"I do not enjoy war, nor did I seek it. My reign began with a rebellion, and I have shown you all that I am more than capable of leading with a steady hand and head. But now, I must show mercy and grace – as well as justice. Repayment for your heartache and loss I cannot repay, as you cannot repay mine. A Kingdom cannot only have a warrior as King," Rhaegar began, standing tall by the Iron Throne. His children, Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya, Valerion and Baelor next to him. The younger ones in the hands of maids and wet nurses, those who could stand, standing. Elia stood a few paces behind him, not where Arianne would stand, no that spot was left empty in her honour.

In front of him stood hundreds of people, packed into the Throne Room. Families of both sides, each coming to either be told their punishments or be rewarded for their loyalty.

He saw fit to announce his punishments first.

"Stannis Baratheon," the tall man stepped forward, "you are to be sent to the Wall for your rising against the crown and aid to your brother throughout the rebellion. Your brother, Renly Baratheon, will be kept here in Kingslanding – whereby he will train with our best Knights to become a Kingsguard when he is ready." Rhaegar would never forget the pain that the Baratheon name had brought to his house by supporting the Stark's, so he wanted those who defied him to know what it felt to anger him. "Your nephew and the once heir to the Stormlands, Jon Baratheon, will live here in Kingslanding."

"Hoster Tully," the aging man stepped forward, sniffing proudly and placing his hands on his belt. He was prepared to have the Riverlands taken from him, as the Baratheon's had the Stormlands stripped of them not too long ago. "Considering your age," there were snickers from the right side of the court, the side that had stayed loyal to Rhaegar. He held his hand up to silence them, "I cannot send you to the Wall."

"I am a warrior ... your grace," Hoster said, lifting his chin high. "I will die one if that is to be my punishment."

"No," Rhaegar smiled lightly, "Riverrun, the Riverlands are no longer yours. I strip you and your daughters of all titles. Your cousins, nieces and nephews shall no longer be addressed as Lord and Lady. Your daughter, Lysa Tully, is to have an education as a Septa." Hoster, who wanted to know what would happen to Catelyn, nodded. "Your heir, Edmure, is to be sent to Castle Black and squire for the men of the Black there. He will take the Black when he is of age." That, Hoster did not agree with.

"Jon Arryn," Hoster stepped back, and Lord Arryn stepped forward. It felt as if Rhaegar was calling for hours, but he was only getting started. "You betrayed your King, and for that I take the Eyrie from the Arryn's. You had a choice to answer the call of our house, and chose to side with the rebellion," Jon hung his head low, "you are to take the Black."

Gods, the Lord Commander at Castle Black will sing when he hears of the new recruits coming his way.

"Eddard Stark," the room fell silent as Ned stepped forward, hands behind his back. His hair was unwashed, like that of many lords around him. They had been imprisoned while Rhaegar figured how to punish them, and unfortunately, bathing was not a luxury afforded to them. Ned pursed his lips, wanting to apologise for the death of Rhaegar's wife, but it was too late now.

He had tried to help her, but there was only so much he could've done under Brandon's watchful eye. Ned contemplated blurting out of his aid for the past Queen but thought against it. "Your grace."

"Your brother slaughtered my wife-," Rhaegar held his index finger up as he noticed Ned opening his mouth to object, "as if she were a lamb and he a shepherd." Ned felt hundreds upon hundreds of eyes fall on him, he felt ashamed, no, dirty. He had warned Brandon not to be hasty, warned him to think through his actions and now Brandon would not be the one to pay the consequences of those actions. "The Stark's were the leaders of a rebellion that could have ended had your brother heeded our words for peace once my father had passed. We all know he was not one to negotiate with, but I was. Your brother promised many things, to kill my children, to kill my wife – of that he succeeded, to kill me and end the Targaryen reign, to take the North back and went as far to name himself King. You are to take the Black with your brother. Catelyn Stark will be educated to become a Septa, like her sister. Your nephew ..." Rhaegar forgot the babe's name.

"Rickon Stark," Ned reminded him.

"Is to come to Kingslanding and ward here, whereby he will squire for me and my sons."

