Chapter 41

King's Landing – Sansa

It took a few days to settle into a new routine after Kevan, Tygett, and Ned left on their respective assignments. Eastern Den felt quiet for the first day, without the presence of the three men, but thankfully little Rhaenys had taken to exploring the massive structure, along with the numerous gardens that made up the grounds. The delighted laughs of a small child made the mansion feel warm and lived in.

Elia expressed how thankful she was that she had a place at the Lannister mansion, to which Sansa had responded with her enthusiasm at having Elia remain close. Elia was her first friend, outside Catelyn, and a woman that Sansa wished to know better.

With Oberyn accompanying Ned and Kevan to the Tower of Joy, the safest place in King's Landing for Elia and her children was in the King's mansion. Besides, with a wedding planned between Elia and Tygett when Tygett returned from Dragonstone, Elia would soon be family. Which meant that little Rhaenys and baby Aegon were soon to be Sansa's niece and nephew. Sansa loved having this time to know them better.

It was startling how large her family had become. True, they'd lost people – Gerion, Tyrion and Cersei. The latest raven from the Rock indicated that Genna was healing, and with Kevan off on another mission, Dorna remained in the Westerlands. Sansa looked forward to the day when she could spend more time with both women, but for now, it was nice having Elia and Catelyn close.

Even in her own time, Sansa had been apart from most people. Sure, she'd had her father and had made friends with Margaery and Podrick – but it wasn't the same. Growing up, she'd always been different and had never quite found her place.

The people she was close with now, well, they were family. Her family. One she'd chosen. One she loved and one in which they loved her. It was the wildest concept, that she'd had to come seventeen hundred years into the past to find her place.

With his brothers gone along with Stannis and Ned, Tywin turned his attention to those that remained from their alliance – Lords Royce, Arryn and her 'uncle' the Blackfish. They met daily in Tywin's solar and worked tirelessly to deal with the destruction of the Red Keep and securing the capital and making it safe.

Men loyal to Tywin from the West, such as Quenten Banefort, Roland Crakehall, and Lewys Lydden, were responsible for the clean-up.

Thankfully, while the deaths had numbered over a thousand, and many of the distinctive soaring spires of the Red Keep were gone, there remained a surprising amount of the castle and the tunnels below intact.

When Sansa's eyes had lit at exploring those tunnels and secret passageways, Tywin had given a resounding no to that idea. No matter how much she pouted, he refused to let her anywhere near Aegon's High Hill. Especially when the structure wasn't deemed sound.

Still, it wasn't all lost, and there was palpable relief that Aerys the Mad hadn't ruined everything he'd set on fire.

King's Landing was a constant fascination to Sansa, and with the capital now firmly in Tywin's control she felt like she could explore to her heart's content. She liked seeing the men that were loyal to Tywin in the capital and learning more about the Westerlands.

These were influential people in their own right, and yet they all deferred to her husband. It was utterly captivating to see men she'd only read about, live. There were still moments she had to pinch herself to believe that this was her life!

When she expressed a desire to explore the city and it's many different neighborhoods, Sansa was told she would never without guards: people like Royce, the Blackfish and Jon Arryn willing to oversee her safety when Tywin could not get away from his duties as King.

Of course, there was always Jaime, who was her shadow, much to Tywin's delight and chagrin. Jaime was as close to Sansa as a sibling, and she only occasionally caught a frown upon Tywin's face when he heard her laughing with his golden son.

There was no denying that Jaime was a devastatingly handsome man – but he wasn't Tywin.

Tywin was just --- Tywin.

The man was incomparable. And that was saying something, considering how many handsome, alpha males Sansa found herself surrounded by.

Sansa had only eyes for her husband, and while he was far more severe and stern than Jaime's sunny disposition and golden good looks, there was no comparison in Sansa's heart and mind. Tywin was her entire world. He had all of her.

She reassured him of that each evening, and Sansa knew that Tywin would feel more settled when Jaime was with her while she explored her new home. There were few with his skills, and he was the son of the King. And Jaime loved her. Tywin knew that his son would keep her safe.

The Lords from the West who were in the capital had come to love Sansa as the wife of their liege lord. They saw in her, House Lannister renewed, with her pregnancy and their newly forged alliances attributed to the marriage between House Tully and House Lannister.

She delighted in having them at the mansion, often spending countless hours attending meetings that Tywin held, soaking up all the knowledge like a sponge. None of them had returned home, wanting to remain in King's Landing to see their liege lord crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms, officially, when the conclave began in a few months. It was an exciting time for those from the Westerlands, many whom had waited years for this day to come. They felt like Tywin had not been given his due when he'd been Hand to Aerys and ruled the Kingdom in all but name.

Now was the time of the Lion, and they relished in it.

Then there were her houseguests – though Eastern Den was hardly a house by any modern standards.

Elia and her two children, along with Catelyn, and their uncle, Brynden Tully.

It was lovely having women that Sansa was close to living with her. These women occupied the rarified position that she did and were married and expecting children or had recently given birth. In her entire life, Sansa had never been close with others her age, and she revelled in these friendships.

For a woman that had grown up in a tiny family with few friends, she delighted in having an ever-expanding retinue of people around her.

To keep both Elia and Catelyn from missing Tygett and Ned too much, and perhaps to assuage her guilt that her husband was by her side, and she was in his arms each night, she'd convinced Cat and Elia to explore King's Landing with her. She was fascinated with the trade of these ancient times and her ability to study it up close.

Sansa had taken to writing in a journal each evening – filling two leather-bound books already.

After their supper each evening, she and Tywin would retire to their library, where her husband often worked on correspondence or his ledgers, while Sansa would transcribe the events of her day, her observations and what she had learned.

She briefly wondered how she might preserve them, explaining to Tywin all about history as an academic pursuit in the future.

"Why?" he'd asked, his attention wholly on her. She liked that about him. When he did something, he gave himself over to that task entirely.

Sansa had shrugged, putting down her journal. She was curled up on a settee, the doors to the terrace open so she could hear the ocean crash against the rocks, as it was warm in the capital. Sansa enjoyed being near the ocean.

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it," she said.

Her husband frowned as Sansa giggled.

He'd put down his quill and rose from behind his desk, all leonine grace and repressed power. She sucked in a breath at the picture he made as he joined her, taking her feet onto his lap. He was rubbing her ankles and up her legs as his brilliant mind rolled her words over in his mind.

"So, there is a reason behind studying the past in your time," he finally concluded.

"Mmmm," Sansa nodded, groaning as those talented fingers massaged her flesh. He flashed her a smile as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The man could turn her into a puddle of goo with merely a well-placed look.

"The winners often write history, and while that can be useful, it also leaves out the other side. There is much to learn from the wars and conflicts that have happened in the past. If we study them, why they happened, we can hopefully develop ways not to repeat our mistakes and to learn how far we've come."

Tywin grunted.

Sansa let the silence stretch, comfortable as it was.

There were many times when Tywin preferred the quiet, and Sansa did not blame him in the least. He had four younger siblings, three children and a host of people that constantly demanded his attention since he'd been younger than her. She understood how he needed the quiet to think and categorized the information he'd taken in that day.

As a child, Sansa had often lost herself in the world of books and make-believe, and being an only child, she was used to the peacefulness that her husband seemed to crave.

"Do you wish for someone to find your journals one day?" he asked suddenly, those cat-green eyes pinning her.

Sansa nodded, holding the leather-bound book to her chest.

"Oh yes. Imagine what a find that would be, some historian coming across a primary source such as this one."

