Chapter 1, Part 1
I couldn't move, let alone breathe. The ceiling is drab and gray, simple...
I couldn't move, let alone breathe. The ceiling is drab and gray, simple...
A Warlock in King's Landing [GoT SI]
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C1P2(1)
Tabi
Expert Jissou Abuser
Chapter 1, Part 1
I couldn't move, let alone breathe. The ceiling is drab and gray, simple stone. A face looms over me, a pallid face that hasn't seen enough sun, with eyes and lips blue from the vile drink.
"Time for your evening dose, my dear boy," says the man with a thin smile. Three very thin bony fingers dragged my head up and a small cup of dark blue liquid was pushed against my lips.
"Drink."
I didn't want to. I hated it. But almost against my will, I could feel my mouth water.
My mouth parted slightly and I began sipping the cup of Shade of the Evening. It tasted like ink, bitter and rotten for just a moment.
The moment passed and it felt like fire was coursing down my throat, spreading like roots of a great plant. The taste of cherry and chocolate washed down my tongue, the sweet and sour of a finely cooked porkchop, the taste of fresh bread spiced with honey and allspice.
All too soon, it faded away.
The cup was empty, and I almost broke my bindings to take that last drop of the foul drink.
The warlock took the cup away with a wide horrible smile that revealed his yellowed and aged teeth. "Liked that did you? Every evening, remember that boy. Every evening, you will get to taste it, drink it like fine wine. Every warlock does. Soon, you will too."
The magic that bound me was released and I fell back onto the wooden bed I laid on.
"Now...the lessons for today."
I tensed and risked a glance up.
The thin warlock held a knife in one hand, and an ancient book made of leathery bindings that I knew was skin of newborn babies.
"Hold out your hand, boy." Said the warlock maliciously. "I will need your blood."
Swallowing, I held out my hand and tried to force the trembling to stop.
The warlock cut my hand and let the blood flow. It dripped onto the grimy floor, pooling into a perfect circle.
"Now...cast aside your ears and eyes. Hear and see the truths laid before you!"
Unwillingly, I obeyed. I recoiled from what I saw, tried to muffle what I heard. The warlock forced my hands away with his cold dead hands and shouted at me in a joyful language I could not understand. My mind was on fire, eyes saw and my ears heard.
There was nothing I could do, but-
-
"Wake up!" The loud banging on the door broke my dream and brought me back to the land of the waking.
The hoarse voice on the other side of the door spoke again, more harshly than before. "Wake up! We're about to make port!"
I laid there, in the cot for however long, eyes closed and hands clenching on the thin little blanket that served as my pathetic defense against the cold and night. Fleeting images, memories of my time in the House of the Undying, began to fade with the dream. The smile of my tormentor was enough to force my eyes to open and my covers to be thrown aside.
Three miserable weeks on the ship Illyrio had sent me to travel on, with a crate holding some sort of sniffling animal. He was kind enough to provide me with clothes, shoes, and a small cutting of the Deathly Hallows, whose blue leaves I use to brew a thinner and less foul Shade of the Evening that I drunk as tea.
Pity sugar makes it useless.
As I left my spartan room and head up to the deck, I squint against the bright daylight. Even as far as we were from port, King's Landing was a sight to behold. The Red Keep sat atop the peninsula, apart from the rest of the city, with walls extending down to surround the entire city from one massive cliff to another.
"You look dead on your feet, lad."
I turn and find a bowl of fish stew and hardtack thrust into my hands. The captain, a sharp thin man with a mane of gray hair squinted at me. "Eat up. This'll be the last meal you'll get aboard this ship. I want you off my ship as soon as we dock. You hear me?"
Nodding wordlessly, the captain nodded back at me, eyes falling on my lips. "And hide those lips of yours. I don't my reputation blackened for transporting a warlock, no matter what the Magister says."
Again, I nod, and began painting my lips. I could use illusions, but not on a small scale, I couldn't get that down even under the harsh tutelage of the Warlocks in Qarth.
My lips turned pinkish peach to properly match my face, and the captain nodded in approval before returning to tending his vessel.
It was a hard argument, I mused, breaking the hardtack into pieces to mop up the stew. Convincing Illyrio Mopatis was a task I did not relish. But I delivered the sorcerer with some difficulty, one of the many Undying I hated, to him and it was a bargain struck.
Safe haven away from the Warlocks of Qarth, to a friend in Westeros who could provide me with a job that would suit my talents.
We made port and soon I found myself off the ship and waiting for someone to deliver me and my cargo to this mysterious benefactor of mine. Following the instructions Illyrio gave me, I became transparent and then, eventually, invisible.
Eyes slid from the unmarked crate and past me, as if I never existed.
A man in a golden cloak approached the crate, along with a band of muscle bound men who carried it. I followed wordlessly as they led me through the winding (and terribly stinky) streets up to the Red Keep.
Several times, I nearly lose sight of them, but each time I manage to catch up.
We went up through several flights of stairs before stopping at large door which the crate was eased through. A pudgy man in golden robes with a bald head and a fawning expression smiled at the goldcloaked man, handing him something.
I slip through, unnoticed by the Goldcloak and his muscleheads.
The slightly rotund man turned as he closed the door and bolted it, it was then I got a good look at his face.
This was Varys, Master of Whisperers, the mysterious friend of Illyrios that he told me of.
As per his instructions, I revealed myself from my cloak of invisibility, kneeling on one knee, a sealed scroll extended towards him in both hands as I knelt in supplication.
Little did I know I had just set off a train of events that would forever alter the world on a very minor level.
AN: Many thanks to @Xeno Major for his help in betaing this.
I couldn't move, let alone breathe. The ceiling is drab and gray, simple stone. A face looms over me, a pallid face that hasn't seen enough sun, with eyes and lips blue from the vile drink.
"Time for your evening dose, my dear boy," says the man with a thin smile. Three very thin bony fingers dragged my head up and a small cup of dark blue liquid was pushed against my lips.
"Drink."
I didn't want to. I hated it. But almost against my will, I could feel my mouth water.
My mouth parted slightly and I began sipping the cup of Shade of the Evening. It tasted like ink, bitter and rotten for just a moment.
The moment passed and it felt like fire was coursing down my throat, spreading like roots of a great plant. The taste of cherry and chocolate washed down my tongue, the sweet and sour of a finely cooked porkchop, the taste of fresh bread spiced with honey and allspice.
All too soon, it faded away.
The cup was empty, and I almost broke my bindings to take that last drop of the foul drink.
The warlock took the cup away with a wide horrible smile that revealed his yellowed and aged teeth. "Liked that did you? Every evening, remember that boy. Every evening, you will get to taste it, drink it like fine wine. Every warlock does. Soon, you will too."
The magic that bound me was released and I fell back onto the wooden bed I laid on.
"Now...the lessons for today."
I tensed and risked a glance up.
The thin warlock held a knife in one hand, and an ancient book made of leathery bindings that I knew was skin of newborn babies.
"Hold out your hand, boy." Said the warlock maliciously. "I will need your blood."
Swallowing, I held out my hand and tried to force the trembling to stop.
The warlock cut my hand and let the blood flow. It dripped onto the grimy floor, pooling into a perfect circle.
"Now...cast aside your ears and eyes. Hear and see the truths laid before you!"
Unwillingly, I obeyed. I recoiled from what I saw, tried to muffle what I heard. The warlock forced my hands away with his cold dead hands and shouted at me in a joyful language I could not understand. My mind was on fire, eyes saw and my ears heard.
There was nothing I could do, but-
-
"Wake up!" The loud banging on the door broke my dream and brought me back to the land of the waking.
The hoarse voice on the other side of the door spoke again, more harshly than before. "Wake up! We're about to make port!"
I laid there, in the cot for however long, eyes closed and hands clenching on the thin little blanket that served as my pathetic defense against the cold and night. Fleeting images, memories of my time in the House of the Undying, began to fade with the dream. The smile of my tormentor was enough to force my eyes to open and my covers to be thrown aside.
