The Detritus of War and Rebellion
For the eleventh round of the asoiaf kink meme--these characters belong to GRRM.
“Now that we have an alliance with the Tyrells in place, surely we can think of sending the Stark girl to the Rock?” Ser Kevan asked his brother, Lord Tywin Lannister. “The King has ill-treated her and the Queen Regent did little to protect her. Tyrion and Lancel can go with her-they’re both badly wounded and will receive better care there than here at court. Moreover, I fear Tyrion has angered the Queen Regent greatly-I think it would be wise to send all three away from King’s Landing.”
Lord Tywin sighed in exasperation. “I wish we could settle something about the girl-probably get her married to either Lancel or Tyrion before we send her away from court.”
“I think,” Ser Kevan replied, “it might be easier to arrange such an alliance more advantageously when she is at the Rock. Here at court-you do know, do you not, that she has become increasingly friendly with the ladies from Highgarden? Lady Margaery had her to supper with her mother and grandmother. I would send her away from court if I were you, brother. It is more likely that she will come to think of the Rock as home when she is living there. She is a gentle and docile girl-Genna, Darlessa and Dorna will soon put her into the proper frame of mind for welcoming a proposal of marriage from a Lannister. And both Tyrion and Lancel should be sent back home to recover.”
So Lord Tywin was convinced. Another reason for his agreement was that the Stark whelp who called himself King in the North had returned to the Riverlands with the Westerling girl for wife. The Ironborn had attacked the North and sacked Winterfell, killing the two youngest Stark boys. It was likely that, if he lived, Robb Stark would spend more time recovering his northern kingdom than in raiding the Westerlands yet again. This made it essential that the Stark girl should be sent somewhere safe, where he could, in good time, arrange for her marriage to someone trustworthy.
Of course, Sansa, Tyrion and Lancel were not told of these plans. The first they knew of their removal from court was when they found themselves on litters bound for Duskendale-so many ships had been destroyed in the Battle of the Blackwater that the port at King’s Landing was no longer usable. Their boxes had been packed by servants and maids with all they would need on the journey and in Casterly. At Duskendale, a swift ship took them to Lannisport, and thence they travelled, again by litter, to the Rock. When they arrived, they learnt that the lords Frey and Bolton had successfully conspired to kill Robb Stark and his followers at the Twins, even as his uncle Edmure Tully wedded and bedded Lord Frey’s daughter Roslin.
It was Ser Devan Lannister who gave Sansa the news soon after they reached Casterly.
“My lady,” he said, when she reached his solar, accompanied by Tyrion and Lancel, “I have grievous news for your ears.”
She said nothing-Tyrion noticed that she straightened an already straight back and stiffened her shoulders to take the blow. She looked straight into Devan’s eyes as he spoke-when he finished, she answered quietly:
“Ser Devan-my lords,” turning to Tyrion and Lancel, who stood dumbstruck behind her. “I thank you for breaking this news to me. I am sorry to hear that my mother and brother led so many to follow themselves to treason and death. As for myself, I remain loyal to King Joffrey.” She said these words in a soft and dulcet, yet firm, voice-Tyrion fancied he was the only one who noticed the hardening of her mouth or the cold look in her eyes. Ser Devan’s dumbfounded expression, as he heard these words uttered by a maiden of twelve, was a sight to behold-Tyrion would have laughed at the look on his face, had the story not been so horrible to hear.
However, Tyrion guessed the truth of the matter-the little she-wolf would not reveal her feelings to her enemies, but would hold her grief close to her heart. His belief was confirmed when he passed by the closed door of her bedroom some days later and heard her sobbing into her pillow. He did not go in to comfort her-he knew she would not welcome his presence. He ensured that no one at Casterly told her the ghastly details of what the Freys had done-how they had hacked her brother’s head off, replacing it with that of a wolf, and thrown her mother’s naked body into the Trident, after trying to slit her throat.
A few words from him also ensured that the maester, who was his closest confidant at Casterly, spent some time reading with her. Tyrion had noticed that she had an ability to get along well with people-he was determined that, although she had lost her family, she would not lose out on a good education. His aunt Genna was scandalized at the state of her wardrobe and said a few pithy words about Cersei’s absolute lack of care of the child, who was to have been her son’s betrothed. She then had an entire wardrobe made for the young lady, for which Sansa thanked her courteously.
The ladies Dorna and Darlessa were at first shocked by her response on being told of the death of her mother and brother. However, they were soon forced to acknowledge that, had they been in her position, they too might have behaved as she had done. They also noticed her many kindnesses to Lancel and Tyrion, both of whom took some time to recover, not just from the agonies of their war wounds but also from the journey by ship.
Tyrion was, at this time, also troubled by thoughts of Shae, who had remained behind in King’s Landing. Of course, he’d had no time to tell her that he would be returning to Casterly, He wondered if he should send her a message through Varys, and then thought better of it. His father had made it quite clear, when he sent a raven from court, that he expected Tyrion to stay away-he had angered Cersei and Joffrey to such a pitch that they were both likely to ask for his head. And he, Tywin Lannister implied, would not stand in their way. If he wished to regain a place in his father’s affections, he had to woo the Stark girl, wed her and bed her, to become Lord of Winterfell. As for Lancel-he had to recover from his wounds, for Lord Tywin had arranged his marriage to Amerei Frey, a widow. Tyrion almost curled his lip when he read the message-he wondered if his father knew from Cersei, as he did, that Sansa had betrayed Ned Stark because of her love for Joffrey. Would that have any bearing on her being a suitable wife to him? He thought not.
Sansa knew she was in a prison from which there was no escape-Robb, on whom she had pinned so many hopes of rescue, had been murdered treacherously by those he trusted. She wondered if Lord Tywin had something to do with it-after all, he was now the Hand of the King. She’d had no means to get word to Ser Dontos about her removal from court before she left-she hoped he was safe. Tyrion had lost his place on the Small Council after he made his charge in the Battle of the Blackwater and was wounded so severely. His wounds did little to add to his looks-he’d lost half his nose and most of his lips, which were replaced by a terrible scar. However, he was, as always, kind and courteous to her; whereas Lancel, who had always been rather rude and haughty to her, because of his closeness to Joffrey and the Queen, totally changed after her kindness to him on the night of the battle. Cersei had thought nothing of ripping open his wounds again-it was Sansa who got him back to his room and sent a maester to treat him.
