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Upon his arrival he entered the throne room to the sight of Sansa stripped and being beaten by Merryn Trant at the behest of his foul grandson. He’d put a stop to it immediately of course but the memory of Sansa bloodied and bruised was burned into his mind. How dare they. The relief he saw in her eyes had been apparent when he’d shaken the cloak off his own shoulders and placed them over her own, it had cracked his heart. Breaking the wall of ice that had begun to encase it so many moons ago and igniting a smoldering ember that the man had long thought had been snuffed out. No one has shown her kindness in an age if such a simple act elicits a look so genuine. Without further hesitation and feeling more certain than the moments before he began to speak.

He had ordered the Hound to take Cersei and Joffrey away to their rooms and ordered the doors barred so they may not be allowed to leave until Tywin could deal with them himself. Several of his own sworn swords had taken to assisting the Hound to his task as his daughter took to causing a scene. She took to spitting vitriol and poison upon him, cursing his name and him as a father. My dearest daughter always thought too highly of herself. In those moments he gave his brother a small look and without any further exchange Trant was seized. He was forced to his knees and stripped of his cloak and sword, then the order was given for him to be taken to the Black Cells. He would admit only to himself the simple pleasure he’d taken in seeing the coward look frightened.

At some point during his barking of orders Sansa had slumped ever so slightly and was a hare's breath away from leaning against him for support. Why didn’t she stand? She had escaped his purview for a moment, and upon reentering it he barked orders for her handmaid to be found and the maester to attend her. Shortly he was helping her to her feet and he'd watched her be escorted from his sight. It had tugged at him in a strange way, the sudden want to keep her safe urging some unknown part of him to follow her. Keep her safe, away from harm. After knowing she was gone it left him with the task of making order out of disorder and the ghost of her form against his leg.

Now sitting in his solar mulling it over, a fortnight later, he knew he needed to let it go. Sansa was safe now, he had saved her from Trant, from Joffrey. They had been punished for their treasonous acts shortly after King Stannis’ arrival from Storm’s End. And while the girl’s father was dead he was sure that choosing to return her to her brother’s and mother in the North would be the most advantageous decision for the new King. It made the most political sense as well as the additional benefit of easing some of the pain for those who had lost the valiant Eddard Stark.

It should matter not to him, this he knew. He would return to Casterly Rock within the next moon turn, leaving this wretched place and all that had occurred within these walls. He wanted to put leagues and leagues between him and the foul city as soon as possible so he could begin to bury all the memories of what had occurred in the last few soiled moon turns. For now however, he was a guest of the King. He would finish his duty, swear the fealty of his house, establish new political benefactors to the best of his ability and return home. Home. Tywin had been deep in reverie when a knock came at his door pulling him from his thoughts.

“Enter,” was all he uttered. The door to his chambers swung open with a groan revealing the Onion Knight who entered his quarters and began, “Good afternoon my Lord. I’ve come to inform you that the King requests your presence.” he stated simply and straightened himself. Tywin assessed him for a moment before rising from his place behind the desk and gesturing for the Onion Knight to lead. Afterall, who was he to refuse his king?

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His Grace was the same man he had always been. Few of words, unyielding and prideful. Though the latter no one would dare tell him directly. Many simple minded folk thought him unyielding to a fault, he’d maimed his own Hand for one. The man had smuggled onions into the siege of Storm’s End, keeping the people inside alive while the Tyrell armies laid siege for a year, upon Stark’s arrival at Storm’s End signaling the end of the war, of Robert’s Rebellion, and had Stannis both rewarded and punished the man. Rose him from his simple beginnings to a knight, while also severing the fingers on his left hand as a punishment for the crime of smuggling. Some people saw it as fair, most saw it as cruel. Long ago it had all been, Tywin thought as he waited for the King to finish his prior engagement, Robert hadn’t been dead three moon turns but little remained of his former reign. His wife and “children” were all executed at Stannis' order, their claims denounced and crimes stated for all to hear. Cersei for her crimes of adultery and treason (bearing children that were not Roberts) and her children for being abominations. I did my duty. I remained loyal to the crown, at the most enormous loss to my own house. Jamie had been retrieved from the battlefield and was being brought to the Red Keep at the time Tywin had stormed the throne room. He had arrived only two days before Stannis was completely irate over his father’s decisions.

