Chapter 35:

[(The Small Council chamber in the Red Keep is dimly lit by afternoon sunlight filtering through the narrow windows. King Aegon VI sits at the head of the table, his fingers steepled, while his Hand, Tywin Lannister, stands near the window, gazing out at the city below. The tension in the room is thick, the weight of impending decisions pressing upon them.)

Aegon VI (calm, but weary): "They will not like what comes next."

Tywin (turning, his voice measured): "They never do. But they will obey."

Aegon VI (leaning back in his chair): "Jon Arryn will protest. He has spent years whispering in Robert's ear, stoking his pride. And now he must answer for it."

Tywin (coolly): "He should count himself fortunate he still has a head to protest with."

Aegon VI (raising an eyebrow): "You would have me execute him?"

Tywin (shrugging): "I would have you do what is necessary. The realm cannot afford another rebellion."

Aegon VI (sighing): "No. But neither can it afford more chaos. Jon will lose the Vale—his brother will rule in his stead. That is punishment enough."

Tywin (grunting in approval): "And Hoster Tully?"

Aegon VI (firm): "Brynden will take Riverrun. The Blackfish has more sense than his brother ever did."

Tywin (nodding): "And Lyanna Stark?"

Aegon VI (his expression darkening slightly): "She will return to Winterfell. Under guard. And her son…" (He hesitates, then exhales.) "Aegon Snow will remain in the North, far from courtly schemes."

Tywin (studying him): "You are being merciful."

Aegon VI (meeting his gaze): "I am being practical. The North will not rise if we do not give them cause."

Tywin (after a pause): "And what of the Stormlands?"

Aegon VI (leaning forward): "They will pass to Alyssa and Stannis. Robert has no trueborn heirs, and Storm's End cannot remain leaderless."

Tywin (almost amused): "Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. The man has the charm of a stone, but he will not challenge you."

Aegon VI (allowing a faint smirk): "Precisely."

(The door swings open abruptly, and Prince Daeron strides in, followed by his brother Daemon, who looks as though he's already bored by the proceedings.)

Daeron (formal, but urgent): "Father, the lords have arrived. They're gathering in the throne room now."

Daemon (grinning): "Jon Arryn looks like he's swallowed a lemon. Arthur Dayne, on the other hand, is as solemn as ever. It's almost entertaining."

Aegon VI (standing, smoothing his robes): "Then we should not keep them waiting."

Tywin (moving toward the door): "Shall I prepare the guards?"

Aegon VI (shaking his head): "No need. Fenrir is perched above the throne room. That will be reminder enough of where power lies."

Daemon (laughing): "Ah, nothing like a dragon to make men reconsider their life choices."

Daeron (glancing at his brother): "Try not to enjoy this too much."

Daemon (shrugging): "Where's the fun in that?"

(Aegon VI exhales, steeling himself, then strides toward the door, his sons and Hand falling in behind him. The game is not yet over—but today, the realm will learn the cost of defiance.)

[(The Iron Throne looms over the grand hall of the Red Keep, its jagged blades casting sharp shadows in the afternoon light. King Aegon VI sits upon the throne, his expression stern, flanked by his sons Prince Daeron and Prince Daemon. Below, the surviving lords of both factions stand divided—Arthur Dayne leading Rhaegar's loyalists, Jon Arryn at the head of Robert's rebels. The air is thick with tension, the weight of the past year's bloodshed pressing upon them all.)

Aegon VI (voice calm but carrying): "A year ago, this realm was at peace. Now, the Trident runs red with the blood of fools."

Jon Arryn (stepping forward, weary but defiant): "Your Grace, we sought justice. Prince Rhaegar—"

Aegon VI (raising a hand, silencing him): "Spare me your righteous speeches, Jon. You did not seek justice. You sought vengeance."

Arthur Dayne (clenching his jaw): "And Rhaegar sought only to follow his heart."

Daemon (snorting): "Ah, yes. Nothing says 'true love' like abandoning your wife and children to run off with another man's betrothed."

Daeron (shooting his brother a warning look before addressing the room): "The truth is simple. There was no kidnapping. Lyanna Stark went willingly."

(A murmur ripples through the hall. Ned Stark, who had been standing silently among Robert's faction, stiffens.)

Ned Stark (voice low, strained): "What?"

Aegon VI (meeting Ned's gaze): "Your sister was not stolen, Lord Stark. She fled. She and Rhaegar believed their love worth the cost."

Ned (face paling): "That's not possible. Lyanna would never—"

Daeron (firm but not unkind): "She did. And in doing so, she doomed thousands."

