Chapter 28
Tyrion
The door opened and the King was looking worse for the wear. The circles under his eyes were darker, if possible. However, the King was ready for court. His clothes were fresh and his hair pulled back neatly. He was wearing his usual courtly garb, full black but for the cape. He has also worn his crown. He was looking listless as he opened the door but when his eyes settled on Tyrion, they were understandably surprised.
Tyrion was rarely ready so early and this day, he was already dressed and had been waiting for the King.
"Lord Tyrion," the initial surprise ebb from his eyes to be replaced by a lifeless look that made Tyrion uncomfortable.
"Your Grace," Tyrion bowed. The King's tone seemed calm enough, calmer than the night before.
The King nodded to him. Then he turned to the Queen's handmaidens waiting by the door, "see to the Queen's wounds, on her hand and see that she stays rested this day," Missandei nodded, "thank you, Missandei,"
Tyrion raised his brows, "wounds?" peering up at the King, "have the Queen woken?"
The King nodded then he asked, "why have you come? So early this day," they began walking to the throne room, the King's entourage close behind.
"I wanted to speak to you, your Grace," Tyrion started carefully, "before the trial,"
The King stiffened but did not stop walking, "so speak,"
"I know you will be fair and just and honourable, as Lord Eddard Stark had always been. But sometimes, it can be difficult to be so, regarding matters to close to the heart," Tyrion said, struggling to get the words out of his mouth when he knew how important it would be for those words to be the right one.
"What are you trying to say, Lord Tyrion?" The King stopped and turned to him, visibly exhaling. The King has always had a deep dislike and even lesser patience for games, especially the ones involving words and hidden agendas; politics basically.
"I know Jaime's…infatuation for the Queen-"
"That's putting it mildly," the King muttered.
Tyrion continued, "is extremely inappropriate and disrespectful and I have advised him against it, on multiple occasions," he paused, "and Jaime has done some terrible, terrible things in the past. Your dislike and distrust for my brother, that many others have, is understandable in that regard. But Jaime has changed and with his affections for the Queen, he would never do such a thing,"
The King stared at him and spoke only a moment later, "that's for the trial to determine, Lord Hand," he turned and resumed walking. Tyrion sighed but then the King stopped and with his back to him, he said, "I will not let my personal rage and enmities of the past cloud my judgement in the trial. Or at least I will try. In this trial, we will investigate and come to the truth of the matter. Whether Jaime Lannister is guilty or innocent, we will find out. But I do hope, you will not allow your relationship with your brother to affect your judgment, if and when the evidence should show you that he is indeed guilty," with that, the King proceeded to the throne room.
Tyrion closed his eyes in defeat. That was all he could hope from the King at this moment. As he entered the court room, the King was already sat upon the throne, his grey eyes staring ahead coldly at nothing in particular and it was as if all the heat had left the throne room. Tyrion felt a shiver run up his spine as he took his seat a step beneath the throne.
The morning was spent addressing anyone who would seek an audience with the King. The King did his duty, listening, counselling and righting wrongs. Many common people who came before the throne this day asked after the Queen and the King had replied politely, accepting any gifts that were presented. But even through the love and concern showered on the Crown this day, the King's voice was deadened, his eyes remained cold and his body stiff in the throne. His hand clutched the handle of the throne, a hilt of a sword, so firmly that at times Tyrion could see his hand trembling.
Then, it was time to address the last matter that Tyrion had been dreading; the trial. Lords and Ladies of the old houses were beginning to fill the throne room, keen to witness the trial of whom who dared harm the Queen. Amongst them, an alarming number of common people were present in the back as well. The King's squire then proceeded to bring a chair to the other side of the throne and Willas Tyrell approached the throne.
The Lord of Highgarden had a kind face, as was his reputation. His brown hair, unlike his brother Loras, was cut short and his eyes were an ordinary brown. It was evident that the looks of the family went to his brother, the knight of the flowers, as it did to Jaime.
