Chapter Text
Rhaegar
The throne room of the Red Keep was silent, the air tense, heavy with expectation and history.
On the Iron Throne sat Eddard Stark, First of His Name, the newly crowned King of Westeros, clad not in golden robes or gaudy silks, but in the dark greys and muted blues of the North. A circlet of silver adorned his brow, simple and cold as the lands he once called home. His grey eyes—stormy, unwavering—watched the man kneeling before him: Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, once heir to the throne, now a supplicant.
A hush blanketed the chamber, filled with the greatest lords and ladies of the realm, each witness to history's turn.
Rhaegar bowed his head, golden hair shimmering beneath the torchlight. "I, Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and loyal subject of the Crown, do hereby swear fealty to Eddard Stark, King of Westeros, the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
A murmur ran through the court. Some like Mace Tyrell gaped in shock; others like Mathis Rowan and Lucerys Velaryon looked to the King.
Eddard rose slowly. "I accept your oath, Rhaegar Targaryen. Rise as Lord of Dragonstone, and guardian of your kin."
Rhaegar stood. Part of him ached at the sight of the Iron Throne—his by all rights, his by blood. But another part, deeper and wiser, knew Elia was right. The war was lost. Too much blood had been spilled and regretfully he had been partly at fault both he and Lya. Elia had convinced him to make peace—for Rhaneys, for Aegon, for Daenerys. For Jae.
At the base of the throne, Elia Martell watched with measured calm, her hand resting on the shoulder of her daughter Rhaneys, a curious and bright-eyed girl of four. In her arms, she held Aegon, the boy with silver hair and violet eyes. Beside her stood Lyanna Stark, quiet and protective, cradling Jaehaerys, her newborn son.
The court watched them all—this strange, blended family, bound by war and compromise.
After the ceremony, the King held private court. In his solar, he met with Rhaegar and Elia.
"You’ve shown wisdom, Lord Rhaegar," said Ned, setting aside his crown. "Probably one of your wiser actions in the past two years."
Rhaegar flinches, because he knows exactly what the King is talking about, and he hopes the King doesn't disown Lyanna like he had threatened to during the negotiations, after learning that she had run away willingly.Because that would break her heart.
"It was Elia’s wisdom," Rhaegar admitted, nodding to his first wife. "She has further also suggested a union. Between our houses. Your son… and our daughter."
Ned’s brow lifted. "Robb and Rhaneys?"
"A symbolic bond," Elia said gently. "A sign to the realm that our houses are not at war. That we are building peace. One day, they could rule together—as equals. And it would give your new Dynasty legitimacy among the old Targaryen loyalists"
"Not that those loyalists will cause any problems for his Grace on our behalf," Rhaegar hastily adds to make sure the King doesn't take it in the wrong way. Although his father had ensured that House Targaryen would have no support among the smallfolk with his wildfire plot and Lord Jon Arryn had ensured that this plot was bought to light to every Lord, Lady and smallfolk by the bards who were being sent to everyone corner of the realm with songs of Aerys the evil, and how the valiant knight Jamie Lannister had broken his vows and honour to save the city."
Ned considered. "I will not promise a marriage for a child barely born, but I will agree to a betrothal. One that can be broken should they grow apart."
"That is all we ask Your Grace," Elia said, and bowed her head.
From the window, the sound of children laughing floated in—Rhaneys and Jon, toddling near each other in the gardens, watched over by Lyanna.
Peace, at last, had come to Westeros.
Eddard Stark, the reluctant King, had brought it not through war and blood—but through compromise. A compromise,Rhaegar is sure that many of his closest don't like, if Robert Baratheon's glare was anything to go by.
And Rhaegar Targaryen, the prince who dreamed of bringing peace as King, had chosen to kneel—for the sake of that same Peace and survival. Because he'll be dammed to the Seven Hells if he let's more blood be spilled in his name.
The next morning Red Keep's throne room was packed with chatters of Nobles from all regions of Westroes. The new banners of House Stark of King's Landing hung on the walls of the throne room, which had once been adorned with the, Red and Black banners of the Three headed Dragons of House Targaryen. Now replaced by the Silver Crowned Direwolf on a field of Black.
Rhaegar Targaryen stood to the left of the Iron Throne, in the front lines clad in deep violet and black, a subtle nod to his heritage. His gaze swept across the gathered lords and ladies, then returned to the center of the room where King Eddard Stark seated on the Iron Throne with a solemn, commanding presence. And the King raised his hand for silence, And the chatter stopped immediately. Everyone waited with baited breath.
