Chapter 105

….

Once the Queen agreed that he could make the Hound his personal guard, Tyrion had been puzzled as to how he would get the man himself to agree. He suspected that Sandor Clegane would rather die in a ditch than return to King's Landing in the service of another Lannister. Though, I flatter myself that serving me is preferable to serving Joffrey.

It had been nearly a week, and Tyrion still had not told the Hound the true reason why he was accompanying the royal party to the Capitol. The hulking man who had served as Joffrey's shield for so many years seemed to believe that he would be executed or imprisoned once they reached King's Landing. Yet he didn't run. He didn't so much as try to get away. No, the Hound seemed to accept whatever fate awaited him and rode silently beside Tyrion each day.

Tyrion had tried to engage the man in conversation – to determine what he had been doing with himself since fleeing the capitol during the Battle of Blackwater – but he was rarely rewarded with more than a grunt. Yet he continued to try with a variety of topics, hoping one would peak the man's interest.

"I don't suppose you've heard that I've acquired a lady wife since we last saw one another," Tyrion began conversationally, after swallowing a bite of rabbit as they sat opposite one another by the fire outside Tyrion's tent. He'd noticed that Sandor preferred to dine alone, but Tyrion had made it a practice to dine with him. Even if it was usually in silence.

Sandor snorted, tearing at his own food as if it were his last meal. He may believe that it is. "I heard all the way in the Saltpans that you lions have kept Joffrey's would-be Queens in the family. Just when the girl was granted her freedom, it's snatched away from her and she's made Lady of Casterly Rock. Trapped in another castle guarded by lions."

There was a distinct anger in his tone, and Tyrion would never believe that Sandor Clegane felt any such emotion for Margaery Tyrell – a girl he had never met. "You mean Lady Sansa, don't you?"

The Hound stared down at his plate, and Tyrion could see that he had touched a nerve without intending to do so. He thought back, recalling how Sandor had been rather attentive to Sansa during his time in King's Landing – always watching her. Tyrion had thought that Joffrey had ordered his guard to watch her every move, but now he saw it differently. Though Clegane had not done anything to stop her beatings, Tyrion recalled the day he had stopped Joffrey's Kingsguard from beating her in front of the court. Sandor Clegane was the first to offer his white cloak to cover her when Tyrion asked. And he went after her and saved her from that angry mob. He carried her back to the Red Keep in his arms.

"Jaime has not harmed her," Tyrion said quietly, watching the Hound's reaction.

"So he hasn't had her beaten, as his bastard did? Does he fuck her himself? Or does he have his men do it for him?"

"Jaime would never hurt Sansa. He loves her very much and…I believe that she loves him as well. They have a child together." Tyrion thought back to his last letter from Jaime. "Two children, by now," he corrected, recalling Sansa's second pregnancy.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Cersei allowed him to leave her bed long enough to fuck the little bird? Or did he move on to her after his sister was dead? I suppose the Kingslayer would do anything to claim Winterfell for the lions."

"It almost sounds as though sweet Sansa Stark has touched your heart." Tyrion knew he was testing his luck, but this was the most the Hound had ever spoken to him.

"I was never more than Joffrey's dog," he snarled. "There's no room to have a heart, serving your family. The girl didn't have enough sense to see past the pretty words and promises of a crown. The Kingslayer's a knight. A disgraced knight, but perhaps that's enough for her."

"Sansa was only a young girl when she first came to King's Landing. When she was betrothed to Joffrey. She grew into a woman and…saw what Joffrey really was."

"Aye. When it was far too late for her."

Tyrion sipped his wine and considered the man in front of him, whose mask of indifference had slipped further than Tyrion had ever seen. "Too late? Whatever do you mean? Lady Sansa is not dead. Nor is she in an unfortunate situation –"

"She lives in exile with the Kingslayer. Your Queen must have death warrants out for the both of them. The Starks may have reclaimed Winterfell, but the girl will never see it again."

"Don't be too certain of that," Tyrion whispered under his breath, though Sandor was in too much of a rage to hear Tyrion's quiet words. "I see we'll not agree on this. Perhaps we can discuss it more in the morning. As we ride."

