Chapter 23

Pre-dinner – Sansa

Her husband had arrived back in their rooms with his temper barely controlled. Sansa knew it was not directed at her, but rather his daughter. He said nothing, but Sansa already knew him well. She wished he might share with her what had taken place when he met with Cersei, but when he said nothing, she realized that Tywin was in a mood that would make most people run and duck for cover.

Not that he scared her. She'd heard the others talk about his legendary temper, matched only by his incredible ability to be cold to someone. Tywin was second to none, it seemed like when it came to his moods. And while most would be intimidated by him, she was not. She knew the pressures he faced, and she knew what made him tick.

Eventually, he would speak with her, and she had time. Pushing him now would get her nowhere. Besides, it wasn't every day that a man had to reconcile the fact that his daughter had killed a member of his family in cold blood, and threatened his new wife. Even in terms of the time in which they lived, Cersei's behaviour bordered on the extreme. As logical as Tywin was, there still was a part of him that had to deal with the fact that the greatest danger to him, to his house, came from within.

So Sansa would give him time as she played with the cubs.

Their eyes were now open, and they seemed happiest when they were touching each other. Sansa swore that they recognized her and Tywin, since they'd spent almost their entire young lives up until this point with them, and she played with them until they were tired and their eyes closed. Curled upon each other, on a red blanket, Sansa let out a little giggle. They were so adorable. It was hard to fathom that they might grow into the fearsome beasts she'd seen in the zoos in the modern age.

There was a grunt from Tywin, who was sprawled out in a chair, which drew her attention back to the other lion in the room.

The Great Lion.

The Shield of Lannisport.

The Warden of the West.

Seeing the Rock, at the height of its splendour, still had Sansa's head reeling. Logically she had known that Tywin was the richest man in the realm. She had studied, argued, researched and defended this man in class for years. She knew that Tywin was one of the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms – even with Aerys on the Iron Throne.

And yet, she had understood nothing until she had come back here. Until she walked the corridors of the Rock, saw a legion of people loyal to this man, and the staggering wealth that was his. It was hard to reconcile just how much rested upon this one person's shoulders.

He looked exhausted, Sansa thought. Worn down and weary. There had been moments in the past few weeks, when she'd seen Tywin laugh, relax and confide in her. He had been so excited to bring her here, to the Rock, knowing that she would love it. But scarcely a day home, and he was already that cold man she'd seen storm into the Great Hall at Riverrun.

She rose from the bed, drawing her robe tighter around her body. She'd barely had time to explore her new rooms, but felt welcomed here. Tywin had opened his inner sanctum to her, which was rare. She had no doubts that many wives in her position were never afforded such respect. She knew how much he loved her, and she knew the hell he must be going through, finally faced with the reality of what Cersei was.

His eyes were glued to her as she crossed the floor, her toes digging into the thick rug. She hadn't yet bathed, choosing to wait for Tywin to return and join her.

"They look like your house sigil come to life," she told him in response to his unanswered question. His eyes went to the cubs, and he nodded. But then they were back on her. She couldn't help but feel like his prey as he never let her out of his sight. But she was unafraid of this man, oddly enough. She knew he'd never hurt her.

As she approached him, she couldn't help but admire the picture he made. He'd loosened his leather tunic, neck exposed, long legs akimbo as he rested his arms on the ornate chair. There was his lion sigil ring on his finger, what had started this all, and his hair was slightly dishevelled.

Somehow, despite all that, the power fairly radiated off him. Sansa had no doubts just how much influence and power this man had. He could be ruthless. Brutal. Lethal.

And yet, he had such an incredible capacity for love. It was a dichotomy, and one she had to reconcile daily.

There was a part of Sansa that understood that in order to survive in the time in which she now lived, a person must have a certain amount of ruthlessness in them. This world was violent. Aggressive. Deadly. With Tywin, she had a higher chance of surviving the past. His intelligence, wealth and willingness to do what others would not – it meant that she might survive to a good old age with him by her side. That was not the case for many people that lived during this time.

When she was close enough, his hand reached out to tug her onto his lap. Sansa let herself fall willingly into his arms. She felt him relax as if her presence gave him some peace. She hoped to god that was true.

"Sansa," he breathed, nuzzling at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him. She hoped he understood just how much she loved him.

A single shudder was the only indication she had at the toll the conversation with Cersei had on him. They sat there in silence for a time, taking comfort in the other.

"She is lost to me, isn't she?" he asked quietly, voice pained.

"Yes."

There was no reason to lie to him. Cersei would never be someone that Tywin could trust. Ever. Sansa's presence might have moved up her agenda, but she was always going to be one of the most significant obstacles that Tywin faced. That House Lannister faced. That his legacy faced.

"She admitted to killing Tyrion."

Sansa stifled the gasp, horrified. She knew there was no love lost between Tywin and his youngest son. She understood why. But to hear it stated so bluntly was still a shock.

"I have arrested Gregor Clegane. He is in the dungeons."

"Good," Sansa said, feeling a slight relief at that news.

