Chapter 34: Chapter 32
Lannister Camp – Tywin
Tywin had rushed back to camp because he wanted to see his wife. There was no other way to describe his actions, nor the urgency he felt to be by her side. Being apart from Sansa while the realm was at war, embroiled in a rebellion, had made him nervous. He trusted Jaime and Tygett, but he felt better now that he was back by her side and that he was the one that told her what they had accomplished this night.
Perhaps that was his ego, or merely pride, but considering what Aerys had done to him – the humiliation of naming Jaime a Kingsguard and denying him his heir, coupled with the rape of his wife, Tywin did not repudiate how deeply satisfying it was to see his former friend brought so low.
Tywin also knew precisely why he'd ended up in the position he was now in.
It was because of Sansa that House Lannister was poised to rule the Seven Kingdoms. He was well aware of the fate that had befallen his noble house in that other timeline when he'd been too mired in his grief to properly guide not only his children but the realm itself after the rebellion.
Allowing Robert Baratheon of all people to take the title of King had to be one of his stupider decisions. Just as was not realizing the damage his daughter could and would inflict on House Lannister. Tywin had attempted to work through the actions he had taken in that other timeline – how he'd allowed Jaime to remain a Kingsguard and married Cersei to Robert and then left the realm in their incapable hands. But it was baffling to him to imagine doing any such thing given what he now knew.
There was one person that Tywin trusted to rule and that was himself.
As he'd ridden out of King's Landing, galloping hard to get back to camp, Tywin thought about what it meant to be King. Throughout many evenings spent together, Tywin had explained to Sansa the roles and the duties that would be thrust upon them when he took the Iron Throne with her by his side.
He'd known that Sansa would rise to her new title, but he was acutely aware of what was being asked of her, what he was asking of her. Tywin had every intention of helping her adjust to her new role as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, thinking that even though they'd changed many things, her knowledge of events and people from her timeline would help her with her duties.
Still, it was a monumental task before them – rebuilding the trust between regions that had been at war for two years, dealing with those that had backed the Targaryen regime, and doling out justice that wouldn't come back to haunt him in later years.
That was a genuine concern and one that Tywin was acutely aware of.
If he were too punitive, he'd sow the seeds of rebellion before this one was even over. But, on the other hand, if he were too lenient, others in the realm might think that he was weak and seek to take what he had just claimed.
And while they had discussed the concept of the Seven, had debated whether or not it could work, now that he was named King and entrusted with ensuring the realm prospered, Tywin wasn't so sure that breaking it all apart was the right course of action to take.
At least not immediately.
He had his reasons – good and valid ones that had nothing to do with his ego and the sense of accomplishment he'd felt when Kevan had bestowed those lofty titles upon him.
Ned Stark and Stannis Baratheon were second sons who had never expected to find themselves in their current positions. Tywin thought both men showed promise and, with the proper guidance, would come to rule their respective regions well. They would bring stability to the realm. But they were young. They were unproven. They were yet to be tested.
For Ned, he had a potential traitor in his midst in Roose Bolton. And Stannis was faced with a region that had been decimated in the Rebellion. Both regions would require a firm hand to bring them back to prosperity and ensure that there were no wolves amongst the sheep.
Likewise, if Jon Arryn could secure another marriage, his third, and get an heir on his new wife, the Vale would be well-positioned for years to come, stable in a way it hadn't been in the timeline Sansa knew. That and deal with this Petyr Baelish, whom Sansa seemed to harbour a great deal of trepidation about.
Sansa's impassioned speech to her uncle Brynden, that he was needed in the Riverlands and to guide young Edmure Tully, would do much to shore up Hoster's shaky realm and give Tywin some much-needed confidence that they would be an ally that could actually be useful in the upcoming years.
And Tywin knew the West was well in hand, with Jaime back into the family fold, and Sansa already pregnant with another lion. His line was secure again.
But that left Dorne, the Crownlands, the Reach and the Iron Islands, all of which were problem regions in Westeros. And Tywin could do the math. That was almost half the regions of the Seven.
Then there were those individuals that Sansa had told him were not to be trusted – men that had sworn fealty to their lord paramount but that had proven over and over again that they would continue to be problematic if left unchecked.
Roose Bolton.
Petyr Baelish.
Walder Frey.
Not to mention the countless lords that would lose lands, titles and influence when they were punished for their role on the losing side of the rebellion.
Tywin did not mean to make the same mistakes that Robert had and let The Reach go unchecked for their allegiance to the Mad King.
There was also the issue of the Targaryen children. There were some in the realm that might seek to see these children be given what was rightfully theirs.
Then there were the issues of the guards. Men such as Barristan Selmy, Gerold Hightower, Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne, who, like Jaime, were still members of the Kingsguard.
That was why Tywin knew that breaking apart the Seven Kingdoms right now was not a wise choice. It would only provide fuel to those in the realm that opposed his rule and give them a foothold to rise again and Tywin would do everything within his considerable power to ensure that did not happen.