It was more than a month after their arrival at the Rock that they received news from court.
“It appears,” Tyrion said as he put down the message, “that Lady Margaery is the death of any man she weds. Here’s poor Joffrey, who survived a betrothal to you, my lady-he lasts barely a few hours before he falls dead at his own wedding feast, choking on his blood.” He looked at Sansa as he spoke-she looked at him sympathetically as she said:
“I feel for your sorrows, my lord-the Queen Regent must be prostrate with grief.”
“Who? Cersei? Perhaps-however, I feel relieved-he would have shortened me by a head had he lived. Tommen will make a much better king-if my father takes over the regency.”
“How did Joffrey die?” Sansa asked. “You said he choked on his blood, my lord-how did that happen? Did he eat something that...”
“Nothing of the sort-it appears someone put the strangler into his wine. Of course, the Tyrells suspect the Dornish, whom I invited to the feast. But I doubt Oberyn Martell would be so foolish as to poison a King of Westeros at his own wedding feast, especially as he too was partaking of it. I don’t know who did the deed-but I wish it had been done sooner, when the late King Robert lay dying. Just think of all that grief averted-your father and mother alive; my brother safe; your brothers and sister alive and well...”
They spoke quietly-they were sitting on a balcony off the great hall that overlooked the sea. She was sewing as he sat there, enjoying the sunshine. Sansa could see the waves as they crashed against the shore, even as her grief for her family crashed against her heart and mind. She had often gone to walk along the shore, accompanied by Podrick and a guard-she had found it calming to look at the vast expanse of sea and sky; the harshness of the western mountains that bred hard men, who believed in winning at all cost. She wondered if Sandor had ever walked here-she knew he must have been a squire at the Rock. She wondered if he had felt as she did; if he had been calmed by the vision of the sea and sky merging into one on the western horizon, as the sun set in rays of crimson and gold.
“Of course, I have my enemies at court-Pycelle claims I must have arranged to have Joffrey poisoned.”
“How could you do that, my lord? You served him diligently while he was alive-it was true that you spoke harshly to him, but then,” her voice lowered slightly, as if she feared a spy was listening to her speak, “but then...he deserved it, did he not? You were merely being a good uncle and a loyal subject when you reprimanded your king and tried to make him behave like one. Of course, kings hate being reprimanded...especially by their relations.” She could not help recalling that incident at the Hand’s Tourney when King Robert had struck the Queen and almost knocked Ser Jaime Lannister off the dais. In those days, Joffrey had still acted as though he loved her; she had been safe and loved...
A gusty sigh from Tyrion broke the web of her thoughts.
“Well,” he confessed, looking at her guiltily. “I did something rather foolish-I stole some medicines from Pycelle’s store to make my sister sick. She went more frequently to the privy that day-but I did not take any poisons from his store.”
“And how could you have poisoned him?” she asked, bewildered. “You are here, at the Rock; they sent away your mountain men after the battle-the washerwomen at the wells said they were given much gold to leave the city.” When he gave her a look of surprise, she said indignantly, “I couldn’t help finding out about it-all the maids talked!” She continued:
“So if you had to poison someone, how would you do it? I don’t think you had too many friends at court who would poison the king on your behalf, do you, my lord?”
No, I don’t, thought Tyrion grimly.
“Who do you think might have done the deed?” he asked her instead.
“I wonder...” Sansa said softly. “Did you know the Tyrell ladies asked me to share a meal with them, after they arrived at court?” she said suddenly.
“Did they? Why?”
“Well...” she looked guiltily at him as she spoke. “It appears they wanted to know all about Joffrey-at least Lady Olenna did. They got Butterbumps-that’s their fool-to sing very loudly; then she asked me if it was true that Joffrey got the Kingsguard to beat me up. It appears,” she said in a small voice, “the story travelled all the way to Highgarden.”
“Of course you told them what he was like, did you not?” he asked her suddenly.
She nodded her head, silently. And then she burst out. “I didn’t want her to love him, only to find out that he would hurt her if he could.” She looked pleadingly into his eyes-he stretched out his hands and enfolded her fingers.
“No, you did the right thing. They will find out that I had nothing to do with this, nothing at all. I was not there at the feast-I was far away from court. And I have no friends who would do me such favours as to poison my nephew.”
It was on the heels of this message that Ser Jaime Lannister rode in, accompanied by a knight who would have easily matched the Mountain that Rides or the Hound for height and girth. Tyrion was delighted to see him, even without his sword hand. Ser Jaime took the trouble to introduce his companion, Lady Brienne of Tarth, to Lady Sansa, before he sat down with Tyrion for a lengthy conversation over several cups of wine.
Sansa was astounded to meet Brienne-she had never imagined that a lady could aspire to be a knight. Although Brienne could fight as well as a man-she proved this by beating several Lannister guardsmen regularly at practice, later-she was as gentle and guileless as Sansa used to be. Ser Jaime and Tyrion arranged for the two ladies to share a room-perhaps they felt the two women would have much to say to one another.
Brienne soon told Sansa her story-how she had been accepted as part of King Renly’s Rainbow Guard; how both she and Lady Catelyn had been with him when he died; how Ser Loras had behaved towards her after his death; how she had then sworn fealty to Lady Catelyn, who had taken her to Riverrun, and had then asked her to take Ser Jaime to King’s Landing and bring her daughters back to her. She told Sansa this story as she held the weeping girl in her arms-Brienne was the only person at the Rock who understood and shared Sansa’s grief for her mother and brothers.
“I don’t know where Arya is,” Sansa confessed in a whisper, drying her tears. “She vanished on the day when...when the Lannister guardsmen attacked my father’s men. I did not see her after that...but on the day when Father was executed on Baelor’s steps, I saw her with a man in black. Yoren...that was his name. He had come to visit Father to ask for men for the Night’s Watch. Father said he could take them from the dungeons. And Jeyne...my friend, Jeyne Poole...they took her away, I hope to a safe place.”
Brienne wiped away her tears and replied. “I think I know what became of Jeyne Poole-Ser Jaime told me. He said his father had sent a steward’s whelp to wed Lord Bolton’s bastard son-he’s been legitimized by King Tommen.”
Sansa leapt up like a scalded cat when she heard this.
