Chapter 104

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Tyrion hated riding. He mused that he must have made a wrong turn somewhere in his life, since he'd spent nearly three solid months on the back of a horse. He actually longed to return to King's Landing and the bed he shared with Margaery Tyrell. Not that he missed his lady wife. He'd been relieved at the time apart, enjoying the ability to go about his day without constant worry that his lady wife was about to rid herself of him. But, as much as he loved to travel and see new things, he now longed for home and his own bed. Tyrion had not given much thought to his lady wife during their journey North, but now, as the royal party was mere days away from King's Landing, he had begun to consider her, realizing that their babe would be born not long after his return.

There were still several years of winter ahead, but the cold wasn't nearly as harsh in the South as it had been in the North and each day they traveled, the weather became more bearable. As they rode through a small village, Tyrion noticed riders heading towards the Kingsroad to meet them. He prepared himself for a possible attack. Not that he had any intention of fighting himself – that's why they had the Unsullied with them. But Tyrion was Hand of the Queen, and he knew that it was up to him to deal with any political problems that arose on their journey, while the Queen's army and loyal knights would handle any physical threats.

Reports had reached them only a few days earlier that Gregor Clegane was in the area, raping and pillaging each village he passed. The Mountain had somehow escaped the Capitol before the Queen's arrival – continuing to spread death and misery as he had for most of his life. Tyrion shook his head, knowing that it was his father and sister's fault that such a beast had been unleashed on the Realm. The Mountain should have been put down after what he did to Elia Martell and her children. But, instead, Lord Tywin had kept him on as a weapon to be unleashed, should the need arise. Queen Daenerys had made it known throughout the Realm that she would offer a substantial reward to any man who brought her Gregor Clegane – dead or alive.

Tyrion rode over to join Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, as he considered the group of men riding out to meet them. They were certainly not soldiers. They appeared to be so poor that Tyrion was surprised they even had horses to ride. Smallfolk. From a poor village, at that. He supposed a small group of villagers were unlikely to mount an attack against the Queen and her hoard of Unsullied. It was a ragtag group, with bits of armor here and there, but none in a full suit. And the swords at their sides were dull steel – nothing as fine as the swords Jaime had always carried.

They were waiving a white flag and made no move to touch their weapons. Rather than allowing them to get too near the Queen's party, Ser Barristan rode out to meet them. Tyrion waited anxiously beside Ser Jorah while the men addressed the Lord Commander. After a time, Ser Barristan returned to them, a grave look on his face.

"Clegane was here. Just ahead of us. He was raping the innkeeper's daughter when…someone stopped him."

"Is he dead?" Tyrion asked, regretful that yet another innocent had been harmed by his father's beast before he could be put down.

Ser Baristan nodded. "Cut his head clean off."

Tyrion could not hide his surprise when he saw Sandor Clegane walking out to meet them, surrounded by more of the men of this small village. As he moved nearer, Tyrion could see that his hands were bound and several blades were held at his back. He is their prisoner, then.

Tyrion had believed the Hound dead after the Battle of Blackwater. The hulking man had all but spit in Joffrey's face as he fled the battlefield – the wildfire having got the better of him. Joffrey had sought him as a deserter and traitor, but no sign had been found of the Hound. It appears he survived after all. Other than a slight limp and a few bruises and cuts – no doubt inflicted as he battled his brother to the death – the Hound seemed no worse off than Tyrion had ever seen him.

The Queen stopped her horse beside Tyrion, and the armed men who rode out to meet them dismounted and fell to their knees, as the other villagers continued to lead the Hound to the Queen. Tyrion realized that they intended to offer the Hound to her in place of his brother, the Mountain.

"Your grace, Gregor Clegane is dead. Princess Elia and your brother's children are avenged."

She looked at the Hound curiously as she motioned for the men to rise. "That man killed him?"

"His brother, Sandor Clegane, your grace," Tyrion whispered. Though the Hound had done a great service to the Realm, he had made himself a kinslayer in the process. The Hound and I have something in common besides our distaste for Joffrey and love of wine. Tyrion supposed the Hound had as much a reason as any to wish the Mountain dead. Gregor Clegane had not limited his torture and violence to those outside his own family. One need only look at the Hound's face see the pain and cruelty the man inflicted on his own family.

He saw the Queen's expression harden when she learned who the Hound was, before sliding from her saddle. Following her cue, the rest of the royal party dismounted and the Hound was marched to stand before the Queen.

"You are Sandor Clegane, a member of the false king Joffrey's Kingsguard?"

The Hound looked Daenerys over in open appraisal before responding, and Tyrion cringed inwardly. He must believe he'll be put to death no matter what he says. "Aye. I served the little bastard and his sister and grandfather as well." He met Tyrion's gaze and laughed bitterly. "Wearing the Hand's pin again, are you Imp?"

"Seeing as you stand before me guilty of treason and kinslaying, you'd be wise to hold your tongue, and refrain from insulting members of my council."