He bowed to the King wordlessly and when the King nodded, he slowly walked to his seat, leaning heavily on his walking cane to support his crippled leg. When Willas Tyrell was seated, the King ordered, "bring the accused, Arianne Martell," the Unsullied obeyed.
Soon, they could hear the telling clanking of chains and then Arianne Martell appeared at the door of the throne room. She was dressed in prisoner's rags, her wrists and ankles chained. Behind and beside her, three Unsullied escorted her. Murmurs rose from the crowd as she entered and walked past them.
"Cunt!" someone shouted from the back and she turned, glaring.
When she reached a chair in the centre, she sat without prompt, staring at the King.
"Arianne of the House Martell," the King said, "you stand accused of attempted murder of the Queen. How do you plea?"
"I am innocent," Arianne Martell replied simply, an air of disregard about her tone.
"Lies!"
"Lying whore!"
"Execute her!"
Cries rose from the common people.
"Silence," the King raised a hand and the people quietened down, "did any of your men act on your behalf?"
Arianne Martell shrugged, "if they did, not on my orders and not to my knowledge,"
The King stared at her and she looked right back at him, her lips curved into a smile. She is good and she knows it.
The King then turned to Tyrion and they exchanged a nod. The King spoke then, "the crown will call the first witness, Arya of House Stark,"
Arya rose from her seat from the stands and proceeded to stand before the throne. She was wearing a brown leather vest with a navy undercoat, brown pants and black boots. At her hip, she wielded her thin sword and a handsome dagger. She looked like her late father, Lord Eddard Stark.
"Tell us what you saw," the King said, his tone softening just slightly for his sister but Lady Arya needed none of that.
She straightened, her hands behind her back as she started, "I was at the feast, as was everyone else. The Queen was dancing and then she collapsed. Then I saw Jaime Lannister run from the feast. I thought he could be fleeing from the feast after attempting to murder the Queen, so I went after him. When I found him, he was with Arianne Martell,"
When the King said nothing, Tyrion spoke then, "what were they doing?"
Arya turned to him, her face a picture of calm, "Jaime Lannister had his feet on Arianne Martell and she was flat on her back on the floor. They looked like they fought," Arya replied.
"Why do you think so?"
"Their weapons were out and on the floor. She was stabbed in the leg with a dagger. Jaime Lannister had a deep cut on his face and another on his shoulder, probably by the whip she wielded,"
Tyrion nodded, "so by your account, what do you think really happened that night?" she would say it looked like Jaime Lannister was giving chase to Arianne Martell who was already fleeing the scene. And while it would make Jaime less suspicious than he already looked, having fled King's Landing himself, it would further make concrete Tyrion's suspicion of Arianne Martell.
The King then raised a hand before Arya could reply, "Lady Stark is not in the position to answer that. She is called as a witness to tell us what she saw; not what she thinks,"
Tyrion pursed his lips and straightened then, "your Grace, as a witness, her opinion would be much more accurate than any of ours; the judges. I think we should hear her out, my King," Tyrion said, nodding respectfully.
The King regarded him for a moment and then he turned to Willas Tyrell; who nodded. The King then turned to Arya and gestured for her to answer the question.
"I do not know what transpired," Arya said and Tyrion blinked, surprised, "but someone harmed the Queen and they were escaping. A fight broke out and Jaime Lannister turned out the victor of that fight. That is all I know,"
The King nodded stiffly, "and you have something else to add, Lady Stark?"
Arya nodded, "a dagger was retrieved from the cell of Lady Martell," Arya turned to look at Arianne Martell, "it was coated with poison,"
"The dagger," the King said, eyes boring into Arianne Martell, "was it your own, Lady Martell?"
Arianne Martell nodded, nonchalant, "yes it is, what of it?"
"Why was it coated in poison and how are you still alive?" the King asked and Tyrion recognised in the King's tone that it was more for formality sake, he already knew.
"Nowhere is safe for a Martell. We protect ourselves," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "and only an imbecile would not have the antidote to the poison on their own dagger,"
Tyrion leaned forward then, "so…is it safe to say, it would be a common thing for a Martell to protect oneself with a weapon laced with poison; that is to be in possession of poison and the like?"
