Chapter 39

The Trial of King Aerys – Sansa

Their entourage, for there was no other word for the group of them that made up the inner circle of the new King of the Seven, exited the Lannister mansion within the hour to travel towards the Great Sept for the trial of the Mad King.

As always, Tywin did not miss an opportunity to make a statement.

And that statement was that House Lannister now ruled Westeros.

Sansa would accompany him on her white mare, her pretty horse a match to his magnificent warhorse. The horses were decorated in Lannister gold and red, and Sansa preened as she stroked her horse's velvet-soft nose. It was one of the perks of being back in this time. Horse riding. Sansa adored this mode of transportation.

As she stood by her mare, Sansa took a moment to observe Tywin.

Did he see how the crowds parted for him?

Did he know how men and women alike deferred to him?

He strode with such confidence that most scrambled to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.

Sansa knew that power was an aphrodisiac.

There was a reason people in positions of power attracted suitors to them, like a moth to the flame. A reason the alpha got the best mate. A reason why men like Tywin Lannister were sought after.

Objectively Sansa studied her husband.

Historians had described his features as severe, but Sansa thought that was more due to his personality than his physical appearance. He was an arresting man, with his green eyes, flecked with gold, the blonde hair and tanned skin, all of which was only emphasized by his height and well-muscled body. He was like the very lion of the house he represented – a perfect combination of intelligence, strength, and brutality.

His intensity was legendary, as was his razor-sharp wit and his ability to size up any situation and somehow emerge more powerful than before.

Sansa found him so handsome he stole her breath most days. She knew how well-muscled his body was. She knew what it felt like to be wrapped up in his arms, a sense of safety she'd never felt in her entire life found there, in the cradle of his embrace.

There were other men with more bulk that were thicker than Tywin. But she liked the rippled abs that were for her lips and hands only.

She adored his voice – the husky rasp when he was buried inside of her, as much as the deeper timbre when he whispered that he loved her before they fell asleep.

For a woman with her proclivities, Tywin's sheer magnetism drew Sansa in.

There was no mistaking this man now was the most powerful in the realm, and yet, Sansa knew, he loved her almost to distraction. She had no doubts what this man would do should anyone hurt her.

Maybe that wasn't very modern of her – to find so much comfort and desire in being loved with that intensity and possession, but Sansa relished it. For as much as she belonged to Tywin, he also belonged to her.

On his fingers, he wore two rings both of them of extreme importance. The lion sigil ring, which had brought all of this about, and a wedding ring, on his third finger.

The gold, Lannister, of course, flashed, and there was a fierce possessiveness that surged through Sansa, seeing that symbol on his hand. A promise to her. A promise for everyone who looked upon it. A vow that he would love her and only her for all their days. It was a heady and delightful feeling.

Tywin was far more complex than even she'd imagined. He was a man that lived in the various shades of moral grey to keep his family safe and his legacy strong. He made no apologies for the man he was – the decisions he'd made and the lives he might take.

Sansa was glad he did not. He was more than she'd ever imagined, and she'd imagined him – a lot in the future. A lot. Probably more than was healthy.

She was glad that he was a man that lived up to his formidable reputation – and not just when it came to politics.

The man was an intense lover, something she'd always imagined her husband to be and his need for her consuming. He held nothing back, allowing her a glimpse into the very soul of one of the most compelling people in history each day they spent together. This connection they had only strengthened their incredible bond.

He was all hers, and she was his. Entirely. She knew this. They belonged to one another, in a way that few couples did.

They loved one another in a way that most were afraid to love – wholly, without reservation, holding nothing back from the other. It made them vulnerable, for if something were to happen to either one of them, the other would be genuinely devastated.

But this connection also made them a formidable duo. They would do almost anything for the other person – burn the realm to the ground if someone were to hurt either one of them.

Some women might wilt under such possession and intensity, but Sansa cherished it. The passion with which Tywin loved her was something Sansa had wanted in her marriage. She craved this man more each day. Her love for him only expanded, so much so that she hoped they might never be parted for long. She wished to live her life by his side as his wife, Queen, lover, best friend, and confidante for the rest of her days.

While Sansa knew that Tywin loved her as deeply as she loved him, she was aware that there might be times in which they had to be parted. She knew that Tywin would not hesitate to put her safety and that of their unborn child above her wants and needs.

And there may be a time when he might have to ride to war.

These were violent, unpredictable times in which she now lived. Briefly, Sansa had wondered if that heightened threat had produced more intense feelings than were normal.

She didn't have an answer to that question, but even if this time did make her love for Tywin more powerful, there was no turning back from the life she had chosen to embrace.

Neither one of them had done a thing to explore how she arrived in ancient Westeros, nor how to return her to her own time. Sansa prayed daily that whatever force had brought her back in time wouldn't suddenly decide to fling her forward again, to the future. She didn't know how she would survive without this man by her side, lost to her by seventeen hundred years if that were to happen.

Because she couldn't solve the problem of how she'd ended up here, Sansa tried not to let it worry her. She wasn't ignorant to their ignorance about how she'd come to be back here. But she also wouldn't borrow trouble or worry. Not when they had enough tangible threats facing them at this moment.

Shaking her head from the depressing thought of having no control over her fate and future, Sansa heard Tywin giving some last-minute instructions, his voice implacable as he ordered his men to protect her above all else today.

Of course, he would make her his first priority.

She was cherished. Beloved.

Sansa turned back to her horse, smiling at how much Tywin showed her cared for her.

"It will be crowded and the press of people unbearable, but I know you'll be fine," Sansa crooned to her mount.

The horse whinnied and bumped her velvet nose against Sansa's hand. Sansa enjoyed the spirited demeanour of her horse. She knew Tywin was there before she felt him, her husband at her back, shielding her with his body. She loved how safe she felt when he was near.

"Are you ready, love?" Tywin murmured, brushing her hair back from her neck, his breath warm on her ear.

Sansa shivered and tilted her neck to allow him greater access to that sensitive spot. They were afforded a slight bit of privacy by how close they were standing to their horses. She felt his lips ghosting along with the shell of her ear, desire pooling in her core.

Though they were unspoken, both had concerns about the trial and the impact it might have on the future they planned.

If somehow the Mad King were able to wiggle his way free of the charges levelled at him, if Barristan Selmy wasn't as injured as they were led to believe, if somehow the Mad King's champion were able to best Jaime, then all might be lost.

But Sansa had hope, and belief in Jaime and his skills and that they would prevail. That justice would be served that Aerys would meet his end.

Still, her heart fluttered, and her stomach was unsettled. She was torn. A part of her wished this was already over, coupled with that natural human tendency to watch a disaster unfold.

This was the end of the Targaryen dynasty! And she was here, in the flesh to witness it. A moment like this was something historians dreamed of having a first-person account from. Sansa wondered if she should be keeping some sort of journal to document all she was witnessing.

From her studies, Sansa knew that trials such as these were rare. There had been a trial of some spectacle, several years in the future, which her husband had resided over involving his alleged son, Tyrion, and his grandson, Joffrey.

That trial had ultimately ended in the death of Tywin himself, the exile of Tyrion to Essos and the disappearance of Sansa's ancient namesake.

Sansa had NO intentions of allowing this trial to end as that one had.

But there was no denying that this entire thing was a show, and as such, the crush of those who wished to see justice done would be substantial. Tywin predicted record crowds outside the Great Sept. Most who lived here could not wait to see the Mad King's fall from grace.

Even with the anticipated crowds, Sansa turned down the chance to ride in the carriage with Elia and Catelyn. She wished to be by Tywin's side when they arrived at the Sept.

Sansa needed to be the Queen this man required.

She was more than a competent rider, and after pressing her points, Tywin had conceded that her accompanying him on her mare would make a lasting impression and gain them even more favour.

Still clutching at the reins of her horse, Sansa turned her head and brushed her lips against Tywin's. She loved how he had loosened up to allow these small, intimidate moments between them, even when others were around.

"I am. Are you, my lion?" she asked softly, so only he could hear.

Tywin cupped her face, stroked a large thumb down her cheek.

"I am. I have waited for this moment for over a decade, and I trust in Jaime's abilities."

Sansa nodded.

"As do I."

Sansa spoke the truth. She trusted that if Jaime were needed to fight, he would win.

Barristan Selmy was a loyal Kingsguard, but Sansa wondered how 'loyal' the man would be when the charges against King Aerys were spoken aloud in the Sept.

