There's a bit of smut towards the end to make up for the lack of it lately. And I'm giving you an extra-long chapter, since it's the last one before Christmas. Enjoy!

…

Chapter 107

As Tyrion returned to the Tower of the Hand, he was still wondering why he had protected Margaery when the Queen had presented him with the perfect opportunity to be rid of her. The scene that greeted him when he reached his bedchamber told him why. His three-year old daughter was standing on a footstool and carefully brushing her lady mother's hair.

Tabytha was not the most beautiful child in the Realm to anyone except Tyrion. Though he expected that she would grow into her features when she became a young woman and that one day, his daughter would be every bit as beautiful as her mother. He frequently watched mother and daughter interact, and he knew that Tabytha would give anything to be just like Margaery. She would gaze at Margaery as if she could not quite believe that a woman so perfect was her mother. Nothing delighted Tabytha more than helping Margaery dress or picking out jewels for her to wear.

"Hi, Papa!" she said with a smile, putting down the brush and running over to hug him. "We go work today?"

He saw Margaery frown as she turned around in her chair. Tyrion frequently allowed his daughter to join him as he worked in his solar. She would pull up a chair next to him at his desk and practice her letters with quill and parchment. Margaery had objected to his teaching her to read and write at such a young age, but her arguments had not moved him. Though his daughter did not resemble him in appearance, she resembled him in her personality. He had found it impossible to refuse her when she had asked to sit with him at his desk and write letters as well. Reading is something I can share with her. I certainly won't be teaching her to dance at a feast.

"Of course, my darling. Go now and wait for me. I'd like to speak to your lady mother." Tabytha kissed her mother before scampering off down the hall.

"I do wish you would not encourage her to start reading and writing at such a young age. There will be time enough for that when she's older." Margaery looked at him curiously. "What did you wish to speak with me about?"

"Lord Varys. The Queen has banished him for disobeying her orders…as regards Jaime and Sansa. I'm not so foolish as to believe that you were not aware of his attempts to kill them in the name of the Queen."

Margaery paled slightly, but otherwise portrayed ignorance. "I had no idea he had done such a thing. How did the Queen discover this?"

Tyrion slowly walked toward her, unable to control his simmering anger. "The two of you were very foolish to believe that you could carry out this treason under her nose. She offered me the chance to be rid of you…to turn you out as a traitor as well."

"I...Why am I not being taken to the black cells, if that is true? We both know you care nothing for me. That you wish for nothing more than to be rid of me…a lady wife you never wanted and will never love. Why am I still here?"

"Do you believe I would let my daughter suffer the shame of being the daughter of a traitor? That I would have her know the pain of having her mother taken away forever? Even if she is your child…Tabytha is an innocent. It's as if the gods took all the good from both of us and put it in her."

Margaery nodded. "For her. Is that the only reason?" Tyrion met her eyes and saw that she was looking for some sign of affection. "I never wished to hurt you," she whispered. "I know you think I want nothing more than to have you gone, but you are wrong. To lose you…it would grieve our girl as well. As it would grieve me." He raised his eyebrow in question. "I urged him to find another way but…he said a war with the West and the North was the only way to reclaim the throne for House Lannister. For us. The smallfolk love your brother and Lady Sansa and…I know better than to think you would allow the Queen to make you Lord of the Rock in your brother's place, as long as Jaime draws breath."

"You are correct about that. I will see Jaime as Lord of the Rock. You will have to satisfy yourself as wife of the Hand of the Queen and busy yourself with mothering our daughter. Jaime is the only person I love besides our daughter and if you believed that his death would not hurt me, you are a fool. That's one word I never would have used to describe you, my dear." Tyrion advanced toward her. "Your power is over. The Queen does not trust House Tyrell after this mess…for it was Varys that suggested our marriage. It was Varys who told the Queen that it would benefit her to keep your House close. Do you understand me? If you give me cause again…I will see you dead. I can find Tabytha another mother."

Margaery nodded mutely, not moving from her seat as Tyrion left her alone to consider her new life circumstances. He joined their daughter in his solar, and spent the remainder of the morning in her company – her sweetness and happiness a soothing balm for his rage.

