Chapter 16

The Golden Tooth – Tywin

For three days, Tywin pushed the little party that included his new wife, hard. There was a part of him that would not feel safe until he was back in the Westerlands, in a place where he ruled as a King in all but name. Aerys might claim to be King of the Seven Kingdoms, but everyone knew who held the real power in the West. And it was Tywin Lannister.

Sansa, for her part, kept up admirably, adapting to life on horseback and in camp quickly, charming her way through his men.

And him.

After they'd emerged from their tent the morning after their first night in camp, she'd put up with the ribald japes and sly looks by linking her arm with his while he strutted through camp.

Sansa was an incredible woman and a true asset to his house. From a purely political standpoint, their marriage had secured one of their borders, while also stabilizing his reign as Lord Commander of the West. And by marrying someone young enough to bear him more children, it shored up his line with Jaime's future unknown.

Beyond all of that, she was kind, curious, and incredibly intelligent, and she seemed to genuinely want to get to know the people in their little party.

Now, as they neared the Golden Tooth, Tywin had nothing but time to reflect on what Sansa had not told him – whom his daughter had slept with when she'd been Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

He was a man that was unable to let something go – and not something of such importance.

Since the moment he'd had his second vision of Sansa, her words had haunted him. It had been why he'd confronted Cersei, setting in motion what he now believed was a chain of events that had ended up with Tyrion's death. It still rankled Tywin that she might have had something to do with that.

As they rode, Tywin recalled her conversation with her father with perfect clarity.

"What happened today, princess?" her father asked.

She rolled her eyes and stirred her food. "Just Joff, being an ass. How anyone can argue that Cersei Lannister putting her bastard sons on the Iron Throne was a good thing is beyond me."

"Well, I, for one, have never understood that," the man answered, agreeing with her.

"Dad, it led to the War of the Five Kings! Thousands of people died. The realm was in chaos and all because of her poor choice to sleep with ….!"

The man chuckled again, shaking his head. "It's you that loves the lions, not me. I've never understood them, my dear."

The woman rolled her eyes at him.

"Some lions. I'm studying Tywin, Dad. But it's not hard to argue that Cersei's actions caused the downfall of House Lannister. All she had to do was give King Robert one or two legitimate heirs."

"Perhaps there were extenuating circumstances," the man said, to which the woman rolled his eyes. He held up his hands in mock defence.

"Ok, you're right. Had Tywin Lannister taken the Throne when the rebellion ended, the Seven Kingdoms most likely would have been much better off. But Princess, you forget one thing."

"Hmmm? What's that?" She was distracted by her cooking.

The man smiled, but it was sad.

"As much as Cersei Lannister didn't give the realm a proper heir, neither would have Tywin. You know how much he loved his wife. He never remarried, and to be King, well, one has to have heirs."

Now, Tywin had three days horseback to think about every possible scenario in which his daughter might cuckold the King and put her bastard children on the Throne. The question of who was the true father repeated like a mantra in Tywin's head.

And the answer that he arrived at was one he kept rejecting over and over again. It was too disturbing to contemplate and yet he'd never been a man that had hidden from hard truths.

He didn't think it was possible to be angrier at Cersei than he already was, but if what he was beginning to suspect was true, her actions would have severe consequences for his house. It wasn't just her life she was toying with, but his entire line. How could they not see that?

Tywin shuddered to think what might have happened had he not learned what he had from Sansa. From her accounts, it seemed like the beginning of the end when he'd married Cersei to Robert Baratheon after the Rebellion. From what Sansa had told him, Robert had made a bad King and an even worse husband. The King had been a year older than his daughter, but hardly any more fit to rule than she was.

Several factors had gone into Tywin's logical analysis as he'd thought about the issue of his daughter, her marriage to Robert, and her bastard children.

First, there was the fact that Sansa had been very forthcoming with him in regard to any information that she knew up until this point.

Tywin found her to be a truthful woman, and she was devoted to him. She wasn't devious in any way, and in fact, it was often Tywin that had to ask her to stop, lest she shared too much. He was a brilliant man, but even a simple conversation sometimes could overwhelm him with all she knew and all he did not. It was clear she came from a much more advanced time than the one they were currently living in.

