All were silent as the Lannister siblings stood in their bonds, thrown down from their lofty position to little more than peasants. It was utterly euphotic for Rhaena to observe, though Cersei was still yet determined to hold onto whatever power she could grasp. "Only a king may decide our fates. Even without a crown I was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Cersei suddenly spoke, lifting her head even higher than it already stood. It was impressive she managed, for her nose was practically thrust into the air as it was. "Am I to take it that you have named yourself queen after your sister was butchered like a sow for meat?" With a sharp snarl Grey Worm ordered Cersei to hold her tongue or he would cut it from her. The lioness merely continued her leisurely smirk, confident and calm. They could not touch her. She carried the life of an innocent within her. Even after everything she had done, these pathetic lords and ladies would never be able to lift their faces if they were to kill her whilst she carried. The masses would be onto them like bloodhounds. So long as this child grew within her, she was shielded from misfortune. Meanwhile, Rhaena was silent. All eyes had turned upon her, watching in order to study her reaction to Cersei's challenge. Inwardly she cursed, knowing that she was correct. Only a king or queen had the authority to rule here, which would mean Rhaena would have to name herself queen in order to take control of the judgement that she so wanted to bestow personally upon Cersei. It would take so little. She knew most present would support her in her claim, even Jon if he were here, but to take the throne now after everything that had happened and all the suffering she had endured because of it…it caused her heart to tremble. It was within her grasp, all she had to do was reach out and take it. No one would argue. Out of love or fear, no one would refuse her. Yet still, she hesitated. Cersei saw it as Rhaena's weakness, and the moment she saw weakness in an enemy, she pounced upon it. "You are craven. Even with everything spread before your feet you cannot muster the courage to take what you have conquered. Weak. You have always been weak." Jaime hushed his sister in quiet protest but she ignored him and refused his touch, once more cold and distant to him as she had been before. "Without your dragon, without your army, without your sword and your bow…what are you but a little rat who only lived because I allowed it? You were born of nothing, and that is what you remain. Nothing."

"Silence!" Enraged at the insults towards his princess, Grey Worm started forwards with his hand flying to his dagger but a quiet word in Valyrian stayed his hand, hearing his princess and obeying without question. Having listened to Cersei's insults, Rhaena felt oddly…liberated. She smiled prettily and Cersei retracted a step, wary of the expression as Rhaena tilted her head in consideration.

"If it is you of all people who call me craven and say I should take the throne of Westeros…then I know for a fact that it is the one thing I should not do." Many gasps of air and sounds of protest were made at Rhaena's conclusion, even Sansa beginning to tell her that no one was more deserving of the throne than her, but Rhaena lifted her hand in order to quieten them, allowing the peace and comfortableness to wash over her as it banished all sense of apprehension and uncertainty. "It is what is best and right. My sister and I…we came to take back what was stolen from us, 'tis true, but in the process of reclaiming our family's birth right my sister became lost to the curse of the Targaryen bloodline. Madness. Because of it, this city lies in ashes and the Red Keep of my ancestors lies in ruin. Even if at the beginning our intentions were just, it does not excuse the bloodshed which followed." Turning her face in order to look at Grey Worm, Rhaena gave him her understanding and affection, but did not withhold the truth for him, painful as it was to hear. "I know you loved my sister, Torgo Nudho. You served her with honour and loyalty, but you cannot deny that the queen you knew in her last days was not the one who liberated the slaves of Meereen, Yunkai and Astapor. That queen would never have seen innocent children burned." As Grey Worm continued to meet his princess's gaze, he slowly relented in acknowledging that her words were true. He looked away from her in his grief.

Now turning in order to address the lords and ladies who had gathered at her request, Rhaena continued in her address. "In the wake of such destruction and death, it would be an insult to the memory of the slain to take the throne that was won at the cost of their lives. More so, I have seen what becomes of my family when they rise to power." Steadying her sight upon Cersei, Rhaena felt a surge of superiority which caused her shoulders to lift and her breast to swell with pride. "I shall not be queen. Not now, nor ever. Someone else must take that burden. I will have naught to do with it." Most remained at a loss for words, but none more so than Cersei herself. As a woman who had spent her entire life clawing for every scrap of power she could claim, using gold, bestowing titles and yes, giving herself to those she required to keep in her clutches, it was utterly unbelievable that anyone would refuse such power when it all but fell into their lap. She wanted to scream against the injustice of it all. That little bitch and those smirking lips…Cersei would claw them off with her bare nails if she could. But she held herself back, vowing to herself that she would await the perfect opportunity to extract her revenge, and in the last moments that dragon bitch struggled for breath whilst bleeding from each and every wound Cersei bestow upon her…then it would be her turn to smirk. Patience. The lion always required patience when stalking their prey.

