And next chapter's here, sorry for its short length. Hope you enjoy it.

Sanguine's Plane of Oblivion

Three Daedric Princes occupied the grand meeting hall that Sanguine was beginning to regret agreeing to host. Couldn't they have just invaded one of the lesser realms and used that? He thought as he gazed at the richly decorated ceiling of the chamber from his position on his opulent throne. He wasn't sitting on it per se, more draped upon it, his legs hanging off of one of the arm rests while his back leant against the other. "You two owe me for this." He loudly declared, glancing at Meridia and Hircine, both of whom were sat on their thrones in the traditional manner. "Letting Malacath in here was never part of the deal."

"I'm sure we can find a way of paying you back brother." Hircine replied evenly.

Sanguine sighed. "Boethiah just had to eat him rather than kill him, didn't she?" The Prince of debauchery muttered to himself.

"Oh grow up, brother." Meridia scolded him, she always did that. "It's only this once."

Sanguine looked at the Prince of life and smirked. "Course it is, don't think I'm letting him in here again."

Meridia scowled at him but didn't reply, instead glancing to the doors. Sure enough the doors began to open with a low rumble and when they were wide enough to permit him, their large nephew entered. Taking his usual form of a large, heavy set Orc with a massive blade strapped to his back, Malacath walked into the Daedric meeting hall. "What?" His low growl of a voice demanded.

"Malacath." Hircine stood from his throne and approached him.

"Hircine." Malacath replied, his voice still in the low growl but held a hint of respect. It was well known that of the various princes Malacath respected the Lord of the Hunt the most. Or the more realistic was he disliked him the least. "What do you want?"

Meridia also stood from her throne. "You've heard of our plans for Westeros, Malacath?"

"I have." He growled. "You've found something you want dead? Do it yourself."

"Malacath." Meridia pressed. "It's beyond me or Hircine." She looked pointedly at Hircine, who nodded in agreement. "Hircine's champion found undead."

The Orc lord let out a deep grumble, a laugh. "Why should I care? And if you do so much, ask your brethren, not me."

"You'd rather they go to Boethiah, nephew?" Sanguine asked lazily from his throne.

Malacath tensed and around him the chamber seemed to darken. "Boethiah!? That weak, cowardly, deceitful witch couldn't do anything!" He roared at Sanguine, drawing a smirk from the Prince of excess.

Shooting a glare at Sanguine Meridia put a hand on Malacath's shoulder, slowly calming him. "Malacath." The Prince of life soothed in gentle tone, gone was the usual ice queen. "We need the Orcs. If we do nothing, then Westeros will burn and become the land of the undead."

"Why should I care what happens to that forgotten continent?" Malacath spat.

"The Orcs will have battle, blood and glory if they go, Malacath." Hircine answered. "They will honour you in conflict the likes of which Mundus hasn't seen since the Ehlnofey Wars."

Malacath brushed off Meridia's hand. "Nothing will ever compare to the wars with Shor and Tsun." He breathed. "Nothing will compare to when I crushed them both."

"You know, nephew." Sanguine spoke up from his throne, earning another glare from Meridia. "The Orcs haven't fought in a proper war for centuries, at least not outside of that Empire men are so fond of."

"Don't call me nephew." Malacath growled and took a step towards the seated Prince of excess but Meridia stopped him, placing her hand on his shoulder again.

"Calm, Malacath." She again soothed. Shooting another, fiercer glare at Sanguine. "But he is right. This is a chance for the Orcs to honour you in glorious battle again."

Pushing off her hand again, Malacath turned to the door. "I... Will consider it." He breathed in that low grumble of a voice before storming out of the meeting hall.

Silence reigned over the hall, only broken by Sanguine's voice. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"Oh will you shut up!" Meridia snapped at him.

The Red Keep, The Crownlands, Westeros

The morning sun that would usually be plastered against the walls of Guilliman Dinontus' room was instead blocked by the thin curtains pulled to. The southern apartment taking the full brunt of the morning light apparently made it difficult for the Breton to work, too used to the dim morning light of the northern climate of High Rock and Skyrim. The Breton himself was sat at his rather modest desk, penning a letter in reply to a Lord Pyne of Crackclaw Point. "Should we offer monetary compensation or...?" Dinontus asked Severus, who was sat opposite him, reading idly from a Westerosi history book.

"What can we offer besides septims?"

The Breton shrugged. "Trade rights? Army debentures? Could maybe offer Lord Pyne Legate Rikke's private stash of Colovian Brandy." He mused.

Severus sighed and flicked the page. "I highly doubt Erikur will allow trade rights to just be handed out. And this Lord could try to actually cash in on the debenture."

"Septims it is then." Guilliman continued with the letter. "One wonders what we'll do when we run out."

"We were given five chest loads."

"And we've gotten through two already." Dinontus shot back. "We can perhaps make use of the war to provide ourselves with a steady supply of gold dragons."

