Chapter Text
It's the sudden vibration of the phone on Jon's desk that takes his attention away from the report he's working on. He reaches for it and finds a barrage of text messages coming in from Theon Greyjoy, demanding to know where he is and what time they should expect him to arrive.
He takes a glance at his watch, realizing only then that he should've left the office a while ago if he wanted to make it in time for his flight back to Winterfell for Robb's wedding early the next day.
Heaving out a tired sigh, he takes a look around the brightly lit room. At first glance, the place seems like a common office. Fluorescent lights, the old air conditioner humming softly from a distance, plain white walls with generic artwork hung up all around the room. There's about fifteen work desks lined up neatly at the center, and about the same number of people occupying them as they worked.
Careful inspection would reveal the truth, however. Like the gun resting on Edd's desk, the dried blood on the collar of Grenn's otherwise plain blue polo, and Pyp sleeping on his desk with a bruised face and broken arm.
In truth, they were far from normal people. Instead of dwelling on this though, he shakes off the stray thoughts and refocuses himself on finishing his report. He leans over his desk to scan the document carefully for any visible errors, making sure he'd thoroughly included all necessary details before finally logging it into their database.
"That's me done for the night," he announces half an hour later, turning to Grenn one desk over with a smug expression on his face for finishing his work first. "See you all in a week."
Jon stands up to stretch his aching limbs, preparing to leave, and he's just grabbed his coat from the back of his chair when he hears someone call for him.
"Snow. Director wants you in the briefing room," Agent Thorne, one of his superiors, informs him, giving him the usual sour look that's often reserved just for him. He doesn't wait for Jon to respond before heading back to his own office. "Now."
Jon rolls his eyes in slight irritation; the guy was his Supervising Officer when he first joined the agency. He was tough, didn't like him very much, and always tried to make his life a living hell. The years haven't made him any less frustrating but Jon has faced far more threatening people in his eight years working as an agent of the Night’s Watch to still be affected by his former S.O's ire.
"You were so close to getting away," Grenn quips, a playful smirk on his face. "Are you getting a new mission, do you think? Guess you'll have to miss your little vacation again then, huh?"
His brows crease into a frown as he grabs his phone from his desk. "I'm not missing anything," he mutters, somewhat defensive. His friends in Winterfell have complained about his constant absence during many important life events enough times that it's become a touchy subject for him. It comes with the job but it doesn't mean he has to like it. “I can't be getting a new mission this soon. Sam hasn't even cleared me from medical yet."
It turns out that he’s wrong; the director of the agency is already waiting for him at the briefing room when he arrives, sitting thoughtfully at the frontmost seat at the round table. There's another agent present there and Jon immediately recognizes the guy as someone from the tech department.
"Agent Snow, I'm glad we caught you before you left," Director Mormont greets him upon his entry, gestures at the other agent. "You know Agent Waters?"
"Yes, sir," he answers and nods to Gendry in greeting.
They've previously worked on a few recons together; the guy is smart, efficient, pretty funny, and works well under pressure. He's new to the agency but Jon thinks he'd be a pretty decent asset years down the line, definitely someone he would want watching his back on ops.
"Good. Come and sit, son. We have a lot to discuss."
Jon does as asked, sitting on the empty chair next to Gendry, who slides a folder towards him; it's a file on some guy named Robert Arryn, 22 years old, heir to one of the largest companies in the South -- at least until he was murdered in his sleep six months ago.
"This case crossed our radar a few months back," Mormont begins to explain. "We believe it's connected to one of our inactive cases, a pretty old one, but we thought it was necessary to pursue the lead. Agent Waters, if you please?"
Gendry rises from his seat to stand at the front with his laptop on hand. He types in a few commands until his screen is projected on the screen behind him.
He clears his throat before turning his attention to Jon. "Uh, the victim’s name is Robert Arryn, as stated on the folder I just handed you. Based on the police report, they've identified three possible suspects to his murder, all of whom are connected to him in one way or the other. Two has been cleared --" the screen turns to an image of a woman, probably in her mid-forties to early fifties. She has pale blue eyes and long auburn hair, her facial features resembling the victim's significantly. "Lysa Arryn, mother to the victim. She’s forty-seven years old and died of a heart attack just a day following his son’s death. Doctors said she became hysterical when she found out Arryn died and they couldn’t tie her to the crime so the police cleared her from the investigation."