The mere fact that she had refused to say whom his daughter slept with was deeply worrisome.

That thought, coupled with his siblings' reactions to Tyrion's death, Cersei's role in it and his private conversations with his daughter, had led Tywin to think long and hard about this issue and to examine it from every possible angle. Including the fact that Cersei appeared to be someone that Tywin could not trust.

Who would have dared sleep with the King's new wife? What man would have taken such a chance?

Robert was a loathsome man, but his reputation was fearsome. That meant it had to be someone that either wanted to get back at Robert or who was utterly devoted to Cersei. And Tywin knew that there couldn't be too many men that fit those parameters in the Seven Kingdom.

Tywin had gone through every possible man in the realm as they rode hard for the West, and his brain had rejected almost all of them based on one simple fact.

Had it been someone like Arthur Dayne or Oberyn Martell, Sansa would have told him.

She had no reason to keep any of those names a secret from him. She had told him about Robert and how unfit he was to rule. She'd even told him what Ned had named his precious son. Knowing that Sansa did not keep things from him, Tywin had arrived at the only possible reason she had not told him.

It had to be someone that would not only hurt the reputation of House Lannister but hurt Tywin personally.

Which meant it had to be someone in his inner circle.

And other than Kevan, there was only one person that Tywin could imagine that person to be.

This had led Tywin to his disturbing conclusion, one he would have been oblivious to, had he not seen that vision of Sansa, had he not questioned his daughter, had he not seen how much Genna and Kevan and even Tygett hated his daughter.

His conclusions made him ill.

They made him want to rage.

They made him want to ride to King's Landing and strangle his son.

What had gone wrong that his children had done such a thing?

And to not only do that but to produce offspring?

What in seven fucking hells had they possibly been thinking?

Had being around the Targs corrupted his beloved son so much, that he somehow didn't see how wrong it was?

And what game could they have been playing, doing such a thing to Robert?

It wasn't that Tywin respected Robert, but the man would never have allowed any of them to live, had their secret been discovered. The King would have been well within his rights to take Jaime and Cersei's heads, and that of their children. And there would have been nothing Tywin could have done to stop it.

And in a rare showing of self-reflection, Tywin wondered if any of this was his fault.

Perhaps, before Sansa had burst into his life, he had been ignorant of his children and their actions. He was warden of the West, hand to the King, a widower, and not their nursemaid. He knew he'd left their rearing to Genna and a series of maids, maesters, septas and nannies, but that was what men in his position did.

And he had an entire region to run, a country to be Hand to. He hadn't had time to coddle his children.

But since he'd been forced to confront Cersei, since those visions of Sansa, he'd begun to recall disturbing comments he'd pushed aside by his sister and his brothers about his and Joanna's offspring. He'd ignored all of it because it hurt too much, to look at them and not have his wife by his side, and to try to parent them.

The only time that Tywin was drawn out of his despondency was when he heard Sansa laugh. His wife often road beside him, asking him endless questions; her curiosity never piqued it seemed. She alone drew him from his dark contemplations.

Her evident love and excitement for their home had won all the men from the Westerlands to her side. It was almost unheard of for a wife of her breeding to be so excited for her husband's house, but both Kevan and Tywin knew it was because she'd only seen the Rock as a ruin in her own time.

Still, Tywin rarely smiled these days, and their lovemaking was almost frantic.

Even though he was sure he'd discovered the secret she guarded, he knew the truth, when voiced, would be painful.

Sansa's gasp had him turning his head to see what might have caught her eye. Since they had crossed over into the Westerlands, the terrain had changed, and they were now in the mountainous regions of the West, soon to arrive at the Golden Tooth. The air was colder, crisper, and though it was summer, when they'd awoken, there was a light frost on the ground.

"Tell me about the Tooth, Tywin," she said, riding beside him.

Tygett was out front waiting to be met from riders from House Lefford, as they had sent word that they would need shelter for tonight.

He gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes at him. So he hadn't curbed her of that habit quite yet. In truth, there was a part of Tywin that loved her fire – he loved how passionate she was, how intelligent, how she challenged him at every turn. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met, and he felt himself changing the more time he spent with her.

