A/N: And we are back. After a rather intense cliffhanger I give you...another chapter which will also end with a cliffhanger. I will never change. But hopefully you enjoy the mix of character and intrigue stuff!

Chapter 38: A Deal Fulfilled

Arya's whole body was still buzzing with adrenaline, but she tried to keep her voice as measured as possible while she explained the situation. Most of the situation, anyway.

Here's what she knew for sure: The poison Stannis ingested was delivered to him by Joffrey. But Joffrey hadn't known the poison was in the glass. Likely, he was told to speak to Stannis for some other reason. To bring the drink to him as a peace offering. Or maybe as a signal. Whatever the case, he hadn't been the one to put the poison in the cup.

As for who had, she wasn't sure. It could be anyone at the party, and likely not the actual mastermind. Maybe that's why the waif had been there. Not just watching Arya but to slip the poison into the right cup. That was a trick that every Faceless Man learned early.

"Would they get involved in such a high profile hit?" she wondered. "Only if they had a clear scapegoat."

They certainly had that with Joffrey. But whether the waif had handed off the poisoned glass to Joffrey didn't matter. The Faceless men were never the real killers. They were simply the weapon. The poison itself. The real killer was the one who paid them.

And so she told her mother and Tywin a simplified version of what she had observed:

"I think that whoever has been blackmailing Joffrey told him to come to the wedding," she said. "They told him to wait for some sort of signal. To give his uncle a drink and to talk to him. They could have threatened him, of course. Or maybe they promised to let him off the hook after this one last thing. Promised to return whatever is being used to blackmail him. Whatever the case, he was desperate after being found out but Jaime. So he took the opportunity. He didn't stop to think there might be poison in that drink. And I know he was surprised. I could see it in his eyes."

"So someone told him enough lies to make Joffrey their executioner. An easy scapegoat," Tywin said.

"You said they gave him a signal," her mother said. "Then the one behind this…was at the wedding."

"I don't know for sure," Arya said. "They could have had someone who worked for them give the signal. I didn't see the signal itself. Joffrey did though. When he was talking to Myrcella."

"Even if the culprit were here," Tywin said. "Everyone with a half famous name was at this wedding. It doesn't narrow our suspects in the least."

"But Joffrey would be able to tell us who gave the signal," Catelyn said.

"Probably," Arya said. "Which is why I don't think it was given by the real culprit. They wouldn't be stupid enough to expose themselves like that. Not after everything."

"Likely not," Tywin said. "Still. Someone put poison in the cup. If we could find that person, we might get answers." He eyed Arya. "Did you see the person he took the drink from? The servant?"

She hadn't. Because she had been too focused on Joffrey. It was a mistake that Jaqen would have critiqued her for in a heartbeat.

A girl is so focused on her goal that she misses the details. The scenery. The warning signs of an unexpected development. She trips over her own feet because she does not pay attention to the ground. She dies because she does not notice the snake in the grass.

"No," she murmured, shame and anger spreading through her. "No, I didn't see."

"We can have the servants questioned," Tywin said. "I don't think Olenna would protest that. If she did, that would place sudden suspicion on her."

"And are you suspicious of her?" her mother asked.

"Well, she has more reason to want Stannis dead than Joffrey at the very least. And right now, I don't trust many people," he replied. Then he looked back to Arya, his cold green eyes searching. "Is there anything else you noticed. Anything else that could help."

"No," she said. The lie was automatic and convincing. And today, perhaps because they were so distracted, her mother and Tywin bought it at once.

Part of Arya wanted to tell them about the Faceless men right then and there. But it was her uncertainty about their involvement that held her back. And anyhow, if blowing her cover to this many people hadn't gotten her in trouble…admitting her involvement with the Faceless men would.

They would find out if she did. She knew it. They would always find out. They were always watching.

Even now when she closed her eyes, she could still see the waif's face as she drifted through the crowd, that venomous little smile on her lips—a snake poised to strike.

Eventually, Cersei had escaped the wedding. The press. The madness of that awful day. She had managed to pull her younger children away from the onslaught and into the car. Tommen was shaking like a leaf and Myrcella was in tears. She wished she could say anything to them—but no words came. All she could do was get them safely home.

