As Rhaena had wanted, she persuaded the lords and ladies to postpone Cersei's final trial until after the child she carried was born. In the meantime, she was to be returned to Dragonstone and there kept under careful guard, a prisoner, where only Unsullied would guard her so that she could not tempt them with her womanly seductions. All that remained was to decide the fate of Jon Snow. Rhaena went to him repeatedly in an attempt to persuade him to tell the truth, to let her bear the shame but he would not hear of it. Even when she threatened to reveal the truth without him, Jon held his ground. Part of her wished she could follow through with her threat, to speak the truth as she knew she should, but not only would that create an even greater divide than Jon bearing the blame, but also, she was too afraid. So instead, each time she visited Jon she would weep for him and curse herself until his soft words gentled her, taking her into his arms to embrace and console her until she settled once more. Already he was beginning to notice the signs of the Targaryen madness upon her, and it made him only all the more determined to shoulder the burden of guilt instead. Her mind was delicate, and she was precious. Far too precious to lose as they had Daenerys, and so whether she realised it or not, all those close to her did their best to protect her in whatever way they could. For the most part, Tyrion took on the greatest role, accompanying Rhaena at all hours and focusing on helping her to heal from her grief. Distracting was key, and with six kingdoms to rule, there plenty to be had. When the ruling for Jon Snow was finally reached, no one was satisfied, but it was the only course available that would not lead to another war. He was to take the Black and become a brother of the Night's Watch once more.

Officially there was no longer a Night's Watch, and in truth there was perhaps no real need for the Wall now that the threat of the Night King was no more, but as Tyrion had once said, the world would always need a home for bastards and broken men. At the very least, Jon would be in the north where he belonged, and Rhaena was satisfied that he had friends there, as well as his family. He was exiled from the south and the six kingdoms, but she suspected that Jon did not mind this and most likely, had no intention of ever returning south again. On the day of departure, Rhaena embraced Sansa, kissing her face and telling her to return south whenever she liked. There would always be a place of honour at court for her. Smiling graciously, Sansa promised to return after she had helped Robb settle the north and ensured their people were provided for. To Arya, Rhaena also embraced her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before flicking lightly at her nose with an adoring smile, telling her to be careful in her journeys and to send word if she should find anything beyond the western seas. Perhaps one day she and Rhaegal would fly there too if there were new places to be discovered. Arya liked the idea of exploring and adventuring with Rheana, and so promised to find something exciting for them to explore. Beside her stood Sandor Clegane, who had decided that sailing west was as good a plan as any, and so elected to join Arya in her venture, who had not objected to his company. Although Sandor had resisted at first, Rhaena had put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek for it was as high as she could reach, remaining there until he had begrudgingly wound an arm around her waist and returned her gesture, even the lightest of squeezes lifting her onto her toes. "Fair winds, Sandor Clegane. Should you ever return, then you shall always have a place here." With that, Rhaena had kissed his scarred cheek one final time before letting go.

Sandor was not an emotional man by any means, but as the little dragon looked at him with such an expression of fondness and sadness, his chest did clench in a way he was not used to feeling. He was alive because of her, her and her dragon. Were he a knight, he might have pledged her his sword, but he was not and never intended to be, and so Sandor satisfied himself that the little dragon was in good hands with that golden haired cunt, Jaime Lannister. Mayhap one day he would return, or as Rhaena had said, perhaps she would fly west and find them in a stranger's lands. Although he did not say so, Sandor hoped it would be. Between the little dragon, the little wolf and the little bird, Sandor had found the only three people alive that he would willingly fight and die for. Bugger knightly vows and their oaths. He knew his own word, and Sandor had long since vowed to watch over them wherever he can. The little bird would be safe in the north with her kin and the little dragon hardly needed protecting, which left the little wolf. Arya also could handle her own, but it never hurt to have someone watching your back when in foreign lands. Of the three, the little wolf needed him most, and so it was with her he had chosen to go. Nodding his head solemnly to Rhaena, she smiled at his terse acknowledgment, thinking that she expected nothing else from the infamously immoveable Sandor Clegane, smiling to him one last time until there was only one more person who remained.

