What if? Part 6
(If you're confused, this is the one with Ddraig in it.)
The court was silent. The weight of fear pressed heavy on the gathered lords and smallfolk alike. Jason Lee sat atop his throne of blackened bone, one hand resting on the armrest, the other idly toying with a pair of dice. Beside him, Ddraig loomed, crimson scales gleaming like molten metal. The dragon's glowing eyes swept the room, his massive form curled around the makeshift hill, tail flicking lazily.
Otto Hightower shifted on his knees, sweat beading on his brow. Alicent's hands trembled, though she clutched them tightly in her lap. Aegon kept his head down, but his jaw clenched, the muscles ticking in quiet defiance. Aemond's single eye burned, his lips a thin, bloodless line.
The heavy door groaned open.
Rhaenyra Targaryen entered, flanked by Death Knights. Their armor gleamed obsidian, etched with screaming faces, and their glowing eyes cast eerie trails of light. Chains clinked as her party shuffled forward – Daemon, Jacaerys, Baela, and Rhaenys, all bound. Rhaenyra's head was held high, her face pale but proud. Jacaerys stumbled as one of the undead shoved him forward. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
Jason leaned forward, tossing the dice into his other hand. The room grew impossibly still.
"Finally," Jason said, his voice calm - too calm.
"Now that everyone's here, we can start. You all know why you're here." He glanced at Otto. "I don't like repeats. Otto, explain it."
Otto straightened with effort. His voice wavered.
"The Blacks and the Greens, both our families, have plunged the realm into war. Countless lives lost. Entire families destroyed. The land—" His voice cracked. "The land is in ruin."
Jason nodded, tossing one die into the air. It spun, catching the faint green glow of his eyes.
"Good summary." He caught it deftly. "Now, we're not doing this the usual way. I don't care about your titles or bloodlines. The living and the dead are tired of your bullshit."
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Jason's gaze snapped to them, sharp as a blade. The murmuring died instantly. Lords and smallfolk alike looked down, swallowing hard.
"Let's cut the formalities." Jason waved toward the room. "You. All of you. Speak. Tell me what you think should happen. Also, for ease of conversation, Rhaenyra's little band shall be referred to as the Blacks and Alicent and her little gremlins as the Greens."
No one moved.
Ddraig snorted, smoke curling from his nostrils.
"Pathetic," the dragon rumbled. His voice shook the air. "You quake like rats in a storm. Speak before you bore me."
A lord – Lord Baratheon, judging by the antlered sigil on his chest – stepped forward, his steps uneven. His voice trembled. "My lord, the Greens have wronged the realm. Aegon usurped the throne. The Blacks sought to reclaim what was Rhaenyra's by right."
Jason's lips twitched into a smirk.
"By right?" He glanced at Rhaenyra. "You hear that? You're all about rights, huh?"
Rhaenyra raised her chin. "I am the rightful heir. The Iron Throne was stolen from me."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Rightful this, rightful that. You sound like kids fighting over a toy. Look around, Rhaenyra. See a throne? No? That's because I melted it."
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Rhaenyra's lips parted, but no words came.
"Next!" Jason barked. His voice echoed, sharp and commanding.
A smallfolk woman hesitated, then stepped forward. Her hands twisted nervously in her apron.
"P-please, my lord," she stammered. "My family – my children – they're dead. Burned in your fire. W-we don't care who rules. We just want peace."
Jason leaned back, his expression unreadable.
"Peace," he murmured, as if testing the word.
Ddraig rumbled a low chuckle.
"A fool's dream," the dragon said, his tail flicking. "These squabbling insects don't know the meaning of peace."
Jason waved him off.
"Let her speak." His gaze pinned the woman. "What would you do with them, then? The ones who started all this?"
The woman flinched. Her lips trembled. "M-my lord, I don't know. I just – please, no more killing."
Jason nodded slowly.
"No more killing," he repeated, his voice soft. He turned to the room, his gaze sweeping over them. "Anyone else?"
A Lannister delegate cleared his throat. His voice was smoother, more confident, though his hands fidgeted with the hilt of his sword.
"The Greens brought war to the realm, yes, but the Blacks escalated it. Both sides are to blame. Justice must be served equally."
"Justice," Jason echoed, his tone mockingly pensive. "What does justice look like to you? A pile of heads? Or maybe a nice public execution to make you feel like something's been done?"