He had Jamie brought to his chambers once he’d arrived, hoping to encourage his son to swear to take the black. Jamie had been everything Tywin had wanted in a son, strong, honorable, and just. Despite Aerys taking away Jamie's ability to hold titles or lands, or bear children, he clenched his jaw, his son had made him proud. There was a commotion outside his door before it was thrown open by two of his men holding onto a seething Jamie. “What did you do?!” Jamie bellowed at him the moment his eyes meant his fathers. “Where is Cersei, what did you do to our family father?!” Tywin rose and stepped towards his son, “Enough Jamie, we will speak, Sers you are dismissed.” The men exchanged glances before bowing slightly and taking their leave. Tywin closed the door behind Jamie and gestured for him to sit. Tywin inspected him, assessed him. This man was his son, a product of the love he bore his late wife. Seeing him so distraught made the father in Tywin want to hurt those who had hurt him, but that fault lies within himself. He had tried to make his son a good man, and he was in some respects, a good commander, a good military mind, a good face for the people. He lacked what he needed, true loyalty. He had sullied the Lannister name, a name Tywin had spent the boys whole life and then some restoring it, making it a house to be remembered and respected. Tywin would know why. “To answer your question, I did what was necessary to protect the Lannister name. As I will continue to do what is necessary after we finish here.” he said curtly. “What you have done to our family, as well as your sister, is far more reprehensible than what I am doing. You have forsaken your vows for a warm place to sheathe yourself, that place being between your sisters own legs. Do not speak to me as if I have dishonored the Lannister name with such sin.” he finished as the vibrato in his voice began to slip out, betraying the collected manner he was trying to present himself in. Jamie recoiled at his fathers harsh words, glaring up at him without an ounce of shame displayed on his face, which only served to stoke the flames that had been brewing inside of him since he’d entered the throne room less than a fortnight ago. He shouted, “You will take the black Jamie, if you do not you will be executed upon Stannis’ return along with Cersei and your whelps.” He paused, mainly to regain some composure, as this was not who Tywin Lannister was but last moon turn has proved tiring and he has no patience left for his insolent children, he eyed Jamie before continuing “this is the last thing I will ever ask of you son. Take the black, serve the realm as you always should have. Honor your name that way, honor me .”

He was playing the conversation over in his mind when the man King Stannis had been speaking to stepped out from the other room making his way towards the exit. When he saw Tywin he simply bowed slightly and left. There was an air of familiarity about him but Tywin couldn’t figure out as to why, tall, black hair, broad shoulders were in his thoughts when he entered the King's solar. “Your Grace has requested my presence.” Tywin stated simply as he came to a stop within the space. Afternoon sunlight streamed in from the open doors that lead out to the balcony overlooking the city proper. He steeled himself for the King's words, not knowing why he’d requested to see him, seeing as he had finished what he had sought to do. The rightful heir to the Iron Throne sat upon it, the war was coming to an end. Ending his thoughts once more King Stannis said “I have requirements of you Lord Lannister. You have helped me secure my throne, despite it costing you greatly. You remained loyal to my cause, assisting me in dethroning that abomination and securing my place. I’m sure it gave you no joy seeing your children executed, nonetheless it has happened leaving you rather heirless hm?” he paused and looked at him, then continued, “In light of that and the war coming to end I must further secure my position as King and you will help me do it. I’ve made a deal with the Young Wolf. He will take his armies north of the Neck, as well as sending home swaths of his supporters, the knights from the Vale and the Tully forces most notably. He wants his fathers body as well as Ice returned to his mother at once, he will get it. What I gain from this transaction is far greater, even with the many years it may take to come to fruition, is far greater than anything I am giving the Little Lord.

He is giving me Sansa Stark, originally for my own bride but I have no intention of insulting my current wife no matter how dull she may be. Therefore I suggested you marry her, you’re in need of new heirs and those heirs would be in line to inherit more than you know.” He stopped talking then, to see how Tywin would react to his words. Tywin stood still as stone, eyes apathetic to what the King was telling him. “Shireen cannot be my heir, not to the Iron Throne. She will have Storm’s End and I will see that she is married to some lordling and treated well. What I intend is for her first born son to be heir to the Iron Throne, and alongside him what I hope to see is a daughter of yours to rule beside him. With the wealth of the Lannisters and the blood of the North in her veins she will be what unites the North with the South. Your marriage to Lady Stark will not change that, many may think her a prisoner in your care but know the truth. Robb Stark would not have her back; he heard of what happened at the Great Sept of Baelor and what she said of their father. While he does not disown her completely (Stannis may or may not have paid a great patronage to the North)  he will not have her back in the North. I will not force myself to make another child,” the King grinds out, “This is what I require of you Lannister, do not disappoint me.” With a breath he says finally “Lady Stark is a fair maiden, and yes still a maiden as far as anyone has been informed. You will wed her within the next fortnight, after that you may take your leave if you wish. Wed her, bed her, and make me someone worthy of being the future queen.” Tywin could feel himself raging inside, his mind burning like wildfire. He was angry at the King, angry at the Young Wolf, angry at Joffrey, angry at himself. This is madness. She deserves a proper husband, someone who can live their life with her, someone who will protect her, love her. I am not that man, I cannot be what she deserves. I’m two and fifty not fit for someone like her. His made his mind stop long enough to acknowledge his King whose eyes were cutting through him like steel awaiting his response. “Why not have Shireen marry one of the Young Wolf’s brothers and have Sansa marry a Tyrell? Would that not be a more advantageous Your Grace?” he ground out, struggling to maintain his collected facade. “The boys are said to be missing or dead, something about a ward betraying the Stark family. None of my concern, we already have the girl. As for the Tyrell’s, they came to heel after Renly swore allegiance to me, the ever so dutiful brother. I’ve offered his hand for one of their own, for now they are placated.” Tywin was hoping for a less thought out response but it seemed the King knew better. “You want me to wed Sansa Stark. Within the next fortnight.” He said tersely. The King gave him a slight nod, “Yes, and it’s not what I ‘want’, it is what I decreed in order to make peace. I am the king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. I will not give up a third of my kingdom to placate you Lord Lannister. I thought you would be grateful for an opportunity to wed so young, highborn and beautiful as Lady Stark. I made you a match men would throw themselves upon my sword to have. One day your family will be royal blood, in truth this time.” Tywin bristled at the last words, it seems the King has sharpened his horns since our last encounter. He had no further arguments, he had not endured everything he had to be labeled a traitor now. “As you wish, Your Grace… Does Lady Stark know we are to be wed?” If Stannis was capable he may have smirked. “No Lord Lannister, I leave that task to you. Tell her yourself or have someone else, it matters little to me. Enjoy your reward, my Lord.” With that the conversation ended and he took his leave. As he traveled down the steps his thoughts consumed him. Wed Sansa Stark? She comes from a good family and will surely be a dutiful wife, but to a man like me? One so cold and black of heart, one so old. She’s just a young maid. The thought made his stomach coil, he wasn’t blind of course he knew she held a beauty that all gravitated toward. He shook his head, slowing the torrent of his thoughts. He had only one thing on his mind now: Locate Sansa.

