Published: January 15th 2025, 4:20:21 pm
Varys gazed upon the sprawled city of King‘s Landing from the window outside the small council chambers. His calculating eyes fell on the bustling city with the satisfaction of knowing the plans so far had gone almost seamlessly. However, his plans were not without its problems.
He never imagined Robert would die in a war with the Lannisters, which would also spell the doom of Tywin Lannister. But those two events reshaped everything, forcing him to change his plans accordingly. He was forced to reach out to the Martells earlier than he envisioned. Despite the risks involved, he had to bring Aegon back to Westeros at the height of Baratheon power.
Looking back, Varys knew he gambled with many of his decisions. The Martells could’ve gone their own way and ruined his plans for Aegon, but they didn’t. Aegon’s arrival could’ve been leaked, but so far, the ruse seems to hold splendidly, thanks to Jon Connington. His involvement in Baelish’s disappearance could’ve been found out, but Littlefinger remained his prisoner, and no one was the wiser.
He also had to acknowledge that he had come to some good fortune in the last few years. The North’s rise as a behemoth of trade, militaristic and economic power had bothered him. The Starks gaining powerful magic also made him queasy and worried about the future of the realm. He knew nothing good ever came out of magic.
But somehow, the Starks ended up aligned with House Martell. He ought to thank Oberyn Martell personally once he had the chance to do the impossible by pulling the Starks and, with them, the North to their side. Then, there was the most recent war waged between the North and the Vale of Arryn. The Maesters called it the Second War Across the Water.
The Vale of Arryn was a concern to Varys, and he had feared they would swear their support for Stannis Baratheon. But the North’s choice to invade the Three Sisters kept the lords of the Vale focused on the Bite, leaving the Narrow Sea uncontested. This allowed Viserys Targaryen’s fleet to land at Dragonstone without any serious naval losses.
To his immense satisfaction, the war between the North and the Vale also kept the attention of the Riverlanders away from the south. This was paving the way for a conducive environment for Aegon’s rise.
But there were still matters at hand that he had to deal with before Aegon announced his return and his claim on the Iron Throne.
He looked sideways once he heard footsteps echoing from the stairwell leading to the small council chamber. The methodical booting on the floor and the little clanks of armour made Varys identify the man as Ser Eustace Brune, the Commander of the City Watch. His prediction was correct, and the Crownlander knight walked past him with a nod of acknowledgement before entering the chamber. The knight was followed by Lord Gulian Swann, the ageing lord of Stonehelm and the replacement of Lord Horton Redfort as the Master of Laws. Then came Lord Alestor Florent, the Hand of the King, along with the King shadowed by Ser Barristan Selmy.
If Varys had any regrets, it was his inability to dislodge Ser Barristan Selmy from Stannis Baratheon’s side.
‘It’s a shame. Ser Barristan’s presence beside Aegon would’ve lent more legitimacy to the cause.’ Varys thought as he slipped into the chamber while Ser Arys Oakheart and Balon Swann stood guard with the doors closed.
Varys slipped into his seat beside Grand Maester Gormon, who was the first to arrive in the small council chamber.
“Lord Varys brought grim tidings to my attention last night. The Targaryen fleet has landed on Dragonstone. It seems our preparations were in vain and easily overcome by the Targaryen fleet.” Lord Alester informed the council.
“How is this possible? I thought Lord Redwyne made arrangements before he departed for the Arbour?” Ser Eustace said with surprise.
“And those arrangements have failed miserably without Paxtor to lead the men.” Lord Alester grumbled with a frown.
“You were right to warn us about the danger of the Targaryen fleet even though they’re mostly petty pirates.” said Stannis, nodding at Varys. “What can you tell us about the enemy, Lord Varys?”
“As I have previously informed his grace, the Targaryen fleet comprises Myrish and Pentoshi sellsails hired by Viserys Targaryen. This leaves them leaderless, but the presence of Euron Greyjoy has changed the very nature of this fleet. The weakness his grace sought to exploit is diminishing each day as Euron consolidates his influence within the fleet.” Varys explained truthfully.
He had no qualms about speaking truth occasionally so long as his plans were not disturbed.
“How did Euron Greyjopy come into service of Viserys Targaryen? I thought he was making a nuisance of himself in the Stepstones after King Robert broke the backs of the Ironborn.” Lord Gulian said, leaning forward in his seat with interest.
“What does it matter why that Ironborn scum chose to throw his lot with the Beggar King?” Lord Alestor snorted dismissively. “We must focus our efforts on purging these pirates from our shores and put an end to House Targaryen. Their existence is a challenge to his grace’s rightful reign.”
“It matters to know why someone like Eurpon Greyjoy joined the Targaryens in this ridiculous venture doomed to fail, Lord Hand. Greyjoy is not an idiot. He must’ve got an ulterior motive.” said Lord Gulian, pretending Lord Florent hadn’t even spoken.
Varys looked between the two, and he could already see the deeply entrenched rivalries between a Stormlander and a Reacheman flaring up within the small council. He decided to pour some oil into the ember that was flaring up.