Tyrion spoke up, lest the Queen believe he was affronted. "Sandor and I are well past insult. We've shared many a drunken evening in one another's company. Though, I must say, his finest act was abandoning Joffrey on the battlefield – recognizing that the boy was unfit to rule, as many others knew." Tyrion was surprised to see a flash of shame in the man's eyes, though it was only for a moment. I never believed he cared what anyone thought of him. "Certainly removing himself from Joffrey's guard, as well as putting down Sandor Clegane, is worthy of some mercy, your grace."

Daenerys seemed both surprised and amused by Tyrion's words. She must know I have a need for the Hound. "What would you propose I do with him, Lord Tyrion?" she asked expectantly.

Tyrion shrugged. "I am in need of a…shield now that Ser Bronn of the Blackwater has left King's Landing and taken up his own keep."

Daenerys motioned for Tyrion to step away from Sandor and the smallfolk to speak to her privately. "Tyrion, the man is a kinslayer. He served the false king and…was he not one of the ones who stood by while Sansa Stark was beaten before the court? It seems to me, he's shown that he has little honor or loyalty."

"He never raised a hand to Sansa…and he may have served in Joffrey's Kingsguard, but he detested the boy as much as I did. He did the Realm a great service, in killing the Mountain. His own brother. And, your grace, he played no part in the Sack of Kings Landing, or the murder of Princess Elia and her children."

"Yes but…you would reward him by making him your shield? Would you not be in danger? He served your father for many years…he may wish to avenge him." Tyrion began to laugh and the Queen sighed.

Tyrion understood her concerns, but he knew that Clegane wouldn't kill him. The men had a grudging respect for one another and the Hound had a certain honor. He wouldn't kill without a reason. Tyrion had given him no reason. And, more importantly, the man had no ambition. The Tyrells would never be able to turn him to their cause, no matter what they promised him. It will be perfect. "I know that you would rather not have a Clegane anywhere near your court…but…I feel this would be for the best." He could see her reluctance. "It would make me much more at ease in…my marriage."

She nodded her understanding, though he could see she was far from pleased by the idea. "I'll trust your judgment. Please don't make me regret it."

Tyrion nodded, glancing back toward the large man who seemed prepared to die. Now, I need only convince the Hound to serve yet another Lannister. He had a nagging suspicion that the Hound would prove more difficult to convince than the Queen had been.

…

Jaime smiled down at the babe resting on his chest. Gerion's green eyes met Jaime's and the babe patted his hands on his father's chest. Jaime wondered if Lord Tywin had ever shared such intimate moments with him when he was a babe. The only memories that Jaime had of his father was of a distant man who had groomed him to be Lord of Casterly Rock. Until he had joined the Kingsguard and ruined his plans – depriving him of his heir. Jaime knew that he would have a very different relationship with his own sons. All three of them.

Gerion cooed at him and Jaime felt a surge of affection for the tiny creature in his arms. This is my son. He'd be heir to Casterly Rock, if we were not in exile. Jaime couldn't help thinking that Lord Tywin would be pleased with this child. With both of the twins, for that matter. And Julianna. For not the first time, Jaime felt regret that his father had not lived to meet his grandchildren. Lord Tywin may have been a hard and ruthless lord, but Jaime would have liked for his father to be proud of something he did.

Jaime looked over at Sansa who was smiling softly at Rickard and softly stroking his little head, playing with the golden locks on his head. The babe was staring at her intently, a happy expression on his face. Jaime had already noticed that little Rickard had a strong connection with Sansa. He frequently caught the babe watching her every move and little Rickard always wanted to be near his mother. Gerion was content with either of them or with his nursemaid. Rickard, on the other hand, was the most content when he was in Sansa's arms. I can hardly blame him.

Jaime looked Sansa over and couldn't help admiring her beauty. Sansa looked radiant now that she had fully recovered from the twins' difficult birth. She wore a flowing gown of pale blue linen that bared her arms and gave Jaime a tantalizing view of her cleavage – every inch the Lysene love goddess. She also wore the necklace Jaime had given her the morning after their wedding, which settled perfectly into the valley between her breasts. His mother's necklace. The babes frequently reached for it when Sansa held them and Jaime knew that his sons would have the same memory of their mother wearing that necklace that he had of Lady Joanna.

"He certainly has eyes for his mother," Jaime whispered, leaning over and touching Rickard's cheek, his fingers brushing Sansa's breast as he did so. Sansa met his eyes then glanced at his fingers lingering on the bare skin of her chest pointedly. "Can't a man touch his lady wife?"

"Jaime," she said in warning, though the smile creeping through gave her away. He leaned over and covered her mouth with his own. He expected her to push him away quickly, but Sansa returned his kiss, as if challenging him to pull away first. He smirked and met her challenge, his tongue seeking admittance which she granted. He sighed deeply, enjoying even this small bit of physical affection from his lady wife.

Sansa finally broke their kiss, gasping for breath. "How long again before you can resume your wifely duties?" he whispered. They both knew that, while he was impatient to share her bed once more, he would never risk hurting her. He still couldn't resist acting put out over the absence of physical intimacy between them since the twins were born. Sansa smacked him lightly, though the babe she held began to whine in protest for being disturbed.