"I mean, tell me about it at this time."

"Lord Lefford is a sour man, recently wed. His wife is a year older than you. I have not heard if he's managed to get an heir on his wife, but he does hold some of my gold in the bowels of his castle. Though the mines here are not as prosperous as those of the Rock, they produce a respectable amount of gold, which is sent to the Rock each year."

"And will there be a bath for me, My Lord husband?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

For a modern woman, she'd made do with the small bowls of warm water her handmaiden had produced each night.

He grunted, the image of Sansa sharing a bath with him making him hard. Fuck, he just wanted time with her, in the Rock, to do nothing more than spend hours between her creamy thighs and pick her brilliant mind. Still, he caught the flare of desire in her eyes when she mentioned a bath.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on her. "You did that on purpose."

She laughed, drawing more than one eye to her and nodded. "I did. But I promise I will make it up to you, Tywin."

There was no use hiding just how much he wanted his new wife – every single man in the camp knew it, had heard it, and was secretly pleased by it. No one would dare say it to his face, but the succession of House Lannister had been on shaky ground for years now, with Jaime as a Kingsguard and Tyrion the 'spare.'

Tywin didn't need the words to be vocalized to know, that had it come down to leaving the Rock to his youngest son, he'd have soon turned it over to Kevan. No god, nor man, nor arrogant, mad King would have compelled him to give the Rock to anyone but Jaime.

Now with Sansa, there was hope that a new lion would be born, securing Tywin's legacy and the stability of House Lannister. And stability for the West.

Tywin had known just how damaging Aerys' naming Jaime to his Kingsguard had been - Tywin had lost his golden son, his heir. But it had been the fact that he'd flat out refused to take another wife had worried many houses - more than Tywin had realized. Now, while Sansa was an unknown factor, Tywin knew it wouldn't take long for the Lords of the West to warm to her.

Had he been anyone else, Tywin would have insisted that he remarry years ago, to produce more heirs. But Tywin had been blinded by rage and consumed with his grief. All of which had given his children the freedom to act like complete fools, almost guaranteeing the ruin of his noble house.

When they finally spotted the castle, it looked almost tiny, as it had been built on a small plain between two mountains, the only natural passageway through the hilly terrain.

"I love the mountains, Tywin. This is so fantastic." She was an utter delight to him.

Tywin was amused by Sansa's infectious joy, even though he knew that the Rock a much more impressive Keep. The Tooth was, at best, a moderately sized castle.

Still, Tywin was impressed by the display his bannerman put on, riding out to meet them and welcome them to their home, although the simpering was a bit much. It seemed word had spread throughout the West about the Great Lion's new wife, and each Lord wanted to pay their proper respects and earn a place in Tywin's good graces.

Both Lord and Lady Lefford had led the small party out to greet them, in the small flat space, before they'd climb a steep, narrow pass and into the main courtyard of the castle itself.

"Lord and Lady Lefford, may I present to you my wife, Lady Sansa Lannister, formally of House Tully."

He saw Leo Lefford's eyes narrow. As one of his bannerman who was tasked with guarding the West against the Riverlands, Tywin knew this marriage should please him.

"Welcome My Lady," Leo said his typical sour expression on his face. "We've long wanted a strong alliance with the Riverlands, and we are happy to welcome you to our home."

Sansa blushed prettily, and sat there demurely, murmuring her thanks. Tywin surged with pride in how she was handling this.

"My sister has joined us. We've heard nothing but good things about the Westerlands, it's people and Casterly Rock. I look forward to learning about the Golden Tooth, My Lord," she finished and Tywin saw Leo's chest puff up in pride.

"We've prepared a feast for you, Lady Lannister, so you will have a proper welcome to the West."

Gods, was there anyone that didn't make a fool of themselves for his wife?

Gruff now, Tywin spoke again.

"We have travelled long, hard days, Lord Lefford. Thank you for your hospitality. The feast can wait until tomorrow." Even here, Tywin was indisputably in charge.

Tywin saw Sansa's shoulders sag in relief as she smiled at Lady Lefford.