Would the man see what a monster he had protected?

Would he fight that aggressively to save an unworthy man?

Beyond that, Sansa was aware of Jaime's prowess with a sword. He was the third-best man with a blade in the realm, with only Barristan and Arthur better than him. And perhaps, Oberyn Martell.

But there was one key difference between Barristan and Jaime.

Vengeance.

There was a fire in Jaime that was not inside Barristan.

Jaime knew what Aerys had done to his mother.

Jaime knew the devastating consequences of Aerys' actions.

Jaime had a reason to fight harder than Barristan. Jaime wanted his revenge.

By naming Jaime his champion if the Mad King demanded a trial by combat, Tywin stated to all of Westeros how much he trusted his son.

Unable to help herself, Sansa pressed herself against Tywin. She was in a gown of Lannister gold and he was in his Lannister armour.

To some, his look might be severe, but with his golden hair and the two rings he now wore on his fingers, his lion sigil one and his wedding ring, Sansa thought him the most handsome man in the realm. The crimson and gold shone in the mid-morning light.

She'd seen enough armour by now to know that Tywin's armour was more intricate and decorated than most. The roaring golden lions and ruby eyes on the breastplate were a work of art themselves and unmatched in the realm.

This was Tywin Lannister at peak power. He was in complete control; a virile and intelligent man, with stronger alliances than he'd ever had in the timeline she knew, more gold at his disposal than he could spend in one lifetime, and a chance to make a true legacy for House Lannister.

And all of that turn her on and just deepened the love and respect that Sansa had for her husband. There were still moments that it was difficult to believe this was now her life, but she believed that she'd made more good changes than bad in Tywin's life.

"You will stay with Kevan and Tygett at all times," Tywin commanded, as his strong arms held her close. She was almost able to believe they were alone.

Sansa nodded. She could see how worried Tywin was. His strong hands cupped her face, drawing her eyes up to him.

"No matter what happens, I am trusting them with your safety."

Sansa saw the concern in his eyes. Until Aerys was dead, there might be some who were foolish enough to strike out in a misguided attempt to save the Targaryen King.

"I promise I will listen to them and stay close," she said, meaning it. On this, she wouldn't push him. Sansa valued her independence, but she was aware that she was a mere babe in the woods when it came to dangerous situations like this. Large crowds could be unpredictable.

Tywin said nothing for a moment, just gazing into her eyes before he finally nodded.

"Tonight, when we are home when you are back in my bed and my arms, we will celebrate what we have accomplished, my love. None of this would have been possible without you."

Deeply touched, Sansa pressed her lips to Tywin's, proud that this man was hers. She knew that their life wouldn't be easy; it would be nothing like the life she'd thought she would have, ensconced in academia and married to someone boring in the 21st century.

No.

This life would have more challenges than she could even conceive. But oh, this love she'd found was worth it. Tywin was worth it.

"Tonight, when we are home, we will rejoice that the realm has a good, strong king to lead them," Sansa told her husband, watching his nostrils flare and the flecks of gold in those green eyes she knew so well deepen.

"You honour me with your belief and trust in my abilities," he rasped.

Sansa smiled at Tywin, cupped his cheek, stroking the slight scruff. For a moment, she thought about what that face felt like between her thighs and then shook herself from those lusty thoughts. The pregnancy hormones were fierce these days, and her need for Tywin was almost unquenchable. Not that her husband was complaining. At all. He had confessed one night that he'd never imagined such passion could exist between a man and his wife.

"It is nothing short of the truth, my lion. You are exactly where are you are meant to be."

Sansa believed that statement with her entire being. Intellectually and emotionally, she believed that Tywin Lannister was the man needed to lead the Seven Kingdoms. She wasn't placating him or pandering to his ego. This was something that Sansa had argued time and again in her modern life, should have happened.

Now it had. And she was the woman by Tywin's side.

He breathed deeply, gathering his thoughts, his lips impossibly close to hers, the adoration in his eyes evident.

"You have no idea that new lease on life you've given me, little one."

Then Tywin's lips quirked.

"Or perhaps you do. Now, let us mount these beasts and get on with this day. I wish to hold you in my arms when the threat of Aerys no long looms over us."

Sansa nodded eagerly, loving how Tywin helped her onto her horse, patting her bottom in a silent promise of what activities they would engage in later.

Only when she was secure did Tywin leave her to stride to his horse. She caught herself gazing at him and was interrupted by her blatant pursual of her husband by an amused cough from Kevan.

Sansa grinned at her goodbrother.

"I've never seen anyone look at him the way you do," Kevan said, shaking his head.

Even after nearly half a year in the company of Tywin and Sansa, it was still hard to conceptualize how perfect they were for one another.

"He's so handsome, and this, well, this should have been his destiny. He was a man born to rule this land, Kevan."

Sansa saw the approval in Kevan's eyes, and his smile was warm.

"No one has ever championed him like you, sister. You are the best thing for my brother. You've given him back to us."

Inordinately pleased with the compliment, Sansa was, for once, at a loss for words, though it was fine. None were needed. She'd been accepted, wholly and completely, by Tywin's family. This was where she was supposed to be. These were the people that would love her and be by her side. This was her new family.

"Thank you," she said to Kevan, her voice holding a wealth of meaning that he understood.

"I'll never understand what forces brought you to us, my dear, but every day I am grateful to them."

It was such a lovely thing to say, so heartfelt and authentic that Sansa felt the tears in her eyes. These lions were everything she'd ever wished in a family, and she could not wait for her child to be born into House Lannister.

She caught Tywin's eyes, and his slight nod meant it was time to go. Sansa pressed her heels into her mare's side, and the horse threw her head prettily and huffed before trotting to take its place besides Tywin's massive warhorse.

The beast was impressive, and so was the horse, Sansa thought, noting Tywin had donned his signature red cloak over his distinctive armour.

There was no mistaking Tywin for precisely who he was - the next king of the Seven. There were a host of guards that would accompany them to the Great Sept of Baelor. Even with his fearsome reputation, Tywin was a man that took no chances. He'd learned a hard lesson in trusting his daughter and would not make that mistake again.

Smiling at her husband, he merely tilted his head and asked, "Ready?"

Sansa nodded, and they were off, Tywin leading the way out of the lush courtyard of the Lannister mansion, with her at his side.

They were followed closely by Kevan, Tygett and Jaime, then Ned and Stannis, her uncle, the Blackfish and Lord Arryn. Even Oberyn joined their entourage, with Elia and Catelyn in the Lannister carriage.

The moment they left the secure confines of the mansion, Sansa realized what a spectacle this trial was. People were everywhere. The Lannister mansion was a far distance from the Sept, but the people didn't seem to mind. They lined the streets, a press of humanity wishing to see their new King and Queen.

It wasn't just about her and Tywin – it was what their alliance had done and the change they represented.

Sansa knew well enough that House Lannister and House Martell had played a minimal role in the rebellion. But Tywin wasn't about to let that minor detail hinder this moment he'd worked his entire life for.

Tywin's role in the rebellion was a moot point when the other options on the table were considered. Lord Arryn wasn't about to assume the kingship of a country, and neither were Ned Stark or Stannis Baratheon.

Which left only two options.

A baby, the infant Aegon Targaryen, his father's heir and the next in line for the Iron Throne – a legacy now tainted with the actions of his grandsire.

Or a man that had essentially run the realm for years when he'd been Aerys' Hand. A man that had more gold than the next few wealthiest houses combined. A man that had the solid backing of several regions.

The people were ready for something new. Something better.

The realm was finally ready for Tywin Lannister to be King.

As they cantered on the cobbled streets, Sansa knew there was no real contest as to whom the next King should be. Even Oberyn had bent the knee, albeit reluctantly, upon Aegon's High Hill that night they'd taken King's Landing.

But more importantly, more than the symbolic nature of their alliance members conceding the Throne to Tywin, Sansa knew that her husband was the only man truly capable of bringing both peace and prosperity back to Westeros.

Robert's time as King had been peaceful, yes, but only because the Lannister wealth had propped him up. The man had no genuine interest in ruling. He'd barely punished the Reach for their role in the rebellion. He held a plethora of tourneys and had overindulged in disorderly behaviour to the increasing disintegration of his marriage.

Robert had relied upon Jon Arryn to rule Westeros as his Hand, uncaring about the day-to-day matters in which the realm functioned. Matters like petitioners and food, taxation and minor disputes.