"Mama says they'll be a feast for the Spring," she said eagerly. "I have to practice dancing."

Tyrion smiled, wondering why a three year old needed to know how to dance. It was apparently expected that even a young girl would know proper social customs. Though Tyrion had seen his daughter's attempts at dancing, and it was more amusing than anything else. Margaery had often lamented their child's lack of grace. To her credit, Margaery never voiced this displeasure in front of their daughter. Only to Tyrion when they were alone. He'd frequently told her that he did not believe their daughter's strengths were in such frivolities. Fancy hairstyles would fall away within minutes of being put in her hair and Tyrion would find her hunched over a book or a piece of paper she was drawing on, her hair masking her face.

"Papa?"

"Yes, my dear," he replied, giving his daughter his full attention.

"Will Spring be here soon?"

He nodded. "Very soon. You've only known the cold of Winter, but soon you will see flowers everywhere and the sun will shine on your face."

"And will Uncle Jaime and Aunt Sansa come back?" Tyrion frequently spoke to his daughter about Jaime and his happier memories of growing up at the Rock, but only when they were alone. He wasn't certain where she learned them, but Tabytha knew the songs about her uncle that had become quite popular throughout the Realm. He'd told her many times that she was not to sing them in front of the Queen – only when they were alone. And she seemed to understand.

Tyrion looked up at the sound of a knock on the door. "Your grace, you needn't knock."

Daenerys shrugged, walking in to his solar alone. "This is your home…you needn't give up all privacy."

Tabytha smiled and slid from her chair, greeting the Queen with a rather pathetic curtsey, though Tyrion knew the Queen found his daughter's attempts to be courtly charming. Daenerys bent down and scooped her up from the ground, sitting opposite Tyrion with his smiling daughter on her lap. During the long years of Winter, the Queen had occupied much of her time in the company of her ward, young Lady Shireen, and Tabytha was often invited to join them. He knew that she enjoyed the presence of children in the Red Keep.

"Since you are here…perhaps we might begin plans for the spring feasts. And…decide who will be honored for their bravery during the War against the Walkers. Who will be knighted and…who will be presented to the Realm as heroes."

"Yes," she asked, the expectation apparent in her voice.

Tyrion knew that this was his opportunity to get his brother back. He wasn't going to ever have a closer relationship with the Queen than he did currently. "My brother, Jaime…he led his men into untold danger to defeat the Walkers. And they stopped the Walkers from moving further South. Jaime didn't have to do that. He could have remained inside the Rock with Sansa and waited for Winter to end. He didn't. You cannot deny his bravery and the People of Lannisport know what he did. They would wish to see him honored. They expect to see him honored." Tabytha was smiling happily in the Queen's arms. "I'd like her to know her family. Jaime and his children."

Daenerys looked down at Tabytha and stroked her soft little cheek with her thumb. "Sweetling, will you visit with your mother for a few minutes while your father and I speak?" Tabytha nodded obediently, kissing the Queen's cheek before slipping from the room. "How long have you been working up the courage to ask this of me?"

"You know this is what the Realm requires…to heal from these long years of war. Jaime's banishment serves no purpose."

"It shows the Realm that betraying House Targaryen will not be permitted. How can you ask me to allow the Kingslayer back into the Realm? And back as Lord of Casterly Rock, I expect?"

Tyrion nodded, his eyes down on the table. "The Rock has always been Jaime's. Even when he joined the Kingsguard…Lord Tywin never lost hope that one day, Jaime would somehow claim his birthright." Though the Queen cared not, the entire realm knew that Tyrion had killed his father. No matter how ruthless Tywin Lannister had been…the people of Lannisport would not accept a kinslayer as their Lord.

"You are asking too muchof me."

"Why? Did you think Sansa and Jaime were lying when they told you why he killed Aerys? Do you know Jaime has never spoken of it to anyone – not even to me. Not for all these years. He's many things but...my brother is no liar." The Queen's eyes flashed angrily, but Tyrion continued on. "You've heard – not just from Jaime – about the burnings, ripping out tongues…he was called the Mad King for a reason."

"And should I allow his bastard – who once sat on my throne – to return as well?"

