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Dragonlord 171: Legacy
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 13:28:57 +0000 UTCThe throne room smelled of cold iron and smoke. Shafts of pale daylight slanted down through narrow window sills, striking the throne room. Several narrow beams of light struck the Iron Throne, highlighting its jagged edges and sharp sword tips stabbing outward at empty air.
Varys stared at the throne with the same fascination he felt when he first came to court.
It was a different time and a different king. He was younger, and the king he served was a man who took pleasure in tormenting those around him. Though he was incredibly grateful for King Aerys to welcome him into the Red Keep and grant him the position of the Master of Whispers, he never felt loyalty to the man. He feared the man more than anything else, and he had a close view to see how a king with unchecked power could bring untold destruction and death to the kingdoms.
His fault of seeing the threat in Aerys made him blind to the disaster that was Rhaegar Targaryen. Though the Rebellion started because of Aerys’ brazen act of murdering Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark, the embers were laid by his heir, Rhaegar.
The charm of Rhaegar Targaryen was such that the man was remembered to this day as a tragic character who lost his life in the unfortunate war started by his mad father. But Varys considered the late prince to be far madder than the Mad King. At least, Aerys’ madness came from the Defiance of Duskandale. Rhaegar’s madness was far more subtle and seemingly had no point of origin.
To this day, he couldn’t fathom what made that madman spirit away Lady Lyanna Stark.
Whatever the reason, Varys could only curse the madman because it was now beyond doubt that Prince Rhaegar sired a child with Lyanna Stark. That was the first thought that came to his mind when his little birds brought him word of dragons flying in the North.
Though it had been months since he first heard of dragons in the North, it took him some considerable amount of time and resources to confirm the rumours were true. After all, the North was teeming with magical nonsense from the icy valleys of the Wall to the swamps of the Neck. Some things could be mistaken by the ignorant smallfolk. They had done so in the past when they thought the airships built by Harrion Stark were dragons.
Therefore, it took him some time to confirm the validity of the rumours.
But now he knew.
‘Soon, everyone will know for sure.’ Varys thought grimly.
The North now hosted two massive dragons. One breathed fire powerful enough to melt castles while the other breathed cold fire capable of dooming ripe fields into wintry wastelands. The two dragon riders, Harrion Stark and Jon Stark, have now ensured the North would be forged into a massive military power capable of destroying the Iron Throne. The magic of Harrion Stark alone was threatening enough. But two large dragons in the North changed everything as far as Varys was concerned.
It was now clear his plan to crown Aegon as the King of the Seven Kingdoms would only be a vain dream. The North would never concede its newfound independence when it possesses overwhelming power.
‘The plan to bring the North back into the Seven Kingdoms might not be as sound as was first thought.’ Varys mused.
He doubted Eddard Stark would be interested in giving up his crown with two dragons bound to him through his son and nephew. It was now obvious Jon Stark was not Eddard Stark’s bastard son. If he had known earlier, he’d have made plans accordingly.
He still couldn’t trace how Jon Stark came to be in the North when Lyanna Stark was held captive by Prince Rhaegar in the Tower of Joy. The chaos of war had kept his eyes blind the last time. But this time, there was no way he’d take his eyes off the dragons.
With dragons in the North, he realised the importance of keeping Daenerys Targaryen alive. Or at least, taking her dragons alive so that Aegon’s descendants had a chance should the North expand further.
Already, the North had shown its appetite to swallow territories of the Vale and the Iron Islands. It was only a matter of time before they expanded further.
Footsteps came from behind him, pulling him back from his thoughts, but Varys ignored them in favour of staring at the Iron Throne.
“Varys.” Stannis said as he walked closer to the dais upon which the throne sat.
“Your grace.” Vary bowed his head as Stannis Baratheon climbed the dais and seated himself on the Iron Throne.
The Kingsguard knights Ser Arys Oakhart and Ser Mandon Moore followed their king and stood behind the throne with their guard up.
“The information that you gave me in private, is it true?” Stannis asked.
