Tony

"Explain it to me again."

Arya rolled her eyes at Theon's comment even as she stabbed her fork into the creamy cake slice Toad had brought her, assuring her that she'd love it. "I've already explained it five times," she complained, cutting off a piece of the dessert and sticking it in her mouth only for her eyes to grow comically wide. "This is good!" she said.

"And it will be better for us if you keep your mouth closed," Duke said, much to Tony's amusement; even though the man made Robert Baratheon at his worst look like a starving plague victim he had oddly refined table manners. He did not grab at food with both fists and shovel it into his open mouth, didn't talk while chewing his meals, and always was making sure to dab at the corners of his mouth. And while for anyone else his portion sizes were rather large for him they were dainty little bites.

"I don't understand how this is confusing for you," Arya complained, waving her hand in Brienne's direction. "She's green!"

"Yes but she didn't get older," Theon complained.

"…green!"

Tony turned to Tyrion, it clear that Theon wasn't going to let the conversation move on to anything else until he had a better explanation for what had happened to Arya. "What are you thinking?"

"That I must begin asking the whores I visit when they were born if children can suddenly become women." Tyrion shuddered. "I am a disgusting little man but even I have limits and lying with children is one of them. I'm not Littlefinger."

"Right," Tony said, wanting to make a joke about that but honestly if he weren't with Pepper he would be as bad as Tyrion-

He stopped.

'Pepper,' he thought, closing his eyes. 'I'm going to find you, I swear. And when I do if there is a soul that is working to keep us apart I will tear them apart piece by piece.' Out loud he said, "What are you and… Samwise-"

"Samwell," the heavy set youth said. "Samwell Tarly."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize. Lord Tyrion made the same mistake."

Tony though shook his head. "I was apologizing for being a Tarley. They are utter shit people." He scoffed. "I once deal with Randyll Tarley. He wanted me to make his son Dickon a shield. I can't remember why he ended up ordering me off his lands unless I wished to be beheaded but it happened all the same."

"That sounds like my father," Samwell said.

"Did it have anything to do with his son being named 'Dickon'?" Tyrion asked.

"…that is possible."

"So what are you two doing here?" Tony asked.

Tyrion held up his hands. They were wrapped in thick bandages that had been soaked in some kind of sweet smelling ointment that dyed them a deep blue. "The Battle of the Blackwater left me even more maimed than usual. I have been traveling Essos to try and learn of a way to repair the damage before I take whatever seat my father has prepared for me."

Tony was surprised by that. "Your father is giving you land?"

"I was as surprised as you are," Tyrion admitted. "But I suppose proving that I am not the most useless Lannister had its perks." His mood grew quiet, the smile falling from his lips. "And with Jaime…"

"I'd heard," Tony said softly. "I'm sorry, Tyrion. I truly am."

The little man nodded at that, silently thanking Tony for the words. Tony had never had a sibling… he didn't know why as his father had very much strived to be a traditional Northern Lord and that meant having a large family. Heirs and spares, daughters to marry off in order to forge alliances, young sons to send into the service of other lords in order to raise his standing… yet nothing. Only Tony. He wondered what it would have been like.

'Would we have been like Tyrion and Jaime who, despite the cruelty of our father, would have bonded with each other even as he pushed us to be bitter enemies? Or would it be like the Targeryens where so many brothers hated one another and sought to wage war just to establish themselves as the rightful rulers or put down rebellions before they had even had a chance to grow?' He sampled the chilly pudding dish he'd grabbed, gathering a bit on his spoon. 'I suppose it doesn't matter at all.'

"Your father wished to kill you?" T'Challa said, drawing Tony out of his thoughts. The dark skinned man was talking to Sam, who ducked his head while still nodding. "Such men…"

"I dare say in Westeros it's common for fathers to hate their sons and wish them dead," Tony said. "I know mine did."

Tyrion scoffed. "My father has been quite clear that he could have easily drowned me after my birth but did not only because I carried his blood… and he would never accuse my mother of lying with another."

"I find your Westeros to be rather disturbing," T'Challa stated. "Such hatred coming from those that should be protecting the youth… it goes against all I have been taught."

