Tywin Lannister kept late nights and early mornings, enjoying the long hours as the King's Hand and de facto ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Upon his arrival, he had instructed the Tower of the Hand be decorated in Lannister colors, although he rarely spent his waking hours in his chambers. The great banners and bright colors of his House made the old Tower feel warner, and Tywin took great joy in making his ownership of it obvious, as Aers had never allowed the Lannister colors in King's Landing. The two guards stationed outside his door belonged to him, not to the Crown, and Tywin felt as safe in King's Landing as he ever had, with Stannis defeated and his golden-haired grandson on the throne.

Long hours or no, all men must sleep, and the sound of a smith arriving at his door started him from slumber. Instantly awake, he started bolt upright, reaching for his robe even before he registered the voices. As the arguing grew louder, broken by the incessant thudding of a fist against the wooden door, he stalked toward it, unable to imagine what was of enough importance that his guards hadn't turned the intruder away. He threw open the door to find his guards standing on either side, watching worriedly as his son pounded on the door.

"Jaime? What is-"

Jaime had always been a quiet child, moreso when compared to Cersei. He had never been a drunkard like his siblings and had never been seen in a whorehouse. It had not escaped Tywin's notice that, of the three, he resembled Joanna the most. That and his skill with the sword had made him Tywin's favorite, even after he had been robbed of his place as heir when Aerys demanded he join the Kingsguard. Now he had him back, his missing swordhand notwithstanding, and he had not been so content with the future of House Lannister since Jaime and Cersei were children, and Joanna still alive.

Jaime was not quiet now. The moment the door opened, he lunged forward and latched onto the front of his father's robe, his eyes wild. His false hand pressed into Tywin's chest as if Jaime had forgotten that it could not grasp as the other could. Behind him, the guards reached for their swords, but did not draw them. They would not dare harm the heir to House Lannister on anything less than Tywin's direct order. Of all Tywin's children, none, not even Cersei, had dared to touch him in anger, but Tywin had not seen such mindless fury in Jaime's eyes since the body of Elia Martell had been brought to them all those years ago.

"Unhand me!" Tywin grabbed his son's wrists, trying to pry them away from his clothing, but Jaime was having none of it. His false hand shifted, but his arm did not move.

"You told him," Jaime's voice was tight with fury, and the confusion clear on Tywin's face only made his scowl twist into a snarl. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Told who? What are you on about?" Tywin expected this sort of behavior from Cersei. He would not have been surprised to find Cersei outside of his door, held back by only his guards, but Cersei had never been clever in her rages. She would have railed, but it would have been left to Tywin to solve whatever angered her. Jaime had already made his decision, and the anger in his face would have sent lesser men fleeing.

"The Boy-King," it was forced through clenched teeth. Jaime had always treated Robert with a quiet distain, but he had been nothing but kind to Cersei's children. He had encouraged Tommen's kittens and broken Myrcella out of Joffrey's shadow, and although he had little contact with Joffrey, he had never referred to him as anything but the proper king. "You told him about Sansa."

"I've told Joffrey nothing about your little wife, Jaime," Jaime's body shuddered, his grip tightened, and Tywin remembered a much younger man shaking as he stripped a Lannister guard of his cloak and lay it over the body of a princess. As if following ungiven orders, two other men had wrapped the Targaryen children in their cloaks as well. The reminder of Aerys brought the next words to Tywin's mouth, "You should take care how you address the king in his own keep."

"Fuck the king," Tywin was reminded of Tyrion's anger at his family, but Jaime's grip had eased and he sagged in exhaustion, "Cersei told him."

"What's wrong with Sansa, that you've come here at this hour?" Tywin had explained, very carefully, to both Joffrey and Cersei, that Sansa Stark was off limits. If she was to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, she was not to be abused by them. If they sought to humiliate her, if they tried to beat her, or if Joffrey ordered her brought to his bed, Tywin would send her to Casterly Rock. He had also made it clear to Cersei that if he had to send Jaime away because of her or her son, she'd go with all of Joanna's jewels, which Cersei now kept in her chambers.

"She's lost the babe," Tywin nodded solemnly, glancing behind him to the wine left untouched on the corner table. Perhaps it would help calm Jaime's fury.

"Joanna lost her first child as well, it's not uncommon for first mothers, come in, Jaime, we'll discuss this," Tywin turned to lead his son deeper into his chambers, but Jaime's grip tightened suddenly.