Tywin growled and tightened his hold on her. She felt her his lips on her neck.

"And her?"

She felt the sigh as much as heard it.

"I have promised to send her to the silent sisters. She is outraged. She hates you and loathes me. She thinks us all fools, and accused me of abandoning Jaime."

"But?"

Sansa turned so that she could gaze into his eyes. Those flecks of gold never failed to stir something in her. She saw the frustration in his eyes, the grief, the fear.

"She somehow managed to convince Genna that she wants a chance to make amends," he all but spat, disgust lacing his tone.

"Do you believe her?"

He shook his head.

"No. But I will give her a single chance. To make a public apology to you, that is worthy of your new role as my wife. To convince both of us that she means it."

Unsaid was what they both knew. She would not mean it. Cersei would never accept Sansa.

"Why?"

She thought she knew, and while Tywin might never admit it, even he wanted that sliver of hope. It was what made him human, and not the cruel god some claimed he was. He might not show that vulnerability to many, but his children had always been a blind spot for him.

Tywin sighed, and Sansa felt his weariness as if it were her own.

"Because if I give her this single opportunity, I know she will fail. And then I will be able to deal with her with no interference from my family. There will be no question as to what she is and why she is no longer welcome in our home. If I send her away, without this chance, I will be at odds with Genna and perhaps even Gerion. That is the last thing we need."

Sansa accepted his answer, even as she didn't like it. Tywin knew what Cersei was, what she was capable of. She was not someone that you wanted to give second and third opportunities to. But there was a human element to this entire mess that Tywin could not articulate.

This was his daughter. She might bring ruin to his house. She might bring House Lannister down around her head. She might betray him. But she was also his blood. This was his child. And no parent ever wanted to think that their child was capable of such things.

Sansa didn't agree with his reasoning. She was incredibly worried about this entire dinner and what his daughter might do. But she also had to trust that her husband could keep them safe.

"She might not show," he said, latching onto that single hope.

"Perhaps," was all Sansa said, not believing it. From the little Sansa had seen of Tywin's daughter, she would use anything to her advantage. No way was Cersei not showing up tonight at dinner.

She rose from his lap and tugged at his hand.

"Come. We need to bathe and ready ourselves for dinner."

For a moment, he didn't move before he allowed himself to rise, her guiding him.

"You waited for me?" he asked, clearly a bit shocked. She saw the interest in his eyes as he pushed aside the issue of Cersei. She would rise again, to haunt them, Sansa thought. But for now, she had Tywin's full attention.

"I did, my lion," she said, pleased with her decision.

Even knowing how much Tywin loved Joanna, Sansa was starting to wonder just how much anyone had ever taken care of him. She imagined almost no one had. Such burdens had been heaped on his shoulders at an impossibly young age. He was a year younger than her when named Hand of the King. It was a staggering thought.

When they got to the bathing rooms, it was Sansa that helped her husband prepare the larger of the two bathing pools in which they would share. The scents, the oils and soaps, were masculine, and his. Sansa didn't mind as she mixed them into what she liked.

He watched her as she moved with ease around the room, putting out towels for them, discarding their clothing in a pile where she assumed his steward or Barba would wash. Had they been in her time, Sansa would have thrown it all in the washing machine, not above such a task, but back here, she was sure that the Lady of Casterly Rock did not do her own laundry.

As she stripped and went to join Tywin, she saw his eyes roam up and down her body. Not shy with him, she grinned, and he drank in his fill until she dipped a toe in the water and joined him. The water was pleasant – not hot, not scalding, but above lukewarm.

He was tense, seemingly having aged before her very eyes, and even if she had not known all the wicked and awful things that Cersei would do, causing Tywin this discontent would be enough to make Sansa angry at her.

Had she no idea how precarious all of their positions were? Did she not see the great mantle of responsibility that rested upon her father's shoulders? Did she not understand that thin line in which Tywin walked, attempting to maintain his houses' position without bringing the wrath of Aerys down upon their heads?

Her selfishness was genuinely astounding.

Once in the bath, Sansa realized what the tub reminded her of. In terms of size, she equated it to a good-sized hot tub. Marg had one at her condo in Lannisport, unable to do without it, claiming it was 'just the thing to relieve her stress.' Sansa had been once, but the skimpy bathing suit and the underwater activities she was sure Marg and Bronn had participated in had curbed Sansa's enthusiasm for that activity.

But after falling through time, ending up in Riverrun, then racing to the Rock, Sansa understood that she was now bathing in what was considered the lap of luxury in Westeros. She floated towards Tywin, checking to see how deep the tub was, and touched him.

The scowl was still on his face, although she knew it had nothing to do with her. Well, it wasn't directed at her. Sansa knew that Tywin was worried about her safety.

What her husband needed, Sansa decided, was to be pampered.

She wondered if he would let her. Knowing if she asked, he'd deny her the ability to care for him, Sansa quickly reached for a bottle of oil. Sandalwood. That would do.

"Scooch over," she said, making a shooing motion with her hand.