Lady Martell's eyes settled on him and narrowed.
"Answer the question, Lady Martell," the King said warningly.
"Yes," she said deliberately. Murmurs rose from the crowd again.
"We have one last question, Lady Stark," the King gestured to the side and Maester Sam shuffled forward, a black pillow held in both his arms. On the pillow, there was a necklace with a small vial as the pendant; now empty, "have you seen this necklace before?" Arya glanced at it and nodded, "where have you seen it?"
"Jaime Lannister gave it to me after I apprehended him," Arya replied, "he told me he got it off of Arianne Martell and that it could contain the antidote for the Queen," murmurs rose from the crowd.
"She did it!"
"Kill her!"
The King raised a hand, "did he say how he came to know it was the antidote for the Queen?" Arya shook her head. The King deliberated her answer before he glanced to both Tyrion and Willas Tyrell. Both of them nodded to the King and the King said, "thank you, Lady Stark," Arya bowed and returned to her place in the stands.
"Lady Martell," the King paused, staring at her, "is that your necklace?"
The Lady of Sunspear, now sat lazily in her chair, her elbow propped on the side of the chair, stared at him.
"Need I remind you that if you lie in this trial, before the Crown and the Gods, you will be sentenced to die," the King stated, "so, answer the question,"
Something flashed across Arianne Martell's eyes; a mix of anger and fear and she said, "yes,"
"Maester Samwell," the King turned to the Maester, "you studied the contents of the vial on my orders. What were the contents of this vial?"
"Well, I have tested the vial with the sample of the poison from the Queen and it is the antidote, your Grace," Sam replied, "the poison laced on the dagger is also one and the same with that in the Queen's blood,"
"Martell whore! You tried to kill our Queen!"
"Cunt!"
The peasants in the back shouted and began pushing forward, towards Arianne Martell. The Unsullied and the Gold cloaks moved instantly to block the riled up crowd from stepping forward. For a moment, Tyrion feared a riot.
"Silence," the King called loudly, "this is an official trial and the truth would be determined when we have heard all there is to hear," the crowd's shouts died away to a murmur at the King's words; a King they still loved and respected. The King turned back to Arianne Martell, "Lady Martell, why do you have the antidote to the same poison, and the poison, which was given to the Queen?"
Arianne Martell stared at him, her face stoic and revealing nothing. The throne room fell silent then as every pair of eyes looked to her.
"The Queen has taken the antidote and is recovering so don't try to deny it," the King hissed, his voice almost guttural, barely able to concealing the anger he felt.
At hearing of the Queen's recovery, amongst the crowd, a breath of relief was heard and there were murmurs and smiles all around. It was then Tyrion realised, in her short time as Queen, Daenerys had won them over; with her act of saving them from the Dothraki, all from before was forgotten and with the kindness in the little things she did in the tourney, they absolutely loved her.
"Yes,"
Her whisper cut through the murmurs in the hall and everyone fell silent.
She sat straighter then, "but I only provided the poison,"
"What poison is it that you speak of?" Willas Tyrell asked evenly.
"Something like the Long Farewell, if you have heard," Arianne Martell said, "but I did some of my own modifications," she smiled, evidently proud.
"What kind of modifications?" Tyrion frowned, asking cautiously; not sure he wanted to know the answer.
"The kind that would bring unimaginable pain to the victim, the kind that delays death just for that pain to sink in..."
Beside him, Tyrion was acutely aware of the King's hand clutching the throne, his knuckles white and his hand shaking. For a moment, Tyrion thought the King might cut himself, as Aerys Targaryen did, multiple times on this very throne, "are you confessing?" the King's voice was low, dangerous, "that you attempted to assassinate the Queen?"
A smirk twisted her full lips then and Tyrion felt his gut turn, "I give what was asked. I did not do it. I couldn't," she said, "she was too well guarded,"
The King then said, "Lady Arya has witnessed that you, Arianne Martell met with the Queen in private the night before the feast and you could have poisoned her then, is that fact incorrect?"
