We had been in the police station for less than fifteen minutes when Jon Snow's car appeared, another officer escorting Cersei Baratheon out of it. She looked hassled but still with a look of pride and utmost contempt for everything surrounding her. She didn't even spare us a look as the officer led her to the interrogation room. Jon Snow stayed back, and turned to the boy beside me.

"Did everything go right, Sam?"

"Perfect, Jon," Sam answered eagerly, "he's sitting in the other room right now, and refuses to say another word, but we've got his words recorded, and Margaery Tyrell as a witness."

"All that's left now it's to see what we can get out of Cersei… you did a good job, Sam. Thanks for helping with this." Snow finished, clasping his friend's shoulder. Sam smiled and left. I expected Snow to go to where Cersei was being held, but he turned to me now.

"So, Joffrey confessed, albeit inadvertently. What makes you so sure then that Cersei's the guilty one?"

I looked down at him with my arms crossed in front of my chest. "I'm not sure. But Joffrey's never done anything without mummy's approval, and if there's one thing the boy likes, is to brag. If he had Stark killed, he'd boast about it. If he didn't have Stark killed, he'd boast about it all the same."

"And Cersei's got a better motive," Snow nodded, agreeing with me. "Well, let's see if we can lock them both up before Robb is done with Tywin Lannister."

With that, he left to conduct Cersei's interrogation. I followed. This was a show I wasn't about to miss.

I took a seat in the dark. No point in provoking the woman while Snow tried to gather a confession from her. If she noticed me, she gave no signs, as she turned to Snow. The boy began talking.

"Mrs. Baratheon, I'm sure you know why you've been brought here."

Cersei smirked.

"I have no idea, officer."

"You have been brought here to answer for your part in Eddard Stark's murder." Snow explained.

Cersei folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward.

"In that case… I'm not saying anything without a lawyer present. I'm sure you understand."

Jon Snow smiled. "Oh, I understand perfectly, m'am. I have no problem in calling a lawyer for you. It'll be harder, however, to find one for your son." At this Cersei's smile slipped. "I doubt anyone would want his case after his enormous blunder tonight."

I could tell she was trying to remain calm as she asked, "What do you mean? Where's Joffrey?"

Snow sat on the table and began his explanation of the events that evening. By the time he reached Joffrey's recorded confession, Cersei had gone pale. Good, I thought.

"So, as you see, your son is under arrest for Eddard Stark's murder and Sansa Stark's attempted murder."

Cersei seemed lost, and began speaking, "that's impossible. Why would he…" she looked down, obviously trying not to let any weakness show. "God, Joffrey…" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Clearly, your son doesn't regret what he's done," Snow went on, "he boasted about it, and even now, he refuses to make any statements to the contrary. What I cannot understand, Mrs Baratheon, is why?"

Cersei looked near a nervous breakdown. She was paler than before and looked cornered. This was the moment. Surely, she'd confess now. Whatever she might be, she would try and save her son. I was sure of it. And sure enough…

"It wasn't Joffrey. Is that what you wanted to hear? I did it. I hired that man to kill Stark."

She was looking at us with pure hatred, but we did not get to hear anything else as Sam snuck his head into the room and called us. We followed him out on the hallway.

"Jon, you need to hear this," Sam said, "Tormund himself went to interrogate Joffrey Baratheon, and by the end of it, he was so fed up, he ended up confessing all over again, even going as far as to give us the contact of the robber that shot your uncle."

Snow and I exchanged grim looks.

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"He was all smiles, apparently. Tormund says he was going on and on about how his grandfather would take him out of there, and that none of us could touch a hair on his head. Says he could kill us all right here and still no one could touch him."

Snow looked at me, "but then, Cersei…"

"Bloody hell," I said, as I suddenly understood the situation. "She's covering for him."

Snow took the piece of paper his friend gave him, and we went back quickly to the interrogation room.

"Mrs. Baratheon," Snow started, more agitated than before, "can you explain how you contacted the lowlife that killed my uncle?"

She looked up, puzzled, "What do you mean? I…"

That moment of hesitation was all that was needed.

"You can't explain," I blurted out, forgetting I should have no part in this, "because you have no fucking idea of how to reach that bastard. Joff, however, he even gave us directions! What a helpful little boy, eh?" I slammed my hands on the table before us. "Stop covering for him, Cersei. We know he did it."

She looked down and didn't say anything for a while, until finally, her defeated voice reached out ears.