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While seeking out Lady Stark was something he would usually have one of his men or servants do, he needed the time to both organize his thoughts and compose himself. An additional bonus he supposed was that he also wouldn’t have to explain this situation to anyone yet, he was just only beginning to accept it himself. Parts of the conversation with the King were replaying in his head as he walked methodically down the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast. The bluntness in his statement towards his lack of heirs had rankled him. He wasn’t a man Tywin knew capable of a display of such raw contempt, but it had been unmistakable. Tywin knew of his deep hatred for his children's actions, he hated them himself, but having it thrown back in his face by the man he had sat on the Iron Throne left a taste like a bad Dornish Sour. He was thinking too much about it, he knew that at the moment there was nothing he could do to remedy the complex emotions that he had so artfully buried. He paused his descent of the holdfast to roll his shoulders and let some of the tension that had been building dissipate from his stance.  With a deep breath he resumed his descent and he began contemplating how he would approach Lady Stark with the news of their betrothal. He didn’t expect her to take kindly to it, in fact if she took it as an insult he would not blame the young woman. The King seemed to view her as a reward to him, and a means to an end for himself. She shouldn’t be a prize of war, she should be sent home. Tywin wondered what Sansa had done to anger her brother. Northmen had a tendency for fierce loyalty to their kin, their abandonment of her puzzled Tywin. I wonder if she will tell me what she did to anger her brother, likely not anytime soon. As he made it to the bottom of the stairs he took a moment to consider where she might spend her time during the early evening hours. The possibility of her isolating in her room crossed his mind but seemed more unlikely given the little freedoms she had been granted since the end of Joffrey’s reign and Cersei’s death. The next most logical option was somewhere else she would feel comfortable. He thought of how he longed to see his own home and in that moment he realized she more than likely felt similar, therefore he would check the Godswood first. It was where he would go if he was Northern born, there was nowhere else similar to the places of the North.

The Godswood was incredibly peaceful, he realized. No one seemed to come here and aside from the handmaid who he’d learned to be Lady Stark’s standing outside, there was no one nearby or within it. He walked slowly through the floral and fauna and enjoyed the peace the trees brought him. As he approached the center he finally had found her. He paused his approach to study her for a moment. She had her back turned at the moment and was kneeling in prayer on a cloak in the soft grass that surrounded the large oak tree in the center that had a face carved upon its great trunk. Her long red and strawberry hair covered her shoulders with a simple braid pulling some pieces back out of her face and laid neat down her back. She truly is a maiden fair, and how unfair this has all been for her. First her Father’s slaughter, then Joffrey’s cruelty, and finally being essentially abandoned by her family. And now to be wed off at her own brother's order? What else has she endured? Tywin realized he was stalling, the realization brought him back to the present and he took several steps towards his betrothed. He didn’t want to be caught lurking in the shadows like a coward by his wife-to-be. 

He would just get on with it, there was no reason to drag out this interaction so he would keep it short and simple. However, the words that came to him when he spoke to her were not the ones he had chosen, “I beg your pardon Lady Stark, but I would like a few moments of your time.” He paused for a moment to wonder why he’d chosen those words and she responded immediately before he could rephrase. “Of course my Lord, would you like to walk the Godswood?” as she spoke she turned to look up at him meeting his eyes and offered her hand to him. When their eyes met Tywin was struck by the depth and vividness of her eyes, they alone could sway the strongest men and cut down the boldest of women, they could tell stories and share secrets. He knew he wanted to understand those eyes, to know the language they spoke. With a sharp inhale he snapped out of his thoughts he took her proffered hand, helping her to her feet. Her hand was cold and soft against his own, upon standing she let go, disappointing him slightly. “Yes my Lady we can walk, the Godswood is lovely. Do you need to gather your things?” he asked, gesturing to the cloak and sewing pouch she had left on the ground. “No, thank you my Lord, it will be here when I return. I come here often and I never see anyone else.” she smoothed her dress and looked back up at him wearing a neutral expression. He offered her his arm and she took it with a polite smile and they began at a leisurely place around the Godswood.