Tywin was unsure of how Sansa would react to the thought of being Queen for far longer than they'd initially discussed. With the Red Keep still burning, Tywin knew it was best to keep his thoughts to himself on his plans. Soon enough, they would need to discuss the next steps.
But for now, he had better wash before Sansa came back and found him woolgathering.
Exhaustion beat at him now that Aerys was secured. He'd never admit it to anyone but leaving Sansa behind in camp while he was unsure what he faced as he'd gone into the capital, was one of the most challenging things he'd ever done.
Now that he was back in his tent surrounded by the familiar furniture, bedding and clothing that was theirs, Tywin took a moment as he washed to examine how he felt about the subsequent arrest of Aerys Targaryen.
The man had once been a friend before jealousy and ambition had torn them apart. For so long, Tywin's sole aim had been to destroy Aerys – to make the man hurt and suffer, as he had made Tywin hurt and suffer.
But the disgusting creature that had writhed on the ground, yellow eyes rife with madness, hadn't been the man that Tywin had remembered lusting after his wife. The madness and paranoia had consumed his one-time friend to turn him into something almost unrecognizable.
Not that Tywin doubted for a moment what Aerys would do to Sansa or Jaime should he ever get his hands on either one of them. He would destroy them if he could and in the cruellest way possible, knowing what it would do to Tywin. For all his fierce reputation, it was the knowledge of Tywin's deep and abiding love for Joanna and for his son and heir that made him vulnerable.
There would be others, Tywin knew, that would see Sansa in much the same way – a weak spot to exploit. Tywin meant to make it their strength, for it was only when one acknowledged their weakness and shored it up, that it could not be used against oneself.
Sighing and shaking himself from those morose thoughts, Tywin scrubbed his hands in the washbasin, eager to wipe some of the soot, grime and blood from his body. Since they were heading back into King's Landing shortly, he kept his armour on, even as cumbersome as it was.
He didn't have plans to stay in camp long, knowing his presence would be required inside the city. There was simply no way Tywin would allow Oberyn Martell to capitalize on his victory.
As he washed, Tywin thought about what he'd witnessed when he'd arrived back in camp. The scene upon which he'd arrived was troublesome. It appeared that Stafford had crossed a line with his wife, which he should have expected. Sansa had told Tywin her concerns about his goodbrother, and while Tywin could hardly blame Stafford for feeling put out that Tywin had married another woman, the man had no right to question his wife. And to do so publicly made the transgression unforgivable.
Stafford had always been a bit slow, denser than other Lannisters and not known for his quick wit or mind. Joanna had often scoffed at how insipid he was, and together they'd mocked the man. And while Tywin could understand on some level the hurt that Stafford might feel to see another occupy the role his sister had held for nearly a decade, there was simply no way that he could allow such wanton disregard for Sansa. Not from any man that pledged to his house and especially not from a man from his own family that shared his name.
Stafford would have to be taught a lesson and one that would deter anyone else in his camp from questioning his wife.
Tywin loved Joanna, but she was dead and gone for over a decade, and his heart now belonged to Sansa. Even if theirs wasn't a love match, which everyone knew it was, Stafford owed Sansa his loyalty and allegiance based on the position she now occupied in Tywin's life. She was Lady Lannister, and as such, Tywin expected that every man that had pledged allegiance to him, extended that loyalty to Sansa.
He was just drying himself off when Sansa reappeared, following by several of their servants. His wife looked pleased with herself as their servants set a complete meal on their dining table. Chicken, roasted vegetables, a steaming soup and fresh bread. Tywin's stomach growled in anticipation.
"I know it's not what you typically eat to break your fast, but I imagine you're starving after you rescued the capital."
He was, and he appreciated the gesture, and yet his wife bit her lip as if she were uncertain. That, more than anything, demonstrated to Tywin how much the announcement of hers as the new Queen had rattled her.
Cupping her face in his now clean hands, Tywin held it so that she had nowhere to look but him.
"My love, your instincts, as always, are correct."
"Yeah?"
Again, Tywin could read the doubt in those pretty blue eyes. He wondered if she knew how she slipped into the colloquial language from her time when she was uncertain?
He stroked a hand that had just recently meted out justice with a skilled flick. His hands were capable of such violence and yet, he'd only ever touched her with loving reverence.
"Yes. You can do this, Sansa. You were right about Stafford. You were correct about Cersei and Gregor. You are a consummate study of people, their motivations and their desires. That is what ruling is about. Managing people."
She trembled a bit, and Tywin wished he could hold her close but the armour prevented that. Tonight he vowed to have her in their bed and drive her mad with desire, to chase away these lingering doubts.
"I don't want to embarrass you," she whispered.
Gods, she undid him.
Never in his life had anyone had this power over him and yet cared so much about him. That was the true revelation about Sansa. How much she loved him. Perhaps a man such as him, a man capable of such cruelty and violence, did not deserve her love. But that was beside the point. He had it.
