Author's Notes: Tyrion gets to hear even more secrets than he bargained for… What do these revelations mean to the Lannister brothers and their cause?

While Tyrion ponders his next move, in the next chapter it is time to see what Sansa's next move is, especially in regards to men that are driving her crazy…

Many thanks to my beta Hardlyfatal!

Tyrion

Tyrion stayed awake through half the night in a light of a few candles, watching them burn through and their flame getting almost extinguished before wearily lighting yet another. He nursed the goblet of wine in his hand but even to his own surprise didn't drink much of it. No, he needed a clear head to go through all the different options open for him and assess them for their merits.

He could march to Lady Catelyn, tell her that she and her deceitful husband had been caught, and leave the inn with Stark and Lady Sansa to go to King's Landing – and clap the Hound in chains and drag him back as well for a good measure.

That option was his preferred choice; however, it had its disadvantages. The biggest of them was that it was extremely unlikely, if not outright impossible, for it to succeed. Firstly, Lady Catelyn and her retinue would not give up Lord Eddard and Lady Sansa without a fight– a fight that Tyrion was not at all sure he could win. Secondly, he could kiss his chances of getting Jaime back goodbye – and that was simply an unacceptable outcome.

Bronn had appraised the Stark forces and concluded that both sides were at even odds – and that had been when they had still counted Clegane as their man. Now, however, the numbers had shifted with Clegane changing sides, and counting the arrival of the lady knight. Tyrion had heard enough from Lady Catelyn and Jaime not to underestimate her despite her sex.

No, if it came to a fight, it could be a close call which side would win. Besides, Tyrion didn't flatter himself to assume that his mountain clans would fight for his cause with the same fervour as Northmen might for theirs. He had seen the exultation of the Stark troops after their lord's unexpected arrival and heard their exclamations of joy and assurances of fealty. He had seen their faces light up when they had glimpsed at Stark being escorted through the crowd, and witnessed the smiles and bows and attempts to reach their lord for a word or two. What was it with Lord and Lady Stark that raised such loyalty in their troops?

Passingly Tyrion wondered whether, if Lord Tywin was placed in a similar situation, would the Lannister bannermen be as happy to see him back? Probably not.

Tyrion sighed and rubbed his brow. Moon cast its pale light through the window and he heard the distant howl of a wolf. He shivered.

He couldn't pretend he didn't know what was going on, that much was sure. To think how they had fooled him, probably laughing at him behind his back, made Tyrion cringe. And Clegane… whatever happened, he was going to get his comeuppance.

How much had Stark promised him, he wondered? It must have been a hefty sum to uproot Clegane from his secure position in the court and all the things he had known his whole life. Admittedly, Joffrey was a spoiled brat and looking after him was surely not the most pleasant task – but still, a position in the Kingsguard, and the coin and prestige it brought… Why give all that up for…

…suddenly Tyrion recalled a passing remark Shae had made the first day at the inn, laughing and saying something about hounds forgetting their place and eyeing wolves. He, too, had noticed how the Hound watched Lady Sansa but had thought nothing of it at the time. The girl was a pretty sight for sore eyes, for sure, so which man in his right mind would not look at her?

Then again… maybe it hadn't been the Stark who had made the offer, but his daughter?

Tyrion found the notion of a noble maid of good upbringing scheming in such a way unsettling. A woman like Shae, for sure, but Lady Sansa? Furthermore, if she had made some promises to the Hound, had the man been really as foolish as to believe them?

In the end, Tyrion decided it being more likely than the Hound had simply been lured by a promise of money, maybe some lands, perhaps even a keep of his own in the North. Being a younger son, he couldn't inherit Clegane's Keep and no matter how insignificant a piece of land it might be, abandoning the Kingsguard for a large estate somewhere in the North might hold some attraction for a man like him.

As the night went on, for a brief moment Tyrion considered that maybe his best advantage relied upon swift action. Maybe he could rouse Bronn and a few of the most discreet members of his jolly band to steal Stark, Lady Sansa and Jaime from their rooms and leave the inn that very night? They could be far, far away in the morning.

Then he remembered that the Hound held the only key to the room where Lord Eddard and Lady Sansa slept and was even sleeping in an opposite room to 'guard' them, and his momentary excitement deflated.

Also, that Brienne of Tarth held the key to Jaime's room and from the looks of it, probably slept on his doorstep. Besides, if the Stark troops knew the truth, they were likely on high alert for any unusual activities.

