[69] Small Council Going Crazy

Chapter 69: Small Council Going Crazy

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The Small Council chamber was dead silent, except for Joffrey drumming his fingers on the old oak table. Candles flickered, shadows dancing across everyone’s tense faces. Joffrey’s crown sat crooked, and the sheer rage on his face made it real clear he wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Well?” he snapped. “Where is my mother?”

Ser Meryn Trant stepped forward, his white Kingsguard cloak swishing around his shoulders. “Your Grace, I... I was the last one to see the Queen Regent. She ordered the release of the Red Priestess and those Dornish girls yesterday morning, then...”

“That is not what I asked. But what do you mean released them?” Tyrion cut in, leaning forward and forgetting all about his wine. “Why in the Seven Hells would she release people she’d ordered the capture of by her own will?”

“I... don’t know, my lord.” Meryn looked around, clearly uncomfortable. “She told me to carry out the order, and then she just vanished. No guards saw her leave. Her chambers were empty, except...”

“Except what?” Joffrey demanded, impatience dripping off every word.

Meryn swallowed. “Except for disturbed sheets, Your Grace. She has… I don’t know if I should say this since she warned me multiple times about this before…”

Joffrey slammed his goblet down on the table, sending wine sloshing over the maps beneath. “Spill it right now!”

“Her Grace was sharing the bed with a man!” Trant shouted. “V-Vis, the mercenary from Second Sons,” he said, lowering his head.

“....” the room grew a little awkward, especially as Joffrey cleared his throat.

“It’s not that unusual that she brings men to her chambers, but this one was particularly odd,” Trant continued. “She’d asked another guard and me to bring him in restraints, and once we sent him to her room, as per her orders… he was next seen on her bed.”

Joffrey’s face reddened while Tyrion covered his with a hand, sighing. The boy King growled, shouting like crazy. “U-useless! All of you! That doesn’t explain how she vanished. How does the Queen Regent vanish from the most guarded castle in all of Westeros?”

He’s so wound up he might snap someone’s neck if he hates their answer, Tyrion thought, carefully glancing at his nephew.

“Someone had to see something,” Tyrion said out loud, lifting a hand to calm Joffrey a bit. “Servants, guards—there’s always someone lurking around the Red Keep.”

“Exactly,” Varys murmured, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “My little birds are already digging for answers, but this is bizarre. No ransom, no signs of forced entry. The timing with the Red Priestess’s release looks way too convenient.”

Littlefinger’s mouth curled into that slippery smirk he always wore. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Could be our dear Queen Regent left on her own. Maybe things were getting... uncomfortable for her here.”

“You dare say my mother ran away?” Joffrey snarled, his face starting to go purple. “I’ll have your head on a spike!”

Tyrion stepped in before the threat got too serious. “Calm down, my dear nephew. We have to think about every possibility. If she was taken, who had the reason and the means? Stannis is too direct, the Dornish would be stupid, too. After all, your sister is to marry into the Martell family. That leaves the Tyrells… one lord reported about them allying with a Targaryen, right?”

Varys cleared his throat, and the room fell quiet. “Ah, yes. There is another angle, though I don’t love bringing it up.”

He paused, letting that little ominous pause hang in the air. The candle flames seemed to dip like everything was holding its breath.

“As Lord Tyrion mentioned, House Tyrell has chosen to serve a Targaryen—Viserys the Third. Although initially we had trouble believing the intel due to how absurd it sounded, isn’t it about time we accept it?” Varys asked, his tone careful. “On the other hand, we have this sellsword, Vis... plus the Red Priestess who got let go. I find it odd Her Grace worked so hard to hide them. Perhaps she’d noticed something we hadn’t and wanted to use it for her benefit?”

“Why do you say so?”

“After the Queen vanished, I discovered she’d been wiping out every mention of this sellsword Vis from our records—guard shifts, visitor logs, merchant receipts. It was likely so that my little birds, and Littlefinger’s spies, wouldn’t notice him. Why would she do something like that?” Varys asked and shrugged to himself.

Could that be real? Tyrion wondered, picturing some silver-haired dragonlord marching into King’s Landing. It sounded insane. Then again, so did the idea of a dragon existing in the first place, but they did in the past.