"You mean to tell me your father never has said a cruel word to you or sought to belittle you for your failings?" Tyrion asked with a slight smirk.

T'Challa, however, was clearly offended by that idea. "Never. It is a father's duty to watch over his children. To see them grow to be the best they can be. In Wakanda a man does not present himself as the son of another. No… a man presents himself as being the father of their children. If they have none they are quick to reveal this for if they merely give their name without stating who they have sired… it is a sign they are unworthy of claiming to have aided in the birth of a great man."

"Well," Tony said. "Isn't that… nifty." He took a bite of pudding; bit too sweet for him but he supposed there were others who would enjoy it. "They have fountains that allow you to live forever if you drink from them in this magical land of fairies you call a home?"

T'Challa, to his credit, merely smirked at that. "Not that I have seen, Lord Stark, but it is possible. I have not traveled the entire length of Wakanda. So there is always the possibility that there is a fairy or two drifting about. But I personally have never seen one in my 476 years on this earth."

Tony blinked at that before chuckling. "That's a good one."

"It's why I have been talking to him," Tyrion stated. "One of the few people here with a brain who knows how to use it."

Tony smiled, turning his full attention on the dark skinned foreigner (for both himself and Braavos). "What sins did you commit to end up stuck with Tyrion Lannister?"

"No sins," T'Challa said with a pleasant smile. "Lord Tyrion is… interesting company. I have found much enjoyment in spending time with him."

"I asked T'Challa if he might know of a cure for my hands."

"One or two possibilities. Merely directions that might lead someplace. But the healing arts were never something I focused on greatly in my studies and it is something my home is not known for."

"And what is… Wakanda… known for?"

"Very little," T'Challa said with a dismissive wave. "We as a people have little. Shepherds mostly. We make most of our meager wealth from textiles. Blankets and the like. A… vastly different sense of clothing style than you will even find here in Braavos. But that is all. It is why I am touring the Free Cities. My father wished for me to have some cultural education before I take my position."

"Your position?"

"My father was a man of… some small power. Nothing like the Sealord, of course. In Westeros he would have been a very minor piece on the board, to the point that many would not even consider him a part of the game of thrones." T'Challa leaned over and selected a piece of meat that had been cooked over an open flame and then stabbed with a wooden needle to allow for easier consumption. "He has passed on but per his dying wish I was allowed a year or so to travel Essos before I must return to the dreary monotony of home." He popped the meat into his mouth, sliding the needle out and placing it on his plate, chewing several times before swallowing and then continuing. "I have made many friends in my travels and I was more than happy to try and assist Lord Tyrion. Even if my country can not save him… I have met many that might."

"And in turn I have assisted T'Challa in getting to meet people he normally would never have been allowed to see. The name 'Lannister' holds weight even in Essos." Tyrion reached for a goblet, forced to use both hands to bring it to his lips and even then it was a slow process. "Why, just the other night…"

Tony tuned Tyrion out as his friend told his story; he could always ask about it again later if he were interested. His mind was instead focused on T'Challa, considering the dark skinned man and wondering just what he was hiding.

'How much of what he told me was the truth? Because much of it was lies.' Tony nodded when Tyrion said something he was sure was funny; he didn't need to actually hear it because Tony had mastered the art of pretending to listen and knowing when to respond at the right moment. 'He is a proud man. Not bitter or envious like some. And a proud man would never dismiss his motherland so quickly. He would have told me all the great things about it, downplayed their failings.' Tony might insult Westeros but Westeros wasn't his home. Iron Pointe was. And if asked to speak of home he would have turned his words towards his castle and his people and spoken of their skill and their artistry. Yet T'Challa hadn't done that. And he hadn't insulted Wakanda either. A bitter man who have railed against it, called it backwards. 'He told me exactly what he thought I wanted to hear. What he expected me to think. Someone has taught him what others think of Wakanda… or what Wakanda WANTS them to think.'

Tyrion finished his tale and Tony laughed before he looked towards Samwell. "You know… that story reminds me of a fable."

"You hate fables," Tyrion said.

