So, this is a "story" that I've had in my head for a while now. It will be a 1-shot. This was intended as more of a story beginning rather than an actual story so should anyone want to change minor detail or change some of the wording that is perfectly fine, I merely wanted to set the scene enough so that anyone could understand where I wanted, but couldn't go with it. (my writing skills are about on par with a cabbage)
This is a challenge fic as well so feel free!
In return I only ask that you PM me with the story you're writing using this as a base, so I can see what others can come up with.
Let's begin!
The Black Cells
A lone man sat in the cold, damp and dark cells of the Red Keep. His hair unkempt and matted, his beard untrimmed. Lord Eddard "Ned" Stark looked worse for wear in the damp cell.
'The black cells indeed' He thought to himself, staring into the darkness, his cell was not so fortunate to have a window, 'such is the fate of traitors' he thought bitterly. He was angry, angry at himself and his honour, angry at the little shit that called himself king, a bastard born of incest. 'I was a fool...to think Cersei would take the news well that her secret was discovered. They should have named me "The foolish wolf" instead.' He chuckled mirthlessly.
The true nature of the Queens children came as quite the shock, he could only imagine what John Arryn's reaction was, poor man probably nearly had a heart attack, he was a man who had seen more than a fair few winters after all. His own decision to inform the Queen of her secret was his biggest failure, 'no, my second' he thought. Failing to protect his dear sister Lyanna would always be his biggest. But the cells gave one reprieve, he could dwell on those mistakes and how to rectify them, whilst his head remained intact.
His thoughts drifted to his family, House Stark, his wife Lady Catelyn. How he'd never see her again, how he wished he could say goodbye, 'I should have listened, I should never have gone south'.
He thought of his eldest son, Robb. He knew that his son would call the banners in retribution for his death, he couldn't blame him, but he didn't want Robb to shoulder the title of "king in the North" so soon, he was still a boy, at least to him.
Sansa, his beautiful daughter, married to King Joffrey Waters. He feared for her safety. She was a naïve girl in the den of snakes known as the Red Keep. He only hoped she would be able to escape in time, before the worst should happen.
Arya, his little wolf. Idly he wondered how her 'dancing' lessons were getting on, a shame he'd never see them come to fruition. She was so like his sister Lyanna, she would become fierce one day, 'should she survive' he thought grimly, she was a child still and the Starks had few allies left in the snake pit.
Lastly his thoughts drifted to his 'bastard' Jon Snow. The greatest shame to his house... According to his wife of course. Ned knew better, he was good at keeping secrets, or so he thought. "But maybe, maybe he can help me atone for my mistakes" he mused to himself. He realised he'd never get the chance to tell Jon of his mother. Which lead to the one thing on the forefront of his mind, how to make up for past mistakes. He didn't know when he would be dragged to the chopping block, so he needed to think of something, sooner rather than later.
Courtyard of the Red Keep
'So, the time has come' he thought to himself as he was dragged out of the cells by the Goldcloaks. He could see the mad king, so he had dubbed him in his time in the cells. His daughter Sansa beside him, he couldn't look her in the eye. He looked across the sea of people here to see his head roll, and to his horror, not that it showed, he caught sight of the little wolf Arya towards the back of the crowd. He daren't acknowledge her, just in case Joffrey decided 2 Stark heads were better than one.
He was shoved to his knees by Ser Illyn Payne, his head placed on the block. But he wasn't dead, not yet, in a last-ditch effort he called out to the King,
"Your grace! Surely you can grant a man his last words, so I may ask the Gods for forgiveness".
The King, Joffrey, looked surprised, unsure of what to say, he glanced at his mother who nodded her head. "Very well Lord Stark, you may beg for forgiveness from the Gods, you shall receive none from me" He claimed, arrogance in his voice, he was the King, he didn't care.
"Thank you, your grace. Long live house Stark! Long live... AEGON TARGARYEN!" The smile, the defiance in his eyes. Joffrey was enraged, yet confused, Cersei too held similar emotions. But the sword was swung, and Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North died, a smile on his face. His work was done, the crowd were silent save hushed whispers. But he knew as soon as the words were said, that the crown would be in constant fear, the Kingdom, those loyal to the Targaryen's, everyone, would hear the last words of Lord Stark, and the 7 Kingdoms would change forever. Long live the King.