The crowds of people lining the streets only grew as they galloped up the main thoroughfare.

Sansa recalled her history, especially regarding House Lannister and their role in the history she knew so well. It was apropos, considering the steps that they were about to take. It wasn't just House Targaryen that had done damage to Westeros.

Jaime and Cersei's actions had devastating consequences on the realm – passing their child off as Robert's legitimate heir and setting in motion a devastating cascade of events men like Littlefinger had been able to take advantage of.

Sansa made no excuses for their poor choices.

But she also knew that Robert had done nothing to prepare the realm for the wars that they'd become embroiled in. The Wall had remained woefully undermanned. Robert had continued to send assassins after Viserys and Daenerys, giving the Targaryen supporters that remained a rallying point. He'd done nothing to rebuild the Royal Navy or encourage trade with Essos.

Robert had not brought about any reforms.

He'd not worked on taxation, sewage, building codes or the justice system. He had not encouraged arts or learning and had let orphans and widows suffer under his rule.

Sansa often wondered why Tywin had left Jaime as one of Robert's Kingsguard. They'd talked about it at length, and he had no answer for Sansa for why his other self had done so.

It was a baffling choice, especially when Tywin had two unmarried brothers in that other timeline that easily could have taken Jaime's place as a Kingsguard while Tywin whisked his heir back to the Rock. But none of that had happened.

How different the history Sansa knew would have been had Tywin done that. But now was not the time to discuss such matters, as they began their ascent up Visenys' Hill towards the Great Sept.

Sansa was grateful that she'd come to the stirring building with Elia a few days ago. She knew her face would have given away her wonder if she hadn't already gawked when she'd been here with her new friend.

They simply did not have buildings like this in modern times. Any of them. Not the Rock, nor the Great Sept or the Lannister mansion so named the Eastern Den.

As predicted the crowd gathered outside the Sept was formidable.

They were pressed against, even on their horses, as the people wanted a piece of them. The screaming of their names was near deafening.

Sansa had thought she'd been prepared for their adoration. She'd seen modern monarchs in far-off places in Essos on TV and had seen that idolization from the public.

It was a heady feeling, but it made her feel almost claustrophobic. She shot a troubled look to Tywin.

"Kevan! Tygett!" he snarled as her goodbrothers surged through the crowd and the Lannister guards tried to push the people back.

It was an impressive sight to watch the red cloaks with the golden lion form a protective wall as they climbed the stone steps to the entrance of the Sept of Baelor. Even here, the people pushed closer as Tywin swung his horse around, pushing them back. The look on his face was a sight to behold as his green-gold eyes flashed, and he snapped at his men to fall into formation. There were others there, from houses now loyal to Tywin interspersed with those from the West.

Sansa had barely brought her mare to a stop when she felt someone tugging at her leg. The crowd had surged, pushing against their guards.

Panic seized her.

"Tywin!" she cried before she was pulled from her horse into the hive.

Sansa felt hands reaching for her, tearing at her gown. She spun, trying to find purchase, but there were too many people, and she lost sight of Tywin and her mare.

People were tugging at her, and Sansa felt her gown rip as she tripped. Panic set in as the crowd pressed forward, eager to see her. Even though she knew they weren't there to harm her, their sheer numbers would crush her if she could not escape. It was a mob mentality.

The crowd was frenzied, wanting their pound of flesh from the Mad King and near-hysterical at seeing the new monarchs.

Her breath was coming in short pants as Sansa tried to get her bearings.

"TYWIN!" she screamed, but all she saw were leering faces that closed in on her.

The unmistakable sounds of a fight reached her ears, over the din of those calling her name, and she knew that her husband was coming for her.

"TYWIN HELP ME!" she cried again.

Thankfully, common sense prevailed, and some of the men that had been closing in on her were pushing the others back until Tywin was in front of her, and she was in his arms, being swung around and handed off to his brother.

"Get her inside. NOW!" Tywin roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he drew his sword, prepared to cut down anyone who disobeyed him.

Sansa craned her neck to watch him take control of the unruly crowd as he began to bark out orders to allow them to enter the Sept safely, the crowd finally coming under control due to the surge of men loyal to their new King.

Sansa had no idea how the carriage holding Elia and Catelyn had fared in the crush of people.

She was sandwiched between two impressive men, Kevan, her goodbrother and Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight loyal to Ned, who all but marched her into the Sept, practically sprinting to get her away from the amped-up crowd.

Sansa didn't complain even when they held her arms hard enough to leave a bruise. She knew that the crowd wasn't hostile towards her, but the emotions emanating from the people were dangerous.

Once they reached the top stairs into the Sept, more guards fell in around them, and Sansa dug in her heels, needing to know that Tywin was safe.

"Stop," she cried, disliking how distressed she sounded. Kevan's hand tightened on her as he tried to get her closer to the safety of the Sept.

Sansa knew she was not acting like a Queen but instead like a hysterical woman concerned about the man she loved. So be it. That was what she was.

"Sansa, we have to get you further inside, where we can protect you," Kevan snapped at her, his concern with the rapidly escaping situation evident.

"But Tywin—" her worry evident.

She kept glancing behind her, hoping to see Tywin's reassuring form striding toward her. But he wasn't there, and Sansa worried.

"Tywin can take care of himself. He has Jaime and Tygett at his side, and dozens of men loyal to our House. Trust me when I say he will join you shortly."

Kevan's voice was harsher than Sansa had ever heard it, and while she was desperately worried, something about the way these two men were looking at her had Sansa nodding her head and listening to them. Once they were inside the massive doors of the Sept, more men hurried to guard her while Kevan cast his worried glance at the crowd.

"I will go and find the King," Jorah said, and Sansa nodded her head, not even caring if she was putting the man in danger. She needed to know that Tywin was safe.

Sansa refused to move from the grand entryway not noticing the soaring marble columns or the truly jaw-drawing glass mosaics that the Sept was known for.

She knew her reaction was over the top. Blame it on the pregnancy hormones that were raging through her body or the sheer magnitude of the moment, but she couldn't get herself under control. Not until she saw Tywin.

Sansa paced, her hands on her pregnant stomach as she waited for her husband to enter the Sept. She appreciated that Kevan didn't say anything – didn't try to appease her. He just let her walk off her worry as she wrung her hands and waited until finally, a commotion near the massive doors drew her attention.

Those closest to Sansa were there, but she had eyes only for the man they called the Great Lion.

He strode in, purposefully, those green-gold eyes scanning the cavernous room for her. Her breath hitched as she unabashedly gazed at him. His armour still shone, reflected through the stained-glass windows that ringed the seven-sided Sept. It was as if the gods themselves were smiling upon him.

He looked like a King, Sansa thought.

This was his destiny. This was the path his life should have taken. No matter if Sansa had ever come back in time, Tywin had always been the right man to rule the Seven Kingdoms.

Without a second thought, Sansa was running towards him, uncaring about the spectacle she was creating.

He kept striding towards her until she was in Tywin's arms, where she belonged.

His deep voice reassured her that he was fine as his hand stroked down her back, offering her his safety and protection.

"And you? Did those heathens hurt you?" he asked.

Sansa shook her head.

"No. I was shaken up, but I am fine."

Tywin grimaced and pressed his lips to her forehead. She knew she was dishevelled, that her gown was torn and her hair askew. She was no longer the perfectly presentable Queen she'd been when she left the Lannister mansion. The others crowded close as Tywin finally let her go. Catelyn and Elia both tsked at her state and hurried to put her to rights.

Sansa was still shaken from her encounter with the crowd, but she would not let it prevent her from attending the trial. Whether she was needed or not, she would be the wife, the Queen that Tywin required. Squaring her shoulders, thanking Elia and Cat for their help, Sansa walked back towards her husband.

He watched he approach, approval in his eyes when he noted her determination.

"Are you sure?" he asked, quietly so only she could hear.

"Yes."

Sansa was proud of how her voice did not shake. She knew that this would be unpleasant. But she wasn't a coward, and she was proud of the role she'd played, no matter how minor, in the capture of Aerys and holding him to account for what he had done.

Tywin squeezed her hand and then stepped away, giving his last-minute instructions for their entrance. As with everything Tywin did, this would be purposeful. Sansa would walk in beside Tywin, the last two to enter the inside of the Great Sept.

The inner sanctum of the Sept was packed, with five hundred of the very upper echelon of Westeros that were currently in King's Landing present. It was a veritable who's who of noblemen and women from the Seven.

