Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or story in A Song of Ice and Fire. That belongs to George R. R. Martin. And anything he forgot to nail down belongs to HBO.

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Pew pew, my first time writing a fanfic in almost four years. It's been too long. But why don't finish one that you started but only got halfway through? Because, my dearest readers, I'm lazy. That's fair. But why did you go so long without writing fanfics? Because, my dearest readers, life happened. A lot of it. More than the number of digits between (0, 1) on the real line R. (Uncountably infinite, truly.) Also, I was at college studying to be a mathematician.

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Notes: I should also disclaim that everything I know about the US justice system (which I'm boldly assuming is the exact same in my AU Westeros), I learned from Law & Order, Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, CSI, NCIS, Dexter, and The Wire. And if any of you have seen Law & Order: SVU, you'll know that the "law" side of things are pretty damn shaky.

Also, of note, from this point of writing, I've read the first three books and have started on the fourth. Please no spoilers in the reviews! Also, note that some characters are alive when they should be dead. Well, that's because I like some characters more than others, and because this is AU and a fanfic, I can do whatever I want!

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A Game of Police and Lawyers: A Song of Westeros's Homicide Division

Murder 1, Part 1: Joffrey Baratheon

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"Joffrey Baratheon was a 12 year old boy who looked exactly like his mother, much like his uncle, and not at all like his father. He was born into royalty, meaning his parents were extravagantly rich, and his closest friends and neighbors all agreed he let it get to his head."

"But who would want a charmer like that dead?"

Robb and Jon Stark were sitting at their desks in the Homicide Division in Kings Landing. Both men were young, in their early twenties. Robb Stark had red-brown hair and blue eyes. He looked more like his mother than his father. Jon "Snow" Stark had dark brown hair with eyes to match. He looked more like his father, which isn't particularly fair to say because he never met his mother to match his features against hers. The boys were brothers—half brothers, truly—and wanted to be police officers since they were little boys.

"Can you imagine, Jon?" Robb used to say. "We'd be just like knights!"

"But with guns."

The boys would then hunt for toy sticks that looked like guns in the backyard of the house large enough to be a castle in the city of Winterfell and would spend the rest of the afternoon laughing and chasing each other with sticks yelling, "Pew, pew!" until they were too tired to move.

Catelyn Stark, Robb's mother, would watch them play with her blue eyes narrowed. The embarrassment of having her husband's bastard run amok in her home was disgraceful enough, but the fact that Jon looked so much like his father… It led to plenty of awkward conversations with the neighbors.

Janos Slynt, police captain of the homicide unit, passed by the brothers and barked, "Stark and Stark! Make sure you treat this Baratheon case with delicacy! I want no screw ups! His parents are some high profile people, so get in, get out, and get this case closed!"

"Of course."

"Sure."

Slynt eyed the brothers accusingly before he lumbered on to the Frey officers, Walder and Walder. Everyone assumed they were brothers, but they were quick in pointing out that they were cousins from a particularly large family.

Robb grinned once Slynt was out of earshot. "I've heard of the Baratheons. It's said that Joffrey's uncle, Tywin Lannister actually shits gold."

Jon snickered. "Let's make sure we check the toilets, then, at the crime scene."

Robb and Jon rode through the streets of King's Landing toward the largest house in the city, by far, nicknamed the Red Keep for the thick, red walls surrounding the property. As the brothers approached the house, they noticed distinctly that there was no crime scene tape at the scene, reporters were nowhere in sight, and the red gate doors were tightly sealed.

"You sure this is the right address?" Jon asked.

Robb looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

Jon turned to face him. "Why would I be kidding? Seriously, check the address."

"Whatever, let's just ring the bell."

They pulled up to the gate in their unmarked black Crown Vic. Robb rolled down the driver's side window when he noticed a monitor. After a few minutes, a handsome, chiseled face appeared in the monitor.

"What?"

The speaker above the monitor was turned up, and the feedback made Robb and Jon cringe. Ears still ringing, Robb said, "We're from the Westeros PD. We're here about the murder."