"We have prepared chambers for you, My Lord, along with food. You and your men will be well taken care of while you are our guests."

Tywin watched as his very out of time wife, dipped her head in respect to Lord Lefford and murmured a demurred thank you as they followed their hosts into the Golden Tooth.

Dismounting from their horses, Tywin was there to help Sansa, unwilling to have anyone else touch her.

Impressed with her first foray into life as Lady Lannister, he tucked his arm in hers, ready to guide them to their chambers for the next few nights. Tywin knew that they were safe, now that they had crossed into the Westerlands, although he'd feel better when he reached the Rock. For now though, he'd take the comforts that the Tooth offered and knew Sansa would as well.

When they entered their chambers, Tywin knew it was the second-best in the entire keep, and pleased with the respect he commanded, allowed the amusement of Sansa observations over their new room to bring a slight smile to his face. She was a wonder, a balm to his soul and the burdens he carried.

Soon there was a knock on the door, he sat and watched as a bath was prepared for her, bucket after bucket of warm water carried in by the servants. In a testament to how dirty and tired she must have been, Sansa didn't even once complain about the manual labour needed to bring her bath.

Tywin gave his wife and her handmaiden, Barba, privacy, retreating to the next room, as he heard her gratefully exclaim her pleasure as she sunk into the warm water.

He poured a goblet of wine, and shucked off his leather doublet, sash and scabbard, dropping wearily into a seat in front of the fire. He could hear the low murmur of female voices and knew the absolutions that were taking place.

For one brief moment, he allowed himself to think about Sansa in the splendour of the bathing chambers at the Rock before his mind turned to the decidedly more unpleasant topic that needed to be discussed this evening. He knew the time had come – he could hide from the truth no longer.

Barba was the first to exit, dipping her head to him.

"She is tired," the woman said, almost like a warning. Tywin gave her a low growl. He knew better than she, what Sansa needed, but he had to give her handmaiden her due for sheer bravery. Barba sniffed once before she exited the room. His wife soon emerged from the adjacent chamber, wrapped in a robe Tywin swore was his, patting her damp hair with a towel. For second Tywin was overcome with the sight she presented. Who would have known that seeing her in his clothing would make him want her with a fierceness that defied logic?

Then he shook himself from that thought, as he caught Sansa looking upon him.

He had his goblet of wine in his hand and knew the picture he must present to her. He could feel the tension in his body, and he made no move to clean himself.

His wife was not a stupid woman, and she had stopped in the middle of the room the moment she had spotted him.

Their eyes locked and he could see her heartbeat flutter at the base of her elegant neck.

"It's Jaime, isn't it?" he said without preamble, voice low and taunt, but no less powerful since he was not yelling. There was no use in qualifying that statement. Both of them knew exactly what he referred to.

"Yes."

Tywin felt his breath leave him, black spots before his eyes as the implications roared over him. She padded towards him, almost tentative as if she knew how wounded he was, how hurt and humiliation warred in him for supremacy.

Betrayal, swift and deep cut through him.

Tywin growled, then threw the goblet of wine, smashing it against the fireplace. To her credit, Sansa didn't even flinch as he raged. He stood, walking past her towards the fire, lost in his head.

Even having worked it out for himself, Tywin felt ill with Sansa's confirmation.

She rushed forward and threw herself against his back, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He resisted at first, the humiliation washing over him of what his children would do. He wanted to push Sansa away, to deny it, call her a liar and take his anger out on her.

She was here and she'd known. She'd known from the start.

Gods, how could she even stand to touch them? Why did she want to tie herself to his house, that was clearly rotten? The taint of their actions if they did not stop them, could consume her as well.

She squeezed him harder, not letting him go. She was muttering something, but he couldn't make out the words.

Then as if he couldn't help himself, his hand reached for her as he dragged her closer.

No matter what, he was not alone. Never again. He had Sansa.

"Tell me he can be saved. Tell me all is not lost, Sansa. And if you cannot, be quick about it," he whispered brokenly, still unable to look at her. She knew what happened to Jaime, and he had to know if Jaime was lost to him.