And while Tywin was unwilling to give up the power he had just seized, he did recognize that he'd have to navigate this next part of their lives carefully. Sansa was a modern woman, and now all eyes of Westeros would be on her. Of course, it helped that Aerys had created such discord in the realm that there were second sons now in charge of vast regions that would need as much help and guidance as Sansa did.
It would be a period that would require a heavy hand and 'guidance' from the King. Tywin intended to provide it in spades.
He was also grateful he had both Kevan and Tygett by his side, for as much as he knew the benefits of their alliance with the North, the Vale, the Stormlands and the Riverlands, he didn't trust those men. Not yet. He trusted his brothers, his wife and his son.
As Tywin looked at his wife, he wanted to tell her she would make an excellent Queen, but that felt like placating her instead of acknowledging her worries. Moreover, that would be a disservice to this incredibly capable woman, whom Tywin had the utmost respect for.
"There will be a steep learning curve, no doubt. Every move we make will be scrutinized. There are those in our alliance that I do not trust, and so much of the realm has been torn apart. The work before us is endless, Sansa, and I will not lie and tell you that it will be easy. It will not be. We have truly impossible decisions before us."
She nodded and then gestured to the food.
"Eat. I know you are hungry."
With that, Tywin plated his food and tucked in, the familiar scents and flavours of the Westerlands helping steady him, just as seeing his impressive camp perched above King's Landing gave him the reassurance that he had the military might to back up the Throne he'd just seized.
Sansa daintily ate a bun. Her mind was clearly occupied as they quietly consumed their meal. Then, when the keenest edge of his hunger had been sated, he sipped his ale and fixed Sansa with a gaze.
"Tell me about your talk with Elia Martell," he asked, intrigued at this step Sansa had taken on her own.
Not that he disapproved at all of her speaking with Elia Martell – not at all. This was precisely where her forte lay. It wasn't just her knowledge of the future but her intelligence, her incredible compassion and her almost uncanny ability to read people's motivations that made Sansa such an asset to him.
As a result, Sansa was able to win people to their House's side and build critical alliances that would strengthen their position. It was something that Tywin wished he could have taught his daughter – how a woman could use the power she was given in this time to help her husband's house prosper.
Tywin had to make Sansa see what an asset she was, not only to him but to the realm. He had never met anyone like her in his life and knew she was wholly unique given the circumstances in which she'd arrived at being his wife.
"I thought it imperative that she hear the fate of her husband and the capital itself from a friendly face," Sansa began.
Tywin merely grunted, sipping his wine, not interrupting his wife. He knew her process by now, and sometimes she needed time to gather her thoughts.
"She took the news of Rhaegar's death relatively well, all things considered. I do not know how much love was between them. From what I remember, some suspected she knew about Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar's feelings for her. Others say she had no clue. But he did Elia a grave disservice by naming Lyanna his Queen of Love and Beauty."
Sansa paused and shook her head, scowling now. Tywin's lips almost quirked at her angry face, for he found her adorable when it was not directed at him. His wife was all lioness of that he had no doubt. He knew that more than one insolent or disobedient lord would tremble before her sharp wit when they took the Throne.
"The man was obsessed with creating three heads of the dragon, so perhaps there was less love between Rhaegar and Lyanna and simply a man that became fixated with an ancient prophecy. Either way, Elia will most likely never bear another child."
Most of this was news to Tywin, and he arched an eyebrow at her once again impressed with Sansa's logical thinking.
Sansa grimaced.
"Rhaegar might not have been as mad as his father, but there is a problem with that entire House."
Since Tywin knew his own children had done something eerily similar to the Tags, and the sheer devastation those choices had wrought, he said nothing to that.
Indeed, there was an entire discussion to be had over the future of House Targaryen and what they would do with the soon-to-be five remaining children – Aerys' son and daughter and Rhaegar's three children from two different women. All of whom Sansa would argue were innocents in this war, and yet, all of whom remained dangerous for what they represented.
How easy would it be for loyal Targ supporters to build a rebellion around any one of those children, should they survive? Very, Tywin knew.
"And what was the Princess's response to my marching on the capital?"
Tywin gave his wife her due – she met his penetrating gaze, as few in the realm could. She was not a person that was ever intimidated by him, thank the seven gods.
"She began to mention that her newborn son, Aegon, was the true heir to the Iron Throne."
Tywin gave a disgusted snort.
"But I reminded Elia that this was a rebellion – that she survived because of Jaime's bravery and that her goodfather, her son's grandfather, had just lit the Red Keep on fire along with all the innocent people that served the King. That news was not well met."
Sansa paused, and Tywin leaned forward, curious about what his wife was thinking.
"I think that she is a woman that longs for love and that she is far wiser than her brother Oberyn."
Tywin nodded. This was just one more reason he'd raced back to Sansa. Her insights into the most critical players in the game of thrones were invaluable.
"I do not trust Oberyn," Tywin muttered, thinking of how disgruntled the man had been arriving at the top of Aegon's High Hill to see Tywin named King. There was something sly and calculating about Oberyn Martell.