The Colovian oppoosite him put down the book and crossed his arms. "You suggest war profiteering?"

Dinontus shrugged again. "The Khajiit caravans have been doing it for millennia. And it wouldn't be more than putting refugees to work like we did during the Second Great War, or opening up our smiths services."

"You think Commander Slynt is going to tolerate us doing more damage to his precious city's outskirts?"

"No." Guillemin acquiesced. "But I think we can show ourselves as useful enough to the king that he'll allow us to begin preparations to farm our own crops."

"Need I remind you of the Stark words, Dinontus?"

The Breton chuckled very slightly. "We brought along crop seed well suited to the winter in the southern regions in case we needed to give a few gifts to King Robert, thankfully we didn't."

"Who's idea was that?"

"Falk's." Guilliman answered, already back to writing the letter. "I sent word to Rikke. Neloth shall be joining us here in the castle of Maegor this afternoon."

Severus nodded slowly and picked up the book again, detailing the conquests of Aegon. "Good, the king demanded it be today."

"I'd heard." Dinontus put the quill he was using back in the ink pot and waited for the last of the ink to dry. "I've left it up to Lord Pyne to decide what form of compensation he desires. Should get us in his good graces. We need a Clawman Lord on our side if we want to search that wilderness."

"Long as it isn't too extravagant." Severus sighed. "Has Lord Rykker received his gold?"

Guilliman glanced around his desk and soon picked up a small parchment and held it out to Severus. "Arrived this morning by raven."

Severus took the parchment and read it, just a message saying the gold had been received and that the Turma staying in Duskendale had moved on. "That's something at least."

Dinontus rolled the letter to Lord Pyne up and dripped some hot wax onto the end before taking a stamp with the Imperial Dragon on it. "Once we have word from Crackclaw we can move on from the Crownlands. Though that may be difficult in the coming months. What with the North, Stormlands, Reach, Riverlands and whatever lands Stannis Baratheon holds hostile to the crown." He pressed the stamp onto the wax.

Severus nodded slightly in agreement and the two fell into a silence, only to be broken by a sharp knock at the door. "Enter." Guilliman instructed and the door opened and a page walked in, bowing to the two foreigners.

"Thane Severus, the King demands your presence at the gates."

Placing the book on Aegon's conquest the Colovian stood. "Ensure that Neloth stays in here if he arrives while I'm gone."

"I will." Guilliman stood as well, gesturing to the page to come closer to him. "Make sure this gets to Lord Edwyle Pyne of Crackclaw Barren." He handed the letter to the page as Severus left the room, heading towards the main courtyard.

...

The gravel of the courtyard crunched under Severus' boots. Around him in the wide expanse was the royal court, all of them. The Queen's carriage was waiting, the woman probably already inside. The five Kingsguard still in the capital were mounted and on their horses. The others of the small council were also ready, Lord Varys and Lord Baelish on horses of their own whilst the Grand Maestor was hobbling into a litter. The King was standing beside his own litter, obviously intending to be carried somewhere in the city. "Ah, Thane Severus. Good of you to join us." He said, a malicious smirk pasted onto his face. "You'll be joining us to a little trip to the Great Sept of Baelor. To see justice served to the traitor."

Clearly he was meaning Lord Eddard. "Of course, your grace. But isn't a Westerosi affair? I have no place in a trial."

Joffrey's smirk didn't falter and he glanced across the courtyard to the girl Severus had seen in the throne room as she pulled herself onto a horse, flanked by two Lannister men at arms, hunger in his eyes. "Your dealings with the traitor still cast doubt on your loyalty. This will be a reminder of what happens to those who think to cross their king." The boy king declared. "Your horse has been prepared, a fine animal I must say." He added with a hint of a threat in his voice before he entered the litter and four men in Lannister armour hoisted it off of the ground.

Looking around Severus soon saw his horse, held in place by a page by the small council. Walking over and taking his horses reigns he quickly mounted his heavy set cross-breed. "Thane Severus, a shame you'll have to witness this." Varys spoke to him, bringing his own horse alongside the Colovian's.

"The king gets what he wants." Severus muttered. "Where is Lord Eddard?"

"Lord Stark has already been taken to the Septry." Varys informed him. "He was moved in the small hours of the morning, to avoid the angry locals."

A small horn blast from a page set the procession off, the Kings litter leading the court with the Kingsguard riding alongside. "Is this to be a trial or an execution?"

"The King shall decide Lord Eddard's fate." Varys answered and the two kicked their horses to a trot, lord Baelish having already ridden off.

...

An hour or so later Severus was stood along with the others of the royal court on a rock outside an admittedly impressive religious building. The King, Queen mother and Lord Stark's daughter were on the highest point of the rock, with Lord Baelish and one of the Kingsguard just below them. Severus himself was stood with Lord Varys, the Grand Maestor and a rather fat man in religious garb who was apparently the High Septon, their religious head.

