[The Small Council meet after learning of Daenerys's pregnancy]
You're speaking of murdering a child.
I warned you this would happen. Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now! I want 'em dead. Mother and child both. And that fool Viserys as well, is that plain enough for you? I want them both dead!
You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.
Honour?! I've got Seven Kingdoms to rule! One King, Seven Kingdoms! Do you think honour keeps them in line?! Do you think it's honour that's keeping the peace?! It's fear! Fear and blood!
Then we're no better than the Mad King!
Careful, Ned! Careful now!
You want to assassinate a girl because the Spider heard a rumor?
VarysNo rumor, My Lord. The princess is with child.
Based on whose information?
Varys
Ser Jorah Mormont. He is serving as adviser to the Targaryens.
Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?
Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know, to an honourable man.
He broke the law. Betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?
And if he's right?! If she has a son?! A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army! What then?!
The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.
Do nothing?! That's your wise advice?! Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores?! You're my Council, counsel! Speak sense to this honourable fool!
Varys
I understand your misgivings, my lord. Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed.
I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now, so that tens of thousands might live?
We should have had them both killed years ago!
When you find yourselves in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat and be done with it!
I followed you into war. Twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child.
I will have no part in it.
You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You'll do as I command, or I'll find me a Hand who will!
[Ned takes off his badge of office and tosses it onto the table in front of Robert]
And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.
Out! Out, damn you! I'm done with you! Go, run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this, too proud and honourable?! This is a war!
Varys
[in a cell] Lord Stark, you must be thirsty.
Varys
I promise you, it isn't poisoned. Why is it no one ever trusts the eunuch? [pulls the stopper out with his teeth, takes a sip and offers it to Eddard, who finally takes it and drinks deeply] Not so much, my Lord, I would save the rest, if I were you. Hide it. Men have been known to die of thirst in these cells.
Varys
The younger one seems to have escaped the castle. Even my little birds cannot find her.
Varys
Still engaged to Joffrey. Cersei will keep her close. The rest of your household though, all dead, it grieves me to say. I do so hate the sight of blood.
You watched my men being slaughtered, and did nothing.
Varys
And would again, my Lord. I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannister swords. When you look at me, do you see a hero? What madness led you to tell the Queen you had learnt the truth about Joffrey's birth?
The madness of mercy. That she might save her children.
Varys
Ahh, the children. It's always the innocents who suffer. It wasn't the wine that killed Robert, nor the boar. Oh the wine slowed him down, and the boar ripped him open, yes, but it was your mercy that killed the King. I trust you know you're a dead man, Lord Eddard.
The Queen can't kill me. Cat holds her brother.
Varys
The wrong brother, sadly, and lost to her. Your wife has let the Imp slip through her fingers.
If that's true, then slit my throat and be done with it.
Varys
Not today, my Lord.
Tell me something, Varys Who do you truly serve?
Varys
The Realm, my Lord. Someone must.
Varys
Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame wolf is more use to her than a dead one.
You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, who butchered my men, who crippled my son?
Varys
I want you to serve the realm! Tell the Queen you will confess your vile treason, tell your son to lay down his sword and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir! Cersei knows you as a man of honour. If you give her the peace she needs, and promise to carry her secret to your grave, I believe she will allow you to take the black and live out your days on the Wall, with your brother and your bastard son.
You think my life is some precious thing to me? That I would trade my honour for a few more years of...of what? You grew up with actors, you learned their craft and you learnt it well. But I grew up with soldiers. I learned how to die a long time ago.
Varys
Pity. Such a pity. What of your daughter's life, my lord? Is that a precious thing to you?
[Tyrion enters the Small Council chamber, whistling "The Rains of Castamere"]
Don't get up! More ravishing than ever, big sister! War agrees with you! [kisses Cersei on the cheek] Excuse the interruption. Carry on.
It's been a... remarkable journey! I pissed off the edge of the Wall. I slept in a sky-cell. I fought with the hill tribes! So many adventures, so much to be thankful for!
What are you doing here? This is the Small Council.
Yes, well, I do believe the Hand of the King is welcome at all Small Council meetings.
Our father is Hand of the King!
Yes. But in his absence...
[He hands a small scroll to Varys, who unrolls it]
Varys
Your father has named Lord Tyrion to serve as Hand in his stead while he fights—
[The rest of the Council leaves hastily as Cersei storms around the table towards Tyrion.]
I would like to know how you tricked Father into this!
If I were capable of tricking Father, I'd be emperor of the world by now. You brought this on yourself.
Quite right, you did nothing... when your son called for Ned Stark's head. Now the entire North has risen up against us.
Did you? You failed. That bit of theatre will haunt our family for a generation.
Who's won every battle he's fought! Do you understand we're losing the war?
