Chapter 19

King's Landing – Jaime

Jaime stared at the scroll in his hand, wondering if he was reading the words right. The King had flung the parchment away in a fit of rage, and Jaime had quickly scooped it up, skimming it, if not entirely understanding the implication of the words at first. He wasn't even aware his fingers were rubbing over the broken wax seal of the lion of House Lannister.

King Aerys Targaryen, Second of His Name

By now, the tragedy of my second son's untimely death had undoubtedly reached your discerning ears, Your Grace. I mourned the loss of my son, for several months, grief and rage at my last remaining heir befalling such a fate. The very existence of my house, my line, my legacy has hung in the precarious balance since Tyrion's death, and for months I have been at odds, trying to find a pathway forward.

It was only this desperate need that moved me even to consider marrying another, for you know all too well, my love for Lady Joanna and my vows to her.

When news of the rebellion reached Casterly Rock, I knew I had an opportunity to secure a new marriage for myself and weaken the rebels from within by marrying Hoster Tully's eldest daughter. The man has wanted an alliance for an age, and in his greed, he did not see that this marriage is naught more than a political alliance, for I now hold the Trout's eldest daughter under my care, and we all know his love for her. The Trout, whether he knows it or not, is now under my control, Your Grace.

While our friendship had been stretched, loyalties tested, over the years, I remain as devoted to you as the day I swore my vows to be your Hand, Your Grace.

Upon marrying Lady Sansa Tully, I have gained the rebels' trust and belief in me, while securing my borders and ensuring the Westerlands remains strong, unaffected by the war and ready to ride to your aid, my King.

I await your word, to come to King's Landing and help you secure the city, Your Grace. And I await your blessing on my marriage. You have my deepest apologies for marrying without your knowledge, but I saw an opportunity to ensure our victory in the wars.

As always, your humble servant, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West,

Tywin Lannister

His father had married.

His father had married.

His father had married.

Tywin Lannister, a man that had loved but one woman his entire life, had taken another wife. And a Tully bride, no less.

He had married Sansa, the oldest daughter of Hoster Tully. She was beautiful, Jaime recalled, from the short time he'd spent at Riverrun, and seemed intelligent, but he'd paid her little mind. He'd been more concerned with speaking with Brynden Tully and learning of his exploits than what the women had been up to.

Even though Jaime preferred blond hair, he could not deny the eldest Tully sister's beauty.

Was that why his father had married her? Had he become too lonely, ten years after the death of Jaime's mother? Was this really just for politics as Tywin stated in the scroll, or was it possible his father felt something for this woman?

It was madness and sent Jaime's world reeling.

At first, when he'd read the scroll, Jaime had thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, as they used to when he struggled as a child learning his letters, but the roar of rage from the King had assured Jaime he was not.

Tywin Lannister was married.

It was a bold and brilliant political move, one that almost single-handedly guaranteed him a secure power block along the Western edge of Westeros, and hope for the future of House Lannister. With a new wife, Tywin could have more heirs, securing his lineage and his house.

And the wildest part was there wasn't anything Aerys could do to dispute or punish Tywin for his marriage. Tywin did not attempt to hide his marriage from the King, openly declaring he needed an heir with his spare now dead and his son bound for life to the service of Aerys.

The reasons for the marriage were valid and sound, the logic irrefutable.

Tyrion was dead.

Jaime was a Kingsguard and everyone knew that they served for life.

Tywin needed and heir and in marrying a Tully, could claim he was 'infiltrating' the rebels.

Jaime, who was the only kingsguard left in the capital when the news had come, had stood stoically behind the King as his Hand, Lord Chelstad, read the scroll that had arrived from Riverrun.

Jaime had held his face devoid of any emotion, lest the King seized upon his feelings and make his life more of a misery than it already was.

"Did you know about this?" Aerys had demanded spittle flying as his wild eyes raked over Jaime.

Jaime shook his head.

"No, Your Grace. My father always maintained my mother was the love of his life and that he'd never take another as a bride."

The love of Joanna and Tywin was legendary, something Jaime had grown up with, and idolized, so this news truly was as shocking to Jaime as much as it was to Aerys.

Because Jaime knew how unpredictable Aerys could be, he kept his eyes trained on him, which was why he did not miss the sly look that came into Aerys' eyes when his mother was mentioned.

"Ahhh, yes, the Great Lion's great love. Huh. Now he takes another. I wonder if it grated on him to know that even your mother was unable to resist my charms," the man said snidely, a glint in his eye. He was looking for Jaime to react, to deny such a horrible accusation.

Surely it had to be a lie? Didn't it?

Internally, Jaime's stomach roiled. He understood precisely what the King was implying, but had never heard a word from his father that Joanna had ever been untrue.

"Pity, her last child, was so ill-formed that he tore her from stern to stem while trying to crawl his way out of her belly."

The implication was clear, the disrespect unmistakable. The slight against his mother should not go unpunished.

