Chapter 33

Lannister Camp – Sansa

Sansa was silent as she turned and walked away from the scene she'd just witnessed. The scent of blood and flesh burning felt seared into her nostrils as if she might never get it out. While this type of violence had always been a possibility during her time in the past, she'd yet to be confronted with it so directly. Not when it was so deliberately and methodically done.

She had been unable to look away, unable to close her eyes, as she'd taken one deep breath in after another, trying to steady herself, as she'd watched Tywin deliver what amounted to justice in this time to his cousin. It was one thing to read about such punishments, but an entirely different experience to witness a man's visceral pain in real life.

Her hands shook as she walked through the camp, barely taking in her surroundings. She thought of both Barba and Catelyn's reactions to the whipping. Her sister had seemed numb to it, much like she had, which reassured Sansa that her own reaction, her own horror and disgust, wasn't entirely misplaced.

Sansa had wondered if this acceptance of such violence was something every one of this time period was … perhaps not comfortable with but not as appalled as she had been.

But Catelyn's face had been as pale and as wan as hers.

She hurried her steps when she became aware that she was walking almost aimlessly through the camp, suddenly desperate for her tent and the modicum of privacy it would offer her. Her chest felt tight as she struggled to breathe, her mind replaying the screams of pain from Stafford's mouth. It was a scene she would not soon forget.

It was a hand on her elbow that had her whipping her head around to see Barba there, a look of empathy on her face.

"You were always so compassionate, even to one who would harm you."

Sansa opened her mouth – to say what she did not know but then clamped it shut. She would not apologize for feeling sorry for Stafford, even if the man meant to harm her. Whatever he was, however much he hated her; he was a human being first. And anyone in that much pain would get her sympathy.

"What will happen to him?" Sansa asked Barba quietly, her voice husky, her throat feeling scraped raw as they entered the tent that Sansa had shared with Tywin for the past month.

Barba guided her to a red velvet chair and indicated for her to sit, and then poured her a glass of water. Sansa merely cradled it in her hands, running her fingers over the smooth glass, numb to even that. Only the best for the Lannisters.

"He will be seen by a Maester and given sweet sleep. His back will be tended and wrapped, and his brand cleaned and bandaged. I heard Lord Tywin demand the very best care for Stafford, and then he will send him to Lannisport in a carriage as to not aggravate the wound."

Hands shaking, Sansa sipped her water slowly, her mind attempting to assimilate everything that she'd just witnessed. She was glad to hear that Tywin had ordered proper care for his cousin – so that he would not suffer any further, but still.

Sansa pressed the glass to her throbbing temple as she closed her eyes, trying to sort through the overwhelming press of emotions that seemed to crowd her mind.

Eventually, Sansa picked a thread in her mind – one that required her attention.

How did this make her feel about Tywin? Did it change her feelings for her husband? Could she live with a man after witnessing what she just had, knowing now, first hand, what he was capable of?

They were difficult questions and ones she couldn't easily ignore.

One would never blame a lion for killing its prey in the wild, for the lion was merely doing what it needed to do to survive – to remain king of the jungle and the top predator that was constantly under threat.

Sansa was upset and shocked, even horrified at the punishment she'd just witnessed. But not so much at Tywin, as she was that this was what punishment was in 283 Westeros.

The fact was that she now lived in a time when such things were not only accepted but some would argue needed as a way to maintain power and, therefore, peace was atrocious.

Sansa wasn't entirely convinced that such punishments didn't breed more resentment, more anger, more hatred.

How on earth would she ever win Stafford Lannister to her side now? Each time the man looked upon his flesh, he'd be reminded why Tywin had marked him in such a manner and his hated of her would only fester and grow.

She sighed and rolled her shoulders, feeling the tension there, her mind constantly drifting back to the scene in the clearing, knowing it would be a very long time before she could scrub that from her consciousness – if ever.

She had no idea how long she sat there, in her tent surrounded by some of the very finest furnishings in Westeros, sipping at lukewarm water, while her stomach roiled. Even with all the trappings of wealth the Lannister name commanded, this was still a brutally violent and almost primitive time.

Thankfully, the smell of blood and burning flesh had left her, as she was surrounded now by the familiarity of the rooms she shared with Tywin. Somehow even in the middle of a war camp, her tent seemed clean and fresh and smelled like sandalwood that her husband favoured. She took comfort in the scent, inhaling deeply to steady herself.

As she glanced around the room, she saw him everywhere, this man she loved.

Tywin Lannister.

What a complex and complicated man he was, more so than even she'd imagined. And she'd imagined him a lot over the years. She'd always known he was more than what the history books remembered him as, but even with all her studies, all her knowledge of him, she still hadn't been prepared for exactly what he was.

He'd surprised her in some ways and confirmed beliefs she'd long held about him in others. He loved as deeply as she'd argued and would go to war for those he viewed as family.

And while she'd always known about the brutality of this time, seeing a man that she'd loved – a man that had touched her, that she'd given her body and her heart to, seeing that man inflict such pain on another human, was a shockingly brutal lesson.

It wasn't Tywin's fault, and perhaps he'd had no other choice, so Sansa wouldn't hold this against him, nor would she take her disgust at the act out on him. He was as much a product of his upbringing as she was hers. The time in which she came from, such punishments had been illegal for years but here, it was commonplace.