Elia and Oberyn entered first, followed by Lord and Lady Stark.

Then Stannis Baratheon and Jon Arryn.

And finally, Jaime, Tygett and Kevan.

Today, Jaime wore his golden armour and his white Kingsguard cloak. Sansa's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her, clutching at Tywin's vambrace, her heart steadying when she spotted his wedding ring.

There wasn't a single place where her eyes landed in which Sansa saw anything modern. It was as if she had been dropped in a period drama and didn't know her lines. Every single eye was on them as Tywin commanded the room, seemingly comfortable in such a setting.

The historian in Sansa was wide-eyed as she took in her surroundings.

"Breath," Tywin whispered out of the side of his mouth.

Sansa barely moved her head but took his advice and sucked in a deep breath, feeling herself steady.

She could do this.

She could be the wife Tywin needed and the Queen the realm deserved.

They paused at the stage that had been constructed inside the center of the Sept, and Tywin kissed her hard in front of the entire realm, making a statement.

Sansa pressed herself against Tywin, giving herself over to this moment when he publicly declared her to be his heart.

Around her, perched on tiered benches, the lords and ladies of the realm got their first glimpse of the love that the Great Lion had for his Tully bride.

"You are my great love," Tywin murmured against her lips and then gently guided her towards Elia and Catelyn. Sansa reached for their hands and was grateful when both women linked hands with her as she took her seat.

Her eyes were locked on Tywin, who strode purposefully up the few steps and towards one of four chairs on the dais. Jaime took up a position behind Tywin, a lone guard. The others took seats on benches behind Sansa, so she was surrounded by those that cared for her and would protect her. There was a small box in which Aerys would be placed and another for the witnesses to tell their stories.

There was movement behind Tywin, through another door, as the five hundred people in the Sept gasped as Ser Barristan Selmy entered the Sept to stand beside Jaime. He was moving slowly and grimaced in pain, but he wore the same cloak as Jaime did to signify his role as a member of the Kingsguard.

Barristan's presence for the trial was imperative.

First, Sansa knew the man had to hear the crimes that Aerys had committed. Barristan was a man that believed in the vows that he had taken. He would never break those vows – even if he disagreed with his King. But Aerys had been removed from power and was no longer the King of the Seven. Sansa believed that there was a strong moral code in Barristan that would not stand for what Aerys had attempted to do.

Secondly, if Aerys were to demand a trial by combat, Jaime and Ser Selmy were the only two men eligible to fight for him.

Having Barristan bear witness to the entire proceedings was necessary.

The hushed whispers in the Sept died as Tywin turned to face the assembled lords, and then with a single nod, the doors opened, and Aerys was escorted inside the Sept, the chains on his thin frame jangling in a jarring manner that sent chills down her spine.

Sansa couldn't help the shocked gasp when she spotted the former King.

Physically the man was revolting. He was thin and dirty, his white hair unwashed and unkempt. He had long fingernails that hadn't been trimmed in years and a light layer of greying fuzz on his face. He was barely older than Tywin, only a few years, and yet where her husband was the picture of health and vitality, Aerys looked worn and old.

Even knowing what this man had done to Tywin, knowing what he'd been planning to do to all these innocent people, there was a single moment where Sansa felt a flash of sympathy for the man. He looked so downtrodden and beaten, his entire legacy coming apart before him. He was in pain, and Sansa remembered how Tywin had 'relieved' Aerys of his cock.

Like everyone else in the Sept, Sansa could not take her eyes off the former King.

Her sympathetic feelings lasted only a moment, though, for she saw when Aerys' eyes found Tywin's and that cruel, malicious smile that lit his face, turning him from a pathetic middle-aged man into someone genuinely monstrous.

How many people could honestly say that they'd been in the presence of pure evil?

Not many, Sansa thought, a shiver running down her spine. Her stomach knotted into something painful as she took a steadying breath, and the Mad King's gazed landed upon her.

"Ahhh, there she is. The young beauty that has stolen the Great Lion's heart. Ripe with his seed, I would cut that abomination from your womb and seed that belly with a proper heir!" the man snarled, the hatred for Tywin and, by extension, her almost visceral.

Those present let out shocked gasps and discontented murmurs. There had to be more than a few Targ supporters in the crowd, though they knew the time of the dragon was almost done.

Outwardly, Sansa did not react. She merely notched her chin in defiance to this despicable man.

Inside? Everything in her revolted, and she wanted to be sick.

How did Tywin stand knowing that his one-time friend had raped his wife? How had Tywin borne it?

"SILENCE HIM!" Tywin roared, and a coarse gag was fitted around Aerys' mouth.

The man bit and snarled, spat and gnashed at the men who held him before he was roughly pushed into his seat, facing Tywin. The man's eyes burned with undisguised hatred for the Golden Lion. To his credit, Tywin did not turn away nor flinch as he confronted a man that had haunted his nightmares and brought him unimaginable pain.

Sansa could feel the shift in energy in the room – the almost hunger they had to watch the drama unfold. A King on trial was almost unheard of in Westeros.

When the room had quieted again, Tywin finally spoke, commanding the room.

That voice that Sansa loved rang out for all to hear. It was like a show or a play. Only its consequences were very real and quite deadly. Sansa sat ramrod straight, taking in everything.

"We have gathered here today to hold Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, to account for the crimes he committed; the murder of one thousand innocent people inside the Red Keep, who could not escape when the man and his pyromancers lit the Great Hall on fire. The deaths of Lord Rickard Stark, Brandon Stark and two hundred of their bannerman when they rode to the defence of the kidnapped Lyanna Stark. And the denial of a fair trial by combat when Lord Stark demanded one."

Tywin paused, and Sansa saw him gather himself. It was a tiny, subtle tell which only she and perhaps Kevan knew. His eyes narrowed.

"There are other … vile acts the King committed, but those are not why were are here today."

It was the closest Tywin had ever come publicly admitting what Aerys had done to Joanna, and Sansa saw Jaime flinch, not quite as adept at hiding his feelings as the eldest Lannister was.

"The time of the dragon is done," he announced without preamble.

Many looked to Aerys, whose eyes were locked on Tywin's. The abhorrence was unmistakable.

"When King Aerys cravenly killed Lord Stark, he ignited the hated that had been simmering below the surface, exposing the rotten core of his reign. The rebellion, led by brave men like Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Eddard Stark, prevailed at the Trident, striking down Prince Rhaegar. At the same time, Prince Oberyn Martell liberated Storm's End and marched with Lord Stannis to the capital to free the people from the tyrannical rule of Aerys the Mad!" Tywin roared.

A huge cheer went up in the Sept, and Sansa glanced around, seeing the slightly stunned looks on the faces of men like Ned Stark, Jon Arryn, Stannis Baratheon and Oberyn Martell. They had not expected to be so publicly praised. Sansa was inordinately pleased with Tywin's tactics. He made his rule seem far less like a Lannister victory and more like the entire realm, save for a few regions, had banded together to oust a corrupt and vicious ruler.

"Our alliance is strong, with members pledged from Houses Martell, Arryn, Stark, Tully and Baratheon. With this victory, change is upon us."

At this, the nervous whispers began again. Tywin's reputation proceeded him, and those here knew that whatever Tywin decreed would come to pass.

"There will no longer be the option to take the Black when a nobleman is accused of a crime," Tywin stated, voice implacable.

The din of voices behind Sansa increased.

Tywin continued to speak, finding his groove. Sansa was mesmerized by him. This was the man she always knew he could be.

"For far too long, the defence of the Wall has been treated as an after-thought by those in the South. Only the worst of our criminals occupy the once prestigious ranks of the Night's Watch. These are the men that guard us against the others, from the Wildlings, from the monsters that lurk in the Lands of Always Winter."

Sansa glanced to Ned, who looked shocked but pleased with what Tywin was saying. Other lords from the North looked gobsmacked.

"The Night's Watch needs reform. The North needs to be strong. The best and the brightest should train at the Wall, and from this day forward, no man shall earn a knighthood in the Seven until he has served two years at the Wall. Gone are the days when we neglect our duty to keep all of Westeros safe!" Tywin roared.

To a man, those in the Sept rose to their feet, clapping and cheering his name, led by Ned Stark and others from the North. The commitment that Tywin had just made was unheard of, and Sansa dashed away the tears that pricked her eyes, proud of her husband.