"I do not," Tony exclaimed. "I hate stupid ones. There is a big difference. Anyway… there was once a thief who happened upon a merchant on the road. He could tell the man was hiding something and he wanted it, desperately. So he drew his sword, raced out of the forest, and soon had the man at blade point, commanding him to show him what he carried. The merchant swore he had nothing of value but the thief was smart and told the merchant to open up the crates he was carrying. And within were pebbles and the merchant told them that a lord had requested them, wanting them to fill in holes along the roads leading to his castle.

"But the thief smelled that lie and he poured out the small stones and at the very bottom of one of the crates he found a small sack of coins. Hardly worth the effort of the robbery but the thief would take what he could get. He laughed the entire time as he rode away, the poor merchant reduced to crawling along the dusty path, gathering up the stones so he might sell them and recoup his losses. And the thief went and spent the coin on wine and a hot meal and felt satisfied that he had gotten the best of the fool.

"The merchant, in the meanwhile, continued on his way to the castle… and called for a bucket of water. And he washed each of the muddy little stones and revealed them to be rubies and sapphires. He smiled and thanks the Gods, the Old and the New and the Almost Stale by not quite Gods, that people saw… what they wanted to see."

He never looked up at T'Challa, as much as he wanted to. Never saw his reaction. It was enough that the man heard his tale and knew… that Tony knew.

"And what of you, my friend?" Tyrion asked with a smirk and Tony wondered if he realized that T'Challa was lying to him.

'Probably,' he thought to himself. 'And he sees it as a game.' Tyrion would have realized rather quickly that his new companion was spinning tales… perhaps even told him as such before demanding that T'Challa not reveal the truth. To allow him to puzzle it out himself and figure it out on his own. That was how Tyrion was, seeing the world as a game that must be conqueror. Because if he mastered it then he had power. And power was a wonderful thing.

"Me?"

"What brings you to Braavos?"

"I suppose that depends on Arya," he said, looking over at his cousin as she finished once more telling Theon her story. A look of relief flashed on her features at the interruption though if it was because she wanted an escape or a reason not to murder Theon for continually asking her the same questions again and again and again he couldn't tell.

"You can tell them," Arya said though Tony could see Duke and Toad looking at each other uneasily, clearly not as confident as Arya that revealing such things was a good idea.

Still, he had been given the approval and he planned to run with it. "I was tasked by your father to meet with the Iron Bank, to discuss the repayment of loans between it and the Iron Throne."

That was putting it nicely. In reality it was Tony using every one of his tricks, schemes, and cons to get the Iron Bank to extend the Westeros' line of credit. With Tywin now Hand of the King and thus able to see just how Cersei and Robert had wasted the gold loaned to them by Casterly Rock the Old Lion would not allow another one of his coppers to fund the Kingdom until things were put right. Which would have been earth moving… if not for the fact that there was still a war and wars gobbled up gold like a child did sweets. As such his act had been like The Doom and the Iron Bank was needed in order to ensure that Joffrey did not become the Pauper King.

And even then, though he would never admit it, he was only able to do so much thanks to Mystique coming along and forcing his hand. The deal wasn't finalized yet but it was a good one… in the long term. In 10 years Westeros would well be on its way to returning to borrowing levels from during the early reign of Aerys I, when Tywin had aided his best friend in ruling Westeros and bringing it into a time of peace and happiness. Unfortunately the Throne would face grave punishment in the short run, with high demands for repayment that would leave them unable to do much in terms of fixing the damage to the realm, let alone truly fighting a war, forcing Tywin to either open his vaults again or bring about the wrath of his lords by imposing heavy taxes.

All part of the Blackfyre plan, of course, as they would swoop in just as the agreement hit its sweeter deals and appear to be grand saviors while Tywin and the rest of the Lannisters would seem to be fools unable to properly handle their money.

Tony would have been impressed if it wasn't his neck on the line when he had to let Tywin know that such a deal was the best he could manage.

"We did the same thing," Brienne said, entering the conversation much to everyone's surprise.

