Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen
Chapter 189: Perhaps He Can Be Persuaded to Give Up the Iron Throne

Chapter 189: Perhaps He Can Be Persuaded to Give Up the Iron Throne

Most of those involved in the war got what they wanted. Hoyt finally exacted his revenge and became the de facto ruler of Pentos. Viserys solidified his influence across Pentos, Tyrosh, and Lys, ensuring the Tyroshi nobility was firmly under his control. Hoyt and Viserys now jointly ruled Pentos, while Viserys also extended his reach into Lys. In addition, Viserys struck a deal with the Red Viper, securing 20% of the toll from every ship passing through—essentially stealing a golden goose for Sunspear and amassing significant wealth from the campaign in Pentos.

The stir they caused couldn't go unnoticed in King’s Landing. The situation forced Jon Arryn to drag Robert out of bed and into an urgent council meeting. As the Master of Whisperers, Varys was the first to brief the group on the unfolding events.

“The man behind the uprising in Pentos is named Hoyt Stewart. He fled the city about thirty years ago to avoid being sacrificed as a puppet prince. The House Berent of Pentos slaughtered his family, and he has been plotting his revenge ever since..."

Many of those present recognized the name but were unfamiliar with his history. When Varys mentioned that Hoyt was the leader of the Windblown, it clicked for everyone.

“This dragon spawn—he’s only seventeen, right? And he managed all this?” someone asked skeptically.

Varys gave an innocent shrug, indicating that he was merely relaying the information he had gathered.

Jon Arryn frowned. “Continue.”

“Yes, Hand of the King.” Varys took a measured breath and continued. “The situation in Tyrosh is more complex. The city is now jointly administered by Pentos, Myr, and Sunspear, though it's primarily ruled by a man known as Griff.”

Varys wasn’t exactly volunteering this information out of goodwill; he had a personal grudge against Viserys and would have preferred to see him torn apart.

“Tell me more about this Griff,” Arryn said, narrowing his eyes.

As an “ally,” Varys knew exactly how to present the situation to benefit himself. He painted Griff as an ambitious figure, a potential threat. The elderly Grand Maester Pycelle, still sharp and influential, nodded in agreement.

“So this Griff is another Ninepenny Kings type?” Pycelle asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“Yes,” Varys replied. “This alliance between Sunspear, Myr, Lys, and Pentos bears his fingerprints all over it. His connection with Hoyt seems strong, as they were both mercenaries. I’m still verifying the exact nature of their relationship.”

Hearing this, Jon Arryn felt a small sense of relief but remained cautious. He pressed on, “And what role does this Viserys play in all of this?”

According to the information Connington had fed Varys, it was Viserys who orchestrated the alliance. Viserys had instructed Connington to relay this, knowing it would muddy the waters. However, revealing this would not serve Varys’s interests—or those of the current regime.

“He played a significant role in helping Hoyt capture Pentos,” Varys answered smoothly. “That’s why Hoyt appointed him as the new leader of the Windblown. I’m still digging for more details.”

As Jon Arryn absorbed the information, he glanced over at Barristan Selmy, carefully observing his reaction. Barristan appeared attentive, showing no signs of any secret connection to Viserys. But there was something in his expression—an admiration, perhaps even a longing—that irked Jon Arryn.

Jon Arryn fought the urge to remind Barristan that the king he now served was a Baratheon, not a Targaryen.

"We should strike while the Windblown are still weak and gather an army to crush them!" Renly, the youngest of the Baratheon brothers, proposed eagerly.

Robert immediately approved of the idea. "Yes! They’re just a small mercenary band!"

Seeing his brother's approval, Renly flicked his hair back, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

Jon Arryn remained silent, clearly exasperated by the brothers' impulsiveness, but Stannis stepped in with a timely reminder. "The Iron Throne rules Westeros, not the Free Cities. An attack could provoke hostility from the Free Cities."

Renly and Robert exchanged disapproving glances. "So what do you suggest?" Robert snapped, "Let this Viserys grow stronger and stronger? By then, the bastards in Dorne and Highgarden will side with him! They’ll want to see their dragon lord back on the Iron Throne!"