The press was lurking outside the gates of the manor when the car pulled up. Some of them had the audacity to approach the windows. She barely heard their questions. She was too furious. She had one hand on her umbrella and if the driver didn't pull through the gate soon, she was going to leap from the car and beat the nearest man to death with it.

She had dealt with the press before. More times than she could count. Especially during her divorce with Robert. The newspapers had painted her as a she-demon wringing poor, fun Robert out of all his money. She'd endured that. Tolerated that. But she would not say a word to them about her son.

And she would not let them crowd her other children either.

They made it through the gates at last and security chased off any trespassers. Cersei spirited Myrcella and Tommen inside at once. She offered them a few meaningless words of comfort—all she really had to give—before they retreated to their rooms, hand in hand. She imagined they would both do a better job at comforting each other than she ever could.

Jaime hadn't returned yet and she suspected he wouldn't for a while. Neither would her father, who she truly didn't want to speak to. So she was left to wander restlessly through the manor alone, turning the events of the day over in her head again. The wedding. The reception. The sudden chaos. The way she felt when she saw her son being led away. Stannis' dead body. It had all happened so fast and none of it had settled fully in her mind.

She was jolted from her thoughts by the ring of her phone. She slid it to her ear, not even looking at who it was. She hoped it was someone with answers. Or someone she could fight.

"Hello."

"They gave me one call."

Joffrey's voice filtered through the phone and the ice that had numbed Cersei's heart for the last few hours cracked all over was a hollow sound. An empty sound.

"I'm surprised you used it to call me," Cersei said at last. "You've been avoiding that for the past few weeks."

"Because I knew that you knew the truth," Joffrey said. "I couldn't…I couldn't make myself pick up the phone."

Cersei's jaw clenched and she paced the floor. "I knew the truth even then. In the back of my mind at least. I just refused to accept it. I wanted to believe it was an accident."

Joffrey didn't reply for a long time. "You…were meant to believe that."

There was no fight in his voice. No anger. No protests. No denial. It made it so much worse. Maybe if he had called to scream about how he was innocent, she could have gotten properly angry at him. Because she was angry. Angry at him for lying. For putting their family in danger with his reckless behavior. For nearly getting his uncle Jaime killed in the park that night. For so many other things.

If he had been his usual self—always claiming innocence and that someone else was to blame, maybe her anger would have some place to go. But his sad voice did not resemble that of her proud, reckless son. She barely recognized it at all.

"Why Stannis?" Cersei asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I didn't know that it would…they didn't tell me."

Cersei paused mid-stride. "Who is they?"

"I don't know."

"It's the same person who blackmailed you into killing Ned Stark, isn't it?"

Joffrey paused. "How…how do you know about that part?"

"Your grandfather has been looking into things," she said. Along with others, of course, but she didn't have the time or patience to give the full list. "We know it wasn't your idea. You were acting on someone else's behalf."

He said nothing to confirm it. Cersei wondered if he was avoiding direct answers because he was afraid.

"The same thing happened with Stannis, didn't it," she murmured. "Only you didn't know what would happen." Her grip tightened on the phone. "Stay quiet if the answer is yes."

He stayed silent.

"We're going to find whoever is really behind this," Cersei said. "Then at least you'll be safe. But…there isn't much I can do to get you out of there."

"I know. I didn't call for you to get me out," he said.

"You have many times before," Cersei said. "And I always said 'yes'. I always came to help you. I'm sorry about that. If I was a better mother, I would have stopped you more often. Told you no. Then maybe you wouldn't be in this mess."

Joffrey let out a breath from the other line. "Maybe. But…I did most of this to myself. I…fucked up. I was stupid. I'm sorry."

Cersei could feel hot tears running down her cheek. When was the last time he had apologized to her? She couldn't begin to remember. It had been years. "Just sit tight, Joff. You'll be safe until morning. I'll send some of our people over to watch the precinct. Just in case someone tries to get in. Don't talk to anyone who isn't family."

"I won't," he said. "Bye…mom."

