Chapter 34

King's Landing – Tywin

For the third time in the past day, Tywin entered King's Landing through the Lion Gate.

First, it was to find Aerys and remove him from power. Tywin had been unsure what he might be riding into – the extent to which his old friend had decided to burn his kingdom to ashes. Thankfully the destruction had been contained to the Red Keep itself.

The second time was with his son by his side to determine the work done and ensure that the prisoners had been secured and that Prince Oberyn and his men were behaving accordingly. Tywin wanted the city firmly within his grasp before allowing the people of King's Landing back inside the city walls.

And the third time, with Sansa, to show her the new place they would call home for the foreseeable future.

Tywin had not expected Sansa's relatively quick acceptance of his display with Stafford. He'd been truthful when he'd told her he would not change, nor would he hesitate to do whatever necessary to keep her safe. He was a man that had long ago realized he would do what others could not when it came to ensuring his legacy. Having Sansa in his life, having her love hadn't changed that. If anything, Tywin was more determined than ever to keep Sansa safe by any means necessary.

Still, it pleased him that she'd come around to what she'd witnessed. He knew that the time she was from the violence was not quite so … personal as it was in 283 Westeros.

By far this more the most enjoyable time entering the city. Tywin took great delight in watching Sansa's reactions.

She gasped as they cantered up the main thoroughfare, eyes wide.

Tywin was not a fan of King's Landing, but he admitted that the broad, tree-lined streets, coupled with the shops in which the wealthy frequented, were a welcome sight. His wife was an adventurer at heart, and she would embrace being in the capital when it was once again safe for them to be here.

There were some guards behind them, far enough away to give them a modicum of privacy but not far enough that they could speak as freely as Tywin wished. They were both acutely aware that they must keep her true identity a secret.

"It is odd, is it not, to enter a city normally teeming with half a million people, now empty," Tywin offered, wanting to get Sansa's initial impression of the capital.

She nodded.

"It is. The city is far larger than I first realized. I'd always read it was so crowded and dirty, but seeing it empty like this, it's eerie."

Tywin grunted. "Normally, it is dirty and crowded, filled with people everywhere."

He did not attempt to hide his dislike of this place.

"How familiar are you with the city?" Tywin asked, wishing he could ask her about King's Landing in the time in which she was from. It was also incredible how much he learned when Sansa spoke of the future and how much knowledge she had.

With the imminent threat to Sansa dealt with, Tywin found himself relaxing enough to enjoy this time with his wife. She absorbed every new experience with an enthusiasm that was unmatched. Her eyes now were full of wonder and delight, cataloguing everything. Tywin could practically see the questions forming in her mind and knew when they were alone, and she'd have quite a few for him.

"Not well, I'm afraid," she said and shot him a rueful grin, her expression saying what she could not.

The King's Landing she knew from her time was markedly different from the one in which she now found herself in. That made sense. In the future, the Rock was a ruin, so why would the city be the same?

"There is a map in our mansion, one that you may study to learn more about navigating King's Landing. This road we are currently on will take us past the Guildhall and to the base of Visenya's Hill, upon which the Great Sept of Baelor resides."

The last of Tywin's words were drowned out by an echoing rumble that shook the grown. He grimaced as they looked towards the Red Keep in time to see another tower fall. The sheer amount of rock that reigned down was unfathomable – huge boulders and chunks that smashed into the earth below, many of them tumbling into the sea. Such destruction was rarely seen in this time, except by war machines such as catapults designed to bring down castle walls.

As he watched another piece of the Targaryen legacy crumble, Tywin pondered what might be built in the Red Keep's stead.

Would another castle be warranted? Was that a foolish waste of time and resources? What about a Throne, a Great Room and a place for his Hand?

There were so many decisions, so many things in flux, that sometimes even his brilliant mind felt crowded with the endless list of tasks before him. But one thing was for sure – whatever was built there would be done under his guidance and to serve House Lannister and secure their legacy.

"Such utter waste," he muttered, shaking his head.

He looked at his wife and was grateful for her presence. Sansa was as brilliant and as logical as any person he'd ever met. Of course, he enjoyed being married, but Sansa was so much more than his wife. She was the person he was closest to and the one from which he had no secrets. He could speak with her about anything, and she always had an opinion – and quite a few times her insights and instincts were better than his.

"What is the status of the wildfire?" Sansa asked, worried.

That brought about another frown. The report he'd received a short time ago from Kevan, who was still overseeing those efforts, wasn't the good news Tywin had been hoping for.

"We are making progress, but it is slow. They must use dirt to extinguish the flames, and the entire structure is unstable. We don't want to lose men to a hopeless endeavour, but they are finding survivors, although, fewer as time passes."

Sansa merely nodded.

"We began to see the charred bodies in the medical tent. Most were already dead. It was terrible. Lord Stannis had his men dig graves. I cannot imagine not being able to bury a loved one properly."

