Game of Thrones - A Slip through Time Chapter 44

Trip to Dragonstone – Tygett

It was an interesting assignment for a man who preferred to show his mettle on the back of a horse, with steel in his hand, to be tasked to sail to Dragonstone to treat with Queen Rhaella and her son Viserys.

While much of Aerys' Royal Fleet had fled to the island when the Mad King sent his wife and second son there, a few ships had remained in King's Landing which had allowed them to make this voyage. They weren't quite sure where the Royal Fleet was; nor if Rhaella and Viserys even remained on Dragonstone.

But in their own galley, coupled with the ships from White Harbour and the raven that his brother Tywin had sent, imploring Rhaella to allow Lord Stannis Baratheon and Ser Tygett Lannister entrance to the island, Tygett figured their odds were decent that they might return with the former Queen and her child.

They were not in a position for a protracted naval battle against the former Royal Fleet, and Stannis had been muttering for days about the type of navy the Crown should have.

With Paxtor Redwyne in their custody, and Stannis itching to rebuild a fleet to his exacting standards, Tygett figured it wouldn't take more than a few years before the Royal Navy rivalled the once-mighty Redwyne one. And wouldn't his brother love that.

Of course, Tygett assumed that Tywin would seize the Redwyne fleet and make it his own, so that would go a long way in shoring up the number of ships the Crown had – especially if most of the Royal Fleet had fled to Essos.

Sansa had disclosed that when Robert was King, he had done very little to punish those lords from the Reach that had backed House Targaryen during the Rebellion, which meant that some Houses remained intensely powerful, even after being on the losing side.

Tywin's jaw had tightened at that, and Tygett knew a far different fate awaited the Reach with his brother on the Throne. As did those Houses from the Crownlands that had backed Aerys and Rhaegar. Tywin would make them pay. That was the price of war.

The Reach was far too plentiful to allow it to go unpunished for its role in the Rebellion. And as Sansa was fond of saying, to the victor go the spoils.

On their journey to Dragonstone, Tygett spent countless hours deferring to the newly named Storm Lord to distract himself from missing Elia and the children, finding Stannis a fascinating man to study.

There were so many personality traits in Stannis that reminded Tygett of his brother, Tywin.

Stannis was a severe, stubborn, complex man with a strong sense of duty and justice. He was proud and protective of not only his honour but that of his House and his people. He took a great deal of pride in the Baratheon name, and was so similar to Tywin at times, that Tygett caught himself shaking his head at the man more than once.

The two of them had to be some of the grumpiest men in the Seven Kingdoms, Tygett thought. No wonder they got on so well.

Their trip to Dragonstone would see them sail to Sharp Point, approximately three hundred and twenty miles from the port in which they left.

"If the seas are kind and the winds in our favour, we should make port in four days; five at the most," Stannis had announced an hour into their voyage.

They were on a galley and would hug the coastline as much as possible, not daring the open sea to take them. Everyone knew of the tragic deaths of Stannis's parents, and Tygett had to applaud the man's spine for how he never seemed to blink being back on the sea – the very thing that had taken his parents from him far too soon.

Tygett hadn't argued with Stannis taking command of this mission.

While all lions had grown up on the Sunset Sea, sailing had never appealed to the third son of Tytos. Many said that Jaime's fighting prowess came from him, and he'd spent countless hours drilling his nephew when he was younger. When it came to ships and sailing, Tygett would willingly defer to Stannis and his superior knowledge.

Unlike Tygett's blond beard and golden head of full hair, Stannis's black hair already appeared to be thinning, though he'd only just had his twenty-first nameday. But both men were tall, and strong, though Stannis was much leaner than Tygett, likely owning to the twelve years age difference between the two men.

Tygett couldn't help but reflect how different in mannerism Stannis was from his brother Robert, remembering the drunken fool the night of Tywin and Sansa's wedding. Robert was lucky he hadn't lost his head that night, for it was unforgivable what Robert had threatened.

Tygett was pleased that Stannis was nothing like Robert in any way, except for his height and his colouring.

On the second night of their journey, Tygett had found Stannis pouring over the maps, plotting and muttering to himself.

Tyg had a tankard of ale with him and dropped heavily into a chair, cocking his head as he studied Stannis. They'd anchored for the night in one of the many coves along the shoreline of the peninsula that jutted out from the capital like a spiny finger of some old crone. Most of the men were at least a drink or two into their cups. But not Stannis.

"You can rest for an evening," Tyg said with gruff affection. "We've anchored for the night and we're going nowhere until morning."

Stannis grunted.

"I am the commander of this mission. The last thing I wish is to miss something vital to our success."

Tyg snorted.

"Lord Stannis, we are four days away from Sharp Point and another two to Dragonstone. I hardly think having a single drink with me will see you in dereliction of your duty."

That had Stannis stilling for a moment, finally raising his eyes to observe Tygett.

The silence stretched between the two men. Another trick that Tywin often used – letting the silence fill the space. Tyg had never been good at holding his tongue.

"I heard what you did with Storm's End. How Robert left you there, with few men and ever fewer provisions. It was an impressive showing of strength. You did House Baratheon proud holding your family's seat."

For some odd reason, Stannis's lips gave a rare twitch.

"What?"

"You're not a hardheaded as you appear, are you Ser Tygett?"

Tyg had no idea what he'd done to get Stannis to step away from his map, but he was grateful when the man took a seat and reached for the goblet of ale.

"Do you think with a brother like Tywin, I was allowed a poor showing at anything?" Tygett snorted.

While things between him and his oldest brother had dramatically improved, owing to a great deal to the presence of Sansa in their lives, there were still those old resentments that every so often worked their way to the forefront. Not that Tygett would ever do anything against his brother, Sansa, or his house. His loyalty was absolute and only strengthened with the future that was so tantalizing close.

Elia. Rhaenys. Aegon. A family of his own and a woman, a princess no less, that loved him.

Tygett, who'd spent a lifetime watching Tywin gauge his moods, noticed the flash on Stannis's face – one he'd seen and felt often enough when he thought of his accomplished older brother.

Envy. Frustration. Love. Duty. Honour.

While Stannis's ability to hold Storm's End was impressive, it had been Robert who had cut a swath through the Reach and the Riverlands, emerging in various battles as the hero from some long-forgotten tale, to save the day and keep the Rebellion alive.

Even in death, Robert had killed Rhaegar, earning his place in history that would never be forgotten. It was hard to live up to older brothers that were living legends.

"It's difficult when they cast such long shadows," Tygett said quietly.

Stannis gave a bitter little laugh, shaking his head.

"I sound like a child, whining that he didn't get his way. Robert is dead. What type of brother does it make me to have these feelings for him still, even after he is gone?"

Tygett, a few more cups into his ale and shrugged.

"An honest one."

Stannis's eyes widened at the respect and the spark of camaraderie he saw in Tygett's eyes.

"At least you only had one. When Tywin wasn't rewriting the history of the Westerlands and exceeding all expectations, Kevan was making his mark. Between the two of them, I had enough resentments to fill the halls of Casterly Rock."

"I would do anything for my house and my family name," Stannis said with an intensity that few men possessed.

Tyg understood why Tywin liked the young Storm Lord. There was a sincerity about Stannis that one could trust – a rare enough thing in this world. If Stannis said he would do something, he would either accomplish his mission or die trying.

Tygett nodded his head, feeling the ale in his head, making the room warmer than it was.

"I don't think a single person doubts that, My Lord."

"Stannis."

Tygett arched an eyebrow and saw Stannis … well, not blush, but the man looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Please. Call me Stannis," he said gruffly.

Tygett had a feeling that the second-born son of Steffon and Cassana Baratheon did not have many friends that were his peers. Perhaps he could have one in Tygett Lannister.

"Stannis."

A great swell came up, rocking the ship, and Tygett let out a curse, reaching for the table to steady himself.

Stannis didn't laugh. Nor did his lips twitch. But he did cock his head as if examining Tygett.

"How is it that a man that grew up on the Sunset Sea isn't more at ease with the water?"

Tygett grimaced.

"I've never liked it. I prefer a horse between my legs and steel in my hands."

Stannis shook his head, looking the most animated that Tygett had seen the man.

"But the sea is where we find our true metal, is it not? There is so much to learn about coastlines and tides, how to read the wind and the stars, when to press one's advantage and when to stay in port. I find it fascinating."

Tygett shook his head as Stannis waxed lyrical about the sea.

"I'd imagine when we get back, to King's Landing, my brother will look to you to rebuild his navy. With so many of the ships that Aerys commanded now at Dragonstone, he won't want to be caught unaware. He'll also look to seize the Redwyne fleet as the Iron Born lurk on their islands."

Excitement sparked in Stannis's eyes, and Tygett was treated to an impassionate speech about the war galley he would build with the supporting ships for the Royal Navy. When he finally stopped and drew a breath, Stannis appeared almost stunned that he'd been so verbose.

Tygett rose, now well and truly tipsy, smiling at the stern young man.

He squeezed Stannis's shoulder.

"I'll write a raven to implore my brother to name you Master of Ships. It is a position you'd do well in Stannis and Tywin would be a fool to not name you to it."

Stannis swallowed hard and nodded his head.

"Thank you, Ser Tygett."

Then Tygett winked at him.

"Now, we just need to find you a lady to love."

Stannis paled and swallowed nervously as Tygett's booming laugh filled the captain's quarters of the ship.

Now that he had fallen in love, Tygett thought more men ought to commit to finding women like Elia and Sansa. Women of quality, intelligence, bravery and beauty.

