Chapter 2

Present Day October –Lannisport: Sansa

Sansa's first month of university had flown by. She loved her professors, the campus and her classmates. She and her fellow grad students were spending the first year diving deeper into the history of the Westerlands. While she'd been an undergrad she had focused on the ancient time period of Westeros, from 250 to 310, but on all regions in Westeros.

Now her professors wanted her to drill down into the specifics of that time period, and especially as it pertained to Tywin Lannister himself.

There were ten other students in the Master's History program with her, and she was by far the youngest. Most were at least a year or two older than she was. They were nice, for the most part, but she'd caught more than a few 'odd' looks when she'd first arrived and taken a seat. One guy had even told her that the undergrad class had been an hour earlier. She'd given him a frosty look and told him she was in the right place.

For the past month, her professors had praised her for her hard work and keen insights when it came to House Lannister and it made her feel even more apart from her peers. She'd hoped that being here she would fit in, but it appeared she was still the odd little duck when it came to her big brain and passion for her subject matter. Still, she wouldn't keep her mouth shut just to make friends. Sansa was here to learn; everything else was secondary.

One man, in particular, seemed to almost hate her and Sansa had no idea why. Joff Baratheon was nasty and petty and he was constantly lobbying insults her way. Plus, he seemed slow and almost stupid, unable to keep up with the coursework. He often appeared to be dozing and gazing off during their classes. Sansa had wondered what on earth he was even doing in the program when he clearly had no real interest in the subject matter. He was two years older than her, but was so immature for his age, that Sansa could hardly stand to be around him.

Thankfully, two other students, Marg Tyrell and Pod Payne had come to her rescue and both had taken her under their wing and deflected some of the nastier comments from him. It wasn't that Sansa wasn't capable of telling him off, for she had on more than one occasion. It was that he never seemed to stop when it came to her as if he lived to insult her.

At one point, Sansa had even gone so far as to correct him in front of her thesis advisor in their class Tywin Lannister: Hand to King Aerys. It was Sansa's favourite class, and it seemed like Joffrey was actively trying to ruin it.

Over beers with Marg and Pod one night, Sansa had joked that this Joff seemed to be a reincarnation of his namesake from so long ago. They all knew the reputation of King Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name.

"He was a little prick as well," Sansa muttered darkly, grabbing at a nacho and shoving it into her mouth.

Everyone knew that King Joffrey had been the bastard child of Cersei and Jaime Lannister and not a Baratheon at all. His mere presence in the world had meant the deaths of thousands of people and had led to the War of the Five Kings. Beyond that, by all accounts, he had been a vicious and cruel ruler, taking delight in torture and whoring.

"Well, Sansa Stark of the olden days poisoned his ass."

Marg winked at her and Sansa snorted. Pod shook his head at the two of them.

"Gods, Marg, that's awful."

She shrugged.

"Just throwing it out there as an option, Sansa."

Sansa snickered and drank her beer. As much as she hated Joff, they did love to gossip about him. He made it easy by how dumb he acted in class.

"Oh god, I thought he was going to die today when you corrected him on the dates. How does he not know when Aerys named Jaime to the Kingsguard?"

"Right? And then to argue that Cersei didn't do anything 'wrong' by putting her bastard children on the Throne?" Sansa rolled her eyes, beyond annoyed with her classmate. "Gods, the woman jeopardized everything her father had worked so hard to achieve."

Marg and Pod shared a look. In a month, Sansa had gained a reputation of being an excellent debater and a woman that would passionately defend Tywin Lannister; to anyone. Some had gone so far as to tell her she was blind to his faults. She wasn't, but she didn't argue with them over their opinions. Tywin Lannister was not an easy man to be a champion for and Sansa relished the challenge. More than one person had conceded a point, or two to her when it came to the Great Lion.

Sansa scooped up a nacho and looked at her friend. For all her bold sass and blatant sexuality, Marg Tyrell had one impressive brain. She was a few years older than Sansa and her best friend.

When they had first met, Sansa had figured they had nothing in common. Marg was loud, brash and openly flirty. Sansa was reserved when meeting new people, still a virgin and was there to study. She didn't have time for people that weren't taking their studies as seriously as she was.