Bells were ringing in the Sept of Baelor behind them and a crowd was beginning to form in the large plaza below them. "You're the foreigner?" The High Septon asked him, looking the Colovian up and down.

Severus was still wearing his armour, a force of habit for many living in Skyrim and as such it was designed both for practical use and comfort. Plus it made him easy to stand out. "Thane Severus Semponius." He nodded to the Septon.

"Thane Severus keeps to his own gods, your holiness." Varys broke into the conversation. "The Nine Divines if I recall correctly."

"The Seven are the only true gods." The High Septon scoffed. "But we allow the Northerners to worship the Old Gods, I'm sure they'll welcome their traitor when he goes to the Wall."

Severus raised a brow as the fat priest seemed sure of the verdict already but kept quiet as the doors to the cities magistrate building opened and the crowd instantly went into a frenzy. It soon became apparent what the cause was, as Lord Eddard was half dragged out of the building and towards the rock by two Goldcloaks.

Lord Eddard was dragged up the steps carved in the black rock and left standing at the front of it, the two Goldcloaks who escorted him taking several steps back. The Northern lord swayed slightly on his feet, heavily favouring one leg over the other, but kept standing. "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and hand of the King." He declared, his voice unsteady.

Everyone had gone silent after he began and the usually composed Lord glanced at his daughter for a moment, receiving a reassuring nod from the young redhead. "I come before you to confess my treason." He continued. "In the sights 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 and seize the throne for myself."

The crowd erupted into another short frenzy. Shouts of "Traitor!" filling the air and a few of them threw whatever they could find at Stark, a rotten apple hitting him in the head, causing him to recoil before the King's chief bodyguard, Sandor Clegane steadied him.

Eddard waited for a few moments, still steadying himself. "Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne." Severus glanced up at Joffrey when Eddard said this, and saw a gleeful smile on the boy kings face. "By the grace of all the gods." Not mine, Severus thought. "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Another round of "Traitor!" from the crowd, clearly wanting blood.

"As we sin." The Grand Maestor wheezed as he hobbled forward. "So do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes, in sight of gods and men. The gods are just." He gestured upwards to the heavens of Mundus. "But beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." He slowly turned to look at the King. "What will be done with this traitor, you grace?"

The crowd called for blood but the King quietened then with a raised hand. "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard to join the Nightswatch. Stripped of all titles and powers he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her father." He looked to Eddards daughter, his voice softening slightly for a moment before he looked back to the vast crowd. "But they've the soft hearts of women!" Severus inwardly scoffed, women do not have soft hearts, far from it. "So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished!" Beside him, Severus could see Lord Varys tense. "Ser Illyn!" The King called to the royal executioner waiting beneath him. "Bring me his head!"

The crowd erupted once again and those gathered by the King quickly lost all composure, Sansa Stark openly begging and being held back by one of the Kingsguard while the Queen mother was clearly trying to order the King to rescind the order. Beside him, Varys, the Grand Maestor and the High Septon all stood with mouths agape, though Varys quickly recovered and rushed over to the King.

Severus meanwhile stood, watching. He thought back to the fateful day at Helgen, the day Alduin had raised the peaceful village and allowed Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak to escape. It was a bitter memory though, that same bringer of the end times had saved him, dropping from the sky as the headsman lifted that hideous axe. It was strange to him, that he was saved from execution by the very thing that sort to destroy him, and that at the same time had Alduin not saved them then the Civil War would've ended, only for the world to most surely meet its own end. He let out a deep breath, pushing the memory of blood, fire and hate from his mind, it had woken him enough from his slumber in the weeks following it for it to hold sway over him now.

"Stop this at one!" The High Septon beside him bellowed, also rushing to the King. "This would defile sacred ground!"

As the small council, besides lord Baelish whom Severus noticed was if anything stifling a laugh, tried to convince the King two of the Kingsguard came forward and grabbed Eddard, forcing him to his knees. Just to the side Ser Illyn drew a massive greatsword and hefted it, preparing to do the deed.

Soon though only Sansa was trying to stop it, the rest of the small council and the High Septon resigned to what was about to happen, drawing a final look from her father before he looked to the ground, presenting his neck. Ser Illyn lowered the weapon to the ground for a moment, judging the swing. Satisfied the royal executioner lifted it and brought it down on the Northman's neck, Lord Eddard's life ending in an instant.

And so it was done.

Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine
Skjor - Hircine
Mystery person - Unknown
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal
Unknown Champion - Meridia

16 done. And Eddard is dead. Well what did you expect from Sean Bean?
With all seriousness though I always felt that Eddard's death is one of the most important events in the series. And as for Severus' reaction (or lack thereof) he's an outsider who doesn't know much about either the King, Eddard or have any idea what so ever about the Queen and her interests, so for him to do something about it I think would be out of his character.
Anyway onto a lighter subject. Next chapter is in the works, expect it soon.
And as always, every review welcome! Even negative ones because they are incredibly useful.