tree, trying to find some peace.
"I cannot imagine what you must be feeling given all that has happened in the last week, but you must not lose heart, Stark," he added slowly as he offered him the flask he carried with himself.
"You are a lord now, and not just any lord," and it was true. The fire in the sept had killed not only King Robert but Prince Tommen as well, leaving only Myrcella to inherit the King Robert's throne.
Of Renly and Stannis, the later had already made his claim for the throne calling the fire a punishment from the Gods, as he accused Cersei Lannister of incest—a truth which was marred by the birth of one Joanna Lannister, the young girl born but a few minutes before tragedy had struck Baelor's Sept.
He expected Renly to make his own bid for the Crown soon enough, given that rumors about Stannis's involvement in the attack on Kingslanding had already begun to spread. Of all the crimes known to people, few were more reviled than Kinslaying, and Stannis had done just that.
Stannis may try and blame the Lannisters for it, but he was the one who had done this. Who had allowed his sorceress to burn and kill thousands so he could become King?
Cregan would never let that happen, and it would only occur if Myrcella became a contender, and through her, he would become King consort.
"With Tommen and Robert gone, the Crown must pass to his heir, which is Myrcella, but she is both young and still a girl. The strength of her bid would come from unity between the two of you and our two Houses," and neither Renly nor Stannis had any love for him and his House.
"I know," his voice was rasp and thick from thirst so he took the offered flagon and pulled it to his mouth draining the sweet Arbor inside, as he drowned he tried to push himself.
"Good. I have come to learn that there are a few greater remedies for pain than wine," Tyrion added as he plopped down on an oak stump, as Cregan gave him back the flagon.
I believe I have drowned in my sorrows enough. " It is time for action," he said, and the man nodded, reaching into his pocket.
"Then you should read this," and he took out a rolled missive and passed it to him.
"This came from Kingslanding." his own sources within the city had been affected by the chaos as well, so it was difficult to get word about the happenings in the city quickly.
And he unfurled the missive and skimmed over its contents. The situation was worse than he had expected. The burning of the Sept and the fires had pushed the city into absolute chaos, with rioting, looting and plundering.
The people had gone so far as to try and attack the Red Keep, forcing them to close off the gates as Stannis armada laid siege to the city.
"I never thought Stannis would have so many supporters in the city," Tyrion Lannister complained, as Cregan's mind raced and he realised that it was true.
Stannis Baratheon had few friends, and yet somehow a part of the populace seemed to be frantic in their support for him. No, there was something going on here.
"They are not his supporters," he gasped as he realised the hand underneath it all. And his fists balled up in rage, as he realised that this was again Melisandrei's doing.
The red haired witch shadow binder was becoming quite a problem.
"What do you mean?" Tyrion asked, as Cregan looked into those mismatched eyes, contemplating just how much should he confide in the man.
In the end, he had little choice.
"I believe that these riots are the work of the same person who caused those fires," and Tyrion raised a brow.
"The Priestess kissed by Fire," he guessed, and Cregan nodded.
"You really believe her to be responsible for this?" and he did.
"Yes, I think all of this was her doing," he asked Cregan.
"Yes. I do," and there was doubt in those eyes, yet he did not question him further.
"Well, even if this is her doing, we must act. My own father is raising a host to aide defend the capital. Still, it will take him some time to reach the capital," and even if he did, with the rioting and looting, his father could not raise levies from the city, making it nearly impossible to hold off Stannis's forces for too long.
"If Stannis captures your father or any members of the Royal family, we will be on the back foot." They were raising another host here at Harrenhall, yet it would take even them around a week to gather enough men to be able to make a difference.
"We need to support them," he realised Tyrion's suggestion, as the little lord nodded.
"Yes, we do," he agreed as Cregan ground his teeth.
"The distance between Harrenhall and Kingslanding is lesser than the one between Casterly Rock and Kingslanding. We need to gather our host at a faster pace and march towards Kingslanding at once," but that was not the only place of concern.
"But even if we manage to assemble a good host with the rioting, how will we even enter the city?" he asked, and Tyrion had no answer for that.
"The tunnels," he gasped suddenly as it clicked together.
"Yes, Maegor's tunnels." Tyrion was quick to understand his point.
"We can use them to smuggle in our armies if we need to." The tunnels did not just cover the Red Keep. No, they were spread all over the city.
"But they are too complex, and intertw...."
"Leave that to me," he said, as his mind.
"You plan to go yourself," Tyrion added as Cregan halted before answering with a nod.
"Yes," but the man's voice grew stiff as he asked.
"But what of Myrcella and the funeral?" and his mother was to be buried in two days, yet if he left to attend it, he would be unable to help his father in the Red Keep.
And then there was Myrcella, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She was young and had just lost both her father and brother to a conspiracy while she was away from them all.
He could scarcely imagine what she was going through. She had written to him in desperation, asking him to return to Riverrun to be by her side.
"You should go to Riverrun and let me go to the capital..." but Cregan shook his head, knowing that it would not work that way.
"The tunnels underneath the city are too complex. Even if I were to draw you a map, you and the men would get lost in there," and moving such a massive number of people through them was not entirely straightforward.
This was something only he could do.
"And you can navigate through them. How?" he asked, and Cregan did not answer, and Tyrion understood that.
"We are allies, Stark," he corrected, but as his lips remained sealed, the man sighed.
"Keep your secrets then," and he had no choice but to.
"I will make preparations to leave for Kingslanding...." but just then, a servant walked in, disturbing them both.
"My lords, a missive has come from Storms' End," and Tyrion frowned as Cregan simply closed his eyes as he asked.
"What does it say?" he asked.
"Renly Baratheon has declared himself the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms...."
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