Sansa had wondered why Marg was even in the Westerlands studying when her family was from the Reach.

When Sansa had asked Marg, she'd shrugged and stated she was studying her ancient namesake and that there had to be more to the story of the woman who'd attempted to become Queen by hitching her wagon to House Lannister.

"I'm vain enough to like that we share a name, although not the same taste in men."

Marg was currently dating an older man named Bronn, who was thirty. She'd told Sansa about him in their first conversation and Sansa had only caught a glimpse of him, but he seemed to treat Marg well and her friend bragged about the sex being out of this world amazing. Since Sansa had nothing to compare it to, she'd wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Older men, San. That's the key."

Marg had winked at Sansa, almost like she knew her friend was a virgin, and then thankfully let the subject drop.

Pod had blushed and stammered something about needing to hit the library, as Marg had laughed at him. They had been standing on campus, in week two of their first semester into their Master's degrees, talking in the warm, Westerlands sunshine.

"He has a crush on you Sansa. Better either put him in the friend zone or give him a chance," Marg had said sagely, before sashaying away to find Bronn.

Sansa had stood there and stared at both her friends, heart sinking.

She wasn't an idiot; she'd seen the blushes on Pod's cheeks when he'd looked at her. She'd hoped it would pass since she didn't think of him as anything more than a friend. Pod was a nice young man just a year older than she was and super sweet.

Sighing, she had wondered if this would all end badly if she didn't like Pod the way he seemed to like her. Since then, she'd kept things light between them, and so far, he hadn't asked her out.

Now they were all at the pub, grabbing a snack and beer after a gruelling day.

"How did he even get into the program?" Sansa wondered, taking another sip of beer and circling back to Joffrey. Since she was off to her yoga class after this, she sipped slowly. The last thing she needed was to be drunk at hot yoga.

"Connections," Marg said, winking at her and Pod.

Sansa thought about that as she went through the motions of the Hot Yoga class she'd joined a few weeks ago. The flow, the sweat, the sheer torture of the class was normally enough to clear her mind, but she was still upset with Joff as she opened her apartment later that evening. She'd worked her ass off to get into the program, but apparently rich kids like Joff got in because of who their parents were. It was galling. And frustrating.

A chime from her phone had her smiling. It was her Dad, asking if she had time to talk. She shot him back a text, telling him she was just about to prepare dinner and that if he didn't mind watching her chop veggies, they could speak.

Even being here a month, she missed him and they spoke daily. She pulled off her soaked top, clad only in her black sports bra and her tiny hot pink yoga shorts, her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head. She was sweaty and gross, but so hungry she wanted to east first and wait to shower until after supper.

And on top of that, she still had hours of studying to do, so if she could cook and talk with her Dad, that would free up some of her time.

She got her laptop, grabbing the book he'd given her and flipping it open to a page where both Tywin and Jaime had been captured. It was the two of them, at the Rock of course, and Tywin teaching Jaime how to use a sword. Everyone knew that Jaime Lannister had been one of the best swordsmen in Westeros, second perhaps only to Arthur Dayne. It was, Sansa thought, a picture that showed a father taking a keen interest in a son he clearly loved.

Lost in her musing, she was distracted as the knife slipped, drawing blood. She sucked her fingertip, trying to stop the flow, brushing against the lion sigil ring she wore around her neck.

That was another task. Now that she hadn't been arrested for theft, she was planning on having the ring fitted so she could wear it. For some reason, it always made her feel better when she had it on, but wearing it around her neck wasn't the best option.

As she wiped up the blood, Sansa didn't even notice when the ring warmed, glowing between her breasts, smiling as her Dad's face filled the screen, happy to fill him in on her day.

The past – Casterly Rock: Tywin

It had been one month since the deaths of Brandon and Rickard Stark, Elbert Arryn, the heir to the Eyrie and nephew to Lord Jon Arryn, Kyle Royce and Jeffory Mallister. All were dead, at the hands of Aerys, who also demanded that Jon Arryn send him the heads of Lord Robert Baratheon and Lord Eddard Stark.