Robert grew more agitated as he spoke, his anger rising. Pycelle, lowering his eyes, was well aware that Robert’s claim of fighting for Lyanna was a flimsy excuse—a way to mask his usurpation. Robert's rise to power had been so riddled with coincidences that even he felt uneasy about it.

"Who represented Sunspear in this campaign?" Stannis asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Prince Oberyn, my lord," Varys answered.

"That son of a whore!" Robert fumed. "He’s probably in league with Viserys!"

Ignoring the king's outburst, Jon Arryn spoke calmly. "Perhaps we should summon Oberyn to King’s Landing for questioning. We might learn more, and gather some useful information."

"Good idea," Renly chimed in, "but what reason would we give him? He won’t come without a compelling excuse."

"Offer him a seat on the small council," Jon Arryn suggested, causing a stir in the room. The idea of giving such a significant position to Oberyn shocked everyone. Jon Arryn had long held sway over the Master of Coin, but a seat on the small council was no trivial offer. Was someone in the room about to lose their position?

Tension rippled through the room as everyone suddenly felt their power being threatened.

"If we’re bringing the Red Viper here, we might as well summon Ned too!" Robert blurted out, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. Over the years, he had sensed Jon Arryn’s subtle power struggle with the Lannisters, but he had never quite understood the reasons behind it. Now, confused and anxious, he was desperate to replace an ally.

Jon Arryn turned his head to Robert, his voice steady. "And who do you plan to leave in charge of the North? Robb is only 14 years old." Robert fell silent, realizing he had spoken without thinking.

After confirming a few more details, Arryn addressed the king. "Your Grace, is there anything else you wish to ask?"

Though Jon Arryn had been governing the realm, the crown still rested on Robert’s head, and the proper etiquette between the king and his advisers had to be observed.

"No!" Robert barked, clearly impatient.

"Very well," Arryn concluded. "Varys, keep a close watch on the Free Cities. Pycelle, send a letter to Sunspear. Invite Oberyn to King’s Landing, and we’ll discuss his position when he arrives."

"Yes, my lord," both Varys and Pycelle responded in unison.

Soon, everyone had left the council chamber, but Barristan lingered, approaching Varys in private.

"Ser Barristan, how can I assist you?" Varys asked respectfully.

"In the meeting, you didn’t mention anything about Daenerys. How is she?" Barristan inquired, his tone steady but with a hint of concern.

"I’m afraid I haven’t paid special attention to her, my lord," Varys replied cautiously. "But given Viserys’s current situation..." He hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding dismissive. Thankfully, Barristan seemed to understand the implication.

"Ser, I appreciate your insight, but we serve the Baratheon king now. Doesn’t that complicate things?"

Barristan's face grew more serious, his words carefully chosen.

"I understand your concerns. But I served the late King Aerys for many years. My only wish is to ensure that his bloodline remains safe," Barristan added, his voice firm and honest. For a brief moment, Varys felt a pang of guilt.

The Master of Whisperers composed himself, dismissing the uncharacteristic emotion. "Your thoughts are noble, Ser Barristan, but have you considered that even if Viserys were willing to give up his claim to the Iron Throne, could he ever forgive the blood feud? Our King Robert killed his brother, and Tywin Lannister was responsible for the deaths of his sister-in-law and nephew. Could he ever let that go?"

Barristan’s expression darkened as the weight of Varys's words sank in. "Perhaps... perhaps we could try. It might be worth attempting," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. Even he knew that the history of bloodshed between the Targaryens and their enemies was too deep to simply set aside. After all, the Targaryens and Martells had a history of killing each other, yet they had still forged alliances through marriage. 'But what if they couldn’t?'

The two men exchanged a few more words before parting ways. For Varys, it was clear that Viserys would never relinquish his hatred. Worse, Varys realized he was implicated in that hatred.

In addition to his usual intelligence reports, Varys had recently received something more disturbing—the head of Illyrio Mopatis. Illyrio’s scalp had been brutally removed, and the words "blood is blood" were carved into the back of his head. It was a clear message: Viserys had uncovered the plot between him and Illyrio. This was no mere warning; it was a direct provocation, a threat.

The sight of Illyrio’s mutilated head brought back memories Varys had long tried to bury—the helplessness he had felt when he was castrated and left to die in the streets. A wave of indescribable fear washed over him.

