Hi,
A continuation of this sherlock/GOT fusion story. It's really fun to write!
Chapter 3: Family Reunion
Next day …
Warehouse, East London
Tyrion tucked his scarf into his vest and poked his head around the corner. The warehouse appeared completely unguarded. There were no men on the padlocked gates or milling around the area outside.
"The coast looks clear," Jaime said, adjusting his bowl hat just above Tyrion.
"It appears so …" Tyrion trailed off, looking behind them to the noisy and busy street.
Jaime fingered the gun in his pocket, "We should have got the Inspector to help us."
"What Bronn? No, he's the most bent police officer I've ever encountered."
"Yes, but it's our father's money he takes and his men would have been useful in clearing out this warehouse."
"The opponent we face will not be beaten with brute force and besides father came to us to find Cersei so obviously the police on his payroll were useless in this matter. We have found Cersei ourselves, now let's go get her."
"Fine but we should do this as quickly as possible; something feels amiss."
"Agreed," Tyrion said, already working on the padlock that fell from the gate seconds later.
The brother's made their way through the gate towards the warehouse, their eyes darting everywhere, alert for an ambush or any hint of movement.
"Tyrion!" Jaime yelped as he spotted Cersei through the rows of crates sitting on the ground in the open central area of the warehouse. He ran towards her without hesitation.
Their sister was sitting cross-legged on the ground with a gas mask on top of her head. She was chewing her fingernails and looking down at a white marked equation on the floor while waving a white chalk piece in her hand. As they approached, they saw two rough-looking men lying still a few metres behind Cersei and a large rectangular table with wires and machine parts splayed everywhere. The smell of chemicals was heavy in the air.
Jaime knelt by their sister but her focus wouldn't move from the equation on the floor.
"Cersei? Cersei?" Jaime tried, griping her arm and shaking her gently.
Tyrion went to examine the table, climbing up one chair and walking on the table.
"Cersei what happened to those men," Jaime asked, pointing behind her after he finally established eye contact.
She looked behind her shoulder then shrugged.
"They are dead and were clearly Cersei's minders," Tyrion offered, from the table before jumping down and rummaging through the men's pockets, "Judging by the remaining components she has already made her bomb and those men were left behind to dispose of our dear sister."
"How did you get here?" Jaime asked softly.
But before Cersei could answer a ticking sound started to echo around the warehouse.
"Cersei … what is that?" Jaime inquired as Tyrion rushed towards the sound.
"A prototype gas bomb!" Cersei said, excitedly pulling the gas mask down over her face.
Jaime cupped her cheeks, "Cersei please stop it."
"Why?" came the innocent response, muffled by the mask.
"Because I don't want to die. If that goes off, I would be gone. You wouldn't see me again," Jaime stressed.
"Oh," Cersei muttered her shoulders sagging.
"Found it," Tyrion shouted, standing over a whirling contraption that had two glass cylinders attached to either side and a ticking clock face in the middle.
"Don't touch it," Cersei said, as she pushed from the ground and skipped over to Tyrion.
"There are only thirty seconds left on the timer," Tyrion urged.
"I know, I built it," Cersei tutted.
"You built it and set it so it would go off while you were still here?!"
"Yes, I wanted to see the dispersal rate of the gas first hand," she replied testily, tapping the rubbery mask around her face.
Tyrion looked at the powdery substance in the glass cylinders then to the timer ticking rapidly down, "Tell me that isn't poisonous."
"Fine, it's not poisonous," Cersei said cheerfully, clearly following Tyrion's words as if they had been an order.
Disarm it Cersei!" Tyrion yelped.
"Ask nicely!" Cersei demanded childishly, stomping her foot and pushing the mask off her face to discard it on the floor.
"Cersei please," Jaime said as he watched the ticker get down to ten seconds on the clock.
Their sister let out a stroppy huff but quickly pulled out two wires from the dozen and took the clock out.
"You ruined my experiment!" she complained.
"We'll run it again later," Jaime assured her, patting her shoulder.
Tyrion wiped his brow and took a deep breath, "Who took you from Sherrington?"
"A kind woman that smelt of roses and a mean man that had gunpowder all over him."
"Why was she nice and he mean?" Tyrion asked, glad to be back investigating the case and not avoiding being blown up.
"The lady gave the two men cups of tea before she left while the man just shouted orders all the time."
