Chapter 6

The Present: March – Lannisport: Sansa

"Ms. Stark?" the voice on the other end was authoritative and almost dispassionate in its delivery. A bad feeling settled in Sansa's stomach.

"Yes?" Sansa's voice was shaking as she answered the call from an unknown number.

She'd just come from a lecture on the decline of House Lannister, in which the professor posited that the moment Tyrion killed his father, all had been lost for the great house from the west. Sansa had disagreed vehemently, thinking it all went back to King Aerys and his obsession with Joanna Lannister and his hatred of Tywin.

She'd been told her take was giving far too much credit to the Mad King and his impact on the house from the Westerlands, but Sansa had held firm in her position. The idea of Tyrion's death at a young age and the impact that would have on House Lannister had been a constant thought in Sansa's mind these past few months. Ever since her dream.

All in all, she had been feeling invigorated when they'd left class, with Marg and Pod shaking their heads at her.

Earlier, they had attended a class that was all about Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth's relationship.

Although not nearly as fascinating as his father, Sansa had a bit of a soft spot for the golden lion. He was, after all, Tywin's beloved son. And there were things in Jaime's history that Sansa felt made him truly tragic, including being labelled a Kingslayer and oathbreaker instead of being held up as the hero that he was. How different would his life had been had he not been so unfairly named?

Of course, he was as complex a character as any of them and had made some truly awful decisions in his life. But that was why Sansa loved studying this time period; there were such a plethora of diverse opinions on the subject matter, that it made the debates that happened in their master class genuinely exciting.

Now though, she was trying to concentrate on what the man on the other end of the phone was saying.

He cleared his throat and then began to speak, her heart-shattering.

"I'm a police officer, Ms. Stark, in Wintertown. It is about your father and your uncle."

Denial roared through her.

"No," she mumbled.

She'd spoken with her Dad this morning right before he and Uncle Ben had headed out to their family cabin to ice fish. Winter had held on in the North, its icy grip not lessening in March.

What was the saying? In like a lion and out like a lamb? They'd laughed as Sansa has wished them luck and then gone about her day. She glanced at her watch; Wintertown was three hours behind Lannisport so it was 10 am up North. What on earth could have possibly happened?

"I'm sorry to inform you, Ms. Stark, that there was an accident. It appears that a drunk driver was in a head-on collision with your father and your uncle. He t-boned your father's truck and it caused it to go over an embankment and into the lake below. By the time we got there, all we could do was recover the bodies."

Sansa collapsed onto the hard paving stones of the walkways of the university, unable to process the words that had just shattered her entire world.

"Sansa!" Marg cried out in alarm, sinking down beside her friend as Pod grabbed her phone. Sansa felt her stomach heave, while black spots danced in her eyes.

Her father was dead. Gone. Taken from her, like her mother and her brother. And Uncle Ben as well. She was all alone in this world!

She dry heaved but nothing came out as the world began to spin.

"What the fuck is going on?" came Bronn's harsh voice.

"I don't know. She got a phone call and just collapsed," Marg answered, transferring Sansa to Bronn's arms.

All three looked at Pod as he hung up and shook his head. He looked wrecked.

"It's her dad and her uncle."

"No," Marg said, shaking her head.

She bugged Sansa all the time about how close she was with both of them, but she was happy for her friend that she had such a loving if small family.

"Fucking hells," Bronn muttered, feeling for his girlfriend's best friend.

"Help me, Pod," he said, motioning for him to take her other side. Together they got her to Marg's SUV and loaded her inside.

"What do we do?"

"She can't be alone," Pod said, a determined look on his handsome face. "She's just lost her entire family. Bring her to my place."

"You're sure your roommate won't care?"

Pod shook his head. "No. He can be an ass, but he'll understand."

Sansa heard this all through a fog. The only thing that was on repeat in her brain were the words that her father was dead.

She was an orphan, she realized, somewhere between the third and the fifth glass of whiskey that they made her drink, trying to get her to talk to them.

