NOTE: *keuf keuf keuf* TRIGGER! TRIGGER WARNING! MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!

...

SO This chapter is what you all waited for. Or, well, apprehended. I'm not going to say much, ya know, spoiler and everything, only that this chapter is on a completely different point of view. A character in the crowd. I don' t think to use her ever again, I only meant for her to be the somehow partial eyes for the scene.

This is the shortest chapter so far, for good reason. I had planned it to be longer but when I found my hands shaking for a long time after writing this, I thought it would be better for everyone to leave it there and put the second part of this chapter in the next one.

Too much too soon is never good in a story after all!

So I'm just going to apologize in advance and ask you all to be very careful. If you're sensible, skip all the end of the chapter. I'll mark the place with a (***).

Now quickly, the answer to your wonderful comments:

Shade: Thank you very much! I'm glad you like the changes I made! I truly hope you'll be ready for the one to come, he's a hard one... Be brave!

M: Thank you so much as always! I'm very happy to see such enthusiasm each time! It's soo nice of you! I hope you'll like this one. Also I'm not so sure about that...

Alright guys, ready?

...

Yeah, me neither. But we have to unfortunately.

Well, enjoy?

Chapter 19: Justice

Year 298 after the Conquest, Tenth Month

Kingslanding

Alysa

Today was the most exciting day of her life. The day of the traitor's execution! Everyone talked about it! The clients at the shop, their neighbors, her friends. The most important event of the year! More so than the death of King Robert!

Everyone had heard about Ned Stark. He was known to be the previous King's best friend and the most honorable man in the seven kingdoms. That was what he was known for. Until last month when he was arrested for treason. Alysa didn't know the details, she wasn't very interested in politics and noble's dramas. But This was different. This was treason of a man to his most precious friend.

For someone like Alysa, friendship was the most important thing in life. In a place like Kingslanding, even in the wealthiest parts, friendship was almost vital. Her grandmother had taught her that. She had many friends, and, as much as one of the wealthiest merchant in their part of the town. Their shop used to belong to Alysa's grandfather, but with him, dead, along with Alysa's Father lost to one of the wars, and Alysa's mother, lost to the dreads of childbirth, only her grandmother stayed to take care of the thing. Alysa too.

But Alysa was young still. Not yet four and ten. She needed to learn first. And she was. Everyday she had lessons with her grandmother, about the shop and the world they were leaving in. Alysa's family had always been relatively wealthy. They were no challenge to the biggest merchants of the city or the nobles of the court. But Alysa's family had the advantage of being there for longer than the others. Her grandmother had once told her their family was one of the first who came to live in Kingslanding, back when the city was born. She said the first Queens came to them for their dresses. And continued to do so for all the time there was a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Alysa liked to think it was true. Queen Cersei certainly came here often for her to believe so. Lately, so did the Stark girls. That was the other reason why she was so interested in the last scandal of court. Also why she was so angry at Ned Stark. She had thought she could relate to the Northern nobles. Honor, friendship. That was something she could understand.

But the man had betrayed everything. Even worse, he had brought his daughters with him in his doom.

In all honesty, Alysa liked those girls. The middle one especially. She was sweet and pretty and nice. Beautiful little flower, grandmother had called her.

To know she was now risking her life, because of her father's foolishness was painful to think about.

But today, finally, King Joffrey would seek justice for his Father, and the traitor was about to pay for his crimes. Oh, she couldn't wait to see that.

Besides, it was her first execution. Nothing else happened in this place. She was not close enough to Fleabottom to be part of the most sulfurous stories, and she was not wealthy enough to tell the tale of fantastic parties and feasts. She was in the middle ground. Where nothing interesting ever happened. But today would be different. Oh, she couldn't wait to see that!

"Go on Alysa, go on, you wanted to see the traitor, didn't you?" called Janis, the butcher's son.

They have known each other since they were toddlers. Janis was older than her, by two years. A man already and his Father's apprentice. Alysa liked him. He was tall and smart and not bad to the eye. Sometimes, Alysa wondered if she could one day marry him. But that would mean letting go of her grandmother's shop. Grandmother didn't like that.

