Chapter 17

The Golden Tooth – Sansa

Sansa woke up enveloped in heat; her body smashed up against Tywin's. Since their marriage a week ago, they had spent each night in bed together, and not just for sex, but because her husband apparently couldn't get enough of her including cuddling.

Their legs were twined, his strong arms wrapped around her and Sansa had her face resting on one of the hard planes of his chest.

There was a feeling of such rightness being here with him that Sansa allowed herself a few moments to think of the events that had led to all of this happening.

She had to believe that some higher power had wanted her to find Tywin's sigil ring. After all, it had to have been hidden in the stone wall of the Rock for hundreds of years. How many people had examined Casterly Rock over the years? Thousands? And yet, it was her that found the secret compartment.

Sansa thought of her lifelong fascination with Tywin, still stunned in some moments that she was now living in ancient Westeros, married to the man she'd dreamed of. She had been drawn to him for long, studying him, his family, the West, that it had seemed so natural to step into this marriage with him. It felt like they had been together for so long, not mere weeks, and each moment they spent together seemed to solidify this deep connection they had with one another.

Since she'd awoken before Tywin, for once, she took this time to observe him. She thought about their conversation the night before. She shouldn't have been surprised when he'd concluded it was Jaime, for she knew how intelligent he was.

There were some that speculated that Tywin had engineered the failed coup at Duskendale in an attempt to remove Aerys from the Throne.

And Sansa knew he was utterly ruthless when it came to protecting his legacy. There was the Red Wedding, the death of Elia and her children, and his willingness to sentence Tyrion to death for killing Joffrey, even when Sansa suspected Tywin had known it wasn't his son that had killed the King.

She had known all of this about Tywin and had still been captivated by the man, and nothing since being back in this time with him had dimmed her interest in him.

Instead, she felt fueled to know him even better, to dig into the deepest parts of this man that she was sure he kept locked away from all others, to forge a true partnership with him that would benefit both their marriage and their growing political power.

The was barely any sunlight in their room, even though Sansa speculated dawn had broken, so she had to observe her husband in shadows. But his handsome visage stole her breath, rendering her grateful that Tywin slumbered on, missing how she would be a bumbling mess if she had to form cohesive sentences.

She loved him.

She had realized it sometime between their first argument and arriving at the Tooth. She knew it was fast, and most likely, he'd not welcome the words. Sansa was still sensitive to the love he'd had for Lady Joanna, and would not attempt to compete with her memory.

But there were times when Tywin looked upon her, that Sansa felt he too, felt something profound and abiding for her. She was intelligent and secure enough to know she was more than just a political pawn to him. She wasn't a convenient wife, there to shore up his position and give him new heirs. Had that been the case, she would not be where she currently was, able to rest her head against his chest and feel his steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

He would have done his duty by sleeping with her and then found his own chambers. Instead, they slept in each other's arms. That had to mean something.

His hand twitched, and then a finger began to draw circles on her back lazily, and Sansa knew he was awake. Warm need flowed through her body, attuned to the pleasure this man could bring her, and craving it. For a woman that had been a virgin a week ago, Sansa was decidedly greedy when it came to making love with her husband.

Smiling to herself, remembering how he'd responded to her 'attention' when they'd been at Riverrun, Sansa rolled so that Tywin was beneath her, as she rose above him, her legs locked on either side of his hips. His green eyes, which darkened when he wanted her, flecked with gold, stared back, a slight curl to his lips.

"Good morning, wife," he rumbled out, voice still rusty from sleep.

Sansa was unashamed of the wetness she felt pool at her core. Gods, when he looked at her like that, spoke to her in that voice, she was a puddle. Tywin did nothing by half measures, including her. She'd never met anyone as intense as him, and so much of that passion was directed at her.

"Hello husband," she responded, before leaning down to nip at his neck.

"Do we have time to play?" she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

He growled and nodded. It seemed he was in no rush to break their fast, nor rush them from their bedchambers.

