Winterfell and King's Landing

(Winterfell)

Ned Stark was sitting in his solar. His face was marred by a deep frown as he shifted through the many documents spread across his table. Though his gaze was focused on the parchments, his mind was elsewhere.

It had been more than three months since Jon had disappeared from Winterfell. He had searched for Jon with everything he had. Using all the resources he could muster; Ned had left no stone unturned but all he found was disappointment. Jon had vanished. Where had he gone, he had no idea.

During his investigation, when he tried to learn why Jon would flee the safety of Winterfell's walls, many painful truths came to light. Under his stern questioning, every servant employed at Winterfell finally confessed.

He learned of the treatment Jon had endured. How he was given the menial tasks meant for common servants. How the staff, encouraged by Catelyn, mocked him for his status. And he learned exactly how his wife had treated Jon.

All of this came as a shock to Ned. He had always known Catelyn harboured no love for Jon and did not treat him the way he should have been treated. But he had never imagined she outright hated him, or that her hatred would spill so openly into her actions.

He had learnt especially Jon had endured when he had been away from Winterfell during the Greyjoy's rebellion. And he knew he was to blame as well. He had never paid attention to these 'trivial' matters. He had lived in an illusion of own. He had justified Catelyn's behaviour of keeping him safe and now no amount of regret would bring Jon back.

Jon's disappearance had put a strain on his relationship with Catelyn. She did not even try to hide the fact that she was pleased the bastard was gone.

How he wished he could tell Catelyn the truth. That Jon was no bastard, that his status was greater than perhaps any noble in all of Westeros.

Robb, aside from Ned himself, was the only one who seemed to truly understand the loss. Although his relation with Jon had cooled down in the past few years, his disappearance had made think about certain things. And like himself, Ned could feel that Robb too regretted few things.

Sansa felt little affection for Jon. She was far more interested in being lady-like, following closely in her mother's footsteps.

Arya and Bran were too young to fully understand what had happened. Even so, Arya would sometimes cry, missing her big brother.

(King's Landing)

It was a rare occasion in King's Landing. King Robert Baratheon himself was joining the meeting of the small council. And it did not happen much often.

Varys looked around the chamber with quiet intrigue. Closest to the king's seat was Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and Lord Paramount of the Vale.

Directly opposite sat Stannis Baratheon, the king's brother, Master of Ships, and Lord of Dragonstone.

Next to Jon Arryn was Grand Maester Pycelle.

Varys, the Master of Whisperers, sat beside the grand Maester.

Directly opposite him sat Petyr Baelish, the newly appointed Master of Coin, whose dramatic rise Varys understood all too well. He, though, rival with the master coin, acknowledged his abilities in managing coins or in swallowing them for himself but he also knew the correct person who should be given the credit for Peter's rise.

The council was still short one member. The Master of Laws. Renly Baratheon was away somewhere. Where? Varys knew all too well.

Varys' thoughts were interrupted when the chamber doors swung open with a bang. The small council rose as the king entered, wine goblet in hand.

Robert Baratheon was no longer the formidable warrior who had once struck terror into the hearts of his enemies. He was fat now. His instincts likely dulled, and he had not picked up a weapon in years.

With a grunt, Robert dropped into his seat.

"Sit down, all of you," he bellowed. No part of him or his behaviour looked like a king.

"Your Grace," they all murmured in greeting as they resumed their places.

Robert's eyes fell on Varys.

"Tell me, spider. What news is so important that you insisted I join this meeting?" He mumbled as he gulped his wine.

Varys, with his ever present smile on his face stood from his seat.

"Your Grace," he began with a slight sigh. "My little birds bring a most peculiar tale from Essos. Specifically, from Astapor."

"They sing of a boy, barely ten and six. He calls himself Lord Aeos. They say that through cunning and deceit, this boy has taken over Astapor and now rules it as its new king."

This news shocked everyone.

"You say a boy of ten and six? Are you certain, Lord Varys?" Jon Arryn asked, frowning.

"My birds do not lie, Lord Hand," Varys replied calmly.

"Describe these events in detail, spider," Robert growled, taking a long drink from his goblet.

"Yes, Your Grace," Varys said, then began to recount the series of events that led to the fall of Astapor.

As he spoke, the council listened with varying degrees of disbelief. What Lord Aeos had accomplished was almost beyond imagining.

When Varys finally finished, Robert let out a booming laugh.

"It's nothing more than pure luck… a fluke," Stannis scoffed. "That boy will die soon enough by his own recklessness. To claim he will build the greatest empire the world has ever seen. He certainly has a big mouth."

Robert roared with laughter. "A fluke, you say, Stannis? Even so, he took Astapor with only two teenagers by his side."

He laughed even louder.

"I do not know if he is capable of what he claims, but I do know this. He will leave a mark on history, one way or another."

Then his expression sobered as he turned back to Varys.

"Though this news is indeed fascinating, I want word of the two Targaryen spawns in Essos."

Varys let out a small sigh. "They are proving difficult to track, Your Grace. Even my birds sing very little of them."

"Tell me whatever you do know," Robert ordered, his voice hard.

Varys let out a sigh as he continued to give what 'little' information he had of the Targaryen.

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