Chapter 13

Riverrun: Bedchambers - Tywin

He came awake at first light, although everything felt off and wrong for a moment before the previous days' events came rushing back over him.

The bed was too soft, the covers scratchy, and for the first time in a decade, there was a warm, naked woman curled up in his arms. Somehow in the night, Sansa had found her way back to him, and now their legs were entwined, her face smashed up against his bare chest, while her long red hair was a riot of curls on the white bedding.

The day's events, all of them, rushed over him, and he couldn't help but let out a contented little sigh that Sansa was now his, in name and in deed – in all ways that mattered to those that lived in this time. She belonged to him.

Tywin Lannister was a married man once again.

Shifting slightly, as to not wake her, Tywin wanted time to just gaze at his wife.

His wife!

He had honestly never thought this day would come again for him. He'd been resigned to living a life alone, apart from others, cut off from feeling, from caring, lest someone else he loved was taken from him.

Joanna's death had almost broken him, even worse knowing he could have prevented it if he'd just kept her safe.

Tywin had known from the moment Joanna's labour had started with Tyrion; something was wrong.

It had taken her months to recover from the birth of the twins, his Maester assuring him it was because of two babes and not one, but deep down, Tywin had known.

He'd known that his wife was not build to carry and birth children the way some woman were. Because of that they had been careful. After Jaime and Cersei had been born, marital relations between them had taken over a year to resume, and even then, it was infrequent at best.

But he'd loved his wife and when he'd said his vows in the sept, he'd meant them. He'd stayed true to them.

Even though he and Joanna did not couple frequently, he'd remained faithful to her throughout their marriage. He and Joanna were the same age and Tywin had simply thought Joanna's sexual appetites were what a man of his stature could expect from a marriage.

Which meant nothing had prepared him for Sansa last night.

He'd been aware of how different the time she lived in was, with the few glimpses he'd caught of her in his visions. The clothing, the dancing, the social interactions – all of it was hardly recognizable.

He'd obsessed about all of his visions of her and knew that she came from a time when it seemed to be much more acceptable to sleep with someone outside of marriage. Still, there had been no mistaking the fact that his wife had been a maiden last night.

She had been a bloody revelation, Tywin thought.

The woman set his blood on fire, made his cock ache, sent wicked thoughts careening through his head.

He wanted her with a hunger that felt insatiable, even now. And the best part was, she seemed to want him just as much. She was no silent bed partner, waiting for her lord husband to do his duty. She was full of passion, heat and yearning.

Now, awake and with nothing else to do but touch her, Tywin had his hand running down her smooth legs, marvelling at the difference no hair made. She was already a spectacularly formed woman, but with the preparations she'd put into her wedding night, it felt like she'd set his brain on fire.

If he'd been possessive of her before, jealous of any man that dared to even speak to her, Tywin had no idea how he might handle the next few months. As it was, he was already regretting that they had to leave for Casterly Rock today, although he wanted her in his bed, in his home. There would be no separate bed-chamber for Sansa, for he wouldn't even give her the choice to be apart from him. When he was at the Rock, she would be with him – always.

"What is my lion thinking?"

His head snapped up to see her smiling down at him. A shaft of early morning light caught her hair, turning it to fire, and his breath caught with the emotion that he saw reflected in her eyes.

He wondered how long it might take for them to exchange the words that he was fast coming to feel. The sheer emotion this woman wrought in him made wary.

Could he trust it?

For so long, he'd built high walls around his heart to keep from feeling things – and now Sansa was crushing through those barriers with an ease that shocked him.

Realizing he was still stroking her legs, and that he hadn't answered her, Tywin leaned down to press a kiss to the top of a silky thigh.

Perhaps he wasn't the most experienced man in the Kingdom when it came to bedplay, but he was a fast learner. He paid attention. And he wanted this woman with his entire being. Wanted to please her, to have her ache for his touch, and hear her scream his name.

Nuzzling at her now, drawn in by her arousal that was scenting the air, he placed an open-mouthed kiss on her mound, loving how she sucked in a breath and then moaned out his name.