He soaked in the moment, as he well should, now a hero in many minds of those before him. He once again placed himself in the role of protector and saviour, and Sansa knew that would pay dividends for years to come.

"Is he serious, sister?" Catelyn asked, looking at Sansa.

Sansa nodded and squeezed Catelyn's hand.

"He is. The North needs to be strong, and we are in an alliance with that region."

Sansa saw how pleased Catelyn was. For far too long, those in the South had neglected those in the North. Sansa knew it had as much to do with the differences between the regions as it did with a deliberate policy of neglect. The North was vast, resource-rich, yes, but sparsely populated. It had been easier to leave those in the North to their own devices, something neither Sansa nor Tywin was willing to do.

When they had quieted, Tywin gazed at those before him.

"Our judges today are three men who I have the utmost confidence in to render a just verdict. They represent the houses that House Targaryen most egregiously harmed. Lords Stark, Arryn and Martell, take your place as the trial is about to begin."

Tywin turned and took his seat, apart from the others, Barristan and Jaime flanking him. Sansa caught Jaime's eye and gave him a wink and a smile, pleased when he winked back.

After the three judges had taken their seats, they called their first witness – Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers. The man glided in, looking hardly any worse for wear in his elegant silk robes and proceeded to tell those gathered about the plans of Aerys with his wildfire plot.

"And why would he do such a thing?" Oberyn asked, clearly perplexed.

Varys coughed and refused to look at Aerys.

"He believes himself immune to fire. That with such an action, he would have cleansed King's Landing of those that were traitors to him and been reborn as the dragon he is."

Both Ned and Jon shook their heads, clearly thinking the man was mad.

There were other stories Varys shared – stories of torture and fire and death each painting a more gruesome picture by the second of what life was like under the reign of the Mad King. When the eunuch described Lord Stark's demand for a trial by combat, he did so in vivid detail, explaining how Aerys had named fire as his champion.

"In your estimation, Lord Varys, was this a fair fight?" Jon Arryn managed to ask, clearly disturbed the Varys' account.

Varys immediately shook his head.

"No, My Lord."

Varys paused and now looked to Aerys, who was vibrating in rage.

"Lord Rickard Stark was dressed in his armour when he was brought to the throne room to demand his trial, as was his right. Aerys immediately named fire as the champion of House Targaryen. The King declared that to prove his innocence, and all Rickard had to do was not burn."

There were outraged gasps in the Sept.

"Go on," Ned demanded, voice raspy and pained, his eyes dark pools of hatred.

Varys swallowed hard and nodded.

"Aerys had Rickard suspended from the rafters while a fire was lit beneath him. Rickard cooked in his armour as his cloak burned away, and his armour melted in the heat. Lord Brandon Stark was – well, it was a clever invention. He hung himself in an attempt to free his father. In the end, both Starks were dead, and Aerys refused to send their bodies back to Winterfell for a proper burial."

"MURDERER!" Ned cried, rising to his feet, emotions overcoming him as he heard a first-hand account about his father and brother's death. Sansa was openly crying now, unashamed of the tears coursing down her wet cheeks, the pain Ned was feeling visceral.

Sansa couldn't imagine the fear that Elia had felt living under the thumb of such a monstrous man. She turned to her new friend, who looked sadden by the events that Varys had recounted and determined to have her say.

"You are courageous to have survived living here," Sansa said softly to her.

Elia's lips quirked, and she squeezed Sansa's hand.

"Together, we shall make this realm a better place for our children."

That was one vow Sansa could easily make, and she nodded at Elia before turning her attention back to the dais at the front.

Barristan and Jaime both looked sickened at the recounting of the deaths of two noble-born men in such a hideous way.

It was Tywin and surprisingly Oberyn that calmed Ned down, both men placing a hand on Ned's chest, reassuring him that he would have his justice.

Varys was excused, escorted away from the Sept and back to the cell holding him, his fate yet to be determined.

Next, they called Grand Maester Pycelle to the stand, though Sansa knew in this time, it wasn't called that. She couldn't help but let some of her modern vocabularies slip into her mind as her eyes studied the Grand Maester. This was a man that was loyal to her husband and a helpful ally, but Sansa was unsure about him. He was already quite elderly, and she knew that Pycelle would do anything to save his own neck, which made him a dubious ally in Sansa's mind.

She much preferred Oberyn's up-front questioning than Pycelle's simpering and conciliating.

Still, the tale that Pycelle wove, especially as he'd served a Targaryen king before Aerys, was a compelling one. It was a story of paranoia and cruelty, all tinged with the madness their house was known for.

The Targs were the poster children for why in-breeding was not a good idea, Sansa thought, somewhat snidely. Pycelle confirmed that Aerys' pyromancers had been working on large quantities of wildfire and that more than once, Pycelle had heard the King threaten to burn the capital to the ground.

"We thought it was a metaphor," Pycelle said, shrugging his shoulders as if to absolve himself of any complicity in the matter.

"A metaphor?" Ned snarked, sneering at the Maester. "My gods, man, what more did he have to do to convince you of his insanity?"

There was no good answer to that question, and Tywin glowered at the man he'd considered his for the past twenty years.

After Pycelle, various servants boldly wished to add their testimony to the growing case against Aerys Targaryen. Men and women who had loyally served his house for generations but whom had suffered when Aerys had given the command to light the Red Keep on fire.

Sansa heard more than one woman in the crowd openly weeping when a mother described how both her children burned to death while she had been in the kitchens, away from the fire and unable to get to them in time. Kevan rushed forward to escort the sobbing, near incoherent mother from the witness stand, and there was a shift in the atmosphere inside the Sept.

The anger towards Aerys was growing.

"Princess Elia, it is your turn," Tywin announced, his voice somehow holding a note of respect and compassion for the dark-haired woman. It was evident that Tywin cared for the woman.

Elia let go of Sansa's hand and rose and was offered an arm by Tygett himself.

Sansa was close enough to them to hear her goodbrother lean into Elia and murmured, "I'll be fucking damned if any man touches you but me."

A blush-stained Elia's cheeks as she smiled at her lion protector and rested her hand on his arm, thanking him for helping her to the witness box.

Upon spotting Elia, Aerys began to squirm. The cloth still had not been removed from his mouth, and Sansa could feel the man's disdain for Elia though he said not a word. Sansa wondered if the man thought that Elia had turned traitor. After all, she had escaped King's Landing before the man put his plans into motion.

Had he heard that she'd given birth to a son?

Did he know the affection that Elia and Tygett shared for one another?

While the testimony of the others had been damning, Elia's was chilling. She recounted the hellish place that the King had made King's Landing for her and how miserable she'd been living here, along with the fear that his own wife had for him. Her testimony did not center around the King's plans for the wildfire plot, but no one interrupted the princess as she spoke of the growing darkness in the capital.

"When Ser Jaime told me what the King was planning, that he wished us all to burn, I took my chance to escape with him. The only reason I am alive, that my children are alive, is because of the bravery of Ser Jaime. He fought off the men that the King sent to murder my children and me and brought me safely back to my family."

Elia paused and swallowed hard.

"Ser Jaime is a hero, as are those brave men that fought in the rebellion. Many more would have died had the King been able to enact his vile plots."

Aerys snarled through his rag, and the hate burning in his eyes for Elia was unmistakable. Oberyn's eyes darkened as he glared at the King, clearly ready to defend his sister. The Prince from Sunspear rose and thanked her for her testimony. Before Oberyn could escort Elia from the stand, Tygett was there.

She gratefully latched onto the large man's arm and retook her seat beside Sansa. Uncaring if her behaviour was improper, Sansa threw her arms around her new friend, who was shaking and hugged her hard.

"You are so brave," Sansa whispered into Elia's ear.

Though Sansa did not see, most thought her gesture sincere and kind-hearted, and they knew that this Queen would be different than the ones they'd had before. There was also a collective sigh of relief that Elia and Sansa appeared to be forming a solid friendship.

"Ser Jaime Lannister," Tywin called, indicating that it was his son's turn to testify.

The interest in Jaime was palpable. The man was gorgeous, single, and the most eligible man in the realm. His prowess with a sword was near-legendary, and he came from one of the most prominent houses in the kingdom.

And Elia had only added to his reputation by declaring him a hero.

Only because Sansa knew Jaime so well could she tell he was nervous. He didn't quite have the swagger and smirk that she knew he could wear with the ease that came from being a Lannister, but he wasn't going to show Aerys fear.

Disgust. Anger. Loathing.

