A Prince of House Targaryen

Happiness

"If you think this has a Happy Ending, then you haven't been paying attention." - Ramsey Snow

Aemon moves quickly. His Valyria Sword cuts through the opening of his neck. The audience falls silent as nothing but blood fills the ground around the Mountain. Grunts of pain escape his bloody mouth. The Mountain falls on his stomach with a loud metallic sound. With one more strike, Aemon cuts off the head of the man, his head along with his helmet rolling away.

"He killed the Mountain." The whispered words spread through the crowd, snapping many from their shocked daze.

"The Mountain is dead!" the call is taken up by the spectator, and soon they are roaring.

Aemon's shoulders slumped down in relief; hearing the cheers, he smiled brightly. He looked around and saw almost everyone was celebrating. The Mountain was known as one of Tywin's most violent dogs, and seeing him dead on the floor, made many forget the fact that, to their eyes, he was still a bastard, and they were cheering for him.

Aemon looked up at the royal seats. His sister was clapping and crying simultaneously; Arianne smiled at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, but when his eyes went to his grandmother.

He saw she was crying more than everyone else. Her eyes had turned red from crying. At that moment, Aemon felt terrible for worrying her so much; Aemon had planned to use Warging in case he was at a disadvantage any time during the fight.

The septon strolled to the center of the arena, his eyes gazing at Aemon with an impassive look, but Aemon could see that, for some reason, he wasn't pleased with the outcome of the fight.

Why would a Septon care about this fight? Aemon thought to himself, his eyes narrowed slightly. As he cleared his throat, the applause stopped right away.

"In the eyes of the Seven, Jon Snow had proved innocent in the eyes of the gods." He spoke with an old tired voice as Rhaegar Targaryen stood up from his seat.

"Jon Snow, you're free from the charges against you. You're found not guilty." He spoke while sending a glare toward House Tully, his voice booming like a horn of war.

"Yay!" The Northern lords cheered for Aemon, and the prince felt a warm feeling on his chest; seeing so many people cheering for him felt warm and good. To have so many people look at him with admiration.

Aemon's eyes went to the fishes. He smirked; seeing the faces of House Tully was more than enough for him. Cersei's face had turned red with anger, holding the hand of her worthless son in her lap, her veins visible on her forehead. Aemon saw that, unlike his mother, Joffrey was solely looking at the Mountain's corpse. A few crows had already gathered around the corpse, their beaks nibbling on the meat around the severed head and the eyes since it was the softest part of the head.

Edmure Tully's face had turned red slightly, somehow keeping it together in front of many people.

Aemon didn't need to look at Tywin Lannister to know that despite his calm face, he was furious, but unlike Cersei, his anger was mainly directed at his own daughter.

When Cersei had informed him that she wanted the Mountain to be Joffrey's champion, Tywin had first refused. He needed him somewhere else, but since losing this trial meant shaming House Tully. In a way him, Tywin had complied without much complaint, but now looking at the corpse of the Mountain. Tywin could do nothing but clench his teeth in anger, his hands resting on his lap. His hands had become fists. His knuckles had turned white.

His son Jaime and grandson Loren looked at this whole thing with uncertainty. Tywin, at that moment, decided to have a meeting with Cersei. She had been acting on her own accord for far too long. Tywin knew that in the eyes of the Seven, House Tully had lied, and they had lied to the Royal Family. There would have consequences for House Tully.