Jon Arryn (shaking his head): "Even if that were true, Rhaegar betrayed his own wife. He dishonored Elia Martell—"

Aegon VI (coldly): "And Robert dishonored himself by refusing to seek the truth before raising his banners. You all did."

(Silence falls. The lords exchange uneasy glances, the foundations of their grievances crumbling under the king's words.)

Aegon VI (leaning forward, eyes burning with quiet fury): "Because of pride and recklessness, my stepson—my nephew—lies dead. Because of stubbornness and haste, Robert Baratheon, the son of my own cousin, rots in a tomb. And for what? A lie? A misunderstanding?"

Arthur Dayne (softly, regretfully): "We did not know—"

Aegon VI (cutting him off sharply): "You did not ask."

(Another heavy silence. Even Daemon, usually so quick with a jape, remains quiet.)

Aegon VI (sighing, sitting back): "After this meeting, Lord Stark, you will be told where Lyanna is. You will see her with your own eyes. And then you will understand the cost of this folly."

Ned (nodding slowly, grief and guilt warring in his expression): "...Thank you, Your Grace."

Aegon VI (glancing at the assembled lords): "But before we speak of punishments, before we decide the fate of this realm, you will hear this one last time—" (His voice hardens.) "This war was never necessary. And every man here bears the blame."

(The lords bow their heads, none daring to meet the king's gaze. The truth, bitter and unrelenting, settles over them like ash. Scene ends as Aegon VI rises from the throne, the weight of judgment looming over the hall.]

[(The Iron Throne Room remains tense as King Aegon VI stands before the assembled lords, his expression unyielding. The afternoon light streams through the high windows, casting long shadows across the faces of Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully, who now stand isolated before the throne. The other lords—Arthur Dayne, Ned Stark, and the rest—watch in uneasy silence.)

Aegon VI (voice measured but firm): "Jon Arryn. You were Master of Laws. You knew the weight of justice, yet when Robert called for war, you did not restrain him. You fed his fury instead of tempering it."

Jon Arryn (jaw tightening, but accepting): "I acted as I believed right, Your Grace."

Daemon (muttering under his breath): "Right for your pockets, maybe."

(A few nervous glances are exchanged, but no one dares laugh.)

Aegon VI (ignoring Daemon's remark): "And Hoster Tully. You pledged your daughters to both sides—one to the Vale, one to the North. A clever play for survival, but not for honor."

Hoster Tully (defensive): "I sought to protect my people—"

Aegon VI (cutting him off): "You sought to profit no matter the victor. That is not leadership. That is opportunism."

(Hoster's face flushes, but he remains silent.)

Aegon VI (turning back to Jon): "For failing your duty as Robert's mentor and allowing this war to spiral beyond control, you will no longer rule the Vale. Your brother, Ronnel Arryn, will take your place as Lord of the Eyrie."

Jon Arryn (closing his eyes briefly, then nodding stiffly): "As His Grace commands."

Aegon VI (to Hoster): "And you, Lord Tully, will relinquish Riverrun to your brother, Brynden. The Blackfish, at least, has never wavered in loyalty."

Hoster Tully (voice strained): "Your Grace, I—"

Daeron (coldly): "Be grateful you still have a head to argue with."

(Hoster falls silent, his hands clenching at his sides.)

Aegon VI (addressing the rest of the room): "As for the rest of you—Robert's allies will surrender half of their wartime profits to the Crown. House Stark is exempt from this, given Ned's ignorance of the truth and his sister's role in this mess."

(Ned Stark bows his head in silent gratitude.)

Arthur Dayne (stepping forward cautiously): "And Rhaegar's supporters?"

Aegon VI (nodding): "The same. Thirty percent of your gains go to the Crown. The rest, you keep—consider it mercy for following a doomed cause."

(Murmurs ripple through the hall—some relieved, others resentful.)

Jon Arryn (quietly): "And what of Lyanna Stark?"

Aegon VI (glancing at Ned): "She will be found. And when she is, she will answer for her choices—as will all of you."

(The weight of his words settles over the room. The game is not yet over, but the rules have been set.)

[(The Iron Throne Room remains heavy with tension as King Aegon VI prepares to deliver his next decree. The assembled lords stand in uneasy silence, their eyes flickering between the king and the newly appointed princes—Daeron, now solemn and straight-backed, and Daemon, who wears a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Arthur Dayne's jaw is clenched, while Jon Arryn's expression remains unreadable. Hoster Tully shifts uncomfortably, still reeling from his demotion.)

Aegon VI (voice steady, carrying the weight of finality): "With Prince Rhaegar's passing, the matter of succession must be settled. By law and by blood, the title of Prince of Dragonstone belongs to my eldest trueborn son, Daeron."

