Chapter 189: Varys's Nightmare
Varys had a dream.
In the dream, he returned to his childhood, seeing his former master. Although the master's face was blurred, he could still feel a sense of familiarity from his figure.
The time he spent as a slave in the kitchen of that merchant's manse in Myr was the happiest time in his entire miserable childhood.
The wealthy merchant's cooks and servants were all kind people. They rarely made Varys do heavy or tiring work. Moreover, in that wealthy merchant's manse, Varys also had a large group of close playmates.
Unfortunately, the happiness in the dream was very short-lived. He soon saw a mummer's troupe.
He vaguely remembered that it was the wealthy merchant's daughter's nameday. To celebrate the little princess's nameday, the merchant invited a traveling mummer's troupe to perform at his home.
And on that very day, the troupe's master took a liking to Varys and offered to buy him.
Young Varys didn't understand what this meant. He only thought he could escape his tedious labor and perform in a mummer's troupe, wearing beautiful costumes. So he begged the wealthy merchant to sell him to the troupe.
Little did he know this was the beginning of his miserable life.
The dream continued. He was now on the troupe master's ship, doing all the dirty work and odd jobs, enduring arduous training but often going hungry.
Their troupe toured the Free Cities, sometimes visiting Oldtown and King's Landing.
The dream flashed by, gradually awakening Varys's memories.
Soon, he became tense, because their troupe had arrived in Myr, a place that would change his life.
Unsurprisingly, he soon saw the sorcerer. It was he who had offered a large sum of gold to buy him, an amount the troupe master couldn't refuse.
He had been terrified of the man, thinking he would, as rumored, consume young boys, but the man hadn't. The sorcerer needed him to complete a blood ritual.
Varys felt no fear at this moment, for he had already captured the sorcerer and locked him in a crate in his chambers. His revenge was complete.
Yet Varys's brow furrowed deeply. The sensations in this dream were so vivid, and he had been given a potion that rendered him immobile and speechless, yet still allowed him to feel everything.
He was to be castrated again in this dream.
Varys wanted to curse.
Sure enough, it came. A searing pain shot through his lower body. In his peripheral vision, Varys saw the sorcerer throw something into the flames.
The flames turned blue, and a voice emerged from them—the voice that had haunted Varys day and night. He still didn't know if it was a god, a demon, or a sorcerer's trick.
The flames died down, and the voice vanished.
When Varys opened his eyes again, he was in Pentos, sitting before his new friend, Illyrio Mopatis.
Varys secretly rejoiced, for this dream skipped over that terrible period of his life—after the ritual, the sorcerer, finding him useless, cast him out to the streets to fend for himself, while the troupe sailed away, and he began a life of begging and theft.
During that time, he endured both physical and mental torment every day.
If he could, he would never want to relive it.
Returning to the present, he began a new enterprise with Illyrio—he would steal from thieves, and Illyrio would return the stolen goods to their owners in exchange for rewards.
They quickly grew in power, becoming famous throughout Pentos. Everyone who lost valuables knew to seek their 'help' to recover their belongings.
Of course, the thieves of Pentos also sought them out, initially mostly to kill these two who were stealing their business, but to no avail. Eventually, they simply used them to help fence stolen goods, effectively becoming their subordinates.
Before long, Varys and Illyrio had amassed considerable wealth.
The dream continued to unfold, but Varys grew increasingly perplexed. He began to ponder the meaning of having a dream that suddenly reviewed his entire life. Could it be that he had accidentally ingested poison and unknowingly found himself on his deathbed in his sleep?
The dream gave him no time to continue contemplating, for he had already arrived in Westeros.
He had come at the invitation of Aerys II, the Targaryen monarch known as the 'Mad King,' who had recognized his talent and invited him to serve as Master of Whisperers on his Small Council.
Thus began his service to the Targaryen dynasty.
Gradually, his spy network spread throughout King's Landing, and no action in the city escaped his notice. He gained the trust of the Mad King, Aerys II, to the point that Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, declared with disgust that Aerys's reign had become Varys's reign.
Unfortunately, Robert's Rebellion broke out, and after Prince Rhaegar's death at the Battle of the Trident, the Lannister army finally arrived at the gates of King's Landing.