The Hound said something inaudible as he drained his cup and made his way to his bedroll, leaving Tyrion alone by the fire. He wondered how he had not seen the Hound's affection for Sansa before now. First Jaime, and now Sandor Clegane. That girl has managed to touch two hearts I considered immune to the charms of any woman. He shook his head and called for his squire.

"Pod, I believe I would favor some company tonight."

Podrick nodded nervously. After all this time, the boy still does everything nervously. "Certainly, my Lord. The red-haired wildling that joined us at the Wall -

"No! I've told you. Never the same one twice." Pod nodded and turned on his heel in search of one of the many whores that traveled with the royal party. One who had not yet been bedded by Tyrion. He walked into his tent and awaited his companion for the evening.

Daenerys wasn't particularly approving of the camp wenches, but she was realistic. And after Shae's betrayal, Tyrion would not allow another woman into his heart. Though he certainly did not intend to sleep alone. During his stay at the Red Keep, Margaery had found her way into his bed most nights and he had no need to seek the company of whores. But, during the trip to the Wall and back, Tyrion had returned to his old ways. With one exception. In the past, he had favored one woman for weeks – even months – at a time. Now, he never shared his bed with the same woman twice. Tyrion took an almost perverse thrill in considering how disappointed his father would be, were he still alive.

Tyrion had just finished pouring another cup of wine when a tall blonde who had joined their camp as they passed through the Neck entered his tent. She appeared shy, but Tyrion knew that was likely an act for his benefit. He beckoned her over, setting his cup on the small camp table beside the bed. He nodded at her expectantly and, without preamble, she pulled at the laces of her clothes until she stood naked before him. As the girl sank to her knees, Tyrion reached for his cup of wine, enjoying the warmth it created inside him as she began to unlace his breeches.

…

Sansa snuggled closer to Jaime, burrowing her face against his neck. She smiled as he stroked her hair and his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even tighter against him. Her body curved perfectly around his and Sansa lightly traced her fingers over his collarbone.

The children were all safely tucked away for the night – Tommen and Julianna in their rooms down the hall, and the twins in their cradle beside their parents' bed. Sansa loved this time when the villa was quiet and she and Jaime could focus only on one another. It was still too soon after the babe's birth for physical intimacy, but she felt so close to Jaime lying in his arms and feeling the warmth his skin beneath her fingers. His skin was always warmer than hers – as if he were made of the sun, and she of the snow.

For the past week, Jaime and Tommen had spent the afternoons practicing sword-fighting and she could see that Tommen was learning from his father. Sansa and Julianna would hold the twins and watch them, though Julianna would eventually tire of merely watching, and ask to "play" as well. She was so close to her father that she hated not being part of whatever he was doing. After he and Tommen got in an hour of intense practice, Jaime would call Julianna over and hand her a small wooden practice sword. Sansa would watch, and see how careful he was not to injure their little girl as she crossed swords with him, her skirts flowing behind her. Sometimes he would sweep her up into his arms and hold her as he and Tommen battled and Julianna would laugh as she clung to Jaime, her eyes glittering brightly.

Julianna had begun to show an interest in hearing tales of knights and ladies, so Sansa, little by little, had started to share the stories and songs that she had locked away for so long. The songs she had treasured as a girl. And Julianna's eyes were always bright with exitement as she listened to Sansa – her head filled with stories of love and bravery.

That night, as she put her to bed, Julianna had asked Sansa if Jaime was a knight, and her little eyes lit with delight when Sansa replied in the affirmative, telling her that her father was once Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"Julianna is quite impressed with you," Sansa murmured as she moved her lips over Jaime's skin. "I don't know that any man will ever be able to compete with you, in her eyes."

He chuckled. "I've noticed she's inherited her mother's fondness for knights. She was nearly moved to tears as you told her the story of the Dragonknight."

Sansa looked up at Jaime and bit her lip. "You don't mind, do you? If I indulge her? She should believe in brave knights and happy endings." She knew it was silly, but Sansa wanted her little girl to have the childhood that she had, even if it didn't serve her well in King's Landing. "I promise…when she's older, we'll tell her that the world is not a song and she'll know that not all knights are good and she'll understand there is…evil and cruelty in the world. She'll have sense. I just…she's so little I think she should believe that life is a song. I want to keep the dark side of people away from her for as long as we can."