Marg, Bronn, Pod and Pod's roommate, some huge guy named Sandor, hovered over her until she stood up, rushed to the bathroom and threw up the alcohol in her system. She appreciated what they were trying to do, but it was too much. When she went back out, she asked to be taken home. They argued she needed friends, and maybe they were right.

But in her little apartment, she had an old sweatshirt of her Dad's and his pictures. A book she'd taken with her at Christmas time from his library and her own bed. She wanted to crawl into a hole and cry until she was simply swept away, to follow her family to the beyond. They had all left her here, alone in this world. Finally, her friends relented and took her home.

When she had reassured Marg that she'd check in later, and hugged Pod, again, Sansa closed the door and collapsed against it, great heaving sobs, wracking her slim frame. She had ripped open a hangnail, so the blood from it seeped onto her lion ring. She wouldn't have recognized herself had she been able to see herself; the keening sobs were wrenched from the very depths of her soul. Her entire body shook as she attempted to gulp in air, her whole world crumbling, the grief so overwhelming she thought she might be crushed beneath it.

She had no idea how to live in this world without her father, and no idea if she even wanted to.

The Past: Casterly Rock – Tywin

The vision tonight was different than any he'd ever seen. He came upon Sansa in such a state that Tywin was worried she might physically harm herself. It was as if a thread connected them and he knew something catastrophic had happened to her, seeing her sobbing and tearing at her hair, her nails digging into her scalp as if the physical pain might mitigate the emotional pain she was experiencing.

He snarled that he was unable to do anything, to offer her any comfort, only able to be a voyeur in her most desperate time. Eventually, she crawled deeper into her home and pulled a blanket over her and grabbed a book.

She sobbed as she turned the pages, and whispered, "Daddy."

Fucking hells, Tywin thought, knowing what must have happened. He'd only seen and felt grief this deep once before in his life – when Joanna had shuddered out her last breath before life had left her. His heart, something he'd long thought dead, thumped painfully for what Sansa was going through. That first bite of grief was one that she would never forget, and even if he had been able to reach her, she was too lost in her own pain to even notice anyone else.

For some reason, tonight, the vision did not fade, and Tywin watched as she curled up on a piece of furniture, never bothering to make herself food, or light a candle. Instead, she wept in the dark, alone, as she clutched a book to her chest and mourned the man she loved most, all while Tywin was helpless to do anything to help her.

The next vision was at the same cemetery where Tywin had seen her before, only this time in the daylight. He had no idea why he was seeing her thusly, but she was standing before two large gaping holes, watching as caskets were about to be lowered into the frozen ground.

She was pale, thinner than he'd ever seen her, and alone. So achingly alone even as people surrounded her. Tywin saw her lay a red flower of some sort on the casket that was suspended above the open grave before she wobbled and was caught by the two men Tywin had seen with her that night when she'd worn that short, gold gown.

"I love you, Daddy. I love you Uncle Ben."

Her hand lingered on top of the gleaming wood, and Tywin knew what she was feeling even if she'd never admit it. She wished she could crawl inside with them, follow them to wherever they had gone. He knew that feeling all too well and had spent years wondering if he was simply too craven to follow his wife into the afterlife.

Both men? Tywin thought, shocked at such a loss for someone so young. Then he watched as they lowered the caskets into the frozen ground, and the crowd that had gathered dissipated until it was only her and her friends in the cemetery.

"Sansa, you need to come back down to Lannisport. We're worried about you."

She gave the woman, Marg, a wan smile.

"I know. I will."

"Have they given you any slack on completing assignments?"

"Yeah, Pod. They have."

Tywin could tell she didn't care in the least about assignments or what her friends thought. She was shattered, broken-hearted and grieving. And who could blame her? He wanted to yell at them to stop pestering her, that she was alone now and utterly destroyed.

"I'm fine, guys. I'll meet you back at the house. I just need some time by myself."

