A/N: Happy Thursday all! Back with another chapter for you guys. Because I refuse to miss an update until this fic is done lol. I'm determined now. Hope you enjoy the beginning of the investigation into Sansa's disappearance!

Chapter 48: Good Luck, Bad Luck

Tywin was just making his way back to his office when he heard the door slam open with quite a bit more force than it was supposed to, followed by footsteps rushing over the tile. He turned in time to see Arya skidding into the hallway, Myrcella close behind her.

"My sister," she muttered. "They took my sister."

"Who?" Tywin asked.

"We don't know," Arya said. "We never know. Probably the puppet master again. Or maybe someone else. Who's to say? The catastrophes never stop with us."

Her voice was cracked, and he could tell she was on the edge of a breaking point. Myrcella had a hand on her arm, but she was looking at Tywin with wide green eyes.

"Step into my office," Tywin said at last. "Explain the situation to me in full."

Arya did. For the moment he closed the door, the words were flooding out of her mouth. Sansa hadn't come home for dinner that night. They received a call on Sansa's phone near the end saying that they had her and would be asking soon for a ransom. An extensive ransom—if the kidnapper was to be believed. The sort that even a family like the Starks could not easily pay.

Until then, the Starks were instructed to act completely normal. Any deviance from their normal routine would be taken as a threat and Sansa's life could be in jeopardy. Any attempts to find her without paying the money? Same thing. That implied that the culprit would be watching them quite closely.

"I just…don't understand," Arya said. "Why kidnap Sansa? What do they gain from this besides the money? If it was just about money, they would have given us the amount already. But it's more than that. It's some sort of sick power play."

"They're exerting control," Tywin agreed. "It's possible that you all got too close to the truth for their taste. Now they have insurance to keep you away from it."

"But how have we gotten close?" Arya asked. "Our investigation has been stalled for months. What's changed recently that brought on this?"

Tywin could think of only one thing. That piece of intel Jaime told him about a week or so ago. "Jaime spoke with a prostitute last week. She works for the same employer who supplied the false body for your grave. It's possible that same employer found out about her chat with Jaime and panicked."

"That means that whatever she told him was dangerous," Arya said.

"Maybe. Though it was my understanding she was quite tight lipped," Tywin said. "At the very least, he feared what she could tell."

"Then the two are directly connected," Arya said. "The pimp isn't just a pimp." She jerked a hand through her hair. "Not sure how that helps us if we can't find him. And if he supplied the body for my grave, he knows about me. That means I won't be able to do much either."

"Will we be able to do anything?" Myrcella asked softly. "They probably know that the Lannisters are working with the Starks. Considering that it was Uncle Jaime who talked to this girl."

"True," Tywin said. "But the culprit won't try to blackmail me or my family. They probably don't believe we'll care what happens to your sister. Challenging us would only make things worse for them."

"So we can do something then," Myrcella said.

"I can," Tywin said. "And perhaps your Uncle Jaime. You won't be doing anything, Myrcella. You've been in danger enough times."

"And you will?" Arya asked quietly. "Do something? Help us?"

"You sound surprised," Tywin said.

"Of course I am," Arya said. "You've never spoken to my sister. I know you don't care about her wellbeing. So why go to the trouble?"

She really does think so little of me, Tywin thought. Her and her mother.

"Because," he said. "This culprit already challenged my family. They could come for us next after they've extracted what they can from the Starks. Opposing them now is the best possible strategy."

Arya nodded once, seeming to accept that. She looked down at her hands. "Thank you then. My family…they can't lose anyone else."

"They won't," Tywin said. "The culprit is only doing this because they're getting desperate. And what happens when people get desperate?"

"They make mistakes," Arya said.

"Exactly," Tywin said. "And rest assured, we will be on them the moment they do."

Arya's shoulders relaxed. He wondered if she had really expected him to refuse to help. As if their families were not still inexorably linked by this dilemma. And though he had taken advantage of the Stark family in chaos before, even he pitied the number of hardships they had gone through at this point.

Autumn was fast approaching, and he wanted this mystery solved before the year was out.

