Author's Note: This chapter contains brief mentions of underage consensual sex. While not detailed in any way reader discretion is advised.
Jon
"So I have… six different apologizes depending on how mad you are at us," Miles said.
Jon glanced up at Natasha, who motioned towards the shack that sat near the edge of Blackwater Bay. It was one of the Harbor Master offices and she had picked the lock to give them someplace to dry off and change, as none of the four that came back from the disaster that was the battle against the Vulture King were in any condition to try and get back to their normal hiding spots. Gwen was pressing her hand against her shoulder, trying to determine if she'd dislocated it. Miles had several cuts on his face from where some timbers had struck him. Jon carried Petyr in his arms, the boy having broken his ribs; he assured Jon he would be healed up very soon thanks to his healing factor but at the moment even the smooth flight Jon had taken had left him gritting his teeth. As for Jon he had a massive headache brought on by fear and worry and strain and all he wanted to do was sleep. Oh, and all of them were soaked to the bone thanks to the freak rainstorm they'd been forced to enter in order to get back to King's Landing.
"Close the door," Jon said as he walked passed Natasha.
"Oooooh, you're that mad," Miles said softly.
Jon shook his head as Natasha made sure to lock things back up. She'd closed the shutters on the windows and lit some candles so they had some privacy and some light, something Jon was grateful for as Natasha reached up and removed his helmet while he settled Petyr on a cot. He knew Petyr was young… it was what had first concerned him when he'd realized that the Spiders were out there fighting criminals. But looked down at him in that moment, lying on the tiny cot and somehow making it seem roomy, he was struck by JUST how small Petyr was.
'Gods, I feel like I could snap his arm just by bending it a little,' he thought to himself as he looked down at the boy before forcing himself to step away. 'I can't decide if I want to shake him until he decides never to do this again or hug him and apologize that he feels like he must.' He was suddenly struck by how his father had always looked at him and Robb after they had gotten into mischief and he made a mental note to apologize to him the first chance he got.
"Get out of those wet clothes," Natasha said, gesturing at some towels. "I have some clothing I grabbed too."
"…yeah, okay," Gwen said before she yanked her mask off and began to pull her top off, causing Jon to whip around and shield his face.
"Gwen?" he said weakly.
She was silent for a moment before chuckling. "Oh, sorry Jon. I forgot you were here."
"But not Petyr or Miles?"
"I'm like her brother," Miles said with a scoff. "She's seen me naked, I've seen her naked. Before May found out we had to tend to each others wounds and with how limber we are you get cuts in the weirdest places. No big deal."
Jon understood that. He had seen Robb naked nearly as much as he'd seen himself. And there had been a time when she was two where Arya would, for reasons that only had made sense to the toddler, remove all her clothing and run around the Keep. It had horrified Lady Stark and been made worse when Jon was the only one that could convince her to dress, making a game of it. So he'd seen Arya naked plenty of times. Not as old as Gwen was… that might be awkward… but there'd be nothing sexual about it so he could understand why she was so casual.
Natasha nodded at that as she began to help Jon get his armor off. "And Petyr?"
"We've known each other for years," Petyr stated; Jon figured he'd have to cut the suit off of Petyr as there was no way with his ribs broken he'd be able to remove the tight fitting garment on his own.
"But they're not brother and sister because it would make the fucking awkward," Miles said.
Jon nearly dropped the gauntlet he'd been removing.
"What?!" he exclaimed.
"Miles!" Gwen snapped, Jon turning to see she'd wrapped a towel around her chest to hide her skin.
"What?"
"Petyr and I… we don't fuck!" Gwen exploded.
The dark skinned youth shrugged. "Fine, you 'make love'." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want to call it-"
Petyr was making little choking sounds and Jon was worried he'd snap another rib trying to stammer something out.
"Miles…" Gwen threatened.
"The walls of that manse are super thin," Miles said. "And my bedroom is next to Petyr's."
"…oh god," Gwen said, her face going scarlet while Petyr shrank down against the cot.