Finally, she turned to Jon. Her nephew. Her only living kin. It should not have felt so painful to say farewell, not when she knew she would see him again. It would take her a mere day or so to fly north upon Rhaegal's back, even beyond the Wall and there she could visit Jon whenever she liked. What pained her was the separation itself, losing the only family of her blood that remained to her. After all they had shared, all they had lived through together, it was akin to losing part of herself. She loved Jon as she would her own brother, and so rather than naming him nephew, called him as such. "Farewell, brother-mine." She whispered to him as she fixed her arms about his neck and held him with all her might as he did the same, squeezing until even the painful sensations within her were number. "Tell Tormund to expect me. Tell him I want to see more of the beautiful land he promised me. Tell him he had better take such great care with you, otherwise I shall melt every mountain and the Frozen Shore, and every valley and plain in between so he may say goodbye forever to his beloved snow covered home. He can have miserable grey rocks and stones instead. You tell him those exact words." Laughing at her threats, Jon promised to carry her message to the wildling. When the drew back, his hands rubbed at her face to smooth away her tears and push back her hair as it caught upon the wind. "Know that I love you, Jon. Always."

"Aye. Me too. To you, I mean." Sweetly flustered and a little too embarrassed to tell her that he too loved her as he did his sisters, Jon settled for embracing her one last time and kissing her temple. "I have to go now." He had already given his goodbyes to the rest of his siblings, only Rhaena still held onto him. However, she knew she could not continue to waylay him forever, so instead, she pressed something into his hands and closed his fingers around it.

"To remember us, your family. Keep it with you. I promise to see you again, it might be some months, but I shall." Raising her resolve, Rhaena finally released Jon Snow from her grasp. As her hands drew away, she left a black cotton handkerchief behind where she had painstakingly embroidered a white direwolf with red eyes as well as a white and gold dragon circling one another, seemingly as if each one was chasing the tail of the other in an endless circle. "It is Ghost and Viserion. Had he lived…I think he would have been yours as Rhaegal is mine. Both are part of you, as we are." Stepping back to stand beside Sansa, Arya and Bran, each of them watched Jon who began to struggle to keep his emotions from rising. He failed only partially, he eyes growing glassy as he clutched at the handkerchief then tucked it securely down his shirts so that it would rest against his chest, wanting to feel the threads imprint themselves against his skin. He looked back only once as he boarded the boat where the Night's Watchmen waited, wanting to see his family one last time. Arya was for the west with Clegane, Sansa back north to Winterfell, whilst Bran and Rhaena were to remain in King's Landing. There was no need to worry for any of them. Not anymore. Each were strong, brave, and capable of enduring far more than he could ever survive. They were a pack of wolves and dragons…and Jon was no longer an outsider to them. Although he was going away, far away, he was always one of them. Satisfied with his final look, he boarded the boat and went below in order to sit and look at the last gift Rhaena had given him, to memorise every part of it until he would be able to see it in his sleep.

All were melancholy to see Jon go, but at least it was not forever. This was the thought that comforted Rhaena as she walked along the harbour to where Grey Worm had boarded his own boat with the Unsullied, preparing to set sail. She climbed aboard, and just as she reached him, Missandei appeared from below deck. She smiled warmly, moving slowly and carefully with a hand to cover her healing wound, but the moment Grey Worm saw her he immediately melted like butter under the sun and went to her, giving her his arm so that he could help her to move to where she could rest. "Princess, thank you for coming to say goodbye." Missandei finally spoke once Grey Worm had settled her to sit upon a crate of provisions, his hand resting firmly upon her shoulder. "I am sorry we cannot stay, but…"

