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Jaime
The king is dead, they told him, never knowing that Joffrey was his son as well as his sovereign.
"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger," a smith declared at the roadside inn where they spent the night. "He drank his blood from a big gold chalice." The man did not recognize the bearded one-handed knight with the big bat on his shield, no more than any of them, so he said things he might otherwise have swallowed, had he known who was listening.
It was poison did the deed," the innkeep insisted. "The boy's face turned black as a plum."
"May the Father judge him justly," murmured a nearby septon.
"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterwards, she tried to escape with the King's fool."
"What happened" asked one of Jaime Lannister's Northman escorts. "The fool got himself killed and the girl was arrested."
Jaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Jaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Joffrey, my blood, my firstborn, my son. He tried to bring the boy's face to mind, but his features kept turning into Cersei's. She will be in mourning, her hair in disarray and her eyes red from crying, her mouth trembling as she tries to speak. She will cry again when she sees me, though she'll fight the tears. His sister seldom wept but when she was with him. She could not stand for others to think her weak.
They rode hard the next day, at Jaime's insistence. He would see Cersei soon, and Tyrion, and their father. Could my brother truly have killed the boy? Jaime found that hard to believe.
Tyrion
At long last morning came. The night that was supposed to be Joffrey's wedding night, seemed to last a bitter eternity. Even in death, my spiteful nephew managed to make his wedding night someone else's misery.
He could not sleep that night. All he could think about was the trial he would have to endure and the betrayal from his child bride that he had not thought possible. One flesh, one heart, one soul. His mouth twisted. She wasted no time proving how much those vows meant to her, did she? Well, what did you expect, dwarf?
Sansa insisted that she was unaware of the poison in her hairnet until after Joffrey died. He was not sure he could believe her. Joff practically put his cup down in her lap, and he'd given her ample reason.
And yet ... where would Sansa have gotten poison? The girl had not acted alone in this; she needed more help than a wine sodden court jester. Would the judges believe that Tyrion's child bride had poisoned a king without her husband's knowledge then ran away to avoid his fate? I wouldn't. Cersei would insist that they had done the deed together.
He slept on the windowsill away from his wife. Tyrion could hear the quiet irregular breathing of a terrified child. She betrayed me. None of this would have happened if I had paid more attention to her. Tyrion felt bad about slapping her the night before, especially after seeing the hurt in those icy blue eyes. He had vowed to protect her from those who would wish her harm. But she left you for Cersei's mercy stupid dwarf. He should have planted a child in her young womb on their wedding night, would she still have chosen to wear that damned hairnet and leave him. Would she have chosen to stay with him and accept whatever comfort he could offer? Tyrion wondered if a child in her belly would save Sansa from her fate. It would be too late now; they would both be dead before anything could be proven.
He was unsure if he willing to help her anyway. The gods truly hated the Starks; every time he tried to help them he was punished in a grossly unjust manner. He gave Bran Stark a design for a special saddle only to be abducted by his future good-mother. Tyrion helped protect her from her own folly when the hill tribes attacked their party only to end up in a sky cell. He had prevented Sansa from being beaten at the hands of the Kingsguard and later as a husband gave her the solitude she wanted. The gods were not yet finished punishing him for his kindness to Sansa.
The door to their cell opened and guard served breakfast. Tyrion waddled to the table were the dishes were set. Dornish eggs cooked up with fiery peppers, a small loaf of fresh bread and a flagon of Dornish red. Tyrion wondered briefly if it was some kind of omen.
Sansa got out of bed and made her way for the table. She sat down and cut a slice of the fresh loaf. They broke their fast wordlessly. He could not bear to look at her and neither could she. After his second cup of Dornish red, she finally broke the silence.
"I'm sorry my lord."
Tyrion had nothing to say to that. Whatever happened to him would happen to Sansa.