Three miserable weeks on the ship Illyrio had sent me to travel on, with a crate holding some sort of sniffling animal. He was kind enough to provide me with clothes, shoes, and a small cutting of the Deathly Hallows, whose blue leaves I use to brew a thinner and less foul Shade of the Evening that I drunk as tea.
Pity sugar makes it useless.
As I left my spartan room and head up to the deck, I squint against the bright daylight. Even as far as we were from port, King's Landing was a sight to behold. The Red Keep sat atop the peninsula, apart from the rest of the city, with walls extending down to surround the entire city from one massive cliff to another.
"You look dead on your feet, lad."
I turn and find a bowl of fish stew and hardtack thrust into my hands. The captain, a sharp thin man with a mane of gray hair squinted at me. "Eat up. This'll be the last meal you'll get aboard this ship. I want you off my ship as soon as we dock. You hear me?"
Nodding wordlessly, the captain nodded back at me, eyes falling on my lips. "And hide those lips of yours. I don't my reputation blackened for transporting a warlock, no matter what the Magister says."
Again, I nod, and began painting my lips. I could use illusions, but not on a small scale, I couldn't get that down even under the harsh tutelage of the Warlocks in Qarth.
My lips turned pinkish peach to properly match my face, and the captain nodded in approval before returning to tending his vessel.
It was a hard argument, I mused, breaking the hardtack into pieces to mop up the stew. Convincing Illyrio Mopatis was a task I did not relish. But I delivered the sorcerer with some difficulty, one of the many Undying I hated, to him and it was a bargain struck.
Safe haven away from the Warlocks of Qarth, to a friend in Westeros who could provide me with a job that would suit my talents.
We made port and soon I found myself off the ship and waiting for someone to deliver me and my cargo to this mysterious benefactor of mine. Following the instructions Illyrio gave me, I became transparent and then, eventually, invisible.
Eyes slid from the unmarked crate and past me, as if I never existed.
A man in a golden cloak approached the crate, along with a band of muscle bound men who carried it. I followed wordlessly as they led me through the winding (and terribly stinky) streets up to the Red Keep.
Several times, I nearly lose sight of them, but each time I manage to catch up.
We went up through several flights of stairs before stopping at large door which the crate was eased through. A pudgy man in golden robes with a bald head and a fawning expression smiled at the goldcloaked man, handing him something.
I slip through, unnoticed by the Goldcloak and his muscleheads.
The slightly rotund man turned as he closed the door and bolted it, it was then I got a good look at his face.
This was Varys, Master of Whisperers, the mysterious friend of Illyrios that he told me of.
As per his instructions, I revealed myself from my cloak of invisibility, kneeling on one knee, a sealed scroll extended towards him in both hands as I knelt in supplication.
Little did I know I had just set off a train of events that would forever alter the world on a very minor level.
AN: Many thanks to @Xeno Major for his help in betaing this.
Last edited:
C1P2(2)
Tabi
Expert Jissou Abuser
Chapter 1, Part 2
Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish's office is a place filled with cushions, red colors of varying shades, gold gild ornaments, and dark brown of wooden bookcase.
The Spider had me working like a cheap whore, slipping unnoticed into the brothels with a spell to make the mundane ignore me for the most part. It was from there, I made my way up and into the office of the owner of the brothel.
The ledgers were my primary target, to find Littlefinger's real source of finances and where the King's debt ends and the Master of Coin's personal fortune laid.
In truth, I didn't know how to tell money ledgers from notes on the transactions between traders. But I could read Common, which was enough. Baelish owned every single brothel in King's Landing, which brought him a great deal of gold dragons and silver stags.
Yes, there were other brothels he did not own, but he certainly owned the people who ran them. From the brothels, he gave services to the docks, where the dockworkers and traders get discounts in return for the odd package to be delivered elsewhere long their journey across the Narrow Sea.
What was more he, or rather through the crown, made sure they owed-
The door creaked and I quickly returned the page to it's original position.
Littlefinger entered the room, carrying a book in hand and paused. His eyes swept the office, from the cushions of the couch, the bookcases, the carpeted floor, and finally to his desk.
Closing the door, the Master of Coin walked slowly to his desk and carefully inspected the contents. Judging from his expression, he was idly wondering about something.
Touching the ledger I had been previously leafing through; he turned his head this way and that as though looking for spies.
Spies like me.
Finally, he looked up at the rafters, into my eyes.
I swallowed slightly as Littlefinger raked my body with his eyes before dismissing whatever crossed his mind.
Opening the book, he began inking his quill and working.
All the while, cloaked in invisibility and straining to hold myself up between the rafters with both hands, feet, and a little bit of magic, I watched him.
Several times, Baelish looked around in unease, as though he could sense my eyes watching him.
I remained in the rafters, trying to breathe softly and hold myself aloft.
The day became night as the evening began to settle in. The beginnings of a migraine was forming in my head, but I ignored it as the man pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began writing a letter.
Judging by the smirk on his face, I just knew that this piece of parchment was valuable information indeed! Unfortunately for me, I inhaled a little more dust in my excitement and a sneeze threatened to rip through my throat. Combined with the painful cramps my arms were giving me, it was a moment of weakness that threatened to reveal me.
As I strained to hold myself straight and swallow the sneeze, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," says Baelish dryly as he inked his quill again.
A redhaired whore thrusted her head through the opening of the door, lips pursed. "We've got trouble on the second floor. One of the clients is getting violent and he's holding a girl hostage."
"Oh blast it all," he sighs as he quickly walked across the room and through the door, locking it securely behind him.
As soon as he left, I sneezed into the crook of my shoulder and let myself appear by Baelish's desk. My passing shook the papers slightly but I leaned over his books again, memorizing what I could. The letter in particular was interesting.
It was written in valyarian, addressed to a man in Slaver's Bay. I listened for approaching footsteps and memorized the highlights of the letter and let myself disappear even as the sound of fighting on the floor below me began to subside.
-
Varys was tucking into a light dinner as I crawled through his window, wheezing and gasping.
As I dropped to the floor and massaged my temples, he gave me a bemused glance. "Eventual day, I take it?"
"Fucking whores," I growled.
"That would, I believe, be the point," he said with a simper. He nodded to a table, where my beloved Deathly Hallow sat in it's pot. A cup of tea steamed lightly in the air. I took the cup and sipped it, feeling the migraine fade away.
The spider gave me a moment to compose myself before giving me a raised eyebrow.
"Littlefinger is borrowing millions of dragons from the Iron Bank in the name of the crown, at least ten million, interest not included," I said immediately.
"And given his... prolific business investments... can one assume that his personal finances are untouched?"
"Pretty much, yeah. From what I can tell, he has well over three million in various caches around King's Landing," I sipped Shade of the Evening and savored the feeling as my frayed nerves were calmed. "More all around the Seven Kingdoms."
"And you know where these caches are? Or are you merely speculating?" Asked Varys pointedly.
"One or two, for sure. Another three I can speculate on." I did have a reason for being so filthy, after all. "Found one, I am sure there is another nearby in the west catacombs."
Varys folded his hands on the table, "Hm. However did he manage it? Presumably, one would notice ship filled with nothing but gold sailing away - if only to take a bigger bribe."
"Of that, I'm unsure, my lord," I said automatically, recoiling reflexively away from him.
To my surprise, the little fat spider's eyes softened slightly and he motioned towards a cushion opposite of him. "Well, allow me to educate you, then. Sit down. No, no, brush the dust off first. I hardly want that on my cushions."
"If one cannot hide gold, then what else is valuable? Books? Food? Wines? Or perhaps something more basic, like swords and shields?" Said Varys, inquisitively, eyes on me. "King's Landing is known for it's blacksmiths, after all."
A lightbulb came to life in my mind and blinked in surprise.
"Investments."
Varys nodded approvingly as I frowned. "He's making investments abroad, then."