"Tommen is just a boy. He was only eight years old when his mother put him on that throne. He never asked for it. He's a sweet boy," Tyrion said quietly. "I find it difficult to believe he has a drop of Lannister blood in him." He met her eyes. "Tommen will renounce any claim to the throne. I know he will."

"How can you ask this of me?" she burst out. "After all of the time we have spent together…knowing what my father's loss of the iron throne cost me…what I've endured…"

"That's not Jaime's fault. It's your father's…and Rhaeger's. If he had not taken Lyanna Stark…the Rebellion may have never occurred. I know how much you wish you had your family – that they were here and not dead in the ground. I know, because I wish I had my brother here."

She stood so abruptly that Tyrion was certain she was leaving the room. Instead, she strode to the window, starting out over the Realm for a long time. "What makes you think he even wishes to return here? After…what happened when we took the Rock?" She spoke so quietly that Tyrion thought he had imagined it. That he wanted it so much, he didn't hear her true words, but rather heard what he wished to hear.

Daenerys sat opposite him again, and the two of them spent much of the afternoon hammering out terms that both could agree to – though not without much disagreement and arguing. When she finally left his solar, Tyrion called for Sandor.

"You and the Dragon bitch certainly spent a long time alone in here. I thought she enjoyed the company of the Bear but perhaps she prefers little Lions." Tyrion rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I have a…job for you. It is a matter of great importance. Both to myself and the Realm."

…

Arya swept her hair back over her shoulder as she peered around the corner, making sure that no one could see her. Shaggydog pushed his muzzle against the small bag that Arya clutched in her hands, smelling the meat concealed within.

"No, Shaggy," she whispered, resting her hand on his neck. Seeing that she and Rickon's direwolf were alone, she slipped outside before the cook noticed that she had made off with a good chunk of that night's dinner. She tried to keep the direwolf inside, but Arya was no match for his strength and he forced his way outside along with her. Arya sighed in frustration as the large wolf trotted along beside her.

"Arya? Where are you going?" she heard Rickon calling after her.

"Why are you following me?" she accused, turning to face her little brother.

"I'm not. I was following Shaggy." She sighed as Rickon gripped the direwolf's fur. "Where are you going?" he asked, risking her wrath. "Can I go with you?"

"You have to be quiet." He smiled and nodded, his eyes lighting with happiness as he trotted along beside her. She smiled reluctantly, and ruffled his hair. Arya knew that Rickon was happy to be home after so many years of being lost, cold and hungry. Over the past few years since his return, the two of them had formed a bond and come to enjoy each other's company. When they were alone, he would ask to hear about before – when they were children growing up at Winterfell. It was still difficult for her to talk about the past, but she indulged him because she wanted Rickon to remember when they were happy and to remember Sansa. She and Jaime will return from the Free Cities one day, and Sansa will be sad if Rickon doesn't know her.

Arya was happy to be back at Winterfell as well. But she missed Jaime and Sansa. She missed living with them at Casterly Rock and learning to fight. She had asked her mother many times when she could travel to the Free Cities to visit Sansa and Jaime. Lady Catelyn always told her that it was far too dangerous, and that they may never see Sansa again. That they should be content to know that she is safe and happy. They had received a few letters from her. Arya still recalled the tears in her mother's eyes as she clutched the letter telling of the birth of twin boys. She couldn't be certain if they were tears of joy or sorrow. She must miss Sansa as much as I do.

She still wore Needle and the sword Jaime had made for her at her waist, though her mother clearly disapproved. Now that she was nearly five and ten, Lady Catelyn had begun to exert more pressure on her to conduct herself as a proper lady. Arya had agreed to grow her hair out – though it was usually tied back and out of her way – and she sometimes wore dresses when they had visiters. But Arya refused to give up her swords. Especially now that Uncle Edmure and the Blackfish had traveled South with Roslin to reclaim Riverrun from the Freys. Someone needs to be prepared to defend Winterfell, should there be an attack.

Of course, the Boltons and their supporters were all dead. And all of the North had bent the knee to Arya, Rickon and Lady Stark, pledging their loyalty and offering to serve them in defense of Winterfell and House Stark. But Arya found it difficult to let her guard down, after what had happened in King's Landing. She still woke up some nights in a cold sweat, gripped with fear at the memory of the red cloaks killing all of her father's men…of her father's execution. I'll never allow any of us to be taken captive – to be at the mercy of anyone, ever again.