After Tyrion had concluded that violence was not an option in his favour, all he could do was to go ahead with the exchange, as much as it galled him. At least he could insist on getting the Hound too on top of the bargain. Stark would probably be happy to get rid of him, under the circumstances, thus avoiding having to fulfil uncomfortable promises.

What he really needed was to talk with Jaime. He might not know the situation either but might have some suggestions. The old Jaime would have thought nothing of resorting to an attack, to hells with the odds, but the Jaime Tyrion had met that day seemed to have lost some of his old spark along with the use of his legs. Yet Tyrion hoped his mind for strategy could still come up with something useful. If only he could get to spend a moment with Jaime alone, without his hulking nursemaid!

Accepting there was nothing else he could do that night, Tyrion climbed into his bed and buried himself deep into the mattress, surrendering to sleep. Sometimes one just had to adjust and try to get the best out of a bad situation. And try again, another day.

The next morning Tyrion tried his luck in securing a few private moments with Jaime but met only stony resistance from his guardian. Determined to seek permission directly from Lady Catelyn, preparing to grant her the same privilege of seeing her family in private, Tyrion went to seek her out when he heard the commotion outside.

He got to the yard just in time to see Lady Catelyn approaching the biggest wolf he had ever seen in his life.

"What is this about?" he asked Bronn, who stood among the crowd, arms crossed.

"A big bloody wolf snapping the lady's head off, if we're lucky. A shame, really, for such a handsome head, but that would solve some of our problems, would it not?"

Lady Catelyn was approaching the wolf carefully, the animal crouching against the ground. It could only be a direwolf, judging from its size. Tyrion remembered the wolves he had seen with the Stark children, and although they had been just puppies, they had already intimidated him with their size. Suddenly he understood better the terror of the stories regaled about the Young Wolf and his beastly companion in the battle.

"That can only be one of the Stark direwolves. Maybe our luck is turning, but for the worse; maybe Robb Stark has arrived with his troops." Tyrion saw his weak negotiating position getting weaker still, should the balance of fighting forces tip even more to the Stark's favour. He wondered if even he would get out of there in peace.

Nonetheless, no soldiers were seen, nor more Stark colours, and after a while, they saw Lady Catelyn riding away with the lady knight and one other companion.

Tyrion's mind worked feverishly; maybe this was his chance? If Bronn were able to pick the lock in Jaime's room – a skill he anticipated the sellsword might have acquired somewhere during his illustrious career as a thug – he could at least converse with Jaime in peace.

They tried, but Lady Catelyn had been more shrewd than Tyrion had anticipated, posting not one but two guards on Jaime's door.

Drowning his frustration in a goblet of wine, Tyrion sat brooding and figuring his remaining options when he heard the sounds of returning riders from the outside.

Intrigued, he followed the others back to the yard and saw a curious procession riding in. First came Brienne-fucking-Tarth, his arch nemesis when it came to Jaime, carrying a bunch of haphazard bundles on her saddle. Lady Catelyn followed, riding double with a wild-looking young boy, then the Stark soldier, riding with a burly young man.

Both newcomers looked familiar to Tyrion, and while the group dismounted, he squinted his eyes trying to remember where he might have seen them. That Lady Catelyn had brought them in must mean they were someone special… Then he recognised the younger boy.

Not a boy at all, but Arya Stark – the other daughter!

Tyrion cursed. The Red Keep seemed to leak like a sieve, with not one or two but all three Stark hostages the crown had held roaming the countryside free as birds. How the hells was it possible? Had the whole court became incompetent idiots?

Tyrion had assumed the younger Stark daughter was still being kept by Cersei as the last assurance of the Starks' good behaviour. His mind had even lazily drifted over the possibilities of at least something to be salvaged from the disaster of letting Sansa Stark leave, by betrothing Arya Stark to Prince Tommen. The marriage would have to wait for a few years, of course, but eventually, the bonds of kinship between the two opposing families might have a chance to heal at least some of the rift between them.

But no, of course Cersei and Joffrey had let this one, too, slip through their fingers.

However, the situation also offered some small compensations…

"A touching family reunion again, I see," he quipped at Lady Catelyn, standing firmly in the middle of the doorway when she reached the door. She was clutching the girl's hand and her face was flushed.

Irritation flashed over Lady Catelyn's face. "Please, move out of my way. I have to see my daughter in."

Tyrion didn't move. "I trust her lord father and her sister would be delighted to see her, too. I wish I could grant you the privilege, but alas, we agreed on restricted access to our respective hostages until the exchange is done."