“Brienne,” she said, speaking forcefully. “I’ve heard about this man-they used to tell horrible stories about him in Winterfell. They say his father got him on a miller’s wife...they say he forced her because he said he had first night rights as the miller’s lord...he killed the man when he protested. This happened when my father was a boy at the Eyrie...and this vile man, Ramsay, used to wander the Bolton lands with his servant, Reek, raping all the peasant girls and naming his bitches after them. Of course, Lord Bolton made his people keep quiet about it-he’s a very dangerous and unpleasant man. I told them to send her to a safe place...not to the Boltons!”
In the meantime, Ser Jaime was sharing his woes with a sympathetic Tyrion.
“Father wants me to give up the Kingsguard because of my injury-he wants me to return to the Rock as his heir and marry Joff’s widow, Margaery, to keep the Tyrells sweet and keep her away from Tommen. He was disposed to blame you for Joff’s death, until Uncle Kevan very sensibly wondered aloud how you could have poisoned the wine with the strangler whilst sitting in Casterly. Then he wanted to blame the Dornish, until Prince Oberyn told him he would not be foolish enough to murder a king when he had been invited to sit on the king’s Small Council. He dare not blame the Tyrells-he thinks they might well have done it. And he thinks Littlefinger might be involved.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well, you know that Littlefinger was asked to go woo Lady Lysa at the Eyrie? He did so to such effect that he wedded her and bedded her almost at the same time as Joffrey. One of her ladies overheard him boasting to his wife how he would have almost got her niece out of court, if Lord Tywin had not sent her away to the Rock instead, with his son and nephew. He told her about a hairnet set with strangler...he said he’d given the geegaw to a Ser Dontos Hollard, to give to the girl, Sansa. It appears your little friend saved the good knight’s life during Joffrey’s nameday tourney and he decided to rescue her. They used to meet in the godswood, to plan her escape. He was to get her out of the Red Keep on Joffrey’s wedding day-but his bird had already flown when our man received the geegaw. So he gave it back to Lady Olenna, of all people, because Littlefinger was away, wooing Lady Lysa. Father got to Ser Dontos, when Lady Lysa’s waiting woman sent him a message, and the drunk old fool sang as sweet as a canary. Lady Lysa’s waiting woman has a husband who is heavily in debt-a gambler-and father holds his debt. You don’t know what else she revealed-that Lady Lysa gets furious if another woman even looks at her dear Petyr. And when she gets angry, she drinks...and when she drinks, she reveals secrets.”
Ser Jaime sat back, looking at his brother’s astounded expression with some pleasure. Tyrion closed his mouth with some effort and then asked, “What secrets does she reveal?”
“Well, the most interesting conversation our lady overheard was when Lysa saw Petyr dancing with Myranda Royce, Lord Royce’s charming widowed daughter. That night, as she passed by her lady’s bedchamber, she overheard her lady screaming at her husband that it was she, not Cat, who gave him her maiden’s gift; that it was she, not Cat, who was forced to abort his child; that it was she, not Cat, who followed his advice to give Jon Arryn tears of Lys in his wine so that he should die of fever. And she then followed his instructions to the letter and told her sister that the Lannisters murdered her husband. Father was horrified when he read this-he showed me the letter; his hands were shaking.”
Tyrion’s eyes were gleaming like those of a cat.
“How does she manage to get her messages across to Father?”
“Her husband has a small holdfast in the Vale-she goes at least once or twice a week to see to his comfort and instruct her servants. That’s when she sends him her ravens.”
The next day, while Brienne and Ser Jaime were practicing in the yard, Sansa confronted Tyrion with what she had learned of Jeyne Poole’s fate.
“You must do something to stop this wedding, my lord,” she said softly but firmly. “The man is a monster.”
Tyrion sighed, exasperated. “My lady, I can do nothing.” He said, slapping his hand on the top of a table. “Nothing at all, do you understand?” She stepped back, shaken-she had never seen him so enraged. “My father is Hand of the King-if he has decided that Ramsay Snow should be legitimized as Ramsay Bolton and wedded to your steward’s daughter, posing as your sister-what in seven hells can I do, I ask you? Do you think anyone in Casterly or the Westerlands will stand by me if I rebel against my father? Do you think the Riverlands or the North will send us men? Your aunt has sat atop her mountain home after murdering her husband-oh, you may as well hear it from me! And she tried to pin the murder on our family-she wrote to your mother as Littlefinger instructed her; that’s what led to this bloody war and the deaths of your family. She has done nothing to help, has she? Littlefinger-why, that little bastard went around King’s Landing boasting how he’d slept with both Lord Hoster’s daughters, not realising that he’d only slept with the younger one. Did you know,” he asked her, pinning her with the anger in his mismatched eyes, “that he and the Tyrells would have had you carry poison to Joffrey’s wedding feast? You didn’t know that, did you? They would have given a hairnet to that fool Dontos-the same one you saved from an ugly death on Joff’s nameday; the one with whom you were planning to escape-to give to you; do you know that?”
She stood there, staring at him, her blue eyes filled with a look of horror. He was breathing raggedly, as though he had run a long distance-it was evident he’d held this deep inside before he burst out with it before her.
“Be grateful to the gods, my lady, that I have not obeyed my father’s command-to wed you and bed you, to secure your claim to Winterfell.” He spoke in a colder, calmer tone and might have said more, when Ser Kevan, whom they had not been expecting, walked in. It was evident he had ridden long and hard; he brought bad news. Lord Tywin had died, some days after Ser Jaime’s departure from the capital. Ser Kevan had brought his body home, to be placed in the Hall of Heroes.
“It appears, “ Ser Kevan informed them, after he’d drunk some wine and had something to eat, “that he went to the privy before he went to bed each night. His guards knew his habits. Well, he did not go back to bed that night; he died on the privy. They said,” Ser Kevan’s voice broke as he spoke, but he controlled himself with an effort, “they said his heart failed him and he died. Pycelle cut him open-we feared poison after ... after Joffrey’s death.” His eyes slid towards Sansa; it seemed as though he was in two minds whether or not he should reveal all. “That is when he realised what must have happened. He said men with a malady of the heart often go to the privy when they feel unwell.”
