King's Landing was buzzing with activity. The wedding between Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell was in four months, and lords from all over Westeros were arriving in droves, along with merchants and entertainers. It was a pity that Vlad knew that wedding would end badly. In truth, he had plans to go to King's Landing before meeting in Dorne with his wife, once they both set sail for Westeros.
He didn't want to kill Joffrey himself, though he knew removing him would stir things up, make the Lannister's unpredictable, and, most importantly, deprive him of two things he valued: Tyrion Lannister's mind and his loyalty. Because, if events went as he expected, it would be the dwarf himself who would kill the bastard who claimed to be his father. Vlad planned to be in King's Landing for two reasons: to kill the Mountain with his own hands and to make sure Tyrion ended up being sent to Daenerys. With all the changes and his growing influence, he didn't believe Varys would send him directly to her. Most likely, he would send him to young Griff. And that, for Vlad, was unacceptable.
Vlad continued writing a few notes before turning to check on Daenerys and her generals. He paused when he heard footsteps approaching.
Daenerys entered his chambers wearing a white silk dress that exposed her ribs and back, her braided hair cascading like silver chains.
—Aren't you supposed to be resting? —she asked playfully.
—I am resting, my love. Planning the fall of my enemies relaxes me —Vlad replied, dramatically imitating the voice of a stereotypical villain.
Daenerys laughed like a child.
—Poor people of Westeros… Mothers, hide your daughters! Then, hide yourselves, for the Impaler is coming —she said with exaggerated drama, raising an arm before collapsing into Vlad's lap.
—An exquisite performance —Vlad commented as he kissed her—. If this whole queen thing doesn't work out, we could always become traveling performers.
—Why not do it in a few years? —she asked, amused—. We have centuries ahead of us, right?
—True. My essence will be ready in a couple of days and, at last, I'll be able to spend eternity with you —he said, kissing her forehead.
—And are you okay? —Daenerys asked with concern.
—Weak, but still strong enough to fight fifty men.
—Poor thing… I'll tell the cooks to make you some soup to regain your strength —she said in the tone of a mother worried about her son.
Vlad decided to ignore her with a smile.
—What are you doing? —she asked, eyeing the map and the notes.
—Planning our triumphant return to Westeros —he replied, amused.
—And this? —she asked, pointing to the lines connecting various coats of arms and houses.
—These are the houses that have already fallen —he pointed to the Freys and the Boltons—. And these are the ones that must fall if we want to unite Westeros.
Daenerys studied the Tully sigil and furrowed her brow.
—Tully? Aren't they practically finished after the war? If I'm not mistaken, only Brynden Tully remains, right? So, why must they fall?
Vlad explained calmly:
—Actually, the fall of House Tully at this point is more symbolic. It was the Targaryens who elevated them during Aegon's conquest. However, Hoster Tully conspired to place his own bloodline on the Iron Throne. That's why he married his daughters to Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark; according to him, they were the best candidates to take the throne after the Rebellion.
—And, actually, he wasn't wrong. Robert Baratheon was a terrible king. If I remember correctly, the Crown's debt is six million golden dragons, isn't it?
—How? —Daenerys asked, incredulously. That amount far exceeded what they had used in their conquest.
—I suspect a certain Master of Coin diverted funds, but truth be told, Robert spent it all on tournaments, banquets, whores, and wine.
—He's lucky he died before we could lay our hands on him —Daenerys growled, feeling anger at what had become of her family's throne. Then, her expression changed, and she asked again—. But with House Tully so weakened, is it really necessary to destroy them?
—Actually, it would be a fitting punishment. But to understand it, I need to explain something important —Vlad took a breath before continuing—. The fall of your family wasn't a mere accident; it was the result of a conspiracy that has been brewing for centuries, since the Dance of the Dragons.
He pointed to two names crossed off his list.
—The Faith of the Seven and the Citadel.
Daenerys furrowed her brow, intrigued.
—Explain yourself.
—When the dragons arrived with Aegon the Conqueror, the Faith realized it had lost its power. Before that, a High Septon could make and unmake kings; maybe not directly, but they knew they were above any king in Westeros. But Aegon and his descendants were above even their gods. To the people, they were divine, riding dragons, wielding magic. The Church began losing influence. During Maegor the Cruel's reign, they tried to rebel, but Maegor exterminated most of the fanatics of the Faith Militant. The survivors learned a lesson: they couldn't fight dragons head-on. So, along with the Citadel, they devised another plan.
Daenerys tilted her head.
—The maesters?
Vlad smiled darkly.
—The Citadel is more subtle. They don't seek power, at least not in the way lords and kings do. They seek control. What does it matter not to rule as a king, if you can control how rich a kingdom is? How long its people live? In Westeros, knowledge has been trickling down for the last few centuries. The maesters control what is learned and what isn't. That's why there are no common people who know how to heal wounds, use herbs… For them, knowledge they cannot control should not exist. Like magic. Magic is dangerous, uncontrollable.
He leaned toward her, his eyes glowing intensely.
—If you read the books taught in the Citadel, you'll see that magic was common in ancient times. Dragons, necromancers, sorcerers… things that today seem like fairy tales. But fairy tales were real. Until the maesters took care of destroying every trace of them.
—That's ridiculous —Daenerys protested—. Magic disappeared for other reasons…
—Oh? And who taught you that?
She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped.
—Knowledge is as dangerous as a sword, Daenerys. But a sword you can see coming. A lie written in a book becomes the truth for entire generations.
Daenerys felt a shiver run down her spine.