It was a cool summer day as Sansa Stark stood overlooking the balcony of her royal chambers. She felt a sense of anticipation.
She was waiting. For what, she couldn't quite say, but she felt something coming nonetheless.
"Your grace, it's not safe for you to stand in the open for so long."
Sansa turned to regard Ser Erwin Black, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard.
"Thank you for your concern Ser Erwin, but I'm of the North and the cold doesn't bother me, Ser. I am made of sterner stuff," Sansa replied.
Ser Erwin dipped his head in acknowledgement. "As you say Your Grace, but there are matters to attend to with the Small Council, they no doubt are awaiting your arrival".
Sighing, Sansa left the balcony to head toward the chambers of the Small Council. Her Lord Commander was a silent shadow on her journey.
After the death of her father a few moons ago, she had become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Barely one and twenty, and she was in charge of seeing to the wellbeing of Westeros and the millions that lived within its borders.
It was a hard responsibility to swallow, but arguably harder for her family, especially her mother who grieved not only the loss of her King but her husband as well. Catelyn Stark nee Tully hadn't stopped crying and wailing for moons after his death.
Her younger brother Robb had tried his best to comfort their mother, feeling obligated as the eldest male son, but he couldn't always be there for her. He was the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North; with winter coming he had to prepare his people without fail.
As Sansa drew nearer to the Council chambers, she pondered the problem laid before her. To pick a suitable Hand.
The previous Hand, Jon Arryn had died under suspicious circumstances shortly before her father's death, then her father had followed soon after. There had been worry and panic that the two were connected but an investigation had proven her father had died of natural causes. The cause of Jon Arryn's death was still a source of unease, but one that was being thoroughly looked at.
In the meantime, life must go on, and the Small Council wasn't complete without a Hand. They were a ruler's most important advisor and were responsible for spotting important issues a ruler might overlook. Sansa had a man in mind for the position but knew she should discuss it with the small council first.
As she entered the room, everyone stood to pay their respects. Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers was the first to speak.
"Your Grace, it's good to see you. We have a most urgent matter to discuss at the moment."
Sansa nodded as seated herself at the head of the table before everyone else followed suit. "Thank you, Lord Varys, I'm aware. I have a man in mind for the position of Hand, but would welcome my advisor's opinions on the matter."
"Whom did you have in mind, Your Grace?" asked the Master of Ships, Lord Stannis Baratheon of Storm's End.
"It might come as a surprise to you all, but I've given it much consideration and careful thought. I would ask Lord Tywin Lannister to become my Hand of the Queen."
A silence fell over the room as the council digested the news. There were stunned looks on everyone's faces, as no doubt they recalled her father's open disdain for Tywin Lannister and couldn't understand why his daughter would choose such a man for such a valuable position.
Sansa wondered how long they would remain silent until finally Lord Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin spoke.
"Your Grace, with all due respect, your choice might not be wise. Lord Lannister's ruthless reputation is well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. You might want to ponder on the message you may be sending by having such a man as your Hand."
"I know that my lord, but he's also a man who's good at ruling both his own region and the realm during his years as Hand to the Mad King. In spite of Aerys madness he managed to keep the realm at peace," Sansa countered, having already known she would need to have strong arguments prepared.
Grand Maester Luwin tried to persuade her next, saying, "You Grace, I'm not sure he's a man you can easily handle. I mean no disrespect," he rushed to say at the growing frown on her face. "I mean to say he will have his own demands before he would accept the position."
Sansa nodded before saying confidently, "I'm aware Grand Maester, and I'm ready to indulge his demands, within reason, whatever they may be."
Stannis rose from his chair clearing his throat. "It seems your mind is set Your Grace. I can understand your reasoning and appreciate you've given this matter the consideration it deserves. Currently, there is no one quite as qualified as Lord Lannister to be Hand of the Queen."
Sansa began to smile, glad she had nuncle Stannis on her side, until he continued.
"But, I must warn you he lacks honor in achieving his goals. Nonetheless, I will accept whatever you decide. Now I beg your forgiveness, I have matters to attend to regarding the royal fleet that cannot wait."
Sansa allowed the rest of the council to voice their opinions but they were much the same as before, will all agreeing they would back her decision. Satisfied, and having no more pressing business for the day, Sana stood and dismissed the council.
As she departed with Ser Erwin in tow, she directed as him, "I need to go to my solar Ser Erwin and write some letters". The Lord Commander nodded.