Arianne Martell glared at the King, "I could have but smart as the Queen is, how could I have poisoned her? She even rejected all the refreshments I provided, clean as they are," she said, "but someone could… someone she trusted. Someone who was also present in said private meeting, present at the feast with the Queen, and not here now," her eyes looked meaningfully at the King. The King was seething with rage at this point, his body tensed and his jaw clenched, "released I heard,"
Willas Tyrell followed her gaze to the King and Tyrion before Lord Tyrell asked, "who are you accusing?"
Arianne Martell raised her brows as she hissed the name slowly, "Jaime Lannister,"
Lies! Jaime would never do that. The King couldn't possibly believe her- Tyrion glanced to the King to see his eyes set forward, his face stern and his eyes darker than usual. He does. What could she possibly gain from this, from framing Jaime and admitting herself as an accomplice?
"Arianne Martell, you have hereby confessed to have been a part of the attempt on the Queen's life," the King stood, "and have murdered the unborn princess," the crowd, noble and common people alike, gasped in horror. Arianne Martell's eyes snapped up, evidently surprised then fearful, "by your claim, you have not committed murder by your own hand but you are an accomplice who failed to step forward upon knowledge of such crime; murder," the King's eyes wavered just a little as he said. Arianne Martell's eyes were wide in disbelief, "I, Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die,"
The King then nodded to his squire and the boy ran to fetch his sword. Tyrion rose from his chair and approached the King then, "your Grace, we should discuss the punishment and reconsider-"
"Lord Tyrion, Lady Martell has confessed to her crime and the sentence have been given," the King glared at him and made to step down from the Iron Throne.
In his haste, Tyrion turned his back to the crowd and discreetly placed a hand on the King's arm. He lowered his voice then, sure no one else would hear amidst the noise from the crowd, "my King, this would start a war with the Dornish but there is another way, a way we can get Dorne to bend the knee without a war-" the King's eyes flashed dangerously as he glanced sharply to where Tyrion held him. Slowly, Tyrion released him, swallowing a lump in his throat. The King glared at him then, the fire in his eyes not unlike the one Tyrion saw in Daenerys' and Jaehaerys'.
The blood of the dragon indeed. Tyrion stepped to the side.
Without a word, the King stepped down from the throne. Tyrion closed his eyes before he turned to face the throne room. Faces in the crowd were of varying horror and some eager, for justice to be served. The Stark men step forward and removed Arianne Martell from the chair and forcing her to her knees before a block. All the while, she tried to shove them off, struggling.
Then the King stopped beside her and she looked up at him, "you'll regret this, Jon Snow," she hissed and gasps rose as she dared address the King by his bastard name but the King barely blinked. He wore the name like armour and he wore it better than Tyrion could ever hope to have worn his own. Jon Snow truly turned out to be something else. Arianne Martell then spat at his feet, "you'll bring death to your family once I am dead. The Martells will not be the only one to rise against you then,"
The King stared at her, unaffected by her empty threats, her last futile attempts to save herself, "why did you do it?" he asked suddenly and they knew he was not speaking of the threat she was making.
She paused. Then a smirk spread over her face, "for you," she said in a sultry voice. The King glowered but she was not fazed, "you wanted me but you had to refuse me because it was not honourable; you said you already have a Queen. So I thought, I could change that state of affair,"
The King scowled before he turned from her then and his hand closed over the hilt of his sword, the squire holding the scabbard. With a fluid, almost graceful motion, the King drew the sword; the melodious sound rang through the silent throne room. Arianne Martell flinched as the Valyrian steel blade emerged, catching the light beautifully. Tyrion had never seen her flinch but in the face of death, even the bravest, the mad, would cower. And nothing cut like Valyrian steel.
"Any last words?" the King said; always honourable and just, even to an enemy he was about to kill.
Arianne Martell turned her head then, her body pressed firmly over the block by the Stark men, "your daughter's blood is on your hands. Your Queen's blood is on your hands. My King," she smirked. Then she turned and looked forward and down, closing her eyes.
The King seethed, rage making his broad frame tremble.