Arya motioned for Rickon to stay back with Shaggy, as she unwrapped the large piece of meat she'd stolen from the kitchen. The massive wolf whined, no doubt wishing to take the morsel for himself, but Rickon held him back – not that the boy was any match for the direwolf's strength, but the animal did obey his master. She returned and crouched beneath the low limbs of a tree. For the past few weeks, she had awoken to the sound of wolves howling. In the past few days, the howls were louder and closer to the castle. The howls didn't sound like the grey wolves that were common in the North. They sounded just like Shaggydog when he would stare at the new moon.

She glanced over at Rickon, who had stretched out beside her, his eyes bright with excitement. She held her finger to her lips, to ensure that he would remain quiet. He grinned and nodded at her in understanding, his hand tangled in Shaggy's fur. She didn't know how long they waited – it must have been hours, because both Rickon and Shaggy had fallen asleep - when a large brown wolf slowly stalked out from deep in the forest. Shaggy woke suddenly and whined and the brown wolf turned in their direction. Arya smiled, and felt tears fill her eyes.

Nymeria. She's come home.

…

"Tell us about the Rock, Mama."

Sansa smiled down at Gerion, sitting beside her in his bed, cuddled against her side. Rickard nodded against her chest in agreement. It was the same ritual every night. Gerion would get into his bed, while Sansa sat beside him, holding Rickard on her lap, as she told them their bedtime story. Rickard usually fell asleep in her arms, and she would carefully put him into his own bed before leaving them for the night.

"Why do you wish to hear about Casterly Rock?" she asked, knowing that Gerion was anxious for their return to Westeros. Not that he's ever been there.

"That's our castle, Mama. We're lions. And lions belong at the Rock!" He looked so serious for such a little boy, that Sansa couldn't resist tickling him, and he dissolved into giggles. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. My precious little boy. She and Jaime had talked about Gerion's severe personality and resolved to do all they could to ensure that he remained a child as long as possible.

"You're right, sweet boy. You are lions."

"Mama's a wolf!" Rickard chimed in.

"You're both wolves. You're wolves because you're part of me and lions because you're part of your father." She saw that Gerion was watching her expectantly. The boy was not easily distracted. "Casterly Rock, is the greatest castle in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I remember when your father first brought me there – when I first saw it. Your sister was still in my belly and I remember thinking I had never seen anything so grand. It was grander than King's Landing, even. The Rock stretches high up into the air for miles and miles, beside the Sunset Sea."

"And you rode through the Lion's Mouth?" Gerion asked, having heard many times about Casterly Rock from Jaime.

"Yes," Sansa said, smiling.

"When can we go there, Mama?"

"Why do you wish to go somewhere you've never been?"

"Because Papa is Lord of the Rock."

"He is," she said, stroking Gerion's blonde curls. "But we're here now, in the Free Cities. And Ser Addam Marbrand and your Uncle Tyrion are looking after Casterly Rock for us."

"Uncle Tyrion's Hand of the Queen," Gerion informed her, as if she were hearing it for the first time. She saw that he took pride in his uncle's important position in Westeros. More than once, Sansa had cursed herself for educating the children about Westeros. Gerion especially. He was only three, but he seemed to already have a mind for politics and understood the importance of power.

"Will Papa teach us to fight, like Tommen?" Rickard asked, not caring about the politics of Westeros.

"Can we have swords?" Gerion asked.

"You have swords. And your father is beginning to teach you. When you get older, he'll teach you more."

"No, Mama," Gerion said urgently, grabbing her arm. "Real swords. Gendry can make them for us."

Sansa sighed, noting the excitement in the boys' eyes. They'll be just like Jaime and Tommen. I'll never get the swords out of their hands once they really start training. She had agreed to allow the boys small wooden practice swords a few months earlier, and they loved the time they spent with Jaime learning to fight. She knew Jaime enjoyed it just as much. It was Jaime's skill with a sword had brought him and Tommen together.

