A/N: We're switching from Sandor/Arya this chapter to catch up on what is happening in King's Landing. This one takes place directly after we see that Sansa got the news of the Red Wedding while Jamie Lannister returns to the Keep.
And: check out a neat little modern AU called What Happens at Disney over at Archive of our Own (or here on FF). It's my favorite story and I just adore it.
Don't forget to review! They're like candy for muse:)
22: What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Angry
"Sansa," Tyrion called gently. His wife was staring out the window in their room and his heart dropped at the sight. She didn't say anything and words refused to form in his mind. What could he say? That he was sorry? He was, but no apology could make things right. He had treated her kindly and they had begun to bond in a strange sort of way.
He had never been one to succumb to the pressures of words aimed at his appearance. But it would not have mattered if he looked like Jamie – he was a monster in her eyes. Perhaps it was the only time he truly felt like one too. It made no difference that he had nothing to do with the massacre at the Twins. He was a Lannister. And he had never hated his name more than he did now.
Leaving her in peace, he backed out of the room and ran into Shae.
"What is it?" the brunette asked. "What's happened?" Tyrion held the tiny note out and watched as she read it. Her face became clouded as the words weighed on her. "I don't understand," she continued. "What does this mean?"
"It means quite a few things," he replied sadly. "But the only one that matters is that the Starks are dead. She is alone now."
"She's not alone," Shae clarified. She moved around the small lord and entered the room.
Once the door closed, Tyrion dropped his head against the heavy wood and sighed from the bottom of his soul. He had grown fond of his wife and he had no doubt that given time, she would have felt the same. Now their connection had been obliterated with the blade of a knife.
Hushed but excited whispers drifted over to him and he noticed several maids chattering amongst themselves. For such a solemn occasion, they certainly looked happy. "What's going on?" he demanded.
They curtsied slightly and one announced, "You haven't hear my lord? Ser Jamie has returned!"
Tyrion felt his world start to blacken. His brother, his protector, and ally had come back. For a brief moment he hesitated before waddling as fast as possible, following the maids that had been sent for clean clothes and washrags. Each step felt smaller and the journey longer than normal the closer he got. He wondered at some point if he had begun to walk backwards. Finally, at long last he found the center of attention focused on his father's solar. He maneuvered his way through the maesters and others who crowded the room until he came to the center.
"What are you doing here?" Cersei snapped.
Tyrion ignore that jab and walked to his brother's side. "Jaime," he said slowly, not believing his brother was actually within arm's length. "You're alive."
Jamie's eyes filled with water and his jaw shook from the emotions running through him. His father's menacing glare at his younger brother made him sober. "I am."
The air had become stifled from the awkwardness. Clearly, Tyrion was not wanted. He wasn't wanted anywhere it seemed. He cleared his throat and nodded formally. "I am glad to see you have returned."
Jamie wanted nothing more than to hug his brother. But with his twin and father around, they would never be able to talk about anything that needed to be said. "Thank you." He watched in sadness as his younger brother left and noticed the pleasant smile across Cersei's lips. His father's expression was as passive as ever. Once Tyrion left, Tywin instructed that his son give a briefing on his experiences and to have a bath drawn up. "Lord Varys," Jamie called.
"Yes, Ser Jamie?" the eunuch replied, waiting until the room had cleared before scooting ever so close to the crippled knight.
Jamie let his gaze slide over the room before dropping his voice to a soft whisper. "I need you to speak to me brother for me."
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Sansa let another tear drop from her pale skin and onto her dress. There was a large damp spot soaked into the material already but she didn't care. Her fingers felt from numb from holding the thin paper for so long; but to let it go was unbearable. She flinched from the touch on her shoulder.
"My lady," Shae said softly. "Do you need anything?"