"Buying swords, armors, shields, helms for small change, then selling them elsewhere, for much greater profit."
"Well done. That does seem most likely…" His voice became lighter as he paused in his sentence, "particularly given the recent political... shifts."
I told him about the letter in valyrian, meant for the eyes of a slaver in Essos. Varys nodded and changed the subject.
"Tell me, what do you think of Baelish's businesses?" Asked the spider lightly, as he poured tea (ceylon leaves of exceptionally high quality) for the both of us. "Do you think of them as useful investments? Particularly for one of his wealth?"
I sipped my tea, considering the question.
"Yes and no, I don't believe it is merely for his wealth. Wealth is just a means to an end. A tool."
"The brothels, for instance. He owns all of them. Every single one," my voice was becoming slightly more excited as I told the bemused Spider my speculations. "Nobles, smallfolk, knights, City Watch, even some of the Kingsguard frequent them. The whores there can easily weasel out information, tidbits and pieces for him to puzzle together. Influence is what comes of his investments. Wealth is just a nice bonus."
"But money is a most powerful means. Information is valuable, but combined with gold, it becomes unstoppable," Varys said with a pointed glance. I looked down slightly as he continued. "A man with a righteous cause and information on his enemies can still lose to a sellsword who knows nothing but his next payment."
"And a million gold dragons buys quite a lot of sellswords." Varys smiled. "What then, of his motivations?"
"Why does Baelish seek such wealth?"
I shrugged. "...Because he can."
"Because wealth is a means to get more of what he wants. He wants everything. He wants influence over the nobles, the smallfolks, the soldiers. He wants to be the power behind the throne. Behind the realm."
I frowned and stared at Varys. "He doesn't want to replace you. Not really. He just...wants it all. He wants to be on the throne. He won't be stopped, not by you, not by anyone. He'll rule this place or see it burnt to ashes around him."
"It's a dream, an impossible dream," I breathed, "but he wants it nonetheless"
After a moment, Varys nodded. "...An apt summary, if there ever was such a thing." He smiled again. Seeing him smile like that sent chills down my spine.
"How would you like to test that summary?" Asked Varys pleasantly.
I felt myself stiffen and asked, hoping against the odds. "...How do you mean?"
"In person, as it were."
"He'll suspect," the words came out of my mouth as soon as he confirmed my fears.
Varys raised an eyebrow. "Will he?"
"He is a sharp man, Littlefinger knew he wasn't alone when I hid from his sight within his office. The...Warlocks of Qarth have a reputation."
He sighed, "And there is nothing you could do to... disguise yourself?"
"Is that not what his whores do?"
That threw me off balance. Did he just compare me to a whore? "...I...beg your pardon?"
"Do they not paint their lips?" Said Varys raising an eyebrow.
"...well...yes."
Varys had the smuggest little smile on his face.
"...I see your point, my lord," I said with a sigh, nodding to the obvious solution.
"I have often found that the simplest of answers is the one most often overlooked," twittered Varys as he began washing his hands in a basin. "Keep that in mind tomorrow, for I fear you shall need all your wits in the Red Keep."
Well, that didn't bold well.
"I expect it will be an interesting day, my lord."
"Oh, the Small Council always is. One must simply find the interesting parts. Good night. I will see you in the Throne Room, tomorrow morning." He smiled again, and I felt a chill crawl down my spine.
"Er...my lord? Where will I find shelter? I do not have coin, nor do I know my way around King's Landing as well as I would like."
"You managed to do quite well for yourself earlier. I suggest you simply repeat your previous task."
Again, shut down without a fight! I felt like an idiot. I bowed my head. "...of course, my lord."
As he turned away, my mind finally parsed his words earlier. "But...how will I get to the Throne Room, or stay within it, without the guards simply arresting me on sight?"
He smiled that smug grin again that I dearly wished to remove, raising his eyebrows in clear challenge. "I suppose that will be most interesting, won't it?"
I sighed, and grinned tiredly. "You're a cruel man, Lord Varys."
"I should hope not. There are cruel men enough for this city." Murmured the Master of Whispers. "Good night."
I nodded. "Good night, my lord."
As soon as he blinked, I was gone. I left my cutting of Deathly Hallow with him, as a sign of trust in our partnership. I did, after all pass his test.
With a disapproving stare at the spot I had vacated, Varys prepared for bed. As he laid down and covered himself with a blanket, the Spider knew that the next day would be most entertaining.
Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish's office is a place filled with cushions, red colors of varying shades, gold gild ornaments, and dark brown of wooden bookcase.
The Spider had me working like a cheap whore, slipping unnoticed into the brothels with a spell to make the mundane ignore me for the most part. It was from there, I made my way up and into the office of the owner of the brothel.
The ledgers were my primary target, to find Littlefinger's real source of finances and where the King's debt ends and the Master of Coin's personal fortune laid.
In truth, I didn't know how to tell money ledgers from notes on the transactions between traders. But I could read Common, which was enough. Baelish owned every single brothel in King's Landing, which brought him a great deal of gold dragons and silver stags.
Yes, there were other brothels he did not own, but he certainly owned the people who ran them. From the brothels, he gave services to the docks, where the dockworkers and traders get discounts in return for the odd package to be delivered elsewhere long their journey across the Narrow Sea.
What was more he, or rather through the crown, made sure they owed-
The door creaked and I quickly returned the page to it's original position.
Littlefinger entered the room, carrying a book in hand and paused. His eyes swept the office, from the cushions of the couch, the bookcases, the carpeted floor, and finally to his desk.
Closing the door, the Master of Coin walked slowly to his desk and carefully inspected the contents. Judging from his expression, he was idly wondering about something.
Touching the ledger I had been previously leafing through; he turned his head this way and that as though looking for spies.
Spies like me.
Finally, he looked up at the rafters, into my eyes.
I swallowed slightly as Littlefinger raked my body with his eyes before dismissing whatever crossed his mind.
Opening the book, he began inking his quill and working.
All the while, cloaked in invisibility and straining to hold myself up between the rafters with both hands, feet, and a little bit of magic, I watched him.
Several times, Baelish looked around in unease, as though he could sense my eyes watching him.
I remained in the rafters, trying to breathe softly and hold myself aloft.
The day became night as the evening began to settle in. The beginnings of a migraine was forming in my head, but I ignored it as the man pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began writing a letter.
Judging by the smirk on his face, I just knew that this piece of parchment was valuable information indeed! Unfortunately for me, I inhaled a little more dust in my excitement and a sneeze threatened to rip through my throat. Combined with the painful cramps my arms were giving me, it was a moment of weakness that threatened to reveal me.
As I strained to hold myself straight and swallow the sneeze, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," says Baelish dryly as he inked his quill again.
A redhaired whore thrusted her head through the opening of the door, lips pursed. "We've got trouble on the second floor. One of the clients is getting violent and he's holding a girl hostage."
"Oh blast it all," he sighs as he quickly walked across the room and through the door, locking it securely behind him.
As soon as he left, I sneezed into the crook of my shoulder and let myself appear by Baelish's desk. My passing shook the papers slightly but I leaned over his books again, memorizing what I could. The letter in particular was interesting.
It was written in valyarian, addressed to a man in Slaver's Bay. I listened for approaching footsteps and memorized the highlights of the letter and let myself disappear even as the sound of fighting on the floor below me began to subside.
-
Varys was tucking into a light dinner as I crawled through his window, wheezing and gasping.
As I dropped to the floor and massaged my temples, he gave me a bemused glance. "Eventual day, I take it?"
"Fucking whores," I growled.
"That would, I believe, be the point," he said with a simper. He nodded to a table, where my beloved Deathly Hallow sat in it's pot. A cup of tea steamed lightly in the air. I took the cup and sipped it, feeling the migraine fade away.
The spider gave me a moment to compose myself before giving me a raised eyebrow.
"Littlefinger is borrowing millions of dragons from the Iron Bank in the name of the crown, at least ten million, interest not included," I said immediately.