""Yes Petyr! There! There!'" Miles said in a high pitch voice. "And don't tell me you were just wrestling because unless I missed the move that involved shoving a dick in your-"
"MILES!" Everyone shouted at him.
"I don't get the big deal," Miles said with a shrug as he removed the bottom part of his costume, bending over to grab a towel and wrapping it around his waist. "She's flowered and you know they are going to get married…"
"Miles…" Gwen warned again.
"I'm just saying that marriage is stupid. You love someone but you can't show them how much you love them without doing some ceremony in a big ugly building with a fat old man who will never get his dick sucked telling you that it's okay to now fuck each other? Literally eveyr other being in existence is able to stick the grossest part of their body into the grossest part of someone else's body… the Seven must be fucking perverts if they need to get in on the action and get offended if they aren't invited." He rolled his eyes. "I mean, come on! It's like the whole bastard thing… you really think a few magic words makes someone more sane and kind? Please."
"Could we not talk about this?" Petyr asked meekly.
"Why not?" Miles said. "From what I've heard you're good at it. Should be proud. Unless Gwen was lying when she shouted how amazing you were."
"I wasn't," Gwen snapped before realizing what she'd just said. Natasha snickered at that and Jon just shook his head while Petyr just grinned, forgetting what they were talking about and taking pride in his lover complimenting him. "…fine, Petyr is an amazing fuck and has made me scream to the high heavens but I make sure to drink moon tea so we don't have little Spider Bastards running around."
"Spider Bastard!" Petyr proclaimed. "That can be your name, Miles!"
"No."
"But it rolls off the tongue!" Petyr told him.
"Much like yours does off Gwen's cu-"
"I will tell May," Natasha said darkly, "if you finish that sentence."
Miles wisely shut up and sat down in a chair.
Natasha turned to Petyr and Gwen. "We have far more to discuss and, to be truthful, Jon and I aren't your family. I hope you will consider us friends but at best we know each other. We won't judge you on what you two do with each other… so long as you are smart about it."
"…it was Gwen's idea?" Petyr said meekly, earning a glare for the blonde.
Jon let out a groan. "Very well, family or not, I will teach Petyr what to say around women."
"What?" Petyr said in confusion while Gwen and Natasha gave Jon nods in agreement. "What?"
"But," Natasha continued, "as I said we have other matters to clear up: namely what happened out there. Because don't believe for a second that we've forgotten about that." She reached under her dress and pulled out a knife and walked towards Petyr. "Or that Miles brought up you and Gwen exploring each other to try and avoid that."
"Uh… what's with the knife?" Petyr said fearfully. "Help! Goldcloaks! Goldcloaks!"
Natasha leaned down… and with three neat little slashes had his costume falling off his body, a towel already in hand to cover up his cock.
"…oh."
Jon grabbed a chair and sat down. "Now then… what happened today."
"We aren't sorry we tried to stop him," Gwen said, speaking up before anyone else could say a word. "he needed to be stopped."
"He killed innocent people just doing their jobs," Miles added.
"And yeah, we messed up-" Petyr began.
"You did," Jon agreed.
"-but I'd rather screw up than sit by and do nothing."
Gwen chimed in. "We aren't going to stop. We promised that we'd think about what you two said and we did… and we decided that we are going to continue on. We are going to protect the people of King's Landing. My father died protecting this city."
"My parents and my uncle died trying to keep the peace," Petyr stated.
Gwen glared at Jon. "We aren't going to let Miles lose his father."
"…okay," Jon said with a nod.
The three spiders blinked.
"Okay?" Miles finally said.
"Okay," Jon said. "You're going to keep doing this."
Petyr struggled to sit up. "I'm sorry but… isn't this the part where you tell us we are too young or that you know what is best for us?"
Natasha glanced at Jon, already knowing what he was thinking about. "Let's just say that Jon has experience being on your side of things." Her mind flashed to Tony's workshop and the fight that had scared the hell out of her. Of Jon and Tony going at each other with their armors and Natasha finding that with all her skill she could do nothing to stop it.