All those emotions were present as Jaime's bright green eyes cooled considerably when he took his place in the witness box.

Lord Arryn questioned Jaime, asking about the events that had transpired to leave Jaime, the youngest member of the Kingsguard, as the only member guarding the King.

Sansa had only told Tywin about Lyanna and where she was, so Jaime told the truth when he spoke of the other Kingsguards, Hightower, Dayne and Whent, being sent away by Prince Rhaegar while Selmy and Martell rode with Rhaegar to the Trident.

"Do you know where my sister is?" Ned asked, interrupting Jaime.

Jaime met Ned's eyes and shook his head.

"No, My Lord, I do not. I was ordered to remain here, and there were many times when I was not given a reason for my orders. I was told ---"

Jaime paused and looked to Selmy and then to Aerys.

Jaime coughed.

"I was told early on that as distasteful as the job of a Kingsguard might be, my role was to guard the King. To keep the King safe. No matter who he might hurt."

It was clear that Jaime did not agree with such orders.

Oberyn leaned forward as the entire Sept waited on bated breath for the next part of Jaime's story.

"When did you become aware of the wildfire plot?"

Jaime paled and looked at Aerys.

"When Lord Qarlton Chelsted, Hand to the King, became suspicious about the frequency in which the pyromancers visited the King, he investigated and discovered the wildfire plot. I overheard part of his argument with the King. Lord Chelsted resigned as Hand, but Aerys had him arrested and burned alive. That was when I knew I had to escape. That if I had any chance of stopping this … madness and saving the people, I had to get to my father. I needed his army."

"And Princess Elia?" Oberyn pressed.

"She and her daughter were also innocents, Prince Oberyn. When the King sent Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys to Dragonstone for safety, protected by Ser Willem Darry, Aerys refused to send Elia with them."

Jaime frowned and shook his head.

"He was keeping them as hostages so that Dorne would not attack that capital. The same as he did with me and House Lannister."

"Surely you had to know she would slow you down," Oberyn scoffed. "A woman, nearly eight months gone and a small child."

Jaime grinned then, easy and happy.

"She was amazing. Princess Elia never complained, and neither did little Rhaenys. No matter how hard I pushed them, they just followed my orders. Even when the King's men attacked me, Elia listened to me and protected her daughter."

"You took vows, Ser Jaime. Vows to guard a King. You broke those vows when you left him to ride for the Rock and gather your father and his army," Lord Arryn said.

Sansa bit her lip, wondering how Jaime might respond. He contemplated the words and gave a slow nod.

"Aye, you're right, Lord Arryn. I broke my vows. For that, I am an oath breaker. But the King broke his vow as well. He was supposed to keep us safe. Bring peace and prosperity to the lands. Treat his people well and love his wife and children. He wasn't supposed to rape his Queen or threatened his good daughter. He wasn't supposed to concoct plots to murder half a million people – innocent people – in their beds while they slept. Women. Children. Old men."

Frustrated now, Jaime rose, glaring at Jon Arryn.

"Aye, I'm an oath breaker, and that is a title I will wear proudly, for if that is what people wish to call me, do so knowing I did it to save the lives of innocents."

There were astonished looks on the faces of those present, and Jaime turned to the crowd.

He was truly his father's son, Sansa thought, seizing the moment to own his destiny.

"Do any of you here know what the vows of a knight are?" Jaime called voice carrying, an edge there. He was upset and willing to defend his choices. Sansa was so proud of him – that he had this moment to speak about why he'd done what he did.

It was Barristan Selmy that answered. His voice was strong.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave."

Jaime turned back to lock eyes with Selmy as he spoke the following line.

"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just."

"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent."

Everyone was captivated by the two men in the white cloaks as they repeated the vows of a knight.

"In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women."

There was silence in the Sept, and more than one person wiped away a tear.

Jaime turned back to Lord Arryn.

"I broke my vow to a Mad King, but I upheld my vows to something greater – to the knighthood that I cherish. I vowed to protect the weak and the innocent, and that is what I did, Lord Arryn. And I will not apologize for the choices I made. I would make them again and again if it meant keeping the people safe."

There was a thundering of applause as the crowd chanted Jaime's name in the Sept. The pride on Tywin's face was evident as Jaime left the box where he'd testified and strode back up the steps, where uncaring what anyone thought, Tywin warmly embraced his son.

When the Sept had quieted, Tywin cupped Jaime's face in his hands.

"My son. A true hero," Tywin's voice rasped, but everyone heard him.

They stood like that for a moment until Jaime finally stepped back and took his spot, once again guarding his father. With that, Tywin gestured to the last remaining witness.

"Ser Barristan, if you will."

It wasn't an invitation but an order. Elia frowned at the man, and Sansa leaned it.

"What's wrong?"

She sighed.

"He never liked me. He thought I was too weak to be the wife of the future King."

Her nose wrinkled adorably, and Sansa caught Tygett's scowl.

"Fool," the man muttered, earning him an endearing smile from Elia.

The two of them were so adorable that Sansa just wanted to smush them together.

"Well, I don't think that will be a problem with your next husband," Sansa said and jerked her head towards Tygett, who was staring at Elia.

The woman from Dorne blushed and then giggled and leaned into Sansa.

"They are so intense, these Lannister men, are they not?"

"Oh yes," Sansa said, a bit dreamily. She often enjoyed Tywin's intenseness.

"In my humble opinion, a woman that a Lannister man loves is a fortunate woman indeed."

Sansa cocked her head and then turned to her sister.

"Although I believe the same can be said for Starks. Lord Stark dotes on you, sister."

Catelyn gave the nod and rested her hands on her swelled stomach.

"He does. My marriage has far exceeded my expectations."

Pleased for both her friends, Sansa turned back towards the questioning of Ser Barristan Selmy.

He looked far older than his forty-seven years was Sansa's first thought.

Though only a few years older than her husband, the differences between the two men were pronounced. There was a tiredness and resignation to Barristan that Sansa had not been prepared for as if the incriminating testimony of those that had gone before him had somehow damned him as well

Sansa had taken an upper-level seminar that was wholly dedicated to the concept of knighthood and knew this was a complex issue.

Perhaps more than anyone, she understood both Jaime and Barristan's actions.

She comprehended why one Kingsguard, less jaded and far younger, might hold the vows he'd sworn to the order of knighthood as far more sacred than those he'd sworn to a Mad King.

Conversely, Sansa knew that the entire Kingsguard order was predicated on the unassailable fact that these men were sworn to protect the King above all else.

It was a tangled, murky mess and Sansa wholeheartedly agreed with Tywin's plan to abolish the entire order.

In modern times, merely 'following orders' was not a defence that stood up in court. People had a moral and legal obligation to do what was right – no matter what they were ordered to do by a superior.

But that type of thinking and legal code was hundreds of years away. She was living in a feudal society with its own laws, morals, and standards.

"Before you left for the Trident, did you know about the wildfire plot?" Oberyn asked.

Barristan shook his head.

"No."

"But you did know that the King was becoming more unstable by the day?"

Barristan squirmed, clearly uncomfortable with this line of questioning, refusing to answer. But it was evident what Barristan thought.

"Tell me, did you not find it odd that the only member of such an elite order that would be ordered to stay behind to guard the King himself was the youngest?" Jon asked.

"It is not my place to question ---"

"Liar," Tywin interrupted, his voice whip sharp.

Barristan's eyes narrowed as they locked on the Great Lion's.

"Begging your pardon?"

"I called you a liar, Ser Barristan. In my time as Hand, I heard you more than once give your opinion to the King. You might not have been the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but you were one of its most senior members. Surely if you had argued against Ser Jaime staying in King's Landing, Prince Rhaegar would have listened to you."

Sansa sucked in a breath as the two men engaged in some silent battle of wills.

"I ask you again, Ser Barristan, why was Jaime Lannister of all people left with the King?" Oberyn asked, his silky voice smooth.

The silence in the Sept stretched.

"Answer him!" Tywin roared. "Tell me why my son was left here to guard a King that wished to burn everyone in the capital to a crisp!"

"Because he was expendable!" Barristan snarled back, coming to his feet.

For a moment, Tywin looked stunned before the fury took over.

"Expendable? He is the heir to Casterly Rock!"

Barristan shook his head.