But until then, Tygett would count the days until he was done with this cursed voyage and back in King's Landing with Elia and the children, missing them desperately and eager to get this task done, once and for all.

Journey to the Tower of Joy – Ned

The world was far larger than what it looked like on a map, Ned thought, as they emerged from the Kingswood, south of King's Landing, a week after their journey began.

Ned Stark kept that thought to himself, lest he sounded like some simple man from the North that had no idea how large Westeros was.

After all, he wasn't a man that hadn't been anywhere. Indeed, his father had thought it prudent for his second son to foster at the Vale, and Ned had spent countless years there, away from Winterfell and the North. He'd travelled some, even before the war had been upon them.

When the Rebellion had broken out, he'd made his way back North, and called his banners and then spent the next year and a half fighting in the Riverlands. He'd seen the great seat of House Tully at Riverrun and the burnt-out remains of Harrenhal. He'd lived at the Eyrie and spent countless summer days, grateful for the cool mountain breezes when Jon Arryn and his men would drill him and Robert, again and again.

But now he was venturing south, through a Kingswood that had only recently held rebels in the form of the Kingswood Brotherhood – a small uprising that Ser Arthur Dayne had put down, along with Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jaime Lannister.

There had been no sign of Brotherhood as they'd traversed the woods, which were far less dense than the great Wolfswood north of Winterfell.

Kevan had explained that Arthur and Rhaegar had put in policies allowing some of the villagers and peasants to hunt on the King's land and that with full tummies, there was far less fighting. Ned thought it a wise policy and believed it would continue. Knowing what he did about the Queen, she seemed to have a fondness for the commoners and if a few deer hunted on the King's land kept the peasants happy, then Ned knew it would be a policy Sansa would enforce.

It was also one that Ned might want to keep in mind for the North.

Ned had never met anyone like her, who seemed to believe that all people should be treated equitably. It had made him think about the type of ruler he wished to be, to hear Queen Sansa argue passionately for lower-born people to have access to Maesters for medicine and learning.

One night at a family dinner, she'd even argued for a public trade guild, free of charge, to be financed by the Crown stating that it would pay dividends in the years to come by creating people with proper skills to help the realm prosper and advance.

In some ways, Sansa's boldness at speaking her mind reminded Ned of Lyanna.

Unlike his sister, who always had a wild streak about her, Sansa was the consummate high-born lady. She was passionate about her causes and intelligent, articulate and well-spoken, but never out of control. Ned desperately wished that Lyanna could have spent time at Riverrun, learning from Sansa before she made the ill-fated choice she had.

The King, to his credit, and Ned's shock had debated with his wfe, drawing others into the concept, and Sansa seemed to take great delight in such conversations, calling them 'invigorating,' and stating that they were just what the realm needed.

Ned had never seen anything quite like the King and Queen and watched as Tywin seemed to take a great deal of pride in his wife's intelligence and her bold manner. They were quite the couple.

Late at night, when Ned had been alone with his wife, Catelyn had muttered and shaken her head at her sister and he bold ways.

"She has always been like that. Far too intelligent to know her place and willing to say whatever comes to her mind."

"King Tywin doesn't seem to mind," Ned remarked.

His wife had snorted and gave him a look. She was seated at a table, brushing her long red hair – a sight that mesmerized Ned. He remembered how closed off, skittish and scared Catelyn had been on their wedding night.

She might not realize how much she had changed since spending time with the lions of House Lannister. But Ned did. He loved his wife and the strong and passionate woman she had become.

"The King is smitten with her. I bet father is utterly delighted at such a match, and how compatible they are."

Ned chuckled at the bite in Catelyn's tone. Women of the North were hearty creatures and he had been nervous when they'd first met, worried she would not fit in at Winterfell. But now she had a spine about her, which he quite liked.

Cat put down her hairbrush and rose, and Ned couldn't help the groan that escaped as her lush body came into view.

His wife had taken to wearing the most scandalous small clothes. Tonight, she had on a practically sheer nightgown, so he could see every delightful secret that was his to plunder. The pucker of her nipples, straining against the sheer clothing, the auburn curls at the apex of her thighs, and the swell of her stomach, where she carried their first child.

Catelyn, minx that she was, flashed him a knowing grin.

So far, his marriage had far exceeded his expectations. Their coupling had been intense and passionate, perhaps slightly clumsy at first, but they'd quickly found their rhythm. Ned took great delight in making his wife peak repeatedly and knew she was well pleased in their marriage bed, as was he.

Their first child was on the way, and his wife had helped the North strengthen their position. Indeed, their marriage seemed most fortuitous.

Later, with Catelyn in his arms, he'd made her vow that she would listen to her sister and the King while he was away. He hated to leave her again, and so soon, but promised when he returned he would be by her side until she was sick of him.

Ned wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but he'd come to trust Tywin Lannister. Not that the man wasn't building a legacy for his House – he was. But Catelyn had won the Great Lion over. Moreover, the plans that Tywin had for the North, including properly manning the Wall, reforming the Night's Watch and ensuring that the North was strong, made Ned feel like he wasn't so alone in his duties as Warden of the North.

That Tywin had exposed Lord Bolton and his wicked ways further cemented Ned's trust in the Great Lion.

"Thinking about your pretty wife?"

Oberyn's statement, accompanied by the man's near-constant smirk, jarred Ned out of his musings about Catelyn and their last evening together before this journey.

They were on the Rose Road, perhaps half a day away from Fawnton, the seat of House Cafferen. There was worry about this house, for Lord Cafferen had initially been a supporter of Aerys during the Rebellion. He eventually joined Robert's side but lost his head to Lord Tarly at the battle of Ashford.

Tywin and Kevan were concerned that someone from the Reach might press in and take the seat, usurping Lord Cafferen's young son and heir, who was only seven.

Thankfully, the castle was near enough to the capital that they could watch it lest some lesser lord thought it was ripe for the picking.

"I was," Ned responded to Oberyn, who wiggled his eyebrows.

The man wore his open sexuality like a badge of honour, often taking great delight in sharing bawdy stories at night as if he hoped to shock Ned and Kevan with the exploits he'd indulged in. There didn't seem to be a position or a person that Oberyn Martell wouldn't welcome in his bedchambers.

Kevan never reacted, merely shrugging, claiming that in nearly twenty years of leading men and being at war, "he'd seen it all," including men sharing a bedroll and a tent.

Ned had heard tales, mostly from his brother, about what lonely men at the Night's Watch sometimes got up to. Brandon had taken great delight in telling Ned and Benjen all about what might happen to them if their father were to send them to the Wall – that they would be in for the buggering of their life.

Their father had cuffed Brandon upside the head and told them not to heed such tales. But Ned knew there had to be a kernel of truth in them.

And it wasn't like Ned wasn't aware that some young men, men in positions of power, took great delight in bedding women that were not their wives.

In the Eyrie, Ned had watched Robert sleep with more than a dozen women in the last year alone, before the Rebellion erupted. It had made Ned wonder what type of husband his friend would make for his sister.

The one time that Ned had questioned Robert, his friend claimed that he was a young man that needed this time to 'get it out of his system before he was shackled with a wife.'

That statement had sat like a stone in Ned's belly – worry for his sister prevalent. Not that Ned could have done anything to prevent a marriage between Lyanna and Robert. He was a second son. His father had made this choice, and Ned would support it.

Still, it wasn't difficult to understand why his sister had turned from a man like Robert, with a bastard daughter already confirmed and more likely on the way. What type of woman wanted a man like that for a husband?

Not that Ned was making any excuses for Lyanna. When the King and Queen had told him what his sister had done, his blood had run cold. Then hot. Oberyn had called his sister a whore, and while Ned had been prepared to defend Lyanna, inside, he was reeling.

What on earth had she been thinking?

Ned had known that Lyanna hadn't been happy with Robert, but to abscond with a man who was not only married but had children was more scandalous than Robert's behaviour.

The consequences had been devastating. That they let the realm believe Rhaegar had kidnapped her and harmed her was unforgivable. It was why his father and his brother had ridden to King's Landing with two hundred loyal men – to demand justice for Lyanna.

And it had all been lies!

There were thousands dead, a realm at war for nearly two years, families destroyed and all because of his sister's selfish and careless choices. Ned wanted to strangle her.

It was these thoughts that would not leave Ned, and he had kept quiet during the first part of their journey, wondering if they would be able to talk down the three talented Kingsguard that surrounded the Tower of Joy. The last thing Ned wanted was more death caused by his sister – and certainly not for a man like Arthur Dayne.

As furious as Ned was with his sister, and make no mistake, he was furious; his greatest wish was to see her again. To bring her home, North, with him and Catelyn, where she might recover.

He didn't even want to think how she might react when she learned that Rhaegar was dead, and Elia was not. The King had already granted Elia's son the seat at Dragonstone and named Aegon as Rhaegar's heir to that newly formed region.

Ned believed the King when he said he'd name this child a trueborn Stark. If it were a boy, he'd be a cadet branch of House Stark – a bit like the Karstarks were. On that, Ned felt great relief that the King would not punish an innocent for the actions their parents had undertaken.

Realizing that Oberyn hadn't ridden ahead, Ned took a moment to observe the man from Sunspear. Even during their travels, the clothing he wore was of the finest quality – printed silks often in bright colours of yellow, orange, red and blue.