What do you know about warfare?
Nothing. But I know people, and I know that our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us.
You are here to advise him.
Only here to advise him. And if the King listens to what I say, the King might just get his uncle Jaime back.
You love your children. It’s your one redeeming quality. That and your cheekbones. The Starks love their children as well, and we have two of them.
Arya, that little animal, she disappeared.
Disappeared? What, in a puff of smoke?! We had three Starks to trade. You chopped one’s head off, and let another escape. Father would be furious. Must be hard for you, to be the disappointing child.
Varys
Who threatened you?
I'm not Ned Stark, I understand the way this game is played.
Varys
Ned Stark was a man of honour.
And I am not. Threaten me again and I'll have you thrown into the sea!
[Tyrion goes to leave, but Varys holds the door shut]
Varys
You might be disappointed in the results. The storms come and go, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling.
I can trust you, Pycelle. Can I not?
Why yes, of course, my lord.
These are perilous times. And the Crown must forge new alliances. And these alliances must often be sealed in matrimony.
I'm trusting the council with these plans, but the Queen mustn't know. We can't have her meddling in affairs that could determine the future of the Realm. There's too much at stake.
Oh, yes, yes. Indeed, yes. I shall be silent as the grave.
[Tyrion walks over to pour two cups of wine]
I'm brokering an alliance with House Martell of Dorne. Princess Myrcella will wed their youngest son when she comes of age, ensuring their loyalty and their army, should we need it.
Myrcella sent away to Dorne?
[Tyrion returns to the chairs with a cup of wine in each hand]
But remember, the Queen mustn't know.
[Varys is revealed to be occupying the seat Pycelle was sitting in earlier]
Varys
Ooh, "The Queen mustn't know." I love conversations that begin this way.
I plan to marry Princess Myrcella off to Theon Greyjoy.
Varys
Theon Greyjoy? Forgive me, my lord, but how? He grew up in Winterfell. He fights for Robb Stark.
Precisely. [turns and slowly walks away from Varys] Theon's father loathes the Starks and will convince the boy to come to our side. Greyjoy can destroy the Northern army from within and we can have his father's ships. But remember, you must tell no one.
[Tyrion turns around to face Littlefinger, who is now sitting where Varys sat]
I plan to wed Princess Myrcella to Robin Arryn of the Vale. Lysa is not fond of me. But perhaps the promise of a royal match will convince her to let bygones be bygones.
She imprisoned you. She tried to execute you, and you offer her son a princess?
For men in our position, holding grudges can be an encumbrance, don't you think?
And I suppose you want me to broker this agreement?
[starts pacing around the desk] Yes, I could sing this song to Lysa, if I cared to. What's in it for me?
The gratitude of the people of Westeros for helping to end this war, the adoration of the King for bringing the Vale back into the fold... and Harrenhal.
Never took you for a superstitious man. By all means, tear it down and rebuild. You'll be able to afford it. I plan to make you Lord of the Riverlands.
With a single stroke, you'd make me one of the greatest lords in the Realm.
You served my family well in the matter of the succession.
So did Janos Slynt, and he was given Harrenhal, too. Until you snatched it away.
I need you to deliver Lysa Arryn. I didn't need Janos Slynt. It's settled, then? [pause; Littlefinger nods] Good. Oh, and remember—
[Tyrion smirks, drinks the rest of his wine and leaves his chambers]
Varys
Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?
Why, am I about to hear one?
Varys
Three great men sit in a room; a king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who lives, who dies?
Depends on the sellsword.
Varys
Does it? He has neither crown, nor gold, nor the favour of the gods.
He has a sword, the power of life and death.
Varys
But if it's swordsmen who rule, why do we pretend kings hold all the power? When Ned Stark lost his head, who was truly responsible? Joffrey? The executioner? Or something else?
I've decided I don't like riddles.
Varys
Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall. And a very small man can cast a very large shadow.
You're the Master of Whisperers. You're supposed to know everything.
Varys
No man can be in all rooms at all times. I have many little birds in the North, my lord, but I haven't heard their songs since Theon Greyojoy captured Winterfell.
The Stark forces are distracted. Now is the time to strike.
To strike? My dear nephew, you do see these men preparing the walls for siege? You do understand Stannis Baratheon sails this way?
If my Uncle Stannis lands on the shores of King's Landing, I'll ride out to greet him.
A brave choice, Your Grace. I'm sure your men will line up behind you.
They say Stannis never smiles. I'll give him a red smile, from ear to ear. [walks away]
Imagine Stannis's terror!
Varys
[deadpan] I am trying.
[Tyrion and Bronn are planning for Stannis' invasion]
Varys
My lord Hand. Commander. I must compliment you on the Gold Cloaks' performance these past few weeks. Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery?