The girl glared at him under her brow but Tyrion ignored it. Before Lady Catelyn had a chance to respond, Tyrion continued.

"I would be willing to grant you access to them, however, should you return the favour. I would like to spend some time with Jaime alone. Nothing that concerns you, but we have plans to make and things to discuss in regards to the current situation, and I'm sure you understand that not all things concerning our father's plans and how things stand in King's Landing are meant for your ears."

Lady Catelyn stared at him with open disdain. Visibly fighting two opposing emotions, the motherly side of her eventually won.

"Fine, so be it. Lady Brienne, please see Lord Tyrion to Ser Jaime and wait outside the room. Once I and my daughter return from seeing Lord Eddard and Lady Sansa, their time is up, too."

"My lady." Brienne bowed and brushed past Tyrion, glancing around her shoulder. "If you'd follow me, my lord."

"Bronn, escort the ladies Stark to their family. You heard the rest."

Tyrion's gaze lingered in the other youth, a tall dark boy, broad and muscled. There was something familiar in him that he couldn't quite place. Shrugging, he gave up trying to fathom it and followed Brienne.

"Where's Brienne?"

Jaime's first words surprised Tyrion. That the creature might have fallen for Jaime was no big surprise. Probably the only chance of love for a woman like her was to dream of unattainable men, so why not reach high? However, he had seen how Jaime had succumbed to her fussing without a complaint – and now this? The Jaime of old would be making witty japes about his guardian's monstrous size and big teeth, not asking after her.

The thought disturbed Tyrion. He couldn't even imagine how it would feel to lose something as vital for his being as Jaime had, by losing his ability to walk. It must have been deeply depressing, and maybe the woman had wormed her way under his skin when Jaime had been at his most vulnerable state. The sooner they got out of there and back to their family - as spurious support as it could offer - the better.

"She is outside the door. We have been granted some time alone, and I need to talk to you about something important." Tyrion scooted closer to Jaime. "How much do you know about this 'exchange'?"

Jaime shrugged. "Not much. First I was told I'd be taken to Stannis, to be bargained with for his support to Starks. Then you came in and told me about the exchange. I suppose they changed their plans."

"Well, then, would you be surprised to hear that there was no exchange planned at all?"

Tyrion told Jaime all he knew, and once again was taken aback by Jaime's lack of reaction. Before, Jaime would have cursed and sworn harsh retribution to anyone who dared such grave deceit. This… new Jaime took it all in silence. He didn't even laugh at it, taking it as a good jape at their expense, which was another reaction Tyrion might have expected.

"So Sandor finally snapped?" was all he said.

"One could say so. I can't figure out why; whether it was it the coin, a promise of lands or titles or something else the Starks might have promised." Tyrion left out his suspicions about Lady Sansa's role. Jaime had not yet met the girl, and during their visit in Winterfell, he had made some cutting comments about excitable country girls being dazzled by big city wonders. He wouldn't be able to link that girl with the one Tyrion had so recently met.

"It seems that the Starks are learning to play the game. Who would have guessed?"

"Maybe so." Tyrion leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I have tried to figure out our options, and unfortunately there are not many. We simply don't have enough men to make our point with swords. Had you been hale and hearty, we might just have had a chance, but – "

"I could always crawl on the ground and slice ankles with my dagger," Jaime suggested, a hint of his old sarcasm surfacing.

"The main thing is to get you back. Even if the Starks are starting to learn the game, I doubt they have ambitions to truly start playing it. I bet that after this they will happily go back to their cold lands and stay there. That will leave us to deal with Stannis - which is not a thoroughly disastrous outcome if you ask me. We'll be needed for that, so the sooner we can leave, the faster we can sort Stannis out."

Jaime didn't respond. Tyrion followed his gaze and saw that he, too, was studying the ceiling.

"Do you know that I have memorised every shape and curve of that ceiling. I have stared it long enough, although I have been here hardly a day."

Tyrion didn't understand the sudden change of topic. Jaime turned his head and looked at him in the eye.

"That's about all I am good for, now. I can't fight Stannis, I can't lead the men to fight him. I can't even very well travel with the war party, not in my state. Our father has no need for me."

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably. Jaime was right, of course. Their father had…

Yet another insight hit him. If the exchange had never been real, and Lord Tywin had known about Starks' escape and Lady Sansa's disappearance, it had been one more thing he had chosen not to share with Tyrion.