On her way she saw Arya with her guard Ser Amos Tully, a distant relative of her mother, training with swords in the courtyard. Although she loved her sister, Sansa envied her carefree attitude and that she wasn't saddled with the great burden of running the Seven Kingdoms. At the age of 16 Arya was far from the princess and lady her mother whished her to be. With her sword Needle, Sansa was sure she and her mother would have a hard time getting Arya to do her duty by marrying a lord and producing children.
No, Arya was much too stubborn and headstrong to be told what to do.
Sansa sighed. Speaking of duty, many a suitor from around Westeros had petitioned to wed Sansa and become her consort. Not all of them were lacking but she simply felt none of them were the right man. Many had had great fortunes to back them but it had done little to persuade her.
Even the handsome heir of Highgarden, Willas Tyrell, had not swayed her. Frankly, in his case Sansa had worried about having his grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell, otherwise known as the Queen of Thorns for a great goodmother, as well as having to contend with her games. Court was enough of a viper's nest. She did not want a husband who could be influenced by anyone or anything. She wanted a man who she could depend on him to rule beside her.
Arriving at her solar her handmaiden Meara was waiting for her. "Your Grace, may I prepare your bath now?"
Sansa briefly let herself be tempted by the relaxation granted by a nice hot bath before declining. It was best to write to Lord Lannister now. "No Meara, I have an important letter to write. Have my bath ready before the evening meal." "Of course, you grace" Meara curtsied and left the room to attend to her queen's matters.
Sansa sat at her desk and tried to gather her thoughts as to how word her missive. Tywin Lannister was a man full of pride. Though she requesting him to be her Hand she had no doubt he would be looking for any perceived slight in its wording. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms she may be, but the Old Lion had proven to be a formidable adversary even to a monarch.
She stared at the blank parchment and started to write:
To Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West.
Due to the matter of vacancy of the Hand of the Queen, We, after much discussion and deliberation have chosen you to be our Hand in the coming years. Any demands you may have will be welcome to introduce. The ceremony of appointment will be arranged and held as soon as you introduce your demands and they are agreed upon.
Queen Sansa of House Stark, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.
Sansa read her letter multiple times. The letter was short but to the point. Time was important for a man like Tywin Lannister. Best not to waste it with unnecessary inquiries like asking after his health. Especially, since everyone knew despite his age Tywin Lannister was stronger and healthier than ever, if for no other reason than to delay his youngest from becoming Lord of Casterly Rock.
Sansa found it fascinating that though she had never met the man in her life his deeds were known throughout the realm. The destruction of the Houses Reyne and Tarbeck, as well as the sack of King's Landing, were actions not easily forgotten. The last act had forever made her father hate him, though he had willingly joined Robert Baratheon in his Rebellion against the Mad King, and his army had been the key to achieving several important victories.
Sansa stood and gave the letter to Ser Erwin. "Tell Grandmaester Luwin to send this immediately to the Warden of the West using the fastest raven available. Any response should be given to me immediately." Ser Erwin bowed in acquiesce before leaving the room. Sansa went to her bathing chambers to enjoy a nice bath to ease the tension in her muscles before dinner.
The next day there was a raucous at her door.
"Let me in! I'm the Queen Mother for heaven's sake, you will let me see my daughter!" With a sigh Sansa motioned for a servant to open the door.
Catelyn Stark swept into the room without delay and proceeded to yell at her daughter the moment she laid furious blue eyes on her. "Tywin Lannister! Are you insane Sansa? He's an ambitious and ruthless man willing to do whatever it takes to gain more power. Power you would be willingly giving away! He'll take advantage of you! Your father would be so disappointed in you, if he was alive!"
"Enough!" Sansa had at first been willing to let her mother vent her frustrations but that last remark had taken things too far.
She knew that something like this would happen eventually, that her mother would continue to see her as a child that needed her guidance despite being a woman grown and a queen no less. But this was ridiculous.
But she refused to be scolded like a child by anyone, let alone her mother, especially not like this where all could hear and make judgement. She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and would be treated as such! She would allow no one to undermine her. Not even her mother.
She looked at her mother with barely restrained fury in her own Tully blue eyes. "I can do as I please Mother, without telling you. Why? Because I Queen and a woman grown! One who must do what is best for Westeros, despite what I or others might wish. That includes you!"
Anger flashed in her mother's eyes before she stormed out of the room as quickly as she'd come without another word. Sansa held her head between clenched fists trying to control the oncoming headache caused by her mother's antics.