Tywin said nothing, but his eyes conveyed his empathy. He and Sansa both knew what it was like to lose someone they loved. The thought of not having a proper goodbye for that person was like salt in an already open wound. The dead numbered at least five hundred, and Tywin predicted that number would double by the time they were able to sort through the rubble of the Red Keep.

He told his wife as much, who looked wrecked at such wanton destruction.

"His war wasn't with the people of King's Landing. All these people, they were doing their jobs, serving the King."

Tywin held his tongue, not responding. There were always casualties in a war, and most were innocent when nobles played the game of thrones. So many in Castamere had been serving House Reyne when he diverted the river and drowned them all. But he would not mention that.

Sansa knew who and what he was – he needed to trust that she loved him and that his monstrous acts would not have her turning away from him.

"Yes, well, wildfire is tricky, and the tunnel system does not help. I do not trust Varys, and so I cannot rely on his word that his spies sealed off all the tunnels before the pyromancers lit the wildfire. We shall have the afternoon in our home, Sansa, but we cannot stay here until I know it is safe."

She nodded and then gave him a rueful smile.

"I know it sounds utterly absurd, given the severity of the situation, but is it possible I might bathe when we get to our home?"

Tywin smirked and shot his wife a look filled with promise.

"Only if your husband can join you."

Her blue eyes sparkled, and she licked her lips and moaned.

"Yes, please," she said primly, and Tywin felt his cock harden.

Gods, he wanted to be inside his wife's wet, warm heat – to feel her come apart on his tongue as he worked his fingers inside that tight cunt he loved. Then when she was coming down from one peak, he'd enter her, his body knowing precisely what it felt like when his cock captured the last of his wife's orgasm before he fucked her to another one. It had been far too long since they'd had time together, and Tywin fully intended on making excellent use of the few hours they had today.

"Sansa," he growled at her and saw that mischievous grin.

His wife knew exactly what she was doing to him, and the last of the tension in his body drained away. He had been worried that Stafford's punishment had been too much for a modern woman to assimilate. He hadn't known how his wife might react upon seeing him again. When she'd approached their horses, not only wearing House Lannister colours but holding onto his distinctive red sash, Tywin had known it was her way of expressing that she wasn't rejecting him.

Their horses cantered easily up the cobblestone street, towards the Guildhall, which Lords Roland Crackhall and Garrison Prester held – two men utterly loyal to Tywin. If pressed, he might even call them friends, although that notion seemed utterly foolish to him. Men followed him because he could bring them safety, security and wealth. Not because he was likable.

When they were spotted, the two men he'd left in charge rode out to greet them, both giving respectful looks to Sansa. Tywin wished he'd had time to create jewellery for her when they'd been at the Rock. Necklaces, bracelets and most importantly of all, these rings she said people from her time wore as a symbol of their marriage and that indicated they were taken. He wanted a wedding ring on Sansa's finger.

Not that everyone didn't know that Sansa was his wife. Indeed, she wore his colours well and proudly, and he could tell the men from the West noticed his red sash wrapped around her lush body.

"Your Graces," Garrison Prester said. "The Guildhall remains secure and in Westerlands' control. We've sent medicine to the maesters who we heard are working on the wounded outside the city walls."

Tywin was pleased with this news. He knew how critical the Guildhall was in the functioning of King's Landing.

"That is correct. Queen Sansa oversaw the implementation of the medical tents, as well as providing shelter for those displaced and a safe space for the children. At last report, many have been saved due to our quick thinking and that of Lord Stannis who brought order to the chaos of the crowds."

Lord Crackhall merely grunted. "And the wildfire?"

To a person, they all raised their eyes once again to the Red Keep as Lord Crackhall's question.

Tywin snarled, "Kevan continues to oversee those efforts. Thankfully, it has not spread, although losing the Red Keep is a blow. What word on Prince Oberyn?"

Garrison and Roland exchanged an annoyed look. Neither man had much use for the fancy prince from Sunspear.

"He lurks, Your Grace," Garrison replied, shaking his head.

The man from Dorne would be a problem, Tywin knew, and not the only house that questioned the new King. Not when there was a true heir born mere hours before Aerys' had done the unthinkable.

And it wasn't just Dorne that might challenge Tywin. There was also the Reach, in which every house had declared for House Targaryen and every nobleman in the Crownlands as well.

But those were worries for another day. He and his men controlled the city and that counted for a lot.

Right now, Tywin wanted time with his wife.

He nodded at his men.

"And Swyft and Westerling?" he asked, naming two more men loyal to him.

"Patrolling the city and ensuring that no looting happens," Roland responded.

Tywin was pleased to hear this, although he had expected no less. His men were loyal to him and knew what he expected. He was a demanding man, and none wanted to cross him – at least no one that didn't want to feel the sharp tip of his fury should they disobey him.