For a few minutes he just enjoyed his walk with Sansa. The day was clear and the air in the Godswood smelled cleaner than the rest, it was a moment of reprieve from the world around them. The bliss could not last forever though and Tywin had come here to find her and talk to her. He had found her and now it was time to talk. “Have things improved for you, my Lady?” he asked to break the ice. Not breaking her stride she replied “Yes my Lord, ever since your arrival things have gotten better for me. I find myself spending more time in the Godswood, praying over my losses and my family’s safety.” Her face changed for a moment and she quickly added, “And thanking them for the King’s kindness and generosity of course, my Lord.” Tywin looked at her with understanding and said, “My Lady, you are allowed to pray for your family. I apologize for the loss of your Father and younger brothers, he was an honorable man.” Her lips parted slightly at his words, not knowing how to respond for only a moment before saying quietly, “I’m sorry about your children, and grandchildren, my Lord.” He didn’t know how to respond to her. Hardly anyone had spoken to him about his children since their sentences and execution, same as his grandchildren. She was the first person to offer her condolences and he was almost overwhelmed with emotion before shoving it down and replying, “Thank you my Lady, that is kind of you to say.” She gave him a slight nod and didn’t speak of it any further. He knew it was time to dive into what he’d sought her out for. He stopped walking and with little grandeur began “My Lady, I have brought word from the King for you.” he took a breath before pressing on, “His Grace has made a deal with the young Lord Stark, as a part of that deal you have been betrothed to a southern lord and are to be wed in the Sept of Baelor within the next fortnight.” He stopped talking and let her formulate her answer. This was surely not the news she was expecting based on her face and the tighter grip on his upper arm where she hadn’t let go when they stopped walking. Her grip relaxed before she said, “To whom am I to wed my Lord.” in an eerily calm voice, looking up at him with slightly moist eyes. Don’t cry little wolf. The next words left his mouth without any previous vibrato “Myself, my Lady. After we are wed we will return to Casterly Rock and live our time there as Lord and Lady of the Rock.” she blinked a few times before letting out a breath she had been holding and said in the same voice, “Wonderful my Lord. I cannot wait to be your lady wife and serve the King and my brother. You will be a wonderful husband I am sure. If I may, my Lord, there are many things I would like to do before we are wed and I would like to go gather my things and return to my handmaid to start preparations.” She finished with a small curtsey. “I will not keep you my Lady, do as you wish. I would advise your handmaid to start packing your things, I’ll have the wedding scheduled within the next ten days as I do loathe this city. I will move the proceedings up as I wish to ride home as soon as it’s concluded.” With that he gave her a slight bow and left the Godswood. On his way out he informed the maid to go attend her, and then took his leave and made his way to his quarters.

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After collecting her things in the Godswood Sansa returned to her room. Her heart was racing and her blood pounded in her ears deafened only by her scattered thoughts. Seeing Tywin again had made her feel conflicting emotions, she hadn’t expected to see him for one, especially not in the Godswood. She never saw anyone there except for occasional grounds keep, so when he approached her she initially hadn’t known what his intentions were and it had made her uneasy. Seeing him approach her sent a strange pang to her gut. The same feeling had struck her when he’d given her his cloak, at the time she hadn’t thought about it, she’d been aching and exhausted from her beating from Ser Meryn. Tywin had covered her and had her attended to by maids and the maester, he was the first person who had shown her kindness since the day her father was executed. She supposed now that the feeling was relief, relief then that the torment was over, and relief in the Godswood that it had been him and not anyone else to approach her. Though what he had told her had come as quite the shock.

Sansa hadn’t thought she would go home necessarily, she knew that was a child's dream. As a sister to the King of the North she knew that a betrothal to a lord had been a probability, her brother probably made countless deals to secure his position and protect the North; it made sense to promise her hand to one of his bannerman. What she had not and could not have predicted or accounted for was Robb declaring fealty for King Stannis and bending the knee, moreso his decision to betroth her to Tywin Lannister! The Lannister’s started this war, it was a Lannister who killed her father. Two of them, she did not believe for a second that Cersei couldn’t have stopped Joffrey if she had really wanted to do so. She blamed both of them for his death, she had done everything they asked of her. Written the letter to Robb, endured the abuse and torment at Joffrey’s behest, even begged for her father’s life that day on the steps. Marrying Tywin was the last thing she wanted to do, she wanted to go home and see her mother, she wanted to be in the warm stone halls of Winterfell, she wanted to pray in front of the Weirwood. She was not naïve to the truth, she did not have a choice. In less than a tenday she would be married, and within the fortnight after she would be living in Casterly Rock as Lady.