She'd known that he'd seen her reaction to the whipping, her disgust and horror and anger and that he'd taken it as her judgement upon him.

Before she'd had a chance to speak with him, though, she'd met his gaze and knew they'd needed space from one another so as to not make things worse. She'd had to get away, out of that clearing where the smell of Stafford's punishment mixed with blood and vomit, and she'd felt the bile rise in her own throat.

Sansa had seen the look on Tywin's face as he finished the punishment to his cousin.

It was one she hoped never to see again – hurt. Defensiveness. Certainly, some disappointment in her, as if he'd known all along she could not handle the harsher aspects of this world in which she now lived.

He thought that she had been rejecting him, that she had been disgusted with what he'd done to ensure that the loyalty to his house, to his wife, was absolute.

And while she had been disgusted, it wasn't at Tywin but with the entire event – that such things happened and were generally accepted. There was a marked difference between hating the act and hating the man. And she did not hate Tywin. In fact, nothing about what happened changed her feelings for him.

Her heart ached as her mind tried to assimilate everything that had happened in the past fifteen hours.

Such monumental changes in her life, perhaps the most since she'd been thrust back in time with no warning whatsoever.

She thought about those changes as she sat in her decidedly uncomfortable but beautifully ordained chair, in the middle of a medieval war camp.

The one person she relied on more than anyone else, her touchstone, her soulmate, the man she loved with every part of her body, mind and heart, had been named King of the Seven Kingdoms. She was now his Queen.

The Red Keep, a cornerstone of King's Landing and a symbol of Targaryen power, a place that had stood for nearly three hundred years, was a smouldering ruin.

A man, a King that would have hurt Sansa badly, should he ever have had the chance, was now in custody, castrated by her husband's hand. She didn't even want to think what some might do to Aerys – Ned Stark and Elia Martell and even Jaime – all people who had suffered under Aerys' brutal reign.

Another man, who seemingly hated her for falling in love with his late sister's husband, had been brutally punished before her very eyes.

The entire realm, all the history that Sansa knew, was changing right before her very eyes, and she was desperately attempting to keep up it all – and with her incredibly powerful husband.

A husband with whom she was both impressed with and slightly horrified by after witnessing firsthand what she'd, up until this point, only known academically.

She didn't think it made her a hypocrite to say that a whipping such as the one she'd just seen was not something any modern person was prepared for, no matter how well educated about the past they were.

She had known precisely what Tywin was capable of and the lengths he would go to, in order to defend those he loved. Now she simply had to reconcile it in her heart and her head.

Sansa tipped the glass, realized it was empty, and rose, legs shaky, to pour herself more. Right now, it was helping to sit in the quiet of her tent and think. To deal with the emotions that batted around her stomach like butterflies and try to logic her way to a point where she could function.

She took her new glass of water back to the same chair and retook her seat, realizing belatedly that Tywin's red sash was there. She wrapped it around herself and thought about the other incredibly violent moment she'd been party to in the past – the attack by Cersei.

It was hard to count Tywin taking Gregor Clegane's head as the same type of violence that she had just witnessed here with Stafford. Killing Gregor had been when they'd been under attack in their own home – a spur-of-the-moment necessity to defend the people that Tywin loved.

Stafford's punishment was methodical and harsh and delivered with Tywin's own hand – it was meant to send a lesson to everyone in the West. And that lesson was that Tywin Lannister's word was law. Tywin had known exactly what he wanted to happen to Stafford, a man he shared blood with, when he'd ordered the brand and the stockade.

Sansa sipped her water and listened to the sounds of the camp outside the tent walls. Sometimes, she still felt numb that this was where she was now living.

How was this her life?

Not that she regretted it – not for a single moment. She loved Tywin with her entire heart. But that didn't mean she always agreed with him, his choices or his actions. He was not, nor would he ever be, an easy man.

Even before the capture of Aerys, Tywin had been one of the most powerful men in the realm.

Now? Sansa knew that he was the true King – his word was law, and he would have no qualms about making and passing judgements that others might find too difficult or distasteful.

Logically, Sansa knew that everything Tywin had done to his cousin had been well within the norms of this time, acceptable and established for this time in which she now lived if one were to disobey their Lord or his orders. Corporal punishment, such as caning, flogging, dismemberment, and branding, was common. Thieves routinely lost hands for stealing, liars their tongues, and rapists their cocks.

She'd studied this type of punishment, of course, and had understood its place in a society that did not yet have a fully modernized judicial system, with courts of laws, judges and prisons for those that had broken the laws.

Most people in this time couldn't even read, and books were scarce.

Ancient Westeros, where she currently found herself, was a place where 'justice' was often left in the hands of the few – the lords of the realm to dole out as they saw fit.

Yes, a man could take the Black. He could also demand a trial by combat.

But were those punishments any better than what she'd just witnessed?

If a man were to take the Black, that was for life. He forfeited all lands, titles, coins and family. He gave his life over to an order that was as unforgiving and as brutal as anything Sansa had witnessed here today.

If a man demanded a trial by combat and lost, he would die.

Perhaps the punishment to Stafford had been harsh, harsher than usual. But Tywin was also a man who had obliterated two houses from the history books when he was barely her age. Stafford knew this as well. He hadn't apologized for his behaviour, and the hatred in his eyes for her was evident. Left unchecked, Sansa knew as well as Tywin that Stafford would be a problem.