"Say no more." Rhaena cut in gently with a lift of her hand. "You two more than anyone have earned the right to live the rest of your lives in peace and happiness. You sail to Naath, do you not?" Nodding their heads, Missandei described the beautiful white beaches, the cooling shade of the trees, the hundreds of different species of butterflies and many other wonders which were her home, where dwelled her peaceful people. It pleased Rhaena greatly to know that from now on, pirates and slavers would no longer take easily from Naath and its people. With the Unsullied, they would be protected and able to live free of fear. "I have a gift for you both. In honour of our friendship and to wish you luck upon your journey." Signalling to one of her attendants, a slight framed girl with freckles dusted across her face hurried forwards whilst carrying a slim box. It was nothing grand or elaborate, merely a simple box, however when Rhaena passed it over and set it upon Missandei's lap, she could not hide her grin as Missandei opened the lid to look inside. The sudden gasp of shock and deep flush was enough to make Rhaena laugh. When she saw Grey Worm's confused expression, she laughed harder still.

"What are they?" He questioned innocently, looking at Missandei however she was far too flustered to answer, pressing a hand to her mouth and looking away.

"They were custom made just for you, Grey Worm. I expect Missandei will tell you later once you are situated somewhere more private." Still laughing with amusement, Rhaena tilted the box so that he could see better, revealing four rather detailed and lifelike replicas of a man's private parts. They were of varying size, length and curve as Rhaena had wanted Missandei to have a selection to choose from according to her preferences. Perhaps not the most conservative of gifts, but one that would serve them better than any other trinket Rhaena might have offered them. After all, Missandei had not refused them. "Treat her well, Grey Worm. If nothing else, this journey has taught us that life is precious, as are our loved ones." Lifting his eyes away from the gifts which Rhaena suspected he now understood their function and purpose, he solemnly nodded his head. Much to her surprise, Grey Worm bowed to her and even held her hand to press it to his brow in respect and farewell. Missandei she embraced and placed a kiss upon her cheek, thanking her for her friendship and promised one day to visit the fair isle of Naath, so long as she was welcome. Both stipulated that she would always have a place in their home, and so Rhaena left them to begin their life together, in love and full of joy.

When she returned to the docks, Jaime was there waiting for her. He looked rather splendid, truth be told. His hair had taken back its golden hue, his eyes were bright and almost merry, and he was adorned in bronze gilded armour with a deep purple cloak clasped with a broach of three dragon heads. One gold. One jade. One onyx. His sword, formerly Joffrey's sword Widow's Wail, was nestled at his side and had been renamed at Rhaena's suggestion. It was now named Lion's Honour. Smiling when she saw him, Rhaena drifted towards her knight who dipped forwards in a polite greeting, though his smile was full of mischief and wickedness as it oft had in years past. These past weeks had been good to them both, and now that the last of the Unsullied and guests were leaving, it was time to return attention to their duties. As the Great Sept was still in ruins from when Cersei had demolished it with wildfire and the Faith of the Seven was yet to restore its presence within King's Landing with a new High Septon, Bran had been crowned in the dragon pit to an audience of all the smallfolk, knights, lords and ladies who had come to witness his crowning. At his request, Rhaena had placed the crown upon his head herself as Rhaegal flew overhead, releasing a plume of flames to mark the occasion. It was not the grandest of ceremonies and there was no banquet that followed, but now was not a time for such frivolities. Instead, they had enjoyed a private meal between close friends, and in truth, Rhaena had enjoyed it far better than anything else.

