In contrast to the coronation, all guests were seated between stone pillars, with an aisle twice as large, guarded by Targaryen men-at-arms in black surcoats and cloaks. A modest wooden podium had been erected for the two defendants, with plain wooden chairs. Just in front of them, on the throne dais, stood a bench for four judges. Aegon chose four men, each representing one pillar of his loyalists: Dagos Manwoody for Dorne, Lymond Pease for the Golden Company, Garth Tyrell for the Reach, and Lord Rykker for the Crownlands. The king sat above them, in the throne, as the fifth presiding the council of judges.
From the gallery, Aegon met scorn as Cersei Lannister cast her first gaze upon him, her open jaw seemingly eager to swallow him whole. Lannister Lords in fetters encircled her, witnessing the trial. Tywin's brother, Kevan, appeared composed and weary, while his son Lancel sported the scar of a lost ear, gone in defense of the city. The marred face did not trouble his father; rather, there was a touch of pride, as his son wore the badge of courage. Another Lannister champion gazed, Ser Addam Marbrand, a man who had slain two knights before yielding himself. Among the Lannister sworn men also stood out Harry Swift, who led a failed charge against Aegon's ranks.
The clank of shackles heralded the arrival of the accused. Filthy and tattered, from afar, they looked like two peasants after a long toil in the field. For the first time in his life, Aegon set his eyes on his mother's murderer. Not the mindless brute heeding his master's evil will, but the mind itself, a word that spells death. The command personified in a flesh of a man. Hate stirred in Aegon, something he foresaw but never this much. He gripped the armrest of the throne so hard that the three-hundred-year-old blunt blade sliced his finger. What he loathed the most was the man's appearance, the parched skin on the wan old face, and the ragged garb worn for days in the black cell. Yet, an aura of self-confidence and authority emanated from the man, and even in wretched state like this, he still commanded respect. The Black Cells had taken naught from him. Blonde Joffrey, was elsewise broken, had his head already marked for the headsman's axe. The boy met eyes of his mother and rebuffed her tenderness with an irritated glance.
"Oh, heavenly Father, have mercy upon the innocent and unleash Your wrath upon the guilty of heinous crimes and desecration of your laws," many shades of light shone from the High Septon's Crystal Crown, enveloping accused and judges alike.
Tyrell Seneschal rose, reciting the charge, "Tywin Lannister, the former Lord of Casterly Rock, is accused of the murder of Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys, along with countless other crimes during the treacherous havoc through the blameless folk of King's Landing." The title of "the former Lord" caught Tywin's attention, and he looked at Aegon with a slight smile. "The false King Joffrey Baratheon, sired of an incestuous relationship between Cersei Lannister and her brother, the kingslayer, and oathbreaker Jaime Lannister, is accused of usurping the throne and defiling the Great Sept of Baelor with the murder of Lord Eddard Stark." The accusations against his own grandson troubled Tywin more than his own.
"Lies!" Cersei Lannister screamed from the gallery. "No hhore's spawn will tarnish my name."
"Be silent, or you will be dragged out," Aegon said coolly, and Cersei retreated, spurning her uncle Kevan's proffered hand. On the other side of the gallery, Aegon glimpsed Sansa smiling. His heart yearned it was meant for him.
"The accused will declare their guilt," Lord Manwoody resumed in place of Tyrell.
Lifting his eyes, Tywin Lannister surveyed the room, disregarding the judges, and gazed towards his daughter and brother. Concern and disdain spoiled his rock face. "I do not acknowledge the authority of this court, nor the lawfulness of this king." It was a lie, and a plain one. He knows I am Aerys's blood.
"Our authority lies in those chains," Rykker scorned the men. "Here, Lannister, you are naught but a shitty old man."
"Authority is not a question, but a guilt upon your person. What say you?" Lord Dagos repeated to the silence of both Lannisters. No games would save them.
"They refuse to declare," Aegon said instead of the accused, and Haldon, acting as the scribe, made a note.
Then Pease rose up, "Before gods and men, it shall be known that our just King granted the two accused the chance to seek witnesses, and they did not name any."
"These men tell lies," Joffrey screeched, "we were denied by this so-called King. The whole city would be glad to bear witness for the one true king."