The line went dead before she could reply. She lowered her phone, then peeled back her arm about to hurl it at the wall. She stopped herself just in time. She'd need her phone. Just in case something came up.

She swallowed hard, sliding it instead into the purse still draped over one shoulder. She needed a drink instead.

She made her way swiftly down the stairs and to the kitchen, intending to grab the first bottle of wine she could fine. She stopped short when she saw Tyrion standing in the front hall.

"I'm glad to see you escaped the press," he said. "I worried about the children."

"I'm not in the mood, Tyrion," Cersei muttered. Beneath his words, she could sense the judgement and now was not the time.

"To talk with me sober? No." Tyrion held up a bottle of very expensive looking whisky. "To drink with me on the other hand…sister I think you are very much in the mood for that."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"You can insult me all you want," he promised. "At least for tonight, I'll let it slide. Go easy on you."

She crossed to him, snatching the whisky from his hand and taking a long drink. "I don't need you to go easy on me, little brother."

Tyrion grinned. "That's the spirit."

Cersei and Tyrion never got along, but sometimes they did have a truce and usually that truce was when they were drinking. During some of the more difficult times in her life, Tyrion would often show up with some expensive liquor and a promise—unlike with father, she didn't have to keep up a façade, and unlike Jaime, he wouldn't comment on the amount she was drinking.

Cersei usually took up the offer. She wouldn't turn down a free drink and sometimes, Tyrion was nice to have around—if only to listen to her vent. She didn't care about his opinion of her, so she didn't have to hold back.

"Sometimes I think the press waits for a good murder," she said. "They don't mourn. They aren't shocked. They're delighted the moment they see blood in the water. Especially when it's a famous name."

"It seems that way," Tyrion said. "Certainly, they haven't a had a story like this in years."

"I already know how the front page will paint it," Cersei said. "Stannis Baratheon murdered by nephew for his company. As if Joffrey was even next in line to take over."

"Maybe they'll claim he was plotting with Renly," Tyrion suggested. "And they planned to usurp the company together for the benefit of the Tyrells and Lannisters."

"I'm sure it will be printed somewhere," Cersei said. "Or maybe I told him to do it."

"Maybe you did. Something to confess?"

"Go to hell." Cersei took a long drink. "Still…Renly has more reason to kill Stannis than Joffrey. The two are always bickering. It could be something to look into."

"I think the alcohol is pushing you toward conspiracy theories," Tyrion said.

"Our life has become a conspiracy theory at this point," Cersei muttered.

"Has it," Tyrion said. "It's not that I doubt you, but I haven't exactly been in the loop. I know something has been going on but…well, Father won't tell me. Even Jaime was holding it back. Said he would tell me after the wedding, but now he's quite busy." He refilled Cersei's glass. "Come on, sister. Spin me a tail that fits the alcohol we're drinking."

Cersei studied him carefully. For a moment, she had a paranoid thought that he could be involved in this whole mess and was trying to find out what she knew. But that thought fell away quickly. If Tyrion was going to kill anyone, he'd never use Joffrey to do it. And spiteful as he was, he wouldn't turn against their family in that way.

So, perhaps because of the alcohol or the exhaustion or how fed up she was with the situation, she told him. She told him what she knew anyway. That Arya Stark was alive and pretending to be Myrcella's bodyguard in order to see if anyone in their family had killed her father. That through her, they discovered Joffrey's involvement in Ned Stark's death, and that, more importantly, he was blackmailed. That the deaths of the CEOs a few years ago might be connected, but they had no idea who was ultimately behind it all. That Joffrey was their closest lead and even he didn't seem to know details when she called him—or if he did, he was afraid to say them.

And when she finished, Tyrion simply sat in silence. Cersei felt almost proud. She so rarely stumped him, so she got some satisfaction from the moment.

"Well," he said at last, finishing his drink. "That's an insane story. Too insane not to be true. I don't think you could make something like that up, even with the help of the whisky."

"No," Cersei agreed. "I can't keep up with it all. And I know I don't know everything. After they found out I knew about the accident…well they don't trust me."