"Primary source?"

Sansa loved how quick and agile his mind was. She knew he craved knowledge above all else for knowledge was what separate a good ruler from a great one.

"Primary sources are the evidence of history, original records or objects created by participants or observers at the time historical events occurred or even well after events, as in memoirs and oral histories. They are what most historians search out, pouring over, again and again, to try to understand how those in the past lived their lives – why they made the decisions they did."

Tywin's frown deepened.

"And this pertains to wars? Battles and such?"

To this, Sansa let out a pretty laugh and leaned forward, as much as she could with her prominent belly, touching Tywin's face.

"Not just wars, my love."

He scowled at her. Sansa adored his scowly face!

Tywin did not like to be corrected on anything. The fact that he understood how vast and encompassing her knowledge was and that he was willing to learn from her spoke of the depth of his love for her.

"Wars are merely one area of research. Some academics focus on such things. They can spend hours debating how many calvaries were present at a battle and how many archers were on the walls. But others, like me, cared much more about the society in which people lived. We studied the social and cultural times, and how people past conducted themselves. How did they live? What did their societies look like?"

Seeing his keen interest, Sansa continued.

"That is why I am so passionate about writing down my days. It would be so amazing for someone, fifteen hundred years in the future, to find my journals and understand life for a woman in my position."

It was Sansa's turn to frown as she realized a problem with the singular account she was weaving for future generations.

"Of course, that would only give them one perspective – that of a noble-born woman who'd married the most powerful man in the land. It wouldn't be an account of someone in Flea Bottom, or a crofter from the Reach, nor a fish-wife on Pyke."

Ideas spun in Sansa's head before Tywin's gentle, "No," had her blinking at him.

She opened her mouth to protest and was cut off with a kiss.

"No, my love, you will not travel throughout the realm to capture these accounts. If you wish for this to happen, we will find the proper academics, adventurous ones who wish to undertake such an endeavour who can report back to you."

Sansa pouted, which made Tywin pounce. Sansa shrieked happily as the man dove on top of her, ranging that leanly muscled form over her body, pinning her to the small sofa upon which she sat.

Their servants, house guests, and family had learned long ago not to interrupt them when they were alone in a room, so Sansa knew they would have total privacy. Tywin's lips were on hers as Sansa burrowed her fingers into his hair, holding his head to hers. He rocked against her core as Sansa let her thighs fall open, the distinctive bulge indicating how ready her husband was.

Even feeling more and more ungainly, with not one but two babes now growing inside her, Tywin always made her feel cherished.

When he finally drew his lips away, hers were bruised and puffy and he was looking at her with such devotion that her breath hitched.

"You are my salvation, and I could not stand for you to be apart from me," he murmured into her ear, tugging on the lobe, earning a breathless whimper from her.

It was no secret how much Sansa desired Tywin; as a modern woman, she felt no need to couch her desires in silly banter or innuendos. The direct approach worked just fine.

And when Tywin said things such as that to her?

Knowing the pain, loneliness, and heartache that he'd endured, well, that flame of need roared to life. Through her visions, she had seen Tywin at his most vulnerable when the anguish and isolation had been at their worst.

Never again, she vowed.

Never again would her Lion feel that sharp sting of being alone.

"I do not wish to be parted from you either, husband," she murmured, her lips finding purchase on his neck, where she sucked hard, knowing she'd leave a bruise. She cared naught, for the tale of their love for one another was well known.

"This is not a proper place to love you," he muttered, shaking his head while Sansa giggled.

Before she knew it, she was in Tywin's arms, letting out a tiny peep, a grin on her face.

They were out into the hallway, with Tywin finally setting her down, his hand in hers when they almost ran into Jaime and her uncle, the Blackfish. Jaime grinned at her, winking, while her uncle shook his head, muttering about how she carried on. Tywin snarled at the two of them before hurrying her up the stairs towards their private wing.

He strode into their chambers, barking out the command for their servants to leave them – immediately. Excitement pulsed in her veins, even as Barba glared at her husband. Those two would never be best friends, Sansa knew, but Barba didn't dare disobey the Great Lion.

Once they were alone, Sansa backed towards the bed, casting her eyes downward, toying with the bodice on her dress, ensuring the drew her husband's attention to her breasts.

"What does My Lord wish for me to do?" she said, still not looking at Tywin, her voice meek and slightly nervous.

Underneath her eyelashes, she saw Tywin still, eyes narrowed.

"Sansa?"

For one quick moment, she raised her eyes, met his, and winked, hoping he understood she wished to play. Then she lowered her head again.

"I'm all alone, a poor maiden with only my good name and a maidenhood to trade for the protection of my liege," she said, voice soft and unassuming.

She began to pull at her dress and knew the moment he caught on.

Tywin straightened and appeared sterner in front of her as his face lost some of its warmth. Still, she knew he would never hurt her, and she was excited to play – to introduce yet another element of bedplay into their lovemaking.

"A maiden all alone in the Great Lion's chambers?" he tsk'd, shaking his head at her.

Sansa bit back the grin.

He began to prowl the room, assessing her.

"You will not leave my chambers a maiden tonight, know this," he growled.

Sansa bobbed her head, keeping it down but secretly delighted.

"I know, My Lord. I knew I was to be yours, to whatever you wish with me, when my father was named a traitor and he traded me in exchange for you sparing his life. You have shown mercy to him, and for that, I am ever in your debt."

She heard the groan, low and so hungry, her own desire making her thighs slick. The ache settled inside her cunt, and she knew that by the time this night was done, she would be thoroughly ravaged by her lion.

Tywin stalked closer to her, leaning in, his voice rough and demanding.

"That is right, My Lady, you will do exactly what I say. You are mine now, in the Lion's jaws, and I will have you any way I wish."

She nodded her head, biting back the satisfied groan.

This was even better than she'd imagined!

Casting her eyes upwards, Sansa bit her lip.

"What does My Lord wish me to do?"

Tywin said nothing, merely circling her, eyeing her up.

Quickly, he reached out, cupping a breast through the fabric of her dress, and tweaking the nipple. The moan escaped before she could keep it in.

"I wish to see my prize naked. Strip."

Eager now, smelling her own arousal, Sansa tugged at the ties on her dress, grateful it was a simple but elegant creation she could mostly get out of herself. She revealed her scandalous underclothes, watching as Tywin's nostrils flared. It never failed to send him into a tizzy to see her tits cupped full in the bra that she had fashioned with Barba.

Thank the seven she was always good with a needle and thread, Sansa thought.

She pushed the gown down over her stomach, pretending for a moment that she wasn't nearly five months pregnant with her husband's children, and then stepped out of her slippers, stockings, and dress.

Sansa had recently had Barba 'attend' to her needs, removing the hair from her thighs, underarms and around her cunt. She knew that she was smooth and soft and that Tywin would find no fault with her form.

Tonight, unbeknownst to Tywin, Sansa was wearing a thong. A red one made of lace and little else. She knew it showed off her assets well – her ass was the only thing that hadn't seemed to grow larger with this pregnancy. The fact that both fleshy cheeks were now on full display while lace covered her mound was not lost on her husband.

"Seven fucking hells, Sansa, what is that?" Tywin asked, eyes wide as he took in her undergarments.

Breaking character for a moment, she grinned.

"It's called a thong, my love. Do you like it?"

The sound that came from him was a mixture of a whimper, a growl and a moan.