She'd always known what Tywin was capable of. Even in modern times, Sansa had defended Tywin and his actions, again and again.

If she thought about Tywin's history, his actions towards Stafford made even more sense. Tywin had been unable to keep his first wife safe from a man, a one-time friend, that had raped her.

His own father had almost ruined their great house and made the Lannisters the laughing stock of the Westerlands for years.

It was only Tywin's incredibly harsh punishment to Houses Reyne and Tarbeck that had won back respectability for House Lannister.

And recently, his own flesh and blood, his daughter, had fooled him inside his own castle, attempting to take Sansa's life. The results of that betrayal had been catastrophic.

Was it any wonder that he had reacted the way he had to Stafford's hatred of her?

Sansa understood the psychology of all of it, and she could find no fault with Tywin. Indeed, had he wanted, he most likely could have taken Stafford's head.

So while she might feel disgusted and horrified at such punishments, and while she would always feel sympathy for a person who had to endure such brutality, she understood that this was likely as much a part of who she was as a person and part of her upbringing, as it was a reaction to what she'd witnessed. Indeed she could not envision a time, even years from now, when she would ever not feel empathy mixed with horror when another person was in pain. It was just who she was – as a modern woman or one that had assimilated to the past.

Sansa wanted to believe that with time, and hard work, perhaps she could accelerate the justice system of ancient Westeros so that less brutal punishments gave way to a proper penal system.

But for now, this was the system in place. And she would not hide what she felt about such a system, nor would she hold her husband to some 21st-century standard in which she had grown up with.

As she sat in their tent, she realized what she was now feeling was worry. She was worried that she'd made her husband doubt her feelings for him when he'd done what was necessary to protect her – when he'd done what had been expected of him for this time in which they now lived.

She could almost hear her father's voice in her head.

"This is where the rubber meets the road, lemon drop."

It was a saying he'd used often, and Sansa knew that it had gotten her through some tough times when she'd been growing up.

Her intelligence had made bookwork easy and socializing difficult. But Ned Stark didn't have much use for whining for the sake of whining – he was fond of encouraging Sansa to think her way out of her problems and to address what she was feeling head-on.

Ned Stark used to say, "Change what you can, accept what you can't, and if you really can't live with it, move on."

It was good advice, just like most of his had been.

Gods, she missed her dad. The sudden ache in her chest brought a sob up and out of her, grief assaulting her in waves. She took a moment to lean into that grief, not fighting it, as she fingered Tywin's sash, drawing comfort from it.

The problem she was now faced with was that the man she loved, the man whom she'd dreamt about and thought about and wished for, had done everything in his considerable power to keep her safe and yet, that man now believed she was disappointed in him – that she had rejected him.

She knew Tywin and could read him like a book. He would retreat into himself, convinced that he'd done what was necessary and that she, the women he loved, had found him lacking.

How many people had done that to him over the years? She wondered as she ordered Barba to find her red dress stitched with the golden lions.

She was determined to look every inch the Lady Lannister not only for the people to see their new Queen but for Tywin himself.

How many people had wanted the Great Lion's protection, only to shrink away when they saw what he would do to give them safety?

How many people knew the immense pressure and responsibility that his birth had heaped upon Tywin's shoulders from the time he was a boy?

How many people knew him as she did?

As Sansa dressed and then sat for her handmaiden to finish her hair, Sansa's heart ached, and her tummy quivered. She pressed a hand to the swelled mound, thinking of how gentle Tywin could be with her.

She never feared the man's legendary temper, nor that he would ever strike her or harm her in any way physically. He was certainly capable of it, and the gods knew that a man could get away with treating his wife like that in these times, but Sansa knew that was not who Tywin was.

What was far more likely was that he'd retreat behind his icy façade if she did not make this right. And that was the very last thing she wanted.

The man had done the impossible – removed a King with a shockingly low loss of life. Tywin would ensure a peaceful transition in this time of turmoil and restore order to the realm. And he was the only one who could do that because of his legendary reputation and what he was willing to do.

She defended this man to professors, friends and family seventeen hundred years in the future, and she would not let him down now that she was finally here with him. Sansa was well aware of the massive responsibility that his birth as the firstborn of Tytos Lannister had heaped upon Tywin's shoulders at a young age, and she would not be one more person to misunderstand him in this life.

When Barba indicated she was done, Sansa swept out of the tent, her red cloak clutched around her shoulders, the proud golden lion prominent against a sea of red. She also held Tywin's sash, refusing to leave it behind.

Tygett was the one who was waiting for her to escort her to her horse, and she gave him a wan smile, wondering if he'd judge her harshly. But Tywin's youngest brother seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between them, happily gloating about House Lannister's position in Westeros.

Sansa saw her beautiful white mare waiting for her when they got to the horses, adorned with a golden bridle. She glanced around for Tywin and saw him speaking quietly with Jaime, a slight distance away.

As if he sensed her, he stilled and turned, and as she predicted, his eyes were cold and flat – but only for a moment. They flared as he took in her gown and cloak, blazing with approval.

Sansa longed to say something, anything to make this right, but she held herself still and let him decide. If he did not wish to speak to her yet, she would not push – not in front of Jaime and Tygett and the other lords that would accompany them back to King's Landing. She would let him decide if this were the moment that she could make amends and explain what she had been feeling.

