Let me start off with saying, I am so sorry it has taken so long. I have been a fanfiction reader much longer than a writer, and I know how annoying it is to wait for updates, so I'm sorry. It's my birthday on the 15th, so some reviews would make my day! Feel free to pm me as well, I'd love to hear from everyone. I also want to thank my most recent commenter, Bess Woodville. Her comment pulled me out of my writing slump and encouraged me to pick this story back up. Not to say I don't appreciate the previous commenters, because I love you all equally, I just know her words, how few there were, made my day. So thank you Bess But without any further ado, chapter 5. oh, and I do NOT own Game of Thrones.
CHAPTER 5
The trembling was came first, Sansa could feel her bones shaking within her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, Sansa couldn't make them stop. She clasped her fingers together tightly, but it proved in vain. She had already had to change her gown twice, the smooth silk and velvet torn to shreds by her nervous fingers.
Her father would confess, he had too, and then Joffrey would forgive him and they would marry and she would give him sons and all she dreamed would come true. Sansa just knew it would happen. It was her destiny.
The sound of ripping fabric pierced her ears.
Oh no.
Again. Sansa had torn a third dress. She huffed in a manner undignified for a lady of house Stark, not to mention one betrothed to the King.
Sansa fled into her wardrobe again, snatching the first dress she laid her hands on, not much caring what it looked or felt like, she just needed to be presentable, a daughter lamenting her traitor father, but basking in the glow of her King's love and mercy
Yes, Sansa though. That is how it will happen.
Sansa removed her torn gown, casting it to the floor with the others. She pulled on the one from her wardrobe, and emerald shift embezzled with seed pears, mother-of-pear clasps, and emerald beading. She tried to tie the fastening herself, before frustratedly calling for her maids.
Sansa stood still as a pole as her maids fussed around her, tying her gown this way and that, making Sansa more anxious by the moment.
Once they were finished, Sansa wasted no time sending them away. With her hair already done up in the traditional southern style of a highborn lady, she exited her chambers.
The walk from her chambers to the throne room seemed longer than ever that morning, the only sound of her gown gently brushing the stone floor. Maybe the walk wasn't what was longer; Sansa pondered to herself that maybe it was that she was simply walking slower.
For though Sansa had complete faith in her prince's capacity for mercy, she still feared for her father and her sister. Thinking of Arya sent a spear of shame through Sansa's heart. Not once since Septa Mordane had sent her to her chamber had Sansa thought of her younger sister, or even considered asking the queen about her location. Sansa decided then, once her father was cleared of his crimes, and her marriage to Joffrey assured, she would ask about Arya.
Sansa walked through the already ajar throne room door, and found Littlefinger, Varys the spider, and Grand Maester Pycelle waiting there.
"Hello little she-wolf," Littlefinger crowed, reaching out to rub her shoulder lightly. Sansa shot him a small, shy smile.
"We wait now on their majesties," Grand Maester Pycelle croaked, his whizzed beard shaking.
Varys said nothing, but his eyes were always darting, searching out new secrets and scandals, anything useful to pour into Joffrey's waiting ears. Sansa could feel them burning into the back of her neck.
"All present, her Grace Queen Cersei, Queen Regent and Protecter of the realm, and his Royal Magesty, King Joffrey, first of his name, Ruler of the Andals and the first men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Keeper of the realm!" the booming voice of the court speaker was a painful assault on Sansa's ears, but none the less she curtsied deeply.
Cersei had a shrewd smile in place as usual, but Joffrey didn't spare Sansa a glance as he walked swiftly through his small council. Sansa wilted at his disregard, but was bolstered by the queen's greeting.
Queen Cersei smiled warmly at Sansa, and grasped both her hands.
"Come my love," the Queen crooned in her musical voice, "The trial awaits."
Sansa felt her unease return, grateful for the Queen's hands preventing her from tearing at her dress.
A few minor Lords and Ladies fell in behind their small party, all coming to witness the judging of her father. Sansa didn't know these people, she didn't trust them, and she was worried that if they should mistrust of her father, Joffrey would change his mind.
No. Sansa told herself. Joffrey would never do that. He said he would spare Father if he confessed, and he will.
By the time their troop made it out to Baelor's Sept, a crown had already gathered. It seemed that almost all of King's Landing had come to witness her father's confession. Sansa allowed herself to be guided by the Queen, and took up a position to the other woman's right elbow.
Her father was brought out next, and it was all Sansa could do not to gasp aloud.
Sansa had always thought of her father as a young man. Certainly, he was getting up in his years, and was not as robust as a man of one-and- twenty, but he had always seemed to full of energy and honor. The man before her was unrecognizable.
His hair was a fringe around his face, his sunken in cheekbones poked through his pale skin. He seemed almost years older, his once strong, proud stride interrupted by a horrendous limp. This was not the Eddard Stark that Sansa knew.
Her father's change was the least of her worries however, because the sound of the crowd threatened to swallow her. They were booing and hissing, flinging words filled with hate and malice at her father, and the gold cloaks station to control them were having trouble at the task.
