Author's Notes: Happy belated Thanksgiving to my American readers! Thank you all so much for your comments, your Kudos, faves, and bookmarks! I greatly appreciate it. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

I would like to thank catzrko0l, yet again, for being an awesome beta. Your skills and perspective are invaluable, so thank you for contributing!

Chapter 62

Aemon XXI

Aemon lay in his bed and watched the gradual lightening of the sky through the upper window. He had not anticipated the chill in the air when the sun had fallen and felt comfortable at once. Unlike King's Landing, where the nights remained hot and muggy, Dorne cooled off until he felt like he could be back at Winterfell in the middle of summer. Aemon could hear Ghost restlessly pacing the room and when he sat up to look at his direwolf, Ghost let out a low howl.

"It's not safe to let you out, Ghost," he replied sleepily. "I'll have to clear it with Prince Doran to let you roam freely at night."

Sleep had not come easily. He knew Dorne would be difficult and they were unlikely to make it easy on him, but he had not expected to govern a trial. It had been an uncharacteristic move to simply arrest and deliver Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch to Dorne like a pair of dressed deer. They had not been men deserving of any mercy or even the benefit of the law, much like Ramsay Snow, which he had eased his conscious with. He would now have to deliver the law to them as befitted a king, much like he planned to do to Baelish.

No one could deny the crimes of the Mountain, Lorch, or Ramsay and that they were not deserving of their executions. Lord Baelish's crimes were of a different sort. While he was connected to deaths, they were not conducted with the same brutality that had been carried out on his half-brother and half-sister. Baelish had to be handled with the same delicacy that he himself used. Aemon hoped that he would be able to corner Baelish once Dorne was squared away. He was the single gravest threat to the whole of Westeros as long as he remained alive. Aemon had to bring him to heel before he discovered the reasons behind the quarantine at the Eyrie or he feared that both he and Jaime would be dead in the ensuing power struggle.

After all, Lord Jon Arryn was murdered by poison. Poison. It was simply not possible to foresee a threat like that. Would he be considered as paranoid as King Aerys if he ordered a servant to taste his food before meal time? But it was cruel to potentially sacrifice another person's life to safeguard his own, even if he was well-intentioned. He had lived in and amongst the smallfolk for most of his previous life, nearly of their level with his bastard status. Just thinking of having a servant taste his food immediately put Grenn's face on the hapless servant.

If it came down to it, would he be willing to sacrifice that integrity he was struggling to build to be rid of Baelish? The answer had to be yes, but they were not so desperate yet that they had to resort to such extreme measures. It's not like he could look any worse in the eyes of his uncle anyway.

Only stopping the Long Night matters. To the seven hells with my uncle if he is unable to come to terms with doing what needs to be done, Aemon thought bitterly. He was the one who made the peace offering the day before to ease the tension between them, but he grew tiresome of his uncle's reticence. It made clear that seeing was believing. As soon as everyone saw the wight the Night's Watch was bringing down from the Wall, it would come into sharp relief for everyone. It wouldn't be enough to make everyone rally behind him—if his past life was anything to go by—but the existence of a myth was not something anyone could ignore.

Jaime had suggested that Lord Tywin seeing the wight would only convince him of Aemon's inability to lead the kingdom when the war behind the Wall came to them. They would have to be ready for him when that time came.

Aemon judged the sun was now high enough in the sky that he could reasonably be up and he summoned another bath. He prepared for a hot day in the sun, though he was certain the trial would take place indoors. He chose a red doublet with the black three-headed dragon on his chest and wore brown leather trousers. The color black was simply too hot and oppressive.

He nodded each at Ser Torrhen Karstark and the Hound; they fell into step behind him. The servants bowed and pointed him to the direction of the table.

Only Prince Doran was at the table, reading his correspondence. He gave Aemon a smile as he stepped up.

"Good morning, Your Grace. I trust you slept well."

"Thank you, Prince Doran. I find the underground rooms most comfortable," he replied, sincerely hoping the bath had washed the exhaustion from his face. "I hope I am not troubling you."

