A/N: This chapter could also be named "Kallypso sets the pieces for the climax" but then it'd be too long. Anyhow. Enjoy :)

Chapter 58: Witness

"Bran, you know I'm not letting you anywhere near the Night King," Jon said. "You've got to know that."

"I'm not asking to be near him," Bran said. "I'm asking to be near the address he gave. And to be a distraction."

"Explain to me how that's better," Jon said.

"I don't mean I'm going to drop my wheel chair down from the ceiling and give a performance," Bran said. "I mean computer stuff. If he's got security in there—and he almost certainly does—I can hack it. And then I can talk to him via the phone while you guys are getting in position. You know. Help you get the jump on him."

"But what if he finds you," Jon asked.

"He won't," Bran said. "By the time he realizes I've been distracting him, he'll be too preoccupied with the police at his door."

Jon gave him a skeptical look and Bran sighed.

"And here I thought you'd have more faith in me." He turned back toward his computer. "Look the likelihood that this is his main operation is 0%. It's an old warehouse. It might be a place he stores some of his product, but it won't have the security of his main base. The point is, if you can apprehend him, you might be able to find it."

"What if he doesn't come himself?" Jon asked.

"Wouldn't be surprising. But he'll someone he trusts," Bran said. "And he might be able to lead you back to the main guy. At the very least he'll have a phone overflowing with information you can use."

Jon ran a hand through his hair. "If you're getting involved, I have to clear it with the chief."

"Makes sense."

"And with your mom."

"Oh, you don't have to."

"Bran."

Bran leaned back in the chair. "Fine. When you talk to her tell her it's no more dangerous than what I did to help get Sansa."

"Which was actually pretty dangerous," Jon said.

"Well, I'm not one of the people who got injured," Bran said. "So if it goes the same way, I'll be fine."

"I'll talk to her," Jon said. "But no promises. You know she's dealt with enough of her kids being in danger."

"Oh so it's okay for you to be in danger then?" Bran asked. "You know you're her kid too."

Jon shrugged. "It's my job."

"So I should get a dangerous job then?"

"No that's not the message you're supposed to get from that actually."

Bran smiled a little. "Listen, I won't be scaring her even a tenth as much as Arya has scared her lately. Scouts honor."

"Like I said. No promises." Jon stood. "But…I appreciate you getting this information for us."

"Plenty more where that came from once we take this guy down," Bran said.

He was projecting a bit more confidence than he felt, admittedly. This warehouse probably did have good security and there was no guarantee he'd actually send anyone. But he had some hope because of the date. He chose the beginning of the King's Landing tournament as their meetup. A time when much of the Watch was occupied trying to keep the peace and quell potential riots. And if they weren't assigned to the tournament, they had taken a day off to watch it.

So the Night King was suspicious of him. But that also meant he had something to fear. And anyone with something to fear was only human in the end.

It had taken a lot of persuading for Catelyn to agree to Bran helping Jon out with his latest police investigation, and she only allowed it with the caveat that he never step out of the van or get anywhere near the actual conflict. And that he be at least one officer the whole time.

In truth, she knew Bran had been sticking his head into potentially dangerous information for a while. At the very least, this time, he was doing so with the help of the police. It was better than doing it on his own, and she figured she should encourage that instinct.

Or maybe the past year of her children being in danger made this seem mild in comparison. But she trusted Jon if he said he could keep Bran safe.

It was a day of a lot of interesting meetings it seemed. Not just Bran and Jon trying to arrest a major kingpin. She also had a meeting with Lysa, which she was absolutely dreading. And Robb, against all odds, was meeting with Tywin to discuss changes in the business relationship of their companies.

Never thought I'd see the day that happened, Catelyn thought. But ever since the Tyrell takeover of the Baratheons, it was certainly a necessary meeting.

She called Tywin on her way to visit Lysa, just to affirm his intentions for the meeting. "Are the Tyrells really so much of a worry that you'd consider allying with the Starks?" she asked. "Improved personal relationship aside, we've never worked together in a business capacity before."

"Adaptability is how businesses survive," Tywin said.

"True enough," Catelyn said. "But whatever agreement you draw up, I'll be reading it in full. If there's any questionable wording, I will find it."

"I have no doubt," Tywin said. She could almost hear his smile through the phone. Or his version of a smile at least. "You're speaking with your sister today?"

"I am. I'm not looking forward to it," Catelyn said. "When all of this is over…do you think there's a chance she goes to jail?"