Sansa watched the faces of the others in the room, her own a blank. Tyrion looked calm, much calmer than Ser Jaime, who looked distraught-he must have truly loved his father, she realised. The ladies Dorna and Darlessa wore expressions of woe, but Lady Genna was weeping. Sansa could feel for her-she, too, had lost her brothers, all but one...
Tyrion’s calm voice cut through her thoughts, like a knife.
“So Cersei did not ask you to stay on as Tommen’s Hand, uncle?”
“No-she wants Jaime as his Hand. She wants him to give up the Kingsguard, wed Lady Margaery-the Tyrells, of course, want her to wed Tommen instead-and become the Hand. She has sent me into retirement-she wants young Devan as Warden of the West. Where is he, by the by?”
“He is at Riverrun, my lord husband,” Lady Dorna spoke, “pursuing the siege...”
“Ah yes,” Ser Kevan glanced once again at Sansa, who said nothing-she had greeted him when he arrived and expressed her condolences on hearing of Lord Tywin’s demise, but said not another word. Tyrion’s revelations of the baseness of her aunt’s conduct had shaken her to the core; she had yet to take it all in. They all went to the great hall for the midday meal-Lord Tywin would be laid to rest in the Hall of Heroes in the evening. They were all subdued and spoke little-Lady Genna, who was the most outspoken and talkative of the Lannister women, said nothing and barely ate. Sansa sat quietly with Brienne at her side; the two of them pecked at their food, waiting for the meal to be over, wondering what would happen now that Queen Cersei had the reins of power firmly in her hands.
Ser Kevan asked both young women to meet him in the solar after Lord Tywin was interned. They found him there with Tyrion and Ser Jaime-it was plain he had been talking to his nephews. He did not spend too much time on courtesy but began to talk of what was to happen almost at once.
He asked Sansa, “Has my nephew Tyrion spoken to you of marriage yet, my lady? Your marriage to him, I mean.”
Sansa shot him a glance and then replied, “He was talking of it but this morning, my lord, when you arrived. I told him,” and she glanced at Tyrion again as she spoke, “I told him I had not thought of it at all-I am scarce thirteen years of age.”
“And certainly not to a greybeard of twenty-five years, is that not so, Sansa?” Tyrion asked with an edge to his voice. Sansa said nothing to this, only giving him a quelling glance.
“May I remind you,” Ser Jaime interrupted, “that I speak for Lady Catelyn-the deceased Lady Catelyn? She sent Lady Brienne with me to King’s Landing, so that her girls would be returned to her, safe and unharmed. However, you and my father made it impossible for me to fulfil my vow to her, with your plots. Neither my brother nor Lady Stark has a mind to marriage-I fail to see why they should be forced to wed.”
“It is the interests of the Iron Throne that Tyrion Lannister wed Sansa Stark,” replied Ser Kevan, firmly. “Otherwise,” he looked at the two of them coldly, “the Queen Regent will have your heads. You have angered her on several occasions, Tyrion, and you, my lady,” he told Sansa icily, “are not only the daughter and sister of traitors, but the niece of a murderess-that too, a woman who murdered her husband and sought to foist the crime on the Queen and her family. You will not be spared, either of you, if you disobey her in this matter. I will go to Darry with Lancel-Jaime will accompany me; he must return to King’s Landing to renounce the Kingsguard and wed Lady Margaery. As Lord of Casterly Rock,” he looked at Jaime and Tyrion, “he might well be able to protect you from Cersei’s malice. As a Kingsguard, his first duty is to obey the King.”
The four of them stared at each other as Ser Kevan swept out of the solar. Sansa’s legs felt weak; she would have fainted if Brienne had not grabbed hold of her and put her into a chair. She poured some wine from a jug into a cup and forced Sansa to drink it. As Sansa sipped at the wine, she noticed the grim expressions on Jaime’s and Tyrion’s faces. Jaime finally spoke in a whisper, drawing Tyrion closer to Sansa and Brienne:
“Lady Sansa, you and my brother must pretend for all you’re worth to a growing fondness for each other. I’m glad you spoke of his talking of your marriage this morning and of your response to it-you must, for now, pretend to play along with this absurd fantasy, at least while Uncle Kevan is in residence. Spend as much time as you like in each other’s company-but make plans for escape while you do so. I have no intention of falling in with Cersei’s mad schemes-I will not give up the Kingsguard and I will not wed Lady Margaery. However, I will go to the capital and say this to Cersei face to face-she should really have made Uncle Kevan Tommen’s Hand. Brienne, you must find a means to get Lady Sansa out of the Rock and the Westerlands, to a safe place. And Tyrion, you must find a way to leave the Rock, go to Lannisport and board a ship for Essos. Take plenty of gold with you, both of you.”
Sansa stared at him. Why was Jaime Lannister, who had wounded her father and killed three of Eddard Stark’s men outside a brothel in King’s Landing a year or so ago now trying to help her to escape? Was this yet another convoluted Lannister plot? She spoke in a voice as soft as Jaime’s as she looked into his eyes:
“Ser Jaime, you must tell me more of this oath you swore to my mother. I must know the truth of it-Brienne only said that she had sworn to get you to King’s Landing in exchange for...”
“I know what Brienne swore,” he said, with a smile. “She keeps her vows, unlike me. But I promised your mother that I would get you to a safe place-she told me I was a man with shit for honour-I am determined to prove her wrong. She made me swear on my sword, you know.”
“I don’t blame you,” he continued, “for trying to escape.” Tyrion snorted in derision. “No, it’s true-I know what it’s like to be a hostage for your family. I know you would rather not wed Tyrion-at least not be forced to wed him like this, for nothing more than your claim to Winterfell. I know he promised to send you safe to your mother and was unable to keep that promise. And I know he would like nothing more than to disobey our father’s last wish.” He looked at Tyrion squarely.
“Spend time together, the three of you-Brienne, you are to watch over the two of them. My brother has a terrible reputation, and Lady Sansa is very young and innocent. Keep that squire of yours close, Tyrion-he might be able to help you. He did save your life on the Bridge of Boats, did he not? I will go to Uncle Kevan and tell him the two of you will wed when he returns to Casterly Rock.”
Brienne, Sansa and Tyrion stared at him and then at each other’s faces as he left the solar. Could they trust each other enough to plan an escape from the Rock together? Would they be safe wherever they went? Would they be able to come back to Westeros? None of the three had answers to these questions, but they knew they had no choice other than to follow Jaime’s advice if they wished to live.