She leaned over and hugged Gerion against her as she stroked her hand over Rickard's golden curls. "You…my little lions will have real swords in all good time. For now…you are children. I want you be happy and play and not worry about anything for as long as possible. The two of you will always be my sweet babes."

"I love you, Mama," Gerion said.

She smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, too, Sweetling."

Once Gerion lay back on the bed, Sansa carried Rickard over to his own bed and got him settled for the night. "Love you, Mama," he whispered, wrapping his little arms around her neck and hugging her tightly. She held him for a long moment, telling herself to treasure these moments while the children were still young. She couldn't imagine losing one of her boys the way her mother had lost Robb – and believed she'd lost Bran and Rickon. Sansa pulled away and looked at her little miniature Jaime, though the eyes that looked back at her were her own. Sansa brushed his hair off his forehead and softly kissed him. "Goodnight, sweet boy."

Sansa looked in on Julianna across the hall. Jaime sat on the edge of her bed and both her little hands tightly gripped his one good hand as they spoke. "Father? Will I ever be a real lady like Mother?" Sansa smiled to herself, knowing how much it tried Jaime's patience that their little girl had turned out just like her mother was as a girl. Julianna's head was filled with tales of knights and their ladies and Sansa knew that Julianna dreamed of the day she could walk through the Red Keep and see the Iron Throne. Their daughter didn't know of the horrors the both of them had experienced in the Red Keep. They wanted her to stay innocent as long as possible.

"Julianna, you are my sweet little girl. And I promise you, that one day you will grow up and become an elegant lady, just like your mother. You are so like her. You're every bit as beautiful as she is and you act so like her. And that makes me love you all the more." Julianna beamed as she listened to Jaime's words. "I promise you, Lioness, one day, you will be lady of a great keep. Though I won't part with you unless the man to be your lord husband loves you as you deserve." He kissed her forehead. "You will have all the happiness in the world, Julianna."

Julianna sat up and hugged Jaime, burying her face against his chest as he stoked her hair. Sansa knew that he regretted how he had left things with Myrcella. And she saw him do all in his power to be a good father to his other daughter. The daughter he was allowed to love and call his own. He took such excellent care of Julianna – making her feel safe and loved. From the moment she was born, Sansa noticed how precious she was to Jaime. And she knew he had a special bond with his daughter that he didn't have with any of his other children. Because she was the first.

He must have sensed her presence in the doorway, because Jaime held his hand out to her. Sansa happily walked over, taking his hand and combing her fingers through Julianna's russet hair as she continued to hug Jaime.

"It's time for bed, Lioness," Jaime murmured, hissing the top of her head and rising to his feet. Once Julianna was settled they both hugged and kissed her goodnight before leaving her room. Jaime wrapped his arm around Sansa's shoulder as they walked back to their chamber.

"Do you think we've made an error?" Sansa asked hesitantly as they walked down the hall. He looked down at her in question. "Telling the children about Casterly Rock and Winterfell? Gerion seems outraged that you are not living at the Rock as it's Lord. He'll become your father if we aren't careful."

Jaime chuckled, closing the chamber door behind them once they entered their room. "He laughs far too easily for that. Don't worry. We have many years before the boy declares war on anyone."

Sansa shrugged, unconvinced. "I suppose…It's so hot here." Sansa twisted her hair up off of her neck. "Winter must be over in Westeros by now, don't you think?"

Jaime nodded. Winter never came to Essos, but there was some fluctuation in temperature and it had become decidedly warmer in the past weeks. There was a cool breeze outside, which made it much more pleasant than inside their chamber. She and Jaime had slept outside on the terrace the past few nights, with the sound of the water lulling them to sleep and the air cooling their skin. Jaime took off his clothes, tossing them on a chair as he walked out onto the patio.

Sansa shed her silky gown and was about to put on her nightdress, when she stopped and changed her mind, wrapping a grey silk robe around her body instead. It was very fine and embroidered with metallic red threads swirling down the sides. Julianna had picked it out with Jaime in the marketplace as a gift for Sansa's last nameday. She smiled, recalling her daughter excitedly telling her that it was for an elegant lady.