A very unladylike snort came from the redhead but she didn't move an inch. The sun had begun to set directly in her eyes but Sansa felt so hollow as the rays slid across her skin. Her cheeks were tight and her eyes were heavy but still she stayed by the window, desperately hoping that it was all a nightmare – like the night she dreamt of the riots. She closed her eyelids tight and let herself drift amongst the blackness.
When she opened them again the sun had begun lose its shine. There was a plate of food and even some lemon cakes waiting to be consumed. Carefully, she stretched her body from hours of stiffness and glided over to the table. She peered down at the silver plate with contempt. She felt so empty but rage had begun to slowly creep inside her. Her chest heaved at the short breaths that were coming as she strained to keep herself in check. It would not do to have anyone see her lose control, especially Cersei. At the image of the woman's sinister smile, Sansa's stomach lurched. The air in the room felt thick and Sansa thought she was going to choke in the toxic atmosphere. She needed to get out.
Her body slammed into Loras Tyrell, who had just arrived. He quickly gained control of them both but noticed Sansa's frigid limbs. "Lady Sansa," he addressed. "My sister has sent me."
Sansa didn't want to talk but it would have been discourteous to simply push past him. This was one the times Sansa missed Sandor's imposing presence. "Oh?"
"She sends her deepest condolences," he said gently. "As do I and my grandmother."
"Thank you, Ser Loras," she replied in a whisper. "If you will excuse me, I am not feeling well."
A look of sincere compassion settled on his handsome features. "Of course, my lady. If you need anything…"
Sansa let a small smile be her parting response. Her septa would scold her for such unladylike behavior but Sansa had no guilt about it. She pulled her cowl over her head and hurried down a dark stairwell that Sandor had shown her once. She arrived at the back part of the hallway where Sandor's room was located. Though this part of the Keep felt dingy, it didn't stop maids and knights from coupling against the walls. She kept her hood drawn and face down but she needn't have bothered; no one was paying attention.
Arya would have been proud at her stealth, she thought. She slid between the door and wall with ease and breathed a heartfelt sigh once the hook latched. His room was just as she remembered: bare and without life. It was perfect. The thin, scratchy blanket and torn bed called to her and she answered. With a hard thud she landed and was immediately inundated with his scent. His pillow held her head as she cried into the tough material. For a brief moment she wondered how he could possibly be comfortable at night but she quickly threw the thought away as she settled further in. His physique had formed indentations and she shifted so that she filled the lingering spots. She was far too small to fit it the way he did but that didn't matter. A blanket lingered near her feet and she covered herself with it, yawning as she did so.
Her Tully eyes flittered closed but she didn't sleep. There was a pleasant buzz outside the door as the changing of the guards occurred. Those that were coming in were giving inside information to those whose shifts were starting. She couldn't hear what they were saying but their voices filled the empty space around her.
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Tyrion checked but he simply could not find his wife anywhere. He dare not ask a passerby as they would most likely have the news spreading that Sansa had disappeared. No, he had to keep this search private.
"My lord," Varys called softly from a dark corner.
'Why am I not surprised?' Tyrion thought. He carefully checked to see if anyone was around before going over. "How did you know I would be here?"
"You have passed this hallway twice. It doesn't take a spider to know that you are looking for something."
Tyrion shifted uncomfortably. "Sansa is missing."
"No she isn't," the bald man replied quickly. "I have something that might interest you."
"What is it?"
"A golden lion told me that there was a bath drawn in the Captain's room of the kingsguard quarters. It might be wise to act upon a quiet moment should you happen to find yourself expanding your search."
Tyrion watched the Spider crawl back into the walls and immediately headed for his brother. His legs felt ten times shorter than they normally did as he struggled to pick up the pace.
"Did anyone follow you?" Jamie drawled from the bath.
"Probably," Tyrion said carelessly. He shut the door quietly and sat on the edge of the deep tub. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he pointed to Jamie's stump. "What happened?"
Jamie let his shame and embarrassment cloud his handsome features. "Someone liked it better than my mouth."
