Chapter Text
There were rules. There had always been rules. As she grew older, Sabryna realized that there were more and more of them. Never speak a word of what you do or accept payment from anyone but the Spider, if someone is following you, kill them or never go home, don’t steal, don’t run away, don’t give anyone any reason to notice you, and the most important rule: don’t go off on your own.
Sabryna had broken that rule several years ago, but the success she found by doing so far outranked the punishment she received from Varys. She wasn’t quite sure how she had begun to market her services in other ways. Perhaps it was the crazy old man who thought she was the ghost of his dead daughter and prayed at her feet for his wish to come true. Sabryna pitied the delusional old man, and she granted his wish. He left tribute for her outside a temple and she collected it.
“You think he really thought I was a ghost?” she asked Varys one night.
Varys glanced up from where he scribbled a message in cipher to look Sabryna up and down. He had found her in her early childhood, old enough to run and spy and speak, but too young to understand the ways of the world. At first she had been just another little bird. However Sabryna proved to be a natural spy, and remained in Varys’ service for far longer than any other child.
She was almost eleven now, and on the brink of beginning the journey to adulthood. She was tall for her age, with long limbs and bony hands. Her hair, long and colored the silver of Old Valyria combined with her white robes did give her a sort of ghostly appearance. If she had possessed grey eyes, Sabryna would have been entirely made of silver, but her eyes were a muted hazel color that reminded Varys of woodland moss.
“No,” Varys said and looked back down at his parchment.
Sabryna seemed offended, “No? But when he saw me he fell to his knees and praised me like I was sent by R'hllor himself.”
“Some people are fools,” Varys said simply.
Sabryna crossed her arms over her chest and sank back down into her chair.
“You look like a Red Priestess drained of her color in every sense.”
“A White Priestess then?” She sat up, her hazel eyes sparkling.
“But you do not preach the whims of the Lord of Light.”
“I made that old man’s wish come true… perhaps I am not a priestess but a witch.”
Varys’ eyes flared up before he shook his head and continued to write, “Then be the White Witch, if that is who you choose to be. But don’t go off and start practicing real magic, then we will have bigger problems on our hands than you breaking the rules.”
“Am I still getting punished for that?”
“What do you think?”
Sabryna continued to learn from Varys. She learned how to lie and cheat and manipulate. She helped watch over little birds, organized incoming ravens, and learned dozens of codes and ciphers.
As the White Witch, she learned how to disappear into the shadows and scale fortress walls. She abandoned all of her robes that weren’t the color of freshly fallen snow, and took extra care to keep them as clean as possible. As difficult as this was in the city of Braavos with its muddy canals, she was oddly proud of how she managed. Sabryna granted the wishes of the common people in Braavos in return for tribute, left for her at the Temple of the Moonsingers, the largest temple in Braavos.
Sabryna’s gifts consisted mostly of food and coin, but some patrons even brought her white and silver silks. Acts of thievery and poaching eventually gave way to include some assassinations, most of which Sabryna carried out herself. She was quick and agile with a shortsword, and the stiletto dagger she carried with her made it so not even the Westerosi knights with their plated armor and longswords struck fear into her.
When she did kill, she found her white robes were quickly stained with red. So she began to dress in black when she went on the hunt. A few of the little birds would tease her of becoming a crow, like the ones that froze to death at the wall in Westeros, but Sabryna turned her nose up at them. The little birds were not the only ones who noticed, however.
She was meeting a man who had requested her work in one of the dark alleyways of Braavos. Sabryna saw him before he saw her. A nervous man with age spotted skin and a thinning beard was waiting for her in the alley, fidgeting with his hands. Sabryna dropped down from a low stone bridge above him, landing behind the man with a clack of her shoes on the stone. The dark fabric of her robes fluttered down around her, and a large hood covered her face. Her hair hung to her waist and caught the light of the moon, shining like beaten silver.
“A-Are you her ?” The nervous man spoke in a variant of Valyrian that Sabryna recognized as coming from Slaver’s Bay. Valyrian was the first language she’d ever learned, her accent lightly carried over when she spoke the tongue of Westeros. She gave the man a curtsy.
