-Chapter 155-
-POV Rhaenys Targaryen-
I was surprised by the icy gaze of the young lord of Winterfell.
He, however, did not seem particularly disturbed by what was his first murder.
He said nothing and returned to his seat as if nothing had happened, placing his family's ancestral sword beside his chair.
I observed Jeyne, seated in the Grand Judge's place, with a mixed expression.
From her confidence, I could easily see that everything happening was in line with Aemon's plan, even the way she had pretended to oppose him.
But there was something unsettling about this change of position.
I turned my head toward my daughter as I felt her hand on mine, and she gave me a small reassuring smile.
'So they have discussed it,' I understood, relieved by my daughter's serenity.
'Who is now a lady and a fulfilled mother,' I thought with pride.
I was still surprised by how easily Laena had managed to step aside to let her rival take the spotlight.
'But most of all, that she is taking so well the fact that Viserys will not be the heir to the Vale,' I added inwardly.
Aemon resumed his place before the chopping block and before us, then declared in a cold and unwavering tone:
"Very well, now that we have judged all the accomplices of Otto Hightower, it is time to pass judgment on the main informant."
"I must admit that without him, none of this would have been possible," Aemon added.
Everyone could hear the double meaning in his voice, but I knew that the only reason Aemon had been caught off guard by Otto Hightower was because of his 'little pet rat,' as he called him.
"He not only admitted to guiding and helping to capture all those complicit in the treason orchestrated by Otto Hightower, but he also provided all the information and the list of little secrets he knew, which earns him a favor from me."
"A favor?" Daemon asked, interrogating his son with a slightly irritated tone, though he was clearly exercising great restraint.
'It is a good thing that he is finally putting aside his pride to recognize the true dragon of this family,' I thought.
'Something even Corlys has yet to do, despite the gradual easing of tensions between them,' I added.
Aemon did not even turn around and said:
"I promised Larys Strong that he could keep his life in exchange for all this information."
'Treason must always be punished,' I thought, for if I understood correctly, this was not the first time Larys Strong had failed Aemon.
The knights of the Bronze Shield Order rushed to bring Larys Strong forward, forcing him to kneel before the prince once more, this time right at his feet.
Aemon lowered his gaze, then addressed the second son of the former Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong:
"As I promised, I will not kill you because, even though you needed some persuasion, you have been of great help."
Larys Strong attempted to thank Aemon by saying:
"Thank you, Your…"
But Aemon immediately cut him off, saying:
"But I must still punish you, for treason is intolerable, no matter the service you later render to House Targaryen. For your crimes, I sentence you to the Wall."
Larys Strong clenched his fists but eventually bowed his head and thanked the prince profusely.
"My Prince," said Ser Harwin, standing up, unable to contain himself any longer.
"Do you have something to say, Ser?" Aemon asked, waiting for just one mistake from this fool to expose his crimes and remove Rhaenyra and her bastards from the race for the Driftwood Throne.
"I…" Ser Harwin began before stopping under Rhaenyra's dark glare, fully understanding what was at stake and that now was not the time for her to draw attention.
'She is surely hoping that Aemon and the Hightowers will destroy each other so that she can fight with all her might against the victor,' I thought, realizing that while Rhaenyra was more clear-headed, she was still as naive as she was in childhood.
'Does she really think that it will be Viserys who decides who rules these lands after his death?' I wondered before being pulled from my thoughts by Lyonel Strong's voice.
He spoke in a firm and authoritative tone to his son and heir:
"Sit down."
"Father…" the young man tried to protest, but his father did not waver and raised his voice slightly:
"Immediately."
Harwin Strong was forced to sit down, embarrassed, but Lyonel Strong did not follow suit.
He remained standing for a few moments, looking at Aemon hesitantly.
Lyonel Strong hesitated a moment longer before finally making his decision.
He took a deep breath, stepped out of the ranks, and then looked at Aemon and asked:
"I thank you, Your Highness, for your mercy, but I would like to ask you to reconsider your decision."
