Inside The Red Keep's great hall, countless nobles from the Seven Kingdoms stood in rows on both sides, eagerly awaiting.
This was a moment of great anticipation.
Today, the iron throne was to hold the trial of the Duke of the North, Ned Stark.
Compared to the notoriously infamous Grand Maester Pycelle, Duke Ned Stark from the North was a knight of justice praised by all in the Seven Kingdoms!
Even at the cost of his reputation, he bravely shouldered his responsibilities as a family member.
At this moment, Viserys Targaryen, wearing the crown passed down through generations of the Targaryen Family, sat upon the iron throne, forged from a thousand swords.
He rested his hands on 'Ice,' the ancestral sword of House Stark, his expression solemn.
"Bring him in."
Viserys Targaryen said in a low voice.
His voice was not loud, yet it instantly silenced the whispers of all the nobles in the hall.
Heavy footsteps approached from afar.
Ned Stark, his hands in heavy shackles, walked at the forefront.
His grey wolf cloak, symbolizing the Warden of the North, had been stripped away, leaving him in a simple prisoner's uniform.
Each step he took was steady, his grey eyes calmly sweeping over the faces of the nobles on either side, some pitying, some mocking, some fearful.
He knew that today might be the last day of his life!
Behind him, his eldest son Robb Stark's neck was taut like a drawn bow, and Lady Catelyn's lips were tightly pressed, her face pale.
Sansa Stark held the small hands of Bran and Rickon, secretly encouraging them.
Their direwolf companions had been driven to the center of the hunting grounds, locked tightly in iron cages.
At the end of the hall, the iron throne cast a distorted, monstrous shadow that almost enveloped the entire House Stark.
Viserys Targaryen's gaze slowly fell, and the endless majesty from the iron throne pressed down on Ned Stark's shoulders like a tangible weight, making it difficult for him to breathe.
"Eddard Stark,"
he began, "you once raised a banner of rebellion, followed the Usurper Robert Baratheon, and attempted to subvert the legitimacy of the Targaryen Dynasty. Do you plead guilty?"
At his words, a chilling gasp rippled through the crowd.
No one had expected Viserys Targaryen to immediately accuse him of a capital crime!
Some ladies, unaware of the truth, covered their mouths with their fans, too frightened to even breathe.
Tyrell Snow knelt beneath the tower, his eyes flickering, carefully observing the tribunal.
Prince Doran Martell, who had been invited to participate in the public trial, sat like a rock, showing no surprise.
Listening to Viserys Targaryen's interrogation, Ned Stark's pupils contracted.
As a knight, he had long since disregarded his own life and death.
But behind him were all his family members.
Facing the interrogation, he looked around, hesitating.
If he were to confess to treason now, wouldn't his entire family be doomed?
Suddenly, in the crowd, he saw his enchantingly dressed eldest daughter, Sansa Stark.
Under Sansa Stark's subtle hint, Ned Stark finally relaxed, kneeling on one knee: "Yes, I confess my crime of treason!"
Instantly, despair, like ice water, permeated Lady Catelyn's spine.
She felt her throat tighten, and her hands instinctively covered her youngest son Rickon's eyes.
Her husband's confession of rebellion essentially declared the death of every family member.
"It's over, will my children's lives end like this?"
Lady Catelyn closed her eyes in agony.
"However,"
Just as all the rebellious old nobles despaired, Viserys Targaryen changed his tone.
His gaze turned to Jon Snow, who stood a little further away—the black-haired, grey-eyed Stark bastard, now clenching his fists, his face as pale as his adoptive father and mother's.
"You betrayed the Usurper Robert Baratheon and protected Rhaegar Targaryen's bastard—Jon Snow."
At these words, everyone's eyes simultaneously turned to the Stark boy who had long since become a Dragon Guard.
Oh, no!
Now he should be called Jon Waters, the big one!
Hearing this, Ned Stark's back stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.
"Your kindness raised him, Lord Eddard. Under the name of a bastard, bearing the stain on honor, you protected a life from the Targaryen Family."
Viserys Targaryen's fingertips lightly tapped the armrest of the iron throne.
"This silent protection, its weight, is enough to offset a portion of past guilt."
At these words, Sansa Stark finally let out a long sigh of relief.
She was truly afraid that Viserys Targaryen would go back on his word at the last minute and order her father to be beheaded on the spot.
After all, when it was learned that Jon Snow was the child of Rhaegar Targaryen and her aunt Lyanna Stark's secret union, it caused a huge uproar in King's Landing.
Many people believed that House Stark wanted to use Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, to compete for the iron throne as the legitimate son of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
These rumors caught Sansa Stark off guard and almost made her self-sacrifice worthless.
At this moment, Viserys Targaryen's purple eyes slowly turned to Sansa Stark.
The woman who once yearned to be queen now humbly bowed her head, willingly becoming Viserys Targaryen's mistress.
"And when the Long Night descended,"
Viserys Targaryen continued, staring at Sansa Stark, "it was Sansa Stark who, with her blood magic, broke the ice magic of the Night King. She is a meritorious hero whom the Seven Kingdoms should remember."
At this moment, the common folk of King's Landing who had personally witnessed the Others and wights all gasped in amazement.
Everyone knew that it was Viserys Targaryen's dark magic.
But at this moment, Viserys Targaryen cleverly wove it together with Sansa Stark's merits.
"Therefore, I, Viserys Targaryen, the rightful monarch of the iron throne, hereby declare:"
Viserys Targaryen raised his voice, "From today onwards, all titles of House Stark shall be stripped, and Winterfell and its territories shall revert to the Crown. You shall be freefolk, forever forbidden to claim the lordship of the North."
As the verdict was delivered, all the Stark members felt a sense of relief.
Viserys Targaryen was not the Mad King after all, and he did not exterminate the former rebel leaders.
He stripped House Stark of everything, yet he left them the most precious thing—life.
"Good!"
Renly Baratheon was so excited he almost jumped up.
He clapped his hands vigorously, overjoyed.
Now that Viserys Targaryen could pardon House Stark from the death penalty, his own safety was likely assured as well.
"Our whole family will live?"
Robb Stark's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but ask around.
"Yes, thankfully, we've survived!"
In response to her eldest son's question, Lady Catelyn wept tears of joy, nodding repeatedly, her words filled with the bewilderment of having survived a great calamity.
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
Ned Stark bowed his head deeply.
As Robert's brother, he prided himself on having done his best.
After this, he and Robert Baratheon were even.
"Come, let's go home!"
Ned Stark lowered his head, took his wife Catelyn and son Bran's hands, and was about to turn and leave.
However, the next moment, a longsword was placed directly on Ned Stark's shoulder, and mocking voices filled the air: "Who said he could leave?"