Tywin arched an eyebrow at her, and she had to stifle a giggle. He was kind of a drama queen.

No, not a drama queen – a drama lion!

She was unable to hold the giggle back at that thought. She wondered what he might do should she call him that.

Drama lion. She giggled again, quite pleased with herself.

"I fail to find what is so funny, wife," he all but snarled. "My daughter threatens you, my son is a hostage, and we are on the brink of war."

"Yup," she said, tugging him forward so that she was sitting behind him.

She didn't downplay the danger they were in. She knew as much as he did, perhaps more, what Cersei was capable of, what the mad king was capable of. But there was nothing Sansa could do at this very moment to deal with Cersei or Aerys.

What she could deal with was help her husband.

"What in seven fucking hells are you doing?" he asked, truly baffled, as she sat behind him, pressing her chest to his back. She almost reached for his member, but then thought that might be pushing him a bit too far. This was about comfort and relaxing Tywin. And they were on a timeline. There would be plenty of time to couple in the days and weeks to come.

"Relaxing you. Pampering you. Loving you, Tywin." She spoke directly into his ear, and heard that happy rumble from his chest. Tugging on his lobe, she kissed his neck.

Then determined to relax him, she poured a small amount of oil onto her hand. As she put her hands on his shoulders, she wondered if granite were softer. Good god, the tension this man had! It would take her weeks to work these knots out of his muscles.

"Let me," she whispered into his ear.

It took a mere moment before he gave the nod, and then allowed her to work at his tight flesh. She wished for a moment she could see his face, for she knew no one had ever touched him like this – with the sole intention of giving him comfort. But she was rewarded with gasps when she worked a particularly hard knot loose, or a moan of pain/pleasure when those muscles finally gave way and released.

His back was ropy and firm, and much like the rest of him marked. There were scars, battle wounds, and she traced each one with her fingers and lips. A few times, Tywin tried to turn or to end the massage, but Sansa gently pushed his hands away. She loved looking at the evidence of the hard life he'd lived – the evidence that he'd bled to maintain his position. Was it any wonder she was in love with him? No modern man would compare to him.

With her hands busy, Sansa hummed a bit, loving how Tywin relaxed under her care. She tried to picture what it might be like, if he had come forward in time, instead of her back. It was so hard to imagine what that might have been like, to imagine a man like this in the softer world in which she lived.

The water grew tepid as she worked him over. Touching him like this, being given full access to such a powerful man who loved her, a man who would protect her, had once again ignited all that love she felt for him. When she finally got him to a point where he was loose and languid, she allowed her lips to press against his back. He grabbed her hands and clutched them to his chest.

He was unwilling to let her out of his arms and reached for the tap, adding more hot water.

Eventually, she turned to press a kiss to his lips.

"Much better than a shower," she told him, seeing how that pleased him. When she reached for the soap for his hair, he once again appeared startled – that she might do this for him.

"I wash yours, you wash mine," was all she said. He was moved, deeply, by her care for him, although Sansa enjoyed it. He'd lived such a hard, lonely life. These little moments were precious between them.

His fingers in her hair, working in the soap and then the oil to condition it, felt wonderful, different from her handmaiden.

When they finally left the bath, it was early evening, and Sansa knew they'd have to hurry to be ready for dinner in the next hour. Still, the time with Tywin had been worth it. She could see that it had done wonders for him.

Sansa knew that Tywin had a great deal of respect for her – indeed, what she'd seen was that he was a man that treated his wife well. Better than many high born lords. She knew that he held her knowledge in high esteem. But she also hoped she could get him to see how else she could benefit him. A partner. A friend. A confident. A lover. She wanted every role with Tywin.

Before she left the bathing chambers to call for Barba, Tywin drew her into his arms.

"Thank you," was all he said, meaning clear.

Sansa warmed.

He saw what she had tried to do for him. She wasn't naïve enough to believe things like war and rebellion, and a daughter that was plotting against him could be solved with a massage and some time alone. But those things sure as hell helped.

"Always," she promised, knowing it was true. She was Team!Tywin first, before anyone else back here.

His eyes had darkened, and she wondered what he was thinking of, but she hated to undo what she'd just accomplished.

"I have been alone for so long. Seeing you here, hearing you," he said, shaking his head, unable to finish.

She understood. She did.

Sansa cupped his face, loving that scruff of whisker that was there.

"We were both alone, Tywin. Perhaps that was enough, that like recognized like, across time and space."

He gave the nod, not daring to say more. A cough altered them to the fact that Barba and Gerold had arrived and that there was much to be done before dinner. Parting, for now, Sansa gave Tywin one last kiss and then allowed her handmaiden to ready her for the Lannister family dinner, which, given their reception this morning, was sure to be entertaining.

Lannister Family Dinner – Sansa

There was a part of Sansa that could get used to the pampering that came from being a highborn woman in her current position. She had been at the Rock for only a day, and already she loved the castle and the little luxuries that were present here and nowhere else. She'd be happy if this was where they could stay; she'd never grow bored with living here.