The three of them exchanged a look that clearly said they did not think she was fine at all, and then hugged her, reluctantly leaving her alone, with two yawning graves. The only thing left was to fill them, where the men she loved would forever be apart from her.

"Ms?"

She sniffled and looked at the two workers. "I need another moment."

They nodded and faded from Tywin's sight until she was all alone.

"I don't know how to do this, Daddy, not without you. You're never going to be there when I fall in love or go on my first date with my future husband. You won't be there when I get my master's degree, or when I get my first job teaching, following in your footsteps."

She sobbed and bit at her gloved hand, reaching for something that wasn't there.

"You're never going to meet my children or hear them call you Papa. You're not going to be there to walk me down the aisle to my future husband. And I feel so selfish because I know how much you love Mama and now you are with her. But it's just I'm all alone; there is no one left, Dad. And I'm so angry and so sad, and I have no idea how I'm ever going to be happy again."

Her slim frame was wracked with sobs again, and Tywin felt like she'd ripped a wound off his own grief for Joanna that he'd thought he'd long ago buried. He would kill someone, anyone if he could just reach out and comfort her.

But he could already feel her fading from his sight, the image of her collapsing to her knees, seared into his mind. So much so, that Tywin would think of little else for the next few months, as war raged, and his heart broke for a woman he would never know.

The Present: April – Lannisport - Sansa

Sansa faked a smile as Pod dropped down beside her in the café where they had agreed to meet to study for finals. Somehow, through her friends' tenacity and never giving up on her, and the sympathy from her professors, (and what Sansa suspected was a sizeable donation by Oleanna Tyrell to the school), Sansa was not in danger of failing her second semester.

Pod gently flicked her nose as he offered her his shoulder.

"I know you're faking it, San."

"I am," she said.

Lately, she'd found she had no filter. She said it as she saw it.

And she had very little enthusiasm for anything.

It had taken a herculean effort to come back to the West and finish this semester. She'd felt adrift, attached to nothing, not even her studies which had always given her so much joy.

After the funeral, Sansa had wanted to stay in her family home, wrapped up in her Dad's clothing and just grieve. But Marg and Pod had been relentless, even threatening to send Sandor and Bronn to physically bring her home.

Home, she'd thought bitterly. She had no home. No family.

She was twenty-two years old and an orphan. All the Starks were dead, and her mother's family had never been part of her life. Both her grandparents were dead, her uncle Edmure a man she'd never even spoken to and her Aunt Lysa, a bitter woman her father refused to associate with.

No, the closest thing Sansa had to family were her two friends, Marg and Pod.

How pathetic was that?

If she could feel anything, she might feel sorry for herself, but all she felt was numb—endless days of feeling numb.

It was only due to her eidetic memory and her vast knowledge of her subject matter that she even had a hope of passing finals. Not that she even cared. She hadn't told Pod or Marg, but she was seriously questioning what the point was of even continuing next year.

It turned out her father has been a saver, and though they'd lived a simple life, Ned Stark had a nice nest egg squirrelled away and an excellent life insurance policy. It meant that Sansa was a wealthy woman; not Marg Tyrell wealthy, but she could live a long time on her Dad's savings.

In spite of their protests, Sansa was headed home for the summer. Marg and Pod had both scored coveted internships with profs at Lannisport U, but Sansa hadn't even responded to the calls when they'd tried to set up an interview for her. She needed away from the Westerlands and to be back home in the North.

She made it through exams, and while she knew she'd passed, she couldn't work up enough emotion to care. Everything was grey; even the bright sunny days in the Westerlands.

Pod and Marg watched with sad faces as Sansa packed her tiny apartment. She was remembering nine short months ago when her father had moved her down here and their trip in late August through the ruins of Casterly Rock. Even if she didn't say it, they all knew she wasn't coming back.

She hugged them hard and then got in her car, mentally preparing for the long drive home.