He pinched his lips together. Lies, lies and more lies!

"What is it, Tyrion?" Jaime's voice startled him.

"Our father. He didn't inform me about his plans to rescue you. He didn't share Joffrey's proclamation with me. He didn't tell me about Lord Eddard's escape or Clegane's betrayal. Had he done so, I would have had them, when I met them on the road. I could have taken them easily and return them to the capital," Tyrion said, tight-lipped.

Maybe being placed in the vanguard of the battle had not been a dubious but well-meant honour as he had thought, but an attempt to get him killed? Maybe Lord Tywin had finally had enough of his troublesome dwarf son and had decided to eliminate him altogether?

"He thinks you weak." Jaime clenched his jaw. "I guess I'll find out soon enough how it feels."

Tyrion ran his hand across his face and through his hair. His head had started to hurt again.

"Lady Sansa said to me – she is much changed, I tell you – that my family is not my friend, and that sooner or later they will turn against me. I guess I have always known that. Father, Cersei… but at least I have you on my side."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You have never looked down on me or betrayed me. I can't tell you how much it means to me." Tyrion looked at Jaime, whose countenance shifted.

"Jaime?" Tyrion hadn't exactly expected a heartfelt reciprocation, but something in Jaime's strained expression disturbed him.

After a long silence, during which Tyrion became even more worried, Jaime took a deep breath.

"Since I have started to come clean of my many shameful deeds, I might as well tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Jaime shifted higher in his bed and squared his shoulders.

"You remember that crofter's daughter you married?"

Tyrion jerked back. Remember? Of course he remembered!

Tysha. Her name was Tysha.

"You mean the whore who posed as a crofter's daughter," he replied, bitterness from many years ago still enough to strain his voice.

"She was not a whore. She truly was what she said she was." Jaime stared at his hands, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket on his lap.

Tyrion's mind went completely blank.

"Father made me tell you she was. He wanted the whole thing cleared as soon as possible, and he wanted to punish the girl for reaching too high."

"You… you knew this all along, and you let me believe… you let me watch when… " Tyrion was speechless.

"I did, and I shouldn't have. But Father was adamant. 'Better he is angry than love-stricken and stupid', he told me."

Tyrion scrambled to his feet. He had to get away. His breakfast of smoked eel and bacon started to make its way up and if he didn't get away, he would retch it out right then and there.

"Let me out!" he shouted at the door, and as soon as surprised Brienne opened it, he ducked past her and almost ran towards his room.

He heard Jaime calling after him but it didn't stop him.

She truly was what she said she was, ran in Tyrion's head over and over again.

That night Tyrion drank himself senseless. He sent Shae to find lodgings elsewhere; to throw Bronn and Pod out of their room, if necessary - but he simply couldn't stand anyone's company in the state of mind he was in.

Tysha.

In all honesty, he hadn't thought of the girl for a long time after recovering from the embarrassment and humiliation of being duped by a common whore.

Except she had not been a common whore. Just an innocent crofter's daughter, pulled into the toxic world of powerful and rich to be dazzled with promises of a better life and a kind husband, only to be devoured by the lions afterwards.

Tyrion drank red wine from Dorne, white wine from Dorne, distilled strongwine from the orchards in the Riverlands – whatever the inn had in its cellars, he called for it.

Bronn came to his door once and Pod tried to enter with a platter of food twice, but Tyrion had barred the door and shouted for them to stay away if they valued their hides. Once there was a knock on the door and a call from Jaime's nursemaid – Brienne the Beauty, as Bronn had chuckled about her nickname earlier – but Tyrion silenced her by throwing an empty jug against the door so it cracked and splintered on the floor. She didn't come again.

Your family is not your friend, you know. They don't want you to succeed, and sooner or later they will turn against you.

Sansa's words came back to haunt him again. Tyrion had known that all his life, of course, but he had thought it to exclude Jaime.

To the hells with Jaime – he can rot in seven hells.

Why should he worry about freeing Jaime when he had not cared to be on his side in one of the most important times of his young life? Tyrion felt dizzy and nauseated, and his stomach hardened so it felt like there was a stone buried deep inside him, cold and hard and unmovable.

After Tyrion had drunk enough – too much – he even cried, ending up with a splotchy nose and puffy eyes. That he could still experience so much raw emotion surprised him, but he was in no position to analyse it. He only sought the sweet oblivion passing out drunk could grant – and eventually, he reached it.