Next, Gendry shows them a picture of a male suspect; he’s probably around the same age as the woman but he looks much younger. The man has sandy grey hair, thin facial hair on the chin. He has sharp features, and an expression on his face that seems both taunting and smug.
"Petyr Baelish, Robert Arryn's stepfather. He's forty-five, has been married to Lysa Arryn for a decade now. Police cleared him pretty quickly, he has an airtight alibi and no clear motive. We don't have much on him, either, so that leaves our third and most likely candidate - "
Gendry turns to the next slide of his presentation. "Harry Hardyng, 26 years old, served in the Southern army for a few years before he was discharged, currently the CEO of a company in the Eyrie called Ironoaks. Based on what we know so far he has the most to gain from Robert's death." Gendry takes a breath before continuing. "He's a distant relative to the victim and the only remaining heir to the entire Arryn fortune."
Jon leans over the table, confused for multiple reasons. First of all, this didn't seem like a case the agency would normally take an interest in. Second, he's not sure what he's even doing in there. It's only been weeks since he got off the year long mission from Hardhome and like he'd told Grenn, he's not cleared from medical yet so this can't possibly be a new op for him.
"Forgive me, sir, but -- " He turns to the Director, trying to word his thoughts properly before speaking. "I know I haven’t heard much of this yet but this case seems motivated by a personal agenda. Arryn is a businessman, there’s no obvious political gain or ramification connected to his death. This won't have any effect on a national level, security or otherwise. It just doesn't seem like a case for us."
"Not on the surface, no,” Mormont grants, his expression thoughtful as he regards Jon. “But like I've mentioned, it may be linked to one of our old cases. Whoever wanted Robert Arryn dead didn't want to get their hands dirty. They hired someone else for the job."
Jon feels his body freeze as the puzzles start to click into place, his heartbeat coming quicker than before. There’s only one reason they’d think he’d be interested in this.
"You mean -- "
"Forensic evidence ties this murder to Ilyn Payne, alias The Butcher. He's responsible for at least two dozen more crimes," Gendry is the one to say, typing on his laptop to pull up an old file that Jon already knows so well. "His last kill fell under the Night's Watch jurisdiction -- the assissination of presidential candidate, Ned Stark."
"Why... why are you telling me all this?" he directs his question at Mormont, confused still.
He draws in a deep breath before glancing up at the screen, greeted by the somber face of a man he always considered a father. He can’t even count the number of times he’d pulled out the same file out of inventory; constantly researching, trying to find the answers to questions that brought him to the Night’s Watch in the first place.
"Because I want you to take the case," Mormont answers, gruff and direct. "That is -- if you choose to take it on."
He frowns at that. "Last time we spoke about this, I begged you to let me reopen the case. You said no, told me it wasn't possible. Told me I was too close to the victim."
"And I stand by that," Mormont tells him. "But things are different now."
"How so?"
"We've been on the Arryn case for months but it hasn't shown progress. I'm afraid the trail is growing cold, which means Payne will get away again if we don't speed up our operations. That is where you come in." Mormont lets out a sigh, fixes him a serious look. "We have an agent assigned to the suspect, Harry Hardyng, but he hasn't gotten close enough to dig deep for intel."
Jon takes the folder in front of him and flips to Hardyng's profile; he's a couple years younger than him, blonde, blue-eyed. Looks like a typical douchey rich boy, really, and the life he's lived based on what they have on him just further proves it. He's also got a military background which could, though unlikely, explain how he got into contact with Ilyn Payne. Maybe a friend knew a friend, got the two in contact.
As soon as Hardyng was discharged, he was immediately placed at the helm of Ironoaks, a company owned by his adoptive parents, both of whom seem to really care for him. He's also been recently engaged to an Alayne Stone, presumably an heiress, but it doesn't say a lot about any of them on the file.
Based on what Jon has read so far, it's safe to assume that life has been kind to Hardyng, which makes him wonder why the guy would risk all that to kill someone. Greed, maybe , he considers. But why make it so obvious? Considering he’s next in line to inherit the family fortune, he should've known that all fingers would point to him as soon as word got out that Arryn was killed.
He has clear motives and he obviously has the means to keep his hands clean, but it all adds up too well for Jon, which is unlike any of the other cases linked to Ilyn. They can always tell it's him because he has a pattern and he uses a signature bullet that ties him to the crime, but this would be the first time that the identity of his benefactor is so... apparent .
So he has to ask: "What makes us so sure Hardyng really ordered the hit?"