She was comfortable in Tywin's private rooms, enjoying the care he'd taken to decorate the warmth she felt. She had been welcomed into his private liar, and she could imagine cold, raining days when they curled up in front of one of the massive fireplaces, reading or talking with him, a place to be away from the pressures that their positions demanded.

She was excited that she might learn ancient Valyrian, and even the amount of work that went into running a keep like the Rock no longer felt daunting. With Tywin by her side, Sansa knew she could do this – she could be the Lady of Casterly Rock.

There were already so many changes she might make. Simple things like handwashing and cleanliness, to more substantial changes like not drinking while pregnant, and education for the masses. She could only imagine how well-positioned the Westerlands might be if they could create guilds for masons, smiths, metal workers and carpenters. There were laws that they might codify, along with building standards they could implement.

They could become a center for learning, arts, and culture across the Seven Kingdoms. There was a part of Sansa the balked at even entertaining the idea of leaving the Rock for the capital. Even in modern times, King's Landing had never appealed to Sansa. She loved the West, and she loved the Rock.

The only black cloud on her horizon was Cersei.

And the rebellion.

Well, and the Mad King.

Sansa sighed and closed her eyes.

So many enemies. So much potential for things to go catastrophically wrong.

No wonder people back here were always on a hair-trigger, ready to do battle at the smallest slight. It was exhausting.

"Well, that's the best I can do on such short notice," Barba said, a slight frown on her face. She'd braided Sansa's hair, so it made a crown on the top of her head, and then inserted tiny white flowers into it.

Sansa stared at her reflection in the mirror, liking the look of Barba's work. While she had no jewels yet, it was nice to have her hair up and off her neck. Plus, the braids would leave it wavy for tomorrow, so that would be nice.

"Thank you," she said, rising.

The gown she wore was a deep blue one that highlighted the colour of her eyes.

While Sansa was proud to now be a Lannister, she didn't have anything in gold or red that would do justice to the importance of the meal. So these lions would just have to make do with Tully Blue. That's what she was back here, after all – a trout!

Besides, alliances were a critical part of how houses survived back in this time. It was aggravating to placate Tywin's petulant daughter on her 'issue' with his marriage. It made so much political sense for Tywin to marry a Tully. Cersei needed to get over herself when it came to her idea of what was important. The West could not survive without alliances.

Sansa sensed Tywin at the door before she saw him, and turned in time to catch the wonder in his eyes as he greedily took her in.

She did a little spin, a smile on her face before she dropped into a perfect curtsey. Sansa had spent hours doing them, giggling to herself that they now were vitally important in her life.

As she rose, she kept her eyes demurely downcast, although her lips twitched.

"My Lord," she all but purred.

She heard Tywin curse and looked up to see him stumble into a chair. She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up as she suddenly found herself in his arms.

"My lady," he said, his lips nipping at her exposed neck.

Sansa moaned. Gods, she'd been with him already, and still, she wanted him again. This must be the honeymoon phase of their marriage, and oh man, did she liked it! Especially when she thought of that big bed and the many creative ways that they might be together.

She wondered what her lion might think if he woke up one morning to find his hands tied to the posters, entirely at her mercy. Sansa's eyes glazed over that yummy thought! She could imagine that if Tywin was able to give over some of that control, he might find himself quite pleased with the outcome. Of course, it would be their little secret, which would make it all the more delicious.

In the bath, once Tywin had allowed her to care for him, he had given himself over to her completely. It was such a wonderful feeling to give something back to this powerful man – something that no one else could give him. Something he would allow no one else to give him.

"You are beautiful, Sansa," he told her, drawing her attention back to the present.

"Thank you, Tywin," she said, giving him a mischievous grin. "Perhaps in the coming days, I will have Genna and Dorna help me with some new gowns, that better reflect my new titles."

Suddenly, as if realizing she had no money to pay for them, and really, having no idea what they cost, Sansa paled.

"Unless, of course, I am overstepping. I have no way of paying for them…" she began to backtrack as Tywin settled a hand on her back, guiding her out of their bedroom.

He chuckled softly.

"You must be the only person in the realm that is worried about spending my gold. As my wife, I demand that you wear only the very best clothing," Tywin said, giving her a little wink. "Payment is no obstacle," he assured her.

"It really is a shame that women cannot wear breeches," she grumbled.

Tywin stumbled and sputtered. "You cannot be serious?"

Sansa shrugged and then gave him a look.

"You've seen flashes of modern clothing, husband. Do you think for a single moment that these gowns are somehow more comfortable? Beautiful, yes. But functional?" Sansa scoffed. "Hardly."

Sansa moved towards the doorway as Tywin shook his head at her as he hurried to catch up.

"Sansa, you will not wear breeches," he commanded, his voice demanding.

She paused to gaze up at him and saw a flash of possessive jealousy there. Realizing that Tywin would not be able to have another man view her legs, even encased in breeches, she reassuringly patted his arm.

"We'll discuss it later."

He growled.

She grinned.