Gwen stared at them, clearly confused. "Then… why are you mad?"
"I'm upset not because you wanted to help people but because you were very stupid about it." The teens all began to protest at once so Jon merely focused on getting the last of his armor taken off and put in a trunk; Varys had promised he'd have some of his most trusted associates move it back to the Red Keep and Natasha promised to make sure his associates were watched by her own network of spies that she'd been forming since they'd arrives in King's Landing. It was only when he'd begun to change out of his wet shirt and toweled off his arms and chest that they finally quieted down and let him speak. "You chose a battlefield where you were at an utter disadvantage. It was the same thing when you saved me. I'm glad you did, and you made do with what you had on the barge, but you were still already fighting from a place of weakness."
"What were we supposed to do?" Petyr asked petulantly, clearly not liking that he'd been told he'd made a mistake.
"When did you find out about the attack?" Jon asked.
"Yesterday morning," Miles said. "We've been spreading out and I found out about it."
"Right," Natasha said. "So if you'd come to me and Jon and let us know I could have arranged for problems with the bilge system in the ship, forcing it to remain docked."
The Spiders all stared at her.
"Or I could have gotten some fishing boats to sail closer so you could have launched yourselves from those instead of… how did you get there anyway?"
"Clung to the boat the Vulture King was using," Gwen said, screwing up her face in disgust. "That was… unpleasant."
"Right," Jon said; the Blackwater was horrible just to live near, let alone being inches from its surface. "The point is that you could have come to us and we'd have helped you."
Petyr looked down and played with the straw-stuffed mattress he was laying on. "We thought you'd make us stop."
Jon sighed. "And that's on me for not giving you the confidence to come to us. I made the mistake of trying to get you to slow down and stop… when it was clear you weren't going to. Like I said, we barely know each other. But I want to help you. And we're not going to stop you. We just need some trust."
Miles slowly raised his hand. "So… would telling you who the Vulture King is be a sign of trust?"
Jon's eyes widened. "Yes… yes it would."
"Because I saw who it was when I was spying on him."
"Who?" Natasha pressed.
"That weird guy with no last name that Lord Tywin has around. The one from the Reach."
Jon's brow furrowed but Natasha instantly was clued in. "Ser Adrian of the Tombs."
"Who?" Jon asked. Honestly there were so many people running around the Red Keep these days he couldn't keep track of them all. Leave it to his wife though to instantly remember the man's name.
"Reachman. His family has been tasked with guarding the tombs of the Tyrells, to ensure that nothing ever happens to them. They agreed and gave away their family name, assuming they even had one to begin with; I'll to do more research on that, ask my contacts."
Miles perked up. "oooo! Okay, what's in the tombs?"
"…dead people?" Gwen said slowly.
"I mean besides that!" Miles complained. "There must be something dark and horrible lurking in there, right? Something of deep importance to the world that the Tyrells want to keep hidden so they claim it is just the bodies of their dead, right?" He was practically vibrating where he stood and finally it grew too much for him and he leapt up onto a wall and began to pace. "Is it some grand treasure that they didn't want the Targaryens to find out about? A weapon that can slay any foe no matter how shallow the cut? A gem that releases power like those sunstones Jon uses? Oh! Is it sunstones? Or armor? Magic armor?" He moved to the ceiling. "Or could it be some terrible monster that the wife of one of the previous Lord of the Reach birthed and the tombs hide the entrance to its lair were it still stalks, waiting to be freed?"
"…dead bodies," Natasha said.
"That will come to life and kill us all?"
'No, those are apparently North of the Wall but I'm too busy dealing with the Lannisters,' Jon thought to himself.
"No, just dead bodies," Natasha repeated.
"…seriously?" Miles said, dropping to the ground. Jon held back a snicker; Miles looked like a wounded puppy and Petyr wasn't doing any better. Honestly if it hadn't been for the broken ribs Jon was pretty sure Petyr would have joined Miles in the rambling.