She was so expressive, so carefree and wanton in seeking her pleasure, and he drank it all in - every gasp, every moan, every twitch. All of it was his and his alone.

"I am thinking, Sansa, that I will go down on my wife this morning," he said, deliberately using her odd wording from the night before.

Despite her clear need, for Tywin could see her thighs slicked with her cream, she giggled and ran her hands through his hair.

"Oh, but I liked my lord's kiss," she purred, and his cock ached.

Fuck, he wanted to just bury himself inside her.

But she'd been untouched last night, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. If he made her peak with his mouth, perhaps he could….

Before he even knew what was happening, Sansa had moved so that he was now on his back, and she was straddling him. Her toned thighs were pressing down on either side of his hips, while her core, wet and warm, was nudging up against his hard cock.

"Stop thinking so much, Tywin. I'm not breakable," she murmured into his ear, kissing him, sucking on his neck. His hand came up to grip her hips firmly as she slithered around on him, making him seek out that wet heat that he craved.

"I loved being with you last night," she was saying, now biting at him and tugging at his ear.

Seven hells, it felt decadent, her loving him like this.

Not to make comparisons, but he'd always done most of the work when it'd come to him and Jo…

Stop, he commanded himself. He'd drive himself mad if he kept trying to make these links between his two wives. Joanna and Sansa were nothing alike, and he needed to stay in the moment with the one he was currently with.

"Let me love you," Sansa whispered, and he could do nothing but nod, a willing captive of hers.

His need had not lessened, his cock no less achy, but the sweetness of the words, the specific intent by her to pleasure him, settled something in Tywin.

This did not have to be frantic.

This did not have to be a frenzy.

They could take their time.

Sansa was his. And he wanted to try with her. So he opened his mouth to try to vocalize some of what he was feeling.

"You are so soft, so pale," he said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "So different from me."

Sansa's soft answering smile was everything – and he knew that he was on the right course with her by vocalizing some of what he was feeling. No one would ever accuse him of being a poet, but he wasn't totally ignorant to what a woman needed to hear. Even one as bold as Sansa.

Lannister's were blond and fair, but they were from the Westerlands, with its sun and warmth. Their skin tanned easily, browning up like berries during the long summer days, and making their hair even lighter.

Tywin had spent his youth outdoors, sparring and roughhousing with Kevan and others in their household. He'd taken his first serious hit from a training sword when he was just over six name days old and still had the scar on his forearm.

Sansa was nothing like him. Her skin was milk pale and almost unmarked, and Tywin sent a silent prayer of thanks to her father, who'd obviously protected and cherished her. It made the reds and pinks of her body that much more pronounced. The palest pink nipples that he wanted to taste, again and again, the neatly trimmed curls that were as bright as her hair on her head and, of course, her lips, both sets, a darker pink than the tips of her breasts and plump and juicy.

Tywin couldn't keep the groan from escaping through his mouth. She was a feast for his senses.

Gods, he wanted her, could feel her all but drip onto him. Like a stag in rut, he loved how her scent was marking them both.

"Let me look at my husband," Sansa said, drawing his attention back to her.

She was still perched atop him, seemingly comfortable in her nakedness as her hands began their explorations. Sensing this was something she needed, Tywin grunted and propped a pillow behind him so he could watch her.

Her eyes widened as they traced over the muscular plains of his chest. Tywin wasn't huge like Robert, but he was a man that could easily and comfortably swing a sword. He'd spent a lifetime training and on horseback and was powerful in his own right. At forty-one, he was a finely tuned weapon, and his body reflected his dedication to his training.

Now, his wife was making appreciative little sounds as she explored every inch of his body.

Hands, mouth, tongue. She licked him, touched him, nipped at him until he was barely holding onto his control.

"Sansa," he growled when she paused at his hip to ask about a particularly nasty scar that had never healed properly.

His cock was literally weeping, red and engorged and needing her mouth THERE, on him. If not her mouth, her hands or her wet core, that he could all but taste.