Even now, word would have spread at Lord Stafford's punishment. Men knew if Tywin was willing to do that to his cousin, to his blood, he'd do at least that much to them should they disobey him. Perhaps it was harsh, and certainly not a system in which Sansa was comfortable with, but it was how this world worked.

Other men, loyal to him, had taken the Sept of Baelor and were protecting the merchants' shops, while yet more of his men ensured the mansions by Blackwater Bay were secure. Tywin needed to control the significant landmarks and the wealthiest areas of King's Landing to ensure a smooth transition of power. It would be the foundation of his power and claim to the Throne and make it almost impossible for anyone to challenge him for the crown if they wished to try.

Tywin dismissed Crackhall and Prester and focused on his wife. Soon enough, she would see the Lannister mansion, and Tywin was anticipating her reaction. Joanna had loved King's Landing for a time – when they'd all been younger and friends and when Joanna had been close with Rhaella and he with Steffon and Aerys. Until it had all gone so wrong.

As Aerys obsession with Joanna had grown, she'd become more reclusive and unhappy. Eventually, she had gone to Casterly Rock, leaving Tywin alone in King's Landing, often for months at a time.

When that had happened, he'd used the Tower of the Hand for his quarters, unable to stand being inside a place where Joanna had been so unhappy. It was a constant battle to focus on his duties as Hand while he worried about his wife.

Tywin had no intention of being away from Sansa for extended periods. He could hardly imagine the hell that would be. She would be by his side wherever the ruled from – King's Landing or the Rock.

Now though, Tywin was excited to see her reaction to the Lannister mansion. Not that anyone other than Sansa would describe him as excited. To a man, most gazing upon Tywin would just see his stoic façade and stern visage.

But somehow, he was unable to school his emotions from her.

She was delightfully open with her thoughts and feelings, and he was brave enough to admit that he liked that he could provide the very best for Sansa. He knew there were many modern conveniences that she missed, for she'd told him about them when they were alone. But here, in 283 Westeros, Tywin knew he was the only man that could give her some semblance of the life she'd left behind.

"Wife, are you ready to see your new home?"

Her eager nod was enough for him as she gave him a brilliant smile.

"I am, My King."

Fuck, did she know what it did to him when she spoke to him like that? The minx likely did, for she seemed to be able to read him like a book.

He leaned closer so she would not mistake his words.

"You're being naughty."

She bit her lip and batted those damn eyelashes at him.

"Am I? Perhaps my husband will punish me."

Consumed with desire, he growled at her.

"Follow me and without haste," he told her before he kicked his horse and raced down the Street of the Sisters, towards the row of mansions along Blackwater Bay.

He knew this road well, having travelled it many times to his home, and it wasn't long before small, cramped dwellings gave way to slightly larger private dwellings. Still, space was at a premium and even when they turned onto Mansion Row, it was evident which home was his.

Easily taking up twice the space as the other buildings, the Lannister mansion was protected with a thick stone wall and an impressive gate that had a guardhouse. Aerys had been in a snit when Tywin had expanded his family's home in King's Landing, complaining that Tywin lived like a King when he was only Hand.

It was one of Aerys' more truthful statements. Modernized to the standard of this time, the Lannister Mansion was a thing of beauty. The walls were gleaming white and decorated with the Lannister lion every ten feet to remind everyone who lived here. The proud Lannister flag flew from the walkway where guards patrolled. Indeed, Tywin would say that his residence was far nicer than any that the King had in the Red Keep.

They entered the courtyard together, their horses prancing as if they knew their way home. Behind the impressive walls was a massive private residence made of golden stone, surrounded by extensive gardens, stables, a guardhouse, and kitchens. Three fountains depicted different scenes from Lannister history. There were wooden bridges, stone walkways and decorative topiaries which made for one of the most stunning private gardens in all of Westeros.

The mansion itself boasted twelve rooms, bathing rooms, a ballroom, a formal dining room in which he could host a dinner for one hundred, several libraries, sitting rooms, a music room, and a sunroom. There were private solars for both the Lord and Lady of the house and each had its own impressive dressing room. There was a full-time staff of forty that kept the mansion ready for use at any time, even if Tywin hadn't been here for months at a time.

The back of the property had one of the best views of Blackwater Bay. Standing on the vast terrace from his private rooms, Tywin had a perfect view of the Red Keep from the northwestern side.

But that could wait.

Everything could wait.

All Tywin wanted was Sansa.

They dismounted near the stables, and only because of his legendary discipline did Tywin somehow manage to maintain his composure. His steward for this property would be shocked if Tywin were to dash inside like a greenboy holding Sansa's hand.

Sansa followed his lead, her face set in a calm mask, even though her eyes were huge as she gazed around her.

"Tywin, this place is beautiful," she breathed, the smell of jasmine and oranges sweetening the air from the stench of the fire.

The inside was even more impressive, with open arched walkways giving way to sitting rooms with views of the gardens, fountains, and the Bay. Their mansion was two stories and sprawling, with a central section and two wings. Tywin had the entire west wing, while the rest of the family occupied the east.