Jaime gently cupped her cheek with his hand and rubbed his thumb over her skin. "I don't mind. Our little Julianna should know nothing but happiness. We'll both do all we can to protect her. No one will ever mistreat her." As I was mistreated, Sansa finished silently.

She met his eyes and saw the seriousness in his expression. A few years had passed since she was at Joffrey's mercy in King's Landing and Sansa thought about it less and less as the happiness of her time with Jaime and their children filled her days and pushed aside her demons. But there were still those nights when her nightmares would cause her wake up screaming and she would feel that terror as if it were just yesterday. Jaime would hold her and kiss her and assure her that she was safe. Just as she would do for him when memories of his time with the Mad King haunted him.

He scooped her up onto his lap and held her against his chest. "What did Arya have to say?"

Sansa leaned her head against Jaime. Tyrion had forwarded a letter from Arya – the first since she'd written that Bran and Rickon were alive. "Bran…he's decided to stay with Jon at the Wall. He didn't want to return to Winterfell."

Sansa was glad that Bran and Jon were together. After what had happened to her when she was all alone in King's Landing, Sansa didn't want any of her siblings to be alone. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. She felt better knowing that Bran had Jon and Arya had Rickon. Though Sansa didn't have any of her siblings with her, she had formed her own pack with Jaime and their children. Sansa knew that she would never be alone again.

"Your brother doesn't wish to be Lord of Winterfell?" Sansa shook her head. "Is it…is it because he can't walk?"

She could hear the guilt in his voice and sat up to face him. "Jaime, you can't take responsibility for Bran's decisions. I don't want to think about what he went through when the Ironborn took Winterfell – burning it to the ground and killing everyone. He and Rickon were just little boys. Bran was not much older than Tommen." She kissed Jaime's cheek, running her fingers over his skin. "You've…you've paid for what you did. You've done many things to make up for it."

He nodded absently, and Sansa knew that Jaime wasn't convinced by her words. He looked at his golden hand and grimaced. "Your brother and I are both cripples."

"I wouldn't use that word. But you're right that the both of you have been changed. Both of you." Sansa smoothed her hand over his hair. "The man you were…would not be here with me. The man you were before would not have held Julianna in his arms as he taught Tommen to swing a sword." She traced her fingers down the side of his face. "I wonder if you ever smiled as brightly as you do when you are playing with them."

Jaime glanced over at their sons sleeping in their cradle beside the bed. "Not since I was a boy, growing up at the Rock."

Sansa smiled and hugged him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. All she wanted was to make him happy – to make Jaime feel as safe as she made him feel. As difficult as it was to leave Westeros and her family behind, Sansa had no desire to return. She knew that Jaime and the children were safe in their villa in Lys. She couldn't say that the same would be true in Westeros.

"You know…Tyrion wrote a short note that he sent with your sister's letter."

"Did he?" she asked, nuzzling against his neck.

Jaime chuckled. "It seems he's wed your dear friend Margaery Tyrell and got a child on her. I suppose the thorny little lion should arrive any day."

Sansa pulled away, looking at him in amazement. "I…don't know what to say." Sansa could not picture the elegant Margaery Tyrell as the lady wife of Tyrion. Let alone sharing his bed and bearing his child. There are those who would feel the same about me and Jaime. "I suppose…no one truly knows what there is between a husband and wife…what goes on in a marriage…if you aren't a part of it."

Jaime pinched her nose affectionately. "Though you may be right about that…I would wager all the gold in Casterly Rock that there is little love between Tyrion and Lady Margaery. She was prepared to see him executed for her crime. No…theirs will never be more than a political marriage."

Sansa nodded, knowing Jaime was right. "It's sad," she said quietly, resting her head on Jaime's shoulder again. "Tyrion deserves to marry someone who loves and appreciates him. Maybe they could be happy," she said hopefully. Jaime gave her a skeptical look. "Well…our marriage was supposed to be…political…but it became so much more."

Jaime kissed her and smiled. "We were very lucky."

Lucky. Sansa nodded to herself, knowing that Jaime was right. Most lords did not find love with their lady wives. While Jaime may call it luck, and she would call it the work of the gods, Sansa knew they were both quite fortunate to have found one another.

…

Tyrion's return to King's Landing had not been a peaceful one.