As for now, she could content herself with the sight of the traitor punished. Happy with her plans for the day, Alysa waved one last time to her worried grandmother and ran right at her friend's heels. They ran excitingly in the busy streets of the city, slaloming between the people, catching pieces of conversations on the way. Many shared Alysa's opinion, the traitor couldn't die soon enough. The Sept was coming closer with each step, and with that, the end of the traitor. She knew death was not supposed to be a good thing, but in this case, she truly couldn't wait.

This was so exciting!

Along the road, they were joined by Myra and Sally, two of their friends. The girls, closer to Alysa's age, often find themselves helping the Septas taking care of children. They liked that they said. Alysa even suspected Myra wished to become one soon. She didn't get it. But she wouldn't comment it either.

"Are you sure you want to see that?" said Myra, catching their step with her quick ones.

"Don't be silly, of course! Don't you get it? Our first ever execution!"

"It's technically not an execution," said Sally with her soft voice. "the traitor is brought before the gods to answer his crimes against the crown and confess his treachery."

"But if he confesses, they'll punish him! Treason is a very strong crime." Responded Alysa, her mind rolling with the possibilities of the day to come.

She had been waiting for it!

"Do you think they will kill him?" she asked unsurely.

"Of course they will! No one should try to betray the King and be left alive!" said Janis with conviction.

"Lord Stark was supposed to be a good guy," Sally said sadly.

"Yeah! Everyone knows he was the fat King's best friend!"

"Apparently friendship doesn't mean the same thing for nobles." Said Anna.

Yes, apparently so.

"Hurry up! The Old Maester is already on the platform! The King will arrive soon!"

"Do you think the Queen will be there too? She's so pretty!" sighed Sally, her eyes dreamily looking for the platform where everything was supposed to happen.

"I don't like her." Said Alysa, " She's always mean to my grandmother when she comes into the shop."

"Nobleborns are always mean." Commented Myra wisely.

"Not always! The Stark daughters were very nice when they bought fabric in our shop! The pretty one with the bright eyes was very sweet with me!"

"It does not mean she's nice! Maybe she just pretends."

"Why?"

The guy frowned, thinking it through.

"I don't know. Nobles are weird."

Alysa took a minute to think this. Yes, they were weird… They always seemed to complicate things. Love, hate, friendship. All of it. It is no surprise that curtesy would be just as complicated for them. Or being nice for the sake of being nice, with no other motive.

Her train of thoughts was stopped when a large carriage made its way through the crowd. It was soon followed by another one, smaller.

The people screamed and waved energetically, and the first carriage stopped right in front of the Sept. The door opened and the new King stepped outside.

He was wonderful! His face was young and fair. Like the princes in the songs her Mother used to sang when she was younger. His crown shined brightly under the sun, the gems inside it reflected the light of day on his hair and the gold of the crown. It was so fine! The fabric of his tunic seemed to be made of gold too! He was golden from head to toe!

The Queen Mother came next. Her hair was the first and almost only thing Alysa could focus on for a moment. High and elegant, adorned by the small crown on top of it. It looked like her hair was made of gold. Just like her son.

Other people came after them, a bald little man wrapped in silk. Alysa had seen him talk to children from Fleabottom before. He was strange. Then there was the other one, the one grandmother didn't like. She said he was a bad man. He looked just as strange.

Then, before she could form any other thought on the matter, ten or so gold cloaks surrounded them. For safety she supposed.

They all took place around the platform, the King in front of the others. His eyes were locked on the second carriage, smaller and less decorated. It stopped in front of him, hiding him from Alysa's view for a moment.

The door opened and the Stark girls came out of it. The oldest one first, her very long hair tied in a thick braid, that cascaded all the way through her back. She wore a grey dress, that looked like nothing she ever saw before. It wasn't like the other women in court. Maybe it was something they wore up north? The white shirt under the dress was pretty with long sleeves and a tight neck. The fabric was embroidered in several places, but Alysa was too far to see what it was. The girl stood tall, with her hands clapped in her sisters.