"Of course not, Your Grace. The rest of my kin are not particularly fond of the early morning."

"I see," Aemon replied as he took his seat from the night before.

Instantly, a servant swooped in and deposited a letter in front of him. "Your correspondence, Your Grace," the servant said, bowing, and then stepping back. Another servant stepped up and offered water or goat's milk.

"Water, please," Aemon replied, though his voice sounded distant. He frowned as he examined the letter. Had it arrived just that morning? Something in him told him that the Martells had decided not to grace him with the letter until they saw fit. It was yet another reminder that, for all of their hospitality, they still harbored an ill will.

He looked at the Lannister seal closely, but it was as secure as it had been when Jaime had likely stamped it. He broke it and unfurled the parchment. As was customary with Jaime, the message was short:

All is well. Old lions may appear at court, but liars will not anymore.

Aemon frowned. While it was predictable that Tywin would only see fit to crawl out of the woodwork once he was attending business elsewhere, it suggested something nefarious. Calculated. Jaime wouldn't have made a point of mentioning it if he hadn't thought so. Not for the last time did it strike Aemon how helpless he was secluded down in Dorne, sitting in its viper's nest.

What's this about liars? What did he do? Aemon thought with no small amount of exasperation. He had a feeling it had to do with Jaime's new ability. Had he sussed out dishonest wretches? Baelish? He had a feeling he would've referenced Littlefinger if that were the case.

"News from King's Landing?" His uncle asked, taking a seat next to him.

Aemon set the letter down and allowed it to roll back up. "Yes, all is well," he replied, smiling at his uncle. He didn't share his correspondence with his uncle at home and saw no need to include him now. It was hardly desirable to have this conversation out in the open. He cast his eyes briefly over to Prince Doran, but he seemed busy buttering his bread.

As he had been examining the letter, dishes had been placed and he happily began helping himself to poached eggs and sausage. The table slowly filled up around him and his uncle. Princess Arianne gave Aemon a bright smile as she took the seat across from him. Her brother, Quentyn, nodded at him and muttered his honorific. Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria Sand were the last to arrive just as Aemon was eating the last bite off of his plate.

"Prince Doran, how will the trial work today?" Aemon asked.

"It will be held the hour before the midday meal. The prisoners will be brought forward. They will give their version of the events and then they will be questioned."

"Are witnesses allowed?" Aemon blatantly turned to his uncle.

"Ah, yes, Lord Stark, you were present, weren't you? How fortuitous that you chose to bring him," Prince Oberyn said. "A pity you didn't also bring the Kingslayer."

"Lord Jaime Lannister," Aemon insisted, giving Prince Oberyn a cross eye. "He has been pardoned, so I would not stand for a trial of him."

"I never suggested he should stand trial," the Prince continued. Though he was smiling, Aemon could see a vicious light in his eye.

He didn't reply, but he did tip his head in an arrogant way back at Prince Oberyn. Just because you need your feathers smoothed, does not mean I will allow you to walk all over me, Aemon thought. He once more turned to his uncle, whose brow was furrowed by a storm cloud on his face.

"Will you be a witness, Lord Stark?" Prince Doran asked. Aemon saw the way his eyes shifted to his brother and back.

"I will be happy to attest to the events of that day," his uncle replied in a gravelly voice.

"Forgive me, Lord Stark, but you don't look happy."

"T'was a dark day, Prince Oberyn. There was little to be happy about it."

"But you had won!"

Prince Oberyn could have been a player in a troupe, Aemon thought. No doubt the Prince was needling his uncle almost as much as he had been needled by the insult to his mother.

"A victory bought by the blood of the innocent is no victory worth celebrating," his uncle replied.

Oberyn opened his mouth to continue when Prince Doran interjected, "That is enough, Oberyn! Must every conversation require your arsenal of knives? There will be plenty of darkness this day. Let us rejoice in what little light we have. King Aemon, Lord Stark, you arrived late in the day. Perhaps you would enjoy a tour of our palace in the light of day? Arianne, would you be willing to escort the king?"

"Of course, father," Princess Arianne replied demurely and cast her eyes at Aemon from underneath her eyelashes.