"And given his... prolific business investments... can one assume that his personal finances are untouched?"
"Pretty much, yeah. From what I can tell, he has well over three million in various caches around King's Landing," I sipped Shade of the Evening and savored the feeling as my frayed nerves were calmed. "More all around the Seven Kingdoms."
"And you know where these caches are? Or are you merely speculating?" Asked Varys pointedly.
"One or two, for sure. Another three I can speculate on." I did have a reason for being so filthy, after all. "Found one, I am sure there is another nearby in the west catacombs."
Varys folded his hands on the table, "Hm. However did he manage it? Presumably, one would notice ship filled with nothing but gold sailing away - if only to take a bigger bribe."
"Of that, I'm unsure, my lord," I said automatically, recoiling reflexively away from him.
To my surprise, the little fat spider's eyes softened slightly and he motioned towards a cushion opposite of him. "Well, allow me to educate you, then. Sit down. No, no, brush the dust off first. I hardly want that on my cushions."
"If one cannot hide gold, then what else is valuable? Books? Food? Wines? Or perhaps something more basic, like swords and shields?" Said Varys, inquisitively, eyes on me. "King's Landing is known for it's blacksmiths, after all."
A lightbulb came to life in my mind and blinked in surprise.
"Investments."
Varys nodded approvingly as I frowned. "He's making investments abroad, then."
"Buying swords, armors, shields, helms for small change, then selling them elsewhere, for much greater profit."
"Well done. That does seem most likely…" His voice became lighter as he paused in his sentence, "particularly given the recent political... shifts."
I told him about the letter in valyrian, meant for the eyes of a slaver in Essos. Varys nodded and changed the subject.
"Tell me, what do you think of Baelish's businesses?" Asked the spider lightly, as he poured tea (ceylon leaves of exceptionally high quality) for the both of us. "Do you think of them as useful investments? Particularly for one of his wealth?"
I sipped my tea, considering the question.
"Yes and no, I don't believe it is merely for his wealth. Wealth is just a means to an end. A tool."
"The brothels, for instance. He owns all of them. Every single one," my voice was becoming slightly more excited as I told the bemused Spider my speculations. "Nobles, smallfolk, knights, City Watch, even some of the Kingsguard frequent them. The whores there can easily weasel out information, tidbits and pieces for him to puzzle together. Influence is what comes of his investments. Wealth is just a nice bonus."
"But money is a most powerful means. Information is valuable, but combined with gold, it becomes unstoppable," Varys said with a pointed glance. I looked down slightly as he continued. "A man with a righteous cause and information on his enemies can still lose to a sellsword who knows nothing but his next payment."
"And a million gold dragons buys quite a lot of sellswords." Varys smiled. "What then, of his motivations?"
"Why does Baelish seek such wealth?"
I shrugged. "...Because he can."
"Because wealth is a means to get more of what he wants. He wants everything. He wants influence over the nobles, the smallfolks, the soldiers. He wants to be the power behind the throne. Behind the realm."
I frowned and stared at Varys. "He doesn't want to replace you. Not really. He just...wants it all. He wants to be on the throne. He won't be stopped, not by you, not by anyone. He'll rule this place or see it burnt to ashes around him."
"It's a dream, an impossible dream," I breathed, "but he wants it nonetheless"
After a moment, Varys nodded. "...An apt summary, if there ever was such a thing." He smiled again. Seeing him smile like that sent chills down my spine.
"How would you like to test that summary?" Asked Varys pleasantly.
I felt myself stiffen and asked, hoping against the odds. "...How do you mean?"
"In person, as it were."
"He'll suspect," the words came out of my mouth as soon as he confirmed my fears.
Varys raised an eyebrow. "Will he?"
"He is a sharp man, Littlefinger knew he wasn't alone when I hid from his sight within his office. The...Warlocks of Qarth have a reputation."
He sighed, "And there is nothing you could do to... disguise yourself?"
"Is that not what his whores do?"
That threw me off balance. Did he just compare me to a whore? "...I...beg your pardon?"
"Do they not paint their lips?" Said Varys raising an eyebrow.
"...well...yes."
Varys had the smuggest little smile on his face.
"...I see your point, my lord," I said with a sigh, nodding to the obvious solution.
"I have often found that the simplest of answers is the one most often overlooked," twittered Varys as he began washing his hands in a basin. "Keep that in mind tomorrow, for I fear you shall need all your wits in the Red Keep."
Well, that didn't bold well.
"I expect it will be an interesting day, my lord."
"Oh, the Small Council always is. One must simply find the interesting parts. Good night. I will see you in the Throne Room, tomorrow morning." He smiled again, and I felt a chill crawl down my spine.
"Er...my lord? Where will I find shelter? I do not have coin, nor do I know my way around King's Landing as well as I would like."
"You managed to do quite well for yourself earlier. I suggest you simply repeat your previous task."
Again, shut down without a fight! I felt like an idiot. I bowed my head. "...of course, my lord."
As he turned away, my mind finally parsed his words earlier. "But...how will I get to the Throne Room, or stay within it, without the guards simply arresting me on sight?"
He smiled that smug grin again that I dearly wished to remove, raising his eyebrows in clear challenge. "I suppose that will be most interesting, won't it?"
I sighed, and grinned tiredly. "You're a cruel man, Lord Varys."
"I should hope not. There are cruel men enough for this city." Murmured the Master of Whispers. "Good night."
I nodded. "Good night, my lord."
As soon as he blinked, I was gone. I left my cutting of Deathly Hallow with him, as a sign of trust in our partnership. I did, after all pass his test.
With a disapproving stare at the spot I had vacated, Varys prepared for bed. As he laid down and covered himself with a blanket, the Spider knew that the next day would be most entertaining.
C2P1
Tabi
Expert Jissou Abuser
Chapter 2, Part 1
Finding a place to sleep was easy enough. A quick and discreet stroll through the richer areas of the scarlet district of King's Landing was enough to liberate a few money purses from some people who were otherwise occupied.
Ah, to turn invisible and simply emerge in another location in a blink of an eye. So handy.
I purchased a nice room with a bed that the proprietor guaranteed to be free of bedbugs. A quick light meal of stew and bread, with a promise of a pot of hot water to be delivered to me at the crack of dawn was only worth a few coppers.
The bed was indeed free of any insects and I did sleep very well indeed.
And at the crack of dawn, I found myself yawning to the knock on the door, with a beautiful young brunette with a tray holding a pot of hot water and a cup waiting on the other side. No doubt the doing of the owner of the inn, seeking to curry favor with a obviously rich patron and perhaps making a little more coin in the process.
She smiled toothily at me and I returned it with a disk of gold.
One for the owner.
"Thank you very much, milday," I said to her, as I tended to my tea. "Have a good morning."
Seeing as I wasn't at all wanting of her for my morning needs, she curtsied and picked up the tray as I slipped another dragon into her hand with a wink.
Another for her.
She smiled, less toothily, but certainly far more genuine.
"The name's Leila, if you ever need anythin', just ask fer me, milord," she had said.
I nodded with a smile, "I am no lord, but please, call me Tabi."
We parted ways soon after that exchange, with me to my deep blue tea and her to her duties. It wasn't far after, after I looked into the mirror, did I realize that my lips had rubbed free of it's pain whilst I slept.
Leila had seen my lips. Panic almost began to settle in, before I calmed myself. Drawing attention to the color of my lips would only result in more scrutiny. That and I had insured that she was less likely to speak ill of me or speak much about me at all after I gave her the gold.
Hopefully, I decided ruefully as I drank my tea, she would see the painted lips and keep silent on the matter.
Deciding that leaving traces of Shade of the Evening in the cup was just asking for trouble, I washed it thoroughly with the remaining water and drank it.
Taking time to carefully pain my lips, I made my way from the room, down the stairs, and thanked the owner for his excellent hospitality and that I would be recommending his inn to my associates.