Ned nodded, there was nothing else left to say. "Your grace," his tongue got the best of him. "I was the one who freed Arianne."

"Begging doesn't suite you Stark," Julian hollered, he had been stood behind his aunt and cousin. There was light laughter around the room, followed by calls of agreement.

Rhaegar ignored them, stepping down from the monstrous Iron Throne. "Am I to thank you for freeing her knowing she could not even stand for three days?" Rhaegar asked him, silence falling back onto the room. He placed his pale hand on the young Stark's shoulder, "you were too late." Ned, in Rhaegar's eyes, was lucky to be alive. Tywin and Oberyn had both strongly suggested executing him as a message for what would be done to rebels, by Rhaegar disagreed.

He returned to his stance in front of the Throne, Visenya, who had watched the interaction, blinked at him innocently from her maids' arms.

He spoke a little more, taking time to read through lists of families and giving them punishments, he saw fit. Many stripped of lands and titles, like their first vassals, he had sent some first sons to the Wall and others to be wards at loyal households.

"Tywin Lannister, for your family's loyalty and your aid to the crown," Tywin felt a small smile grow on his lips. Everyone knew that those best rewarded were those who had aided not only financially but emotionally and strategically as well. And Tywin had paid his dues to Rhaegar, going as far to commit treason for him when the King was still alive by joining his secret council and keeping his men neutral until Rhaegar had taken the Throne. "I betroth Lady Cersei Lannister to my brother Viserys," he had contemplated betrothing Rhaenys to Tyrion, but stories of his deformities kept him from doing so. "You have supported house Targaryen throughout the rebellion and before, and for that I am grateful." Tywin nodded, pleased with the outcome, though he would have preferred Rhaegar himself took Cersei as a wife. "For your losses, I give gold twice over what you have lost." Cersei, who had been standing by her father and little brother smiled, she would not be separated from Jaime and be given the title of Princess, that would do very well for her.

"Mace Tyrell," the stout man stepped forward, "For your sacrifices made by House Tyrell and its vassals," Rhaegar nodded to Otto, "who offered their homes and villages, I promise repayment twice over to what you have lost," he pursed his lips, "I hear your wife has given birth to a daughter?"

Mace nodded, and Olenna smiled knowingly, "Margaery your grace, a sandy-haired beauty," Mace responded proudly, though it could be said the beauty had come from his wife.

"Well, I believe it is time our families united. My son and heir, Aegon, I offer to you as a match."

"And I accept," Mace smiled, stepping back into his place.

Elia and Dorne, who had been humiliated on a grand and public scale by Aerys, were given some of his best rewards and thanks. With his first children being returned to succession, as he had promised Oberyn, and with Elia back in Kingslanding, Rhaegar knew it was time to start rebuilding with the Martell's. "Oberyn Martell," Oberyn had been present at court in the absence of his brother, "I name you as my Hand. You have been a close friend and a trustworthy companion to me. I wish to have you by my side as I truly begin my rule," Oberyn smiled, Ellaria would enjoy the capital. "To the newborn, Prince Quentyn Martell, I promise my daughter Rhaenys." There, that would tie them closer together. Rhaegar had refused to remarry, so Elia becoming his Queen was not an option he had even considered.

Rhaenys, the babe with one blonde streak in her hair, perked at the sound of her name.

The High Septon, who had been hidden within the shadows to the hall shuffled closer to the Throne and to Rhaegar. He pulled from the hands of Arthur, the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his newly made sword. Ned, knowingly all too well that had once been the sword of his father and brother, Ice. The Valyrian steel greatsword had been an heirloom of his once-thriving house, and now it was grasped proudly by its new owner.

Rhaegar had named his new sword Rhaella, in light of his mother.

"Lord Gerold Grafton," Rhaegar began to call the lords who had stayed fiercely to the crown, "Lord Raymun Darry, Lord Jon Connington ... Lady Merida Whent," there were whispers around the court.

The four who had been called forward formed a line in front of Rhaegar, it had already been hinted to them that they would have new honours bestowed on their names and families, just not which ones exactly.