When the Small Council convened, Rhaena too arrived in order to take her place. One of the first laws Bran had changed was to allow women to take positions of office and also swear vows to become knights, all so that both Brienne and Rhaena could take their places in the court. Brienne was named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, a title Jaime felt she thoroughly deserved, whilst Rhaena was conferred the office of Mistress of Laws. In her duties, she was also conferred the task of beginning the preparations to rebuild the city and had every intention of making both the city and the keep far greater than they had ever been before. Ideas were constantly spilling through her head, sometimes enough so to make her dizzy. She knew she would not stay forever in King's Landing, but she would stay until she had undone her sister's destruction. Thereafter, Rhaena did not know what awaited her. Until then, she was content to serve, and although she was no longer Heir to the Iron Throne, Bran had formerly bestowed upon her the title of 'princess', to keep as her own forever. It was a thoughtful gesture, and Rhaena was moved by his consideration. Having lived so long as no one, even an empty title such as princess had meant the world to her. She was glad to keep it. Dragonstone became hers by rights, as well as the Crownlands as it had once belonged to her ancestors. With so many responsibilities now upon her mind, it did not have the time spare to fragment, and so Rhaena went serenely to the Small Council chamber, dressed in lilac and white which exposed her throat and arms, revealing the scars the Night King had left her, as well as the golden band set with a gleaming stone which seemingly breathed with fire. The firestone left by Melisandre.

When she entered, Jaime waited without though with a quiet word to call for him should she have need, making her pause at the door. "Ser Jaime, I know you take your vow very seriously, but I am in no danger here. You are free to roam as you please. You do not need to chain yourself to my side as before, nor guard me as you did Robert or Joffrey, or little Tommen. There is no need for you to humble yourself like this." His response was a crooked grin and his reminder for her to simply call him Jaime. Sighing with a shake of her head, she then chuckled. "You are incorrigible. Very well. Stay or go as you will. It is entirely your choice." Leaving him to ponder his decision, Rhaena stepped through the door and found she was not the first to arrive. Tyrion was already there. As the door swung closed, she continued forwards as quietly as a cat, pausing to place a kiss upon his brow to surprise him before the sound of the door closing could alert him to her presence. When he jumped, she giggled. It did Tyrion's heart wonders to see Rhaena smiling a little more, even being festive and jovial upon the occasion. It told him that her own heart was healing, and that was cause for great celebration in his view.

"Ah, princess. Punctual as always, I see."

"Indeed, Lord Hand. Early as always, I also see." She returned lightly as she took the seat to his left and sat herself upon it. "Our first Small Council meeting since Bran's appointment. I hope our meetings are not as dull as the ones you used to tell me about." One can only hope, though considering the collection of individuals who were about to gather, Tyrion doubted dull would be the word to describe what was to follow. Not a moment later the door swung open once again, more noisily this time, whereby the remaining members of the Small Council arrived. Varys of course returned to his former appointment as Master of Whispers, pleased enough with the outcome of the change of rulership that he no longer considered conspiracy behind closed doors. His devotions were of course to the realm, its people, to King Bran, and chief of all, Princess Rhaena, who would always remain dear to him. He smiled upon entering and kissed her hand once he had arrived at the table, taking his seat further down the table where he had often sat in previous councils to other kings. Then followed Ser Davos, who had been appointed Master of Ships, a role he seemed far more comfortable with than anything else that had been offered to him in consideration of his many contributions. He bowed towards the princess who greeted him warmly and extended her hand to the chair beside her.

Alongside him had come the appointed Master of War, none other than Randyll Tarly. The office had originally been offered to Jaime, but he had refused it. Rhaena suspected because he loathed politics, but also because he remained yet too nervous to be in the same room as Brienne, for in truth he had broken her heart and she was more likely to break his teeth than a simple maid might simply offer a stinging slap. Since his teeth were one of his best features, he was maintaining a safe distance until he had mustered the courage to speak to her privately. In any case, after his refusal of the appointment, it was suggested that Randyll Tarly would make a suitable alternative. He was experienced, a proven commander and soldier. Initially Rhaena had made quiet protest, reasoning that Samwell, who was now Grand Maester of the Red Keep, would be made uncomfortable by his overbearing father's presence, but Sam had insisted that he would be alright. He was not craven anymore, and had experienced things far more frightening than his father. So the appointment was given and Randyll accepted, leaving his second son Dickon to return to Horn Hill and take over the lordship in his father's place. Rhaena had felt quite despondent to see Dickon go, she had grown rather fond of him. He was a simple soldier, it was true, but he knew how to laugh and sang well, and so Rhaena had enjoyed his company when she had found it. All the same, it was good to see Samwell come into his own. Without Jon, Rhaena worried he might lose the courage and confidence he had grown, but if anything it had only continued to thrive. Perhaps his greatest show of courage was in keeping his wildling woman, Gilly, as well as her son little Sam, close to him in the keep despite the fact that maesters were sworn to celibacy and in truth, Sam had taken the vows of the Night's Watch.

