80 -||

Lastly came Elrond and Celebrían, who had drawn the eyes of all for the beautiful jewel she wore, a crown of mithril akin to the one worn by Eärwen save that it was loftier, and it was all white, and the wings at either side were wrought of pearl and silver in the likeness of the wings of a swan, so lifelike many thought it would take flight, and upon its summit was set a single sapphire that shone as the stars.

Jon seated his grandmother and Galadriel before strolling beside her and planting a kiss upon her cheek.

"My Dragon…" said Írimë, embracing him gladly.

"My Sunflower…" said Jon, caressing her golden tresses.

"Aunt…" grumbled Artanis, and Írimë snorted softly.

"Niece…" grumbled Írimë, though she smiled as Jon noticed her cakes and swiftly devoured three in short order.

"Delicious…" said Jon delightedly, his eyes alight with happiness.

"Hehehe… Don't worry, Nin Mel, there's still more… Aren't you going to share some?" Írimë asked, smiling innocently.

"No!" said Jon greedily before resuming his feast.

"Well, as you wish, Nin Mel…." chortled Írimë, her eyes gleaming with amusement and love. Though not all were pleased as she heard Robar and Loras mumbling many curses under their breath, chief among them selfish bastard and damnable oaf.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The breakfast passed without incident, and everyone laughed, ate and satiated until the servants began to take away the dishes; it was at this moment Elendil and Gil-galad rose from their seats, faces grim, indeed it seemed a shadow had passed over all cloaking them in fear and grief.

King Gil-galad raised his hand, and the bustle of the hall stopped as all turned to hear the words of the High King.

"I hope you all enjoyed your breakfast… for now, we must speak of darker days. It was three years ago that the Lord of the Dark Lands came forth from his cursed realms sacking Minas Ithil and burning the heir of Nimloth most fair," said Gil-galad sadly.

Then Elendil spoke, his voice mighty as a summer's wind. "Gil-galad speaks truly for alas! Dark days come, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed, and so we have formed this great alliance of Men and Elves to cast down the Lord of the Dark Tower just as our kin did in the War of the Jewels, we have dwelt here in joy and tranquillity, readying for the day we march against this terrible foe and that day has come!" 

"At last, the day has come, one I hoped I would never have to see, for my husband shall march to war," thought Írimë, grimly though she was not alone in her fear as she saw Arianne, who had turned ghostly pale. "The father of her son must go to war, and there is little hope of his return."

"All must be prepared to march in a few days, sharpen your blades, saddle the horses and gather provisions... Our greatest test is upon us... let us hope the Valar may guide us to victory," Said Gil-galad and this was meant with many roars of approval.

"It has been an honour to have all of you as guests in my house, and it saddens me that our time here ends because I know that many will not return... In these three years, my house has been illuminated, beautified and strengthened with your company, and for that, my wife and I thank you..." said Elrond, bowing low.

"Indeed, the walls that my silly dragon has erected to strengthen and widen the halls of Imladris are works of great strength and beauty even though building them was a punishment on Artanis's part since it was a great pain for him..." thought Írimë her eyes darting towards Arianne. "If I know that girl as I'd like to think, she will not hide this from Jon."

"Verily, my dear aunt though perhaps we should follow them", said Galadriel, her voice one of anger and resentment.

"Artanis, how many times must I tell you? Do not enter my mind so wantonly," said Írimë angrily.

"We can speak about that later, aunt; now I think it best we should keep an eye on our dragon. I feel he shall need us," said Galadriel proudly; alas, she was forced to agree. She had planned to follow Jon anyway, but it seemed she would have support.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------

Her assumptions proved correct; shortly after they had left the hall, she spied Arianne heatedly conversing with their dragon, it seemed the Dornish Princess wished to stroll through the valley. For a few moments, Írimë thought he might deny her, but in the end, Jon gave in, bidding everyone farewell, knowing he would face the ire of the others thereafter.

