The King’s Justice

Title: The King’s Justice
Author: Saydria Wolfe
Series: The Right of the Dragon
Series Order: 2
Fandom: GoT/ASOIAF
Genre: Fix-It
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dark Themes
Author’s Notes: 1.) First cousins are not considered incest in Westeros so I didn’t add it as a warning but, yea. 2.) Dark Themes because this is Game of Thrones. It is Dark AF and if you aren’t prepared for that, please read something else. 3.) I wrote this in a single sitting and just finished. It is rough AF. 4.) Going with show canon rather than book canon for Jon and Sansa’s pasts because its easier and I’m in a rush. 5.) Definitely influenced by Eff’s Divine Intervention.
Word Count: 3,578
Summary: Jon and Sansa bring justice to the Lords of the Rebellion.

 

 

“Peace without Justice is a lie. Peace without Justice will never last,” Jon said as he took in the gathered Lords of Westeros. The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was standing room only and packed to overflowing despite that.

It had taken him months to get here. To free the Northern captives from the Black Cells. To break up the Siege of Storm’s End. To see his mother returned alive from the sands of Dorne.

Lady Lyanna had arrived the previous day, loaded in the back of a Sarnori-style chariot and still pregnant. He had not gotten to spend any time with her yet, despite telling his Uncle Ned that she was his mother. He did not think he could be born again when she entered her labors. The North believed that the soul settled within the body at the naming of the child. With him and his half-brother still alive, there was no way she would be naming this son Aegon, so he would have another brother.

“My Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister, will begin our search for Justice. Lord Lannister?”

Tywin Lannister left the front row of the throng and joined the dais on which Jon sat with Sansa at his side—that had been another fight, getting his wife an equal throne to his own, but he would never allow anyone to disrespect Sansa again. Her security and wise council were worth any number of heads he had to take or Trial by Combats he had to fight.

Tywin Lannister deeply bowed to them both before turning around to face the gathered Lords and Ladies.

“Bring forth King Aerys of House Targaryen, the Second of his Name,” Lord Tywin commanded.

It did not take long before guards—one Dragon Guard from Dragonstone and one Lion Guard from Casterly Rock—came forward, each holding an arm of the mad, raving King. His grandfather, he noticed, was gagged.

“King Aerys II of House Targaryen, by the laws of Aegon’s Charter, you are hereby sentenced to murder of Warden of the North, Lord Rickard Stark, and his heir, Lord Brandon Stark, known as the Wild Wolf, in a parody of Justice. As such, you are guilty of breaking the King’s Peace and initiating Robert’s Rebellion. You will be executed at dawn upon the Isle of Faces. I will swing the sword myself as, by the laws of the gods, neither King Aegon Dragonborne nor Lord Eddard of House Stark may fulfill this duty without kinslaying.” Lord Lannister gave a sharp dismissive gesture and the guards turned away with the Mad King.

Lord Lannister then turned, bowed deeply again to himself and Sansa, and returned to his place between Lady Cersei and Ser Tygette Lannister.

“I call Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen forward,” Jon commanded.

His father came before him and hit one knee at the base of the dais. “My King, how may I serve?”

“You have broken the laws of Aegon’s Charter and were instrumental in causing Robert’s Rebellion. Your actions in regard to the Lady Lyanna make you an accessory to the Murder of a Warden and his Heir. What say you?”

His father nodded. “I understand now that my actions were hasty and unwise, but I acted as I did with the best of intentions in the service of Westeros and the gods. The Long Night is coming again. Westeros must be ready to meet it.”

“I am aware,” Jon had to admit. “The Long Night is coming. Queen Sansa and I sit before you the last survivors of the Army of the Dawn that we lead nearly twenty years from now. The Living lost.”

Prince Rhaegar’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Your actions in causing Robert’s Rebellion led to war after war including the Greyjoy Rebellion and the War of Five Kings weakening and fracturing Westeros beyond measure. These wars are why giving Justice to Westeros is so important now. We must stand united. We must prepare for the Second Battle for the Dawn no matter the personal cost.”

“Of course, My King.”

“You took Lady Lyanna from her family without her father’s leave, by Aegon’s Charter that makes you guilty of kidnapping.”

“Yes, My King.”

“You married Lady Lyanna without the presence or consent of a family member, that makes your marriage illegal and non-binding. Every time you did your husbandly duty to Lady Lyanna is therefore, by law, an act of rape.”

His father swallowed hard but nodded, “Yes, My King.”

“You kept Lady Lyanna, a woman you kidnapped and raped, captive in Dorne even as she begged to return home and end the war. By law that increases the severity of every count of rape and kidnapping you are guilty of.”

Rhaegar bowed his head. “Yes, My King.”