While the man beamed and nearly wet himself in excitement, I caught Leila's eye; most assuredly the innkeeper's daughter or relation, judging by the similarities of their faces. She smiled and raised a finger to her lips.
I returned the smile, with no small amount of relief, and left soon after.
Making my way to the Red Keep was easy enough. Getting into it was a little harder.
Just a little, really.
Before my trip to the inn, I had listened in on the City Watch's arguing of schedule times, and it just so happened that a group managed to get their own patrol shift done and went to get sloshed, with their next patrol sometime /after/ the crack of dawn.
Weaving illusions wasn't hard. Getting all the right details down was. Getting the cloak to flow normally, the armor to shine in the light, the helmet to fit, and the sword clanking against my hip.
The smell of ale surrounded me as I joined a group of groggy goldcloaks stumping up the path to make use of the barracks to freshen up and look their part while boredly guarding wherever they happened to be assigned.
Jeers and barbs were exchanged between the current guards and the drunken bunch that marched past them. None noticed my disappearance as they entered the courtyard, nor did anyone see the footsteps leading to the open doors leading to the halls of the Red Keep.
I made good use of the abilities that my admittedly short training with the Warlocks of Quarth had granted me. I disappeared into patches of shadow, emerging from another. Corners and unlit lamps provided me with doorways to walk through.
The throne room wasn't hard to find. It was always the biggest and grandest halls and doors that led to it.
The massive wooden and iron doors were of no obstacle to me. Shadows existed underneath and around them, so I simply made use of them.
Finally, I found myself in the Throne Room.
It was an impressive sight.
The doors were of bronze and oak wood. The floor varnished and waxed with brown, sepia, and light coffee. Stained glass windows holding the seven pointed star of the state religion let light shine through.
The vine and candelabra decorations weren't there as aI had expected them to be; instead iron braziers burned like torches, casting flickering shadows into the darkest corners of the room.
The stained window overlooking the Iron Throne was colored in yellow and red; colors of the Lannister House.
Invisible as I was, I looked about for watching eyes, as I saw the Iron Throne for what it was.
A throne build from swords. It was a ugly thing, one that looked decidedly uncomfortable to sit on.
"You may reveal yourself now," came Varys' voice behind me.
I jumped, startled, and turned around.
Lo and behold, Varys the Spider, my patron, stood with a simpering smile.
How he had managed to sneak up on me, I wondered as I removed the cloak of invisibility from myself and I knelt. Had he been waiting here the whole time?
"No, no, none of that now," said Varys in an admonishing tone, motioning for me to stand up. "The Small Council Meeting is due to begin in an hour, giving me ample time to make sure you do not step on the wrong toes and on all the right ones."
Finding a place to sleep was easy enough. A quick and discreet stroll through the richer areas of the scarlet district of King's Landing was enough to liberate a few money purses from some people who were otherwise occupied.
Ah, to turn invisible and simply emerge in another location in a blink of an eye. So handy.
I purchased a nice room with a bed that the proprietor guaranteed to be free of bedbugs. A quick light meal of stew and bread, with a promise of a pot of hot water to be delivered to me at the crack of dawn was only worth a few coppers.
The bed was indeed free of any insects and I did sleep very well indeed.
And at the crack of dawn, I found myself yawning to the knock on the door, with a beautiful young brunette with a tray holding a pot of hot water and a cup waiting on the other side. No doubt the doing of the owner of the inn, seeking to curry favor with a obviously rich patron and perhaps making a little more coin in the process.
She smiled toothily at me and I returned it with a disk of gold.
One for the owner.
"Thank you very much, milday," I said to her, as I tended to my tea. "Have a good morning."
Seeing as I wasn't at all wanting of her for my morning needs, she curtsied and picked up the tray as I slipped another dragon into her hand with a wink.
Another for her.
She smiled, less toothily, but certainly far more genuine.
"The name's Leila, if you ever need anythin', just ask fer me, milord," she had said.
I nodded with a smile, "I am no lord, but please, call me Tabi."
We parted ways soon after that exchange, with me to my deep blue tea and her to her duties. It wasn't far after, after I looked into the mirror, did I realize that my lips had rubbed free of it's pain whilst I slept.
Leila had seen my lips. Panic almost began to settle in, before I calmed myself. Drawing attention to the color of my lips would only result in more scrutiny. That and I had insured that she was less likely to speak ill of me or speak much about me at all after I gave her the gold.
Hopefully, I decided ruefully as I drank my tea, she would see the painted lips and keep silent on the matter.
Deciding that leaving traces of Shade of the Evening in the cup was just asking for trouble, I washed it thoroughly with the remaining water and drank it.
Taking time to carefully pain my lips, I made my way from the room, down the stairs, and thanked the owner for his excellent hospitality and that I would be recommending his inn to my associates.
While the man beamed and nearly wet himself in excitement, I caught Leila's eye; most assuredly the innkeeper's daughter or relation, judging by the similarities of their faces. She smiled and raised a finger to her lips.
I returned the smile, with no small amount of relief, and left soon after.
Making my way to the Red Keep was easy enough. Getting into it was a little harder.
Just a little, really.
Before my trip to the inn, I had listened in on the City Watch's arguing of schedule times, and it just so happened that a group managed to get their own patrol shift done and went to get sloshed, with their next patrol sometime /after/ the crack of dawn.
Weaving illusions wasn't hard. Getting all the right details down was. Getting the cloak to flow normally, the armor to shine in the light, the helmet to fit, and the sword clanking against my hip.
The smell of ale surrounded me as I joined a group of groggy goldcloaks stumping up the path to make use of the barracks to freshen up and look their part while boredly guarding wherever they happened to be assigned.
Jeers and barbs were exchanged between the current guards and the drunken bunch that marched past them. None noticed my disappearance as they entered the courtyard, nor did anyone see the footsteps leading to the open doors leading to the halls of the Red Keep.
I made good use of the abilities that my admittedly short training with the Warlocks of Quarth had granted me. I disappeared into patches of shadow, emerging from another. Corners and unlit lamps provided me with doorways to walk through.
The throne room wasn't hard to find. It was always the biggest and grandest halls and doors that led to it.
The massive wooden and iron doors were of no obstacle to me. Shadows existed underneath and around them, so I simply made use of them.
Finally, I found myself in the Throne Room.
It was an impressive sight.
The doors were of bronze and oak wood. The floor varnished and waxed with brown, sepia, and light coffee. Stained glass windows holding the seven pointed star of the state religion let light shine through.
The vine and candelabra decorations weren't there as aI had expected them to be; instead iron braziers burned like torches, casting flickering shadows into the darkest corners of the room.
The stained window overlooking the Iron Throne was colored in yellow and red; colors of the Lannister House.
Invisible as I was, I looked about for watching eyes, as I saw the Iron Throne for what it was.
A throne build from swords. It was a ugly thing, one that looked decidedly uncomfortable to sit on.
"You may reveal yourself now," came Varys' voice behind me.
I jumped, startled, and turned around.
Lo and behold, Varys the Spider, my patron, stood with a simpering smile.
How he had managed to sneak up on me, I wondered as I removed the cloak of invisibility from myself and I knelt. Had he been waiting here the whole time?
"No, no, none of that now," said Varys in an admonishing tone, motioning for me to stand up. "The Small Council Meeting is due to begin in an hour, giving me ample time to make sure you do not step on the wrong toes and on all the right ones."
Last edited:
C1P2(2)
Tabi
Expert Jissou Abuser
Obviously I haven't, yet.
Chapter 2, Part 2
My first impression of the Small Council was that it was filled with intrigue.
Sitting at the head of the largish polished wooden table was a rather small man, a midget really. It can only be Tyrion Lannister. He bore no scar from a battle he would obviously face in the future. Oddly enough, his squire Podrick Payne was at his side, pouring him a glass (or refilling it).
Petyr Baelish sat on his right hand, paging through a ledger, one that I recognized, with an unfamiliar red haired maiden by his side taking notes on a sheaf of parchment. Littlefinger glanced towards us, a little smirk on his face as his eyes followed Varys and I.