They followed them as swiftly as possible, keeping under cover wherever possible; indeed, she and Artanis must have seemed like two shadows, one white and one black, following their prey through the forest in silence until they reached a clearing with a small stream.

Before they were noticed, they had slipped behind a tall birch, and they listened anxiously. They could not tell how near Arianne and Jon were, the words seemed almost in their ears.

"What's wrong, Ari? You're so fearful," Jon asked, staring at his lover, but she was clearly frightened and cast down her gaze, holding her belly with care.

"Oh, my Wolf… something has happened…" stuttered Arianne sadly.

"Tell me…" said Jon lovingly and embraced her.

"Oh, my Wolf… I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes wet with tears.

"Why?... Arianne, you're scaring me, my Viper; tell me what ails you so I can ease your burden," said Jon, kissing her lovingly, much to the shock of Arianne, who returned his love in kind.

"My dragon is bold…" thought Írimë angrily, anger shared with her niece, who was frowning.

"It's just... It's just... I CAN'T GO TO WAR WITH YOU!" Arianne wept, though Jon seemed happy, pleased even.

"Of course, our beloved fool would be happy if all of us stayed safe behind these walls." grumbled Galadriel and Írimë couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"It does not grieve me to see you stay behind my Viper though I must ask what has brought about this change?" said Jon, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Arianne said nothing and gently placed his hand on her belly, and Jon knew at once, backing away, his eyes wide with fear and hope.

"Arianne… You… You… Are you?" asked Jon fearfully.

"Men have stomachs for wars and slaughter but raising children? I think they would prefer to storm the Dark Tower alone," said Galadriel dryly, and Írimë chortled.

"Yes, my Wolf… I carry our firstborn; we'll be parents come Spring," said Arianne; after a moment, she had grown calmer and seemed at peace.

For a few moments, Jon said nothing while the three maidens waited to see what choice he would make.

"My beloved dragon would never disown one of his children," said Írimë, utterly sure of her husband's nobility, caressing her necklace.

"I know, aunt, that's one of the reasons why you and I love him so dearly", seconded Galadriel, her eyes mirthful and loving.

"Jon?" Arianne asked nervously, but he just sighed and hugged her tightly, causing her to start crying.

"Ari… This is wonderful news; I'm sorry if I frightened you; I felt overcome… By the Valar, I still am…" said Jon, holding her close and kissing her with all the passion he could muster.

"I thought you'd be furious, you fool; why didn't you embrace me first?" Arianne growled, still crying but now in happiness.

"Ari.. what is the name my uncle gave me?" said Jon taking her hands into his own.

"Jon Snow…" Arianne said sadly.

"And why was my last name Snow?"

"Because... Your uncle made you pass as a bastard to protect you from Robert Baratheon," Arianne said sadly.

"I never knew my mother... until I stood before the Doomsman, yet I bore that shame for years uncounted. I dared not think to bring such shame upon another, Arianne Westeros is not so accepting of bastards as the Dornish, and I knew my child's life would be one of hardship," said Jon recalling those unhappy days in Westeros.

"Oh… My beloved Jon, my husband, my dragon, those memories will never stop tormenting you, it seems," said Írimë, her eyes flecked with tears.

"So it would seem… The shadow of the past will haunt our beloved fool until the end of his days; oh… how I wish I could bring him peace from those horrid days," said Galadriel mournfully.

Yes, our husband does not deserve to suffer such shame from those petty kingdoms and those wretched men!" said Írimë, still watching the pair converse.

A glance at Artanis made Írimë learn that she, too, wept to see her husband's sadness.

"Jon… All of that is behind me, my White Wolf; I could never see you as anything less than the man I love," Arianne said, resting her head on Jon's chest.

"Still… I'm so frightened, Arianne. I don't know… If I'm ready to be a father, I'll go to war soon; I don't know, I don't know…." said Jon, his face pale as silver.