Ned believed the man's casual disdain hid a talented and deadly warrior and had been warned by the Queen that Oberyn was highly skilled not only with a blade, having spent time in the fighting pits of Meereen but also vastly knowledgeable about poisons.

"Do all men in Sunspear reject taking a wife?" Ned asked, curious about the man from the southernmost region. Oberyn spoke with open affection about his bastard daughter – three whom he now had.

Oberyn flashed Ned a grin.

"No. My brother did his duty, as did Elia." Oberyn frowned. "Not that her husband turned out to be honourable or good."

"Then why haven't you? The Queen says you have a lover, a woman whom herself is a bastard, and that she is your consort. Why not make her your wife? Do you not wish for your children to have your name?"

It was considered terrible form to have bastards in the North, and Ned hadn't been pleased with Robert's casual disregard and lack of acknowledgment at the seeds he had planted in the Vale. Those seeds grew into children who had a tough life if their father did not acknowledge them.

Usually, Ned would never be so bold as to ask Oberyn such a question. Indeed, the man he was before the Rebellion likely would have ignored the fact that Oberyn Martell had several bastard daughters already and appeared to think nothing of it.

But the Rebellion had opened Ned's eyes – and he realized how sheltered he'd been in the Vale and the North. King Tywin's pronouncement about the Night's Watch and his envisioned reforms made Ned feel more connected to the south than ever before.

And whether Ned liked it or not, his family was now tied to House Martell. This child that his sister was about to give birth to was half-siblings with Elia Martell's children. Ned would not deny Lyanna's offspring that connection, no matter how distasteful he found Prince Oberyn.

In answer to Ned's question, Oberyn shrugged.

"In Dorne, we do not elevate male heirs above female ones. Whichever child is born first is our heir. Likewise, we do not see the shame in our bastards – not when they are loved. They are raised alongside our trueborn children and part of our households. Knowing that they are loved, that they are not some shameful secrets, we have nothing to hide. They have nothing to hide. They are part of our families, for they are ourr children, Lord Stark, and therefore deserving of a place at our table and in our homes."

Ned grunted, thinking about Oberyn's little speech.

"But do you not wish for a wife? For one woman to belong to you?"

Oberyn's grin was wide and toothy.

"I do not need to put a chain around Ellaria to know she is mine. I have won her heart, and that is what counts."

Oberyn gave a lazy shrug.

"And I do not view our bedplay as an insult to her. She knows how I feel about her. Adding more people to our chambers on occasion does not change my heart."

Neither man said anything for a time, each thinking about the other. Finally, Ned shook his head.

"I do not like the idea of anyone touching my Catelyn," he mumbled as Oberyn laughed but did not press his point.

"Pay no mind to him, Lord Stark. You are more like us Lannister men than those from House Martell. You've yet to meet my wife, Dorna, but she is the only woman I've been with since our vows. And you've seen Tywin and Tygett."

Ned nodded and then cocked his head, looking at Oberyn.

"I can see you love your daughters, bastards or not, and that House Martell holds children in high esteem – that they do not punish children for the decisions their parents made. Keep that in mind, Prince, when we arrive at the Tower of Joy."

With that, Ned kicked his horse and rode ahead, needing to clear his head, but not before he heard Kevan Lannister say to Oberyn, "He has you there. This child is an innocent."

No matter how angry Ned was at his sister, there was a part of him that was eager to see her again – to have a reunion that seemed far too long in coming and to help her bring her babe into this world.

If what the King and Queen said was true, that Lyanna had loved Rhaegar, then Ned knew that birthing her child would be bittersweet when she learned that her Prince was dead and the future she'd hoped for her child, already belonging to the true-born children of Rhaegar and Elia Targaryen.

They didn't linger at either Fawnton or Summerhall; the latter's burnt wreckage was a testament to the dragons' state these days in Westeros.

They were anxious to get to Lyanna, so they made for Blackhaven, where they were warmly welcomed by the young Lord Beric Dondarrion, only seven namedays old and in awe of their party.

They exchanged horses there, and House Dondarrion reaffirmed their pledged to King Tywin and Lord Stannis before they began their trek over the Dornish Marches, wild, hilly land that Ned quite liked.

There were few settlements here, the land stretching on for as far as the eye could see, with endless seas of grassland. These were where some of the best riders in the Seven came from and Ned understood why. There was nothing to do but ride for days and days.

They made for the Prince's Pass, knowing it would be the most direct route to the Tower of Joy.

Oberyn groused at their primitive accommodations, but he and Kevan revelled in it.

"I am a man that was born to be at war," Kevan said one night when they were gathered around the fire.

Oberyn agreed and told them tales of his travels beyond Westeros. Ned and Kevan were enthralled, having warmed to the man.

"But nothing was quite as exciting as coming home."

He wagged a finger at both of them.

"One day, you will come to Sunspear and eat better than you ever have. Olives, lemons, pomegranates, plums, blood oranges and all manner of spices. Our women are as spicy as our food, and if you are truly daring, we can even tempt you to try the famed spice of the dragon peppers."

Ned shook his head and coughed.

"In Winterfell, we have glass gardens. I wonder if some of what you produce could grow there."

Oberyn cocked his head.

"I will send you seeds and plants to try."

Ned was pleased with that, thinking of how Catelyn took a great deal of delight and interest in the Glass Gardens.

"We are more similar than we think," Ned said quietly.

"Both our regions our different have a greater history than just the Andal invasion. And our regions are the least populous. We are proud of the traditions we still have, like the Old Gods, guest rights and our belief in our wierwood trees."

Oberyn seemed to think on Ned's word, weighing his own.

"Just like we Dornish our proud of our Rhoynar culture. Sunspear is a great city, full of numerous bazaars and goods that you cannot get anywhere else in Westeros. Dorne is a special land, slightly different than the rest of Westeros, as we were politically apart for a long time and clung to the Rhoynar traditions."

"Perhaps one day I shall see it," Ned responded. Then he gave a shake of his head.

"Although I wouldn't say I was much for adventures. Not until all of this happened."

His face soured as he remembered why he was here.

"Not to worry, wolf, if you come south, I will keep you safe."

The men shared a knowing look as if grasping something subtle had changed between them. Not a complete understanding of the other, but perhaps a dawning comprehension that the North and the South might have more in common than either man had ever realized.

After that night, they pushed themselves even harder for the Prince's Pass. The tension thickened when they were mere days away from the Tower of Joy, and Oberyn found Ned preparing his sleeping roll.

"My sister's husband disgraced both women with his actions. I want you to know that the child will not be punished for the choices his father made."

Ned stiffened.

"And my sister?"

Oberyn's lips pursed.

"She knew that he was married."

"And he knew she was little more than a child herself; a maiden taken with the Prince of the realm!" Ned spat back.

Oberyn's looked away, drawing in a deep breath.

"You will take her North? To Winterfell?"

Ned gave a jerky nod.

Oberyn held out his hand, and Ned clasped it to his.

"You have my word, Stark, that no harm will come to either Lyanna or her child from House Martell if she does not press a claim that is not hers to press."

"She will not," Ned agreed, unable to express the relief he felt.

"I still do not approve of their actions, but I will not punish her child for the choices she and Rhaegar made."

Ned knew it was the most he could ask for. If the circumstances had been different, if it were him that was racing to confront the woman that had stolen his sister's husband, Ned knew he'd have as much anger as Oberyn.

There was nothing more to say.

Lyanna would have to live with what she did, and Ned could only hope she had matured, to understand the magnitude of her actions, and pray to the Old Gods that somehow, he might see his sister home, at Winterfell once more. House Stark had lost so much. Ned wasn't sure what he might do should he lose even more.

The Master of Whispers – Tywin

His wife was a wonder, Tywin thought.

He watched her make his son laugh, as they broke their fast the morning after his difficult conversation with Jaime.

Tywin had been prepared for cold looks, angry words and an outright dismal of him from Jaime in light of what had been said.

After all, it had taken Tywin months to reconcile and come to terms with whom his daughter was – and he hadn't loved her the way that Jaime had.

After Jaime had stormed from the library, Sansa had tried to comfort him.

There was no denying that Tywin felt like a failure when it came to his golden twins. He could still recall with perfect clarity how overjoyed he'd been when Joanna had birthed them, taking it as a sign from the gods for his good fortune. Rhaella had struggled to give Aerys' heirs, and Tywin had felt superior to his friend when his son and daughter were born safe.

But their births had left his first wife weak, and Joanna had retreated, focusing all of her energy and attention on their children, often leaving Tywin outside that tight family unit she created with the twins.

Not that he'd done anything about it. Indeed, Tywin had believed that it was a woman's place to raise the children. He and Joanna had been compatible, yes, but not passionate. It was far more accurate to say their lived their lives in tandem with one another, rather than together as he did with Sansa.

There was so much of his life that was interwoven with Sansa, that he his two marriages were barely comparable.

Tywin still felt the ache in his stones when he vividly remembered his modern wife introducing him to role-playing.

Gods, he had no idea such things existed, and yet, now that Sansa had broadened his horizons, dozens of scenarios ran through his head. He had never been so satisfied in the bedroom in his life.

He was brought out of his musings about his bedplay with his wife when Jaime let out a low laugh.

"I cannot believe you wish to see the docks. Whatever for?" his son asked, bewildered amusement on his face.

Sansa's eyes were bright and filled with excitement.

"Can you imagine what I might learn? I mean, we had some idea of the movement of goods, sure, but as a modern historian, this is an incredible opportunity for me to examine it first-hand!"

Tywin didn't miss how at ease Sansa put Jaime, and he was grateful for her presence in their lives.