Aemon sighed inwardly. At least his uncle would be there to ensure nothing untoward would happen. He would be sure to have his guard up the whole time. Perhaps he'd be allowed to bring Ghost along so that his wolf could at least stretch his legs. It jolted a memory and he asked, "Prince Doran, my direwolf Ghost enjoys the cold nights, but I kept him in my room for safety. Would it be possible for him to run freely at night without fear of harm?"

"You are talking about the massive white wolf you were walking with, yes, Your Grace? I don't see why not. I'll be sure to make it clear he is not to be harmed."

"Thank you, Prince Doran."

Princess Arianne grabbed his arm and seemed intent on not letting him go. While she didn't attempt to hang on his arm like some of the ladies in the Red Keep, she still held it with a vice grip. His uncle and the guard, Areo Hotah, accompanied them, much to his relief.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of Princess Arianne. She was elegant, but excitable. He sensed a restlessness in her that reminded him of Arya and he wondered if she was anymore pleased to marry than her. Unlike Arya, she appeared willing to do her duty. Was it a desire for the position of queen or something more?

A shame to break her heart, Aemon thought. He realized that he was becoming desensitized to the idea of shattering a lady's dream of being his queen. He had announced his intent to betroth Princess Daenerys after all; it was their own fault if they persisted. At least Lady Margaery had wised up quickly. She appeared genuinely happy at her wedding and he hoped that was the case for both her and Robb now.

It was a relief when they were finally called back to prepare for the trial. Aemon stayed in the same clothes, but added his crown and a black cape with silver trimmings. An escort made up of Northern and Dornish soldiers escorted him and his uncle to the forum. Three layers of carved stone seats lined the walls for an audience. The area for the trial stretched lengthwise and the roof was held up by a line of columns around the perimeter. The floor was a white marble polished to a mirror shine bordered with sandstone bricks. A singular chair that appeared to be made out of the same marble sat on a dais on one end. Though not nearly as formidable as the Iron Throne, it served the same purpose of isolating him in an even more hostile environment.

In the middle of the room was another wooden platform that was placed to face the throne. He suspected it was where those on trial were to stand to face judgment.

"Your Grace, welcome to the forum," Prince Doran said, opening his arms wide as his guard, Areo Hotah, pushed his chair. "It is not yet time for you to present yourself. Our ceremony demands you enter once all are present. Lord Stark, as you are a witness, you shall wait out here."

"Very well," Aemon replied and he allowed himself to be taken to a side room. He was glad to have had a moment to see the forum before entering. He sat on the couch in the side room since it wouldn't do to be seen pacing and he was left alone with his thoughts.

Just speak your beliefs, he commanded himself. He knew what was expected of him in Dorne, but what he didn't understand was why Ser Amory Lorch and Ser Gregor Clegane—I need to strike the knighthood from their names, he thought bitterly—would want a trial overseen by him when he was the one who ordered them to be escorted to Dorne in the first place. Was it simply to prolong the inevitable? Did Prince Doran or Prince Oberyn insist that they demand a trial? It was one question he couldn't ask without sowing more distrust between himself and Dorne.

Would Jaime understand? Jaime did not give himself enough credit for his political knowledge, but the reasoning for this would likely escape him as well. Would Tyrion? He certainly had a better head for understanding a person's motivation that had nothing to do with war and fighting.

There was a knock on the door and Aemon stood.

"All hail, his Grace, King Aemon Targaryen, First of his name, rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men," the Master of Ceremonies hailed. The room was now lined with people standing in his honor, the stands filled with three layers. The entire Martell family was on the right side of the room. His uncle was standing with them. He didn't recognize anyone else in the varied colorful outfits of Dorne.

Ser Torrhen and the Hound took up positions on both sides of the stand-in throne.

Aemon's eyes fell on the murderers. When he had last encountered Ser Gregor Clegane, he had been a monstrosity sheathed in metal from head to toe and there had not been an inch of skin uncovered to the light of day. Now he wore a simple white shirt and brown trousers. The shirt billowed around him like a tent and he thought he noticed a slackness to the skin on his arms. As a prisoner, he was confined to a cell all day and all night, but he still saw heavy chains adorning his wrists and ankles. The searing glare the Mountain gave him suggested he was still as dangerous as ever.

