Chapter 49: Elsewhere I
(Braavos)
In a reasonably sizeable room, sat a group of very worried and influential individuals, discussing the recent events and revelations that had been revealed in the Sunset Kingdoms.
A new King had been declared and one that had control over nearly the whole continent, only the Iron Islands and the Lands Beyond the Wall remained out of his sphere of control.
"Are we going to let him get away with this." someone voiced.
"Oh, and how you propose we deal with him" another voice sneered in response.
"Send the faceless men after him, surely they can get rid of him." was the rebuttal.
"Yes, let's send the order to kill the descendant of their founder, surely that will go over quite well with them." Interjected another.
"Bah, just hire as many mercenary companies as we can and throw them at him."
"In turn costing us most our gold and turning the free men against us… what an excellent idea." Sarcasm dripped from their tone.
"What exactly is the problem, now that he's stuck in Westeros, isn't that good for us?"
"Not necessarily, that man is a very ambitious one, I'll eat my shoe if he doesn't have plans for our city."
"Enough!" The head of the table finally spoke, silencing all those present. "We cannot afford to bicker, we have to deal with him before he comes after us."
"That's easier said than done… the fucking Mudd has a dragon."
"How the hell did he get one, forget that how the hell did he get three?"
"If rumors are true, the eggs that would hatch these Dragons of his came as payment by the Pentoshi, the bastards wanted to keep their gold."
"Fucking mongers they can't do anything right."
"Here Here." A chorus of agreement resounded throughout the room.
These were some of the most powerful men in Braavos, they had one goal and that was to prevent House Mudd from taking control of the city.
Contrary to popular belief not all Braavosi welcomed the idea of a Mudd Monarch ascending over them. Especially those who stood to lose a lot of power and influence. They saw House Mudd as a threat to their future, just as their predecessors did before them.
It was well known that the Sealord at the time had been the one to incite the famed 'Dragonslayer' to slaughter what remained of the Dragonlords. More than a few here thought that it was quite masterful of him, as it would've allowed him to get rid of potential threats to his reign, it was unfortunate that Aryan did not die but succeeded in his endeavor.
Yes, the Mudds had played a not-so-insignificant part in the escape of the slaves and the founding of Braavos. But, that mattered little to them who wanted to retain what they had and no damned past glory was going to take it from them.
"Perhaps we can incite Volantis to do something, those proud fools have been smarting over their defeat in the hands of the banners for quite a while." Those present looked thoughtful at that suggestion.
"What about the Black Dragon and his band of Golden cunts? Surely that bastard has some descendants running about." Another voice suggested.
The head of the table contemplated both suggestions, they were valid and would avoid implicating Braavos too much. It wouldn't do if any of Erlend's critical supporters within the city realised their intentions.
"We'll take both routes, surely one of the two will be able to do something." He came to a decision.
One of the individuals didn't seem to agree with one of the decisions, "The black dragon has a claim to the Iron Throne, you all seem to be ignoring the fact that it doesn't exist anymore." He spoke.
"Since when have those lot cared about legitimacy, Westeros has always been their goal, not the chair." One responded.
"Just tell them about the dragons, surely they'll be able to claim one of the beasts." the Head pointed out.
"Do we want another of that mad line getting their hands on a Dragon…"
"Sacrifices have to be made, if we're lucky they'll kill each other, without us having to do anything."
"Don't forget the faceless man would deal with the Black Dragons if they succeed."
"..."
…
(Pentos)
Vary's arrived to find a waiting Illyrio Mopatis, the man sat reclined on a large chair, his remarkable girth weighing it down.
A wealth of bejeweled rings sat atop his fat fingers and costly necklaces lay on his neck. Their worth was enough to last the common man a lifetime, yet in the fat man's hands, they were mere decorations.
"Come sit, my friend." Illyrio waved at the effeminate eunuch.
Varys did not bat an eye at the appearance of his old friend and seated himself on one of the available chairs. There was a table before them that was ladened with food, something that surprised him, he'd assumed the fat Magister would've wolfed them down long before he'd arrived.
A cup of wine was placed before him by a young servant girl, same as Illyrio.
"I had thought the worse had happened when word of the burning came from the capital," Illyrio said.
