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Chapter 22

Jaime held Sansa in his arms, in the sitting area outside his father's bedchamber. Pycelle said it was the shock of seeing such a gruesome sight in Lord Tywin's bedchamber that had caused her to faint. Jaime could not deny that the scene in his father's chamber was rather gory – certainly something that would horrify a girl like Sansa. Tyrion, how could you?

Jaime had left Sansa to investigate the scream and found a horrified chamber maid staring at his father, dead in the privy, having been shot with a crossbow. Jaime had looked around the bedchamber and found the dead whore in his father's bed and the secret passage in the fireplace gaping open. He knew Tyrion was angry when he told him the truth about Tysha, but he could not have imagined that he was capable of murdering their father.

Jaime could scarce believe the horrifying scene in his father's bedchamber. As if it weren't shocking enough to find his father dead, Jaime wasn't sure what to make of the dead whore in his father's bed. He remembered how Lord Tywin had always berated Tyrion over his fondness for whores, so the idea that his father was sharing his bed with this whore – Tyrion's whore – was…unexpected to say the least.

Jaime had not been the only one alerted by the scream – several Lannister guards had also come running. Jaime had sent for Ser Kevan and the Kingsguard, as well as Grand Maester Pycelle and finally he sent someone to alert Cersei after Sansa had collapsed in his arms in shock.

Jaime felt Sansa stirring in his arms and gently stroked her face. "Are you all right, sweet girl," he whispered as Ser Kevan took a seat in the chair beside them, his face pale, having seen the bloody sight in Lord Tywin's bedchamber.

She nodded, sitting up, though she was still shaky. "Your father," she whispered, leaning against him and glancing back towards the door to Lord Tywin's chamber.

"I know," he said quietly, running his hand over her back. "I believe I told you to wait in our chamber," he said in a teasing voice.

"I was worried about you," she said quietly, looking at Ser Kevan in embarrassment.

Cersei entered the Tower of the Hand in a whirl of silks, with the Kettleblacks trailing behind her. Jaime had put off alerting her to the problem for as long as possible. Jaime and Sansa watched as she stormed into Lord Tywin's chamber. He heard her screeching questions at the guards before she joined Jaime, Sansa and Ser Kevan out in the sitting area. "How can you leave our father there…exposed like that?" she hissed. "Send for Pycelle."

"He's already come and gone," Jaime said.

"You sent for me last, didn't you? I am the Queen. I should have been called first." She glared at Sansa, no doubt angry that Sansa knew before she did. "Why is she here? She's only in the way. This is a family matter."

"Sansa is family now," Jaime said with a hard tone.

"How could you leave our brother's whore in there with him? People will talk."

"It appears they will speak the truth," Jaime said dryly.

"He was clearly…questioning her further about Tyrion's plots against our family. To say otherwise is treason."

Jaime laughed, looking at the floor. "Yes. I've always found it best to strip witnesses naked before questioning them. It's certainly the best way to get to the truth."

Cersei looked as if she wanted to scream. "Get that whore out of here at once! And no one is to speak of her."

"Where should I take her my lady?" one of the gold cloaks asked.

"I don't care. Throw her in the river. She was never here, do you understand me?"

"Yes, your grace," he said dutifully.

Cersei stood with her back to them, breathing deeply, trying to regain some semblance of composure before she turned around in anger. "Why are you just sitting here? You should be looking for the killers," Cersei said, pulling Jaime to his feet.

"I can hardly climb down a 200 foot ladder with one hand," he ground out, holding his golden hand in her face. "I've sent the guards down into the secret passage, they'll report back. I know this is difficult for you, sister, but try to calm yourself."

She nodded, appearing to hear him. "We are his heirs, Jaime," she said suddenly. "It will be up to us to finish his work. You must take Father's place as Hand. You see that now, surely. Tommen will need you."

Cersei was clutching his arm in an attempt to convince him. Jaime glanced over her shoulder and saw the stricken look on Sansa's face. He wasn't sure if she was upset over Cersei clutching his arm or the prospect of staying in Kings Landing, should he become Hand of the King. "A Hand without a hand? A bad jape, sister. Don't ask me to rule," he said, moving from her grasp.

"Rule? I never said you would rule. I shall rule until my son comes of age."

"I don't know who I pity more," he said. "Tommen, or the seven kingdoms."