Aerys had to be mad if he thought he could murder nobles from two major houses and not face any repercussion, and as Tywin had predicted, Jon Arryn himself raised his banners in revolt.

The Kingdom, which for years under his rule as Hand to the King had been peaceful and prosperous, was now at war. And everyone knew that wars swallowed gold like a pit in the earth. If they thought he'd finance this one, they were all sorely mistaken. Despite calls to arm from both King and rebels, Tywin had refused to call his banners for either side.

Tywin was not convinced, despite what the woman in the vision had seemed to imply, that the rebels would emerge victoriously in this conflict. Word had come that Dorne was dragging its feet on declaring for the King, and Tywin knew that they would since Elia and her child remained in the Red Keep and under Aerys watchful eye. Elia, at twenty-seven, was pregnant with her second child. Her husband, Rhaegar, her same age was said to be in Dorne gathering an army.

Those in Dorne were in the same position as him, and neither the West nor the South wanted to move against a man that burned people alive. The thought was too horrific and Elia was practically a hostage. Elia and Rhaegar had only been married for a few years and now the Martell's sister was trapped in Kings Landing. As was Jaime.

For now, the fighting continued in the Vale, with those loyal to Aerys not heeding Jon Arryn's call, rising against their liege lord, and the Great Lion sitting at Casterly Rock watching the madness unfold.

Beyond worrying for his son, who was still wearing that damned white cloak, Tywin was consumed with thoughts of the woman he had seen in his vision.

In the days and weeks since he'd had it, Tywin had tried to dismiss it from his mind and pretend it had never happened. But late at night, when he was in his bed, alone, he knew she'd stirred something in him. Something that was long forgotten and suddenly welcome.

Desire. Interest. Curiosity.

He was a man that had loved his wife with his entire heart, and Tywin had no idea why this woman intrigued him. He was truly a man of the West, attracted to the golden hair and boldness of those in his region. Even on the rare occasion that he had expressed an interest in a woman; it had always been one that had borne a striking resemblance to his wife.

Over a decade without Joanna and Tywin still ached for her, although her memory faded by the day. Now thoughts of Joanna had been replaced by a woman that had captivated him in his dreams, with her fiery red hair and one he didn't even know was real.

He was truly going mad, like the King himself.

The woman in the vision was nothing like his wife, in looks, and yet, Tywin was almost obsessed with her, spending far too much time thinking of her.

The Great Lion was aware of what those in the Seven Kingdoms said about him and his marriage; that while he ruled the West with an iron fist, his lady wife ruled him.

For the most part, he'd allowed that rumour to spread, for it softened him slightly and gave his enemies a perceived insight to him. In truth, he and Joanna had always been well-matched, and she knew both him and her place in his life. He'd loved his wife, but they had always been meant for one another and he'd hardly had to do a thing to win her hand. They had been well suited to one another.

Their ten years together were some of the best of his life, but also fraught with tension as the King had lusted after his wife. Tywin knew the moment that Tyrion had emerged from his wife's torn womb, killing her, that Aerys had taken his revenge, and the Great Lion had never forgiven the King for what he had stolen from him.

The added insult of having his heir made Kingsguard further enraged Tywin. So much so that he'd burned the scrolls from Aerys that demanded he come to his aid in this war that the Targaryens had started.

Now, Tywin glowered into the fire, staring into it and wondering if what had happened a month ago had been nothing more than a hallucination. She'd never appeared again, this red-haired princess, and he knew that anything that diverted his attention from the current circumstances could have grave consequences.

His attention needed to remain focused on this war, for Tywin knew the decisions he made in the upcoming months would determine the success or failure of House Lannister for years to come.

With that, he turned away from the flames and prepared for bed. He could not lose himself to some woman that did not even exist.

Still, he couldn't help but see her face as he closed his eyes. For so long, the only person that had occupied such a rarified position in his life had been his wife.

Now, he was obsessed with another woman and the guilt ate at him, even as he longed to see her again.

He fell asleep, thinking of long red hair, and a smile that radiated across time.

He knew the moment the vision was upon him.

