Time skip: 4 years
(Note: ages) (Viserys Targaryen, age 16)
(Rhaenys Targaryen, age 12)
(Visenya Targaryen, age 5)
King's Landing, 287 AC
- POV Varys
"So, eunuch, what is so important that I am here and not fucking some whore?"
I heard King Robert's loud voice, and as I looked at him, I saw that he was half drunk and well into his fourth cup of wine, even though it was the evening.
"It's the Targaryens, Your Grace. I believe I have found them," I said, and I could see how quickly the drunkenness was replaced with anger and hatred.
"Where are they?" he asked, his voice full of hate and anger.
"In Volantis, Your Grace. For the past four years, Viserys Targaryen, his niece Rhaenys Targaryen, and his sister Visenya Targaryen have been living with the old bloods of Volantis inside the black walls," I answered.
"So, what are you waiting for!? Send some of your assassins and be done with those dragonspawn!" he roared, and a few of the council members nodded as if it were the greatest idea. Fools, all of them, I thought to myself.
"Robert, I don't think that's a good idea right now, let alone possible," but thankfully Jon Arryn is not as fool as the others.
"Lord Hand speaks the truth, Your Grace. It's not possible to send assassins into the black walls of Volantis," I said, for it's not possible to send any spies, let alone an assassin.
"What do you mean, 'not possible'? Speak plainly, eunuch," demanded the queen.
"We cannot send any assassins into the black walls, my queen. They won't allow anyone who isn't of their own blood," I answered her.
"But they let the boy and his family live with them for years. How?" she asked.
"I don't know, Your Grace. It was by chance that I found them in the first place," I said, to the shock of many of the small council members.
"What do you mean?" asked Jon Arryn, with a confused look on his face.
"The only reason that I found out they were in Volantis in the first place was because Prince Viserys has bought many houses, inns, and lands in Volantis by force," I said.
"But where did he get all the gold for it?" asked the Master of Coin, Lord Braxston Baroson. He is eighty years old, but his age cannot match his mind. Despite all of Robert's efforts in drawing the royal treasure, he is still able to bring in more gold coins.
"It appears that the missing half of the royal treasure was taken by Prince Viserys," I answered him.
"So, what are we to do? Huh, let the dragonspawn get rich and strong enough to come back to Westeros?!" roared the king.
"We should send someone to represent us to the old bloods and demand their heads," said the queen, a small smile on her face, thinking she had just solved the problem.
"I agree," said Jon Arryn, surprising both me and the queen.
"But not demand. We should offer them something in return," he said, and I nodded; at least he hasn't lost his mind.
- POV Robert Baratheon
"Do it then, and tell them if they don't send me their heads, then I will be marching to their cursed city myself!"
"And call Stannis back here to take back his position on this council," I roared as I walked out of the small council chamber.
- POV Viserys Targaryen
"Lēkia am flying! Like the dragons!"
"Indeed you are, my little dragon," I said to Visenya as I ran around while holding her on top of my head.
"Watch out, you fool! You'll drop her!" I heard Rhaenys's voice behind us as she came to us and took Visenya away from my head.
"Come on, Rhaenys. You know I won't drop her. I never do," I said to her, trying to make a sad face and failing miserably.
"She needs to sleep; it's late into the night," she said in a stern voice, leaving no room for argument.
"I didn't even notice that night had fallen," I said to myself.
"Well, my little dragon, it appears that you need to sleep; otherwise, we won't be able to fly on the morrow," I said to Visenya as I kissed her cheeks.
"When will you be back from the meeting?" Rhaenys asked me with a smile.
"Not long, less than two hours," I answered her as I kissed her head and walked away from her, putting my cold face back on as I stepped into the meeting of the old bloods.