“You called for me? ”
“I did, but it looks as if you have other business to attend to. ”
“What makes you think that? ”
The man looked Sabryna up and down, “You are a crow, not a dove. Someone has already died or is about to. They say you mourn your victims, a dove may be the one to enter your home, but if she leaves as a raven, no one will ever know what became of you. ” Sabryna was silent, “Am I wrong? ”
“I did have business today, but whatever you require can also be completed before sunrise. ”
“It’s becoming dangerous for you.”
Sabryna looked up from her steaming cup of tea at Varys, “What do you mean?”
“You are a child, not an assassin, and yet that is what you have chosen to become.”
“I have become what you wanted me to become.”
Varys raised his invisible brows at Sabryna and regarded her with extreme skepticism, “I wanted you to be a little bird for a few years only, upon which time you would be killed so what you knew would die with you. But instead you have chosen to open your own practice, becoming far too well known across all of Essos. Your reputation has now spread to Westeros as well.”
“...I did not know.”
“Of course you did not, you are careless. If it were not for my protection, you would be dead ten times over by this time tomorrow.”
Sabryna looked down in shame, “I thought I was doing well.”
“Because that is what I wanted you to think. I thought that in time you might be able to learn how to do what you want to do on your own. That I would be able to guard you from those who seek to hurt until you were ready. But something has come up.” Varys looked at her, the number of herbs burning in the room covered everything in a hazy layer of smoke. Varys’ steely gaze was hidden from her, and in that moment, Sabryna thought to ask a question for the first time in her life.
“Why don’t you just let them kill me?”
Varys was silent for a long while before he finally spoke, “Because I see myself in you. I see someone with potential that if goes unused, will be extinguished long before it has the chance to grow into a magnificent flame.”
“And you intend to fuel my fire?”
“I will need a replacement when I am gone. This world will collapse in on itself otherwise.” Sabryna nodded, taking a tentative sip of her tea. It was hot and spicy and it burned the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t show any reaction.
“What has come up?”
“A royal summons.” Sabryna dropped her cup in surprise, Varys’ hand shot out and he caught it, tea spilled from the top and scalded his hand, but he didn’t even wince. “His Grace, Aerys of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has requested my presence on his Small Council. I cannot refuse his offer.”
“When do you leave for King’s Landing?”
“We’ll leave within the fortnight.”
Sabryna blinked at her mentor, “You’re taking me with you?” Varys nodded, and there was something that flashed across his face for a mere second that Sabryna could have sworn was a smile.
“It would be most beneficial for us both.” Sabryna nodded and did not ask any more questions; asking too many questions would show exactly how great of an interest she had in Westeros, King’s Landing and the King himself.
Varys did not take much with him on his journey to King’s Landing, and Sabryna took even less. They sailed across the Narrow Sea together on a single ship, filled with clothes, some jewels, and a handful of Varys’ most trusted little birds. Between spending her days as a young girl navigating the many canals of Braavos and traveling with Varys to many of the other Free Cities, Sabryna had always loved the sea. The boat moved and swayed, and many of the passengers grew sick of its constant rocking, but Sabryna never succumbed. Every morning she would rise early and watch the sunrise over the waves, laughing as the sea sprayed its salty tears at her.
Her hair grew wavy from the salt after weeks of travel, and after what seemed to be countless days, the horizon bore a sight that differed from the emerald and sapphire hues that coated the waters. Instead, when Sabryna tied back her hair with a band of leather and donned her silken white robes, she saw land on the horizon.
She quickly turned on her heels and made to run to Varys’ chambers, to inform him that they would reach King’s Landing by mid-afternoon, but she stumbled as her mentor was already on the deck of the ship. His skin smelled of lilacs and his robes were emblazoned with gold.
“Varys,” Sabryna said, surprised and smiling. Varys did not smile in return.
“I have no doubt that you have spotted it.”
Sabryna turned back to grip the edge of the ship, staring at the dot that was to become her new home, “I think I am feeling a bit more excited than I should.”
“You are,” Varys replied simply, “My dear, King’s Landing is not a place where you should make yourself comfortable. There will be enemies everywhere, even right next to the Iron Throne, if not sitting atop it.”
“You speak of the King.”