He advised Aerys II not to trust Tywin Lannister and not to open the gates to him, but this time, the Mad King disregarded his counsel and chose to trust the Lannisters' loyalty.
Aerys II and Tywin Lannister were close friends in their youth, and Aerys II had even been knighted by Tywin's father.
During the more than ten years Tywin served as Hand of the King, the aging Targaryen dynasty experienced a resurgence of vitality.
Although the two eventually parted ways due to suspicion, when Aerys II truly faced destruction, he still opened the gates of King's Landing to Tywin.
Subsequently, Tywin Lannister's army sacked King's Landing, and his creature, Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, went straight to Maegor's Holdfast to slaughter Rhaegar's children and widow.
Rhaegar's son, Aegon, was torn from Elia Martell's arms by the Mountain and dashed against a wall, while his daughter, Rhaenys, was dragged from beneath her father's bed and stabbed half a hundred times.
In his dream, Varys witnessed all of this again, but did not intervene... just as he had more than a decade ago.
Thank the gods it was a dream, Varys thought to himself, thankful that these scenes would only appear in his dreams.
These truths.
When the scene shifted again, he found himself in Pentos, where Illyrio had become one of the city's magisters.
In the dream, Illyrio excitedly showed Varys his newborn son, the boy born to Illyrio and his Lysene bed slave, Serra.
The boy had purple eyes and silver-gold hair.
"Is this your child?"
"Of course."
"A Valyrian of such pure blood—he looks no different from a Targaryen."
"In a sense, he is a Targaryen too," Illyrio replied meaningfully.
The child's mother, Serra, like Varys, was descended from the Blackfyre line.
"Red or black, a dragon is still a dragon," Varys nodded. At that moment, a grand plan formed in his mind.
He and his dearest friend Illyrio would do something no one dared to imagine: they would artificially create the most wise and benevolent monarch and establish a dynasty.
However, just as Varys finished formulating his plan and was about to tell Illyrio, the infant in his arms suddenly burst into flames, turning into a charred corpse. His friend Illyrio also became a cold body, his obese form riddled with arrows.
Then, the entire city of Pentos burst into flames, and in the raging inferno, Varys once again heard the whispers he had heard in the fire years before.
It was still in a language he couldn't understand.
Was it a god? A demon? Or a sorcerer's trick?
"Come out! You craven thing!" Varys roared in his dream.
To his surprise, he actually saw a figure in the flames.
The person wore the white armor of the Kingsguard, had golden hair, and looked very young. He emerged from the ruins of Pentos, walking through the flames. Behind him, a black dragon spread its wings and breathed a blast of dragonfire at him.
The next moment, Varys awoke with a start.
He breathed a slight sigh of relief upon realizing he wasn't dying from poison, but a greater sense of confusion arose within him.
Who was the young man in the last part of his dream? Who made the voice in the flames? What was the dragon? Was it just a dream, or was someone foretelling something to him?
Varys was a godless man and had always abhorred sorcery, yet he couldn't believe it was merely a nightmare.
He hadn't had a nightmare in years. He couldn't even remember the last time.
He knew it was an ill omen.
His premonition was soon confirmed. That afternoon, a letter arrived in his hands.
It came from across the narrow sea, bringing news of Pentos's sacking by Khal Drogo, Illyrio's death in the chaos, and the Targaryen siblings' disappearance.
This was yet another piece of dire news, far worse than the news from Winterfell—following the reports of the Queen's execution for treason and Robert's declaration of war on the Westerlands.
It took Varys an unknown amount of time to recover. He staggered to his writing desk, took out a quill and parchment. He was to write to Harry Strickland, Captain-General of the Golden Company, and to Ser Jon Connington to discuss the future of their already precarious plans for restoration.
After finishing the letter, Varys cut off a piece of sealing wax and melted it over a candle.
In the flickering flame, he saw again the shadow of the golden-haired youth from his dream.
This time, he suddenly remembered someone who perfectly matched that figure—Ian Darryl, the bastard boy Illyrio had repeatedly mentioned in his letters to him.
(This book uses some widely unconfirmed speculation from fan theories, solely for the story's setting; its accuracy is not guaranteed.)
(End of Chapter)
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