Since the fall of the Wall, most men of the Watch had either fled or travelled to Winterfell in order to declare themselves, however since Sam had already begun training to become a maester, Bran all but decided that he would rather Sam serve in King's Landing. Although still learning, Sam had proven himself to be clever and good at keeping books, records, and finding information. He had a good hand at healing and would continue his studies to forge more links in his chain. So long as he did not flaunt Gilly or the babe which grew in her belly, then no one cared to complain of it. Not even Lord Randyll, though he remained slightly contemptuous towards Gilly for her heritage. She did not mind it. Lord Randyll did not frighten her any, and Rhaena was also growing increasingly fond of the young woman. So, in full count, all that remained was the position of Master of Coin. It had been Tyrion who offered a suggestion to fill that particular appointment, and it had gone to perhaps the one person Rhaena would have thought to be the most unscrupulous man she had ever known when it came to coin. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. When he had first arrived, he had all but swept Rhaena up into his arms and kissed her fully on the mouth before she could so much as squeak. Jaime had almost taken off his head there and then until Rhaena had calmed him. He entered now, swaggering with that same leisurely gait, now named the Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Reach. Considering his humble beginnings, Bronn had done exceedingly well for himself.

Once he had dropped himself noisily into his chair upon Tyrion's right, directly opposite Rhaena, he kicked out his feet underneath the table and settled one foot upon hers with a grin. Shaking her head despairingly, Rhaena kicked him under the table then neatly tucked her feet underneath her chair where he could not reach. His grin only widened. As all settled into their seats, Sam brought a large and heavy volume to place it firmly in front of Tyrion, displaying it rather proudly though at first Tyrion was at a loss, questioning what it was as Rhaena leaned over curiously. "A Song of Ice and Fire. Archmaester Ebrose's history of the wars following the death of King Robert. I helped him with the title." Sam explained as Tyrion opened the book and began to flip through the pages which were filled with a tight yet neat scrawl.

"I suppose I come in for some heavy criticism." He spoke warily, though Sam rather nervously disagreed. "Oh, he's kind to me. Never would've guessed." Hearing the silence, Tyrion paused in order to look up at Sam, who had by then returned to his seat. "He's not kind?" Opening his mouth, Rhaena felt increasingly sorry for Sam as he floundered, unable to bring himself to tell Tyrion the truth. "He what? What does he say about me?" Finally, he forced the truth out.

"I don't believe you're mentioned…" Staring incredulously, the book slid easily from Tyrion's fingers as Rhaena pulled it across towards her in order to quickly scan the pages for herself, intending to keep the volume so that she might read it more thoroughly later and see for herself what had been written. Already she could see that it was riddled with inaccuracies.

"You will need to send a raven to Archmaester Ebrose, dear Sam. Forewarn him that a revised version shall be returning to him as soon as possible. Perhaps if he would consent to come here, he might have the truth directly from those who lived and saw history unfold." Closing the book firmly with a snap of its cover, Sam nodded his head with a breath of relief, though Tyrion was still staring gapingly at him. It would have made him start to sweat nervously had the king not chosen that particular moment to arrive, pushed by Brienne herself. All rose to attend him, greeting him a little clumsily as some had to swiftly mimic everyone else as Bran was pushed to the head of the table so that he might view his Small Council. Looking at their faces each in turn, Bran gave a near indistinguishable smile.