Before she left Lannisport, she made one last trip out to the Rock, her little car packed tight with all her belongings. Once inside the Rock, she ran her hands over the stones, slipping into what she now knew was the master bedroom. She heaved out a broken sigh and she pressed her forehead to the stones, wishing they could offer her some relief for this endless, gnawing pain. She felt hollowed out and empty as if nothing could ever make her happy again.

The roughened stone cut her hand, but she barely noticed, too lost in her reminiscing and grief to see the air almost shimmy around her. Her eyes were pressed tightly closed as she spoke into the empty room.

Tywin looked up from his desk in his bedchambers, a faint light emanating from the stone wall that was along the side where the Sunset Sea was. He startled, and pinched himself, confirming he was awake. Somehow, Sansa was standing right there, but it was as if she was enveloped in a mist. He rose until to stop himself and walked towards her, his heart constricting at the look of pain on her face.

"I loved it when you brought me here, Dad. What other father would willingly indulge their daughter's weird obsession with a man like Tywin Lannister."

She gave a little laugh, and Tywin startled.

She had been obsessed with him?

"I'm leaving, Daddy. Leaving Lannisport. I know you'd tell me not to be hasty, not make any rash decisions. But I'm so broken, so lost. I'm headed home to the North. It's the only place I feel close to you. I know you're probably disappointed in me, that you'd encourage me not to give up. But I don't know how to do this all alone."

She heaved out another pained whimper and Tywin swore for a brief moment, his hand rested on her shoulder. She relaxed as he touched her and smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. Then she gave a shaky little sigh.

"Maybe you are here, looking out for me. Thank you, Daddy, for giving me everything. I'm sorry I'm going to let you down."

Then Sansa pressed her lips to the stones of Casterly Rock. "I thought this was where my future was, but all it has brought me is heartache. Goodbye."

With that, she pushed back from the ancient stones and hurried out of the room, leaving Tywin gasping for air as she disappeared, leaving him standing alone as he'd always been in his room in the West.

Sansa got to her car, realizing she still wore the lion sigil ring on her finger.

She'd meant to place it back in its hiding spot. She knew she should never have taken it, but she simply could not go back inside. For a moment inside, she'd felt comforted, as if some invisible hand had rested on her shoulder, but she'd moved, and that feeling was gone.

Now she just wanted to be home, and as she drove away from the Rock, she forced herself not to look back. It was time to move on and put all of this behind her. Maybe in the North, she could find herself again and begin to heal her broken heart.

Sansa had been home for a week and found herself spending more and more time at the cemetery. Since she'd lost touch with all her friends from high school and she routinely checked in with Pod and Marg, there was literally no one else in her life to tell her she was acting like a crazy person. So she did nothing to curb herself from spending countless hours sitting against the white heart tree where her entire family was buried, speaking to her Dad.

She had her routine down and brought a little pack that included a blanket, a journal and a thermos of coffee. This was the only place that she felt like she wasn't drowning in her grief. Most nights to sleep, she took the sleeping pill the doctor in Lannisport had prescribed her, or else her insomnia made it so she could hardly function the next day.

Sansa knew she was dangerously thin right now; food held no appeal, and there was no one around to scold her for not eating. She couldn't remember the last time she'd bought groceries, and when she did eat, she'd gorge on fast food and then forget to eat for another day or two making it an endless unhealthy cycle. Her once brilliant hair felt lanky and in desperate need of a cut, her nails were ragged and unkempt, and if she'd put makeup on in the past eight weeks, she could not remember when.

Disgusted, she'd finally dragged herself to a salon for a full facial, manicure, wax and haircut. But that had only pushed away her grief for a short time before she found herself back in the cemetery.

She avoided all facetime calls with Marg and Pod, although she was beginning to suspect they knew something was up. Still, they were busy with their internships and left her alone for the most part.

Alone.

That was what she was.

Adrift in this world with not a single tether to hold her here. She'd stopped having dreams of Tywin altogether, suspecting the sleeping pills repressed her natural REM state so that she often awoke groggy and unsure if it was morning or night.