Ser Amory Lorch had gone entirely to seed. He was dressed in the same manner, but his face was pouchy and his muscles appeared to have entirely shriveled away. Even from his distance, Aemon could see the shine of sweat on his face. Lorch's face was full of trepidation.

Aemon allowed the silence to persist as he slowly overlooked the crowd. "You may be seated," he declared in a calm voice. He focused his attention on Lorch and Clegane. The former drew himself up and attempted to look confident but the Mountain's demeanor did not change. "We are here today to try Ser Amory Lorch and Ser Gregor Clegane for the deaths of Princess Elia Martell, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, and King Aegon Targaryen VI. Do you understand the charges?" A ripple went through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Prince Oberyn lean forward and his uncle blinked at him.

A brief shadow passed over Lorch's face and a muscle started twitching in his cheek. "Yes, Your Grace, we understand. As spurious as they are—"

"I get to decide if the charges are legitimate or not," Aemon cut him off. "You are on trial, which means that you are as of yet determined not guilty."

Lorch snorted. An unnerving silence fell at that. He licked his lips and said, "Apologies, Your Grace."

"You will both conduct yourselves in a respectful manner or your trial will be conducted without your accounts. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Lorch replied through gritted teeth.

"Good. Now you will tell your side of the story and Ser Gregor Clegane will tell his."

"If I may, Your Grace?" Lorch asked. When Aemon nodded, he continued, "Me and Ser Gregor Clegane have decided that I will speak for us both."

"Is that so? Does he recognize your authority in this matter?" Aemon's eyes flicked up to the Mountain. As immovable and impenetrable as he had been that whole time, he gave a sharp nod.

"Very well. Start your account from the moment you entered the city of King's Landing. Don't leave anything out."

Lorch wetted his lips, cleared his throat and said, "First, I would like to thank you, Your Grace, for granting us this trial. You have shown wisdom beyond your years and I'm sure this trial will bear out our innocence. I have long been a faithful servant to Lord Lannister and the crown. I fought valiantly during the Ironborn uprising, killing fifteen as we invaded Pike. Ser Gregor Clegane killed twenty men on behalf of the crown."

It took everything Aemon had not to chuckle derisively. Fifteen men? Him? He was certain Lorch was deliberately exaggerating his numbers. Perhaps Clegane could've had such a kill count, but only men of legend managed those numbers and Lorch hadn't found his way into such songs. "That was not under my reign, so I have little interest in your exploits for a king that is no longer in power. Not to mention that it has little bearing on this incident. Please continue," Aemon said.

The man looked dazed as if he had been punched, but then he nodded shakily. "Yes, Your Grace, promptly...the city was in chaos when we entered. Citizens were running and screaming; the Lannister Army was attempting to control the situation—"

Aemon noticed his uncle shift in his seat and he opened his mouth to speak, only to make eye contact and stop at the glare he received. His uncle settled back down.

"Lord Tywin ordered us to the Red Keep to secure it for the good King Robert." Despite his steady voice, Lorch was sweating even more and his eyes seemed to twitch to the side. It was enough to raise Aemon's ire and it took every fiber of his being not to clutch the arm of his chair in a vice grip.

"Go on," Aemon intoned coolly.

"Yes, Your Grace. Me, Ser Gregor, and a few other men went to the Red Keep to secure the king and his family. Princess Elia Martell and her children were in the royal family's rooms. When we arrived, Prince Aegon already had his head smashed open. Princess Elia was holding a bloody knife and Princess Rhaenys was sprawled across Prince Rhaegar's bed with bloody holes in her chest. When we tried to take the Princess, she flung herself from the balcony and smashed her head on the terrace below."

"LIAR!" Prince Oberyn leaped to his feet.

"Prince Oberyn, you will remain seated and quiet unless otherwise told," Aemon snapped.