“You’re right,” Littlefinger said, stroking his neat little beard. “Vis... Viserys. It’s as if he’s mocking us. Wanting us to notice. How bold.”

Silence stretched as the dots connected in each of their heads. The situation grew clear, and Tyrion let out a sigh. “Ser Meryn,” he spoke up, turning to Trant. “Tell us more about… this Vis. And what my dear sister before vanishing.”

Meryn’s lips tightened. “I... he’s one annoying bastard, my lord. He was… touching Her Grace and smirking at me, that piece of shit. Yet, rather than getting mad, Her Grace told me to handle the release of those prisoners, dropping them outside the city, and then she dismissed me. I held my sword and threatened the mercenary, but Her Grace told me to stay calm. She said everything was alright...”

Joffrey tapped his knuckles against the table, stiff with anger. “My mother’s no idiot, but if some Targaryen scum laid hands on her—”

“Your Grace,” Tyrion said gently, “we’re not sure of anything yet. But something happened in those chambers. Even if they had… slept together, how did they vanish?”

“Windows,” Tyrion narrowed his eyes. “The Ghost of Targaryen… that thing who can fly. It’s not a fabricated story either; I’d seen him fly with my own two eyes that day.”

Varys answered with a faint smile. “You have a sharp mind, my lord. I thought the same.”

“And yet you didn’t share your thoughts?” Tyrion asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was about to,” he shrugged.

“Then it fits,” Littlefinger said, shrugging like he didn’t have a care in the world. “The Queen Regent tried to hide Vis and his people, for whatever reason, and this Vis—who’s actually Viserys Targaryen—took advantage of her in her bedroom… and abducted her.”

The silence that hit next made Joffrey’s fury almost a solid thing in the room. He gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles went white.

Pity, Littlefinger noted. Ros had grown close to that man at first, but he must have grown bored of a whore since I didn’t hear anything about them for a while now.

“Targaryens?” the boy king spat. “They’re dead and gone. Anyone claiming that name is a fraud. If you guys are dumb enough to believe all this, I should stick your heads on spikes right alongside whoever took my mother! Whoever is that bastard pretending to be Rhaeger, Viserys, or whatnot, we’ll find him.”

That was stupid and delusional to deny, after everything that happened.

“...Of course, Your Grace,” Tyrion muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. He’s too young, too arrogant. Gods help us all. “Indeed,” he added more loudly, “we have to find Her Grace before word spreads that the Queen Regent got snatched right under our noses. Morale’s shaky enough with Stannis’s army out there.”

Joffrey started yelling orders at Trant, calling forth more guards to give them the same directive. Dozens of footsteps carried out of the place as the situation grew tense. Today, they’d not only lost their Queen, but they’d also confirmed a new piece in this War of the Five Kings. Not just any piece… but a Targaryen.

Varys’ expression remained calm and unreadable, but his mind was a whirlwind. Who’d have thought my investment in Viserys and his sister would derive like this? Dammit. But if he really can transform into a dragon... he thought, keeping his face neutral, then everything’s about to change. This is not good. Not good at all.

Varys’ thoughts were carefully masked behind years of practiced neutrality. He knew more – much more – than he was sharing. What an outlandish situation. Is all this a result of the dragon eggs Illyrio and I gave as Dany’s marriage gift?

Varys and Illyrio had planned to use Viserys as a pawn. It was Varys’ plan, executed by Illyrio, who poisoned Viserys’ into marrying his sister off for an army. When Viserys would have come to Westeros with the Dothraki to rampage around, that was when the main part of their plans would begin. The part where they’d introduce a “hero” in this situation.

Yet, all that went to hell, and Viserys somehow grew dragon wings.

Must be that… Blood Magic. He does have a Red Priestess beside him. It makes sense. Varys pondered, connecting the dots. This created a lot of problems.

Across the Narrow Sea, a young dragon was emerging from his shell. Young Griff, as in Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, was busy gathering strength, training for the day he would reclaim his birthright.

Varys and Illyrio had spent years carefully cultivating this plan, molding the boy into the perfect king. But now, this Draconic Viserys threatened to upset everything.

A Targaryen on the throne? Yes, that had always been the goal. But not this Targaryen… Not Viserys. He was an unpredictable element who he’d thought dead at the hands of the Dothraki. Yet, he’d somehow acquired a dragon and the backing of major houses.

