Chapter 52: Judgment of the Lannisters

Spring, 301 AC

The throne room of the Red Keep was filled with an eerie silence, save for the flickering torches that cast long shadows upon the cold stone floor. The banners of the lion had been torn down, replaced by the sigil of the three-headed dragon. The Iron Throne stood at the room's center, and upon it, Aemon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, sat in quiet judgment.

Before him knelt the last remnants of House Lannister, bound and disgraced. Tywin Lannister, ever the proud lion, refused to bow his head, even in the face of death. Jaime Lannister stood beside him, his golden armor stripped from him, his face grim but composed. Cersei Lannister, wild-eyed and seething with fury, remained chained, her pride refusing to break even now. Tommen Baratheon, still a child, looked between them in confusion, while Myrcella, ever composed, held back her emotions, knowing they would do her no good here. And lastly, Tyrion Lannister, free of his chains but standing apart from his family, awaited his fate with wary eyes.

At Aemon's side, Daenerys Targaryen and Sansa Stark sat, their expressions unreadable. But inside, Sansa felt the weight of this moment more than anyone. For years, she had been a prisoner in this very castle, tormented by Lannister cruelty. Now, justice had finally come.

The Sentence of Tywin Lannister

Aemon rose from his throne, his violet eyes cold as steel. "Tywin Lannister," he said, his voice carrying through the hall. "You orchestrated the Red Wedding, betrayed the North, and ruled through blood and treachery. You built an empire on deceit, and now it crumbles before you."

Tywin did not flinch. "I did what was necessary to keep the realm strong."

Aemon's expression remained impassive. "The realm will stand without you." He turned to Grey Worm, who stood at attention beside him. "Take him to the courtyard. Let all of King's Landing see the lion fall."

For the first time, Tywin's jaw tightened. He knew there was no escape. He had ruled as the most powerful man in Westeros for decades, yet here, before this young Targaryen king, his power had ended.

Two Unsullied stepped forward, dragging him to his feet. The last great lion of Casterly Rock was led from the throne room, his fate sealed.

Jaime Lannister's Exile

Aemon turned to Jaime next. "Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. You fought well in defense of your family, but your crimes cannot be ignored."

Jaime met his gaze steadily. "Then finish it," he said. "I won't beg."

Aemon studied him for a long moment. "You will take the black and live out your days at the Wall. This is the only mercy you will receive."

Jaime exhaled sharply but did not protest. Perhaps, in his own way, this was a mercy.

"The next ship to the North will take you," Aemon continued. "You will never again set foot in the South."

Jaime nodded once, understanding that this was the best he could hope for.

Cersei's Fate

Then came Cersei.

"Cersei Lannister," Aemon said, his voice colder now. "Your crimes are many—manipulation, treason, cruelty beyond measure."

Cersei bared her teeth. "If you expect me to beg, you'll be disappointed."

Aemon's lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. "I expect nothing from you. But I will ensure you can never scheme again."

Cersei stiffened. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.

"You will take a vow of silence," Aemon decreed. "You will serve among the Silent Sisters, stripped of your name, your titles, and your voice."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. Even Jaime glanced toward Cersei, shock evident on his face.

Cersei trembled with rage. "You think you can—"

Aemon lifted a hand. "The choice is simple. Accept your sentence, or face the executioner."

She clenched her fists, her breath coming in short gasps. But in the end, survival was all that mattered to her.

Cersei Lannister, once Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, was dragged away, her screams echoing through the halls.

Tommen and Myrcella's Fate

Aemon turned to Tommen, the boy who had been placed upon the Iron Throne as a puppet king. "You were never a Baratheon," he said, his tone neither cruel nor kind. "You have no claim to rule. You will take the black, like your uncle."

Tommen, still in shock from everything unfolding before him, nodded numbly. He was too young to understand fully, but somewhere deep down, he knew there was no other path left for him.

Then Aemon's gaze shifted to Myrcella.

"You," he said, "will be taken as a ward of Daenerys Targaryen."

Myrcella swallowed hard. "And what will happen to me?"

Aemon's gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he answered. "That remains to be seen."

She lowered her head, understanding that she had no choice in the matter.

Tyrion's Judgment

Finally, Aemon turned to Tyrion.

"You were kind to Sansa when she was your wife," Aemon said. "You did not partake in the cruelty of your kin."

Tyrion nodded. "I tried, my lord."

Aemon studied him carefully. "You will not be punished like the others. Instead, I name you Warden of the West."

Tyrion blinked, clearly not expecting such an outcome. He had anticipated death, exile—anything but power.

But he did not kneel. Instead, he took a deep breath and asked, "And what of my sister's children? What of Tommen? Myrcella?"

Aemon's expression did not waver. "Cersei's children are no Baratheons. They are bastards."

Tyrion tensed. "You would strip them of everything?"

Aemon's voice was firm. "Justice has been served."

Tyrion exhaled slowly. He knew better than to fight this battle now. Instead, he gave a short bow. "Then I shall serve as you command."

Sansa's Justice

As the hall emptied, Sansa remained seated beside Aemon. Her hands rested in her lap, her blue eyes distant as she took it all in.

For so long, she had dreamed of justice. And now, it had unfolded before her.

She turned to her husband, the man who had once been her brother. "It is done."

Aemon nodded. "It is."

But in his heart, he knew this was only the beginning.