This time, he was somewhere different; somewhere that looked completely foreign to him. There were no stone walls, not the familiar chambers of his beloved keep, but a bright and cheery space that had all manner of things that Tywin couldn't even name.

And of course, standing in the middle of what he deduced was a kitchen, was the woman herself. She had to be around twenty-two years of age, he thought. Then he gazed at her and Tywin just about swallowed his tongue.

She was practically naked!

It seemed like her entire body was just … there … on display.

Even having been married for almost a decade, Tywin had never seen a woman dressed in such a manner.

She had some type of tiny black top that covered her breasts, barely, and the smallest underclothes he'd ever seen, in a colour that almost hurt his eyes.

And yet. He couldn't look away from her. Tywin felt his cock harden, traitorous beast that it was, for the first time in ten years as he gaped at her incredible arse. The fabric that she wore cupped her in a way that had his eyes locked on that part of her anatomy.

It was provocative and alluring and she was clearly comfortable in what she was wearing. Why on earth did women dress in such a way? The Great Lion wondered.

He knew now that she was NOT from his time; no woman that was a princess would ever sully herself by dressing thusly. But she didn't appear to be promiscuous; there was never a man around her except for her father.

Tywin hated whores; had since his father had sullied the family name by taking them into his bed. This woman dressed in clothing that even someone from Dorne wouldn't be caught in, but she did not appear to be a loose woman.

And, if he were being honest, his eyes couldn't help but roam over her figure. Whatever that black garment was, it made her breasts look incredible.

He was drawn out of his pursual of her form when he heard her speak. He'd dreamed of her voice and now he was hearing it again.

Tywin looked around the room, trying to find her father, but realized she was alone. She appeared to be speaking to her father on some box-like contraption, the man's voice sounding far away.

She was drinking wine and cooking food, and Tywin wondered where her servants were. Why was she not being served? Why was she engaged in such a menial task?

"What happened today, princess?" her father asked.

She rolled her eyes and stirred her food. "Just Joff, being an ass. How anyone can argue that Cersei Lannister putting her bastard sons on the Iron Throne was a good thing is beyond me. The Queen was twenty-one when she married and was well-positioned to give the King a true heir."

The woman rolled her eyes.

Tywin startled. His daughter had done … what?

Was what this woman said true?

He growled, wishing he could ask her a question.

Clearly, she knew something – she had vital information!

"Well, I for one have never understood that," the man answered, agreeing with her. Tywin liked how the red-haired woman was so smart that her father agreed with her words.

"Dad, it led to the War of the Five Kings! Thousands of people died. The realm was in chaos and all because of her poor choice to sleep with ….!"

There was a loud noise, some contraption had started up, and Tywin missed the name of whom his daughter had slept with when she'd been married.

The man chuckled again, shaking his head. "It's you that loves the lions, not me. I've never understood them, my dear."

The woman rolled her eyes at him.

"Some lions. I'm studying Tywin, Dad. But it's not a hard argument to make that Cersei's actions caused the downfall of House Lannister. All she had to do was give King Robert one or two legitimate heirs."

"Perhaps there were extenuating circumstances," the man said, to which the woman rolled his eyes. He held up his hands in mock defence.

"Ok, you're right. Had Tywin Lannister taken the Throne when the rebellion ended, the Seven Kingdoms most likely would have been much better off. But Princess, you're forgetting one thing."

"Hmmm? What's that?" She was distracted by her cooking, Tywin could see.

The man smiled, but it was sad.

"As much as Cersei Lannister didn't give the realm a proper heir, neither would have Tywin. You know how much he loved his wife. He never remarried and to be King, well, one has to have heirs."

The woman nodded and plated her food.

"True. And we all know that with Jaime keeping his Kingsguard cloak after the Rebellion, and Tyrion not being suitable as his heir, that he would have had to have a wife. Someone true born and noble, to give Westeros it's next line of Kings."

There was a pause, and then the woman looked at her father.

"Would you ever consider dating again, Dad? I mean, I'm grown up now, out of the house. It's been years since Mom died."