“I’m afraid so, your grace. The nature of the information was delicate. That’s why I sought a private audience in your chambers last night.”
“I understand.” Stannis said with a grimace. “Does the Starks intend to raise the claim of the boy for the throne?”
Vary stayed silent because he knew silence served as a great answer on such occasions. He left it to Stannis’ imagination, as that was the best kind of distraction he could imagine.
“I’ve sent a raven to Lannisport ordering Axel Florent to abandon the city and sail the rest of the Royal Fleet back to King’s Landing.” Stannis said.
Varys’s eyes widen slightly upon hearing this.
“But, your grace, that’d mean abandoning the Westerlands to House Tully and House Lefford’s nefarious plans.”
“Those traitors are not acting on their own. They will have the North’s aid soon enough. They will be dealt with once I have dealt with the traitors far closer to my home.”
“Your grace, even if your reasoning is sound, there is the matter of the hostile waters of the Reach to consider. Ser Axel will have the perilous task of sailing the fleet through the seas controlled by the great houses of the Reach with limited supplies.” Varys reminded the man.
“I’m aware, Lord Varys. Ser Axel will be relayed the risks involved in the taxing journey ahead.” Stannis said shortly.
Varys understood Stannis was keeping any plans he might have with the fleet a secret. He was hoping to glean something useful from the man, but he’d settle for the information on the fleet’s movements. Now, he only had to weigh his options regarding the fleet. Would it be better for the fleet to pass safely around Dorne and allow them to fight off the pirates, or destroy Ser Axel’s ships using the Redwyne fleet?
“What news do you have from Dragonstone?” Stannis asked.
“Nothing good, your grace. The dragons of Daenerys Targaryen grow larger every day. They’re as large as a pony. The Narrow Sea lords appear to support her reign staunchly, and her grip on Dragonstone is now firm.” Varys reported truthfully.
“What about Euron Greyjoy? What is he planning? Are they working in tandem with the Golden Company?” Stannis asked.
“The Crow’s Eye remains at large in the Narrow Sea. He has captured Tarth with pirates, but Evenfall Hall remains under Lord Selwyn’s control.”
“Pirates overrun his lands.” Stannis said with a grim look.
“I’m afraid so, your grace.” Varys nodded. “But I cannot be certain whether the Golden Company is working with Daenerys and the Crow’s Eye.”
“Why do you think so?” Stannis asked with a frown.
“Because Euron has attacked Greenstone as well, your grace. The Golden Company had taken over the island in the initial invasion, but now Euron’s pirates' feats on the island yield and take the women and children as slaves to be sold in the Essosi market.” Varys said with a dark tone.
“So, it won’t be long before they actively turn on each other.” Stannis commented with a thoughtful look.
To that, Varys observed silence. Once again, he left such matters to the imagination of Stannis Baratheon.
But he knew Stannis was right. There was no possible way for two dragons to coexist when they were both after the same throne. The best course of action he could see moving forward was for Daenerys Targaryen to die and Aegon to take command of her dragons. He’d have also been happier to hunt down the dragons, but the fact that the North now possessed those creatures made it imperative that Aegon and his descendants also have dragons.
Otherwise, House Stark would one day become the undisputed rulers of the entire continent. Without dragons of their own, he foresaw the rule of House Stark in twenty years as more dragons and dragon riders rose behind the throne of winter.
‘I’ll be long dead by then.’ Varys mused with some relief. ‘But until that time, I’ll serve the rightful king of Westeros, raised and trained among the lowborns.’
Varys’ eyes hardened as he envisioned the reign of a king who was not raised in fancy castles and surrounded by opulence. Rhaegar’s son, though born in the Red Keep, was raised in humble holdings. When the boy grew, he served as a helping hand on ships in the company of Jon Connington, who taught him the way of the sword and the laws of the Seven Kingdoms.
He envisioned the life for Aegon instead of the comfort of Illyrio Mopatis’ manse. He did so because one day, a king worthy of the enormous power and the responsibilities the Iron Throne demanded would ascend the throne.