Also turning towards us were Cersei and Maester Pycelle, on the left and right respectively. Cersei is wearing a red and gold gown, and judging from the glint; it was likely gilded gold on her clothing, nevermind the priceless jewels studded on and around it. At her side, hand on the pommel of his sword, was none other than Lancel Lannister, fair haired, rather feminine, and easy on the eyes. The idiot dismissed the sight of me, instead focusing on Varys.
Pycelle, in his doddering old fool's act, was greeting Varys with his stuttering voice. At his side was a tall thin man, a full chain around his shoulders, and a surly looking disposition.
That one seemed to ignore everything and everyone.
"Come now, come now, we haven't much time," Tyrion interrupted, his voice betraying his impatience. "We only have one morning to get our work done, and I'd rather not waste more time into the afternoon."
Varys took his seat and I stood by his right, adopting a plain mask of indifference even as I took in every detail of my surroundings.
Whilst Baelish reminded Cersei that they did not have enough food for a protracted winter of more than five years, with Cersei reminding him that with the gates barred from refugees and the smallfolk inevitably kill each other off, it won't be a problem.
Tyrion shoots that down immediately, noting that the smallfolk are already becoming resentful of the royal family for cutting off most of their food supplies; predictably, Cersei replies with a snobbish 'I don't care what the people think'.
Overall, I think that ended pretty badly.
-
As the Small Council dispersed for their afternoon activities, my eyes caught the fair-looking woman of Petyr Baelish's. She winked at me and I smiled slightly.
As Tyrion passes, I bow slightly towards him. The dwarf halts in his track and looks up at me with something akin to vague surprise. He nods to both me and Varys before leaving.
"There goes the god of tits and wine," I mutter under my breath. Varys shifted slightly behind me as the Queen approached.
Cersei walks out in a huff, with a harried Lancel after her. We caught each other's eye, but again, the fool dismisses me instantly.
I watched her swaying hips, noting that Lancel seemed to be partially focused on that part of her body, as well as the gilded gold on the rump. "You could feed half the city for the cost of that robe."
"You could feed half the city with the words of the chamber - and to the same effect," Varys replied softly, smirk in his voice. "But now that the Small Council has ended, let us retire to my office."
We did retire to his office some time later. The same office that I had first ended up in and the night before, reported to him regarding Littlefinger's extracurricular activities. The crate was still there, but it was filled to the brim with straw. Nestled within it was a large object wrapped in silk.
"What did you think of the Small Council, warlock?"
I stiffened at the title and turned to the spymaster with a tight face and a clenched jaw. "Factionalized. Tyrion Lannister seems to be the only one trying to do his job. The 'Queen Regent' Cersei seems to be trying to make that as hard as possible. Petyr Baelish is taking advantage of the chaos to further his own influence and reach."
"Very good," nods Varys approvingly. "And the others?"
"Does everyone fall for Pycelle's old doddering man act?" I asked curiously. "It's so fake, it almost made me believe it."
"People believe me to be a harmless and rather effeminate eunuch." Varys pointed out with a small smile. "Sometimes, I'm sure his act surprises even himself."
"Well, he's clearly working for Cersei. There were moments he was taking cues from her. Or rather he may be working for the Lannisters in general; history depicts him rather loyal to that particular family."
"Indeed," nods Varys, sending me another approving glance.
"Now, with that out of the way, I need you to do something for me."
-
A busy King's Landing means a lot of smallfolk moving like a rushing river, merchants pushing others out of the way to take their wares elsewhere, Goldcloaks chasing someone or another, a priest or nun of the local faith preaching at the top of their lungs, and posh nobles moving about with their fancy guards.
Oh, and did I mention the absolute state of the walls and roads? Covered in shit, piss, and occasionally blood.
My current 'job' was simple. Find a certain fisherman with a beard, tan, and wearing white and black.
The problem was, which one?
The docks along King's Landing was packed with such men, hauling fish out of the sea in nets. Sitting about with rickety tables with a game like checkers on a round board, smoking pipes or arguing with one an another.
I was not a real Warlock, not really. I knew enough to make a real menace of myself, but I didn't learn all the subtleties of the dark arts. Like using magic to enhance my eyes and proceed to bullshit reality into doing what I wanted it to do.
That meant doing it the normal way. Being observant.
I hated being observant. That meant I had to sit still, invisible, concentrate on looking for my contact, and hopefully avoid getting shit on by a bird.
In this case, the absolutely massive flocks of seagulls squawking overhead.
It was quicker than I expected. Out of the throngs of fishermen, only one really stood out. It was an old man, brown from the sun, with a full beard, wearing a white shirt and black roughly sewn pants. He was smoking a pipe, with an empty seat next to him.
That was odd. Damn near every available seat was taken.
The kicker was when he scratched his right eyebrow twice. Then did it again after waiting several minutes.
The shadows twisted and I quickly found myself taking on the guise of a plain looking man, whose face you'd see anywhere, grimy clothes, shoes that have seen better days, and a soggy exterior of a drunk who recently woke up in the brig.
Stumbling this way and that, I quickly found myself taking a seat and asking the fisherman, "Sorry...hic...dis seat takin'?"
"No, get the fuck outta my sight, you fucking-"
"Alright, yer a mean fucker ain'tcha?" I grumbled, backing up slightly on the grimy seat. I scratched my right eyebrow twice and caught the barest hint of recognition despite the muck around his eyes. The parcel I left on the seat was quickly stowed away into his ragged jacket and I disappeared into the crowd.
Reemerging into the busy roads of the I did a little skip and almost laughed. Such a little errand, and yet I find myself smiling for it.
I grabbed a quick meal at that inn, the Frog's Legs it was named apparently, I saw Leila waiting on some customers. She spots me and smiles.
Returning the smile, I take a seat and she is quickly on me.
"How was your day, milord?" She asked, putting a bowl of the inn's namesake stew in front of me and a generous hunk of bread.
"Thought I asked you not to call me that, my dear," I replied jokingly. "All fine, I'd suppose. Ran some errands for a lord. Other than that taking most of my day, nothing much. You?"
At the slightest prompting, the young brunette quickly filled me in with the latest juicy gossip.
Joffrey being the bastard child of incest between the Queen and the new Lord Commander being the biggest bit.
Second was the growing desperation for food.
"Heard all the food in some places are all but gone, we've got thieves runnin' about, breakin' inta cuppards and houses. Places like dis inn."
I left with a heavier heart, knowing full well the ramifications of the gossip today. Much of it was exaggerated; such as Joffrey being a demonic changeling impersonating the real King yadda yadda, but I knew what was real.
If the boy ever heard the accusations, he'd react accordingly.
…Hmm.
I…didn't quite remember what he did. It had to do with killing...people...and...um-
"Give it here you stupid little bastard!"
The shouting of three men in gold cloaks caught my ears and I focused on them. Cowering underneath their shouts and shoving were a pair of dirty underfed boys. One held onto a roll of bread for dear life. His terrified eyes met mine for a moment before closing as a men kicked him in the side.
A split decision was made before I even really thought on the consequences.
Instantly, I dropped to that of three feet tall, in ragged clothes and a ruddy disposition. I grabbed some cowpie and threw it at the goldcloaks.
Splat.
All three guardsmen paused as I threw another. One turned to yell at me before getting a mouthful of the shit, with the remnant hit his still clean comrade.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" One shouted as he caught another on the chest of his shiny armor, while his comrade glared at me through his vomiting. As they drew their swords, I winked at the boys and ran for it.
As I ran around the corner and into an alleyway, I merged with and disappeared into the shadows as the shit-stained goldcloaks ran into the dark alleyway, their steel blades drawn.
They didn't come back out.
Moments later, I would return to the land of light and living, from a different alleyway.
Whistling a jaunty tune, I walked steadily back to King's Landing, my moneybag heavier than usual.
All in all, a good day, I think.