“Now that we have an alliance with the Tyrells in place, surely we can think of sending the Stark girl to the Rock?” Ser Kevan asked his brother, Lord Tywin Lannister. “The King has ill-treated her and the Queen Regent did little to protect her. Tyrion and Lancel can go with her-they’re both badly wounded and will receive better care there than here at court. Moreover, I fear Tyrion has angered the Queen Regent greatly-I think it would be wise to send all three away from King’s Landing.”
Lord Tywin sighed in exasperation. “I wish we could settle something about the girl-probably get her married to either Lancel or Tyrion before we send her away from court.”
“I think,” Ser Kevan replied, “it might be easier to arrange such an alliance more advantageously when she is at the Rock. Here at court-you do know, do you not, that she has become increasingly friendly with the ladies from Highgarden? Lady Margaery had her to supper with her mother and grandmother. I would send her away from court if I were you, brother. It is more likely that she will come to think of the Rock as home when she is living there. She is a gentle and docile girl-Genna, Darlessa and Dorna will soon put her into the proper frame of mind for welcoming a proposal of marriage from a Lannister. And both Tyrion and Lancel should be sent back home to recover.”
So Lord Tywin was convinced. Another reason for his agreement was that the Stark whelp who called himself King in the North had returned to the Riverlands with the Westerling girl for wife. The Ironborn had attacked the North and sacked Winterfell, killing the two youngest Stark boys. It was likely that, if he lived, Robb Stark would spend more time recovering his northern kingdom than in raiding the Westerlands yet again. This made it essential that the Stark girl should be sent somewhere safe, where he could, in good time, arrange for her marriage to someone trustworthy.
Of course, Sansa, Tyrion and Lancel were not told of these plans. The first they knew of their removal from court was when they found themselves on litters bound for Duskendale-so many ships had been destroyed in the Battle of the Blackwater that the port at King’s Landing was no longer usable. Their boxes had been packed by servants and maids with all they would need on the journey and in Casterly. At Duskendale, a swift ship took them to Lannisport, and thence they travelled, again by litter, to the Rock. When they arrived, they learnt that the lords Frey and Bolton had successfully conspired to kill Robb Stark and his followers at the Twins, even as his uncle Edmure Tully wedded and bedded Lord Frey’s daughter Roslin.
It was Ser Devan Lannister who gave Sansa the news soon after they reached Casterly.
“My lady,” he said, when she reached his solar, accompanied by Tyrion and Lancel, “I have grievous news for your ears.”
She said nothing-Tyrion noticed that she straightened an already straight back and stiffened her shoulders to take the blow. She looked straight into Devan’s eyes as he spoke-when he finished, she answered quietly:
“Ser Devan-my lords,” turning to Tyrion and Lancel, who stood dumbstruck behind her. “I thank you for breaking this news to me. I am sorry to hear that my mother and brother led so many to follow themselves to treason and death. As for myself, I remain loyal to King Joffrey.” She said these words in a soft and dulcet, yet firm, voice-Tyrion fancied he was the only one who noticed the hardening of her mouth or the cold look in her eyes. Ser Devan’s dumbfounded expression, as he heard these words uttered by a maiden of twelve, was a sight to behold-Tyrion would have laughed at the look on his face, had the story not been so horrible to hear.
However, Tyrion guessed the truth of the matter-the little she-wolf would not reveal her feelings to her enemies, but would hold her grief close to her heart. His belief was confirmed when he passed by the closed door of her bedroom some days later and heard her sobbing into her pillow. He did not go in to comfort her-he knew she would not welcome his presence. He ensured that no one at Casterly told her the ghastly details of what the Freys had done-how they had hacked her brother’s head off, replacing it with that of a wolf, and thrown her mother’s naked body into the Trident, after trying to slit her throat.
A few words from him also ensured that the maester, who was his closest confidant at Casterly, spent some time reading with her. Tyrion had noticed that she had an ability to get along well with people-he was determined that, although she had lost her family, she would not lose out on a good education. His aunt Genna was scandalized at the state of her wardrobe and said a few pithy words about Cersei’s absolute lack of care of the child, who was to have been her son’s betrothed. She then had an entire wardrobe made for the young lady, for which Sansa thanked her courteously.
The ladies Dorna and Darlessa were at first shocked by her response on being told of the death of her mother and brother. However, they were soon forced to acknowledge that, had they been in her position, they too might have behaved as she had done. They also noticed her many kindnesses to Lancel and Tyrion, both of whom took some time to recover, not just from the agonies of their war wounds but also from the journey by ship.
Tyrion was, at this time, also troubled by thoughts of Shae, who had remained behind in King’s Landing. Of course, he’d had no time to tell her that he would be returning to Casterly, He wondered if he should send her a message through Varys, and then thought better of it. His father had made it quite clear, when he sent a raven from court, that he expected Tyrion to stay away-he had angered Cersei and Joffrey to such a pitch that they were both likely to ask for his head. And he, Tywin Lannister implied, would not stand in their way. If he wished to regain a place in his father’s affections, he had to woo the Stark girl, wed her and bed her, to become Lord of Winterfell. As for Lancel-he had to recover from his wounds, for Lord Tywin had arranged his marriage to Amerei Frey, a widow. Tyrion almost curled his lip when he read the message-he wondered if his father knew from Cersei, as he did, that Sansa had betrayed Ned Stark because of her love for Joffrey. Would that have any bearing on her being a suitable wife to him? He thought not.
Sansa knew she was in a prison from which there was no escape-Robb, on whom she had pinned so many hopes of rescue, had been murdered treacherously by those he trusted. She wondered if Lord Tywin had something to do with it-after all, he was now the Hand of the King. She’d had no means to get word to Ser Dontos about her removal from court before she left-she hoped he was safe. Tyrion had lost his place on the Small Council after he made his charge in the Battle of the Blackwater and was wounded so severely. His wounds did little to add to his looks-he’d lost half his nose and most of his lips, which were replaced by a terrible scar. However, he was, as always, kind and courteous to her; whereas Lancel, who had always been rather rude and haughty to her, because of his closeness to Joffrey and the Queen, totally changed after her kindness to him on the night of the battle. Cersei had thought nothing of ripping open his wounds again-it was Sansa who got him back to his room and sent a maester to treat him.
