A/N: In a stunning turn of events, I'm updating on time this Thursday lol. Hope you guys enjoy the building tension!

Chapter 57: Idealist

Jon had been wanting to talk to Ygritte again soon. But he had been hoping just to spend the day with her. Not ask her about her involvement with the Spider and Long Night.

He knew that she didn't sell Long Night. She'd made her distaste for that drug known. But apparently, she knew the right people.

"I didn't mean to spook her," Bran said. "Her name just hit me out of the blue and it slipped out. Tell her I'm sorry when you see her, will you?"

"Sure," Jon said. "If she doesn't flee into the night the moment I tell her it was you."

"Good thing this is a lunch date then."

"Bran."

"Sorry, sorry." Bran held up his hands. "In the end this could be a good thing. She knows you. She trusts you. She could help us figure this mystery out."

"I don't want to use my friend to solve a mystery," Jon said. "I don't really think you should be sticking your nose in this anyway, Bran. Let the police deal with Long Night."

"The police are only finding the dealers. The small timers," Bran said. "They're nowhere close to the main guy."

"And it's not your job to get to that main guy," Jon said.

"No," Bran said. "But its yours, isn't it?"

Jon exhaled and gave him a look.

"You know I'm right," Bran said. "You just don't want to use your girlfriend for police business, is that it?"

"Well, she hates cops," Jon said.

"Then tell her it's not police business. Tell her this is separate from that. It's my business," Bran said. "I'm counting on you."

Jon didn't mind being counted on. But still, he worried about Ygritte making a run for it the moment he brought up the topic. He met her in the park near lunch time. She seemed relaxed enough and she gave him a wide grin when she noticed him.

"Hey there, officer. Caught any criminals lately?" Ygritte asked.

"Not really," Jon said. "Last big one was Ramsay Snow."

"Aye. Heard about that one in the news. Sounds like the trial is shaping up to be a mess." She crossed her arms. "Think they'll get it over with soon?"

"I hope so," he said. "How have things been with you?"

"Can't complain," Ygritte said. "Well I can…but I've never been one to whine."

"No," Jon agreed. "Gotten any mysterious phone calls lately?"

She gave him a look and he cursed himself. Brilliant way to work that into the conversation.

"My brother Bran," he explained. "You remember him. He got your number from the Spider. Recognized your voice on the line. You hung up on him."

"That was Bran?" Ygritte asked. Her voice had gone thin and her eyes darted around as if looking for an escape route.

"He says he didn't mean to spook you," Jon said. "He apologizes."

"Kind of him," Ygritte stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Why in the seven hells is your family tangled up with the Spider? The Starks don't seem the type."

"Our life has been a bit crazy lately," Jon said. "He's the one who gave us the tip to help us catch Ramsay Snow. He and my brother have been going back and forth. My brother…likes to gather intel. It's a hobby of his. But don't worry. He doesn't work with the police."

"You do though," Ygritte said.

"And you know I'd never sell you out to them," Jon said. "I know you're not involved with Long Night but…you know a guy who is?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy," Ygritte said. "You know who Mance Rayder is?"

"Sure," Jon said. "He leads a lot of protests for wildling rights. He's gotten arrested a few times."

"Aye. He's a good man too," Ygritte said. "Always looking for new ways to make a statement. And in the beginning, he thought the Night King might be a potential ally."

"The Night King?" Jon repeated.

"It's what he calls himself." Ygritte rolled her eyes. "Dramatic if you ask me. But he and Mance had shared views on the people who run King's Landing. That's why they started working together. In the beginning at least." She shrugged. "But the Night King was too extreme. He didn't distinguish between the rich and the poor. Westerosi and Wildling. Mance got the sense he wanted to burn the city to the ground, not make it better. So he cut off their working relationship."

"But could he still contact him?" Jon asked.

"Maybe." Ygritte turned to face him. "Why do you care?"

"Because," Jon said. "You've seen what's been happening around this city. The Long Night problem is getting worse and worse."

"I know," Ygritte said. "More and more of my people have been getting arrested for it."

"Exactly," Jon said. "So it'd be nice if someone stopped the Night King, right?"

"It would be nice," Ygritte said. "You gonna do it by yourself?"

"No," Jon said. "But if Mance can give me info on this guy…maybe the police could."

"Police won't listen to no tips from wildlings," Ygritte said.

"They'll listen to tips from one of their own," Jon said.

"Maybe," Ygritte said. "Or maybe they'll just want to track down the ones who gave you the tip."

"I won't let that happen," Jon said. "Let me meet him at least. Mance. I promise I'll come alone. You can pat me down as long as you want. You can blindfold me to the destination. Whatever helps. But I'd like to talk to him."