There was a second in which Sansa doubted her strategy, as Tywin seemed to be assessing her. He wasn't moving, holding himself still and apart from her.

Then, without a word to Jaime, his long powerful strides were eating up the distance between them, and he was suddenly in front of her. Those green-gold eyes she'd looked into so many times were still wary and uncertain until she reached out and rested a hand on his plate armour and stroked.

Everyone had stepped back to give them a modicum of privacy, although it was hardly what Sansa wished for to attempt to make amends.

"Husband, thank you for protecting me," she said, hoping he understood what she was trying to convey.

There was far more to her words than a simple thank you. She wanted him to know that she accepted him – that she loved him.

She worried that he'd reject her, as he said nothing at first, merely assessing her. Then a large, scarred hand came up to clasp hers, squeezing tightly, so they rested over his armour together, entwined. Perhaps it was symbolic, their hands against cold armour. So many only saw Tywin as heartless, but she knew how deeply this man loved.

"My Sansa," he rasped, and Sansa felt the tears pool.

He wasn't rejecting her. He wasn't retreating.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It was not you that I was rejecting. I know that you had to deal with Stafford ---"

Tywin's lips were on her mouth before she could finish her sentence, his hands carded through her hair as he pinned her body to his. Sansa clung. There was no other word for it. The relief that washed through her, that Tywin was not going to freeze her out, almost buckled her knees. Thankfully he was there to hold her up.

"Wife," he murmured a wealth of meaning in that one word – love, possession, want, need, desire.

Sansa let out a little sob, wishing they were alone so she could cuddle into his arms and be held by him. She wished they had hours just to be together, so she could explain everything she was feeling, every thought she'd had and listen to him tell her why he'd done what he had. But they did not have that time.

"I wish to explain myself – what I was feeling. When we are alone, and we have some privacy," she said.

She needed Tywin to understand the world in which she'd grown up and how things like corporal punishment were probably always going to make her react a certain way.

Tywin nodded.

"I would like that."

Her shoulders sagged in relief, grateful he was willing to talk and to listen to her. Communication was the foundation of a good relationship, and while Sansa did not expect Tywin to change, if she could explain to him what she felt, at least he would have some basis to understand her reactions.

"This ruling business is severely interfering in my time with my husband," she grumbled, giving him a watery smile.

He didn't smile precisely, but the corners of his lips quirked as he stroked a thumb along her cheek.

"I am a monster, Sansa. A man that is capable of cruel things. Harsh things. Difficult things. Things that other men cannot or will not do. I make no apologies for that, nor will I promise to change. That would be disingenuous of me. I will always, always put your safety first. Even if that upsets you or you do not agree with my choices, or my actions, I will not hesitate to keep you safe and alive and unharmed."

Sansa nodded and reached for his hand, pressing her lips against the palm of it. She smelled the harsh soap and knew he'd washed, whether out of concern for her or to get the blood off, she wasn't sure.

How could any woman resist such a declaration? She knew she could not, for she knew that Tywin's actions stemmed from a place of devotion and love.

"I do not think you're a monster, Tywin," she said quietly, so only he could hear.

His nostrils flared, and it was only because she knew him so well, she understood the impact her words had.

"You are capable of monstrous things, yes. I've never argued you weren't. I know what you've done. I know the choices you made. I know the choices you made in the future, and yes, some of them were monstrous, I won't lie. And still, I chose you. I will always choose you. I love you, husband, and I am proud to be your Queen."

"Sansa," he growled, and she smiled at him then – a big, genuine smile, knowing that they would work their way through this latest … misunderstanding. It was bound to come up again, and it emphasized to Sansa that they would have to deal with their differences sooner rather than later. But for now, it could wait.

"Perhaps our home in King's Landing has a bed. A proper bed and a proper bath," she quipped.

He shook his head and muttered, "It will be hours yet until we shall see it."

Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, eager now to get on with things if only so that someday soon they could get settled into their new home, Sansa allowed Tywin to help her onto her mount, grinning at him as he ran a calloused hand up her calf and squeezed. It was positively scandalous, and she loved it.

"You vex me, woman," Tywin murmured, but there was so much love in that single statement that her heart ballooned inside her chest.

Sansa giggled, and Tywin levelled a stern look at her.

"You will stay close to Tygett at all times."

She saw how worried Tywin was and nodded. "I promise."

"My most loyal men will surround you while Jaime and I enter the city to find Kevan. I need a full accounting of what is outstanding before I know our next move."

Sansa once again bobbed her head. She was well aware of what an angry crowd could do, and she would not push her limits. While the Rock was entirely Tywin's domain, save for that incident with Cersei, King's Landing felt untamed and wild, as if anything could happen.

Sansa trusted Tywin to keep her safe, and she was aware that she needed to be seen. So much goodwill towards them could be had in the aftermath of Aerys' mistake, and Sansa was as keen to capitalize on it as Tywin was.

"Husband, I will do you proud," she promised.

The love in Tywin's eyes was a look she'd remember for some time.

"I am convinced you were born to by my Queen," he said, loud enough for her ears only.

With that, he gave her calf one last squeeze and then strode to his impressive warhorse, also adorned in Lannister gold and finery. This was no battle they were riding into – more of an unofficial coronation with Tywin in his golden and red armour and her in her all her splendour and finery.