"Good. You had your fun last evening, now it is my turn," she commanded.

She was focused on him when she said this, needing to gauge his reaction to her gentle command. Desire, yes, but something more was there – something deeper, more profound. For a brief moment, her breath caught, and she wondered if it were possible, that he felt as she did. His hand came up to cup her cheek, stroking it once, gently, before the other caught her nipple and tweaked it. Hard.

She squeaked out a desperate little moan and then batted his hands away.

"Stop. My turn," she said, turning back to the task at hand.

She wanted him in her mouth again, but first, she tried to take her time, to kiss her way down his body and ask about scars she'd noticed and hadn't had a chance to explore. In short, she wanted Tywin to be as mad for her as she was for him.

Sansa wagged a finger at him and scolded, "Keep your hands to yourself, lest I have to tie them to the headboard."

When she saw his eyes widen with shock, then clear interest at her off-the-cuff suggestion, she tucked that little tidbit away for later. It would make sense that a man that required control in all aspects of his life might be one who'd find pleasure in giving control over to her in the bedroom. She hoped that he would come to love and trust her enough, that one day they might explore such desires.

For now, it was enough when he lifted his hands and made a point of flexing his arms as he threaded his fingers together and put them behind his head.

"I am all yours, little lion," he smirked as her eyes had followed his every move. She was practically panting.

This man!

Determination renewed, his hands now not touching her, Sansa turned her attention back to the man lying prone in front of her. As she'd observed before, Tywin was not the bulkiest man, nor the hairiest, two things that she deeply appreciated. She loved the sinewy strength that was on display before her, noting the multiple scars on his arms, chest, legs, and stomach. It was a stark reminder of the times in which they now lived.

She spent what felt like ages finding each one, tracing it first with her hands, then her lips, adding her tongue. She wanted to ask where they all were from but knew they'd be here all day if she were to do that. Instead, she lifted her head when she came to his stomach, seeing that his gaze was locked on her every move.

"Tell me, when does a boy start training?"

There was an academic answer, of course, and plenty of debate to go along with that answer.

But this was no longer an academic question for her. There was a very real possibility she would become pregnant soon. If they were to have a son, he would be expected to follow in his father's footsteps, and suddenly, Sansa had to know.

"Young" was Tywin's response.

She nodded and then cocked her head. "And if we had a son, would you see to his training, Tywin?"

There was something so primal about discussing their future offspring and what they might become. There was a genuine possibility that if their plan worked, Sansa's son might become the next King of the Seven Kingdoms.

He jerked his head.

"Yes. I was … careless with my children, Sansa. Grieving yes, but that is not an excuse, nor the full reason. It was easier to ignore them, for they reminded me of what I had lost."

Her heart ached for him, and if she were honest, herself.

Was she fooling herself to be in love with a man that might never be capable of loving her back?

As if he read her mind, his hand was suddenly there, and he was pulling her flush up against his body.

"Stop," was his gentle command.

She nodded, the words stuck in the throat. Sansa had no desire to compete with Lady Joanna, only to be afforded a place beside her in Tywin's heart. Surely people could love two women in a lifetime, right?

"Sansa, please," he growled.

Risking it, she finally looked at him, and what she saw there staggered her.

"What I feel for you, it defies all logic. It consumes me."

He pulled her hand to his chest, where his heart pounded, and she thought she understood what he was saying.

"It's so big, Tywin. I cannot stand to be apart from you. I wish to see you all the time. This connection is unlike anything I've ever felt…"

Her words were gobbled up by his lips, now on hers, his big hands carded through her hair as he rolled them and nudged her legs apart, sliding inside. She gasped, loving each time he did that, but realizing that she'd been distracted from her pursuit. Still, this was more than nice, and she wrapped her long legs around his midsection, digging her nails into his shoulder and holding on. There was an intensity to this coupling, like the previous few days.