Sansa once again cast her eyes downward, loving as Tywin circled her, assessing her, before he stepped close. So close she could smell his own musk and the sandalwood and cedar of the oils he preferred.

She felt his hand on her ass, and his larger, clothed body ranged over her back as he leaned down to brush the hair away from her neck, nipping at her there.

"I swear to the gods' woman, you are trying to kill me."

Sansa widened her eyes, looking worried.

"Does My Lord not like his surprise? I wanted to please you," she murmured.

His hands were on her ass, kneading the cheeks.

"Oh, you please me, My Lady. So much so that I wonder if you are as pure as you and your father claimed you were. After all, what type of maiden wears such a thing? Perhaps I should check to ensure I have a virgin on my hands."

Sansa trembled.

"How would you do that, My Lord?" she asked, breathless with anticipation.

His breath was hot and delightful against the shell of her ear as his hands slipped between the seam of her ass and then towards her front, cupping her mound through the lace.

"I would sink my finger into your cunt to see if a barrier remained."

Sansa trembled, bucking her hips slightly, needing more, finding it almost impossible not to break character.

Gods, she wanted to be fucked and fucked now by her husband.

His dark chuckle rumbled in her ear.

"Patience, girl. I can smell your arousal. Are you sure you've never done this before? That no man has seen what is mine?"

Sansa bobbed her head.

"I promise, My Lord, my maidenhood is yours."

He growled, and Sansa knew they were both thinking of their wedding night when he'd taken what she'd given no other.

With a single deft motion, he tore the lacy red panties from her body, throwing them away as the air rushed over her exposed mound. Sansa couldn't help herself; she spread her legs wide, hoping Tywin would take pity and put a finger or two inside of her.

Instead, the blasted man cupped her stomach and then trailed his hands up towards her breasts, his lips still on her neck, making her pant and moan, as he cupped her breasts and thumbed the nipples into stiff peaks.

She pushed her ass into him, feeling his manhood, hard as steel through his breeches, press against her.

"My Lord, please," she begged, uncaring if she were out of character. She needed him, now!

His chuckle was dark, and she knew she'd given him all the control.

"I wonder how I should fuck my little wolf?" he murmured, one hand now coursing back down her body towards her pussy. She was desperate to be touched in the way that only Tywin could.

"I am yours to do with as you wish," she panted, meaning it.

However, he wanted her, Sansa was his.

"Hmmm," he hummed, finally stroking those long, elegant fingers through her cunt hairs, wet with her want.

Those fingers danced along her mound, tracing gently lower and lower, towards her nether lips that strained for some type of contact. She must have made a sound, for her husband chuckled darkly into her ear.

"Patience."

He laid a light tap on her cunt and Sansa moaned, biting her lip, thrusting her ass back, pressing against the hard cock she knew was straining for her.

"Such wanton behaviour. Perhaps I should punish you," Tywin growled as Sansa's heart sped up.

The idea of being 'punished' by Tywin, his hand on her ass, had her positively vibrating.

"Whatever My Lord wishes," she panted, hoping he understood that she would like to try that.

"Gods, you are a wanton thing. Let me see if this little cunt does belong to me, hmm?"

Without warning, he parted her lips, stroking inside her engorged flesh. Sansa groaned and spread her legs further as he worked a single finger inside her tight channel.

"Fuck, you are tight," he grunted, slipping another finger inside her, scissoring them to open her up, all the while her cream was dripping out of her core, coating her thighs and his hand, perfuming the air with her desire.

"My Lord, what are you doing to me?" she asked, reaching her hands back to clasp Tywin's midsection. His fully clothed body was such a delightful contradiction to her naked form. She could only imagine what they looked like and that increased her desire.

"Preparing you for my cock. It is large, and it will likely hurt at first when I take you, but I must do it. You are mine, Lady Sansa, given to me by your father, a rebel who could not withstand my siege. You will give yourself to me and hold nothing back. That is what a good wife, a good Lady does. She pleases her husband. Do you understand me?" Tywin demanded.

She bobbed her head, turning it now, so their eyes locked.

In them, she saw how enthralled Tywin was with the game.

Sansa reached a single hand up to stroke his face, his fingers now pistoling in and out of her needy body as her pussy opened to him.

"I promise to be a good girl, My Lord," she crooned.

Tywin's nostrils flared, the desire and sheer need for her was a living force between them. Before she could even react, he withdrew his fingers, and presented them to her.

"Suck yourself from them," he commanded, and she opened her mouth, willingly doing so. She groaned obscenely as she did, batting her eyelashes as him.

"You are begging to be punished," he muttered.

"Climb on the bed, on all fours, and present your arse to me."

Sansa hurried to comply, taking a moment to shuck off the bra, hearing the rustle of clothing behind her.

She climbed on the bed, positioned herself, and got comfortable, knowing she was on display, but loving it. She loved how much Tywin knew her body. Closing her eyes, she willfully allowed herself to drift, knowing that whatever he decided to do, he would ensure she found her pleasure.

"You're so ripe and lush; it's a wonder no man has had you," he murmured, a hand on her arse, cupping the flesh. She wiggled a bit, which resulted in a light smack.

"Oh, My Lord, are you going to punish me?" she breathily whispered.

"I am beginning to think you would like me to turn this arse pink!"

Sansa turned her head, opened her eyes, knowing that he was waiting for her consent (this man!). She winked at him and saw when he understood that she wanted this – wanted his 'punishment.'

"That's exactly what I deserve, Lord Tywin."

His hand came down on her ass, the sound cracking in the room, and Sansa moaned, loving the sting.

"Look at how you pink up for me," Tywin muttered, captivated by the imprint of his hand on her pale flesh.

Sansa wiggled and once again turned her head, meeting his eyes so he could see what she was feeling. He needed to know how much she wanted this.

"You enjoy this," he murmured, utterly captivated.

Sansa nodded.

"I know you won't truly hurt me, Ty. We're just playing. And, honestly, I like a little pain when you fuck me. You have no idea what it does to me when you take me hard and order me around. Because in the end, I know how much you love me. The pain just adds to our sex life."

His head nodded; even as his eyes were drawn back to her ass, the sting already faded. She felt one of his hands stroke down the seam of her ass and tunnel into her wet pussy. There was no way he couldn't feel how turned on she was.

She loved it when Tywin played with her ass, and one day, she'd ask him to take her there as well. The very thought of that, of him splitting her open, having her everywhere, claiming her in such a primal and fundamental way, only ramped up her already raging need. Sansa loved belonging to this man and wished to give him everything they both desired.

"You're dripping over my hand," he growled, that voice making her quake.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, I have no control over what you make me feel," she said, quickly falling back into her 'role.'

"This is not how high-born women behave! Four more spankings ought to teach you a lesson."

Eager now, Sansa put her head down on the cover of the bed, eyes closed, letting Tywin have his wicked way with her. He alternated cheeks and where he placed his blows, each one slightly more forceful, all while he kept two fingers stroking inside her velvet heat, his thumb brushing against her clit. By the time he was done, Sansa was a mess, begging him to enter her.

Tywin chuckled darkly, joining her on the bed, ranging that tall, lean body over hers, his breath once again hot against her ear.

"You are my treasure," he said as his mushroom cockhead nudged her soaked cunt.

He linked his fingers with hers as Sansa turned her head, capturing his lips with hers as he surged inside of her, splitting her open, capturing her scream in his mouth.

After that, all she could do was hold on as he fucked her hard and deep, hitting a place inside of her that had Sansa's entire body tensing in anticipation. She heard herself speak, mindless, rambling encouragement that Tywin didn't need at all. He might not have slept with many women, but gods, the man knew how to make her scream.