"Are you afraid you won't come back?" Arianne asked in surprise.

"I would be a fool not to be afraid, my love. Now we must do battle with the chiefest servant of the Great Enemy, and who knows what dark and sinister things he has sired in those blackened pits… we must not underestimate him," said Jon grimly, his face hard as stone.

"Jon…" said Arianne sadly, yet her tears were wiped away by Jon's warm touch.

"But you have given me a reason to return my Viper. I shall be here for our son and you," said Jon gaily, bringing his hands to Arianne's belly.

"You don't know the boundlessness of the love I feel for you, my White Wolf", said Arianne, her eyes shining now as if with some light kindled within.

"Yes, yes, I know, but I am afraid that I must tarnish our joy many years shall this war last, and many still shall never return, and I fear our meeting shall not be till many days hereafter, but I ask you now to guide our son as best you may for he will need you when I cannot be there," said Jon who now seemed bent, laden with years, but holding power beyond the strength of kings.

"I know, I understand..." said Arianne sadly, yet she realised what he had said at that moment.

"Him?... How do you know it's a boy? It could be a girl, one who is just like her mother," Arianne demanded, but Jon laughed mightily.

"I have a feeling... And it is that same feeling now as his father drives me to name him," Jon said solemnly.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" Arianne asked, but Jon shook his head.

"No, it is a feeling that drives me to name him now... Arianne, we shall call him... Amanówë," answered Jon proudly, surprising Artanis, Arianne and herself.

The word Aman had several meanings. Blessed Land or Blessed One, free from evil and Nówë was the name that Írimë knew Círdan bore when he dwelt in Cuiviénen.

"My Nin Mel is honouring Círdan by naming his firstborn son after him, Oh, my Nin Mel, I am happy for you and for Arianne, yet I weep for I could not be given such an honour, but I know the Most High shall bless us with children someday," said Írimë, sadly knowing she had been outdone.

"I share your pain, my aunt… But it is not our time, and it is not correct to bring children into the world in times of war, although this does little to alleviate my jealousy…" said Galadriel wisely, yet Írimë could discern the sadness and jealousy in her words.

"Come, dear Artanis, we already heard what we wished to hear, and again we proved that both of us gave our love to a man like no other," said Írimë happily, taking her hand and kissing her brow, then kissing her softly on the lips.

Galadriel nodded, and they made to leave unnoticed by the two lovers who danced among the streams, happy and peaceful.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ---------

Days after…

Several days had passed since Arianne confessed to Jon that she was pregnant, and he had come to accept the news with joy and fear.

Jon never thought it to happen on the eve of war, yet the Valar had seen fit to bless him in such dark times, already there was a fierce love for his son, and it hurt his heart to know that he would not be there to see him born, learn to walk or hear his first words.

He must survive for Amanòwë's sake to raise him as an honourable man.

After he and Arianne shared their happiness, they returned inside, where Jon called for a meeting with all his loves, friends and the Wise to tell them the news.

The news was met with great happiness, especially from Lord Círdan, who dabbed at his eyes with the corner of his robe; Elendil clapped him on the back and offered congratulations while Loras and Robar embraced them, and then, to their embarrassment, Loras handed Robar a bag of gold.

Apparently, the two had a long running wager about who among them would have a child first, and it seemed Robar won.

Arianne grumbled in anger while Robar chortled and offered her some of the winnings, which did a little to alleviate her embarrassment.

Isildur embraced him. "It is splendid news, my friend. May fatherhood find you worthy, he said." 

Jon turned to glance at Galadriel, fearing his star would become enraged. Indeed, Jon had rarely felt such dread, nor did he need to read minds of the others to know their hearts Ashara glowered at him, and Shiera's eyes seemed to glimmer evilly, yet it couldn't be likened to the sour countenance of Rhaenys, who seemed more dragon than maiden.

