Jon
The wood creaked under Jon's armored feet and he quickly shifted his weight. He wasn't worried about falling, as he'd come spiraling down from greater heights and walked away without a scratch. The Centuerion Armor honestly was a blessing from the Old Gods when it come to its ability to survive impacts like that. No, he moved because he didn't want anyone to look to carefully at the abandoned siege tower, left behind by Stannis Baratheon's army when they'd fled the Battle of the Blackwater, and wonder just who might be hiding within the wrecked remains.
It had been put together well enough, feeling solid, but Jon knew that weather and time could ruin everything. Even stone eventually crumbled in the face of the elements and the siege tower had been made of wood that had been claimed from what Jon could only guess were old houses and shacks as well as timber not allowed to be properly dried. Within a year it would collapse completely and Jon made a mental note to see about sending people out to tear down it and other remains of Stannis' war machines before some poor fool got themselves injured within them.
'Should be easy enough, if I word it properly,' he thought to himself. 'Don't claim that I'm doing it to help anyone… Joffrey will just scoff at that. 'Why would I care if some mud eating peasant gets injured? If they are stupid enough to go traipsing about where they don't belong then they deserve all that happens to them!'.' Jon blinked at that and then lifted his faceplate so he could rub his head. 'Gods help me I know exactly what the brat will say now.' Jon shook his head and slapped the plate back down, focusing on the problem at hand. 'No, if I want Joffrey to agree that these must be destroyed then I have to play to his interests.' He considered that for a moment. 'They service as a monument to Stannis and destroying them will prove to everyone he's truly defeated? Joffrey would go for that. Tywin Lannister might as well… maybe if I word it to make it clear people might get ideas?'
He bit down a frustrated sigh. It felt like all he did now was find ways to keep the Lannisters happy. Playing up to their egos, deflecting their attention away from him… it was aggravating. Especially since all of them were obsessed with him. When Jon had been told he must travel to King's Landing he'd assumed he'd be an 'honored guest'; in other words a hostage that was treated little better than a kennel hound. Given a room, food, perhaps a servant to get him the books he might wish to read, sometimes the ability to go down to the yard… but that would be it. He wouldn't actually attend Small Council meetings and the Lannisters would want him kept far away from the public eye, so that he might not get any ideas in his head.
But that wasn't the case at all. All the Lannisters showed a grand interest in him, much to his annoyance. Joffrey seemed to alternate between treating Jon as a new target for his malicious jests and schemes… then thinking him the smartest person in all of Westeros because Joffrey didn't realize that Jon was often mocking him through politeness. Cersei showed no signs of liking him but she did like to keep an eye on him and at more than one feast where he had been forced to attend he'd found her in some part of the room staring at him intently, sipping her wine glass and making him feel like she was stripping him down with just her eyes. And Tywin…
Jon shuddered. There was something wrong with how much interest that man had in him, even if he couldn't pin down exactly WHAT the problem was.
'Enough. You came out here to escape all that. Stop focusing on it.'
It had been months since he'd been able to don his armor and just fly and now that he was able to, sneaking off in the confusion and chaos of the final preparations for the Royal Wedding, Jon found the stress caused by King's Landing to be slowly melting away. It was a balm for his mind and soul, to be able to help people once again. Already he'd rescued a young woman who had been waylaid from her camp by a potential rapist, helped a young squire who had become entangled in the reins of a angry horse and found himself dragged down the road, and surprised a farmer and his family by landing before their door to simply give them a few gold dragons before flying off without saying a word.
Being the Centurion… it let him do all the things people ASSUMED he would be doing as part of the Small Council.
When he had been growing up he'd been told of the great and powerful men that ran the realm. How they toiled away within Maegor's Holdfast, spending their hours focused on how to help the realm. But like so many tales told to him in his youth he saw now that such stories were merely that: stories. The Small Council existed but it was for how to help themselves and the few that were able to buy their attention. Every meeting he'd been to had focused on three subjects: what was best for Joffrey, court and those that currently held favor with the previous two. Talk of helping the smallfolk of King's Landing and those that lived beyond the walls of the Capital was heard only to be quickly brushed aside.
'The only thing I've done that's been worth anything is train Petyr,' Jon thought to himself. When he'd learned of the poor boy's past, of the tragedy after tragedy after tragedy that had been visited upon him, Jon had known that he wanted to help Sam train him. To do as Tony had done for him and perhaps elevate him to a higher standing, or at least give him the chance. While the stories of good men doing well for the world within the Capital were only fanciful dreams of the desperate and naïve Jon knew that other stories WERE true. He had lived it… the wealthy and powerful man who plucks a boy out of obscurity and makes him a lord. Yes, he hadn't been living on the street begging for stags and coppers like most of Old Nan's stories but still… it had happened to him.
