Author's Note: Here it is, dear readers, that moment you've all be waiting for: the big reveal! Dun Dun DUN! Quick recap of the previous chapters: shit went down. Quick chapter summary: shit hits the fan.
CAUTION: Watch for flying shit.
Chapter 7: In which Tywin gets some bad news and goes to a gala.
The bi-weekly luncheon Tywin shared with his family was nothing short of tedious, but he welcomed the distraction it provided. What Varys had reported back seemed to confirm Genna's news: Sansa was bedding down with the Tyrells.
However, Varys also said that he could see no affection between the eldest Tyrell boy and Sansa beyond that of friendship. That piece of information led him to believe that she was involved with the Tyrell boy for the sake of her family and whatever deal Ned Stark was trying to broker with that poisonous hag, Olenna.
It was a welcome thought because it meant that she had not left him of her own accord; her honor as a Stark had compelled her to walk away. Now it was just a matter of harpooning the Stark-Tyrell deal, and then Sansa would come back to where she belonged: his bed, his arms, his life.
"What do you think of the rumors regarding a merger between the Tyrells and the Starks?"
Kevan's voice drew him from his thoughts. "Pardon?"
His brother sighed and repeated himself.
"At this point, no one is willing to confirm or deny anything, but the possibility of large sums of money exchanging hands has everyone nervous. Our stock has dropped a few points as a result," Tywin grimaced at that bit of truth. People were nothing more than sheep and were too easily led. Even if such a deal were brokered, Casterly would remain unaffected, as it had always done.
"Hmm, still, I thought I'd make an appearance at the Tyrell fundraiser and do a bit more digging. I believe Stark is going to be there as well and he is notoriously bad about keeping such things under wraps. Care to join me?"
Tywin had made no plans to go and had no intention of acting the part of injured party where Olenna could see him. "I had—"
"Afternoon, everyone."
He looked away from Kevan to see his wastrel of a grandson stroll into the dining room. "You're late, boy." Joffrey shrugged off the admonition and dropped a kiss on his mother's cheek before sitting down. He curled his lip in disgust as he watched her coddle the boy. "For gods' sake, Cersei, let the boy cut his own fucking meat, or he'll expect you to follow him to the lavatory and wipe his arse, too."
Cersei glowered at him but did as she was told while Joffrey pouted. "Joffrey, your family makes an effort to be here on time, do not be so crass as to make them wait."
The boy muttered a half-hearted apology, "Sorry, late night."
"Your habit of spending Lannister money on those cunts you call 'friends' is trying my patience. Your useless nocturnal activities demonstrate that you are incapable of acting remotely responsible." The boy muttered something under his breath. "Speak up!"
"'S not useless, grandfather. I struck information gold last night at the club."
Tywin sneered at him, "Let's hear your 'useful' information, then."
"Sansa Stark's gone and got herself up the duff with the bastard spawn of some Tyrell," Joffrey announced triumphantly.
He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. All the air left his lungs and he had to struggle to remain calm. Sansa was pregnant, but not with his child. No, a Tyrell's. A fucking rose-shitting Tyrell. She hadn't left because her family needed her. She'd left because she had the heart of a traitorous whore.
"That's certainly plausible given the rumors we've been hearing lately."
Tywin sent up a small thanks for his brother's words. He took a deep breath and let it out. He ached to find Sansa that instant and wrap his hands around her pretty little throat and squeeze until she became familiar with the pain that he was experiencing. But he had to remain calm, for now, and he had to tell Kevan something, "Perhaps I'll go to the gala after all and do a bit of my own information gathering."
Kevan was right about Ned Stark; the man was incapable of lying, and Tywin would press him until the truth spilled out.
Subtlety was an art that was lost on Starks, so Tywin decided on a more direct approach: confrontation. He took a moment to survey the floor, as usual for one of Olenna's galas, the ballroom was packed with the glittering elite and their hangers on. He noted, with some surprise, that his eldest had made an appearance and was, at present, whispering into the ear of his big brute of a…lover. Though he had several doubts about the girl, Jaime's life had moved in a more productive direction since her appearance. Thankfully, Tyrion was absent, no doubt preferring to spend his time and money on whores instead of war orphans or whatever the night's charity was.
When he finally located his quarry on the other side of the room, Tywin heaved an inward sigh: the bloody bastard was with Olenna. Of all the godsdamned bad luck. He steeled himself against the coming engagement and made his way across the floor. His passage was eased by the instinctive parting of the crowd for Tywin Lannister, and he arrived at Olenna's group in less than an minute.
A moment of hush settled on them and he used it to make his greeting to his host for the evening.
"Olenna."
"Tywin."
He tilted his head slightly, the acknowledgement of one battle-hardened general to another, and she returned the gesture.
"Another success for you, I think."
"Oh, do dispense with the niceties, Tywin, you were never very good at them anyway."
He refused to rise to her baiting, "Then I will not trouble you with them any further."
"Are you quite sure? It has been at least a minute since I last heard a weather report; perhaps you would be so good as to tell me if it still looks like rain?"
"I thought you had other means of divining the weather," he flicked his eyes down to her hips and let them linger to make his point. When he looked back up, her lips had compressed into a thin line. First blood was his.
Ned looked bemusedly at the two combatants and sued for peace between them, "Now that that's done, shall I offer another point of contention, or were you hoping to go a second round?"
Olenna forced a small laugh and patted Ned's arm, "Not to worry, dear, the prizefighters will put away their gloves." For now, her eyes told Tywin as he conceded to the end of the match with a nod.
Silence reigned among them for a moment before Ned broke it awkwardly, "I haven't seen you at one of these dos for some time, Lannister."
Though it was dangerous to reveal his hand to Olenna, he was counting on Ned to provide the answers he sought. Olenna's unconscious reactions would confirm or deny his words. "I've been hearing some rumors around the office. I wanted to know if there was something more substantial to them than words and air."
Olenna's eyes narrowed, "Oh, and what might those be?"
"There's talk of a Stark-Tyrell merger."
Ned let out a bark of laughter at that, causing Olenna to wince. Perfect.
"I think something got mixed up along the way. Fascinating how people can do that. My best guess is that this started when I found out that I was going to be a grandfather."
Tywin kept his voice even, belying his increased heartbeat, "I suppose congratulations are in order?"
"Thank you; Cat and I are thrilled, of course, but the circumstances are a bit embarrassing." When Tywin made no move to speak, Ned went on, "It's our eldest daughter, Sansa. She's being mum about who the father is, but I have my suspicions. I was just about to start wheedling information out of Olenna when you arrived."
A searing pain lanced through him so strongly that he feared he would lose his balance and fall. There it was, in plain words from the most honest man he had ever had the displeasure to know. He'd given parts of himself to her that he thought long dead, and she had betrayed him. Now there was only one thing left to do.
Tywin would go to her, demand her explication, and then he would destroy, piece by piece, every trace of her still left in his life. He would vindicate himself upon her before forgetting that she had ever had a place in his life and his heart.