"Nor should you," Sansa heartily agreed.
"Oh?"
Sansa shrugged.
"Oberyn never forgave you for the fate that befell his sister in the other timeline. We've changed that narrative, obviously, but Oberyn remains a man that operates by his own moral code and agenda."
"Go on," Tywin said, now eating leisurely and listening to his wife's insights.
"Jaime single handily rescued Elia and delivered her and her children to safety. That is a debt that is not easily repaid, and Doran Martell knows it. Oberyn has always been flashy. Many houses within their region do not like him. Sleeping with Lord Yronwood's paramour won him no friends, and he was barely exiled from Sunspear before he came back. The man hasn't met a man or woman he won't bring into his bed and litters the realm with his bastards. Beyond that, House Martell is ambitious, and they've never truly fit in with the rest of Westeros."
"Like the North."
Sansa tilted her head and gave a slow nod.
"In a way, yes. The Starks indeed hold to the Old Gods – they take pride in their bloodline going back to the First Men. House Martell is similar in a way, although they contribute far less to the realm. They've kept to their ways, and they've limited trade within their region. They use the mountains as a natural barrier between them and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and control their ports with a tight fist."
Tywin snarled at the thought, his fingers tightening on the golden cup from which he drank his wine.
"It's Doran that is the dangerous one, husband. He is always plotting. He is far quieter than his younger siblings. In a few short years, his wife will leave to go back to Essos and in my time, he attempted to betroth his heir and daughter to Viserys. There were also conflicting reports that he locked Arianne in a tower and attempted to starve her to death so that his youngest son, Trystane, could take over his seat."
"So my instincts are correct."
Sansa gave him a look. She was the only one in the realm that could get away with it.
"There are many that would say the same about you, husband, and your ambitions."
Tywin snorted, not denying it. He was ambitious. And ruthless. And cold-blooded and emotionless when required. Tywin did not flinch when impossible decisions had to be made.
"But I marched my army to King's Landing while Doran could barely muster five thousand men to add to the rebellion."
"Yes, well, that being what it is, Elia is an unknown. She was dead in my timeline, with Gregor killing and raping her, and her son ---"
Sansa paused, paled and swallowed hard.
"What?" Tywin barked, suddenly worried about her and what she must have just remembered.
"It was Ser Amory Lorch that smashed Rhaenys Targaryen's skull in, killing the small girl instantly."
Even Tywin's stomach churned at that image – especially as he'd seen how taken the child was with his brother Tygett.
He thought about the knight that had sworn loyalty to his House and wondered if it were wise to keep him here, close to Sansa and Elia. If he were that despicable, why would Tywin want him anywhere near his wife? Men like that were not to be trusted, and he had learned his lesson with Gregor Clegane.
"I will send him back to the Westerlands immediately," was all Tywin said, and the relief on Sansa's face was palpable.
"The man is despicable," was all she said, her disgust evident. Losing Lorch was no hardship when he had many good men here by his side.
"So, based on your knowledge and your talk with Elia, will she be a problem for us? Will she demand that her son take the Throne? I'd imagine if she wished, she could rally loyal Targ houses to her side, there are some who would crow that she is in the right."
Tywin appreciated how Sansa took the time to assess his question. She would be his closest advisor when their reign began. There was no one he trusted more and whose opinion he valued higher.
"Elia did nothing wrong, but this was a rebellion. Almost every region was involved in this conflict, and the rebels won. Robert's biggest issue was he did not deal appropriately with the houses that had backed the King. I suspect that will not be a problem for you."
There was nothing warm in his smile – one could almost say that it was that of a lion eyeing up his prey. No, Tywin had no intentions of allowing those houses that had backed Aerys their freedom. They would pay a heavy price for backing the wrong side.
"The bottom line is, House Martell is problematic. They refused to assimilate into Westeros culture, insisting that they keep their Rhoynar titles. Other noble houses might be far better suited to ruling the southernmost region."
At that, Tywin chuckled. It seemed his wife had a talent for ruling, even if she had her doubts.
"You speak of Starfall and House Dayne?"
Sansa nodded.
"Arthur Dayne is a powerful man. Beloved by his people. Close with your son. Adored by his sister, Ashara. Many would back him if House Martell did not … capitulate to your rule."
Tywin leaned forward then, reaching for Sansa's hand and stroking his fingers over the back of it. It was so pale and perfect – soft and lovely. In contrast, his fingers were already calloused and scarred; and though he'd cleaned himself, stained with the blood of his enemies. Tywin took a moment to lift Sansa's hand to his lips, wishing for more time with her, but knowing that Kevan needed them inside the city.
"Our rule, my love. You are a Lannister. A lioness of the Rock. You know all my secrets. The darkness that lurks in my soul. You know what I will do to ensure that this child inherits a world that is worthy of their name."
Tywin pressed their joined hands to her swelled stomach.