Beside Rhaegar, Elia stood with poise, her Martell sun blazing proudly on her orange-and-gold gown. Lya, quieter, more private, stood beside her in grey and white. The two women shared a small moment—Elia’s arm sliding warmly around Lyanna’s shoulder in a gesture of support and affection.
The subtle act was seen by many. There had been whispers, of course, ever since the peace treaty had been signed. But now, it was clear: Rhaegar, Elia and Lyanna were all married , a union born from love, which had lead to do much bloodshed in Westroes.
Rhaegar’s eyes softened as he watched them his loves. There was so much understanding and love between them. In a way, they mirrored the realm itself: old loyalties and new realities finding a way to stand side by side.
Then King Eddard's voice cut through the moment.
"I call upon the lords named to step forward and accept their roles in service to the realm."
From among the crowd, Jon Arryn stepped forward, grey-haired and noble. "I, Jon of House Arryn, accept the post of Hand of the King."
"Rise, Lord Arryn," Ned said. "You have my trust."
The elder lord gave a respectful bow to his former foster son and took his place beside the throne.
"Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun," Ned continued, "you are named Lord Treasurer—guardian of the realm’s coin, revenues, and resources."
Hoster stepped forward, offering a curt nod. "I accept, Your Grace."
"Ser Stannis Baratheon of House Baratheon," Ned said, turning to the stern-faced younger brother of Robert. "You are named Grand Admiral, commander of all fleets, protector of our shores."
"I will see it done," Stannis said stiffly.
"Wyman Manderly Lord of White Harbor," Ned continued, "you are named Lord Ambassador, responsible for trade and foreign negotiations."
Lord Wyman’s many chins wobbled as he smiled. "It shall be my honor, Your Grace."
"Kevan Lannister," Ned said with careful neutrality, "you are named Lord Justiciar, tasked with managing the laws and courts of the realm."
Kevan stepped forward, dutiful but wary. "I serve the crown."
"And lastly," Ned said, "Mathis Rowan, you are appointed Lord Builder, responsible for roads, bridges, and all civic works within the Seven Kingdoms."
Matthos bowed deeply. "The realm shall rise higher, Your Grace."
Once they had all stood in their places, King Eddard remained standing, eyes steady and firm.
"Let it be known," he said, voice ringing clear, "that this Small Council shall serve a term of six years. It is the year 284 After Conquest. Come 289, we will review the work done by each member. Some may wish to retire. Others may be asked to continue, should their service be just and diligent. This council serves the interests of Realm, not the other way around."
Rhaegar nodded quietly. It was wise. Not even kings should rule without check. The King was not only making peace—he was setting foundations. He like many others had noticed the changing of the titles of the positions in Small Council and the addition of new positions all together. It could be understood as a new Dynasty distancing itself from the ways of the old one.
He glanced sideways again. Elia gave his and Lyanna’s arms reassuring squeezes as the court progressed House Tyrell lost the Wardenship of the South to House Baratheon and lost the right to collect taxes from their bannermen for the Next 15 years and House Tyrell could have survived this if not for Mace Tyrell's refusal to lift the Siege of Storm's End despite King's Landing having been taken by the Rebels and Mace had tried to give explanation that he had thought that as Rhaegar was alive and assumed that he would try to take back the Throne but the King had been unimpressed with this and Mace would have gotten away with it if the King hadn't seen the malnourished Renly Baratheon barely alive and now House Tyrell had lost Wardenship of the South, the right to collect taxes in their region for the next 15 years and the taxes would go directly to the Iron Throne and House Tyrell was to personally pay 450000 Gold Dragons in reparations to the Stormlands and Rhaegar is sure this was done on the influence of Lord Paramount Robert Baratheon. The Court lasts another hour as the King gives permission to Lord Hoster Tully, Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon to punish the insubordinate houses in their Kingdoms who had not supported their liege Lords during the Rebellion themselves.
Rhaegar winces inwardly at that because this meant that his friend Jon Connington, whom he had convinced King Eddard to recall from exile, would be facing a lot of punishment from Robert Baratheon. Hopefully only minor land reductions and tax increase as such.But knowing the fact that the man had chased Robert to Stoney Sept and was his father's Hand, Rhaegar knows it's a fool's hope.
But otherwise, he is satisfied with King Eddard's new decrees especially when the man commands, Lord Mathis Rowan to begin work on King's Landing itself to remove the stench and make it clean and his plans to set up a bank in Westroes soon. He has genuine hopes that his Goodbrother is actually able to improve things and rule well. Because Westroes has had it's fill of bad rulers and troubles in the past 50 or so years now it deserves peace.