'If you're going to set the stage, make the seat comfortable.'
-The Early Musings of Prince Rhaenar
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In the gardens of the Grand Palace of Lys stood an amphitheatre of sorts: a tiered semicircle of stone seats overlooking a square stage.
Beyond it, the ruined city stretched out, and past that shattered skyline, blue waters glistened in the sunlight.
"Captain Marq, step forward."
The Rhaenari captain took his place at center stage. Thousands in the crowd booed and jeered.
In the pavilion — where the best seats were normally reserved for the most distinguished spectators — five men sat along a table: Brien Flowers, Theodore Reyne, Ulfgar Nutbreaker, Commander Pheonix, and Ser Corlys Valyreon.
It was Corlys who sat in the center of the lineup. He took a paper from Brien and read:
"I shall protect the man beside me. I shall fight for the glory of the Legion, my family, and, above all, my Prince."
Corlys set the paper down. "Each man, upon joining the Legion, makes his own vow, correct?"
"Correct," said Marq.
"These are the words you chose, are they not?"
"They are."
"Tell me — where in this vow does it say, I will rape little girls?"
"…Nowhere," Marq relented.
"Then why is it," Corlys continued, "that we have sworn testimony from numerous witnesses attesting to this fact? That you not only took part in such depravity, but encouraged men under your charge to do the same?"
"It's a lie!"
"Silence!"
Corlys massaged his temples. It had been a long day of this drudgery. When the Military Tribunal was announced, the floodgates had opened to a torrent of finger‑pointing.
Gathering and cross‑referencing evidence had taken immense effort, a task so tedious they had thought the tribunals themselves would be easier by comparison. They were not. They proved even more exhausting.
He turned to his fellow panel members. "Let us judge the facts and be done with it."
"Their punishment?" Commander Phoenix asked.
The crowd erupted.
"Drown them!"
"Stone them!"
"Torture them!"
"Fuck em' to death!"
Commander Phoenix slammed his fist onto the table.
"One hundred lashes!" Phoenix offered as punishment.
"Fuck that," Ulfgar Nutbreaker growled. "Cut off their cocks and feed them to the goats."
Phoenix raised a brow, "We have goats?
"We'll make due," said Theodore Reyne, "Though execution seems more fitting,"
Brien rubbed his neck. "That would be a waste. Send them to the Wall, I say."
The crowd roared again, hurling every insult imaginable. "Off with their cocks! Death! To the Wall — the Wall!"
Commander Phoenix took stock of the general consensus. The air was still wrought with the residue of violence. "They will be given choice: Cock, or go to Wall."
"Very well," Corlys said, "Your actions have been weighed by your peers and found worthy of punishment. Submit to mutilation, or gather your belongings and depart for the Night's Watch. This court is hereby adjourned."
The crowd erupted until Prince Rhaenar appeared. He descended the theatre steps, resplendent in black armor.
Reaching the stage, he regarded the accused and unsheathed his sword. The pale steel of Blackfyre shimmered.
"If there are any among you who cannot bear the shame, I will grant death by thine own blade."
In the end, no one chose the sword. No soldier wished to sully their Prince's hand with the blood of the Legion. Nor did any choose the knife. Thus it was that 277 of the Rhaenari were sent to the Wall.
Throughout these proceedings, the Westerosi pondered. It was no secret that the volunteer forces far outnumbered that of the core. Nor was it secret that finding a man untouched by the violent carnival was rare. All took part in debauchery. And yet it was only the men of the Legion who were punished for the sum of those crimes.
In the days that followed this public reckoning, the Ministry of Conduct was created. A third body, separate from command, tasked with watching how troops behaved while on the Prince's coin.
Contracts were rewritten. Perks no longer assumed. The loss of pension, of free care for one's family, of access to the Grain Exchange, holiday homes, discounted lodgings, and the many quiet privileges of service were no longer distant threats, but punishments close at hand and a Ministry that watched you closely.
It became clear to any who wished to continue on Rhaenar's path that loyalty alone would no longer suffice. Allegiance to crown, country, or lord was no shield. If a man took the Prince's coin, he submitted to a system that would outlast sentiment.
In one sweeping move, Rhaenar expanded the army tenfold. Gone were the loosely defined auxiliaries. They signed contracts and were absorbed into the army proper. Once their training was complete, and they swore whatever vows they fashioned for themselves, they were Rhaenari through and through.
When the process ended and the force was restructured with this slow absorption in mind, the Prince commanded 30,000. Each man bound by shared guilt, benefit, and the honor of his word — sealed in ink, scraped onto dotted lines with hands that now understood consequence.
After the tribunals, the panel convened over snacks and drink. Corlys opted to retire.
When Rhaenar joined them, he sat beside Brien with a cup of wine in hand.
"It is done."
Brien drank. "Think it will work out as you intend?"
Rhaenar said, "There are thousands in the Night's Watch. It may take generations before one of ours rises to Lord Commander. At least with this pretext, our men will infiltrate. With my letters, they will be scattered across every castle."
He took a breath.
"I will also press for a contingent to rebuild the Nightfort. That is where our base will be founded. All operations north of the Wall will begin there."
Brien shivered. "The Nightfort… What do you think Queen Alysanne saw there that bade her close it down?"
"I cannot say. Beyond its dark history, all I found were weirwoods overgrowing the castle. I lacked the time and the resources, and I did not wish to reveal my interest. But make no mistake — there are secrets there. I felt it. Once our men are assigned, they will conduct a proper search."
"Was it worth sacrificing a city to set such plans in motion?"
"Time will tell," Rhaenar said, uninterested. "We have released an evil so wicked that this paradise may never recover. For what? Our so-called 'objective' failed. I spoke with Lady Johanna. She was flattered by our heroic efforts, but we came too late. Violated too many times to return and face society. She has been… institutionalized. This is her home now.
"That is not to say her spirit is broken. On the contrary — Lady Johanna had a spark in her eyes, and had many ideas on what to do next. I have decided to bring her into the fold. She will remain on Lys and take part in its governance, alongside the bureaucrats we leave behind."
With that, Rhaenar took his leave.
Ulfgar Nutbreaker stroked his shaggy beard. "These words they swear," he said. "Did dragon prince swear some too?"
"He did," Brien said.
"Read them to me. I want to hear."
"No need," Brien replied. "The Prince swore but one thing."
"Eh?"
Brien gazed at the smouldering ruins of the city below and recalled a single pledge that would echo in history
'I shall take no prisoner.'