"Your Grace," Lord Jon Arryn greeted, stepping into the king's private solar. He deliberately did not look at the whore perched on Robert's lap, did not even bother feeling disappointed anymore. "We missed you at the Small Council meeting today."
"Hah," Robert said. "Seems to me you lot get more done without me around. Not like I am missing anything important, am I?"
"There has been a letter from Benjen Stark, on behalf of the Lord of Dragonstone," Jon said.
Robert's eyes seemed to actually light up at that. "Oh?" he said. "And how is Ned's lad doing?"
"Quite well, according to his uncle," Jon said. "However, Lord Benjen did bring up the matter of the Royal Fleet, which was prudently done. Dragonstone has historically been the first and best line of defence for King's Landing, and with the Targaryens doing Gods know what across the Narrow Sea..."
"What of the Fleet?" Robert asked. He had pushed the whore away now, which meant he was taking the conversation at least a bit seriously. Jon wished he would do that more often. Of course, though, this was to do with the Starks, and Robert still seemed to harbour the misplaced belief that if he could make even one of them look kindly on him, it might heal the heartache left by Lyanna's death and Ned's disapproval.
"The Fleet was never fully built back up to the standards of the Targaryen dynasty after we won the War. What we did have belongs to bannermen or was all but decimated when we fought the Ironborn." Jon sighed and took the seat across from Robert. "To add to that, it seems your brother left just enough room for interpretation when negotiating with his bannermen that they decided to hoodwink Dragonstone into paying for more ships for their personal fleets, an issue it appears Jon Stark inherited. Gods know how, but the Starks have managed to get the bannermen to relinquish the ships. There is still the outstanding payment to contend with, though. Lord Benjen says that if they must, they will pay for the ships on their own. He mentions taking out a loan from the Manderlys. He does, however, add that in that case, the ships will belong to Dragonstone, rather than the Royal Fleet, and will mainly be used as merchant ships so they can recoup the cost. He also adds that they are not adverse to the ships being part of a new Royal Fleet, but that we will need to have further financial discussions in that case."
Robert frowned. "Any ship of Dragonstone..."
"Was part of the Royal Fleet, yes," Jon agreed. "Back when Dragonstone was the seat of the crowned prince. The ships, crews and repairs, however, were financed by the crown directly. Dragonstone financed the barracks, which they by-and-large recouped through the coin the sailors spent on the island while on leave. You must remember that Dragonstone was never meant to operate independently. It certainly does not have the tax incomes to support a Royal Fleet."
Robert gave a quick nod. Then grimaced. "Taking loans from Ned's bannermen. Bah. Well then, give them the funds they will need to pay for the ships. And start making arrangements to rebuild the rest of the Dragonstone fleet, or we will be sitting flat on our arses if old Balon tries something again. Maybe the lad can become my Master of Ships someday. Better than that Lannister we have sitting there now. What is his name again?"
Despite the constant stress that was making his head hurt again and again, Jon nearly let out a laugh at the idea of a Stark of Winterfell serving as Master of Ships. Then again, Jon Stark was no longer a Stark of Winterfell; he was a Stark of Dragonstone, and that made the arrangement suddenly very fitting. Ned would never leave the North to join the Small Council, but his second son was, geographically speaking, one of their closest trustworthy allies now.
He pushed his contemplations away, sighed. He reached up and pushed his hair out of his face. The movement was more habit than necessity these days; he did not have much hair left. "We do not have the coin," he said. "The Greyjoy Rebellion was long and costly, and we cannot afford to take out another loan, not until we have paid something back, or we will not be able to even pay the interests. We need to think of some other arrangement."
"I thought you said we needed a fleet," Robert said.
Jon squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment before dragging them back open. "Ask Lord Benjen to increase the number of ships. Up to a hundred over the next five years, if possible. The crown will pay forty per cent of the cost, including wages. Dragonstone pays for repairs, and half the ships must be immediately available to the crown at any time, and the rest always ready to be recalled. During times of peace, those ships not on call, however, may be used as merchant vessels. Anything Jon Stark makes from those ventures will have to be taxed, of course, but they must be able to see our position as well."
Robert was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, and uncharacteristically astute when he looked at Jon with piercing blue eyes. "And how long will it take the lad to pay off the debt we ask him to take on in the name of the crown?"
Jon winced. "With luck and peace and a kind lender... Perhaps two decades. Less, if we take the expected Tyrell dowry into account."
Robert shook his head decisively. "No," he said. "I will not do that to Ned's boy." And by the Gods, if only Robert could find it within himself to care half as much for his own sons as he did this boy of Ned's. Gods sakes, Robert had not even seen the boy since he was a babe in arms, although he had been rather taken with him even then, demanding to hold him and claiming he had Lyanna's look, Ned watching on with a fuming face all the while. Arthur Dayne had looked about ready to kill. Robert reached out, poured himself a cup of wine and drank deeply. "Give him Crackclaw Point," he said then.
Jon sat up straight. "Your Grace! He would have nearly a quarter of the Crownlands under his control. Not to mention the entirety of the Gullet."
"After the War, I made sure my allies were well rewarded," Robert said, and Jon did his best not to remember what that had done to the coffers. "I had nothing to give Ned, even though he had lost more than anyone." His eyes were shining with that old fervour again, as though he truly believed Ned was to be wooed with extravagant gifts, like some offended Lady.
"The Vale and the Riverlands were on our side as well, after all, and Ned had no use for territory in Dorne or the Reach. I can give this to him now, through his son. And who better to hold the Gullet than a Stark? Lord Jon's Lady Aunt, uncle and Lord grandfather were slain by the Targaryens. He would never let them through. Besides, none of Baelish's tax collectors are doing a very good job with Crackclaw Point. The fuckers out there may be dragon lovers, but they are also blood of the First Men. Stark justice may be just what they need."
Jon took a deep breath, and once more prepared himself to find the points of merit in another idiotic idea Robert would not be talked out of. A Lord willing to carry out his own justice might in fact be something to get the stubborn lot of them to show some respect, even if it would probably have to be Benjen Stark carrying out the actual sentences until Jon Stark was old enough to swing the sword.
And if it turned out nothing could be done about Crackclaw Point, there was always the option of rooting out the current Houses and putting more loyal ones in their place, something Jon had considered counselling for years but never quite got around to. "Very well, then," he said. "They also request permission to extend their household guard. And with this new edict of yours, I have no doubt they'll request permission for training even more men-at-arms, and tax collectors."
Robert waved a hand, utterly disinterested once again. "Any Stark in my realm can have as many bloody men-at-arms as he desires," he said. "Send them the papers, would you?"