Varys felt the deep night become one with him. Darkness was his best friend.
"The time has come to choose my fate," Varys, the former Master of Whisperers, thought. Leave King's Landing, or carry out the assassination.
Assassination had not been Varys's original plan, but now the Lannisters had collapsed in a rout. The Imp had been captured, Joffrey torn apart by the mob, Cersei had fled in haste, and the Lord Governor of Volantis had led a coalition army across ten thousand miles only to be defeated. Hearts and minds were turning toward the Storm. Given time, how could his plan for restoration ever succeed? Faced with all this, Varys had no choice but to confront the most dangerous path: assassination.
Surrender was never something Varys considered. One look at the Small Council Gendry had appointed was enough for him to understand Gendry's attitude. Ser Barristan, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, believed the Mad King's folly had begun with Varys. Stannis Baratheon, the Hand of the King, had long been dissatisfied with him. As for the good man of the Stormlands, Selwyn Tarth, Bronze Yohn Royce of the Vale, and even that fool Mace Tyrell, all of them were rigid men. There was no soil here in which Varys could survive. If he fell into the hands of Gendry and the others, the only difference would be the manner of his death, beheading or hanging.
On the day the army entered the city, when that enormous vanguard marched into King's Landing and Gendry led his men into the Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill, Varys had watched from among the cheering crowds. The knights' armor shone gold, moving like a towering forest, their lances glimmering coldly. Varys's disguises were professional enough. Though not as wondrous as those of the Faceless Men, he was still very hard to find when hidden in a packed crowd.
"I could have left King's Landing, disguised myself as a refugee and slipped away, or followed Cersei's trail. But if Varys leaves King's Landing, is he still Varys?" Varys asked himself. Under the dim lamplight, even his round head seemed to shine more brightly.
"No, I cannot leave this place. If I leave King's Landing, all my methods and my little birds will be far less useful." Varys made his decision. "These means were originally prepared for Tywin Lannister and men like him, for anyone who tried to stabilize the Seven Kingdoms. Now they can only be used against Gendry."
The secret passages left behind by Maegor the Cruel spread across all of King's Landing like a spider's web, a vast network of tunnels and hidden ways. But the passages were centered on the Red Keep. Away from the Red Keep, Varys's power would be reduced by more than half. Away from King's Landing, it would shrink even further. The spies he kept with coin were like vicious dogs. They served money, not true loyalty. Only the little birds were truly loyal.
"How very melancholy. I never thought a discarded piece from so many years ago would become the greatest obstacle in my path," Varys sighed. Back then, he had only paid attention to Robert's two older bastards, with clear opportunistic intent. He had sent Gendry to the smith, and every year he chose gifts for Edric. Gendry was the eldest boy, while Edric Storm was the highest-born and the one Robert had openly acknowledged. As for Robert's younger bastards, Varys saw no value in whether they lived or died. Those children were far too young.
Yet things had gone against his wishes. Gendry had not only brought trouble to the Lannisters, but to him as well. Sometimes Varys could only sigh that he had lifted a stone and dropped it on his own foot.
"So be it. Let us see, in this final game, who wins and who loses." Varys drew a map of King's Landing's secret passages from inside his robes. It was the work of many years. "If Gendry wants to find me, it will not be so easy."
Varys studied every corner of the map with full attention. His trump cards were the secret tunnels and the little birds. If the little birds were to assassinate someone, they had to strike by surprise. It was no exaggeration to say that as the longest-serving Master of Whisperers, no one understood or had explored the tunnels of King's Landing as thoroughly as Varys. Not even Larys the Crooked-Footed in his day might have surpassed him.
"According to the clues I have gathered, Gendry does not trust the Red Keep. He even chooses to sleep in the military camp at night. On the north bank of the Blackwater Rush are the camps of the Stormlands, the Vale, Crackclaw Point, the surrendered soldiers, and the prisoners. North of King's Landing are the camps of the Northmen and Crackclaws. West of King's Landing is the Tyrell camp, and at sea lies Stannis's fleet." Varys studied the map again and again.
