REWRITTEN!
Sansa
The time they spent together they spent it alone. Loren didn't want anyone near them. Not even her handmaidens couldn't come in. Not even the cook to bring their food. But they didn't need a cook since Loren cooked himself. While he cooked he talked to Sansa. Sansa felt like she was a bad wife to Loren as he didn't let her do anything. Even in their marriage bed he only wanted to give pleasure to her.
"I overcooked the peas." Loren declared.
"No, you didn't Loren." Sansa argued with a sweet voice. The peas were indeed overcooked but slightly. "See, I'll have more." Why did she say that? Her bowels were already full from the mutton and she couldn't eat the peas. What a stupid girl she is.
Loren then approached her and gently kissed her. "I love you, Sansa." Loren loved her. Nothing could compare to the happiness that those words gave her.
"I love you too." Sansa said as she leant forward and kissed him with passion, Loren at first was taken back from her words and the kiss but he then returned with double the passion she had. She was at his mercy until someone knocked the door.
She got up but Loren held her wrist and turned her around and their lips touched again. "I am busy." Loren announced to the person on the door as kept on kissing her.
"The lord hand requires your presence." The voice of a boy announced.
But Loren payed no attention to it until Sansa left his lips. "You must go Loren it is your duty."
He still continued as he raised her gown and she could feel his manhood pressing up against her. She was about to give up until she reminded herself that she was his wife and she couldn't stop him from doing his duty. "Loren stop. Go to your father."
Loren shook his head in frustration and opened the door. "Hey, Podrick. How are you doing?"
"I am fine, my lord. And you?" The boy named Podrick asked him.
"Horrible," Loren answered as he looked at Sansa. "I am starting to hate married life. Just as I was enjoying it." Loren looked back at her with green eyes full of lust. "Do you know what Pod? Tell my father to fuck off and if he wants to get me he may as well come because I won't be moving my ass for him."
Podrick was shook after hearing these words and Sansa was too. Loren closed the door and left Podrick there. Sansa was angry with him. She wouldn't let his hand touch her at first... At first...
Tyrion
Tyrion was sitting there waiting for Podrick and hopefully Loren too. Loren had missed the last small council meetings since the "family" meeting. He did not do it in spite of his father. He did because he didn't want to. Loren stayed with him and Sansa all day. Doing nothing.
Then Podrick arrived. "My lord, Lord Loren is quite sick."
"Sick of what?" Tyrion asked with a narrow look. And Podrick looked startlet which indicated that Podrick told him a white lie.
"Sick of Lord Tywin, my lord." Podrick replied. Tyrion laughed and his squire continued. "He said if Lord Tywin wants him he may as well come get him himself."
"And if he doesn't?"
"He told me to tell Lord Tywin to "Fuck off."" If Tyrion laughed at the last remark he went crazy with laughter this time.
But all that went straight out of his head when he entered the Hand's solar to find Cersei, Varys, and Grand Maester Pycelle gathered about Lord Tywin and the king. Joffrey looked rather happy, and Cersei was looking smug, though Lord Tywin looked as grim as ever. I wonder if he could smile even if he wanted to. "What's happened?" Tyrion asked.
"First, where is your brother, Tyrion?" Tyrion's brother not his son. Tyrion thought of those words who had been chosen carefully.
"He has been rather tired after the sleepless nights with Sansa Stark." Cersei said while spitting Sansa's name.
"You would do better to not put yourself in danger, sister," Tyrion told his sister. "Or do I need to remind you what happens to people who insult Lady Sansa?"
"What?" Joffrey asked.
"You would rather not now, nephew," Tyrion said. "And either way why do you look so happy nephew? Killed some puppies today?"
His father offered him a roll of parchment. Someone had flattened it, but it still wanted to curl. "Roslin caught a fine fat trout," the message read. "Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding." Tyrion turned it over to inspect the broken seal. The wax was silvery-grey, and pressed into it were the twin towers of House Frey. "Does the Lord of the Crossing imagine he's being poetic? Or is this meant to confound us?" Tyrion snorted. "The trout would be Edmure Tully, the pelts…"
"He's dead!" Joffrey sounded so proud and happy you might have thought he'd skinned Robb Stark himself.
First Greyjoy and now Stark. Tyrion thought of his brother's wife, she had finally taken some comfort in King's Landing and she loved his brother. He thought if she still would. "Kings are falling like leaves this autumn," he said. "It would seem our little war is winning itself."
"Wars do not win themselves, Tyrion," Cersei said with poisonous sweetness. "Our lord father won this war."
"Nothing is won so long as we have enemies in the field," Lord Tywin warned them.
"The river lords are no fools," the queen argued. "Without the northmen they cannot hope to stand against the combined power of Highgarden, Casterly Rock, and Dorne. Surely they will choose submission rather than destruction."
"Most," agreed Lord Tywin. "Riverrun remains, but so long as Walder Frey holds Edmure Tully hostage, the Blackfish dare not mount a threat. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood will fight on for honor's sake, but the Freys can keep the Mallisters penned up at Seagard, and with the right inducement Jonos Bracken can be persuaded to change his allegiance and attack the Blackwoods. In the end they will bend the knee, yes. I mean to offer generous terms. Any castle that yields to us will be spared, save one."
"Harrenhal?" said Tyrion, who knew his sire.
"The realm is best rid of these Brave Companions. I have commanded Ser Gregor to put the castle to the sword."
Gregor Clegane. It appeared as if his lord father meant to mine the Mountain for every last nugget of ore before turning him over to Dornish justice. The Brave Companions would end as heads on spikes, and Littlefinger would stroll into Harrenhal without so much as a spot of blood on those fine clothes of his. He wondered if Petyr Baelish had reached the Vale yet. If the gods are good, he ran into a storm at sea and sank. But when had the gods ever been especially good?