For a moment, Robb thought the man in the monitor was going to refuse, or even say, "What murder?" He scrutinized the both of them for nearly a minute before saying, "Show me your badges."

In unison, the brothers pulled on the badges attached to chains around their necks and pushed them toward the monitor. Jon, in the passenger's seat, had to lean across Robb in order to get his badge close enough to satisfy the gatekeeper. Both badges were scrutinized for well over five minutes before the gatekeeper was satisfied.

"Very well."

More feedback, but at least the gate began to open. As Jon shifted to resettle himself back into his seat, his elbow pressed the car horn. He jumped and bumped his head on the roof.

"Gods!" he yelped.

Robb laughed and pulled in through the red gates.

The driveway was nearly a mile long. The Red Keep was pressed well back into its property. Tall pines and sentinels blocked all view of the main house from view until they were nearly on top of it. In view of the monstrous mansion, they were acutely aware of the main reason for the home's nickname. The main house was made up of nearly a score of different wings. Each building was painted the same shade of deep red. Huge bridges connected some of the wings, and several of the wings were well over five stories high. There were dozens of other cars in the driveway, including several emergency police vehicles.

"Still no sign of police tape," noted Jon as the brothers emerged from their car.

As they slammed the doors shut, the gatekeeper came strolling across the yard. His walk was haughty in nature, yet at the same time, his green eyes cast around the yard as if he hadn't a care in the world. While the monitor was black and white, they could now see the gentleman had tan skin and long, blond hair.

"Evening, constables," he greeted when he was within range. He held out his hand to each of them. "Jaime Lannister, the boy's uncle."

"Stark."

"Stark."

Jaime was confused. "What? You're both stark?" A huge smile split his face, spreading from ear to ear. "From your mostly black attire, I would say you're indeed both stark."

Missing his joke, Jon said, "You can call me Snow, and him Stark."

Jaime's smile flickered. "Of course, gentlemen. I'll be Jaime to you, then. Now, please, come inside, and meet the poor grieving parents."

Once inside the Red Keep, there were still no sign of any other officers until Jaime led them to the dining room. There, leaning against the table, was Joffrey Baratheon. His mouth hung open, and wine and crumbs were spilled on his front. A huge golden goblet lounged on its side, a red wine oozing onto the white table cloth. His ear was deep inside a cherry pie. A golden crown shaped as antlers had rolled from his head and leaned against the goblet.

"What an awful accident," Jaime said with a sigh.

A woman with long, curly blonde hair and startling green eyes quickly approached them. "This was no accident," she hissed.

Robb and Jon were taken aback. "And you are…?"

"I'm his mother!" she shrieked. "And your stupid police officers don't seem to think there's anything wrong with this scene at all!"

Robb was the one who usually managed the grieving widows, siblings, friends, and parents in these situations. He took Joffrey's mother to the side. Jon heard him say, "Now, now, Mrs. Baratheon, obviously the Westeros PD thinks your claim very serious, elsewise I wouldn't be here. Now, please tell me what happened…"

Jon left the two of them to survey the rest of the scene. The cameraman, Oberyn Martell, was rapidly taking pictures of Joffrey from every angle. From the state of Dorne, Oberyn liked to be called the "Prince" of Dorne, ever since his father became governor, but most called him the Red Viper. Jon never knew why.

Beyond Oberyn, Jon saw two police officers in uniform (two more Freys, Cleos and "Red" Walder) taking statements from the witnesses. There was a young woman, hardly 18 years old, with dark hair and huge brown eyes. She wore a tiara on her head, and tears were streaming down her face. A much older woman stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder. At first glance, she looked senile, but as Jon watched her he realized how her sharp eyes were taking in the whole scene. Beside them was an older man, though younger than the old woman. At first glance, Jon thought he might be married to the old woman, until he realized the similar features in his face and Jaime Lannister's.

