Chapter 15

River Road: Sansa

Sansa knew that Tywin was mad at her. Like, really, really mad at her. She couldn't blame him. She was angry at herself for what she had done.

Why had she hit Robert?

What had possessed her to do such a thing?

She'd never touched another person in violence in her entire life, but the man had just made her see red.

His smarmy face, with no apology, had just triggered her, and she'd snapped.

Now she was unable to enjoy her first adventure outside of Riverrun, as things were not right between her and Tywin. She kept stealing glances at her husband's rigid frame. Tywin had been scowling for hours now. He reminded Sansa of that one painting that had been done of him, where everyone said he looked scary. She could see the anger pouring off him in waves.

Sansa occasionally looked back to check on her sister, but she'd seen Cat's disapproval after she'd struck Robert. There were just some things that they would never see eye to eye on – and men's treatment of women in this time period was most likely one of them. Catelyn was every inch the perfect highborn lady.

And as Sansa was proving, all too often it seemed, she was not.

Too angry to try and soothe her sister's feelings, Sansa kept to her place behind Tywin, lost in her own thoughts.

They were a surprisingly small group that was riding close together to be as safe as possible for who they were.

Hoster Tully had sent additional men to take them as far as the border between the two regions, knowing that there were some disloyal in his lands. Tywin hadn't protested, a sure sign that he too was worried.

He'd muttered to Kevan if he'd known how things were going to turn out, he'd have brought two hundred men with him to fetch Sansa. That had made her smile. He might be angry, but he still wanted her.

There was nothing to be done by the lack of men they had, and they had to make do with those that had accompanied Tywin when he'd rushed to find her.

Sansa knew their first few nights they would be camping, for lack of a better term, before they hit Wayfarer's Rest. From there, they would ride hard for the Golden Tooth, the seat of House Lefford and the entrance to the Westerlands.

Their pace through the Riverlands was nothing short of breakneck, as Tywin pushed them hard to reach the Golden Tooth. Sansa thanked the gods that she'd spent half her youth on horseback and was able to keep up, though she did occasionally feel a twinge from losing her virginity the night before. And even though she longed for a warm bath tonight, she knew that would not happen.

It was almost dusk, and Tywin still hadn't even glanced her way, when Sansa realized that Tygett had drawn his horse alongside hers.

"Don't fret so much, My Lady," he said, giving her an easy grin. It was the first time since she'd met him that he'd initiated a friendly conversation with her!

"He's always been a miserable fuck," Tygett said, voice carrying so there was no way the Great Lion couldn't hear it. Still, Tywin said nothing, although his shoulders appeared to hunch even more. As much as Sansa appreciated the effort that Tygett was making, she wasn't going to allow Tywin to be blamed for her lack of control.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have struck him. He's vital in the upcoming war," she muttered.

Tygett sighed and nodded.

"Tis more than that, good sister. You hit a man that threatened to harm you but forced Tywin to stay his hand. You've wounded that great lion's pride, Lady Sansa. He is a man that defends what is his, to the death. And make no mistake, you are his."

Her eyes bored into Tygett's, trying to see if he were lying to her. But they just looked back at her with truth. Something warm bloomed inside her at the realization that Tywin had already claimed her. Then her heart constricted when she thought how it must have appeared to Tywin, for her to strike Robert but not allow him to do so.

Sansa gave Tygett a nod and then cleared her throat.

"Thank you. I will endeavour to correct my mistake."

Tygett winked at her.

"Oh, but it is fun to make him angry. He's so insufferable – so perfect and never making a mistake. I like you, Lady Sansa. You've lit a fire under his arse. You're good for him, and good, I suspect, for House Lannister."

With that ringing endorsement, Tywin turned and snarled at Tygett, "Best you take point and find a good place to camp, brother."

Tygett nodded and whistled for a few men to go ahead with him to scout the area where they would make camp tonight. Her husband slowed his mount until they were beside one another, the first time all day.

