After a week, in which people high and low were left to quietly speculate- Queen Regent Rhaella finally called the Court. And everyone who was anyone was to make their way to Kingslanding- even those suffering wounds from recent battles – not that many complained: everyone wanted to know what was to happen.
Such a command necessitated close to a further month, to allow representatives from the North, Riverlands and Dorne to come, increasing the curiosity even more- as there was an enforced silence from the Red Keep (that time was also used to apprehend the Mountain, which did not come without considerable cost).
On the appointed day, fated to be incredibly lengthy- she chose not seat herself on the Iron Throne- thought it was her right, but on an elegant, comfortable chair directly beside it.
Queen Rhaella had dressed the part that morning; a black gown brocaded with red three-headed dragons, a cape of red velvet, lined in white silk- and the great red gold dragon crown of her forebear, Myriah Martell. Being as it was of Dornish craftsmanship (hence the tiny inlaid sun and spear in agate and iron, on the breast of the middle dragon)- it was equally appropriate, for the occasion. Though its' weight would become telling, she did not doubt.
However, in the weeks since her return to the Red Keep; without Aerys' presence, without the rages toward failed Hands or other unfortunates and his screaming for his pyromancers- followed by the stench of burning flesh paired with the anguished cries of the dying, and the fearful anticipation of his arrival to her bedchamber- that had always followed in the later years – Rhaella had felt more than physical strength return to her: the night after Ser Barristan had told her Aerys was dead, she had the first sound nights' sleep she'd known since the travails of bearing Dany- which had only occurred through sheer exhaustion.
She'd woken the next day, still weakened from childbed- but determined, not to vacillate further- more so due to the break in the weather, which had allowed Ser Barristan to make it to Dragonstone in the first place
Appointments were to be conferred or confirmed, she reminded herself, as her pale silvery-gold hair was brushed out- sentences and punishments would be handed down and loyalists rewarded. There was going to be a lot to get through.
She was no Visenya- nor Rhaenys, but she was a Targareyen- and a queen. While she might not be as strong as some of those who went before her- she was all the realm had, and she must bring stability, lest it fall into civil war again.