There was no mistaking them for what they were – the new King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa and Tywin of House Lannister were of one mind, and they meant to rule their new kingdom not only well but for some time to come.

Outside King's Landing – Sansa

Tywin took the lead out of their camp, with her by his side, their white horses an unmistakable mark of their status and beautified with Lannister gold. Only slightly behind them was Jaime, on Tywin's left side, while Tygett rode on her right, and the four of them thundered down the valley towards King's Landing below.

Other lords from the Westerlands fell in behind them, men that Sansa knew Tywin had commanded to protect her while she visited those that had fled their homes and now milled about the massive walls that encompassed the city.

There was no mistaking the pride in Tywin's posture, as his back was ramrod straight and his face set in lines of determination. Sansa knew he was projecting strength and calmness and a sense that he would make things right. It was what people required when disaster struck – and for that alone, Tywin would win many to his side on this day.

Perhaps the only thing that would have made this better would have been if their lions were with them. Sansa missed Alexander and Augustus fiercely and wondered when Tywin would send for them. She hoped it would be soon, for she felt the cubs required their parents and that they would thrive with Sansa and Tywin overseeing their care.

Sansa was also intrigued about whether or not she might warg into her lion, as Starks had been known to do so into direwolves. That was yet another thing she wanted to discuss with Lord Ned Stark – the North. She hoped that Ned would accept her offer to stay at the Lannister mansion in King's Landing, for Sansa wished to get to know the man better.

As their horses churned up the earth beneath their pounding hooves, the Lannister banners flapping in the wind, Sansa couldn't help but wrinkle her nose as the smell of smoke and burning reached her nose. She raised her eyes to the hill upon which the Red Keep stood, seeing that one of the distinctive towers had now fallen. The sky was cloudy, with only a few weak rays of sunlight breaking through on occasion, adding to the overall gloomy nature of the day.

She wondered at the sheer destruction wrought. It could have been worse – far worse. But these castles were not small structures. The footprint of the Red Keep alone was a few acres, and that included several buildings and tunnels beneath the elaborate castle. People lived and worked there, and many would not have escaped the wildfire. The damage had been limited, yes, but make no mistake – the consumption of the Red Keep by wildfire was by no means a 'small' event in the history of Westeros.

The most pressing need was extinguishing the fire fully, which was no easy feat, and then ensuring that the fire did not get into those tunnels beneath the Red Keep. Even in modern times, the network of tunnels was never fully known, and Tywin had confessed that for all his years as Hand, he didn't know where every tunnel went.

The sheer amount of people that had emptied from that city was staggering, and even from a distance, Sansa could feel the press of humanity. There was an overall sense of bewilderment and uncertainty until someone spotted them. There were Lannister men everywhere, joined by many of the City Watch, and men from the Stormlands, keeping the crowd in check.

When they were spotted, the cheer began, low and rumbly, and carried – so much so that Sansa swore she felt it in her bones. It was a moment she would never forget.

Tywin wore no crown. He did not have his army at his back, for they were busy ensuring the safety of the people. Tywin had kept his sword sheathed, and he said nothing, his face almost implacable. But she knew him – knew what this moment meant to him, how much he had sacrificed to be here.

There was no mistaking that this man was the new King of the Seven Kingdoms. With his wife, his son and his brother at his side, they rode for Lion's Gate as the crowd surged, eager now to pay tribute to the one man they believed had saved them.

It was incredible, considering that he'd sat out most of the rebellion, Sansa thought, shaking her head in wonder.

Ned Stark and Jon Arryn and yes, even that loathsome Robert Baratheon had been the ones to usurp the King. They had been the ones that had rebelled – that had been willing to stand up to the Mad King, done with his injustice, pushed too far to live under Targaryen rule any longer.

Never let it be said that Tywin Lannister did not know how to use a situation to his advantage.

Not that Sansa thought Ned Stark, Jon Arryn, or Stannis Baratheon were in any position to be named King. Tywin was truly the best man for the job – the only man for the job, and that wasn't just her biased heart and love-struck eyes talking.

Having studied the period extensively, Tywin knew what was required to rule. He knew it was about more than tournaments and skirmishes. It was about taxation and petitioners and the rule of law. It was about bringing peace and prosperity and encouraging trade and codifying laws. It was about all the little decisions that had monumental impacts on the lives of everyday people. And he had done all of this for years when he'd served as Hand to King Aerys. Now it was his turn to rule.

The closer they got to where the thickest multitude of people were, the more Sansa could see that she was needed. It was nothing short of chaos, and these people were looking for direction. She saw Stannis Baratheon, along with men from his region attempting to bring some sort of order to the crowd, but without answers and direction, it was a losing battle.

Until Tywin, their new King arrived. Sansa saw the flash of relief in Stannis's eyes at Tywin's presence. Not that she blamed the new Storm lord in the least. Tywin inspired utter confidence. It was just one responsibility that he would rise up to meet, a position he'd been born to hold.

There was a bellow of a horn, and the formation of Tywin's men as a hush fell over the crowd, all eyes on them.

For a modern woman, it was slightly unnerving to be viewed as a Queen. Not as a figurehead but as a woman with actual power. This was a society that assigned value to people based on their birth, their noble blood and the marriages one made. And she now held the highest position, save for Tywin, in all of Westeros.