Sansa had no idea how one apologized in this period. She couldn't take back her actions, knew them to have potentially hurt not only their alliance but wounded Tywin's pride and made him appear weak in front of the other lords from the Great Houses. She knew that the only reason Robert hadn't retaliated was because of how powerful Tywin was. And she knew they needed Robert at the Trident.

Still, what was done was done, and she could not undo it, even if she wished she could.

"Is there anything I can say that would make you feel worse?" Tywin finally asked her.

She shook her head, morosely. "No. I messed up, Tywin. Big time. I'm so sorry."

He grunted and then sighed.

"He's a dangerous man, Sansa. I do not have to tell you that. You were the one that insisted the timeline remain the same. What if he turns on Ned Stark because we now have Ned's wife? What if he calls for a truce with Rhaegar and gives us all up? He'd get back his family home, and most likely not lose his head for turning on us. What if the capital marches on Casterly Rock?"

Her breathing was coming in short pants as Sansa was just starting to realize how big her mistake might be. Her mind was whirling, taking in and rejecting specific scenarios, trying to play it all against what she knew for sure happened. And the more she thought about it, the more worried she became.

She couldn't help the tears that suddenly appeared and dashed them away angrily. She was so frustrated with herself.

"I'm sorry. So, so sorry, Tywin. I don't know why I did it."

For the first time since they'd been in their chambers together, a small, fierce smile appeared on Tywin's face.

"I know why you did it, wife. It is because you are a lion, Sansa. That man threatened you, and you wanted to defend yourself. And while I sincerely hope we did not just ruin all our well-laid plans, there is a part of me that must admit, how very proud I am that you were not afraid of Robert Baratheon. I dare say, there are a fair number of men in the realm who wouldn't have dared do what you did."

Unsaid was that Tywin had never seen Joanna ever be anything but a proper lady – even when she was threatened. Sansa knew that there was a part of Tywin that was truly proud she hadn't cowed in the face of Robert's offensive threats.

Then her husband sighed, and once again, Sansa felt the weight of her actions settle over the two of them – for there was no denying that they were now in this together, their fates tied. Sansa's actions had very real consequences for Tywin, and the last thing she wanted to do was put him in jeopardy – at least any more danger than necessary.

"Which is part of the problem."

He looked at her, and when she gave a slight nod, he continued.

"The game we are playing is very real and very deadly, Sansa. I know it is an impossible task to ask of you, but you must start to adhere to the customs and mannerisms of a woman of this time and your station. You are now Lady Lannister. I am the wealthiest man in the realm; I have the absolute loyalty of every house in the West. We will soon be home, under the scrutiny of not only my other siblings but my daughter and other lords from the region."

"I know."

"While some will be glad, I've remarried, and to a Tully, there will be others that will be angry that I did not take a wife from a house in the West. We cannot afford to make mistakes like the ones we have. We have so many enemies, Sansa, and we do not know how much your knowledge will help. You must do better."

"I am trying," Sansa gritted out. Tywin had made his point abundantly clear, and she was well aware of how much she'd messed up.

"Try harder," he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He was relentless, Sansa thought. She got it. She understood. Why did he have to go on and on? He knew how difficult this was for her.

"And learn faster. Once we get to the Rock, I will arrange for Genna to help you. We will make up some story that Hoster overindulged you. My family might be forgiving of your quirks, but if we mean to rule, we must be above reproach!" he finished, somewhat harshly.

Sansa blinked back the tears and gave a short, jerky nod of her head, looking anywhere but him.

He was treating her like an idiot that didn't know what the consequences might be. Didn't he understand that while she'd studied this time, it was nothing like living here? Everything was heightened and sharper, more dangerous and more thrilling. While she knew a great deal, there was nothing that could have prepared her for this! How could he not see that?

"I understand, My Lord husband," she said, demurely, bowing her head, trying to keep the anger from her voice.

Let him see if he liked her, so meek and submissive. She'd seen how much Tywin had responded to her quips, their banter, her sharp tongue – he was attracted to her mind as much as her body.

"Oh, for fuck sakes, you're not fooling me," he snapped. "I know you cannot change in a single conversation. Nor do I expect it when were are alone. But you are not in your time," he hissed at her.