"We must speak to Varys today," Tywin interjected.

Jaime immediately lost his sunny look, and the scowl was back. Tywin supposed he would be the target for Jaime's anger for some time. Some of it was justified; some was not.

Still, Tywin would admit to not being the father his children needed. He knew now what his inattentiveness had wrought.

Jaime's frown deepened, and he pushed aside his plate.

"To what end? The man is loyal to House Targaryen. Keeping him alive today will only haunt us in a few years. Sooner if Tygett cannot secure Rhaella and Viserys on Dragonstone."

Did his son realize the intensity he possessed when something caught his interest? Or how pleased Tywin was to hear Jaime refer to the danger Varys' posted to them?

Jaime might be angry at him, but he was still a Lannister.

Sansa had explained how Jaime's struggles in reading nothing had to do with his intelligence, and Tywin longed for his son to see how good he was at the game of politics they all played. His ability to read people and understand their motivations was no small thing.

Jaime wasn't entirely incorrect when it came to the Spider.

"You're not wrong. However, he also commands a legion of loyal spies and an unrivalled network in the capital. If Varys were to meet his end, who would take over that network?" Tywin asked, hiding how much he enjoyed this banter with Jaime.

This was what he'd envisioned all those years ago – a son by his side, taking a keen interest in ruling, making their House stronger.

Jaime frowned.

"Chaos abhors a vacuum," Sansa murmured as both Lannister men frowned.

"What is a vacuum?" Jaime blurted out.

"A vacuum is a space entirely devoid of matter – of things," she said, waving a hand.

Tywin could already see her brilliant brain attempting to explain things to him and Jaime.

"It merely means that removing Varys doesn't eliminate the network of spies he has so carefully crafted. Someone will take up his place if he is gone. Is it not better to keep him close and slowly work to make his network ours?"

Tywin said nothing, watching Jaime work through the problem.

"You wish to use him," Jaime stated.

Sansa nodded.

Jaime sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, looking pensive.

"It is not an entirely poor idea, though I warn you now not to underestimate the Spider. He may claim again and again that he merely wants what is best for the realm, but above all else, he is dedicated to his survival. He is a powerful man, and he will do anything to retain that power. I am not sure if even the two of you can take him on and win."

With that, Jaime pushed back from the table and gave a curt not to him and then a softer look to Sansa.

"Tell me when you wish to go to the docks. I believe that a new shipment of goods from Volantis is due either today or tomorrow. I've even heard rumours that they may have goods on their ship from Qohor."

Sansa beamed at Jaime and said she would find him when she wished to go.

After that, it took no time to dress and ready the small group of men that Tywin would take to confront Varys. Since the Red Keep was still structurally unsound, including the black cells beneath the squat, round tower that held the prisons of King's Landing, Varys was being held in a room in the Guildhall of the Alchemists – a place that had been all but abandoned since the deaths of Aerys' pyromancers.

Now House Lannister and men from the West held it.

Sansa was excited to be on an adventure, although she was now too large to ride her horse, which gave rise to a pout that had Tywin's cock responding most inconveniently. He wanted to bite that lip and make her moan.

"Pregnant women ride horses all the time," she complained as their carriage arrived to take them up the Street of the Sisters towards the Guildhall.

"A Queen pregnant with twins does not," he responded, immovable on this subject.

"Well, I suppose it gives me a chance to flirt with you away from prying eyes," she retorted.

Tywin caught the snickers and the merriment on the face of his men. Sansa had that effect on those that served House Lannister. She was beloved. Tywin helped her into the carriage and then watched as she promptly lost all her annoyance as she gazed in wonder as they traversed the wide, cobblestone streets towards the Guildhall.

"It's so different from what I pictured," she gushed, reaching for his hand and holding it in hers.

He still was getting used to her easy and affectionate gestures.

"In what way?"

"Hmmm, well, it's cleaner than I imagined, although it's not as nice at Casterly Rock. And I've heard incredible things about Oldtown, so one day, I'd like to visit there. But the areas in which I have been have all been well maintained."

Tywin nodded and let her discuss what she knew of King's Landing. He imagined that with the regular tournaments that Sansa told him Robert had held, the numbers in the city had swelled when Robert had ruled as King. Tournaments would have brought an influx of people to the city. People who wouldn't always leave when the tournament was done.

Sansa hadn't yet been through Flea Bottom, a place that made Tywin's skin crawl, if truth be told.

As the carriage made its way to the Guildhall, Sansa spoke of modern refinements that they might wish to build in King's Landing to make life better for those that flocked to the capital.

It was only when she bit her lip that Tywin knew something was on her mind, beyond the many reforms she wished to enact.

"What is it?"

"Do you think Jaime was correct? Should we just be done with Varys here and now?"

The distaste in her tone was evident, for she knew what being done with Varys meant.

Death.

"I won't lie to you and say there isn't merit in that idea – to be done with the man, here and now. Especially knowing how he threw his lot in with the Targaryens in your timeline."

"But," she probed.

He didn't smile, but he liked how she caught on that there was another perspective to this matter. Things were rarely black and white when it came to ruling. One had to make the best decision with the information they had at the time, and then ensure they had the men and the stones to defend their choices and decisions.

Given the ignoble end to his proud family that Sansa had shared with him, Tywin was vigilant not to make the same mistakes that had been made in the other timeline.

For him, that meant using every resource, person, and network at his disposal to consolidate the power of House Lannister and solidify their dynasty

Yes, he could kill Varys – quickly and with cause, and few would likely bat an eye.

But that seemed short-sighted.

What good was the advantage Sansa gave him if he didn't use it? If he wasn't willing to take risks and act according to what she knew?

It had gotten them this far, and while there had been unexpected consequences, there had also been rewards. Great rewards, including the position he now found himself in.

"But I believe circumstances are far different with us in the positions we are in, that he might see the benefit of working for us. We are not Robert, nor are we Joffrey. Additionally, if you wish to implement any of your reforms, you will need a man of Varys' ilk. I'd rather the Spider I know than the one I do not."

He watched as she processed his words and slowly nodded.

"I do not wish to become complacent with what we know. We've changed so much, and while I believe that my knowledge still gives us an advantage, I do not wish our hubris to contribute to our downfall."

She gave him a wry smile.

"In modern times, we have a saying – if it is too good to be true, it likely is. We haven't had many challenges lately, and I worry that some of this has been too easy."

Once again, Sansa had surprised him most pleasantly. While he wouldn't call what they'd done 'easy,' he did understand her point.

Still, he wished to give her some perspective.

"We have a realm to rebuild, my love. There are regions that detest us, and we have enemies both near and far. Do not think for one moment that we don't have an incredible amount of work before us. Our position will require our diligence to maintain our power that was hard-fought. The moment we stop playing the game, stop thinking two, three and five steps ahead of our enemies, is the moment they will strike. Varys is useful for now, Sansa. That is as much of a chance I am willing to give the man."

Sansa nodded, though a slight shudder went through her form, and they were quiet for the rest of the trip.

Soon enough, they arrived at the Guildhall, and Tywin escorted Sansa from the carriage.

There were peasant children that crowded them, having seen the royal carriage and eager to look at their new Queen. Sansa indulged them by waving and smiling at them while he stood there, glowering, ensuring none of the urchins with their dirty hands touched his wife.

"You really must learn not to look so unapproachable," she murmured to him when he finally escorted her inside. "You'll scare them away and make them think you're far meaner than you are."

"Good," was his response, to which Sansa rolled her eyes.

On this, how they viewed the common people, Tywin doubted they would ever see eye to eye.

He had a reputation to maintain, and he had never been known as a 'man of the people.' He doubted he ever would be. Sansa smoothed that sharp edge he had, winning some to his side, and he would ruthlessly use her popularity with the masses to increase his own. But he would never be that type of King and they both knew it.

To her credit, though, the moment they entered the Guildhall, Sansa lost that sunny look on her face. Instead, she appeared serious and somber, her face unreadable. Gone was the affable, curious woman that Tywin knew was Sansa's true personality. Instead, she was a Queen prepared to play her part with a very dangerous player in the game of thrones.

They found Varys looking hardly any worse for wear in an elegantly appointed room, wearing his traditional silk robes.

Tywin grimaced.

He helped Sansa to her seat while he stood, glowing at the man.

He had never been close with Varys – the man had always been Aerys'.

It ate at Tywin to give him this chance, knowing that in the future Sansa knew, Varys had remained loyal to House Targaryen – even after everything he'd witnessed.

"Your Graces," Varys said, simpering and bowing his head.

Tywin snorted.

"Stop. We both know you were always Aerys' man and never mine."

Varys cocked his head, folding his hands in front of him, so they disappeared into the overlarge sleeves of the silk robe.

"He was the King."

"He was a madman who raped his wife and conspired to murder every man, woman and child in this city! And you stood by, while he made poor decision after poor decision. You did nothing to stop him, to warn the realm, to guide him on a different path."

For once, Varys looked nervous. He licked his lips repeatedly, and Tywin saw a sheen of sweat on his upper lip, though no hair grew. Sansa explained it had to do with removing a eunuch's stones and how the stones regulated hormones inside one's body. As always, her vast knowledge of the human body continued to stun and amaze Tywin.

"I do not know what you would have had me do, Your Grace. You left King Aerys, resigned as Hand and retreated to your Rock. Even as jealous as Aerys was of you, how quickly he descended into madness after you left, he knew what an asset you were to his reign. He might not admit it, but he knew."