The second one wore a pretty blue dress, the fabric familiar. It was the same fabric she bought at her grandmother's shop! Did she make her dress herself? It was also embroidered, more fully than the oldest one's. Her hair was dressed in a simple southern style, making it shine under the sun. They looked bright and almost fiery. This girl was truly beautiful.

"Did you see her?" she said to Sally, "The second Stark girl!"

"Yes! She's very pretty!"

"I heard she was going to marry the King?"

"Really?"

What a fine-looking couple that would make! Alysa allowed herself a moment longer, admiring the girl from afar wishing she could be like that. So beautiful and posed and elegant. Then her eyes found the last Stark girl. The child.

She was close to her older sister, closer than the other who wore herself elegantly. Her large eyes were easily noticeable even from Alysa was standing. She kept looking around her like she was searching for something. The oldest bend her head and seemed to say something that made her stop.

The little girl pressed her head against her sister's side for one second. It squeezed Alysa's heart. The three of them suddenly looked very distressed.

"To think their father is a traitor… Too bad. They're pretty." Said Janis, his eyes following the line of their silhouettes.

"Don't talk like that! Who says they aren't the same as their dad? My Father said the Northmen are all the same, barbaric, and savages! Did you heard about the Stark boy?" said someone next to him.

Alysa looked. It was a young man, older than all of them but not old yet. She knew his face for having seen him before lurking close to Janis's father's butchery, but she never really talked to him. She didn't talk to boys in general, with the exception of Janis.

"The Stark heir?" asked Myra softly "I have heard of him yes."

There were others Stark? He had other children? Or cousins maybe?

Oh, the family trees were always a big hot mess with those noblemen. One of their Neighbor used to work for the Targaryens when they were still Kings. He said the family tree had been so confusing, they used to mary their brothers and sisters to make it easier!

What a strange idea…

Suddenly, cutting short any discussion that could have been made between them, the crowd erupted in loud shouts of anger. They had been agitated before, but now they seemed animated with rage Alysa never witnessed before. She took a step back, almost automatically, afraid of the roars exploding around her.

"What's happening?" she asked frightened.

The crowd answered before anyone else.

"TRAITOR!"

"KILL HIM!"

"TRAITOR TO THE CROWN!"

"SHAME ON YOU STARK!"

"TRAITOR TO THE CROWN!"

"KILL HIM!"

"KILL THE TRAITOR!"

And it kept going. In the confusion, their little gang had to step back and back until her feet hit the Statue of Baelor the blessed, behind them.

"Stark! Stark is here!" said the girl next to Alysa.

In the middle of the mess around them, she couldn't have said if it was Sally or Myra or anyone else. Nor should it had mattered. Her entire attention was wrapped around the small group of people, slowly making their way to the platform and the people on it.

"Where? Where is he?" asked someone else.

"There!" she said, pointing the people.

Stark's head was low, and he seemed to have a visible limp in his walk. The golden cloaks around him were pulling him through the platform by his arms. He almost feels when they threw him into the platform. Then, slowly, under the roar of the crowd, he made his way to the center of the stand.

Alysa blinked and caught the man's head turned to the people watching him. The noble ones. The Queen looked satisfied, as did the King. But the three Stark girls were white with fear. Or, well it looked remarkably like fear. He stopped right there, and Alysa wished she could make him move. She was intrigued. She wanted to know what his expression was. Why was he looking like that?

Then, something changed. She watched, astonished as the man, the traitor, who one moment before couldn't have looked more broken, suddenly straightened his back. His head stayed in the same position for one moment longer, than he moved.

Slowly, he turned around, facing the crowd. His eyes slowly wandered around the faces in front of him, taking their hate in silence. He was impressive. Intimidating almost with those guards around him. For one single heartbeat, Alysa felt like it was him, the King, while King Joffrey with his boyish look seemed more akin of a child wearing a crown.

But it was stupid and truly dangerous to think that way. There was only one King of Westeros and it could not be otherwise.