Knowing she can't stay cooped up in her rooms despite the illness, not unless she wished unsavory rumors to start, called her handmaiden Meara to prepare for the day.
…
Green eyes watched the sunset while holding a letter in his right hand as he stood looking out the window of his solar.
"She has some bravery, I'll give her that," remarked a man sitting next to him.
The two men shared similar features. Golden hair, green eyes and fine aristocratic features. Although, there were differences to be sure. The man standing was taller and leaner with a shaved head and a full beard, while the man sitting was balding, short and portly.
"What do you think Kevan? Should I accept?" asked Lord Tywin Lannister in a growling baritone.
Kevan Lannister got up to stand next to his brother and sighed, "She appears to be serious. She at least knows you're not likely to accept outright without demands of your own to be met."
Tywin hummed. "It is a good opportunity to be sure. I already know what I'll ask in return. But the question is, will she be brave enough to accept?"
Kevan frown. "I do not understand brother. What will you demand from her?" Tywin shook his head as he looked at Kevan.
"All due in time brother. All due in time."
Tywin went to the door of his solar to call his squire Cheryin. The boy was in front of him quick as lightning. It seemed he was finally learning. "Wait here until I finish a letter, then I want it run to the Maester and sent to King's Landing post haste. I will strangle you by my own hand if you forget that." The boy nodded vigorously looking as if he was going to piss his pants. Tywin resisted the urge to both laugh and roll his eyes in annoyance.
Tywin then returned to his desk to being writing his reply:
To Queen Sansa of House Stark, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.
I would be honored to accept the position of Hand of the Queen, Your Grace. My arrival to King's Landing will be in about three weeks' time. As for my demands, I only have one that we will discuss only once we've met in person.
Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West.
Tywin summoned Cheryin and gave him the letter before pouring himself a cup of wine into a golden goblet. Although, Tywin wasn't much of a drinker this was a special occasion. He'd almost forgotten his brother was still in the room as he pondered on what the future would bring.
Tywin started preparations the very day. He informed Ser Addam Marbrand, the Lord Commander of the Lannister Army of his next move. Two thousand men would accompany their liege lord to King's Landing within the week. One might think it an unnecessary number of soldiers but no man could predict what might happen on the road. Besides, Tywin loved to show off his power.
Currently seated in his solar penning missives to be sent to his bannermen, he was suddenly distracted by a noise out in the corridor. Whistling? Who could possibly—
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that Tywin knew exactly who it was. The bane of his existence.
His dwarf son Tyrion opened the door of the solar. "Father, have I heard correctly! You're to be Hand of the King once more? Or rather Queen in this case. Quite a beautiful queen they say. Oh father, unfortunately there is no way to go back in time and have a full golden head of hair again. I'd imagine you'd want to look your best before such a queen."
Tywin gave his son a hard glare. "What do you want Tyrion?"
Tyrion waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Oh nothing, Father. I'm simply here to congratulate you on your appointment. And of course, to make my intention known to travel to King's Landing with you."
Tywin grit his teeth as he continued to fix his embarrassment of a son with a flinty glare. "And why would I bring you with me to King's Landing? The shame of House Lannister."
Tyrion abandoned his japing, his expression turning serious. "I can be of benefit to you there, Father. I know just where to go to get important information. If nothing else another Lannister will there as your eyes and ears. "
After thinking for several moments Tywin spoke, "You may be right. Who better than you to mingle with the whoring noble lords of court and bring me important information that spills from their loose tongues?"
Tyrion grinned and with a laugh said, "There! Father you know me so well!" Satisfied that he'd gotten what he wanted Tyrion soon departed.
Tywin murmured to himself, "Whoring and drinking. That's all the little beast is good for."
Though Tywin found he was disappointed and ashamed of all three of his children.
His heir and pride and joy, Jamie had married a giant of a woman called Brienne of Tarth against his wished. They had fled the Westerland's after eloping knowing he would never approve of such a match. Tywin remembered the day vividly when he'd been informed of his son's folly. He'd had any who assisted them in fleeing flogged and had the Septon who'd married them without his knowledge beheaded.
Cersei had married Karn Marbrand, older brother of Ser Addam Marbrand, but had failed to provide the man with even one heir; she'd miscarried all of her pregnancies thus far and did not seem worried about producing any heir worthy of Houses Lannister and Marbrand.
Tywin knew this was his last opportunity to bring glory to his house. He would not let it slip from his grasp.