Tyrion shared a bitter smirk with his brother. "What did father say when he saw it?"
"Nothing. He didn't have to. He just stared at me – like he used to do when you were little."
"You're crippled now," Tyrion quipped seriously.
Jamie's jaw shook slightly as he tried to control himself. "What do I do now?"
Tyrion stared at his only brother as the latter sat pitiful in the dirtying water. The silent plea did not go unheeded. "Now you fight."
Jamie looked hurt. "How can I do that?" he snapped with hurt. He waved the stump around to emphasize his point. "I have no bloody hand!"
"Then you will get a new one. Unless you would rather waste away your life by pitying your poor, lost hand."
"It isn't pity," Jamie said through gritted teeth.
"Horseshit," Tyrion snorted. "You are a cripple. So what? That does not mean you get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You have one perfectly good hand, your head, and your name. That is a hell of a lot more than others have."
"I have had enough talks about what others do and don't have. Is it too much to ask for a little sympathy?"
Tyrion sighed heavily. "I know it's hard. But things always are in the beginning. Eventually, you will live again. It won't be easy but it is possible. You are still father's favorite and the captain of the kingsguard. I would say that is two things in your favor. It could be worse."
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't heard?" When Jamie shook his head, Tyrion told him about the Red Wedding.
Jamie listened intently at the story. He knew his father had been working on something but not like that. His stomach dropped when he heard the detail of Robb Stark's corpse being mutilated. "Does Sansa know?"
"She got the letter shortly after I did."
"How is she?" Tyrion gave his brother a reproachful look and Jamie immediately felt terrible. Hanging around Brienne had really made him sensitive and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Right," he added, seeing the obviousness of his question. "Of course, she's probably inconsolable."
"She hates me."
"She hates all of us," Jamie added miserably.
Though the Starks had never been his favorite people, Sansa certainly didn't deserve this treatment. He imagined how he would feel if Cersei's head was mounted on some animal's body and instantly felt sick.
To change the subject, Tyrion asked, "Who was the woman who brought you in?"
"Brienne," Jamie answered quietly. "Of Tarth."
"Brienne the Beauty?" the small lord said in disbelief.
The derisive nickname rankled Jamie's nerves. "Don't call her that," he defended hotly. "Her name is Brienne."
His brother's boldness at the name caught Tyrion's attention but he quickly brushed his suspicions aside. More pressing matters called to his attention. "How was she?"
"Irritating," Jamie grimaced. "I tried to challenge her to a swordfight but she never so much as budged on the offer. I did everything to get away from her but that woman is as obstinate as her size. It wasn't until we came across Hoat that things started to change."
"Vargo Hoat? That's who cut your hand off."
Jamie's long hair moved as he nodded. "His men were going to rape her – I pitied them at first at having such low standards. But I heard her scream and I couldn't breathe. So I tried to bribe my way out of it. That's when Hoat decided he wanted to teach me a lesson. It was my hand for her virtue." Jamie stared at the wall as he remembered every detail. "I suppose it was an even trade now that I think about it."
"How so?"
"I don't know. I should say something about one of us keeping a shred of honor but the truth is, I couldn't stomach the reality of what was going to happen. It just wasn't right. If I hadn't done something to stop it, I would never have been able to live with myself."
"You killed your king, slept with your own sister, and threw a child out of a window but one woman being raped is something you couldn't live with it?"
"Strange, isn't it?" Jamie smirked without a trace of humor. "The funny thing is I can't stand the blasted woman – always going on about honor as though it's the only thing that matters. It's bloody annoying."
"And yet you lost your hand because of it. Maybe there is some honor in you after all."
"Don't you start too," Jamie smiled slightly.
The door opened a servant came in with a pair of clippers. He immediately became shy and apologized profusely.
"I was keeping my brother company," Tyrion explained. "But husbandly duties call."
"I'll come see you for dinner. If that's all right?"