Her head whipped up, and there was a retort on her tongue when he shook his finger at her.

"Remember your place, Lady Lannister," he snarled, daring her to snap at him in front of their entire entourage.

She saw that he didn't think she could do it; that she would snap back at him, or make some witty comment about women and men being equals.

But she also knew that all eyes were on them. So she swallowed down her sharp retort and nodded, prepared to respond in a way a lady of her time would, after having been publicly scolded by her husband, no less.

"You're right, of course, Lord Lannister. How much further today? I'm tired and wish for a bed, perhaps with my sister as she and I are both far from home."

Her tone was nauseatingly sweet and submissive, and it grated like nails on a chalkboard to her ears.

She could see Tywin grimace. So, he didn't like her like this any more than she did.

"A few more minutes and you'll be in my tent. You're my wife. That is non-negotiable."

With a final glower, Tywin kicked his mount and raced ahead, whether because he wanted to strangle her or because he was afraid of showing how much he liked her fire and her sass, Sansa didn't know. But the heat she felt at his words, renewed the ache in her body. Fighting or not, she wanted that man with a fierceness that stunned even her.

True to his word, within an hour, they were camped in a small clearing off the River Road. They were close to the territory held by Lord Vance, but still within the realm of Tully influence. Lord Vance was a loyal vassal house to Hoster, and while no one thought they would dare attack the Lannister host, Tywin was overly cautious.

Sansa saw the men that Tywin had ordered to stand guard, as he strode around their small faction, barking out orders. Sansa stood with Barba and her sister and their other handmaiden watching as the men worked hard to get tents put up, a fire going and food cooking. It was an incredible display of workmanship, and soon, the small clearing had been transformed.

Watching Tywin Lannister in his prime was a sight to behold, and one Sansa knew she was lucky to witness first hand. Everyone listened to him; even the men from the Riverlands and the Lannister contingent worked like a well-oiled machine to have their camp established in what seemed like no time.

When Sansa had thought about what this trip might be like, she'd imagined it would most likely be similar to the camping that she and her father used to do – in tents. They'd always have a fire where they used to sit down, and roast hotdogs, marshmallows, and her Dad would tell her stories of people long dead. People she was now getting to know on a very personal level.

But this camp for their entourage was nothing like what Sansa had experienced camping with her father.

For one, it was more rustic. There was no little town a short distance away, no carefully groomed campsites, no sounds except that night pressing in upon them and men working.

There were also no modern lanterns, only crudely made torches, and the ground was soon muddy from so many horses and people tromping all over it.

There were also no lawn chairs to sit on – just a log or a stump if one could be found. None of the women ventured too far from where they had been told to stand, waiting for their tents to be set up.

But when Sansa saw said tents, she gasped.

Their sleeping accommodations looked like something out of Glamping-Is-Us. The tent that she knew was Tywin's, for there was a massive golden lion on one side, was huge!

Their tent had a crudely constructed wooden floor made from pallets, but it was a floor nonetheless.

There were two rooms in their tent, one for sleeping and one for dining.

There was furniture, and her trunk had been unpacked. What looked like a real bed had somehow been constructed, and there were proper sheets on it. Sansa even saw a little station set up for them to wash.

And everything, everywhere she looked, was either Lannister red or gold.

For the first time since she'd married Tywin, Sansa got a glimpse of what it meant to be a Lannister. And it exceeded all her expectations – blew them out of the water. This type of wealth was staggering, even in this day and age. She just stopped in the middle of their newly constructed bedchamber, gaping.

Sansa barely had time to take it all in, when Barba appeared with a steaming bowl of stew and indicated she should sit on one of the chairs provided.

"Let me unbound your hair. Eat, your husband's orders," the woman said, as she began to take out the intricate braid they'd worked into Sansa's hair this morning.

Starving, Sansa dug into her meal, too hungry even to taste it. Riding for several hours straight, without a break had left her famished.

When she was full, she finally asked the question that was on her mind.

"And where is my husband?"

