would never send another

He should have thought to relieve himself before they set out from the Red Keep. The sleepless night he’d spent with Shae

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was making itself felt too, but most of all he wanted to strangle his bloody royal nephew.  I am no stranger to Valyrian steel, the boy had boasted. The septons were

always going on about how the Father Above judges us all. If the Father would be so good as to topple over and crush Joff like a dung beetle, I might even believe

it.  He ought to have seen it long ago. Jaime  man to do his killing, and Cersei was too cunning to use a knife that could be traced back to

her, but Joff, arrogant vicious stupid little wretch that he was...  He remembered a cold morning when he’d climbed down the steep exterior steps from Winterfell’s

library to find Prince Joffrey jesting with the Hound about killing wolves. Send a dog to kill a wolf, he said. Even Joffrey was not so foolish as to command Sandor

Clegane to slay a son of Eddard Stark, however; the Hound would have gone to Cersei. Instead the boy found his catspaw among the unsavory lot of freeriders,

merchants, and camp followers who’d attached themselves to the king’s party as they made their way north. Some poxy lackwit willing to risk his life for a prince’s

favor and a little coin. Tyrion wondered whose idea it had been to wait until Robert left Winterfell before opening Bran’s throat. Joffs, most like. No doubt he

thought it was the height of cunning.