Bran wondered if they were watching his computer.

The mastermind behind all of this was clearly well connected and they had plenty of resources. Bran had protections in place to keep anyone from watching him. But still, in his paranoia and worry for Sansa, he wondered if they could be watching.

If the puppet master was the Spider, like Arya suggested, that would certainly be the case. What if the message had been a way to get into his system?

Bran shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. He was just tired. He'd barely slept since Sansa disappeared a few days ago. Lack of sleep made the mind jump to conclusions. But still, he didn't want to put Sansa's life in danger by carelessly using his computer. He didn't want to anger the one keeping her hostage.

But he needed to reach out to the Spider again. The mysterious entity had dangled a carrot in front of him, then left him hanging. Bran had tried to be patient, but with Sansa gone, the time for that was over. He needed information on the puppet master. Needed information on her whereabouts.

But he was wary of reaching out to the Spider himself. For this…he might need to outsource. And he had a good idea of who could help him.

He skimmed through his phone for a number he had added a few months ago while sitting in the parlor of the Lannister manor with unexpected company. The number belonged to a man who had long held his curiosity. One he had a rather large file on. But one who was enough on the fringes of this whole affair to help him.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Tyrion Lannister?" Bran turned his chair away from his computer. "This is Bran Stark. I'm sorry if this is out of the blue."

"This is a surprise," Tyrion said. "But it's not an unwelcome one. What can I help you with?"

"I was wondering if we could meet to talk about something. It's this report I'm doing for school about influential families in business," Bran said. "One of the people meant to help me…disappeared."

He hoped Tyrion would get his meaning. That this had nothing to do with school at all. But talking in person would be the safest course.

"Disappeared?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes," Bran said. "Can't find them anywhere. So I need backup"

"I see," Tyrion said. "Yes. I can meet with you. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Bran said, letting out a breath of relief. "At noon. I'll come to you, if that's all right."

"Of course," Tyrion said. "See you then."

It didn't take a genius to recognize that Bran was calling Tyrion for more than just a school report. Even if he hadn't heard about Sansa Stark's disappearance from Jaime, he'd have known something had gone wrong because of Pearl. The young woman had turned up dead just a day ago, much to Shae's horror. She had been locked in her room ever since, mourning the loss of yet another friend.

It was clear to Tyrion what had happened. The puppet master found out that Pearl spoke about something dangerous. They decided to kill her to make sure she couldn't say anything more. And her death was almost certainly connected with Sansa Stark's disappearance. Since her life was in danger if Bran and any of the other Starks tried to investigate, Bran wanted Tyrion's help.

But Tyrion had to admit, he was surprised by what Bran asked of him—to contact the Spider.

"He reached out to me a few months ago," Bran explained. "I think I have information he wants in exchange for information about the puppet master. But he's gone silent since then. I don't know if its because he's trying to lay low or if he's just messing with me. But I'm through waiting. You seemed the best person to use as a proxy to speak to him."

"Interesting," Tyrion said. "Why is that?"

"Because you're a mysterious, interesting person involved in interesting things," Bran said. "He likes that."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm mysterious, am I? You don't have to flatter me to earn my help."

"It's not flattery. Just fact," Bran said. "My file on you doesn't fit the profile of youngest sons from wealthy families. You put off an image of being a rich, irresponsible lay about, but you have a hand in dozens of businesses throughout the city. And you might be the top player of the stock market."

Tyrion blinked. "And how did you come to acquire that information?"

Bran smiled. "Because acquiring information is what I do. At least since I lost my legs."

"We all have hobbies I suppose," Tyrion said. "But it happens you're right to talk to me. I've spoken to the Spider before."

Bran straightened. "You have?"

"Ah. Didn't have that in your file?" Tyrion shifted in his seat, smiling a bit. "You're not the only one who acquires a great deal of information. One of my two talents. I drink and I know things."

"Then he would answer you if you reached out," Bran said.

"Possibly. He's just as mysterious with me, mind you. And I've never met him in person," Tyrion said. "But I'll speak to him. What would you like me to say?"