Jaime wished for nothing more than to reach for his sword and draw it swiftly, cutting down the King. But knew if he were to do so, his life would be forfeit. As it was now, war-ravaged the kingdom, and it seemed only a matter of time before rebel forces arrived at the gates of King's Landing. It did not seem like Aerys reign of terror would go on much longer. So Jaime stayed his hand, although his mind raced, his world upended.

As if realizing he would not get the reaction he craved from Jaime, Aerys stood and motioned for his lone guard to follow him to his chambers.

"I suppose it is impossible to deny the Great Lion his newest prize, although I shall order them both to court," Aerys mused.

Sickened by the thought of this man and his mother, Jaime barely made it to an empty vase before he retched up little he had in his stomach.

Panting, pale and wan, he went to take his place outside the Mad King's bedchambers, lost in thoughts of how different this reality was from his childhood dreams of being a golden knight, of being a man that was good and true and serving a worthy man.

Now after serving as a Kingsguard to the Mad King, it had shown Jaime that every negative thing his father had said about Aerys was real. When he'd been selected, Jaime had felt the pride that his skill with a sword was being acknowledged, and hadn't understood the pity and the rage he'd seen in his father's eyes. But now, having had his twentieth name day months and months ago, Jaime knew that all of his childhood dreams were ashes.

Jaime had thought the Tourney at Harrenhal had been the start of his childhood dreams coming true, that he was fulfilling his destiny. The welcome he'd received from the other members of the Kingsguard had taken some of the sting from his father's disappointment, whom he thought would be proud of him.

But now after being here, in the Red Keep, he understood. He knew now why he'd been selected - it was a slight against Tywin as much as it had been for his skills. It had been a way to steal Jaime from his father, to deny his father his trueborn heir. Aerys hated of Tywin had only grown in the past few years.

Jaime was nothing more than a pawn between two powerful men, and too late, he'd realized that Aerys had essentially 'stolen' him from Tywin.

Still, he'd been able to serve with Ser Arthur Dayne, and that was what he focused on most, by improving his skills and learning as much as he could from the more senior members of the guard.

The idealistic youth, who'd dreamed of knights that protected a worthy man who was their King, was gone, replaced by a bitter man that had to 'guard' a man who mistreated his wife and held his gooddaughter hostage in the Red Keep while war ravaged the land. Jaime knew the princess was desperately unhappy in King's Landing.

Jaime wished he knew why he'd been left behind. Months ago, his idol, the man he worshipped, Ser Arthur Dayne had been sent to Dorne by Rhaegar, and Jaime knew naught why he hadn't been included.

Instead, he had been left with some of the more senior guards, men like Barristan Selmy and Lewyn Martell, as they watched Aerys descend further into madness.

The things he'd seen while serving haunted him, including the deaths of Brandon and Rickard Stark. Watching a man, the Lord of Winterfell, roast to death in his full armour, while his son struggled to free him, hanging himself in the process had been the stuff of nightmares. It had been one of the most gruesome things Jaime had ever witnessed, and he'd been in shock for weeks.

Arthur had eventually convinced him that they were not to question the King - only blindly serve.

Jaime might have never been as smart as his siblings, and politics sometimes confused him, but even he knew that with the deaths of Ned Stark's brother and father, the realm had been heading for war. He knew that things could not continue for House Targaryen unchecked. There had been too much blood, too much death, too much pain to some of the ancient houses of Westeros for them to continue to turn a blind eye.

Aerys seemed to determine to ignore reports of fighting in the Vale when Jon Arryn called for his banners, and not all his men responded. Aerys had been too caught up in his pyromancer's and 'becoming a dragon' to care much about skirmished far away from the capital.

Jaime followed the battles in secret, finding a way to be in the Throne Room when Aerys or his Hand might receive news. The King often dismissed news of the rebellion, waving a hand about. But Jaime saw in the other guards' faces that they knew something was happening that could have dire consequences for the King.

When Lord Randyll Tarly fell upon Robert's forces at Ashford, Robert's defeat wasn't quite what Mace Tyrell made it to be. The Storm Lord escaped with most of his forces North, even as Lord Tarly sent Aerys Lord Cafferen's head. Mace might have marched on Storm's End, putting it under siege, but Jaime was more concerned that Eddard Stark had reached Winterfell and rallied the Northern troops, along with the men that Robert had managed to escape with.

After Ashford, King Aerys believed that his Hand, Lord Owen Merryweather, was ineffectual - even going so far as to think that perhaps Merryweather had aided the rebellion. In retaliation, Aerys had stripped him of his lands and titles and send him into exile.

In his stead, Lord Jon Connington, a close friend of Rhaegar's and known as a warrior, was named Aerys' new Hand.

In all of this, Tywin had remained stubbornly neutral, which often sent Aerys muttering about the 'traitorous lion.'

During this time, Jaime received a scroll from Casterly Rock that threatened to destroy his entire world. An accident had befallen his younger brother Tyrion, who'd been found dead on the stones beneath one of the cobbled walkways at the Rock. When his father had written the King to ask for permission for Jaime to attend his funeral, Jaime had been stunned when the King refused. The King had seemed almost gleeful at Tyrion's death, and Jaime knew it was because his father was now without an heir.