"Do you wish to add names?" Pease looked irritatingly at Joffrey. The brat named most of the Lannisters in the gallery and then turned his green gaze all the way back toward Sansa. "And my betrothed, of course. Tell them about your traitor father. Come on, bitch, you are still mine," he roared violently, adding a red fury to Sansa's face.
"Silence!" Aegon thundered from above. "Keep your profanity for the cell. Speak thus to Lady Sansa or any noble lady again, and it will be you choosing between a tongue or fingers."
The burden of finding witnesses fell to Varys, the eunuch had unearthed hundreds of them. The list had to be whittled down to just a few score. Carpenters, masons, courtesans, blacksmiths, bakers, all old enough to have seen the sack of King's Landing two decades past.
"Lions set my shop aflame" was one of the mildest charges, while the most savage included, "They raped my Connie, and then..." Tears brimmed in the eyes of an arrowsmith from the Street of Steel. "The lions slew her." After that, it was a grisly reversal of crimes.
None of the savagery seemed to touch Tywin Lannister, a man who had heeded dozens of testimonies as if he were just a lord listening to the grievances of smallfolk. 'Rape of a daughter or murder of a son,' it could have been a stolen pig or something equally petty in the ears of a Lannister.
In the gallery, Kevan Lannister did not share his brother's stern, ruthless nature, and a trace of remorse showed on his face.
The crammed hall displayed faces of disgust, whether false or genuine, Aegon didn't know. Mayhaps Margaery had instructed them to gasp, curse, and show contempt for every word of Lannister cruelty. Be that as it may, it worked, and it seemed the whole world was against the Lannisters.
The misdeeds of Joffrey Baratheon were next. Both Haldon and Maester Franken came, casting doubt on the legitimacy of Joffrey's claim.
"...all Lords professed an oath of fealty to Aegon the Conqueror and House Targaryen in perpetuity. Such an oath could only be broken through the dishonorable means of violence," Franken lectured, "as done by the usurper Robert. Including the crime of legitimacy was disliked by both Jon and Aegon, yet Varys was persuasive. Inevitably, it would cast doubt on Stannis, Balon Greyjoy, and Robb Stark. "To achieve such a goal, Tywin Lannister butchered an innocent mother and child," added Haldon.
"Let the next witness come forth," Pease called out, as two maesters went off the stand. Grand Maester Pycelle moved with a slow and frail pace, his chains clinking softly; a lannister creature, now ready to turn against them. His former masters looked on with dismay, none more than the queen. A serving boy set a ponderous tome before the four judges.
"You have outlived your usefulness," Joffrey spat, his voice thick with rage. "When I reclaim my throne, you shall all rue this day, every one of you!" He glared at the crowd that had once filled his court with flattery and praise. Rykker silenced the boy by banging his hand on the table.
"Maester, there is the significance in this book, yes?" Manwoody inquired.
"The proof of Joffrey's bastardy," Pycelle began with a voice, thin and wheezy, as he gripped the arm of a chair, for support. "Grand Maester Melleon's work precisely shows the strong physical attributes of House Baratheon, attributes that have never been absent from father to son in the main line."
"Black hair and blue eyes, you speak of that," Rykker stated, already aware of the answer.
Maester glimpsed at Joffrey and Cersei. "Aye, this boy and his brother and sister are the sole outliers to that rule. It was known that the late King Robert was fond of wenches, and as such, he fathered many bastards. All known to me had Baratheon traits, including a daughter from the Vale who serves the Arryns, the highborne bastard Edric Storm, and several baseborn children in King's Landing, slain on the order of the false Baratheon, Joffrey."
"And through all of it, you held your tongue. Is there any honor in that white beard of yours?" Rykker bellowed furiously at the man.
The old man's brow grew so damp that when he tried to dab it with the sleeve of his robe, large sweat stains spread. "All those who knew the truth are gone, including the late Hand Arryn and the late Hand Stark. The Lannisters slew them for the truth. Many more, no doubt. I bided my time for the sake of safety." Cersei had been spared from his charge per Varys's instructions. She waited anxiously, dreading the faithless maester would betray her.