"He was not. Not anymore. Not since he took those vows. You and I both know what the Mad King took from you. We knew, all of us, the Kingsguard, knew that Aerys was spinning out of control. I think even Rhaegar knew it. But what could any of us do? The Rebellion hung in the balance. Neither Dorne nor the Westerlands had declared for a side. We knew if we left Jaime here, that you would come for him, Lord Tywin. So, we made a choice. Leave Ser Jaime here to guard the King, and hope that you would honour your alliance to your one-time friend."

Barristan paused, breathing heavily, all those in the realm riveted to his testimony.

"None of us foresaw anything like this. Not the wildfire. Not you joining forces with Dorne. Not the liberation of King's Landing and certainly not Ser Jaime abandoning his duty to rescue Princess Elia and her child."

Tywin's jaw tightened as his fist flexed.

Barristan shrugged.

"It was a gamble. If the siege at Storm's End had been successful, if Rhaegar had killed Robert first, if you had honoured your vow to House Targaryen, none of us would be sitting here today discussing these matters."

"Because the city would be in ruins, you daft fool!" Ned snarked, shaking his head.

Barristan straightened. "He is my King ----"

"He is a murdered and a rapist, and you dishonour not only your vows but the vows of all knights before you by putting your vow to him above the vows you made to protect the innocent. You disgust me," Tywin said, shaming Barristan publicly.

"I did not break my vows, which is more than I can say for your son!" Barristan spat.

Tywin took a step forward, menacingly looming over the witness box.

"My son is worth ten you, Selmy. Never forget that."

With that, Barristan was dismissed, and the time for the judgement was upon them. Aerys had finally been relieved of the cloth that was wrapped around his head and began to spew vile insults at anyone who was near, sending the entire Sept into a frenzy.

"QUIET!" Tywin roared when Kevan managed to place the tip of his sword at the carotid artery in Aerys' neck.

"One wrong move and you're dead," Kevan snarked, and Aerys finally quieted, though the loathing and hatred radiating off the man was palpable.

"You have heard the charges against you, Aerys Targaryen, Second of his Name. How do you plead?" Tywin asked his former friend.

"I do not answer to any of you! I am the King, and this entire trial was a farce!" he spat, shaking his head. "I knew my enemies wanted me dead, and here is the proof."

Tywin scoffed.

"We shall turn your fate over to the judges. If they find you guilty, you will be executed immediately by ---"

Tywin didn't even finish his sentence before a cruel smile lit Aerys' face.

"I demand a trial by combat!"

The gasps were heard throughout the Sept, while those in their alliance grimaced, having prepared for such a contingency.

Even though they had been prepared for such a request, the nerves in Sansa's stomach danced precariously. Everything hinged on Jaime now. Sansa focused on Tywin, wondering how he might handle such a request.

Tywin's eyes glittered as his jaw flexed and his hands balled into fists.

Aerys cowed in triumphant.

Slowly Tywin nodded. "That is your right, and so I will grant you the trial you so desperately demand."

Aerys opened his mouth, but Tywin pushed forward, giving the man no time to speak.

"As stated by the law, when a member of the Royal Family is involved in such a matter, the member of said family must name a member of the Kingsguard as their champion. As the person who brought you up on these charges, it is my right to demand that you must pick from a member of the guard that is already here, in King's Landing."

"I choose Ser Ja---"

"The champion for the Crown will be Ser Jaime Lannister," Tywin interrupted, speaking over Aerys.

Aerys paled and stuttered and shook his head. No one could miss that Barristan was not in top form.

"Which means that your champion is Ser Barristan Selmy," Tywin finished with a sneer.

"YOU BASTARD!" Aerys roared, spittle flying from his mouth, his head jerking as he tried to wriggle free of his bonds.

"Secure him!" Tywin demanded as the entire Sept had erupted in whispered murmurs.

Sansa knew that for many here, it was the spectacle of the event that had them tittering about, but for her, this was her family. This Mad King had hurt people she loved, and she wanted to see him pay.

"Quiet!" Tywin roared, and to a person, those inside the Sept listened to the Great Lion.

Tywin stepped closer to the edge of the dais; his eyes full of loathing. He towered over Aerys, who, for the first time, almost cowered beneath the hatred radiating from his one-time friend.

"I wish I could take you apart, piece by piece. Inflict the pain on you that you did so with countless others. But I will follow the rules. I will not place myself above the law. I will give you a choice, which is more than you gave Lord Stark."

Aerys snarled, "What riddle do you speak of? You've given me a lame champion."

Tywin nodded.

"It is the right of the Crown to name their champion first. You know this as well as I do. So, you may take your chances with Ser Selmy, or ---"

"Or what?"

Tywin's smile was sinister and calculating, and Sansa knew why this man she had married was called the most powerful in the realm. That power radiated from him at this moment. This was a man willing to do horrible things, all for the good of his name and his house.

"Or I will give you the champion that you gave Lord Stark. I will build a pyre and set it alight and strap you to a pole. All you have to do to prove your innocence is not burn."

Sansa's eyes widened, and her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest. Around her, the crowd reacted, liking the poetic justice of the Great Lion's solution. Tywin had not even told her of his plans, for surely, he'd thought this up before he'd even entered the Sept.

Aerys paled, and Tywin swivelled his head between the judges, who looked oddly satisfied with such a pronouncement, although Ned was frowning.

"Perhaps we should ask the judges their opinion on the matter," Tywin said magnanimously, although everyone in the Sept knew that no one would dare defy him.

Jon was the first to give a slow nod. "Aye, it's a fitting punishment for what he did. I give my consent."

Oberyn shook his head and gave an appraising gaze to Tywin as he wagged a finger.

"I like you, lion. I didn't think I would. But you have a flair for the dramatic. I agree. Trial by fire for the Mad King."

All eyes landed on Ned, who took a moment and rose, crossing the dais to stand before Tywin, his giant sword, Ice, strapped to his side. When the two men were close, Ned stopped and glanced between the Mad King and Tywin.

"You told me I could have my pound of flesh. That for what he did to my father, my brother, I could take his head."

Tywin nodded.

"I did."

"In the North, we have a practice. The man that passes sentence is the one that swings the sword. We do not pass such distasteful tasks off to others. We take responsibility for those that we are charged with protecting."

"You are a good and honourable man, Lord Stark. Your men rode to your side when you called your banners. You fought bravely and true in the rebellion. If we were in the North, I could gladly hand Aerys over to you to take his head in the manner you hold so dear."

Tywin paused.

"But we are not in the North. I cannot deny the man what is his by all the rights of Westeros. A trial by combat will occur. He has demanded it. I trust that Ser Jaime will beat Ser Barristan, and should that be the case, then it will be you that takes the King's head. This I vow to you."

Ned held out his hand, and the two men clasped them together, forming a bond that would be talked about for years.

"I have heard that fire is a horrible way to die," Ned said, his voice pained, thinking of his father. Sansa dashed away a tear.

"I have heard that as well," Tywin said, empathy apparent.

Ned gave a final nod.

"Build the pyre, lion and bring the former King to it. Let us see if he can withstand the heat."

The cheer in the Sept was deafening as Aerys was dragged away, and Sansa was escorted towards Tywin along with Elia and Catelyn, guarded by Kevan and Tygett. When she got closer to Tywin, Sansa hesitated, unsure what the protocol might be. Thankfully, as was his way, Tywin knew she was there and reached out his hand for her, drawing her into the safety of his arms and tucking her against his side.

"How long?" she asked him, wondering what it took to have such a thing built and wondering too how she might handle seeing a man burn to death.

"Shortly," was his answer, which gave her all the information she needed. Tywin had foreseen this outcome, had hedged his bets and planned for it. He'd never intended for the fight between Jaime and Barristan to take place.

She felt his lips on her forehead as he guided her off to the side, giving them a moment of privacy.

Taking her hands in his, Sansa was ashamed to see that hers were shaking. Before Tywin could even speak, she was shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a mess. That was horrible. He's an awful, vile man."

Tywin's chest rumbled.

"He is, but you handled yourself well, Sansa. This was a monumental test for you, one in which you passed."

He tilted her chin.

"I am telling you the truth. I do not say things to placate you. This role that you've assumed will be a challenge – perhaps the greatest of your life. But I have complete confidence in you that you can do this."

She bobbed her head and then bit her lip.

"Would you like me by your side for the ----"

She wrinkled her nose. How did one describe what she was about to witness?

Once again, Sansa found herself in Tywin's safe embrace.

"No, my love. You do not have to bear witness to the death of the Mad King. Most will understand, as you are noticeably pregnant, and women are known to have far weaker constitutions than men."