(A murmur ripples through the crowd. Arthur Dayne steps forward, his hand resting on the pommel of Dawn.)

Arthur Dayne: "Your Grace, Prince Rhaegar left a son—Prince Aegon. By tradition—"

Aegon VI (cutting him off, tone firm but not unkind): "By tradition, the line of succession would have passed through my brother Aerys, had he lived. I named Rhaegar my heir out of respect for that loss—not because the throne was ever rightfully his to inherit."

(Daemon lets out a quiet scoff, earning a sharp look from Daeron.)

Aegon VI (continuing, undeterred): "Rhaegar's actions—abandoning his wife, his children, and his duty—prove he was unfit to rule. I will not reward recklessness by placing his son above my own."

(Jon Arryn exhales slowly, exchanging a glance with Hoster Tully. Neither dares to protest.)

Aegon VI (turning to Daeron): "Prince Daeron, you are now Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. May you rule with more wisdom than those who came before you."

Daeron (bowing deeply): "I will not fail you, Father."

Aegon VI (nodding, then shifting his gaze to Daemon): "And you, Daemon, will take Daeron's former seat as Prince of Summerhall. The Crown Merchant Guild's management will be shared with your sister, Princess Alyssa."

Daemon (grinning, though his eyes remain sharp): "Ah, so I get a castle and a business partner? How generous."

Daeron (under his breath): "Try not to bankrupt us."

Daemon (mock-offended): "I'm hurt, brother. I'll have you know I'm excellent with numbers—when I bother to look at them."

Aegon VI (addressing the room once more): "This matter is settled. Prince Aegon—Rhaegar's son—will be raised with honor, but the throne will pass to those who have not forsaken their duty."

(The lords bow in acquiescence, though some—particularly those who had backed Rhaegar—do so reluctantly. The scene lingers on the weight of the announcement, the future of the realm now shifting irrevocably.]

[(The Iron Throne Room grows quieter as King Aegon VI turns his attention to Ned Stark. The Northern lord stands rigid, his grey eyes filled with a mix of grief and apprehension. Nearby, Arthur Dayne watches carefully, his hand resting on the pommel of Dawn. The other lords remain in tense silence, awaiting the king's next words.)

Aegon VI (voice softening slightly): "Lord Stark. You came to this war believing your sister was stolen. Now you know the truth."

Ned Stark (jaw tightening): "A truth that cost thousands their lives."

Aegon VI (nodding solemnly): "A truth that will now cost your sister her freedom." (He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle.) "Lyanna is at the Tower of Joy in Dorne. She is with child—Rhaegar's bastard."

(A sharp inhale from several lords. Ned's face pales, but he does not look surprised—only weary.)

Ned Stark (voice low): "...Then she lives?"

Aegon VI: "She does. But she will not leave the North again. Her son will be raised there, far from the schemes of the South. If she steps beyond Winterfell's walls without my leave, the consequences will be severe."

(Ned exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly—relieved she is alive, but burdened by the terms.)

Ned Stark (bowing his head): "I will ensure she obeys, Your Grace."

Daemon (leaning toward Daeron, muttering): "Wonder if she'll find the North as exciting as running off with a married prince."

Daeron (elbowing him sharply): "Not now."

(Aegon VI ignores his sons, turning instead to Arthur Dayne, who stands at attention.)

Aegon VI: "Ser Arthur. You will ride to Dorne. Princess Elia and her children deserve more than empty apologies, but they will have my word nonetheless."

Arthur Dayne (bowing): "Your Grace."

Aegon VI: "Tell Prince Doran that House Targaryen does not forget its allies. Princess Rhaenys will one day wed Prince Baelon—my grandson and Daeron's heir. Let that be our promise to Dorne: though Rhaegar's son will not sit the throne, his blood will still bind our houses."

(A murmur of approval from some, though Arthur's expression remains conflicted. He was Rhaegar's closest friend—this is not the future he fought for.)

Arthur Dayne (after a moment): "And what of Prince Aegon? Rhaegar's trueborn son?"

Aegon VI (firm): "He will lack no comfort, no honor. But the Iron Throne cannot be his. Not after his father's choices."

(Arthur exhales but nods. He knows better than to argue.)

Jon Arryn (quietly, to Hoster Tully): "A marriage alliance to soothe Dorne. Clever."

Hoster Tully (grumbling): "Clever doesn't undo a war."

Aegon VI: (Aegon VI rises from the Iron Throne, signaling the audience's end.) "Go. See your duties done. The realm's wounds will not heal overnight—but they will heal."

[The lords bow as the king departs, the heavy doors of the throne room closing behind him. The game of thrones continues—but the pieces have been reset.Scene fades on the lingering tension, the first steps toward an uneasy peace.]