Tywin growled and waved a large hand, not believing a word that spilled from Varys' puffy lips.

"Save your simpering for someone who doesn't know you, Spider. Pretty words will not save your fat neck. Only a vow from your lips to me and mine will begin to spare your life."

Varys' eyes flicked to Sansa as he cocked his head, examining her. Then he looked back to Tywin.

"You're different," the man murmured in that soft tone that grated on Tywin's nerves.

"Why did you not sack the city?" the eunuch asked suddenly.

It startled Tywin that this man thought to question him, given the position he found himself in.

"Do you think it wise that you waste your breath on such matters? You are here to beg for your life, not question me."

"The Tywin Lannister I knew, the one that was Hand to Aerys, was brutal and efficient, tireless and decisive. We both know that more and more of ruling the realm fell to you- and we all know that you had the support of wealthy merchants and the lords of the realm."

Varys paused.

"While you ruled well, Your Grace, I do not think it unfair to say you held the Seven Kingdoms together through fear and intimidation. That does not strike me as a man who was willing to be seen as a saviour of the people. I would have thought a sacking was in order that night. Especially since your son was well clear of the capital."

Wondering where Varys was going with this but willing to play the game, Tywin looked to Sansa. If anyone could give a dissertation on his rule as Hand, it was her. She gave a slight nod, knowing what he wanted her to do.

"My husband was in an untenable position as Hand to Aerys, Lord Varys. We both know this. As Aerys sunk into his madness, aided and abetted by men who would do anything for him, men who would overlook his increasing inability to make sound decisions, men like yourself, Aerys kept up a diatribe of vulgar insults and subtle threats against Lord Tywin. The King was well aware of the hollow figurehead he'd become and sought to disprove those who thought that Tywin was the true master of the Seven Kingdoms."

Sansa paused.

"I believe you were there when Aerys stated he wished to, and I quote, humble his overmighty servant and put him back in his place. I do not believe you came to Lord Tywin's defence at that time, did you?"

The look of utter shock on Varys's face was worth this entire endeavour.

Tywin did not smirk, but gods, it did something to him to hear Sansa's impassioned defence of him again and again.

Of course, his wife was not done.

"I find it odd that for a man who claims he is here for the people; you did not support the man who created a stable realm for said people. Isn't that what everyone wishes for? A chance to be at peace, to put food on their table and ale in their bellies. Tell me, Lord Varys, was it your beloved Aerys who put an end to horsemeat being sold as beef? Or stopped bakers from salting their loaves with sawdust? Was it Aerys that guaranteed ports remained open, with lower tariffs and reasonable taxes? You can claim you want what is best for the people until you are blue in the face, but all I see is a Targ loyalist who abandoned his King when the King finally snapped and wished to murder every man, woman and child in the city. Your actions strike me as highly suspicious and entirely self-motivating. You only turned on Aerys to save yourself."

Varys' eyes were wide now as he looked at Sansa in disbelief. She was a amazing woman and Tywin's love and pride in her grew by the day.

"She does you a great service, Your Grace," Varys murmured.

Sansa snorted.

"She is sitting right here, and I am in love with my husband. Do not speak around me as if I am some imbecile whom doesn't understand how the game is played."

Tywin hadn't realized just how much the realm's distorted view of him had made him bitter and hard. Not until he heard Sansa vehemently defend him did he realize just how angry it had made him have those whisper behind his back about his failures when he couldn't reign Aerys in.

It only made him more pleased that the Mad King was dead and gone. To not have his name associated with that man anymore.

"Lord Varys, we are here to give you a single opportunity to turn your loyalty to us. I am certain you have heard the rumours that Princess Elia and her two children are now ensconced, happily, I might add, at Eastern Den. When my brother returns, they shall announce their betrothal. Two of Rhaegar's children will be raised by a lion. Lord Stannis and Ser Tygett are also on their way to Dragonstone to retrieve Rhaella and Viserys and return them to King's Landing."

Varys frowned.

"To what end?"

"For them to bend the knee. I will not have anyone say that my claim to the Throne did not come by right of conquest. It did. I am not ignorant to the Targaryen loyalist that populate not only Westeros but Essos as well. I know there are men and women out there that wish to see a return of the dragons. But Aerys' wife and children, along with Rhaegar's, will be treated fairly under my rule. No one will use them as martyrs for their cause. If they want what I took from them, they will have to take it back through blood and war."

Varys's eyebrows rose. It was a bold move and one that the eunuch hadn't anticipated. Tywin openly keeping Elia and her children safe and declaring the Throne his.

"What do you want from me?"

"Your network of spies and your vow to help rebuild the parts of this society that require it the most," Sansa answered promptly.

"How?"

"I wish to create a trade guild, where all manner of people can come and learn the skills the realm requires. Tanners, bakers, blacksmiths, seamstresses, dressmakers, kennel masters, and stable masters. There is enough work in the castles of Westeros for them to learn a proper trade."

Sansa was on a tangent and didn't even see Varys' eyes light. But Tywin did.

"I also wish to have days when Maesters attend to the poor – in Flea Bottom. There should be proper stipends for widows and a network of homes for orphans, overseen by the Crown. I have an ambitious goal to create a center for higher learning, not run and organized by the Order of the Maesters, but by learned men in the realm, to ensure that as many people as possible can learn to read and write and that Maesters do not hoard all the knowledge to themselves. King's Landing badly needs building standards codified and an upgraded sewage system. Then there is how we shall deal with refuse. Basic hygiene that isn't being met on a daily basis. Oh, and I almost forgot that I would also like to reform the current justice system into something far more modern and create centers where the arts can flourish in Westeros."

"Is that all?" Varys managed to sputter.

Sansa shook her head.

"Gods no. We've already discussed updating how a man might earn a knighthood and reforming the Night's Watch. I've also taken a keen interest in our trading partnerships with Essos and wish to explore the use of metalwork – golds, silvers, coppers."

She frowned.

"And I am eager to explore the docks and the shipments that are arriving daily to see if there are some products and goods that might be useful throughout Westeros."

Varys's mouth had dropped open, and for once in his life, he had nothing to say, completely flummoxed by the Queen sitting in front of him.

Tywin felt a surge of pride for Sansa that she was his. She was a boon to him and his House. And indeed, the realm. Westeros had no idea what they had in this woman.

"Our terms are simple. Publicly declare for us, recognizing our reign and work with the Queen to ensure that the reforms we wish to enact come to fruition. Don't, and I will have the Grand Maester bring you sweet sleep for your meal tonight."

Tywin gave him a moment to think, but he already knew what the Master of Whisper's answer would be. The man had practically salivated when he'd listened to Sansa list off her many, many reforms. If she could accomplish a quarter of what she wished, she would leave the Seven Kingdoms a far better place than which she had found it.

"I have only ever wanted what is best for the realm."

Sansa rose and joined Tywin.

"I will swear my vows to you, in front of your men and your alliance. And repeat them at the conclave. I look forward to working with you, Queen Sansa, and enacting true change in Westeros."

Sansa gave a regal nod, and then Tywin swept her from the room, wondering how long it would take for his wife to win over those loyal to Varys and bring his network of little birds under her care and guidance.

King's Landing – Sansa

Inspired by her previous discussion with Tywin about primary sources and determined to document life in King's Landing as thoroughly as possible, Sansa spent the following week after their talk, plotting how she might go about achieving her goal to study more of Westeros society first hand.

Once they had dealt with Varys and the knowledge that the Master of Whispers was now on their side, coupled with the excitement Sansa had at shipments coming from exotic places like Volantis and Qohor, she eagerly took Jaime up on his offer to escort her to the docks.

Sansa dressed for her outing, chatting amicably to Barba. Tywin had long since vacated their rooms, giving the women their privacy. He was likely in his study, writing ravens and working diligently on solidifying their position. Varys was due to meet with them within the next few days, and Tywin wanted an update on the status of the Red Keep.

Sansa had known that Tywin worked incredibly hard – but to see it firsthand was impressive. Men might complain about her husband, but few were willing to work as hard as he was.

They'd received ravens from the travelers, much to Elia and Catelyn's delight. Sansa was still nervous for both sets – wondering if things would change from the history she knew. The deaths of Rhaella, Lyanna and Elia had such a profound impact on Westeros that she wondered how things might change should those women live.

It was already evident with Elia and her role as regent for her young son and her critical place in their alliance and as a member of the growing Lannister pride.

And speaking of the pride, word had come that Lord Sandor Clegane was less than two days from the capital on the Gold Road.

All in all, Sansa had many things to look forward to, and that didn't even account for her pregnancy and the fact that soon she would welcome two babies into this world.

"I've located a proper midwife, one from Lys, who is said to have more knowledge than all the Maesters combined when it comes to birthing babes," Barba said as her deft fingers braided a crown into Sansa's long red hair.

"Oh, that is quite exciting!" Sansa exclaimed.

She did not like Maester Pycelle and shuddered each time the man was near her. The idea of him seeing any more of her was something Sansa could not abide by. Surely there must be a Maester at Oldtown who specialized in birthing babies – especially multiples. Sansa made a note to speak to Tywin about it.

Today, her gown was a soft grey colour – like the clouds that held the slightest hint of warm summer rain. She wore a necklace Tywin had gifted her, with a golden lion pendant with rubies for eyes, and she had Barba fasten it around her neck.

Of course, she had her wedding ring on, and she liked how it looked – the symbolism of it, but also how pretty it was.