"We are all gathered then. Good. To those I have yet to meet, welcome." Lord Randyll, Bronn and Ser Davos all bowed to Bran as he continued to survey them. "What news of Drogon? Has there been word of him?" News had travelled far and fast of Drogon. How could it not when he was unmistakable and unmissable? According to rumour he was flying east, but before any specific city or destination could be given, Bronn surmised that the further away he was flying, the better. Rhaena glanced at Bronn and wondered if he was still sore about the fact that Drogon had near enough turned him to ashes on the Rose Road. Considering their words, Bran nodded. "Perhaps I can find him," he said but paused in order to look to Rhaena.

"Leave him be, if it please Your Grace. He will do no harm to anyone unless provoked, I taught him well and he knows what is prey and what is not. He grieves and mourns for his loss…he will return when he is ready, and I shall be there to manage him when he does." Promising to consider her words, Bran saw no reason to linger, inviting his council to continue with their discussions. Lifting her head, Brienne called for the newly knighted Ser Podrick, who had also been named to the Kingsguard. All members would steadily be replaced, so long as they proved to be worthy of the position, decent with their blade and better with their word of honour. Under Brienne's leadership, Rhaena believed they would see a new age of knights and legends fit for stories and songs that would last for centuries to come. When Ser Podrick entered, the council stood in order to see the king off.

"We serve at your pleasure, King Bran the Broken, ruler of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign." Once more a clumsy chorus echoed Tyrion, enough so that it caused him to wince and call after Bran rather apologetically. "That will improve."

"I'm sure it will." He responded as he was wheeled away, allowing everyone to sit once more.

"Might I suggest that we think of a more fitting name for Bran. We shall make it one of our matters of discussion for today." Rhaena supplied to soothe the awkwardness in the air as she allowed herself to recline slightly in her seat. A general hum of agreement answered her, everyone surveying the others in an attempt to find a semblance of unity, but it was difficult considering the variety of peoples who now served on the Small Council. Now it was Tyrion's turn to lessen the tension in the air, fixating upon Bronn to strike up discussions.

"Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach and Master of Coin, would you say the crown's debt to you has been paid?"

"In full, my Lord Hand." He answered efficiently, though he could not resist a smirk thrown towards Rhaena as she regarded him with those tempting eyes of hers as her fingers tapped against her cheek. "Though there are some who still owe me a debt or two. I seem to remember a certain someone promising to repay such a debt once the war was over. I also seem to recall making a particular request." Her brow arched, the corner of her mouth pulling upwards as Rhaena recalled their meeting at the riverside where Bronn had almost run afoul of Rhaegal's teeth. Unaware of the meaning of Bronn's words, Tyrion dismissed them and pressed forward with business, wanting to get things underway.

"Good. Time to start incurring a new one. We have hungry people to feed. Can we expect some assistance in this regard?" Assuring the council that they could indeed depend on such assistance, Rhaena still found it amusing that Bronn had been entrusted the office of Master of Coin. If coins did not mysteriously begin disappearing, she would be pleasantly surprised. "Lord Davos, we have an armada to rebuild and ports to repair."

"We have. These projects will begin as soon as the Master of Coin and Lord of Lofty Titles provides funding." Not hiding his disregard for Bronn, the former sellsword easily met his match with as many sardonic drawls as was given. Already Rhaena was being thoroughly entertained, and decided that Small Council meetings might prove to be far more interesting than the ones she recalled Tyrion speaking of from the past. If they all proved to be like this, Rhaena believed she would enjoy them immensely.

"The Master of Coin looks forward to helping the Master of Ships, but first he has to ensure we're not wasting coin, or soon there won't be no more coin." Pointedly, Davos corrected Bronn of his wording, causing him to quip back in retort. "You Master of Grammar now too?" Before their argument could escalate, Tyrion quickly interrupted, though Rhaena thought this to be a shame. It was going well, who knows? Perhaps it may have come to blows and she could have put down a wager. Dull indeed. What a notion.