She let out an unladylike groan into the mess of pillows she had thrown herself in upon returning to her room. “Why did I ever insist upon coming South?” she wondered aloud to herself. None of those feelings truly mattered now, these things had been set in motion and now she found herself a young maiden of 17 and betrothed to one of the most powerful Lords of perhaps the most influential house in the realm. A soft knock on her door came then, she called for whoever it was to enter, and her handmaid slipped in with a tray of fruits, cheese and honey. “Thank you Brella, that’s very thoughtful of you.” she said kindly, smiling at her. She hadn’t eaten since breaking her fast this morning, and was a bit peckish now that food was in front of her. Brella was wringing her hands glancing between the floor and Sansa before asking, “M’lady, please pardon my questioning so but, do you know there is a Lannister cloak outside your door standing watch?” Sansa tilted her head and lifted her eyebrows showing her surprise then responded “No Brella, I didn’t. May you send him in when you go?” The handmaid nodded quickly and bowed then exited out the way she had come in. Sansa heard a muted exchange before another knock came at her door and at her order a man she did not recognize opened the door and stepped into her chambers. She scrutinized him for a moment before asking him, “Who are you Ser, and who sent you to watch over me?” The knight wasted no time answering her “I am Ser Kevan Lannister my Lady, and Lord Tywin has ordered that I and Clegane stand watch over you at all times until you are both wed. I apologize for not introducing myself before, I did not want to intrude.” This stunned her, she didn’t know what she expected when Brella had told her a Lannister man was standing watch, but knowing that her future husband had apparently been concerned for her wellbeing made her feel cared for in a way she hadn’t since before everything. She smiled kindly and said “Thank you Ser, that is very noble of you, and very thoughtful of Lord Tywin as well. You may go back to your duties.” After he left she thought more about Tywin. A part of her wanted to know his reasonings for why he thought she needed protection, as she thought about it she had been safer in the weeks since his arrival than she was even before her fathers death. With Cersei and Joffrey gone there was no one truly paying her any mind now, she felt less eyes on her every day and felt more comfortable than she had in moons within the walls of the Red Keep. If Tywin hadn’t showed up that day she didn’t know what could have happened to her, surely Joffrey would’ve grown bored of his little games and turned to something even more sinister; and Cersei never ceased to shock Sansa with the depths of her hatred toward the girl, so surely that would’ve only continued to escalate until she had found a way to strip her of any dignity and pride she had whittled away. The thought sent a chill through her, and so she dug through her trunk and grabbed the ermine cloak out of it, the cloak she had in the Godswood, wrapped it around herself and crawled into bed and fell asleep. 

When Sansa woke up she concluded it to be an hour or two later. She lay curled in bed for a while thinking about, well her whole life. She had been the kind of girl that liked sewing and stories about knights saving princesses. She wanted to be wed off to a handsome and glorious knight she would give sons to. Then she was betrothed to Joffrey, someone she had stupidly thought was gallant and kind. Someone she had thought she would make beautiful golden haired babies for. It had all been ruined, though. By herself, by Joffrey’s broken mind and Cersei. She clenched her fists in the cloak that was still covering her. She had kept it after Tywin had covered her with it in the Throne Room that day. Originally she had intended to return it but then she noticed that no one had been sent for it after a few days and so she decided that because the object brought her a feeling of comfort when she held it she’d keep it unless someone asked about it, and no one ever did. He had protected her in front of Joffrey and Cersei, he had stopped Trant from his continued abuse of her. Even if he wasn’t the young knight or prince she thought she would have when she was a child, but he was the man that had stood up for her, there were worse men to be wed to. He had stood up to and disavowed his grandchild, and by proxy Cersei as well. Cersei had been angry and vile, her true colors shining through finally, but Tywin had just dismissed her and Joffrey both. She considered everything for a while before rising from her bed and lighting a candle at her small writing desk and taking a seat. She pulled out a piece of parchment, a well of ink and a quill and wrote a short message to her husband to be:

I hope you are well this evening my Lord. I thank you for your concern and placement of one of your most trusted men outside of quarters. I wanted to apologize for my hasty leave of the Godswood earlier. The news was most surprising and I was not able to hold my composure. I did mean what I said however, you will be a wonderful husband. You have already shown me how valiant you are, you have already protected me. I look forward to our wedding, my Lord.

- S.S.