Then with a swift and sure swing of Longclaw, the King beheaded the Lady of Sunspear.
As her head dropped to the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the silent throne room, Tyrion closed his eyes.
There's our peace. All 4 years of it.
Daenerys
"My Queen, would you like to have your supper soon?" Missandei asked.
She was hardly aware of her presence, much less hear her. Her body felt unbearably cold, her head pounded the whole while, her abdomen, where her child once was, felt like a dark endless pit, ready to swallow her whole. But most of all, she felt the sting of her palm. She felt it in her chest.
She had hit him.
In her uncontrollable anger and disbelief that he would say such a thing, Daenerys had struck him and she felt it on her own skin and in her heart as if she was the one who had been struck. It took the breath from her body. He had reached for her regardless but she could not bear the feel of him; not when he had admitted to having thought something she had actually done before and absolutely loathed herself for it, even now.
Rhaego. My child… hash Mai nesat, Mai avvos hash me. Avvos! (if Mother knew, Mother would never have done it. Never!). She closed her eyes against the pain and willed herself to disappear into the dark pit as it ate her from within.
A Mother would, should, die for her children. And yet, mine have all died for me; Rhaego, Viserion and now…
She had drove him away, out of the room before she could do something else she knew she would regret. She had curled back into bed when he left, crying herself to sleep.
And when she woke again, her left palm was dressed in bandages and underneath, she could smell the familiar herbs that her Dothraki handmaidens had put over the abrasions she had had from holding the reins a lifetime ago. Through a small gap in the curtains, she could see that the sun was already high in the sky. She had burrowed herself deeper under the furs then.
She was Queen but she was tired.
She would be weak, just this once, when no one would see or know.
She spent her day lying in bed, her right hand unwittingly stroking her painfully flat abdomen, her womb; which was now, because of her arrogance and for the sake of her, empty.
When Daenerys drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of a beautiful young girl, about Jaehaerys' age. Daenerys would always be behind the girl, running after her. She marvelled at the girl's long and thick raven locks. Her locks was braided in a familiar way and it took Daenerys a moment to realise that the girl's hair looked exactly like hers, except it was dark; like her father's. The girl would laugh and turned around to look at her often, as if making sure Daenerys was there, giggling. It was then Daenerys could see her cherubic face. Her large round eyes were an alarming shade of lilac, her little nose scrunching up as she squealed with joy. But every time, when Daenerys was about to catch her and hold her in her arms, she would disappear and Daenerys' arms would close around air.
She would wake then.
As she woke from the second of such dream, this was where Missandei found her. The sky outside was already dark, "your Grace?" Missandei approached softly and knelt beside her bed, before her, "you have to eat…"
Daenerys' gaze went through her, unseeing. Her body felt empty, void of her heart and even her soul.
She heard Missandei let out a soft sigh as she rose. Daenerys' hand, over her abdomen, fisted the material of her nightdress.
Her baby. Her sweet princess. She had been inside her, moving as if to tell her mother through the little flutters that she was there. And Daenerys had failed her; she could not protect her. Her brave little princess had protected her instead.
Daenerys never believed in Gods but now, she muttered a silent prayer; that should her baby girl be with any of the Gods above, they would return her to this world and Daenerys would not hesitate to exchange her own life for that of her baby girl's.
Then she heard the opening of the door of the solar and someone entering.
"Your Grace," she heard Missandei greet.
Her heart started to pound in her chest and suddenly she was no longer empty. She anticipated the voice and she heard it, "how has the Queen been?" it was familiar and her palm tingled. Behind her eyelids, she could still see the hurt look in his eyes and she could still feel how her heart had felt when she had hit him in a fit of rage.
"The Queen has not eaten anything all day, your Grace,"
A pause. Then a deep sigh.
"Thank you Missandei," he said. She heard someone leave then and a knock was heard on the door of the sleeping chambers.
Go away. She thought but at the thought of him leaving her, really leaving her, a strange lump formed in her throat, threatening to have her throw up. Her stomach churned and she buried her face deeper into the pillow, sinking under the furs.