"With his men. But he tells me to get you fed and ready for bed." Barba paused. "You angered the lion, today My Lady."

There was a warning and a lecture in that one sentence. Sansa knew that Barba would not approve of her slap to the face of Robert Baratheon. But Sansa also knew she would not be worried about Tywin hurting her.

"My husband has let me know his displeasure, Barba."

"You must be careful, My Lady. A husband will not put up with a woman who makes him appear weak and openly challenges him. Your lion is a prideful man."

Barba sounded almost fearful of Tywin and what he might do.

Sansa snorted and waved a hand, hoping she could appease the woman.

She wasn't afraid of Tywin in the least. He was mad at her, yes, and with good reason. He was right. The game was deadly, and she needed to be better. But Tywin, no matter how angry, would never hurt her. She knew this.

"Well, let's get on with it. I'm tired and sore, and I'm sure tomorrow won't be any shorter," she said, rising to shuck out of this gown and into some sleepwear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Barba. Tywin will not hurt me," Sansa said with confidence. Of this, she was sure.

She dismissed Barba and sat down at the tiny vanity in their tent, a single candle flickering in the dark. She'd been married two days, and her husband had already abandoned her at mealtime. It was disheartening. Sansa imagined Tywin would be very good at freezing a person out if he so chose, and with his almost limitless power, who was there to stop him?

Still, Sansa wasn't going to avoid this fight. She knew Tywin deserved to have his say, and they needed to be on the same page. And she wasn't going to let this thing fester between them.

She was pleasantly surprised when the flap to the tent opened, and he stepped inside a short time after Barba had left. She watched him as he wandered around the tent, touching things that were his, comfortable here even though the tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a knife. For the first time, Sansa realized she saw Tywin as he might appear at the Rock – surrounded by splendour and at ease with it as only one who'd grown up with such vast wealth could be.

"Did you eat?" he asked as he dropped his scabbard and belt, placing them across a settee adorned with red velvet and golden legs. Sansa couldn't even imagine what such a piece might cost in modern times. And he'd laid his sword on it! Shaking herself, she focused back on him.

"I did. Did you?"

Gods, he seemed so distant, Sansa thought. Angry, yes, but it was more than just anger. He seemed alone, even though she was only a few short feet away from him. It was like she'd let him down, and he'd closed her out as a punishment. She hated this.

He grunted and nodded, then paused, his shoulders heaving. Without turning, he spoke.

"I am sorry I missed eating with you. It was not my intention."

"Thank you," she responded softly. "I missed eating with you, husband."

She would make the first volley to try and fix what she had broken.

He whipped around, and the distant man was gone. In his place was a man filled with emotion. His eyes were dark pools of green mist, and his fist clenched. His jaw was grinding on itself, and his entire body taut. He stalked towards her as she stood to meet him. She would not cow before him.

"Do you have any idea what it took to stay my hand against Robert last evening? To not take his head in one swing? You know what was done to my first wife, Sansa. But you begged me," he roared.

Frustrated, he spun away, dragging his hands through his hair. Then he strode back to her, so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

"Do you know what that cost me, to stand down to him?"

She shook her head and reached up to touch his cheek, but stopped, her hand just above his flesh. She did not know if her touch would be welcome or not.

"I did not know, Tywin. Tygett explained it to me today – how your anger was more. He explained how my actions could have made you appear weak. I am sorry. So deeply sorry, my lion," she whispered raggedly, her slim body shaking.

Gods, she was falling so fast for this man. She would be shattered if he turned her away, iced her out of his life and his heart. She'd seen him so open and unguarded and knew she'd been given a rare gift indeed.

"Sansa," he whispered, painfully, resting his forehead against hers. His hand came to cup her neck, fingers playing with her hair. "Do you have any idea what I would do for you?"

She shook her head slightly, not breaking contact. She had an idea, but she didn't know. And she wanted to. She wanted to hear the words. She needed to hear them. She needed to know what he might do for her. If that made her as bad as the people in this time, then so be it.

"What would you do, Tywin?"