"I don't blame them for that," Tyrion said. She shot him a glare and he held up a hand. "Don't worry. I'm not here to interrogate you or tell you how disappointed I am. That's father's job. And you've had a difficult enough day."

Cersei exhaled, taking another long slow drink. "You know, when we're drinking, you can be almost tolerable."

"A compliment? Cersei, you'll make me blush."

"Don't get used to it."

"I won't, I won't."

Across the room, Cersei became aware of phones buzzing on the table. Several times. She rubbed a hand over her face. "Is that yours or mine?"

"Why don't you check?"

"You check. I'm too drunk."

"Fine, fine." Tyrion hopped off his chair and made his way over to the table. "I think its both of ours." He picked up the phone, reading the messages. Then he stilled. He studied his phone for a long moment, his expression blank as paper. Then, slowly, he looked up at her. His voice sounded as if he'd been instantly sobered.

"Cersei," he said. "Check your phone."

Cersei swallowed hard. And somehow, she knew no amount of alcoholic fog would prepare her for what came next.

Pacing her room at the Lannister manor, Arya had a restless feeling. She wanted to go to the police station and speak to Joffrey at once. Tywin had told her to let him handle it. He had more experience with this sort of thing. But Arya knew how to get answers out of people too. She just couldn't explain where she'd gotten her experience.

Earlier, she had been in Myrcella's room, talking to the girl, trying to calm her enough to sleep. It was past midnight when she finally drifted off and Arya slipped from the room. But she wasn't going to sleep. Not a chance in the seven hells. She was still thinking about all the way things could go wrong.

Joffrey was in police custody, yes. But that didn't guarantee anything. He'd worked with a few corrupt cops before. Jon could keep an eye on him and so could officer Tarth. But she didn't know how far the corruption had spread. What if they let him go? But then again, someone had clearly set Joffrey up to take the fall for this. They wanted him in prison. That must mean that Joffrey didn't know the identity of his puppeteer. They'd never risk him following into the hands of the authorities if he did.

But still, he could know something. Some innocuous piece of information that could lead them to the culprit. Though if he did know anything useful—

Arya's phone buzzed in her hand. Not a text. A call. From an unknown number. She shivered, letting it ring for a moment before she answered.

"Yes?"

"The deal has been fulfilled."

The Waif's voice hit her like a punch to the gut through the phone. She remembered her face as she walked through the chaotic wedding party. That thin smile. Hearing her speak again made Arya's whole body lock up.

"What deal?" she asked at last.

"Has a girl forgotten the deal she made?" the Waif asked. "That she would give us her name. That she would train. That we would give her the answers she wanted and then her revenge. And in return she would become no one. A girl remembers, doesn't she?"

"She does," Arya said. How could she forget. She hadn't stopped thinking about it since she crossed the narrow sea.

"Good," the waif said. "Then as I said. The deal is fulfilled."

"A girl hasn't had her revenge," Arya said. "Joffrey is arrested but she doesn't have answers about why."

"A girl did not ask for answers about why," the waif said. "Only for answers about the culprit. And her revenge."

Arya gritted her teeth. "The culprit is still alive."

"Is he?" the waif asked. "A girl should turn on the news."

Arya's blood chilled. Then she ducked from her room, going in search of the nearest TV. She found it. Clicked it on. And there she heard the woman halfway through her report.

"—appears he hung himself in his cell. Joffrey Baratheon, suspected of the murder of Stannis Baratheon, was pronounced dead at 12:45 AM tonight."

Arya swayed on the spot, her grip tightening on her phone. Dead. He was…dead. No. He couldn't be dead yet. He hadn't suffered enough for what he had done. He hadn't given her the answers she needed.

Slowly, she lifted the phone to her ear. "Was it you then?" she asked flatly.

"As I said," the Waif said. "The deal has been fulfilled. So…" Arya could hear the slight smile in her voice.

"What will a girl do now?"

A/N: Fun things all around, am I right? Hope you guys enjoyed and are looking forward to whatever comes next. I enjoyed writing Joffrey and Cersei's conversation this chapter. Gotta humanize him a little before I kill him, right? We'll see the aftermath of it all next week. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!