"That I'd like to trade information," Bran said. "Whatever he wants for the whereabouts of my sister. And the identity of the puppet master who took her."

"Done," Tyrion said.

"Do you want something?" Bran asked. "In return? I know how Lannisters can be with debts."

"Well, I'm not exactly a model Lannister according to my father," Tyrion said. "You don't have to give me anything, Bran. Your sister is a charming young woman. I'd hate to see her harmed. And it happens that this puppet master has hurt a dear friend of mind." He glanced toward the room where Shae had locked herself away. "So I'll help you. No strings attached. No debts."

Bran gave him a small smile and a nod. "Thank you."

"Of course." Tyrion winked. "I hope this will help you with your school report, Bran."

"Yes, sir," Bran replied. "I believe it will."

Another dead prostitute with wings tattooed on her skin meant another victim to add to Brienne's ongoing case. But this particular victim was unique—because Jaime had talked to her not a few weeks ago.

Pearl, the nervous blonde beauty who had been so afraid of giving him information. It seemed she was right to be worried. Jaime knew it was her the moment that Brienne described her over the phone, and he cursed, leaning back in his chair. They'd gotten good intel but now a woman was dead and another woman missing.

One step forward. Two steps back.

But there was one thing Pearl's death gave them—a cruel sort of silver lining really. Her death was clearly connected to Sansa's disappearance. And Brienne could investigate it without drawing the suspicions of the puppet master. It was, after all, her job. And since Jaime had been seen helping her with said case more than once, it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to assist.

Not to mention, he wasn't a Stark. Lannisters had not been banned from the search for poor Sansa.

Maybe because they don't think we'd care, Jaime thought. I'd almost be offended if that wasn't a fair assumption.

They started at the library—the last place Sansa had been seen—and found out that yes, a young blonde woman had indeed been seen there as well. In fact, she had been seen talking with Sansa and leaving with her. Where they had gone, the librarian didn't know. But considering that Sansa almost assuredly didn't know Pearl…

"The puppet master may have used Pearl to get to Sansa," Brienne murmured. "Before they killed her."

"Seems that way," Jaime said. "A nice, scared girl comes into a library asking for help. Someone like Sansa goes with them out of the kindness of her heart."

"It's a lead at least," Brienne said. "If we can find out where they went. They wouldn't have gone far. If they meant to abduct Sansa, they'd take her somewhere nearby. An apartment building maybe. I'll pull the camera footage of all nearby streets in the hours after Sansa left the library."

"Perfect," Jaime said. "Let me know once you have it. I'll help you look through it all."

Part of Jaime worried the footage might be deleted. After all, the same thing had happened to the footage the night that Ned Stark had died. But Brienne found the camera footage in tact.

Somehow, that just made Jaime more suspicious. They knew this puppet master had connections with police and had successfully deleted evidence before. So why not do the same here? Had they successfully dealt with his main contact, Janos Slynt, and therefore crippled his ability to easily get rid of evidence? Or was the puppet master simply getting over confident, thinking that the police wouldn't connect the murder of a prostitute with the disappearance of a girl from a wealthy family. That was, after all, what allowed them to replace Arya Stark with a different body a few years ago.

He wasn't sure, but he'd learned to distrust when things felt too easy. That kept him wary even as they located Sansa Stark and Pearl in the footage, walking only a few blocks away until they went inside a very rundown apartment building.

"We don't usually have this much good luck," Jaime said.

"Maybe we're owed some then," Brienne said. "Don't worry, the bad luck will come."

She was right. They couldn't find the footage of Sansa and Pearl leaving the apartment. They must have snuck out through a blind spot in the cameras. But they had a location at least.

So they followed the lead. They discovered which room Pearl had been renting and went to check it out. But they found very little useful in the apartment. The place had been cleared of almost anything useful.

"There may be some finger prints," Brienne said as they stepped back into the hall. "Hair samples. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"It's time for the bad luck, remember?" Jaime asked.

"Are you looking for Pearl?"

