Accusation I

Morning sunlight pierced the high windows of Maegor's Hold like a sharp sword.

Aemond stood before a bronze mirror, tightening his belt.

The face reflected in the mirror had shed its youthful softness. His silver hair was tied behind his head, his violet eyes shone like stars, and his jawline was hard and sharp.

A steady knock sounded at the door.

"Enter."

Ser Criston Cole pushed open the door. His white cloak was spotless as he stopped at the threshold.

"Your Highness,"

"The time has come. His Majesty is already waiting in the throne room."

Aemond did not turn around, continuing to adjust the clasps on his bracers. "Where is Ser Vaemond?"

"He is waiting outside the hall to be tried. Thirteen Velaryon clansmen accompanied him, and all have arrived."

Cole paused, the shoulders beneath his armor tightening slightly. "Lord Hand Otto asked me to remind you that today's trial... is a delicate matter. Please choose your words carefully."

"Carefully?" Aemond finally turned around. Sunlight happened to sweep across half his face.

"Do you think caution can resolve what is happening today?"

Cole fell silent for a moment.

"No."

"But at least... do not make things difficult for His Majesty."

"Difficult?" Aemond shook his head.

"Then let none of it be done."

"Your Highness..." Cole began, then stopped.

"Let's go." Aemond cut him off and strode toward the door.

The atmosphere in the throne room was heavy.

Along both sides, Crownlands nobles and envoys from every region had already taken their places.

Their gazes shifted between the seats of the Greens and the Blacks.

At the center of the hall, a long path carpeted in dark red stretched straight toward the far end.

Toward the Iron Throne, forged from the melted swords of thousands of enemies.

Viserys I sat upon it.

There were no cushions on the Iron Throne today.

Though the King had followed Aemond's advice and ordered cushions laid upon it, this morning he had personally commanded that all padding be removed.

At that moment, he sat directly amid the sharp blades.

The Valyrian steel crown weighed heavily upon his brow.

Those violet eyes inherited from his Targaryen ancestors still held the majesty of a king.

Below the throne, the Kingsguard stood solemnly at attention.

To the left of the Iron Throne, set slightly lower, stood an ornate chair.

Rhaenyra Targaryen sat steadily within it. Her pregnant body was wrapped in a white velvet gown, her belly already visibly swollen.

Her silver-gold hair was arranged in an elaborate bun behind her head, adorned with tiny ruby hairpins.

At that moment, her expression was calm.

Beside her sat Daemon Targaryen.

The prince had, unusually, dressed in full formal attire today. A dark red three-headed dragon was embroidered upon his black coat, while the legendary Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister hung at his waist.

Behind them stood Rhaenyra's three sons.

Jacaerys Velaryon stood at the front, the black eyepatch over his left eye especially striking against his pale face.

Today, he wore black and red Targaryen clothing embroidered with dragons.

Lucerys and Joffrey stood on either side of their elder brother. The two boys pressed their lips tightly together, the silver seahorse sigils on their sea-blue Velaryon formal wear gleaming.

To the right of the Iron Throne were the seats of the Greens.

Queen Alicent sat upright in her seat, her sea-green gown like a still, deep pool. The Hightower sigil at her collar was embroidered in silver thread, casting a cold gleam in the firelight.

Beside her, Aegon Targaryen lounged lazily against the back of his chair, his silver curls somewhat disheveled as he yawned.

Helaena sat on the other side of her mother, head lowered, her silver-gold hair nearly concealing her entire face.

Aemond's seat was empty.

Lord Hand Otto Hightower stood beneath the throne steps, his expression as still as water. Only his sharp eyes occasionally glanced toward the hall doors.

Everyone waited.

At last, the heavy doors were slowly pushed open by the guards.

Aemond Targaryen entered the throne room.

He then stopped before the throne and bowed his head toward the Iron Throne.

"Your Majesty." His voice was clear and steady, echoing beneath the vaulted ceiling like a stone dropped into a well.

Viserys I watched his second son for a moment. "Return to your seat."

Aemond rose, retreated to the seats of the Greens, and sat in his own empty chair.

Queen Alicent turned her head, studying the hard lines of her son's profile. She knew Aemond too well.

Beneath that calm exterior surged a kind of madness.

She knew full well that if Vaemond insisted on pressing his accusations today, he would be courting death.

Helaena stole a glance at her brother through the curtain of her long hair. Aemond sensed her gaze, turned, and offered her a faint smile.

At that moment, the doors were pushed open once more.

Vaemond Velaryon entered.

The old lord of Tidepool Island wore full Velaryon formal attire today.

His deep-blue velvet coat was covered in silver seahorse emblems, with a cloak patterned like rolling waves draped over his shoulders. His silver hair was meticulously combed, and his wrinkled face was utterly expressionless.

Behind him, thirteen Velaryon clansmen filed in.

There were old captains with white hair and beards, family members in charge of the harbor, and vigorous young scions.

All of them wore their family attire, their expressions solemn.

The entire throne room fell silent.

The nobles held their breath and waited.

Vaemond walked to the center of the hall, stopping forty paces from the Iron Throne. He bowed deeply and declared in a booming voice:

"His Majesty Viserys Targaryen the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Viserys gave a slight nod. "Ser Vaemond Velaryon. You requested a Trial by the King's Justice, and now I have granted your request."

"Speak. What matter do you bring before me?"

Vaemond straightened.

His gaze first swept over Rhaenyra and her sons to the left of the Iron Throne. It scraped across the three faces like a blade before returning to the King. Then he spoke:

"Your Majesty."

"I stand here today not for myself, but for the bloodline, honor, and rightful succession that House Velaryon has preserved for a thousand years."

He raised his right hand, pointing his index finger at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey.

"I accuse Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, our honored Crown Princess, of three grave crimes!"

A subdued uproar rippled through the noble seats, restless as the air before a storm.

Viserys raised a hand from the Iron Throne, suppressing it. Cole, captain of the Kingsguard, stepped forward and roared, "Silence!"

The noise barely subsided.

Viserys leaned forward, his fingers gripping the throne's armrests. "Do you understand that slandering the Crown Princess is not something I will forgive lightly, even if you are a noble?"

"I understand. I know, Your Majesty." Vaemond lowered his head. When he looked up again, fire burned in his eyes. "It is precisely because I know that I must speak!"

He spun around sharply, his arm cutting through the air as his finger pointed at Rhaenyra once more. His voice suddenly rose, resounding beneath the entire dome:

"First, she profaned her marriage vows, committed adultery during lawful wedlock, and bore bastard children!"

"Second, she sought to commit fraud, attempting to pass off these three bastards of unknown parentage as Targaryen and Velaryon blood, in order to usurp the inheritance of the Iron Throne and Tidepool Island!"

"Third, she trampled upon her vassals, scorned the dignity and laws of an ancient house, and defiled the Seahorse sigil with lies and deceit!"

Every accusation struck the stone floor like a heavy hammer, sending layers of echoes rolling through the hall.

The nobles fell completely silent, hundreds of eyes turning in unison toward Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra remained seated, her expression calm.

Daemon rose to his feet.

The three boys had gone pale. Jacaerys's one eye was fixed tightly on Vaemond, while Lucerys and Joffrey trembled slightly.