I did not know. [to Bronn] And how did you accomplish this "marked drop in thievery"?
Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves.
[sharply] For questioning?
Uh, no. [Varys looks shocked] It's just the unknown thieves we need to worry about now.
Aye, we talked about it. Have you ever been in a city under siege? Maybe this part's not in your books. See, it's not the fighting that kills most people, it's the starving. Food's worth more than gold. Noble ladies sell their diamonds for a sack of potatoes. Things get bad enough, the poor start eating each other. The thieves? They love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed, they steal all the food. By the time it's all over, they're the richest men in town.
Varys
Given the circumstances, my lord, I believe extreme measures are warranted. [sees what Tyrion is reading] Ahh, The Great Sieges of Westeros. Thrilling subject. Shame Archmaester Ch'Vyalthan wasn't a better writer.
[unrolls a map of King's Landing] Stannis knows King's Landing. He knows where the walls are strongest, and he knows which gates are weakest. Mud Gate... good ram will batter it down in minutes, and it's only fifty yards from the water. That's where he'll land.
Varys
And if Stannis does attack the Mud Gate, what is our plan?
We could throw books at his men.
Varys
We don't have that many books.
We don't have that many men, either.
Varys
What do we have?
[glances up at Bronn] Pig shit.
What news of Jaime? [All the others remain silent] Twenty thousand unwashed Northerners have known about his escape for weeks. Collectively, you control more spies and informants than the rest of the world combined. Do you mean to tell me that none of you has any notion where he is?
Varys
We are trying, my lord.
Try harder! What do we have then?
Varys
Robb Stark and most of his bannermen are in Riverrun for the funeral of his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully. In Stark's absence, Roose Bolton holds Harrenhal, which would make him Lord of Harrenhal, in practice if not in name-
Let him have it. The name suits our purposes far more than that useless pile of rubble. The Lord of Harrenhal will make a worthy suitor for the widow Arryn.
For which I am extremely grateful to you, my lord. Lady Arryn and I have known each other since we were children; she has always been positively predisposed towards me.
A successful courtship would make Lord Baelish Acting Lord of the Vale.
Titles do seem to breed titles.
You'll leave for the Eyrie as soon as possible and bring Lysa Arryn into the fold, then the Young Wolf can add his own aunt to the list of people who've taken up arms against him!
Far be it from me to hinder true love, but Lord Baelish's absence would present certain problems. The royal wedding may end up being the most expensive event in living memory. Summer had ended, hard days lie ahead, not a good time to leave the crown's finances unattended.
Fully agreed, which is why I am naming you Master of Coin.
It would appear to be a position that best suits your talents.
I'm quite good at spending money, but a lifetime of outrageous wealth hasn't taught me about managing it!
I have no doubt you will prove equal to this challenge.
Varys
Before all this nastiness, I was going to tell you the story of how I was cut. Do you want to hear it still?
Varys
As a boy, in Myr, I traveled with a troupe of actors through the Free Cities. One day, a man approached my master with an offer too tempting to refuse. I feared the man meant to use me, as I'd heard some men use small boys, but what he wanted was far worse. He gave me a potion that made me powerless to move or speak, yet did nothing to dull my senses. With a hooked blade, he sliced me, root and stem, chanting all the while. He burned my parts on a brazier; the flames burned blue, and I heard a voice answer his call. Still dream of that night. Not of the sorcerer, not of his blade...I dream of the voice. Was it a god? A demon? Some conjurer's trick? I don't know, but the sorcerer called and a voice answered. And ever since that day, I have hated magic, and all who practice it. But, you can see why I was eager to aid in your fight against Stannis and his Red Priestess, a symbolic revenge, of sorts.
Yes, I feel the need for actual revenge. Against the actual person who tried to have me killed, which will require a certain degree of influence, which...
Varys
You do not possess at the moment. But influence is largely a matter of patience, I find. Once I had served the sorcerer's purpose, he threw me out of his house, to die. I resolved to live, to spite him. I begged, I sold what parts of my body remained to me, I became an excellent thief. And soon, learned that the contents of a man's letters are more valuable than the contents of his purse. Step by step, one distasteful task after another, I made my way from the slums of Myr to the Small Council Chamber. Influence grows, like a weed. I tended mine, patiently, until its tendrils reached from the Red Keep, all the way across to the far side of the world where I managed to wrap them around something very special.
[He pulls the crate lid open; Tyrion looks inside with him to find a ragged old man, bound and gagged.]
Varys
Hello, my old friend. It's been a long time. I have no doubt, the revenge you want will be yours in time if you have the stomach for it.
[He closes the crate on the sorcerer, who is screaming through the gag]
Varys
[about the Iron Throne] A thousand blades. Taken from the hands of Aegon's fallen enemies, forged in the fiery breath of Balerion the Dread.