Sansa rolled her eyes at Tywin and would have smacked him in the chest. He cupped her face in his hands, his green-gold eyes suddenly serious; all playfulness was gone.

"It is a gruesome way to die, Sansa. No one will fault you if you wish to go back to Eastern Den and await our arrival."

She worried her lip, knowing what Tywin said was true. Everything about this time seemed more gruesome than the world from which she came from. Sansa blew out a frustrated breath.

"I want to be a good wife to you," she began to say.

Tywin's reassurance was immediate and unquestionable.

"Sansa, you are the best wife to me. The only wife for me. So much of this is only possible because of you. I will not judge you if you do not wish to watch a man burn to death." Tywin paused. "Even if that man deserves such a punishment."

It was the fact that Tywin did not expect this of her that found Sansa by his side as they rode to the old dragon pit where the pyre had been assembled. As she'd suspected, Tywin must have planned this in advance, betting on such an outcome of the trial for the pyre was fully constructed.

Those at the Sept crowded into the ruined space, getting their clothes dirty and jockeying for position. Sansa knew it was something she would never understand – how corporal punishment was almost seen as entertainment to the masses in this time period. She was from a time when things like this might happen, but in far-off places that didn't touch her rarified world.

Everything about this felt wrong – except when she remembered what Aerys had done and the choice he had made. Thankfully, Tywin left her in the care of Kevan and Tygett while he took his place with the three judges. Commoners rang the top of the dragon pit, eager to see the death of a king.

It seemed so incongruous that something so brutal was about to take place on such a sunny and bright day. The sky was blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds, and if the press of people hadn't been so great, Sansa was sure she would have been able to hear the birds chirping and the sea crashing against the rocks of Blackwater Bay.

But now, the area was ripe with the energy of what was about to happen. Her stomach roiled, and she wondered if she should have begged off.

"It is no less than he deserves," Elia said quietly, with conviction.

Sansa turned to look at her new friend and saw something dark swirling in Elia's eyes.

"The man raped his wife. She screamed, begged him to stop, to be gentle and kind. But he never listened to her. He did the same with servants. Women. Girls. Anyone who caught his fancy. He mistreated them and liked to break them in and give them a taste of the dragon, he used to say. He took pleasure in watching people burn, their screams and their pain. Trust me when I tell you, he deserves this death. I hope it is painful and long."

Sansa swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise and merely nodded.

Never had it been more apparent than at this moment that she was not from this time. But there was no backing out, and she saw that Tywin was watching her, worried about her, as was his way.

She gave him a wan smile and a slight nod and then reached for her sister's hand. She was glad that Jaime hovered protectively around his father, the breeze picking up that white cloak every so often and swirling about his legs.

The crowd became more raucous when someone spotted Aerys. With him, the man's three pyromancers. They would not burn but instead hang for their role in the burning of King's Landing.

While Tywin had been the star of the trial, Ned Stark and Oberyn Martell had earned high honours for their performance.

Sansa stood, swaying slightly as the warm sun beat down in the late afternoon. The heat in King's Landing was different from that of Lannisport or the Rock. She was grateful for the slight breeze that kept her from getting too warm but still felt slightly nauseous as she watched the carriage containing the former king halt.

The men who escorted Aerys to the pyre were six, each representative from the houses that had fought in the rebellion on the winning side. Sansa kept her eyes on the scene that unfolded before her, still having a hard time reconciling what she was about to witness.

Aerys fought, feebly, as he was secured to the pole, the wood beneath him stacked strategically so he would burn from the souls of his feet upwards.

Not for the first time, Sansa realized that studying something for one's entire life did not do the reality of that situation justice. She was grateful when she felt Kevan at her back.

"Breathe deeply, sister and remember what this man did. The crimes he committed," Kevan whispered in her ear. She reached behind her and felt for Kevan's hand, grateful when he clasped hers in his larger one, a steadying presence.

Sansa nodded, unable to take her eyes off Tywin.

Her husband held his hands aloft as the massive crowd that had gathered quieted.

"Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, was charged with the unlawful murder of Lord Rickard Stark, Lord Brandon Stark and the deaths of over one thousand innocents in King's Landing when he tried to set the Red Keep on fire. Instead of facing judgement from the court, he asked for a trial by combat, which was granted."

A cheer so loud that it shook the ground roared through the crowd.

"His opponent? Fire!" Tywin roared, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

Sansa knew that this moment would go down in history – that people like her would be discussing it hundreds of years in the future.

Jaime lit the torch and handed it to Ned, who took it in his hands, a determined look on his grim face.

"Lord Eddard Stark heard how his father died. Now he will do the honours of seeing if the Dragon King can beat his opponent and earn his innocence."

Tywin nodded to Ned, who strode forward purposefully and scowled up at Aerys, who glared at Ned.

"For House Stark and the innocents you killed," Ned thundered and then touched his torch to the wood, which instantly lit.

The crowd, into it now, began to chant, Burn him alive.

Sansa did not flinch as she watched Aerys begin to squirm and shriek as the fire became hotter, and his flesh began to char and blister. Within moments it became apparent that Aerys was not immune to fire. Not that Sansa had thought he would be. The screams were almost inhuman, and her stomach roiled as Sansa squeezed Kevan's hand hard.

Sansa looked to Tywin and saw her husband grimace and wondered what he was thinking.

Did he think this a just revenge for what was done to his wife?

For Aerys' stealing' his heir when he named Jaime to the Kingsguard?

For what was done to the Starks?

Modern Westeros had outlawed capital punishment twenty years before Sansa was born. She was not used to this. She doubted very few from the modern world would be.

There was movement on the small stage where the three judges, Tywin, Jaime and Barristan, stood. The six men seemed to be conferring with one another as the flame licked ever higher on the pyre, greedily eating at the wood while they burned human flesh. No matter how much Aerys writhed and screamed, his torture was inescapable.

Sansa wondered if the smoke inhalation would kill him first, or would he merely pass out from the pain he was in?

She started when she saw Ser Jorah Mormont approach Ned, a bow in his hand with a single arrow.

"Oh," Sansa gasped, immediately understanding.

Tywin nodded regally, and then Ned notched his arrow, aimed, and let it fly.

Aerys death was instantaneous, and the crowd roared its approval.

Sansa was pleased to see that Tywin went to Ned immediately and drew the man into a warm embrace as Ned's shoulders shook. While this was happening, the three pyromancers were led to the nooses that swung in the warm breeze. She didn't look away, not once, as the hangman got them set and then pulled the lever, and the men swung, their necks breaking almost instantly.

Only when it was done, did she sway slightly, feeling dizzy and faint and wanting to be away from this gruesome place. Perhaps it made her weak, but she didn't much care.

There was still more to see, though.

Tywin once again took his place, all eyes upon him as he held up his hands one last time, and the crowd quieted. This day had belonged to him of that there was no doubt.

"The Mad King is dead. The age of the dragon is done!"

The roar of the people was ear-splitting, and even Sansa found herself captivated by the moment. Tywin had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand.

"The era of the lion and the alliance of the six is upon us. We shall not punish the children nor the grandchild of Aerys and Rhaegar. Tomorrow, at first light, Lord Stannis Baratheon and Ser Tygett Lannister will sail to Dragonstone to offer peaceable terms to Rhaella and her children."

There were nods of approval and murmured appreciation for Tywin's actions.

"That is not all. Another group, including Lord Stark, Prince Oberyn and Ser Kevan Lannister, will go to Dorne to rescue Lyanna Stark and return the three remaining Kingsguards to the capital."

That garnered stunned looks, that Tywin knew where the kidnapped Lyanna Stark was and that the missing men were guarding her. Knowing he had the room, so to speak, Tywin finished the day with his vision for the future clearly articulated.

"Tomorrow at first light, ravens will go out throughout the realm. In one month, there will be a coronation and a conclave in King's Landing. Men from every noble house will come and bend the knee and pledge their allegiance to House Lannister. Make no mistake. Reforms are coming! The Age of the Lion is upon us!"

The thundering of the crowd surged through Sansa's body, so she felt it to her very bones. In the midst of one of the most defining moments of his life, Tywin raised his eyes and found her. Their gazes locked, and everyone faded away as if they were the only two people in all of Westeros.

She slowly nodded, placed her hands on her stomach and then smiled at Tywin, proud of all he had accomplished and eager for all that was yet to come.