Ygritte considered him for a long moment. "He's not a wildling you know," she said. "Used to be a cop like you. Then he saw what went on there. Saw how corrupt it all was. And he left it. He doesn't like those who choose to stay much."

"I don't need him to like me," Jon said.

"That's good, I guess." Ygritte sighed. "Fine. I'll get you a meeting. Might even get you out of it alive." She pat him on the cheek. "But only because of your pretty face."

Jon gave her a little smile. "Thank the gods for my pretty face then."

"I've said that prayer a few times." Ygritte took a few steps back. "Now. Can we continue our day without talking about any of this Long Night nonsense?"

Jon nodded once, falling into step beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Yes. I promise."

Arya wanted to do something nice for her friends. After all that time making them think that she was dead, she figured that they deserved it. And she had her eye on the King's Landing Tournament. It was a major sports festival held once a year that brought in all stars from the great teams across Westeros. Football. Cricket. Rugby. You name it. Arya used to love attending. And it seemed like a good time to return.

She decided on box seats. One for Hotpie, Lommy, Gendry, and Myrcella at least. And she should probably invite her family as well.

Bran turned down the invite with a wave of his hands. "I do not want to deal with navigating my wheel chair through there. Accessibility in that stadium is shit. I'll watch from home."

"I can make it work if you want to go," Arya promised.

"Thanks but no thanks," Bran said. "Rickon will probably take you up on that offer though."

"What offer?" Rickon asked, popping his head into the room.

"Box seats at the tournament?" Arya asked.

"Oh, hell yeah. Count me in," Rickon said.

So that was one yes. Arya invited Sansa too, knowing she loved sports nearly as much as Arya. But she wasn't surprised when she turned it down.

"Not this year I think," she said.

"I know you're worried about the crowds," Arya said. "But I swear, I'll break the wrist of anyone who comes near you."

"Tempting," Sansa said. "But actually, I planned to watch the tournament with someone else that day. From home."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Someone else?"

Sansa's cheeks turned pink. "Margaery."

Arya gave her a look. "Hmm. That is interesting."

"It's not," Sansa said. "She is married."

"To a man who is not interested in women," Arya said. "In fact, I seem to recall that man kissing her brother on their wedding day."

Sansa shrugged. "Still. It's nothing like that."

"Mm hmm. Sure." Arya winked as she backed out of the room. "Enjoy yourself then."

She found Robb and her mother together in the office so she extended the offer to both of them. Robb exhaled. "Gods, I wish I could. But I really have to keep my schedule open for work, Arya."

"And I know you don't really want your mother tagging along with your friends," Catelyn said. "I actually had plans for that day. I'm going to visit your Aunt Lysa."

"Aunt Lysa," Arya said. "You really want to speak with her after…everything?"

"Baelish manipulated her like he did many of us," Catelyn said. "And I'm worried for her. Once the trial starts, her name may get dragged into the mess. I want to make sure she's all right. She's still my sister."

"Sure," Arya said. "Be careful though."

"I will," Catelyn said. "You too."

Jon was her last invite extended, and he turned it down because he had a shift that day. Couldn't get out of it, what with being a rookie. Most people wanted to ditch work for the tournament after all and someone had to cover it.

Her friends, however, were all ecstatic about the possibility. Lommy and Hotpie wouldn't shut up about it for an hour after she told them and even Gendry was grinning wider than usual. Myrcella accepted the invite as well, asking if Tommen could tag along.

"I don't think he's gotten out of the house enough since Joffrey's death," Myrcella said. "I think it'd be nice for him to make new friends."

"I don't know if your mother would approve of those new friends," Arya said.

"He's an adult. He doesn't need her permission." Myrcella smiled. "I think it's clear by now that I don't choose my friends based on my mother's approval."

Arya grinned. "Yeah, you'd be far away from me if you did."

"And I'm not going anywhere," Myrcella said, kissing her on the cheeks.

Arya expected to deal with some reporters that day of course. The stadium would be flooded with them. But she was looking forward to it none the less. It would be just one more step to helping her feel like the old Arya again.

One step at a time, she was getting back to all of that.

It had happened. The Tyrells finally got their hands on the Baratheon company. The "merger" was announced in the news one morning—a fine little euphemism for a 'hostile takeover'. Tywin saw several images of Renly Baratheon shaking hands with Olenna Tyrell. With her son Mace. His smile was one of defeat. Of a man that had tried to keep hold of his company but had the rug ripped out from under him.

He should have known better than to tangle with the Tyrells, Tywin thought.