It was more than a month after their arrival at the Rock that they received news from court.
“It appears,” Tyrion said as he put down the message, “that Lady Margaery is the death of any man she weds. Here’s poor Joffrey, who survived a betrothal to you, my lady-he lasts barely a few hours before he falls dead at his own wedding feast, choking on his blood.” He looked at Sansa as he spoke-she looked at him sympathetically as she said:
“I feel for your sorrows, my lord-the Queen Regent must be prostrate with grief.”
“Who? Cersei? Perhaps-however, I feel relieved-he would have shortened me by a head had he lived. Tommen will make a much better king-if my father takes over the regency.”
“How did Joffrey die?” Sansa asked. “You said he choked on his blood, my lord-how did that happen? Did he eat something that...”
“Nothing of the sort-it appears someone put the strangler into his wine. Of course, the Tyrells suspect the Dornish, whom I invited to the feast. But I doubt Oberyn Martell would be so foolish as to poison a King of Westeros at his own wedding feast, especially as he too was partaking of it. I don’t know who did the deed-but I wish it had been done sooner, when the late King Robert lay dying. Just think of all that grief averted-your father and mother alive; my brother safe; your brothers and sister alive and well...”
They spoke quietly-they were sitting on a balcony off the great hall that overlooked the sea. She was sewing as he sat there, enjoying the sunshine. Sansa could see the waves as they crashed against the shore, even as her grief for her family crashed against her heart and mind. She had often gone to walk along the shore, accompanied by Podrick and a guard-she had found it calming to look at the vast expanse of sea and sky; the harshness of the western mountains that bred hard men, who believed in winning at all cost. She wondered if Sandor had ever walked here-she knew he must have been a squire at the Rock. She wondered if he had felt as she did; if he had been calmed by the vision of the sea and sky merging into one on the western horizon, as the sun set in rays of crimson and gold.
“Of course, I have my enemies at court-Pycelle claims I must have arranged to have Joffrey poisoned.”
“How could you do that, my lord? You served him diligently while he was alive-it was true that you spoke harshly to him, but then,” her voice lowered slightly, as if she feared a spy was listening to her speak, “but then...he deserved it, did he not? You were merely being a good uncle and a loyal subject when you reprimanded your king and tried to make him behave like one. Of course, kings hate being reprimanded...especially by their relations.” She could not help recalling that incident at the Hand’s Tourney when King Robert had struck the Queen and almost knocked Ser Jaime Lannister off the dais. In those days, Joffrey had still acted as though he loved her; she had been safe and loved...
A gusty sigh from Tyrion broke the web of her thoughts.
“Well,” he confessed, looking at her guiltily. “I did something rather foolish-I stole some medicines from Pycelle’s store to make my sister sick. She went more frequently to the privy that day-but I did not take any poisons from his store.”
“And how could you have poisoned him?” she asked, bewildered. “You are here, at the Rock; they sent away your mountain men after the battle-the washerwomen at the wells said they were given much gold to leave the city.” When he gave her a look of surprise, she said indignantly, “I couldn’t help finding out about it-all the maids talked!” She continued:
“So if you had to poison someone, how would you do it? I don’t think you had too many friends at court who would poison the king on your behalf, do you, my lord?”
No, I don’t, thought Tyrion grimly.
“Who do you think might have done the deed?” he asked her instead.
“I wonder...” Sansa said softly. “Did you know the Tyrell ladies asked me to share a meal with them, after they arrived at court?” she said suddenly.
“Did they? Why?”
“Well...” she looked guiltily at him as she spoke. “It appears they wanted to know all about Joffrey-at least Lady Olenna did. They got Butterbumps-that’s their fool-to sing very loudly; then she asked me if it was true that Joffrey got the Kingsguard to beat me up. It appears,” she said in a small voice, “the story travelled all the way to Highgarden.”
“Of course you told them what he was like, did you not?” he asked her suddenly.
She nodded her head, silently. And then she burst out. “I didn’t want her to love him, only to find out that he would hurt her if he could.” She looked pleadingly into his eyes-he stretched out his hands and enfolded her fingers.
“No, you did the right thing. They will find out that I had nothing to do with this, nothing at all. I was not there at the feast-I was far away from court. And I have no friends who would do me such favours as to poison my nephew.”
It was on the heels of this message that Ser Jaime Lannister rode in, accompanied by a knight who would have easily matched the Mountain that Rides or the Hound for height and girth. Tyrion was delighted to see him, even without his sword hand. Ser Jaime took the trouble to introduce his companion, Lady Brienne of Tarth, to Lady Sansa, before he sat down with Tyrion for a lengthy conversation over several cups of wine.
Sansa was astounded to meet Brienne-she had never imagined that a lady could aspire to be a knight. Although Brienne could fight as well as a man-she proved this by beating several Lannister guardsmen regularly at practice, later-she was as gentle and guileless as Sansa used to be. Ser Jaime and Tyrion arranged for the two ladies to share a room-perhaps they felt the two women would have much to say to one another.
Brienne soon told Sansa her story-how she had been accepted as part of King Renly’s Rainbow Guard; how both she and Lady Catelyn had been with him when he died; how Ser Loras had behaved towards her after his death; how she had then sworn fealty to Lady Catelyn, who had taken her to Riverrun, and had then asked her to take Ser Jaime to King’s Landing and bring her daughters back to her. She told Sansa this story as she held the weeping girl in her arms-Brienne was the only person at the Rock who understood and shared Sansa’s grief for her mother and brothers.
“I don’t know where Arya is,” Sansa confessed in a whisper, drying her tears. “She vanished on the day when...when the Lannister guardsmen attacked my father’s men. I did not see her after that...but on the day when Father was executed on Baelor’s steps, I saw her with a man in black. Yoren...that was his name. He had come to visit Father to ask for men for the Night’s Watch. Father said he could take them from the dungeons. And Jeyne...my friend, Jeyne Poole...they took her away, I hope to a safe place.”
Brienne wiped away her tears and replied. “I think I know what became of Jeyne Poole-Ser Jaime told me. He said his father had sent a steward’s whelp to wed Lord Bolton’s bastard son-he’s been legitimized by King Tommen.”
Sansa leapt up like a scalded cat when she heard this.