"Which Lannister?" Tyrell Seneschal asked. Pycelle pointed towards the stand with the accused. "...it is the boy who killed Lord Stark. All of us at the council begged him, not to, yet the vile incestuous blood is ruthless."
"If Robert is not the boy's sire, then who is?" asked Manwoody.
"Lord Stannis penned in his letter about incest between the Queen and Ser Jaime. I fear I have no proof of that, nor of anyone else. Plentiful evidence suggests that Robert is not the father, and the boy bears clear Lannister traits, so I am of the mind it might be incest." Cersei's green eyes made her face as green as if she required the maester's aid.
Sansa had claimed the seat of the maester, looking lovely in her new gown. "Joffrey Baratheon vowed mercy to my father," she said, giving the Lannister boy a harsh look that daunted him. "Yet he lied, as he is of that ilk. No man in the Seven Kingdoms is less worthy to be the King than him. I witnessed it all, I endured it all. Beatings, torment, slaughter."
"And no man in the Seven Kingdoms deserves a lying cunt for a wife," Joffrey snarled. "Have you already tasted his cock, or shall that be a prize for your venomous tongue?"
Instead of wrath, Sansa gave him a grin. "The only prize I crave is your head on a spike, a golden crown on a spike." A warm smile came to Aegon's face.
"Lady Sansa, please. Those are not words befitting a highborn lady," Garth Tyrell chided Sansa. After Sansa, a dozen more witnesses attested hundreds of deeds of Joffrey's brutality. Supper came, though many stomachs were surely turned.
"Are you well?" Aegon laid a hand on Margaery's shoulder as she absentmindedly swirled her soup.
"I almost married that monster," she gasped oddly to her.
"I deem you could handle anything," Aegon sought to console her.
"Keep your head," Jon cut in, "you know what comes next. They want to rile your emotions."
"Trust me, my last wish is to give the Lannisters pleasure." Tywin was more calculating than Aegon suspected, keeping his demeanor calm and cold as a statue, holding his defense firmly.
On short notice, everyone returned to their places in the great hall. Moon Boy was walking on his hands, circling the podium with the accused, sticking out his tongue.
"An old toothless lion here to feed the little cub, ohohoho, to feed, to feed, but no milk, ohoho." Performing a cartwheel, the fool vanished behind a pillar, amid the laughter of the spectators and Tywin Lannister's scowl. If this lion had mighty teeth he lost, the fool's head would adorn the ramparts.
"Lord Varys of the Small Council," the herald proclaimed as the Spider crept toward the witness stand.
"The Red Keep seemed like the Seven Hells themselves: fires of slaughter, rape, vile ruin of every sort. I knew I had to act, and swift, so His Grace was switched for a baseborn babe. Robert was coming for a crown, and with Prince Rhaegar's fall, prince Aegon became the heir to the throne," Varys said, gazing at the grown man he had carried to safety. Though grateful, Aegon still felt guilt for a child slain as the shield. As me, he would be a men grown by now, making his first strides in some trade or brandishing a spear in a war.
Sobbing, tears streamed down Varys's face, "if only I had known. I never even considered that Princess Elia and Rhaenys, just a little girl, could be harmed. Taking their lives gave rebels naught at all, but the heart of Tywin Lannister is too black, his beasts' jaws wide open." He dabbed his cheek with a kerchief. "Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch scaled the walls of Maegor's, Lorch slew Princess Rhaenys, a wicked manticore pierced her with a hundred jabs of a venomous scorpion's tail, while Clegane savagely crushed the skull of the boy who had taken King Aegon's place, then drenched in blood, raped... and butchered Princess Elia. Tywin Lannister shrouded the corpses, a vile deed cloaked under scarlet Lannister cloaks. My lords, I glimpsed men's eyes then; he was offering trophies to the usurper; a king his oathbreaker son killed, and a murdered family, clearing the way for Robert Baratheon to steal the throne."
The sight unraveled before Aegon's eyes, brightly red cloaks soaked in blood, a dark stain that nothing could wash away. Unwittingly, he reached for the hilt of Blackfyre, but the Valyrian sword was not there.
With loathing on his face, Dagos Manwoody spoke, "Tywin Lannister, do you deny ordering the deaths of Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys?"