But this man… there was something truly impressive in him. Intense. Frightening almost.

"He's kind of scary…" she confessed to Janis, right next to her.

"He's a traitor."

"Why is he looking at us like that?"

"What are they waiting for? Kill him!"

People around them were growing impatient. But still, Ned Stark didn't move or talk for a long time. Alone on this platform. He looked like Baelor's statue. Ready to stay right there for the rest of eternity.

"Father!"

The voice pitched higher than any other discussion around them. Janis's throat made an odd noise like he just strangled himself with a piece of bread too big for him. It was the little Stark. Her sister was pulling her back, but her little hands were obviously trying to free her from the grip of the oldest girl.

"Father!" she said again.

There were no tears on her face. Which was odd. The middle girl next to her was trembling with tears, but she wasn't. Odd.

"Father…" said the pretty Stark, her delicate little hands against her chest. Like she was trying to stop her heart from coming right out of her chest.

Somehow no one was talking. The attention had snapped right on those three girls. In their distress, they seemed out of shade here. Like they had no place in this platform, in this situation. Like there was a mistake somewhere.

Alysa could have almost believed that had she not known the story behind Ned Stark's treason. But somehow, seeing them like that, a part of her wanted to believe there was a mistake.

"Poor girls…" she said, to no one in particular.

The pretty middle girl made a tiny smile, a mockery in the middle of her tensed face, but still, a smile. Alysa's eyes fell on the oldest one. Her face was crumbled in something painful and complicated.

"It's weird." Said a woman behind them.

Janis looked at her. Alysa followed him. She looked old, but not yet grey. Her arm was wrapped around a tiny little girl, gripped to her skirt like mud on a bad day.

"If they are going to kill the traitor, why bring his daughters? They did nothing wrong."

"So that they don't try to kill the King. "said the man next to her. "Do not forget that one of them is a future queen."

"Yes, I suppose…"

"TRAITOR!" screamed someone in the back of the crowd, bringing Alysa right back on the situation, and the man still in the platform.

Something must have happened, for the man suddenly opened his mouth and talked.

His confession was brief and stern. It made the thing inside Alysa's belly curled differently. She couldn't put a name on it, but she didn't like it.

To see a man like that, confess his treason to his closest friend… It was even worse than talking about it.

"So it was true…"

"He confessed."

"I knew it!"

"He shouldn't be left alive!"

"Treason must be punished!"

"Kill him!"

She looked at the girls again. The little one was struggling for her sister to let go of her, the middle one was on the verge of tears. As for the oldest, her expression hadn't changed, it was just as complicated, mixed of different feelings, painful to watch. Her eyes were closed as If to stop her from showing anything else. Her grip on her sister looked painfully strong.

The old Maester stepped forward, stopping the rumbling crowd with his shuttering voice. Alysa's attention fell back on him.

"As- As we've sinned, so do we suffer." He said slowly.

Alysa blinked at the words. Anticipation building inside her This was it.

The judgment. The sentence. This was happening. The reason why she wanted to come in the first place.

The dark thing inside her that Ned Stark and his daughters had somehow awoken moved again, and suddenly, she wondered. Ned Stark was a traitor; he was about to be killed. Executed for his crimes. But… Why did she felt that way suddenly? Why didn't she felt the joy and anticipation that had kept her awake all night at the idea of justice served?

From the corner of her eyes, she saw the three girls move, the two oldest around the little one.

There was something wrong about this scene. She didn't know what, she couldn't put words on it, but the more time passed the more she felt something was amiss.

The girls, maybe. They shouldn't be there. They shouldn't witness their father died. It was enough for them to know it was happening. To make them witness it… It was cruel.

The oldest had still her eyes close. She seemed to be mouthing something, the bottom of her face moving fast, too fast for actual words. The little one was stuck close to her, glued to her side. The middle one right next to them, both hands pressed against her collar bones. Pale and trembling.

"… The gods are just!" said the old Maester, cutting Alysa from her panicking thought. "But, Beloved Baelor taught us, they can also be Merciful."