She looked up, and batted her eyelashes, all feigned innocence.

"Yes, Tywin?"

"Please," he ground out, having never begged for a single thing in his entire life, but he was about just to take her if she kept up this torture for much longer. He needed --- something.

A wicked grin was sent his way before his wife finally shimmied down his body to perch between his legs. She was eyeing his cock as if it were a treat and fuck, did he want her mouth on him.

"So if you gave me the lord's kiss, is this called A lady's lips?"

She winked at him, and he growled.

"Seven fucking hells woman, just put me out of my misery," Tywin snapped.

She grinned, and he watched as she wetted her lips and then lowered her mouth to suck him deep inside.

Tywin couldn't help himself – the sensation of Sansa's mouth on him overwhelmed him, to the point where he carded his hands through her hair, holding her mouth to him as she worked him over. His first wife had never been so bold.

Now Sansa had him deep inside, dragging her mouth back and forth, using her hands and tongue on him as well, working his entire length. Her body was undulating as she sucked him as if she were getting as much enjoyment out of this as he was.

It was a heady thought for a man such as him – that his wife might enjoy this just as much as he did. Freeing in a way nothing else had ever been.

No one, in all his days, had anyone ever seen to him in such a manner. As Tywin grunted out encouragement, she kept it going for an age and he wondered if she had been serious about him spending in her mouth. A distant part of his brain thought that perhaps he should be concerned about getting her with child, but the sheer indulgence of this act – as if she wanted to do something for him prevented him from carrying that thought out.

"Come, baby, in my mouth," she was saying, and his brain briefly wondered why she was calling him that, before her hands and mouth, working in tandem, tightened on him. He didn't understand the words, but her intent was clear.

She had the head of his member sucked deep inside her, and her cheeks hollowed out. He was so large that she couldn't get him into her mouth entirely, even though Tywin swore he had bumped the back of her throat as he gently thrust inside her. But she never relented and unable to do anything but listen to her command, Tywin roared his release as he spent down her throat, collapsing on the bed as he watched his wife swallowed him.

There was a part of Tywin that wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and pull the covers over her head and sleep more, but there was a keen edge of need in her bright blue eyes.

He needed to see to her needs, he realized and drew her up against his body, kissing her deeply.

"That was incredible," he told her.

"You liked it?" Suddenly, his very bold wife appeared shy and uncertain.

Tywin was gobsmacked.

Liked it? He felt like she had remade him.

"Sansa, I have no words," was all he could say, loving her warm little giggle as she settled in his arms.

He needed a moment, and then he would see to her needs, her desire.

"I liked doing that to you, Tywin," she said, tracing patterns on his chest.

She could do that as often as he wanted, he thought.

She seemed fascinated by the muscles there and very little hair. He's never been a hairy man, so they matched in that respect. His hand came up to cup her breast, loving the feel of them. They were on the smaller side, but a perfect handful for him, and he thumbed the nipple, watching as it pebbled.

He was just about to lean down and take it in his mouth when there was a demanding knock on their door. He tried to ignore it, wanting time with his wife. His cock was rallying, and he knew he could have her once more before they had to be off. He had a brief thought of how Sansa might adapt to travelling when the pounding on the door intensified.

Growly, Tywin threw off the covers, pulling on breeches before stalking through the small solar that adjoined the bedroom to rip open the door. Standing there, was Ned Stark, his arm wrapped around his new wife, Catelyn. The man's face, never one for a sunny expression, was even darker than usual.

"Lord Tywin, we need to speak."

Tywin bit back the groan, thinking of all he was giving up to have this conversation. But he knew, even without Sansa's insights, that this was a moment to turn the tide with the new Lord of Winterfell in his favour.

Tywin's mind raced.

Tywin knew that if they had been at the Rock, Ned would never have been able to simply knock on his door. It was improper being seen this way, and yet, Tywin knew the moment to be pivotal.

"Give us an hour. I need to … wake Sansa and call for my brothers."