"You chose me, Sansa. Knowing everything about my family, you chose me," he all but snarled. Sansa knew he wasn't angry, but humbled by her apparent devotion to him.

"You are my world," she told him truthfully and saw him accept her words.

He twisted his hips, hitting the spot in her that made her nerve endings dance, and all she could do was encourage him to keep going, giving herself over to the sensation of being loved by this man. He might not have said the words, but the meaning was clear.

After, sated, she gave him a little smack.

"You distracted me," she accused him and saw him smirk.

"You've very distractible, wife."

"I love it when you say that to me."

"Wife?" Tywin had a frown on his face as she blushed.

"I didn't date much, even though loads of women do in my time. But I was always – different."

She shrugged, trying to brush it off—the old hurt at being not quite normal like the other girls her age. Her intelligence had always set her apart from friends and from men who might be interested in her.

Tywin, of course, was having none of it, and he pulled himself up so that she sat in the cradle of his arms on the bed.

"Tell me," he decreed and used to his demanding ways now, she knew he was asking because he genuinely cared.

She rested her head on his shoulder, letting her hands roam over his chest. She liked very much being naked and unrushed with her husband.

"Well, I was always smart. Very smart. It meant that I skipped grades."

He frowned and she knew she'd have to explain more.

"In my time, children go to school for thirteen years, starting at age five, until they graduate. That's the first stage. Afterwards, for those inclined, they go on to higher education – something called university. There are several levels at university, each one where a person increases their knowledge."

Seeing he was following her, Sansa gave another tiny shrug.

"I was smarter than the average child, so I was younger than most of my peers. It didn't lend itself to me 'fitting in.'"

"Why on earth would you want to fit in? Is it not better to stand out? To be special? To be better than others?"

Sansa giggled then, adoring this man.

"Of course now that I'm an adult, I understand that. But as a child, with decidedly odd hobbies, I didn't have a lot of friends, Tywin."

"What odd hobbies do you speak of?"

"Horseback riding, ballroom dancing, calligraphy, archery."

"These sound like excellent hobbies."

She smiled indulgently at him.

"Well, yes, for a man from your time. But for a modern girl, they were odd. I mean, I didn't do ballet, but ballroom dancing. I didn't do soccer, but archery. I suppose horseback riding is normal, but even my love of books, of history, well, it always set me apart from the others."

He huffed out a breath and drew her closer to him.

"I am pleased you did not have many suitors," he said. "The men from your time seem like idiots to not see the beauty that was before them."

Sansa melted into a little pile of happy goo at that moment, snuggling deeper into Tywin's arms. "I suppose they were."

A knock on the door indicated their time alone was over. They were expected to break their fast with Lord and Lady Lefford, before going on a tour of the castle. Sansa had a hundred questions for the lady of the keep, and Tywin kept muttering he wanted to check on the gold.

While Sansa knew that he had mentioned gold mined at the Tooth before, she'd mostly thought he'd been metaphorical. That was until they'd walked down a damp passage, into the deepest bowels of the castle. Sansa realized how extensive the network of tunnels was for the Tooth, and why it was the perfect castle to defend the West.

Unless a young, ambitious northern lord, bent on revenge for his family, had a direwolf that could sneak around the castle by sniffing out a pathway through the high hills, she thought. Sansa kept that tidbit of information to herself.

While she was a Stark and a very, very, very ancient descendant of the current Ned and Catelyn Stark, she was hoping to avoid the entire King in the North issue by changing history.

As they walked, Kevan and Tygett joining them as Tywin commanded the room.

"Gold is a finite resource, and I spent far too long paying back the Iron Bank for the mismanagement of the Crowns funds by House Targaryen."

Sansa knew that when the Iron Bank had called their loan due to the new King Aerys, it had been Tywin that had used his own gold to pay it off.