Natasha gave a shrug. "The Tyrells are vain creatures. Always have been. They come from a servant family… yes, the Greenhand is in their family tree but that is true of every noble family in the Reach that has existed for more than two generations and married within. Hell, if we could trace it I'm willing to bet a majority of the population is related to him somehow… the man never met a flower bed he didn't like to seed."
"…ah," Petyr said. "You mean his penis."
"What do you see in him?" Miles complained to Gwen who just pinched the bridge of her nose.
Jon clapped his hand. "Vulture King?"
Natasha nodded. "Right… Ser Adrian was one of the people that was sent out by Joffrey to investigate lost mysteries of Westeros in hopes of finding something that could counter the Iron Man Armor."
"Looks like Adrian found something but decided to keep it for himself," Jon said, leaning against a wall. "Well, what do we do now?"
"Confront him?" Gwen said. "I suggested that."
"And we saw how well that did for everyone," Jon said. "We mistimed this in any way and he gets that armor on and we're in big trouble."
"We can be sneaky," Petyr stated.
"Sometimes no matter how stealthy you are the numbers game is against you," Natasha told him before looking at Jon. "During my training a game my instructors and I used to play was to visualize how one could break into the Iron Bank. There are actually a lot of weaknesses that one can exploit… the problem is that the plans only work in theory because as soon as you get on site and see just how big it is and how many people there are you'd die of hunger or thirst trying to sneak through without ever being seen."
"Right," Jon said. "So that means we need to pick our moment." He pointed at the Spiders. "You aren't going out-"
The teens all began to shout at him.
"-until tomorrow."
They grew quiet.
"Petyr is hurt the worst and even if he heals as fast as he claims all of you need to be careful and not strain yourselves. Give it a day and then go back to… where is he hiding, anyway?"
"The Dragonpit," Gwen said.
"Clever," Natasha admitted.
"Right," Jon stated, "go back to the Dragonpit and watch him. Figure out what his next plan is. You three stopped him from being able to claim the barge so he's going to be looking to make up for that loss. We figure that out we can begin making a gameplan."
"I'll send a few of my eyes and ears to make contact with you three and May. That way as soon as you do find out you can let one of them know."
Jon nodded in agreement with Natasha's idea. "Also, if it can wait till the daytime hours come to the Red Keep. They know that Sam and I are training you three so it won't look odd if you want to ask me a question." He walked over and patted each Spider on the shoulder. "We can do this… but we have to work together, okay?"
"Okay," Petyr said.
With that Jon changed back into his fine clothing, tugging on them to make sure they were situated perfectly before he set out from the harbor master's shack. 'Need to figure out what issue could have Petyr had in case someone asks… because someone will ask. Might be a good idea to find Varys right away… he alerted us to all of this and maybe he already came up with something that Petyr was having problems with-'
Jon sputtered as Natasha dumped a bucket of water on his head.
"…why!?" He complained, flicking his hands and sending water droplets flying all over.
"We were out in the rain," she pointed out. "Or that's what people will assume when they see how wet my dress is. You can't show up nice and dry."
"And you didn't warn me?" Jon demanded as she moved past him, leading him through the twists back alleys of King's Landing back to the Red Keep.
"Where is the fun in that?" she teased.
The two of them didn't talk much as they made their way back to the castle, their thoughts on what had happened earlier. The Vulture King was growing far more bold and knowing that he was a man connected to Tywin Lannister complicated things further. 'Does Lord Tywin know? Did he send him to do this?' Jon shook his head. 'No, that doesn't make any sense. He needs the Tyrells to keep what peace the Crown has managed to obtain and if this plot were figured out it would all come crashing down upon them. The Tyrells were already betrayed once by Renly when he sided with the Ironborn-' The tale of that night and how Lord Tyrell had uncovered the entire conspiracy (all on his own, no one helped, certainly not Theon Greyjoy or that large woman, whoever that was, he had been sure to say quite loudly for all that heard his story) had been spread by the Fat Flower since he'd arrived at the Red Keep, '-and if the Lannisters did the same thing their wrath would be swift. And if Tywin Lannister had access to flying armor he would have sent an assassin to Winterfell to kill Robb or gone after Father already by now. These thefts… they don't serve him.