“You are my father and I cannot take your head for your crimes against my mother.”

Rhaegar looked up at him sharply and a murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.

“I, King Aegon VII of House Targaryen, hereby sentence you, Rhaegar Targaryen, and your co-conspirators, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Ser Oswell Whent to life upon the Wall.” The three Kingsguard came and knelt beside their prince. He knew their ready obedience was because of their fear of the dragon curled behind him and the direwolf laying at Sansa’s feet, not respect for him as King.

He had to keep that shit in mind and remain grounded in the real world—Sansa was a wonder at seeing through him and reminding him of the truth.

“You wished to prepare for the Long Night so fervently that you caused a war,” Jon concluded. “Now you may prepare for the Long Night at the first place that will feel it but as men of the Night’s Watch. Yoren?”

The wandering crow that has escorted so many to the Wall already, and had saved Arya’s life in another life, moved forward. “You will need to remove your arms and armor as you are going to the Wall as prisoners,” Yoren ordered. “King Aegon has already provided replacement armor for you all. You will receive it and your swords will be returned after you have spoken your oaths to the Watch.”

All four men slowly stripped themselves of their gear. A swarm of Western squires came forward to assist and retrieve the gear at a silent gesture from his Lord Hand. As they finished, the men stepped over to Yoren who secured each one of them in chains at wrist and ankle.

His father hesitated. “My King?”

“Father?”

“What will happen to Lady Lyanna and the child she will soon bear?”

It was harsh, but there was only one answer he could lawfully give. “Men of the Night’s Watch do not father children. Lady Lyanna’s unborn child is none of your concern.”

Rhaegar rocked on his feet as if sucker punched but, in the end, he submitted to Yoren with neither question nor resistance. Yoren lead four of the most famous swords in the kingdom of Westeros out to a wagon fitted with an iron cage.

Once the doors closed behind them, Jon moved on. “Ser Jonothor Darry.”

A fourth white sword of the Kingsguard knelt before him.

“You lit the fire that burned my grandfather, Lord Rickard of House Stark, to death,” Jon said. “And you held the belt that strangled my uncle, Lord Brandon Stark, to death.”

“On your grandfather’s order, yes, My King.”

“Lord Stark has requested—” demanded, really, “—that you face Northern Justice. My final command to you as a Kingsguard is that you will lay down your sword and remain in the cells of Harrenhal until such time as Lord Eddard removes you from captivity and takes your north for your trial. Do you understand?”

Ser Jonothor hesitated long enough that Rhaegal rumbled with displeasure. The knight’s eyes flickered over to the dragon before he bowed his head. “As you command, my King.” He stood and removed his entire sword belt. He then laid it on the ground before Jon.

Lord Jeor of House Mormont and Lord Greatjon of House Umber took custody of the knight and escorted him from the room.

“Princess Elia Martell,” Jon called.

The room gasped nearly as one in surprise, clearly assuming that the Dornish Princess had committed some crime. His father’s first wife came forward looking pale, escorted closely by both of her brothers. The Grass and the Viper were both incandescent with their rage.

Jon glanced at Sansa. She nodded and sat up straighter. Jon leaned back against his throne, yielding the floor.

“Princess Elia,” Sansa said. “My husband and I merely wish to confirm to you and all of Westeros that we do not hold your husband’s crimes against you or your children.”

“Thank you, My Queen.”

“They are still inherited and are, in fact, our heirs until the gods grant us children to call our own.”

A subtle bit of wordsmithing.

Jon himself was sterile due to his death and resurrection and Sansa would not abide the touch of men due to her many rapes by Ramsay Bolton. More, she had sacrificed her fertility to gain magic of the Old Gods so she could contribute more to the War for the Dawn.

“First Rhaenys and then Aegon stand to inherit the Iron Throne should the worst happen to us,” Sansa added.

“First Rhaenys,” Prince Oberyn demanded in surprise.

“First Rhaenys,” Sansa confirmed. “It has long been the goal of House Targaryen to return to the ways of inheritance of Old Valyria rather than the widely accepted Andal traditions. Absolute primogeniture with the only exception being the Right of the Dragon. Meaning, unless one of them claims a dragon and is therefore named heir, the current succession after my husband is Rhaenys, Aegon, and then Daenerys.” Prince Viserys had mysteriously not made it all the way from Dragonstone to Harrenhal. As they had been escorted by Lord Lannister himself and there was no proof to be had of malice or foul play towards the boy, Jon had chosen to let the mystery stand.

“This is, of course, subject to change.”

“Of course,” Princess Elia agreed.

“Further, my royal husband and I would like to invite you to sit on our Small Council. You are welcome to return to your House if you wish, but you are well educated and well trained for ruling. The Dornish Seat upon the Small Council has remained empty far too long due to the ignorance of others—” A soft way of calling Jon’s dragon grandfather a bigot “—we feel that you would fill this seat with wisdom and grace.”