"That is supposed to be a secret," Theon told her. "The King-"

"Didn't know his cousin would be here," Brienne argued. "Who admitted what he was doing himself." She gave a shrug. "Besides, it isn't as if we can tell him anything."

"Brienne!" Theon hissed but it wasn't out of far but rather, of all things, embarrassment.

She looked down at him and smirked. "What? You didn't want them to believe you were the one meeting with the Iron Bank, did you?" Theon muttered something, it was hard to hear over the general rumbling of conversation throughout the manse, ducking his head in clear discomfiture. Brienne, for her part, looked to Tony and said, "Lord Wyman Manderly spoke for the Kingdom of the North and the Riverlands."

"Hmmm," Tony said even as his mind raced. Yes, he wanted Ned to win the war… in his heart he longed for Ned to cast out the Lannisters and take the Throne so he could toss aside the façade that he was still merely a loyal bannerman to Tywin and stand with someone he could respect (and manipulate to allow him to do as he wished; Tywin was too good at the Game of Thrones and Tony so did hate long drawn out battles). But that didn't mean he wanted to die to see that happen and that meant having to play things very carefully. To manage to impress the Lannisters while not allowing them to easily defeat the North.

Having the Lord of White Harbor be his rival in discussions with the Iron Bank? That tilted the scale far in the North's favor and made Tony's job all the harder. There were few men that Tony saw as his equal when it came to their cunning and ability to negotiate. There was only one he feared. Wyman made him feel like a child again, mumbling excuses when his father pressed him on his failures.

"And it was pure luck that allowed you to find Lady Arya?" Tyrion asked, leaning forward on the table, a goblet of wine held in his hands and a bemused look on his face.

"If you are asking if I knew she was here and arranged all this to find her well… hmmm, enough people know that isn't true so why bother? So no, it was not some grand scheme I managed to pull off." He leaned back in his chair, holding onto his goblet as he did so. If he had to tell the traumatic story again then he at least could be comfortable. "Let's start backwards, shall we? I'm not visiting Arya because we both wanted a friendly family reunion."

"Stark…" Toad warned nervously but Tony just pressed on.

"I'm an 'honored guest' of the Brotherhood." He didn't say Blackfyres because that WOULD get him killed. This way he at least was able to claim plausible deniability. "They found me washed up on shore and cared for me… but have also made it clear that I'm not to be left alone or allowed to leave without one of them present. Usually Arya so that is at least nice though she's clearly drank the tainted wine and believes their little cult to be the best thing that has ever happened to her."

"I am not in a cult," Arya said firmly, glaring at him but he merely smirked right back.

"Exactly what someone in a cult would say."

"How do we know YOU aren't in a cult?" Arya shot back.

"Oh, that's mature," Tony replied.

"Someone in a cult but embarrassed to admit they were in a cult would claim other people were in a cult to hide they're in a cult."

"Oh come on!" Tony said, rolling his head backwards.

"That makes sense to me," Toad stated.

Duke nodded. "To me too."

"Of course it does, you two are in the cult as well!"

"Is everyone in this cult?" Brienne asked curiously, a smile tugging on her lips while Theon just chuckled.

"No… just the people I say are and that came out wrong the moment I said it, I would like to take it back."

"So you can ask your fellow cultists who is and isn't in a cult?" Tyrion japed.

Finally T'Challa proved to be his savior from rude cultists who didn't want to admit they were in a cult. "You washed up upon shore?" he asked. "How did that come to be?"

Tony sighed. "The ship I was on was attacked."

Tyrion's laughter died and he looked at his friend with concern. "Rhodey? Happy?"

"Happy is with Jon. He was summoned to King's Landing to serve on the Small Council." All from Westeros grimaced, knowing that Jon was even more a prisoner than Tony was of the Blackfyres. "Rhodes… well, I am hoping he got out." He paused. "Pepper was taken."

"Fuck," Tyrion whispered. "I'm sorry, Tony."

"I'm going to find her."

"My lord," Samwell said. "Lady Stark… what did she look like?"

"Red hair. My height. Lean build. Why?" He really hoped that the fat boy didn't made a crude comment as Tony really wasn't in the mood to start a fight.