There were two apartments on the first floor for guests. If Ned and Catelyn choose to stay with them, that was where Tywin would put them.

The entry was stunning, with a chandelier made of Lannister gold and spun glass from the tradesmen at the Crag. Art lined the walls and pottery that Joanna collected stood proudly on tables in the hallway. There were strain-glassed windows that coloured the sunshine that danced across the marble floor, while tapestries lined the walls. And everywhere, red and gold and the Lannister lion.

His wife clutched at his hand until a sharp cough by him had Sansa blushing and looking at the man standing before them.

"Ser Morgon, my wife, Her Grace, Queen Sansa. Sansa, Ser Morgon my Steward in King's Landing."

"Your Graces," Morgon said, giving them both a respectful bow.

"Your chambers have been prepared, and the bathing rooms await. I've also taken the liberties of finding some clothing for the Queen." Morgon frowned. "It will do for now."

"Thank you, Ser Morgon. That will be all for now. Please send up food in a few hours, to the bedroom. That is where we shall eat."

Tywin saw the surprise in his man's eyes, but Morgon was far too well trained to say anything. Tywin didn't care. His steward had been with him when he'd been married to Joanna, so he knew what type of man Tywin was when he had a wife.

With Sansa's hand in his, he guided her up the main stairway and impressive stone set and then towards the west wing where his rooms were located.

"Do you have a series of rooms here as well, husband?" she asked, lips twitching as she japed with him.

Tywin smirked.

"Of course. And they are nicer than the King's," he boasted, for it was truthful.

In a place like King's Landing, where space was at a premium, Tywin knew that his mansion stated boldly that he was the wealthiest man in the realm, as did the furnishings of his mansion. The mosaics that lined the hallways had been made by some of the best craftsmen in the realm, and the white marble, inlaid with gold, was one of the rarest and most expensive materials known in Westeros. Likewise, the furniture with his lion sigil was stitched with golden thread and all hand-crafted to his specifications.

All of it was the very best that his gold could buy. Sansa was wide-eyed, and Tywin slowed his steps, enjoying her reaction to his home.

"How did I not know of this place?" she whispered, shaking her head.

Along the upper hallway, built in the style of all buildings in King's Landing, the hallways were open corridors designed to bring in the breeze and keep the upper levels cool.

But that ended when they came to his private quarters. Tywin preferred terraces and his seclusion. He opened an intricately carved door to his private domain, done in much the same style as the doors at the Rock that had golden motifs on them, and ushered Sansa inside.

Somehow in the middle of a rebellion, with the Red Keep burning, Tywin's man had prepared his rooms to his exacting standards.

Still clad in his armour, Tywin took Sansa by the elbow to the dressing chamber where a rack stood, walking past the elaborate bedroom where his impressive four-poster bed reigned supreme. Tywin couldn't wait to have her there, for it felt like it had been ages since they made love in a proper setting. Here she could beg, pant and scream his name until her throat was raw and they wouldn't be interrupted.

"I can call for my man if you wish," he said. "But I thought you could help me once again."

She seemed to come out of her stupor at the elegance of her new home with his words and working quickly together; they got his armour off until he was naked, his manhood jutting proudly from his body. Sansa licked her lips and reached for him, but there was no way that Tywin was letting his minx of a wife make him peak again before he got her off.

"Not yet, my love. Let's get you out of this gown."

As they had with his armour, they soon had her stripped down to her underclothes which were still the most scandalous garments that Tywin had ever seen. And they were only for him. He was the only man in the realm that had married a maiden and ended up with a vixen in his bed.

"All of it," he rasped.

She smiled as she hooked a finger and drew off the lower portion, something she called panties and then rid herself of her bra. Sansa jutted a hip and smirked, comfortable with her naked form as he gazed hungrily at her. She was the very picture of the mother and the maiden, ripe and lush and his.

He couldn't help himself as he draped his lean, muscular body over hers from behind, holding her against his body as his hands roamed over her. In his dressing room, there was a mirror, and the lower halves of their bodies were shown, as Tywin rested one hand possessively Sansa's swelled stomach while the other cupped her breast.

Instantly her coral nipple hardened into a peak which he rolled between his thumb and pointer finger and squeezed. Hard.

The breathy moan had him pressing his throbbing cock into her plump arse, and the thought of fucking her right here, in their dressing room, rutting about like animals in heat, only further ramped up his need.

Would she let him take her here? Like this, from behind? Gods, the image of it had his cock weeping.

"Tywin," she cried, grabbing his hand on her stomach and pushing it lower.

She was fucking soaked, her thighs slick with her essence. He pressed his lips to her neck and sucked, kissing a bruise into her pale flesh, and then moved to her shoulders while his fingers sunk inside her cunt, that rippled around him, milking him.

"That's it, ride my fingers and feel how they stretch this tight cunt, that's begging for my cock," he growled into her ear, tugging at the flesh and then nipping her.