Her father sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, which had more than a few streaks of grey. His smile was one that Tywin knew well.

"Perhaps, love. But, it is difficult. Your mother was the love of my life, San. And I can't just replace her."

The woman shook her head.

"Not replace her, Dad. But, maybe find someone new. No one who loved you would ever want you to forget Mom. I just want you to be happy."

"I know love, I know."

The vision blurred as the woman asked her father another question, but they were gone from Tywin's sight.

Tywin gasped again, as he shot up in his bed.

A month! It had been a month since he had seen her, and she was just as alluring as she had been all those weeks ago. He was achy, hard and consumed with the images of her body, while his mind raced to process what he'd just learned.

He threw the covers back from his bed, knowing that he'd get no more sleep, reaching for the quill and parchment.

When he finished writing, he looked down at the paper and frowned.

She knew things about him, the princess from the future.

She knew that Tyrion could not be his heir.

She knew he loved his wife and had no plans on ever remarrying.

She knew that his beloved firstborn son was all but lost to him as long as he wore that ridiculous white cloak.

And she indicated that Robert did indeed win the rebellion and that a few years after Robert took the Throne, he'd married Cersei to Robert.

Tywin snorted as he read the next lines.

Cersei; his vain, temperamental daughter, and yet somehow Tywin had managed to make her a Queen.

Only if the woman in his vision was to be believed, she'd cuckolded the King and given him only bastard children, jeopardizing Robert's rule.

Robert, Tywin snorted, thinking of the boorish man, who'd started this rebellion.

He had no doubts the man would rage and batter his way through this war. And if the woman was right, he'd win. The rebels would win and they'd crown him King. A man that had no aptitude and had shown no interest in ruling.

Tywin knew that ruling was more than force; it was petitioners and taxes, food stores and armies and the poor that needed shelter and clothing. It was a thousand small decisions made daily while ensuring that those under you feared and respected you enough to not rise up in revolt.

And they thought Robert the man to knit the kingdom back together?

Tywin shook his head. People were fools, he thought to himself.

Except for the woman. She argued, yet again, that it should be him. It should be him that took the Iron Throne when this rebellion was over.

Did that mean she thought he should call his banners? What about Jaime? He was still all but a hostage of Aerys in King's Landing and no matter what this woman thought, Tywin would not risk his son's life on some vision.

And then there was the matter of a wife. Her father was not wrong. Any man that took the Iron Throne had to be prepared to give the kingdom it's next heir. Tywin had one son, not two. And his legitimate son would be the one who would inherit Casterly Rock. Jaime was a Lannister, through and through and the Rock was his.

It was tantalizing though, to think about a pathway he'd never considered. His greatest longing was to see his family name live on; to ensure that House Lannister didn't fall into obscurity.

It seemed if he left things as they were, that was a pathway he was headed down. He knew he could not trust Cersei to do what she was supposed to, and that worried him. His daughter should be an asset to him, to their house.

Instead, if the princess from the future was correct, she'd brought his noble house down.

As his thoughts drifted back to the woman from his vision, Tywin could not help the desire that roared through his blood.

Gods, what was she doing to him? And how far was he willing to trust her?

Perhaps she was correct in everything she said, but he would not rush to war, not rush to take sides in this conflict. For now, he'd wait, and he'd watch. And if the time came when it was opportunistic for him to pounce, he would.

In the meantime, he had plenty to think about, including the idea of seating himself on the Iron Throne, and ensuring that his daughter did not bring his house to ruin. If only Tywin knew whom she had slept with, he could end it before it began. The shaft of sunlight indicated that dawn was upon them, and he strode to stand on his terrace, his beloved Sunset Sea welcoming a new day.

For the first time in decades, as Tywin watched a new day start at Casterly Rock, his thoughts were not on his wife, were not with the one woman he'd sworn to love above all others.

Instead, they were a world away, with a woman that was occupying every waking moment of his, with her intelligent mind, her quick mouth and body that Tywin could admit had awoken a hunger in him he'd thought to be gone. Whomever she was, she was upending his world in a way he'd never thought possible.

And the most shocking part of all?

He barely regretted it at all.