"Right now, we can't be sure that he did. But it can't be just anyone -- if not him then it'll be someone else who has plenty to gain from Arryn's death," Mormont grants, letting out a sigh as he leans back on his chair. "That's what we need to find out in order to track Ilyn Payne but we won't be able to unless we get someone into Hardyng's inner circle, someone who can gain his trust and gather intel from the inside."
"You mean me," he states, flat, understanding it all now. That last line is the final piece to the puzzle, it shows him the bigger picture of what Mormont has been getting at all along. But Jon's not just a field agent, he's a specialist. The most important part of his job is to keep his identity hidden; to blend into the shadows and gather information like a ghost. And yet... "You want me to go in without any cover."
"I know it's a big risk but it's our best bet. We can fabricate a new identity, sure, but none believable enough to hold up under scrutiny. In fact, we've tried. Hardyng's people are thorough, sniffs it out in a second. We need someone already on the inside, someone they think they can trust and let through their golden doors."
Jon understands what he means to imply, can even admit that it has its merits. But he's asking for a lot. It's not even the risk; he'd give up everything he has if it means finally repaying Ned Stark for all that he's done for him growing up. But this -- claiming an identity that has brought him nothing but misery?
"Jon, this is the only way. I know it will be difficult but you've infiltrated far more dangerous institutions than this and you've never failed," Mormont points out, not incorrectly, "You’re a man of the Night’s Watch which means you have the perfect skill set for the task at hand and more important than that -- you have the right name."
"And if I say no?"
Mormont humors him; considers the unlikely possibility of him saying no. "We can explore other options, continue with the current Agent in place and wait for him to get up to the ranks to gather intel. It'll take time and resources and it would most likely show very little results, if at all."
Jon's quiet as he considers everything and it's only when his phone vibrates from his pocket that he remembers he's supposed to be halfway to Winterfell by now. He pulls the device out of his pocket, sees the latest message Theon has sent him.
Jon if you don't respond, istg i will go to wherever the hell you are and drag your ass back to winterfell myself , he texts. Robb is counting on you.
As soon as Gendry mentioned Ned Stark's name, there was no way Jon was ever going to say no to this mission. Mormont knows it, he knows it. But the text from Theon, that last line, it feels like a sign somehow.
Jon was sixteen when his mother died of an illness; Ned Stark was the one who took him in after, gave him a home and some semblance of family. Gave him a brother . As difficult as it was for him when Ned died, it was nothing compared to Robb. He didn’t just lose a father, he lost the last remaining piece of the family he once had.
He looks up at Mormont, his mind completely made up. "What do you need me to do?"
Jon misses his flight back to winterfell but he does manage to hitch a ride from a Night's Watch pilot en route to extract an agent from a mission down South. He arrives at the Stark estate just a little after nine in the morning, greeted by Theon at the front gate.
"You couldn't send a single text to let me know you actually were on the way?" he complains as soon as Jon is close enough, punches him lightly on the shoulder. "I would've taken even just an OTW text, you asshole. I thought you went MIA again."
Jon can’t blame him for thinking so; he’d done it too many times to them in the past. It’s not that he wanted to but that he had to. Like so many things, it comes with the job. Once he goes undercover, he can’t make contact with anyone he knows. He supposes a benefit of going into this new op as himself is that he won’t have to do that for the time being.
"I wanted to make you sweat a little," he tells Theon, trying for a laugh.
His friend merely scowls at him, pushing him towards the house. "Go inside and freshen up a bit, yeah? You look a mess. Your room's already set up for you. Be ready in half an hour or I swear I'll really kick your ass."
The house is busy with preparations when he gets inside but he manages to get to his old room on the second floor without much trouble. He takes a quick shower before changing into the suit someone, most likely the bride-to-be herself, had left for him hanging by the closet door.
He doesn’t take long to shower and change so he heads over straight to Robb's room as soon as he's done. He finds the man sitting quietly on the edge of his bed. In that moment, he looks very much like his father; forehead creased as his mind wanders, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue from the dimly lit room that it almost seems gray. The look lasts only for a moment before his face brightens up with a smile upon noticing his arrival.
"You made it," Robb says cheerfully, rising from his bed to give him a tight hug. "Theon owes me ten dragons. He bet me you'd be a no-show."
"I wasn't going to miss this for the world," he assures even as he rolls his eyes, "How are you feeling, man?"
Robb blows out a breath. "Nervous, anxious, but mostly excited. I can't wait to be married, start a family -- the whole thing." His smile falters just a bit. "This house is too big to be on my own, you know?"