Sansa keened, and he withdrew his fingers and laid a light smack on her nub as his wife shuddered and bucked in his arms.

Unable to wait, Tywin somehow marched her over to an elegant sofa in his dressing room. Then, without even been told, as if she read his mind, his wife bent over the end of the sofa and presented her arse to him.

The picture she made. She turned her head, smiled at him and he was undone! She wanted to be taken just like this and he would do so.

Tywin growled, carding a hand through her hair, pinning her to the piece of furniture as he notched his dick at her wet cunt.

"I'm going to fuck you hard and deep. Hold on," was all he said, watching as her hands scrambled to find purchased against the upholstery while he grabbed the flesh of her arse and spread her wide for him to see. She arched up on her toes, presenting herself to him, the lips of her cunt swollen with need and everything on display.

He was done. Unable to do anything else but rut into her, Tywin anchored himself to her and thrust inside her heat in one brutal surge as Sansa screamed his name in pleasure, clawing at the sofa. He took her hard, fast and deep while his wife kept spurring him on.

"Fuck Ty, that dick, gods, it feels so good," she panted.

It only made him pound into her relentlessly, hitting that spot inside of her that had her wailing and canting her hips back, needing more, the sounds they made obscene as they rutted about, wild and undone.

"Harder," she groaned at one point and he willingly complied.

It was animalistic how hard they fucked. Slicked with sweat, they clawed and bit at one another. At one point, Sansa turned her head and drew a bead of blood from his lips, which only made him pound into her sopping cunt as her body opened to take him again and again.

Finally, eyes locked, both lost in the other, Tywin felt her cunt tighten and grip him and saw the desperate need for completion in her eyes.

"Who do you belong to?" he demanded, voice guttural and low.

"You. Gods, you, Tywin. Always you."

Pleased, he leaned down to kiss her as his hand found her clit and rubbed and then laid a smack against it.

She shattered, wailing and bucking as he pinned her down and fucked her so hard and deep, he swore he touched her womb. His release seemed to come from the very depths of his body as he bathed her in his come.

When he pulled his dick out, he saw the evidence of their lovemaking all over his wife's skin.

White cum leaked from her swollen pussy and down her thighs making a mess of her; nipples were chaffed raw and bright red from rubbing against the sofa and his marks on her neck and shoulders were clear.

But he was equally scored, with flecks of blood from where she'd dug her nails into his shoulders, along with a throbbing of his lip.

Somehow, he had enough energy left to scoop her into his arms and pad naked and sated through his elaborate bedroom and to the equally decadent private bathing chambers. He placed Sansa on a settee, loving how she looked like a sleepy kitten as she watched him work to get their bath ready. This room wasn't quite as large as the one at the Rock, but it was far more than most people had. He ran the water, adjusting the temperature, and added the oils Sansa liked. This was a side of Tywin that few ever knew – the caretaker.

When he turned back, Sansa's eyes were fixed on him, a loving smile on her lips as she lay on the settee. He smirked as he stalked towards her, taking a seat at her side and stroking a hip, her flesh soft as silk. He liked that his wife removed her body hair; just one more thing about his modern wife that Tywin couldn't get enough of.

"You look like a thoroughly ravished queen."

Sansa threw her head back and laughed rich and deep, and any lingering worries Tywin might have had, drifted away like the steam in the room.

"I feel like one. Well done, husband," she purred as she trailed a hand down his muscular chest, playing with the muscles and sparse hair there. He loved the way she touched him, bold and insistent as if she had as much right to his body as he had to hers. No matter what society said, Sansa would always view herself as his equal.

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, leaning over her prone form and pressing a soft kiss to her chin before trailing kisses up to her lips, Sansa's hands in his golden hair.

"No, love. Not too much at all."

He appreciated she confirmed it. Neither one of them minded when their bedplay got … rough, but he wanted to ensure she enjoyed it as much as he did.

"Come on," he said, once again scooping her into his arms and striding towards the bathing pool, sinking them into the warm water together as Sansa clung to him. He didn't groan precisely, but the warm water coupled with his sated feeling and having Sansa in his arms all combined to put Tywin in a rather pleasant mood, which was ironic considering the chaos that still prevailed outside.

While he wanted to linger, there was still far too much that required their attention, so he reached for the soap and the oils, determined to dote on his wife even in the short time they had.

"Let me," was all he said.

Sansa nodded, and Tywin spent time washing her hair and cleaning her body, cupping and stroking.

His wife's breath hitched more than once, and Tywin felt his cock twitch. He'd have her again, in their bed, before the realm would demand their attention. When he got to her back, he used his hands to work at the knots he found there, recalling when she'd done this for him. She groaned, and he made a note to do this more often. Sansa carried her tension in her shoulders and back.