"Come forth Lord Gerold," the man stepped forward, bowing his head in front of Rhaegar. Rhaegar moved the sword from his left shoulder to his right as the High Septon uttered holy words. "I name Lord Gerold Grafton, Lord of the Eyrie, Ruler of the Vale, Lord of the Vale. From this day, until the end of your days – whereby the title will be passed to your sons."

"Lord Raymun Darry," the Darry's had sacrificed not only the lives of their men but the lives of three older sons with Raymun the last of four left. "I name Lord Raymun Darry, Lord of Riverrun, Ruler of Riverlands, Lord Paramount of the Trident. From this day, until the end of your days – whereby the title will be passed to your sons."

"Lord Jon Connington," Rhaegar's close friend stepped forward, smiling at his silver prince, now King. "I name Lord Jon Connington, Lord of Storm's End, rule of the Stormlands. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. From this day, until the end of your days – whereby the title will be passed to your sons."

Merida was the last of the four left, gazing in a curious manner to Rhaegar. He had thought hard and long of who Winterfell would fall to. Unlike many other regions, none of the houses of the North had stayed loyal to the Targaryen name, marching to Brandon's call. For the atrocities committed to the Whent's at the hands of the Frey's, though it was not due to the war, Rhaegar felt it important to reward the house that had helped him in the first place. Without Lord Walter Whent, he wouldn't know that the lords of Westeros were just as unhappy as Rhaegar was with Aerys' rule. He was never one to oppose a female rule, and so he called, "I name Lady Merida Whent, Lady of Winterfell, ruler of the North. Lady Paramount of the North. Matron of the North. From this day, until the end of your days – whereby the title will be passed to your sons."

He announced a newly appointed small council, not too different from the one he had delegated during the war. His hand, Oberyn, the Master of Coin, Otto, the Master of Laws, Tywin, the Master of Ships, Julian – not before the young lord had sworn to end his drinking. He had no Master of Whispers, not wanting his court to be one of deception and lies – as his father's court had been. The Lord Commander was as noted, Arthur, and he was at peace with his council.

Those who had lost their ancestral seats had watched as Rhaegar had announced their new rulers, it was the final reprimand, public shame.

His sons, Valerion and Baelor would be sent to the Vale and Riverlands to ward and strength ties with the new houses. Merida's son, who Rhaegar had legitimised on Merida's request, was to ward at Riverrun with Lord Darry alongside Baelor. Many with young sons had half expected the promise of Visenya's hand to their son or another's, or even to her brothers.

There was still the matter of his three children, Valerion, Visenya and Baelor. No one dared to ask questions of why they were yet to be promised, and Rhaegar would not answer. The question sat on many minds, who would the last three children marry? He had no promised them to anyone as of yet, but those who knew Westeros knew he'd have to move fast.

But to Rhaegar, they were the dragons that Arianne and the gods had gifted him and dragons they would be. No marriage, lands, nor titles would keep them preoccupied.

Having no love left in him to share, not even to the most skilled and exotic whores that Oberyn had brought from Lys, he would have no woman for the rest of his life. His love had been buried with Arianne in the Sept of Baelor, it was in her crypt, in her stone face that smiled down at him. The crypt that he frequented many times a sennight, whispering of his days and of the children's growth.

As the children grew, Valerion was sent and Baelor were sent to their wardships. He tried to keep his dreams and thoughts consuming him, struggling to separate reality from the beauty he called slumber, where he would sit with Arianne for hours at Summerhall, singing to her – even in dreams, she detested it, laughing with her, hearing her whisper sweet nothings to him. His voice was reserved for her now, only singing and playing his harp in the privacy of his own rooms and dreams. He'd also see their children running around, and if the gods saw fit, they'd gift him the chance to see the beasts known as dragons flying above them.

When he wasn't dreaming, he was observing his young children, Aegon and Visenya, who would hide from their Maester's, Septa's, tutors and arms teachers for hours. No one knew where they went, but Rhaegar's mind told him they were developing something that he could not allow to develop. So, he had Aegon sent to the Free Cities for a broad education with trusted advisors and Kingsguard.

Just as was predicted, the prophecy and tale of dragons had taken over Rhaegar's mind and eventually that would be his own madness.

...