As expected, Margaery was waiting to greet them. As beautiful as ever, despite her condition. Or perhaps because of her condition. Tyrion could not deny she had a certain glow about her now that she was heavy with his child. His lady wife had greeted him warmly, but Tyrion could not help wondering how much of it was an act. Shireen had been waiting with her, excitedly welcoming the Queen back and asking a million questions about all that they had seen on their journey. The Baratheon girl had certainly blossomed since her liberation from the darkness of Dragonstone.

Any relief Tyrion had felt at being home had ended when he and his lady wife adjourned to their bedchamber for the night. She'd handed him a parchment –swearing that she had not shown it to anyone. It was from Jaime and Tyrion scarce believed her assurances of secrecy until she burst out that it was filled with nothing but "gibberish." He'd opened the letter and laughed heartily, seeing that Jaime had written in the secret language he and Cersei had made up when they were children. His sweet sister had been furious when Tyrion had managed to learn it, simply by listening to them. He recalled how she had shrieked, saying it was for she and Jaime, not him.

Jaime was much more cautious in his communications than even Tyrion was and he had received very few letters from his brother since he and Sansa had fled Westeros. It calmed his fears about his brother's fate to receive this letter, though the contents had quite the opposite effect. He'd been gripped by fear as he read about the Sorrowful Man who nearly ended his brother's life. The only cause for joy was that the assassin had not succeeded and that Uncle Gerion was alive and well in the Free Cities.

Before Tyrion could formulate a plan to address the matter with the Queen, Margaery had promptly gone into labor. Which is why Tyrion had been sitting on a bench outside his lady wife's bedchamber for the better part of five hours, waiting for the maester to emerge with news. He'd had only Sandor Clegane and his racing thoughts to keep him company. The large man's silence would have irritated him, except he was consumed with thoughts of how to protect Jaime. It has been many months since he wrote this letter and I would have heard if any harm had come to him.

"How long would you have me stand here? I'd rather go to the Black Cells and be done with it."

Tyrion looked at the Hound in annoyance. "You're not going to the Black Cells."

"Then why did you bring me here? You could have left me in the Riverlands."

"Yes, you'd have fared quite well among the angry smallfolk your brother tormented. I'm sure they were quite eager to have a Clegane in their company. That must be why they marched you out of their village and turned you over to us." He saw the man's face harden and immediately regretted his words. He's no more responsible for the Mountain than I am for Cersei. "My apologies. It was a long journey. Your bedchamber is down the hall. You need not wait with me."

"I'm to stay here? In the Tower of the Hand?" Tyrion nodded absently. The rebuilding of the tower that Cersei had burned to the ground had been completed in their absence, though Tyrion knew he would have to be on the alert for secret passageways and corners where spies could hide, given that Varys was the only one in the Capitol overseeing the construction. "Why would you have me stay here?"

"I'm hiring you as my shield."

The Hound looked at him as if he were mad. "You take me for that money-hungry git Bronn? Or is it Ser Bronn now? I'm not the Lannister dog anymore."

"Nor would I ask you to be. But you do have certain…talents that I would benefit from."

"You mean that I know how to kill? You do as well, as I recall."

Tyrion sighed, rubbing his temples. "You have to do something. Live somewhere. Why not here? Joffrey is gone. Most of House Lannister is gone. And I'll not ask you to do things that…I'll not ask to be inhuman – a beast." Sandor was listening to his words – considering - but Tyrion had no interest in continuing the conversation at the moment. "Sleep on it and you can decide in the morning."

The Hound stared at him for a moment before nodding and silently walking down the hallway to his chamber. Tyrion tipped his head back against the stone wall behind him and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"Would you mind if I sat with you for a moment?"

Tyrion opened his eyes, looking up at the Queen standing before him. "Of course not, your grace. How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. How does Lady Margaery fare?"

He shrugged, rubbing his eyes. "She's not screaming, so I suppose that's a good sign."

Daenerys smiled, and shook her head. "You could always go inside and check on her."

Tyrion looked at her as if she were mad. "Only Jaime shows that level of devotion." He recalled that Jaime had been with Cersei in the birthing chamber for all three children and he had no doubt that his brother had refused to leave Sansa's side when their daughter was born. When Jaime loves, he does so with every fiber of his being. Tyrion often wondered why he was not capable of that type of love. He saw the Queen's jaw set at the mention of Jaime. "Your grace…he is my brother and…I can't act as though he does not exist."