It was so decidedly different from the century in which she'd lived, where all of that had long ago been abolished - that thinking a person was superior to someone because of who their parents were. It was almost appalling to Sansa. She was adjusting, and she thanked the gods that she'd had a similar experience when she'd arrived at Casterly Rock to prepare her for this single-minded devotion from the crowd before her.

Not that the devotion of the common people was guaranteed, genuine or decidedly stable. A bad ruler could lose the support of the very people he was entrusted with ruling and protecting as quickly as he gained it.

Sansa didn't have to impart any of these lessons to her husband. At forty-two, Tywin had been primed to be in this position for over half his life. When all eyes were on him, he finally spoke.

"The rule of House Targaryen is over. King Aerys, gripped by delusions and madness, attempted to murder every person in King's Landing tonight, using his pyromancers to burn the city to ashes with wildfire."

Sansa tore her eyes away from Tywin and to the crowd assembled before them. Most were looking at Tywin, although a few eyes were upon her. There was wariness there, mixed with confusion and fear – a deadly combination if not correctly managed.

"Thankfully, his plot was stopped before the wildfire spread from the Red Keep. Your homes, shops, and livelihoods have been saved by brave men of the realm who banded together to oust a man not fit to rule! Houses Stark, Baratheon, Arryn, Martell and Lannister led this rebellion to usher in a new era to Westeros. An era in which the realm will prosper and peace shall be restored. House Targaryen is dead and House Lannister now rules the Seven!"

Jaime inched his horse forward and drew his sword, holding it for all to see.

"Kneel before your King and Queen, Tywin and Sansa of House Lannister, first of their Names, Protectors of the Realm and defenders of King's Landing."

To a person, they did.

Sansa felt her entire body shake at how profound this moment was.

"All hail King Tywin and Queen Sansa!" Jaime roared, and the cheer that followed shook the ground.

When the crowd had quieted, everyone was once again focused on Tywin. Sansa couldn't help but admire how easily he wore the mantle of his new responsibilities.

"People of King's Landing, we know you are confused. We know you are worried, and you do not know what is happening. You cannot enter the city at this moment, for the wildfire is not yet fully extinguished. There are many tunnels in which it might escape and cause further damage and death. My men are working diligently to return you to your homes. While you are here, my army ensures that no looting and no destruction will take place. Queen Sansa has arranged for shelter, food, water and medicine."

That got another cheer, and Sansa beamed at the people, who seemed enthralled by her.

"Anyone who is found raping, looting, pillaging or creating a disturbance will be dealt with harshly and immediately."

The look on Tywin's face ensured that no one doubted what he meant or that he would make good on said punishment.

"My men, along with those loyal to Lord Stannis Baratheon and Prince Oberyn Martell, will be watching. Do not mistake my charity for weakness," Tywin roared, meaning clear.

The people here knew his reputation, and Sansa was once again reminded of what she'd witnessed firsthand with Stafford. Tywin was not a man one wanted to cross.

It was such a surreal moment, and only when she felt Tywin reach for the reigns of her horse did she finally tear her eyes away from the people and to her husband. His eyes were amused but worried.

"Stay close to Tygett. I've left Lords Brax and Lord Lydden, along with several men from my personal guard, to keep you safe. The men will follow your orders. Once I've settled things in the city, I will be back."

"And show me our new home?" Sansa purred.

It had been so long since they'd made love in a proper bed, and she missed the privacy a proper room gave them.

There was no mistaking the lust in Tywin's eyes, and he growled before he turned and snapped at Jaime to follow him into the city. Sansa took a moment to watch his exit, laughing at the sheer drama her husband was capable of. She knew if she ever told him that, he'd not be impressed, but it was the truth. The man was built for big moments.

When he was through the gates, Sansa turned back to those men that had been left here to help her with her 'triage' plan.

Confident with her plan, Sansa began to speak, her voice carrying. She had Stannis, Tygett and lords Lydden and Brax, along with several Maesters present, listening to her explain the concept of triage, cleanliness and washing their hands before they helped anyone.

When one of the older Maesters snorted at her and shook his head, Sansa glared at him.

"You think I am japing?" Her voice was low and dangerous, and she saw the man sneer. That was until Tygett growled and stepped forward, sharing the success of her words in healing Sandor Clegane when a 'training' accident had befallen the young knight.

There were some grumbles and some odd looks, but to a man, her orders were followed.

When it became apparent that what Tywin had said was true, that Sansa provided shelter, food and medicine, and the crowd enthusiastically joined in and began to help one another.

Several well-to-do people, those who were shop owners and the lower gentry who lived in King's Landing, quickly joined Sansa to establish a medical tent, where those who needed help could receive it.

There were only a few muttered voices and dark looks when Sansa insisted that anyone could receive treatment – that their 'status' did not matter. What mattered was treating those that could be saved quickly and efficiently and moving on to the next person.

Sansa caught Tygett frowning at her, but in the end, all he did was nod and insist that they follow Sansa's orders.

A few maesters were present, and soon enough, they had the most critically injured being seen. As she'd predicted, there were some crush injuries, broken bones, cuts that required stitching. They were handling it, until more and more people arrived at the medical tent, either to help or to get aid. Sansa knew that those trapped in the Red Keep must have been reached by the more severe injuries they began to see.