It was a dream of his and was to be his legacy in Westeros.
‘Soon.’ Varys mused as he bowed and left the throne room when Stannis Baratheon dismissed him from the throne room.
*******
The red towers of Riverrun rose against the pale morning sky like the teeth of some ancient, slumbering beast. The forking waters of the Red Fork and Tumblestone shimmered around the castle, the great castle-fortress sitting proudly upon the junction that gave House Tully its strength. The confluence of the two rivers protected Riverrun from any armies that dared to breach the castle.
The drawbridge remained lowered as Harry reached the castle atop his horse. Behind him, the Nimbus remained on its landing legs with an army of men sleeping soundly inside the expanded space of his airship.
The initial plan was to go straight for Fair Isle and from there lead an assault on Lannisport. But when he started the journey, he was informed by Captain Nimpton that the fleet under Ser Axel Florent’s command was seen sailing south. To confirm this, Harry consulted the magical map, keeping track of the Westerlands’ shores. He saw ships lining up and sailing away from Lannisport, hugging the shores of the Westerlands.
When he saw that, the need for his immediate presence at Fair Isle became irrelevant. If he had to guess, Stannis Baratheon finally realised the error in his strategy and understood it was suicide to fight a war on all fronts. It was likely that Stannis called back his fleet based out of Lannisport to deal with the pirates aligned with Daenerys Targaryen commanding the Narrow Sea.
It was a sound move, but it was too late to make any difference. If the man had listened to him in the past and given the North the command of Lannisport, Stannis would’ve retained a significant portion of his fleet near King’s Landing.
Now, the fleet was forced to sail through hostile waters to reach a pirate-controlled Narrow Sea.
This meant House Florent was abandoning their claim on Lannisport, and Stannis was writing off the Westerlands.
Since the situation changed so rapidly, Harry needed to discuss the fate of the Westerlands with his grandfather. That was why he changed the course of Nimbus halfway and arrived at Riverrun.
Harry rode through the drawbridge with a handful of guards from his household accompanying him. It had been three years since Harry last rode through these gates. The last time he came was for his uncle’s wedding to Alysanne Lefford. The banners of House Tully hung above his head, fluttering in the chilly wind of the early morning. Smoke could be seen rising from the chimneys as Harry trotted inside the castle atop his horse.
“Prince Harrion.” Ser Wyn, the steward of Riverrun, greeted them in the courtyard while stable boys came to their side to take the horses away.
“Ser Wyn. I hope I didn’t give you a scare at my unannounced arrival.” Harry said with an apologetic look while handing over the reins of his horse to a stable boy.
“Well, I’m afraid you made Maester Vyman lose his footing when the silhouette of your ship appeared by his window while he was trying to free a dusty old tome from the library.” Swe Wyn said with a smile.
“I shall apologise sincerely to Maester Vyman for the unfortunate incident. Perhaps a rare book on Norvosi healing oils will be a suitable gift for the man to cheer him up.”
“Maester Vyman might run away with you if that’s the case.” Ser Wyn said with a chuckle. “Come, my prince. Lord Tully will greet you in his solar.”
Harry nodded once.
“Take me to him.”
They moved through the interior halls of Riverrun. The castle was lively with bright coloured silks draping every entrance. The walls were occasionally splashed with a myriad of colours that made Harry stare a little too long. Old hounds slept beside cold hearths. Guards bowed as Harry passed, but their faces mirrored the same quiet dread.
“Those are the works of young Kermit. He inherited much of his playfulness from his father.” Ser Wyn said with a chuckle.
Harry grinned upon hearing that. His mother had told him many of the stories of his uncle’s childhood, so he knew Kermit was taking after his father.
After walking for a few minutes, they finally reached the solar of Hoster Tully.
“A word of caution, my prince. Lord Hoster’s health has not been in the best of conditions now that the cold is setting in. Please be gentle with him.” Ser Wyn said awkwardly
“I’ll be careful, Ser.” Harry said sincerely and showed his appreciation for the warning by patting the man’s shoulder gently.