Jon blinked several times when Cleos Frey moved to one side, and out from behind his frame popped the shortest man he had ever seen. It took him a moment to take in his entirety, small though he was. He had a thick mess of blond hair atop his head and mismatched eyes—one black, one green. A huge scar ran from one side of his face to the other, and the end of his nose was missing. He held a glass of wine in one hand.

Jon must have been staring because suddenly the small man yelled, "What? Never seen a dwarf before?"

Jon stuttered because, no, he hadn't ever seen a dwarf before, but he didn't know the politically correct way to answer his question. Before he could blunder his way through an answer, however, a tall, thin body with streaming blonde hair pushed past him, knocking him against the table.

"You monster!" Mrs. Baratheon shouted. "Take him away! Here's your murderer!"

Jaime was at her side in an instant, holding her back before her flailing fists could hit the short man. "Cersei," he cooed, "calm down. Tyrion never hurt anyone…"

Cersei almost broke free of his grasp, but the old man helped bring Cersei into the adjoining kitchen. "We'll just be a moment," he told the officers, his voice deep and commanding. "I'm getting my daughter some tea to help her calm down. Tyrion…" He sighed, shook his head, and continued to the kitchen.

Jon approached Tyrion warily. "So, did you murder Joffrey?" he asked.

Tyrion laughed and took a large gulp of wine. "Now, here's a predicament. I'm asked by an officer of the law if I'm innocent or guilty. If I say I'm innocent, I'll be presumed guilty, by suspicion. And if I say I'm guilty, I'll be taken away in handcuffs. So how do I tell the truth and have you believe me?"

Robb appeared beside his brother. "Innocent until proven guilty. Anything else you'd like to say?"

"Only this." Tyrion took another gulp of wine. "You'll find Joffrey had more enemies than friends, but your trick is to puzzle out who had enough motive to kill the little bastard."

Robb met Tyrion's gaze. Slowly a smile spread across his face. "Officer Cleos, please take this kind gentleman back to the station when you leave. I think we have quite a few more questions for him."

When they were out of earshot, Jon said, "You really think he did it?"

Robb shrugged. "Do you?"

Without answering, the brothers turned to continue examining the crime scene. They slipped on gloves to examine the body as closely as possible, but without being able to move the body before the M.E. (medical examiner) arrived, there was not much to be learned.

"Looks like he choked," Jon said.

Robb nodded but didn't answer his brother. To the Red Viper, he asked, "Have you finished taking pictures of the cup, the crown, and the pie?" When Oberyn nodded, Robb picked up three evidence bags from the end of the table. "You bag the pie," he said to Jon, "and I'll get the cup and crown."

As they were bagging and tagging, the ME arrived with his assistant. The ME was an old, blind man named Dr. Aemon, lovingly called Maester. His assistant was his opposite. Samwell Tarly was a young man around Jon and Robb's age who must have weighed as much as Jon, Robb, and the Maester put together. He was growing a beard to cover his bubbling second chin, but the hair didn't make him any thinner. His pale eyes cast over the scene, and his knees buckled. He gripped the chair beside Joffrey so he wouldn't fall. Sam was the Maester's eyes, but that didn't mean he wasn't queasy around bodies.

"Samwell, describe, please." Jon and Robb left the ME and his assistant to their work, and they stepped outside to compare notes.

As the door closed behind them, a short, lanky girl with shoulder-length dark brown hair blowing every which way ran up to them. "Any blood for me?"

Robb laughed. "Not today, sis."

Arya frowned. She was Robb's full-blood sister and Jon's half-sister, barely into her twenties. She was studying to become a blood spatter analyst and had landed a summer internship at her brothers' precinct. "How can there be a body and no blood?"

"Looks like he choked," answered Jon.

"Looks like…" A grin broke across Arya's face, and she snapped her fingers together. "That means poison!" Where Sam was squeamish around bodies, Arya loved them. She loved studying how they were put together…and what happened when they were taken apart. In a purely scientific way, of course.

Without another word, she hoisted her blood sample kit higher onto her shoulder, and burst through the doors to watch the ME and his analysis.

