The air under the scaffolding didn't move. It smelled of dry wood and too many people packed too close above. I lay flat in the dirt, my heart beating hard enough to feel in my ribs.
Every breath was a struggle. The [Suppression] was no longer just a drain; it was a physical agony, my inside felt like they had caught fire.
Through the gaps in the planks, I saw the underside of the platform. The footsteps of Gold Cloaks moving into position. The vibration of the crowd's jeers.
Then I saw Ned.
His boots worn, caked in the filth of the Black Cells. He stumbled as they dragged him toward the edge of the stage. He looked fragile. No longer the man he once was. I watched him look toward the statue of Baelor, his eyes searching. I followed his gaze.
There she was. Arya. Perched on the pedestal, her small hand white-knuckled around the hilt of Needle. Nearby, a man in the ragged black of the Night's Watch, Yoren was already moving, his eyes fixed on the girl. He knew what was coming.
Ned began to speak.
"I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King... come before you to confess my treason."
The words were a ruin. He said them for Sansa, standing just a few feet away with a look of desperate, fragile hope. He said them for Arya. He was killing his own honor to keep the pack alive, and the "Human" in me felt a sick, cold hollow in my stomach. I knew the script. I knew the history.
The crowd erupted in a roar of "Traitor!" and "Death!" The sound was a physical wall of noise.
Joffrey stepped forward. He looked small in his golden finery, his face twisted into that characteristic, arrogant smirk. "My mother wishes me to let Lord Stark take the Black. Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"But they have the soft hearts of women," Joffrey's voice rose, turning shrill and thin. "As long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"
The world slowed.
[Event: The Death of the Hand]
[Time to Impact: 30 seconds.]
The crowd's roar shifted from anger to a frantic, bloodthirsty hunger. Sansa's scream was lost in the noise. I saw Ser Ilyn Payne move. He didn't have a tongue, but his presence was loud and chilling enough. He reached over his shoulder and drew Ic,. The Valyrian steel caught the sun in ripples, shimmering with a cold, blue light.
I didn't wait for twenty-nine seconds.
I let go.
With [Suppression] gone. The heat I'd been hoarding exploded outward. I erupted outward, the wooden scaffolding beneath the stage detonated. Massive beams of seasoned oak splintered into toothpicks as my frame expanded, my ribs forcing the stage upward.
The crowd's roar died instantly, replaced by a collective, suffocating gasp.
I burst through the floor of the platform in a cloud of splinters and white steam. I wasn't the orange hound that was hiding before. I was six feet of smoky-black muscle and a cream-colored mane that shimmered with the residue of the fire.
I saw Payne. He was mid-swing, the greatsword beginning its downward arc toward Ned's neck.
[Extreme Speed]
I became a blur of gold and shadow. The air cracked with the force of my movement.
I slammed into Ilyn Payne's side with the weight of a charging bull. The impact solid launching the executioner. He flew ten feet across the stage, his body a ball in heavy wool, the greatsword Ice spinning out of his grip and clattering harmlessly against the stone steps of the Sept.
I skidded to a halt over Ned's slumped body. My claws gouged deep, jagged furrows into the wood of the stage.
Silence.
Absolute, terrifying silence fell over the thousands in the plaza. The High Septon dropped his crystal. Joffrey fell back into his seat, his mouth hanging open, his face turning a shade of white. The Gold Cloaks froze, their pikes leveled but their hands shaking.
For them, God had sent a demon to claim their prize.
I stood over Ned, my mane steaming, my breath coming in low rumbles that shook the very boards of the stage. I looked at the crowd, my eyes burning with aggression that made a promise.
The sentence had been passed, but I was the one who would carry it out.
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