The Prince snapped his head to him and he silently seethed, but Aemon did not return his attention to Lorch until Prince Oberyn had eventually sat down. Once seated, he looked like a coiled snake waiting for another opportunity to strike.

"We wrapped up the babe and the girl in sheets and presented them to Lord Tywin. He presented them to King Robert Baratheon." With that, Lorch fell silent.

Aemon let it sink in for a moment and asked, "Is that all?" He struggled once more to keep a neutral countenance. Since there were no direct witnesses to their brutal deeds, they seemed to think it was possible to lie their way out of their guilt. He would prove otherwise.

Lorch cocked his head and then finally nodded, "Yes, Your Grace."

"Were either of you you present when Lord Tywin Lannister presented the bodies of King Aegon Targaryen VI and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen?"

"No, Your Grace, we weren't."

"Very well, step over there," Aemon nodded to his left where a barred half wall had been constructed to contain the prisoners when they were not on the stand. The guards stepped up and guided the two for the ten-foot walk. Ser Gregor Clegane eyed them with malicious intent, but he contained himself.

Aemon next turned to the audience, he could see Prince Oberyn shifting in his seat like a shadowcat ready to spring. His jaw was clenched and sparks were flying from his eyes. Prince Doran reached over and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder then whispered into his ear. Whatever it was caused Prince Oberyn to relax, but he still glared.

Aemon moved his eyes over to his uncle; "Lord Stark, please take your place." His uncle stepped up. "State your name for the record."

"I am Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

"Now, from your point of view, describe what happened when you reached the Red Keep," Aemon commanded.

"Yes, Your Grace," Ned replied. "When my forces reached the Red Keep, the city had already been sacked. There were multiple fires, people dead in the street—"

"Stay on task, Lord Stark. The Red Keep."

"Of course, Your Grace. Lord Tywin's forces were already in the Red Keep when we arrived. I headed straight for the throne room. I saw Ser Jaime sitting on the Iron Throne, King Aerys Targaryen II was dead at his feet. I confronted him—"

"Lord Stark, the concern is in regards to King Aegon, Princess Elia, and Princess Rhaenys. Did the conversation pertain to them?"

His uncle frowned. "Yes, it did, but not the full conversation."

"What was said about them?"

"I asked him where they were."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that they were safe in their quarters."

"And then?"

"He left."

"Do you know where?"

"He went to go check on Princess Elia and the children."

"How do you know this?"

"Because he returned in the company of Lord Tywin with their bodies."

"Where was Robert Baratheon?"

"He had not yet arrived. It would still be two days before he appeared."

"Did you speak to Lord Tywin?"

"I asked him what was the meaning of their deaths. He said that it was important to secure Robert's reign before it started."

"Did you see the bodies then?"

His uncle's voice was nearly a whisper; "Yes."

"Can you describe them?"

"Pri-King Aegon's skull was wide open. Hi-his face was smashed, unrecognizable. He was a babe. Princess Rhaenys was wearing what I think was a yellow dress. It was difficult to tell because it was soaked in blood with half a hundred holes in it. There were so many holes that it could scarcely be called a dress."

"You speak in half-truths, Lord Stark," Lorch called out from his half-wall.

"The prisoners will be silent during the witness testimony," Aemon snapped. A guard menaced Lorch with the tip of his spear and that caused him to duck his head.

"Go on, Lord Stark."

"Princess Elia's body was not there."

"Did you see Ser Amory Lorch and Ser Gregor Clegane there?"

"No, Your Grace."

"Do you know where they were?"

"No, Your Grace."

"Who accused them of killing King Aegon, Princess Elia, and Princess Rhaenys?"

There was a moment as his uncle seemed to think back to that day and then he saw his eyes brighten as a truth seemed to dawn on them. "Ser Jaime did."

He noticed Lorch stiffen out of the corner of his eye and it took some effort for Aemon to hide his smile. Lorch's previous words and now this reaction brought the reasoning for it to the fore of his mind: He cannot badmouth his own lord paramountor his son!without fear of retribution. Tywin was too well known for taking such slights poorly that even Lorch was wise enough to know not to cross him.