"The realm prospered under your leadership as Hand, of that there is no doubt," Leo Lefford stated. Since it was well known that Tywin had been responsible for lowering tariffs and increasing trade with the free cities, the lord's statement was nothing brilliant. But Tywin puffed out his chest at the clear compliment.

"It did," he stated. Sansa barely refrained from rolling her eyes. The one thing her husband did not lack was ego.

"And what of infrastructure?" Sansa asked, watching as he turned his head to her, where she walked with Lady Lefford. He arched an eyebrow at her. "If you were King, My Lord, what measures would you take to ensure the people were happy?"

There was no use being coy with his bannerman. She was a Tully, and the Riverlands were at war with King Aerys. The hatred for the King in the Westerlands was deep and abiding. They had to know that his marriage to her meant he'd finally taken a 'side' in the rebellion.

"Peace is what the realm needs. In peaceful times, the Crown can focus on rebuilding roads, proper diking, law and order. I am the one who demanded bakers stop adding sawdust to their bread, and butches stop selling horse meat as beef. There needs to be law and order so that trade can flourish not only between Westeros and Essos but between each region."

"And war?" Tygett asked, giving his brother a hard look. Everyone knew that Tygett was a man that struck first, and thought later.

"Necessary at times, but often entered into on someone else's purse. Wars swallow gold like a pit in the earth. We are by far the wealthiest region in the Kingdom and we should no longer have to pay for other King's and their battles. And should Aerys fall, the Reach will go with him."

All the men from the West perked up at that, Sansa saw. The Reach's fertile lands were well known, and it would be an added boon to the West and the Riverlands.

"So we are at war, then?" Leo Lefford asked, his face wary.

Tywin gave a short nod. "We've been at war since the man stole my heir, Lord Lefford. It is only now that we are in a position to act."

Sansa saw all from House Lannister hold their collective breath. This would be the first real test to see if his bannermen supported his new position.

"It's about time," Leo grumbled and then indicated they were close to where the gold trains were stored.

Sansa saw the pleased look on her husband's face and knew when Tywin called his banners, his vassal houses would respond in kind. When they marched to King's Landing, it would be to seize the throne, not rush to King Aerys' side.

Then she stepped into the cavernous room that housed more gold than she had ever seen. Stunned, she stood there gaping at the storage room, while both Tywin and Leo spoke of yield and veins, and how to keep this cache hidden from the realm.

Sansa's brain finally caught up, realizing that Tywin had never let on how much gold the Tooth had, preferring everyone to think the majority of his wealth came from the Rock.

"It's a sight to see, isn't it?" Kevan murmured into her ear.

"It's incredible," Sansa said, truthfully. She had known about Tywin's wealth, about his boast of being the richest man in Westeros, but this – nothing could have prepared her for this.

This was unheard of in her time. For one house, one family to hold such insane wealth. Her husband caught her eye and all but strutted through the enormous room, and she understood that this was a source of great pride for him.

She also wanted to tell him that he had fooled the realm, including his children. There had been conflicting reports on the Lannister gold, with some saying it had all dried up, while other scholars argued it had been a feint by Tywin, to bring the Tyrell's into his orbit.

Now Sansa knew the truth. Her husband would not have allowed the gold to 'dry up' – even having to fund Robert's countless wars and skirmishes.

It was more than apparent, though, that Tywin had never told Jaime or Cersei about this secondary depository, and with Kevan, Gerion, and Tygett all dead, the only one who might have known was Genna.

Still reeling from the staggering wealth she'd been shown, Tywin joined her and Kevan, speaking quietly to his brother and telling him that they needed to talk after the noonday meal in their chambers. Understanding immediately, Kevan said he'd be there, as Tywin escorted her to the main hall to eat.

Sansa was quiet through the meal, a million thoughts racing through her mind.

She now had a much better understanding of where Tywin's confidence (some might say arrogance) and sense of superiority came from. It would be impossible not to feel that way, knowing that you had that amount of gold at your fingertips. It didn't matter if it were the past or the future, money or gold, meant power.