Sansa felt her husband's presence before she saw him.

He had a frown on his face, which was couched in worry.

"You will listen to Jaime," he commanded softly as Barba stepped away.

He came to stand behind the chair. The two of them were framed in the pretty mirror, and Sansa's breath caught.

She reached a hand up and was pleased when Tywin grasped hers. She caught his own gold band on his hand, and liked that everyone knew he was hers.

"We should have our portrait drawn like this," she murmured and saw his startled but pleased expression.

"When we have our crowns, we will do so – before the babies come."

Sansa grinned, looking down at her prominent stomach.

Tywin dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she looked up at him.

"Be careful," he said gruffly.

"I will."

With his hand in hers, he escorted her to the grand entrance of Eastern Den, where Jaime and Catelyn awaited. A few men from the Westerlands joined them – Lord Andros Brax, a man Jaime's age, from Hornvale, and Lord Lewys Lydden, a year younger than Jaime. Sansa was pleased to see them both and smiled warmly at them.

Both men blushed when Tywin huffed out a little frustrated breath.

"Do you have to reduce my men to simpering fools?" he muttered under his breath.

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. She loved her growly lion.

From the North, Ser Jorah Mormont, Ethan Glover, and Martyn Cassel would be with them.

Sansa was pleased to see Ned take Cat's safety seriously and thanked the three men from the North for protecting them.

Jorah, perhaps the most elegant and at ease in such surroundings, gave a slight bow.

"It is our honour, Your Grace."

Recalling how Jorah had felt compelled to provide a lifestyle for his bride, Lynesse Hightower, that he could not afford that he turned to the illegal practice of trading slaves, Sansa hoped she could prevent such a match from taking place. Ser Jorah, not led astray by a wife he could not please, would be an excellent ally for Ned in the North.

Sansa and Catelyn were helped into their waiting carriage while the six men accompanying them mounted their horses. Sansa's breath still caught when she saw such beautiful animals. It was one of the best things about being back in time – all the horses.

Well, that and Tywin.

Her husband leaned into the carriage, his tall form easily affording him that opportunity, and kissed her hard.

He said nothing, but she saw the concern and the love for her in his eyes.

When he closed the door, Sansa saw him turn to his son, who was already mounted on his white horse.

Things had not yet settled between the two men, and for that, Sansa's heart ached.

"Return my wife to me safely," Sansa heard Tywin command to Jaime.

Jaime gave one short, jerky nod.

"I will, Your Grace."

Sansa saw Tywin's jaw tighten when Jaime used his formal title instead of the word father.

He spun on his heel and disappeared back into the mansion, and for one moment, Sansa wondered if she should stay and sooth her lion.

But she knew that Tywin would not welcome her company right now, and the carriage had already started to move.

Quickly, Sansa pushed any thoughts of Tywin's mood from her mind, excited to focus on the adventure of today. Their route today would take them along the Street of the Sisters once more.

Sansa had not yet been 'allowed' to go on the Street of Silk, where most of the brothels of varying expense were located. She'd given her husband a look at that as well – and told him she was never to find him there either. He'd barked out a harsh laugh and promised she never would.

Their head cook had been upset with her for a time when she praised the bakers on the Street of Flour instead of the ones working at Eastern Den, but with her ravenous appetite these days, she'd soon won the temperamental man over.

She had been to the Street of Flour, where one could find all manner of bakeries and come home loaded with new treats to try. She could often be found in the kitchens, conversing with the staff there. It wasn't proper, but Tywin's people had gotten used to the oddities of their new mistress.

She and Tywin's cook got into many interesting discussions and the man had mostly adapted to her idiosyncrasies. Mostly.

They passed the Guildhall, where Sansa knew Varys was still ensconced and then turned down Muddy Way, the thoroughfare that would take them straight to Fishmonger's Square.

Muddy Way wasn't always muddy; in fact, given the temperate weather of the past week, it was rather dusty today. Still, Tywin had explained how this road turned into a disgusting mess with the slightest bit of rain and that they would avoid it at all costs.

As they trotted along Muddy Way, Sansa was able to gaze up Aegon's High Hill to the Red Keep that sat perched above the rest. It was the most natural place to have built their castle, and Sansa knew why the dragons had chosen it. It was an excellent defensive position.

While she didn't hold House Targaryen in high esteem, she felt an ache in her chest for what had been lost. The lives of those that served their King loyally, and the priceless furniture, art and lore that belonged to such a storied House. She didn't mourn the death of Aerys or Rhaegar, but the historian in her felt disappointed at what Aerys had tried to erase.

She smelt the Harbour before they arrived, for it had a particular odour.

Her sister wrinkled her nose.

"Are you sure this is where you wish to be?"

Sansa nodded her head, eager to explore.

"Yes. Jaime said the ships have arrived, and I am eager to see what they've brought."

Tywin must have sent word that she was on her way, for a market and Harbour that was usually near chaotic was merely bustling and Sansa spotted Lannisters guards everywhere. Something inside Sansa warmed, knowing the care that Tywin took with her. He knew she had a curious mind and didn't try to stifle her; merely make it so that she was as safe as she could be.

There was no mistaking the crest of House Lannister on the carriage, and all there knew that the Queen had come to their part of King's Landing.

No one could remember the last time this had happened, and so men who were brutal and harsh and who had likely never even spoken to a woman of Sansa's rank stood a little straighter as she exited the carriage with a helping hand from Jaime.

"Oh, this is marvellous," she cried, seeing the simple tables, tents and wooden barrels lined up for people to buy what they wished.

Most that were here shopping were retainers for their lord or lady – very few high-born people came to Fishmonger's Square. There were those that ran Inns and Brothels, buying the goods they would need to service their customers. Others were from the mercantile class, who wished to have dibs on the finest goods before the rich picked it over, and they were left with naught by the worst catch and the most useless items.

All in all, it was a wonderful cross section of those who lived in King's Landing and the historian in Sansa couldn't wait to get started.

Despite the smell, which was quite pungent, even her sister had a smile on her face as they began to walk through the market. Tywin had given Sansa some coin before she'd left and then told Jaime that whatever she wanted, he was to ensure she bought it.

It was the first time since being back when Sansa realized she was entirely dependent upon her husband for her basic needs.

Food.

Clothing.

Shelter.

It wasn't even like she could ask for a joint bank account.

Jaime's lips quirked as he watched her finger the little velvet bag that held her money. She'd seen the gold that Tywin had, not just at the Rock but at Deep Den as well. But she hadn't had to think of buying anything until now.

"Help me," she whispered to him as Jaime chuckled.

"Never had to do this before?"

Sansa shook her head.

"No."

He cocked his head. They were apart from the others, so she felt comfortable sharing with him, although how she would explain credit cards, bank accounts, and things such as Tap and Apple Pay was beyond her. She settled for something far more straightforward.

"We have money in my time, but it is different from this. I've never had to buy anything for myself since I've come back."

"How much money did my father give you?"

Sansa thrust the little bag into Jaime's hand. To her, it felt heavy.

Jaime let out a low whistle and shook his head as the gold, silver and copper coins spilled out.

"Sansa, you could buy almost anything you want here. Twice."

She blushed.

"I don't love your father for his gold, Jaime," she blurted out.

He lost that look of amusement on his face.

"I never thought you did. I don't know how or why you love him sometimes, but I know you do, love him that is."

Not wishing to get into that, here, Sansa merely nodded.

"So you'll help me?"

Jaime agreed, and soon Sansa was in her element, happily shopping and buying things. Even though there was an entire street in King's Landing called the Street of Looms, dedicated to fabrics of all types and colours, Sansa had the first choice of the new materials that were being unloaded from the ships.

She loved the market, bantering and bickering with the merchants, happily learning how to use her money, and then joyfully accepting her purchase. She loaded down their guards with bolts of new fabric that she found, along with new spices that only she seemed to have a clue what they could be used for (things like coriander, cinnamon, garam masala and turmeric).

She made more than one spice merchant very happy with her purchases and made them promise to send word when they were back with more.

She let out a happy squeal when she found watermelon and cantaloupes and eagerly purchased several, promising Jaime and Catelyn they would enjoy the sweet fruit. She found a silver ring with the insignia of a dog on it and immediately bought it for Sandor, knowing he was close to being in King's Landing.

At another stall, she found a bracelet, this one made of gold and very manly. Perhaps the merchant had known that Tywin was King, or perhaps it was just good luck, but there was a lion etched into the bracelet, and she bought it for her husband, thinking it would look good around his wrist.

She spent hours walking through the market until she got to the stalls that lined the Harbour itself. Here the fish and other seafood were sold, and she made more purchases, sending them all to Eastern Den. She knew she'd have to settle Cook's ruffled feathers but knew if anyone could do it, it would be her. Besides, he might complain at her 'interference' but she knew he'd appreciate the fresh fish.

She was just about to quit for the day when she stilled, her eyes narrowing.

In one of the smallest stalls she'd ever seen, at the very end of the market was a man and his young son. They had dark skin and equally dark hair, and it was apparent that no one had bought their goods. Their clothing was hardly more than rags, and she knew they weren't from Westeros. The boy was so thin that Sansa quickly looked down to see what food she had on her – a loaf of bread and a bag of fresh apples. Even if she bought nothing from them, they would not leave empty-handed.

She was drawn to them and intrigued as to what they could be selling that no one was interested in.

When she glanced down at their crates Sansa immediately knew why, although she hardly dared to believe it.

Before them were several crates full of green and brown beans.

