"I'm telling you, the bastard's brain must have frozen solid at Winterfell or the Wall. That was a Dukedom he turned down! A Dukedom!"
In a tavern in King's Landing, Jon fleeing the city and refusing the title of Duke just to avoid fighting his brother had become the hottest topic. Not just in taverns—peddlers, beggars, nobles, and high society were all discussing Jon Snow.
The speaker, a scrawny man around thirty, was loudly proclaiming that Jon was an absolute fool.
If he were offered the Dukedom, he'd handle it much better.
"How could a man who doesn't even dare to dream of power wield it properly? If they gave Harrenhal to me..."
"What if they gave it to you?" a deep voice rumbled from behind him.
"If it were me, I'd govern Harrenhal perfectly for King Stannis! First, I'd marry into House Frey, then I'd counter Riverrun. What face would Robb have left to call himself King of the Trident? Then I'd..." The man rattled on about his daydream, oblivious to the fact that the laughing crowd had suddenly gone silent.
Just as he was about to continue, he suddenly felt weightless. Someone had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him into the air.
"Hey, hey, hey! What the—" The tipsy man flailed his limbs like a bug caught in a pinch.
"Put me down! You brute! Do you know who I am?! Put me down!" The scrawny man twisted his head to look, and sobered up instantly.
A man with half his face burned away was staring at him coldly. Where an ear should have been, there was only a hole. The skin around the eye was like hard, melted wax.
If the terrifying face wasn't enough, the massive muscles and heavy armor made his identity unmistakable.
"M-m-m-m-my lord... I-I-I-I..." Realizing he had likely said something he shouldn't have, the man's first instinct was to beg for mercy.
But dangling from Sandor Clegane's grip, he was too terrified to form words.
Sandor grunted, dragged him to the tavern door, and tossed him into the middle of the street.
The scrawny man landed face-first, eating dirt. But he didn't dare make a peep. He scrambled up and scurried into a dark alley like a whipped dog.
Watching the man flee, Sandor sneered, then looked toward the Red Keep.
After this, Jon surely won't be thinking about going back to the Wall anymore. Now I can stay by his side and serve him.
The intense discussion about Jon in King's Landing had surprised many.
But the hand behind it was Varys.
Varys knew Stannis had prepared two "options" for Jon.
One was to become the Duke of Harrenhal. The other was to become the Duke of Casterly Rock.
The latter was far better on paper, but Jon would have to seize it himself. It was a hot potato.
Varys also knew Stannis planned to marry Margaery Tyrell to Jon. This would punish and restrain the Tyrells while rewarding Jon—a perfect solution for the King.
From Varys's perspective, Margaery marrying Young Griff (Aegon) would be ideal. But the conditions weren't ripe yet, and that had only been the best option before Daenerys hatched her dragons.
Now that Daenerys had dragons, Varys and Illyrio planned for Young Griff to marry Daenerys, return to Westeros with dragons and an army, and take the Iron Throne in one sweep.
However, their current forces were limited. If Stannis made peace with Tywin, it would be bad for their plans.
The best scenario was for Jon to take the Tyrell army and attack the Westerlands. Since the Tyrells were historically Targaryen loyalists, having Jon lead them effectively tied him to the Targaryen cause—or at least kept him busy.
So, Varys was secretly pushing from the shadows to help Jon become the Duke of Casterly Rock.
At that moment, Jon, having just been "captured" and brought back, was idle in the courtyard, teaching Arya swordplay. Sansa watched from the side, looking eager to try.
Just then, Robert Frey ran up to Jon. "My lord, someone wishes to see you."
"Who?"
"He only said one word: 'Tunnels.' He said you'd understand."
Varys. Jon immediately knew it was the Master of Whisperers.
As he turned to leave, Arya and Sansa spoke in unison. "Jon, where are you going?"
Though they tried to hide it, the moment Jon left their sight, the sisters felt like cubs abandoned in the wild—completely unsafe.
"Just meeting someone at the gate. I won't go far. I'll be right back."
---
By moonlight, Jon saw Varys cloaked in black. Gone were his usual perfumes and silks. He smelled of sweat, and his hem was stained with mud. Clearly, getting here had taken some effort.
"Allow me to congratulate you, my Lord Duke of Casterly Rock." Varys smiled, his tone carrying a hint of genuine respect.