Funnily enough, at the same time that Tyrion died, the ravens from Cersei had stopped. Jaime had worried that something had happened to her, until word spread through the kingdom that she was 'distraught' and in isolation, mourning the death of her youngster brother.

Jaime had snorted bitterly at that rumour, knowing it to be false. His twin had always hated their little brother, had always blamed him for their mother's death. Jaime had spent almost his entire life attempting to navigate a peace between the two of them.

The idea that Cersei was upset over Tyrion's death just didn't sound right. It made Jaime highly suspicious of what was happening at home in Casterly Rock. There was no way she had locked herself away out of grief. But someone had and Jaime wanted to know who.

Still, even with his suspicions, there was very little that Jaime could do, mired in grief and unable to get home to be with his family. He had realized shortly after being appointed to the Kingsguard just how desperately he missed his home and spent many hours longing to see the Sunset Sea. There was nothing that matched it in the capital, and the stink of Blackwater Bay was nothing compared to the crystalline waters of his home.

Jaime was a mess, missing his family, mourning the loss of his brother and feeling more alone than he ever had. His family felt fractured, and he was so far from them, and the King's madness only seemed to grow, as the rebellion didn't lose any steam.

Rhaegar had disappeared and left Elia at the mercy of Aerys in the capital. Jaime did what he could for Elia, but she mostly hid in her rooms, pregnant with her second child and looking after her daughter. If he was ever caught being kind to Elia from his fellow guards, they looked the other way. All of them felt for the woman and the public humiliation she was suffering, not to mention the rage directed her way from Aerys.

There was so little though, that Jaime could do. He was the youngest guard, and though skilled, both Dayne and Selmy were better swordsmen than him. With his idol Arthur gone along with Ser Oswell Whent, Jaime was subject to the harsh teachings of one Barristan Selmy, who was not a fan of House Lannister. The other guards, Darry and Martell, often scoffed at him, and it was these months that were the most difficult for Jaime, without Arthur by his side.

When Aerys' Hand, Jon Connington led a mighty army into the field and chased Robert's army into the Riverlands, the King had cheered, confident that his son's beloved friend would win a decisive victory for the royal troops.

Word came about the battle at Stoney Sept, and how Jon Connington's forces took the town by force, looking for Robert. It seemed like the King's man might take the battle, and kill Robert, until Lords Stark and Tully showed up, bolstering the Baratheon and Arryn forces.

Even though Connington fought bravely, wounding Lord Hoster Tully and killing Jon Arryn's cousin and heir, the rebels won the battle.

Aerys raged for days, suspicious of his latest Hand.

Jaime was stunned, wondering how the man didn't see that his forces were doing everything to win these battles for him, and still, he blamed them. Everyone was a traitor in his mind, and Jaime knew first-hand what Aerys did to traitors. The smell of flesh roasting was not one easily forgotten.

It finally seemed like the rebellion worried Aerys, and he stripped Connington of his titles and exiled him, sending another loyal man to his house from Westeros. Jaime had to wonder what Aerys expected, knowing that half the great houses in the kingdom were now in open rebellion against the monarchy.

After the defeat at Stoney Sept, Aerys named Lord Qarlton Chelsted his Hand and sent Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Barristan Selmy to rally Connington's troops. Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower, was sent by the King to find Rhaegar, leaving Jaime as the lone Kingsguard in the capital.

Jaime thought it madness that he was the only one here, while others were in Dorne and the Riverlands.

And still, Tywin did not make a move or declare for the King. There were many nervous conversations that Jaime had with the King, who demanded to know why his old friend 'sat on his Rock.'

"If that lion doesn't bring his troops to my side, I will declare him in open rebellion," Aerys had raged, soothed only these days by Varys and the Grand Maester Pycelle, who reassured him constantly that Tywin had always been loyal to him.

Jaime had no answers for the King, knowing that his father hated the King but had always maintained a facade that he supported them, that the West remained loyal.

Jaime was well aware that the Dorne only very reluctantly declared for Aerys, and only because Elia was a virtual prisoner in the Red Keep. Her fear these days was almost palpable, and Jaime did whatever he could to assuage her, not that he had much power or influence over the King.

That seemed to belong solely to the man's pyromancers, who grew bolder by the days as Aerys demands become more outlandish. He'd spew for hours about fire, dragons, blood, and legacy, and Jaime worried about what he might do. The man was utterly unreasonable, but with only Jaime there to guard him, the two were locked into some odd détente.

The King appeared jealous of Tywin's new wife, going off about 'first nights' and 'taking what belonged to him.' There was no doubt that should Aerys come anywhere near Lady Sansa, he would attempt to bed her.

It made Jaime ill to hear it, but he said little on the matter. Nothing he said would have made a difference. It seemed that no matter what Tywin had, Aerys' wanted it – including Tywin's new wife.