She hadn't even begun to deal with cleaning her father's things from his room, unable to even step foot inside it. Even walking by it sent her into a fit of tears and hiccupping sobs that took hours to recover from.

Which was why she didn't give a single fuck if anyone thought she was crazy as she set up her little blanket underneath the weirwood tree on the late Tuesday afternoon in April.

The staff that maintained the cemetery smiled at her, pity in their gazes and gave her a wide birth. One man, maybe a bit older than her father, stopped by at the end of his shift.

"Storm is on its way, miss."

"Thank you," Sansa said, smiling at him.

As if she cared if she got rained on. Or sick.

The man shook his head at her and then was on his way, as Sansa leaned back and gazed out at nothing. Sometimes she spoke, but often she didn't, lost in her memories of her and her father. Today she was glad she'd pulled on the rain jacket and boots, for the ground was mucky, and if the storm did come, she'd at least be somewhat protected.

"I wish I lived somewhere where there were no cars. No icy roads to cause accidents, no idiot drunk drivers to steal my family."

She gave a bitter laugh, knowing she was pathetic. If wishes were horses and all that bullshit. All the wishing in the world would not bring her father back.

She was so lost in her memories, that when the angry grey clouds came up, the wind whipping around her, she barely had time to react. Sansa realized too late that this was a dangerous spring storm and not simply a drizzle that they were used to.

Golf ball-sized hail rained down on her as she scrambled to gather her things. It was at that moment, as lightning struck a tree nearby, and thunder boomed, that she realized she did not want to simply fade away – that she was scared and in fact, wanted to live.

"Shit," she whispered, the driving rain suddenly making everything hard to see.

Sansa braced one hand against the tree, but it was too late. She slipped on the muddy ground, smashing her head into the weirwood tree.

As head wounds were known to do, she began to bleed heavily and felt woozy. She collapsed, dizziness soon overtaking her, until she closed her eyes, darkness claiming her as her blood, coming thick and hot, now ran over her hand, the lion sigil ring and into the roots of the ancient weirwood tree that had stood for thousands of years in the North.

Then there was an enormous crack of lightning, and when the storm eased, the only thing to indicate that Sansa Stark had been sitting vigil in the cemetery was her notebook, her blanket and a full, albeit now cold thermos of coffee.

Sansa Stark had vanished without a trace.

The Past: Casterly Rock – Tywin

Tywin had been in a state for weeks since he'd last 'seen' Sansa in his room. He'd had no more visions of her, no more insight as to what had happened to her after she left the Rock. He knew that he had seen her before when she had been home in the North, but now it felt like something was blocking him from getting to her.

It made him worry for a woman that he couldn't even reach if he tried and made his usually stern demeanour even more cold and snappish. Even Kevan had begun to avoid him.

Matters were not helped when he received word of the rebel victory at Stony Sept. He'd gathered his siblings to share with them the news of their victory and the demand for aid from the capital.

"Hoster Tully was injured, while Lord Arryn lost his heir in the fighting. It appears Robert once again emerged at a critical time to swing the decisive blow. Although Jon Connington escaped, the King is in a rage."

Tygett snorted disdainfully. "We should be fighting by their side, not cowering on our Rock!"

Tywin was well aware of his brother's desire to join in the war; Tygett never wasted an opportunity to make his opinion known.

"Read this and tell me I do not have reason to be cautious," Tywin snapped, shoving the parchment in Tyg's face. There was a protracted silence until Tyg stood and paced the room.

"He uses your son as leverage to keep you in line, brother."

The world raged as fierce as the storm outside, rain angrily lashing at the walls of the Rock while thunder boomed, and lightning lit the night sky. There was an ominous feeling to the storm tonight as if it were otherworldly, and Tywin said nothing to Tygett's insult. He was cautious, not craven with Jaime's life was held in the balance.