And he wanted to return Tony's kindness by helping Petyr.
'The boy is cunning,' he thought to himself as he looked out upon the dark road. There were a few camp fires nearby, merchants stopping before they finished the final leg of the journey into the city. These he was watching, waiting to see if the Vulture King would strike. But as he waited he thought more on Petyr. 'He is smarter than me… maybe as smart as Tony. Hmmm… I don't know if I want to see what those two could come up with if they ever met or if it would only replace the whale in my nightmares.' He shook his head at the thought of Tony and Petyr bouncing ideas off each other, building off the other's manic dreams until they either altered Westeros completely… or blew it up like it'd been doused in Wildfire. 'But he deserves better than King's Landing. I have to find a way to get him to Iron Pointe… King's Landing will grind his genius into dust but there he would thrive.' Jon paused though, considering the obstacles that would be in the way. 'The Lannisters will want to keep me here until the War is done but if I were to get a message to Tony perhaps he could take Petyr with him. Though… I suppose he'd have to arrange for the boy's aunt to go with them. The girl too, Gwen.' He wondered if Petyr realized that him and Gwen were either going to be fire forged siblings… or lovers. There was simply no way they'd be anything but one or the others. He then began to idly ponder if he should speak to Natasha about it. She was good about creating plans, far better than Jon had ever been…
Of course, as was the case whenever he thought of Natasha these days, Jon felt his heart roll and clench as he remembered of the longing looks she sent his way. Even as his brain screamed at him that she'd betrayed him, lied about who she was and worked happily for the people that wanted to use him for their own twisted ends… his heart whispered of the love he held for her.
'I can't keep dragging this along. A decision must be made.' He was dancing on the edge of a knife, with one side leading to a miserable marriage where every day was filled with passive aggressive comments and bitter loathing for sins long past. The other was forgiveness and love but it meant letting go of his anger. And he knew he had to decide-
Something flashed in the corner of his eye and Jon whipped his head around, staring at the sky, searching… there! Drifting down towards the forest below there was a bright pinpoint of light, like a star that had decided to descend to Earth. Except this was no star… there was a trail of smoke that chased after the light, far too thick to come from a star.
"What in the world…" Jon murmured, eyes tracing along the tops of the trees. Just as it reached the very tops of the woods he saw movement right along foliage and knew at once what the swift moving shape was. "The Vulture King."
The reports about the bandit that had been attacking caravans coming towards and away from King's Landing had been sparse, mostly due to the fact that the Vulture King refused to leave witnesses. Varys had managed to find one, a page who had fallen asleep under a wagon and thus been able to avoid the slaughter of the knight he served under and the merchants they were protecting. The boy, barely 8 years old, had crawled into prickly bushes in order to survive; Varys said it was likely he'd wear a few scars for the rest of his days from the sharp thorns that had torn into his skin but it was better to be scarred than dead. The boy had spoken of the Vulture King descending on ebony wings and cutting down all in the party before his men had even arrived to divide up the loop. Most of the Small Council had scoffed at the description, taking it as the ramblings of a terrified child. Joffrey had demanded the child's tongue but Tywin had said the boy had gone through a great trauma and could not be blamed for his fears turning shadows into monsters. Mace Tyrell had agreed, declaring that the boy had at least had the wisdom to escape; if he realized that his comment only fueled the snickering about Mace's own 'wisdom' when it came to avoiding fights he never showed it. Still, the boy had let them know that the Vulture King was, in fact, working with bandits and that was important information and deserved reward.
Last he'd heard Tywin had requested Ser Adrian of the Tombs to find a place for the boy, either serving him or with another knight.
But now he saw the child was right. The Vulture King truly did live up to his name, flying in on ebony wings.
'He thinks there are easy pickings…' Jon thought to himself. 'But he's about to… uh…' Jon paused before shaking his head. 'Witty comment later, battle now!'
Rocketing into the sky Jon did a tight spin before diving down, racing so low to the ground that his belly nearly scraped against the hard packed earth. Tilting up slightly he saw the Vutlure King had already made a first pass through the camp and he cursed as he saw the hired swords fall to the ground, cut into pieces by the bandit's wings. But when he moved for another flight through the merchant camp the Vulture King found himself having to bank left as Jon roared into the clearing at the side of the road, pulling up into a hovering position as he looked at the men.