Sansa held her breath as her father made it to the top of Baelor's Sept, Joffrey and all the others looking down on him from a raised platform, Sansa herself among them. Sansa held her breath, waiting for her father to speak. She needn't wait long.
One thing that had not changed about Eddard Stark Sansa noticed was his voice. His deep timbre held the same power and the same slanted words that had sung her to sleep in her earliest years, and had promised her a wedding to her love.
"I am Eddard Stark. Lord of Winterfell, and Hand to the King." He paused then, looking down for a moment before looking over at Sansa.
Sansa plastered a sad smile on her face, trying to be as encouraging as possible, and gave her father a little nod. Ned Stark looked back at the crowd.
"I come before you to confess my treason."
This is it! Sansa's inner voice cried. He will admit his crimes, and Joffrey will let him go free.
"In the sight of Gods and men, I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son,
Sansa felt lighter with every word. Soon it would be over, and all would be well again.
"and seize the throne for myself."
Chaos erupted. Shouts were heard from all around the courtyard, everyone from young, green boys to grizzled old crones yelled for her father's blood. Sansa yearned to come to his aid, to defend her father from all of the hatred and rage, but her faith held her back. Joffrey would protect her father, he had promised.
A stone flew out of nowhere and stuck Lord Eddard's temple, causing to stumble back into the hound's grasp. Sansa could hold back a gasp, she wanted to run to her father, but she couldn't. Sansa just prayed to the Gods every one: The merciful Father, loving Mother, beautiful Maiden and wise Crone. To the powerful Smith and the brave Warrior, she even prayed to the Stranger, the faceless God that frightened her. Anything to save her father.
The Hound pushed her father back to his feet before the crowd, and again the once proud Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell stood alone. He spoke again.
"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed witness what I say."
This is it. These words would save him.
"Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne,"
Joffrey turned to her and her mother, a successful smile plastered on his face
"By the grace of all the Gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the realm."
Sansa's heart could all but burst with joy. Her father had said the words Joffrey demanded. He would be safe now, wouldn't he?
The crowd answered. Howls of anger and outrage still assaulted the ears. The people wanted her father dead, and that made Sansa's blood run cold. Grand Maester Pycelle interrupted them.
"As we sin," The old man wheezed, "so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of God's and men."
"The God's are just!" The wizened old man cried.
"But beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." Grand Maester Pycelle turned to Joffrey then, a question on his lips.
"And what is to be done with this traitor, your Grace?" Sansa's heart pumped faster.
The crowd set in again, shaking their fists and screaming for death. Joffrey smiled tightly and held up a hand to silence them, and then, he spoke, Sansa's hope teetering on his words.
"My mother wishes me to allow Lord Eddard to join the Night's Watch," her King paused to look at her, his devilish smile wide, and his eyes gleaming with power.
"Stripped of all power and titles he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father."
Sansa couldn't help but smile. All she needed now was the decree she knew would come. Her father would be permitted to take the Black, and live out his life with her bastard half brother Jon on the Wall. He would be far away and out of her reach, but at least he would be alive.
Joffrey's face changed then, and Sansa's world collapsed.
"But they've the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished."
No.
The only word Sansa could make her mind create, the only defense he had again Joffrey's dangerous announcement.
"Ser Ilyn," Joffrey called to his mute King's Justice. "Bring me his head."
Everything happened at once, and if questioned later, Sansa couldn't recall exactly what had occurred. She and the Queen flew to Joffrey at once, both pulling of his sleeve, begging him no, to call Ser Payne back, the recant his words, but Joffrey remained silent.
A gold cloak reached for her, and Sansa could do nothing but squirm in his hold, begging her King to stop to let her father go like he promised. Sansa was so wrapped up her pleading that she didn't notice her father's steel grey eyes land on her one final time, before returning to the ground.
The only sound was that of the crowd, they cried in agreement, and called for the King's Justice loudly. Varys and Littlefinger moved toward the King as well, all begging for him to see reason, to spare the Lord of Winterfell. But Joffrey was deaf to their pleas.
Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell was forced to his knees as Ser Ilyn Payne strode forward, face grim and had clenching a thick steel blade. She donned an executioner's hood before mounting the platform.
The other members of the small council had given up, realizing that none of their words would move the king, and had taken instead to solemn silence. Sansa was the only one who still struggled, the only one who cried mercy for her doomed father.
The last thing Sansa saw was Ser Ilyn Payne's sword flying through the air before her world went black.
Poor Ned :'( I amost cried when he died, I loved his character, and Sean Bean was perfect for the role. As per usual I ended the chapter when the episode ended, so as to attempt to keep everything cohesive and fluid. Only one more episode left, and then I'll really be able to let my muse free in other news, April is coming! Which means our lovely Game of Thrones will be returning, and no one is more excited than I am! As always, reviews and rates are appreciated, I'll try to update sooner next chapter, but until next time, goodbye and happy reading!