"That will depend entirely on whether or not Baelish throws her under the bus," Tywin said. "Which he will, if we accuse him of having anything to do with Jon Arryn's death. Which isn't necessary to put him away of course. We have evidence enough against him in other areas to put him away for a long time."

"Yes," Catelyn said. "But still…Jon Arryn was a good man. If she killed him…well Ned wouldn't like the idea of her getting away with it." She sighed. "Maybe that's why I'm going today. I want to see if she's remorseful about it. If she was threatened or backed into a corner or if she…wanted him dead."

"Even if she wanted him dead, she'll lie to you," Tywin said.

"I know," Catelyn said. "But I know my sister. She's not a very good liar." Her hand tightened a bit on the wheel. "I might be by your place afterward."

"I'll let you know when your son leaves. Then we can meet," Tywin said. She smiled a little. He had a way of making a secret relationship sound very official.

"All right. Until then."

Catelyn hung up the phone and continued on. She was nearing her sister's house and she grew more restless with each passing minute.

Give me a reason not to accuse you, she thought. Give me a reason not to send my sister to jail.

She could only hope that the gods—and Lysa—would hear her prayer.

Sansa had Robb drive her to the Tyrell townhouse before going off to his meeting. She wanted someone she trusted with her all the way to the door in case a reporter tried to corner her.

Margaery met her out the door with a bright smile. "Sansa. I'm glad you made it." She looped her arm in hers, tugging her through the door. She glanced over her shoulder at Robb. "Thanks for bringing her, prom king."

He rolled his eyes and gave her a little wave. "Let me know when you want to leave, Sansa. I'll come get you."

"Thanks Robb," Sansa said, letting Margaery guide her into the house.

This place was just as well decorated as the house in the country. It was "smaller" but still quite extensive and had a beautiful view. Sansa relaxed now that she was inside.

"Now don't panic, but my grandmother is here," Margaery said. "She'll want to say hi once, but then she'll leave us alone."

"Ah. Right," Sansa said. She had interacted with Olenna Tyrell at a few functions. She was quite the intimidating woman. "I'm not panicking."

"Wouldn't blame you if you were," Margaery said. "I told her not to mention your recent struggles, but she might ignore me. Apologies in advance if she does."

Sansa nodded once, steeling herself as Margaery guided her into the small office room. Olenna was drinking her tea there, looking over a stack of contracts. She glanced up at Sansa with interest.

"Ah. Our Stark guest has arrived I see."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Tyrell," Sansa said with a curtsy.

"Oh, you don't have to lie. I know you didn't come for me." She sipped her tea. "How is your sister?"

"Grandmother," Margaery said.

"You forbid me from asking about Sansa's ordeal. You said nothing about Arya," she said simply.

"My sister is well," Sansa said. "Thank you for asking."

"Quite the story she has," Olenna said. "Kidnapped for years but found her way back home against all odds. I'd love to speak with her some time."

Sansa's jaw tightened and she lifted her chin. "You and thousands of others. But that's her decision. Not mine. And not yours."

Olenna smirked. "Ah. So you're not just a pretty face."

"All right, we're going to watch the tournament now," Margaery said already pulling Sansa from the room. "Have a good day grandmother."

The moment they were in the hall she sighed.

"Gods. I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," Sansa said. "I'm sorry for getting rude with your grandmother."

"No, no, that was brilliant. Just like when you came at those reporters." Margaery smiled. "You should be rude more often, Sansa dear."

Sansa laughed a little. "I'll make an effort."

The Tournament Grounds and every surrounding street and parking lot were absolutely flooded with people. Arya and her friends had gotten there early and parked ten blocks away just to avoid any possible collisions. They were all decked in the gear of their favorite teams. Lommy had painted his face to match the colors of the Stags who were playing the first game of the day against the Dragons. And Hot Pie had brought several different flags with him in support of his favorites.

"I've never been to the Tournament in person," Myrcella said as they made their way down the street. "Always watched it from home. Joffrey used to go though."

"He usually started a fight," Tommen said.

"He always started a fight," Myrcella corrected. "With anyone who dared to suggest the Lions weren't the best team."

"You ever notice how a lot of the teams have animals that match up with the symbols of major companies," Rickon said. "Like, our family has always been big on wolves. The northern team is the Direwolves."

"I think it's because a lot of the richest families in Westeros are major donors," Arya said. "Or they just straight up own the teams."