"Outside the city is too difficult. Practically impossible." Varys thought to himself. His little birds could not fly through the sky or burrow through the earth, after all. They relied on surprise attacks. If those children did not use the secret passages and tried a direct assassination instead, they would not stand a chance against even the poorest band of soldiers.
"The place must still be King's Landing, and the method must be a crossbow. The best time would have been night or dawn, when a man is at his most muddled, but Gendry does not sleep in the Red Keep. That makes things very awkward. And those fierce guards around him are not easy to avoid either."
Varys looked over the map again and again, his gaze moving between the Red Keep, the Dragonpit, Flea Bottom, and other places.
"The Dragonpit, or the Red Keep." An idea suddenly came to Varys. As it happened, he knew of a secret passage that led to the Dragonpit. "Gendry is a man who handles matters personally. He will certainly go to inspect the Dragonpit's reconstruction himself. That may be one of the best chances. As for the Red Keep, once he enters, whether he sleeps in the Tower of the Hand or Maegor's Holdfast, that will be my opportunity."
Varys found a warrior as powerful as Gendry difficult to deal with, let alone the outstanding guards around him. But now, he could only press on and keep searching for an opening.
"Ser Barristan the white knight, old, loyal, and devoted to honor. Ser Balon Swann is too solid, and he is originally from the Stormlands.
"Anguy, Lothor, Robar, Harry the Arse. All of them were promoted by Gendry, and all of them have considerable strength, but most of them are young. Youth means flaws. Besides, they have not received much training in guarding from the white knights. Only Ser Barristan has experience. The others are not truly qualified."
"Right, wildfire. If any wildfire remains, it may work even better. I can use wildfire to create chaos, or for the assassination directly," Varys thought. He marked the Dragonpit, the Red Keep, and several other places on the map before putting it away.
"Like a spider, just as with Littlefinger, the best method is to hide in the shadows. Once we show ourselves, we are easily found. Wouldn't you agree, Petyr?" Varys poured a cup of wine from the table onto the ground.
"Aegon is with us. Gendry is the son of the Usurper. Aegon is the true king. Before he learned to walk, he was already being taught how to become a good ruler. He received training in a knight's weapons, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. Now he can read and write, speaks many languages, and has studied history, law, and poetry. From the time he could understand, a septa taught him the mysteries of the faith. He once lived with fishermen and earned his keep with his own hands. He swam in rivers, mended nets, and washed his own clothes. He knows how to fish, cook, and treat wounds. More importantly, he knows the taste of fear, of hunger, of being hunted. To Gendry, the crown is Robert's gift, his own blood and fire. To Aegon, the crown is a responsibility. A true king must place his people first and spend his life thinking of them."
Everything was for Aegon. This was the road Varys had chosen.
...
In the camp on the north bank of the Blackwater Rush, Gendry gently wiped his broadsword, Tiger's Roar.
The sword had been passed down through Malaquo's family for generations and was a hero's blade, but now it was appearing in Westeros for the first time.
The red priestess looked into the flames in the brazier. The sparks rising from the dark charcoal seemed like the will of the Red God.
"The great war is coming, Storm, King, Savior," the red priestess said. "Ice and fire, light and darkness, high summer and long winter."
Gendry nodded, looking at the beautiful golden ripples along Tiger's Roar. They truly resembled the shifting patterns of a tiger's fur. "Before the battle of ice and fire, I think I need to eat a little appetizer."
"We are searching the secret passages in such a public way, and the Prince is not in King's Landing, but in the camp. Will that not alert Varys and make him flee?" Ser Barristan asked.
"No." Gendry shook his head with certainty. Varys had invested so many years in King's Landing. How could he bear to leave this stronghold? Once he left, would his usefulness not be greatly reduced? Under pressure from within and without, Varys was most likely to go all in.
"Varys's counterattack?" Ser Barristan murmured. "He still has the secret passages and those children."
"If I am not mistaken, those children may already have had their tongues cut out and been trained as assassins."
"I would be very happy to serve you, Storm." The red priestess smiled. "Old knight, you too have a heart of light, but before darkness, perhaps my power is greater."
"What help do you need?" Gendry asked the red priestess.
"Your belt, or a weapon. Something that will allow me to mimic your flame. That would be best," the red priestess said confidently.