The Hightowers entered the throne room together.
Otto came first, walking beneath his own strength despite the months spent in confinement. Age had reduced the firmness of his step, but not the discipline of his expression. He wore a plain grey doublet without the green hand of his former office or the white tower of his house. No chain of the Hand rested around his neck. The only metal upon him belonged to the irons joining his wrists.
Ormund followed in similar chains.
He appeared less diminished by captivity. His shoulders remained straight, his beard neatly trimmed, and his eyes moved across the hall with the same measured attention he had shown while commanding an army.
Defeat had stripped him of Oldtown, his host, and the king he proclaimed, yet it had not taken the authority with which he carried himself. He looked towards the assembled Reach lords before turning to the throne, perhaps noting who had abandoned his cause and who had merely arrived late enough to claim loyalty without sacrifice.
Hobert walked beside him, heavier and more visibly unsettled. He had never carried Ormund’s military composure or Otto’s ability to disguise ambition beneath reason. His gaze remained fixed upon the floor until the Hightowers reached the centre of the hall.
Gwayne came last. He wore no cloak and carried no sword. His captivity had thinned his face, though he retained the bearing of a knight rather than a broken prisoner. Unlike the others, he looked directly towards Rhaenyra and bowed before the guards compelled him to stop.
The four men stood beneath the Iron Throne.
Behind them, the throne room held representatives from every part of the realm their rebellion had touched. Reach lords occupied one side of the hall, among them men who fought Ormund at Honeyholt and others who remained silent until Highgarden declared for Rhaenyra.
Riverlords sat across from them. Velaryon captains, Crownland knights, maesters, septons, and the surviving members of the royal household filled the remaining benches.
Alicent sat near the front under guard. Helaena remained beside her, hands folded tightly in her lap. Daeron stood at the end of the same bench, dressed in black and red rather than Hightower green. He had asked to attend without being summoned as a witness. Rhaenyra permitted it on the condition that he did not interrupt the proceedings.
I doubted he needed the warning. Aegon was dead by my hand. Aemond lay beneath the Gods Eye. Now the men who gave their cause wealth, soldiers, legitimacy, and opportunity stood before his sister’s throne.
Vaeron stepped forward with the charges. "The court will hear the cases of Otto Hightower, Ormund Hightower, Hobert Hightower, and Ser Gwayne Hightower. Each man will be judged for his own actions. Kinship will neither establish guilt nor excuse it."
The distinction mattered more today than during the earlier proceedings.
No one doubted that House Hightower formed the centre of the rebellion. Yet even within one family, responsibility was not equal. Otto had spent years encouraging resistance to Rhaenyra’s succession.
Ormund had transformed private opposition into open war. Hobert provided the influence and wealth required to maintain it. Gwayne had served as an officer after those decisions were made.
All had supported Aegon. Only three had built the cause that placed a crown within his reach.
Otto’s trial began first. Vaeron read the accusations without embellishment.
"Otto Hightower stands accused of deliberately undermining the succession proclaimed by King Viserys, encouraging opposition to Princess Rhaenyra while continuing to serve as Hand, using his influence over Queen Alicent and her children to deepen division within the royal family, conspiring against the lawful heir following Viserys’s death, and assisting the escape of Princes Aegon and Aemond from royal custody. Their escape allowed them to reach Oldtown, where Aegon was later proclaimed king and open rebellion began."
Otto listened without moving. When the charges ended, he raised his eyes towards Rhaenyra. "I deny that concern for the stability of the realm was treason. Your father named you when no male heir existed. After Aegon’s birth, the question changed, even if Viserys refused to recognise that it had."
Rhaenyra’s expression remained controlled. "My father confirmed me as his heir after Aegon was born."
"He confirmed his preference. He did not remove the customs that governed every great house beneath his rule."
"You served him while privately preparing to overturn the decision he maintained."
"I advised him repeatedly that placing a daughter before a son would divide the realm."
"You did more than advise."
Vaeron presented letters recovered from Otto’s chambers and testimony from men who carried messages between the former Hand and sympathetic lords. None contained an explicit command to crown Aegon.
Otto had been too experienced to place the entire design upon parchment. Instead, he wrote of uncertainty, the dangers of female succession, the need for good men to prepare for disorder, and the responsibility of lords to preserve the realm if the king’s final wishes threatened it.
Every letter stopped before treason became undeniable. Together, they formed the road that led to it.
"You cultivated opposition while Viserys still lived," Vaeron said. "You encouraged lords to treat the succession as unsettled, although the king had settled it repeatedly. You did not merely predict division. You ensured that men were prepared to create it."