For a fleeting moment, Varys considered advising Robert to launch an attack on the Free Cities. But he knew that this was precisely what Viserys wanted. A war would likely push Dorne and the Reach into Viserys's camp. They were already on the political fringes, and Viserys was offering them a path to greater influence.

Dorne, in particular, would almost certainly align itself with the Targaryens if given the chance. And in his heart, Varys knew that Robert couldn’t win. Even though he wasn’t the Master of Coin, Varys was well aware that the Iron Throne’s finances were in far worse shape under Robert than they had ever been under Aerys.

Robert’s endless banquets, extravagant tournaments, and reckless spending had drained the treasury year after year... and in that moment, Varys couldn’t help but silently curse the usurper.

The good news was that Connington had sent word that young Aegon was still safe, and Viserys hadn’t suspected a thing. Connington had only revealed his true identity to Viserys, which brought Varys a measure of relief. If Viserys had learned more, all of Connington’s years of patience, lurking in the shadows, and meticulous planning would have been for nothing.

This Small Council meeting reflected the sentiments of half of Westeros—the Vale, the Crownlands, and the Stormlands. However, the upheaval across the Narrow Sea sent even wider ripples through the realm, affecting regions like the Reach, particularly House Tyrell in Highgarden.

During the Conquest, Aegon the Conqueror's approach to the Riverlands and the Reach was to support one house while suppressing another. In the Riverlands, he elevated House Tully, while in the Reach, he supported House Tyrell, which had risen from being mere stewards to the ruling family after the fall of House Gardener. Though House Tyrell didn’t face extinction like the Targaryens after Robert's Rebellion, they still endured significant scrutiny and suppression.

An example of this was Stannis Baratheon’s marriage to Selyse Florent, now a Baratheon, which symbolized royal favor toward House Florent, a rival to the Tyrells.

Over nearly a decade, House Florent had grown in power, challenging the Tyrells' dominance in the Reach. To secure their position, Lord Mace Tyrell sent his youngest son, Loras, to serve as Renly Baratheon's squire—a gesture of loyalty to the Stormlands. The Tyrells even considered marrying their youngest daughter, Margaery, to Renly to strengthen their alliance.

As a result, the Tyrell family had rarely been together in recent years, often replaceing one of their members absent at meals. On this particular evening, those present were Queen of Thorns Olenna, Lord Mace—often mocked as the "The Fat Flower"—his eldest son Willas, his second son Garlan, and his daughter Margaery. The five of them sat at the mahogany table and prayed.

“Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger...” they recited in unison. As devout followers of the Seven, and especially as descendants of Garth Greenhand, prayer was essential before eating. Even the serving girls behind them bowed their heads in silent prayer.

Of course, only one person kept her eyes open—Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, who always had her own way of doing things.

She glanced first at her fat son, Mace, then at her eldest grandson, Willas. The memory of his fall during a tournament and the injury that crippled his leg still pained her. Olenna had been beside herself with grief when she received the news, unable to eat for days. Though she had publicly urged Willas to be strong, she had cried many times in private.

Next, her gaze shifted to her other grandson, Garlan. Of all Mace's children, Garlan resembled him the most, especially in his youth. But unlike Mace, Garlan had proven to be far more capable, a fact that filled Olenna with pride. She had a special fondness for Garlan because of it.

Finally, Olenna looked at Margaery, the little Rose of House Tyrell. Olenna remembered the days when she defied her own family's plans, refusing to marry a Targaryen and instead taking matters into her own hands by securing a happy marriage. But things were different now; in House Tyrell, duty was paramount. Margaery could, and must, marry Renly Baratheon, and if necessary, support his claim to the throne. It was the only way to ensure a prosperous future for their house.

The prayer concluded, and Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, took a deliberate bite of her food, signaling to her son and grandchildren that they could begin eating as well.

As the clatter of knives, forks, and plates filled the room, Olenna broke the silence. "Have you heard about Viserys? What are your thoughts?"

Her grandchildren paused, their meals momentarily forgotten, while Mace, the Lord Puff Fish, oblivious to the tension, continued to eat heartily. But Olenna no longer concerned herself with her son's lack of awareness; her focus was on the future of House Tyrell.