But the ones who worried Jon were his two Eldar wives… Lalwen and Galadriel, he had thought they would be furious, yet it seemed they looked upon him with greater love than before, and he wasn't about to grumble.

Yet there was much to consider, chiefly the reaction of the Noldorin, who would no doubt be displeased by such happenings; in their eyes, Lalwen was his lawful wife, and he scowled at the thought of the Elves treating his son as Fëanor treated Fingolfin and his siblings.

But there was little time to ponder such things as his mind turned thoughts of the forge. He had made good armour and keen swords, yet he was availed little in the blending of the arts of Dwarves, Elves and his kin in the East; fashioning swords had been somewhat easier than armour. 

Yet was not so dour his time in Khazad-dûm had proved fruitful Durin had thought it best to go about the steps to turn the metal in Valyrian steel, this befuddled him at first as it meant doing the process backwards, but Jon had trusted the wisdom of Durin.

He had spent many days in the forges toiling day and night until, at last, he had wrought a thing of great beauty.

Jon raised his hand, and all at once, the revelry ceased as the many gathered looked at him in confusion. 'Your pardon, my friends!' 'He said. 'But there is more happy news I wish to share. After many days in the forges that Celebrimbor once called home, I have fashioned an armour that melds the teachings of all peoples. Therefore, I ask that you accompany me to the forges so that I may show my work.'

The others were silent for a moment, and then Isildur spoke, "Tis a splendid idea! Come, Jon, I would like to see what your skill has brought forth." This was met by a chorus of agreement as all were eager to see what Jon had made.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Halls of the Silver Hammer (sometime later)

The moment finally came when all those Jon summoned appeared in front of the entrance to the forges, and all were astonished by the sight of the grand suit of plate. The steel glimmered as a rising star, and set upon the breastplate was a great ruby held by a chain of gold, its rondels were a fine make as well, with the left being fashioned to resemble the leering face of a dwarf, while the right was a gryphon in flight similarly the pauldrons were beautiful, especially the right which was fashioned in likeness to a gryphon's head, a skirt of lobstered plate stretched from waist to mid-thigh, and under all this, he wore a hauberk of mithril scales.

"Ohh… how wonderful," said Shiera, marvelling at the quality of the armour and its shine while Ashara chortled at her lover's amazement though she too was amazed by her love's creation.

"Jon..." Said Lord Glorfindel, mesmerised by the beauty of the armour

"You have outdone yourself this time…" Lord Círdan said, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"Oh, for the Valar... What an excellent job..." said Gil-galad, his eyes roaming over the plate in appreciation.

"It seems you have succeeded, brother", Robar grumbled jealously.

"Aye... My endeavours to unite the Valyrian Steel and strengthen it with the might of the Dwarves and the skill of the Eldar have come to fruition... After much toil and sacrifice," said Jon proudly while his lady loves chortled in amusement.

"Yet it lacks a helm, brother! Have you not fashioned one?" said Loras in confusion.

"I already have a Helm, Loras," Jon said, motioning to one of the squires to bring him the Helm of Hador. He bowed, returning a few moments later with the mighty helmet as well as the shield of the High King, and as he knelt, he offered the Helm to his master.

Jon smiled and took the Helm graciously. "I thank you for your service, lad; you may go and attend to your other duties." 

The squire nodded and swiftly departed the hall, then Jon set the Helm upon his head, and all fell silent tall, and fair was their beloved in that hour indeed; it seemed that Hador had come again proud as any man who had ever walked these shores and as they gazed upon him they felt hope and love for all good things even in these dark days.

"Oh... My Nin Mel, you appear as one of the mighty of the West," said Írimë happily, yet before she could embrace him, Rhaenys came and beat her to it.

"Here, it's my turn remember?" said Rhaenys haughtily, embracing Jon, and Írimë scowled.

"I will not forget this... Good sister," Lalwen threatened, returning to Galadriel, who was not pleased herself, nor were the other women for that matter.