"I know where she is, my lord."

"…what?" Tony said, the others staring at him and causing Samwell to shift in his seat. "What did you say?"

"I… that is to say," Samwell said nervously, "I know where she is."

"Where?" Tyrion asked. "Where did you see Pepper?"

"Two days ago," he said to Tyrion. "At the feast. Remember when I went to… that is…" He shuffled again.

"You went to piss Sam, that's what you did," Tyrion snapped off quickly before looking fully at his companion. "You saw Pepper there?"

"I did. She was in one of the enclosed gardens. I couldn't talk to her because there were guards around but… but I did see her."

"You are positive?" Tyrion asked. "Not a mistake?"

"No. I remember her well."

"Well… well that's great!" Arya exclaimed. "We can go get here!"

"I don't think so," Tony said, looking now at Tyrion. "Who did you feast with Tyrion?"

"You mustn't get mad," Tyrion said.

"And that ensures that it will be rage-inducing," Tony muttered before shooting his friend a look. "Who?"

"…the Mandarin."

Tony had expected that much. After all it had been his men that had attacked the boat in the first place and sailed off with Pepper. But that didn't make the information any easier to swallow.

"You met with the Mandarin?" Tony asked Tyrion, never taking his eyes off Samwell because he honestly didn't know if he wanted to see just how Tyrion was looking in that moment.

Toad spoke up. "And we're called a cult? That man… he's a cult leader if there ever was one!" He shook his head. "The Mandarin's name has been linked to at least 57 different disappearances of the faithful and religious in Braavos in the last few years."

"Linked," Tyrion argued. "Not proven…"

Tony though cut in. "And ships flying his flag, the emblem of the Ten Rings, attacked the ship I was on."

Tyrion sighed at that. "I didn't know that, Tony, you must know that. And if I knew Pepper was there I would have… I don't know, most likely gotten myself captured trying to save her. I'm not so good at rescues but I do have experience with getting kidnapped." He smiled at that only for it to quickly fall when Tony shot him a dark look. "I didn't know," he repeated.

"Why were you meeting with him?" Tony asked.

"I was hoping he might have some leads on how I might repair my hands," Tyrion said, holding up his bandaged appendages. "He did not." He shook his head. "I think we disappointed each other. The Mandarin was hoping for someone he could influence… a weak mind that he could control. I was hoping for the healer all his worshipers claim him to be. In the end he was… nothing. And I was far too much." Tyrion smirked at that.

"What did he look like?" Arya asked.

"What does it matter?" Tony said in annoyance. "We know he has Pepper-"

Arya cut him off. "And you do her no good rushing in there without any information." Tony stared at her and she rolled her eyes. "You're going want to save her but can't do it alone. Magneto isn't going to agree to help if you don't have a strong case."

"You think this… Magneto… will help you?" T'Challa asked.

"He will," Arya said.

Duke nodded. "He hasn't been pleased with what he's been hearing about the Mandarin. The man is gaining influence quickly in Braavos… that doesn't help us."

'Can't have someone else wielding the power Magneto wants,' Tony thought to himself. Though… he wouldn't say that out loud (for once) as in this case he didn't like the Mandarin one bit and was in agreement that the man needed to be taken down and if that meant Magneto tearing him apart so be it. 'So long as we get Pepper out first.' And that was what concerned him: would Magneto consider the innocents in his campaign or would he, like so many other Targaryens and Blackfyres before him, only care about Fire and Blood?

Tyrion sighed as he reached over and grabbed a puff pastry (which took some managing with his hands wrapped), popping it into his mouth. "He kept himself rather hidden, I'm afraid. A hooded robe with a bit of fabric over it to make it rather hard to see his features. He never ate while I dined with him but he did talk a great deal. That was helpful… a man's voice reveals much about him."

"What do you mean?" Theon asked. "Like an accent?"