She nodded. "I realize that."

"I had not realized that you went ahead with Varys's advice of sending an…assassin after Jaime."

She looked at him sharply. "What are you talking about?"

She knows that I've been in communication with him. There's no use pretending. "Jaime wrote that a Sorrowful Man tried to kill him. Sent by the crown. I understand your reasons but…I thought that…I thought you had decided against it."

She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, reconsidering her words. "You have no cause to worry for the safety of the Kingslayer or his family. I…consider it a gift upon the birth of your child. I'll see to it at once." She rose to her feet and strode down the hall, her guards falling into step behind her, and Tyrion had the distinct impression that she had not known that the order to kill Jaime had been given. He closed his eyes again, waking only when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He saw it was the new maester that the Queen had appointed.

"My lord hand…you may come inside now and meet your daughter."

My daughter. Tyrion had nodded mutely, following the man into his wife's bedchamber. Margaery sat in bed – looking as beautiful as ever – with a tiny babe at her breast. She eased the child towards Tyrion as he approached, and he heard a small whimper of protest as the babe was forced to stop suckling and placed in his arms. He had never held a baby and never had the urge to do so. But this was his child – his blood – and as he held her, Tyrion realized that he would be responsible for this little girl for the rest of his life.

"She is perfect…is she not?" Margaery asked, though she well knew the answer. Tyrion gazed at the babe in his arms. A babe who had all Margaery's beauty and none of his deformities. "She takes after you, I think."

Tyrion thought the stress of giving birth must have caused temporary madness in his lady wife. "She looks nothing like me. If she did, you'd have recoiled in horror when she was placed in your arms."

Margaery scoffed. "I've heard descriptions of your lady mother and…I've met your brother and sister. And your father. She had the look of a Lannister. It's befitting, that your heir look like you."

He looked at the babe again, and supposed he did see a certain likeness to Cersei and his lady mother. Wonderful. Perhaps we should name her for my dear departed sister. He knew Margaery believed this child was heir to Casterly Rock – at least until a boy came along. Tyrion didn't have it in him to tell her that he had no intention of claiming Jaime's inheritance. She's just given me a child. I'll let her believe that she's birthed the future Lady of the Rock.

Tyrion considered his daughter again. The child was beautiful and perfect. And if she took after her mother at all, she would be cunning and provocative. As many women as I have been with…as much as I know of men's perversities…and now I'm responsible for this little one. "I suppose it's fitting that I'd be cursed with a daughter."

"Cursed?"

Tyrion looked at Margaery then, and saw that she wasn't angry. That she understood his meaning. My lady wife is certainly more beautiful than I ever believed possible. He looked at the maester. "She's well?"

"The babe is –"

"My lady wife. She's healthy? There were no complications in birthing the child."

The maester shook his head and proclaimed Margaery in perfect health before leaving the new family alone. Tyrion relinquished the babe to her mother then, watching as she eagerly resumed suckling at Margaery's breast.

"We should name her."

He sighed, far too tired to think. "Perhaps we could discuss it in the morning, when I've had some sleep. The gods only know what we would come up with now." She smiled to herself and nodded, holding the babe tightly. Perhaps she'll be a good mother, at least. She seems quite affectionate toward the babe. "I'll adjourn to my chamber for the night, then." He leaned over and kissed Margaery's cheek, looking at his daughter one more time before turning away.

"Tyrion? I think that perhaps we could learn to love one another. For her? Doesn't our daughter deserve a loving home?"

He froze at her words, wondering what she was thinking. Has Varys put this idea in her head? Tyrion wanted to tell his lady wife that he was perfectly aware that she had been plotting against him with the eunuch. He wanted to tell her that she would never be more to him than the woman he was forced to marry to secure his place beside the Queen. But the words died on his lips as he looked at the babe nuzzling against her and thought about the home he had grown up in – cold and without love and laughter.

"Perhaps," he whispered in reply, closing the door soundly behind him.

…

There's going to be a significant time jump (2-3 years) in the next chapter, which will pick up when Spring comes to Westeros. We're getting towards the end of the story, but there are still a few more chapters to go.

As always thanks for reading and to those of you who review – your comments are very much appreciated.