'So Ser Adrian is doing this on his own. He has gotten close to Lord Tywin but is hiding his actions from everyone but hismen. But for what purpose? Just to steal things? Or is there some greater mystery.' Jon rubbing his head as they began to make their way up the hill to the Red Keep. 'Damn this city, nothing is simple here!'
"Something's wrong," Natasha whispered to him. "Be casual." She leaned against him, holding his arm. "Don't say a word, okay. Just smile. The Goldcloaks are on the walls. They have swords drawn and bows at the ready. That one, to your left, he's far too tense. Something isn't right."
Jon pressed his lips together. Yes… he could feel it too. Something had happened.
They hadn't reached the gate when they saw two figures running down from it and it took a moment for Jon to realize that Sam was with Clynt of all people. The former was wearing a red and white feathered cloak while the latter was dressed in dark purples and blacks. Both looked rather worried but that disappeared when they saw the two of them, instantly picking up their steps.
"Thank the Gods you're here," Sam said.
"What's wrong?" Jon asked.
"Lord Tywin needs to see you at once," Clynt stated. "He asked for us to find you and your father Lord Oberyn told us you'd headed into the city… I'm not sure if that is going to save your heads or damn them."
"What's going on?" Natasha demanded as they were led back towards the Red Keep. Jon glanced to his right and left and saw how the Goldcloaks glared at them. It wasn't hatred… no, it was merely the intense stare of someone bracing for a sudden blow that might come from anywhere.
"Joffrey is dead," Clynt whispered in a low voice.
"…fuck," Jon muttered to himself. He hated the little shit. Hated him with every fiber of his being. Wanted him dead a thousand times over for killing Sansa and causing Arya to disappear. If the Gods had been good they would have allowed him to hack the bastard up into pieces, starting at his toes and moving upwards while the entire time Joffrey screamed for mercy. Having to be near the mad boy, dealing with his sudden changes in mood, dancing about to avoid becoming the target of his rages, had only soured Jon all the more on him. He'd known Joffrey was a little shit when he'd come to Winterfell and taunted Robb into fighting him when he'd known that no master-at-arms worth his salt would allow the Crowned Prince and the Heir of Winterfell to battle with live steel. Time had only proven that, if anything, Jon had been too kind to Joffrey during that time in the North. The boy was a monster, a rabid beast, and it was a good thing he was dead.
But… Jon was also smart enough to know this was a massive problem.
"How?" Natasha asked.
"Littlefinger," Sam said, shaking his head as they were taken towards the Tower of the Hand. "He stabbed him to death."
"…he… what?" Jon said, nearly tripping from the shock of it all.
Clynt could only nod. "We weren't there when it happened but according to what we've heard Joffrey had become enraged when the rains suddenly came and demanded that Baelish be his cupbearer. He brought over a goblet and as he handed it to him he plunged a dagger into his lung."
Natasha frowned. "That… is not a pleasant way to die. It is a slow, painful death." She looked to Clynt. "Baelish escaped in the confusion, I assume?"
"You assume wrong. He just stood there, shocked. I don't think he even realized what he'd done… at the trial he'll probably try and argue that he didn't plan to do it."
"That makes no sense," Natasha muttered to herself. "Baelish is smarter than that. He wouldn't have done the deed himself and he certainly would have run."
"How was Joffrey with him?" Jon asked. "Was he screaming and embarrassing him? Give him reason to snap?"
"Gave more reason for the Tyrells," Sam said. "The servants claim he beat Margaery with his fists so wildly that they thought he would kill her where she stood. Ser Loras was prepared to draw steel when Joffrey demanded the drink."
Natasha shook her head. "None of this makes sense."
