Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 31 - A Beheading

Sansa was standing beside Cersei and Joffrey outside the Sept of Baelor, with a mob of jeering, shouting peasants in front of them. She was standing straight and tall, knowing that Joffrey was going to spare her father, and she would be his queen, like she had always dreamed. Sansa smiled slightly as the warm, southern wind hit her in the face. Today was the day she was going to prove Loki Sells-sword wrong.

The doors to the keep opened, and two soldiers stepped out, holding Ned Stark. He blinked in the bright sunlight, and the noise of the crowd was deafening. Sansa caught sight of him, and she could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. She was glad to see that he appeared to be alright physically. He was led through the people, and Sansa winced slightly when she saw that they were hitting him. When he arrived at the stone platform, the guards placed him a little lower than them, facing the people. He stood before them, seemingly unafraid. "I am Eddard Stark!" he said to them, in a clear voice. "Lord of Winterfell, and Hand of the King!" He looked at Sansa, and she nodded her head, silently encouraging him to go on. "I've come before you to confess my treason. 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, and seize the throne for myself." The rabble began to shout and call him a traitor. Somebody threw a small rock from the mob, and it hit him in the side of the head. Sansa gasped, imagining the pain. The Hound stepped forward and supported him for a second, before he took his position behind him again. "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." Sansa nodded her head, believing her father's words. Standing next to his mother, Joffrey smirked. "By the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." Sansa did not hear the tone of the crowd change at her father's confession of guilt. She got a worried expression on her face, wondering what more they wanted. That was when Pycelle stepped forward.

"As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes, in sight of gods and men. The gods are just! But, beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." Pycelle turned to Joffrey. "What is to be done with this traitor, your grace?" he asked, and the crowd got loud again. Joffrey smiled to the people, and held his hand up to receive their adoration, as well as to call for silence.

"My mother wishes for me to let Lord Eddard join the Nights Watch. Stripped of all lands and titles, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa," he said, looking at her with that too sweet smile on his face. Sansa felt a little sick to her stomach. "But they have the soft hearts of women! So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished!" Sansa could feel her insides quaking. He promised her mercy! "Ser Illyn! Bring me his head!" Joffrey ordered.

"No!" Sansa screamed, and a guard grabbed her from behind, holding her. "Please! Somebody stop him!" she begged, but the mob was roaring at the opportunity of seeing blood spilt. They were like a ravenous wild dog, tearing at the carcass of a wounded lamb. Lord Stark actually did not look surprised as he was forced to his knees. The Spider, Varys, ran behind him, and stood beneath Joffrey and Cersei, whispering to them. No doubt, telling them to spare the former Hand of the King. Instead, the silent and morose Ser Illyn Paine approached, putting a black hood over his head. A large sword was offered him, and he drew it from its sheath. "No! Stop him! Please stop him! Father!" Sansa cried out. She was struggling with all her might against the grasp of the soldier, but he was too strong for her.

Ned Stark glanced around, time seeming to slow down. The thundering noise of the mob appeared to die down. Looking to the center of the courtyard, where a statue of Baelor the Blessed was standing, Ned saw a black cloaked, and hooded figure crouching. A gloved hand was resting on the leg, while the other was concealed in the shadows of the cloak. Ned instinctively knew who it was. He nodded his head, and he saw the stranger do the same. Ned lowered his head, silently praying to the Seven to receive his soul. That was when Ser Illyn Paine brought the huge sword sweeping down. Ned's head came off, blood spurting all over the stone, and his body fell. The people screamed viciously, and Ser Illyn lifted up his head. Sansa fainted, falling to the ground hard. The black cloaked figure's head twitched in her direction, before it jumped down from the statue. He brushed by the people, moving them to the side like they were not there. Some of them noticed, but stepped back from the stranger when they felt a cold wave emanating from him. Finally, the stranger reached the front of the crowd, standing right before the line of guards. The soldiers shook their spears at him, but he just looked at them. Joffrey and Cersei noticed him standing there, and they scrutinized him. He raised his head, staring back, and they stiffened. From the dark and secret depths of the hood, a pair of ruby eyes looked out at them. Joffrey pointed at him, about to order the Hound to get him, but that was when a soldier blocked his view for a split second. When he moved out of the way, Joffrey and Cersei could no longer see him. He had vanished. Like a ghost!

Sansa woke up in her chamber, sitting up quickly and gasping. Had she been dreaming? Sansa looked around, and everything seemed normal. However, she felt dried tears on her cheek, the hem of her dress was scraped and dirty from when she had passed out. That was when she remembered. Joffrey had ordered Ser Illyn Paine to remove her father's head. Sansa fell back on her pillow, her tears coming out again. They soaked the pillow, which she thumped with her fist. The sound of her chamber door opening, made her sit up, and three people walked in. Cersei approached the bed, with Petyr Baelish and Maester Pycelle behind her. "My poor child," Cersei said, her voice oozing comfort. "I am so sorry that you had to see that." Cersei sat next to her on the bed, and Sansa shuffled away from her, keeping her knees pulled up, shielding herself. She remembered what Loki told her, and it did make her feel a little safer.

"Joffrey promised mercy," she said quietly, but all three of her visitors heard her.

"And I counseled him to show your father mercy. But, the cruel mob influenced my son to make another decision," Cersei said in response. Somehow, deep inside of Sansa, she knew Cersei was lying. Joffrey had come to that resolution to kill her father on his own.

"Maester Pycelle has brought you milk of the poppy to ease your pain," Petyr Baelish said. Sansa's eyes wandered over to the twisted old man, as he put something in a cup and stirred it. The look he gave her was sickening, and Sansa felt her stomach twist inside her.

"I don't want it," Sansa said defiantly. Cersei glanced back at Petyr Baelish and Pycelle and nodded her head. Pycelle held the cup out to her, and Sansa slapped it out of his hand. The goblet fell to the floor, making a clattering noise when it landed. "Milk of the poppy will not cure this pain. My pain is not physical. It's emotional and spiritual," Sansa told them.

"The queen has said that you are to take milk of the poppy, and you will take it!" Pycelle insisted in an angry tone of voice. Sansa stuck her lip out, silently daring him to make her drink it. Pycelle took a step towards her, but Cersei's hand went up, and Petyr Baelish stopped him. Cersei reached over before Sansa could move, and encompassed Sansa's hand with her own. Sansa jumped at the contact, thinking how cold she was. It did not feel the same as when Loki had touched her. Even though his skin was cool, it felt rather refreshing. Cersei's felt like a corpse had touched her.

"Sansa, my darling," Cersei cooed, "I know that you feel anger and sorrow. But these will pass. Your father was a traitor, and the people, the rabble, they called for his head. If Joffrey had not given them what they desired, they would have attacked us." Again, Sansa knew she was lying. How could she know this? She had been fooled by Cersei and Joffrey in the past, and now, she could tell when they were simply saying things to make her happy. "You understand?" Cersei asked her. Sansa looked up at her, and their blue eyes met each other. Sansa pulled her hand out of the queen's, and sat up straight. She fixed all three of them, and her lips became a firm line.

"No, I do not." With that, she lay back down, and turned her back on them. Cersei's lips twitched upward, before she signaled for them to leave. Her, Petyr Baelish, and Maester Pycelle left the chamber. As soon as she heard the door close, Sansa burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Father! I'm so sorry!" she wept to herself.