"So…who is the lawful heir?" Yohn Royce questioned frowningly, scratching at his jowls as several glances were shared amongst the confused and unsettled lords and ladies. Varys almost seized the opportunity to speak and name Jon as the next lawful heir, the true heir, even before Rhaena herself, but just as he made to speak his eyes and shifted unconsciously towards the princess herself, and a single look from her was enough to compel him to silence. Jon would be saved if he would but reveal his true identity and claim his inheritance, but Rhaena knew better than anyone that he would refuse. Even if it cost him his life. He wanted the throne as little as she did, and understanding his position, would never dream of pressing it upon him. No. Better that no one ever knew his true parentage. Rhaena would find another means to save him. Turning her ears to the whispers of those around her, several names were spoken as bloodlines and family ties were traced. In truth only Gendry remained the strongest claimant to the throne through his father, but even the mere mention of kingship was enough to drain all colour from his face at the idea of having to govern and rule Seven Kingdoms. Rhaena looked at him then, and for once did not see Robert in him. Robert had never worn such a wan expression, nor seemed so terrified of anything the way Gendry seemed in that moment. She almost laughed, but in a good way. Seeing Gendry appear like a horrified child who had just heard his first tale of grumps and snarkins allowed Rhaena to understand that he was not his father. He was not Robert. Gendry was a far better man, worthy of his title and name. Rhaena hoped to see him come further into his own as the years grew upon him.

"My lords, my ladies, it appears we have but one choice remaining to us." Tyrion finally spoke, rising from his chair in order to present himself before those gathered. A brief nod went to Rhaena who watched him steadily, knowing what was to come next. Of course, they had already discussed such an inevitability, having pressed their minds to contemplate every possible outcome and issue that might arise, and chief of all they had deliberated over the matter of the succession. "Without a willing heir to take the throne of Westeros, there is only one thing left to do. Choose." Many blank stares bore into him. "We must choose our next king or queen."

"This is nonsense. Absurd." Cersei hissed sharply, making to stride forwards and knock down the little Imp who had haunted her all his life, but Sandor Clegane smartly caught up her arm and dragged her back, and none too kindly as Jaime quickly interceded, sliding between his sister and Sandor in order to keep her from Tyrion though she continued to struggle and fight. "You devilish little monster…this is all your doing! You and your dragon whore, you plotted this from the very beginning! I should have smothered you in your cradle, I should have thrown you from your nursery window when I had the chance!" Her threats and screams only grew increasingly torrential, like a hurricane of words which battered against Tyrion until Rhaena rushed to her feet and gave a piercing command to the Unsullied, bidding them take the disgraced former queen below to gather her senses. They obeyed unhesitatingly, four Unsullied soldiers marching forwards as two then seized Cersei by her arms and all but lifted her off the ground so that even as she lashes, kicked and struggled, she could not escape them. She was carted down to the lower levels of the dragon pit and there she was enclosed under guard, where the last of her screams fell in hollow echoes until they too eventually fell silent. Clearing his throat and sharing a look with his brother who could only shake his head morosely, Tyrion continued.

"We who have gathered are the heads of the Great Houses of Westeros. Who else could make such a decision other than us?" In his mind Tyrion already knew, other than Rhaena, who was most suitable to sit upon the throne. He had spent long hours considering every possible alternative, though he had done his best to persuade Rhaena to change her mind, but she had remained resolute in her refusal. He knew more of her reasoning than that which she had shared here, and in truth, Tyrion knew them to be right. Someone else had to rule in her stead, and there was only one who could be trusted to do so better than anyone else. Before he could begin to name that person, however, Edmure Tully rose from his seat and stepped forwards, straightening himself as if consciously making the effort to appear as dignified and regal as possible.