Sansa brought her other hand up to stroke his face, her fingers in his whiskers.
"I know. I am not craven, Tywin, nor do I doubt the course we have embarked upon."
Their mouths were almost impossibly close, and Tywin could see every reaction in her expressive blue eyes.
"The realm needs stability – now more than ever. Two young lords in our alliance will now become responsible for two major regions. Lord Arryn does not have a proper heir. The capital is in upheaval. The Reach and the Crownlands must be held to account for their role in the rebellions, and I have a known enemy in Balon Greyjoy. Added to all of that, are our issues with Dorne and House Martell, along with the numerous traitors you have told me about. We must be united in the coming months if we have any chance at success."
Sansa's brilliant mind assimilated his words, sorting through them.
"You don't mean to break the Seven apart, do you?"
Tywin wanted to cheer at her intelligence.
Instead, he shook his head.
"Not immediately, no."
She only gave a soft sigh and then nodded her head. Tywin took his opportunity to kiss his wife, fusing his lips to her and tunnelling his hands into her hair. She moaned, and the desire that was always present roared to life. They'd named him King, and now Tywin wanted to bury himself in Sansa's cunt, celebrating this pinnacle of achievement with her naked flesh pressed against his.
When he finally released her mouth, she pouted, which did nothing to slake the sheer need he had for her.
"Sansa," he snarled out his displeasure at having to leave their tent to go back to the capital.
He made a note to ensure that Kevan secured proper lodging for them inside the capital, including the Lannister mansion. The wealthy had homes beneath Aegon's High Hill, some near the iron gate, others near the dragon gate. Tywin always maintained a home here, along with a staff. The Lannister residence in the capital wasn't quite as opulent as the Rock, but it was far preferable to the tent in which they'd lived for the past month. And it included a bathing room and a large chamber for him and Sansa.
She giggled at him then, knowing that he wanted her and could do nothing about it.
Or ---
Suddenly, her hand was underneath the plate armour pieces, between the fauld and coulet that made what Sansa thought of as a metal skirt, and through the slight slit in his small clothes and the layer of protection he wore beneath his armour. He had no idea how she did it, but soon enough she had his cock in her hand, the tip weeping, and she used that bead of cum to stroke him.
Tywin could do nothing more than grip her, half hauling her against him and retaking her mouth in a demanding kiss while she stroked and tugged him until he felt his peak rush over him, and his wife captured both the roar of his release in her mouth as well as his seed itself in her hand.
Panting now, she was smiling indulgently at him as she discreetly dealt with his spendings, taking back her seat and looking quite proud of herself.
"You are a minx," he growled, but the relief he felt was immediate, not to mention the sudden rush of energy and renewed vigour that flowed through his blood.
This woman was made to be Queen, and Tywin knew she would succeed in whatever she set her mind to. He rose and adjusted himself and then bellowed for his page, demanding that the young lad find his son and brother. It was time to inform those he trusted most what had happened in the city.
"Tell me about Stafford," he demanded as he heard the commotion of Jaime and Tygett's arrival.
His brother could do nothing without causing an upheaval, announcing his presence to all within range. It had been like that their entire lives – as if sheer volume could somehow make up for being a third-born son.
The look that Sansa gave him was one he'd seen before. When she'd tried to warn him about Cersei and Gregor and even a few moments before when she'd mentioned Lorch, he was well aware of what had happened the last time he did not head his wife.
"He's jealous and insecure, Tywin. He resents me for replacing Lady Joanna ---"
"But I needed a wife! It was only logical," he protested.
Vehemently.
Once again, he hadn't listened to Sansa, and one of his family members had caused her grief.
"I do not know if it is the wife precisely that he objects to, or your feelings for me. And that I am a Tully. And perhaps that I am close with your family."
Sansa gave an uncomfortable little shrug.
"I have tried to have empathy for what he is feeling. However, the love you shared with Lady Joanna was legendary and he has not warmed to me at all."
The empathy that his wife was about to dredge up for a person who did not deserve it astounded him. Perhaps Sansa was correct in Stafford's feeling of hurt and jealousy, but the man should never have questioned Sansa as he had. Nor should he have made her feel uncomfortable in any way. It was utterly unacceptable, and Tywin would need to make an example of his former goodbrother.
The look on Sansa's face told Tywin that she knew what was coming.
"I will not make the same mistake I did before. I should have listened to you sooner. Stafford must be taught a lesson, Sansa."
She merely nodded, seemingly resigned to whatever punishment Tywin saw fit to dole out. He knew she was a modern woman – he'd heard her speak on more than one occasion about 'equal rights' and something she called 'women's liberation.' He understood the principles of which she spoke of – that men and women were equals in her time, and that class distinctions did not exist as they did here.
But no matter what she believed, in 283, men and women were decidedly not equal. At the very least, everyone needed to see the typical power dynamic of these times.
Tywin thought he'd shock more than a few in the kingdom when he named Sansa his Hand.
