I don't own Game of Thrones and any of the characters starring in it, as many of you may have guessed. The original idea for this story came from Hotpoint's "HBO WI: Joffrey from Game of Thrones replaced with Octavian from Rome" which he abandoned in 2016. If you want to know what's happening, read it, it's one of the best.

But summarizing: Stannis is going to be sent to the wall and Octavian ordered for his family to be brought to King's Landing… and Varys suspects his true identity.

"I once struck the prince heir, he was nothing short of a vicious child, but I never laid a hand over the emperor of the world." - The Wisdom and Wits of Tyrion Lannister.

King's Landing - 298 AL

Octavian had a black cloak covering his face wholly, and a biology book he brought from maester Pycelle's own shelf to read away the waiting in the royal port for his guests from Dragonstone. Many people passed by at that hour of the day, half of them wanted a peek of the caped man's face, and all were scared away by Sandor Clegane' nasty grimace.

"They're fucking late." snarled Gregor.

It was a rather sunny day, which made his protector even more stiffened as he held guard behind him, but Octavian seemed to care little as he perused every diminutive detail of his lecture. The westerosi had a vast knowledge of the human body, even more, than Romans do, he decided as pages of information flooded his mind and fulfilled his curiosity.

A small child, no more than nine, of sandy, blond hair, approached the young prince carrying a letter with a she-wolf feeding two human babes stamped on the front. Sandor reached for his sword, but Octavian ordered him down as he took the small hands of the child between his, altogether with the letter. He nodded approvingly, and a smile broadened across the boy's face as he took for leaving.

He reached for his back pocket and shoved the letter in; he would read his content in a later time and in solitude, where no spider's web hung.

"There are safest places to fulfill your kind of likes that aren't the streets, Your Grace," said Clegane.

"I wouldn't do that to my wife-to-be." he replied, "It is quite strange to see you speak to me in such freedom, Ser Clegane."

"I was just speaking my mind, Your Grace," explained the burned man, taking back his guarding stance. Sandor had something about himself today, Octavian didn't know how to put it, but his escort had a word-choice that sometimes reminded him awfully of Titus Pullo; he often spoke bluntly and without regard for the proper.

Octavian just smirked, and at the same time, he noted that a company of ships approached from the horizon like grey spots loosening from the sun. The sails and banners of the ships had the signature to the Greyjoy house embroidered in them. His guest had arrived and Octavian stood to greet them in person, Ser Clegane following close behind.

From the main boat, a group of three women disembarked: a woman and a greyscale touched girl were the first; Stannis Baratheon's wife and daughter, inquired Octavian as they were holding hands, though hesitantly by the child's part. The third one was Yara Greyjoy who was still shouting orders to her men. A spirited woman, just like Arya Stark, decided.

Octavian slipped his cloak until it was low on his neck and his face could be seen, "My ladies, I've been expecting you. I hope you traveled without much mayhap." he greeted them with cordiality.

Stannis wife, whose name is Sylese Florent if he well remembered, folded herself to a complete bow, forcing her daughter down with her. "Your Grace, it is an honor having you receive us into your home," said the older woman looking down, averting her eyes from Octavian's "Our travel from Dragonstone came without any hardships."

"It gladdens me to know that, now come, I'll show you your bedchambers."

Octavian took them both through the crowded streets of Kings Landing, his face covered once again by his cloak. Lady Florent tried to make conversation by thanking him of his mercy, by sparing her and her daughter the grief of seeing Stannis beheaded. Little lady Shireen kept herself back with Yara, away from his mother, but once in a while gazed upon the supposed king. The girl looked unhappy, Octavian decided, and unhappy children make bitter adults - just like his surrogate mother, Cersei. He had to keep the little child happy, maybe a meeting with his future wife sister's would do the desired effect.

Already settled his guests, Octavian headed for the Small council chamber. He sat alone in the candlelit room, no one would interrupt him there - no little birdies or pry spider. He reached for his back pocket and pulled the letter. The stamp meant to represent Luperca feeding Romulus and Remus; something westerosi men or spies wouldn't understand. The content was codified in Latin, for he himself gave the codes to a person of trust if the following happened: someone was conspiring against him.

Octavian opened the letter to find confirmation. It read: Et erit aranea telam texit quam in captionem relinques vilico. Dum sol lucebit excaecare fit cervo - Varys has been plotting against him apparently, together with Prince Oberyn Martell. He understood why the prince of Dorne might want him out of the line of succession - and all with Lannister blood for that matter - but Varys was an altogether completely different song. Even Octavian in all his ability had trouble seeing through his exterior motives.

Did he want the throne for himself?

Had he seen through his Joffrey facade?

Was he a threat to the spider's schemes?

Many questions streamed through him, disregarding the most absurd ones as the effects of a paranoid mind and keeping the most palpable ones in his deep mind. A man such as Varys - with his particular repertory of abilities - could prove to be a fearsome opponent and a great loss of an ally. For little stories he had heard of his Master of Whispers' past, it was clear that he was a professional of self-preservation; he wouldn't do anything unless thoroughly necessary.

At least that gives me enough time to think of ways to wrap the spider with his own web, he thought as all the members of the Small council entered, each of them bowing to him, including Varys.

Please review. Be as harsh as you need to be - all in line of constructive criticism of course. I'm here to learn off your opinions and thoughts.