“Your Grace,” Princess Elia started.

Sansa held up a hand. “We do not require you answer now. In truth, we would prefer if you took time to reconnect with the family of your birth and then considered to offer.

“I promise you that I understand the difficulties one faces as a prisoner to those more powerful than you—both far from home and within the Keep where I was born. There is no need rush your decision. Please, take the time you need, though my husband and I would like to invite you to the healing by the Old Gods that we have arranged for several other nobles left with deep mental scars by the events they suffered during Robert’s Rebellion.” Lady Lyanna and the heir to House Glover, Lord Ethan, were already in the uniquely healing embrace the Green Wood of the Gods could offer on the Isle of Faces.

“I will consider what you have said, Your Grace,” Princess Elia allowed.

“Thank you for your time,” Sansa dismissed kindly.

“Lord Hoster Tully,” Jon called when Sansa yielded the floor to him with a glance. “Lady Catelyn Tully, Lady Lysa Tully, and Lord Edmure Tully.”

All of House Tully came forward. Lady Catelyn had a very young Robb on her hip.

“Lord Tully,” Jon began. “Are you aware that marriages made by swordpoint are not valid by the laws of Westeros?”

“Of course, My King,” the man agreed easily, not seeing the noose he had just slipped on his own neck.

“Are you aware that only the men of House Targaryen are legally allowed two spouses under Jaehaerys the Wise’s amendments to Aegon’s Charter?”

“Yes, My King,” the River Lord frowned.

“Then you understand that both Lady Catelyn’s marriage to Lord Stark and Lady Lysa’s marriage to Lord Arryn are, in fact, illegal and that you dealt with your allies in bad faith?”

“I held no sword to Lord Stark,” Lord Tully protested. “Nor Lord Arryn!”

“Physically, no,” Jon agreed. “Mentally, emotionally, and legally, yes. They came to you, as Lord Stark’s sworn ally, for the men you had gathered to fight the Rebellion. They begged for your assistance with life of Robert Baratheon, their foster brother and foster son, respectively—with the lives of their families by all the laws of Westeros on the line—and you took held them all hostage with your daughters’ marriages as the ransom.”

Lord Tully spluttered in fury.

“Lord Brynden was that not your observation?”

The Blackfish stepped forward, though he stood well separate from his kin. “That was my observation, My King,” the knight agreed. “Further, when Lord Stark explained that he had already we the Lady Ashara of House Dayne before the Old Gods, my brother dismissed the marriage as a false claim and illegal because it was not held in the Light of the Seven.”

Jon nodded. “Another violation of the King’s Justice. Aegon’s Charter recognizes all religions as equal and valid whether they originate with the First Men, the Andals, or any of the many descendants of Essos that now claim Westeros as their home. All marriages are valid if done in accordance with the law, regardless of which religion oversees the practice.

“Lord Eddard.”

His uncle stepped forward, “My King?”

“Did you have your father’s consent when you married Lady Ashara?”

“I did, Your Grace.”

“Did you have House Dayne’s consent when you married Lady Ashara?”

“I did, Your Grace.” Lord Eddard agreed. “I can provide the Iron Throne with the documentation of both of our fathers’ agreement.”

Jon waved Lord Stark to Sansa. The man that raised him pulled a bundle of folded and rolled parchment from a belt pouch as he approached. He straightened the parchments and offered them to Sansa with a bow.

His queen accepted the papers, “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

Lord Eddard left the dais and Sansa reviewed the documents. “All necessary consent is here,” she announced. Then she looked to her father. “Were any members of House Dayne present for the wedding?”

“No, Your Grace,” Lord Eddard flushed a brilliant scarlet. “It was attended by commons at our request. We had thought we would die in a storm at sea as we traveled from the Eyrie to Winterfell to gather the banners of House Stark for the war and I dishonored Lady Ashara. She allowed me to make amends by wedding her before she returned to Starfall as requested by her patriarch.”

“Lord Dayne,” Jon called.

Lord Adarien Dayne, older brother of both Arthur and Ashara stepped forward. “Your Grace.”

“Does House Dayne hold the marriage of Lord Stark and Lady Ashara as witnessed by commonfolk to be binding?”

“House Dayne holds the marriage of Lord Stark to Lady Ashara as held beneath the tree as binding regardless of who witnessed it,” Lord Dayne agreed. “Though we would not mind the opportunity to watch the ceremony should they decide together to hold a second wedding beneath the tree.”

“Agreed,” Jon nodded. “You may step back.”

Lord Dayne bowed and retreated to Dornish territory within the Hall.