When he finally stroked just right and pinched her clit, Sansa felt black spots dance in front of her eyes as her orgasm hit her like a tsunami, sweeping her away in its power.

She floated, feeling her husband continuing to fuck her, until finally, he bellowed out her name, spending deep inside of her, careful not to crush her beneath his weight.

Afterwards, Sansa lay sprawled out on the bed, happily sated and fully satisfied. She could feel his come leaking from her well-fucked body, that delightful ache satisfied for now, and letting her know how loved she was. She liked that she was marked with his scent and he with hers.

Tywin propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down at her.

"What was that?" he asked, curious.

Sansa grinned.

"Role-playing, my lion. Did you like it?"

Tywin reached for a tendril of her hair, curling it around his finger, a spark in those expressive eyes. He was thinking, which Sansa loved about him.

"I did like it." He paused. "I can only imagine what else we might explore."

To this, Sansa threw her head back and laughed, rich and deep.

"Oh, I have ideas, my love. So many ideas."

She stroked her hands down his muscular chest, loving how warm he was. Tywin went to move, and Sansa held him close as his eyebrow arched.

"Do you not wish me to clean you?"

Sansa felt her cheeks heat as she shook her head.

"Leave it for a little while longer. I love feeling the evidence of our passion on my skin."

"Sansa," he groaned but made no move to leave.

Instead, he pulled her closer so that she was comfortable as he held her in his arms.

They discussed their day and Sansa's plans for tomorrow when she finally titled her head to meet his eyes.

"When will you speak with Jaime?"

While things with Jaime had improved, Sansa knew there were outstanding issues between the two men. Jaime still had questions about what happened to his siblings, and Tywin needed to address some of the … issues with Jaime.

Namely how Jaime and Cersei had carried on and what Jaime's future held. With the Kingsguard being eliminated, Jaime would need to be brought back into the Lannister fold – to take his rightful place as the heir to Casterly Rock.

Sansa felt her husband heave out a sigh, and she knew this was not something he was good at. He wasn't good at expressing vulnerability with anyone. He'd gotten better, but this wouldn't be an easy conversation with Jaime – for either one of her lions.

"Soon," was all Tywin said.

Sansa left it at that. Tywin knew it was required, and he would do his duty – he always did.

"The bigger issue facing us is what to do with the Master of Whispers," Tywin grunted, his face souring.

Sansa perked up, struggling to sit up, her stomach getting in the way. Tywin was speaking to her about the politics of ancient Westeros!

Excitement hummed through Sansa's blood.

"What are you thinking, Ty?"

There was no denying how Tywin preened when she used his nickname. Alone, Sansa allowed more of her modern language to come through, and Tywin seemed to like it – almost like their own private way of communicating. Tywin chuckled at her eagerness.

"You enjoy this, don't you, little one?"

Sansa nodded.

"Oh yes! This is… well, gosh. I mean, we studied decisions people made and debated for hours about why they did. And here I am, part of it all. It's, well, it's mind-blowing."

He rumbled out a laugh at her modern language and then sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, thinking.

"Perhaps I should start by asking what you think since you are the expert on this time."

Sansa snorted.

"You are the most brilliant person I've ever met. I would be shocked if you didn't have a plan for the eunuch."

Sansa wrinkled her nose at that, thinking about Varys without his … parts.

"What a distasteful practice."

Tywin agreed.

"Since you wish for my opinion first, I will give it to you."

Sansa smirked and murmured, "Oh, you gave it to me all right, husband."

Tywin's eyes heated again, and while he'd pulled a light blanket over their naked forms, Sansa could see his cock already rallying. She licked her lips in anticipation. Soon she'd repay her husband for his earlier attention to her.

"Gods, I should spank you more often."

"Yes, please," she quipped.

"You are a menace," he retorted, but there was no heat in his tone.

She winked at him and laughed as he leaned over to attack her neck with his lips as she clung to him.

When they finally settled in to talk politics, Sansa forced herself to pay attention. It wasn't difficult, as she loved listening to Tywin's voice – especially when he was given free rein to allow his thoughts and ideas to wander, as he did with her.

"The issues with Lord Varys are nuanced and complex. The man purports to want what is best for the realm, for the common people. And while I believe that is true, to an extent, the man has always been loyal to the Targs."

Sansa cocked her head.

"All right. I'll play devil's advocate here."

This was yet something else Sansa had explained to Tywin – how he would benefit from a rigorous academic debate with those he trusted. The fact that he allowed her to do so and gave her this latitude, spoke of his deep devotion to her and how much he valued her insights.

"Varys has had only Targ rulers to support," she countered. "There was no one else."

Tywin grunted.

"True, but you claimed that in the history you know he turned against not only Robert, though who could blame him, but Joffrey."

"He did."

"Therefore, what is to stop him from biding his time, here and now. We've left legitimate Targaryen's alive. Two of them are living in this very house. Another two on Dragonstone and one more on Dorne. What is to stop him from attempting to usurp my place on the Throne?"

Sansa thought about that.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

She shrugged.

"Nothing. I still believe we chose the correct course of action when it came to the Targ children. Aegon and Rhaenys will be loyal to us. Lyanna's son, loyal to Ned and, therefore, loyal to us. If we can get Aerys' daughter here, that is four. The real wild card is Viserys, who will likely feel far more upset at what was taken from him. At almost eight years old he has to know that his father was King."

Tywin nodded. "Continue."

"The difference between what the other you did, and now, is that you did not punish the children of Aerys or Rhaegar for their births. You took the Throne, yes, by right of conquest. Just like the Targaryens took Westeros nearly three hundred years ago. You've broken their line of succession."

Tywin thought about that.

Sansa turned more fully towards him.

"Even if you had done what you did in the past – killing Elia and her children, three others Targs remained alive in the history that I knew. And some people rallied behind because of your and Robert's treatment of innocents. You've changed that course of history. It is possible there will be Targaryen loyalists who seek to take back the Iron Throne. But it is equally possible that they will find no foothold. Tygett will raise Aegon. Rhaenys already calls him Papa Lion. That girl is going to meet our lion cubs when Sandor arrives. Tywin, you've built the loyalty of that house within our dwelling. It is incredible."

He leaned forward then, brushing his lips against her, his hand at the nape of her neck.

"I have never had anyone defend, support and argue with me as you have. No one has cared about me and my thoughts to the depth that you do, Sansa."

She beamed at him.

"That is because no one has loved you as I do."

Tywin shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Varys comands a vast network of spies. He's powerful in his own right, Sansa. Never forget that."

She nodded.

"I will not. But if we were to … work with Varys, to cultivate that network alongside him, to make things better for the common people, and to slowly win back their loyalty and their love, then wouldn't that be wiser than killing him and creating a power vacuum in his network?"

Tywin cocked his head.

"And this is a role you wish to take on?"

He couldn't help but glance down at her prominent stomach where his new children safely grew. Sansa knew he worried about her. She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't tired and that some days her growing girth seemed to impede her more than she wished. But she was only nearing her fifth month, which meant she had time to begin the work she wanted in King's Landing.

"We aren't going home to the Rock anytime soon, are we?" she asked.

He shook his head, looking as disappointed as she felt.

"No, my love, we are not."

She let out a sigh, for she loved Casterly Rock. She was surprised at how much she missed it, even though Eastern Den was a lovely residence. The capital would never be home. Perhaps the Rock called to her far more because she'd spent so much time there when she was Sansa Stark from the future.