She looked it over while the ink dried inspecting her penmanship. It was short but sweet and she thought it got her point across. She folded it up and sealed it shut. While the wax set she rose and walked over to her door, cracking it open to see Ser Kevan standing watch. He turned to look at her and she asked him quietly, “Ser Kevan, is there any way you could take a letter to Lord Lannister for me?” he smiled slightly and said “As my Lady wishes. I can take it to him once Clegane relieves me of my post.” She thanked him and went to retrieve the letter, then handed it to him with another ‘thank you’ as she then shut the door. She put out the candle and sat at the desk for a while thinking about the days ahead. Soon Brella entered and helped her change, and fed her another light meal. After sending her away Sansa suddenly felt exhausted with the weight of the day's events and conceded to her tired body and crawled back into bed for the second time that day. As she drifted into sleep her thoughts drifted to her brother, her mother, and finally Tywin. She made a fist around the material of the cloak that still lay mixed in with her blankets and finally fell asleep.

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The next week was a blur for them both. For Sansa it was a whirlwind of seamstresses and handmaids. Packing and trying on different dress mock ups daily. Tywin went through similar motions but with much attention from his tailors. He had his squire and men get provisions prepared for their journey west.

On the day of their wedding, it rained in King’s Landing. The rain wisped with the wind across the harbor, casting a thousand tiny rainbows on the horizon as the sun broke through the clouds. I don’t think I could have asked for a more beautiful day. Sansa thought to herself as she waited to be escorted into the Sept. Despite the heavy sadness she felt not having her family there, her father especially, she was ready to perform her duty for her brother. She still didn’t understand completely why Robb had chosen Tywin, but she had thought of the possibilities in the days since learning of her betrothal. What made the most sense to her was the letter she had written telling him of her father’s treason, and secondly her behavior at the Sept on that terrible day. He is surely terribly angry with me. Understanding now won’t change anything. And with that final thought the King appeared beside her, starting her back into reality. “Your Grace.” She said softly with as deep a bow she could manage in her corset. “Hello Lady Stark, I was hoping you would allow me the honor of walking you, as King of the realm I am also father of the realm, or so I have been told.” he only half asked he offered her his arm, and waved for the doors to be opened for them. “Of course Your Grace, that is very kind of you.” she said with a smile and then turned to look forward.

The beams of sunlight that had created the rainbows outside continued to do so inside the Sept as well. The floor danced with various colors cast by the stained glass and various crystals ordaining the ceiling, the beams that entered through the back windows hitting the crystals at a different angle scattering smaller beams about the small crowd that had been gathered to bear witness to the union. The air was thick and warm from the bodies and incense that lightly clouded the cavernous ceiling. At the end of the main aisle at the altar between the statues of the Father and the Mother stood Lord Tywin and the High Septon. As she approached Tywin finally turned to look at her properly and his reaction forced a small smile onto the corners of her lips. Upon looking at her fully his mouth had formed a small ‘O’ before he set his jaw to reclaim his usual stoic façade. Sansa knew she looked beautiful, she had chosen a powder and ivory brocade for almost the entirety of the gown. Once they had reached the altar the King removed the maiden cloak of grey and white from her shoulders and Tywin dutifully placed the new one made of cloth-of-gold and a crimson velvet, it was noticeably heavier than the other one she had worn.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his. He is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.” She finished her vows in unison with his and the crowd cheered, drowning out the Septons final words of “You may kiss.” Sansa looked up at Tywin, his eyes were captivating this close, a rich green with a dusting of golden brown flecks, and as he leaned in he brought his right hand up to rest on her left cheek and barely touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth then pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. He pulled back barley and whispered against her parted lips “I vow to protect you always, and I will never treat you unkindly.” he looked down at her lips then back to her eyes and added “You are a true beauty.” His hand fell back to his side and she blushed at his words and shivered as he stepped back. He looked down at her and offered her his arm, “Shall we, my Lady?” she nodded up to him and took it. The doors to the Sept opened to reveal nothing short of a downpour. She couldn’t help but allow a small smile for herself, it wasn’t bad luck as some people thought, she knew it meant her marriage would be strong. Wet knots are harder to unravel.