“Brienne,” she said, speaking forcefully. “I’ve heard about this man-they used to tell horrible stories about him in Winterfell. They say his father got him on a miller’s wife...they say he forced her because he said he had first night rights as the miller’s lord...he killed the man when he protested. This happened when my father was a boy at the Eyrie...and this vile man, Ramsay, used to wander the Bolton lands with his servant, Reek, raping all the peasant girls and naming his bitches after them. Of course, Lord Bolton made his people keep quiet about it-he’s a very dangerous and unpleasant man. I told them to send her to a safe place...not to the Boltons!”
In the meantime, Ser Jaime was sharing his woes with a sympathetic Tyrion.
“Father wants me to give up the Kingsguard because of my injury-he wants me to return to the Rock as his heir and marry Joff’s widow, Margaery, to keep the Tyrells sweet and keep her away from Tommen. He was disposed to blame you for Joff’s death, until Uncle Kevan very sensibly wondered aloud how you could have poisoned the wine with the strangler whilst sitting in Casterly. Then he wanted to blame the Dornish, until Prince Oberyn told him he would not be foolish enough to murder a king when he had been invited to sit on the king’s Small Council. He dare not blame the Tyrells-he thinks they might well have done it. And he thinks Littlefinger might be involved.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well, you know that Littlefinger was asked to go woo Lady Lysa at the Eyrie? He did so to such effect that he wedded her and bedded her almost at the same time as Joffrey. One of her ladies overheard him boasting to his wife how he would have almost got her niece out of court, if Lord Tywin had not sent her away to the Rock instead, with his son and nephew. He told her about a hairnet set with strangler...he said he’d given the geegaw to a Ser Dontos Hollard, to give to the girl, Sansa. It appears your little friend saved the good knight’s life during Joffrey’s nameday tourney and he decided to rescue her. They used to meet in the godswood, to plan her escape. He was to get her out of the Red Keep on Joffrey’s wedding day-but his bird had already flown when our man received the geegaw. So he gave it back to Lady Olenna, of all people, because Littlefinger was away, wooing Lady Lysa. Father got to Ser Dontos, when Lady Lysa’s waiting woman sent him a message, and the drunk old fool sang as sweet as a canary. Lady Lysa’s waiting woman has a husband who is heavily in debt-a gambler-and father holds his debt. You don’t know what else she revealed-that Lady Lysa gets furious if another woman even looks at her dear Petyr. And when she gets angry, she drinks...and when she drinks, she reveals secrets.”
Ser Jaime sat back, looking at his brother’s astounded expression with some pleasure. Tyrion closed his mouth with some effort and then asked, “What secrets does she reveal?”
“Well, the most interesting conversation our lady overheard was when Lysa saw Petyr dancing with Myranda Royce, Lord Royce’s charming widowed daughter. That night, as she passed by her lady’s bedchamber, she overheard her lady screaming at her husband that it was she, not Cat, who gave him her maiden’s gift; that it was she, not Cat, who was forced to abort his child; that it was she, not Cat, who followed his advice to give Jon Arryn tears of Lys in his wine so that he should die of fever. And she then followed his instructions to the letter and told her sister that the Lannisters murdered her husband. Father was horrified when he read this-he showed me the letter; his hands were shaking.”
Tyrion’s eyes were gleaming like those of a cat.
“How does she manage to get her messages across to Father?”
“Her husband has a small holdfast in the Vale-she goes at least once or twice a week to see to his comfort and instruct her servants. That’s when she sends him her ravens.”
The next day, while Brienne and Ser Jaime were practicing in the yard, Sansa confronted Tyrion with what she had learned of Jeyne Poole’s fate.
“You must do something to stop this wedding, my lord,” she said softly but firmly. “The man is a monster.”
Tyrion sighed, exasperated. “My lady, I can do nothing.” He said, slapping his hand on the top of a table. “Nothing at all, do you understand?” She stepped back, shaken-she had never seen him so enraged. “My father is Hand of the King-if he has decided that Ramsay Snow should be legitimized as Ramsay Bolton and wedded to your steward’s daughter, posing as your sister-what in seven hells can I do, I ask you? Do you think anyone in Casterly or the Westerlands will stand by me if I rebel against my father? Do you think the Riverlands or the North will send us men? Your aunt has sat atop her mountain home after murdering her husband-oh, you may as well hear it from me! And she tried to pin the murder on our family-she wrote to your mother as Littlefinger instructed her; that’s what led to this bloody war and the deaths of your family. She has done nothing to help, has she? Littlefinger-why, that little bastard went around King’s Landing boasting how he’d slept with both Lord Hoster’s daughters, not realising that he’d only slept with the younger one. Did you know,” he asked her, pinning her with the anger in his mismatched eyes, “that he and the Tyrells would have had you carry poison to Joffrey’s wedding feast? You didn’t know that, did you? They would have given a hairnet to that fool Dontos-the same one you saved from an ugly death on Joff’s nameday; the one with whom you were planning to escape-to give to you; do you know that?”
She stood there, staring at him, her blue eyes filled with a look of horror. He was breathing raggedly, as though he had run a long distance-it was evident he’d held this deep inside before he burst out with it before her.
“Be grateful to the gods, my lady, that I have not obeyed my father’s command-to wed you and bed you, to secure your claim to Winterfell.” He spoke in a colder, calmer tone and might have said more, when Ser Kevan, whom they had not been expecting, walked in. It was evident he had ridden long and hard; he brought bad news. Lord Tywin had died, some days after Ser Jaime’s departure from the capital. Ser Kevan had brought his body home, to be placed in the Hall of Heroes.
“It appears, “ Ser Kevan informed them, after he’d drunk some wine and had something to eat, “that he went to the privy before he went to bed each night. His guards knew his habits. Well, he did not go back to bed that night; he died on the privy. They said,” Ser Kevan’s voice broke as he spoke, but he controlled himself with an effort, “they said his heart failed him and he died. Pycelle cut him open-we feared poison after ... after Joffrey’s death.” His eyes slid towards Sansa; it seemed as though he was in two minds whether or not he should reveal all. “That is when he realised what must have happened. He said men with a malady of the heart often go to the privy when they feel unwell.”
Sansa watched the faces of the others in the room, her own a blank. Tyrion looked calm, much calmer than Ser Jaime, who looked distraught-he must have truly loved his father, she realised. The ladies Dorna and Darlessa wore expressions of woe, but Lady Genna was weeping. Sansa could feel for her-she, too, had lost her brothers, all but one...