Jon focused on Lord Hoster. “You are guilty of blackmail, treachery, dealing in bad faith with allies and willful violations of the King’s Justice in relation to the religious rights of House Stark and the marriage rights of House Stark and House Arryn. You will be executed at dawn.

“Take him away,” Jon ordered and a pair of guards—again, one lion and one dragon—took Lord Tully away.

“Lady Catelyn.”

The woman that had emotionally tortured and ostracized him as a child wiped away her quiet tears. “My King?”

“What is your son’s name?”

Her voice cracked as she said, “Robb Stark.” She cleared her throat and corrected, “Robb Rivers.”

He nodded, accepting her correction. It showed her obedience to the King’s Justice despite the fact that he had not explicitly laid out the fact that she was unwed and that made her son was a bastard, which was more than he had expected.

“You are now Lady Paramount of the Riverlands. Lord Robb Tully is your heir, followed by your sister Lady Lysa and then Lord Edmure, until they wed and are bound to other Houses.”

Lady Tully hiccupped. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I will arrange your marriage to a man the holds my trust,” he told her, “But you will not yield the leadership of House Tully and the Riverlands to him. Nor will you yield Lord Robb’s place as your heir.”

“As you will, My King.”

“In the days to come, there will be a Paramount Council where the current Lord Paramounts will agree on the formal duties of a Lord Paramount and I will codify it into law as part of Aegon’s Charter. You are required to attend.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“You may step back.”

Lady Tully bowed and left with her family.

“Ser Brynden,” Jon called before the man could return to the Vale territory from whence he came within the Hall.

“Your Grace?”

“My Kingsguard is short four swords. My Queen is your great niece, daughter of Lady Tully and Lord Stark. Will you join the White Sword brotherhood to protect the blood of your blood?”

Ser Brynden considered the issue, showing an unexpectedly thoughtful nature. After an extended moment, he nodded. “It would be my honor, Your Grace.”

“Your oaths will be given in private,” Jon ordered.

The Blackfish bowed and joined Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, and Prince Lewyn at his back.

Jon stood and offered his hand to Sansa. She took his hand and stood with him. “This session of the King’s Court is adjourned. We will meet again an hour before dawn on the bank of the Gods’ Eye Lake.

“I command my cousin, Lord Stannis Baratheon, to come with me.”

Lord Stannis came to the foot of the dais and took a place at Jon’s left and a step behind as Jon escorted Sansa from the room. Their three remaining and one new Kingsguard followed. Lord Lannister and his party came as well but Jon only allowed Lord Tywin himself to enter his temporary solar.

“Lord Lannister,” Jon addressed his Hand first. “My wife and I will be retreating to the Isle of Faces for a period of silence as a religious practice in preparation for tomorrow’s Judgements. You will need to maintain the peace and oversee the camp in our absence.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“I would also ask you to arrange for the Lord Paramount meeting in three days and be prepared to recommend multiple lords from different kingdoms for the various seats upon my Small Council. While I honor the service the current council has and continues to render, I must create distinct differences between my reign and my grandfather’s. I consider all seats save yours open for this purpose.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Will I be accompanying you to the Isle of Faces?” Lord Baratheon asked once the door was closed behind Lord Lannister.

“You and Ser Jaime,” Jon confirmed. He yielded the rest of the conversation to his queen with a look.

“You have suffered much during Robert’s Rebellion,” Sansa said gently. She included Jaime in that statement with a glance. “You two will be Lord Paramounts of Westeros. Further, Lord Stannis, you are fourth in line for the Iron Throne. Allowing the damage war and madness have wrought to linger in your hearts and minds will only weaken Westeros as a whole.”

“What do we have to do?” Ser Jaime cleared his through. “Your Graces?”

“The Old Gods have methods with which they can lift the burden of this damage, both mentally and physically,” Sansa explained. “You will accompany us to the Isle of Faces. The Green Men will send you into a healing sleep within the roots of a weirwood tree. When you wake, your experiences will be reframed. You will maintain all the lessons and wisdom your experiences have given you but they will not keep you awake at night. Your sleep will be peaceful, your conscience assuaged, your faith in yourself will be restored.”

“You speak as if you have gone through this practice.”

“I have,” she agreed. And they had. After they had returned to the past. So that the scars of tomorrow would not ruin the future of all of Westeros.

They were still themselves. They still had all of the habits and thoughts that had made them the individuals they were but Jon was no longer burdened by the murder and betrayal he had faced within the Night’s Watch and Sansa no longer dreamed of Ramsay Bolton’s many rapes.

Ser Jaime and Lord Stannis communicated their doubt to each other in silent glances.

In the end, Ser Jaime shrugged. “We have nothing to lose but time.”

“I could use some sleep,” Lord Stannis agreed.

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