With a pause, he slowly turned to the King who overlooked them all from his place on the stairs. Next to him and the Queen, the three Stark girls were giving him their full attention.

"What is to be done with this traitor your grace?"

The reaction was immediate. Everyone around Alysa starts shouting again, reclaiming the traitor's head. Alysa was tempted to do just that, her entire being consumed with the energy around her, the hate, the burning anger against the treason of this man. But somehow, she hesitated. She had wished for this to happen. It was expected.

But something felt wrong suddenly. She couldn't help it.

Before she could decide what to do, the King held a hand, silencing the crowd. He wore a small smile, and for one second Alysa feared he was going to pardon the man. He couldn't! This had been a confession! Traitors needed to be executed! They had to!

But then it meant the girls would have to witness their father died. That was not fair! But it wasn't fair to just let him walk away after such a confession.

She was lost in what to do, what she wanted to see happening, so much that she missed a good part of the King's speech. She went back to the present when the King suddenly turned his head to his side, locking eyes with the middle Stark girl.

"…and my Lady Sansa," he said, turning what looked like a loving gaze to the middle Stark girl, "along with her sisters, had begged mercy for her father."

Alysa's heart stopped, right on her chest. What has he said? What was said before? Was he going to spare him? Send him to the wall? To prison? What did she miss?

"What did he say?" she asked Janis.

"He said his mother wants Ned Stark to take the black."

"What? He can't!"

Couldn't he? It was still a sentence… No treason meant death. It had always been, and it'll always be. No, he needed to be executed. He had to pay for his crimes. He had too.

But still…

Next to the Queen, the oldest Stark girl wore a strange expression. Something between horror and hope. From where she was, Alysa could see her hands trembling on her sister's dress.

"But they have the soft heart of women."

The oldest Stark girl's face fell, horror crushing hope in a twisted expression from her mouth. She gasped a cry like a wounded animal, temporarily bringing her little sister's attention on her and away from the traitor. The little Stark opened her mouth. But the King spoke again, louder.

"So long as I'm your King, treason shall never be unpunished." He said strongly.

Oh, gods.

(***)

"NO!" screamed the old Stark girl.

Oh, gods!

"Ser Ilyn, Bring me his head." Finished the King harshly.

"NO! NO STOP IT!"

"FATHER!"

"NO!"

"PUT THAT SWORD DOWN! THAT'S MY FATHER'S SWORD!"

"STOP IT PLEASE STOP!"

"FATHER! LET GO OF ME! FATHER!"

Something snapped. All around them. Chaos busted around the place Alysa's eyes couldn't leave the stage.

"FATHER!"

"STOP IT STOP! SOMEBODY STOP HIM!"

"FATHER!"

"LET GO OF ME!"

They were all screaming at the same time, shouting in despair. The people were mad around them but Alysa couldn't ignore the cries. Nor did she even thought about doing so.

The Oldest one was gripping the little girl, screaming for the guards to let go of the big sword that Ser Ilyn seemed ready to take. The middle one was shooting in one of the guard's arms, trying to force him to let her go. The little one was fighting her sister's grip like a savage, shooting to everyone coming too close to let her go.

"LET GO OF ME! KYRIA LET GO OF ME!"

"FATHER!"

"STOP IT! DADDY! DADDY! STOP!"

The thing is Alysa's belly curled tighter, stealing her voice and the rage that had been burning in her chest. The woman behind her, the one who had talked earlier was moaning in distress, hiding her crying daughter against her leg.

Her wailing echoing the Stark girls. Both gripped her right in the heart. Squeezing it mercilessly.

The people in front of the platform seemed to beg for the traitor's head, but Alysa didn't find in her the strength to agree. Treason must be punished. But there was something wrong with this scene.

The bald man and the queen were talking to the King, but his eyes were locked on the big sword, now in Ser Ilyn's hands.

"LET ME GO!"

"DADDY!"

"STOP THAT! STOP!"

Someone shouted and Alysa's eyes followed it.

"ARYA NO!"