Ned gave a curt nod, then ushered Catelyn down the hallway while Tywin closed the door, rushing to find Sansa.

She was sitting up in bed, wearing his tunic, hair dishevelled, while she bit her lip.

"Clearly, this did not happen in your time?" Tywin asked.

She shook her head.

"No." Then a big sigh.

"I'm afraid me being here has changed so much. I'm so unsure of what is going to remain the same."

The worry etched on her face was not fake. Tywin knew she was starting to understand just how deadly a game was that they were playing. One miscalculation and it would be deadly for both of them.

Tywin was in bed and had her in his arms for comfort rather than passion. The entire mood had shifted, and he knew they had precious few moments before they'd be awoken by those in Lord Tully's household to 'examine' the bedsheets while preparing for a meeting with the new Lord and Lady Stark.

"What do I need to know?" Tywin said, a bit more settled with Sansa back in his arms.

She scrunched up her nose, wrinkling it a bit, and Tywin had the strangest urge to kiss her, looking like she was.

"Hmm, well, I've studied this so many times, so where to begin?"

She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts, and Tywin distracted himself by running a hand down her back. Gods, he missed this—these moments, with a wife, that belonged only to the two of them. There was something so perfect about having a connection like this with one other person.

When she cleared her throat, Tywin pushed aside all other thoughts and focused on what she was saying.

"The Trident was the pivotal battle in the rebellion, the one that truly swung the entire war into Roberts's favour," Sansa began. "It was what ultimately determined the outcome of the war and would become known as Robert's Rebellion."

Tywin snorted. Of course, the great lumbering oaf had named the entire rebellion after him! If it should be named after anyone, it was House Stark, as they had suffered greatest at Targaryen hands.

He mentioned this to Sansa, who hummed her agreement.

"Well, you know that Lord Jon Connington was just defeated in the Battle of the Bells. That is why all the Lords are here and where Hoster Tully was injured. Right about now, King Aerys is realizing that this rebellion is a major threat to his house, and perhaps the greatest threat to the Targ dynasty since Daemon Blackfyre."

"Targ?" Tywin's brows had furrowed.

Sansa waved a hand. "My brain thinks in shorthand."

Tywin chuffed out a pleased sound. He liked that.

Targ.

It made that lofty house sound diminutive. He could only imagine the insult Aerys would feel if he were to use Sansa's shortened version of his name.

"You beat Robert out in declaring your intentions to take the Throne here. In my timeline, he does so at the Trident, where he leads the combined forces of Arryn, Baratheon, Stark and Tully into battle. He's a loathsome man, but he is quite the commander."

"And against them?"

Tywin had an idea of course, but he wanted confirmation, from Sansa.

"All the houses from the Crownlands, the entire Reach. Dorne, although reluctantly and only because Aerys is essentially holding Elia and her children hostage in the Red Keep. There are also some loyalist houses from the Riverlands that do not follow Hoster – Houses Darry, Goodbrook, Mooton and Ryger. They are a problem," she muttered darkly and he understood as he was now aligned with House Tully.

Tywin was silent, letting her tell her tale, but inside, he was fascinated by how intelligent his wife was. It had always been something Tywin had found attractive, and yet he'd never met anyone whom he matched wits with the way he did Sansa.

And not just the sheer amount of information she knew, but how she processed it, analyzed it and adapted it for their own gain.

"Crown Prince Rhaegar takes command of the royal forces. Dorne will dispatch ten thousand men, to march up the Kingsroad and join Rhaegar at the Trident, led by Prince Lewyn Martell, who, as you know, is a Kingsguard."

Tywin stiffened, wondering what Sansa might tell him about Jaime.

"He lives, Tywin," she said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "At least in my timeline – he lives through the rebellion. Before I get sidetracked, let me finish with the battle, husband."

He nodded, letting out a relieved breath. It was the first time she'd directly mentioned his beloved son.