"Grandmaester…it is my theory, based on my years of work on the Casterly Rock sewers, that clean water leads to a healthier population." Drawing attention away from the discussion between Bronn and Davos, Sam was swift to follow Tyrion's meaning and promptly supplied that the Archmaester had made some research concerning the subject, though before he could proceed to explain the details, Bronn interrupted with the view that the strong live and the weak did not. Perhaps before this was true, but considering how the streets of King's Landing had once been permeated with the stench of rot, faeces and foulness, cleaner air was just as desirable as healthy smallfolk. "Find the best builders and set them to the task. Rhaena, my dear, I can entrust you to see to the arrangements of designs for the changes to the city?" Looking to Tyrion tenderly, she assured him that he could trust her with the task and had even already begun several projects, having brought the scrolls with her to show the council and take their opinion.

"Oh, speaking of builders, all the best brothels burned down. The Master of Coin is willing to fund reconstruction." What perhaps amused Rhaena most of all was the fact that Bronn had taken to referring himself as 'Master of Coin', as if to ensure that he was not dreaming up the title and to also remind others that it was in fact his. Funnier still, others were beginning to follow suit.

"Um…the Archmaester is less than enthusiastic about the salutary effects of brothels." Sam provided bashfully, earning a wry grin from Bronn who informed him that he simply hadn't been using them properly.

"I think we can all agree that ships take precedence over brothels."

"I think that's a very presumptuous statement." Countering Brienne, Bronn seemed quite adamant that the brothels needed to be restored as soon as possible, making a note to Rhaena with a tap upon the table that he hoped there were plans within her scrolls for bigger and better brothels along with everything else she planned to remake.

"Forget the brothels. There is also the matter of the army to be considered. Inasmuch as we have none. Just a ragtag collection of soldiers wanting to rush home before the snows set in." Randyll barked sharply, bringing forth another concern.

"What of the remaining Unsullied and the Dothraki? What has become of them?" To this, Varys dutifully answered since news had reached him of their movements through his whispers. According to Varys, the Unsullied that did not sail with Grey Worm to Naath had chosen to stay and remain as soldiers, though their loyalties were unclear. Thus far, they answered to Princess Rhaena and to her alone. They trusted her, and were willing to follow her. As for the Dothraki, they had been set upon ships and returned to the lands of their fathers, where according to witnesses, the great khalasar had separated into many smaller ones with a new khal leading each, taking their horses and their spoils into the great Dothraki Sea. Hopefully it was the last they would see of Dothraki in Westeros. They had been near enough impossible to manage after Daenerys's death. Had it not been for the Unsullied, they would have broken free and simply ran wild across the kingdoms, looting, raiding and raping wherever they went. They were gone, however, and no longer a problem to contend with, which left the remaining Unsullied.

"I can order them to leave, but I think it better to let them stay. They are good men; you will not find their equal for discipline. Only a few hundred remain, with near a hundred more upon Dragonstone. More than enough to protect the keep and remake the City Watch for the time being. In a few years when they have better learned our customs and ways, they will feel at home here and will defend it to their last breath. Let them become captains and train boys who wish to be soldiers. For those who distinguish themselves, perhaps they might one day be knighted." Randyll Tarly had a great deal to say in protest against such fancies, but Rhaena merely listened to his objections with a calmness which gradually stemmed his flustering until he was utterly silent. "I know it is difficult, Lord Randyll, but these men have known hardship all their life. They have no home. Now they have decided to stay, I intend to make one for them. Give me three years. Three years and I shall prove to you their value as men and soldiers. If I cannot convince you, then I will remove them and find homes for them elsewhere. Otherwise, you must accept them as if they were born and raised upon this soil, and treat them as such. Including knighthoods for those who earn the right." With fair terms such as these, Randyll had no choice but to agree. It could not hurt, after all. With this bargain struck, the council continued in its work, diligently seeking to think of better ways to improve the realm, hour by hour until the first steps had been outlined and the work could begin, reshaping the world as they knew it into something newer, and hopefully, better.