"Greedy…" Daenerys grumbled jealously.

"Yes, splendid work without a doubt... But I think it is better that Jon took off his helmet; its enchantment affects friend and foe," said Elrond beginning to feel the magics of the Helm take hold.

"Fool..." Rhaenys cursed under her breath though she was heard by everyone.

"Jon, can you fashion me an armour like that?" said Arya putting aside her jealousy in hopes of tempting her love.

"A fine request, young lady!" said Isildur glancing at the armour in wonder.

"You may touch it if you wish," said Jon proudly and 

"It is warm to the touch," said Elendil in wonder.

"Aye, and it seems light as elven mail," said Glorfindel proudly, and Jon nodded.

"Indeed, master, it is light as Gondolin steel and strong as dragon scales. I'd wager that I could swim in it should the need arise," said Jon pleased with his work.

"Beautiful work, you again show that you are a worthy smith… But I wonder your reasons for asking Elendil and me to bring our weapons," said Gil-galad, and Jon smiled.

"It seems to me that you already supposed the answer King Gil-galad…" said Jon kissing Rhaenys on the brow before stepping forward proudly.

"Jon?" asked Rhaella looking at her lover in worry.

"What are you doing, Jon?" asked Sansa warily, unsure of what her cousin had planned.

The Kings of the West glanced at each other before drawing their weapons, Narsil gleaming cold and bright while Aeglos shimmered as the moon.

"Are you certain this is wise?" asked Elendil, somewhat vexed by Jon's arrogance.

"A blacksmith must place his life in peril for his creations; if it cannot turn aside such blows, then I am still a novice with much to learn," said Jon grimly, and once more, the room felt silent save for the hammering of metal and the hiss of the forge as they waited to see what would happen.

The great Kings said nothing, and then both lunged forward, sword and spear held aloft as they brought them down with considerable strength. Jon gave a great cry of pain and fell to his knees, and for a moment, all were fearful that Narsil and Aeglos had struck true, yet Jon rose to his feet grimacing in pain.

"Jon.." cried Galadriel, and at once, she was at his side trying in vain to undo the breastplate hoping his wounds were not so grievous.

"My Lady..." said Glorfindel in astonishment as he had not foreseen the Lady of Light to act so boldly yet, he knew they had been friends for many years, so her concern was quite natural.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, my... lady," said Jon 

"Elrond..." said Celebrían, nervously glancing at her husband.

"My intervention is not necessary, my wife... Look," said Elrond, indeed, the Lord of Rivendell spoke truly, for the armour had turned aside the blows, and the halls erupted in applause as the Elven smiths celebrated the good fortune of their kin forging a thing of such beauty.

"Excellent work... You invested your time well, Jon," said Loras embracing his brother happily.

"Splendid..." said Isildur heartily. "Truly, you have proven your worth as an armourer."

"You speak truly, my son; it is a marvellous creation. I've not seen such fine craftsmanship ere Númenor fell," said Elendil happily, 

"Well, young man, you have shown us your worth again... Excellent work, beautiful, soft, light and very strong... Now I fear that only Mithril and Maltagil would be superior alloys," King Gil-galad said, somewhat annoyed that the hardness of his beloved spear was overcome.

"Thank you for your kind words," said Jon happily though his happiness turned sour as he glanced at his lady loves, who were wholly displeased by his actions.

Rhaenys stepped forward, brandishing Dramborleg. "We shall speak of your foolish behaviour before we leave, brother. I promise you that." The others nodded in agreement.

Jon paled at the thought it was then he heard the voice of Galadriel in his mind.

"Your punishment is not over yet, my beloved Wolf; when we are next together, you must answer to me for your foolishness, abiding the blows of such weapons for a mere test; you are becoming far too bold," said Galadriel, her voice half fear half happiness.

"My beloved Star still doesn't wish to see me hurt", thought Jon happily.