"Our dad owned the stags," Myrcella said. "I guess Uncle Renly owns it now."

"Which means Olenna Tyrell owns it," Arya said. "I think she owns a few other teams too."

"I think one of our uncles or cousins owns the Lions," Tommen said.

"Gods, are all of the teams owned by fancy people?" Gendry asked. "Makes it harder to root for them."

"Root for the players, not the owners," Arya said.

They made it into the stadium and up several flights of stairs until they reached the box seats. There was plenty of space and a cooler of drinks available in the corner.

"Damn. Never been in one of these before." Lommy snatched a beer from the cooler. "Are these free?"

"If they're not I'll cover them. Help yourself," Arya said.

"Thanks, Arry!" Hot Pie crowed, taking her up on her offer.

Arya peeked out the door, making a cursory check for any threats or reporters. Myrcella came up beside her.

"Are we expecting anyone else?"

"No. I made sure it would just be us."

"Then why are you looking?" she asked. "You're in bodyguard mode, huh?"

"It's instinct," Arya said with a sigh. She did one more check—and stilled when she noticed a familiar face rounding the corner. Oberyn Martell.

She was about to duck back into the room, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he made eye contact.

Seven Hells.

"Arya Stark. I didn't know you had a box here."

"Didn't know you did either," she said, leaning back against the door frame. "It's not mine. Just bought it today for some friends."

"You're generous with your money then," Oberyn said. "My box is a few doors down."

"I see," Arya said. "Well we'll mostly be keeping inside. Trying to avoid reporters. You understand."

"Of course, of course, don't let me bother you," Oberyn said. "You're a Wolves fan, aren't you?"

"Did the shirt give me away?" Arya asked. "I'm guessing you're a Suns fan."

"I am," Oberyn said. "They're playing against your team today I believe."

"They are," Arya said. "Best of luck. You'll need it."

Oberyn just grinned and shook his head, moving on to his box.

Myrcella stuck her head out. "What is with that guy?"

"I don't know," Arya said. "But I don't plan to find out today." She closed the door. "Come on. The first game is about to start."

Bran sat in the back of the unmarked van, typing away at his computers. The ceiling of the van was just high enough to accommodate him in his wheelchair, and he had three additional screens to work with including his own. Right now, he was using them to monitor the cameras of the warehouse. They hadn't been easy to tap into but with a little finagling, he had managed it.

As suspected, this was definitely a warehouse for storage rather than the main operation. There were crates that must have been full of product. But it was completely devoid of people.

Not a surprise, Bran thought. If he expects a possible trap, he doesn't want any of his people to get taken. But I'll have access to the cameras long after this meeting is over. Even if he backs out…I don't think he'll abandon all this product forever.

"How's it going in there, kid?"

Officer Hunt's voice came from the back doors of the van as he leaned through.

"I'm not a kid," Bran said. "I'm eighteen."

"Eighteen is still a kid. Wait til you're my age and you'll understand."

"Could you do this with computers when you were my age?"

"I can't do this with computers now."

"Exactly." Bran glanced over his shoulder. "So don't call me kid."

Hunt smirked. "Yes, sir."

Bran nodded once, going back to the cameras. They were nearing the specified meeting time. He wondered if the Night King would be the type to arrive early or late.

Late, probably, Bran thought. To make people squirm.

"Bran, do you copy?" Jon asked.

"I copy," Bran said. "It looks clean for now. Are you all in position?"

"We have officers eyeing each entrance," Jon said. "Depending on where his people come in, that will depend on how we go about this."

"Right. You have the layout?"

"I do."

"Then I'll be able to tell you the best routes," Bran said. "Right now, it doesn't look like you'll be dealing with any living security."

"That's a little suspicious isn't it?"

"Possibly. It just means we're going to have to be patient. If you guys flood the place too quickly, he'll run. We need him to relax first."

"You think you can get him to relax?"

"Of course, I can," Bran said, not completely sure at all. At the very least, he had a strategy. He'd just have to hope it paid off.

He continued clicking through the camera feeds absently, checking his phone every few minutes as time ticked by. They were five minutes past the meeting time now, so it seemed Bran's instincts about the Night King being a late comer were correct.

"There's a man," Jon said. "He just went in the northside entrance."

"Got it," Bran clicked to the corresponding camera. Sure enough, a man was entering the building. Just one. No guards to accompany him. "Strange that he's alone."

"Makes me think its not the boss," Jon said.