"Indeed he must, father," Jaime agreed, apparently hearing the end of their conversation about Stafford.
Tywin, still holding Sansa's hand, looked to his son. Jaime was in his armour, that white cloak still attached to his damn back. It was yet one more reminder of what Tywin meant to accomplish as King – reforming not only the Kingsguard but the Night's Watch as well.
"I mean to address Stafford's lack of respect the moment this meeting is done. Sit," Tywin demanded, pleased when both Jaime and Tygett did as he asked without questioning him.
When they were seated, he indicated the food left on the table, a veritable feast, and told them to eat.
"No telling when you will have another chance. I must inform you of what happened when we liberated the city and how I left it. I will address Lord Stafford after our meeting, and then we ride back to King's Landing to lend our support to Kevan and our men that have claimed King's Landing for House Lannister."
It was Tygett who shook his head in what could only be described as awed wonder.
"Brother, I am excited to hear what happened, for surely this tale will be repeated all the way up the Gold Road and to the Sunset Sea itself."
Tywin felt his chest swell, and while he didn't smile, the satisfaction that roared through him was impossible to ignore. With as much practicality as he could, Tywin told them what happened upon their entry to the city, including how stunned he felt when people called out his name as a hero and not someone to be feared.
His wife merely smirked and arched an elegant eyebrow. Tywin was pleased to see that she, too, had finally filled her plate. Their babe needed food, and Tywin knew that Sansa would accompany him to the city. She had to be seen – it would solidify her place as his Queen and win the common people to her side. Typically Tywin would not have cared about providing food, medicine, shelter and water to the common people. But if Sansa said this would win him their devotion, then he didn't mind parting with some supplies.
"The Red Keep is still burning. I suspect that it was Lord Varys that shut off the tunnels beneath the castle to contain the wildfire to only Aegon's High Hill, though how he did so is still not known."
Jaime looked sour at that statement. "And where is the Spider now?"
Tywin felt his son's displeasure at the eunuch's name. He felt much the same way about the man – his influence was far too great and his word untrustworthy.
"Arrested. When we reached the top of the hill, we found a bound, gagged and blindfolded King Aerys, held at sword point by Varys. So it seems the Spider has a conscience after all."
Jaime snorted in disgust as he threw his bread down. Tywin hadn't seen his son this animated since the first moment he'd given him a training sword years ago.
"Father, we cannot trust Lord Varys. He is a Targaryen supporter, through and through. Mark my words, if we let him live today, he will come back to haunt us."
There was so much about Jaime's impassioned speech that Tywin approved of. Any fears that Tywin might have harboured about Jaime's state of mind or his willingness to step into his role as his heir to Casterly Rock slid away.
"I agree, son and he shall be dealt with. Varys, the pyromancers Rossart, Garrigus and Belis, along with King Aerys, have all been placed under arrest. Grand Maester Pycelle, with Lannister men at his back, has secured the Guildhall of the Alchemists and any wildfire leftover is now under our control. As of this moment, the wildfire has been contained within the footprint of the Red Keep."
All three at his table gave grim and approving nods.
"King Aerys is short of his cock, which I cut off and threw away like the diseased member it was," Tywin then said.
Sansa choked on her oats and then paled. Before he could react, she pushed back from the table and rushed to the chamber pot to empty her stomach. While both Jaime and Tygett heartily approved of his actions, Tywin cursed himself for forgetting that this level of violence was not something that his wife was used to.
He heard her wretch, and guilt gnawed at him. Tygett was frowning, and Tywin cleared his throat.
"Pregnancy can make a woman's stomach sensitive."
Tygett seemed to accept that explanation. The man had never married and only slept with whores, so it was likely he knew nothing about what a woman's body went through to bring a child into this world.
When his wife finally staggered back to the table, she said nothing but gulped at her water and nibbled on some bread. Tywin did not like how pale she still was. He wished he could convince her to stay here, but he was eager to show her his home in the capital. And for the people to see their new Queen. Her appearance in the capital was vital.
"I have left Kevan in charge of securing the King and his co-conspirators while dousing the fire in the Red Keep. He has also been instructed to secure the Lannister dwelling in the city and surround some of the more ----"
"Wait a moment," Sansa said, frowning at him. "You have a residence here? In King's Landing?"
"Yes."
"You're speaking of the Tower of the Hand, are you not?"
Tywin smirked and shook his head. He loved it when he knew something his brilliant wife did not.
"No. That is a tenuous position and one I never knew how long I would hold. However, I required something with more permanence, as do many noble families. There is a row of stately homes, with a view of Blackwater Bay, on the far side of the collapsed Rhaenys's Hill. I think you will find our lodging there far more adequate than the tent in which you are living."
Sansa looked utterly stunned.
"But none of the books ever said anything about a second home in the capital," she muttered, shaking her head.
Tywin caught the frown on Tygett's face as he was assessing Sansa's words.
"Yes, well, you've never been to King's Landing, have you, darling? Your father, Lord Hoster," Tywin emphasized, looking at Sansa, "Didn't travel much from Riverrun, did he?"