When it was her turn to wash him, she did much to same to him as he'd done to her. He hadn't even had to get his sword wet in this battle, but wearing heavy armour took a toll on one's body – even a man as fit as him. She spoke out loud as she washed him, caressing his body, pressing her lips to old scars and fresh bruises. He closed his eyes as her hands worked through his hair and found those points on his body that held the tension he was feeling, releasing it with her talented hands.

Clean and freshly aroused, Tywin shifted so that Sansa was sitting on his lap, facing him. He carded his hands through her wet hair, holding her steady, so their eyes locked. The stillness of the moment, the importance of it, rushed through him.

He was King of the Seven, this woman his wife. Barely half a year ago, the realm had been consumed by rebellion, and Tywin had worried he'd been going mad.

"My Sansa," he purred reverently.

"My Tywin."

It did something to him to have a woman such as Sansa claim him.

She wasn't a maiden bartered away by her father because Tywin was the most powerful man in the realm.

She wasn't here because their marriage made sense, either politically or to gain an alliance.

She didn't want nor did she seem to care about his gold.

She wasn't afraid of him or the things he would do.

She might not like all of his choices, might not fully understand this world in which they lived, yet, but she knew him better than anyone in what he was capable of.

She'd come into this marriage with her eyes wide open. And at every turn, she'd proven her love for him, her devotion to their marriage, again and again.

Needing her, he rose, powerful and sleek with his wife in his arms. He'd make a mess of their bed, but he didn't care in the least. He needed to see her there. Giggling, it was Sansa that reached for the fresh towels, working to dry them off as he placed her in the center of a bed that had only ever seen one other woman there.

She was a vision spread out before him. Somehow even in their travels, she'd managed to groom herself the way she liked, which Tywin liked as well. Her legs were long and smooth, and the curls at the junction of her thighs were neatly trimmed. Her arousal was evident and perfumed the air.

She shivered slightly as a breeze blew in from the Bay, and Tywin caged his body over hers, locking their hands together as he pulled her arms up and above her head.

"Legs around me, little one," he commanded, pleased when she did so immediately. Unlike their coupling in the dressing chambers, now Tywin took her gently. Reverently. Slowly. They moved as one, as he worked his cock into her velvet heat, hands locked and eyes upon each other.

No words were needed as their bodies came together in an ancient rhythm that all lovers knew. This would be the last woman he was ever with, and fierce pride surged through him that such a remarkable creature loved him. His pace was steady and built the ecstasy between them. He was in no rush to end this soon, for then reality would intrude. It wasn't the Sunset Sea that broke against the rocks in the distance, but the Blackwater, signifying this new stage in their lives.

Eventually, Sansa threw her head back, exposing her long, elegant neck. He kissed her, leaving whisker burns and love bites on it, uncaring that anyone who looked at her would see the evidence of their lovemaking. Tywin was not ashamed of what he felt for this woman – the realm knew him a man that loved deeply when he did.

When they were both slicked with sweat, moaning and grunting, Sansa dug her heels into his arse and begged.

"Ty, please, let me come," she moaned.

He grinned at her and took her lips in a demanding kiss, finally releasing their locked hands to stroke his fingers down her body, finding her greedy bundle of nerves throbbing. He thumbed her there and caught her as she arched into him, wailing out her orgasm as he surged inside her, once again overcome with his own peak as he filled his wife's womb with his seed.

Thoroughly sated, he managed to cradle her in his arms while she sprawled out over his chest, panting as she came down, a look of bliss on her face. When she finally raised her head, the grin on his face was impish.

"I like your bed, lover," she said, winking at him.

"Our bed," he corrected, finally taking a moment to gaze around the luxurious apartments.

There were still some things that Joanna had picked here, but much liked the rooms at the Rock; he'd replaced most of them over the years. Sansa could do more decorating if she pleased, for Tywin knew they would be here for a time, unable to get back to the Westerlands while the realm was still in such flux. He wanted her to be comfortable here so whatever she liked; he'd ensure she had the gold to buy it.

"I think we should send for Sandor and the lion cubs. If he rides hard, he might make it in time for the coronation, and I want them with us," she blurted out.

She was worrying her lip again, and Tywin cupped her cheek, stroking gently.

"You're lonely, aren't you," he said, the sudden insight hitting him. "And worried."

Sansa sat up now and went to move away from him, to put distance between them. But Tywin wanted none of that. So instead, he tugged her close and cradled her face in his hands.

"Love, talk with me."

She was such an expressive woman, unable to hide anything from him.

"I miss my father. I miss my friends. I know that I have you and Jaime. Kevan. Tygett. And there are others, that with time, I might become close with. But when you rode off, I realized how alone I was."

Tywin wanted to protest. He wanted to say that she had more than just him and his brothers and his son – she had the entire Westerlands that would follow her as Lady Lannister. But he held his tongue, realizing that would sound placating and dismissive.

"You were grieving a great loss when you came back," he said instead and saw the relief in her eyes. Her eyes filled with tears, which she seemed unashamed by as they spilled down her cheeks.