"Seven fucking hells Sansa, I'd wage a fucking war for you. I'd march to King's Landing and take the King's head myself, or Robert's if needed. I'd call all my banners and not stop fighting until whatever wrong was done to you was righted. I'll never stand idly by while another man threatens what is mine, Sansa. Never again. And you are mine," he growled.

"Yours, Tywin," she managed to gasp out before his lips were on hers.

There was still an edge of anger, hurt and betrayal with a chaser of fear.

But there was also passion, some deep unnamed emotion that neither wanted to voice just yet. He had her sleep shift off in an instant, and then stilled, holding her at arm's length as his eyes roamed over her now nude form.

He said nothing as he reached out and cupped her breast, holding the weight in his hand, rubbing her nipple through his roughened fingers. Sansa didn't care that his hands hadn't been washed; the rawness of the moment was igniting every nerve ending in her body, pleasure centers firing.

"Your beauty is otherworldly," he murmured, almost to himself as if he were in a trance. His eyes met hers.

"I dreamed of you – even after the vision was done. For days and weeks after, I'd see you. There was this time when you were in a golden dress." Tywin frowned. "It was much too short, and I'd never seen anything like you, Sansa. The way you moved, your hair…"

Her breath hitched. She remembered that evening with her friends. And she remembered Joffrey and then the angry swell of rage towards the man that had been harassing her.

She gasped.

"It was you, Tywin," she said, stepping closer to him. Her hands were on his face now, eyes bright. "When Joff was an ass to me, I felt this huge force of rage surge towards him."

Tywin sneered.

"If I had been there, I would have had his hand for daring to touch you, Sansa."

The tears came almost naturally.

"Gods, it has been you this entire time. My dreams, my visions. We've been connected for almost a year, Tywin."

They let that revelation settle over them, then Sansa was tugging at his doublet, needing him. His hands joined her, and they made quick work of his clothes until Sansa held out her hand to him, a soft smile on her face.

"Take me to bed, husband."

"With pleasure, wife," he purred, making her feel all gooey inside.

Instead of the bright, intense flare of heat that she'd been expecting, Tywin laid her down on the furs and proceeded to worship her body. When she went to move, a steady, solid hand pressed her stomach down.

"No. Don't move, Sansa. You are mine – that was your vow. Now you will listen little lion, to your husband."

There was no mistaking how that tone and those words made her throb with need. She thought that because they were essentially camping beside his men, Tywin might make their coupling quick and perfunctory, but when he spread her thighs and began to lick her from one end to the other, Sansa lost all sense of where she was and willingly gave in to the passion.

Her husband made her come twice, both times as she moaned his name – loudly. It was only when he was ranged over her, his sleekly muscled body awash in a light sheen of sweat, that Sansa realized how he had controlled their coupling.

She smacked Tywin on the chest.

"You did that on purpose," she hissed at him.

His grin was wicked and oh so sexy, as he stole another kiss.

"Of course," he said, as his cock nudged her swollen, slick folds. With a single motion, he thrust his entire length inside her, forcing a happy gasp from her lips as she tried to accommodate his girth. "Never forget love, that I am still the Great Lion."

She thought that perhaps she should be offended by such a chauvinist display, but then he was thrusting inside her and all thoughts but how good this felt, fled.

His pace was relentless as he took her hard, Sansa clawing at his shoulders, urging him on. She wrapped her long legs around his midsection, meeting his every stroke.

"More," she whispered, biting his ear.

"Harder," she moaned as she licked his neck.

He growled and snarled as his hips kept a relentless pace, both of them matching the other. They were locked in some epic battle, and Sansa knew when this orgasm hit, she'd flood them both. She reached out and grabbed her husband's face and smashed their lips together, just as he twisted, and his pubic bone scraped against her clit, sending her off.

Even with her mouth on his, the sound she made was unmistakable, and Tywin snarled as he pumped into her once more before he spent deep inside her, his back arched, and his mouth tearing away from hers with a roar for her ears only.

"Gods, Sansa," he finally said, his breath coming back to him.

He was nuzzling at her neck, still semi-hard and buried deep inside her.