“Yes, I do. You have no doubt heard of his madness.” Sabryna said nothing. “My little birds tell me that the stories and rumors do not capture half of the King’s madness. He is as liberal with wildfire as most men are with their cocks in a brothel. King Aerys knows of the extent my power reaches in Essos, and he wishes to use it to extend his own power in Westeros. He is paranoid and secretive, the King believes that his allies are turning against him, even those as close as his own kin. That is why he has called upon me.”
“His own kin? You mean someone like Prince Rhaegar?”
“Indeed, from what my little birds tell me Aerys’ trust of his son grows weaker by the day.”
“And do we intend to take sides in this matter?” Sabryna asked. She breathed in deep and let the salt fill her lungs.
“I have not decided on this yet. If I find it in my power to pacify the King and guarantee that his eldest son will make for a good ruler, then that is what we shall do. If I decide that both Rhaegar and the King are unfit to sit upon the Iron Throne, then actions will be taken accordingly. The side we are on, dear protégée, is whatever side will put the most coin in a poor man’s pocket and give him faith that those who govern him will protect him in times of need. I have taught you not to trust anyone, and you have learned this well, but in King’s Landing there is another thing you must be wary of.” Varys pulled one of Sabryna’s long silver hairs out of its leather binding and rolled it between his fingers. “You will be strange to them. You are strange to most people in the Free Cities, but here will be a different kind of strangeness. You are thirteen and a woman grown, even if your mind is not at its full potential. To those in King’s Landing, you are a rare commodity, a gem to be collected, a cheap imitation of a Targaryen, you will by no means be a genuine article, but those who seek to take you will not care. When they look at you Sabryna, all they will see is something to be bought, and there are a great many lords in these Seven Kingdoms that have plenty that they’re willing to pay.”
Sabryna’s hazel eyes were wide, she had experienced a fair few encounters with the types of men Varys spoke of. Those who wanted to stick their grimy hands under her ivory robes and get a taste of what the White Witch had to offer. But they had always been easy to outmaneuver, avoid, or in some cases, kill on site. However, Sabryna felt a difference in her mentor’s tone when he spoke. Those who they would encounter in King’s Landing would be different. Yes, there would still be those beggars who were too poor for the brothel and tried to take everything by force, but they would always be there. Now there were lords and knights who held positions of power. Sabryna was in no position to deny them, let alone retaliate and plead her case to the king. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“What would you like me to do about them?”
“Try and stay out of trouble I expect,” Varys hummed, as if this were as simple as discussing the weather, “Trouble might come looking for you. Don’t engage with it. That part is imperative. Speak only the tongue of Westeros. Try not to appear foreign. And if despite all of this you still wind up unwillingly pregnant with some Lord’s spawn, tell me. I have certain measures in place that could be of use to you should the situation present itself.”
“A knife to slit my own throat?” Sabryna mumbled. Varys merely looked at her. The boat docked and the crew busied themselves with unloading the ship of its cargo. Varys and Sabryna descended into the bustle at the port. Her ears were assaulted by the harsh Rs and Es and As of the Westerosi language. She spoke it with fluency, although she had never heard so much of it in one place before. Varys guided her to an immaculate horse-drawn carriage. The servant opened the door and helped Sabryna inside. Sunlight shone through the geometric wooden patterns that formed the windows, and everything was lined or embroidered with silk threads boasting brilliant colors. Her pupils dilated at the sight of such wealth and she pushed down the urge to slip the golden door handles into the pockets of her robes.
“This is the King’s finery,” Varys looked over the interior of the carriage with calculating eyes, “Did you expect anything less?” Sabryna looked at him. Varys had always taken pride in his appearance, even though his head and face had always been free of hair, he dressed in fine silks and smelled of lavender. Sabryna knew it made some feel dizzy or nauseous when they were around him, but to her, it simply smelled of familiarity. The carriage stopped moving and Sabryna eagerly peered out of the wooden grate and gazed upon the Red Keep for the first time. “Keep your thoughts to yourself,” Varys reminded her as they exited, “Do not give them anything to hurt you with. Braavos might have been dangerous, Sabryna, but King’s Landing is deadly.” She nodded her head silently as they began to ascend the steps to meet the king.