"Which is why the Lord Hand has requested your presence," Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder as they climbed the final set of steps and saw the door that led to Lord Tywin's office. There was double the amount of guards that one would have normally seen but considering a king had been killed that didn't surprise Jon in the slightest. Nor how they had bared steel at the ready.
"Clynt," he said softly, "does my goodfather have a task for you at the moment?"
"No," Clynt stated. "He has Bron protecting Ellaria but he said he would be fine on his own."
"Sam?"
"My prince has asked nothing of me and right now I am doing my best to keep my head down. With my features…" he shrugged. "People are looking for enemies and with everyone on edge I wish not to make things worse on myself."
Jon felt sympathy for his friend. Jon had first been cursed with the stain of a bastard name and then the name of rebels to the crown. But he could cut his hair, trim his beard, and disappear into a crowd. Sam could never do that.
"Would you please then go to our residence and find Happy. Make it clear that the Iron Pointe guards are to assist if asked but otherwise must remain in their rooms." He looked at the soldiers who continued to glare at him. "The Red Keep is a bottle of wildfire… I'd have us damp down the flames not add to them."
Natasha chimed in. "Tell them they are only to help people that bare Lord Tywin's command… I have a bad feeling there will be others who try and use this as an excuse to trim away those they despise. Otherwise barricade the door and stay alert. I'd suggest you both remain there until we return."
"I thank you for that," Sam said while Clynt's eyebrow twitched twice; clearly he was sharing a conversation with Nat about what they should do as she was truthfully putting them in charge of their household.
"If there is anyone else you think is vulnerable Clynt please get them now. Better for everyone to be in one place and out of the way than wandering about into a situation that we can't control at the moment."
"I'll ask the servants, Lord Jon," Clynt said though Jon knew the spy had already planned to protect hose that needed to be watched over. While Joffrey, ironically enough, would have been the most likely candidate to take advantage of the madness to kill off perceived foes he wouldn't be surprised in the Queen decided to do the same. Or a few others who had secrets that could now truly be put to rest.
This wasn't a jar of wildfire. This was a dragon that was slowly rising after being awoken and at any moment it could let its rage be known.
Finally moving to the doors Jon respectfully raised his head to the guard he figured must be the commander of the foursome. "Lord Jon Stark of Iron Pointe. I was summoned by Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, along with my ladywife Lady Natasha Stark, daughter of Prince Oberyn Martel."
Far more formal than he preferred but in this case he needed to dance the dance perfectly if he wanted to keep his feet… or head.
"Let them in," Lord Tywin called through the closed door before the guard could say a word and Jon entered with Natasha right behind. He gave only the barest looks at the room, which was large and ornate as was expected of any room in the Red Keep. The big thing, the important thing, was that it was clear this was a place where work was done. The solar wasn't for show or merely a pretty way to present an image of power. Lord Tywin saw to the running of the kingdom here. Bookcases filled with tomes detailing the laws of the kingdom. Maps of the Seven Kingdoms, both connected and each of the seven enlarged with far more detailing on each. A desk with papers, some waiting for the Hand's attention while others had clearly already been done. And the man himself, looking over a document as Jon entered.
Tywin Lannister was a monster. He wiped out entire houses for their slights against him. He ruled through fear. He had commanded the men that had killed Jon's half brother and sister and seen their mother brutally raped. A mother who had been Natasha's aunt. And yet as much as he hated him Jon acknowledged the man's intelligence… and understood that at the moment Tywin Lannister was the only one holding the city together. He could almost image looking outside and seeing his giant hands squeezing the city, forcing the cracked egg that was King's Landing to not splash its yolk out.
"That was smart of you to tell your men to only assist with those I have sent. You are right… I have already been forced to stop one minor lord from the Stormlands from killing 'traitors' who just so happened to be old rivals of his family. I have no time for such foolishness, not now. Sit."
Jon did so, Natasha joining him at his side. There was no offer of wine or food but honestly Jon didn't expect any. This wasn't a pleasant meeting where light chit chat would be shared.