"Perhaps in time, when we've established our power, when we've brought those that were against us to their knees, when we built a solid power base, we can. But for now, we are required here."

She nodded.

"Then if here is where we are required, here is where I will be. By your side, ruling and helping you. And part of that includes developing this network of spies to help us. Correct?"

He husband didn't answer for a moment. Sansa knew it wasn't a reflection of his trust in her, nor his worry about her intelligence. She knew, fundamentally, that Tywin wished to protect her – at all possible costs. She leaned forward, pressing her naked breasts against his chest, her distended stomach against his ripped one.

"I will not be reckless, my lion."

She felt his hands on her back, stroking lovingly.

"I know." He paused. "And yes, working to bring Varys' network of spies, even half of it, under our influence would shore up our reign tremendously."

Sansa nodded.

"Then that is what we shall do. We will meet with the Master of Whispers and outline terms for his continued survival. And if he doesn't wish to adhere to them, well, he saw what my King is willing to do to those that are not friends of House Lannister."

Pride for her was stamped across Tywin's handsome face.

"You honour my House and me with your dedication to us," he murmured.

Sansa's lips twitched as she batted her eyelashes. Suddenly, the ache for Tywin was back, and she wanted her husband. Again. She was insatiable for him, needing to pleasure him and play in the fantasy she'd spun for them.

She loved how Tywin had responded to her earlier, for her brilliant mind had so many ideas, and she couldn't wait to blow Tywin's world open. Including tying him down on the bed and pleasuring him.

"I am glad I pleased you, My Lord."

Tywin let out a barely audible growl as she bit her lip, casting her eyes downward, shyly travelling over his fine, masculine form.

"What are you thinking, girl?" he growled, falling easily back into his role.

She allowed her eyes to drift downwards, taking in the tented sheet where his cock had hardened. Lord, he was an impressive man. He'd just had her not more than an hour ago, and here he was, ready for her again. She knew she was a lucky woman.

Sansa lowered her voice further, biting her lip.

"I have heard …." She paused, playing the part of the demure, proper, high-born lady.

"Out with it!" he snarled.

"I have heard that some men wish for their wives to pleasure their … members with their mouths," she finished in a scandalized rush.

The whoosh of breath indicated that Sansa knew she had Tywin. She kept her façade in place as she felt him tilt her chin in his large hands, forcing her to meet that penetrating gaze.

"And my wife wishes to be good? To please her lord husband?"

Sansa bobbed her head.

Tywin drew back the sheet, revealing his raging hard-on.

"Then put your lips around my cock and service me, girl," he growled.

Eager now, thoroughly enjoying her role, Sansa shimmied down her husband, not lingering as she usually did, playing her part.

As a shy, gently born and bred lady of this time, this would be most scandalous.

As a woman from the 21st century, Sansa couldn't wait to have Tywin's cock in her mouth. She was glad he had not washed them earlier. She loved tasting her cream on his dick; she loved that he would taste like her.

Not as graceful as she used to be, Sansa still managed to kneel before her husband, whose member was now proudly jutting from the nest of golden blond hair. Its head was red and bulging, large and weeping with pre-cum, and she groaned as she recalled what it felt like, deep inside her body, massaging her inner walls.

Remembering that she was supposed to have no idea how to do this, she tentatively gazed up at him, his gaze penetrating.

"Instruct me, My Lord."

Tywin grunted as one hand fisted his cock, pulling the foreskin back, using it and the natural lubrication to stroke himself.

"Like this," he said as her hand took over and his went to her neck, as she began to work him over. "And now, open your mouth, and use your lips and your tongue to suck me off."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "And no teeth or else I will take it out on your arse again."

Sansa nodded, already leaning down, inhaling the scent that was uniquely theirs – together.

Unable to help herself, she moaned when she first licked his cockhead, swirling that pre-cum around her mouth before she eagerly swallowed and then sucked his cock into her mouth. She lost herself in giving Tywin this pleasure, knowing that he'd so rarely had it. In fact, she would bet good gold that very few women in Tywin's life had ever paid attention to him the way that she did.

She loved it when he began to 'instruct' her, allowing her a glimpse as to what he liked – no teeth and lots of suction and saliva. When she gently cupped his balls and rolled them between her fingers, he bucked his hips, driving his cock deeper into the warm crevice of her mouth.

"Fucking hells, I'm going to fill that pretty little mouth with my seed and watch you suck it down," he finally growled.

She knew he was close, and she doubled her efforts, wanting him to do just that. It took naught but a minute or two more when he roared out her name, hips arching up as he filled her mouth with his come, and she gulped it down, eager to please him. She finally let his spent cock fall from her mouth, wiping at her lips, and raised her eyes to her husband, who looked well-loved and slightly shattered by their experiences here tonight.

That was until he moved, panther-like grace, hauling her entire form upwards, towards his mouth, planting her cunt over top of his face and proceeded to delve his tongue into her soaked pussy, his hands on her ass encouraging her to fuck his face.

"Ride me," he commanded.

She grabbed hold of the headboard and did just that, screaming her pleasure until limp as could be, both of them an utter mess, collapsed onto the bed.

"You are going to kill me," Tywin muttered, pressing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades.

Sansa giggled before being scooped up into his arms. While there were moments when she missed her shower, there was something to be said to bathing with her husband.

Tywin, comfortable in his nakedness, brought them to their bathing chambers, setting her gently down on a chaise while he filled the largest tub for them to share. Sansa rose and joined him in the warm water when the bath was ready, loving how light she felt. She immediately sought out Tywin and kissed him deeply, the love she had for this man only growing more profound by the day.

"Excellent night, husband," she murmured, seeing how much it pleased him.

His expressions gave so much away when one knew what to look for.

"You are an insatiable little wench," he countered, cupping her bottom, drawing yet another laugh from Sansa as she closed her eyes and rested her head on Tywin's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Here, Sansa felt safe, cherished, protected, and loved.

It was only coming through time was the only possible way she would have found love this profound.

Tywin Lannister was a man that only came along once every thousand years. Sansa knew this better than anyone.

And he was all hers.

King's Landing

Ironically, it was an innocuous enough comment that precipitated the entire discussion between Jaime and Tywin that had been brewing for some time.

They were supping in the dining hall at Eastern Den when the Blackfish remarked that it was good to see Houses Tully and Lannister so intrinsically linked, especially after Jaime had rejected Tywin's attempts to wed his son to Lysa.

He was several glasses into a Dornish red, and the wine had loosened his tongue.

"Thank the gods you didn't bring that sour daughter of yours to Riverrun when you came to beg my brother for Sansa's hand. The tales we heard about her likely would have ensured that Hoster had married Sansa to Robert instead of you, Lion."

Jaime grimaced while Sansa and Catelyn exchanged worried glances, and Tywin glowered at the Blackfish.

"Uncle, enough," Sansa admonished the man, looking between Jaime, who had paled and shoved his plate back, and her husband, who appeared pained and uncomfortable with the turn of conversations.

"Bah! Don't shush me, niece. We all know it's true. No use in lying. When word came that an 'accident' had befallen that witch, none of us were that fussed."

"ENOUGH!" Tywin roared, slamming a fist down on the table, making the cutlery jump.

Elia looked confused, not understanding what the Blackfish spoke of, while Sansa and Catelyn realized that things had finally come to a head.

"Come, uncle, let us give the lions their space," Catelyn said, the perfect hostess.