Now they had head wounds, open lacerations and those with severe smoke inhalation to deal with. As had happened at Casterly Rock, Sansa insisted upon cleanliness as much as possible, and water was constantly set to boil before needles pierced flesh. The same with bandages and hands that were touching the injured. More than one Maester attempted to argue with her, but Tygett, her loyal shadow, was there to 'insist' that they listen to their new Queen.

"Do as she says," he'd snarled, a looming lion presence that Sansa was grateful to have.

She lost track of time, moving quickly between the several large tents that had now been established, ensuring that food was given in proper portions and that no one abused the privilege.

Of course, the presence of men in Lannister armour helped assure the people's compliance, and there was more than one time that Sansa was stopped, where people reached for her to thank her for the Lannister generosity.

Some children had been separated from their families that needed a safe space, so a tent was set up for them. Sansa spent a solid hour there, reassuring them that they would find their parents and reunite them with their families.

Sansa had put strict measures in place that the child had to identify their parent so that a random adult couldn't just come and 'claim' a child that wasn't theirs. It wasn't a perfect system, with no ID and no way of truly knowing which child belonged to whom, but it was something.

During her time in the children's tent, Tygett remained close, and men kept bringing him reports – that things were calming down, that there had been few riots, and that the presence of their combined armies seemed to quell any uprising.

At one point, Stannis Baratheon appeared to inform them of the situation with the wounded and the dead.

"There are over five hundred bodies we've removed, most of them charred beyond recognition," he said grimly. "Those that were nearest the Throne Room and beneath it appeared to have suffered the most."

Again, Sansa's stomach roiled at that image he presented.

"Where are you stacking them?" Tygett demanded, thankfully asking the question she could not.

Stannis mentioned that pits were already being dug – mass graves for those that had perished in Aerys wildfire plot. Her heart ached for those that might never be able to claim a loved one – to say goodbye and give them a proper burial.

She let her mind drift as Tygett and Stannis discussed the logistics of such a grim task, brought back to reality only when Tyg laid one of his large hands on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Your Grace, Lord Stannis has news of Tywin."

Sansa gave Stannis a slight twitch of her lips, exhaustion suddenly claiming her. She swayed, and before she knew it, both men rushed to get her to a chair, Tygett glowering at her.

"You are pregnant, sister, and run off your feet. Sit, and I will find you some food."

She went to protest but was stopped by a single look from her goodbrother.

"Tywin will have my head if he hears I let you go this long without sustenance. Sit and let Stannis guard you while I find something for you to eat."

Sansa sent Tygett an amused grin as she watched the man bellow for some of the older children to help their Queen. They were quick to do so, Sansa having easily won over the children in the tent. For his part, Stannis didn't say much, merely assessing her.

"Sit, Lord Stannis, lest I feel like you are hovering over me."

She indicated a nearby chair, which Stannis brought over and then took a seat.

"I understand why His Grace speaks so highly of you, Queen Sansa. You are an impressive woman," Stannis began.

Sansa shrugged, looking past Stannis to the children that were now safe under her care.

"Tell me, how does a noble-born woman come up with such an idea? How does a noblewoman know about cleanliness when treating wounds? How does she even begin to conceptualize such a system?"

Stannis made a vague gesture towards the rest of the 'stations' she had demanded be set up – the medical tent, the food, the water, the shelter.

Sansa's heart raced as she assessed Stannis Baratheon. The man was hard to read. Unlike Lannisters, he held his emotions in check. Sansa believed that this man would be a good ally for Tywin, but she would not underestimate this man or his intelligence.

In her new role as Queen of the Seven, all eyes would be on her. Sansa had endless ideas about reform and improving the lives of those not only in King's Landing but in all of Westeros. Some were small changes, some monumentally huge that might take generations for their impact to be felt. But all were spinning around in her mind and she had to be careful about revealing too much.

Stannis Baratheon wouldn't be the first to 'question' her or her ideas, and so she needed to come up with a satisfactory answer that was both believable and acceptable.

"I read Lord Stannis, extensively and often. And I have an active imagination," was all she said.

The man grunted, but she held his gaze. It was no less than the truth. She did read extensively, and she did have a very active imagination.

"And King Tywin listens to such ideas?"

At this, Sansa laughed. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or the sheer incredulity of the past twenty-four hours.

"Trust me, Lord Stannis, when you find someone to love, you will understand why my husband acts the way he does."

Stannis appeared stunned as if the idea of love had not occurred to him, and Sansa vowed to keep an eye on the new Lord of Strom's End. Surely she could find a better wife for him than Selyse Florent.

With that, Tygett reappeared with soup and a chunk of fresh brown bread. Grateful, Sansa moaned as she dug in, the food doing much to soothe her queasy stomach, as she gave herself a moment to be proud that her crude 'triage' had worked.

It was where Tywin found her, surrounded by children, many from Flea Bottom, as she told them a story of a lonely prince who found his love who had been held prisoner by a mean dragon King. The children were enthralled, and a few of them even crawled onto her lap. She didn't mind, for she knew they must be scared.

The children quieted in the presence of the King, his power unmistakable, until one brave little girl, perhaps no more than four or five, piped up.

"And then what happened, Queen Sansa?"

Sansa shot her husband a brilliant smile and cuddled a child on her lap closer.