"I'm sorry, sweetling," she cooed, shooting Jaime a look. He chuckled to himself and settled Gerion more securely in the crook of his arm so the babe could look at Sansa and his twin. Having two babes – as well as Julianna and Tommen – was proving challenging, but Jaime was persevering. They had a great deal of help from Pia, the nursemaid and the rest of their household staff. And he knew Sansa couldn't be happier with their current situation. She had grown up in a house full of children, and Jaime could see that she felt even more at home – more at peace - now that she had her own brood of children. He'd heard her whispering to the babes more than once about their "pack."

Jaime heard a clanking and turned to see Tommen hesitantly walking out onto the terrace, dragging two wooden practice swords along beside him. Julianna was taking her afternoon nap on their bed, so it was no wonder Tommen was looking for someone to play with. He usually entertained himself with his kittens or a book in the afternoons, so Jaime wondered what he was doing out on the terrace with the swords.

It had been more than a moon's turn since the twins were born, and Jaime had noticed that Tommen had retreated from him a bit – spending more time alone than he ever had before. Sansa had urged Jaime not to take it personally and to allow the boy to have some time to deal with learning the truth. He must be terribly confused about everything. Learning that his uncle is really his father. Jaime had only been willing to leave Tommen be because the boy still sought out Julianna and Sansa's company – so Jaime was assured that he was not completely alone. At least he has the two of them to turn to. Jaime frequently found Tommen sitting with Sansa, chatting away and holding one of the twins or running through the villa, playing with Julianna.

"Unc…Uncle Jaime?" Tommen said hesitantly. "Can we practice with the swords again? Like we did at the Rock with Arya?"

Sansa smiled, gesturing to her lap, so Jaime could place the babe there. He carefully set Gerion down and got to his feet, taking the offered sword from Tommen.

"It's been quite a while since we've practiced," Jaime said, trying hard not to say the wrong thing. "Do you recall how to stand?" He nodded and Jaime watched as Tommen carefully gripped the sword and positioned himself into a fighting stance. He corrected his position, squeezing Tommen's shoulder as he did so. The boy met Jaime's eyes and smiled – so quickly Jaime almost thought he had imagined it.

He glanced over at Sansa and saw that they had her full attention, despite the two babes she was holding. She had settled the boys on her lap so they could watch as well. She nodded encouragingly and Jaime turned his attention back to Tommen, feeling more confident knowing that he had her approval.

They sparred slowly at first. Jaime could see Tommen's mind working as he tried to recall all that he had been taught and to coordinate the movement of his feet with the movement of his arm. He's doing well. Tommen had always been rather clumsy – Cersei had complained about it many times – but Jaime wondered if perhaps the boy had grown out of it. Tommen had grown taller and leaner during the months they had spent in Lys. Perhaps he's inherited more than my looks. Perhaps he's inherited a bit of my talent with a sword.

"What made you decide to start practicing again?" Jaime asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Sansa asked me what I wanted to do when I was grown and…I still wish to be a knight. Like you." Jaime nodded, not trusting himself to respond to Tommen's words. He could not fathom how the boy would still wish to be like him, after learning the truth. "She said if I wished to be a knight…that you were the best person to teach me." Jaime glanced over at Sansa and felt grateful for her all over again.

They practiced for some time, circling around each other, only stopping every now and then when Jaime felt the need to adjust Tommen's stance or grip on his sword. Otherwise, the terrace was filled with the sounds of the wooden swords clacking together as Jaime and Tommen battled back and forth.

"I play?" he heard Julianna ask from behind him. She yawned and wiped her eyes, waiting for an invitation to join them. The sound of our swords must have woken her.

"Not right now, sweetling," Sansa called. "Come sit with me." Julianna happily joined Sansa and the babes, distracted by the chance to hold one of her little brothers. She was almost as natural a mother as Sansa was – calling them "her babies" and always asking to hold them and help bathe them. He often watched his daughter and wondered how she would turn out – a proper lady like Sansa or a fearless adventurer like her Aunt Arya. For all of her fierce determination and her love of being by Jaime's side, Julianna was quite lady-like and enjoyed following her mother's example – wearing her jewels and having pretty dresses to wear. He couldn't imagine his little lioness wearing breeches. He could just picture her turning up her little nose at the suggestion.

Jaime smiled as he watched Julianna carefully hold one of her brothers under Sansa's watchful eyes. She lowered her head and kissed the babe's brow before turning her attention back to Jaime and Tommen, smiling brightly at her father. She has Sansa's smile. He looked back at Tommen, who was smiling happily. And Tommen has my smile. For the first time, he felt that he could have a relationship with Tommen. As his son.

They practiced together for most of the afternoon, with Sansa and Julianna watching and cheering them on. He knew Sansa would say that they were her pack.

We're a family.

…

Thanks for sticking with me and with this story!

Next Chapter: Tyrion & Co. Return to King's Landing