Sansa was far too worried about Jaime and Tywin to care about the others. Within moments, still grumbling, Catelyn had Brynden, and Elia cleared from the dining room, leaving Sansa with two furious lions on her hands.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd begged Tywin to address the lingering issues with Jaime long before now. He had not, and now that wound had been exposed – ripped open. Knowing that this night would not end until they hashed this out, Sansa rose.

"We shall not discuss this here," she announced.

Both men were startled as if they had just realized that she was still here.

"While this is our home, we have people inside these walls that are not Lannisters. Come."

She sailed from the room, as much as one could 'sail' being five months pregnant, and walked towards the library, knowing that it afforded them the most privacy while still giving Jaime and Tywin space to prowl and rage.

For she knew that they would rage at one another.

How could they not?

Both had disappointed the other in such fundamental ways.

They followed her, almost like errant little boys that had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Once the three of them were alone, Sansa ensured they would not be disturbed.

She ached for both of them – for vastly different reasons.

"Wife, this is a matter for my son and me," Tywin gritted out.

Sansa merely arched an eyebrow at him and shook her head, eyes narrowing.

"Careful, husband. We've had this fight once before. I am a Lannister, and I love you both."

Tywin opened his mouth, but Sansa talked over him.

"And the visions that you and I shared precipitated some of these events, which had major impacts on your family, Tywin. I will not be shooed from the room for the two of you to bark and rage at one another, accomplishing nothing. We deal with this, here and now."

Tywin's eyes widened for a moment before he looked resigned. Gods, she wanted to go to him, to offer him comfort.

But that was not what he needed right now.

Jaime lounged on the settee where Sansa could often be found, an insolent look on his handsome face, the sneer turning his beauty harsh.

"Where shall we begin, wife, since you seem to know what we need."

There was a snap to Tywin's words, which Sansa decided to ignore – for now. She knew her lion was hurting; that he hated to be reminded about his failures, especially when it came to his family.

But this was a wound that would rot if not fully exposed and excised.

"I suggest we begin at where we determined the changes from the visions began to affect this timeline, my love."

For one moment, a flash, really, nothing more, Sansa saw the relief on Tywin's face – as if he realized she would not love him less nor judge him too harshly for his failures. For they both knew he had failed his children, time and again.

He gave a curt nod and then took a deep breath, looking at his son. The only one of his children left from Joanna. Jaime was far more like his mother than either Cersei or Tyrion had been, which was ironic considering Tyrion wasn't his. But his son was softer, more emotional. Jaime didn't care about power – not the way his twin had.

Which brought Tywin right back around to the issue before him – his children and his utter failure when it came to raising them to be assets to House Lannister.

Sansa was right. They needed to clear the air, once and for all.

Grimacing, Tywin took a seat behind his desk, needing the space. Jaime still lounged on the settee, and Sansa took a chair.

"You are aware of how Sansa came to be back in time. How she discovered my lion sigil ring in the ruins of Casterly Rock, some seventeen hundred years in the future," Tywin began.

Jaime merely cocked his head and nodded. Tywin thought back to that time, almost two years ago, when this had all begun. He would never forget any of the vision he had of her, nor the impact they had on his life,

"That was the first time I saw her, standing in what used to be my chambers, an utter ruin, talking to an older man about me."

Jaime snorted, and Tywin's eyes flashed, but Sansa's laugh eased the tension.

"It's true, Jaime. From a young age, I was … well, I won't say obsessed with your father," and Jaime's bark of laughter had Sansa blushing.

She waved a hand, conceding the unmentioned point.

"All right. Perhaps I was a bit single-minded in my focus."

She shrugged.

"What can I say? He captivated me."

Jaime shook his head and then looked to Tywin.

"And what did you learn in this first vision?"

Despite the tension, Jaime was intrigued. Who could blame him? It was a tale unlike any they'd ever heard.

"Not much," Tywin answered. "Only that whomever I was viewing was not from this time and that the Rock was in ruins."

Tywin's fist clenched when he thought of whom modern historians attributed the fall of his mighty house to.

His children.

Both Jaime and Sansa were waiting for him to continue.

"The next vision was of Sansa in her apartment."

Jaime looked confused at that term.

"A modern dwelling. She was in her kitchen, wearing what I can only describe to you as small clothes, but what my wife has reassured me women wear to exercise."

Jaime's eyebrows winged up, and he looked to Sansa. She smiled at him, nodding.

"It's true. Women in my time wear all manner of clothing. Pants. Shorts. Shirts without sleeves."

"And you do this to exercise?" Jaime asked, wrinkling his nose. "Do you not get enough exercise from daily life?"

To this, Sansa laughed a rich and hearty sound.

"Oh, one day, Jaime, you and I will have to have a long discussion about how different the future is. But for now, let us focus on the impact the visions had on your family."

Grateful for her and her compassionate nature, Tywin cleared his throat and levelled a hard, stern look at his son.

"It was during this second vision when I began to learn … disturbing details about my children."

To his credit, Jaime didn't exactly squirm, but he did lose some of that arrogant smirk.

"Sansa and her father were discussing why my daughter, who had married Robert Baratheon after he emerged victorious in the rebellion, would put her bastard children on the Iron Throne and claim them to be Stags."

Jaime paled and swallowed hard.

"It led to a succession crisis, as you might well imagine, that bastards were claiming to be Robert's true heirs and led to a war, called the War of the Five Kings, which threw the realm into chaos."

Sansa looked upset as the impact of Tywin's words hit Jaime full force.

"Thousands died. Others lost land, gold and their homes. The war was awful and left Westeros ill-prepared to defend itself against two enemies – Daenerys Targaryen and an enemy from the North," Sansa added.

Jaime held Tywin's gaze.

"Was that when you learned of us?"

Tywin wanted to snarl – to snap and bellow and rage. How could his son be so stupid? What was he thinking?

"No," Tywin snapped. "That was not disclosed to me at that time. Instead, Sansa began to debate why I did not take the Throne. It …. startled me. Her defence of me. Her passion for me. Her … belief in me."

Despite how upset Tywin was with his son, he would never forget what it felt like to hear Sansa argue for him – even if she wasn't from his time.

Jaime turned to Sansa; head cocked.

"Why?"

She frowned.

"Why what?"

"Why would you argue that my father was the right man to be named King?"

Sansa's jaw dropped. For once, she was speechless.

How could Jaime ask such a question?

"Because" she sputtered, waving a hand about, the words already forming in her mind before she could think on them. Then she zeroed in on Jaime, her mouth pinched, cheeks with twin spots of colour in them and let them fly.

"You are aware of what your father did, are you not? His reputation and his impressive history?"

Before Jaime could respond, Sansa was off, passionately debating her favourite topic in the entire world - Tywin Lannister.

She missed the smirk on her husband's face, for Tywin had heard her do this before - to her father in his visions of her.

How could he have ever known he'd hear her defense of him in real life? When she was his wife?

"The fact that he stepped into the role your grandfather had no interest in fulfilling, taking an army that was not his to command to houses in open rebellion against House Lannister, at the age he did, and won, was incredible. Then he was named Hand, at twenty, and ruled the Seven in all but name, stopping practices such as mixing sawdust and horse meat into the wares being sold in King's Landing. He promoted trade and upheld laws, and the realm prospered under his leadership and guidance. He was a boon to Westeros and far more adept at ruling than that idiot Robert Baratheon!"