Varys kept these thoughts locked behind his placid expression, but under the table, his hands clenched into fists for the first time in decades.

****

I walked back into Hayford Castle, my mind drifting to King’s Landing. The Small Council had to be losing it by now, scrambling to figure out what happened to their precious Queen Regent. I could practically see Joffrey’s face going that ugly shade of purple while he threw one of his usual fits.

The guards bowed low as I passed through the gates. Nothing like a bit of fear to nail down loyalty—Viserion’s little performance this morning definitely left its mark.

None of them even tried to meet my eyes; they kept their gazes glued to the ground.

In the castle corridors, my boots echoed off the stone walls. Servants hurried out of my way, pressing themselves against the walls till I’d gone by. The morning sun poured in through narrow windows, laying long shadows on the worn flagstones.

Rounding a corner toward the living quarters, I caught voices from an alcove up ahead. I slowed down to listen.

“—swear on the Seven, I’m Queen Cersei Lannister. Look at my hair!” That voice was so familiar, straining to sound commanding even though it was filled with desperation. “Help me get out, and I’ll make you a High Lady. Gold, lands, whatever you want—”

I stepped in, spotting Cersei waving her bound hands at a terrified serving girl. Both of them froze when they saw me.

“What’s all this?” I walked over and grabbed Cersei by the throat. The maid stumbled back, face going white. “My dog’s that eager to run off? Relax, I’ll take you back to King’s Landing, but not just yet.”

“Take your filthy hands off me, you bastard!” Cersei hissed, squirming in my grip. “I’m the Queen—”

The slap cracked through the corridor. Her head whipped to the side, a red mark blooming on her cheek.

“Get out,” I told the maid, who took off so fast she might’ve grown wings. She was gone down the hall in a blink.

I dragged Cersei into one of the empty rooms, her curses echoing the whole way. Her struggling didn’t do a thing—she clawed uselessly at my arm while I hauled her along. I dragged the so-called Queen of the Seven Kingdoms deeper.

Cersei's gold hair, once such a big deal, was now just another thing for me to yank around. She was a proud lioness brought low, and I was loving every second of it.

I hauled her into the master bedroom—the place I’d taken from Tyrek Lannister. Cersei's eyes darted all over like she was hoping to spot a way out. Too bad for her.

With one swift move, I hurled her toward the bed. Her back smacked into it, making her groan. She squirmed on the floor, her fancy gown riding up around her. When she looked at me, I could still see some fight in her eyes, but there was fear there, too. Good. She needed to be scared.

I walked over, my boots pounding on the wood. Reaching down, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her upright. “Bastard-!” she let out a pained yelp, trying in vain to pry my fingers loose. Like that’d ever work.

I loosened my pants, letting them fall to the floor as my cock sprang free. It was already half-hard at the thought of what was to come and of showing her her place once again. Cersei's eyes widened as she took in the sight.

"Open your mouth," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.

She hesitated momentarily, and I could see the struggle in her eyes. But in the end, what could she do? Her lips parted, quivering slowly, and I slammed my cock into her sloppy wet mouth. The warmth and wetness of it sent a jolt of pleasure through me.

"Look at you," I sneered, gripping her hair tighter as I began to thrust. "The great Queen Cersei, on her knees, sucking the cock of a Targaryen. How the mighty have fallen, eh? Not that you ever were mighty."

She gagged as I pushed deeper, her hands moving to my thighs in an attempt to push me away. But I was stronger, and I held her in place. Her eyes watered as I continued, and I could feel her teeth grazing my skin. It only added to the pleasure since her teeth could never make me bleed.

I used her mouth roughly, not caring about her comfort or her dignity. She was nothing to me but a means to an end, a way to assert my dominance and feel better. And as I felt myself getting closer, I knew that this was just the beginning.

I pulled out abruptly, my cock glistening with her saliva. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “You,” she grumbled, “you piece of shit!”

I looked down at her, my eyes filled with contempt. "You're such a pathetic thing," I spat, starting to laugh. "A disgrace to your family name. But you're mine now, and I'll do with you as I please. Turn that ass around."

The dawn delved into the night before I even knew it.

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