Jon nods in understanding, unsure how to respond. He'd lived there himself way back when and even with Robb and Ned there with him, the house still felt lonely. He can't imagine how much worse it must've been after Ned died and he left.
He clears his throat, determined not to let his best friend dwell on his heartaches on his special day. "Well, I heard from Theon that it won't be long before this house is full of little pups again," he says, going for a smile. *When's the baby due?"
"In four months," Robb replies on a laugh, his face brightening up again. "It's insane, really. I can't believe it's all happening. Talisa and I actually visited her doctor just a few days ago and we finally found out the baby's gender."
"Yeah?"
Robb nods. "It's a boy. We're thinking of naming him Eddard."
Jon's smile freezes on his mouth, unsure how to respond when last night's briefing with Director Mormont is still so fresh in his mind. Thankfully, he doesn't have to when Theon pops into the room just in time. He's quiet after that, listening to Robb and Theon exchange familiar banter as they fill him in on things that he'd missed since his last visit.
The wedding is a small and intimate affair, with about seventy guests gathered at the estate in total. Some of them Jon knew from his time in Winterfell, others were complete strangers to him.
There's something odd about the familiarity of it all, he can't help but think as he leans against the railing of the Starks' back patio. Being there, seeing faces he could recognize as they celebrated Robb and Talisa's nuptials. It's somewhat predictable that in the years that he'd been away, Winterfell has remained exactly the same. Strange, though, to realize that of all things, he has changed the most.
He takes a swig from his bottle of beer, quietly observing the guests from a distance. He's never been much for parties, so he enjoys the solitude provided by the obscure hiding spot he's found for himself until Theon ultimately discovers him.
"Fucking hell, you haven't changed a bit," his friend lets him know before dragging him towards the mobile bar where most of his and Robb's friends are at. Jon has met most of them, except for one guy that Theon introduces simply as 'Pod'.
He’s a fairly friendly looking guy; dressed in a crisp blue polo, no tie, and a decently ironed pair of slacks. His shoes look old but well-polished so he probably uses it a lot. The most notable thing about him that Jon notices is how uncomfortable he seems wearing his glasses, so it must be new or just a fashion accessory.
"I think you two will get along," Theon informs them with a grin, patting Jon on the back as he pushes him towards the guy. "You're both extremely antisocial. Talk about that."
Jon rolls his eyes at the comment, offering a hand out to the other guy once Theon has left. "Jon Snow."
His eyes alight with recognition at his name and a shy smile shortly follows. “Ah. I’ve heard a lot about you from Robb,” he says in explanation, ”I’m glad to finally put a face to the name. I'm Podrick.”
“Nice to meet you, Podrick," he replies before taking a thoughtful pause. “You know, your name actually sounds familiar,” he lies, thinking quick. He’s never met the guy, never even heard the name, but it wouldn’t be the first time he's looked into the people around Robb to ensure his safety, and most likely not the last time. “I had a client back in Queenscrown with the same name… Podrick... Davidson?”
“Uh… no. Afraid not,” he replies with an awkward smile. “It’s Payne .”
"Oh. Huh. Sorry, my bad," he replies with an easy laugh, keeping his cool despite the surprise. "I guess I was wrong."
None of the agencies released the name of Ned Stark's killer to the public, not even to the close family of the victim, so the name Payne wouldn't have raised any red flags to Robb. It alarms Jon, though, so he keeps the conversation going for a while, digging for as much information on the guy as he can.
He doesn't learn much, just that Podrick works as a paralegal in Robb's firm. He's new in town, moved in just six months before. Jon doesn't know the exact date but he's pretty sure it would coincide with Robert Arryn's untimely demise. This whole thing could just be a coincidence, he grants, but he doesn't believe in that kind of thing in his line of work. Especially when he knows Ilyn Payne went out of hiding right at the time Podrick moved to Winterfell and wormed his way into Robb’s life.
He immediately takes his phone from his pocket to dial Gendry's number once his conversation with Podrick ends; he looks around him, surveying the area carefully to catch anything out of the ordinary. "Hey, G. Are you still at the base?"
"Uh, yeah. Never left, to be honest,” Gendry responds distractedly, and Jon can hear the muted sound of keyboard keys, “The wifi sucks at my apartment so I usually just - "
""Okay, G. Pause for a second and listen, yeah? I need you to check if Ilyn Payne has any living relatives."
“Oh, uh - yeah, sure. One sec."