Last edited:
C3P1
Tabi
Expert Jissou Abuser
Chapter 3, Part 1
I met the Royal children properly after a mission for Varys, tailing a pair of Septons that intended to begin hoarding food for themselves. I listened in whilst, literally, hiding in the shadows before noting their names and positions. The Spider seemed rather happy with my work and gave me no further instructions.
With little else to do, I went off into the deepest bowels of the Red Keep to do some much needed exploring. By now, people recognized me well enough to know I was Varys' subordinate, and undoubtedly had some business to do skulking around for the Master of Whisperers, so no one actually stopped me.
So naturally, I got lost.
Because this was such a medieval setting, there were no directions or any signs as to where I was exactly. So I listened to my instincts.
I walked through shadows, slid underneath the doors, sauntered through the darkest passageways until I found myself in the midst of two young impressionable children with a Kingsguard behind the door none the wiser.
Myrcella was a pretty young thing, with all the beauty and grace that her mother possessed, but with the kind of innocence and warmth Cersei never had for anyone other than her brother. Born of incest or not, she was a girl worth protecting.
The Princess was helping Tommen, the poor softie, with one of his cats. Judging by the uncomfortable meows and coughing of the feline, I could guess it was suffering from a sore throat, no doubt from excessive hairballs and stress.
I'm a cat lover, sue me.
"I don't know what's wrong with him, Ser Pounce never got sick!" The little prince was wringing his hands, an expression of worry on his young face. Like his older brother and sister, he too had bright gold hair, though he certainly took after Jaime's feminine traits when the Kingslayer was younger.
"I'm sure she'll be alright," Myrcella said in a reassuring voice.
It was then she noticed me, watching from the doorway.
She gave a soft 'Oh!' of surprise as I stepped closer towards them. Fearlessly, the young Princess steps forwards and glares at me. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
"I am merely a servant of the realm, my lady," I said smoothly, glancing at Tommen, who stared at me curiously. "And I heard a cry for help from a kindred spirit."
The boy seemed to grasp exactly what I meant and he jumped to his feet. "You know what's wrong with Ser Pounce?"
"I daresay I do," I said, sweeping past Myrcella and kneeling down over the poor cat. It shrunk at my gaze, but I held my hand out and it cautiously sniffed it. "Excessive mewling and coughing often points to one or two things. Something or someone is causing it a great deal of stress, straining it's vocal cords. Much like how one may have a sore throat after yelling for too long."
Both Tommen and Myrcella exchange significant glances, as I massaged Ser Pounce's throat. "The second thing is probably just too many hairballs."
"Of course, most of the medicines Pycelle may have would not be suitable for consumption by the good Ser Pounce. But I have a simple solution. So please bare with me," I stood up and took a dish of water, chilling it with just a drop of magic. I looked at the cat with a glare that rendered it obedient to my command and forced the water down it's throat.
Tommen started forwards, horrified as the cat began choking.
Myrcella's eyes were wide and they grew wider as the cat began coughing violently; vomiting a truly massive hairball in a mess of water and half-digested food.
Fortunately, I had a basin just for that and let go of the cat's simple mind as it collapsed and began breathing normally.
It shook it's head and stumbled to Tommen, who picked it up.
"I highly recommend giving Ser Pounce soft food and lots of cold water to soothe his throat and allow it to mend. Give him lots of attention."
I disposed of the hairball and returned to them, but their cries had attracted the Kingsguard stationed outside their door; a certain Balon Swann with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Both children were assuring him that all was well; with Tommen holding up a ruffled but cured cat that no longer coughed. The Kingsguard looked at me suspiciously and his hand tightened on the handle of his sword.
"Perhaps it is time to take my leave my prince. I bid you and Ser Pounce good day." I bowed deeply to Tommen and did the same to Myrcella with a smile. "My lady."
I walked past Ser Swann, who glared at me with open suspicion, but he made no move to stop me. I smiled and said my thanks, making to leave when Tommen's young voice called out to me. "What is your name, Maester?"
"I am no maester," I said, turning back to them. "But my name is Tabi."
"Please come and see us again, then, mister Tabi," said Tommen with a smile. "Ser Pounce looks much better now!"
The cat did look better, though a bit haggered. It buried it's head into Tommen's chest and snuggled closer to him. I smiled, "It was nothing, my prince. And perhaps I shall."
Ser Swann did not seem to like that. Probably because he's wonder how the hell I got past him.
I made them another bow, this time with flourish to Swann's distaste, and left.
But as the door closed, an armored hand fell onto my shoulder.
"I do not know how you managed to get past me," growled Ser Balon, hand tightening on my shoulder. "But rest assured, it will not happen again."
I glanced at him, smile stretching across my face. "I don't doubt it, Ser Balon. But then again..." I looked straight into his eyes and exerted my will upon him just as I did to Ser Pounce just moments ago. "You let me through, because I had business with the Royal Children."
"I...ah..." Ser Balon seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. I force my will upon him even more. "You let me through, because I had business with the Royal Children."
"I...I let you through," mumbled the knight through his helm softly, nodding. "Because you had business with the Royal Children."
"Nothing untoward," I said with a nod.
"Nothing untoward at all," Ser Balon agreed gruffly. "Off you go."
I gave him a shallow bow and a wide smile. "Thank you Ser."
-
"I heard you found yourself in royal company yesterday," said Varys idly, watching me with detached interest as I prepared my little ritual. I shrugged with a little smile. "Though how one would get past a Kingsguard posted by their door undetected beggars question. And puts the Kingsguard's abilities in question."
My smile dimmed slightly, "His abilities are not in question. Though magic is rather what some would consider cheating."
"I'll ask you to be more discreet next time. Your interactions with Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen have been noted by the Queen."
I poured salt into a mound within a large brazier on the ground, "And I assume she disapproves?"
"I cannot say," said the Spider with a shrug. "But be careful, my Warlock. The Great Game is not for the faint of heart."
I nod as I finished my preparations. The brazier was filled with powdered bark of the Deathly Hallow tree, whose sap is used to create Shade of the Evening. Salt and the flesh of a freshly killed rabbit sat underneath. I pursed my lips as I drew a blade and cut my thumb.
"What exactly is this ritual for, dare I ask?"
I could feel Varys' eyes on me as I squeezed out a few drops of blood. Almost instantly, each drop caused the salt and the powdered bark to ignite into a hot blue flame. The salt, powdered bark, and the flesh turned black and I closed my eyes as I inhaled the foul smoke.
Almost immediately, I regretted it.
I felt like immense pressure had descended upon me, as if I were being squeezed into tiny little ball from all directions by titanic forces that I could barely begin to understand. As soon as I realized this, it began to pull at me. Now I felt like taffy, being pulled miles apart. I stretched and stretched until I could take no more and I broke.
My eyes opened as I drew in a deep rattling gasp.
Varys was standing over me, looking mildly concerned, arms crossed and looked distinctly unimpressed. "Was that ritual supposed to do something?"
"Why, yes actually."
His eyes widened slightly and slowly, the eunuch looked behind him.
I smiled as my clone leaned against the doorway, blue lips pulled into the same smirk I now held.
Varys inspected the clone closely, even going so far as to cautiously poke him with a stick. "Hm. An exact duplicate?"
"One that I can dispel at any moment and bring back in short order," said myself as I picked myself up. "I've seen the Warlocks of Qarth perform this spell many times; but most can only summon or conjure one or two at a time. Pyat Pree of the Thirteen has been known to conjure at least a dozen duplicates at a time."
We both shudder slightly at the thought of that man.
"But still, you can see the utility of this," I continued, mentally dispelling the clone.
"I can indeed," Varys replies slowly. "How many do you believe you can conjure?
"One, for now," I replied with a grin. "But in time...I think my power will grow. I will keep you updated on my progress."
The Spider nodded and made for the door, leaving me alone in the chambers, amidst a smoking brazier and dying embers. Alone with shadows and little else. Smiling to myself in the dark, I summoned my magic to bring forth blue fire and began my work.