The man faltered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"Thought so." Jason turned to the Death Knights. "Bring out the dice."
One of the knights stepped forward, holding a small velvet bag. Jason took it, shaking it lightly. The sound of dice rattling filled the room. He grinned, tossing the bag onto the table before him.
"Here's how this works," Jason said. "We let the dice decide your fate. Equal parts chance and fate. Fair, don't you think?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Chains clinked as Aegon shifted, his eyes wide.
"You can't be serious," Daemon growled, stepping forward despite his bonds. "Our lives decided by some game of chance?"
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Why not? You decided countless lives with a game of pride. Seems fitting."
Rhaenyra's lips tightened.
"You are no king," she spat.
Jason laughed. It was a sound without warmth.
"Thank the gods for that." He stood, his presence looming over them. "Let's begin, shall we?"
The first die hit the table with a resounding clack.
Jason grinned as the die clattered to a stop on the table. Its face showed six dots, neatly arranged. His glowing eyes flicked to Daemon, who stood stiff despite the chains biting into his wrists.
"Well, look at that," Jason said, his tone light. "Guess we're starting with you."
Daemon's jaw tightened. He didn't flinch.
"Do your worst," he snarled, stepping forward despite the skeletal hands restraining him. "I fear no man, least of all you."
Jason chuckled, a low, chilling sound. "Fear me? Oh, Daemon, I don't need your fear. I need your soul."
His hand snapped up, fingers curled like talons. The air between them warped, shimmering green. Daemon's body jerked violently, his eyes widening as a sickly light seeped from his chest. His breath hitched. His muscles seized.
Rhaenyra stumbled forward, dragging her chains.
"Daemon!" Her voice cracked.
Jason didn't even glance at her. His focus remained on Daemon as the light grew brighter, forming a writhing, translucent shape. The room filled with a sharp, metallic screech, like nails on iron. Lords and ladies recoiled, covering their ears.
The shape tore free from Daemon's body. It twisted in the air, humanoid but wrong. Its features were blurred, flickering. Jason gripped it with one hand and squeezed. The soul shattered into green shards that dissolved into mist.
Daemon crumpled. His body hit the ground, lifeless, as smoke curled from his open mouth.
Rhaenyra's knees buckled. Her chains rattled as she fell forward, her hands clawing at the ground.
"No!" Her voice cracked, raw and hoarse. "You monster!"
Jason tilted his head, his grin widening. "Monster? You flatter me."
A gasp rose from the crowd. The Baratheon lord stumbled back, nearly tripping over his robes. Lady Tyrell's face drained of color, her lips trembling. A Lannister lord clutched the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to draw it.
Alicent gripped her skirts, her knuckles white. Her lips moved silently, as though in prayer.
Jason turned to Aegon, his gaze sharp. "Your turn, golden boy."
Aegon froze. His shoulders hunched, and he took a step back, only for the skeletal guards to shove him forward. His mouth opened, but no words came. Sweat trickled down his temple.
Jason tapped his chin, feigning thought. "What to do with you? Oh, I know. Let's make it artistic."
He waved his hand. The bones beneath his throne rattled, shifting. Aegon flinched as skeletal hands clawed their way from the blackened hill. One wrapped around his ankle, its grip impossibly strong. He struggled, yanking his leg back, but the hand dragged him to the ground.
"Stop!" Alicent's voice rang out, sharp and desperate. She lunged forward, falling to her knees. Her eyes, wide and glistening, fixed on Jason. "Please, he's just a boy! Please!"
Jason glanced at her, unbothered.
"A boy who burned his way to a throne." He gestured dismissively. "Don't waste your breath."
Aegon screamed as the skeletal hands dragged him toward the throne. His body thrashed, feet kicking uselessly. Jason raised both hands, and the bones surged upward, forming a jagged cage around the boy.
The air thickened. The green glow of Jason's magic intensified, twisting into whips of energy that lashed out, wrapping around Aegon's body. His screams rose in pitch, his back arching. His flesh blackened, peeling away in strips, revealing stark white bone beneath.
The Lords and Ladies recoiled, some turning away. A Tully delegate dropped to his knees, retching. Lady Tyrell covered her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
Rhaenyra's hands clawed at the ground, her breathing ragged.
"You're a demon," she spat, her voice shaking, tears streaming. "A godless abomination."