This was fun! And fun was definitely something that Tywin Lannister had been lacking.

As they stepped outside their bedchambers, her loyal guards, Addam and Sandor, fell in beside her. She gave them both a warm grin and while neither man returned it outright and she saw their lips twitch. Then she noticed both men had their swords at their side.

She continued to walk down the hall as Tywin bellowed and sputtered. It was so fun to wind him up like this. Sansa would never think to wear breeches, no matter how much she might want to. She understood her role and her place and that some things were just not done. Wearing pants was one such thing.

When he finally caught her, she allowed him to see the laughter in her eyes, so he would know that she was japing with him.

He grumbled but settled his hand on her back again. Belatedly she realized that Tywin also had his sword, and she wondered, briefly, if this were typical protocol for a family meal. Somehow, she knew it was not.

"Where are we dining tonight?" she asked, excited, pushing thoughts of Cersei from her mind for now. This was the first formal meal in her new home, and she would not let Tywin's daughter ruin it. The historian in her was almost bouncing with delight. She wondered what would be on the menu and any protocols that she might be missing.

"Since there are only ten of us, we are using one of the smaller dining halls. It is more intimate for this occasion, but no less beautiful. We call it the Crimson Room, and I think you will be excited to see it," he told her, having recovered enough to play tour guide again.

Sansa couldn't help but stare as they passed elegantly appointed rooms that simply blew her modern mind away. The Rock was so vast, so incredibly humongous that no single family would ever be able to afford such a residence in modern times. They'd be taxed to death by the government alone, not to mention the upkeep on such a place and the insurance! She giggled when she tried to think of how an adjuster would come up with a quote on a place like the Rock. Even with Tywin's gold, he might not be able to afford it!

Before the room where they would be dining, Tywin stopped her. His face was serious, his eyes troubled.

"Tonight, there will be tasters. For all our food," he added. "You are not to drink or eat anything that has not been tasted first."

Sansa's felt her palms grow damp. Suddenly, the seriousness of the situation they were facing with Cersei hit her, full force. It was clear that Tywin was worried that his daughter might try something.

"And that goes for you as well, right?" Sansa asked, concern lacing her voice. She reached for him as he cupped her cheek. Cersei was as angry at Tywin as she was at Sansa. She might strike out at him.

"That goes for me as well."

Sansa nodded and promised that she would follow the rules. Mind still racing with his decree, Tywin guided her into an elegantly appointed space that Sansa could only describe as decadent. It was clear that every 'modern' convivence by Westeros standards of this time was here.

Though Tywin had said this was a small, intimate dining parlour, Sansa gaped at the size. Guards from his personal entourage lined the walls, twenty on each side. The massive fireplace that was against one wall was so large that Sansa could stand in it.

And everywhere she looked, gold, crimson and lions.

Three chandeliers were lit with tapered white candles lit the room, and there was more than one coat of arms and swords and decorative pieces on the walls.

In the center of the room was a solid oak table that Sansa knew would fetch a small fortune in modern times. It could comfortably sit thirty, but had been set for the ten of them, with china and cutlery that Sansa knew was some of the best in the realm.

At first, Sansa thought that they were the last to arrive. All eyes turned to them as she gazed around the room to these people that were now her family. As an orphan, it felt wonderful to belong somewhere again finally. Even if that was seventeen hundred years in the past, to one of the most powerful families in history.

Sansa pasted a smile on her face as she gazed around the room. She saw welcome in Dorna's eyes and curiosity in Genna's. Tywin's sister was clearly still 'assessing' her, which was fine.

Gerion's gaze was lazy as his eyes flicked over her blue gown, frowning.

"It seems my goodsister still feels loyalty to her father's house," he said.

Tywin gave a warning growl, but Sansa had this. She knew she was going to have to prove herself to Tywin's siblings, prove that she was a lion and not a trout. That was fine. She was more than up for such a task. She couldn't have Tywin fight her battles for her. She needed to win these people to her side, on her own.

Sansa snorted.

"Your good sister has been travelling for days and has not had an opportunity to secure proper gowns."

Gerion grinned and saluted her with his wine.

"Fair point, Lady Sansa. I hope you will spend my brother's gold on anything you wish. He certainly has enough of it."

Sansa grinned. "I plan on it."

Genna laughed appreciatively at that little quip and promised to help Sansa secure new gowns. Her husband looked on in what could only be described in a bemused fashion.

Linking arms with Sansa, Genna pulled her to the side, as they circled the room together, Catelyn joining them.

"My brothers told me that Tywin is in love with you. I, of course, refused to believe it."

Catelyn snorted. "I can assure you they are most definitely in love. And they create a spectacle wherever they go."

Genna laughed and eyed Sansa up again.

"I've long since thought my brother needed someone to make him smile," Genna said, pleased to have both Tully sisters in her orbit.

Sansa arched an eyebrow at Genna, just as a goblet of wine was handed to her. Not wanting to be rude and knowing that they had done nothing to prevent pregnancy, Sansa gently refused.