Chapter Text

During the feast and festivities Tywin couldn’t help but steal glances at his bride whenever she wasn’t able to catch him. He had been completely captivated by her beauty and grace the moment she had entered the Sept.  A part of him hated himself for his willingness to admit it, Joanna had been a beauty as well no doubt and he hadn’t seen a woman in that way since. With Sansa he had allowed himself to truly look upon her due to the circumstances, and it was then he had learned what true beauty was. Half of her hair was held up on top of her head with a net of tiny diamonds, while the rest fell in soft ringlets down her back and shoulders. When the sun had hit it in the Sept when she’d entered on Stannis’s arm a beam of sunlight that cast itself through the window made it sparkle in the light. She had looked up at him with those eyes and he had needed to collect himself then with a deep breath. I am perhaps the luckiest man alive right now, at this moment he had thought it to himself then, and he thought it now while the sounds of music and people conversing droned on in the background. It had been several hours since the ceremony had ended. Everyone had enjoyed their fill of pigeon pie and wine. He looked towards Sansa again and noticed she was looking ahead, she was enchanting at every angle. It struck him that they hadn’t danced, moreso, he hadn’t asked her to dance. Under ordinary circumstances he wouldn’t dance, but these were no ordinary circumstances, were they, he was now married to a woman he could describe as no less than resplendent and surely she wanted to dance on her wedding day. He turned his body towards her and leaned in to whisper near her ear “What is weighing your thoughts my Lady?” he moved back as she turned her head to face him and looked into his eyes, she was chewing on her bottom lip, slightly pinching it between her teeth and moving her jaw back and forth a bit before releasing it to respond softly “Nothing my Lord husband, I am simply enjoying the festivities.” She finished with a small smile and pulled her lip back in between her teeth for a moment before releasing it. He sighed inaudibly, what am I doing , he thought silently acknowledging the ache in his chest. “Would you care to dance with me tonight, Lady Sansa?” he asked her, turning his palm up to offer it to her in a small gesture. Her head turned more quickly this time, and she was beaming at him. “That would be marvelous, my Lord, thank you.” She then reached out to take his hand, and as he rose to escort her to the floor he couldn’t help the small tug at the corner of his mouth. As the music started Sansa looked radiant, Tywin couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her under his hands, he took in the textures of her dress under one hand and reveled in weight and size of her hand in his other. She was smiling at him again, and he couldn’t stop himself from picking her up by her waist then, and spinning them in a slow circle her heavy skirts swirled around them, and as he returned her to her feet the music began its decrescendo. He brought her closer and lowered his face next to her own to whisper against her cheek, “You look breath-taking, Sansa.” Her smile faltered, but he could see the slight color that now dusted her cheeks. “Thank you, Lord husband.” Without responding he simply offered his arm and led them back to their seats. 

After their dance Sansa seemed to soften. They chatted idly about nothing of substance, a smattering of lords and ladies came to give them their best wishes and gifts. As the various gifts were given and then taken away Tywin would make various comments, and she would stifle a laugh with a sip of her drink or turn cast her eyes downward while keeping her face complacent. Eventually no one else came up with gifts and people slowly began to trickle out. Assessing the room he decided it was an appropriate time to leave, and steeled himself for the rest of the evening. Somehow with the few interactions they had shared he had grown an unusual fondness for her. She was enchantingly beautiful, yes, but it was not her beauty alone that was captivating, it was her mannerisms and everything complex that lay underneath the surface. Logically he knew he should do his duty and nothing more, keep her at arms length but a part of himself he didn’t recognize wanted to crawl into the wolf's den and make a new home there. He reached out and placed his hand on her arm and said to her quietly, “Let’s take our leave my Lady, I have no real interest in seeing the end of the festivities, if you don’t mind.” Her eyes followed his movements in a smooth pursuit to where his hand still rested and then fell back to his face, with a tentative smile she nodded “Of course my Lord husband. Shall we?” He moved to put his hand over her own then rose to his feet before helping her to hers. A few people noticed them rise to leave but no one said anything. For that he was grateful, he did not want to scar his new wife by gutting a man on their wedding day for being fool enough to recommend a bedding ceremony, or one bold enough to try and touch her. 

He never let go of her hand as he escorted them through the grounds. There was only a short distance from the Small Hall to the Tower of the Hand where the chambers were and as they walked he observed the state of the ground. It was still wet from the day's rains and parts of the path were thick with mud.  He paused for a second and looked down at Sansa, and without another thought he turned and scooped her into his arms without warning. She let out a small gasp as he began to walk forward and clung to his doublet, burying her face under his chin “My Lord, what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly into his chest. “I thought it would be a shame to ruin such a lovely dress.” While he meant it, that unknown part of him wanted to have her close again. He adjusted his grip so he they were both more comfortable and carefully rested his lips against the side of her head, she smelled faintly of lemons and summer he noted. When he brought them to the bottom steps of the tower he set her down gently. I’ll be sore tomorrow the thought irritated him, but as Sansa finished rearranging her dress she sought the crux of his arm and smiled at him with a light blush on her cheeks once again, the thought and irritation was banished from his mind and he led them the rest of the way to their chamber.

Once they entered the room Tywin knew the rest of the evening lay in his hands. He felt uncertain, almost as much as his first marriage, but at least he had the privilege of previous experience. Not one to let fear or uncertainty take root he stopped thinking and started taking action. “My Lady, would it please you for me to get maids to come help you dress down?” Sansa looked as if she didn’t know what to say, but when she did find her words she spoke steadily and slowly, “No my Lord, I can dress myself down on my own this evening, and if it would please you my Lord I may need you to assist me with the pins in my hair.” She stood with her hands clasped in front of her and did not meet his eyes with her words. He stepped towards her once and paused to pinch his nose before desisting from the motion and saying “Sansa, I want you to understand something. I want you to be comfortable, I want you to be happy, I want to keep you safe,” another step forward, as if he’s being pulled towards her, “I know I am not the man of your dreams, I am no honorable, noble knight, nor am I a young and desirable Lord. These things are not lost to me, I know who I am and what I appear to in the eyes of others. If helping you with your pins would please you, then it would please me as well.” She was within arms reach now, and no longer looking at the floor, but at him once more. Her hands were still clasped in place but once again she had taken her lip in between her teeth, his eyes watched the movement intently, ungoverned by his mind. When she began to respond his eyes snapped back to hers. “It would please me greatly my Lord, you are very kind.” With that she stepped into the ladies side room and began to change. Once she was out of sight he let out a soft groan and brought his hand down over his face to try and suppress his frustration with himself. He was not a man who spoke so openly, so sincerely. It disgusted him, he had brought the Lannister name back from depravity and dishonor twice over. His father had been a slave to his mistress, a slave to his cock, a man unfit for such a high seat, Tywin had made the Lannister's a strong and largely respected house. One that was not to be trifled with. Yet here found himself wanting to please her. He felt as though he would do anything within his power to make her happy and keep her that way. These new feelings were at odds with the beliefs he had so strongly anchored himself in and by nature he should want to push them away, but, at least for tonight he would not deny them.