"While the Dornish are reluctantly gathering their forces, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jonothor Darry, also of the Kingsguard, are sent to rally the scattered forces of Lord Connington. And, as you are aware, Aerys finally writes to you, his old friend, for help. Rhaegar persuaded him."

Sansa rolled her eyes at that bit. Tywin agreed.

"Friend. I'd sooner have his head," he snarled.

Sansa soothed a hand down his chest, and he settled under her touch. She knew – knew why he hated the mad King.

"Where is the Reach?"

Sansa shrugged. "Still on their siege at Storm's End. Some of Mace's men join Rhaegar's host."

She gave a heavy sigh.

"The Reach is going to be a huge problem, Tywin if our plan works. Every single house was loyal to House Tyrell and House Targaryen. There isn't a single one that didn't declare for them."

"What did Robert do with the region?"

"Not enough," she muttered. "Not nearly enough considering what Lord Stannis is going through."

House Tyrell was barely punished, allowed to keep Highgarden and the sheer mess that Robert made, giving Renly Storm's End made Sansa want to grind her molars. The man was an idiot. But that was a discussion for another day.

"We will hold them accountable for their decisions, Sansa."

Her blue eyes met his, and there were so many questions there and a little trepidation.

Tywin knew what Sansa was thinking.

What was 'accountable' to a man like him?

"I've studied this time period extensively, Tywin. I know what that means. I know that some houses were stripped of lands, titles and men. I know people lost their heads for the choices they made. I know this, and yet, the mere thought of this turns my stomach."

He gathered her close as her breathing had increased and knew his wife had a tender heart.

"Hush. I have been making decisions like this since before you were born. Their blood will be on my hands, not yours."

She shuddered a bit, but steadied herself, rallying to continue her story.

"The Riverlands are deeply divided Tywin. The Blackfish, after the war, goes to the Vale, to serve Lord Arryn. But he is needed here. Edmure needs a strong role model, and the Riverlands will be poorly positioned in the upcoming years if we do not shore them up now."

Tywin cupped her cheeks and brushed his thumbs over them.

"I will speak with him before we depart for the Rock."

She nodded.

"Good. Perhaps, it might be worthwhile to see if Edmure can foster at the Rock when the war is done."

Tywin agreed.

Sansa continued her tale, speaking of how Rhaegar tried to cross the ruby ford, while Robert used his booming voice to command rebel troops during the battle.

"Some will make a name for themselves in this battle Tywin, while others die. But what is pivotal, what is important, is that the battle came down to single combat, on horseback, between Robert and Rhaegar in the river. Once Robert's warhammer crushed Rhaegar's chest, the royal army broke apart and fled back to King's Landing."

Sansa shook her head. She'd switched to past tense, because who knew if things would go the same, so she was recounting this as a tale of what might have been.

"There was so much that happened afterwards. Ser Barristan was near death, but Robert spared him, against the advice of Lord Bolton. He's also a loathsome man."

She shuddered a bit when she thought of that house. Perhaps there would be a way to rid the North of their traitorous presence.

"Lord Manderly was saved by Ser Bartimus and was granted Wolf's Den. Both sons of Crowfoot Umber were killed, and Lord Goodbrook, having died, had a son that made peace with Robert and Hoster."

"And the Frey's? Where was Lord Walder?" Tywin sneered.

Sansa rolled her eyes.

"He arrived late after the battle was won. Hoster questioned his loyalty, but he demurred and begged forgiveness, which was granted. But he, too, should have been punished. It was deliberate on his behalf – the stalling."

What Tywin did not know was that Sansa would move heaven and earth to make it so that Houses Bolton and Frey did not conspire with her husband at any point in the future. In fact, Tywin had no idea that Sansa was actively working to strengthen the bonds between the North and the West, so there would be no need for such despicable acts later on.

For his part, Tywin's mind was trying to process all that he learned.

"And in King's Landing?"

Sansa gave him another look.