They turned at the sound of a man's voice. He was walking up to an apartment just next door, fumbling with his keys. He was a dark haired man with a friendly enough face.

"You know her?" Jaime asked.

"Well, she is my neighbor," the man said. "Or at least she was. Hasn't been home in a while."

So she did live here, Jaime thought. It wasn't just a stop.

"I'm sorry to say," Brienne said. "But she was found dead a few days ago."

"She was?" the man's eyes widened. "Wow. I'm sorry to hear that."

"When did you last see her?" Jaime asked.

"Beginning of this week I guess. Not sure. She was with a friend." He shrugged. "But she's usually with friends."

"What did the friend look like?"

"Red hair. Tall. She was something to look at." The man smiled.

It seemed almost too good to be true. That they had a witness. They questioned the man for further details, but he wasn't able to give them much. He said he hadn't heard any signs of a struggle or seen anyone else go into the apartment that day. When asked how well he knew Pearl, he mentioned she came over for drinks sometimes. He knew about her work but not many details. And he didn't know if her life had been threatened lately or who might have come after her.

"She got into some loud arguments with customers," the man said. "But I kinda assumed it was just a roleplaying thing. Anyway, I wouldn't know any of their names."

So, he wasn't as helpful as they hoped. But he did give them a number and a name—Rigel—and promised to call if he found out anything else.

Jaime expected the lead to go dead. Because that's just what happened to them on this investigation. But then, only two days later, Rigel called the number claiming to have more information.

"He found something he wants to show us," Brienne explained over coffee at their diner. "A piece of evidence maybe. For Pearl's death."

"What is it?" Jaime asked.

"Something she left in his apartment. A ledger of some sort. He says he hasn't looked at it too much. Didn't want to tamper with evidence," Brienne said. "I said we'd check it out."

"You think she'd keep a ledger of her clients?" Jaime asked. "That seems sloppy for this guy."

"I'm not sure. Our witness doesn't seem too bright, so it could be nothing. But we need to take whatever we can get right now." She adjusted her jacket. "Will you back me up?"

A little smile crossed Jaime's face. It was nice that she was asking him for backup. He knew that the only reason she wasn't asking other officers was because they couldn't know the connection between this case and the Stark family case. But still. He liked working with her on this.

"Always, Tarth."

They returned to the apartments and knocked on Rigel's door the next day. But he didn't answer—a very bad sign considering he was the one who set the time for the meeting. And he was unlikely to forget a meeting this serious.

Brienne knocked again, calling out. "Rigel. Its Tarth. Are you in there?"

No answer. Suspicious, Jaime tried the door to the apartment. It opened.

"We can't enter without a warrant," Brienne reminded him.

"You can't," Jaime said. "He could be dead in their Tarth. We know that's the favorite way this puppet master covers their tracks. Besides, it is unlocked."

She pursed her lips together. Then nodded. Jaime eased the door open before resting his hand on his gun. He entered the room slowly, looking around. It was sparsely decorated and very dusty. Like the man hadn't cleaned in months. Given the state of his own apartment, he guessed he couldn't blame him. But still…

He searched for a sign of blood. A sign of struggle. But nothing was overturned. Maybe he was just late returning from something. If that was the case, maybe someone had entered the apartment and taken the evidence.

The door creaked behind him as Brienne shifted into the room. "Well? Anything?"

"Not in this room at least. Maybe in the bedroom," Jaime said.

Then he heard it. A soft beeping from somewhere in the other room. A sound he had heard more than once when he served in the second Essosi war. And it clicked into place just a few seconds too late.

"Brienne," he said, rushing toward her and shoving her toward the door with all of his might. "Move. There's a—"

The explosion roared to life behind him and something heavy struck him in the back, sending him crashing into the hall. The sudden burst of pain across his back made his vision go white. Then black. He was vaguely aware of Brienne calling his name in a frantic voice.

"Jaime. Jaime."

I knew it was… too easy, he thought.

Then he lost consciousness.

A/N: Yes, I know. More cliffhangers all around. My apologies :P But you guys are used to that by now. As always, review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!