"Categorically so," Lannister said sternly, "whatever befell, happened in the conduct of war. A commander cannot control the deeds of every man."
"No man would scale the walls of Maegor's of his own will, with iron spikes beneath," Rykker put in. "Only a man heeding orders, dreading the commander more than a mortal fall."
"No command of such has ever been issued. Not by me," Tywin Lannister persisted in denial. "As a proper leader, I was outside the city walls, overseeing military affairs."
"Overseeing your treachery, you mean. Aerys was your king, yet you broke an oath. An oathbreaker like your kingslayer son," Rykker argued fiercely.
"Any king who lacks the might to hold his own throne is no king at all," Tywin's remark left a scar on Joffrey's face. "Power is truth; I recognize it, and so did you. Elsewise, Lord Rykker, you would not be a lord at all, but your knee did bend to Robert." The lack of principle recoiled in Rykker's face. Tywin Lannister's voice remained cool, like a sage elder leader schooling green boys. "Actions were needed to spare the realm from further ruin. My duty was grounded on reason: to cease harm to those who suffered it, to avert harm to my own kingdom, to the territory I guard as a warden."
Hush fell upon the hall, stilled by the reason in Tywin's words. All of them set by Margaery's will, to serve as rabble to vex the accused, but Tywin's words had disarmed them. Aegon despised the man even more so, for his skill to hide slaughter under the cloak of sense. Why should one's kin matter when thousands bled because of it?. Their eyes met, and Lannister grinned, not at Aegon, but at the face of Aerys. I slew you, now I take more from you. By his grandsire, Joffrey jeered. The fool thinks that will sway aught.
"Bring the next witness," Manwoody summoned, and a hulking shadow entered. A burly man missing his right hand below the elbow, with a pale, pig-like face scored by thin scars. From afar, a black scorpion decked his surcoat, but as he neared, its shape morphed into a kind of manticore, like to those from Essos. Amory Lorch, in a flash, Aegon knew the man who had killed his sister. Dornish justice had left him crippled; no man in such a state could be fit for forage or murder.
He laid his left hand on the armrest of a chair and showed two lost fingers. The herald named him, and Jon Connington glanced at Aegon, who returned a calm nod.
"I am Ser Amory of House Lorch. By my own will and seeking mercy from all seven gods, I mean to confess," he spoke with a thin voice through many gone teeth. The judges gazed in stillness, though Lorch expected a follow-up question. "Confess what?"
"By strict orders of Tywin Lannister, I murdered an innocent girl. By the same order, Ser Gregor Clegane butchered a Targaryen babe."
"Did he order the slaying of Princess Elia as well?" Aegon asked, stirring gasps from the throng.
"Nay," Lorch said, "not in the name. But to kill the royal family, all of them, the Lord commanded. The Mad King's pregnant queen and the younger son too, not only Rhaegar's children. We believed them to be in the holdfast, not knowing they had fled by sea."
"You beheld Clegane in the deed?" Manwoody asked, scarcely holding his wrath. Aegon stayed oddly calm, as though a healer were drawing arrow from his flesh. Only the quiet made the pain more bearable and pass quicker. The wound now ached like nothing he had ever felt.
"The babe was the first to die." Aegon spied a slight foam on Lorch's lips. They had gave him truth serum, whether Dornish or Varys. "I only glimpsed the crushed head when I came into the room. Clegane was fucking mother still..." Sharp pain tore through Aegon, blood dripping from both of his hands. It was easy to disregard the pain from the slices; it was not true pain at all.
"Mind your tongue," roared Manwoody.
"Forgive me, my Lord. Clegane was... violating her. She was half-bare, her clothes torn. When an outrider, Kale, asked for a turn, Clegane struck him so hard that all of his teeth flew out. She shrieked and wept, 'my babes,' 'my babes, please, no.'" The wound on Aegon's chest widened, devouring his heart. The truth serum did not stir any pity from Lorch, for his vile tale was just one for alehouse. "Clegane wildly cursed at her to cease whimpering, then he strangled her." Suddenly, Lorch began to laugh deeply, probably as he did on the day itself, enjoying the rape. The truth serum shedding any semblance of decency.