"Well, the princess did not know her prince was coming to rescue her. One day, on a walk in the hills with the mean dragon King, she heard whimpering. She managed to escape the dragon King and sneak away, finding a cornered lion about to be attacked by wild dogs. Throwing rocks at the dogs, she managed to scare them away and then bravely approached the lion, who had a wound on his shoulder. Feeling for the glorious beast, she gave him water and what little food she had, for the dragon King liked to starve her. But the lion was far more desperate than she was for food. Winning the lion's trust, she approached him slowly and finally sunk her fingers into his magnificent mane. The lion purred, having not felt a gentle touch in years and then the princess, knowing what a true warrior the lion was, placed a gentle kiss on the lion's nose."

There were gasps of delight, and Sansa saw Tywin and Tygett's eyes dance in delight.

"What happened then?" another little voice demanded.

All the children had inched closer to her, wholly won over by her tale.

"Finish it, love," Tywin commanded.

She grinned.

"Then, before her very eyes, the lion transformed into a man."

Gasps of delight from the children rang through the tent, as they clapped their hands.

"And not just any man, but the long-lost prince of the realm – one whom the kingdom had long thought dead. This prince was handsome – tall and golden with brilliant green eyes. And he was the kingdom's only hope to bring back peace and justice to the lands that had been devastated by the Dragon King."

Little eyes, wide and enthusiastic, stared at her and the trust she saw in these innocent children almost stole her voice. Sansa vowed that one of her first reforms as Queen would be to ensure that the most innocent lives were far better under her reign.

"Did he do it?" a little girl lisped. "Did the lion prince kill the bad dragon?"

Sansa heard Tygett's snicker, and she could practically feel Jaime's grin. But she only nodded solemnly.

"When the lion prince realized that the princess had freed him from his lion form, he swept her into his arms, vowing to be by her side. The princess, who'd not felt such devotion in years, was overcome, and they fell madly in love. Together, they rallied the people to their side, knowing the dragon King was furious having lost the beautiful princess."

"I'd kill him dead!" a little boy cried, and Sansa smiled at him.

"That is what the Lion Prince wanted to do. But he had to be smart. He had to think, for the Dragon King was clever and used dark magics to keep his power. He hid behind his castle with thick, impenetrable walls and guards that let no one near him."

"What did they do?"

Sansa lowered her voice, so all the children leaned in.

"They devised a clever plan. The princess wrote a letter to the Dragon King, begging for forgiveness and that he let her return. Her only stipulation was that she could bring her beloved cat with her."

At this, Tywin snickered, and Sansa shot him an amused smile.

"The Dragon King agreed, only realizing far too late that the 'cat' that the princess brought with her was a fully grown lion. When the Lion Prince was near the Dragon King, he burst from the cage and transformed into his human form. The princess had concealed the Lion Prince's sword in her skirts and handed it to her love, who slew the Dragon King and his guards."

There were cheers of delight from the children, who clapped their hands in glee.

"It is said that the gods wept with relief that day, for order had been restored. Dark clouds that had covered the kingdom finally broke, and the sun returned. Crops flourished, and life came back to the Kingdom."

"And the princess and prince? Did they marry?" one of the older girls asked.

Sansa nodded.

"They did. They invited all those in the realm to their wedding, moving their kingdom to the Lands of Always Summer, where flowers bloomed, and one could find joy in every house in their kingdom. After they married, they ruled well – fairly and justly and were beloved and together. And they lived happily ever after."

There were cries of delight and for more, and it sparked an idea in Sansa to write tales for children and share them. She knew that Westeros had poems and stories, but nothing like the fairy tales with which she'd grown up with. With her story done, Tywin stepped forward, and the children quieted, gazing at him half fearfully and half in open adoration.

No one said a word until one little boy glanced up at Tywin.

"Are you the Lion Prince?"

Sansa held her breath, wondering what her very stern husband might do.

Tywin, for once in his life, smiled at the child, and it was warm – a smile he used only with her.

"No child. I am the Lion King, and Sansa is the Lion Queen."

That delighted the children, who began to chant their names, now swarming them. Sansa laughed as Tywin appeared almost confused by their adoration. He pulled her close.

"What in seven hells do they want?" he muttered into her ear.

Sansa laughed.

"They want their Lion King, my love."

He merely shook his head at her and then somehow managed to extract them from the crowd of children that seemed utterly fascinated with their new King. Sansa barely held back the snicker, especially when she spotted Jaime and Tygett, who appeared as amused as she was. Tywin was not a man known for his warm and fuzzy personality.

"Ready to see your new home, wife?" he murmured into his ear, a wealth of promise in that single sentence.

Did she cling to him? Yes, she did, but Sansa didn't care that she did. So much had happened in the past day that she needed this time alone with Tywin.

She gave him a nod.

"I am."

He fit his hand in hers, and then with a single command, the crowd around them parted.

King Tywin Lannister, first of his name, escorted his wife to her waiting mount, where the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms would enter King's Landing for the first time, after winning over commoners and nobles alike with her kind and compassionate heart.

A new era had come to Westeros – that of the lion and House Lannister. And two people wholly and uniquely suited to bring Westeros out of the time of the dragon and into a new age were now the King and Queen of a realm whose future was entirely unknown – but one where hope burned brightly and those that followed them swore both the Old Gods and the Seven blessed the dawn of this new age.