"Are you not pulling out because you want me to get pregnant, and you're worried about your sperm escaping?" she asked him and saw him lift his head, eyes full of confusion.

"What are sperm?"

Sansa giggled at Tywin using a word that sounded so foreign on his tongue.

"Whoops," she said, grinning sheepishly. The confusion on his face was adorable.

"Ummm, that's what's in a man's spendings - you know – his seed."

Gods, this was hard, since so many of her modern words were unknown back in this time. But Tywin was so intelligent, that with a little quick thinking, she knew he generally got the gist of what she was trying to say.

"Each time a man peaks, he has millions of sperm in that load. And it takes just one sperm when a woman is ovulating for her to become pregnant. So, in theory, holding your penis inside me longer doesn't do anything to boost the chances of pregnancy." She frowned. "Although some people claim it does help."

She shrugged. She'd never been with a man before – this was mostly from romance novels and biology class that she was speaking from.

He was looking at her with such confusion, but also tenderness. And she swore, something more - perhaps the beginning of love.

"Sansa, there is so much about that sentence I did not understand. And I'm not a stupid man." He kissed her. "But first, let me clean you and then you can give me a lesson."

She knew it was an olive branch. Tonight they would not talk about their current lives or predicament. What they had affected already and what would remain the same. Tonight she would not be forced to tell Tywin about his children or quiz him on what happened to Tyrion. Tonight, they would pretend none of that existed. Tonight was for only them.

She giggled as he rolled off her, cleaned them and then strode back across the tent, naked, to get beneath the furs with her. He had no shame about his form, and Sansa had no complaints as he blew out the single candle.

Their tent was dark, and while Sansa could hear voices in the muffled distance, she knew they had a modicum of privacy. He opened his arms and willingly pressed herself against his bare chest as his fingers traced different patterns on her back.

"So, what do you want to know?" she asked, a sleepy yawn at the end.

"Why do some people have only boys, while others have girls?"

"Oh, well, we don't know that for sure. There are all sorts of theories. But we do know that the gender of the baby comes from the seed – from the man," she clarified.

"They know this for a fact?" he said, somewhat stunned.

"Yup. So all those guys back here, blaming their wives for giving them only daughters," Sansa trailed off, shrugging. "Well, they're the ones to blame."

"Huh."

Her husband was quiet for a time. Sansa couldn't even imagine what he must be thinking. He must have so many questions.

"And twins?" he asked. "How does that happen?"

Ahhh, so that's what he wanted to discuss. His children. It made sense, and Sansa tried to recall what she knew. She was a history major, not in the sciences. Still, her excellent memory helped.

"Oh, well, each month a woman's body releases one egg for fertilization – Ummm, that means when the egg joins with the seed. And sometimes, in rare cases, she'll release two in one month – so both eggs end up fertilized. Or the egg naturally divides itself into two eggs. Those are when you get identical twins."

She tried to stay away from words like embryo and uterus. Even the phrase fertilization was pushing it. Did people even know what identical meant in this time?

Tywin was quiet again, and Sansa swore she could hear his next question before he asked it.

"And a dwarf? How does that happen, Sansa?"

His voice was so quiet. They both knew that Tyrion wasn't his, but still, he was as curious about Joanna's last child as was she. Sansa wondered what had happened to Tywin's youngest son.

She bit her lip and thought back to grade 11 biology. How to explain without discussing DNA, gene mutation and genetics?

"Well, sometimes there is a problem with either the egg or the seed – something we'd call a mutation. That can affect how the person is built. Other times, it's something inherited from the parents. But," she said, trying to ally his fears, "Just because a couple has one dwarf child, it does not increase their risk for another. To be honest, Tywin, there are so many things that can go wrong in a pregnancy. Often, that's what happens when a woman's body has a miscarriage – when she loses the baby. There is something wrong with it, and it's the body's way of dealing with it."

He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"That is all I want to know, for now, Sansa. I imagine there are many things we've barely touched on. But we need to sleep."