"Perhaps some water," was all she said, as the servant scurried to get the new Lady of the Rock her requested water. "Oh, and do you have lemons?"

The server and Genna stopped to stare at Sansa, who blushed as she realized she had clearly introduced a foreign concept. Every restaurant in the modern age served a wedge of lemon in their water, but back in time, that was apparently not done.

"Whatever for?" Genna asked, confused.

"Ummmm, well, if you slice a lemon up and put one slice in the water, it makes it taste quite refreshing and a bit tart."

"Incredible," Genna murmured and then snapped at the server to do as the Lady Lannister bid. "You are nothing at all what I expected."

"And what did you expect, if I may be so bold?"

"Someone that was not you," Genna replied.

Sansa tried not to be offended, but it was difficult. She wanted Tywin's family to like her. She wanted to feel like she belonged. And Genna was not helping matters.

"I am sorry I am not what you expected," Sansa said, tightly.

As if sensing her distress, Sansa glanced up to see Tywin frowning. She knew he was mere moments from striding this way to 'rescue her.' Gods, she was so bad at this!

Genna patted Sansa's arm and tsk'd.

"You're very sensitive. I did not say that what you were was bad. Indeed, I believe you are exactly what our dear lion needed in his life. Do you know I have never seen him smile as much as I have today?"

"Tywin smiles," Sansa said, immediately coming to his defence. "There are many emotions that he feels, but the position that he is in does not afford him the luxury of being demonstrative. There is nothing wrong with him and how he expresses himself."

Sansa's voice had risen so that those in the smaller dining hall heard her passionate speech about the Great Lion.

For a brief moment, Genna looked astonished and then she clapped her hands in glee.

"Oh my! They said it was a love match, but I have never in all my days heard someone come to Tywin's defence the way you have, Lady Sansa. My brother is a lucky man."

Not nearly mollified enough, Sansa shrugged. "He is my husband and I love him."

Her husband, who was there, suddenly, by her side. His face was a mask, and one she was unable to read. She had no idea if he was angry at her for how she'd spoken to his sister.

"Lady Sansa, I believe the cubs are set to arrive."

Sansa nodded, feeling a bit defeated. This was only Tywin's immediate family, and she was already failing. She felt his large hand on her back, rubbing in a soothing motion, just as he leaned down, to whisper in her ear.

"No one has ever loved me quite like you have, dear wife. I am humbled by the lengths you will go to defend me."

Sansa let out a shuddering breath. So he wasn't upset. Thank god.

"I'm sorry I spoke like that to Lady Genna. I promise I'll hold my tongue."

Tywin's warm chuckled eased the last of his worried. "Do not. My sister has been waiting for years for someone to put her in her place. She'll adore you by the time dinner is finished."

Speaking of putting in people in their places, Sansa glanced around the hall. "Where is Cersei?" she asked Tywin quietly.

Her husband frowned as if he had just realized she wasn't there. There was the briefest flicker of pain before cold indifference replaced it. "It appears she is not coming after all."

Two guards appeared at the door, carrying the cubs on red velvet pillows that had golden tassels. Sansa almost laughed out loud at the production Tywin was making of Alex and Augustus. Of course, the moment the cubs were there, his family swarmed close to them, eager to see them and touch them, and Sansa all but forgot that Cersei hadn't shown.

Everyone who had met the cubs had been delighted by them, but now, Sansa was in Tywin's home; in the lion's den for want of a better term. He had all his siblings with him, able to experience this incredible sight.

What must it be like, for these five Lannister's to see the living embodiment of their proud house sigil in living form? Sansa wondered.

Even the skeptical Gerion and the blustery Tygett fawned over them, as the little lions stretched and yawned and then pawed at the humans that surrounded them.

Catelyn cooed along with Dorna and Genna, who were holding the cubs. Alex and Augy preened under the attention, and Sansa couldn't help but steal a glance at Tywin. Her lion's chest was puffed out, and she knew that these cubs were a great source of pride for Tywin. Pressing closer to him, Sansa gave him a discreet half hug/squeeze.

He was looking at her when a commotion at the door drew his attention.

Tywin tensed.

Sansa turned and saw that Cersei had arrived, and she looked every inch the daughter of the Great Lion.

Her golden hair was a riot of soft waves down her back, while a thick golden necklace spanned her slim neck. Her lips were somehow red, and Sansa wanted to know how she'd achieved that look; they matched her gown, of course.

"Father, Lady Sansa," she said, approaching them. She dipped her head, but Sansa caught the glitter of madness and jealousy there.

"Cersei," Tywin said, the single word holding a wealth of meaning. It was clear she was on very thin ice.

"Oh look, the cubs!" she cried and went to reach for them. It was telling that Tywin reacted first.

"They are tired and need to sleep. Gerold see to them," Tywin ordered, and no one dared to argue. His word was law. He then gave his daughter a cool look. "You are late."

A blush stained her cheeks, but there was something sly there, that turned Sansa's stomach. She wasn't contrite in the least, and Sansa felt as if she were on the outside of some joke that only Cerise knew.