"Of course, my beloved fool…." Galadriel grumbled angrily. "Never doubt my love for you nor my wish to see you in good health. I am your wife, after all."

Jon was about to reply when Gil-galad spoke again.

"Well, it seems coming here was fruitful, though I am saddened we must leave Imladris so soon, else I would ask for a suit of plate like your own", said Gil-galad regretfully.

"Yes, I shall beg your pardon, my King, the metal takes a great deal of time to smelt, and I used what I had to forge my own armour", answered Jon.

"A pity…" Isildur growled, looking at Jon irritably.

"Indeed, my King…" Loras seconded, scowling at his brother.

"You're a fool Jon.." Robar sighed.

All laughed at Jon's plight as it never ceased to provide amusement while Arianne whispered to their son not to be as foolish as his father.

"In that case, Jon, you should give up some of the things you have in your armoury as compensation for this slight, and I would favour a new dagger!" exclaimed Glorfindel, his eyes alight in mirth.

"That's a pleasing idea, Jon…" said Círdan, his eyes too twinkling in mischief.

"Lord Círdan…" said Jon in disbelief, wondering why his mentor would go along with this.

"That's a fine idea… Take us to your armoury," said Elendil merrily, pleased that he may claim something after all.

"As my King commands…." Said Jon sadly as the laughed at his misfortune.

"Don't forget, my Wolf, we shall speak of your foolishness later!"  said Galadriel threateningly, and he paled at her harsh words.

"My Star, please!" Jon.

"Silence Jon, take us to the armoury; I also want to claim something from there…." Galadriel said happily.

In this way, they were taken to Jon's armoury, where they took what they wished from among the jewels, armour, and weapons though none were equal to the suit of plate worn by him.

However, one tarried behind his keen eyes darting between his pupil and the Lady of Light. Their closeness was apparent, but he never imagined such a love would boom, and Círdan was horrified they had transgressed the laws of the Noldor, and he knew his kin would be angry for such trickery; the only question he had was if the Lady Írimë was aware of it.

"I'm certain she is not that naive… Oh, by the Valar, this will end very badly…." thought Círdan fearfully as he followed after his kinsmen.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------Westeros (Small Council)

Jon Connington stood at the foot of the Iron Throne, where the council had assembled, for there was much to discuss though he would have preferred to gather in the Tower of the Hand; Aegon had insisted on such meetings taking place in the throne room.

There was the Imp who served as Master of Laws and who he had no real care for, Lord Yronwood as Lord Justicar, Darkstar, as he was called, served as the King's companion, the old goat Marwyn served as Grand Maester and Lord Rodrik Harlaw, an Ironborn served as master of ships though this was seen as a way to give the Ironborn a voice rather than the man be ably suited for the office.

The only position left empty was Master of Whispers, though none wished to usurp Lord Varys for fear of retribution; Qyburn had gathered information for them, yes, and although he was useful, none trusted the man for his relationship with the Lannisters, especially Cersei.

Who was trapped in the dark cells being flogged for her misdeed though it is a wonder to Connington she hasn't died yet.

Conquering the Kingdom was easy thanks to Annatar's ring but keeping it… That was very different.

To begin with, Robert Baratheon's debts that do not seem to end and Victarion Greyjoy's Rebellion were two of the problems they have faced since the beginning of his governance; although they have achieved the reunification of the seven Kingdoms, there was still much to do.

Firstly, rebuilding all that had been ruined by the war, and no place was so devastated as the Riverlands that seemed now a graveyard of streams and burnt fields, with bodies lining the roads and crows glutting on the dead.

"Is there anything else we must speak of?" grumbled Connington angrily, wishing this meeting would be over swiftly.

"Just rumours from Essos regarding Victarion Greyjoy; apparently, he's started plundering some Free Cities…." Lord Yronwood muttered.