As if she realized what she had said about her knowledge of House Lannister coming from books, she snapped her mouth shut. To be fair, his residence in King's Landing was not well known, and there was a part of Tywin that was pleased that even someone with Sansa's knowledge didn't know about it.
"It is near the Iron Gate, on the other side of Rhaenys Hill, across from Flea Bottom," Tywin preened to his wife, pleased when she looked shocked. "We have quite the view of Blackwater Bay."
"You'll like it, Sansa," Jaime said, and Tywin noted the familiarity with which Jaime addressed his wife. He had hoped that a friendship would spring up between them. After all, they were of a similar age. Thankfully a smile bloomed across her face, and she looked the happiest he'd seen since he'd been back.
"Oh, this is quite the surprise. I was half worried we'd have to find somewhere to squat or kick some poor person out of their home, so we had proper lodging."
Tygett threw his head back and laughed, while Tywin smiled indulgently at her.
"No, love. I think you will find it quite suitable."
In truth, Tywin's mansion rivalled that of the Red Keep in pure luxury. Not that very many people had ever been allowed inside it, or behind its thick walls. It was a very private place and one in which he controlled completely.
"House Baratheon also has a place in the same location, as does House Martell, so both Stannis and Elia will be nearby. Houses Tully, Arryn and Tyrell also have mansions there, but there is no Stark home. Perhaps you could invite your sister and her husband to stay with us."
Sansa gave him a knowing look, to which Tywin met. He would not deny he would use this precious time to press his advantage with the young Ned Stark.
"And speaking of Stannis, where is he currently?" Jaime asked, missing the undercurrent between Tywin and Sansa.
There was no hostility there, only curiosity, and Tywin hoped those tentative bonds of friendship would bloom between Ned, Stannis and Jaime. Those bonds would serve his son well.
With Tywin on the Throne, he would look to Jaime to take his proper place as the next Lord of Casterly Rock. If he was close with his peers, men like Ned and Stannis, they would form a formidable trio in the coming years.
"Stannis is marshalling the people and ushering them out of the city. He is overseeing those that have gathered outside the gates. Sansa, you will accompany Jaime and me into King's Landing, while Tygett, you will help Stannis with the supplies Sansa has arranged. Our men continue to patrol the streets to prevent looting and riots. They control all the major thoroughfares and gates."
Both Jaime and Tygett looked suitably impressed, although as if they expected no less. And why should they? Tywin always delivered on his promises.
There was one more matter before them and a most unpleasant one at that. He knew his face turned dark.
Stafford.
"Tell me about my goodbrother," he snarled to Tygett and Jaime.
Both men were blood relations to him, and Jaime had somewhat disdainfully nicknamed Stafford Uncle Dunce. It was an apt description.
"He is jealous of Lady Sansa and her place in your life," Jaime said, once again shocking Tywin with his boldness to speak his mind.
Tywin narrowed his gaze.
"And do you agree with his jealousy?"
Jaime met his penetrating gaze, and the others in the room stilled until Jaime shook his head.
"No, father. I will admit, when I first heard of your marriage, I was stunned. I did not know what type of woman would move you to take another as your wife."
Jaime paused.
"I remember mother and the love you two shared. It is rare in our world, and therefore quite remarkable. I was prepared to dislike Lady Sansa for stealing you from us. But the moment I met her, I knew she was good not only for our House but for you."
It was a bold statement and one that a few months ago would have angered Tywin. He had no idea how transparent he'd been in his grief over losing his first wife. Nor did he like that others felt fit to comment upon it. But he had asked Jaime's opinion and his son had been honest with him.
"He was openly disrespectful to Lady Sansa, Ty. It doesn't matter if you love her or not. She is your wife and the Lady Lannister. Stafford had no business speaking to her as he did."
"And are there others within my own camp that feel the same way?" Tywin snarled voice cold and demanding.
Both Tygett and Jaime shook their heads at once.
"Ser Lorch is his usual piggy self, but I haven't heard a bad word out of his mouth about Lady Sansa. Crackehall, Westerling, Swyft – all of them know better than to speak ill of your wife," Tygett said, and Tywin nodded. It was as he suspected. The issue lay within his own bloodline. Again. First Cersei. Now Stafford.
With that, he pushed back from the table.
"Find Stafford and bring him to the clearing where my wife spoke to my men earlier. Arrange for a stockade, along with a flogger and a branding iron to be present. I will deal with this matter, here and now."
He once again saw his wife pale out of the corner of his eye, and he dismissed both Jaime and Tygett. Then, when they were alone, he walked towards Sansa, who had remained seated.
"What will you do to him?" She asked, voice quiet.
There was a part of Tywin that wished he could shield her from this part of the world in which she now lived. But justice needed to be swift, brutal and delivered with absolute authority. If the realm saw him as too lenient, then more men would think they could question him – question his decisions and his choices.