There aren't a thousand blades. There aren't even two hundred. I've counted.
Varys
Heh. I'm sure you have. Ugly old thing.
Yet it has a certain... appeal.
Varys
The Lysa Arryn of chairs. Shame that you had to settle for your second choice.
Early days, my friend. It is flattering, really, you feeling such dread at the prospect of me getting what I want.
Varys
Thwarting you has never been my primary ambition, I promise you... although who doesn't like to see their friends fail now and then.
You're so right. For instance, when I thwarted your plan to give Sansa Stark to the Tyrells... if, I'm going to be honest, I did feel an unmistakable sense of... enjoyment there. But your confidante, the one who fed you information about my plans, the one you swore to protect, you didn't bring her any enjoyment. And she didn't bring me any enjoyment. She was a bad investment on my part. Luckily, I have a friend who wanted to try something new. Something daring. And he was so grateful to me for providing this fresh experience.
Varys
I did what I did for the good of the realm.
The realm. Do you know what the realm is? It's the thousand blades of Aegon's enemies, a story we agreed to tell each other over and over 'till we forget that it's a lie.
Varys
But what do we have left once we abandon the lie? Chaos. A gaping pit waiting to swallow us all.
Chaos... isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some, who are given the chance to climb, they refuse. They cling to the realm. Or the gods. Or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.
Killed a few puppies today?
[gestures to Pycelle] Show him. Go on, show him!
[Pycelle takes out a small scroll and holds it out, but drops it when Tyrion reaches for it]
Ohhh! I'm sorry, my Lord, old fingers. [Tyrion glares at him, snatches the scroll up from the floor and reads it]
"Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding. Signed Walder Frey." Is that bad poetry, or is it supposed to mean something?
Robb Stark is dead! And his bitch mother! [to Pycelle] Write back to Lord Frey. Thank him for his service and command him to send Robb Stark's head to me. I'm going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast.
Varys
Your Grace, Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage.
A joke. Joffrey did not mean it.
Yes, I did. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast.
No. She is no longer yours to torment.
Everyone is mine to torment. You'd do well to remember that, you little monster.
Oh, I'm a monster? Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous and just now kings are dying like flies.
I could have your tongue out for saying that!
Let him make his threats. Hmm? He's a bitter little man.
Lord Tyrion should apologize immediately. Unacceptable, disrespectful, and in very bad taste!
I am the KING!! I will punish you!
Any man who must say, "I am the king" is no true king. I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you.
My father won the real war! He killed Prince Rhaegar. He took the crown, while you hid under Casterly Rock!
[Glares at Joffrey, unfazed] ...The king is tired. See him to his chambers.
We have so much to celebrate. A wedding to plan. You must rest.
Grand Maester, perhaps some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.
These meetings aren't always going to be this early, are they? I was up late last night. So, does this mean I am a master of something now? Coins, ships?
MTMace Tyrell
Lord Tywin and I already determined that I shall be the Master of Ships long before you...
[Tywin enters and everybody but Oberyn stands up]
MTMace Tyrell
Lord Tywin, it's a great honor to have been granted a seat on this council. I...
The trial begins this afternoon. We only have the morning for affairs of state. Shall we begin?
Varys
Sandor Clegane has been spotted in the Riverlands, my lord.
Varys
My birds tell me the Hound slaughtered five of our soldiers. I believe the phrase "Fuck the King" was uttered.
What would it take to make the common soldier stupid enough to try his luck with the Hound?
Varys
10 Silver stags seems a generous bounty.
Varys
More whispers from the east, my lord.
Varys
Daenerys has taken up residence in Meereen. She has conquered the city and rules as its queen.
Varys
She commands an army of Unsullied, my queen. Some 8,000 strong. She has a company of sellswords, the Second Sons. She has two knights advising her. Jorah Mormont and Barristan Selmy. And she has three dragons.
Varys
Larger every year, Your Grace.
Mormont is spying on her for us.
Varys
No longer. He appears to be fully devoted to her. As for Ser Barristan, it would seem he took his dismissal from the Kingsguard a bit harder than anticipated.
He's an old man. He wasn't fit to protect my son.
Joffrey didn't die on his watch. Dismissing him was as insulting as it was stupid.
Don't tell me you're worried about a child, halfway across the world.
Varys
A child with two seasoned warriors counseling her... and a powerful army at her back, Your Grace.
Lord Varys is right. I have been to Essos and seen the Unsullied firsthand. They are very impressive on the battlefield. Less so in the bedroom.
Dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time. She must be dealt with.
Eventually, if it comes to that. Can your little birds find their way into Mereen?
Varys
Most certainly, my Lord Hand.
Game of Thrones · 356 quotes