Aemon had to contain himself from asking about Jaime's reaction. While he had heard Jaime's reasoning for killing the Mad King, he hadn't said anything about his thoughts on the deaths of Princess Elia and her children. There was simply a darkness that shadowed Jaime's face whenever they had been mentioned, but the topic was otherwise skirted.

"I think that's enough for now. Court shall reconvene after the midday meal. Guards, take the prisoners back to their cells."

Aemon did not stand until the prisoners were clear of the room. Then he stood and the crowd rose with him. The nobility convened to a private dining room. Prince Oberyn strode over to him and attempted to peer down at him. Aemon stood up straight, but he felt his uncle tug on his elbow.

"Your Grace, I must say I am disappointed in your performance," Prince Oberyn hissed.

"That's a shame," Aemon replied. "I ordered them down here after all. You should keep faith, Prince Oberyn. But if you keep interrupting court, I will have you ejected. Is that understood?"

"Oberyn, Oberyn, please, control yourself! You are speaking to the king," Doran grabbed his brother's arm and tried to pull him back from his chair. "What would our mother say about your disrespectful tone? Come. Over here."

When Aemon finally sat, he turned to his uncle and whispered, "Jaime was the one who accused them?"

"I...it hadn't occurred to me why he would say that. They're his father's men, but I remember the anger on his face now. It was just...he murdered the king. I thought their deaths were all connected, a part of a deliberate plan. Maybe they weren't?" His uncle looked at him hopefully.

"Jaime did not receive orders from his father, Uncle. Think about it: he would've had to have gotten a raven well ahead of time and ravens are easy to intercept. The king would've removed Jaime or had him killed if he suspected his death would be by him," Aemon said. He frowned as he thought about that time long past. He had heard from Jaime and others from his past life about the atrocities committed by the Mad King. Jaime would've been burnt alive by Mad King Aerys if Tywin had attempted to instruct him to kill the king.

It was then that he was struck so suddenly by a notion that he forgot to breathe: Lorch and Clegane hadn't declared trial-by-combat because they were testing to see if he was as mad as his grandsire. Jaime had told him that Aerys had declared the Targaryen house's champion was fire. There was no defeating such a thing. Clearly, they favored their chances with the trial than a champion of flame if it came to that. He shuddered as he thought about his other grandfather burning in his armor. It was enough that he pushed his plate away in distaste.

Prince Oberyn's pain, the desperation for justice in the Martells, as well as both his and his uncle's anger, hung like a pall over him. He felt a sorrow well up inside him at the deaths of the half-brother and half-sister that he could never know. They deserved justice and he would give it to them.

"Your Grace, you conducted yourself well back there," his uncle said softly.

"Hmm? Thank you, Uncle," he said. "I thought all night about how I was going to conduct court. I hope I don't fail."

"You won't."

Aemon attempted to eat and engage with the other nobility. One man with silver hair, a dour face, and a glare to match Prince Oberyn's was Ser Gerold Dayne, of a secondary branch of the famous Dayne line. Although Ser Gerold made light conversation, his questions about governing in the Red Keep were pointed enough to raise Aemon's ire. He kept his answers short and curt. He didn't care if his manner was impolitic. There was enough to concern himself with regarding the trial.

It was almost a relief when they returned to the room where the trial was held. Lorch and Clegane were hauled out once more. Clegane was still glowering, but Lorch appeared to be sourer than when the trial had first started. They likely had an inkling that Aemon was not in a lenient mood.

"Now, Ser Amory, I will ask you questions regarding your story; you will answer them truthfully. Is that clear?"

Lorch held eye contact, but he licked his lips and shuffled his feet. "Yes, Your Grace."

"To start at the beginning. Why did you head towards the apartments where King Aegon VI, Princess Elia Martell, and Princess Rhaenys were said to be? After all, to secure the kingdom you have to secure the king."

"Uh...because Ser Jaime was in the throne room. Lord Tywin knew that Ser Jaime was to kill the Mad King."