"The word choices," Arya said at once. "A highborn girl would call a man of her station 'my lord' while a servant who call someone so far above her 'milord'. "

"Quite right!" Tyrion said, pleased by her response. "The accent, of course, is important but the natural word choice is key." He leaned forward and tapped the table with his hand, only to wince as he remembered his injuries. "I read a book about the lost art of language and dialect once. Very fascinating. The different terms used by each of the Seven Kingdoms, for example, and how they tell us so much about the world they grew up in. For example," he waved at Arya, "there are far more terms for snow and ice in the North than there could be in the South. That much is obvious, of course. But did you know that Northerners use sharper words than Southerners?"

"Sharper words?"

"Hard sounds," Samwell clarified, much to everyone but Tyrion's surprise, before demonstrating. "Ne, Ka, Te, Da, Ya. You of course find these in the South but in the North they are heavily used. There are several theories as to why, though my personal favorite is it comes from your long Winters and choice of clothing." He took a cloth napkin and with a flourish brought it up over his mouth. "You have to bundle up during the Winter and that means covering your mouth. That muffles your words so using harder sounds would make it easier for you to be understood. 'Sam' would get lost in the cloth-" He pressed the napkin closer to his lips. "But 'An-Ton-Y' has sharper sounds and thus easier to hear."

"And the Mandarin?" Tony asked.

Tyrion frowned. "He was… odd. I've heard many different people from many different lands talk and the Mandarin… it was as if he were a man of Westeros trying to read a script translated poorly from Yi Ti. His tongue was not suited for what he was saying."

"And that is helpful how?" Toad asked.

"The Mandarin claims to be a man from the far edges of the world yet speaks like most of us do," Tyrion said. "That means he is either a fake or is trying to hide who he truly is."

"And your impression of him?" T'Challa asked.

"That he was trying rather hard to not appear desperate in getting me to return for another visit." Tyrion shook his head. "It rather reminded me of some of the religious fanatics that came to Casterly Rock trying to convert my father to their faith. They knew he wouldn't be pleased with their pleas so they did their best to hide them behind other words." He shook his head. "It never worked."

"But you've been to his manse," Tony pressed. "You know your way around?"

"I do," Tyrion said. "And I am willing to have Sam draw up a map. I am leaving tonight… one of the men T'Challa put me in contact with is willing to take me to the city of Kamar-Taj… he is the Baron of it and believes that a teacher of his might be able to help me."

"You can't delay?" Tony asked.

Tyrion was clearly conflicted. "I wish I could, Tony, I really do. Pepper…" He shook his head. "But I am a little man. I'm not built for battle. And you are going into battle. Best I provide you the maps and then get out of the way before you trip over me."

Tony grimaced at that but accepted his friend's explanation. He couldn't blame him… though Tyrion hadn't flat out said it Tony knew that the chance to reclaim the use of his hands was very important to him. If the world were reversed and it was him who had lost the use of his hands and Tyrion was asking him to give up a chance to become whole again to save Jaime… Tony didn't know what he would do but he had a feeling he'd make the same choice as Tyrion was now.

"Any help you can give will be appreciated," Tony said, reaching over and placing his hand on his friend's shoulder and giving it a squeeze so that Tyrion knew there were no hard feelings.

"I'll help too," Arya said with a firm nod.

"Mystique isn't going to be happy," Toad warned her.

Arya though shook her head. "Pepper is family. I am saving her with or without the Brotherhood." She looked at Theon. "Will you and Brienne help?"

"Of course," Brienne said with a smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Whatever we can do to help."

Theon though wasn't completely on board. "We can help only if it is done before Lord Wyaman leaves. The three of us need to be on his boat."

"Three of us?" Arya asked.

Theon stared at her blankly. "You, me, Brienne."

"I'm… I'm not going with you, Theon," she said. "I still have work here-"

"You have family waiting for you," Theon argued. "Have you forgotten them? Your mother and father? Your brothers? They are in Westeros, not here."

"And I have friends here," Arya argued. "Friends that need me. They are working towards something great-"

"Your father is fighting a war!" Theon declared. "You are a Princess… does that not matter to you?"

"Princess?" Arya asked with a scoff. "No. But my father… don't make this out that I don't care about my father or my mother or Robb or Rickon or Bran or Jon! I care for all of them! But what I'm doing here is important and I need to help the Brotherhood."