Tyrion struggled to hide the swell of pride rising in him. He had sorely missed his brother. "I think there will be room enough," he teased.
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Jamie walked along the dark corridor, feeling more like a spy than ever before. He vaguely wondered how Varys and Littlefinger did it all the time. It was rank with mold and he felt like he was back at Harrenhal. The unpleasantness threatened to overcome him and he felt light headed.
He brought his hand up to help guide him but let out a frustrated grunt when the stub did nothing but lay against the bricks. A girlish laugh echoed down the hall and he stumbled back into the darkness. It was Jonella, one of Cersei's maids with Osmund Kettleblack. His skin crawled just thinking what those two were doing. The pair danced down the hallway until they rounded the corner. But before he could move again, a door creaked loudly and a hooded figure slid past.
'That's Clegane's room,' Jamie thought curiously. He knew the warrior was away but also knew that no one ever went in there – the Hound never even took whores near it. For Sandor Clegane, his room was his sanctuary.
Sansa felt her skin prickle in the only way it would when she was being watched. Though her hood concealed her face, she was shaking from the nerves. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. Suddenly, she heard a loud gasp from the end of the walkway and saw a man almost falling out the hidden corner. She went to run but her shoe caught her gown, making her trip. Her palms broke her fall but cut the skin fairly deeply. Ignoring the pain, she bolted from her spot and refused to look back.
"Wait!" Jamie hollered. His legs refused to go fast though and he found himself fumbling around corners and almost tripping himself. By time he had reached the throne room, the figure was gone. Several people were staring at him though and murmuring their shock at his appearance. "I know," he said with little breath. "It's the hair. It's really short."
No one looked amused but he didn't really care. He always thought most of them were humorless anyway. He raced up the stairs and scanned from above to see if he could catch the…whatever it was – a whore, thief, or something else – that seemed to be making their way into the Keep and rooms. What other motive could there be except to steal money or possessions and sell them? Then once they had cleaned out the guards' rooms, would they come for the highborn? Jamie snorted at his own paranoia. Whoever it was that had been in Clegane's room did so because they knew he wasn't there and wasn't coming back any time soon. That or they had a death wish.
"Jamie?" Cersei called. "What are you doing out here? You should be resting."
He went to tell her about what he saw but quickly thought better of it. "I was looking for Brienne." That was the truth. He just happened to get sidetracked.
Cersei's expression hardened into a scowl. "Why?" she spat.
"To see if she was being treated well," he sighed. Had he really worked so hard to come home to this woman? He didn't remember his sister being so vicious.
"I'm sure she will appreciate anything," his twin replied in disdain.
Jamie suddenly felt exhausted. "I'm going to my room. Wanna join me?" he winked.
Her reaction showed her disgust. "No. I have things of my own to attend to."
The court below buzzed with voices that had witnessed the encounter. Jamie assumed that rumors were still flying about his incestuous relationship. As if he and Cersei were the most interesting thing to talk about in all of Westeros. Dragons were in existence, there were tales of White Walkers, the Red Wedding, and so many other things were happening but for some reason, his relationship with his sister continued to fascinate.
"Idiots," he muttered spitefully.
He pushed himself off the banister and walked toward the kingsguard quarters. It was his first day back but he already felt both overwhelmed at the changes and underwhelmed at how the people hadn't changed. He thought he would be welcomed home with a grand feast – he was Tywin's heir after all – but the only thing anyone was concerned about was his hand. He began to long for Brienne's silent company and his brother's unprejudiced eye.
Then the crowd parted as Brienne and Margaery made their way through the useless throng. Margaery was smiling as always but did not stop to talk to anyone; Brienne stuck out like Jamie's mangled hand but the curiosity of the room didn't deter her confidence. Her wide face jerked upward and their eyes connected. Jamie sent her an unsure smile, which she returned. He saw her speak to the king's betrothed and walked toward the stairs.
Jamie turned from Margaery's slightly frowned face and met Brienne half way. "Margaery seems in a hurry," he said lowly.