She thought she was closer to understanding the man, and his many, many layers. He could be cruel and cold, but he almost always had a reason.

And now that he knew about what Jaime and Cersei would do, there was almost nothing to prevent his rise in power, if he could heed her advice when it came to his daughter.

But as she sipped her soup, Sansa also wondered about the changes they had made. And her role in those changes. And if the changes they were making would result in a better world.

Tyrion was dead, and she still didn't know how or why, other than they both suspected Cersei had something to do with it.

The secret was out – and that was arguably Tywin's most significant blind spot when it came to how he played the game of thrones in her time. With him able to see the twins clearly, he wouldn't, hopefully, make the same mistakes as he had in her time.

But thinking about those things also led Sansa to some complicated questions about time travel.

Did changing some events, no matter how small, mean others wouldn't occur? Or were there some things that were just pre-destined to happen?

Her mind was stuck on the idea of Tywin's death. In her time, a complicated series of events had taken place to lead to Tyrion taking his father's life.

Tyrion, in this lifetime, was dead.

Did that mean Tywin was safe? Or would he die at the same time he did in her timeline, but just in a different manner?

And all of this led her to her huge moral dilemma.

Was she judging people of this time based on what they had already done, or on actions they took in the future?

And, if she was, who was she to judge these people?

Her knowledge of the future might allow her to know the choices that they made, but did that give her moral superiority over them?

With Cersei, Sansa felt confident in her judgement. If it were true that she killed Tyrion, then that was two people, two innocent people she had murdered already in this lifetime.

A man like Gregor? Sansa was willing to put him down like the mad dog he was and take her chances at being judged for that.

But there were so many others.

Roose.

Ramsay.

Baelish.

Walder Frey.

She didn't want to see what any of those men might do if they would become the same monsters they had been in her time.

But did wanting to see them dead make her a bad person? Was she condemning them to death, based on what they became in her time, even fair? Or had they already shown their depravity? Could they be saved?

With Gregor and Cersei, they had already committed murder, so Sansa felt little remorse.

Roose Bolton, if he hadn't already, would enact first night rights, long outlawed in the North, to rape a woman of one of his vassal houses. That child would grow up to be Ramsay Snow, one of the most despicable human beings in Westeros.

The damage that Littlefinger would do, not to mention the wars the man would start, that resulted in thousands upon thousands of lives lost meant he should not live – or at least an attempt should be made to curb his power.

She was interrupted in her musings, by Tywin excusing them from the meal, and she wondered if he were angry at her. Instead, when they got back to their chambers, he sat her at the desk and asked where her mind had been. It was shocking how easily he read her.

When she told him her moral conundrum, she was pleasantly surprised when he didn't dismiss her concerns out of hand. Instead, he poured them both wine, took the chair opposite of her, and sat there contemplating her words.

"It is an interesting problem and one that is no longer academic for us."

She nodded vigorously.

"There is so much I've yet to tell you – not because I want secrets between us, but because we've not had the time. And quite honestly, I'm not sure how much we are changing."

She felt sick as she realized the power she had.

"I do not want to lead you astray – to condemn someone to death that might not deserve it. And yet, there are evil people, Tywin, even for this time."

He grunted. "I am not a good man, Sansa."

She opened her mouth to protest, and then it died on her lips. Thinking about what Tywin would do, hurt her. She knew what he was capable of, but in her heart, she already loved him.

"And I can see that there might be something I do in the future that you do not agree with," he said, a grimace on his face.

She shook her head, unwilling to say anything about the Red Wedding. She did not need to give him ideas – ideas she knew he was more than capable of coming up with on his own.

"I hope your future actions are not necessary."

She paused.

"But I am loyal to us, Tywin. I'm not ignorant of the time in which I now live. I know it is more violent here, more oppressive. I know it is dangerous. But I can't just lose myself to the power I have. I have to be true to myself."

He must have sensed her worry, for he tugged her into his lap.

"What if, for now, we deal with each situation as it arises. You are correct in that we don't know what we might have changed. And you are also right in that there are some evil people in this time."

Sansa thought about his words. "It's a start, I suppose."

"Oh my little lion, you are too good for the likes of me. I know my moral code is much different than yours, Sansa. You have a good heart."

She relaxed slightly.

"And I trust you."

That made her sit up and grasped his face to hers.

"You do?"

He nodded. "I do. I have witnessed your intelligence. I know you have our best interests at heart. And I know you are not out to abuse your power."

She said nothing for a time, before she whispered into his ear, "What if killing one man, saves thousands, Tywin? Even if he has not yet done what he will do? What if he never does it? Or what if he does, and I knew, and I could have stopped him?"

Her mind was spinning, thoughts chasing one another as a dog does its tail.

His arms banded tightly around her.

"Hush, love. You are not a god, and each person is responsible for their actions. There are some things we will hopefully be able to change. Other choices will be out of our power. For all we know, you being here will make things infinitely worse."

She gasped, and he kissed her gently, then brushed back a strand of hair.

"I do not believe that, but we do not know. And we will drive ourselves mad, Sansa, if we take on every moral quandary. We will become paralyzed with indecision. We can only do what we think is best, and hope we've made the right decision."

"We?"

He chuckled softly. "We. You are not alone, and I am more than willing to make difficult decisions."

It was by no means a perfect solution, and Sansa still felt she was on very boggy ground. But Tywin was not wrong. They had to try and do the best they could, with the knowledge they had. She knew she couldn't save everyone. Hell, if their plan worked, some people would not even exist in this lifetime.

But that was the chance they had to take. This was her life now, and it was a terrifying and dangerous time to be alive.

"Thank you," she told Tywin before a knock announced Kevan's arrival.

He found them sitting together, and gave them such a soft smile, that Sansa's worry eased. Things were different, and she could only do what she could. She kissed Tywin once more, before she rose, ushering Kevan to a seat.

"I've been practicing being a Lady," she told him and saw him grin.

"You are doing a fine job, Lady Sansa," Kevan told her, his warm smile, making her feel even more at ease.

She had meant to speak with Tywin, about what he had learned yesterday, what they might do about his daughter. But her mind had been consumed with other thoughts, and now she would see, first hand, how her husband might deal with this knowledge that he had. It felt like forever since Kevan had learned of her time travel, and they'd had no time to speak privately.

Satisfied with the small meal she'd plated before the two powerful lions, Sansa took the third seat and gave Tywin a look. This was, as they said, his show.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable until finally, Kevan coughed and gave his brother a pointed look.

"I assume whatever it is you have to share with me, it is not good news."

Tywin grunted. Sansa knew him to be taciturn, but this was ridiculous. He was the one who'd invited Kevan into their chambers to discuss 'matters.'

But she held her tongue, knowing if she were to speak now, it would be unwelcome. Finally, Tywin sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You are aware that we were both subject to visions before Sansa came back in time," he began, having Kevan's rapt attention. The man nodded.

"Some of these visions afforded me … information about my family that I did not previously have."

Tywin paused, and Sansa knew how difficult this was for him. Knowing it was just them, she reached out and squeezed his hand, pleased when he returned the gesture.

"The second vision I had, I overheard Sansa speaking to her father. In it, I learned that Cersei was married to Robert, who'd been named King. By all accounts, the two of them should have been well-positioned to rule well. They were powerful, healthy and in a prime position to lead the Seven."

Kevan appeared confused.

"I understand your desire to take the Throne now, Tywin, with Sansa by your side. But surely you are the one who negotiated your daughter's marriage – and to the King no less. What am I missing?"

Tywin's jaw ground together, and Sansa winced at the beating his teeth must take. Finally, he spoke.

"It appears that while I assumed my daughter would do her duty and give Robert heirs, she had other plans. She cuckolded the King and put her bastard children on the Throne. In the vision, I did not hear whom the father of her children was – some wretched noise drowned out that bit on the information. This is what lead me to my confrontation with Cersei in our time, Kevan. It made me suspicious of her."

Sansa had her eyes locked on Kevan, and she saw him swallow, hard. At that moment, she knew that he suspected Jaime – it was evident to anyone who looked, how uncomfortable he'd become with this conversation.

But Tywin was lost in his own world and missed it. Sansa had a bad feeling that things were about to get worse.

If there was one thing she knew, unequivocally about Tywin, it was that he hated to be made a fool. And there was no doubt that he would be enraged if he believed that Kevan could guess. Still, it was like watching a car wreck and being unable to prevent it from happening.

"We know that something in my conversation with Cersei triggered her to move against Tyrion. I am more convinced than ever that she is the reason for his death, and I will have her confession. But it is her actions when she is married that have truly devastating consequences for our House, Kevan."

"Who?" his brother asked.

Tywin locked eyes with him and ground out the single word. "Jaime."

Kevan's eyes closed and he let out a pained sound. Without opening them, as if processing this, he said, "And they had children?" He sounded horrified.

"Yes."

"Did she give Robert any heirs?"

"No," Sansa chimed in. "She did not. And eventually, people began to suspect. It led to the deaths of two Hands, a war of succession, the realm in chaos, thousands dead, and the fall of many great houses."

The implication was there – both these men died from the choices Jaime and Cersei made.

"Fuck," Kevan whispered, eyes now open. "I always worried her power over him would lead to his ruin."

Sansa sucked in a breath, as Kevan paled, while Tywin went preternaturally still.

"You suspected about her hold over him?" Tywin seethed, his voice as cold as ice.

Kevan swallowed hard and cocked his head.

"I didn't know for sure, Tywin. But for anyone who cared to observe them, could see how close they were. They were always together - how he deferred to her."

Tywin rose, looming over the small table.

"You saw how she led him around, and you said nothing?"

Kevan, not to be cowed on this, surged to his feet.

"They were inseparable, Tywin. Cersei had only to snap her fingers, and Jaime would run to do her bidding. It was there, plain as day, for anyone who cared to look the power she held."

"YOU SUSPECTED, AND YOU SAID NOTHING TO ME?" Tywin roared as Sansa flinched from the rage that was shaking him.

"YOU WOULD NOT HAVE LISTENED!" Kevan bellowed back.

Then he jabbed a finger into Tywin's chest.

"Grief consumed you, brother. You were cold, distant, cut off from anyone and everything. You barely spoke to your children, hardly said two words to us. This is not my fault, Tywin. They were your children. But it was like you died the moment Joanna did, and we never got you back! I LOST MY BROTHER THE DAY SHE DIED!" he finished with such anguish that Sansa's heart bled for this family.

Kevan sunk back into his chair, all the fight gone from him. He appeared so weary, while Tywin just looked shocked, and angry. Sansa knew he was hurting, but how could he not see that when he'd pulled back from his family, he'd hurt them as well?

"You never wanted to hear anything bad about your golden twins, Tywin. I never said anything bad about them because, quite frankly, if I had told you, I was worried it would drive you even further away from us."

Tywin's face settled into a snarl, and for the first time, Sansa had a picture of the Tywin that everyone feared.

"But not Tyrion," he sneered. "None of my siblings held their tongue about him and my treatment of him, did you? You were all willing to tell me how awful I was to the person that murdered my wife."

Sansa sucked in a deep, pained breath. She had read, of course, that Tywin blamed Tyrion for Joanna's death. But he was an innocent. To hear it voiced so coldly was like ice water washing over her.

"Tywin," she began to say, needing to intervene, so things did not get worse. Perhaps she could mediate them through these old hurts.

His eyes flashed in anger, and he waved a hand at her, effectively dismissing her.

"Stay out of this, Sansa. This is between Lannisters. This is between family."

Fury roared through her at his high-handed attempt to keep her from this argument and washed away the chill she'd just felt. She would not back down from him; not now, not ever.

"He was innocent," she said, standing up to face down her husband.

There was much she would forgive him for, but on this, she would not hold her tongue.

Tywin snorted in disgust but said nothing so she tried again.

"He was a baby." How could he blame Tyrion?

"He was a monster that killed the love of my life, the only woman I ever loved! Her death destroyed me, Sansa, as he destroyed her. He stole her from me, and nothing has ever been the same since."

Sansa's heart shattered at that moment.

As if he knew the impact of his words, Tywin paled and shook his head, his mouth trying to undo the damage he'd just done. She couldn't care less. He'd hurt her, deeply.

"Sansa wait," he commanded, but she kept moving.

She gathered herself and moved towards the doorway. She needed air and to be away from her husband, whom she did not like very much right now.

He reached for her, and she swung around, catching her hand at the last moment before it would have cracked across his face.

No.

She would not give him that satisfaction. She wouldn't hit him, not react with violence.

Instead, she'd use her words – like a Lady of her time. And use them to hurt him, as much as he'd hurt her.

"Do you want to know how you died, Tywin? Do you?"

She didn't even give him a chance to respond, unable to hold the words back. She was hurt and lashing out and even though she knew the context was all wrong, she had to make him see that he wasn't all-powerful – that his actions had very real consequences.

"You were shot. By Tyrion, with a cross-bolt while using the privy. He snuck into your rooms and found out that you had just slept with the whore that he was in love with. She was an older woman, nearing her thirties. You manipulated her to give false testimony against him at his trial. A trial he never should have been on for the murder of the King."

Tywin's eyes widened, and Sansa could see a million questions he had. But she had no mercy and kept going, giving him no chance to intervene.

"And all of this, after you had sentenced him to death for the murder of King Joffrey, your incestuous bastard grandson who by all rights, should never have even been born. He murdered you after Jaime risked everything to free Tyrion from the Black Cells. You knew he was innocent of killing Joffrey, but you refused to bend, giving into Cersei's insistence that it was Tyrion that had killed her son. Even Jaime knew that Tyrion had not done it."

Tywin opened his mouth but she held up her hand.

"No. I have nothing to say to you right now. You made me a Lannister, Tywin when you married me. And now, in one sentence, you took that away from me. So think about that. Think about how you died. The greatest man in Westeros – shot to death by his dwarf son on the toilet after being with that whore. That is how the world remembers you, husband."

His face registered shock, fury, and disgust before his eyes narrowed. She knew he wanted to demand answers from her, but she was in no mood.

She spun away, wrenching the door open, before she turned back, stomping towards him.

"And just so we are perfectly clear - I always knew you loved Joanna. I knew it, Tywin, as well as you knew it, but I married you anyway. Because I thought there might be a chance that you could open yourself up to love again. But know this - if you ever sleep with anyone else while you are married to me, I'll castrate you with a rusty knife and feed your balls to a pack of wild dogs. Especially if it is with some whore!" she spat that last word.

She spun on her heel, mind whirling, and raced from the room. The last thing she heard before she exited the room was Kevan speaking.

"Fucking hells, Tywin, I might be more afraid of her than I am of you."

Then she was gone, needing space and time away from her husband and his high-handed attempts to control everything in this world.

And even that was a lie.

At the heart of her hurt was the pure fear that she'd had from the beginning – that Tywin might never love her the way he did Lady Joanna, and that for the rest of her life, she would be competing with a ghost, for a man they both loved, even if he did not deserve it. It was too late for her – he had her heart, and she was afraid that he had already broken it beyond repair.