Jaime's eyes had widened at her speech, and Tywin allowed the pleasure to wash over him at his wife's staunch defense of him. She was off her seat now, muttering and pacing, cursing those fools that had backed an imbecile like Robert to rule.

"Love, I think Jaime understands your position."

She spun towards him, eyes flashing, and in them, Tywin saw how she would always do this – she would always defend him.

Sansa turned back to Jaime, marched towards him and drilled a finger into his chest as his eyes widened at her moxie. Sansa was not, nor would she ever be a wallflower. This was a woman who thought her place to be beside any man in the realm, and Jaime had better get used to it, as Tywin had.

"I will not make excuses for the father that he was, but as Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand to the King, Tywin Lannister was incredible. He was the only man for the job of King once Aerys was dead. Not Robert."

Jaime shook his head in wonder at her.

"One day, I wish to find a woman who loves me the way you love my father. My entire life, I have only heard how harsh he is, how stern and severe he was. As his son, I found him demanding and impossible. I grew up on tales of how much he loved my mother, but even I do not think what he felt for her is anything compared to what he feels for you. Forgive me, Sansa, if I implied otherwise."

Tywin saw the moment she deflated, almost like the air had been let out of her. She heaved out a breath and took another few ones to calm herself.

"No, it is I that should apologize. I've spent years defending your father. I just wish …."

She looked between the two of them.

"I just wish the two of you could understand how much you love and need one another. I know I cannot undo the past. And there are harsh truths you will both have to reconcile. But we are stronger, together. Remember that."

Both Lannister men nodded, and Tywin took up his tale once more.

"Sansa lay the blame for the demise of House Lannister solely at the feet of my children," Tywin said dryly, his hands now steepled as he rested them on his desk.

"I have come to realize the part I played in that demise, and with this knowledge, with this understanding of what the future held, I sought to correct these mistakes before they could happen."

"How?" Jaime asked.

"I called a meeting with your sister and spoke to her about her future."

There was no mistaking the pain on Jaime's face. However wrong his son was, he loved Cersei; that much was evident.

"To what end?"

"To determine her willingness to do her duty and marry, Jaime. I know what you felt for her – perhaps what you still feel for her. But you have to know that she was never going to be yours," Tywin said, attempting to gentle his voice, if only for a moment.

Jaime swallowed hard, and there was a sheen of tears in his eyes.

"I know, father."

Tywin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Gods, this was painful. As wrong as Jaime's feelings were for Cersei, what made it worse was that Tywin knew his daughter hadn't fully returned the sentiments towards his son and heir. She had never deserved Jaime's love or devotion. His son would ruin himself for her, and Cersei would have let him.

"She was … resistant to any discussion about marriage. I proposed several options, and none seemed to satisfy her. In fact, the only thing she wished for was to be named my heir – to have the Rock, which was wholly out of the question."

Tywin watched as Sansa reached for Jaime's hand, holding it tightly.

"She claimed that you were hers and then indicated," Tywin paused, the anger once again bubbling up as he recounted how unpleasant that conversation had been with Cersei.

"She indicated that she was not a maiden, though when I pressed her, she claimed she still was."

Jaime opened his mouth, and Tywin shook his head.

"Do not tell me. I do not need to know. She is gone, and you know how wrong the two of you were."

Jaime's jaws clamped shut.

"I do not think she ever wished to be married. She wanted her own agency, her own power. She spoke of Dorne and their laws of succession. She believed, as my first-born child, the Rock and the West was hers. But that is not how the laws of succession work, and I would not allow her to dictate her future. I told her that upon her twenty-first nameday, she would be married; that she would not be the first woman dragged into a Sept against her will. And I meant it."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, for Jaime and Tywin both knew he would have done just that. No matter if Jaime had or hadn't been a Kingsguard, his future was never with Cersei.

Sansa coughed, feeling the tension in the room.

"That was when I had my first vision. It was of the conversation your father just explained – the one between him and Cersei. Afterwards, I followed him to the Hall of Heroes and witnessed something very private. Know your father loves you, Jaime, very much."

Tywin and Sansa exchanged a knowing look. Tywin had gone to Lady Joanna's statue, to lament how much he'd failed her.

Jaime said nothing, but the fact that he did not dispute Sansa's claim of how much Tywin loved him, gave Tywin some hope.

"I knew that I could not call my banners, not with you in the grips of Aerys. But knowing that Robert won the rebellion gave me the advantage to chart his campaign and prepare."

Jaime grunted.

"And I knew that the history I knew was changing. Not that I was aware I was having visions of the past. I just knew that nowhere had it ever been mentioned about your father having such a discussion with Cersei."

"What happened next?" Jaime asked quietly, his voice pained.

"After our conversation, I spent several weeks observing your sister. She was hard. Mean. Brittle and entitled. She treated not only her servants poorly, but Genna and Dorna. She was nothing like your mother, Jaime, who understood that sometimes one had to be demanding but that there was a give and take with those that served our noble House."

Jaime finally ranged himself up off the settee, dropping Sansa's hand and paced, running a hand through his golden hair. When he turned back, the pain on his face was so stark and raw that it felt like a physical blow.

"She was always so angry," Jaime whispered, devastated.

There was no use in denying it anymore – Sansa had been right. Left unchecked, Cersei would have destroyed not only his House but his son.

"In modern times, we have terms for someone like her," Sansa offered softly. Both men looked at her.

"Perhaps one day, you might wish for me to share some theories with you both. Not now, but it might help you both understand why she was like she was."

Jaime could only jerk his head once.

"Perhaps."

He met Tywin's eyes.

"How did Tyrion die? How did my little brother, who never harmed anyone, who wasn't a threat to anyone, die?"

"After our first confrontation, I left things for a time. I had another vision of the future, and this time learned Sansa's name. During this time, Tyrion pestered me relentlessly, stating he had something important to tell me."

Tywin sighed heavily, owning his part in Tyrion's demise.

"I dismissed him. He was bothersome. Finally, when he wouldn't stop, I told him to meet me in my solar. He never showed. The next morning, I learned he had 'fallen' from one of the high ramparts. When I examined the scene, I knew he could never have fallen over the high wall. He had help."

Tywin watched as the reality of that statement crashed over Jaime, seeing his son pale, his head shaking vehemently.

"No, gods, no father. She wouldn't," Jaime protested.

"She did."

It was harsh and brutal, but no less than the truth.

Horrified, Jaime went to speak, but nothing came out.

Tywin shrugged.

"I was followed back to my solar by my siblings, who gave me hell at my treatment of Tyrion. It was then that I revealed to them that he was not mine."

"It's not an excuse," Jaime lashed out. "He was an innocent."

Tywin met Jaime's anger head-on.

"He was. I make no apologies for my behaviour, nor do I expect your forgiveness or for you to understand. Needless to say, out of his death came some hard truths. When confronted, your sister did not outright deny her role in his death, though she was sly about it. She hated him, Jaime, as much as I did. Her punishment was to be a year of mourning, in which she was confined to her chambers. Aerys would not let you come home for his funeral, for which I am sorry, and the rebellion raged on."

Jaime looked wrecked and collapsed back onto his sofa, where his hands rested on his legs, his eyes far away, lost in memories, Tywin was sure.

"I saw that conversation," Sansa said, taking over as Tywin turned to look at her.

"I saw how Tyrion's death opened things up between you and your siblings. I saw how much you were finally letting them know what happened to Lady Joanna affected them. I saw them agree with you that Cersei had a hand in Tyrion's death. And I knew this was a major change from the history that I knew. I began to wonder at the impact such an event would have on the rest of Westeros."