She felt her pulse kick up a notch as she hurried forward, even as Catelyn and Jaime complained. Loudly.

"Sansa, there is nothing here but beans no one has a use for," Jaime whined.

She shook her head in wonder, stepping closer to the man, who was eyeing her warily.

"May I?" she asked, pointing to the crate of green beans first.

The man nodded, and she sunk her hands into the crate, letting the beans fall from her hands.

"How many crates do you have?" she asked eagerly.

"Six."

"I will take them all," she said immediately, and the man's eyes widened as his son began to tremble. Sansa realized how slim the boy was, and she immediately thought of all the tempting smells coming from the market. He must be starving. She shoved the bread and apples at them. The young boy reached for them, even as his father hissed at him in their native tongue, and swatted his hand away.

"Your Grace," the man stammer, in the broken common tongue, "I cannot allow you to buy this product not knowing what it is."

Sansa smiled gently at the man, cocking her head.

"Please take the food for your son. And trust me, I know exactly what these beans are."

The boy, who was staring up at Sansa in wonder, was handed the bread and the apples by his father, as others from their party gathered behind her, intrigued by her.

"How do you know?" the man insisted.

Sansa thought he must be a good man, for he easily could have taken her gold. He clearly needed it, but he did not wish to swindle the Queen.

"If I take these beans home and roast them in my oven, they will begin to crack and darken. I will dry them and roast them again, and when they are dark enough for my liking, I will dry them once more, and then grind them up and pour hot water over them, resulting in a delicious drink."

The man's eyes had gone impossibly wide before a smile lit his face. His was missing teeth, and he smelled, but he began to chatter eagerly at her, Sansa catching only every second word.

Sensing she knew more than the average shopper, they turned to the other two crates that held a different bean – this one a light brown.

"And does Your Grace know what these are?"

Sansa grinned.

"Fermented chocolate beans – which are still in their shell. But when I crack them open, I shall find the cacao nib. I will take any crates that you have of these."

Jaime leaned in, close to her; his eyes were intense.

"Sansa, are you sure? That will be the last of your gold, and no one buys these items."

She knew what Jaime was saying without saying it. Lannisters did not act like fools.

Was this merely charity she wished to bestow upon this man and his son?

"Trust me, Jaime. Pay the man his gold and load up my crates. I cannot wait to tell Cook about what I have found."

She missed Jaime rolling his eyes but caught the grins on the faces of the men from the North.

"Your Grace has an adventurous palate," Ser Jorah said, his admiration of her evident.

Sansa merely smiled, knowing the treasure she had found. She couldn't wait to share what she'd found with Tywin.

The man and young boy eagerly helped load the crates, and Sansa saw the tears in the man's eyes, his hands shaking as he took the last of her gold. Even if she made nothing out of the coffee and chocolate, it was worth it to share some of Tywin's gold with these two, who needed it far more than she did.

"That is their wages for two years," Jaime said slight awe in his voice.

"Good. They've earned it. And if these goods are what I think they are, you'll thank me soon enough, Jaime Lannister."

He could only shake his head in wonder at her.

"I'm glad it is my father that is married to you."

Sansa chose to take that statement as a compliment.

She was exhausted when she finally made her way back to the carriage, so loaded down with items that she and Catelyn hardly had any room to sit. Someone produced a cart to haul all her loot back to Eastern Den.

When they arrived back in the courtyard of the mansion, Tywin was waiting for her. She felt her energy come back, seeing him standing there.

He had a dry expression on his face as he took in her purchases including the extra cart.

"Did someone enjoy themselves?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I did."

He snorted.

"I can see that."

She notched up her chin.

"I've seen how much gold you have, husband. We must support the local economy."

The truth was Sansa could spend what she had today, each day, and Tywin would still have more gold then they could ever go through. He was obscenely rich.

Tywin didn't say anything but merely took her hand, guiding her inside while those that served their House unloaded her purchases.

Inside their bedchambers, Sansa found the bracelet she'd bought for her husband and shyly handed it to him.

Tywin stilled as if he didn't quite know what to do, holding the little velvet bag.

"What is this?"

"A present. For you. I am sure it is not up the craftsmanship of what you are used to, but I wanted you to have it, so I bought it for you."

He said nothing for a moment, looking at the little velvet bag in which the bracelet sat, not moving.

"You bought me something?" His voice was gruff and almost sounded rusty.

Sansa nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?"

She frowned.

"Why what?"

"Why did you buy me something?"

"Because I saw it, and I thought of you." Sansa paused. "Tywin, hasn't anyone ever given you a present before?"

He said nothing, and she had her answer. Over the months they had been married, she'd begun to understand that Tywin's marriage to Joanna was much different from his marriage to her. Still, Sansa could hardly imagine a wife never gifting her husband with anything.

"She gave me the twins and her companionship. It was I that gave her jewels and my gold."

Sansa nodded, saying nothing.

"Well, as I said, this is something little. I'm not even sure you will like it. I saw it, and I thought of you. If it's not to your taste, no harm, no foul."

Those green eyes flecked with gold met hers, and she saw such a wealth of emotion in them, it staggered her. This man's capacity to love would scare some people – but not Sansa. This was what she had dreamed about her entire life – a love this incredible.

"Open it," she encouraged him.

He did so, and she saw his nostrils flare as he held the golden bracelet up in his hand. It was meant for a man's wrist, and here, Sansa could see the craftsmanship was better than she'd thought when she'd been at the market.

Silently, taking it from him, she fit it around his left wrist, knowing he wrote with his right and not wanting it to interfere with his duty. Sansa brought his wrist up to her lips, for there was a small space where the bracelet ends did not meet, and it there was there where she pressed a soft, lingering kiss, feeling the steady, intense pulse of Tywin's heartbeat.

"I vow that you will never doubt how much you mean to me," she murmured, so the words almost floated on the air between them.

"Sansa." His voice was guttural, filled with need and emotion so deep there were hardly any words for it.

The knock on the door, by a worried steward of Tywin's, interrupted the moment. Cook was raging at the purchases that the King's upstart wife had brought home.

Sansa's lips twitched as she took a deep, shuddering breath, pushing down the desire that threatened to buckle her knees.

She slid her hand into Tywin's and squeezed.

He snorted at her.

"If you think I'm going to war with my cook over your purchases, think again, wife."

She stuck her tongue out at Tywin, but inside, Sansa felt warm and content and happily began to chat to Tywin all about the process of making him his first cup of coffee along with a chocolate cake, missing the absolute adoration in her husband's eyes, as they rejoined those at Eastern Den, stepping into the beautiful chaos that was her busy, full life.

King's Landing – Tywin

Sansa's purchases had indeed sent Tywin's Cook into a fury until she arrived in the kitchen and explained what she had bought. Tywin was most interested in this beverage she called coffee, his wife insisting that once he got a taste for it, he'd love it.

She spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen, carefully watching over her first roasting on her beloved coffee beans, educating the staff on the darkness for the bean that she wanted.

Tywin admitted that the aroma of the fragrant bean, especially after Sansa ground one, was enticing. He came to the kitchen more than he cared to admit, as did Jaime, who had found Tywin in his study and explained all about his wife's first visit to the market.

"They love her. Everyone. Merchants and sailors alike. Everywhere she goes, she smiles at people and stops to ask them questions. They've never seen a Queen quite like her," Jaime said reverently.

Tywin grunted.

"And you should teach her about our money. She had no idea how to buy anything or when she might be overpaying," Jaime quipped.

Tywin was startled, having not considered that.

"How did she do?"

Jaime's grin was huge.

"Oh, once she got the hang of it, she bartered with the best of them and took great delight in doing so."

Tywin felt a surge of pride in Sansa. She had once again been thrust into a situation she did not understand, and she had handled herself well.

They heard raised voices from the kitchen and, exchanging a knowing look, hurried from the library towards the large room at the back west corner of the mansion.

"I know that the beans aren't complete, but I merely wish to experiment with different darkness," Sansa said, standing there with her hands on her hips, glaring at their Cook.

"Your Grace, if you would have some patience, we could produce exactly what you want. You have explained it to me, in detail," the man added irritably, "that I can see that this cup of coffee you so long for is served in a few hours."

She huffed out a breath and was just about to protest when Tywin intervened.

"Sansa, leave cook to his kitchen," Tywin said, watching as her eyes found his.

"But this is my discovery," she said hotly.

Tywin didn't quiet sigh. His wife was as stubborn as a mule when she wished to be.

"Cook will find you when the beans are done. He will not take any more steps until that moment, will he?" Tywin said, glaring at his loyal man.

The man bobbed his head.

"I will call for Her Grace immediately."

As Tywin held his hand out for his wife, a shaft of sunlight caught the bracelet he now wore, a present from said wife. Gods, he'd acted like a green boy upon his sixth nameday when Sansa had given him her gift.

It had been far too long since anyone had done anything like that for him. He couldn't recall Joanna ever thinking about him in such a manner – his job was to provide for her, give her his protection, good name, and loyalty. Her job was to run his Keep and give him children. They'd fulfilled those roles admirably.

But Sansa demanded more. So much more. A true partnership – equal in how they treated one another. Which apparently included buying things for him and doing things for him.

She smiled when she saw her adornment on his arm and they spent a pleasant two hours in his study until they were summoned back to the kitchen.

She sat him and Jaime at stools that the help generally sat upon and wagged a finger at them.

"Now, keep in mind that the beans normally should be dried longer to allow their natural oils to come out. But I am too impatient to wait."

