He would not get anything out of Sansa Stark, that much was clear. Yet in contrast to his revenge-crazed daughter, he also believed the girl had nothing to do with his grandson's murder. How could she? She was a simple thing with no mind for scheming.

Implicating her in the assassination would not bode well for them. Sansa Stark was the only remaining member of her House and, therefore, the key to the North. Killing her now that her brother's insipid rebellion was finally vanquished would completely hand over control of the North to Roose Bolton, and there was no way he would allow that.

Tyrion was guilty, however, nothing and no one could disprove that now. He had had his doubts in the beginning of the trial, but every piece of evidence, every testimony brought before him had solidified it. That ought to teach him a lesson in believing in the innocence of people merely because they were family.

Though for the first time he actually felt relief his son had been too cowardly to consummate his marriage with Sansa Stark. It should allow him to find her another husband after his son's execution more easily, and hopefully someone with the strength to listen to his commands. And if such a man couldn't be found, then he would not hesitate to take the matter into his own hands.

That woman Lady Sansa had mentioned vexed him. Elle Sand, one of Prince Oberyn's spawns. The Dornishman had seemed proud to introduce her to him, yet he could not see why. She had been timid and shy, had said naught a word, and then had disappeared quite rudely. The way she had covered up her hair led him to believe she was hiding something, but what?

He needed to set Lord Varys onto her, perhaps he would be able to figure something out.

Though perhaps not. He started slowly doubting his Master of Whisperer's talents, after he had not been able to find out anything of note about the Golden Paladin besides what Tywin had already been told by Benjiamin Vypren. Whom Lord Varys had also not been able to figure out the whereabouts of after he had disappeared a few weeks ago.

A knock sounded on his door.

"Enter!"

Of all the people to walk into his solar in the early hours of the morning, he had not expected it to be the High Septon.

"My Lord Hand, I thank you for seeing me at such an early hour."

"Say what you have to or it will have been the last time."

The High Septon was clearly not used to having to listen to commands, acting all flustered at simply being told to speak. Tywin raised an eyebrow at the embarrassing display.

"Last night," the man finally said, "one of my septas observed something peculiar. A hooded figure came into our sept, walked up to King Joffrey's body, and prayed over him. Then they kissed his forehead and disappeared once more."

Tywin blinked. Then once more.

"And?"

"That is it, my lord."

"You have come all the way to the Tower of the Hand to tell me that someone visited the sept?"

"Uh, well-" The septon stammered. "The king has been poisoned, and we don't know who this person was, and they clearly did not want to be recognised-"

"Enough."

The High Septon took a step back at his harsh tone, and might have continued in his senseless rambling if Tywin had not said, "Leave."

Why did he have to contend himself with such idiots wherever he went?

A hooded figure praying over the king's body at night… Such a picture certainly sparked a sense of curiosity in him. The likelihood of this mystery man being involved in his grandson's murder was slim to non-existent, yet he felt as if it were the answer to a question he did not know.

Or, well… Perhaps he did know the question.

Tywin prided himself on his realism, his ability to put emotions aside to focus on what was important and relevant. At every step in his life, he had put the pure and basic interests of House Lannister above all else, knowing to not entertain fantasies of what could have been. And yet he had not been able to help wonder when Lord Varys had told the council of the rumours. Even just for a moment he had considered what it would be like if his granddaughter Cerelle had truly survived all these years.

He wasn't like his daughter, who had held steadfastly on the opinion that her child had been kidnapped and would return to her any day now. After no demand for money had arrived after a year, he had known the princess had likely drowned in Blackwater Bay after yet another mindless flight attempt.

It had been annoying losing such an important piece. He had had plans for her - marriage, alliances, ensuring a peaceful and prospering realm. Him and Elyana Vypren had been close to a betrothal at one point, therefore binding her armies to the crown.

Joffrey had not had a secret lover, so who else was there to visit his corpse and lovingly kiss it but a long-lost sibling?

Only question then was, why was this sibling long-lost?