[Chapter number 200. I think it is a big milestone. The story has come a long way and I have throughly enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for this continued support.]
"What is it that you want, Lord Varys?" Jorah questioned. "What do you want from me?"
"I have an opportunity for you, Ser Jorah Mormont," Varys replied with a small smirk. "A chance I am certain you will like immensely."
"Opportunity?" Jorah mumbled. "What is it?"
"How does a pardon from King Robert Baratheon sound?" Varys asked. "A pardon that will allow you to return to Westeros without the brand of a criminal on your forehead. A pardon that will keep Ned Stark's sword away from your neck. A pardon that will allow you not only to return to your ancestral seat of Bear Island, but also to reclaim the lordship of House Mormont."
Jorah's eyes widened. An expression of pure disbelief and shock washed over his face. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. A Royal Pardon? When fleeing Westeros, he had lost all his hopes of ever returning to Westeros? He had never thought that he would ever get a chance to step back on Bear Island. But now a chance was staring right into his face.
He took a couple of moments and a deep breath to calm his raging emotions. Despite the chance dangling in front of him, he was no naive fool, nor an innocent man unaware of how the world worked. He knew nothing in this world came for free.
"What do you want in return?" He asked. "I doubt you are doing this out of the kindness of your heart."
There was barely any change in Varys's expression. He remained entirely unapologetic.
"You are a smart man, Ser Jorah," he said. "And you are no innocent man to be treated with the kindness of my heart. You were caught selling poachers into slavery. It was a crime. An offense. You fled Westeros after a sentence of execution was passed upon you."
Jorah gritted his teeth. It was a sore subject, a painful subject from you. Whenever someone brought up his crime, a bitter mix of frustration and shame welled up inside him. He regretted what he had done immensely. How he wished he could turn back time and change things.
And the woman for whom he had committed those sins had so easily discarded him the moment he lost his wealth. Lynesse Hightower had abandoned him to become the concubine of a Lyseni merchant.
"Tell me," he growled, his anger rising. "What do you want in return?"
Varys smiled.
"You need to go to the city of Qohor," he said.
"Qohor?" Jorah mumbled in surprise.
"In Qohor," Varys continued, "you will work your way into the inner circle of Rhaenys Targaryen. You will become an advisor to her. A sword to serve her needs. Someone she trusts."
"As far as I know, she lacks capable advisors, especially those who can counsel her on matters related to Westeros," Varys added. "You will take that position. And you will send us information about her."
Jorah raised his eyebrows, a deep frown creasing his face.
"You want me to become a spy for you?" he asked. "To risk my life?"
"Yes," Varys nodded, entirely unashamed.
"If I actually get that close to Lady Rhaenys Targaryen," Jorah asked, "why would I even remain your spy? I could return to Westeros anyway when she takes the Iron Throne. She has five dragons. I do not think King Robert's regime would survive her onslaught."
"Yes," Varys nodded. "But if she fails, you can rely on your pardon. What is the harm in keeping both paths open?"
Jorah fell into a contemplative silence. He could not immediately come to a decision.
"I need some time to think about it," he said.
"Take your time, Ser Jorah," Varys responded smoothly. "But remember that I will be leaving Pentos in a couple of days. I want your answer by then."
"You will have your answer by then," Jorah said, before getting up and walking away.
Jorah had barely disappeared from Varys's line of sight when Illyrio Mopatis came hurrying toward him.
"Varys," the magister said, his voice shaking slightly with anxiety. "We have a letter. A letter from Qohor."
Though not as visibly shaken as Illyrio, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed Varys's eyes.
"From Rhaenys Targaryen?" He asked.
"Yes," Illyrio answered, holding out a parchment toward Varys. "Addressed to Viserys Targaryen."
Varys took the parchment. It was still sealed with the temporary sigil that Rhaenys had adopted for herself.
"Have you shown this to Viserys?" Varys asked.
"No," Illyrio shook his head. "I brought it to you first."
"Good," Varys responded. "He can read it later."
Without a hint of hesitation, Varys broke the seal and began to read.
I received your letter, Lord Targaryen.
It is good to know that I have a living relative who seems to care for me. Not that I was unaware of your existence. I was entirely aware of both you and Lady Daenerys. But regardless, it was good to hear from you.
In your letter, you asked many things. You wondered how I was doing, how I had survived, how I had fled the assault on King's Landing, and where I have been all these years. It is not that I am unwilling to share these answers, but I believe that now is not the right time.
I also understand that you were exceptionally curious about my dragons. You wanted to know where I found the eggs, how I hatched them, and all manner of similar questions. Though you tried hard to hide it, I was able to pick up your desperation quite easily.
And honestly, I do not blame you. Being a Targaryen, I probably would have reacted the exact same way if someone else would have appeared with dragons out of nowhere.
I, too, might not have been able to contain my curiosity. But again, these are not questions that can be adequately addressed in a letter.
Apart from this, I am certain there are many things you wish to discuss with me. And I, too, am anticipating meeting my only surviving relatives on my father's side. And therefore, I have arrived at a decision. I am not sure if it is the right decision but I have taken it anyway.
I am coming to Pentos. I will see you in a few days.
Rhaenys Targaryen
Varys's eyes bulged in shock as he read the final line. She was coming to Pentos? When? She had not specified. But she was coming to Pentos for Viserys.
"She is coming to Pentos," he murmured.
"What?" Illyrio snapped, almost snatching the parchment from his hands.
His eyes, too, widened in sheer panic as his gaze swept across the page. Rhaenys Targaryen was coming to Pentos.
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