"He probably sent him ahead to see what happens," Bran said, tracking his movement through the cameras. He sure was walking calmly. "Would be surprised if he's watching the cameras from a distance too. But at least we know this is a live feed."

The man came to the center chamber of the warehouse. He grabbed a stool from the edge and set it in the center of the room. Then he sat down. Waited. A few moments later, Bran got a text.

It appears my curious caller is late.

He took a deep breath. "Show time." He glanced back at Hunt. "Close the doors. Keep an eye out."

"You got it," Hunt said, closing the van doors and standing guard.

Bran tapped out an answer. I'm here. You don't expect me to immediately show up in person.

I've shown up in person

How do I know that's really you?

I suppose you could test me.

Bran thought for a moment before he said. Raise your hand.

A pause. Then the man on camera raised his right hand.

Does that satisfy you?

It tells me that you're a voice in his ear at the very least. He's not exactly texting.

I suppose not. But he does have information that you want.

And what is that?

A date when my plans will come to fruition.

I suppose he's one of your trusted people?

He is.

Good to know. Bran paused before typing. I'm guessing I won't be seeing you in person.

That depends. I won't be coming into the building if that's what you're asking. And neither will you.

I guess not. Bran thought. He typed rapidly on the keyboard, replacing the cameras at the entrance with different images. Camouflage to keep the police disguised as they entered.

Am I allowed to send a messenger in then? To acquire the information?

If you so choose.

"Jon," he spoke into his mic. "It's not the real guy. But he's also not coming in. I have the fake camera feeds up. You should be able to move in unnoticed until you get to the main room."

"Will you still be able to see us?" Jon asked.

"Yeah. I've got the real feeds on a different screen," Bran said. "Point is, he won't be able to see."

"Got it," Jon said. "Does the guy have anything?"

"A date," Bran said. "Of when his plans come to fruition."

"Shit," Jon said. "That probably means the gas is almost ready to go."

"Yeah," Bran said. "This guy definitely connected to the Night King, so he's a lead, even if he's not the main guy."

"All right." A pause, then: "We're moving in."

Bran nodded, settling back in his chair as he glanced over at the real feeds. He typed out another response to the Night King.

I hope we'll be able to speak more. Maybe on that date you have on that paper. Once I see the results, I might be willing to invest.

Kind of you.

Bran clicked through the feeds. He didn't see the police entering yet and his brow furrowed.

"You're going in?" Bran asked Jon.

"Yeah, we are," Jon said.

Bran scanned the cameras. He didn't see them. Not on any of the screens. The only person still on screen was the man in the chair.

It's the same trick, Bran thought. Replacing the feed. He had the same thought as me.

"Jon," he said. "You need to get out of there. It's a trap."

Static met his call. He tried again, his voice growing frantic.

"Jon. Do you—"

A gun shot sounded from behind the van and Bran froze. He turned to see a splatter of blood across the back windows of the van. The shadow of someone falling to the ground. Then the doors slid open and a man stepped inside.

He was a tall fellow with severe cheekbones and shockingly blue eyes which stood out against the paper white of his skin. And his expression was utterly calm as he sat down in front of Bran, closing the door to the van behind him. He held the gun in one hand almost causally. He held a phone in the other. He tapped something on the screen and a text came through on Bran's phone.

Hello, curious caller.

Bran just stared. Nothing else to do but that. He had a gun on the table, but he would never reach it in time. And he certainly couldn't fight this man off. Neither could Hunt with his blood splattered across the van.

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked. His voice was deep and rough. Almost more of a rumble than a real voice.

"The Night King."

He smiled a thin smile. Nodded. Bran felt a chill go through him.

"I thought you might bring the Watch," the Night King said. "But whether you came alone or with a group, it didn't matter to me."

"Why?" Bran asked. "Why did you agree to meet?"

"Because," the Night King said. "I wanted a witness."

"A witness to what?" Bran asked.

The Night King held out his hand toward Bran's computer. He hesitated to give it up.

"Would you like to fight me for it?" the Night King asked.

Bran handed it over. Watched mutely as the Night King typed away. Then he set the computer on the table where they could both see.

It was live coverage of the King's Landing Tournament.

"A witness to this," the Night King said. "Night is falling, Bran Stark. And we're going to watch it happen."

A/N: The pieces are set, I'm armed with a metaphorical baseball bat and I'm about to start swinging. Should be fun for everyone. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!