Jason smirked. "Funny. People said the same about your family."
With a final surge of magic, Aegon's body disintegrated, leaving only a charred skeleton cradled by the bone cage. Jason stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. He glanced at the crowd.
"Anyone else want to weigh in?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Lords and ladies avoided his gaze, their faces pale, their bodies stiff with fear.
Ddraig let out a low chuckle, smoke curling from his nostrils.
"They're learning," he rumbled. "Good."
Jason turned to Rhaenyra, his grin sharp. "Your turn's coming, princess."
Jason paused, his glowing eyes narrowing as he studied the room. His grin faded, replaced by a look of calculated disinterest. He flicked his wrist, and the charred remains of Aegon crumbled to dust, swept away by an unseen wind. The bone cage retracted into the mound beneath him with a hollow clatter.
He leaned forward on his throne, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"You know," he began, his tone conversational, almost bored, "this is getting a little predictable. I kill someone, you gasp. I say something clever, you tremble."
He looked around, his gaze landing on each lord and lady in turn. "Let's mix it up."
Ddraig tilted his massive head, one glowing eye fixating on Jason. "What are you planning, bro?"
Jason's grin returned, sharp and wicked.
"Delegation, Ddraig. The hallmark of great leadership." He gestured to the gathered crowd. "You. Yes, all of you. You're going to decide what happens next."
The murmur that followed was a mixture of disbelief and dread. A lord from House Tully stiffened, his eyes darting to the others. Lady Tyrell whispered something to her steward, her lips barely moving. Even the Death Knights shifted, their glowing eyes flickering like restless embers.
Jason raised his hand, silencing the noise. "Let me spell it out. Rhaenyra Targaryen. Otto Hightower. Alicent Hightower. The Greens. The Blacks. All of them. Guilty or not, you decide. What should I do with them? Speak up, or I'll assume you're all too cowardly to care, in which case I flay them all alive."
The silence stretched, suffocating and heavy. A bead of sweat rolled down Otto's temple. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Alicent clutched her chains, her knuckles white, her lips trembling. Rhaenyra sat frozen, her gaze locked on Jason, her jaw tight.
Finally, Lord Baratheon, whose name Jason didn't care to remember, stepped forward. His face was pale, but his voice was steady.
"They've both committed crimes against the realm," he said. "They've both brought suffering to the smallfolk. If justice is to be served, it should be served equally."
Jason tilted his head. "Equal punishment for equal sins. Interesting take. I like it. Anyone else?"
A smallfolk woman raised her hand hesitantly. Her voice was thin, almost swallowed by the room. "We – we just want peace. Spare them if it means no more war."
Jason's gaze flicked to her, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Spare them, huh? I honestly thought you guys would want their hands and entrails or something. And if they start another war?"
The woman shrank back, clutching her shawl. "I – I don't know, my lord. But killing them – killing them won't bring back the dead."
Jason leaned back, his eyes glittering with mock amusement. "A philosopher among farmers. I like it."
A Lannister delegate spoke next, his voice clipped and calculating. "The realm is broken. The people are starving, the fields are ash. Executing them may be justice, but it will not restore order. We need strong leadership, not more death."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Strong leadership, you say? And who would that be? You?"
The delegate paled, shaking his head quickly.
A roar of laughter rumbled from Ddraig, shaking the very walls.
"They squabble like frightened mice," the dragon said, smoke curling from his nostrils. "Amusing, but tiresome."
Jason shrugged.
"You're not wrong." He waved at the room. "Come on, people. Someone say something interesting, or I'll pick for you."
Rhaenyra surged to her feet, her chains clattering.
"You want peace? Then let me rule," she said, her voice ringing clear. "I am the true heir. I can unite the realm. Spare my family, and I will end this war."
Alicent's head snapped up, her eyes wide.
"Lies!" she hissed. "She only wants power. If you let her live, my lord, she'll burn the rest of the realm to ash."
"Enough." Jason's voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. "You've made your cases. Now let the crowd decide."
He gestured broadly. "Raise your hand if you think I should let them live."
Several hands arose – hesitant, trembling. Most of them were smallfolk, their expressions tight with fear. Jason's gaze swept the room, counting silently. Huh, quite a lot.
"Hmm. And now," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, "raise your hand if you think they should die."
AN: Chapter 54 is out on (Pat)reon!