The next morning dawned grey and bleary, just like Tyrion felt when he woke up. The hammering inside his head drowned out all other sensations, except nausea that threatened to spill over when he moved.

Clutching at crumpled sheets, he played the previous evening's events in his mind over and over again. Jaime's confession, his horrible realisation of what their father had done to the girl he had loved, his own role in it.

It was almost noon when Tyrion eventually got up. Pod had been behind his door several times, as had Bronn and Brienne. Had Jaime sent her? Who else, Tyrion thought, feeling weird that for once it was the other way around, Jaime seeking his company, even if in a roundabout way.

After getting dressed - gingerly and avoiding fast movements - Tyrion made his way to the back room of the inn and called for some breakfast. Soon enough he had a platter of fried eggs and bread in front of him, which he eyed cautiously, eventually venturing to try eating the food in small bites.

What was he going to do? Go to King's Landing and face Cersei's wrath for abandoning Jaime? The prospect didn't have much appeal to him, especially not after what he knew about his father's machinations. Tyrion was sickened by the lack of trust his own father had shown and couldn't see anything good coming from going back to him, so that ruled out returning to Tywin's war camp.

So what was he supposed to do?

Staring vacantly ahead of him while chewing his bread, Tyrion sensed rather than saw movement beside him. A flash of auburn, a rustle of skirts. He looked up and found Sansa Stark standing next to him.

"Lady Sansa."

"Lord Tyrion." The girl stared at him. "Would you mind if I sat down?"

"No, of course not. Please," Tyrion gestured at the seat opposite to him. Lady Sansa walked around the table and sat down. She seemed to be hesitating, but before Tyrion had a chance to ask what she had in her mind, she opened her mouth.

"What do you plan to do now?"

As if Tyrion wasn't just trying to figure it out himself.

"What do you mean, my lady?"

"Where will you go after the exchange?" Those blue eyes were much too perceptive to Tyrion's liking. He tried to behave nonchalantly nonetheless.

"To the South. Why would you want to know? Shouldn't you be more concerned about your own family's plans?"

"I would like to suggest a place for you to visit if you are not in too much of a hurry to reach your other destination."

Tyrion raised his eyebrows; another unexpected approach by Lady Sansa. Was she going to suggest some treasonous activity? A side trip to a Targaryen hotbed of conspirators, perhaps? Tyrion wouldn't put anything past her, after having observed her and her odd behaviour for several days.

"Please, do tell," he replied politely. After all, it was not as if his plans had been fixed.

"Have you ever heard of The Quiet Isle at the mouth of the Trident?"

The question threw Tyrion off. The Quiet Isle? Yes, he had heard of it. A holy place, a place for penitents seeking to atone for their sins. There was possibly no place more unsuitable for Tyrion. Admitting that he was, indeed, vaguely aware of the existence of such place and what it stood for, Tyrion waited for Lady Sansa to continue her intriguing line of thought. She didn't disappoint him.

"There is a man on that island, one of the Brothers of Seven. I don't know what his real name is, but he is called the Elder Brother. He is supposed to be a great healer, a man who knows more about the human body and its ailments than anyone else." She took a deep breath. "Maybe he could help your brother, Ser Jaime?"

A great healer? Tyrion digested it. A true healer or a religious charlatan?

"If you mean that he would pray for the restoration of my brother's health, I think I can get enough prayers by going back to King's Landing and engaging the brothers of the Great Sept of Baelor for that task."

"No, I didn't mean like that. He is a real healer. One of the best, if not the best, of this time."

Tyrion eyed the girl opposite her – damn, she was serious! Her eyes were bright and she was leaning forward as if she would be able to make her case better that way.

"I admire your enthusiasm, I really do, my lady. But how do you know so much about this man and his skills? Have you or your family been treated by him? Why would you suggest this to me?" What is in it for you? he was trying to ask her without so many words.

"I have read about him and heard of his many deeds. He is not only a man of faith but a true artist in his craft. I just think that in the state that Ser Jaime is, it might be prudent to explore all possible options."

"Hmmm. Maybe so." Tyrion didn't want to give her an immediate satisfaction, but what he was hearing, did make sense. If he still cared about what happened to Jaime, that is.

"You will naturally do what you think is best. Maybe return to the warm embrace of your family – if you think it warm, still." Lady Sansa got up. "Yet, think about this option too. And think about what I said before."

Tyrion stared at her back as she walked away, head held high. No, he certainly was not going to forget her warning. Or stop wondering why she had seen fit to give it to him.