Instead, Tywin rose, exhaustion nipping at his heels. Perhaps he should call his banners and march for King's Landing; there would be time to decide if he were coming as friend or foe. Closer to the capital, it might be possible to extract Jaime, to get word to his son that the Mad King threatened him.

"I will make my decision within the fortnight, Tyg, and no one, not even you, will force me to it before then. Be prepared," was all he said as he exited the family solar, seeking his bed.

He missed Sansa he realized as he readied himself that night for sleep. For so long, it had been Joanna that occupied his thoughts, and now another woman had pushed her out. He knew what Sansa was going through, the searing pain and excruciating grief that came from losing one that you loved so dearly, and he ached to be able to comfort her.

It was even worse than he had no way of knowing how she was coping with the death of her father. Still, there was nothing he could do to force it, only pray to some god that he might be granted a reprieve and see her again. It wasn't much of a life, but it was more than he'd had for so long.

When the vision came, the relief that Tywin felt was palpable. She was in her cemetery, looking thin and pale and wan. He knew that grief had worn her down, and while she was still beautiful, there was a hollowness to her. She barely spoke to the older man that reminded her of the storm that was coming, and dread filled Tywin. He wished he could scream at her to leave, to get herself to safety, but he could only watch helplessly as she struggled to her feet as the storm raged around her, having waited far too long to leave the muddy ground.

She stumbled and almost caught herself before she tripped and smashed her head into the tree, a nasty gash opening up. She crumpled to the ground, and Tywin howled at his impotence to get to her, watching as her blood ran down her face and then over her hand.

That was when he saw it.

A lion sigil ring on her finger.

It was his ring - on her finger!

How? He wondered.

Then a great crack of lightning lit the sky, and the vision swirled as Sansa disappeared. But instead of losing her in the vision, Tywin followed it through until he saw her gasp and sit up in bed.

Only this was no modern bed, and for one brief moment, he wondered where and more importantly, what time she had gone to. Then lightning filled the chamber, and all the pieces fell into place.

??????? – Sansa

When Sansa opened her eyes, she knew immediately that something very wrong had happened. The room she was in was dark and smelt decidedly off. It smelled like tallow and felt like animal hair, perhaps straw. There was a quietness that Sansa knew no modern building ever had, and her heart raced. She was in a bed, and not wearing the clothing she had put on this morning; instead, in some nightgown that came up to her neck. The covers felt wrong, almost scratchy and abrasive against her skin.

She whimpered, wishing she could see something, anything. A crack of lightning lit up the room, and she realized she was not in her home, nor in the cemetery. In fact, she had no idea where she was. She must have screamed for a door opened and a woman appeared, also in sleep clothes, with a candle.

"My Lady?" she asked, a worried expression on her face. "I heard you scream. Is everything alright?"

Sansa shook her head. Then she swallowed hard. She had a horrible feeling about when she might be, if not where.

"Please, can you indulge me for a moment?"

The woman nodded.

"What year is it?"

The woman frowned. "283 My Lady."

Sansa felt herself pale, and her breath quickened.

"And where am I?"

"Riverrun, My Lady. In your chambers."

Sansa's heart was racing. How was this possible? And did she dare want to know the answer to the next question? Still, she had to, so she cleared her throat.

"And if you will, what is my name?"

The servant frowned.

"My Lady, perhaps I should wake your sister…" the woman turned to leave, clearly sensing something was wrong with Sansa. She couldn't have her 'sister' woken; that would be a disaster.

"No!" Sansa cried out. The woman turned back to her, still frowning. "Please don't. Just, indulge me. I've had a nightmare, you see, and I just need to hear you say my name."

The woman did not seem to buy her story for a minute, but apparently too well trained not to heed those she worked for, she nodded.

"You are Lady Sansa Tully, a trueborn noblewoman and firstborn daughter of Lord Hoster Tully and his lady wife, Minisa."

Somehow Sansa managed to stutter out a thank you before the woman gave her a funny look and closed the door. Sansa sunk back into the bed, her mind racing, wondering what in the hell had happened to send her back to such a time and place?

