I had been branded a traitor. It wasn't true, of course; the new king made it all up. He had told the people that I had plotted to murder him, and take the throne for myself. No one dared to oppose the boy king, not even those who knew the truth. He wasn't the rightful heir to the throne; I had thought that that was obvious. "Lord Orris Baratheon, black of hair…Axel Baratheon, black of hair…Lionel Baratheon, black of hair…Steffan Baratheon, black of hair…Robert Baratheon, black of hair…Joffrey Baratheon…Golden haired." The words kept on repeating themselves in my head, as if I was under a hypnotic spell. For the people, for the realm…I'd do whatever it took to give the throne to the rightful heir. No matter what it cost.
King Joffrey had gathered every man, woman and child in King's Landing to watch me confess my so-called crimes. The sun was beating down on me, making me awfully uncomfortable in my mail and leather ensemble. The fact that I hadn't had anything to drink for the past two days didn't help, either. My throat burned; it ached for water, wine, anything. As I spoke- or tried to, at least- I looked in the crowd for a friendly face. I saw Joffrey, smiling that trademark, cocky and mocking Lannister smile. I resisted the urge to spit on him; I didn't feel like getting beaten again.
I saw Sansa, a brilliant smile on her face. Gods, she looked so much like her mother. I felt a familiar pang in my gut as I thought of Catelyn; my sweet Cat…would I ever see her again? Hold her, kiss her, make love to her? Just thinking of her made it even harder to speak.
"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," I croaked, trying to use my other leg for support. My cast had become rotten, and those damned Lannisters didn't bother replacing it. It was a huge effort just to stand up straight. "And I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men," The crowd murmured in astonishment, forcing me to speak louder than before. "I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself,"
Just as the words left my mouth, I locked eyes with a small, scared girl. It took me a second to realize that under the dirt, grime and filth, the girl was Arya Stark of Winterfell, my sweet daughter. "Arya!" I wanted to scream, but nothing would come. "Father!" She cried, tears leaving tracks on her filthy face, the wind rustling her matted and greasy hair. "Don't hurt my father!" She screamed as a rock hit me hard in the nose. I heard the cartilage crack, and I could feel the blood trickling down to my chin. I paid no attention to the pain; I carried on, my eyes still focused on her. "Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,"
The Grand Maester tried to calm the crowd. After a few moments, he finally silenced them. He spoke in a deep, powerful voice, but I ignored him. My eyes were locked with those of Arya. We had the same eyes, my daughter and I. Arya, my bastard Jon and I all had what people called 'the Stark look'; brown hair, grey eyes, a long face. Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon all looked like my lady wife.
All of a sudden, Prince- no, King Joffrey stepped out from behind the shields of his Kingsguard. "My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father," He said confidently, as if he had rehearsed the speech a thousand times before. I scowled as he threw a smile at my daughter over his shoulder. "But they have the soft heats of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"
The King's Justice brought out Ice.