Ser Wyn knocked on the door and announced Harry’s arrival before holding the door open for him.
Harry stepped into the dim chamber lit only by slivered sunlight through the shutters. The room smelled of roses and river breeze. There was a dull fire burning in the heart, which provided some semblance of warmth, but it was not enough. Riverrun was colder than it had been the last time he visited. The chill in the air affected the castle, chasing away the warmth Harry was accustomed to in his mother’s home.
“Harrion.” Hoster said happily from a couch near the waning fire.
“Grandfather.” Harry greeted jovially.
“Come in. Let me take a good look at you.” Hoster said eagerly from his seat.
Harry moved closer to his grandfather and knelt beside his couch.
“Ah!” Hoster gasped as he looked at his grandson with wide eyes. “You look so much like Rickard in his youth. It’s as if he is right here.”
Harry smiled at being compared to his grandfather on his father’s side.
“A proper Stark if I ever saw one.” Hoster said while petting Harry’s curly hair with a fond smile. “And now, my grandson is a prince of a kingdom and my daughter a queen. I never imagined I’d see something like this in my lifetime.”
“Well, that is one of the reasons why I came seeking an audience with you, grandfather. The Westerlands will capitulate to Ser Brynden soon, and I need to know what you hope to accomplish with the Westerlands under the firm control of House Lefford?”
“Is that true?” Hoster asked with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I thought the Lannisters were tying themselves to House Florent.”
“They have done that, and Ser Axel Florent has abandoned Lannisport with his fleet. He fled the city under the cover of the night with all his ships and men, leaving the city and Casterly Rock vulnerable. It won’t be long before they surrender.”
“So, the situation in King’s Landing must’ve become worse if Stannis is calling back half his fleet.” Hoster murmured with a thoughtful frown.
“Indeed. The Stormlands have fallen to the Golden Company, with Renly taken prisoner. Pirates control the Narrow Sea, and Stannis is hesitant to send the remaining fleet in King’s Landing to contest the control of the Gullet. Daenerys Targaryen grows strong in Dragonstone as the old Targaryen loyalists gather behind her. House Tyrell has declared for Aegon, and there is bound to be a conflict in the Reach with House Florent backing Stannis.” Harry laid out the situation before his grandfather.
“I see. Have you learned anything about what is happening in the Vale? My daughter… your aunt has been eerily silent to all my ravens.” Hoster said with a displeased look.
“I’m afraid there is some discontent in the Vale over Aunt Lysa’s conduct in the Eyrie. I’m not well-versed in the happenings there, but I can have some people look into it.” Harry said, but he knew more than he let on.
But sometimes, the truth was not preferable or not enough.
So, Harry omitted the truth and instead went to the crux of the reason why he arrived at Riverrun.
“With Lannisport essentially undefended, the North’s fleet is ready to take command of the port. It’s also possible that House Lannister might surrender without a battle. Should that happen, you’ll have a decision to make, grandfather.”
“What decision?” Hoster asked curiously.
Not for a moment did Harry think his grandfather was ignorant of what lay ahead. After all, with someone as politically astute as his grandfather, there was no way he hadn’t foreseen this very moment.
“You must decide whether House Tully should remain a great house or elevate itself as the royal house of the Trident and the Mountains.”
Hoster remained silent for a moment, but his eyes were now sharp and pinned on Harry.
“I know what I want to do, Harrion. But if my wish is to come true, it’ll require Lord Lefford’s and your father’s approval.” Hoster said, looking intently at Harry.
“I see.” Harry said, releasing a breath he was holding. “I understand what should be done.”
Harry got an inkling of what his grandfather was aiming for, and he got the feeling it was a choice his father was going to dislike.
The serious moment in the solar was broken when Kermit chose that moment to run into the solar covered in paint and flour powder from head to toe. No Occlumency technique could stop the laughter that bubbled out of his throat at the sight of his uncle’s son looking like a mini ghost with blue hair.