"What is she doing?"

"Oh, this girl! The mother protects her!"

"She's going to get killed! It's an execution!"

"Why no one is stopping her?"

"She's going to ruin it! Somebody stop this child!"

"ARYA!"

The little girl had somehow escaped her sister's grip. She was running, pushing everyone around her, the guards, the Queen, the King, fighting and biting her way down to the traitor, whose face jerked in her direction. Behind her, the oldest sister was following, calling her name.

"ARYA STOP!"

"DADDY!"

"ARYA NO!" that was the Father. "Stand back!"

Everything was quick and confusing. She could barely follow what happened. But she couldn't drop her gaze. Her breath was stuck in her throat. The King was screaming to his guards to stop the girl, Ned Stark who had seemed so shocked just a moment before, so resigned to his fate, was now shooting at his girl to stand back. Fighting to stand, to protect her. It gripped her heart and squeezed the breath out of her to see the man gasping for a strength he didn't have a moment before, just so his child would be safe. For one abominable moment, she wished he would stand, she wished to see him grab the sword and slay everything between him and his children. Like the songs. But he was hurt and the guards were just as strong around him, putting him down like a dog.

But the girl, Arya, she kept running, pushing and hitting and fighting with everything she had, desperate to reach her father. To save him.

Their eyes were locked as both of them tried to fight the inevitable with the courage of wounded animals.

It was impossible, even Alysa knew that. But the determination, the naked despair on her little face. The way her sister's voice broke behind her, both of them. The agonizing cried of the middle one, Sansa, still under the arms of the guards. The fear in the oldest, as her arms tried desperately to catch back her sister. It was painful. Painful to watch, to witness. She couldn't stand it, it wasn't fair! None of this was fair! These girls were losing their family in the middle of public execution and why no one was protecting them? The mere thought of such a thing happening to her strangled a cry in her throat.

She wished she could help them, this little girl so desperate. She surprised herself, screaming with the crowd, for the girl to stop, to stand back, to look away. Anything to shield her from this.

"ARYA!"

"STOP IT! PLEASE! SOMEONE STOP HIM! DADDY!"

"FATHER!"

"ARYA NO!"

Ser Ilyn was right in front of the man. One of the guards had a hand on the top of his head, putting it down.

"Oh, gods it's happening!"

"Someone catches this girl!"

"What are they doing! It's just a child!"

"ARYA!"

It mustn't have taken more than a heartbeat, for everything to happen. Alysa didn't even blink. She could have missed something had she done it.

It mustn't have been faster than that. Just a snap of her fingers. But to Alysa, it lasted hours. She saw it all, shattered right in front of her, every move, every sound, duplicated like thousand of cries. She saw it all. The images forever burned inside her brain, killing something in there she didn't know she had.

The oldest girl somehow caught the little one. She came out of nowhere. She dragged her away, just by a couple of inches. Just enough to be safe from the sword dangerously high in the executioner's hands. A scream on both their lips. The sword fell down. The name on the father's lips died right in the middle of it. Strangled- cut out of him painfully.

"KY-"

!

!

!

The screams stopped. All of them. All stolen from the throats. Like Stark's.

Up in the sky, the sound of the sword against the flesh scared a bunch of birds. Their wings were the only sound in the place for one single moment. One moment, that seemed to last hours. The head rolled. And rolled. And rolled. The body fell on one side, one leg twitching. Blood rained right out of the severed neck. Red and abundant. The dark floor drinking it quickly, the puddle spreading by the second.

A leg twitched.

The hit had made it splashed on Ser Ilyn's tunic. His hood.

The girls face. A long slash of blood ornated the little girl's face. The oldest one's hands, on her sister's head, to shield her from the sight, was red. Red and white. Trembling.

And the head kept rolling. And rolling. Until it reached an obstacle. The oldest Stark's foot.

First, there was this sound again, like a wounded animal cornered in a deadly trap, aware of his own end too close to ignore. Then a moan.

Then a scream.