"Get out of here!" he bellowed.
One of the merchants though drew his sword. "I won't run! He can take my syrups over my dead-"
An black blade pierced the man's throat… then ripped his head clear off thanks to its girth.
"That," the Vulture King rumbled, his voice distorted thanks to his mask, "can be arranged."
"You made a mistake attack these men," Jon snapped as the remaining men, seeing their employer dead, decided that it was better to live than honor their word to a man without a head. Which Jon was glad for; not just to spare their lives but also because it was so much easier to fight when he wasn't being distracted by trying to figure out who was friend or foe. The Vulture King's minions would be coming soon, Jon knew that, so having to focus only on 'what to attack' rather than try and figure out who needed to be saved and who got a punch to the face made things so much simpler.
And Jon so did love simple.
"The Centurion, I presume," the Vulture King said. Jon had to admit the man cut an impressive figure. Even without the ebony wings the armor over the leather clothing he was wearing truly made him look like some avian demon that had burst out of an egg laid in the bowels of the Seven Hells. He didn't know how the man could fly but frankly with the madness of his life in the last few years he was no longer going to question such things. "The people speak of you… how you defend the innocent. How you are a protector of all those that are wronged by the corrupt." The Vulture King shook his head. "If you are truly as kind and heroic as they claim you to be… you'd move and stand by my side."
"What did these men do to deserve your rage?" Jon asked.
"They serve ill masters."
"It is not the fault of the servant what their master does."
The Vulture King shook his head. "You're wrong. The wicked only remain in power because the small folk do not have the courage to stand up and declare, 'no more!'. They sit meekly and allow the abuse to happen. Oh yes, when it occurs to them they will rant and rave and curse the gods. But until that moment? Heh… they don't care. They often proclaim it justice. That a person deserves the slights and slings sent their way. Well… I say that isn't good enough." He flared out his wings. "It is time for a revolution against the oppressive masters. And if you stand in the way? Then you deserve to be slaughtered."
"So you're no better than those you claim to hate," Jon said, flexing his fingers.
"I wonder," the Vulture King pondered, "just who is your master that you defend the system so quickly!" The moment he shouted that last word he snapped his wings out, sending two feathers right at Jon. He dodged the first but the second caught him in the leg, cutting through his armor. It didn't make him bleed but it was enough to leave a savage mark on the metal, something he hadn't seen happen since Vanko. But where his damage had been heat that managed to melt the Centurion Armor the feather had cleanly sliced along the armor's surface. "You claim to want to save Westeros… you can't save it when it's rotten to the core!" The Vulture King rushed towards him and Jon rocketed up into the air, causing his foe to fly past him before he too twisted and came to a halt, the two having swapped places. "The only way to save the orchard is to tear out the offending tree… root and stem!"
"Spoken like all would be despots," Jon said before firing his energy beams right at the Vulture King. The bandit swung his wings around, Jon's blasts washing over the ebony feathers like water on a smooth rock. He moved forward, applying more pressure to the sunstones in his gauntlets in hopes of breaking through the obsidian defense. "You hold yourself up as some mythical hero, fighting for the little person." Jon took another step forward and the Vulture King was forced to land, bracing his legs. But still his wings held back the blast. "But soon you begin to make concessions. Relax your morals. Sacrifice your beliefs. Until you get to the point that you are no better than the monsters you once fought-"
The Vulture King roared and leapt forward, spinning through the beams of sunstone energy and striking Jon, shoving him into a tree, one wing tip pressed against his throat, scratching at the chainmail that protected him.
"I am NOTHING like them," the Vulture King hissed.
"You're already them and too blind to see it!" Jon shouted back, firing off the sunstones in his boots and driving his body into the Vulture King. He felt the wings strike him, heard them cut along his armor, but it still broke the bandit's hold and allowed Jon to get around him. He brought his wrists together, locking the mechanisms together, and then tore them apart to unfurl his shield and Valerian blade. "These man did NOTHING to you! But you killed them because they got in your way! Their sin was a deranged psychopath who blamed them for his own problems!"
"They sided with the wrong men! They are part of the conspiracy, every one of them!" The Vulture King lunged at Jon. "Same as you!"