She slapped him and the sound brought Sansa and Ser Kevan to their feet. "Your father lies in there dead," Ser Kevan said. "Have the decency to take your quarrel outside." Sansa moved to Jaime's side, gently touching his face where his sister slapped him and ignoring Cersei's glare.

"Forgive us, Uncle. My sister is sick with grief. She forgets herself." Cersei looked as if she wished to strike him again, but she managed to control herself.

Ser Meryn Trant approached them urgently. "The Imp…his cell's open, your grace…there's no sign of him anywhere…" Jaime wondered if his sister would know that he freed Tyrion.

"I gave orders," she hissed. "He was to be kept under guard, night and day…" Jaime watched as Cersei dragged Ser Meryn into their father's bedchamber and began shouting orders to send men into the walls to search for Tyrion. She'd clearly decided Jaime was useless, and had taken over.

"Are you all right?" Sansa whispered.

"I did this," he whispered back. "I killed my father. Tyrion may have released the crossbow bolt that slew him, but I released Tyrion."

…..

As soon as his Father's body had been removed from the Tower of the Hand and transferred to the Great Sept, Jaime had dressed in his Lannister armor and followed, standing vigil for the next three days – alone with his father amongst the candles and the sickly sweet smell of death.

He hated leaving Sansa alone for so long, but he'd left Ser Addam Marbrand to stand guard outside her chamber and to accompany her wherever she went. Ser Addam was a childhood friend and one of the few men he still trusted in the capitol. Jaime feared that Cersei would turn her rage on Sansa, now that his father had died, and there was no one to reign in her schemes.

His back ached from bearing the weight of his armor for three days and his legs felt almost numb. He shifted his stance a bit and tightened his fingers around the golden greatsword he held at the head of the marble slab that bore Lord Tywin's body. He could not wield a sword, but he could hold one. I've become merely ornamental. His missing hand was throbbing. Jaime almost found it funny. He had more feeling in the hand he'd lost than in the rest of the body that remained.

"I commanded the eunuch to take him to a ship, not to your bedchamber," he told the corpse. "The blood is on his hands as much as…as mine," he finished with a whisper.

It was strange, but he felt no grief. Only guilt. Where are my tears? Where is my rage? He had always been guided by his emotions and Jaime Lannister had certainly never lacked for rage before. Perhaps I lost that, along with my hand. "Father," he told the corpse, "it was you who told me that tears were a mark of weakness in a man. I suppose you would not wish for me to cry for you at any rate."

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Cersei, dressed in roughspun wool, disguising the Queen she was, slowly walking towards him. She must want something particular to come here so late. In disguise. The last time she had come to him so dressed was the night she had convinced him to join the Kingsguard so he would never marry and they would never be parted. "What brings you here, sister?"

"I wanted to see father. And speak to you. I need your help, Jaime. Please. Be my Hand," she asked again, "and we'll rule the seven kingdoms together, like a king and his queen."

"You were Robert's queen, not mine. And you would never give it up to be with me. No matter how many times I asked."

"I would have, if I dared. We would have had nothing. We would have been exiled from Westeros. But, Jaime, now we can finally be together and our son – "

"Tommen is no son of mine, no more than Joffrey was." His voice was hard. "You made them Robert's too."

His sister flinched. "You swore that you would always love me. It is not loving to make me beg, Jaime."

"I cannot be your Hand, sister. I will not."

"I need you. I need my other half. You are me, and I am you. I need you with me. In me. Please, Jaime. Please."

Jaime looked to make certain Lord Tywin was not rising from his slab in wrath, but his father lay still and cold. "My place is with Sansa. She is my wife."

"She does not have to be." Jaime looked at her sharply. "It was father who insisted that you marry her. We could find a way to have the marriage set aside. Then we could rule together, be together as we always wanted. No one would dare question us. Or, send her to the Rock, and you stay here with me." She walked towards him, resting her hand on his arm. "There's no Robert…no one to disapprove. You could share my bed every night, all night, Jaime. We can finally have what we've always wanted."

Jaime was afraid of this. Cersei had always feared their father, and he knew Lord Tywin's presence in Kings Landing had kept his sister's plotting and scheming under wraps. Now that his father was dead, there would be no controlling her. Jaime knew that he had to get Sansa out of the capitol and away from Cersei before his sister did something desperate.