"I always have a plan old friend, you know that." Vary's sent a pointed look to the Magister. "Though I admit I was caught by surprise at the turn of events".
"It's likely no one will see the Iron Throne ever again. Scrap metal most say."
"Quite true, but it won't stop us from continuing our plans."
Deciding to sample the food, he found it quite delicious. It was no wonder his friend had become so decadent and fat from it. There was little to fear of poison, not from his good brother at least.
Taking a sip from the arbor wine to quench his thirst, he decided to get straight to the point, new plans had to be made as the board has long been overturned.
Little Daemon was far too young to make proper use of the Golden Company, and even if he was old enough, they were from enough. Westeros had united under a firm hand, an experienced one who held no qualms about playing in the shadows.
The fat man grimaced at the difficulty they faced. "Connington is out of our reach, lost at sea they claim."
Varys shrugged at that. "It matters not, with Elia and Rhaenys alive and out of our reach, masking Daemon as Aegon is impossible." Placed his cup down, he continued. "Doran might have gone along with it, especially if we tied him to Arianna, but Oberyn would never agree to it."
"You think I don't know that…" Illyrio averted his attention from the food and eyed the eunuch with fury. "Years of planning gone to waste. Because a single old man decided he wanted a little bit more power."
'You're one to talk' Varys inwardly snorted.
"Not all is lost," Varys spoke soothingly. "I need not remind you that Erlend is not invincible, cracks will show sooner or later. His Dynasty fell once, it can do so again"
"You want his Dragons?" A scheming glint could be seen in the fat magister's eyes. Dreams of his Son riding upon Dragons like his ancestors filled his head.
"Daemon has far purer Valyrian blood in his veins if someone like Mudd who has barely any can do it. Then so could my nephew."
"Why not take one for yourself," Illyrio said. "You have just as much blood as my son."
Staring at the decorations that filled the area around them. "They are proud creatures. There is little chance they'll accept a broken rider." His tone was somber.
He often wondered how things could've gone differently had he never met that wretched foul being. Mayhaps it would be him and not Daemon who sought to claim Westeros. Not viewing his descent as a curse that lost him his manhood but as a badge of pride to be used.
Illyrio let out a fierce noise, Interrupting his regrets. "How is it that the Mudd was able to claim Westeros so easily?"
'A lemur sounded more threatening.'
"Blood, Strength, and Reputation," Varys answered. "He had the best army in the continent, a distant blood claim, and Dragons of course. There also the fact that his House was one of the more sensible of the Great Houses."
"Daemon has a stronger claim," Illyrio responded. Affection for his son could be gleaned from his eyes.
"The Mudds are legitimate. Where's my House are viewed as up jumped bastards." Vary's snorted at that naive thought. "Still… I do not doubt that many are uneasy about his reign, we just have to find them."
"There is no rush, my friend." Yet, you still worry. "My son is still young, time is not of the essence."
"And my Sister?" He asked.
"As viscous as always, there is little hope of using her as a bargaining chip, not without costing us our manhoods. Mayhaps she'll grow out of this rebellious phase." Illyrio lamented.
You're better off losing weight than for Visenya to be tamed.
His sister had refused to come to heel, the troubling fact was that she paid little heed to him or her Illyrio. She viewed both with contempt and already had a sizeable portion of the Golden Company under her control.
Varys had seen no reason to stop it, hoping that she would show interest in taking her the Westeros like her forbearers, which might pull the Company's loyalty towards Daemon. Unfortunately, such a prospect seemed unlikely, it didn't help that she had little interest in Westeros.
What troubled him was that her interest was firmly aimed at the Mudd Lord. Having worked with him before, during a particularly nasty fight against the Horse Lords.
It was a relief that the now King of Westeros hadn't shown much interest in her beyond admiration and a duel. Those with the otherworldly appearance of Valyrians weren't so uncommon in Essos after all.
Oh, it showed him that the young Mudd didn't seem to mind warrior woman much, nor a woman leading an army.
Unfortunately, that wasn't all that useful, considering it would bring undue attention to them and increase Erlend's popularity with the Dornish and the various Ladies who now ruled thanks to the deaths of the men in their families.
They continued to discuss plans for the most part. Before he left, Varys did not forget to warn his friend not to alienate his youngest Sister, lest she bring the wrath of the Company upon them.
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