Instead, when the king raged, Jaime focused on the words his father had sent him, praising him and speaking of how proud he was. Tywin also spoke of how they would be together soon, and Jaime wondered if that meant his father planned to come to King's Landing. It was the only thing that gave Jaime a flicker of hope, as he knew he was desperately outmatched in King's Landing.

He was one Kingsguard and Aerys still commanded the entire City Watch.

But Aerys needed Jaime as his personal, guard and so he kept him close, allowing the golden son of Tywin an utterly unique perspective into his descent into madness. Jaime could only hope and pray that his father would somehow understand how serious the situation grew in the capital. Even Jaime could see that with Aerys as King, the realm was headed for ruin.

Surely a man like Tywin would know that as well – and he would come. Of that, Jaime was sure. Even remarried, Jaime knew how much his father loved him. It was a mantra he would repeat to himself in the days and weeks to come, while chaos reigned, and the realm held its collective breath, unsure which side might emerge victoriously.

Casterly Rock – Cersei

She was bored.

So utterly and completely bored.

She'd been locked in her room for what felt like years, although it was only a few months. Many months ago her twentieth name day had passed with little to no fanfare, which put her in a sour mood.

Had she known that her father would so quickly suspect her of Tyrion's death, she might have thought twice before throwing the little monster over the walkway wall and onto the stones below.

Then she shook her head at such a foolish thought. Killing Tyrion had simply been a matter of survival – hers. The little beast has discovered her secret and had the gall to threaten to expose her to their father. It wasn't anyone's business but hers.

Even now she took a perverse sort of pleasure knowing Jaime was in the capital, unable to fulfill his duty as their father's heir.

She knew it made her cold, to take pleasure in the suffering of others, but their pain seemed so trite. Sometimes her father's grief was so unbearable, so pathetic, that she often thought it served him right that he had suffered after he'd given up his position as Hand simply because the King had taken his heir.

Her father was weak, like so many men she had discovered. He wasn't as great as they called him. Cersei had watched as he was crippled by grief, growing colder and more disinterested in things that mattered, things that he could have done to make their house better. He'd hardly put up a fight when Aerys had named Jaime to the Kingsguard and she'd never forgiven him for that.

The only thing Cersei had truly craved was power. And the main problem with that was that she was a woman and lived in a time when women had few options to have their own power – it was always tied to whatever man they were made to marry upon turning twenty-one.

Ridiculous.

Cersei knew that had she been a man, she'd have made the perfect heir for the Great Lion. But because she'd had the bad luck to be born a woman, she'd known that she would be bartered off like little more than chattel, meant to better her already powerful father's position. It was the lot of women in this life, with so few options available to them and one Cersei resented daily.

It had frustrated her to no end when Tywin had ignored her, barely paying her any attention at all. And he never made a move against a house that had stolen so much from them.

It was appalling.

He was an absent father at best and never had any time for either her or Tyrion once Jaime was in King's Landing. They'd been all but ignored by him after the Tourney at Harrenhal when Jaime had not returned home to the Rock. Losing Jaime was a bitter blow for a man that had never recovered from losing his wife and Cersei was well aware that she was not an adequate substitute in her father's eyes.

In her less charitable moments, Cersei privately blamed her mother for the pain her family suffered. For all of it – for the lack of love her father gave his children, for Joanna not being strong enough to survive the birth of that monster and for the humiliation of being related to that freak.

Joanna had to be weak, to have succumbed to such a fate.

Just like Tywin had been weak to cut himself off in his pain from losing her.

Cersei had vowed she would never be weak.

Of course, Cersei defended her mother vehemently to any who might disparage her, including her aunt and uncles, who pleaded with Tywin to take another wife. She had been opposed to such a thought, unable to bear the idea of another woman sharing space in her beloved home, or even worse, for her father to love another.

Cersei openly accused, blamed and mocked Tyrion for his role in Joanna's death.

For years she did everything possible to earn her father's love, attention and respect. To make him see that she might be worthy of his attentions with Jaime now lost to him.

Nothing had worked.

The Rock grew colder each year, her father was more distant and their family more fractured.

Until months ago, when her father had suddenly seemed to take a keen interest in her. For years, Cersei had believed that to be something she wanted- her father's attention, but she'd forgotten how sharp and insightful he was.

He saw things.

Knew things.

Questioned things.

She hadn't been expecting him to question her and knew she'd stumbled through her answer. He'd caught her off-guard and she'd wondered when he'd begun to suspect her.

Nor had she expected him to ask her who she envisioned marrying in the coming years. With name-day approaching, she knew marriage would be expected of her soon enough. Her father had said in a year, he'd expect her to do her duty. She knew her answer had been poorly given when she'd expressed no desire to marry. She should have just mumbled something about a loyal bannerman from the West, someone that would be easy to manipulate and keep her close to the Rock.

From that moment on, Tywin had watched her like a hawk. She'd had to be on her best behaviour and had almost thought he'd forgotten about the questions he'd asked her when she heard Tyrion ask to speak with him. She never understood Jaime's love for Tyrion, could never see past the horror and the imperfection of what he was.