"How dare he?" I heard murmurs among the lords witnessing, just like me, his audacity.
"How? Do you prefer that I kill him?" Aemon said with a slightly disdainful tone, maintaining a neutral expression, which might have amused me if Lyonel Strong had not immediately turned toward Viserys, ignoring Aemon.
Lyonel Strong knelt at the foot of the stairs and pleaded with Viserys:
"Your Majesty, for the services rendered by my House over all these years, as well as those I have personally rendered to you, I ask… no, I beg you to spare my son from the Wall. He is but a cripple; exile him if you must, but have mercy on my son, Your Majesty. Do not send him to the Wall."
'If Viserys says yes, this will create serious problems,' I thought, understanding the vicious move just made by the former Hand of the King.
"This is disrespectful," I murmured to Rhea, who was also concerned about Viserys's response.
Because if he showed everyone the fractures that we all knew existed between Aemon and him, it would once again divide House Targaryen instead of uniting it around Aemon.
Viserys looked at his friend for a long time, then turned his gaze to Aemon, who, to my great surprise, had no intention of intervening and was waiting for Viserys's response like the rest of us.
'Almost as if he were a loyal vassal of the Crown,' I thought, admiring the almost natural way he maintained his composure in all circumstances.
'It is almost as if he holds the entire world in the palm of his hand.'
Viserys finally shook his head and declared:
"I regret it, but as the Hand has just stated, treason is a crime punishable by death. Keeping your son alive is already the greatest favor House Targaryen can grant you."
Lyonel Strong looked at the king for a few moments before lowering his head in disappointment, then returned to his place.
But I could see in his eyes that something had just broken.
'Something we could possibly exploit in the future,' I thought.
---
-POV Otto Hightower-
As soon as Larys Strong was escorted out of the Dragonpit under heavy guard to be held in detention until his departure for the North, two knights dragged me to the feet of Aemon Targaryen.
I had no strength left due to the countless forms of torture I had endured in the dungeons of the Red Keep, but there was still a fire within me, burning with a desire for vengeance for my son.
Aemon Targaryen looked at me indifferently and said in a completely emotionless tone:
"Your treason is already an established fact, so the only punishment for you is death."
'As if this farce were a real trial,' I thought, shaking my head, disappointed that I would not be able to kill him with my own hands.
'If I had known it would end this way, I would have sent Faceless Men after him, his wife, his children, and everyone who allied with him,' I thought, regretting not being bolder, fearing backlash from the King if I went too far.
'And what a king…' I thought, glancing at Viserys, sitting on his throne, still wearing his crown but nothing more than a decorative puppet now.
"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" Aemon Targaryen asked in response to my silence.
I wanted to scream my rage for all the pain I had endured these past moons.
To howl out the fury I had harbored for years since the death of my son, Gwayne Hightower.
But I knew very well that if I dared to rebel now, those who would pay the ultimate price would be my surviving children and their descendants.
'I should have focused more on the living than on the dead,' I thought.
I had been blinded by my son's death to the point of forgetting that the chances of winning against a dragonrider were almost nonexistent unless one had a dragon of equal size.
For the sake of my remaining family, I simply lowered my head onto the chopping block, waiting for the fatal strike.
But it did not come.
Instead, I felt two knights clad in bronze armor lift me back onto my feet before dragging me out of the Dragonpit.
"You will be executed on the 7th day of the 7th moon, so that all may see that no matter their power or the position they hold in this kingdom, in the face of dragonfire, in the face of House Targaryen's power, they are nothing."
Aemon Targaryen followed behind me, descending the steps one by one with a steady pace, leaving the Dragonpit with his retinue, thus announcing the end of the trial.
'As well as the date of my execution, chosen on a sacred day to further provoke the Faith,' I thought, seeing clearly through his game but also feeling a growing fear within me.
For this execution could very well mark the end of House Hightower.
'And that of my bloodline…' I added, feeling a shiver run down my spine.