"Aerys sent the Queen, who was pregnant, along with Prince Viserys to Dragonstone, keeping Elia with him as a hostage. Aerys was in an uproar as he thought that Prince Lewyn betrayed him at the Trident. Both Lewyn and Ser Darry were killed during the fighting at the Trident. Trust me when I say, we can get Dorne on our side. We just need to promise to save Elia and her children."

Tywin's eyes narrowed.

"And then? Finish it, Sansa," he commanded.

He saw her stiffen slightly at his tone, but he needed to know.

"The rebels learned that you were coming to King's Landing with your army. Robert was injured, so Lord Stark led Robert's vanguard down the kingsroad, racing to reach it before you."

"And did they?"

She shook her head, biting her lip again and almost seemed to retreat inside herself.

He wanted to bellow, to demand, to snarl that she spill everything she knew, no matter how bad it was.

Instead, he took a deep breath and then another. None of this was her fault. She was giving him an incredible amount of knowledge.

In fact, if he thought about it, which he did, Tywin had never known anyone in his life able to recall facts the way she did. It was remarkable, and he wondered how she did it. Changing tactics, he asked her about it.

"Your brain is a marvel, Sansa," he said, hoping his tone was gentle. He was not good at being soft – he was not an easy man. "How do you remember such things?"

She brightened and smiled shyly. "It's just how my brain works. I can recall anything I've read or seen a picture of, even once."

He shook his head at her, pride blooming through him that she was his. He cupped her cheek, stroking it.

"Tell me, Sansa. Finish the story."

"With Robert wounded from Rhaegar and you marching your army towards the capital, Aerys began to enact his wildfire plot."

Tywin's stomach churned, like snakes coiling around each other at the mere mention of that awful substance.

"He had three pyromancers, Rossart, Garigus and Belis, coming day and night into the Red Keep. When his Hand, Lord Chelsted, became suspicious of him and his actions, Aerys had him dipped in wildfire and burnt alive."

Tywin wanted to hurl, thinking about what Jaime was seeing, having to guard such a man.

As if she knew he was struggling, her hands were back, touching him, soothing him.

"You had remained neutral throughout the war, ignoring calls to arm by both the loyalists and the rebels. However, a fortnight after the Battle of the Trident, you appeared at the gates of King's Landing with twelve thousand men. You claimed your loyalty was with Aerys and requested entry to the city. Lord Varys told the King to keep the gates closed, but your man, Pycelle, the Grand Maester, convinced Aerys you were here to help."

Sansa sat up and pushed away from him then, her face pale as if she could no longer stand to touch him.

"Lannister forces sacked the city, Tywin. Killing people of all ages, raping women."

She began to shake, and even though he reached for her, she shook her head.

"Don't."

He stilled his hand, his green eyes locked on hers. She was facing the very ugly reality of the world she now lived in.

"You have to do better. You have to demand better of your men. These people are innocent Tywin. If you want them to love you as a King, you must be seen as their protector, as their saviour. Swear this to me," she said, and he knew he'd get nothing more from her if he did not make this promise.

A part of him wanted to try and explain what it meant to sack a city in this time, but he knew she would not be dissuaded from this path. She had to know – she was a student of history. But knowing and living it were two very different things.

And perhaps she had a point. How much more outstanding would his reputation be, if he were to 'save' people instead of hurt them? If he were seen differently? How much would they cheer and support him when he took the throne if he 'liberated' them from Aerys?

This woman was a font of knowledge; just with what she'd given him here, in the space of an hour could keep Tywin ahead of so many others when it came to politics and jockeying for position. She was better than an army, for she was arming him with knowledge. And knowledge, for a man like Tywin Lannister, was almost as dangerous as ten thousand well-armed men.

"I swear."

"On your son's life?"

His heart almost stuttered to a stop, but her chin was angled in such a way that he knew she would not budge.

"On my son's life, Sansa, I will give the order to my men. But anyone who resists when we take the city will meet the cold kiss of steel on their neck."

She sagged and nodded, whispering a ragged, "Thank you."

"Come here," he said gently as she fit herself back against him. "I cannot always promise you what you want, Sansa. Being Lord of the Westerlands, my duty is to my people, to my home, to my land. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure we remain powerful."

