Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 170: Trial of the Last Targaryen

King's Landing — Dragonpit...

"Guilty," began Tommen.

On the day of sentencing, Missandei remained bound as the assembled high lords and ladies stood before her – judging her, the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki. She glowers at them, met eye contact with them, and looks away in a mixture of shame and disgust. The nearby gold cloaks remain standing with disciplined posture at her side, ensuring she does not try anything foolish.

"Guilty," echoed Myrcella.

One by one, after much deliberation amongst themselves the other Westerosi lords and ladies announced their verdict.

"Guilty," Edmure said.

Gendry and Mya were more than happy to go along. "Guilty," they said.

"Guilty," Robb chimed.

Shireen glared at Missandei; her mind still reeled from the fact that her Queen burned her father Stannis alive with dragonfire at the Battle of the Reach. "Guilty," she said firmly.

"Guilty," Theon shifted in his seat.

Doran remained composed. "Guilty," was his calm reply.

"Guilty," voiced Robin.

"Guilty," nodded Margaery.

The decision was damned near unanimous. Tyrion glanced around the semicircle, looking at each of them for a beat before Sansa slowly stands up. The others begin to follow suit. Everyone looks at everyone else. Justice. This is what they came here to do, what they came to get. For what Daenerys Targaryen and her armies have done to them, they came to get the justice they deserved.

"Missandei of Naath," Tyrion cleared his throat, "in light of the crimes committed against the people of Westeros who suffered at the hands of your Queen, Daenerys of House Targaryen, you are hereby convicted on all charges. The remaining Dothraki are sentenced to be executed. As you well know, they are a group of nomads who rape, pillage and murder for mere entertainment; letting them go will only mean more suffering to those who've been through enough already. As for you and the Unsullied, you are to be sent back to Essos across the Narrow Sea to live out the remainder of your lives in permanent exile—never to set foot on our lands again."

She blinked before muttering in disbelief. "That... You mock me. As if you'd let us walk away just like that."

"Lord Tyrion is performing his duty as the King's Hand, and we are offering you mercy. I'd advise taking that offer if I were you. This is your one last chance to save them – because I doubt you will get a better one. Do not waste it," Sansa countered. "One way or another, you're leaving Westeros."

"You are not welcome here," Arya said bluntly.

"Take her away."

Two City Watchmen converge on Missandei on both sides; escorting her by the arms, they escort her away to the nearest port in King's Landing in characteristic orderliness. A few merchant ships will be there to take her and the remaining Unsullied across the Narrow Sea to carry out their life sentence on the opposite side of the world where their journey had begun; as for the remaining Dothraki, for the past few days word had spread that the nomadic warriors were hanged one-by-one – each one whooped and hollered, defiant until the very end.

Missandei continued gazing beyond the horizon; emotionally broken and uncertain of what new path laid ahead of her. She wouldn't go back into the life of a slave. Daenerys freed her from servitude and the Dragon Queen was gone. As was her lover Grey Worm. Walking to the helm, she sees the remaining Unsullied raising the sails, pulling in the gangplank among other tasks.