"You are coming home," Theon said darkly.

"Shadowcat said no," Duke rumbled, glaring at Theon.

Brienne cracked her neck. "And you are going to stay out of this, big man…"

As the two sides began to bicker Tony felt someone grab hold of his hand and yank him from his seat, causing him to whip about and tense only to frown as he stared at a beautiful young woman, just barely flowered, pulling him onto the floor beyond his table and begin to dance with him. She was startling tall for her age though, almost Tony's height, and there was a beauty to her that wasn't quite classic or exotic but rather attractive in a common sort of way. A girl made not to cling to the arms of kings or dance for a captivated audience but to stand against the storm that threatened home. Her hair was dark and cut short and her features sharp and the fierce stare she sent Tony's way with her mismatched eyes, one green and one black, didn't help make her seem soft at all.

"Why are you lingering here, Antony Stark?"

"Because you grabbed me?"

"I meant in this city." the girl asked, her tone far too old for her frame. "Daenerys Firestar is waiting yet you linger here?"

"You're one of Ge… Fury's people," Tony said, realizing that the girl might not know who her employer actually was.

"Maria Hill," the girl told him. "Fury sent me to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

"He trusts me that little, does he?" Maria glared at him and Tony scoffed. "Never mind, forgot who I was talking about." Now it was his turn to glare. "For someone that is supposed to keep an eye on me you are doing a shit job of it. Attacked by the Mandarin, my wife kidnapped, best friend disappears, and now I'm held hostage by a bunch of Blackfyres… you've done wonderful so far in making sure I get on the road."

Maria set her jaw. "You are at a party japing with your friends when the world is threatened."

"Oh by the Old, New, and Slightly Faded Gods you are one of THOSE people."

"What people?"

"A fanatic."

"Excuse me?"

Tony continued to dance with her but there was no passion or romance in their movements. In fact Maria was squeezing his hand and in return Tony was trying to stomp on her toes. "A fanatic. You have based your entire life on a group, become so dedicated to their cause that you can't see the forest for the trees, and think anyone who isn't as pathetically consumed with your ideals is some lesser."

"I am working to save the world."

"My wife is my world," Tony said, his smile dropping. "If something happens to her, if I lose her, I don't give a fuck what happens to the rest of humanity. And frankly even if she is alive and well I still don't give a fuck about fanatics like you."

"I am not a fanatic. I am trying to ensure YOU do what must be done to save the world-"

"And get this through your head, little girl," Tony sneered, "I don't care. I didn't sign up to join your cult."

"The Council isn't a cult," Maria said. Tony merely chuckled at that. "You know nothing about me. The Council took me in, gave me a purpose. Without their kindness my mother and I would have died on the streets."

"And because of that I'm supposed to stop things I can't prevent and abandon the people I love just to do what your cult leaders think is a brilliant plan?" Tony let her go. "Pass."

But when he moved to return to the table Maria grabbed his wrist and squeezed. "If I twist to the right I will break your arm."

"And when I scream for help you'll be cut down by the guards. And that's assuming that Magneto and his band of allies don't take you alive so they can torture you for hurting their prisoner. Now let go of my fucking hand." Maria, after a moment, did so. "You know when Fury tries to get people to dance to his tune its amusing. You doing it is pathetic."

"I can get you into the Mandarin's manse!" Maria hissed.

Tony paused.

"Oh really?"

"Really," Maria admitted. "If… you won't do the right thing and insist on-"

"Saving the woman I love from another cult all the while escaping from a group of humans with special abilities?"

"-doing this then I'll help."

"I have the floor plans. Tyrion-"

"Is a Lannister and can't be trusted."

Tony titled his head, taking in Maria for a moment. "Your mother wasn't Catelyn Stark, was she?"

"My mother is a crofter's daughter."

"…so that's a no?" Maria glared at him and he rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll take your plans and Tyrion's. And any help you can give will be appreciated."

"We do it in two days. I'll ensure the guards are far lighter than they should be. That's the best I can offer."

"Deal," Tony said, turning once more. "So, where should we-"

Maria was gone.