"I know. I know who and what you are Tywin. I know," she repeated as if trying to convince herself. "But there are some men, some decisions that you must trust me on. There are some that are true monsters, and some things, that if done differently, will benefit us."

He made a noncommittal sound and stroked her back again. Her story began again, and Tywin was both dreading and eagerly awaiting the conclusion.

"A few of you raced towards the Red Keep, to storm the Walls."

"Was that where Jaime was?"

"Yes. He was the only Kingguard left, holding the Red Keep. He asked for permission to make terms when he realized King's Landing would fall. Aerys refused and demanded that Jaime bring him your head."

Tywin swallowed hard.

"And did my son listen to the King?"

He felt her shake her head.

"No. Instead, Jaime realized that the King was planning on burning the entire city with wildfire. He killed Lord Rossart, who was now Hand, when he confirmed the plan. Then Jaime went to the Throne Room and found the King waiting. Jaime told him he'd killed Rossart, and Aerys attempted to flee towards the Iron Throne. Jaime hauled him off the steps and slashed his throat, killing him before he could send another messenger to his pyromancers. It was then that the several lords from the North burst into the Hall, to find Jaime's sword wet with Aerys' blood. Jaime did not deny killing the King, making quips and not telling them why."

Tywin was reeling, and the only thing that felt steady in this world was the woman in his arms. His son had killed his King he was sworn to protect and then hadn't said why. This was a disaster.

"Finish it," he said, voice husky even to his ears, emotion threatening to choke him.

"They asked him who he wanted to name King, and he told Lord Roland to proclaim whomever he wanted. And then he sat down on the Iron Throne with his sword bloodied to await the next King."

Tywin reeled, trying to imagine what his son had gone through to make such a decision.

Sansa paused.

"History does not say who gave him the name that he would be known for, but as Lannister forces were engaged with the remaining loyalist, Lord Stark entered the Throne room and saw Jaime. From then on, Jaime Lannister was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as the Kingslayer, a man without honour. An oath breaker."

Tywin felt black spots dance in his eyes.

His son!

His precious son was forced to break his vows to kill a mad king to save the people of the city and was not known as a hero, but instead a Kingslayer.

Tywin went to push Sansa away, to get up and pace, to bellow in rage. Then he remembered that Ned Stark wanted to speak with him.

He would end this now. He would take Ned Stark's head before he could say those awful words to Jaime, casting his son into that blackness in which his reputation would never recover.

Tywin knew it could not.

When Sansa hurried around to the front of him, he was lost in his world. She was sitting on his lap, effectively trapping him so he could not move. Tywin was not a man that hit women, and he was not about to start with her.

But pure fury was consuming him. He needed to see to this! Now!

"Tywin, stop," she commanded.

He snarled. "They dared!"

"I know!" she yelled back. "I know." She ran a hand down his face and then pressed her lips to his. "I know, my lion. I know. But listen, please, gods, listen to me!"

He resisted her at first – until he could not. He carded his hands through her hair, pinning her to him. She had tears streaking down her face.

"This is why everything I tell you has to be weighted. So much has changed, Tywin. Ned Stark never spoke with you at Riverrun in my time because you were never at Riverrun. There was no chance to make Jaime a hero, to expose Aerys and his wildfire plot. In many ways, I think Ned Stark was angry that Jaime killed Aerys when he wanted to strike that blow. You can change things, Tywin."

He retook her lips, hard and almost punishing.

Tywin knew none of this was her fault.

Forewarned was forearmed.

He had a chance to change things – and change them he would. He would not allow his son to be known as a Kingslayer, and for the entire realm to not know the reason why. He'd have every single Maester write ravens from the Wall to Sunspear to proclaim what Jaime had done – how he had saved an entire city full of people.

"Sansa," he said, and she wiggled slightly, lining herself up with him, both of them still naked. His cock was suddenly rock hard and needed to be inside her.