Otto’s chains shifted as he folded his hands. "A realm does not divide because one old man writes letters. It divides because a settlement lacks the strength to survive."
"That argument would excuse every conspirator who weakens a government and then points to its weakness as proof he was right."
A faint irritation crossed Otto’s face. "You mistake obedience for stability. Lords swore to Rhaenyra before Aegon’s birth. Many believed those oaths should have been renewed or reconsidered once the king possessed a son."
"They could petition the king," Rhaenyra said. "They could argue in council, speak publicly, or ask him to name Aegon. He refused. You then treated that refusal as evidence that his will could be discarded after death."
Otto looked towards the throne as though Rhaenyra were still the younger woman he had expected to outmanoeuvre. "Viserys wanted peace within his family. Had he understood the bloodshed his decision would cause, he might have chosen differently."
"My father understood your ambitions well enough to keep you in check. He was less willing to admit that those ambitions could lead to this horror. The realm is drenched in blood due to you, Lord Otto."
Alicent flinched at the words. Otto did not look towards her.
The evidence concerning Aegon and Aemond’s escape was more direct. Guards testified that Otto passed instructions from confinement through loyal servants and court officials. Routes beneath the Red Keep had been identified.
Horses and disguises were prepared. Jasper Wylde attempted to loosen Otto’s imprisonment while Larys spread rumours intended to distract attention from the princes. Otto had not ridden beside his grandsons when they fled. He had made the flight possible.
"If Aegon and Aemond had remained in the capital, Ormund could not have declared either of them king," Vaeron said. "No dragon would have flown to Oldtown. No rival court would have formed around them."
Otto’s gaze moved briefly towards Daeron. "Aegon and Aemond believed their lives were in danger."
"They were guarded," Rhaenyra replied. "Alicent, Helaena, and the children remained in this city throughout the war and were treated with dignity. Daeron later returned and swore to me without being harmed. The danger you described was created largely through your own warnings."
"I would not gamble the lives of my grandsons upon your husband’s restraint."
The attention of the hall shifted towards me.
Otto had always understood that fear of me offered a stronger defence than love for Aegon. I was the foreign-born dragonrider with an army outside the ordinary feudal order, the man who claimed to dream of events before they occurred, and the husband whose interest lay in keeping Rhaenyra’s sons between every rival and the throne.
"I gave Aegon and Aemond opportunities to submit," I said. "Daeron accepted one. Your other grandsons chose flight and war."
"Aegon knew you would never permit him freedom while he remained a possible rival."
"He was free for years before Viserys died."
"Because killing him then would have exposed what you were."
A quiet murmur moved through the benches. Rhaenyra raised one hand before I could answer. "This court is judging what you did, Otto. Not the crimes you insist others might have committed if you had not acted first."
Otto lowered his head slightly, though the motion held acknowledgement rather than submission. He had no final revelation to offer. No hidden decree named Aegon heir. No witness could claim Viserys changed his will. Otto’s defence rested upon the belief that his judgement exceeded the king’s and that the war proved the wisdom of the rebellion rather than its cost.
Rhaenyra delivered her decision without leaving the throne. "You served my father as Hand while undermining the succession he commanded you to preserve. You nurtured dissent within his court, taught his sons to regard my inheritance as theft, and helped them escape when lawful custody might have prevented war. You did not march at Honeyholt, but the army that fought there followed a cause you spent years building."
Otto remained still.
"You are guilty of treason against King Viserys, conspiracy against his declared heir, and assisting the flight that allowed open rebellion to begin. The sentence is death."
Alicent closed her eyes. Helaena reached for her hand. Otto did not plead. Perhaps he had known before entering that no path led from the throne room to freedom. He bowed as far as his chains permitted and allowed the guards to move him aside.
Ormund was brought forward next. His charges required less investigation.
He had received Aegon and Aemond in Oldtown, sheltered them beneath the Hightower’s strength, and declared Aegon the true king. He summoned banners, gathered troops, accepted the allegiance of lords willing to oppose Rhaenyra, and marched as commander of the rebellion’s strongest southern host.
He led the siege of Honeyholt. He placed hidden scorpions in the forest. He commanded the army that killed Baela and Moondancer. He later used Baela’s body in an attempt to purchase safe passage, abandoned most of his trapped men when escape became possible, and continued the rebellion from Oldtown after Aegon’s death.
Ormund denied none of it. "I declared Aegon because I believed his claim lawful," he said. "Once I did so, every military action that followed was undertaken in service to the king I recognised."
