Chapter Text
“They say every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath.” Varys said as he and Jon walked across the sand of Dragonstone.
“Not much for riddles where I’m from.” Jon dismissed.
Varys let out an amused scoff; it ended in a somewhat hummed thoughtful, tired sigh.
“What’s funny?” Jon asked.
“Your father – well, not your true father, I suppose, but the man who raised you – said a similar thing to me once,” Varys said flippantly. Jon stopped on the sand, turning to look at him as he continued. “What was it? ‘No riddles, no stories.’” Varys recounted, looking away as he remembered. Jon stared at him intensely. “I visited him, before he was executed. I was the only one who did.” Varys explained as he finally met Jon’s eyes again.
Shaking his head, Jon was quiet for a moment, taking in both reveals. “What do you want?” he asked with a shaky breath.
“Yes, that’s what he wondered too,” Varys droned, his eyes now fully taking in Jon. “You may not be Ned Stark’s son, but you do take after him, very much,” Varys said with a tilted head as he looked at him. Cutting the contact again, he looked down to the sands before raising his head again, refocusing. “I’ll tell you what I told him, I want what I have always wanted, what is best for the realm,” he paused. “We both know what she’s about to do. I do not believe such an act is what’s best for the realm.” He tried to get his point across.
Jon swallowed, turning away. He let out a heavy sigh as he looked at Varys. “That is her decision to make; she is our Queen.”
“Men decide where power resides, whether or not they know it.” Varys countered simply.
Squaring his shoulders, Jon focused on one of the matters. “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?” he asked again, his tone harsher at Varys using Ned Stark’s name to manipulate him.
“All I’ve ever wanted, the right ruler on the throne,” Varys explained, almost gently, trying to show his sincerity. “I still don’t know how her coin has landed, but I’m quite certain about yours.”
Jon bowed his head, turning away from the suggestion. “I don’t want it. I never have.”
Letting out a sigh, Varys looked at Jon with a mix of validation and exasperation, as if Jon’s refusal proved his point, while rejecting the idea anyway. “I have known more Kings and Queens than any man living. I have seen what they say to crowds and what they do in the shadows. I have furthered their designs no matter how horrible, but what I tell you now is true. You will rule wisely and well, while she –“
“She is my Queen.” Jon interrupted sternly, shutting down the discussion. He turned away and started walking again.
“And what of your family?” Varys called from behind Jon who stopped again, but didn’t turn around. It was a last effort, one he’d also made with Ned Stark. “The other half of your family, that is,” He added, slowly taking steps towards Jon, their words too delicate for the wind to carry. “It’s clear Sansa doesn’t trust her rule. Arya, the hero of Winterfell with unexplained, extraordinary skills, stands by her sister and Bran possesses more knowledge than even I ever could,” Varys stared at Jon, standing by his side. “Do you trust her around such potentially powerful threats?” he asked.
Jon stayed where he was, his shoulders heaving with his distress. “My family are in Winterfell,” he started, turning his head to face Varys as he showed his reasons. “In The North, which The Queen helped fight for. For that help, I gave my word I would fight for her in return,” he explained fiercely, as if the swearing the agreement all over again. “She will take the Iron Throne and my family will remain in the North, where I belong.” He stared at Varys for a moment further before walking away again, making sure his point that he would take no further part was understood.