"They should all be put to the sword," Joffrey declared suddenly. "The Mallisters and Blackwoods and Brackens… all of them. They're traitors. I want them killed, Grandfather. I won't have any generous terms." The king turned to Grand Maester Pycelle. "And I want Robb Stark's head too. Write to Lord Frey and tell him. The king commands. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast."
"Sire," Ser Kevan said, in a shocked voice, "the lady is now your aunt by marriage."
"A jest." Cersei smiled. "Joff did not mean it."
"Yes I did," Joffrey insisted. "He was a traitor, and I want his stupid head. I'm going to make Sansa kiss it."
"Aw, nephew so very good to see you." A new voice was heard that slunded sweet but underneath it was a murderous glint. "I heard about a gift you wanted to
give my wife Lady Sansa."
"Haven't you heard Uncle Loren?" Joffrey answered with a question. "It seems that you don't have anymore good brothers."
His brother weirdly didn't seem surprised by the new but he did flinch. "Now, that's where you're wrong dear nephew."
*What's he talking about?* Tyrion thought. His father's voice stopped him to dig deeper. "Care to elaborate?"
"Jon Snow, Eddard Stark's bastard son." Loren replied and Tyrion knew he had sent Jon Snow to his death.
"Jon Snow has taken the black, brother. Rest assured, Jon Snow now is only a man of the Night's Watch."
"I agree with Lord Tyrion, my lord. He does not seem like a threat." Varys added his input.
"We shall have his head and throw it off the wall." Joffrey told them.
"No, we shall not. Do you want us to have the entire realm against us Joffrey? If we murder a man of the Night's Watch the whole of Westeros may rise against us." Tywin told his grandson.
"I'm the king! The king can do as he likes!" Joffrey yelled.
"Any man who must say 'I am the king' is no true king at all. Aerys never understood that, but you will. When I've won your war for you, we will restore the king's peace and the king's justice. The only head that need concern you is Margaery Tyrell's maidenhead."
Joffrey had that sullen, sulky look he got. Cersei had him firmly by the shoulder, but perhaps she should have had him by the throat. The boy surprised them all. Instead of scuttling safely back under his rock, Joff drew himself up defiantly and said, "You talk about Aerys, Grandfather, but you were scared of him." *Oh, my, hasn't this gotten interesting?* Tyrion thought.
Lord Tywin studied his grandchild in silence, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes. "Joffrey, apologize to your grandfather," said Cersei.
He wrenched free of her. "Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock." The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. "A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk."
"Thank you for that wisdom, Your Grace," Lord Tywin said, with a courtesy so cold it was like to freeze their ears off. "Ser Kevan, I can see the king is tired. Please see him safely back to his bedchamber. Pycelle, perhaps some gentle potion to help His Grace sleep restfully?"
"Dreamwine, my lord?"
"I don't want any dreamwine," Joffrey insisted.
Lord Tywin would have paid more heed to a mouse squeaking in the corner. "Dreamwine will serve. Cersei, Tyrion, Loren remain."
Ser Kevan took Joffrey firmly by the arm and marched him out the door, where two of the Kingsguard were waiting. Grand Maester Pycelle scurried after them as fast as his shaky old legs could take him. Tyrion remained where he was.
"Father, I am sorry," Cersei said, when the door was shut. "Joff has always been willful, I did warn you…"
"There is a long league's worth of difference between willful and stupid. 'A strong king acts boldly?' Who told him that?"
"Not me, I promise you," said Cersei. "Most like it was something he heard Robert say…"
"The part about you hiding under Casterly Rock does sound like Robert." Tyrion didn't want Lord Tywin forgetting that bit.
"Yes, I recall now," Cersei said, "Robert often told Joff that a king must be bold."
"And what were you telling him, pray? I did not fight a war to seat Robert the Second on the Iron Throne. You gave me to understand the boy cared nothing for his father."
"Why would he? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I'd allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I'd kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things…"
"It appears things needed to be said." Lord Tywin waved two fingers at her, a brusque dismissal. "Go." She went, seething.
"Not Robert the Second," Tyrion said. "Aerys the Third."
"The boy is thirteen. There is time yet." Lord Tywin paced to the window. That was unlike him; he was more upset than he wished to show. "He requires a sharp lesson."
"I don't think any sharp lesson will fix my nephew. It looks the coin ended on the bad side." Loren told his father.
Tyrion had gotten his own sharp lesson at thirteen. He felt almost sorry for his nephew. On the other hand, no one deserved it more. But was Loren right? Did Joffrey be born mad because of his parents incestuous relationship? "Enough of Joffrey," he said. "Wars are won with quills and ravens, wasn't that what you said? I must congratulate you. How long have you and Walder Frey been plotting this?"
"I mislike that word," Lord Tywin said stiffly.
"And I mislike being left in the dark but my brother here didn't seem to be left in here with me." Tyrion told his father who looked surprised for a single second.
"He left me but I saw my way out on my own." His brother replied. "I always knew you don't write letters just to show your superiority."
"No one was told, save those who had a part to play. And they were only told as much as they needed to know. You ought to know that there is no other way to keep a secret — here, especially. My object was to rid us of a dangerous enemy as cheaply as I could, not to indulge your curiosity or make your sister feel important." He closed the shutters, frowning. "You have a certain cunning, Tyrion, but the plain truth is you talk too much. That loose tongue of yours will be your undoing. But it seems I should have told your brother as he had kept his mouth shut even to his lady wife. You are dismissed."
And so they left. Tyrion and Loren walked until Loren stopped and said.
"I'm fucked."
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