Vaeron regarded him across the open floor. "You speak as though declaring him transformed the act into law."
"Aegon was the eldest son of Viserys."
"Rhaenyra was the named heir."
"A king’s declaration cannot erase blood, custom, and the judgement of every lord who believed a son should inherit before a daughter."
"Every lord did not believe that. The Vale, North, Riverlands, much of the Crownlands, and numerous Reach and Stormland houses fought for Rhaenyra."
"And others fought for Aegon."
"Because you gave them an army around which to gather."
Ormund’s expression remained composed. "Someone would have done so. Had I turned Aegon away, another lord might have received him."
"That possibility does not reduce your guilt."
"No. It explains my choice."
He spoke like a commander delivering an account after battle, accepting responsibility while refusing shame. It would have been easier to hate him if he were cowardly or foolish. Ormund had never been either. His decisions were deliberate, and that made the destruction they caused harder to dismiss as error.
Rhaenyra questioned him about Honeyholt. "Did you know your hidden scorpions might strike any dragon flying above the forest?"
"Yes."
"Baela was not attacking your army when Moondancer was hit."
"She was scouting it for you."
"She was a child."
"She was a dragonrider serving an enemy host."
Rhaenys sat motionless among the Velaryon delegation. I felt Orphan-Maker’s pommel beneath my hand and forced my fingers away from it.
Ormund continued before the court could react. "I will not pretend the shot was an accident because she was young or because grief has made her death more useful than the hundreds of nameless soldiers killed in the same campaign. She flew above my position. My men fired. That is war."
"You later held her body," Rhaenyra said.
"I held the body because it possessed value in negotiation."
Alicent looked towards him then, and even she seemed disturbed by the plainness of the answer.
"You offered my stepdaughter’s corpse in exchange for the escape of your army."
"I offered the return of a princess in exchange for terms. Prince Othorion refused."
The hall’s attention turned towards me again. "He demanded safe passage for thousands of armed men," I said. "Had I accepted, his host would have reached Oldtown intact and prolonged the war. Baela was already dead. I could not purchase her life."
"You could have purchased her body."
"Yes."
The single word carried more weight than any defence. Rhaenys had already told me not to turn Baela into an instrument for my guilt. That did not make the choice painless or remove the memory of the canvas-covered shape carried from the forest after Ormund’s army finally broke.
Ormund studied me, perhaps expecting anger. "I made the offer because I believed you might choose family over advantage," he said.
"I chose the living soldiers who would have died if your army escaped."
"And that is why you won."
There was neither praise nor mockery in his voice. He simply understood the choice because he had made similar ones, often with other men paying the price.
Vaeron continued through the evidence. Orders bearing Ormund’s seal confirmed his preparations, recruitment, and coordination with rebel-aligned houses. Witnesses from Honeyholt described the withdrawal and abandonment of much of his army. Lord Bulwer had given a full account of the men left behind and Ormund’s later reliance upon Ser Jon Roxton’s attacks against loyalist villages.
Ormund disputed the language used, but not the acts. "I ordered Roxton to disrupt the lands supporting your advance," he said. "I did not direct him to murder civilians."
"You continued using him after reports of those murders reached Oldtown," I replied.
"I had few forces capable of operating beyond the city."
"So you accepted what he did because it remained useful."
Ormund’s silence answered more clearly than denial. Rhaenyra gave judgement after the final testimony was entered.
"You welcomed my brothers to Oldtown, proclaimed Aegon king against my father’s will, raised the principal army of the rebellion, and commanded it until defeat. Even after Aegon died, you refused surrender and placed the people of Oldtown at risk rather than relinquish a cause that no longer possessed a claimant capable of ruling."
Ormund lifted his chin.
"You are guilty of treason and of directing open war against the crown. The sentence is death."
He bowed once. No appeal followed. No request for the Wall. Ormund had spent the war asking soldiers to accept death for his judgement. He would not now claim a lesser standard for himself.
Hobert’s hearing began after a brief adjournment.
He entered the centre more reluctantly than the others. Of the four Hightowers, he appeared most offended that wealth and influence could be treated as weapons. He had not commanded at Honeyholt, ridden with Roxton’s raiders, or placed a crown upon Aegon’s head. His contribution came through ledgers, loans, obligations, storehouses, and the authority carried by the Hightower name.
Vaeron listed the funds he released from the family treasury.
Gold had purchased weapons, armour, food, horses, and the services of captains reluctant to march without payment. Hobert arranged loans through Oldtown merchants and used Hightower influence to pressure guilds into supporting the rebel administration.