When she'd sent Tyrion a note to meet her outside on the walkway, he hadn't even sensed the danger he was in. It was almost too easy to wrestle him up and over the rampart, his scream ending in a dull thud. Her biggest concern was that the fall hadn't been high enough, but when she'd checked, he'd been well and truly dead. She'd thought her problems solved.

Who knew her father would suspect her?

She certainly hadn't.

Now she'd been locked away for months, with nothing and no one to keep her company. She wasn't even allowed to send a raven to Jaime in the capital.

It was only when she was given a new guard, and learned that her father had left the Rock in a hurry, that her need to know what was happening drove her to confront the terrifying man her father had assigned to watch over her.

The problem was, and it was a problem that even a great man like Tywin Lannister suffered from it, was that people always underestimated her and what she was willing to do to improve her lot in life.

And make no mistake; she was willing to do almost anything to secure the place she believed to be hers and hers alone.

Gregor Clegane was a man with cold, vicious, cruel eyes.

But he was just a man. A man her same age who wasn't all that smart. A man who also wanted more.

And she was a woman who was almost in a position to give it to him

Cersei knew it was her with all the power - and all she had to do to win him to her side with the promise of something more in the future if he was loyal to her. He had been content to wait, for her plans to be put into action. She had effectively won him to her side with nothing more than a future promise. She'd spoken to him about what she might do for him when she was in a position to reward him for his loyalty to her.

Gold.

More land.

A better position.

And a place by her side as her loyal guard.

He ate up the future she described, with him by her side as her guard, and no one was the wiser that she had turned one of the most vicious men in the kingdom to her side by using her intelligence alone. She'd used his greed for more power to win him to her side by promising to elevate him when she was in charge of Casterly Rock.

Was it any wonder she had no respect for the men that surrounded her? And if she could manipulate men in such a way, she knew other intelligent women could as well. It made her distrust women in general.

A fortnight after her father had raced from the Rock, causing quite a stir since he'd told almost no one where they were going, Gregor stormed into her room. His face, which was never very expressive, almost looked gleeful. To anyone else, it would be disturbing, but Cersei knew that meant he had news.

She sat up and asked breathlessly, "What news?"

"Your father rode for Riverrun, where he married Lady Sansa Tully last evening. His raven arrived today," Gregor said.

Shock immobilized her, and for a moment she was numb.

He frowned as she suddenly bolted from her chair and began to pace. She barely knew she had a goblet in her hand before she let it fly, her rage blinding her.

Her father had married.

Married.

He had made another woman, a woman not of the West, Lady Lannister.

It was ridiculous.

It was appalling.

It was a disgrace.

It made her sick.

That meant that he had lost hope in bringing Jaime home, and he meant to produce more heirs – heirs meant to replace her.

"I will kill her before I ever allow her offspring to take my brother's place as Lord of Casterly Rock," she vowed.

Turning, she looked at him.

"Promise me that you are loyal to only me, Gregor. Now and always and I will make sure you are richly rewarded. When we have dealt with the threats, I will reward you."

"I am," he grunted.

Good. This man was a weapon – someone she could use. He would do anything she asked of him, and she knew that no matter what, Sansa Tully could not be allowed to give the Great Lion a new heir.

As her father raced home with his beloved new wife, Cersei plotted.

She felt betrayed to her core and knew she'd have to make her father suffer for this injustice, for this unforgivable sin against his son, his true heir. Her father was lost to her, and if she could eliminate them both, there would be no question that she would be the Lannister to step in and take her rightful place, as the Lady and mistress of Casterly Rock.

The Road to Casterly Rock – Sansa

Tywin was like a changed man after their fight and subsequent reconciliation at the Golden Tooth. Of course, he was still Tywin, and with several of his men, her handmaiden, her sister and his brothers there, he wasn't precisely verbose.

But Sansa was beginning to understand he would never be that man. And she didn't need him to be. Her husband expressed himself through touch - a thoughtful gesture, and his inclusion of her by his side.

For Sansa, she felt once again like she was on a great adventure, as she rode beside Tywin, who seemed loath to have her out of his sight. Now that he'd confessed his feelings, now that they'd said those crucial words to one another, the depth of his feelings for her was plain for Sansa to see. Every single day.

He cut a dashing figure, and his destrier had a blanket with enameled crimson scales and gilded crinet and chamfron, as well as crimson silk bardings decorated with the lion of the Lannisters.

As breathtaking as the mountain views were, her husband was equally, if not more fascinating. The difference between the tense man in the Riverlands and this one who was confident and at ease in his homeland was astonishing.

Logically Sansa knew it had much to do with the fact that they were well into the Westerlands now, and he felt safer here than he had when they'd travelled through Hoster Tully's lands. The houses here were loyal to the Great Lion. This was his world, where he ruled as a King. There was nowhere he was more powerful.

But she also liked to think that it was because he had declared his feelings for her, and her for him.

They rode as fast as possible through the mountainous terrain, the road narrow and winding, the thin air stealing her breath. It was exhilarating, and she revelled in it. Years of studying this region, this man, and here she was, a few short weeks away from Casterly Rock and seeing her lion's home. She couldn't wait.