I met the Royal children properly after a mission for Varys, tailing a pair of Septons that intended to begin hoarding food for themselves. I listened in whilst, literally, hiding in the shadows before noting their names and positions. The Spider seemed rather happy with my work and gave me no further instructions.
With little else to do, I went off into the deepest bowels of the Red Keep to do some much needed exploring. By now, people recognized me well enough to know I was Varys' subordinate, and undoubtedly had some business to do skulking around for the Master of Whisperers, so no one actually stopped me.
So naturally, I got lost.
Because this was such a medieval setting, there were no directions or any signs as to where I was exactly. So I listened to my instincts.
I walked through shadows, slid underneath the doors, sauntered through the darkest passageways until I found myself in the midst of two young impressionable children with a Kingsguard behind the door none the wiser.
Myrcella was a pretty young thing, with all the beauty and grace that her mother possessed, but with the kind of innocence and warmth Cersei never had for anyone other than her brother. Born of incest or not, she was a girl worth protecting.
The Princess was helping Tommen, the poor softie, with one of his cats. Judging by the uncomfortable meows and coughing of the feline, I could guess it was suffering from a sore throat, no doubt from excessive hairballs and stress.
I'm a cat lover, sue me.
"I don't know what's wrong with him, Ser Pounce never got sick!" The little prince was wringing his hands, an expression of worry on his young face. Like his older brother and sister, he too had bright gold hair, though he certainly took after Jaime's feminine traits when the Kingslayer was younger.
"I'm sure she'll be alright," Myrcella said in a reassuring voice.
It was then she noticed me, watching from the doorway.
She gave a soft 'Oh!' of surprise as I stepped closer towards them. Fearlessly, the young Princess steps forwards and glares at me. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
"I am merely a servant of the realm, my lady," I said smoothly, glancing at Tommen, who stared at me curiously. "And I heard a cry for help from a kindred spirit."
The boy seemed to grasp exactly what I meant and he jumped to his feet. "You know what's wrong with Ser Pounce?"
"I daresay I do," I said, sweeping past Myrcella and kneeling down over the poor cat. It shrunk at my gaze, but I held my hand out and it cautiously sniffed it. "Excessive mewling and coughing often points to one or two things. Something or someone is causing it a great deal of stress, straining it's vocal cords. Much like how one may have a sore throat after yelling for too long."
Both Tommen and Myrcella exchange significant glances, as I massaged Ser Pounce's throat. "The second thing is probably just too many hairballs."
"Of course, most of the medicines Pycelle may have would not be suitable for consumption by the good Ser Pounce. But I have a simple solution. So please bare with me," I stood up and took a dish of water, chilling it with just a drop of magic. I looked at the cat with a glare that rendered it obedient to my command and forced the water down it's throat.
Tommen started forwards, horrified as the cat began choking.
Myrcella's eyes were wide and they grew wider as the cat began coughing violently; vomiting a truly massive hairball in a mess of water and half-digested food.
Fortunately, I had a basin just for that and let go of the cat's simple mind as it collapsed and began breathing normally.
It shook it's head and stumbled to Tommen, who picked it up.
"I highly recommend giving Ser Pounce soft food and lots of cold water to soothe his throat and allow it to mend. Give him lots of attention."
I disposed of the hairball and returned to them, but their cries had attracted the Kingsguard stationed outside their door; a certain Balon Swann with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Both children were assuring him that all was well; with Tommen holding up a ruffled but cured cat that no longer coughed. The Kingsguard looked at me suspiciously and his hand tightened on the handle of his sword.
"Perhaps it is time to take my leave my prince. I bid you and Ser Pounce good day." I bowed deeply to Tommen and did the same to Myrcella with a smile. "My lady."
I walked past Ser Swann, who glared at me with open suspicion, but he made no move to stop me. I smiled and said my thanks, making to leave when Tommen's young voice called out to me. "What is your name, Maester?"
"I am no maester," I said, turning back to them. "But my name is Tabi."
"Please come and see us again, then, mister Tabi," said Tommen with a smile. "Ser Pounce looks much better now!"
The cat did look better, though a bit haggered. It buried it's head into Tommen's chest and snuggled closer to him. I smiled, "It was nothing, my prince. And perhaps I shall."
Ser Swann did not seem to like that. Probably because he's wonder how the hell I got past him.
I made them another bow, this time with flourish to Swann's distaste, and left.
But as the door closed, an armored hand fell onto my shoulder.
"I do not know how you managed to get past me," growled Ser Balon, hand tightening on my shoulder. "But rest assured, it will not happen again."
I glanced at him, smile stretching across my face. "I don't doubt it, Ser Balon. But then again..." I looked straight into his eyes and exerted my will upon him just as I did to Ser Pounce just moments ago. "You let me through, because I had business with the Royal Children."
"I...ah..." Ser Balon seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. I force my will upon him even more. "You let me through, because I had business with the Royal Children."
"I...I let you through," mumbled the knight through his helm softly, nodding. "Because you had business with the Royal Children."
"Nothing untoward," I said with a nod.
"Nothing untoward at all," Ser Balon agreed gruffly. "Off you go."
I gave him a shallow bow and a wide smile. "Thank you Ser."
-
"I heard you found yourself in royal company yesterday," said Varys idly, watching me with detached interest as I prepared my little ritual. I shrugged with a little smile. "Though how one would get past a Kingsguard posted by their door undetected beggars question. And puts the Kingsguard's abilities in question."
My smile dimmed slightly, "His abilities are not in question. Though magic is rather what some would consider cheating."
"I'll ask you to be more discreet next time. Your interactions with Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen have been noted by the Queen."
I poured salt into a mound within a large brazier on the ground, "And I assume she disapproves?"
"I cannot say," said the Spider with a shrug. "But be careful, my Warlock. The Great Game is not for the faint of heart."
I nod as I finished my preparations. The brazier was filled with powdered bark of the Deathly Hallow tree, whose sap is used to create Shade of the Evening. Salt and the flesh of a freshly killed rabbit sat underneath. I pursed my lips as I drew a blade and cut my thumb.
"What exactly is this ritual for, dare I ask?"
I could feel Varys' eyes on me as I squeezed out a few drops of blood. Almost instantly, each drop caused the salt and the powdered bark to ignite into a hot blue flame. The salt, powdered bark, and the flesh turned black and I closed my eyes as I inhaled the foul smoke.
Almost immediately, I regretted it.
I felt like immense pressure had descended upon me, as if I were being squeezed into tiny little ball from all directions by titanic forces that I could barely begin to understand. As soon as I realized this, it began to pull at me. Now I felt like taffy, being pulled miles apart. I stretched and stretched until I could take no more and I broke.
My eyes opened as I drew in a deep rattling gasp.
Varys was standing over me, looking mildly concerned, arms crossed and looked distinctly unimpressed. "Was that ritual supposed to do something?"
"Why, yes actually."
His eyes widened slightly and slowly, the eunuch looked behind him.
I smiled as my clone leaned against the doorway, blue lips pulled into the same smirk I now held.
Varys inspected the clone closely, even going so far as to cautiously poke him with a stick. "Hm. An exact duplicate?"
"One that I can dispel at any moment and bring back in short order," said myself as I picked myself up. "I've seen the Warlocks of Qarth perform this spell many times; but most can only summon or conjure one or two at a time. Pyat Pree of the Thirteen has been known to conjure at least a dozen duplicates at a time."
We both shudder slightly at the thought of that man.
"But still, you can see the utility of this," I continued, mentally dispelling the clone.
"I can indeed," Varys replies slowly. "How many do you believe you can conjure?
"One, for now," I replied with a grin. "But in time...I think my power will grow. I will keep you updated on my progress."
The Spider nodded and made for the door, leaving me alone in the chambers, amidst a smoking brazier and dying embers. Alone with shadows and little else. Smiling to myself in the dark, I summoned my magic to bring forth blue fire and began my work.
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