Robb shook his head as a pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He handed another to Jon, but he refused. Robb always offered a cigarette to Jon, and Jon always refused. It was just a habit they both had.

"So what's our plan of action from here?" Robb asked around puffs of his cigarette.

"We definitely need to review the notes of the witnesses that the Freys got. Did you get anything from the mother?"

Robb nodded thoughtfully. "She definitely thinks he was murdered. And she definitely thinks her brother Tyrion is the killer."

"But you don't think so?"

Robb shrugged. "Pretty open and shut case if it is him, don't you think?"

They waited outside for Cleos and Red Walder to appear.

"Well?" Robb asked.

Red Walder shrugged. Cleos filled in the details.

"It was a wedding reception. That Baratheon kid and that brunette with the big brown eyes, Margaery Tyrell, her name is, had just gotten hitched—a small affair, to be sure. Just the bride and groom, the groom's mom, the two uncles, the boy's grandfather, and the bride's grandmother, and her older brother, Loras. They were laughing, having a good time, then some words were exchanged, and the groom choked and died."

"Words were exchanged?" Jon asked. "What do you mean?"

Cleos shrugged. "I couldn't get anything out of them. And Tywin, the grandfather, wouldn't even let me talk to Tyrion…"

"So you aren't bringing him to the station?" Robb asked.

"Can't," Cleos answered. "Tywin wants everyone lawyered up, especially with Cersei screaming the way she was about her brother killing her son."

"Gods help us," Jon muttered under his breath.

Robb dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his heel. "Well, I guess we'd better get back in there and see what the ME's found."

The two brothers walked back into the Red Keep and into the dining room. Cersei Baratheon sat in a chair next to her son, fuming, a cup of tea in her shaking hands. Jaime Lannister stood across from her with his arms crossed behind his back, a grin plastered to his face. The other witnesses were nowhere to be seen.

The Red Viper was packing his camera away when Jon and Robb entered. "Good seeing you, boys. I'll have this film developed and sent your way as soon as possible." And then he was gone.

Arya was hovering over the ME as he worked, leaving Sam to twist around her awkwardly to help the Maester with his work. Though he was blind, the Maester was still the best ME in all of Westeros. Jon didn't want to think about how the Maester must accommodate to his work without his eyesight, and was soon disgusted by images of his fingers roping through a victim's organs and innards. Robb, however, was still on the case.

"Mrs. Baratheon—"

"Cersei," she corrected sharply.

Robb cleared his throat and began again. "Cersei, if you don't mind, I was wondering where your husband—"

Again she cut him off. "Mr. Baratheon is not here tonight. And he's not my husband. We're divorced."

"Ah."

Not as tactful as his brother, Jon said, "Please, Ms. Cersei and Mr. Jaime, we'll need you to leave the room while we talk with the ME. Sometimes what he has to say may upset the family members of the victim."

Red-rimmed green eyes narrowed, and Robb was sure Cersei would refuse. But quick as a shadow, Jaime was by his sister's side. "Of course, we'll be right in the kitchen if you need us." He gripped his sister's arm and let them away.

When they were gone, the Maester began his analysis. "I can feel food trapped in the boy's throat, but I will not be able to know if it's in his esophagus or his trachea until I get him cut open. I'll also check for signs of vomiting. Sam tells me there's no bruising around his throat, which may rule out strangulation, though some bruising occurs later. Sam tells me his fingertips are not black, so if this was a poisoning, he died quickly."

"I think we can rule out strangulation," Jon said when Dr. Aemon had finished. "With a roomful of people, I don't think anyone could have strangled him like this."

"Unless everyone's lying," Arya piped.

Robb chuckled. "There's our sis, always assume everyone's lying."

"Usually they are."

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End of part 1 of murder 1.

Let me know what you think in the reviews! Really, I just thought the whole idea of Jon and Robb as cops was hysterical. And stay tuned for part 2 of murder 1 when you get to meet the ADA! (Leave guesses in the reviews!)