Jon looked at Varys without speaking.
Varys met Jon's gaze levelly. "Lord Jon, I may as well speak plainly. You have always acted the saint, but by my observation, you are a master of the human heart. I very much wish to cooperate with a man like you."
Jon thought for a second and realized how Varys had figured it out.
"Because I didn't tell Stannis what you told me?"
"You are wise beyond your years, my lord." Varys smiled. "Your move to retreat in order to advance... it was the greatest maneuver I have ever seen."
"I thank you for the compliment. Since you've seen through my mask and come to seek cooperation, why don't you tell me what you want?" Jon knew Varys's endgame, but he wanted to see if the Spider would reveal it.
Asking also helped cover the fact that he already knew Varys's true goal.
Varys shrugged. "What could a man like me want? To stay by the King's side, make a few friends, and maintain a decent life..."
"You're lying," Jon cut him off. "With the wealth you've accumulated over the years, you could live like a king in the Free Cities or Braavos. That would be plenty decent, and you wouldn't be stuck in this vortex of power."
"Heh. You are right, my lord. I do have higher pursuits. To make up another lie would be disrespectful to you. But if you can accept it, please allow me to keep it a secret for now. If I stay in King's Landing, I can provide you with the intelligence you need. In the future, I only ask that you lend a hand as a friend when the time comes."
Varys believed he had seen through this "brilliant, ambitious schemer," so he spoke with confidence.
"Deal. Perhaps our goals are actually aligned." Jon made a joke that wasn't really a joke.
He thought of the dragon eggs he had found. If Varys went through all the trouble to bring Young Griff to Westeros, only to find Jon raising dragons on the other side of the continent... what would the Blackfyre descendant think?
Varys giggled, a sound uncharacteristic of a man. "Perhaps."
In the shadows under the moonlight, an agreement was reached.
"My lord, I didn't come empty-handed. I brought you a small gift."
"Go on." Jon assumed it was intel.
"Tywin is mobilizing the entire Westerlands to fortify the passes and dig in. You know that with King Stannis's current strength, he likely cannot subdue the West. So, peace talks are a real possibility.
"But you know the King's character. He will never let Tywin off the hook. The Tyrell army, combined with your military genius, is the perfect weapon to crush the West. If you can conquer the Westerlands and take Casterly Rock, then the Rock will be yours—without suspicion or interference. In terms of power, you would be the next King of the Rock!"
Varys's voice was persuasive. He was indeed a master manipulator.
But Jon spotted a "blind spot."
"You seem very confident that I can conquer the West? Taking the region might be within my abilities, but Casterly Rock... forgive me, but I haven't thought of a good way to take it yet."
Actually, Jon had a rough idea, but he couldn't share it now.
"His Grace has already thought of that for you. Melisandre may be of assistance."
Jon didn't need Varys to elaborate to know Stannis was falling into "path dependence."
He had used Melisandre's magic to deal with Renly and take Storm's End. Was he planning to use a shadow assassin to help Jon?
If Jon marched to Casterly Rock and Melisandre birthed a shadow assassin to slip inside and slit Tywin's throat...
Well, that would make Stannis a pretty solid boss!
But the problem was, Casterly Rock wasn't just Tywin. Even if Tywin died, the other Lannisters wouldn't necessarily surrender.
Still, no need to overthink it now. Jon thanked Varys for the intelligence.
"Well then, Lord Jon. We've talked long enough. It has been a pleasure." Varys saw the gleam in Jon's eyes and knew he had guessed the truth. Satisfied, he prepared to leave.
There was a note of pleasure in his voice—the joy of meeting an intellectual equal. It was far better than dealing with the stubborn Ned Stark.
If Ned had been wary of Littlefinger and acted sooner, he wouldn't have lost his head.
After seeing Varys off, Jon returned to the small courtyard.
Sansa was there, awkwardly swinging a wooden sword. It seemed the coup in King's Landing had left a deep psychological scar.
Instead of learning politics from Littlefinger, she was now mimicking Arya and learning martial arts.
"Sansa."
"Ah!" Sansa yelped, hurriedly hiding the wooden sword behind her back, looking embarrassed.
"Learning some self-defense is a good choice. At the very least, it will keep you healthy. But remember: when facing danger, the wisest move isn't to fight it, but to foresee it and avoid it. Drawing a sword is always the last resort. Do you understand?"