"I must ask you before we continue any further: Why did you leave the feast?"
Jon thanked the Old Gods Natasha had been training him to lie. Had it even been a year ago he would have stumbled over his words and gotten them sent to the Black Cells purely for being suspicious. Now he understood that the best lie was so wrapped up in the truth that one forgot it was a lie themselves. And while he had been startled by the Goldcloaks he had been given time during their walk to come up with a tale.
"Petyr had decided that with the wedding now would be the perfect time to work on an invention of his to help with training. Except the entire thing began to go wild and he was afraid if he summoned the goldcloaks to help they'd demand it destroyed. He just needed it stopped so he could fix it. Gwen spotted one of my household members and had them fetch us."
"And there are witnesses?" Tywin pressed. "They will swear you were there?"
"Petyr Parker, Gwen Stacy, and Lord Commander Jiffsun's son Miles."
Tywin stared at him for several long moments… before, to Jon surprise, he let out a breath of relief. It was a tiny slip of a sound but it was there all the same.
"There will be some that wish for the word of Lords but your father, Lady Natasha, asked for approval for you to leave and I doubt very much Jiffsun would involve his son in lying for the two of you."
"We were under suspicion," Natasha said, her tone making it clear it wasn't a question.
"Not yet," Tywin stated. "But I know my daughter… she is mad with grief but soon that will turn to hunting for enemies in the shadows. When I returned from taking vengeance upon the Iron Born that dared to attack Lannisport and burn my fleet I found a pile of old raven messages from her, claiming she wanted this lord or that dead because clearly they had allied with the Iron Born to disgrace us. Her reasons were always the weakest at best. It is one of the only times I was thankful that she had failed to convince Robert to listen to her." He shook his head and grumbled in frustration. "For now she mourns her child. But soon her mind will turn to revenge. Baelish did not act alone… she will claim this and be it true or not she will seek out who to blame."
"I am the son of a man that has declared war on the crown," Jon said simply. There was no reason to deny it; that would be just a waste of time.
"She'll claim this was revenge for Sansa," Natasha added.
Tywin nodded at that. "If Tyrion were here he would be the first to taste her ire. Now it will be you."
"Are you here to arrest us, Lord Tywin, or command us to run?" Jon asked.
"Neither," the head of House Lannister said with utter crispness in his voice. "To believe for a moment you would work with Baelish when his disgust with you was clear to all that saw him is to be a fool. The man is good at making friends but he isn't so good at hiding his disgust in people. And to run now would be just as asinine. No… I can control my daughter and keep her from doing something foolish, I merely needed proof, which you have provided."
Jon nodded, surprised that of all people it was Tywin Fucking Lannister who was protecting him. Politics truly did make for odd bedfellows. "Then how can we serve the Crown, Lord Hand?" Jon asked, understanding that while Tywin believed them that didn't mean they could merely scurry away and do as they wished. No… the best way to protect themselves was to help deal with the aftermath of this madness.
"The city will be placed on lockdown. No one will leave, no one will enter. Tight curfews will be placed. For now you will be confined to your rooms until trusted agents of mine are able to question Petyr, Gwen, and Miles."
Jon wasn't worried; Natasha would most likely find them before Tywin could give the command for them to be brought in for questioning and explain Jon's lie.
"My lord," Natasha spoke up, "would you consent, once they are found, for them to be housed with us? Petyr lost his family during the riots that sprang up after King Robert's death. I hope you will have better control but…"
Tywin raised his hand. "Yes… yes, I agree. Lord Commander Stacy gave his life defending King's Landing against Stannis… I won't have it said I allowed his daughter to go unprotected. May Parker will be brought to the Red Keep, along with her charges. Jiffsun will remain here anyway to help me investigate Joffrey's death."
Jon was quietly pleased. Now he could work with the Spiders to ensure that they actually did tell him everything they learned after their patrols.