Jon caught the strike with his shield, pushing back slightly to give himself some breathing room. "And now like all mad men you justify yourself through paranoid delusions." He swung his sword, forcing the Vulture King to leap back but Jon pushed his advantage, attacking again and again with his blade. And just like with the Vulture King's feathers he was managing to cut into his armor. "The world is divided into two for you… those that blindly obey and everyone else. And for the rest of us our lives mean nothing." Jon thrust forward and came very close to piercing the Vulture King in the stomach; the winged warrior only barely managed to twist away in time. "Time and again history has shown that people like you, no matter how high you climb, will always come crashing down. Every time."
"A Vulture dives… but only to claim their prey!"
"A vulture doesn't hunt. It feasts on the already dead," Jon pointed out before blasting out a beam of energy with his left hand, striking the ground and sending up a cloud of dust. The Vulture King growled and tried to swat at him but Jon had already risen in the air before he came down hard, his blade hacking off a tip of one of the bandit's feathers.
Before Jon could feel a bit of pleasure at that suddenly he found himself surrounded as the woods disgorged the Vulture King's minions, who cried out and swung their swords and axes at him. Some struck but did no harm to his armor but it still left him a touch rattled from all the clanging so he began to fight back… though he'd be the first to admit that he was more flaying about wildly than actually battling with any precision. Someone cried out to his right, another grunted and tried to grab onto him, and everywhere he looked he saw men coming at him, trying to drag him down. That might have worked for other warriors but Jon was able to fight in far more than a circle and thus he activated the sunstones in his boots and blasted into the air.
Only for the Vulture King to meet him head on.
'He's fast,' Jon thought to himself as they began to fly about the wooded area, rising and falling as the two crashed into each other only to disengage and try again. 'Very fast.' The wings allowed the Vulutre King far more speed and mobility than one would have expected. He was able to weave about through trees and turn far faster than even Jon was able to. When the two of them did come together it was a flurry or legs and arms slamming into each other though it soon became clear that Jon, while not being as fast, was far deadlier in those skirimishes. The Vulture King's wings were deadly; sharp enough to cut through his arm, but Jon could avoid those while the bandit couldn't avoid his blade. His shield too, as Jon had begun to use that as a bludgeon, smashing it into his foe's face to try and rattle him. It wasn't working as well as he'd like but it was something.
They finally pushed apart and Jon hovered in the air, readying himself for another attack run. It was only foolish pride that had kept the Vulture King from fleeing; had he done so he could have easily escaped, outrunning Jon and leaving him chasing after his tail feathers. But no, the bandit clearly couldn't stand that Jon was landing blows and wanted to-
Jon cried out as his entire body was stuck by a blast that sent him spiraling. He desperately tried to reorient himself only for another blast to strike him causing him to flip about the air once more. Finally able to throw his hands out and stop the corkscrew he'd become trapped in Jon looked down and saw one of the Vulture King's men, wearing a yellow and black mask, lift up his hands and fire off twin bursts of… well, he wasn't sure what, he just knew he had to avoid them because they left him rattled. Whatever they were they packed a nasty punch and were utterly silent, meaning Jon had to keep his eye on the figure. He began to buzz through the air like a demented honeybee, doing all he could to avoid the strikes while also inching closer. He didn't want to cut the distance too close as it how far he was away from the source of the blasts that was allowing him the time to dodge them but he needed to-
The Vulture King struck.
Jon went down hard, the Vulture King driving a talon-shaped boot into his back and forcing him towards the earth below. Jon fought to remain airborne but his foe continued to press downwards, only releasing seconds before the ground rose up to meet them. Slamming hard into the dirt Jon coughed and groaned, struggling to rise up on his hands and knees only for the other masked figure to fire a blast at him and send him rolling into a group of trees. The cackles of the bandits filled his ears and Jon fired a blast of energy wildly at them; it didn't come close to hitting them but it did make them stop their chuckles and actually remember that he was a threat to them.
"It seems our metal hero has some fight left in him," the Vulture King said, landing before the rest of his men. Jon struggled to rise up, pressing a hand to his side and really hoping he was just bruised. "Still… it appears that he has found himself in a battle he has no hope of winning." He shook his head in mocking pity. "I told you that you should have stood with me… but you decided that you wanted to be an ally of the corrupt Lords Paramount." The Vulture King raised a hand, the sharp fingers of his gauntlets gleaming in the moonlight, the lenses on his helm flashing. "You said that the world was divided into two? Well… here are all those that stand with me!" He gestured at the bandits. "Who bought in to your crusade-"
TWHIP!
The Vulture King roared as a grayish white fiber smacked right onto his mask, adhering to it and leaving him blind as he struggled to remove it.
