As Queen Regent, it was Lyanna Baratheon's duty to sit in judgement of the condemned while the King and his hand were both away. Though the war had been won, it would still be a fortnight until Robert's great host returned home.
Queen Lyanna ruled with Justice, imagining how her father Rickard Stark would have punished these people. The drunkard who assaulted a septon was flogged, the Goldcloak Captian who stabbed a whore in the throat got a Black Cloak and a one-way voyage to Castle Black, the Goldsmith who refused to honor the contract to his apprentice was forced to pay compensation as well as a fine. This was all by the books, except for one crime which Queen Lyanna punished more severely than normal.
"Bring in the next prisoner."
Ser Barrestan nodded, "Yes your Grace."
The guards brought in the next prisoner and threw him at the feet of the throne.
Ser Barrestan read out his crime, "This man stands accused of having raped three women, one of them a girl not even flowered. The City Watch caught him in the act."
Lyanna stared down at the brutish prisoner from her husband's throne.
This animal is covered in filth and clad in rags. He's as ugly on the outside as Rhaegar was on the inside. I will no doubt be expected to order him gelded.
Unflinchingly, Lyanna gave her sentence. "You are found guilty of three instances of rape. For this crime, I condemn you to die!"
This caused many of the nobles viewing the sentencing to murmur quietly. Few necessary considered Lyanna's sentence harsh, but most found it abnormal.
The condemned, who until now did not even attempt to hide his acts, simply spat.
"Shall we hang him?" Ser Barrestan's question was a fair one, and Lyanna was about to give the order. But as she was about to, she heard her father's voice.
The person who passes the sentence should swing the blade.
"No, I mean to behead him myself."
This really caught everyone's attention. One of the guards even asked, "Your Grace, are you sure?"
"Yes, that is the Stark Way."
The guards held him down, and Lyanna drew her sword. The Queen then walked slowly down the steps of The Iron Throne. As she descended down the pile of swords, she held in her hand her own sword. It was a sword her husband King Robert had given Lyanna on her twenty fifth name day, forged of fine Noorvosi Steel and pommeled with a snarling wolf's head.
The raper was now struggling, wiggling in a vain attempt to escape from this situation. But it was to no avail, as he was unable to even loosen the guards grips.
Lyanna lifted her sword up, and in one quick motion brought it down. Blood splattered on the blade, and the raper's head bounced twice upon the throneroom floor. Lyanna returned to her seat on The Iron Throne, and one of the guards removed the head and cadaver from the room, but everyone else stood silent.
Justice is served, and my traditions were kept. I am sure my father would have been proud of me.
He would not be the only one, Lyanna reflected. Many in Flea Bottem and in the other poor parts of Kings Landing love and admire Lyanna Baratheon for her charitable efforts. When she rode through those areas crowds would gather to cheer her on. Women holding children would walk up to her asking her to name their babies, and children would ask if she really was half-Mormont as the (false) rumors have claimed.
I may have suffered, but I refuse to let that define who I am.