Jon hears him typing on his computer again; he tries to be patient as he waits for answers but he feels his anxiety rising when he sees no sign of Robb anywhere as he continues to look around.
"Here, I got it. "Ilyn Payne has just one living relative left, a distant cousin," Gendry lets him know after another minute or so. “Wait, I thought you said you were going on a quick trip home -- why do you want to know this right now?”
Jon ignores the question, shutting his eyes as he tries to think. “Is his name Podrick?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Podrick Payne, twenty-four years old, born and raised in the Westerlands and currently residing somewhere in Winterfell," Gendry answers, confirming his worst suspicions. "There’s not really a lot in his file. Hmm. He went to school in Casterly Rock before getting a full ride to Visenya’s Hill University. He didn’t finish, though. Dropped out in his second year and is currently working at Sapphire Security.”
“Wait. Sapphire Security?” Jon follows up, frowning in confusion. That’s not Robb’s firm. “What do we know about that?"
"Uh… hold on. According to their website it's a private security company owned by a woman named Brienne Tarth. It's only a few years old but they've handled quite a few VIPs -- off the top of the list, Renly Baratheon, the Tyrells, Jaime Lannister. There's a lot more but no one else that stands out. What’s this about?"
Jon takes a calming breath, tries to clear his mind. "I have reason to believe that this Podrick person may be helping his cousin.”
Honestly, Jon doesn't know what to make of the guy; he doesn't seem threatening. If he had to guess, he'd say the guy hasn't seen much combat in his life. Trained, maybe, based on his stance, but doesn't seem like the fighting type. Maybe he's just here to keep an eye on Robb; keep track of his routine, figure out the best way to take him out.
He spots Theon talking to Jeyne Poole a few feet away from him and he moves to approach him immediately.
"G, I gotta go but I need you to do something else for me. Go to Mormont, tell him what I told you and that I'm asking for a security detail to be placed on Robb Stark. He may be the Butcher’s next target."
He doesn't wait for Gendry to reply in affirmative before cutting the line off to speak to Theon.
"Hey, T. Have you seen Robb anywhere?"
"Yeah, he stepped inside for a sec, said he might be drunker than he realized. I’d have followed him but I figured I’d give him a minute to breathe." Theon leans in closer to him, lowering his voice when he speaks again. "Something’s off with him -- he said he thought he saw his sister."
"Okay…?” He frowns at that. “I'll go in and check on him then."
Jon immediately heads into the house and finds Robb standing in the living room; he's alone, staring thoughtfully at the framed pictures lined up along the shelf of the fireplace. He breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of him.
"Robb. you okay?" He calls aloud, walking towards his best friend slowly.
Robb doesn’t seem to have noticed his arrival until he spoke up; his eyes are cloudy when he turns. "I - uh - I just..." He lets out a shaky breath, runs a hand through his hair. "No, I'm not. I thought I saw my sister. Arya. One of the servers looked a lot like her, fucked my mind up a bit."
Jon’s never met the girl; he's never met any of Robb's family save from his dad and uncle. Jon and his mother moved to Winterfell months after they were gone - died from an accident based on what he later found out. Robb rarely spoke of them and he never wanted to pry.
"A wild little thing, that girl. Dad always said she had wilding blood in her,” Robb tells him distractedly. He turns his attention back to the pictures and Jon follows his gaze to the full family portrait placed at the center of the shelf. “Her fights with Sansa used to annoy me to no end. They argued about the stupidest things and couldn’t go a day without screaming at each other.” He shakes his head. “What I wouldn’t give to have that back.”
“Well...” Jon speaks up slowly, thinking hard for something to say. He’s never been good with words but he tries to find them now. “I know for a fact that your dad would be proud of you, You’re exactly the man he always hoped you would be.”
The corner of his lips lifts into a smile. “He would probably tell me some weird philosophical shit that I wouldn’t understand right about now. And if my mother were here, she would just roll her eyes, pretending she’s not completely amused.by it all. And - ” He cuts himself off, frowning thoughtfully. “I was going to say that my siblings would probably be running around the house, making a mess, but -- they’d be all grown up too, wouldn’t they?”
“Hey, come on now.” He tries to sound cheerful, putting a hand around Robb’s shoulder for comfort. “I never met them but I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to be sad on your own wedding night.”
“Yeah, I know. I just… I wish they could be here.” Robb lets out a sigh before shaking his head as if to clear his mind. He turns to Jon with a rueful smile. "See, this is why I need you back in Winterfell."