"I don't know if I'd say I was actually bought into it," Jon's savior declared, leaping down from a tree. He was small and lithe, wearing a red and blue costume with black lines all along it. "I mean, I didn't pay for it so does that really count as me 'buying into it'? Think about it… if someone gives me an apple I didn't buy it."
The yellow-masked figure fired a blast at the other hero, who easily spun out of the way.
"Oh cool! You again!" He sprang up, far higher than a normal human would be able to, dodging another blast. "Except not you because you look different. Better mask to. Are you that guy's friend? Brother?"
"His replacement, bug," the man declared. "The Shocker!" He fired another double dose of energy but the newest arrival merely responded by sticking out his hands and Jon watched, amazed, as two thin streams of grey-white fluid rushed out of his wrists and wrapped around the Shocker's hands, bringing them tight together.
"That… is a really horrible name. I mean come on! Shocker? You don't have lightning powers! That guy is in the Stormlands, last I heard!" The Shocker snarled and actually broke ranks, racing forward with his shoulder lowered trying to bulrush the lithe figure. But the red and blue man easily leapt over him before spinning around, ensnaring him with more of his gray fluid, and then spinning him about before rocketing him back into the thugs, knocking several over. "I mean, maybe go with The Blaster or The Soundless Man. At least those names kind of make sense. Also, and I hate to be this kind of person, but not a bug. They have six legs, my whole thing is eight. Though I don't have eight." The figure turned to Jon, tilting his head. "Did I forget to introduce myself again?"
Far too used to Tony Jon couldn't help but snark as he rose, "Yeah, you were too busy talking."
"Gah!" the other figure complained, grabbing his head. "I always do that. Need to work on getting things right. Okay, let's start over. Hi there." The figure waved to the bandits. "I'm your friendly King's Landing Spider-Man."
The Vulture King, having finally ripped the material from his face, snarled and pointed at the newly named hero. "I want his HEAD!"
"I take it you disagree with the name choice?" Spider-Man asked before leaping into the air, avoiding a crossbow bolt that had been fired at him. Jon wasn't idle, firing at the men aiming at his new ally. "Geez guys, a little late to complain! I've had this name for a while… you should have come to the meeting and voted."
"Can I complain?" another voice called out and a black and red costumed figure, shorter than Spider-Man but just as quick and agile, appeared from the side, landing in a crouch and firing off his own webbing at a bandit. "Because I thought we agreed I was going to be Spider-Man."
"We had this conversation and no, I'm Spider-Man."
"You both can be Spider-Man," a THIRD figure, a young woman from the sound of her voice, snarked as she appeared from behind the Vulture King and his men, kicking one of them before leapfrogging away from another's mad swing. "I don't know why you'd want to be though… it's a terrible name."
"Better than 'Kid Arachnid," the black-suited Spider hero declared.
"Come on, that name is awesome!" Spider-Man whined even as he punched out a bandit that was coming at him.
"Then you use it!"
"…nah, I'm generous and will give it to you."
"At least you aren't saddled with 'Spider-Woman'," the female said.
"I suggested Spider-Girl-"
"Only if you are Spider-Boy. Or Tot. Or baby."
"Do you ever SHUT UP!" The Vulture King snarled, lashing out with his wings, the Spiders scattering.
"Nope," Spider-Man said and Jon could tell the young hero was smiling as he said that. "It's part of my charm. Maybe even a super power."
"I thought our agility and strength and webs were our powers," Spider-Woman asked.
"They are but my gift of babble is a power only belonging to me."
Kid Arachnid (a terrible name but Jon wasn't going to try and keep two Spider-Men organized in his brain) scoffed. "You were like that before-"
The Shocker fired off twin blasts into the ground, sending up a dust cloud that had everyone coughing. Jon around wildly only to hear shouts and the stomping of feet… and when the cloud settled it was only him and the Spiders in the remains of the merchant camp.
"Well team, that was a rousing success!" Spider-Man declared.
"They all got away," Spider-Woman pointed out.
"A mild success."
"We didn't stop them from killing people."
"A success."
"In his defense," Kid Arachnid said, "we did save the Centurion."
"That is true," Spider-Woman said before doing a double take, truly looking at Jon and seeing him for the first time. "Fuck me."
The other two Spiders were just as struck as her as it dawned on them what they had done.
"We saved the Centurion," Spider-Man whispered.
"This is so awesome!" Kid Arachnid exclaimed in delight.
"We fought with the Centurion!" Spider-Woman proclaimed, giving a fist pump. "Okay, not really," she added. "You most just sat there and we saved your life until the very end where you fired some shots but still… we saved the Centurion!"