"You don't understand," he collected himself with a breath, and shook his head, "come and see Sansa."

"I have no wish-"

"It's important you understand." And so Tywin followed his son into the keep, to the rooms which Jaime had been given for himself and Sansa. One of the guards followed, as Tywin wore only his robe and nightclothes and Jaime had no sword. Tywin was not pleased about this, but Jaime didn't seem to notice as he hurried through the keep, pausing only once they reached Sansa's door. He knocked twice, briefly, and stepped inside.

Sansa lay on the bed, eyes closed and body limp. Maester Pycelle looked up as they entered, clearly alarmed to see Tywin out so late and in such improper dress. Jaime ignored the maid who drew blankets over Sansa's body at their entrance and the maester's words as he approached the bed, and pulled the covers back so Tywin could see Sansa's stomach.

For an instant, Tywin could see the bruises Aerys had given Joanna, and his hands balled into fists in his fury. The most obvious mark was the bruising around what was obviously a footprint from a large boot. Against the fury of that mark, the smaller marks from what appeared to be multiple hits with a gloved hand and the side of a sword. Tywin's gaze traveled up, to hand-prints on her breasts and fingermarks on her throat.

"There are marks on her back and legs too." Jaime was gripping the blankets so tightly his knuckles were white, "Hand marks. On my wife's legs. If he had them rape her-"

Jaime couldn't bring himself to finish his thought, but didn't need to. Tywin turned to Pycelle, "what's been done to her?"

"She's lost the babe, my lord-"

"I can see that," she'd lost the heir to Casterly Rock. Joffrey had killed the heir to Casterly Rock. The implications were not lost on the Hand. Tywin's voice was careful. "What else?"

"I believe she's been choked," Pycelle began, voice wavering and eyes on the floor, "the bruises on her chest and stomach are from hands gloved in steel. She was kicked in the stomach as well. There are marks on her back from the flat of a sword, in several places the edges of it drew blood. The marks on her legs appear to be blows, but I cannot tell if she was raped. The trauma from losing the babe was too much to be able to tell."

"You were here when I arrived," Jaime was looking at Pycelle now, his eyes dangerous. His right hand went to where his sword once was, and when he didn't find it his eyes darted to where it rested. "Who sent you?"

"My lord-"

"WHO SENT YOU!" Jaime's shout made the maids jump, but they were paid no mind. One came close to the bed and covered Sansa again, Jaime releasing the blankets when he realized her intent.

"Queen Cersei, my lord." The room went deathly quiet. Jaime opened his mouth and shut it again, looking from Tywin to Sansa on the bed. Tywin stared at Pycelle, remembering another time a queen had sent for the maester in this keep. Queen Rhaella had waited for him once, outside of Joanna's rooms. She had one of the rare bruises on her face, and she had stopped him as he tried to enter the room. I'm sending her away. Tywin had cared nothing for her, but he understood the meaning of her words. I sent for the maester earlier, he is with her now. Joanna had told him that the queen had caught her husband trying to trap Joanna and broke in, earning a beating, but Rhaella had never spoken to Tywin again.

"She knew and she didn't send for us," Jaime reached for Sansa's hand, and Tywin wondered if he had come to care for his wife or if he mourned the babe. "She let him do this."

"Do everything you can," Tywin ordered Pycelle. "When will she be able to travel safely?"

"On a horse, two months, maybe three, but it will be painful. If she's in a carriage, two weeks. A month would be less painful for her."

"I'll have a carriage ready in two weeks for her," Tywin began, "I'm sending both of you to Casterly Rock. She'll act as it's Lady when she recovers."

"You're letting Robert's spawn get away with this?"

"I will handle Cersei and Joffrey," Tywin answered, "I'm sending Tyrion and Tommen with you as well."

Jaime stared at him for a long moment. The removal of all possible Lannisters from King's Landing did not bode well for the current king. Myrcella was already in Dorne, and he knew Tywin had plans for Cersei's marriage.

Tywin paused for a long moment, staring at Sansa's red hair against the pillows, "Was the child old enough to determine a gender?"

"Only just, my lord," Pycelle answered quietly, "I believe it was a boy."

Tywin did not trust himself to answer that, and so he turned and left, shutting the door quietly on his way out. A half hour later, a soft knock sounded on the door, and Jaime opened it to find five Lannister guards.

"Your lord father has ordered us to guard your and the Lady Lannisters' chambers, Ser Jaime."