Arya saw the face of "Bishop-King," "Blessed by the Gods" Baelor, so Arya tucked her sword into her belt and began to climb.
Although her broken nails left bloody streaks on the painted marble, she eventually climbed up and wedged herself between the King's legs.
Arya saw "Father," but he was a bit far away, his face etched with pain and somewhat darkened.
The King, the Queen Mother, Sansa, and others stood before the platform. Further behind them was a large crowd of Knights and nobles, but only the most distinguished ministers could stand so close. Their numbers were few because half of the Small Council had fled. Now, only Varys the eunuch, draped in a painted brocade robe and wearing slippers, moved among the nobles. There was also Littlefinger, with his silver cloak and pointed beard, whom Sansa now knew was the man who had dueled for her mother. And five White Knights; Joffrey's dog, dressed in dark gray armor and a snow-white cloak.
"Father, Father," Sansa wanted to shout twice, but she was stopped by a White Knight.
"This is not what a Lady does," the Queen Mother glanced at Sansa, who then fell silent, timidly looking at her father. But for some reason, she always felt something strange.
Sansa secretly looked back and saw "Father" wearing a thick gray velvet tunic, with a white wolf embroidered in beads on his chest, and a gray wool-trimmed cloak over his shoulders. But Sansa had never seen him so thin. His long face was full of pain, and there was a gloomy blackness on his face, as if it had been smeared on during a long time in the dungeon. Sansa always felt something strange; if it were her father, how could he not have noticed her? He could barely stand, supported entirely by two guards.
Under the command of the commander of the gold cloaks, a long line of Gold Cloaks pikemen held back the crowd. The man wore ornate, black-lacquered armor inlaid with gold thread, and his cloak was woven with genuine gold threads, shimmering with metallic luster.
The bells stopped, and a wave of silence fell. The commander of the gold cloaks, who looked like an ugly toad, stepped forward. "Eddard" opened his mouth and began to speak, but his voice was as faint as a wisp of smoke; Sansa could barely hear him.
"Louder!" the commander of the gold cloaks shouted, then poked him hard.
"I can't say it. I am guilty, but I..." "Eddard" said vaguely, his voice hoarse, and then he began to sob. His voice gradually grew louder, but only relatively so.
Only Sansa heard the gist of it; she was very close and listened intently. This was not the voice of the father she thought of day and night, although it had a Northern accent. Sansa wanted to hear more, but "Eddard" stopped speaking.
"This coward is afraid, Your Majesty, Queen Mother," Janos Slynt loudly declared to Joffrey and Cersei.
"What's going on?" Joffrey said, his face full of impatience.
"It seems the environment in the Black Cells of King's Landing is not good; Lord Eddard is almost mute," Littlefinger said with a grin.
"Psychologically, such things do happen."
"I don't care, this ceremony must go on," Joffrey looked at Janos Slynt.
Janos Slynt continued to ascend the high platform and then spoke to Eddard.
"Former Lord of Winterfell and hand of the king, Eddard Stark, do you come here today to admit your treason before the gods above and men below?"
"Yes," "Eddard" said cautiously, nodding continuously.
"And is that confession written by your own hand?"
"Yes."
"Damn it, speak louder! What's wrong?"
"He should have been beheaded long ago, this traitor!"
"Idiot! They won't behead him! Since when are traitors beheaded at the Great Sept?"
"Will this traitor turn into a wolf?"
The crowd below began to shout and yell, the air filled with various taunts and curses. Sansa buried her face in her hands, her heart still full of doubt.
Arya thought and thought, listened and listened. Her father's words were so few, it seemed he had been too tormented in King's Landing.
"All of Lord Eddard's crimes are accurate and precise; I shall read them aloud again," Janos Slynt shouted loudly, trying to make his voice carry across the square.
"Eddard Stark, did you betray our King, your dear friend, Robert? You betrayed The late King's trust and entrustment," Janos Slynt cried, "You swore to protect his Child, yet when The late King's body was barely cold, you conspired to depose and kill his son, conspiring to install a Bastard as King."
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