He secured supplies from the Arbor and helped fund Redwyne attempts to break the blockade. Letters bearing his seal urged lesser Reach houses to honour old obligations to Oldtown rather than recognise Highgarden’s neutrality or Rhaenyra’s claim.
Hobert objected before Vaeron finished. "Those funds belonged to House Hightower. Using them to defend our lands and support our declared king was within my authority."
"Your declared king," Vaeron repeated. "Not a king recognised by Viserys, crowned in the capital, or accepted by most of the realm."
"Aegon was crowned in Oldtown before the Faith and the people."
"He was proclaimed by your family inside a city your family controlled."
"Oldtown is one of the greatest cities in Westeros."
"That makes its treasury larger. It does not make treason lawful."
Hobert looked towards Ormund. "My son commanded the war. I administered the house in his absence. Refusing to support him would have divided Oldtown before an enemy army ever approached."
"You did not merely obey orders," Rhaenyra said. "You persuaded merchants to extend credit, threatened those who refused, and used your family’s influence over the city to sustain the rebellion after military defeat became certain."
"I preserved the city’s defence."
"You prolonged the siege."
"I ensured our soldiers were fed."
"You ensured Ormund could continue refusing terms."
Hobert’s defence narrowed with every exchange. He claimed loyalty to his house and blood, then duty to Oldtown. The records showed initiative beyond both. He negotiated with the Arbor, released money without waiting for Ormund’s approval, and sought additional support after Aegon died. He understood the rebellion might collapse without funding and deliberately kept its remaining machinery alive.
Men often imagined that war belonged to those carrying swords. Hobert’s ledgers had killed as effectively as steel.
"You funded the host that marched against Honeyholt," Vaeron said. "You paid for weapons used against the queen’s armies. You financed the supply of Oldtown after Aegon’s death and assisted efforts to break the blockade. Ormund commanded the rebellion. You made it possible for him to continue commanding."
Hobert’s face had paled. "I did not begin the dispute over succession."
"No," Rhaenyra said. "You chose to spend your house’s fortune ensuring the dispute became a war."
She waited until the scribes completed the final line of testimony. "Hobert Hightower is guilty of financing treason, using the influence of his house to sustain armed rebellion, and continuing that support after the cause had no lawful prospect of success. The sentence is death."
Hobert stared towards the throne. For a moment, I believed he would beg. His mouth opened, but Ormund looked towards him before any words emerged. Whatever passed between the father and son silenced the appeal.
Hobert lowered his head. The guards moved him beside Otto and Ormund.
Only Gwayne remained. He crossed the floor and stopped beneath the Iron Throne with an unease different from Hobert’s fear. He knew death was possible, but he did not appear surprised by the prospect. His eyes passed briefly over Alicent before settling upon Rhaenyra.
Vaeron read the charges. "Ser Gwayne Hightower served as an officer in the army raised by Ormund Hightower for Aegon’s rebellion. He commanded Hightower soldiers, carried out military orders against forces loyal to Queen Rhaenyra, withdrew to Oldtown after the defeat at Honeyholt, and remained in arms until the city surrendered."
The list was shorter. There were no letters showing Gwayne encouraged Otto’s conspiracy. No evidence connected him to Aegon and Aemond’s escape. He did not proclaim Aegon king, fund the army, direct Roxton’s raids, or take part in the murder of civilians. He had served. That service remained treason, but it was not the same treason committed by the men beside him.
"How do you answer?" Vaeron asked.
Gwayne looked towards Rhaenyra. "I fought beneath my house’s banners and obeyed my cousin, Lord Ormund, as commander. I will not claim I was forced. I believed my duty lay with my family, even when I doubted some of the choices that brought us to war."
"Which choices did you doubt?" Rhaenyra asked.
"The refusal to submit after Aegon died. The continued use of Ser Jon Roxton after reports of his conduct reached us. My Uncle, Lord Hobert’s proposal to take hostages from the Citadel and Faith when Oldtown began turning against us."
Ormund’s expression did not change.
"Did you oppose those decisions openly?" Vaeron asked.
"Not strongly enough."
The answer sounded like Gwayne.
I remembered Highgarden years earlier, before the realm broke and before every courteous conversation became evidence of a path not taken. Gwayne had reached the final of the tourney after defeating knights younger, faster, and more celebrated than himself. We met beneath Tyrell banners before stands crowded with lords who still believed rivalry could be contained within lists.
I defeated him after a long contest.
He had risen from the ground with blood at the corner of his mouth, accepted my hand, and laughed when I apologised for the blow. Later, over watered wine, he told me that defeat revealed more about a knight than victory because a man could always pretend success proved every choice correct.