"My lords and ladies. I suppose this is the most important moment of our lives. What we decide today will reverberate through the annals of history." Beginning steadily and with an air of confidence, Edmure addressed those before him with the intention of being diplomatic and persuasive, but in truth only opened himself to ridicule, some lords likening him to strutting peacocks. Fine to look at, but no more than a decoration. "I stand before you as one of the senior lords in the country. A veteran of two wars…and I like to think my experience has led to some small skill in statecraft, and understanding…"

"Uncle?" Interrupting her uncle before he could make a further fool of himself, Sansa smiled to him as he looked to her. "Please sit." At first Edmure did not respond, chortling quietly as he turned to other lords in order to seek their approval but was met only with a wall of silence, save for the stifled giggles of Robin Aryn. When Sansa once again indicated for Edmure to return to his seat, her uncle saw that he was defeated. His humiliation only furthered with the clack of his sword against one of the standing posts, whereby Sandor could only roll his eyes with a growl.

"Fuck's sake…" Rhaena almost smiled but masterfully kept her amusement from showing in deference to Lord Edmure, who had shown her great kindness in the past. As the silence continued with no one else choosing to further their own prospects to claim the throne for their own, Royce noted that someone had to be chosen.

"Why just us?" Surprising many by speaking aloud, all turned to Samwell Tarly as he rose to his feet, choosing to voice his own opinion despite the radicalness of its nature. Even Dickon appeared impressed with his brother's boldness as Sam cleared his throat nervously, but spoke all the same. "We represent all the Great Houses, but whomever we choose, they won't just rule over lords and ladies. Maybe the decision about what's best for everyone should be left to…well…everyone." A revolutionary notion indeed, one that Rhaena thought to be curious and rather mad. She liked it greatly. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to take Sam's suggestion to be a good one, Royce being the first to break into heavy chortles of mocking laughter which caused Sam to go a deep shade of crimson.

"Maybe we should give the dogs a vote as well." Edmure suggested as Royce announced that he would consult with his horse, however when Rhaena sent both lords a sharp glare of warning, they swiftly found their modesty and self restraint. They dared not incur the dragon's displeasure, courteous and charming as she was.

"A fine idea, Samwell Tarly, but perhaps a little too radical for the smallminded," soothing Sam of his embarrassment, Rhaena gave to him an approving smile which only seemed to make him flush further. "Perhaps one day there will be a time when the people will cast their opinions and be heard, choosing who may and may not rule them, but for our day and age when our traditions are well set in stone, such change might be considered too drastic for an already chaotic time." Nodding his head and giving the princess a grateful bow, Sam sunk back into his seat as his brother clapped a hand down upon his shoulder to bolster him. Once again silence began to ensue, but this time not for long as Edmure bluntly brought into question Tyrion's motives for recommending a king or queen be chosen, suggesting that he wanted the crown for himself.

"Me? The Imp?" It was difficult to decide whether Tyrion sounded more incredulous or scandalised by the notion. "Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys, the other half hate me for betraying her," at this Tyrion looked to Grey Worm, who glowered at him in wrothful loathing. "I don't think there is a worse person to be chosen. Even the Hound would be better." Behind him, Sandor shifted uncomfortably as Jaime also cast a glance at the man who had once served his family. King Sandor. Or would it be King Hound? One thing was for certain. The poets and minstrels would never lack for fresh material were such a thing to come to pass. Thankfully, however, no one furthered the suggestion and instead, returned to the serious matter which weighed heavily upon all those present. It was Ser Davos who asked the all important question of who. Who would rule them? Who should rule them? In truth, even if the others did not yet see it, there was only one answer. "I've had a great deal of time to think these past few weeks. About our bloody history. About the mistakes we've made," beginning to walk across the dais, Tyrion proceeded to deliver what would be perhaps the most important speech of his entire life, one that would turn the fate of Westeros on its head. "What unites people?" He questioned, regaling those he addressed as he painted an image in their heads whilst continuing to lead them to the only correct choice. "Armies? Gold? Flags?" He paused, watching each of their faces in turn before delivering the answer to them. "Stories. There's nothing in the world more powerful than a good story. Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it." Now coming to a halt, Tyrion slowly turned himself in order to look directly at the most unassuming and unlikely person of them all to ever receive the chance to wear the crown of all Westeros. "And who has a better story than Bran the Broken? The boy who fell from a high tower and lived. He knew he'd never walk again, so he learned to fly. He crossed beyond the Wall, a crippled boy, and became the Three-Eyed Raven. He is our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, famines. Our triumphs…our defeats, our past. Who better to lead us into the future?" Many continued to stare incredulously at Tyrion as Sansa blanched, not expected him to name Bran of all people.