She forced him to turn to her then, holding him tightly. Their eyes locked, and he saw his pain reflected in her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands, and he wondered if there had anyone who had known him as well as she did. Even years with Joanna had not given him this level of intimacy. It was as if the gods had crafted Sansa just for him.

"Jaime is not evil or cruel. He loves her and craves acceptance and her husband treated her poorly. She is very, very good at manipulating people. She twists what they need, what they want and gives it to them, even if they know it is wrong, and with Jaime staying in King's Landing ..." Sansa trailed off.

"So you believe there is a chance for Jaime?" he almost whispered.

"I do Tywin. He is seeing so many awful things right now, being forced to protect such a vile man. Your son has such a good heart, Tywin. There is such goodness in Jaime, and he craves the honour that comes with being a true knight of the realm. If he is never named Kingslayer, never forced to stay by Cersei's side as she marries Robert, never forced to defend her from her cruel husband, and if his father loves him and guides him, he has a chance for redemption Tywin. He needs time to heal, away from her, I believe he can be a good man, Tywin."

He sagged with relief. He knew that Sansa wouldn't lie to him – not about this. If she said Jaime was still salvageable, she meant it.

He took a moment, trying to compose his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to know, so many questions he had, but for now, he had to know what happened to his other child.

"And her? What is her fate, Sansa?"

He could see the fear in Sansa's eyes, and at that moment, he knew.

He knew what his daughter was – what she already was, what she will become. What she was capable of.

"Cersei will allow nothing to stand in her way when she wants something, Tywin. And what she wants is power."

The truth was plain to see on Sansa's face, and Tywin felt his heart crack.

"She is..."

"A monster," Tywin finished the sentence as Sansa nodded.

"She is, Tywin. In my time, it is well known she killed anyone who stood in her way to the Iron Throne."

Tywin felt sick. Who was this creature he had raised? How had he been so blind to her flaws?

Sansa swallowed hard. "We have not spoken about what happened Tyrion, Tywin. But I suspect we both know she is responsible for his death."

"She denied it, Sansa. But…" that sentence didn't have to be finished. They both knew she had done it. She had killed her brother.

"You might have hated him, Tywin, and blamed him for Joanna's death, but it was not her place to kill him. She murdered her brother," Sansa said, eyes hard.

It was as fierce as he'd seen his wife, reminiscent of the moment when she'd confronted Robert.

"She overstepped, and she needs to be held accountable for her actions."

Sansa's voice brooked no room for argument, and for a brief moment, Tywin felt shameful that her punishment hadn't been more. Now he was bringing his new wife home, and eyes opened to what Cersei was. With sudden clarity, Tywin knew that his daughter would never accept Sansa as the new Lady of Casterly Rock, nor Tywin's growing feelings for Sansa, or any children that might come from their union.

"Is that all?"

His wife bit her lip, worrying it, and Tywin knew there was something else that Sansa was reluctant to tell him.

What could be worse than what he'd already learned?

"What?" he demanded, needing to know.

"She will also be directly responsible for the death of Kevan, my love," Sansa said in a rush.

Tywin blanched and shook his head. "Gods... you can't be serious?"

Sansa nodded.

"Where am I that this happens?"

His wife's eyes filled with tears.

"I am dead."

She sucked in a sob and nodded. "You are, but your death will not happen the way it did in my time, Tywin."

It was at that moment that Tywin knew that Sansa was telling him the truth. The mere thought of him dead seemed to set her off, and he hugged her closer to him.

It felt like his entire world was crumbling before his very eyes, and yet, he was pragmatic enough to understand that had he not learned this hard truth, left unchecked, Jaime and Cersei's actions would have destroyed his house.

"Cersei will destroy us all, Tywin. I believe that," Sansa whispered.

He dragged his eyes back to hers, seeing that they were haunted.

"I am more afraid of your daughter than I am of Aerys."

That statement turned Tywin's blood to ice as he began to add up her deeds.

She would be directly responsible for the death of Kevan, a man that Tywin loved deeply. She would corrupt his son, taking Jaime further away from his rightful place as Tywin's heir.

His daughter, his flesh and blood, would be the ruin of his proud legacy if he did nothing to curb her appetite for power and deal with her. Tywin knew he was facing some hard choices in order to prevent the destruction she was so willing to bring to their family in her quest for supremacy.