"She and I have things to catch up on," Brienne replied. "What are you doing?"
"I was going to rest. I'm having supper with my brother tonight." A candle flickered in his mind and he added, "Why don't you join us?"
Brienne's cheeks flushed slightly at the invitation. "No, thank you. I'm sure you two want some time for yourselves."
"Then at least join us for dessert," he urged. "I insist."
"All right," Brienne conceded. "What time?"
"I'll send Pod to come get you." He hid a grin as she tried hard to hide her blush. She never could stomach niceness from him very well. "Don't worry about wearing a dress. Tyrion couldn't care less and I've seen you naked."
Brienne choked lightly at the careless comment and turned a violent shade of red. "Stop it," she admonished quietly. She glanced down and noted that Margaery was suffering through a conversation with the Septon. "Lady Margaery is waiting for me."
"You musn't keep the rose waiting," he replied with a smirk. "Don't forget about tonight."
He watched with mirth as she hurried down the steps and escorted the future queen from the clutches of the Septon. Teasing Brienne of Tarth had become a hobby for him – much like her constantly reminding him of honor and morals.
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Sansa unwrapped herself from her clothes and quickly hid them in the chest next to her bed. In it was Sandor's blackened cape from the night of the Blackwater invasion. He had gotten a new one but she begged to keep it, much to his confusion as to why she would want a dirtied cloak from one of the worst nights of his life.
She brought it to her nose and inhaled his scent, which had permanently attached itself to the cloth. The door opened and Tyrion's short head bobbed in the air. Sansa threw the cloak back in the chest and quickly pushed the box back into the corner.
"My lady," Tyrion said, clearly surprised to see her. Sansa nodded curtly and sat on the bed. Her husband joined her albeit on the other side. "I would like to speak with you a moment, if that's all right."
"You are my lord husband," she replied flatly. "You can do anything you like."
Tyrion grimaced at her tone. "That's not true, Sansa." He took a deep breath and said, "My brother has returned."
Sansa's heart felt as though it were being shredded all over again. "How wonderful for you, my lord."
"I only say it to let you know that he will be here for supper."
Sansa nodded. "Very well."
"I believe he wants to invite Brienne of Tarth as well. Do you know her?"
The redhead shook her head. "No, my lord."
"She was sworn to your mother."
At that, Sansa turned face him. "She is here also?"
"She is. Now, both would understand your absence but I think this would be the best opportunity to hear what she has to say."
Though she was eager to speak with Brienne, she had no interest in the Lannisters. "I see." Her courtesies were her armor and it was time to don them once more. "I will do my duty."
'She is dutiful,' Tyrion thought dismally. But there was no life in duty. Otherwise it would be called pleasure. "Good."
A few hours later, Shae helped Sansa into a blue and white dress – her way of rebelling against Joffrey's orders for her not mourn her family.
"Why are you doing this?" Shae clipped.
"I want to look at his face," Sansa said strongly. "I want to see what being around my brother did to him."
Shae let the strings fall and her brow furrowed in concern. "Why?"
Sansa whipped her head around. "I can't explain it. I just have to."
The brunette's face softened despite her disapproval. "Be strong," she advised. "Show them what a wolf is capable of in a lion's den."
"I will."
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Tyrion had Pod open the door while he stood to greet his brother. Sansa was still in the bedroom doing only gods knew what. Jamie entered the solar and the two embraced.
"Brother," Jamie smiled.
Tyrion let a grin cross his face. "Welcome home, Jamie."
The pair sat at the table, which held so much food that it had stopped one meat short of a feast.
"Who else is coming?" Jamie laughed, motioning to the supper table.
"I'm sure you must be starved after your travels," Tyrion quipped.
Jamie grasped the fork with his left hand and struggled to cut the large chunk of meat on his plate. Tyrion nodded his head to Pod to help but Jamie stopped the young man. "I got used to Brienne doing this for me," he said with a shy smile.