When Sansa emerged Tywin’s thoughts ceased to be. She wore a nightgown of rich carmine silk with thread of gold stitched throughout. The square neckline cut down low enough to reveal the soft shapes of the tops of her breasts, the fabric hung against her skin loosely but it was light enough to tease the soft shape of her body underneath. Her hair was still up, if a bit ruffled from the change of clothes. Before he could catch himself staring she spoke up drawing his eyes upwards “Help me with my hair, Lord husband.” She sounded hesitant but she followed the words with the gesture of offering her hand to him. It wasn’t an order, it was still a humble request and so he came forward and claimed her hand. It was then she led them to a small vanity he hadn’t noticed where she sat in the stool in front of it, he helped support her with their conjoined hands. Once situated she released him and examined herself, more likely her hair, in the mirror before pulling at a diamond encrusted pin from the pile of vibrant red locks and placing it onto the vanity's surface. “I don’t know how many there are, but perhaps you could start with the ones in back since I cannot see them.” He grunted in affirmation, and met her gaze in the mirror. Breaking his attention from the sight in the mirror he slowly brought his hand up to the base of the net in her hair and began to carefully move his fingers through it until he located one of the pins. It wasn’t much work to take it out and he was rewarded with an almost imperceivable shudder through Sansa, he placed it onto the vanity and set back to find another pin. She had begun working at one toward the front of her head, and as he freed another one from her hair another tiny shudder ran through her body. He glanced into the mirror and saw that she had stopped her pursuit of the pin she had been after, he brought his hand up to hers and murmured quietly, “Allow me.” Her hand fell away and she thanked him quietly. He went back to removing the pins that held the net in place, every one he took out sent one of those tiny shivers through her. After several long minutes the net was free and as he pulled it away from the crown of her head he made sure to finger away any strands that remained caught in it. Unprompted he began carding his fingers through the curls, pulling at any remaining pins that imprisoned them. Once they were free he carded his fingers through the full length of her hair, wrapping it around his fingers as he went. So soft, so beautiful, perfect he thought as he admired the strands that ran across his palms and wrapped around his knuckles.

It was then that he finally stole another glance in the mirror in front of him; Sansa’s face was flush and the sight stilled his hands and brought back his voice, “I should apologize my Lady, despite what I’m sure you presume tonight is supposed to be like, it is not my wish to make you uncomfortable.” He dropped his hand from her hair to her shoulder, and went to step back, before he could her hand reached up covering his and her eyes met his once more in the mirror. “I am not uncomfortable, my Lord. I- Your advances and affections are not unwanted, but I also do not want to disappoint you” she responded softly but earnestly. He watched her in the mirror longer while he thought of what she had said. Disappoint me? Hardly, at least not yet. My advances are not unwanted, nor my affections. Interesting . Finishing those thoughts his attention went back to her. He brought his right hand back to her hair, massaging at the spots the pins dug into her scalp and it didn’t take long for the weight of her head to lean into his touches. He continued his assault on the aching spots and guided his other hand to rest on her shoulder near her neck. Slowly he began to trace his fingers along the neck and shoulder muscles there, enjoying the way her skin depressed under his finger, memorizing their shape. He was breathing deeply, trying to reign in the urge to slip his hand lower and press down on her chest to know if her hard was pounded as hard as his, to feel the gooseprickles on the plane of soft skin between her breasts. Instead he slid his hand to hang near her collarbone, and used his thumb to bring her head back, exposing her neck and bringing her fully flushed face into view. His eyes swept over her, drinking in the sight before him; when he spoke his voice came out in a low rumble, “I am going to kiss you now.” Before she could respond he brought his lips to hers in a gentle collision. For the longest second of Tywin's life her lips didn’t respond to his own, but when they parted slightly he lost himself in her. She brought her hands to rest at the back of his neck and his tongue darted forward, parting her lips further and wrapping itself around her own. Sansa whimpered quietly and he pulled back, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks again and newly her lips wet with their shared saliva. He straightened himself, and when she frowned up at him he just helped her up and offered the response, “Come to bed with me, Lady Sansa.” He took her hand in his and led her deeper into the chambers.