He called Olenna that same morning to offer his congratulations. She laughed at the thought.

"Ah yes, I'm sure this is just a friendly call. We have so many of those," Olenna said. "Let's be honest with each other, Tywin. You want to know my intentions for the Baratheon company."

"I assumed it was gaining a further monopoly on your industries," Tywin said.

"Yes, one could say that," Olenna said. "But you'd do the same if given the opportunity. In fact, I'm reasonably sure you have. The Martells. And then there was that business in Braavos."

"Business that you were also involved in if I recall," Tywin said.

"I'm not pointing fingers. Just stating facts," Olenna said. "It's funny. So many people speak of justice. Karma. That the guilty get their due. But it seems that one can buy their way out of justice with enough money. Otherwise, you and I would have fallen from grace long ago."

"Perhaps," Tywin said. "I'm not interested in karma. I'm interested in the future of our working relationship."

"I'm sure you are," Olenna said. "Not to worry, Tywin. As always…I'll follow our contracts."

The vague statement was tantamount to a declaration of war. That the moment those contracts ran out, she would make her move on him. The Starks as well. After all, the Baratheons were one of their chief allies. This merger would affect them a great deal.

Their ally had disappeared. Tywin's ally was hiding a knife behind it's back. And it was that fact that drove him to make a peculiar call—one to Robb Stark.

The boy picked up quickly, sounding confused. "Mr. Lannister. Can I help you?"

"Possibly," Tywin said. "You saw the news about the Baratheons and the Tyrells?"

"I did." He could here the exhaustion in his voice. "Just one more problem to the pile."

"Yes. I believe this is a merger that effects both of our companies," Tywin said. "As such, I'd like to meet with you."

"You would?" Robb asked.

"Yes," Tywin said. "I think it's time we reassessed our alignments."

Ygritte got Jon the meeting. Which was what he wanted, of course, but he couldn't help but feel nervous at the prospect of meeting with the infamous Mance Rayder, a self-proclaimed enemy of the Watch. He wouldn't want to talk to any cop. Wouldn't want to work with one because he didn't trust them. And he knew the Watch as well as anyone.

A year ago, Jon might have dismissed him completely. But he had seen a great deal of corruption in the Watch since joining. Hiding evidence, accepting bribes, planting drugs on Wildlings. Even if there were good people within it, the system itself was rotting from the inside.

Ygritte took Jon to a street corner where they waited for a car. He slipped into the back and didn't protest when she blindfolded him.

"You said it would be fine," she reminded him.

"I know, I know," Jon said with a sigh.

He didn't try to keep track of the turns in his mind. He knew they would be taking a few long routes in order to throw him off. He just sat in the back quietly, without protest. Ygritte had taken his phone and turned it off. If he didn't trust Ygritte, he would assume he was being kidnapped or taken to a second location to be murdered.

At last, the car pulled to the stop and Ygritte helped him from the car. He followed her lead into a building and down a few flights of stairs. His boots struck concrete and he knew they must be underground. She helped him sit in a chair. Then removed the blindfold.

Mance Rayder was sitting right across from him at the table. Jon had seen his face plenty of times on the news, so it almost strange to see him here. Just a man. A tall man, but a man none the less. Jon gave him a nod.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"I wouldn't have," Mance said. "But Ygritte spoke highly of you. Says you helped her escape your colleagues once."

"She hadn't done anything wrong," Jon said.

"And yet they would have arrested her anyway," Mance said.

"I know," Jon said. "I know how you feel about the Watch. I think we might agree on some points. But that's not why I asked for the meeting."

"No. It's not." He leaned back in his seat. "You want to know about Long Night."

"I want to know about the one who makes it. Distributes it," Jon said. "It sounds like one man has a monopoly on the recipe."

"Yes. He's very protective of that recipe too. And always changing it," Mance said. "But the police have never really shown an interest in going after the source. They're content to arrest the small time dealers and users and claim they're keeping the streets safe. So what changed?"

"I'm not really here for the police," Jon said. "It's my brother who wanted me to meet with you."

"Your brother?" Mance asked.

"He's too smart for his own good. And he knows more about this city than I ever could. He's young, but give him a few years, and I'm sure he'll be on par with the spider." Jon exhaled. "He can see how bad this is getting. And he has an instinct that it's only going to get worse. I trust that instinct. So I agreed to try to meet with you. Get some sort of lead on this Night King so that the police can go after the head of the snake."

"You think they'll listen to a tip from a wildling?" Mance asked.

"They don't have to know where the tip came from," Jon said. "My brother can find something concrete enough that they have to jump on it."

Mance stroked his chin. "Your brother seems like an interesting person."