We spoke again that evening about service. Gwayne did not share Otto’s hunger for control or Ormund’s certainty. He believed family loyalty was an obligation precisely because it was often unpleasant. I had warned him that duty became dangerous when a man allowed others to decide its meaning for him. He replied that choosing no side was still a choice, usually made by those wealthy enough to survive whichever side won.
At the time, it sounded honest. Now it stood at the centre of his trial. "You once told me that defeat showed what remained of a man after pride lost its protection," I said.
Gwayne turned towards me. "I remember."
"You also said a knight could not abandon his family merely because serving them became difficult."
"I did."
"Do you still believe that?"
He considered the question rather than reaching for an answer that might save him. "I believe a man owes duty to his family. I no longer believe that duty excuses him from judging where they lead him."
"Why should the court spare you?"
Gwayne looked towards Otto, Ormund, and Hobert before answering.
"Because my guilt is mine, not because it is small. I served in the army and remained until Oldtown surrendered. I did not design the rebellion, but I gave it my sword when I might have refused. If the sentence is death, I will accept it. If the Wall is offered, I will take the black and spend whatever years remain serving a duty that does not depend upon my family’s ambition."
There was no attempt to blame Ormund. No claim that an officer possessed no choice. No effort to transform obedience into innocence. Daeron watched him from the front bench, grief visible in a way he had managed to conceal during the earlier judgements. Alicent’s hand trembled within Helaena’s.
Rhaenyra looked towards me. She did not need my permission, but she wanted my judgement. I had fought Ormund’s army and accepted its surrender. I knew what Gwayne had done and what he had refused to become.
"He served the enemy cause," I said. "That cannot be pardoned entirely. Yet no evidence places him among those who created it, financed it, or prolonged it through crimes against civilians. Of the Hightower leaders taken in Oldtown, he conducted himself with the greatest honour."
Ormund looked towards Gwayne then. For the first time during the trial, his composure carried something beyond command. Perhaps pride. Perhaps regret that honour had not protected the man who followed him.
Rhaenyra delivered judgement. "Ser Gwayne Hightower, you bore arms against your lawful queen and served as an officer in a rebel army. The crown cannot return you to your lands, titles, or former place at court. However, you did not help design the conspiracy, and no charge of cruelty or unlawful killing has been proven against you."
Gwayne waited without moving.
"You are granted mercy. You will surrender every inheritance and title, relinquish the Hightower name for all matters of succession, and take the black. You will serve upon the Wall for the remainder of your life."
He bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"You will depart with Ser Curtis Crakehall and Jasper Wylde. Do not make me regret distinguishing your conduct from theirs."
"I will not."
The guards removed his chains before leading him from the hall. It was a small mercy, but not an empty one.
Gwayne would live. He would travel north, exchange the colours of his house for black wool, and serve a realm whose frozen boundary cared little for the succession that destroyed his family. Perhaps the Wall would give him the simpler duty he once imagined knighthood should provide.
Otto, Ormund, and Hobert remained beneath the throne. Vaeron gathered the written judgements and read the sentences into the permanent record. Each man had been found guilty of treason. Each would be executed publicly within the Red Keep, before representatives of the crown and the regions damaged by the rebellion.
The executions would take place at first light.
Rhaenyra rose. "This court has judged the acts of each accused man separately. Gwayne Hightower will live because service in a rebel army does not carry the same guilt as creating, commanding, or financing that rebellion. Otto, Ormund, and Hobert Hightower used blood, influence, wealth, and fear to divide the royal family and the realm. Thousands died because they believed their judgement stood above the will of King Viserys."
Her gaze passed across the three condemned men. "You will be permitted a septon, a final meal, and the right to write one letter each. Your bodies will be returned to your family after the sentences are carried out. There will be no mutilation and no public display beyond the execution itself."
Otto bowed his head. Ormund remained upright. Hobert’s control finally weakened, and the guards had to support one arm as they turned him towards the inner doors.
Alicent did not call out to them. She sat beside Helaena, watching her father, uncle, and cousin disappear into the passage leading towards the cells. Daeron lowered his head as Gwayne was taken through a different door to begin preparations for the journey north.
The throne room emptied slowly. No one spoke of celebration. By evening, carpenters entered the inner yard of the Red Keep. They inspected the platform used for royal punishments, replaced a warped board, and set a heavy block beneath the covered gallery from which Rhaenyra would witness the sentences.
Otto, Ormund, and Hobert spent their final night beneath guard. At dawn, the Hightower men would meet the block.