All eyes fell on Rodrik, who grimaced, "I have little love for my good brother. I tried to dissuade him when he rose in rebellion, but he said that the Ironborn do not bow and scrape before lesser men. As stupid as Balon was, I fear Victarion is far more foolish. The Greyjoys have always sought to return to the Old Ways, forgetting that we were poor and starving then as well; still, I hope the Ironmakers can rule wisely lest they end up like the Greyjoy's." 

"So that can wait… Anything else?" Connington sighed.

"Yes, it seems that some Pirate styling himself the Lord of the Waters has claimed dominion of the Stepstones," said Tyrion. "And according to the Dornish, the new pirate king has taken up residence in Torturer's Deep, calling himself the Lord of the Waters and it seems he had a fleet of triple decked trireme's.

Yronwood scoffed. "It seems the rumours of Aurane fleeing the city after the Lion bitches arrest were true, though I never thought he'd have the stones to steal the whole of the Royal fleet."

"It is better to get rid of him as soon as possible... The Stepstones are a vital maritime trade route," said Connington cursing the foolishness of the damned seahorses.

"We will need the Redwyne Fleet, the royal fleet… Well, what remains is not enough to face those galleys…." Lord Harlow said, stroking his chin.

"Grand Maester send a letter to the Arbor requesting Lord Redwyne the use of his fleet… This won't last long," said Connington, and Marwyn nodded.

"That pirate doesn't know what's in store for him," Aegon said, thrilled at the thought of battle.

"We must try to recover the galleys, they are property of the Crown, and we are not in a position to lose gold," said Tyrion, and they nodded in agreement.

At that moment, the doors of the room were opened and in strolled Gerold Dayne, who swiftly crossed the room and knelt before the throne.

"What's going on? We are in a meeting of the Council Ser Gerold; order that no one enter until it is finished," said Aegon angrily, glowering at the Knight of High Hermitage.

"Your Majesty, I'm very sorry to interrupt, but... There is someone who wishes to speak with you and insists that he cannot wait," The knight replied, clearly bitter.

"And who is this visitor?" asked Ser Barristan speaking for the first time.

"That would be me..." said an effeminate voice, and soon the scent of heavy perfume filled the halls; its owner was an obese, bald man dressed in rich silks and soft slippers.

No introduction was necessary, although no one expected to see him after so long away; many hoped he had died.

"Varys…" Connington growled, displeased that the spider had returned to his webs

"Time has passed, my Lord. I am glad to see that our King Aegon has reclaimed his crown; it means that all our scheming and toil proved fruitful," said Varys bowing low.

Aegon rose from the iron throne and descended the long steps until, at last, he stood before Varys.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lord Varys, and on behalf of House Targaryen, I thank you for all you have done for my sister and me, although it is a pity that she is not with us," Aegon said sadly.

"Your Majesty, I did what I did for the good of the Kingdom. I was saddened to learn of the kidnapping of your aunt and sister at the hands of the bastard Ned Stark, a pity indeed, the young Princess Rhaenys so fierce, so beautiful and now lost, the only consolation is to finally see you on the throne that is rightfully you" Varys said in a cloying tone that disgusted everyone present.

"Yes, thanks in large part to you, my Lord," Aegon said gratefully.

"Your majesty honours me, but I know that I was not the only one who provided you with the means to claim the Iron Throne; I understand that a Priest of the Lord of Light gave you a powerful gift," said Varys, his face grave and Aegon nodded slowly drew out a delicate chain from which hung said gift.

"Yes, this ring has proven to be a blessing," Aegon said, looking at the ring with something akin to obsession.

"If you insist, Your Majesty, although another thing that has caught my attention is your choice of jesters, in the entire history of Westeros, it seems to me that no one has had jesters so... Noble," Varys said, arching an eyebrow and Aegon laughed.

After Cersei Lannister's defeat, Aegon gathered all the members of the Kingsguard who were still alive.