The next significant castle that they would stop at was Sarsfield, headed by Ser Melwyn Sarsfield and his wife, Shierle. Both lord and lady were in their early thirties and had been married for eight years. Tywin had assured her that House Sarsfield would openly welcome them and that whenever he called their banners, they would respond.

"Do you think they will like me?" she'd asked, wondering about those houses loyal to him. After all, Tywin's first wife had been from the West, while she was an outsider.

She knew with her marriage to Tywin, her station had been elevated in ancient Westeros. They were important people, influential people, whose lives were not entirely their own. Not only was Tywin Warden of the West and the Shield of Lannisport, but he was also the head of his house.

As his wife, Sansa was now one of the most powerful women in the realm, second perhaps only to the Queen, although everyone knew how the King treated her.

There was Elia, next in line to become the Queen, although Sansa knew what happened to her. She had no idea if she could prevent a similar fate from befalling Elia as it had in the history Sansa knew.

There was her 'sister' Catelyn with her marriage to Ned Stark. Catelyn and Ned's marriage would face some rocky patches, and Sansa was hoping to help them avoid that giant secret that had caused so much harm. But by and large, Ned Stark wanted nothing to do with the politics in the south and stayed at Winterfell for most of his life, severely curtailing the influence of Catelyn had they participated more in court life.

Cersei Lannister was assuredly a danger to Sansa and a woman that would stop at nothing to secure what she thought was her rightful place in the realm.

It was odd, as Sansa had never had any sympathy for Cersei in the future.

Now, living in the past, in ancient Westeros, it was easy to understand how this place bred brutality and violence.

Not that it was an excuse. It wasn't at all. Cersei had made some truly horrible choices already, but Sansa wanted to try to understand her as much as she could.

She wasn't sure Cersei could be saved if what Tywin thought to be true was. She was already frighteningly ambitious.

Tywin had given her a short nod and said quietly, "I think those in the West will come to love you as much as I do, Sansa."

She'd all but melted then and there. The depth and intensity of their love astonished her. She'd never met anyone quite like Tywin before.

They stopped to make camp, in a small grassy plain atop one of the highest hill passes. When Sansa drew her horse to a stop beside Tywin, she glanced around. This location was decidedly more open than other areas where they'd previously camped, but with the rocky slopes of the mountains pressing down around them, Sansa knew they didn't have much choice.

"How far from Sarsfield?" she asked Tywin, frowning slightly.

There was something almost familiar about this place, and she didn't know what it was. It was making her twitchy. She had never ventured this way when she'd lived in Lannisport, and knew in her world it was a sleek modern highway that often saw snow from December to February, despite being in the south.

"A day if we push hard," Tywin told her, his eyes locked onto her face as she dismounted, his hand in hers.

For a man capable of such violence, he was surprisingly soft and gentle with her. His fingers often lingered on hers – a stroke, a squeeze, something a little extra that was meant for just them. In the world in which she found herself living, these were such huge gestures. Public displays of affection were so often frowned upon, even between married couples, and Sansa knew they were always being watched.

Sansa nodded and looked around, that uneasy feeling settling over her again.

It felt like she'd been here before, even though she couldn't recall ever travelling on this road.

Tywin, who was fast coming to know her better than anyone, didn't leave her side as he escorted her to their tent. It was still astonishing to her the luxury he demanded, but she was grateful for it. Days on the back of a horse, coupled with their ravenous appetites for one another, had left Sansa sore down there.

She sighed as she took a seat and saw Tywin arch a brow. He knew her so well, could read her like a book. It was the attention he paid to her. Many might find it almost too much, but Sansa loved it.

"Is there something I should know?"

Sansa shrugged.

"Nope. Nothing from the future, at least. This place just feels … odd."

She waved a hand.

"Don't mind me. Are we supping alone tonight or with family?" she asked.

After their huge fight at the Tooth, Sansa had finally understood that as much as knew about the future, she had shared a lot with Tywin in a short time, and they needed a break. They both needed time to process things. The road they were on and the camps where they stayed were also not the most private places.

And quite honestly, some of the information Sansa had, she wasn't even sure Tywin needed to know what she did. At least, not ALL of it. Her head hurt when she thought of how she might share something with Tywin that would directly influence someone's life, or change the future so irrevocably that whatever she did know became moot. Nor was there any easy way to just unload everything on him.

Tywin was cold, rational and logical, but he was still a man that had his agenda, his own ambitions and a very different worldview than her. She had snickered when she thought of that Spiderman quote: with great power comes great responsibility. That was her. She was Spiderman with vast knowledge, and she had to use it wisely.

Besides, she had been in ancient Westeros for a month.

A month! There was still plenty of time to make positive changes for her and Tywin.

She knew they both appreciated how these past few days, when they'd focused on the here and now and each other, instead of the endless questions, debates and arguments about upcoming events.

As she sat and tapped her fingers, her husband came to rub at her shoulders. He unerringly found the knots, working them loose, the pain and pleasure mixed in equal, delightful bursts.