Profound silence shrouded the room, a silence wholly different from the one Tywin Lannister had wrought with his keen mind. A rotten soul devours an intelligent mind.
"Lord Lannister, do you have a clever remark about this?" Lord Rykker smirked.
"Men is clearly tortured, under the influence of some kind of elixir. A puppet to potions," Tywin rebuked, fixing Lorch with a look that instilled fear in his clouded mind.
"Judges see no fault with the state of Amory Lorch. The man is a sound witness, and he is not alone," said Lord Manwoody as four more men came in, each avowing their presence at the time Lorch slew Rhaenys or Clegane Aegon's mother. One said he beheld the death of the babe. They appeared more lucid than Lorch. Varys had said Lorch had named more men, and some were among Lannister captives. Valuing his own word still, Aegon kept his ears away from the Spider's promises to these men. No word of mine shall be broken, but their necks will.
Afterward, the named witnesses of Tywin Lannister stepped forth, each one claiming that they had not heard any order to slay the royal kin; neither of any of Joffrey's crimes. The last of them was Tywin's own brother, Kevan, who, like Tywin, glimpsed Aerys in Aegon's face, which brought unease to his expression. "My brother's order was to seize the royal family for Robert Baratheon, not to slay." Yet, to "seize" might as well be to slay. Kevan Lannister seemed to be a man who loathed lying. There was much more honor in him than in Tywin.
With the hearings done, Aegon withdrew with the four judges to weigh the verdict. The matter was brief, as none opposed the proposed sentences, as expected. An hour later, they came back to the hall. Scores of servants were lighting torches, bringing light to the half-dark chamber as dusk fell upon the castle.
The seneschal proclaimed the sentences, "Tywin Lannister, erstwhile Lord of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, Warden of the West, is hereby, by the verdict of this council, convicted of all charges and condemned to death by beheading." Grim words, but Tywin Lannister faced them unflinching, like a rock of his seat.
"False King Joffrey, a boy deemed the spawn of adultery by the decree of this council; as non-Targaryen is lacking any right to the throne, and abusing the power he held. The council did not find proof of incest reasonable enough to confirm such a claim as true." Cersei Lannister almost looked pleased, but the next words crushed her joy. "As such, he is sentenced to banishment to serve in the Night's Watch."
Hundreds of souls in the room erupted in applause. The High Septon began to half-rise to close the event with a final prayer when a voice spoke out. "No!" Joffrey shouted, "No, you have no right to judge me!" He didn't speak to the judges but directly to Aegon. "You dare to judge me, you son of a whore." His voice echoed in the throne room, and gasps spread throughout the room.
"Silence. The trial is over, and the convicted shall not speak," Lord Manwoody bellowed.
"Let him speak," Aegon said. I am not afraid of you, scum, nor of your words.
"You charge me of falsehood, of usurpation, my mother slandered with harlotry. My grandsire has every right; no authority resides in any of you. Nor can justice be given. Only the gods can weigh my guilt, and so they will. The Seven shall choose the rightful king, you or me. I demand a trial by battle. I call for trial by seven."
The throne room buzzed with murmurs, and the four judges looked at Aegon with uncertain eyes. Jon Connington rushed up the short steps, "It's a trap; you must deny him. You have the right to deny him." Wordless, Aegon surveyed the crowd. If it's a trap, it worked; they all crave to see the clash, seven against seven, as in days of old.
"High Septon," said Tywin Lannister, and all voices fell silent, eager to hear. "Is it not a right of a nobleman to fight off accusations with a sword in hand?"
"It is," the man nervously uttered, afraid of the consequences. A dilemma tore at Aegon's soul. With the power in his hand, he could back off and refuse Joffrey. However, the realm would see him as a coward, sowing doubt in his rule. In every alley, every tavern, they would whisper about how he had stolen Joffrey's crown, a craven who refused to fight. All ill will, all malice against Joffrey would disappear, and he would be hailed as the true-born son of Robert Baratheon, whose father had defeated Aegon's in battle. And now Aegon is afraid because he knows the gods favore Baratheon over Targaryen. A thousand whispers united in Aegon's mind, overwhelming him. A satisfied smug adorned Tywin Lannister's face.
"I accept," a voice of need spoke from Aegon.