Using a mortar and pestle, she ground up the beans and then dumped the mixture into a pot, added boiling water and stirred. No one was used to seeing a Queen work in a kitchen – nor two men of Jaime and Tywin's lineage sitting where the help did. But no one dared argue with the pregnant Queen.

Tywin frowned at the muddy brown mixture Sansa had made, although the aroma was pleasant enough.

She found a strainer and, with help, pushed the mixture through, separating the crushed beans from the hot water. Then she poured four mugs of what she called coffee, demanded some cream and some honey, and sat the concoction in front of him and Jaime.

Both Lannister men frowned. The fourth mug sat untouched.

Cook was grumbling under his breath until Sansa called the man over. His eyes widened and flashed a worried look to Tywin.

It was entirely improper, them sitting here in the kitchen of all places, sipping muddy brown mugs of a water that until this point was wholly untested in Westeros, with their help.

But such was life with Sansa Stark, from seventeen hundred years in the future. Tywin's household was adjusting.

"Well, come and join us. I've upended your life enough," Sansa said to their cook.

Cook did not move. Sansa gave him a look.

It was only when Tywin nodded his head that the man took the third stool. Three men stared at their mugs while Sansa eagerly brought hers to her nose and sniffed.

"Ahh, it seems good. Perhaps not as strong as I'd like, but a good start."

She took a sip, not tentative at all and let out a pleasurable sigh.

"Oh, that's better than I thought."

She then added a healthy dose of cream and took another sip, and the expression on her face was one of pure bliss.

When she gazed at them, she was giggling.

"It will taste bitter at first, but I promise if you add a bit of cream, it mellows the flavour quite nicely."

Neither Jaime nor the Cook made any move to try the brown water, and Tywin saw Sansa's face begin to fall.

Sighing, he reached for the cream, added it, stirred it with his spoon and then raised the cup to his lips. Surely, he wasn't that craven to deny his wife a taste of this coffee she liked so much.

The first taste was indeed slightly bitter, as Sansa had warned, but strangely good. The cream did help, making something that might have been harsh, drinkable. He took another sip, finding he liked this coffee quite a bit.

All eyes were on him as he took a third and then a fourth sip, the taste something he was fast becoming accustomed to.

"I knew you'd like coffee," she said, a smug smile on her beautiful face.

Eager now that Tywin hadn't spit it out, Jaime and Cook quickly followed suit, both men agreeing it wasn't horrible. Jaime liked his sweeter, with honey, and Tywin soon finished his entire mug.

"Unfortunately, I can only have one cup a day," Sansa said with a pout.

"Why?" Tywin asked as they were walking towards their solar.

"Caffeine. It's not good for the babies."

That made him worried. If it wasn't good for the babies, why had she indulged?

"What is caffeine?" he asked, eager to learn more.

She spent the afternoon curled up on the sofa in the solar, telling Tywin all about coffee and chocolate and the many uses for both. It took less than half an hour before Tywin exclaimed that he felt quite energetic, and Sansa laughed at him.

While he left his wife napping in the sun, he went and found Jaime, eager to have it out with his son.

Tywin found Jaime where he'd expected - training with men from the North and the Westerlands. All of them stopped when Tywin stepped into the makeshift ring.

There was a hush from the men.

Perhaps Tywin would never be as good with his son as a sword. Indeed, Jaime seemed to have an innate skill few men possessed.

And perhaps it had been years since Tywin had done anything of this sort with his son.

Once again, the time he'd invested in his children had been lacking. Any fool could see that. But he could make up for that now. Jaime wasn't too old to not need his father.

Jaime had a gleam in his eyes – an edge that Tywin could not remember seeing in them before. It made Tywin realize how much his son had worshipped him when Jaime was younger and just how monumentally Tywin had let him down.

"I will not go easy on you simply because you are the King," Jaime growled.

Tywin merely jerked his head, unsheathing his sword and letting his son come.

Jaime was better than Tywin remembered – quick and light, he almost danced over the ground. Sansa had told Tywin how Arthur and Barristan had spent the most time with Jaime, rigorously training him when he'd been named a Kingsguard.

Still, Tywin wasn't quite past his prime. At only forty-two, many a man had still made a name for himself at this age, and Tywin would not go easy on his son. He'd make him earn this win against him.

Jaime got the first hit, and Tywin saw the satisfaction that action brought, but Tywin quickly countered, getting Jaime on the thigh and then once on the shoulder.

His son let out a frustrated bellow and then, with a speed so rarely seen, came at Tywin hard to score two hits in quick succession and end their match. Both were breathing hard, eyeing one another as they leaned on their swords.

"I loved my family, even as Aerys tore it apart. And I always loved you," Tywin said quietly.

"We deserved better from you," Jaime answered.

"Perhaps. But you can be bitter and mad at me for the rest of your days. Or you can take this time to let me make amends."

"I won't apologize for loving her."

Tywin sighed. He had known Jaime never would.

"But I do know it was wrong. And Cersei was wrong in what she set in motion and her role in the death of Tyrion and what she attempted to do to Sansa. I would never have condoned any of that."

Tywin nodded. He knew Jaime would have done his best to save Tyrion had he been able to. And Jaime loved Sansa.

Something settled between the two men, and they entered the dining hall that night in much better accord with one another.

Sansa rolled her eyes at them and muttered about men who needed to beat one another up to solve their problems.

Tywin wisely held his tongue.

When the runner arrived the following morning during their meal, they learned that Lord Sandor Clegane was less than half a day away from King's Landing and wished to know how the King wanted him to enter the city.

Seizing upon what a moment it would be to showcase the lion cubs to the realm, Tywin sent strict instructions back to Lord Clegane. Then Tywin barked out orders, and people scrambled to do his bidding.

Seven hours later, he stood atop the steps of the Great Sept of Baleor, with Sansa by his side, Jaime on his other. Joining them were Lady Catelyn Stark, the Blackfish, Lord Arryn, Elia and her children, Lord Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle and several guards from all their houses.

Word had spread, thanks to Varys', now Sansa's, network of little birds.

The streets were packed with people that wished to see the lions, as Lannister guards escorted Lord Sandor Clegane and the two lion cubs to the Sept.

The excitement thrummed through the crowd, and Sansa reached for his hand, her eagerness to see their cubs only matched by his own.

Lord Clegane was as large as Tywin remembered.

The young man was on his great black war stallion, with two wicker boxes on each side, with large air vents. Tywin saw one nose sticking out, and his heart thumped as he tore his eyes from the lions down to Sansa.

"They're almost here," she said softly.

Sandor spotted them and kicked his horse, the crowd parting until he brought Stranger up the steps and stopped in front of them.

"Your Graces," he rasped.

"Lord Clegane, Master of Lions for House Lannister, how are the cubs?"

The unscarred half of Sandor's mouth twitched.

"Bigger, Your Grace."

Tywin nodded.

Sandor swung down off his horse and then went to the first wicker box. He undid the straps, and a golden head popped out. Beside him, Tywin heard the gasps of delight and astonishment, and the roar of the crowd that had gathered.

Tywin was focused only on Sansa.

"Augustus," she cried and was flying towards the cub before Tywin could hold her back.

Now six months of age, the cub was quite a bit larger than when they had left the Rock. But he was still a cub, and upon hearing Sansa's voice, he let out a soft roar and bounded towards her. She somehow went down on her knees and opened her arms, so the cub was in her embrace, with Tywin leaning down to touch his soft head as Augustus leaning into his touch, eyes closed and purring.

Not to be outdone, Alexander soon joined his brother, and Sansa found herself laughing and crying as cubs filled her lap. They proceeded to nuzzle at her. Tywin glanced up to meet Jaime's eyes and saw his son look utterly gobsmacked.

Tywin smirked.

"They are a sight, are they not?"

"They're lions!" Jaime cried, shaking his head in disbelief, as Tywin waved him closer.

Catelyn, who had a strong bond with the cubs, was beside Sansa as they examined them, speaking to them and showering them with affection. The Tully sisters had missed the cubs dearly.

"Of course, they are lions. I told you that," Tywin retorted to Jaime, watching as his son sunk to his knees before them, his green eyes wide. Unlike Cersei, Jaime instantly warmed to the cubs, laughing at their antics.

The cubs had started to play, now no longer cooped up in their baskets, but stopped when Jaime reached for one, holding him up to examine him.

"That is Augusts. He is the alpha of the two, and he is mine," Tywin announced proudly.

Jaime had the cub in his hands, shaking his head until Augustus reached out a paw and batted at Jaime's face. His son laughed and put August down, only to have Alexander run straight into Jaime as if he couldn't abide not getting attention as well. Jaime was surrounded by lion cubs, clearly enjoying himself immensely.

Sansa waved Elia and Rhaenys over, even though Elia looked nervous. Little Rhae simply wanted to touch as Sansa reassured Elia that the cubs would be fine the little girl.

Rhaenys sat on Sansa's lap, and they watched the cubs play, right there on the grand steps of the Sept of Baelor, in front of the realm.

Soon enough, Tywin helped his wife to her feet.

Tywin shared a knowing look with his wife and his son and then let out a mighty roar, as he and Jaime held the lions aloft to the cheers of the crowd.

Lions had come back to Westeros, and none doubted who ruled the Seven Kingdoms now.

Chapter 44: Chapter 42

CREATORS' THOUGHTS
Taleahr

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Chapter 44: Chapter 42

CREATORS' THOUGHTS Taleahr

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CREATORS' THOUGHTS
Taleahr