"I was working on my apology, Father," she said, almost batting her eyelashes.

Sansa felt uneasy and reached for Tywin's hand. Surely he could see that something was off. There was nothing remotely sorry in Cersei's entire countenance.

Gods, Sansa wished she could speak with Tywin alone, for even five minutes. Surely that was all it would take, to help him see what she did.

"It had better be good," he snapped, before indicating that dinner was about to start.

Sansa's earlier excitement at experiencing a dinner from this time period was gone, her stomach filled with dread. She wondered if she'd be able to choke anything down, as Tywin escorted her to her place, near the head of the table, where she knew he sat.

"It has been some time since I've had a wife on my right side," he said quietly to her, giving her a soft, reassuring smile. Sansa looked around as everyone was standing in their places, behind their chairs, eyes on Tywin. He nodded, and Sansa watched as tasters sipped the wine before he was satisfied and grabbed his goblet.

"A toast, to Lady Sansa, a most remarkable woman who has marvellously upended my life," Tywin began, and Sansa couldn't help but smile at him. He was so arrogant sometimes, but she liked that part of him; how assured and confident he was in his place as the head of this incredible family.

"My marriage to Lady Sansa secures not one, but two more Great Houses into our alliance. Lady Stark, of the North, and Lord Hoster Tully of the Riverlands. Together, our three regions, along with the Vale and the Stormlands, will finally take back the seven kingdoms from the Mad King, who sits on the Iron Throne. For far too long, dragons have ruled our lands. I say, no more!"

A cheer went up in Hall, as Tywin openly declared his plans to march against his one-time ally. It was like watching history being made before her very eyes, and Sansa knew that it was the right decision. There was no conscionable way to allow the Targaryens to continue to rule.

"In a fortnight, lords from across the Westerlands will descend upon Casterly Rock, as we celebrate my marriage, and call my banners, to lend our army to that of the rebellion. It is because our family is strong, and united, that we will emerge victoriously."

Sansa caught the wink that Kevan sent her, and she grinned. She loved how she helped Tywin make better choices, which would hopefully result in more of this beloved family surviving. And hopefully, bring peace to the realm.

Sansa was so focused on Tywin and Kevan that she almost missed when Tywin gave a slight nod of his head.

"You are all aware of Sansa's less than warm reception by my daughter. Cersei?"

Sansa looked to her and saw the woman clear her throat. Cersei's smile was as fake as Marg's eyelashes she used to insist on wearing. Sansa risked a glance at Tywin, who frowned when movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention.

Almost faster than Sansa thought was possible, one of the guards that had been lining the dining hall, was racing towards her, broadsword drawn. He was silent, but his intent was clear. Immediately, Sansa felt her two guards, Addam and Sandor flank her, trying to protect her.

The man was massive, was her only thought, as Addam attempted to push her out of the way. She must have screamed, or made some sound, because the room erupted in chaos, as those surrounding her realized that somehow, Gregor Clegane had escaped and was now here in this room.

Sansa was down on her knees, desperately trying to crawl away from the fighting above her when there was a horrible scream, and her entire face was sprayed with blood. The lifeless head of Addam Marbrand rolled to the floor beside her.

An inhuman bellow rent the air, and Sansa turned to see Gregor looming above her, the cruelty and madness apparent.

He liked the violence, she thought dimly, unable to believe this was how she would end.

Before his sword dropped, though, the man was hit from the side. Sansa twisted to see Sandor there, a snarl on his face, sword in hand, standing between her and Gregor. Gregor gave a cruel smile as if he'd enjoy killing his brother.

Sansa felt numb, covered in blood, unable to truly process what was going on.

"You think to take me, pup? I did that to your face when you were a mere boy. Now I'll take you apart, piece by piece."

Sansa's heart ached. She knew that Sandor stood no chance against Gregor.

Where the fuck was Tywin? And the rest of the guards?

Dimly, she heard Tywin shouting and realized his guards must have been trying to keep him safe, not allowing him to take up a sword against Gregor. This horror felt like it had been going on for hours, but Sansa knew it had been mere moments. There was a clash of swords and a grunt of pain, as Gregor struck Sandor on his upper arm with the side of his sword. Thankfully, Sandor had his armour on, and though blood bloomed, his arm remained attached. The blow had dropped him to one knee, but he rose again, fury in his eyes.

"You'll have to kill me to get to her," Sandor snarled back.

Gregor smirked. "I plan on it."

There was another clash of swords before Sandor cried out in pain and crumpled to the floor, as Gregor, his sword now dripping with blood, stalked every closer to her as she tried to crawl away.

Where was Tywin?

The monster loomed over her and she knew this was her end until Sansa saw Gregor's face contort in pain as the man twirled.

Gerion was behind him, his sword now red. He'd thrust it into Gregor's thigh, somehow finding a place where the armour was weak.

In a second, a vicious swipe of Gregor's sword sent blood spraying across Gerion's face as he too fell to the stone floor. The air reeked, and Sansa desperately clawed for purchase, trying to scramble away.