Sansa moaned.

Tywin leaned down.

"Perhaps tonight we sup alone," he purred into her ear, his voice full of promise to sate her every desire.

She turned her head, so their lips brushed, and the want for him flared, hot and needy.

"Tywin," she breathed into his mouth, twining her hands into his neck and digging her nails into his flesh as if to mark him as hers.

Caught up in the kiss, but how much she wanted him, she scored his flesh slightly, hoping he understood how much she loved him. Each day she fell harder for him, found it challenging to be away from him. She genuinely liked him, enjoyed as he spoke to her, taught her about this time in which they lived and shared his life with her.

He chuckled slightly, his green eyes dancing.

"Such a fierce lioness," he praised her. Sansa adored how he so welcomed her passion. He was a demanding and creative lover, and as a modern woman, nothing had shocked her in their bedplay. In fact, she'd revelled in it, although she was desperate to arrive at the Rock, where they might finally enjoy absolute privacy.

"I am," she told him, nipping at him. "Hurry back."

"I will."

He rose then, graceful and powerful, and leaned down to kiss her again, making her clutch at him.

"Tywin."

"Sansa."

He smiled, and she felt how much he loved her. His lion ring, the one that she suspected had somehow been responsible for bringing them together, rested against her pale cheek as she pressed into his hand. She reached up and placed her hand over it, so they were connected once again.

Why was she feeling so needy and unsettled?

"Oh, love, I'll be back soon."

"I know."

Then he was gone, out to ensure the camp was set to his liking and that their supper was on the way. It gave her time to wash and prepare for their evening ahead.

When Barba entered, the woman hurried to help Sansa, not even bothering to comment on the flush to her skin. Sansa could hardly be around Tywin without feeling that pull, and Barba knew there was no use in counselling Sansa to be cautious with Tywin. The man was her kryptonite. Sansa was one hundred percent in love with her husband. They had stripped her down to a dressing grown, a silk creation that was a deep velvet green and one that Sansa knew her husband loved.

"Dining alone tonight?" Barba asked as Sansa hummed out a yes. The woman was brushing her hair, in long, even strokes, and Sansa closed her eyes.

Immediately she was assaulted with a vision. It came to her in technicolor, full of the stench of death and blood. She saw a cave, and inside, a lioness. Even though her muzzle was marred with gore, she was a magnificent creature, and her side was slashed violently open. Sansa wanted to weep, for when the lion's eyes met hers, she knew the animal was dying. So fixated was she on the lioness, Sansa almost missed the cub.

There was a mewling, and a pained chuff by the lioness as she attempted in vain to protect her cub before her head dropped. Her breathing became shallower, and then a howl of dogs could be heard.

Sansa felt the vision fade, but as it did, she knew immediately where she'd find the cave.

When her eyes flew open, she could see Barba looking at her with a worried glance.

Grabbing Tywin's robe, belting it and shoving her feet into soft slippers, she burst from the tent.

The first to see her was Kevan, who was worried about her appearance. She clutched at him.

"Where is Tywin?" she demanded, all but shaking her goodbrother.

Kevan frowned.

"Sansa, what is wrong?"

"There is no time!" she all but screamed at him. Then as if on cue, she heard the excited howl of wild dogs, and her heart raced.

"WHERE IS TYWIN?"

She had no idea why, but she knew it vital that she get to that cave. The lion was the sigil of House Lannister, and it had been years since they'd had living ones beside them. She didn't know what forces were at work, but she knew that the cub was theirs.

She spun wildly. The night had come upon them quickly, and she was trying to find her husband in the dark. He would understand. As if she'd conjured him from her thoughts, he was striding through the camp, a worried look on his face. If she had been of a sounder mind, she might have noticed that everyone was staring at her, but she cared only for the man she loved.

When he was in front of her, she clutched at him.

"Sansa, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, somewhat harshly, clear disapproval on his face. Sansa couldn't worry about that right now. She had to get to the lion.

"Tywin, I know what the vision means. A lioness is in a cave, not far from here. She had a cub, one that is meant to be ours," she told him quietly, so only he could hear.

She saw him frown, then a flash of doubt. She dug her fingers into his arms.

"Tywin, you know when I come from."

His face cleared, and he nodded. "Change, and I'll saddle the horses."

She nodded and dashed inside to change, emerging a short time later to see Tywin, Tygett, Kevan, Sandor and Addam waiting. All of the men wore confused and somewhat tired expressions. They were only doing this because of who she was and what she meant to Tywin.

Her husband helped her on her mount, and then she kicked her horse into a gallop. They all heard the wild cries of the dogs, and she knew she was in a race against time.

Sansa barely heard the confused chatter behind her. She had one goal, and that was to get to the cave. She didn't care if they all thought her crazy - soon enough she'd prove what she had seen.

She hadn't been lying when she said she knew the way, and it wasn't far, for the small trail that she'd found just past their camp appeared almost out of nowhere as it led them higher into the hills.