"I will have him flogged and then branded and finally fined. And he will be sent back to Lannisport."
He saw that she did not like that, but on this, Tywin would not budge.
"You do not have to be present," he said, thinking perhaps that might appease her.
Instead, her blue eyes flashed, and she rose, the anger staining her cheeks.
"I can watch," was all she said before she swept from the room, and Tywin lengthened his strides to follow her out.
As was the case when things like this happened, a crowd had gathered. Tywin noted the distinctive cursive L brand being heated in the fire, along with a crudely made stockade and flogger that had torn apart more than one back. If he wished, Tywin knew that Tygett would do the honours, but it had been his wife that had been disrespected, and Tywin meant to make his point known.
Stafford, whimpering now, snot and tears mixing into a nasty concoction on his ruddy face, was howling for Tywin to let him go, even as men secured his hands to manacles and stripped his chest and back bare.
"I am your brother and your cousin! Your blood!" Stafford sputtered.
It might have moved Tywin if the man's eyes had not spotted Sansa. In them, Tywin saw the hatred that Stafford bore her and knew he needed to make this punishment count.
"You are my cousin, which is what makes your betrayal even viler. Lady Sansa has secured us an alliance with House Tully, Stark, Arryn and Baratheon. Our marriage gives us access to the Western coastline of Westeros and a way to repel the Greyjoy insurgency. She brought hope back to House Lannister when my son was little more than a hostage, held by a Mad King. And she found lions – went into the hills and rescued the living sigil of our proud noble house."
Stafford's eyes gleamed, and Tywin gave the man credit. For once in his pathetic life, he actually met Tywin's glare.
"She isn't one of us," Stafford spat.
Every part of Tywin wanted to bellow out in protest. But he did not.
"Ten lashes and a branding, and then you are banished to Lannisport, cousin. If I hear a whisper of any word spoken against my wife from your lips, I will take your tongue."
Stafford's eyes went wide, and he shook his head.
"You would not," he whispered.
Tywin's laugh was cold.
"I cut off the Mad King's cock, twenty years after he besmirched Lady Joanna's name on our wedding night. Do not underestimate what I will do for the woman I love."
There was a murmur in the crowd – approval such as it were. To a man, everyone here knew that Tywin was not a man to be crossed. Even Lady Catelyn, who was now standing beside Sansa, and Sansa's fierce handmaiden, looked on with approval.
It was only his wife, whose eyes were pained, that did not approve and Tywin wondered if this would damage how Sansa saw him.
Still, he could not let it go.
He was handed the flogger and allowed the fury he felt at Stafford resonate in his first strike, the leather straps singing as they whistled through the air to land on the fleshy back of Stafford. Blood instantly bloomed, and Tywin knew the man's back would be a tattered mess by the end.
By the fourth strike, Stafford was screaming in pain, and near the end, he'd gone almost silent, held up only by the manacles where men had secured his wrists.
Tygett heated the brand and handed it to Tywin, a nod of approval given with the iron.
"Finish it properly, brother, and then we shall ride to King's Landing."
With that, Tywin seared the upper arm of Stafford. The man, who'd passed out from the pain, now howled and screamed again.
And then it was done. With Stafford hanging limply from his wrists, Tywin turned to all those gathered. He knew he had never been as powerful as he was at this exact moment. These men here were pledged to him and his taking of the Iron Throne.
"Let this be a lesson to any who speak ill of my wife. She is your Queen and a true lioness of Casterly Rock."
There was a mighty cheer, but as Tywin looked to Sansa, he could not read her expression. She gave a curt nod and then turned and fled the clearing, her sister and her handmaiden by her side.
Tygett and Jaime joined Tywin, looking for direction.
"See that Stafford has the best care of our Maester. Then saddle our horses. We ride for King's Landing."
With that, Tywin threw the brand on the ground and stalked away, in the opposite direction from his wife. She claimed she knew what he was capable of – and that she loved him anyway. Well, today had shown her the man he was – the man he had to be.
And while Tywin wasn't sure what the consequences might be to his marriage, his wife seeing him like this, he would do nothing differently. He could do nothing differently.
Never again would he allow anyone to besmirch his wife's name – not even his own blood.
Anyone that did so would feel his wrath, and he would make no apologies to Sansa for the man that he was – the man that she had married. The man she said she loved.
Let her look at him now and say she loved him. He'd always known he was a monster. The real question was – could Sansa love this side of him? Would displays like this, of which there were likely to be several in the upcoming months, be far too much for her tender and compassionate heart to handle? Would she fall out of love with him when she knew what he was willing to do to maintain the power he had seized?
Only time would tell, and that was one thing they had precious little of.
Tywin knew that his wife from the future was getting a very brutal education in what it meant to live in ancient Westeros. He could only hope that she would rise to the challenges before her, including the violence of this time and its necessity. The realm needed to be brought back together, and it needed them to do it. For if they failed Tywin knew there would be far more bloodshed before peace and stability could be ever achieved. And that would be solely on their heads.
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