"Cersei," he began gently. "I don't want my marriage to Sansa set aside. And I don't wish to send her away from me. I love her." Cersei looked as if he had struck her. "I belong with her."

"Do you honestly think she loves you? She would say or do anything to be free – to join the traitors that plot against us. She's telling you what you wish to hear and you are so desperate to be her hero – her brave knight - that you believe it. If you wish to help someone, help me."

Jaime shook his head. "She's not like you. She's not capable of that type of deceit."

"She certainly is a deceitful, selfish little thing. She hated that Joffrey didn't love her and cast her aside." He watched the malicious gleam form in Cersei's eyes. "I'm certain there are witnesses who would testify that she helped Tyrion in his plot to kill Joff, that she helped him escape."

"If you do anything of the sort," Jaime said, his voice filled with menace, "she'll demand a trial by battle, and I will stand for her. Even if it means I die for her. You will stay away from my wife, do you understand me?"

Cersei wiped her tears away on a ragged brown sleeve. "Very well. I was a fool to come. I was a fool ever to love you. I shall rule the realm myself. It's clear your manhood was cut off along with your hand and now your head is filled with songs of knights and maidens as if you were a child." She looked down at their father's body. "I'm the only true son he ever had. Not you. And certainly not Tyrion. Father would be disgusted to see your stupid little wife lead you around by the cock."

"Leave now, sister. You've said quite enough."

Jaime was relieved that he had put a guard on Sansa. First thing in the morning, he'd make sure she had additional guards. She is Lady of the Rock. She should be guarded. After his sister left, Jaime turned his attention back to standing vigil. Jaime looked around the sept, at the seven staring down at him. I thought I was the warrior, and Cersei was the maiden. But in truth, she was the Stranger, hiding her true face from my gaze. No more than a few minutes passed before he heard soft footsteps in the sept. Jaime looked up and met the gaze of his little wife.

"How did you get here? Did you come here alone?"

She shook her head. "No. Ser Addam brought me. And Ser Loras."

"I told Ser Addam to protect you. Bringing you here was not protecting you."

Sansa walked toward him, her nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of his father's body as she rested her hand on his arm. "I insisted he bring me here. You've been standing vigil for over three days. You need to sleep. Please come back to the castle with me."

"Someone must stand vigil."

Sansa reached up and gently touched his face. "That's why Ser Loras accompanied me. He will stand vigil and you will sleep."

"I can't –"

"Don't argue. Let me take care of you, Jaime. As you took care of me, when my brother Robb died." She spoke softly, her voice shaking with emotion, though he wasn't certain why.

"I have to stay here. It's my fault, he's dead. It's my fault."

"It is not your fault. You could not have known that Tyrion would do something like this. Come with me," she whispered, taking his hand. "Please, Jaime. Let me take care of you. I need to take care of you. I can't sleep, thinking of you here alone." Sansa raised herself up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

He looked in her eyes and saw how much she wanted him with her tonight and glanced up to see Ser Loras walking into the Sept and knew it was a losing battle. He silently passed the golden greatsword to Ser Loras and took Sansa's hand, noticing her silent thanks to the knight.

He glanced back at his father's corpse before allowing Sansa and Ser Addam to lead him back to the castle. Sansa walked close to him, her arm linked through his as she gently stroked his hand. I have missed her, Jaime thought, looking down at her. I could certainly use a night with my sweet wife in my arms.

When Sansa entered a bedchamber within the Red Keep – not the tower of the Hand – he looked at her questioningly as he followed her inside, wondering where she was taking him. She bolted the door behind him and removed her cloak.

"You sister has had the city watch crawling through the walls of the Tower of the Hand. They've…they've almost taken it apart from the inside out. She insists Tyrion is hiding in the walls, waiting to kill Tommen and then kill her. Ser Kevan, thought it best to move our chamber."

"She's gone mad," he murmured quietly. Jaime knew that he should have been with his wife, rather than standing vigil. Now that he had rejected Cersei, and heard her plans for them to be together, he could not leave Sansa alone. His sister never knew when to give up on an idea, and he was certain that she would still attempt to separate he and Sansa, given the chance. He watched as Sansa removed her gown and crossed the room to him, wearing only her thin shift.

"She plans to burn the tower of the hand to the ground with wildfire," Sansa said quietly, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "To drive Tyrion out."