“Lord Swann is right, Lord Hand. A man like Euron Greyjoy is not interested in mere spoils of war or is beholden to oaths to serve Viserys Targaryen. The man has his own ambitions. His grace knows this better than anyone else.” Varys said, looking diferentially at the king sitting at the head of the table.
“Do you suspect we can turn Euron Greyjoy against the Targaryens?” Grand Maester Gormon asked curiously.
“It’s obvious what he wants. If we can turn Greyjoy to our side, it’ll be a small price to give him some tactic support to reclaim the Iron Islands. It’ll keep the Ironborn in perpetual conflict for another decade.” Lord Gulian said with an oily smile.
No one in the small council chamber spoke against sowing more chaos in the Iron Islands. There was no love lost for the Ironborn in the council, and everyone was disinterested in what happened in those islands so long as the Ironborn were not raiding the mainland.
“If everyone is in agreement, I charge Lord Varys to make the necessary preparations to contact Euron Greyjoy. Let’s see what he wants in return for delivering us the dragons.” Stannis said with finality.
Varys nodded, and the discussion turned to the castle garrison's ability to hold out against a siege. The Dragonstone castle was considered impenetrable so long as everyone inside remained true. The castle had never fallen to a siege, even at the height of the Dance of Dragons. The castle's positioning against the Dragonmont made it an impenetrable stronghold, with narrow passes leading to its entrances and high walls guarding the castle.
A siege would only sap the enemy's strength, so he paved the way for Viserys Targaryen to invade. It was also why Stannis pulled back most of the Royal Fleet to King’s Landing. Stannis wanted the island to turn into a giant trap for the Targaryens. Varys was all too happy at the entire event as it was a huge distraction while Aegon made his move from further south.
Varys tapped his hands against the table and listened closely as the conversation shifted towards the sole man in the chamber, who was not part of the small council. All attention shifted to the commander of the City Watch, Ser Eustace Brune, about matters relating to the peace in the city. The pockets of conflict within the city where the elements of the Faith were making a ruckus were identified. These places were placed under heavy scrutiny by the City Watch, and any troublemakers trying to incite the masses were promptly identified and thrown out of the city.
It was no easy work, and Varys tried his best to keep the conflict going from the shadows as long as possible. But even he had to admit his efforts were now largely ineffective as Ser Brune had established total control over the city. The City Watch was now expanded with an influx of knights and squires from the Stormlands and the Crownlands. The swelled numbers of the City Watch and decisive action from Stannis Baratheon yielded results that kept the peace within the city walls.
When Ser Brune was finally dismissed from the small council chambers, Lord Alestor brought up a crucial issue.
“The small council is smaller than it used to be. We need these positions filled with Lord Paxtor not responding to our ravens and Lord Redfort preferring to remain in the Vale.”
Varys discreetly eyed the Hand, and the King as names were considered for the position of Master of Coin. Many names were considered from the North and the Riverlands, but anyone from those two regions was not to Varys’ interests. So, he had a suggestion of his own.
“How about Lord Renly?”
Silence greeted his suggestion from the council as they grappled with the fact that he suggested the name of the king’s younger brother.
“Lord Renly is the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and he is rather… young.” Grand Maester Gormon said slowly, taking care not to cause any offence.
“Yes, Lord Renly is young, but this is how he gains experience. The arrival of Targaryens demands his grace’s house stand united, and this is a good opportunity for him to grow into a responsible figure within the court.” Varys said with a simpering smile.
“I agree. Lord Renly must become more aware of the court. In the future, he could provide valuable support to Prince Steffon when he ascends the throne.” Ser Barristan also chimed in, breaking his silence.
Varys couldn’t have said it any better, but he saw the way Stannis was frowning.
“Fine!” Stannis said with his jaws locked in. “Send a raven to Storm’s End summoning my brother. He’ll serve as the Master of Coin.”
“Then what about the position of Master of Ships? Perhaps, some of the Narrow Sea lords could be…” Lord Alestor started but was forced to stop when the King stood up from his seat.
“I already have a Master of Ships. He is working with the captains and other officers of the Royal Fleet as we speak. I shall make it official in the next meeting.” said Stannis.
No one said a word against the King, and Varys had suspicions about who the new Master of Ships was. If his suspicions were right, it made his work much easier. The one thing prideful lords of the Seven Kingdoms could not tolerate was someone with a less illustrious bloodline rising high in the ranks. Granting the Master of Ships to a smuggler turned knight would be the right kind of insult the Narrow Sea lords won’t tolerate.
‘I hope House Velaryon will be ready to serve the true king.’ Varys thought with glee.
In one day, he removed Renly Baratheon from Storm’s End, giving Aegon a chance to bring chaos to the Stormlands. He also launched a plan to bring the Narrow Sea lords to the fold, starting with House Velaryon. It was a nice day in his books.
******
The morning air was thick with mist as it clung to the ancient stones of Moat Cailin. The former swampy ground surrounding the castle walls was now fertile land where wheat and all the major crops grew in abundance. A system of canals drew water from the Fever River, watering the lands for farming. Any leftover water was drained away, and those canal systems were used to prevent floods during heavy rains.