"He is," Jon said. "And… if you're looking for information, he might be able to give some to you in return for this. He's less elusive than the Spider."

"That's good to know. I'll keep that in mind," Mance said. "Unfortunately, I don't have anything so clear as an address. He makes sure to move frequently, and we haven't had a working relationship in some time."

"That's fine," Jon said. "Whatever you can give me."

"Well…as I'm sure you've noticed, Long Night is sending more and more of its users into violent rages," Mance said. "It's an uncommon symptom for first timers or even second timers. But the more addicted you get, the more likely it is to take hold. That's why people are still risking the drug even with it making national news. They have to scratch that itch, no matter the consequences. Or they just think it won't happen to them." He traced his finger along the edge of the table. "But the Night King had bigger plans that that. It wasn't just about getting a small population of King's Landing addicted and causing a bit of chaos. He was interested in manufacturing a new form of the drug. A gaseous form that could be used as a weapon."

Jon's eyes widened. "So that he could force several people to ingest it at once."

"Exactly," Mance said. "Learning about that ambition of his. That's what made me end our working relationship." He shrugged. "It was a lofty ambition though. He couldn't figure out how to manufacture it safely. Couldn't get the chemical composition quite right. He's likely still trying to come up with the perfect recipe."

"But he could crack the code at any time," Jon said. "And then what would he do?"

"No telling," Mance said. "But he would use it. Without hesitation, he'd use it. He doesn't care who inhales it. Rich. Poor. Friend. Foe. He just wants to see the city descend into chaos." He sighed. "We shared some views. Sometimes the only way to fix a system is to burn it down and start from scratch. But he's not interested in the 'fixing' bit."

Jon nodded slowly. "Sounds like something the police would want to act on quickly then."

"I wouldn't mind if they did," Mance said. "This will end up effecting a lot of wildlings if they don't. They might even get blamed for playing a part in it."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Jon said. "That the blame goes to the right people."

Mance smiled a little. "So…you're one of those cops that's still an idealist."

"Trying to be," Jon said. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll become as bitter as you given time."

Mance laughed at that. Then he pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down a number. "I have this. Near as I can tell…this is still the number he uses. Very few people have it. Not even the Spider."

"I bet the Spider has been dying to get his hands on it," Jon said. "Why give it to me?"

"Because I like you," Mance said. "I don't like the Spider, or his prices. I might like your brother's a bit more, since you claim he may one day rival him. It seems your brother isn't just a spectator. He cares about what happens in this city."

"He does," Jon said. "If you give me your number, he can introduce himself."

Mance smiled. "I'm not going to give my number to anyone still working for the Watch. But I'm sure if your brother's skills are worth anything, he'll find me."

"Fair enough." Jon took the piece of paper from his hand. "Thank you. I hope we get a chance to speak again."

"Do you?" Mance asked.

"Surprisingly yes," Jon said. "I may be an idealist trying to make things better. But that's only because I see things are wrong."

Mance's mouth twitched. "Well…we'll see if our paths cross again." He glanced at someone over Jon's shoulder. And the blindfold fell over his eyes again. "Good luck."

Bran had tracked many people before using a number. But there was something dangerous about this. Based on everything Jon had told him from the meeting, the Night King wasn't like the Spider. He wasn't a neutral party looking down on the world and gathering information. He was a malevolent force that wanted to see it burn.

But that was exactly why he had to track him down. And maybe once he did… Maybe he could give that information to Jon and the police could take it from there. Assuming, of course, that the police trusted his word any more than they trusted Mance Rayder.

I got them Ramsay Snow, Bran said. That gives me some credibility.

So he started simple. He started by calling the number.

It rang five times. Bran was expecting it to go straight to voicemail. But then it stopped ringing. There was silence on the other end. Silence and faint breathing.

Bran swallowed hard, switching on his voice modulator. Then he spoke. "This is the Night King?"

No reply. But Bran knew he must be listening.

"I've seen your work around King's Landing," Bran said. "I must say…I'm a fan of what you've done. You've got the police running wild. But I'm guessing you have bigger plans. I could help with that. I'd like to meet. Talk further. You can decide the time and place. I understand you might not trust me."

The silence continued and Bran held his breath within it. Then the dial tone rang loud and clear.

Bran let the phone drop away from his ear with a sigh. That's fine. The call connected. He could use that.

But before he could begin his search, a text came through.

With a date.

A time.

And an address.

For my curious caller, the final message said. And for some reason, just those four simple words set Bran's heart racing.

A/N: The Night King and Bran have made contact. Let's see how that goes for all parties involved :) Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!