"The kind lady gave the men cups of tea," Tyrion repeated as he looked at the recently deceased men on the floor. "How … nice of her."
Jaime put his large coat over Cersei, "We need to get out of here."
"Agreed."
Cersei furrowed her eyebrows, "What about the other bomb? Don't you want me to defuse that one as well?"
"Other bomb?" Jaime spluttered.
Tyrion eyes snapped to the now inert gas bomb, "You made two?"
Cersei nodded proudly, "The men said it was a birthday present."
"Seven Hells!" Jaime blasted, "It's the King's birthday today. There is a party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate."
"Let's go!" Tyrion shouted, already racing to the exit.
An hour later …
Lord Lannister's London Residence (Casterly Rock), Central London
Tywin sat in his office, going over the latest accounts when a knock disturbed his concentration.
A wigged head whipped around the door, "Sir, there is a lady in the waiting room."
"Who?"
"Lady Arryn."
He didn't need to ask which one.
"Take her through to the library."
"Not the lounge?" the servant replied, puzzled by the change in protocol.
Tywin gave the young footman a severe glare, "Did I say lounge?"
The young man's head dipped, "No, your Lordship."
"Show her to the library and tell her I will be with her momentarily."
Tywin pushed open the doors to his grand library and spotted Kenna sitting in one of two large armchairs in the corner of the room. She was wearing a tight-fitting light blue dress with a white shawl draped around her shoulders. She had already found his stash of alcohol in the trolley by the chairs and her head was buried in a book while a sleek hand was snaked around a glass of red liquid.
Make yourself at home, Tywin thought sarcastically as he glided past the richly coloured bookshelves that surrounded the central aisle and the main reading area by the unlit fireplace to stop behind Kenna's chair. She smelt of lavender and roses.
"A bit early for sherry wouldn't you say, Lady Kenna?"
Kenna flinched as his voice crashed all around her, "Lord Tywin, today is going to be a trying one." She closed the book and placed it on the side table then gestured to the table by the opposite chair, "I poured you one too."
"Am I going to have a trying day too?"
"I suspect you will," Kenna replied, watching him sink into the armchair.
"I'm surprised you aren't at the King's birthday celebrations. With the announcement your sister is marrying Prince Benjen I thought you'd get an invitation at least," Tywin probed, picking up the sherry glass and taking a sweet sip. "You look dressed for the occasion."
Kenna smiled, "Thank you for noticing. I'd give anything to be in my breeches and shirt right now." The image cast both back to their first meeting in Tyrion's office. "But I'll make it to the evening's festivities, I hope. I'm not one to miss a good party."
"Why are you here and not there? Are my sons well?" Tywin asked taking another sip as his eyes searched the lady in front of him.
"My visit has nothing to do with your sons," Kenna said, nursing the sherry glass in both hands.
"What does it have to do with then, the Mockingbird?"
"Why must everything be business related?"
"Because everything is always business related."
Kenna sighed before finishing her glass and placing it aside, "Who are you backing in the next General Election?"
"Why would that matter to you?"
"I've been asked to help fund a … friends run to be Prime Minister," Kenna said slowly observing Tywin's every move closely, "I'd like to know I'm not throwing my money away by competing against you."
Tywin cleared his dry throat, "I didn't know your family had enough wealth to be dabbling in funding politicians."
"We have made good investments in recent years and the name 'Arryn' goes far in certain circles as I'm sure you know."
Tywin nodded, understanding legacy still counted for much in the upper echelons of society but this was a topic that could have waited for another day. She's here for another reason, one that is much more pressing than the next General Election.
"I'm not backing a specific person but the Whigs party in general," he revealed, tugging at his high collar.
"Good, our purses won't clash then."
Tywin blinked slowly. "Is that really why you came, to play political matchmaker? Politics isn't for the young or the inexperienced."
Kenna hesitated and bit her lip. "My friend might be a newcomer to party politics but he is experienced in and rather good at getting what he wants."
Tywin let out a single laugh, "I wasn't referring to your friend but he should know politics is a nest of vipers. He will have to be willing to get stung every so often."
Kenna's fingers tapped the armrest as if waiting for something, "I imagine he thinks he will be the one doing the stinging."
"They always do," Tywin cleared his throat again and a flash of realisation zipped through his eyes. He placed the sherry glass down and fixed Kenna with a cold stare, "Your visit was pleasant but I have work to attend to."