The two talked for a little while though Jamie struggled to eat. Tyrion finally sent Pod to fetch the newest arrival as soon as they were on their last course.
"And when can we expect your friend?" Tyrion asked as he sipped his drink.
"Any minute now," Jamie guessed. "I assume your wife won't be joining us."
"Actually, she said she would."
Suddenly the door swung open and in walked Pod with Brienne trailing behind him. "I hope I am not interrupting," she asked sweetly.
"Lady Brienne, I presume," Tyrion announced. She nodded and Tyrion bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, join us."
"I hoped that the Lady Sansa would be here," Brienne said shyly. "I had never seen her before."
"She is still getting ready, which reminds me," he directed at Jamie, "Try not to say anything too awful about her family tonight."
Jamie looked insulted. "Of course not. I'm not the same man I was before you know. Her brother caught me in the heat of battle; it happens."
"That must have been frightening," Sansa chirped from the bedroom's doorway.
All three jumped at the sound and struggled to stand. Her red hair looked angry as she descended the steps into the solar.
Jamie gulped slightly at the sight of the redhead. His eyes grew wide at the obvious maturity she had gone through while he was gone. She was tragically beautiful – more than Cersei was that age even. His brother was a very lucky man. "Lady Sansa," he said with a dry throat. "Forgive me, I – I did not know you were there."
"You have said nothing worth forgiving," she said softly. She took her seat but did not put anything on her plate. "My mother and brother were traitors. They deserved what they got. Don't you agree?"
The silence became deafening when Brienne broke the ice.
"Lady Sansa," she said gently. "I am Brienne of Tarth."
"Hello," Sansa replied politely. "I believe you knew my mother."
"I did," Brienne swallowed. "She was a true lady."
"Yes, she was."
"You look just like her."
"Thank you." Sansa turned to Jamie and sighed. "What happened to your hand, Ser Jamie?"
Startled that he was being included, Jamie tried to be as serious as he could. This was no time for jests. "I'm not sure you would enjoy the story much."
"Oh believe me," Sansa smiled widely. "I will. Once you've seen your father's head on a spike, not much can shock you."
Tyrion drowned himself in his cup and Jamie tried not to sound bitter. "I understand your hatred, Lady Sansa."
"I don't hate you, Ser Jamie."
"You don't?"
"Why should I? We are family. We have been for some time. You should never wish harm on your family, don't you think?"
"Sansa," Tyrion said lowly.
She ignored him. "You are my brother, which I might admit is a bit dangerous to be right now but being the best swordsman in all of Westeros I'm sure you can take care of yourself." Her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her so she took a long drink of wine and added, "If you don't mind, I am weary from the days' events."
"My lady," Tyrion called. He grasped Sansa's hand and turned it over. "What happened?"
Sansa's façade faltered slightly. She had never been a good liar, especially on the spot. What did Sandor advise her once? The best lies have truth in them. "Oh, I tripped and fell."
Jamie's head snapped up at her word. "Where?"
Sansa turned to look but found she could hardly stomach the sight of him. "In a hallway. Now, if you don't mind I'll take my leave. Lady Brienne, I would have you walk with me if that is all right."
Surprised at the invitation, Brienne glanced at Jamie, who nodded. "Of course, my lady."
Once they were out of earshot, Jamie leaned into the table. "Tyrion," he whispered.
"What?"
"I think I know where Sansa got her cuts."
"Where?"
"I'm not entirely sure but I think I saw her coming out Clegane's room."
Tyrion swallowed carefully. 'Shit!' he thought fiercely. "Don't be ridiculous," he snorted. 'Drop it, Jamie.'
The more Jamie thought about it, the less sense it made. "I guess you're right. That would preposterous." He watched his brother's face relax ever so slightly; had he not known him since the day he was born, Jamie might not have caught it.
But he did. Something was going on and he was going to find out what it was.