The new King. Joffrey

Eddard was thrown unceremoniously through the curtained gate of the King's tent, shivering from the cold as he lay on the ground. He slowly regained his composure, struggling to rise to his knees as he raised his head to stare at an impetuous blonde face. Ned could barely make out a slumped over body lying towards the back, wearing the gold and black of the Baratheons.

"What shall we do with him mother?" Joffrey demanded in his whiny boyish tone. "It's up to you my son. He is a traitor, who tried to arrest me and kill your uncle. He must answer for his crimes." Cersei replied in her silky voice.

Ned stared at the boy with the cold composure of a soldier waiting to die. "No, a death is to noble for the good Stark. Let us make him truly regret his actions," Joffrey stated nobly as he could muster.