"My first focus, of course, will be the securing of the Red Keep. Then I will focus on clearing my family and the Tyrells. After that I will clear the Small Council. Your stranding as Prince Martell's daughter and goodson will allow me to clear you with him. Once that is done… then your aid will be needed."
Lord Tywin rose, staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out upon the grounds of the Red Keep. His solar was not on the top floor of the tower, for he had chosen one closer to the ground most likely because it would allow him to move about and see to the duties of the Hand far easier than having to run up and down stairs all the time. Jon looked at him and was struck by just how old Tywin Lannister was. Not in a physical sense but in terms of history. He had seen wars, reigns begun and ended, lives begun and ended before his own had reached its fulliness. Jon wondered, even with his own work as the Centurion, if he would ever be able to match what the Old Lion had seen.
"Tommen will need to be crowned soon. I will act as his regent as well as his Hand. I will also meet with the Tyrells to arrange for Margaery to marry him… they will not settle for her being a queen for a few hours." He paused. "Tommen has spoken well of you, Lord Jon. I would ask for you to remain for now, to help him. His brother is dead in the cruelest manner and now he finds himself having to rule when he never expected it. He will succeed, of course, but he will need at this juncture those he trusts to sit on his Small Council."
Jon couldn't refuse the request… because it wasn't a request. For as polite and hospitable Lord Tywin was acting he understood that he still remained a prisoner. A hostage to be held in case his father pressed to hard into the Riverlands and got designs to try and take the Iron Throne itself or go after the Westerlands. He was a reminder that even with Joffrey dead Jon's situation remained the same. Still trapped.
"I would be honored, Lord Tywin," Jon said with a respectful dip of his head.
"Good," the Old Lion said with a firm nod. "We will speak more once I have received the testimony of the three youths."
Understanding a dismissal when he heard one Jon and Natasha left, returning to their rooms to find Happy having an absolute fit about the entire situation. He didn't know what he wanted to do, as there truly was no good option for any of them, but he felt that SOMETHING must be done to correct the situation they now found themselves in. It took nearly half a hour for Jon to calm him down and convince him to do as he had originally requested: everyone remained inside, only answered to requests bearing Lord Tywin's signature, and do nothing to provoke the Lions that were now utterly on edge.
Making for the privacy of their bedchambers Jon looked at Natasha who gave a subtle twitch of her eyes back and forth; there were spies in the walls. Jon hated that, knowing that he was being watched, but he understood that the Lannisters were trying to make sure that they truly were innocent in all this. As much as Jon wanted to walk up to the wall and vigorously slam his fist against it to startle whoever was hiding within listening to anything they said and taking careful notes he knew that he had to play this smart. He had to be a Stark of Iron Pointe rather than a Stark of Winterfell.
"Does any of this make sense to you?" he asked because he figured that discussing the matters of the assassination would be fine as it would be expected. Every room that had more than one person in it within all of King's Landing would soon be doing the exact same thing.
"It doesn't," Natasha said. "The way the King was killed and who did it… they don't match up. Joffrey was murdered so openly and brazenly... that is the method of a zealot. A mad fellow who knows he is going to die for his crimes and doesn't care. Who lifts up his bloodied dagger and screams a curse upon the kingdom or the line or the Gods. Even a catspaw wouldn't be so brazen. It is hard to convince people to throw their lives away for a cause; people like to see the fruits of their labor and receive their rewards."
"Bold assassinations happen," Jon pointed out.
"Again, when the person is ready to die for their cause. When someone is killed their murderer has two choices: to try and flee or make themselves even more the center of attention. It is why when an assassination is stopped they will scream out why their cause is just. Why killers will spend just as much time practicing their grand speech as they will how they will get close to their targets. This though… according to Clynt Littlefinger just stood there."
"Littlefinger isn't one to throw his life away for any cause," Jon said. "He prefers to sentence others to their doom."
"Which is why none of this makes sense. There has to be something we are missing, that everyone missed. And until it is found out I fear everyone in the Red Keep is in mortal peril."