"Rousing success?" Spider-Man asked.
"Rousing success," Spider-Woman agreed.
"YES!" Spider-Man exclaimed.
Jon though tilted his head as HE put the pieces together. "…Petyr?"
The Spiders all froze.
"Uh… what?" Spider-Man finally said, lowering his arms from the 'cheering' motion he'd been doing.
"You're Petyr Parker."
"…no."
"Oh, that's real good," Spider-Woman said. "Really will lead him astray with that."
"I would if you'd shut up!" Spider-Man hissed.
"You sound just like Petyr," Jon pointed out.
Spider-Woman groaned. "I TOLD you that you needed to change your voice when we fought crime!"
"Oh shut up, Gwen, I-oops."
"Gwen Stacey," Jon said, realizing that of course it had to be her. Petyr and her were inseparable.
"Thank Petyr, really appreciate that!"
Kid Arachnid puffed out his chest and in a deeper voice said, "My identity is still a secret-"
"SHUT UP MILES!" Spider-Man and Spider-Woman roared.
Jon watched as the three Spiders began to bicker and fight, actually leading to them grabbing and tugging on each other's costumes until, finally, Jon cleared his throat. That made them stop and realize they'd ended up tearing off each other's masks, revealing their faces to him.
"Uh… hi?" Petyr said with a weak smile.
"This sadly makes a lot of sense," Jon muttered, reaching up and lifting his faceplate.
The kids stared at him in shock.
"…okay, now it all makes sense!" Petyr declared, thrusting his hands at Jon. "I mean… come on, the Centurion first was sighted in the Westerlands. Wears the colors of a house that Tywin Lannister elimianted… it's so clear!" He began to jump up and down. "Oh! Is Kevan Lannister Iron Man? I bet he is!"
"Uh… no," Jon said, deciding not to reveal it was-
"Well shoot. Can't be Tywin… he saw the Iron Man. Can't be Tyrion Lannister either. And not Antony Stark… everyone knows he was in King's Landing when Iron Man attacked the Mountain…"
Jon fought off a snicker at that.
"How do you fly?" Petyr asked suddenly. "That is just… wow! I mean, I can tell you produce beams of energy from your hands and feet but how do you do that? Is it a power you gained? We gained powers! We can do all sorts of amazing stuff and-"
"Petyr, breathe," Mile said with a smirk before turning to Jon. "Sorry he- well, I guess you know, don't you?"
"Yeah," Jon said. "So… do you have some place we can talk about all this without… you know… standing around the dead bodies?"
"Yeah," Gwen said. "We'll show you."
"Gwen!" Petyr whined. "Secret hideout!"
"Petyr… Jon Stark. Small Council. Knows who we are. Trusted us to know who he is?"
"oh… yeah." He rubbed the back of his head. "Guess the cat is kind of out of the bag on that one, isn't it? Heheh." After a moment Petyr crouched, Miles and Gwen mimicking him as Petyr tugged on his mask. "Alright Lord Stark… try and keep up!"
And that was how Jon found himself chasing after the Spiders back into King's Landing.
~MC~MC~MC~
OMAKE
Ned looked at Varys, the man having shown up in his rooms. "What is it?"
"Treason season has started early, my lord," Varys said, reading from a report his little birds had sent him. "Lord Tyrion Lannister was kidnapped by your wife, Catelyn Stark." Varys held up a drawing of Catelyn… holding a sign saying "Fuck the Lannisters".
"By the Old Gods," Ned exclaimed.
Arya rolled her eyes. "I warned her that drawing would come back to haunt her."
"Could Catelyn Stark be a traitor? Her father has spoken on her behave." Varys took out the message Hoster had dictated. "Ahem… 'my Catelyn is not a traitor. She may be a liar, a pig, an idiot, a traitor… but she is NOT a porn star!'."
OMAKE 2 (For Halloween!)
Tywin and Kevan sighed as they walked through the godswood, dragging a sack that had Oberyn Martell's body in it.
"Oooow."
"Hear that?" Kevan asked.
"No I did not," Tywin complained, turning to glare at his brother. "Who is it? The Rat King? The Booger-Man?"
"The man in the bag, brother. I think he's alive."
"oh," Tywin said… before raising his shovel and smacking the bag. "Bad corpse! Bad corpse! Stop! Scaring! Kevan!"
Oberyn's corpse let out a pained whimper.
"Satisfied?" Tywin asked.
"Thank you brother."