Knowing she wouldn't sleep, Sansa laid there in her bed, in Riverrun, too stunned to do anything but try to work out how in the hell she might survive going back almost seventeen hundred years to a past that was bloody, brutal and decidedly unkind to women. She had all sorts of memories she knew to be fake about her life as Sansa Tully.

Just as the dawn broke over the horizon, chasing the last of the rain from the storm the night before away, the only thought that Sansa could latch onto was that she had to do everything in her power to find a way back to her future.

And then she stilled.

For what? What was waiting for her in the future? Nothing.

She was alone there - as alone as she was here.

Filled with fresh grief and new despair, Sansa sobbed, allowing everything that had happened to her filled her, until her brain, her heart, her very being was so overcome with emotion that her body quite literally shut down.

She fell into a deep sleep, where a man with golden hair and green eyes promised he was coming for her.

Casterly Rock – Tywin

Tywin sat up in bed, scarcely willing to believe what he'd seen. The lightning that had been in his vision cracked and lit his room, as his mind tried to assimilate old and new memories. It was as if his mind was weaving two histories together and he knew both what had come before, and what was now, he assumed, a new reality. He had no idea what magics were at play, only that he knew three things to be true.

Sansa Stark was no longer in the future.

Sansa Stark was no longer Sansa Stark. She was Sansa Tully.

And Sansa Stark needed him.

It was said that the Great Lion hardly ever smiled, but tonight he did. He knew where Sansa was, and as he flipped back his covers, he raced to dress. He needed confirmation and there was only one person he could ask.

For years after that night when the great storm raged the servants would talk about the moment the Great Lion raced from his bedchambers, a smile the likes of what they'd never seen on his face, until he reached his brother's room and knocked, slipping inside and away from their prying eyes.

"Kevan," Tywin hissed, seeing the lumpy shapes of his brother and his wife in their bed.

When neither moved, Tywin banged against a chair, watching as his brother sat up.

"Tywin?" he said, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. "What in seven hells are you doing here?"

"Kevan, how many daughters does Hoster Tully have?"

"Pardon me?"

"How many daughters does Hoster Tully have?" Tywin asked again, insistent. He didn't care if he sounded mad, he needed to know!

By this time, Kevan had stumbled out to his solar and was glaring at his brother. Kevan rarely was cross with him, but he was now.

"What in seven hells is going on, Tywin?"

"I need to know how many daughters Lord Hoster Tully has," Tywin repeated as if Kevan were slow.

Kevan scratched his head, which had hair sticking up.

"Three. His eldest, Lady Sansa, who at twenty-two remains unmarried, is his favourite. It is said that Hoster has indulged her, willing to allow her to marry for love."

Kevan shrugged, "Others say he is holding out for a better match. She is said to be a rare beauty and incredibly intelligent, as well as a competent horsewoman and deadly with a bow. By all accounts, he feels she could be Queen."

Tywin barely heard Kevan's next words, warmth spreading through him. He'd gone to bed tonight knowing that Hoster Tully had but two daughters: Catelyn and Lysa. And now he had three. Sansa was not a figment of his imagination, his mad visions, his deepest longings. She was real. And she was here.

"His second daughter, Lady Catelyn, twenty-one is now engaged to Lord Eddard Stark, while his third daughter, Lysa, is two years younger than Lady Sansa …."

Tywin waved an impatient hand. "I've heard enough. Get some sleep, brother."

"Why?" Kevan called as Tywin all but ran from the room. As the Great Lion turned back to look at his beloved brother, a smile cracked his face.

"Because we ride for Riverrun at first light."

Then Tywin was gone, and all Kevan could do was stare at the empty room, wondering what on earth had gotten into the Great Lion. Then shrugging, Kevan ambled back to bed and his warm and lovely wife, who snuggled deeper into his arms, pushing all thoughts of Tywin from his mind, knowing he'd learn what his brother wanted him to when the time was right.