The Kingslayer is still missing, Ser Mandon Moore was killed in Blackwater, Ser Alys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann had no wish to serve, and Kettleblack was a fool. Still, Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount, those men were scum, cruel and cowardly, little more than glorified mercenaries who gloated in their position and power by beating up helpless girls or acting like thugs at first; it was considered sending them to the Wall, but they had already sent many there and the Night's Watch did not deserve such scum, so another punishment was decided.

In front of the entire Court who did not move a single finger or came to their defence, making it clear that they were not loved by anyone, the false knights were stripped of their white capes and degraded to being court jesters, but it was also decided that they would be turned into eunuchs.

"You were their Lord Commander once, Ser Barristan. Who better than you to apply the sentence?"  said the King, and the old Knight had obeyed gelding them; now, the fools served as whipping boys and louts when the King needed amusement.

No one was surprised that Varys knew this, but those who knew him "best" knew that this was not simply a visit or an exchange of gossip...

"Well, personally, I'm glad to hear from our elusive friend again, but I know he didn't come here after a year just to say hello," said Tyrion, pouring himself a glass of wine and watching Varys' every move.

"Oh, my Lord Tyrion has spent time and has managed to recover some of the power and influence his father unjustly took from him after his heroic performance in Blackwater. To see him restored to the Small Council is a great joy I could say the same about you, Ser Barristan. I see that your trip to the East was worth it," said Varys happily, his eyes glinting.

"Varys... seldom do you come save to deliver ill news, So why have you come?" Connington asked, glaring at the eunuch, who laughed sweetly.

"Apparently, my Lords know me well, a pity for someone in my business, but I fear they are right; I am not here to mingle or catch up… rather I bring news to the King and his Council of a conspiracy against the crown," Varys said, and the entire Council fell silent.

"Speak…" Aegon commanded.

"I have heard whispers from some members of the Citadel that they seek to overthrow his grace and bring about the end of House Targaryen. They have support in the remnants of the Faith Militant who are still furious over the death of the High Sparrow and those others sympathetic to their cause," said Varys 

"The Gray Herd has begun to move..." muttered the old Maester grabbing a pinch of sour leaf from his pouch.

"The Gray Herd?" Lord Yronwood asked.

"A long story for another time, my Lord… One problem after another" grumbled Connington.

"Aurane Waters will have to wait, or the King may be dining on poison tomorrow", The Grand Maester complained.

"What do you suggest, Grand Maester?" Connington asked.

"We will march against the Citadel…" said Aegon boldly.

"Your Highness, that has never been done", Lord Harlow tried to say, but he was silenced by the King.

"Yes, but Marwyn has already made it clear to us how dangerous those pompous, arrogant old men are, and apparently, it is necessary to remind them that in Westeros, no one is above the King … Besides, I don't want to become a page in some Maester's book just yet," Aegon snarled.

"Even so, no Monarch has ever assailed the Citadel, not even Maegor..." Tyrion said, knowing that this would once again shake the Seven Kingdoms for better or for worse.

"And that seems to be part of the problem… They think themselves above the Dragons; Ser Barristan muster as many soldiers as you can… I will lead the attack myself… We march against Oldtown. I will not allow anyone to ruin what I have fought hard to gain, they were given a chance to accept my rule, and now they shall know what it means to waken the Dragon," Aegon grunted, and Ser Barristan reluctantly nodded.

"As Your Majesty commands…" said the old Knight.

"Speak like a true dragon majesty…." said Varys sweetly.

"Lord Varys, no one has been able to fill your shoes on this Council, and I would need your talents which is why I am offering you your old position," Aegon said.

"Your Majesty honours me with your generosity…." said Varys bowing low.

"Damn, Eunuch always scheming," thought Connington angrily, while Tyrion recalled something Varys told him a while ago.

The storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling.

"Well, it seems that it is true…." Tyrion thought, taking a sip of wine.

Notes:

thanks to great red