"I have always been … apart from others. My father was my best friend for so many years, which sounds ridiculous. But, when I was in Lannisport, I did have friends, and perhaps in time, we would have become even closer. But, losing my Dad, it just showed me that I have no one, Tywin."

Unable to stand her pain, he hugged her close and rocked, stroking a hand down her back. She clung to him as the sobs wracked her body.

"You have me, Sansa. For all time, I will be by your side," he told her, still holding her close.

"But people will want you dead. We still have enemies. What happens …." She couldn't even finish that sentence, another shudder going through her frame.

Drawing back from her, Tywin looked directly at her and then rested a hand on her stomach.

"My grief might not be as fresh as yours, and I may not know everything you are feeling. You are the one out of time. I cannot even fathom how jarring some things must be for you, love. But I do know what it feels like to fear losing the person you love most. I fear I would not survive should anything happen to you," he said.

Unsaid was his fear of losing her in childbirth, but he saw Sansa understood what he could not say. There was never a time in his life when he could recall being so vulnerable with another person – not even Joanna.

"I'm young and strong and bearing complications, I do not fear giving birth," she told him.

Tywin only grunted. He'd worry until their child arrived safely and Sansa lived.

"We will send for Sandor and the cubs immediately," Tywin stated.

Sansa's smile was everything, and she threw herself into his arms.

They laid there for a time, simply talking about their family and their lions, avoiding some of the more challenging topics; for now, neither one wanted to break the spell they'd woven.

Here, in his bed, he could forget just what tasks were awaiting his attention and the sheer amount of work before him. Sansa wasn't wrong. They did have enemies. Not everyone would be happy that he'd taken the Throne.

There were intricate, impossible decisions before them that would test their relationship and their alliances. But Tywin knew they were strong enough to withstand it all. They might bend, but he and Sansa would not break.

When the afternoon sun dipped low on the horizon, they finally dressed.

Then, back in his armour, holding his wife's hand, they wandered leisurely through the grand mansion until they reached the first floor, upon which they found Tygett waiting for them.

The scowl on his brother's face had Tywin pausing and moving slightly ahead of Sansa.

"Brother," Tywin said warily.

Something had happened, and by the way that Tygett was looking at Sansa, Tywin had his suspicions.

The real question was, would his brother do something stupid that he'd regret?

"Who is she?" he spat, glowering at Sansa.

Tywin looked at his wife, who arched an eyebrow and gave a slight shake of her head.

Glancing around, Tywin knew that most of his staff had evacuated King's Landing, but he would not have this conversation in the open atrium with his brother.

"The study," was all Tywin said, snarling at Tygett.

He let his brother go first, relieved that Tygett still had his sword sheathed and that he was armed. Though it would pain Tywin to hurt Tygett, he would if his brother threatened Sansa.

Once in the massive study, his brother paced like a caged lion while Tywin and Sansa stood by the large oak desk that dominated the room. Finally, Tygett turned back to them, and Tywin saw that he was hurt. And confused.

"Who is she, brother? I know you love her, for you were never a man that could fake your feelings. I know you would go to war for her, and I know that our house is in the position we are, due in large part to Lady Sansa's serendipitous arrival in our lives. But she is not who she says she is. She is not Lady Sansa Tully."

As Tywin's mind raced on what to reveal to Tygett, Sansa stepped forward.

"What gave me away?" she asked.

Tywin saw the shock on Tygett's face, followed by anger.

He stalked closer to her, but Sansa held her ground, and, in that moment, Tywin knew that while Tygett was hurt and confused, he would not harm Sansa. He loved her like a sister, even if he was questioning who she was.

"You know far too much. Far more than anyone I've ever met. Even him," Tyg said, jerking a thumb at Tywin. "You know things before they happen. Are you a witch? A magical creature? Did some dark forces bring you into our lives? What do you want us from us? I do not think you mean to harm us but you are not like any other woman I've ever met."

Sansa smiled.

"You're very observant. And loyal. And you love fiercely. I am not any of those things, and I mean House Lannister, and indeed all Lannisters no harm."

Tyg scowled but reluctantly agreed.

"No. You love him, though I'm not sure how. Or why."

Sansa's trilling laughter settled things further as Tywin snorted.

"Do you truly want to know, brother? For I will tell you. You've guarded me and kept me safe. So, it is only fair that you do know. But you cannot unknow once you do. Know that is."

Tywin's lips twitched at Sansa and her clever speech patterns.

"You speak in riddles," Tygett muttered.

"Answer her," Tywin said, resting his hands on Sansa's shoulders. Tygett cocked his head and studied them.

"Aye, I want to know."

Sansa glanced up at him, and Tywin gave a single nod.

"I am a time traveller," Sansa said, as Tygett went as still as stone.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open and Tywin chuckled.

Then his brother threw his head back and laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. When he finally got himself under control, he realized that neither he nor Sansa was japing with him.

"That's --- impossible," he sputtered.