Surely this had to be the end. How many more people might die or be seriously injured to protect her? She couldn't even process what was happening and knew that there was a monster loose that wanted her dead.

And where were the others?

Tywin. Kevan. Tygett. The Lannister guards?

Just as Gregor stepped towards her, the three remaining Lannister brothers were there, all with their swords.

Sansa had never seen Tywin fight but knew that he was excellent with a blade. But even as she'd wished for him, her heart sunk. The issue wasn't his skill; it was Gregor's size. Surely no one could match the Mountain.

It was only because there were three highly skilled men challenging Gregor that they were able to keep him from Sansa.

More guards rushed forward, all taking a turn until the huge man was surrounded. He parried and thrust, but even he was no match for ten men.

As quickly as it had begun, it was all suddenly over, with the tip of Tywin's sword at Gregor's throat, drawing blood, forcing the huge man to his knees. The rage in Tywin's eyes was a force, and Sansa revelled in it. This man would not live. He would die, here and now, by her husband's hand.

The room silent except for the moans of pain. Blood, shit and piss made the air reek and Sansa was almost in shock as she looked at Gregor Clegane on his knees.

"You dare!" Tywin spat. "What is the meaning of this?"

Sansa glanced to where Sandor lay, prone, holding his side. She knew he must have taken a hit that could prove lethal if it was not treated soon. Similarly, Gerion was out cold, and she had no idea if he were dead or just injured.

Gregor's eyes darted past Tywin to land on Cersei.

"I was promised a better position, more gold, more power from the new Lady of Casterly Rock."

Started gasps rang the room. Everyone looked at Cersei.

Only because Sansa knew Tywin so well could she see the flash on pain in his eyes before he turned towards her.

"Explain!" he said, voice ice cold and deadly. There was no doubt that Tywin was beyond furious.

Tears formed as she shook her head, as her cheeks flushed.

"He lies. He's a monster!" she cried.

An inhuman roar rose from Gregor before he threw off the guards that were holding him and streaked across the room. Before anyone could react, he'd pushed Genna aside. Tywin's sister crashed to the floor, smashing her head on the stone and going still, blood pooling.

Gregor had his hands around Cersei's neck before anyone could react. None of the guards were even close to her.

Her eyes bulged, as Gregor held her before he turned to Tywin.

"I'm as good as dead, but I'm taking this bitch with me."

Sansa saw real fear in Cersei's eyes, but there was no way to save her. She'd made her choice. And the results were catastrophic.

There was a sickening snap as his large hands broke her neck, and he threw her body to the ground. Then Gregor was surrounded, as Tywin stalked towards him. It was a single blow that took Gregor's head. Tywin said nothing once the deed was done.

Then he threw his sword away, and spun around, glancing at the carnage in the room.

Addam dead.

Cersei dead.

Gregor dead.

Gerion and Genna were hurt.

Sandor bleeding out.

Sansa knew that no one could have predicted this.

Not her.

Not him.

And certainly not them together. Sansa felt sick, and wondered if she was going into shock. She watched Tywin as his eyes took in the destruction.

She wanted to go to him, to try to offer him some comfort, but another moan from Sandor drew her attention back to the young man that had protected her; perhaps at the cost of his own life. She owed him her attention right now.

She was by his side in an instant, tearing at her gown to try to find the source of the blood.

"HELP ME!" she screamed, trying to get to the wound on his side, but his armour was in the way. It was likely the only thing that had saved his life.

She hoped Gregor hadn't nicked any organs – that would be devastating. Sansa didn't know who was beside her as she started barking out orders.

"We need soap, needles, hot water and clean towels. No one will touch him until they have washed and get me the fucking Maester!"

No one moved for a moment, until Sansa screamed, "NOW!"

Chaos erupted, as those around her hurried to do as she bid. She leaned over Sandor, saw his eyes flicker.

"Hold on," she whispered to him. He nodded and then grasped her hand, squeezing it. There were people beside her, tearing at his armour. She looked down to see the wound, an ugly gash along his ribs and inching towards his stomach. She grabbed more of her gown, ripping it. She wished for something better but worked with what she had, pressing it to the wound, hoping to slow the flow of blood.

Her hands were covered in gore, as she prayed to some gods to save him. He had to live.

"Stay with us," she kept repeating over and over again.

When a shadow fell over her, Sansa glanced up to see Tywin there.

Briefly, she started to shake, before she reigned in that emotion. There would be time later to go through all the horrible things that had happened here Tonight.

"Gerion?" she asked.

He shook his head and then looked at Sandor's face, which was pale and sweaty, his eyes closed as he moaned.

"Listen to Lady Lannister. You will do whatever is necessary to save Lord Clegane!" Tywin ordered those that surrounded her. To a man they nodded, in awe of their new mistress as she alone was stemming the flow of blood.

Then Tywin was gone from her sight, as the Maester appeared, and Sansa was swept up in the race against time to save the life of Sandor Clegane.