She snuggled closer to him, winding her legs in his, knowing she was safe in his arms. Their tent was quiet for a time before he spoke again.

"And, I'm beginning to wonder how much I want to know."

Since she understood and knew he was sensitive to feeling stupid, she hummed her agreement.

"That is fine, Tywin. I will do my best to keep my knowledge to myself, except when you ask, or when I feel it is vital to you knowing."

This relationship, while looking more and more like it had been destined, was also a lot of hard work. There was such a massive culture clash between the two of them.

Each day she was discovering something else that she hadn't thought of or didn't know about living in this time. She was being forced to adapt continually, under the most brutal conditions.

"I'm sorry I was so angry today, Sansa," Tywin finally said, his voice so quiet she heard it more because her head was pressed against his chest, and she listened to the rumbled echo.

"I'm sorry I was so thoughtless. I need your help, Tywin, to navigate this new world we are in. I'm going to mess up. You need to help me. We're married, and you are the only person I have," she told him, hoping he understood how alone she'd felt today with him giving her the cold shoulder.

"I know. We will both need to do better, Sansa. Be better if we want to save people."

She hummed her agreement, pressing a kiss to his chest. She was almost asleep when his next sentence jarred her from her slumber.

"In three days, we will be out of the Riverlands and at the Golden Tooth. House Lefford is loyal to me, and we will have a proper chamber. There, we will discuss my second vision Sansa, where I overheard you speak to your father about the bastard children my daughter put on the Throne."

Sansa stilled heart, beating fast. She knew she needed to tell Tywin what she knew about the twins. But she was honestly dreading the conversation. Right now, so much of Jaime's life could be salvaged, Sansa believed.

But Tywin's daughter was another matter altogether. Sansa did not believe her to be redeemable.

"What did you hear?" she whispered, trying to think back to when he might have seen her – what the vision might have revealed.

"You were arguing with your father, as you were cooking in your home. And you said that I should have taken the Throne since so many of the problems with the realm started when Cersei put her bastard children on the Throne. Your father reminded you that I never remarried and would have needed more heirs. And you spoke of knowing about Tyrion's parentage."

Sansa's mind raced as she tried to process all that Tywin was telling her. How had he not heard her say Jaime's name?

"What happened to Tyrion, Tywin?"

Her husband sighed. "Not tonight, Sansa. We are not alone, and I do not know who listens outside our tent."

Since it was dark, she could not see his eyes, but she nodded.

"I think it is all connected, Tywin. Cersei and Tyrion, and what happened to your house. There are things I must tell you, hard truths you must hear. And I need you to know I speak honestly, that I am not making things up."

She felt him tense before he shuddered out a deep breath. "I'm not going to like what you tell me, am I?"

"No."

Silence dominated the room before he found her chin and tilted her face up, his lips on hers.

"You are mine, Sansa. Our futures are now tied together. We must face what you know together. I will endeavour to keep an open mind."

Sansa ached for him, knowing what she would tell him might devastate him. And she had no illusions that Tywin had some severe blinders on when it came to his children. He demanded blind obedience and yet, refused to see them for what they were. His ignoring them except to demand they do as he bid had not helped matters at all.

She knew there was a chance, to save one, if not both the twins from their fate, but she also had to face the very real possibility that Cersei might be too far gone, and quite frankly, unwilling to be saved. The woman had done everything to secure her power – even going so far as to kill her uncle in the Great Sept when she'd arranged for it to be destroyed by wildfire.

For now, Sansa had bought herself, them, a few days, but soon enough, the truth had to come out.

The greatest threat to Tywin Lannister was not any outside force – it was his children that would bring his house crumbling down around them. They would leave the once-proud region in ruin. It was his children that would fail to carry on his legacy, and House Lannister never recovered once the twins had died.

If he did not listen to her, then all might very well be lost, and every move they made for naught. If Tywin could not see Cersei for the danger she was, then everything they did wouldn't make a damn bit of difference in the end.

Their entire future hung on the balance of a conversation that would take place in three days, where Sansa would attempt to convince Tywin Lannister that the greatest danger to him was lurking in his own house.