Within ten minutes, the snapping and the snarling of the pack of dogs was louder, and they rounded a steep corner to see the pack circling the entrance to the cave. The lioness roar and feebly attempted to fight, but they could all see she was dying. It was a sight none of the others had been prepared for, and Sansa felt the tears course down her cheeks.

"They can't be allowed to get to her," Sansa cried, but it was hardly necessary. Five men, warriors, on massive horses were no match for the dogs, and within moments the pack was gone.

Sansa slid off her horse, almost running for the cave where the lioness had retreated when Tywin reached out to still her.

"Wait," he commanded gently. She wanted to argue, then saw that Kevan had lit a lantern. They were looking at her in awe, these men from the Westerlands.

"Lions are rare in the mountains these days. They were hunted almost to extinction," Addam said, reverently.

"My lady, how?" Tygett asked, for once, not full of his sneering swagger.

Sansa shook her head, squeezing Tywin's hand.

"She is dying," Sansa told him. "We must go now."

"Go? Go where?" Kevan asked.

Sansa pointed to the cave while the others looked on in shock.

"She won't hurt me," she said and then tugged Tywin forward, the others following.

"Sansa," he cautioned, drawing his sword.

She said nothing, knowing that she would not be harmed.

Inside, the lioness had retreated to the very back of the shallow cave and collapsed. She weakly lifted her head, and her eyes locked with Sansa's. Then, as if she knew that it was safe for her to finally go, her head dropped, and her eyes closed.

Muffling a sob, Sansa lurched forward, kneeling before her. Tywin went to call out to warn her to be careful, but even he seemed to understand that some type of magic was at work here. This animal had called to Sansa, brought her here for a reason.

"Brave girl," she crooned, patting the bloodied fur of the magnificent animal.

The lion took one last deep breath and then was still. Sansa leaned down and whispered something to the lioness that none of them could hear.

For a moment, the men just stood there, looking at Tywin's wife in wonder.

Then a small whimper had them gasping, as a tiny mewl broke the silence.

"Oh, there you are," Sansa cried and scooped up the little cub, cradling it to her chest.

Tywin's mouth dropped open at the scene before him. Before he could say a word, there was a second whimper, and another delighted cry from Sansa, as a second cub emerged from beneath its dead mother's body. There were most likely a few days old, not quite the newborns she thought, but still, incredibly vulnerable as their eyes were still shut.

Sansa now had both cubs in her arms as she struggled to rise, turning with a smiling face towards the men in the cave. She was beaming as if this were somehow not the most astonishing thing that they'd ever seen.

"Look. Two lions for our house!" she said happily, walking towards Tywin.

The Great Lion, never at a loss for words, was utterly stunned. In all his days he'd never heard of anything like this.

Then his wife gently handed him one of the cubs. Its eyes were closed, and it had tawny black spots on its head, weighing no more than a few pounds.

"Sansa …" Tywin said, shaking his head, wondering how this had happened.

Did she mean to keep them? How was that even manageable?

As if she read his mind, her answer was non-negotiable.

"They are ours," she told him, her tone broking no argument. "They will die if we leave them. They have no one else, Tywin. Just us."

"How?" he asked, wonder in his voice.

She shrugged, nuzzling at the other cub. "I don't know. But we are lions, are we not, Tywin?"

He could only nod at her.

"We are lions," he said, voice choked with emotion, for suddenly he could see her in the halls of the Rock, two lions by her side. No one would dare say she wasn't worthy of the title Lady Lannister.

Together, they turned to the others, who were still slacked-jawed. Tygett and Kevan were the first to approach, wonder on both their faces.

"It is a sign from the gods. Our house will not only survive, but flourish with your marriage," Kevan declared.

Tygett shook his head in wonder, then reached out to stroke a finger down one tiny head. His eyes crashed into Tywin's.

"It's a good omen, brother, in the wars to come. Our house sigil is now by your side. These lions will keep you and your wife safe, Tywin."

Sandor and Addam both stepped up, unable to describe what they had witnessed in this cave. Their respect for Sansa grew tenfold, and both knew they'd die to keep her safe. She was indeed a woman worthy of their liege lord.

When they had Sansa settled on her horse, one cub with her, the other with Tywin, she gave her husband an enormous grin, that all but lit the night sky.

"I promised that we'd never have a dull moment in this marriage, did I not, husband mine?"

For once, Tywin gave into the feelings coursing through him, throwing back his head in laughter, mixed with relief. The dream had not been a portent for her death in birth, but instead a vision that had led to this incredible discovery.

"That you did, My Lady, that you did."

With a howl of delight, Tygett led their little party from the cave, and towards their camp, where all knew that word of this would spread like wildfire throughout the Westerlands and the legend of Sansa Lannister, lion tamer, the second wife of the mighty Tywin Lannister, would be birthed.

For Sansa, it was merely one more sign that this was where she was meant to be. There was magic at work here, things that could not be explained by logic or rational thought. But as she glanced at Tywin, she caught him looking at his cub, and knew that right here, was the only place she'd ever want to be.