Chapter 81: The Miserable Edmure
The moment Varys finished speaking, the last trace of hope in Olenna's heart vanished.
She knew well that there was bad blood between Cersei and Tyrion, and that Tywin had wanted his dwarf son dead. But that didn't mean Cersei had no desire to find her son's true killer. Given Cersei's temperament — and her distaste for Olenna's granddaughter — she would never abandon vengeance simply for the sake of an alliance with Highgarden.
What Olenna could not understand was how Varys had uncovered her involvement in Joffrey's murder. She and Littlefinger had executed the plan with extreme secrecy. Ser Dontos, the only other person who knew, was already dead, and poor Sansa had been spirited away by Baelish.
When Olenna removed the poison pendant from Sansa's necklace, she had done so with exquisite subtlety. Though Varys had been seated near the high table, she was certain her body had blocked his line of sight. How could he possibly have seen?
And the moment when Margaery had casually set Joffrey's golden goblet on Olenna's table — that had not been planned at all. It was pure chance. Margaery had no knowledge of her grandmother's intention to murder her own new husband; she could never have knowingly assisted.
Olenna had originally intended to find another opportunity to administer the poison. Only when the goblet ended up before her by accident had she seized the moment and crushed the disguised poison capsule hidden in the necklace charm.
She had believed the act flawless — unseen, undetected. Even Margaery, the unwitting accomplice, had noticed nothing. Tyrion's trial afterward had only reinforced her confidence in the perfection of her scheme.
Yet now, just as she sat enjoying wine with her granddaughter, convinced the matter long buried, Varys had appeared — calmly pointing at her as the true culprit.
She still resisted the idea that he had witnessed the entire act. But how else could he know such precise details?
If not seen with his own eyes… who else could have known so clearly?
The thought that a pair of unseen, uncanny eyes had been watching her as she slipped the poison into the cup sent a chill through her bones.
She had believed her conspiracy with Petyr Baelish to be watertight. Instead, the Master of Whisperers had exposed it with a single, effortless stroke.
And now another thought stirred in her mind: if Varys did not serve Cersei, then whom did he serve?
Her thoughts drifted to another recent wedding massacre — the Red Wedding.
Could it be that Varys had also learned of Walder Frey's plot and secretly warned the Stark mother and son? Otherwise, how could they possibly have escaped such a certain death trap?
After the Red Wedding, every great house speculated about why the massacre had failed.
With Tywin Lannister and Walder Frey involved, there was no way such a carefully laid trap should have let the Stark mother and son escape. Otherwise Tywin would never have arranged Tyrion's marriage to Sansa — he would only have sacrificed that political match if he were absolutely certain the Starks were finished.
Yet the Red Wedding had ended in failure.
The most widely accepted explanation was that the plan had leaked.
Survivors from House Frey later claimed that Robb had arrived for his uncle's wedding with a thousand soldiers. His personal guard was twice its usual size, every man wearing hidden mail and carrying concealed daggers.
Only someone capable of prying secrets from such a tightly sealed scheme could have made that possible.
And there was only one man in the realm with hands and eyes everywhere — the Spider, Varys.
Now that he had also uncovered Olenna's role in the Purple Wedding, she found it difficult not to admire him.
Watching Olenna's shifting expression, Varys did not interrupt. He simply waited for her decision.
"May I ask, Lord Varys… for whom do you now scheme?" Olenna asked at last, her composure regained.
"It is not yet time to say. In the future, my lady will understand." Varys calmly admitted, in effect, that he no longer served Cersei.
After a pause, he added, "Cersei is not a good ally. Nor is she someone who can be controlled. I believe you understand that better than anyone."
Olenna did. That was why she had planned to bypass Cersei entirely and secure influence through Tommen. But Varys's arrival had shattered what once seemed a flawless strategy, forcing her to reconsider Highgarden's future.
"What, then, would you advise?" she asked.
"For now, simply deal with Cersei carefully. When the time is right, I will come again."
That answer nearly made Olenna lose her temper.
Margaery was about to wed King Tommen. Olenna had just urged her granddaughter to bear the boy a child as soon as possible. And now Varys had overturned her entire plan — only to tell her to proceed cautiously and wait?
By the time she "waited," Margaery might already be with child. What then — abandon the alliance with Cersei? On what grounds?
At least tell me whom you serve, Olenna thought bitterly. If I knew the power behind you, I could judge whether a marriage alliance was possible!
She had the sudden urge to smack the smooth bald head of the Spider just to make him speak plainly.
"Is it Robb Stark of the North?" she blurted.
"Robb?" Varys blinked, momentarily puzzled. Then he understood her reasoning — she suspected he had warned the Starks about the Red Wedding.
He almost smiled. In truth… she wasn't entirely wrong.
But he merely shook his head, his expression unreadable.
Olenna grew even more confused. Had she guessed incorrectly? Had someone else warned Robb?
"My apologies for disturbing you, my lady. I shall take my leave." His purpose accomplished, Varys rose.
Unable to force more from him, Olenna could only watch him go, already calculating Highgarden's uncertain road ahead.
As Varys walked away, he replayed in his mind Olenna's mixture of shock and apprehension. A rare thrill stirred within him.
This, he thought, was how the Master of Whisperers ought to feel.
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Outside Riverrun, Edmure Tully stood bound to a gallows, his body covered in wounds.
Walder Frey's son, Stevron, lashed him again and again with a whip — punishing the man who had so recently become his brother-in-law.
It had been Stevron who greeted Robb Stark at the Twins, even mocking him for bringing a thousand soldiers to a wedding.
He had never imagined those very soldiers would exploit the chaos when fires broke out among the haystacks outside the castle, scale the walls, seize the gates, and allow Robb and the northern lords to escape back to Riverrun.
For that failure, his father had raged at him and thrown him into the dungeon for days.
Now released, Stevron had taken over his elder brother's task — binding Edmure to the gallows each day, flogging him in full view, hoping to force Riverrun to surrender.
But Robb Stark and the Blackfish were not men who would yield a castle simply because Edmure was tortured.