"Oh, it's too late now Lord Tywin," Kenna said with a twisted smile.
Before he could shout out, she was straddling his lap with one hand covering his mouth and the other pressed a slim knife to his neck.
She answered his demanding eyes, "As you remarked earlier, you have an army protecting you but the Mockingbird is a powerful and resourceful enemy to have. A frontal assault would have been stupid and ineffectual but you don't vet your guests as well as you do your servants and soldiers."
Tywin growled against her hand, despite his evident fading strength. He tried to struggle, choosing a quicker death by the blade rather than a slower one by the presumed poison coursing through his veins but his limbs were heavy and uncoordinated. The lady on top of him just let him tire himself out but curiously the blade in her hand never bit into his flesh.
"Sshh," Kenna cooed feeling Tywin's body relax underneath her despite the angry look in his eyes, "It's better if you don't struggle against it."
After a few more seconds she experimentally lifted her hand. Tywin took in gulps of air as sweat started to dribble down the sides of his head.
"What did you … put in the sherry?"
"Nothing good I'm afraid."
"Tyrion and Jaime will figure out what happened here," Tywin rasped lightly as if out of breath, "they will figure out your connection to the Mockingbird … that he is your … friend … Professor Baelish. You will be hanged for this."
"He's not my friend. He's my employer," Kenna said, clapping the knife against her palm at his correct deduction, "Perhaps your sons will work it out and prove your innocence. Petyr is certainly wary enough of Tyrion but I learnt a long time ago that there is no beating Petyr."
Innocence? Tywin squinted as his vision started to blur but he still had enough sense to note he was missing something here. Not that it mattered, he couldn't do anything now but try to focus on those two blue eyes staring down at him. "Why are you doing this? What is he to you?"
Kenna slid her knife back up her sleeve but her eyes stayed on her hand fiddling at her wrist, "As you eluded to earlier my family have never been particularly wealthy and when my father died we had no income. No pennies to rub together. Our estates were going to be taken away. Alyssa and mine lavish upbringing to be brought to an end and our future prospects to be lowered. But someone came to our rescue."
"Baelish," Tywin slurred out.
"Yes, he saw an opportunity to invest in our futures," Kenna said, stroking his cheek and whispering into his ear, "I'm sorry for this but I have no choice. I owe him."
Tywin didn't have the energy to reply but his eyes followed Kenna as she slowly climbed off him and checked the golden pocket watch hanging from his waistcoat.
"Plenty of time," Kenna muttered.
Plenty of time for what? echoed in Tywin's mind as the darkness dragged him into a deep slumber.
Kenna only moved to complete her true task once she'd seen Tywin's chest rise and fall a few times. She pulled out a ledger and a couple of small paper schematics from the bag she had brought with her and placed them carefully amongst the bound books around the library. Once she had completed her job she gave the dosing Lord one last wavering look - it's you or me and I'll always choose me - before turning and exiting the house the same way she came in. She walked down the steps of the mansion, past the open gate to the waiting carriage on the cobbled street.
As soon as she opened the door a hand on her wrist pulled her in and the carriage began its journey along the cobbled streets of London.
"Is it done?"
Kenna registered the question as her back hit the padded seat. She smiled at the man who still held her wrist in a firm grip.
"Checking up on me, Bolton?"
"Yes."
Kenna rolled her eyes playfully, fully aware of the penetrating pale blue ones accosting her, "Yes. Everything is in place. What did you do with the steward?"
"He's in the trunk," Ramsey replied coldly, letting go of Kenna and retying his scruffy bowtie around his neck.
"Alive?"
"No."
Kenna tensed her jaw, "That was unnecessary."
"Perhaps, but our boss doesn't like loose ends Lady Kenna."
I'm well aware, Kenna replied soundlessly, knowing the man sitting next to her was her employer's hammer while she was his scalpel.
Author Notes:
Any idea what is going on? Tyrion and Jaime to the rescue? But who's rescue? xD
For non-British people, General Election is how we vote in our next leader (Prime Minister). The Whigs party was the historical equivalent of the Conservatives we have today in the UK. I'm using the Sherlock universe names as 'code names' in this story - any guesses on who is Moran?
Reviews
Supremus85 – Yes, she is a sort of spy/assassin type figure at the minute. Ooo interesting prediction.
Ksyushangel – They are for now. The back story will be revealed soon.
Recey2010 – Thanks, me too!