Sansa smiled, and that seemed to spin his brother even more. There was a part of Tywin that took satisfaction in seeing his family's reaction to Sansa's time travel claim.

"I know. But over a year ago, in my time, I found Tywin's sigil ring in ruins at Casterly Rock. That is when the visions began. My father died along with my uncle. It spun my entire world, and I was barely functioning. I moved back home, and I was at the graveyard. I was lost. Alone. Grieving and in pain."

Tywin pulled her close and rubbed his hands down her arms. She leaned into him, and he hoped she understood that she was never alone.

"I wished to be somewhere where no one would die how my family did. A violent storm came up, and I was too late in leaving. I slipped and hit my head, and there was lightning, and when I woke up, I was Lady Sansa Tully, daughter of Hoster and Minisa Tully, living seventeen hundred years in the past."

Tygett staggered and plopped into a chair, looking absolutely gobsmacked.

Tywin chuckled and took Sansa's hand in his. She smiled at Tywin, and they waited for Tygett to speak.

"Surely you jape," Tygett sputtered, still shaking his head.

"Nope."

Sansa popped the p, and Tywin heard her slip into her 'modern' dialect.

"But ----"

She told Tygett what she'd witnessed in the visions. Tywin confirmed it with a nod.

And then she told Tygett things that only she could know about him – things that were so private that Tygett couldn't argue how Sansa could possibly know these things about him.

Tywin knew the moment his brother became a believer.

"You knew this? When we rode for Riverrun? You knew when she came from?" Tygett looked at Tywin.

"I did."

"And you love her?"

Tywin frowned. "Of course, I do."

Suddenly, Tyg surged to his feet, his face almost panicked.

"She must be protected, Ty. Imagine what someone would do if they were to find out what she knows."

A genuine smile bloomed across Tywin's face as he clasped his brother by the arms.

"I know Tyg. She must be protected at all costs."

"Who else knows?"

"Kevan heard us speaking, quite by accident. And Jaime knows. Sansa slipped, and he thought she was a spy, much like you did."

Tywin frowned.

"It wasn't that we were keeping it from you; it's merely that it is an impossible thing to reconcile. Some days, even I struggle with how this all came about. But Sansa is here and to the realm; she is the firstborn, the trueborn daughter of Hoster Tully. And my wife."

Tygett shook his head again, and then Tywin watched in amusement as he hugged Sansa close and vowed to keep her safe by any means necessary. When they exited the mansion, Tygett was asking Sansa questions as Tywin guided her to her mount. It felt correct that the three Lannisters in King's Landing knew who Sansa was. They would all work to keep Sansa safe.

"We will have to be careful. Lord Stannis was already looking at you, and Lady Stark is not an idiot. Neither is Elia," Tygett said, somewhat gruffly.

"Yes, Princess Elia is rather astute," Sansa said, shooting Tygett a knowing look.

To Tywin's delight, his brother blushed and mumbled something about doing his duty and nothing more.

"Rhaenys already loves you," Sansa retorted. "It is far more than duty the way you look at Elia and her children. And there are worse women to pursue than Elia Martell. I believe once she has recovered from the loss of her husband, she will be amendable to a man in her life that loves her with his entire heart."

Tygett shook his head at her, and Tywin wondered if his brother knew the futility of arguing with his wife.

"Nobles do not marry for love, Sansa."

Sansa's brilliant smile was everything.

"Says who?"

Tygett appeared confused and scrambled to explain himself. For his part, Tywin thoroughly enjoyed watching his wife befuddle his brother.

"It is just not done. Do not let Tywin's two marriages fool you. My brother is the exception, not the rule."

"Then it is a good thing I am not only your goodsister but your Queen, Ser Tygett. If you have any feelings for Elia, do not waste precious time worrying about what is right and proper. That woman has been through hell. Be her friend. Be her protector. Be on her side. And trust me when I say, all women dream of love."

With that, Sansa kicked her horse and made for the gate while Tywin smirked at his brother.

"Do you understand now why I am so in love with my wife?"

Tygett shook his head, but a smile tugged at his lips.

"These women, brother, they will surely rule us all."

It was a hard sentiment to argue with since Tywin knew the power that Sansa had over him. He shot his brother another look.

"We are well-positioned to rule this realm. To create a legacy for our house, Tyg, that will last a thousand years. Do not dismiss Sansa's advice. Elia Martell is a fine woman, and she already looks to you for her protection. I want you to be happy."

There was shock on Tygett's face, and this moment felt vital between them.

"You have my sword, as always, brother. I will follow you, Tywin, for all my days, and I vow to keep Sansa safe from any enemies that might come. For you or her. House Lannister rises on this night, and we shall make the dynasty you've dreamed of out of the ashes that the dragons left us. For House Lannister," Tygett roared.

Tywin merely nodded, and then with a look, both Lannisters kicked their horses, eager to catch up with their new Queen and put plans in place to ensure their legacy for years to come.