Arya sat crouched, her heart hammering in her chest, her entire body frozen in fear. All she could hear was blood pouring into her ears, and the sound of her breath, crashing like waves on rock. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress any sound, anything that would indicate that she wasn't just another shadow.

Below her, the crowd stirred.

She sat amongst crates and cargo in the rafters of a large, usually empty warehouse. The warehouse was sweltering in the summer heat, and the sound of flies hummed along with the ripples and murmurs from the crowd as they all watched the scene before them. As they all waited. Waited as the minutes dragged on like hours, the clock ticking, each second like a gunshot.

"Speak man," a blonde haired young man said, his voice mocking. "Or has the cat got your tongue?"

Arya felt a lick of fury stab her insides, and she gripped the bar she was holding, as though it were the blonde man's neck.

All attention shifted to the man on his knees, the man Arya had been watching all along. Dad, she thought, trembling, Dad what have they done to you?

His face was pasty pale, cuts oozing from above his eye and lip, his cheeks bruised purple and yellow. He looked thinner, as though he hadn't bathed in a solid week. But it was his eyes that frightened her the most. The sunken eyes of a dead man.

Don't say it. Don't say it.

"I, Ned Stark," the words tumbled out of his mouth in low tones, his eyes and head held up in bravery. Arya blinked back tears. "Have conspired against Joffrey Baratheon, and his father before him."

NO! Arya wanted to shout out. NO! DON'T SAY IT! DON'T!

"I wanted to take the power for my self, and consulted with Renley Baratheon to overthrow Joffrey," and there was a long, drawn out pause, and Arya could see the struggle visible on Ned's face. "Roberts... Roberts rightful heir and son."

Arya gripped the bar in earnest, her knuckles turning white.

"I am a traitor to the Stag's."

Tears began to collect around Arya's lashes. No you're not! She wanted to shout. You're not!

Joffrey laughed. And her sadness turned to bile in her mouth.

"Sansa wishes that we send this poor piece of shit off to the Wall," he said, and for the first time, Arya stole a glance at her sister. Her heart sank. Sansa looked so hopeful, so assured. And then Joffrey turned to her, and smiled, and Arya wondered if Sansa's hope wasn't foolish after all. Maybe he was going to spare their father. "And my mother wishes for us to forget the matter and let him be pardoned."

Arya began to feel something likened to relief washing over her. It was going to be all right. Everything-

"But they are women," Joffrey said, "stupid and emotional. Mercy? Why should I show this piece of shit any mercy?"

He spat at Ned, the spit hitting his face. It ran down his cheek slowly, but Ned did not lower his head, or raise his hand to wipe it away. He stood vigilant, proud, and always honorable. Always honorable.

"He might have been my father's friend," Joffrey said, and Arya felt herself growing cold. Colder than she'd ever been. "But he's no friend of mine. He's a traitor, and he deserves to be dead."

"NOOOOO!" It was as though Sansa's shriek of pain and horror was ripped from Arya's lips. Arya would have screamed. She would have. In fact she was screaming. The shrieks in her head were enough to turn her deaf.

"NO PLEASE!" Sansa screamed, and someone ran forward to restrain her as she rushed towards Joffrey, tears running down her face already. "YOU SAID! YOU PROMISED! PLEASE!"

Joffrey ignored her.

"I believe," he said, and his voice sounded cold and... Smug. "That an executioner is in order. Illyn, if you would be so good."

Arya felt a rage likened to fire rip through her and she leapt to her feet, scrambling along the loft, dodging the boxes, blending with the shadows, still watching the scene below her. Unable to look away.

The fever of the crowd changed. On minute they were waiting... The next they needed to wait no longer. Waves of noise began to ripple through the mash of people, and suddenly there were shouts and chants. Not of disapproval... But of agreement.

They wanted her father dead just as much as Joffrey did.

FOOLS! She wanted to scream. IDIOTS! HE'S LYING! THEY'RE ALL LYING!

She could see it, the latter where she would scramble down. And then she would race through the crowd, up to the stage and slit Joffrey's throat.

As she stumbled over a box, she saw Illyn Payne drawing from the crowd, a gun in his hand.

No.

And then she was crashing down, a hand over her mouth and her whole body was being crushed as she struggled, screaming, but now sound came out. She tried to bite the hand that was clamped over her mouth, but it was gloved, and all she tasted was leather.

"Stay still," a voice hissed in her ear. "Stay still boy! You don't want to see this!"

She was wrenched around, face to face with a greasy looking man dressed in black. The colors of the Knight's Watch, she thought in surprise.

Still she struggled, trying to turn around. Sansa's screams were so loud that she could hear them over the roar of the crowd.

"Look away!" The man snarled. "Look at me! You don't want to see this boy!"

Arya could feel tears leaking out of her eyes and she felt dizzy as the man pressed his hand against her mouth. It was all too much. The heat. The screaming. The man's hand pressed over her mouth, blocking the air. Her father.

He wrenched her forward, staring straight into her eyes.

"Look at me!" He commanded. "Look at me."

She shook her head, tears beginning to run down her face.

"Look at me," he whispered, and this time, it wasn't harsh. It was almost a plea. "You don't want to see this."

And finally, she complied.

Her heart began to beat in her ears in a steady rhythm, racing in her ears and in her body so fast that it was painful. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Look at me."

BANG!

And I just couldn't resist giving you guys this little taste of my Mob AU. I probably won't be writing more on it until I finish No Blacksmiths and Hot Pie at the Wedding, but here's a preview of what is to come