The emotions of the past few minutes was high, both of them on the edge where they might tip over, either driving them apart or forging them together, to make something stronger.

"Tywin. Please. We have a chance to change things. So many things, including Jaime's fate, and the lives of so many people."

Would he ever be able to say no to her, Tywin wondered as she moved suddenly, impaling herself on him. She allowed a gasp to escape her lips, for he knew she had to be sore and this was not the manner in which he meant to have her a second time. But he knew she needed this connection and he captured her cry with another kiss, this one not nearly as bruising as the first.

Sliding into her warm heat, Tywin knew that she was everything to him.

"My lion," she kept repeating as he thrust up into her, his hips meeting hers. This was hard and fast, and they knew their time together could end at any moment when Lord Stark returned.

"You must never leave me," he snarled, and she nodded, tipping back, so her neck was exposed as he attacked her there, nipping and sucking at her. He loved watching that pale skin redden under his lips, and gripped her arse so that she rode him harder.

"Tywin, please," she begged at one point, her body slick with sweat.

"Who do you belong to?" he demanded, knowing he was half out of his mind with need.

"YouTywin. I am always yours," she said, kissing him again.

It settled something in him, finally, to have her say that. Yesterday was about pretty, scripted words said in front of lords and ladies of the realm.

These words were for him and him alone.

"Are you mine, Tywin?" she asked, eyes intense. She stilled, forcing him to look at her.

Of course, this woman would demand his equal commitment in return. Sansa would not allow some half-formed, one-sided commitment. She felt herself his equal in every way, and perhaps, she was.

"Gods, yes."

The words released in a burst from him, and with a breathless depth, he knew them to be the truth.

Tywin Lannister belonged to Sansa Stark to the very depth of his soul.

He was beginning to suspect he'd been hers since the first vision.

She'd come through time, to be his.

Of course, she was his and he was hers.

Then all thoughts fled as she ground against him, moving again, mewling and needing a release. He reached down, his thumb brushing against her nub, as he stroked her, watching her shatter in his arms, while he pumped her full of his seed.

She collapsed against his chest, still nuzzling him and he smoothed her long hair that cascaded down her back. She still had his tunic on, he thought in a daze, the past few hours having sent his entire world off-kilter.

"We have time," she told him, and he grunted his reply.

"I know."

They were quiet for a time, both of them recovering from their coupling, the revelations, the emotion and impact that her words had wrought.

"He's my son, Sansa. And I love him."

Her head titled to meet his, and he saw she understood. She gave the nod.

"I know. But we have to be smart, Tywin. We have to think our way through this. It is why I did not have you take Robert's head last evening. You were well within your right, I know. But we can do things better, Tywin."

She demanded so much of him, he thought, wondering if he could meet her expectations.

A thought, that had been niggling at the back of his mind, finally worked itself free and he frowned looking up at Sansa who was still seated on his lap.

"Why was my son the only Kingsguard with Aerys?"

Before Sansa could answer, there was a pounding on the door.

Regrettably, Tywin knew the time had come to speak with Lord Stark, but he hadn't missed the look of panic and something else he could not identify, that had flashed through Sansa's eyes when he asked the question.

Which begged the next question – what else did his wife know?

And would Tywin ever stop being surprised with the answers she gave him?

As Tywin dressed and helped her, he finally realized what he'd seen there on his face when he'd asked about Jaime being alone in the Red Keep.

Fear.

Only he didn't know if it was for him, for his son, or for the realm.

What on earth about his question could have his wife pale so quickly and have her mouth slam shut, all while panic and fear chased themselves through her blue eyes?

Whatever it was, Tywin was prepared to get to the bottom of it.

It was more than apparent that what Sansa knew could literally reshape the realm, should a man be bold enough, quick enough, smart enough to do so.

And Tywin Lannister had every intention of ensuring he took advantage of the benefit of having a brilliant wife that knew all their secrets. As painful as it might be, Tywin Lannister planned to leave no stone unturned when it came to what Sansa knew, and emerge, victorious in the game of thrones.