Fairness

The Great Hall of Storm's End had never been so crowded, nor so deathly silent.

A massive hearth crackled by the wall, casting long, distorted shadows of the figures gathered within.

The air was thick with a mixture of damp, cold sea breeze, the sharp scent of medicinal salves, and stifled, ragged breathing.

King Viserys I sat high upon the main seat, his complexion sallow.

The old man wore deep crimson velvet robes and a crown of Valyrian steel, but his body beneath the robes was slightly hunched. His left hand gripped the armrest so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

The Kingsguard stood on either side, as still as stone statues.

Below the dais, the factions were already clearly drawn.

On the left, Princess Rhaenyra stood at the very front.

She had changed out of her blood-stained nightgown into a dress of pitch-black. Her silver hair was pulled back tightly, and the tear tracks on her face had dried, leaving only a cold expression behind.

The Princess's violet eyes were like frozen ice, yet deep within them, a raging fire burned.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood beside her, clad in a black and red leather coat. His hand rested casually on the hilt of Dark Sister as he scanned the room, waiting for the drama about to unfold.

Corlys Velaryon stood slightly behind, his staff touching the floor. His posture was as straight as a mast, his grey-blue eyes fixed upon the King.

Then there was the wife of the Sea Snake, Corlys, Rhaenys Targaryen—the elderly woman known to the world as the Uncrowned Queen.

The old woman's gaze kept sweeping through the crowd on her side. Such a massive event had occurred today, yet her own son, Laenor Velaryon—Princess Rhaenyra's husband and the nominal father of little Jae, who had been blinded—was nowhere to be found.

She felt incredibly restless. Where had her son, Laenor, run off to gallivant this time?

At the mere thought of his philandering, Rhaenys felt deeply uncomfortable.

The old woman glanced at Rhaenyra and Daemon, who stood beside her.

She did not like her nominal daughter-in-law, Rhaenyra, who acted as she pleased and trampled upon tradition.

She had placed three cuckold's horns upon her eldest son, Laenor.

Her grandsons—Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey—were all born of her affair with her personal knight, Ser Harwin Strong, known as the Bonebreaker.

The reason was simple, and the evidence was plain: her son had silver hair and blue eyes, and Rhaenyra had silver hair and violet eyes.

Yet the three grandsons all possessed brown hair, brown eyes, and flat noses—features that clearly did not belong to the Targaryen or Velaryon lines.

Although she loved the three grandsons in her heart, and her husband, Corlys, did not care whether they were bastards or not, she despised Daemon and Rhaenyra from the bottom of her soul.

Daemon Targaryen, her youngest cousin, had married her daughter, Laena. She had never approved of that union to begin with.

Yet her own daughter, Laena, had fallen for Daemon. Like a moth to a flame, the two had secretly betrothed themselves, eloped on dragonback, and fled to the Eastern Continent.

In the end, for the sake of her daughter and the hope of having her back by her side, she had been forced to hold her nose and consent to the marriage.

Not long ago, Laena had gone into labor once more, only to give birth to a deformed, stillborn boy.

Grief-stricken and weak, Laena contracted childbed fever. Even though Daemon brought in a Maester skilled in medicine, there was nothing to be done. Three days later, her daughter passed away.

Before she died, Laena had tried to climb out of bed to mount her dragon, Vhagar, one last time, but in her frailty, she collapsed on the stairs and fell into an eternal sleep.

But now, at her daughter's funeral, that bastard, that piece of trash Daemon, was secretly carrying on an affair with her own daughter-in-law, Princess Rhaenyra—who was also Daemon's own niece. (The Targaryen line had always held the tradition of marrying kin.)

And her son, Laenor, preferred men and turned a blind eye to it all. Now that such a massive incident had occurred, no one even knew where he had wandered off to.

Her husband, the Sea Snake, remained silent on these matters as well.

The Seven Gods above! What was all this?

Rhaenys shook her head in sorrow. She felt that her entire family had been ruined by her cousin, King Viserys, and his brother Daemon.

Finally, Rhaenys turned her head to look at her grandsons and granddaughters.

Behind her, Lucerys, Joffrey, Rhaena, and Baela stood together.

The children had changed into clean clothes, but the bruises and fear on their faces could not be hidden.

Lucerys was pale as a sheet, his head bowed as he avoided everyone's gaze.

Meanwhile, to the right stood the faction led by Queen Alicent.

The Queen wore a deep green velvet gown symbolizing House Hightower, her brown hair bound by a pearl circlet. She held her chin slightly high, striving to maintain the dignity of a queen, but her trembling body betrayed her.

Her father, Hand of the King Otto Hightower, stood a step behind her, his hands tucked into his sleeves. His expression was calm, though sharp light flickered in his eyes.

Aegon and Helaena stood slightly further back.

Aegon rubbed his cheek, which was still aching, with an impatient expression.

Helaena kept her head down, twisting the hem of her dress, occasionally looking up with worried eyes toward Aemond, who stood in the center.

The center of the hall had been cleared out, resembling a gladiatorial arena.

And Aemond stood alone at the eye of this storm.

His face had been treated, and the wound beneath his left eye had stopped bleeding, but the swelling had not subsided, making his face look somewhat asymmetrical.

His damp silver hair had been dried in haste, with only a few strands clinging to his forehead.

He wore only a simple linen shirt and leather breeches; they were the cleanest clothes he could find in his haste.

He had been ordered by his father, the King, to stand barefoot on the cold Stone Ground.

But Aemond held his back straight, his violet eyes meeting every gaze fixed upon him without flinching.

Those filled with hatred, scrutiny, pity, and calculation...