Tyrion’s calm voice cut through her thoughts, like a knife.
“So Cersei did not ask you to stay on as Tommen’s Hand, uncle?”
“No-she wants Jaime as his Hand. She wants him to give up the Kingsguard, wed Lady Margaery-the Tyrells, of course, want her to wed Tommen instead-and become the Hand. She has sent me into retirement-she wants young Devan as Warden of the West. Where is he, by the by?”
“He is at Riverrun, my lord husband,” Lady Dorna spoke, “pursuing the siege...”
“Ah yes,” Ser Kevan glanced once again at Sansa, who said nothing-she had greeted him when he arrived and expressed her condolences on hearing of Lord Tywin’s demise, but said not another word. Tyrion’s revelations of the baseness of her aunt’s conduct had shaken her to the core; she had yet to take it all in. They all went to the great hall for the midday meal-Lord Tywin would be laid to rest in the Hall of Heroes in the evening. They were all subdued and spoke little-Lady Genna, who was the most outspoken and talkative of the Lannister women, said nothing and barely ate. Sansa sat quietly with Brienne at her side; the two of them pecked at their food, waiting for the meal to be over, wondering what would happen now that Queen Cersei had the reins of power firmly in her hands.
Ser Kevan asked both young women to meet him in the solar after Lord Tywin was interned. They found him there with Tyrion and Ser Jaime-it was plain he had been talking to his nephews. He did not spend too much time on courtesy but began to talk of what was to happen almost at once.
He asked Sansa, “Has my nephew Tyrion spoken to you of marriage yet, my lady? Your marriage to him, I mean.”
Sansa shot him a glance and then replied, “He was talking of it but this morning, my lord, when you arrived. I told him,” and she glanced at Tyrion again as she spoke, “I told him I had not thought of it at all-I am scarce thirteen years of age.”
“And certainly not to a greybeard of twenty-five years, is that not so, Sansa?” Tyrion asked with an edge to his voice. Sansa said nothing to this, only giving him a quelling glance.
“May I remind you,” Ser Jaime interrupted, “that I speak for Lady Catelyn-the deceased Lady Catelyn? She sent Lady Brienne with me to King’s Landing, so that her girls would be returned to her, safe and unharmed. However, you and my father made it impossible for me to fulfil my vow to her, with your plots. Neither my brother nor Lady Stark has a mind to marriage-I fail to see why they should be forced to wed.”
“It is the interests of the Iron Throne that Tyrion Lannister wed Sansa Stark,” replied Ser Kevan, firmly. “Otherwise,” he looked at the two of them coldly, “the Queen Regent will have your heads. You have angered her on several occasions, Tyrion, and you, my lady,” he told Sansa icily, “are not only the daughter and sister of traitors, but the niece of a murderess-that too, a woman who murdered her husband and sought to foist the crime on the Queen and her family. You will not be spared, either of you, if you disobey her in this matter. I will go to Darry with Lancel-Jaime will accompany me; he must return to King’s Landing to renounce the Kingsguard and wed Lady Margaery. As Lord of Casterly Rock,” he looked at Jaime and Tyrion, “he might well be able to protect you from Cersei’s malice. As a Kingsguard, his first duty is to obey the King.”
The four of them stared at each other as Ser Kevan swept out of the solar. Sansa’s legs felt weak; she would have fainted if Brienne had not grabbed hold of her and put her into a chair. She poured some wine from a jug into a cup and forced Sansa to drink it. As Sansa sipped at the wine, she noticed the grim expressions on Jaime’s and Tyrion’s faces. Jaime finally spoke in a whisper, drawing Tyrion closer to Sansa and Brienne:
“Lady Sansa, you and my brother must pretend for all you’re worth to a growing fondness for each other. I’m glad you spoke of his talking of your marriage this morning and of your response to it-you must, for now, pretend to play along with this absurd fantasy, at least while Uncle Kevan is in residence. Spend as much time as you like in each other’s company-but make plans for escape while you do so. I have no intention of falling in with Cersei’s mad schemes-I will not give up the Kingsguard and I will not wed Lady Margaery. However, I will go to the capital and say this to Cersei face to face-she should really have made Uncle Kevan Tommen’s Hand. Brienne, you must find a means to get Lady Sansa out of the Rock and the Westerlands, to a safe place. And Tyrion, you must find a way to leave the Rock, go to Lannisport and board a ship for Essos. Take plenty of gold with you, both of you.”
Sansa stared at him. Why was Jaime Lannister, who had wounded her father and killed three of Eddard Stark’s men outside a brothel in King’s Landing a year or so ago now trying to help her to escape? Was this yet another convoluted Lannister plot? She spoke in a voice as soft as Jaime’s as she looked into his eyes:
“Ser Jaime, you must tell me more of this oath you swore to my mother. I must know the truth of it-Brienne only said that she had sworn to get you to King’s Landing in exchange for...”
“I know what Brienne swore,” he said, with a smile. “She keeps her vows, unlike me. But I promised your mother that I would get you to a safe place-she told me I was a man with shit for honour-I am determined to prove her wrong. She made me swear on my sword, you know.”
“I don’t blame you,” he continued, “for trying to escape.” Tyrion snorted in derision. “No, it’s true-I know what it’s like to be a hostage for your family. I know you would rather not wed Tyrion-at least not be forced to wed him like this, for nothing more than your claim to Winterfell. I know he promised to send you safe to your mother and was unable to keep that promise. And I know he would like nothing more than to disobey our father’s last wish.” He looked at Tyrion squarely.
“Spend time together, the three of you-Brienne, you are to watch over the two of them. My brother has a terrible reputation, and Lady Sansa is very young and innocent. Keep that squire of yours close, Tyrion-he might be able to help you. He did save your life on the Bridge of Boats, did he not? I will go to Uncle Kevan and tell him the two of you will wed when he returns to Casterly Rock.”
Brienne, Sansa and Tyrion stared at him and then at each other’s faces as he left the solar. Could they trust each other enough to plan an escape from the Rock together? Would they be safe wherever they went? Would they be able to come back to Westeros? None of the three had answers to these questions, but they knew they had no choice other than to follow Jaime’s advice if they wished to live.