When the blood of the dragon meets the soul of the dragon, the continent begins to burn.
The Baratheons are steadfast, strong, and formidable. Leanna Baratheon is no different. She is the storm, and no one, Targaryen or other, will bring her down.
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Leanna stands tall before the throne room, chin lifted. She is aware of the eyes on her. The eyes of the people judging her every action. She holds her breath as Jaehaerys stands solemnly from the Iron Throne to her left. Still regal in his old age, but there is a definitive shake to his words as he speaks.
"I, Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, first of my name, King of the Andals, the Roynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial. Baelon of the House Targaryen, Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm will sit as judge in my stead." Jaehaerys steps away from the throne. Leanna curtsies as he passes, followed by the rest of the room. Two of the Kingsguard fall into place behind him as he walks.
When the room is silent once more, the blond prince gestures to the end of the throne room, indicating that the Kingsguard bring their prisoner forward. He seats himself on the Iron Throne, then, with the Master of Coin to his left and the Grand Maester to his right.
Leanna does not turn as Borros is shoved forward into the stand, his hands and ankles shackled together. The chains clatter loudly, abrasive to her ears. He comes to a stop with his gaze dark, and she swears her shoulder twinges at the memory of the bolt. She refuses to look at him fully. He isn't worth her attention.
"Borros Baratheon, you stand accused of participating in kinslaying and attempted kinslaying by Leanna Baratheon. You are accused of supporting Triarchy and Dorne, sworn enemies of the crown, by Leanna Baratheon. For conspiring against the throne, against your king, and against your own House, you stand on trial with your life on the line. How do you answer to these charges? Did you kill Lord Boremund and injure Lady Leanna?"
"I did not," he spits. Borros is hunched in the stand. Once, he had been an image of Boremund. The very prowess of the Baratheon name. Now, he is just a shell. Though, any time in the cells beneath the castle would do that.
"How do you propose he died, then? Did a crossbow bolt happen to accidentally hit your sister?"
"Perhaps she put it there herself." There is a rumble from the crowd. "Ever has she wished to become Lady of Storm's End. It is she you should be accusing!"
Baleon's lip twitches. The motion of disgust is small and minuscule, but Leanna can read it. It is not so different in father and son, she thinks. "The crown calls upon its first witness. Lord Darriston Selmy, please come forward." Leanna does not relax. The familiar Lord bows slightly before the prince, then assumes his position in the witness stand. "Please," Baelon motions. "State your recollection of the events that night so the council may better judge the accused.
Darriston spins his tale well. Leanna finds Daemon among the crowd, his figure stiff from his position beside his brother. Viserys, too, is frowning deeply. The reunion of the brothers has obviously been marked with this darkness.
"Thank you, Lord Selmy. I now call upon the next witness. Maester Owen."
There are no enemies in this trial, save for the one accused. Owen smiles kindly at her before he begins. Reciting her injuries that had been fixable, and Borros's that had not.