She would stop at nothing to secure the power she so clearly craved.

Lost in his thoughts, Tywin suddenly realized Sansa had grabbed his hands and pressed them to her stomach.

"We have done nothing to prevent pregnancy, Tywin. We've coupled every day, and if my calculations are correct, I am ovulating. In nine months, we might have a child. What will your daughter do to ensure Jaime is the one that inherits the Rock?"

Horror, unlike anything Tywin had ever felt, consumed him. He could see the genuine worry and deep fear in Sansa's eyes - and it was all due to his daughter!

His daughter!

How did he not see that the danger to him, to his wife, was so close? It wasn't waiting for him in the Red Keep – it was waiting at the Rock.

Reeling, he staggered back to his chair, trying to make sense of his altered world view.

It was a defining moment in their relationship, in his life. If he trusted his new wife, believed in her, decided that the information she knew and had imparted to him to be reliable and accurate, then he must acknowledge the fact that the greatest threat to her, and therefore to him, was Cersei.

Not Aerys.

Not Robert.

Not House Martell.

Cersei.

Tywin knew that he'd withdrawn from his children after losing his wife. He knew that of all his children, only Jaime received his gruff affection and was held to his exacting standards and not found wanting.

But this?

How did any father reconcile that their own flesh and blood was capable of such cruel acts, for selfish gain?

Tywin had done unspeakable things – but always for the good of his house, for his family, for his legacy.

If what Sansa said was true, Cersei's actions were fueled by her own ambition and gain. Even how she'd treated Jaime.

Gods, he felt sick at the thought, but worse, was the idea of her manipulating his son so that he might never break free of her influence. To see a man, so cowed by a woman that he gave up what was his by all the rights and laws of Westeros, staggered the Great Lion. It was only Sansa, who was now perched in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, lips resting on his neck, that gave him any solace.

"I promise, Sansa," he somehow managed to choke out. He was unable to give her more, trying to reconcile what he might have to do in order to keep her safe. He rested a large hand on her stomach.

"I know, Tywin. I trust you to keep me safe," she said, her voice filled with such conviction, such belief in him, that a pained, keening sound came from his chest. His hand came up to cup her face, suddenly needing her. Their lips tangled, duelled, fueling each other as he rose and strode to the bed.

He had his robe parted in a moment, his wife a feast for his eyes, his hands, his tongue.

"Let me worship you," was all he said, pleased when she stilled herself and simply let him dictate the pace and terms of their coupling.

When he finally sunk inside her, her wet heat was like being home. It had never been like this for him before, and never would again. Sansa was the missing piece to his soul, something that he hadn't even known had been missing until she'd burst into his life.

She knew all their darkness, all their secrets, all their flaws. And yet, she was here, willingly in his arms, giving herself to him, stroking him and kissing him, telling him how much she cared for him.

It struck Tywin at that moment that he was completely in love with his wife – that this truth about the future, horrid as it was, had stripped him bare before her and she was still by his side. She was his mate, his true other half, the woman he'd needed to save him from himself and his own hubris. It was too soon to tell her; he'd no doubt scare her with the depth of what he felt. But he could no longer deny what she meant to him either.

Later, as he left her cuddled down deep in the covers of the bed, their hard journey finally catching up to her, he slipped into the now tepid water and washed. He didn't mind that he'd smell like her. There was such comfort in Sansa, he was discovering.

When he was done bathing, he quickly ate the cold chicken and vegetables, and he banked the fire before slipping into bed. She curled into him immediately seeking him out and that pleased him.

Before he drifted off to sleep, he heard her whisper, my lion, my love, and he knew he'd do whatever it took to keep her safe, save Jaime and deal with anyone who threatened his wife – including anyone in his family that might harm her.

No one would touch her as long as he drew breath, and if that meant Cersei had to be … disposed of, then Tywin was more than willing to do so. His entire future, the future of his house, his legacy was now wrapped up in his arms, and he pitied any man or woman that came between him and Sansa for they would surely understand what it meant to anger the Great Lion of Casterly Rock.