But it wasn't the oldest. It was the little girl. Screaming her lungs out, her eyes glued to the head by her feet.

Suddenly everything moved again. The crowd, the girls, everyone.

The lady Sansa fell like a broken doll, almost pulling down a guard in her fall. White as death. But Alysa could not look at her. Her eyes were on the other two. Their faces soiled by the execution of their father. Right under their eyes. Not even four feet farther from them.

The little girl, Arya didn't stop screaming, her eyes to her father. The oldest moaned again, and with a strangled cry fell back on her knees. The head moved by her feet. It was too much for her too. She called for her father, shouting it one, two, three times. Mumbling things between her breath. Even from where she was, Alysa could see her eyes, huge and scary, searching around her with confusion. Confusion and horror. She looked around and grabbed her sister. The little thing who kept screaming.

Then she screamed too, loud sobs that seemed to be ripped right out of her gut like nothing could prevent them from coming out, not even her own will. She shacked with their strength her face turned to the sky. Red and puffed and white and bloody. The fabric of her dress greedily drinking the blood.

They screamed and screamed and screamed and never seemed to stop

The body twitched again, one leg moving, and the oldest cries were stronger for it.

Some of the screams stopped. Gradually. But not the girls. They kept screaming and screaming and screaming. Without even breathing.

Soon no one else was talking. The place was filled with a heavy silence. Painful and awkward as everyone was witnessing the pain of those girls, loud and uncontrollable. Alysa strangled a sob. This was awful, this was unfair. She didn't want to watch any more of this mascarade. This was a nightmare. She wanted to go home, to hug her grandmother and reassure herself she was still there for her. She didn't want to see this.

In the middle of all this, a single clap broke the scene. The guards moved to reveal their young King.

Years later, when someone would ask Alysa of Kingslanding what happened the day of Ned Stark execution, she would remember being terrorized. By the screams who seemed to never stop. By the body who kept moving without its head. And, more than anything else, by the ecstatic joy in the King's face as he watched greedily the pain of the three new orphans. Clapping his hands like a child in front of a puppet show.

More than anything else. She will remember feeling sick and awful. And never breathe a word of how much she had wanted this execution to happen. Ashamed of the mere idea of sharing the joy illuminating the young King handsome face.

For hours after that, once safely back in her home, Alysa would still be haunted by the screams, hidden in her grandmother's arms, sobbing for the horror that had been. For what this excursion to the trial of Lord Eddard Stark had cost her. A scar in her soul, in the innocence of the child she had been. She would hide and hear them, the screams, the broken sobs, the calls for a father that would never come. Alysa would still hear them. And they would still haunt her for years and years to come.

This day, without a doubt, was one of the worst days of Alysa's life.

TBC

*deep breath*

Anyone still alive?

Alright, folks, that's it. Ned is gone. I'm so sorry... I just didn't think of any way for him to live. His death is the start of many other things and without it I couldn't continue my story as planned...

As for the rest of it... well, I think you guessed by now that I will change a lot of things in the girl's path in life. Arya won't leave Kingslanding, not now. Sorry for those who still hoped

In my mind, as strong as she is, she never technically saw her father's head fall off in the show. Yoren caught her before and shield her from it. I think somehow not seeing it while it happened allowed her to deal with it without as much trauma as she could have, had she seen it all. See what I mean? Here she has no one to stop her, or, well she has Kyria, but she's also to close to be caught in time. And seeing it that way will make her react and deal with it differently. Which is important for what I have planned for her as well as for Sansa.

But we'll see about it later.

So, this part of the story is almost over, with only five chapters left and only two others in Kingslanding I think... Next time, we'll see the other part I had planned for this chapter at first. I am working on it (with some difficulties I admit...) and I hope to be able to publish in two weeks!

I thank you all for supporting me, and I really hope everyone is still intact and in one piece by the end of this huge mess. You can call me a monster after that, I deserve it But that's the highest we'll be emotionally for this part of the story, I promise! It's over now!

Well.. nothing is good for the girls for sure but they won't have to go through something like that again ^^

...will they?

Love you guys!