She heard the door open then and footsteps approached.
"Daenerys?" his voice was shaky.
She closed her eyes. Shame, guilt, settled deep inside her, engulfing her.
I'm sorry.
"Dany?" she could hear him approach. Then the bed dipped slowly as he sat beside her, "I know you are awake," he said but she did not open her eyes. She knew she could not face him now, not when she was not herself; not when she was so easy to anger; not when she could not be the Daenerys he knew and loved. Not when their baby was gone, all for her, all because of her, "my silly Dany," he whispered.
She tensed at the softness in his voice, her heart wrenching as he echoed her words for him back to her. She had woken to his voice. He had been in pain and she had wanted to comfort him then. As he knew she was in pain now and he was comforting her.
Then she felt the back of his fingers gently touch her cheek, caressing her, "I know you're hurting," she felt her tears seep into the pillows, "and I wish I could take all your pain upon myself," he choked, letting out a shaky breath, "but you hide yourself away, so well, and I can do nothing but watch you suffer and it kills me," his hand left her face then, "talk to me, Dany. Tell me how much it hurts, show me; hit me if you have to. Just don't hide yourself away, please,"
She schooled her face into a calm serene mask. Her face remained mostly nestled in the pillow, her eyes closed, tears falling from them into the pillow. An ache settled deep in her chest at his words and her eyes burned with the longing to see his face but she could not bring herself to look at him.
She had failed him. She had lost their child.
Her sweet Jon had said he would rather she lived than their child if he must choose, if he could, but she knew he hurt as well. Jon loved their child; she could see in his eyes and hear it in his voice as he whispered sweet nothings to the swell of her abdomen when he thought she was asleep. Losing this child brought Jon to tears. She had never seen him cry like that. Never.
He loved their child and she had hit him in a fit of anger and told him he was an unfit father.
I'm sorry…it is I…the terrible mother and wife.
"Daenerys," she felt him gently press his forehead to her temple, his nose nuzzling her cheek, "I love you so please don't tell me to leave. I couldn't even if I wanted to," he whispered before he pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, "and I would never want to," she could feel the roughness of his beard against her face; a feeling she was extremely fond of. It provided a hint of warmth in her freezing body. But suddenly he was gone and she was cold again.
But it was not a moment pass before she felt the bed dip behind her and the furs lifted just slightly. Then she felt him, warm, behind her. He was not a large man but she herself was petite. When his body curled around hers, she fitted snugly against him, her back flushed against his chest. They matched.
Then she felt his scarred right hand on her bare shoulder under the furs. She felt a strange sort of calm as an assurance filled her at the feel of the familiar roughness of his hand on her skin; the roughness that had explored every inch of her skin before, setting her nerves alight with affection and desire in its wake. Now, it trailed a gentle path down her arm. She felt his body tense against hers as his larger hand came upon her fisted one, over her abdomen. Hesitantly, his hand caressed the back of hers.
He brushed away her hair and nestled his face against the back of her neck, pressing a feather light kiss to her skin, "I'm here, Daenerys," he closed his hand around her fist gently and pressed himself closer to her. He was so close she could feel his even breath on her skin, his warmth and she even thought she could feel his strong heart beating in his chest. Her body, tensed and racked with tension and pain since the night before when she had heard of what had happened to her child, slowly began to relax against his. He was warm and strong. Then, she felt safe, "I have always been here and I will always be here, with you,"
Good. Stay…stay with me, Jon.
Her King slept beside her that night, and Daenerys realised, for the first time, she was no longer alone; like she had been with Drogo or Daario sleeping beside her.
She had not realised before but she has not felt alone for a while now, not since Jon Snow.
A/N: Thank you to all the review from last chapter! I really appreciate them and have read them all
Just a note on what Jon said last chapter: he wasn't in his right mind and yes, while a husband would never say something like that to his wife after they have lost a child, Dany had said she would rather be dead. So Jon just honestly told her what he thought of that (which is he rather the child be dead than her).
Sorry for the all the pain you guys! Hope this chapter soothed it; a least a little!