King Viserys took a deep breath, the sound like a sigh in the deathly silence: "Tonight... a tragedy occurred on Tidepool Island."

His gaze swept painfully over Rhaenyra, then flicked to Aemond: "My own blood... my children... hurting one another."

"May the Seven Gods have mercy."

He paused, as if gathering his strength: "Jacaerys... my eldest grandson... he..."

"He has lost an eye, Father." Rhaenyra's voice cut in, cold and clear, every word striking the floor with the force of hail.

"He may be blind forever. And the dagger that pierced his eye..."

"Your Majesty!" Queen Alicent stepped forward, "Aemond was injured too! Look at his face!"

"This was a fight! It was an accident!"

"All the children were involved! You cannot blame only my son!"

"Involved?" Prince Daemon chuckled, his laughter devoid of warmth.

"Your Grace, being involved in a fight and using a dagger to gouge out an eye are two very different things."

"Just as attending a banquet and killing someone with poisoned wine are entirely different in nature."

"Prince Daemon is correct." Lord Corlys struck his staff against the floor. "Your Majesty, all the children present, including my own grandchildren, have identified Prince Aemond as the one who wielded the blade."

"Is the testimony of five children not enough to establish the facts?"

"That is because someone taught them to lie!" Alicent turned toward the children behind Rhaenyra, her gaze burning as she looked at Lucerys.

"Lucerys!"

"Look me in the eyes!"

"Do you dare swear before the Seven Gods and the King?"

"Say that you saw with your own eyes Aemond plunge the dagger into your brother's eye?"

"Swear it on your mother's name!"

Already consumed by guilt, Lucerys trembled all over, his lips quivering at the demand.

After seeing Lucerys's reaction, Alicent became even more certain that her son, Aemond, had told the truth and had not deceived her.

But even if Aemond had lied, she, Alicent, would still stand by her son's side. This was a protective instinct born from a mother's heart.

Aemond looked at his mother, who was roaring like a lioness protecting her cubs, having completely abandoned all pretense of decorum, and felt nothing but gratitude in his heart.

Rhaenyra reached out and pressed her hand onto her second son Lucerys's trembling shoulder, her gaze clashing with Alicent's in the air.

"Enough!" Viserys raised his voice from his seat, but it only triggered a fit of heart-wrenching coughing.

"Cough, cough..."

He hunched over, his face turning purple from the coughing, and the Kingsguard beside him hurriedly handed him a silk handkerchief.

The cloth was already stained with crimson.

Once the King's coughing subsided slightly, the hall fell into a deathly silence, with only the crackling of torches remaining.

The King looked up, his eyes filled with exhaustion and pain: "Aemond. You say... it wasn't you."

"But the other children say it was."

"Who should I believe?"

Aemond, standing in the center, stepped forward.

The coldness of the Stone Ground shot from his bare feet straight to the top of his head, making him even calmer and more clear-headed.

"Father," he said, his voice carrying the clarity of a youth, yet remaining unusually steady.

"I never touched that dagger."

"It was Lucerys who drew the dagger first."

"During the scuffle, he lost his balance."

"And Jacaerys happened to bump into him."

"And Lucerys, holding the dagger, stabbed his own brother."

"Lies!" Lucerys jumped up and screamed, tears welling up.

"I didn't stab him!"

"The truth is, you pushed me!"

"Then you tripped my brother! He accidentally fell onto my dagger!"

"All of this, you caused it!"

Before the words had even faded, the entire hall erupted in an uproar.

Aemond's lips curled upward. Lucerys, that brainless fool, had truly given himself away.

If he admits the dagger is his, doesn't that prove I wasn't the one who used it to stab his eye?

Alicent and Otto's expressions shifted.

On the other side, Rhaenyra remained expressionless, while Daemon and Corlys's faces darkened.

Lucerys also realized his mistake, appearing flustered and at a loss.

"Then why are your hands bloodless?" Aemond suddenly asked.

"Lucerys."

"You claim you held the dagger, but stabbing an eye would surely result in blood splatter."

"Why are your hands clean right now?"

Every gaze focused on Lucerys's hands.

The boy instinctively pulled his hands behind his back.

Daemon narrowed his eyes, re-evaluating his nephew.

The Sea Snake, Corlys, twitched his brow almost imperceptibly.

"I... I wiped it off myself..." Lucerys stammered.

"When? How did you wipe it?" Aemond pressed on, step by step. "Or perhaps," he turned toward Daemon, "someone wiped it for you?"

Realizing he was being baited, Prince Daemon's smile vanished. He interrupted directly, "Boy, what are you implying?"

"Uncle, I am pointing out the discrepancies," Aemond did not back down. "Whose dagger is it?"

"What markings are on it? Who gave it to you?"

"Why would a ten-year-old child carry a blade to the Dragonpit?"

"That is my dagger!" Lucerys shouted. "It was a Name Day gift from Grandfather Corlys!"

"It has the Seahorse Sigil on it! I carry it because... because I like it!"

"So," Aemond turned to the King, "Father, a Velaryon dagger, held in the hand of a Velaryon child, wounded a Velaryon heir."

"And I, a Targaryen, unarmed and scarred on the face, am being branded the culprit."

"Father, where is the logic? Where is the justice?"

From this moment on, Aemond seized the initiative.

He knew deep down that the more one tried to prove their innocence, the deeper they would sink into the quagmire of the self-proving trap.

Questioning others was the only key to breaking the deadlock.

As of now, Aemond would never accept the charge of attempted kin-slaying being pinned on him.

Even if it were an eye for an eye.

He would absolutely never accept this charge...