The rebuilt towers stood firm against the horizon, their white stone glistening in the weak northern sunlight. The ten towers of the castle were restored to their former glory. The walls were as high as the ones in Winterfell. A moat surrounded the castle and connected to the Fever River with an intricate gate system that allowed small rafts to sail downstream. Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North stood upon the highest parapet, gazing out over the gathering of banners below.
From the Kingsroad stretched north, more of the lords of the North were arriving in the halls of the restored Moat Cailin for a feast. It was a feast unlike any other, and he suspected his ancestors would be so proud of this moment. He had to admit he had reservations about some of the events that led to this moment, but now… he could see the necessity of it all. He could also see the jubilation on the faces of his fellow Northern lords.
They had come, as he had bid them, the lords and bannermen of the North. Banners fluttered in the breeze. The direwolf of House Stark, the merman of House Manderly, the flayed man of House Bolton, and countless others arrayed on the ground inside the walls of Moat Cailin. The sea of sigils painted the encampment with vibrant colours.
Ned adjusted the weight of his fur cloak and turned to Maester Luwin, who stood by his side.
"Have all the lords arrived?"
"Yes, my lord," Luwin replied, his grey robes rippling in the wind. "Lord Umber was the last to arrive, delayed by heavy rains."
"Good.” Ned nodded, “Ensure they are fed and given rest.”
“Yes, my lord.” Luwin nodded before retreating.
Descending the tower, he moved through the castle’s halls, the ancient stones resonating with the murmur of voices and the clatter of servants rushing to make preparations for the feast. Ned ascended the stone steps to the keep, his hand trailing along the newly hewn rail. The craftsmanship was impeccable, the touch of artisans who had poured their souls into restoring the stronghold.
The Great Hall awaited him, a space both familiar and unfamiliar. The massive hearth dominated the hall, its flames licking high, casting warmth and light across the hall. Above the dais hung a tapestry of the North, its threads vibrant and new, yet its imagery steeped in tradition. The Stark direwolf stood prominent where Winterfell was supposed to be, flanked by weirwood trees and the jagged peaks of the Northern Mountains. Painted glass covered parts of the hall, letting in different coloured lights into the hall.
Ned’s footsteps echoed as he entered. The weight of the place settled upon him, and he couldn’t help but think of the generations that had come before. How many lords of the North had stood here, their fates intertwined with the stones beneath his feet? The Winter Kings of the past had gathered their hosts here to stand as a bulwark against southern invaders. He thought of Harrion, his son, whose banner now flew here, whose vision of a grander, expanded North had been the spark to breathe new life into Moat Cailin.
Harrion entered behind him, his expression one of quiet contemplation as he joined Ned gazing at the castle.
“It’s as if it never fell,” Harrion said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ned shook his head.
“And yet we must remember that it did,” Ned replied, his tone heavy. “Restoration does not erase history. It honours it, but the scars remain.”
“There are no scars here, father.”
“There are, and it would’ve continued to fester if it wasn’t for you, my son. Like the Starks before me, I was unable to comprehend the need to restore this relic.” Ned breathed out as his palm rested on the smooth stone sculpture of a direwolf against a pillar in the hall.
“There were other matters that took their priority, like surviving the winter and making sure our people don’t starve to death.” Harrion said.
“The North remembers – tis an old saying. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” Ned said with a wistful look.
“I have.” Harrion nodded.
“The truth is that we have forgotten so much. I was not ready to take up the lordship of Winterfell, and I’d never even thought of restoring Winterfell and Moat Cailin. My plan was only to preserve what I inherited from my father and brother.” Ned admitted, smiling at the massive castle around him with satisfaction.
“But now, look at this all. This wouldn’t have happened without you and your brothers.”
“I suppose there is some truth in that.” Harrion said modestly.
“Anyway, with the lords of the Three Sisters swearing their allegiance to the North, we’ll be poised to regain our dominance in the Narrow Sea. This will be the time to purge all pirate activities that stretch all the way to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.” Eddard mused aloud.
He had some concerns regarding such a move, but Lord Manderly assured him the Sistermen would cooperate without any trouble. As he understood it, some of the major ports in the Three Sisters were leased to the North for the next hundred years. The Sistermen were now sworn to Hose Manderly in perpetuity. A marriage alliance between House Manderly and House Sunderland was also negotiated to strengthen this newfound accession of the islands into the North. The eldest son of Lord Triston Sunderland was set to marry a Manderly woman. Similarly, the rest of the young heirs of the islands were marrying from the North. Their daughters were also to be married off to fine Northmen, thereby strengthening the bonds of blood.
It was, without a doubt, a solid peace between the Northerners and the Sistermen. However, Ned was not ignorant that this peace could unravel the good relationship he enjoyed with the Vale. It was truly a shame, but he tried his best to accommodate the Vale and delayed any action against the Sitermen to the best of his ability. If there were to be a breakdown of their relations going forward, then the sole responsibility falls on House Arryn.
'I have done what is best for the North. The rest is the will of the gods.' Ned mused as he went ahead to welcome guests into the renewed castle.