A/N: So here is the first chapter of my Game of Thrones story! *Screams happily* It starts from when Ned's execution. Updates on this story WILL be weekly because I'm still writing it and have no way finished in doing so. But I'm so excited to finally be publishing this on here!

This story is rated "T" for numerous reasons, but it will probably change to "M" due to language, violence and adult themes later on in the chapters. Just a warning to let you readers, who might not be comfortable with it know. I DO NOT own 'Game of Thrones' or 'A Song of Ice and Fire' only my OC, they rightfully belong to HBO and George R R Martin.

But anyhow, I hope you enjoy, read, and review.

A Brewing War

Forcing her way through the growing crowd, she found herself stood directly in front of the Baelor. The King was already there, with his bitch of a mother, his Dog, her sister then there was Littlefinger and Varys. A royal party. There was only one thing missing as far as Eliana was concerned... Moon Boy, with his stupid songs and dancing, poking fun at the unfortunate.

As the bells continued to ring through the city, the crowd was multiplying by the second - merchants, beggars, stable hands, sailors... everyone came when the bells sounded, like they'd all been trained. Trained hounds, hoping for a treat. But then again, she supposed that was exactly what they were about to get. In all her young life, she'd never met anyone who didn't like seeing someone else's head roll. Yes, they could pretend it was sad, or act like they were disgusted by it but deep down, deep down, there was a part of every person who loved to see blood, loved the smell of death and to watch the life seep out of another man's form.

Ned Stark stared out at the crowd again - the square was packed now - as he was led out by two of his jailers. The people shouted, demanding his repentance, that he be killed, throwing insults as aimlessly as a child would throw a ball. But through it all, he found her standing there in the crowd.

He didn't want any of them there, not his children. He didn't want them to witness his punishment; he didn't want their last memory of him being when he would lose his head. He knew what Ilyn had planned... killing him with his own dammed sword - how awful and cruel for him to take down the Lord of Winterfell with his own Valyrian steel blade. But as much as it pained him, he knew that his eldest, despite it all, would stay throughout it all. Ah, but she was a Stark and she was much like her mother.

Family, duty, honour. Family comes first. Always.

Eliana found her sister again, still stood atop on the Baelor beside the Queen. She was smiling, thinking she'd helped save her father's life but she was a child... she knew nothing of treason, nothing of the punishments carried out. She was a foolish girl, thinking she'd done him well. She'd made the stupid mistake of trusting the Queen, of trusting her one-dimensional son. Trust was a fragile thing, it was not meant to be easily given - but it was often easily broken and thrown aside. She would learn soon enough.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Hand of the King," Stark began, looking to his daughter who stood beside the Queen, who was all smiles and nods.

"I 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." Suddenly, there was a great uproar at his words - someone in the crowd even threw something which hit him in the side of the head. Ilyn Payne got a small chuckle out of that, poor Ned Stark seemed unfazed. The King's Dog caught his arm and forced him forward, continuing to give his speech that no one particularly cared about.

"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, by the Grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Old Pycelle stepped up at his words. It was no lie - the Grand Maester was useless, hopeless, and a dirty old man. "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. What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

The crowd seemed to roar their opinions but Joffrey slowly raised his hand and began to speak, and then the shouts died down again.

"My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join The Night's Watch. 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 paused for a moment to stare at the two women while Ilyn found his hands twitching anxiously as he stared at the hilt, itching to pull the steel free.

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished." The King finally looked over to where he stood, then his gaze stilled and turned cold. "Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

She didn't really take much notice of what happened around her after that. It was noisy, everyone was shouting. She saw Varys run over to the King, she saw the two jailors force her father onto his knees, she saw Sansa panicking while Cersei was attempting to talk some sense into her son. Yet it all faded into the background and became unimportant.

Their eyes locked onto each other's again. The dark grey eyes met the same pair with flecks of blue. The father and daughter stared at each other as he sat on his knees waiting for his life to end.

She could see the fear in his eyes.

And he could see the fear reflecting in her own.

Eliana glanced to her side, spotting Yoren who was watching her and waiting for her to signal when the time was right. Arya couldn't watch this, she was too young for this. She nodded and Yoren disappeared soon enough.

Arya couldn't see this.

Ser Ilyn's face was set, he stepped from where he stood, pulling his hood over his head even as he approached the former Hand of the King, every movement controlled and practiced, his steps smooth yet unnerving. All he could see and think about was the kill. He had a job to do, and he would perform.

He drew the Valryian steel blade from its sheath, the rasp of metal on leather rung through the crowd, and then he made his way calmly Ned Stark. The man looked once at his daughter, then at the crowd where he found his other child, then at the statue of Baelor. His grey eyes landed on her again, she nodded and he bowed his head and exposed his neck. Ilyn took a test swing, gauging the weight of the blade and noting how easily it cut through the air, the tip of the greatsword a few inches from Ned Stark's neck. The swing was smooth, practiced, and he found the weight of the blade acceptable.

He lifted the blade over his head, and brought it down in a wide arc. It slid through Ned Stark's neck like a knife through butter, barely even catching a thing when it hit bone.

He turned and sheathed the blade, then bent down to take a firm hold of Ned Stark's fallen head by the hair, picking it up and holding it high for the crowd to see. He brought it next to Joffrey and knelt, offering it to the King. It would be put on a spike, on a display for the whole city to see. Let a lesson be learnt - Justice would come to make them pay for their sins, and Ser Ilyn Payne was the emissary sent to teach them.

She swore she felt her heart freeze over for once and all.

Her father was dead, the only man she loved with all her heart, suddenly gone from this world.

She gritted her teeth as a poor attempt to stop the tears. Her hands reached for her hood and pulled it over her head, before she began pushing back through the crowds and away from the scene. She knew Arya would be safe with Yoren and Sansa, she could only hope that she would be able to take care of herself while in the Queen's wrath.

Soon they would realise something that the Starks had been telling them for generations.

Winter was coming, and so was war.

A/N: Please read and review!

Ezeiel