Varys I
Robert did not like the Black Cells, it seems. Or perhaps he simply did not trust them.
Instead, when the King's Men detained Varys they escorted him to a tower-chamber and the guards were placed under the direction of Ser Brynden Tully. The Blackfish's breastplate showed the same fallen dragon and triumphant stag as Jorah Mormont's, but on his there were fish nibbling at the corpse of the dragon.
"I admire the view from here," Varys said, "But I don't think that that's why you brought me here, your grace."
Robert sat on the bed and gestured for Varys to take the chair. As cells went - and it was definitely a cell - the room wasn't too bad. "Do you know what they say about your loyalty, Varys?"
"They say many things, your grace. But I imagine," he sat himself facing the king, "That you mean the joke about my name."
"That's the one." Robert shrugged. "Let's be fair. You served Aerys, loyally and well, right up to the end. I admit that freely. And so far as I can tell, you've served me loyally and well, thus far."
Varys leant forwards. "Then may I ask why am I confined?"
"Because you'd serve another king, just as loyally and just as ably."
The eunuch opened his eyes as if in comprehension. "You think that I would serve the Lord Visenys, your grace?"
"It's a concern," agreed Robert. "But still, I'm loathe to punish a man for he may or may not do in the future. So I'm removing you from the temptation."
"I see your keen sense of mercy has not deserted you."
"It's a temporary measure. Unless you do something foolish like trying to leave without permission, you'll walk out a free man." He smiled thinly. "I've heard it said that no one should enter politics if they're concerned they might wind up locked away for a while."
"It is something of an occupational hazard," Varys admitted.
"I'd advise you to retire but who am I to tell a man to give up the trade he so clearly loves?" Robert rose to his feet. "Stannis found dozens of stone eggs on Dragonstone. Dragons who never hatched. I'm told that collectors would pay a fortune for one but the Targaryens would never have sold them, of course."
"Naturally."
Robert nodded. "Once Rhaella has been buried, I'll give you one of the eggs and passage to Pentos. A letter of recommendation for your abilities as well."
"You no longer desire my services then?"
"I need someone with your skills, Varys. Unfortunately I can't afford to keep you." He went to the door, pointedly not turning his back. "I wish you well in future endeavours, as long as they aren't to my detriment of course."
Varys watched the door close resignedly. The key turning had a certain finality to it. Then he sighed, went to the small table and pinched a scrap of bread from that on the plate he'd been left for an evening meal. Placing it on the sill of the window he retreated to the chair and watched to see if a bird came to accept it.
Jon VI
"I'd have hoped we would have more time between securing Dragonstone and causing further conflicts, your grace."
Robert smiled at Jon's mild reprimand. "Better to strike before our enemies have time to get to work. Most likely we'll see a winter upon us in a year or two and at that point our opportunites to act will be limited."
"Perhaps you're right. I take it then that you've ruled out any expediant action regarding Aerys' younger children."
"I have. You disapprove?"
"Not entirely, but I must ask your reasoning? If nothing else, some lords will take it for weakness on your part."
Robert shrugged. "I will always have enemies. That's the price of being a king. If Viserys and his sister aren't available as figureheads then someone will resurrect the Blackfyre claim, or that of some other branch of the House. Not all of the Targaryens were so convenient as to wed siblings and breed themselves back into the royal line. I may as well keep the most obvious candidates on hand."
"We could at least send Viserys to the Wall. Five or six years from now he'd be a plausible candidate whereas his sister won't be a concern for twice that long at least."
Coal black eyebrows arched. "You want me to send him to his - our, in fact - great-great-uncle Aemon? The idea might have merit if we hadn't allowed near a hundred Crownland lords and knights join the Night Watch in lieu of bending the knee to me as King."
Jon paused, feeling foolish. It wasn't often that Robert managed to so convincingly put him on the backfoot. "You're right, that would be unwise. My apologies, your grace. Perhaps sending him to the Citadel to become a Maester..."
"That has potential for the future. Right now, that would put him neatly into the hands of the Tyrells - who are probably feeling quite resentful for now." Robert shrugged. "For now, Viserys can stay at court and keep company with Renly. They're about of an age."
"And the same for Daenerys."
Robert nodded. "A shrewd choice by Rhaella. That name would find favour in Dorne. She will remain here as well. And I should look into bringing Mya her as well."
"Your daughter?"
"Aye. And... hells. Any other daughters or sons I may have sired. I was a bloody fool, wasn't I?" He covered his eyes with his hands. "That would be a fine legacy to leave my heirs, their own Blackfyres to deal with."
"They'd have been little concern if Aegon IV hadn't legitimised them."
"Well I'm not proposing that. But keeping Viserys locked away from everyone won't do him or us any good. Nor Renly, for that matter, I gather half the children in the Keep are afraid to play with him lest they bring down royal wrath on their heads. Let them remember they're boys first and royal can wait until they're older."
Jon shook his head. "Do you want to invite Lord Tywin's younger son too? He's a little older though."
"I wouldn't object to that but I think Lord Tywin might have ill memories of his children being summoned away to King's Landing. Perhaps once he's old enough for responsibility, he can be groomed for an eventual seat on the Small Council?"
"That might please Tywin almost as much as the prospect of his son being Prince of the Rock. You had a good idea in making sure that suitable successors to each seat are prepared, but unfortunately we don't anyone prepared for Varys' seat yet."
"I've a thought or two, at least for now." Robert frowned. "It's unusual but how would you feel about calling Olenna Tyrell to court as Varys' replacement?"
Jon felt his jaw drop. "Have you lost your mind? You want the Queen of Thorns as your Master of Whispers?"
"She does have one telling advantage over Varys: her family. Since any betrayal would reflect very poorly on the Tyrells, she would be more controllable. And she's no fool - notoriously, in fact. Throw in the way women gossip..."
"You seem confident you can outsmart the woman."
"That's a concern, yes. But I don't insist on being the smartest person in the Court. And I'd being doing the Tyrells - and Mace Tyrell himself - a great favour."
Jon grimaced. "You think they'll see it like that?"
"From what I hear, Lord Tyrell would probably kiss my arse for the privilege of having his mother on the other side of Westeros from Highgarden."