Jaime gave a bitter laugh.

"The death of a dwarf? A child that the mighty Lion had rejected all his life. What difference could his death possibly make?"

Sansa and Tywin exchanged a knowing glance, and he gave a curt nod.

"In the history I knew, it was Tyrion that killed your father, Jaime," Sansa told him.

Jaime's jaw once again dropped open as he shook his head.

Knowing that the hour grew late and wanting to finish this, Tywin coughed.

"After Tyrion's death and Cersei's confinement, we kept a close eye on the rebellion. Another vision came, this one of Sansa in great pain. I learned of the untimely deaths of her father and uncle. After that, the floodgates for the visions seemed to open. Sansa was grieving. I saw her at the cemetery. Then I saw her at the Rock. She was saying goodbye and was going home to Wintertown. I thought she was lost to me. The visions stopped."

Jaime and Sansa both held their breath.

Tywin shrugged.

"And then finally, one came back, in the spring, when she was back at the gravesite, beneath a wierwood tree."

Suddenly needing to touch Sansa, Tywin pushed back from his desk, coming out from behind it. He pulled Sansa into his arms, now looking at her – always her.

"I saw the storm come and then the lightning and watched as you slipped and fell, catching sight of my lion sigil ring. And then, in a flash, you were gone, and I saw you in a bed at Riverrun."

"What did you do?" Jaime asked, intrigued.

Tywin chuckled, turning to his son.

"I raced from my bed into Kevan's and woke him up, demanding to know how many daughters Lord Tully had. When Kevan confirmed that Lady Sansa, Hoster's eldest, unmarried daughter, was alive in our time, I raced to Riverrun to secure a marriage with her."

Jaime shook his head.

"And Cersei? How did she react to such news?"

"Not well, Jaime," Sansa answered sadly.

She knew that despite what Cersei had been, she had been loved by both Tywin and Jaime.

"Your father wasn't lying to you when he said that he believed you still to be his heir and that Cersei viewed herself in that role. She was not welcoming when we finally got to the Rock. She threatened the cubs and me."

"She did what?" Jaime asked, incredulous.

Sansa felt Tywin's body against hers, strung tight, his features pinched. The loss of control inside his castle still rankled him, that he'd been fooled by his daughter and trusted her to his great misjudgment.

"First, know this. My marriage to Sansa had nothing to do with securing more heirs, despite what my raven to King Aerys may have said. I was half in love with her and wanted her for myself. I have never given up on you. My intention was always to wait for the correct time before coming to King's Landing to get you back."

Jaime appeared slightly stunned but warmed by his father's words. Sansa squeezed Tywin's hand.

"Sansa has never, and I must repeat this, never attempted to usurp your mother's position or yours as my heir. More than anyone else, she understood what I felt for my first wife, what I felt for you and Cersei. But your sister refused to welcome her into our home. Even when Sansa won over nobles from the Westerlands, went into the hills and found the lion cubs and gave her reassurances that any child from our union would not take your birthright, Cersei refused to bend."

Jaime once again rose and began to pace while Sansa and Tywin watched, worried.

"So because she didn't warmly welcome Sansa into her home, which is understandable if she felt you were replacing her and our mother with a new wife, you what? Had her killed?"

Fury rippled through Tywin now, and he shook his head.

"I did not. Even after she threatened Sansa, threatened the lion cubs, I gave her one last chance. One she begged for. An opportunity to make amends to Sansa at a family dinner."

"You lie to protect your wife," Jaime cried, his voice broken.

Sansa could see that he knew the truth, even if he were unwilling to admit it.

Tywin's lips thinned, and he dropped Sansa's hand and stalked towards his son, so Jaime had nowhere to hide.

"Perhaps you were blinded by your love and your lust for her. Perhaps you merely wished to ignore the kind of person she was. But I think you knew what she was – that you always knew what she was. What she was capable of. It was my greatest fallacy, and one that nearly cost me everything, to not see her for the monster she was."

Tywin's words came out in short, hard bursts. Jaime went to turn away, but Tywin cupped his cheeks and held his face firmly in his hands.

"She had it planned. She had seduced Ser Gregor Clegane, her guard, whom I had arrested when we returned home. But she'd already turned him against me. She poisoned the guards in the dungeons, men loyal to our house. She let a monster loose inside the Rock, Jaime."

Tywin's voice was harsh and pained as Jaime locked eyes with his father gripping his arms.

"That night at dinner, when Ser Gregor attacked, we were all ill-prepared. He came at us, suddenly, and right for Sansa, his intent clear. Sandor Clegane attempted to hold him back, but Gregor struck him down. He took Addam's head clean off when he went to defend my wife. And then Gerion stepped up and was skewered by the man's sword. My own brother bled out on inside my castle because I failed to see what my daughter had become."

Did either Lion realize that tears now streaked down their faces? Sansa wondered; her heart shattered for them both. The destruction Cersei wrought was immense.

"She would have had that monster kill every last one of us, Jaime, to get what she wanted. Do you understand?"

"And what did she want?"

"That which was not hers. It is yours, son. Casterly Rock has always been yours, Jaime."

Jaime shook his head.

"How did she die?" he whispered raggedly.

"Ser Gregor was surrounded by Tywin, Kevan and Tygett and dozens of others that poured into the room. He grabbed her before anyone could stop him, confirmed that what he'd done, he'd done on her orders and then snapped her neck. It was quick," Sansa said in a rush, her heart aching for both men.

A keening wail burst from Jaime as his knees gave out, and Tywin's strong arms held him up.

"I am sorry. I know what you felt for her. But she would have ruined us all, Jaime. She brought her end upon herself. And in the process, good people died. Gerion. Tyrion. Addam."

Jaime clung to his father for a moment before he finally pushed back, seeming to have aged before their very eyes. He wiped at his wet face, eyes haunted before he attempted to speak. The words seemed to stick in his throat before he cleared it.

"Thank you for the truth. I need space."

He was nearing the door before Sansa called out, stopping him.

"We love you, Jaime. You are not alone. I know grief. I know how crippling it is. But remember, you have your family."

He merely nodded and then was gone, and Sansa let out the cry she'd been holding back, feeling Tywin's arms band tightly around her as they clung to one another.

"Have I lost him?" Tywin murmured into her hair as Sansa clutched at his arms, turning her face up to his. He looked as spent as she felt, having relived the horror of what his daughter was tonight.

"No," Sansa whispered, and then stronger, shaking her head, said again, "No."

Tywin arched an eyebrow at her, and she pressed her lips to his.

"He needed to know the truth, as ugly and as harsh as it was. Any relationship that the two of you wished to have would have been tainted had you not told him what you did today. He is hurting, and rightfully so. Whether his love for her was right or wrong, Jaime feels deeply. Like you do, my Lion. But he will come around. He is surrounded by those that love him. The cubs are on their way to King's Landing. And he knows how much he means to you. All is not lost."

Tywin shuddered out a ragged breath, his hands carded in her hair.

"You are my salvation and my greatest love, Sansa."

She slid her hand into his.

"Come, my Lion, to our bed. Hold me in your arms and take heart that you have done what is right to keep our pride strong."

There was nothing more to accomplish here tonight.

Lies had been exposed, and harsh truths brought to light, and painful, recent history of House Lannister revisited. It would take time to heal, but Sansa was determined that they were far better off now that Jaime knew exactly what his sister had wrought.

Sansa would not let Cersei Lannister tear apart this family she'd worked so hard to gain; not now. Not ever.