She walked outside and leaned against the wall, watching Jaime reclining on the large chaise, naked as his nameday, and utterly lacking in self-consciousness. He's so handsome…so beautiful. And he's all mine. He joked about being too old to chase after their small children, but the years had been good to him. He was just as handsome as they day they married. More so, even, after the years they had spent in the Free Cities. Being free of Cersei and the burdens of being "the Kingslayer" had relaxed him. There had always been a tension in Jaime before that was absent now. He's finally happy. He has a family of his own and he's happy.

Despite her initial worries, Jaime had come to love their little boys very much. And the twins adored their father. Jaime would get on the floor with them to play, and the boys would climb all over him, eager to be close to him. And the pride on their faces whenever Jaime complimented them was so sweet to see. Sansa had almost given up hope of having a life like this – the family she had always dreamed of as a little girl. She loved her children so much – more than she ever thought possible. And she saw so much of Jaime in all of them.

She slowly walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the chaise and resting her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes slowly taking in her appearance. The corners of his mouth twitched with a smile as he ran his hand from her neck, down along the edge of her robe. She took a breath as the tip of his finger swept over the skin of her breast. Even now, Jaime's touch could make her heart race. He sat up and leaned forward to kiss her. She loved kissing him. They had been married for almost seven years, and she still took pleasure in simply kissing her husband. Sansa slid her fingers into Jaime's hair as she pressed her lips against his.

She felt Jaime smile against her mouth as they kissed. "I love you, Jaime."

He reluctantly moved his mouth away from hers and began kissing her neck. "I love you." Jaime leaned back and looked her over slowly. "Take that off."

She rose to her feet and bit her lip nervously before untying the belt on her robe, watching the desire cloud his expression as the silk parted slightly. Jaime reached out with his good hand, opening her robe further as he touched her thigh, moving his hand up over her hip to her waist. Sansa slid the thin silk from her shoulders, standing before him completely bare for a moment as his eyes raked over her. He turned to face her and began kissing her breasts, moving lower to her belly. Sansa leaned her head back and sighed in pleasure as he pressed his mouth against her womanhood, gripping his shoulders to keep from falling. When she could take it no more, Sansa pushed him back and climbed atop him, straddling his lap.

She slid her hands over his chest and shoulders, as Jaime pulled her against him. She felt so safe and protected in his arms – no matter what was going on in the world. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around her and lowering his mouth to her neck.

When she was a little girl, Lady Catelyn had told her that the longer she was married the more she would come to love her lord husband. But Sansa had not believed her. Not until the past few years with Jaime. There had been so many times during their marriage that Sansa had not though it possible to love him more than she did. And she was proven wrong every time. He's become part of me. A part of me that I could not imagine losing.

She squealed as Jaime flipped them over so Sansa was on her back. Jaime's eyes were dark with desire as he pressed his hardness against her core. As he slid inside her, Sansa arched her back and pushed her head against the cushions, sighing with pleasure as they became joined as one.

She felt Jaime's mouth on her breasts, kissing and sucking. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the pleasure of her husband's touch. Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders. As exciting as it had been when they first began making love, it was even better between them now that they knew exactly how the other liked to be touched and kissed. Now that they felt so much for one another. She heard her name on his lips as he continued thrusting in and out of her. Sansa reached for his face, pulling him up to kiss her again. He braced his good hand beside her head and looked down at her, his eyes not moving from her face.

She began to feel nervous under the intensity of his gaze, and reached up to gently touch his cheek. "What is it?"

"I love you, sweet girl."

She smiled and leaned up, kissing him again. Jaime sat back on his knees, pulling her onto his lap. Sansa buried her face against his neck as he helped her ride him to their peaks, not caring about being quiet or proper. All she cared about was Jaime and what he was making her feel. After her initial reluctance, she had come to enjoy making love outside, with the moonlight on their skin and the sound of the water lulling them to sleep afterwards.

They held each other as the sweat evaporated off their skin and their hearts pounded in their chests. Sansa's eyes slowly refocused as Jaime nuzzled against her breasts. As she rested her head on Jaime's shoulder and looked out into the darkness of the ocean, her eyes stopped on another pair of eyes watching her. She gasped, taking in the scarred face of the large man who was drinking in her appearance, before clasping Jaime's shoulders and stifling a scream.

…

Dun dun dun…I wonder who it could be?