"It wasn't supposed… it was my idea at first. Stark wasn't supposed to die. We needed the deal with his company, and I thought, if we scared him a little…Joffrey told me to leave it in his hands, he was the head of the company now, but I never thought… He's always done what I told him to do before… but he's strong-headed… all boys his age are…"

"No, boys his age throw a tantrum and get pissed," Snow said. "He's a monster."

As Snow lifted her to arrest her for accessory for murder and god knows what else, she looked straight at me, her loath of me clear as day.

"You're a traitor. We gave you a job! Do you think you can go far after betraying the Lannisters? All for that red-headed little bitch? She must have worked you real well! She must fuck as prettily as she talks, doesn't she?"

I threw the table between us against a wall and in half a second I was right in front of her.

"As a rule," I growled, "I tend not to hit women. I'll gladly make an exception for you,"

"Clegane…" Snow warned me.

"A thief only sees thieves around him, they say. The fact that you're a slut doesn't make Sansa Stark one. Take her away," I turned to Snow, "before I do something I really won't regret."

I watched as they left, Cersei's blond hair the last thing through the door.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

For the first time that night, I smiled.

The case was closed. I felt a certain satisfaction. Joffrey and his mother were behind bars, as they always should have, but most importantly, the little bird was finally out of her cage. She was free. There was something, though… something nagging at the back of my mind. I stepped outside for a moment, since I still had to wait for the girl. I reached into my coat for a cigar.

It happened fast, almost too fast.

When you're a soldier, good instincts are a nice advantage. To be able to sense your enemies, to know when to put a fight and when to leave. To know when you're being spied on. Aye, instincts are a good thing to have. When you have a brother like Gregor Clegane, instincts become the difference between life and death.

That's how I could sense the man standing behind me mere seconds before he attacked. It didn't take long. The man was old and not too built. There was something in his hand, but I was too fast for him, too well trained. I managed to grab a hold of his throat and push him against a wall. Whether the impact left him unconscious or dead wasn't my problem. I knelt to see what was on his hand. A syringe, with a needle that would have gone straight to my neck. If I had been slightly more distracted, I would have been a dead man.

Clearly this had been planned. The man obviously knew fighting was out of the question, as I would probably win. What bothered me was that this was clean, a little too clean to have been planned by someone like Joffrey or even Cersei. I remembered the shooting at the fundraising. That carried Joff's signature. This, though… but who? Tywin Lannister? The whole point of tonight's operation was making it fast and quiet. Snow had made sure only men he trusted were involved. And even then, why take me out of the game after Joffrey's arrest?

The little bird. If something happened, despite myself I'd protect her and someone knew that. Someone wanted to leave her vulnerable. But she was safe, wasn't she? She was with Baelish, who, no matter how much I disliked the man, had so far come through, his tip about Stannis had been realm, and so had been his deal with Olenna Tyrell.

Baelish, who was rumoured to be courting the Arryn widow and temporary head of Arryn Airlines.

Arryn Airlines, which had fused with Stark Steel.

Baelish who, with Joffrey and Cersei out of the way, was the main influential shareholder in Crowned Stag Railroads.

Baelish, in a powerful position in three of the city's biggest companies.

Baelish, who had loved Catelyn Tully, and was now with the daughter that resembled his lost love so much.

Fuck.

I ran back to the station as fast as I could, and didn't stop until I got to Snow's office.

"The boy," I panted, "I need to talk to the boy. Right now."

"Clegane, what is the meaning of this?" Snow was clearly surprised, and seemed not to understand what I was saying. I had no time to waste with the kid.

"The boy, Snow! Right now or I swear I'll shoot you!"

He seemed to want to argue, but when I noticed the keys lying on his desk, I didn't give him time. I took them and left to the cell where Joffrey was locked.

"What do you want, dog?" He snarled as I walked in. No, no time to waste on this one, either.

"Littlefinger. It was him, wasn't it? He told you to get rid of Stark instead of just scaring him a little, didn't he?"

"I don't know what…" he started, but I interrupted.

"For hell's sake you idiot! You want a chance at lowering you sentence, this is it! Me, I'd like nothing better than to see you rot for the rest of your miserable life."

By now, Snow was standing behind me. Good, I needed witnesses.

Joffrey seemed to consider, until he said. "He said Stark was a traitor. He didn't know how to play the game. But I was smarter, he said, I didn't need him, and that I should show the world what happened to those who crossed me."

Of course. Littlefinger had known all along Joffrey was guilty. He had promised Tyrell he'd be locked, and there was no need for Sansa's statement. I felt something sinking in my stomach, dread curling up like a snake in my insides.

I decided didn't need to hear anything else. Instead, I ran.