Sitting in the dingy dungeon Sirye thought back to the moments leading up to this. Everything he ever did. He knew he should regret his actions, he knew he should feel something. But he didn't.
No matter what anyone says Sirye would never regret it. Oh they could shout it to the gods and curse his name for generations to come, none of that would matter just as long as his little sister had a chance at life.
...
Now as he walked, ignoring all the hateful stares and disgusted looks, he thought back to his old thinkings. Murder was vile. Murder was to be avoided except in war. Murder was punishable by death.
He smiled wryly. 'How utterly naive of me,' he thought to himself, 'to think of such things. Murder was but a small mercy granted by the gods above.'
Glancing at the guards he saw it. The look in that guards face was enough to make him halt his confidat stride. He wasn't smiling anymore.
He was roughly grabbed and dragged to the chopping ground.
'This is justice?' he watched as Ned Stark pulled out his sword. 'Is this what you call justice Ned Stark? Punish a murder with murder? Did you even stop to think that I had a reason for what I did?" he glared at him from under his shaggy hair.
"Any last words?"
"You have a corrupt sense of justice Ned Stark. Don't let anyone tell you other wise."
...
Written for the trr writting challenge on game of thrones amino