"Did he now? How was he able to get that message to Ser Jaime? The way I understood it, Ser Jaime was kept at the Mad King's side at all times as a hostage. Surely, the Mad King would have any letters to Jaime intercepted. I doubt Lord Tywin would risk his favorite son's head for a simple letter."

"I-I don't know, Your Grace," Lorch replied. The sweat was now visibly streaming down his face.

"But instead of going straight to the king, to remove him from his throne, you went to where the rest of the family was staying. Why them first?"

"We wanted to ensure that they could not make a getaway."

"Getaway to where? The city had been sacked."

"I'm not sure, Your Grace," Lorch said through gritted teeth. "We had to secure them."

"Who gave you the order and can you tell it to me word-for-word?"

"Your Grace, it's been sixteen years! I can't remember what the order was."

"And you don't remember who gave it to you?"

Lorch glared angrily at him.

Aemon could feel the anger building up inside himself and he imagined the prisoners could see his own fury. "You are knights who work under the command of Lord Tywin. I may not know Lord Tywin well, but his reputation precedes him. No one under his command does anything without his explicit permission. Are you telling me that you went to secure Princess Elia Martell, King Aegon VI, and Princess Rhaenys and when you failed to do so, Lord Tywin did not punish you?"

"I told you, Princess Elia killed them and herself! It wasn't our fault!"

"I've never heard of Lord Tywin being an understanding man. So either he told you to secure them, you failed and he didn't punish you for it, or Lord Tywin gave you the command himself to kill the two princesses and the new king."

Lorch's breath was now ragged and he simmered in silence. Aemon cocked his head and felt a small smile on his lips. "You don't dare implicate your lord. Because if you did somehow get out of this trial with your heads intact, he would arrange for a much worse fate for you."

"Who do you think you are?! What right do you have to judge me?" Lorch spat at him. "You're not even supposed to be king, bastard! King AegonVI is supposed to be king!"

The heat of his anger filled Aemon's veins and he clenched the arms of the seat. He struggled to keep his voice steady as he said, "You saw to it that he didn't become king. What is your point? I would still not be king if Robert Baratheon hadn't made his way North for me to overthrow him and take my rightful place. But he did and I am here now. Just as you wouldn't have sealed your own fate if you hadn't murdered Princess Rhaenys with half a hundred stabs."

"Trial by combat," Lorch shouted.

Aemon froze and the carnal satisfaction he was feeling evaporated like a fog on a hot summer's day.

"I demand trial by combat," Lorch repeated. "Ser Gregor Clegane will champion both of us!"

"I accept on behalf of the crown," Prince Oberyn crowed, leaping to his feet with his vicious smile.

Aemon knew he must look like a rabbit frozen in its tracks, but he couldn't breathe. He thought he felt his heart stuttering in his chest. "Th-the-the Crown recognizes the prisoners' rights for a trial by combat. Prince Oberyn shall represent the Crown," he said in a monotone, but his voice sounded far away in his own ears.

Fool, Aemon berated himself. If you had only kept your temper, you wouldn't have let slip your true feelings. Then there might not be a trial-by-combat! Why, always, did being reminded of his long-standing bastardy incense him so?

He and Jaime had subverted everything, yet somehow history still managed to repeat itself in some small way. His eyes settled on Oberyn who was too busy smiling maliciously at the Mountain to notice the king appeared frozen in shock. The negotiations for Dorne to enter into the Seven Kingdoms would fail if Oberyn died as he had in the time before. Yet he couldn't very well deny Oberyn the honor of serving as the crown's justice; it would raise Oberyn's ire and continue to widen the gap he was struggling to bridge with Dorne. Somehow he had to find a way to save him this time or the kingdoms would never be fully united again.

Author's Notes: I hope you all enjoyed! I, unfortunately, have to be the bearer of sad news. I will be skipping the next posting date. I've been fatigued lately and some of the chapters, such as this one, have been doozies to write. I've almost eliminated my buffer zone, so I'd like to build that up again. TDR's next update will be 12/28/2019.

If you would like to see status updates on the fic in real time, please feel free to join the TDR discord: hh tee tee pee ss : / / discord . gg / XhrCksY

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas!