Chapter 18

The Golden Tooth – Tywin

Tywin stood in the middle of his solar, reeling from the confrontation that had just happened with his wife. His mind felt like it was on overload, trying to process what she'd just told him. And just how humiliating his apparent death in her time had been.

Before he could chase after her, Kevan's statement, that Sansa was scarier than he was, drew him from his reverie.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked his brother. All anger towards Kevan drained out of Tywin. He felt more alone now than he could recently recall, the fight with Sansa akin to losing Joanna. With growing horror at how he had hurt her, Tywin moved towards the door, before Kevan's voice stopped him.

"Give her space, Ty," he said, a weariness there.

Tywin stalked back towards his brother, ready to lash out again when he took in the exhaustion on his brother's face. That stopped him for the moment.

Kevan gestured to a chair.

"Sit. We're at the Tooth. She can't go very far, and wherever she goes, she'll have a guard. She's angry at you, Tywin, for a good reason."

Tywin threw himself into the chair, wondering if his brother's advice was worth following.

In her fit of hurt, she had lashed out at him to tell him how he died. Tywin understood that. He'd acted similarly in the past.

But despite her anger at him, her threat about castrating him gave him hope. As angry as she was, she was still concerned about him sleeping with someone else. Which in and of itself was an utterly ridiculous notion.

How she could even think he'd ever look at another woman, was beyond him. He was consumed with her. Obsessed, some might say. He'd never touch another woman for the rest of his life, not as long as he had her.

Sitting, Tywin contemplated what Sansa had revealed. As shameful and humiliating as his death was, Tywin quickly realized that many things had already changed that would make the death she described impossible.

Tyrion, for one, was dead. That alone made it so that what she'd described would not come true. That and the person he'd apparently slept with. It made Tywin sick to think of even lying with another woman – not while he had Sansa.

So he pushed those disturbing thoughts aside and focused instead on his wife, whom he'd hurt deeply. He chuckled a bit at the fire in her eyes when she'd poked him in the chest. The rusty knife bit?

Gods, she was magnificent, he thought.

She wouldn't have made such a threat against him, if she didn't care about him, no matter how much he'd stepped in it. Which meant he just had to determine how to fix this. How to fix all of this. Sansa was everything to him, and he needed to win her back.

Now that he had a direction when it came to his wife, Tywin took a moment to examine his brother.

It was true that he was closest to Kevan out of everyone in his life.

Of all his siblings, Kevan had been there by his side as he'd fought, tooth and nail, to bring honour back to their House. Kevan had been there through the death of their father, through Tywin's marriage, and the birth of his children and the death of Joanna. He was steadfast, loyal and dependable.

For the first time since Joanna died, Tywin finally saw the impact her death had on his entire family.

He had held himself apart from his siblings and his children after she died that he hadn't noticed their grief, too mired in his own.

At first, it had been because his pain had been so great, his hurt so deep, that he knew no one could help him.

Later? It had merely been easier to build massive walls around his heart and keep people out. Her death had become an excuse – a crutch to keep anyone from hurting him again, lest he cared too much for someone and they were taken from him.

And just when he'd imagined himself willing to allow people in again, Aerys had stolen Jaime from him, once again breaking Tywin's heart.

What good was all his wealth and power if that man could keep taking those Tywin loved from him?

Suddenly weary, Tywin thought about his much-shortened childhood. From so young, he'd had an incredible level of responsibility heaped upon his shoulders.

Tytos and the damage he'd done in the Westerlands.

Aerys and the damage he'd done to the realm.

And Tywin, forced to clean up both their messes. It had been a thankless job but one he had done admirably, even if it had earned the distrust of more than one lord in the realm.

Some still thought him hard, cold, heartless for the impossible decisions he'd had to make as Hand to the King.

It had been Tywin that had ruled with an Iron First – if not in name, then in deed as those in both the realm and the Westerlands had learned.

He'd been around Sansa's age when Aerys had named him Hand. Despite how hard he'd worked, how much peace and prosperity he'd brought to the realm, Aerys' jealousy of him had only grown. And the King had punished Tywin, again and again.

Startled, Tywin realized that for the first time since his marriage, that Sansa belonged wholly to him and not the King. If he had his way, Aerys would never even set eyes upon his new wife.

And while Tywin had loved Joanna, loved her as best as he could, as the young man of twenty-one that had been saddled with so much responsibility, the depth that he felt with Sansa, defied any comparison.

How did he get her to see that? His love for Joanna was safe, tucked away in his heart, now a warm but distant memory.

But what he felt for Sansa? That threatened to consume him daily. It was an inferno, blazing hotter by the moment.

"I think it was you telling her she wasn't a Lannister," Kevan said, starting the conversation.

Tywin grunted. "Seven hells, I didn't mean it as it sounded. I just meant the fight was between siblings."

Kevan shrugged. "You were a bastard to Tyrion. We all know it. I understand better now, why you were, knowing what happened to Joanna. But you have to remember that Sansa lost her family right before she came here. We are her family now, Ty."

"She is my wife. She should understand what that means."

There was a pause and a big sigh by Kevan, who rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Seriously? Women need words. We are family, and if you said to me what you did to her, I'd have punched you in the face. I've been by your side since we were boys— through all the ups and downs. I was on your side when you gave me five hundred knights to rid the Westerlands of robber knights and outlaws. I was with you when you raised our army, without our father's consent, and defeated Lord Walderan and destroyed Tarbeck Hall. When Lord Roger Reyne fled back to Castamere, and you diverted the stream, drowning them within, I was with you. I know that I am your family because of our history. Does she?"

Tywin was humbled and stunned at Kevan's passion for him in his speech and by Kevan's apparent love and devotion to their family.

"And just so you are aware even with all of that, with our history, I still felt like my brother died the day Lady Joanna did."

"Truly?" Tywin appeared bewildered. "I've always been here, brother."

Kevan's stared at him.

"In body perhaps, but not spirit. Tywin, you were everything to us. You were our brother, our leader, the head of our House. We needed you, and we wanted to be there for you. It wasn't just your children you abandoned. It was all of us. We worshiped you, Ty. You are our hero, the man who brought back honour to our House. And none of us could help you – you shut us all out. For years."

"I … I didn't know…." Tywin paused, unused to having such an intimate and emotional discussion with anyone. Other than Sansa, it had been years since he'd had to examine his feelings.

The mood had shifted, the truth having nowhere to hide.

Kevan breathed deeply.

"I know. I know you didn't. From the time we've been boys, nothing about your life has been fair, Tywin. It wasn't fair what father did to you, the responsibility he put on your shoulders. Just like it wasn't fair that as a brilliant administrator for Aerys, his jealousy built. It wasn't fair that Aerys lusted after Joanna from the moment he laid eyes on her."

For a moment, without bitterness and grief, Tywin tried to imagine what their life might have been like, had Joanna lived.

Would Aerys have ever let up on his attentions on her?

Would she have seen the growing bond between Jaime and Cersei?

Would she have loved Tyrion, even knowing how he'd been conceived?

And for the first time since she'd died, Tywin realized that as wonderful a wife and mother that Joanna had been, Sansa was much better suited to him.

Joanna was a product of her upbringing, and the time in which they lived. She'd slid into the role of his wife and as the Lady of Casterly Rock with ease because she'd been groomed for such a purpose. She had been ready to be Lady Lannister. And for so long, Tywin had thought their marriage the pinnacle of what two highborn people of this time could achieve.

Now, though, he knew what it meant to have a true partner in a wife beyond the tasks that they had to accomplish as Lord and Lady Lannister. Sansa was more than just a title; more than just a helpmate and a woman to give him more children.

Sansa was his entire world. She challenged him; in the bedroom, at every meal, how they governed and acted. She asked difficult questions and debated morality with him with ease. She had an insatiable curiosity about her, which Tywin knew was not just her being in the past – it was quintessentially Sansa and something he loved about her.

And more, Sansa had chosen him. Of all the lords, of all the men, Sansa had chosen him. Tywin did not lie to himself that with her knowledge she could have chosen any man for her husband. But even knowing the secrets of his family, she'd chosen to be a Lannister.

He and Joanna had always been assumed.

Joanna would never have spoken to him the way Sansa had.

Joanna would never have demanded that he be a better man.

Joanna would never have matched him intellectually as Sansa did.

And the passion between him and Sansa? It astonished him.

With Sansa, he felt fully alive for the first time in his life as if he could be his true self and not be found wanting. Or if he was, Sansa would drag him from that self-loathing and propel him to be something more – something better.

As if Kevan could read his mind, he said, "I know you loved Lady Joanna, Tywin; we all did. But I don't remember you looking at her the way you do Lady Sansa. She came through time, for you. Someone, or something, felt that you two were so well matched, they brought her 1700 years into the past - for you to be with her. She is the greatest love of your life, brother. She is your soulmate, the woman who completes you."

"She is," Tywin agreed, a bit stunned by all they had discussed. The key would be to get Sansa to believe him after he'd made such a mess of things.

He wondered if now were the time to go and get her to try to make her see what she meant to him.

"I need to speak to her."

"Give her time," Kevan said, once again anticipating what Tywin's next move might be. "She's probably still reeling from your declaration for Lady Joanna."

Tywin snarled, "I didn't say I didn't love her."

Kevan snorted.

"No, you just told her that the love of your life was your dead wife."

Tywin growled.

"Have you even told her how you feel about her?"

Tywin said nothing, and Kevan shook his head in pity.

"Tywin, women need words," Kevan muttered as if he were particularly slow.

"I know. But she should have known how I felt and what I meant when I was yelling at you. I've shown her how I feel."

Kevan dared to roll his eyes at him.

"Gods, it's a wonder two women have loved you, brother, with the way you treat them," Kevan mumbled, pouring them more wine.

Thinking on that, Tywin almost missed Kevan's quiet question.

"So, how do I die?" he asked.

Startled, Tywin wondered what might be gained from telling him. Did Kevan genuinely want to know?

Tywin himself realized he knew so little of the future. He had only begun to plumb the depths of Sansa's incredible knowledge. The power she had was something he was just beginning to appreciate, seeing how it had upended his entire worldview in a few short hours.

And to think, she knew everything that happened in this time – it was staggering.

"Do you truly want to know?"

Kevan nodded, mute now, and Tywin settled back into their assigned roles with him as the big brother.

"Sansa didn't say much; only that it was Cersei. You were Hand to Cersei and Jaime's second son, Tommen. For some reason, which I am not aware of, Cersei lashed out. She blew up the Sept of Baelor with wildfire while you and hundreds more were inside."

Kevan's eyes widened, and true to his nature, Tywin watched him process this. "So, you were already dead, then?"

Tywin nodded. "Yes."

"Seven hells. Cersei is a liability. If what you believe to be true, her role in the death of Tyrion …" the man's voice trailed off.

Regardless of what Tywin thought of his youngest son, no matter how poorly he'd treated Tyrion, Cersei had no right to murder him. She had crossed a line. And one in which Tywin needed to make her pay.

"How long before she makes a move against Sansa?" Kevan asked quietly, voicing Tywin's newest fear. "Or a child of your union? If we cannot get Jaime back, you are without an heir. But with Sansa, all of that changes. Your daughter will not like that."

Tywin felt sick at the monster living in his midst – a monster he'd never even seen until Sansa. He wondered if he ever would have seen her for what she was? Clearly not if his death and the death of Kevan were anything to go by.

"Cersei defies logic, Kevan. In that time, she was married to a man who was named King. She had all the power I could give a woman of this time. And it still wasn't enough?"

Tywin tried to understand where he had failed her, for surely the failure must lie with him.

Did his inattention create this?

And for what purpose was there to her actions?

Did she genuinely crave Jaime's place as his heir?

"She's always been a spiteful, jealous creature. Vain and selfish. I doubt even Joanna would have been able to curb her lust for power. She wants to be your heir," Kevan summed up neatly and without mercy.

Tywin felt his eyes widen, and Kevan waved a hand.

"She doesn't want to be Jaime exactly – but it is as if she feels because she was first born, she deserves what is his due."

"But we are not Dorne. Firstborn, true born males inherit in the West," Tywin all but snapped.

Society had to function by a standard set of rules, or else chaos would reign. Tywin could no easier change the rules that governed succession, then he could will the sun to rise in the West. It simply was, and his daughter knew it as well as any of them.

"And she knows it and resents it," Kevan said, his anger now building towards Tywin's daughter.

It was utterly fascinating for Tywin to watch his brother come into his own. Kevan had so often deferred to him, to his knowledge, his position as the firstborn, his need to defend their family. Now Kevan was working himself up, real fury on his face when he thought of the damage Cersei brought to their House.

"She is intelligent, brother. Perhaps not as clever as she thinks, for what person cuckolds the King with her own brother and doesn't even give the King a proper heir? That is just idiocy."

Tywin snorted. "Please, don't hold back."

Kevan leaned over the table, his green eyes flashing.

"Tywin, she is somehow responsible, either indirectly or directly, for the death of both of us. Our once noble House, the best House in Westeros, is in ruin by the time your children are done with it, and we know exactly where the blame lies. The only question that remains is what is to be done about her?"

And that was the rub, Tywin knew. As brutally as his eyes had been opened today, there was still the looming issue of Cersei herself to deal with.

"Robert will not become King, of that I will make sure," Tywin said, contemplatively. If he did not fall in the Trident, Tywin meant to make the man pay for his threat against his wife – with his life.

Tywin thought the answer for Cersei would be marriage in a few years when she came around to the idea.

But if Cersei were willing to murder thousands to secure her position in the future, would any marriage be enough to hold her ambitions at bay? And would his wife ever be safe, if Cersei were to live? She'd have to prove her loyalty to him before he'd put her in a position of power and even then Tywin did not know if he could ever trust her.

Sansa was his paramount concern right now.

"You know what must be done," Kevan murmured, his eyes hard.

"You need a confession about Tyrion and for her to pay for her crime. She is a kinslayer, Tywin. Jaime, as yet, might be saved. But she is beyond redemption."

Kevan rose then, and Tywin saw the weariness in his brother's face. He wondered if it were reflected in his.

"Jaime is not the only one who needs you. Gerion is wasting his life, lusting after women and adventure. Tygett, I fear, we will lose to whores and drink. They need their brother, Tywin. They need the Great Lion. Not tomorrow, but now. Make it right," was all he said as he exited the room, leaving the most powerful and richest man in Westeros with more questions than answers and a gaping emptiness that came from missing his wife.

Tywin knew he had great strides to make things right with those whom he loved. And he also knew, as distasteful as it might be, the issue of his daughter needed to be solved, before she became an even greater liability to his new wife, and the family he hoped to create with Sansa. Left unchecked, Cersei would destroy them all.

Sansa

Sansa left the solar in a hurry, hurt propelling her outside of her borrowed rooms for the first time without Tywin by her side. She briefly wondered about a guard, but as if she'd conjured him up, Sandor Clegane fell into step beside her.

He grunted only once at her, saw the tears on her face and snarled.

"Sandor, no," she said, pleased when he listened.

"This is between Lord Tywin and me," she told him.

"Not right," he muttered, shaking his head. His devotion was touching, and he eased some of the loneliness she was feeling, remembering that the only person he had left was his awful brother. She viewed Sandor as her little brother and knew he looked at her as a big sister.

"Can we visit the horses?" she asked suddenly, and he nodded. As they made their way through the Tooth, Ser Addam spotted them and joined their little party. Addam Marbrand was twenty-one and had also taken Sandor under his wing. Ser Addam was a good man, and Sansa could see his positive influence on Sandor.

Her husband might not think her a Lannister, but these men did. Sansa was pleased to see that since Tygett had taken to training Sandor, he was more readily accepted by the other men within their travelling party, including Addam. Everything Sansa had read indicated that Addam and Jaime had been good friends and he was clearly a stabilizing influence on the young Sandor who was filled with rage. Feeling brave today, Sansa asked Sandor to introduce her to his huge black horse, named Stranger.

He paused and looked around as if he expected Tywin to pop out and yell at him.

"He's busy, with Kevan. Show her your horse. She is your Lady," Tygett's deep voice announced in the stables. Sansa turned to see her good brother there, his eyes narrowing as he caught the last visages of anger and hurt on her face.

"What has he done now?" Tyg demanded, hand on his sword.

"He's Tywin," was all Sansa would say, as Tyg snorted.

Distracted by the animals, Sansa lost an hour in the stables, feeling slightly less alone than she had when she'd stormed out of her bedchambers.

When she made her way back into the Tooth, she asked the castle steward if there were perhaps a library, where she might pass the afternoon, and the man led her through the twisty labyrinth until they reached a small, dark, room. When the torches were lit, they barely cast enough light for her to read, but Sansa didn't mind. The dreariness of the place matched her mood, now that she was alone again, with Sandor guarding her outside the door.

Free from the overbearing influence of the Lannister men she was fast coming to love, Sansa gave into her humiliation, grief and frustrations.

She was angry with how she had so unceremoniously blurted out how Tywin had died, horrified that she'd tried to hurt him. She was heartsick for any familiar face from her time, missing her father more this afternoon than she had since she'd been thrust back in time. And she was frustrated with the man she'd gone and fallen in love with, thinking now, there was no chance he'd ever love her back.

Sansa had always known the risk of falling for Tywin – that he'd never love anyone like he had Lady Joanna. Given how explosively they'd come together, how deep their connection felt, Sansa just hadn't expected his sharp and cutting words today. She'd been ill-prepared, thinking she'd made great strides at getting him to feel something for her – something more than lust and passion. They had that in spades.

Honestly, this morning, that display? She'd thought the words had been on the tip of his tongue.

Was she simply too sheltered, too naïve for a man like him?

And then she topped all of that off with a threat to cut his balls off! Who was she?

No one that she recognized, that was for sure.

For the first time in her life, Sansa had thought she'd found her place in this world, only to have that abruptly snatched back from Tywin's lips himself.

This is between family. You are not a Lannister.

The words repeated like a mantra in her mind, as she curled up and wept.

She was so alone, not only in this world but hers as well. She'd always been an odd duck, an outcast, no matter how much her father tried to spin it. She'd known she was different. In Tywin it felt like she had found a man that appreciated all her eccentricities.

To have what felt like family taken from her, again, and this time by a man that Sansa loved, shattered her.

It wasn't the Joanna comment, really, but his anger and dismissiveness towards her when she'd tried to help.

Loneliness, huge and consuming welled up inside her, as she curled into the hard sofa she found, wondering when she might feel happy again.

She must have fallen into a fitful sleep, for Barba groggily awoke her. Sansa felt a million years old as she dragged herself back to her chambers to dress for this evening's feast. She didn't think she was cut out to live in the past, where everything seemed to trip her up, and her emotions were all over the place.

Seeing that Tywin was not in their bedchambers, her heart sunk.

If he'd wanted to make things right, he'd have been here – and she might have been able to apologize or gauge how he was feeling.

She was listless as Barba brushed her hair, leaving it long and shiny down her back. She knew her husband liked it like that, but quite frankly, didn't much care. Her hand skirted by the Lannister red gown and demanded Tully blue. If Tywin wanted to avoid her, she'd make her statement differently. Finally dressed, she rose at the knock on the door, her heart sinking once again as she saw Tygett there.

Where was Tywin?

Was he doing this to punish her?

And how long might this last?

Resigned to a genuinely dreadful evening, she linked arms with Tyg and prepared to endure the icy silence that she knew only Tywin Lannister could deliver. She could only hope there was no dancing, so she might escape this hell early and go to bed. She was beyond hoping that somehow, someway they might fix things between them.

She'd been deluding herself into thinking that Tywin might open his heart again. Perhaps it was time to face the reality that she, Sansa Stark from the future, time traveller extraordinaire, did not fit in her time or his.

The Feast: Tywin

Tywin's eyes were transfixed on the hall entrance, so he did not miss it when his brother escorted his wife into the feast. It should have been him on her arm, but he'd taken Kevan's advice and given his wife space. Space, it seemed, that she had used to settle a remote and regal mask on her face and choose a gown of Tully blue.

In the past, Tywin knew this would have made him angry.

He would have seen this as a slight.

Now, he understood it was her way of taking back some power. He'd worried over her, all afternoon when she'd been gone from him. He'd had to hold himself back several times from racing through the castle to find her. He kept to Kevan's advice that she needed space.

But now, as she barely acknowledged him, he wondered if perhaps his brother had been wrong.

He thought it might just be him, but almost no one could engage her in conversation beyond a polite one or two-word answer. It was like everything that made her Sansa had vanished, and in its place, a perfect, distant, highborn woman with none of her normal spark and fire.

Tywin wasn't the only one who noticed. The glares from his brothers, his bannermen, hell, even Catelyn Stark, made him feel worse as the night wore on. There was nothing in this woman seated beside him that in any way reminded Tywin of his wife – a woman he desperately missed. There was a moment when he reached out and touched her arm, but she jerked it away as if he'd burned her, and the look of hurt on her face had him reeling.

What had he done?

The worst was that she appeared almost defeated, alone and apart even among people that Tywin knew genuinely loved and cared for her. When the Tully sisters made their excuses after the meal, Catelyn sent a venomous look his way. He wanted to defend himself, but he thought about what he'd said, how he'd hurt her, and knew he deserved it.

He was deep into his cups when Tygett loomed over him.

"Fix what you broke," his brother snarled, his face twisted in anger.

"And how do you know it was me?"

"It's always you, Tywin. You poison everything good in your life. Well, not Lady Sansa. I won't let you ruin this. Fix it."

Tywin rose, fury propelling him to his feet. What happened between him and Sansa was private.

"Remember your place," he snapped at Tygett. If pushed, Tywin would lash out. He'd have no problem taking his frustrations out on his brother's face.

Tygett glowered at him before he stalked off, and Tywin was suddenly done with all of these people. The day had been hellish after it had started so promisingly. Tywin had relished the time with Sansa this morning, and now, it felt like there was a chasm between them, and one he did not know how to bridge.

When he entered their bed-chamber, she'd left a single candle for him. He stripped down to a soft tunic and breeches and then moved towards the bed.

"Sansa?" he asked quietly, wondering if she were asleep.

"Leave it, Tywin. I'm exhausted. I'm alone. I'm not even living at the right time. I don't belong here. I just want to sleep."

She rolled over, away from him, to the very edge of the bed.

His vision danced. Did she mean what he thought? Did she regret being thrust back in time with him, forced to live this life? Staggered by what losing her might mean, distraught at the pain in her voice, he dragged a chair into their bedchambers, prepared to sit a vigil over her. He would not sleep, tormented by his actions, his inability to express himself adequately, and the temper that ruled him.

His only hope was that when the dawn came, Sansa would be willing to listen, and he could try to repair some of the damage he'd done. If it took the rest of their lives, he'd prove to her that she was everything to him and that his love for her paled compared to anything he'd felt before.

For the first time in his life, Tywin put some else's pain above his own, and the depth of it stole his sleep, rendering him unable to do anything more than watch his wife, and pray to gods he didn't believe in, that he could somehow win her back.

The Next morning: Tywin

Tywin spent the entire night in a chair, watching his wife sleep. He'd carried it in from the solar, and set up his vigil to watch over her. There was no denying the woman had him – more of him than he'd given to anyone, he'd realized. She'd worked her way through all his defences, and last night, seeing the light, the fire so diminished in her at the feast had almost broken him in a way few things had.

He'd been given a second chance; by gods, by fate, by fickle magic, he knew not. Nor did he care. Sansa had been his from that first moment he'd glimpsed of her through time, a creature so uniquely perfect for him that she did not even exist here and now.

At some point, in the early morning hours, Tywin's brain had begun to imagine what might happen should she lose the will to be back in his time. The thought of her somehow leaving him to go back to her own time, where he might not be able to reach her, had rendered him almost catatonic.

He knew he had to make this right between them, and they would not leave the Tooth until he was satisfied Sansa knew the place she occupied in his heart.

Now, as she stretched and woke, he watched as she immediately reached for him. When she realized he was not there, he saw the devastation on her face, a flash of jealousy as if she imagined he'd be with some other woman, and then resignation. Hating this, he coughed, drawing her attention to where he sat.

Confusion marred her beautiful face, and he reached a hand out for her, wondering if she would be willing to listen to him.

Relief coursed through him when she grasped his larger, scarred hand in her delicate, pale one. She was such a strong woman and yet, fragile, and he wanted to promise that nothing would ever hurt her – including him.

He took one fortifying breath and then spoke, knowing this conversation would define his new marriage and he could only hope he got it right.

"You were upset last evening, and I did not know if you would welcome me in our bed."

She frowned.

"Did you… did you sleep at all?"

Tywin shook his head. "No."

"But, My Lord, you need rest. Are we not leaving for the Rock today?"

Her speech was reserved and formal and he hated it.

"Sansa, we need to talk," he said, deflecting her question.

She gave a slow nod, dropped his hand and then dipped her head, hiding her expressive eyes from him. Tywin hated this wall that was between them, this cold formality that she was using to keep him at arm's length. He understood why, but he hated it. Sometime in the night, he'd realized her pain was more significant than his and that to win her back, he'd have to humble and open himself to her in a way he never had with anyone.

Not even Joanna.

With Joanna, it had always been about securing heirs, making a good match, and taking their established places in the West. In marrying Joanna, Tywin had protected her. He was a man that was used to being seen as devoted, and while Joanna had seen to his needs, his short time with Sansa had shown him how much his first marriage had truly been lacking.

Even with the harsh words between them yesterday, Sansa had shown Tywin how passionate and protective she was of him. This idea of her loving him as deeply as he loved her, was somewhat overwhelming for him, and he'd spent all night puzzling out how to handle his wife's feelings for him.

Before he could begin to explain these things that he had discovered, about himself, about them, she raised her head and he saw the tears track down her face. She appeared so lost, so lonely, that he wanted to bring her into his arms, to try to ease so of the deep hurt there.

"I am not a violent person. I am not a person that seeks to harm others. I barely recognize who I am back here, Tywin," she told him. He opened his mouth to protest, and she shook her head. "I have never been so dramatic in my life. I have no idea what I am becoming. What I said to you? How I told you about your death?" She sobbed and pressed a fist to her mouth as if to try and stop the pain that she was in. "I'm sorry. I am afraid of what I am becoming," she finished on a broken whisper.

Seeing her hunched over, curled around herself, Tywin could no longer keep himself from her. He moved quickly, with purpose, and had her in his arms. She was shaking, the silent sobs wracking her slender frame, and her pain felt like his.

"Stop, my love," he said, deliberately using the endearment over and over as he rocked her in his arms. When she finally calmed, his tunic was wet, and she felt so right in his arms that he took a shuddering breath, realizing how close he'd come to losing this.

"I have things to say, Sansa, and I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?" he asked.

Kevan pointed out his tendency to 'order' and not 'ask' and how much Sansa might not appreciate that about him. He felt her nod and was encouraged that she clung to him.

"For my entire life, Sansa, even as a young man, I have been put in a position to have to defend my siblings, my family, my people."

He saw her tilt her head, and her blue eyes were now more alive than he'd seen since their awful fight, the defence of him on her lips, and he couldn't help the warmth that spread through him. To think how he'd almost lost this. His finger stroked her face as he tried to gentle his voice even more.

"Oh, my little lioness. So ready to defend me, even from myself. I know you know the facts, Sansa. Let me speak about what you do not know, my love."

He saw when the endearment registered with her, for her eyes went warm and soft. The kiss he stole was quick but full of meaning.

"You'll have your chance to speak; to yell at me, berate me, call me a fool."

He let out a rumbly laugh, to let her know he was japing, and she gave the nod, as regal as any queen.

"I'll listen. I'm ready," she said, and if he hadn't already been in love with her, this would have tipped him over.

"Do you know that no one has ever defended me like you? No one ever really chose me, for me. I'm too cold, too harsh, and too stubborn. My siblings, other than Kevan, do not understand the pressures put on my shoulders, the terror I felt at being named Hand when I was. I was the eldest child, to a father that became weaker by the years, and my duty as Lord Paramount of the West had been drilled into me the moment I could talk."

He moved and settled them more comfortably, loving how she clung to him. He had a large hand on her back, another one playing with her hair.

"This is not an excuse, of course. Many men, many firstborn children, are raised in such a manner. But it does, I hope, help you understand my marriage to Lady Joanna."

He saw his wife's eyes were focused on his every word, and he cupped her cheek. "Joanna was the daughter of my father's youngest brother. We were well matched, Sansa. We knew what the duties and expectations of us were. She was raised to run a keep like Casterly Rock, and my bannermen accepted her in the West. I did love her, and a part of my heart will always belong to her."

Sansa nodded. "I understand, Tywin. It is what drew me to you in the first place. The love story of the two of you. I do not seek to replace her; only to be afforded a place beside her."

He shook his head at her and how she had no clue what she was to him. And he was the idiot who'd kept her in the dark.

"Oh, my love, what I feel for you, what we are; it defies even my logical reasoning. I've given up trying to figure it out. Joanna will always be tucked away, secure as my first love, which was safe and expected. As crass as it sounds, what I feel for you hardly compares to the love I had for her. My love for you consumes me, Sansa. I think I began to fall in love with you from that first vision. And kept falling ever since. The moment I realized there was even the slightest possibility I could have you for real, I upended my entire world to get to you."

"You love me?" she asked, voice hardly more than a whisper as if she were afraid to believe it.

"Wholly."

She threw her arms around him then, her body flush against his, as once again, he felt the tremors shudder through her. This time though, her lips were at his ear.

"I love you," she told him over and over again. He smiled then, relaxing for the first time, prepared for when she finally drew back so that she could look into his eyes.

"But yesterday, you said I wasn't a Lannister. You said I wasn't family."

"My words were poorly said and carelessly tossed about. I simply meant my fight was with Kevan; between two brothers that had to work our years of old hurts and built up feelings. You are my world, Sansa. You are my family."

Her eyes filled, and he saw the deep grief.

"I have no one, Tywin. Not a single person in this time, or my own, that belongs to me. I am utterly alone in this world."

The actual depth to which he'd hurt her, rushed through Tywin, stealing his breath and overwhelming him. Cursing himself for the fool he was, he tightened his grip on her.

"You are mine, Sansa. My wife, my family, my entire world. Everything I have is yours. Gold, my title, my heart. You are not alone; you will never be alone again. Do you understand? You are a Lannister. A lioness. A part of me, from this day forward."

"Oh, Tywin," she said, pressing closer to him. His strong arms banded around her as they simply held on to one another.

"I'm so sorry for telling you as I did. I'm so so sorry. You have to forgive me," he heard her say, so distraught at how she'd told him about his death. He'd had time to work through the information she'd given him, and had realized that he wasn't as bothered she was by how it had come out.

He settled her against him, cradled in his arms so he could just hold her. His entire world had righted itself again. They would not be leaving for the Rock today. Tywin would order food here, and they would spend time discussing the secrets that had been revealed and reconnecting with one another. For once, Tywin would put the needs of himself and his wife above those of his House.

"Shhh now. I know you would never intentionally hurt me. We will talk, and we will figure this out. Tomorrow we will ride for home – our home," he qualified, watching his wife's eye dance brightly. It was incredible how much she loved him, and he was determined to try to change – for her.

"Don't call for anyone, not yet," she said, cuddling closer to him. It was astonishing how much his world righted itself with her in his arms again. He brushed his lips across the crown of her hair.

"I have to explain your death."

He heard the anguish in her voice, and wondered had anyone ever attempted to protect him the way she did? It was as if she believed that it was as much her place as his wife, as it was his as her husband to save him from pain. It was a staggering realization, and this extraordinary woman humbled him.

"Alright," was all he said. For this, he kept his arms around her, stroking her softly, attempting to gentle his touch. Her back was pressed to his chest, Sansa resting between his legs as he leaned back against the headboard of their borrowed bed.

"There are so many circumstances that we've changed, that I debated ever telling you. Tyrion is dead. That is the most obvious change. We are married, so there will be no whore in your bed," she said, voice hardening.

Tywin chuckled, finding her apparent jealousy quite adorable.

"There will never be another woman in my bed, Sansa," he reassured her.

"Better not be," she mumbled before carrying on. "Yes, well, that aside, I hope that there are no children between the twins. I do not know what your plans are for your daughter, but, for the sake of everyone, keep them apart. She corrupts Jaime, but I do believe that if he were to know the role she played in Tyrion's death…"

Her nose wrinkled, and she finally titled her head up to look at him.

"How did that come about, Tyrion's death?"

Unable to help himself, he kissed the tip of her nose.