"Bran has no interest in ruling and he can't father children." But to this Tyrion also had an answer, one just as outlandish and strange as allowing the common people to vote for who should be king.

"Good. Sons of kings can be cruel and stupid, as you well know. His will never torment us." Gaping at Tyrion, Sansa could not think of anything to say in rebuttal. She thought of Joffrey and his viciousness, the many times he had caused her pain and grief. How different would the world be if someone unworthy such as Joffrey would never again have the chance to rule the Seven Kingdoms? If such a practice already existed, then her father might still be alive. The thought was a sweet one, and thinking that her father would also approve of such a new method to select their rulers from this day forth, Sansa silently agreed to it as Tyrion looked once more to Grey Worm, speaking softly and surely. "That is the wheel our queen wanted to break." Holding his gaze, Grey Worm revealed nothing in his expression or stance to signify that he had softened towards the little man who had betrayed his queen, but in his heart, he knew that there was truth and wisdom in the words. "From now on, rulers will not be born. They will be chosen on this spot by the lords and ladies of Westeros to serve the realm." Now approaching Bran, who had remained as still and unmoving as stone, Tyrion addressed him directly. "I know you don't want it. I know you don't care about power. But I ask you now, if we choose you, will you wear the crown? Will you lead the Seven Kingdoms to the best of your abilities, from this day until your last day?" All eyes watched Bran, but none more intently than Rhaena.

It was the first time she had looked at him since his arrival, and now that she saw him, she wondered at what lay behind his eyes and rested in his mind. His thoughts were his own. No one could discern them. Sometimes he would be so still one might think he did not even breathe, but as Bran levelled his gaze upon Tyrion Lannister, a hint of a smile graced his lips as he finally gave his response to the most important question which hung over all of Westeros. "Why do you think I came all this way?" Something akin to relief washed through Rhaena, a cleansing breath escaping her as the temptation of the throne, the crown and all Seven Kingdoms was finally removed from her grasp. It allowed her mind to settle into peace.

"To Brandon of House Stark…I say aye." Casting his vote first, Tyrion led the others in the decision which would anoint Bran as the newest King of Westeros. No one dared speak first, still overcome from such a shocking turn of events, unprecedented as they were. However, perhaps this was only so for the older of the lords, set in their ways and disagreeable to change. For others, the prospect of a new era was not as frightening as half the things they had already witnessed and survived. Sam spoke first, agreeing to support Bran. His brother followed suit, casting his vote with a firm nod of his head as Edmure then followed, not to be outdone by those younger than him. One by one the others followed suit, all chiming in agreement from one end to the other as they all voted for Bran Stark as their next king. Even Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane agreed that Bran should be king, even though Jaime was a prisoner and Sandor was not sat amongst the grand lords and ladies. No one made protest and everyone who sat upon a seat gave their vote freely and decisively. All save for Sansa, who remained silent, until finally shifting in order to look lovingly upon her brother.

"I love you, little brother. I always will. You'll be a good king." She said to him softly as she reached out to rest her hand upon her arm, smiling to him with both love and sadness in her eyes. "But tens of thousands of Northmen fell in the Great War defending all of Westeros, and those who survived have seen too much and fought too hard ever to kneel again." Knowing that her decision risked open war and further bloodshed, Sansa took the hope that those who loved her would not deny her the judgment she knew was right. "The North will remain an independent kingdom, as it was for thousands of years. My brother Robb will remain King in the North, and his heirs shall be kings after him." Considering his sister's words, Bran need only nod once to agree to her terms. It was only right, after all. Smiling happily, Sansa looked to Rhaena to share in her satisfaction, only to pause when she realised that Rhaena was now the only one present yet to cast her vote. Her eyes were downcast, pale lashes gracing the arch of her cheekbones as she remained in silence until Tyrion tentatively murmured her name and Varys delicately touched her hand, as if to stir her from a dream.

Knowing that Bran was now looking at her, Rhaena continued to refuse to meet his gaze, yet still she raised her head and, whilst staring ahead into nothingness, gave a quick nod of her head in agreement. The vote was cast. "All hail Bran the Broken, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the…Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." Rising to their feet, everyone echoed Tyrion's announcement and hailed the new King of Westeros.

Long may he reign.