Jaime chuckled, lowering himself onto the bed. "She can't honestly think he's still in the tower, waiting to be found."

Sansa stood before him, looking him over. He leaned into her touch as she ran her fingers over his golden locks. "My handsome knight," she murmured, leaning forward and kissing him.

Jaime smirked at her. "Would you prefer I leave the armor on tonight, Lady Sansa?"

She scowled at him. "No….I just…have not seen you in armor since…" she trailed off, blushing.

"Since I've showed you the pleasure our bodies can bring one another?" She avoided his gaze and climbed onto the bed, kneeling behind him. Jaime chuckled to himself, glancing over his shoulder. "As I recall, you rather like knights."

"I'd call you impertinent, Ser Jaime, but I've rather missed your teasing the past few days," she said, low in his ear. Sansa reached her arms around him and began loosening his armor. She helped him remove his armor and slowly peel off the layers of his clothes. She kissed him softly and rested her head on his shoulder, her chest pressed against his back. "Are you going to be Hand of the King?" she asked quietly.

Jaime turned and was startled to see the fear and sadness in her eyes. "No. You heard me tell Cersei that I would not."

Sansa looked down at her hands, nervously clasped together in her lap. "She…she asked you again tonight, though, didn't she? To be her hand and…her lover again," she whispered. Jaime saw a tear fall and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"How do you know that?"

"I saw her leaving the sept before I came in to get you. She didn't see us…Ser Addam saw her first and concealed us. I'm right, aren't I? About what she wants?"

"Yes," he whispered. "She said we could rule as a king and his queen would." Sansa nodded to herself, clearly fighting the urge to cry. "And I told her that I love you," he said forcefully, covering her lips with his own. "Don't ever think I would walk away from you. I love you," he said seriously before kissing her again.

"I love you, too," she whispered. "We have to leave here, Jaime," she said, giving in to the urge to cry. "Your sister…I'm frightened. She won't stop until she's taken you from me. Until she's hurt me. You know we must leave here, don't you?"

Jaime pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his arm. "You have nothing to be frightened of, my sweet girl. We will leave here. I promise you," he whispered. "Please don't cry…don't be scared," he murmured as he cuddled her in his arms. Sansa took his hand and gripped it with her small one as he held her until her tears stopped.

Once she calmed herself, Sansa rose from his lap and walked across the room, pouring herself some water. Jaime pulled off the rest of his clothes and got into the bed, watching her. She turned and faced him, a small smile on her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean be so emotional….or to doubt you. I just…you really wish to give up what you've wanted your whole life for me?"

"Very much. You are my life, now, Sansa. I've missed you these past few days. And nights," he said with a smirk.

She smiled. "I've missed you as well. I don't sleep well without your arms around me."

Jaime patted the bed beside him. "Will you hold me?" he asked her, somewhat embarrassed by how much he needed her. He had never been one for gentle touches, or cuddling. Though, perhaps that was because Cersei could never abide it. With Sansa, he craved holding her and feeling her fingers stroking over his head as much as he craved making love to her.

She nodded, walking towards him and climbing onto the bed. Jaime stopped her from lying down and pulled her shift over her head, wanted to feel her naked body against his. Gods, she's so beautiful. Jaime moved towards her and into her arms, resting his head on her chest as she lay against the pillows and stroked his hair. "I've been so worried about you, Jaime. I know you've been standing vigil for days without stopping to sleep or eat to punish yourself. It's not your fault your father was killed. Tyrion's responsible for himself."

"It is my fault. I freed him and… I should never have told him the truth."

She kissed him then. "Stop thinking about it. Don't torment yourself thinking what you could have done differently. It's done." She began stroking his hair again, lulling him to sleep.

"I never imagined my father would actually die. I always felt like he was…immortal. It didn't even look like him lying there dead. He seemed so much smaller, less fierce." Sansa just let him talk and softly caressed his body as he held her tightly. "You know you're the only thing keeping me together," he whispered, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth. He felt her kiss the top of his head and curled his body even tighter around hers, taking comfort in the warmth of her skin against his.

"Get some sleep, my love," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and snuggled in against her breasts, exhaling deep and slow. They clung to one another, taking comfort from the feel of skin against skin. Jaime sighed, feeling Sansa's warmth around him as sleep claimed him.

Next chapter: Tywin's funeral & Jaime and Sansa leave Kings Landing