"When I had the vision of you and your father, I was disturbed by what I had learned. I confronted her, and she was defiant about her future, whom she might marry. It became clear that she had no intentions of doing her duty."

Sansa frowned and Tywin let out a sigh. Even a modern woman understood how important marriage alliances were.

"After learning from Kevan, that the affection between the twins was not as secret as they believed, I believe Tyrion knew something." Tywin paused. "He attempted to speak with me Sansa, on several occasions after my conversations with Cersei, but I dismissed him. I thought him a pest, and it a weak attempt to get me to pay attention to him."

Tywin would not shy away from how he'd treated his youngest son. He knew no one, not even Sansa, could understand his hatred for him, even as Tywin knew he'd not deserved it. Perhaps a better man than him would have been able to love him, despite the damage he'd caused. Tywin was not that man, and would not pretend to be something he was not.

"I finally gave in made him make an appointment with me." Tywin saw the shock and disappointment in Sansa's eyes.

What father made his children make 'appointments' just to speak with him?

He did.

"Before he could meet with me, his body was found on the stones below a particularly high rampart. There was no way he wasn't toppled over."

Tywin thought about his next words carefully.

"He was loved, Sansa, by my household. Not by me, and clearly, not by Cersei. But my siblings? They doted on him, as did Jaime. There was no reason for anyone other than her to kill him. He was harmless."

"This will destroy, Jaime," she stated, her blue eyes raging for the cruelty of his daughter. "But Jaime needs to hear her confess. It is the only way to break her hold on him to win him back fully to your side. You must gain her confession when we take King's Landing."

He stroked her cheek. "She will come for you. The moment she knows what you mean to me. I will not hide my affection for you. And it will be months before we are in a position to get Jaime back. It is dangerous, this path we tread."

She leaned into him, brushing her lips across his. "It is. But it is the only way to get your son back."

Overcome, he choked out the words. "I will never deserve you."

She gave him a mischievous grin, and the fire seemed to be back. "Perhaps not. But you have me. All of me. My heart, my knowledge. It is all yours, Tywin. I love you. You are my family; the only person in this lifetime and mine that belongs to me."

"I promise I will spend the rest of my days, proving to you how much I love you."

She nipped at him, and he welcomed the bite of pain – he deserved it after all.

"And I will hold you to that promise."

Then she reached down and pulled off her sleep shift, her beautiful body a feast before him, and all thoughts of revenge, his wayward daughter, the dangerous path they were on, fled. There was only, as ever, Sansa, and Tywin willingly indulged himself in renewing the claim and love between them, vowing no one and nothing would tear them apart, as long as he drew breath.

That night, as they slept, twined in each other, they dreamed – of blood, and death, of a rocky mountain pass, and a lioness that had died birthing her cubs.

When they awoke, Sansa clung to him.

"Did you dream what I did?" she whispered, shaken by the clarity of the dream.

"A lioness, dead, but for two cubs," he stated quietly, deeply disturbed by the dream.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

Tywin refused to give voice to his fears – that it was a foretelling of her death. For what else might it mean? The lioness had to be Sansa, and the two cubs, her children – their children. Fear skittered down his spine.

They were quiet as they rose, broke their fast and dressed. Today they would ride for the Rock, but what joy they'd found in their reconciliation had been dashed by the fear that haunted them both – that Sansa might die in childbirth, bringing Tywin two children. A man obsessed with legacy, for the first time in his forty-one years, Tywin would willingly give all of it up, if it meant that Sansa would live.

"We don't know that's what it means," she finally said, swallowing hard. "There are things I know about childbirth, Tywin, things that perhaps, if something goes wrong …"

"Don't," he gutted out, pulling her onto his arms, burying his face in her neck.

"Don't. Please. I can't Sansa. I just got you back."

She tried to soothe him, but they fooled no one as they left their chambers, both of them deeply worried about the dream that they had shared.

Neither knew why death seemed to nip at their heels wherever they went, and they wondered if they were only fooling themselves to try and find happiness and love in such brutal and unforgiving time.

For surely that would be the cruellest joke the fates could play on them.

To give them each a great love, to bring them through time to be together, only to snatch it away again, leaving them both more broken than they'd ever been. Tywin knew that should Sansa die, he'd tear the kingdom apart. He would not live without her in this world, gods be damned. He'd burn it all to the ground and beg the Stranger to take him, rather than live in a world without her.

It was a sombre group that exited the Golden Tooth and rode hard for the Rock, the Great Lion wondering why fate seemed to toy with him, giving him the greatest love of his life, on to have him live in fear of losing her when it came time to birth the children he knew they both already wanted and would love. Tywin had no intention of losing his wife; not to Aerys, not to Cersei and not to fate and anyone who dared stand in his way, would feel his wrath if they dared harm a single hair on her head.