Chapter 32
Tyrion had known despair for much of his life. The hatred of his sister and father for him. The cruel barbs of his cousins. The realization that he would never be like the other noble lords of his house. The unsightly face in any reflection.
Worst of all was the false wedding to Tysha. Having to watch a dozen guards have their way with her. Yes, she may have been a whore that had tricked him, but as it went on he saw it in the darkest of nights. Any sort of joy in the act, even for the coin that his father had made her hold as each man had her seemed little repayment for the misery upon her face.
His torment at the hands of the Hound had been harsh enough, but then to have been immediately imprisoned and accused of attempting to murder the king had made a nightmarish day even more awful. Nothing made sense to him until one guard taunted him that his brother would almost certainly die of his wounds. Tyrion had asked who had attacked his brother, and the guards had said it was the ‘Kingslayer’ who had attempted to earn the title a second time.
He promised to wait for my plan. He promised!
Eventually, Grand Maester Pycelle came to tend to his fingers. There, he learned much and more of the betrayal. Cersei and Jaime had not waited because Stannis had sent a letter claiming all of Cersei’s children were bastards born of incest. His stupid cunt of a sister had panicked and had Jaime try to murder the king, only for Ser Barristan to thwart him. Horrifically, Sansa had been there to witness the battle, and her wolf had been credited with saving not only her own life, but that of the king’s.
Tyrion wanted to weep, but Pycelle gave him some hope. He said that his uncle had tried to ensure the king survived for such an open attempt would doom House Lannister. Because of this, Pycelle felt confident that the king would see reason in time and Kevan would be safe. As for Tyrion, he would try, but could make no promises. The only good news was that Jaime was not near death. His wound was an ugly thing, but unless fever took him, he would not die of it.
It was only afterward that Tyrion realized the Grand Maester had spoken to him quietly with urgency and clarity. There was no doddering old man, but a fellow who quickly relayed information and urged Tyrion to confess to nothing if he had any hope of avoiding the headsman.
Another day passed, with no news, but better treatment. Wine and proper food was provided and he was moved away from the jails and into one of the servant quarters in the Red Keep. The guards who escorted him wore the livery of the Baratheon stag and refused to speak to him.
A good sign, perhaps.
He received his first visitor, Sansa.
“Lord Tyrion, I had heard you were injured. Has a maester seen to your wound?”
Tyrion nodded, pinpricks of heat in his eyes that he blinked away.
“Pycelle saw to them, my lady, but I must ask you. Are you well? The stories some of the guards have shared…”
Sansa lowered her eyes and hugged Visha, who now towered over Tyrion even when he was standing.
“Visha protected me,” she said in a whisper, “I’m only truly afraid if she is not near, but I keep her with me everywhere.” She let out a hollow laugh. “If I could take her into the privy, I would. If I ever return to Winterfell, I’ll demand my father make an extra large one in a newly rebuilt library.”
Tyrion’s heart ached for her.
“I… I want you to know. I had nothing to do with Jaime attacking the king. Gods, I know you have no reason to believe me, but I swear it. I did not do it.”
Sansa graced him with a smile. “I believe you. You are not like your family at all. What Jaime did to Edric, it was horrible. I had not known him long but he was such a dutiful squire. So proud to be the king’s squire. The long-standing bad blood between Dorne and the crown might have even been mended.” Sansa shook her head, dismissing the thought. “Why did your brother do it? Why did your sister ask it of him?”
Tyrion gave an uncomfortable shrug. “I don’t know, exactly. But I can guess. Robert mistreated the queen, and my sister has always had an unseemly amount of pride. Jaime would do anything for his sister.” Tyrion added in a bitter note, “Above all other considerations.”
They were silent for a moment. Sansa approached him and gave him a hug.
“I am sorry this has happened to you. The king, he sees treachery all around him. I’ve tried to tell him that you wouldn’t do this, that you were different from your kin, but I’ve been able to do little more than see to these minor comforts. ‘Tis difficult when Cersei has claimed you were the one who planned it.”
Of course she did.
Tyrion again felt an incredible wave of affection for the girl. But along with it came a knot of guilt. He had been planning a betrayal. He briefly considered just confessing it all. That he wasn’t responsible for the madness of his siblings, but he had been trying to murder the king.
Perhaps I should face the headsman. If Clegane and whoever he is now working for knows about Rivers… well it is only a matter of time.
“Thank you. Truly, Sansa. I am in your debt.”
Sansa looked at him closely. “My lord, between my own efforts and perhaps you doing a service for the king, there is some hope. His grace wants… no, he needs to understand why. I’ve told him that Cersei hates you and for her to freely give your name up should be a sign of your innocence, not guilt. But his brother and other advisors see it differently.”
Tyrion looked at her. “Service?”
She nodded. “Talk to Jaime. His speech is somewhat muddled by his wound, but speak to him. His fate is almost certainly sealed, but we could put to bed several mysteries if he is honest. From my view, the discussion with your brother would be one where he could unburden himself. My brother Bran, someone, tried to murder him. Have him also tell you the reason for why he sought to murder the king. Yes, because Cersei asked him, but why did she want this?”
Tyrion frowned. He was tracing the logic, and something was not quite adding up.
“Bran? How is your brother connected?”
“I… well, when I learned Jaime and Cersei could do something so monstrous, I worked backwards as to what purpose would Bran’s death even serve. The only thought I had was that perhaps it was a way for my father to change his mind about accepting the Handship. It wouldn’t have worked, even if Bran had died, but how could your brother or sister have known? They never wanted him as Hand, we all know that, so while the idea is flimsy, combine that with the proof we now have that they would do unspeakable things, it lends credence to the idea.”
Sensible.
“You say a service, but if Robert doesn’t believe me now, why would he believe what Jaime tells me? How would he know that it isn’t a lie from him to me, or regardless of what he says to me, I just lie again. I’m not sure why the king would trust anything I say if he does not trust it now.”
Sansa chewed on her lip. “You make a good point. But I don’t know what else I can try to do. He is so angry at times… it frightens me. I try to tiptoe around it as to not have his violence directed toward me. I don’t think he means to… he is just in his cups and full of black rage so often these last few days.”
Tyrion winced. “Then don’t. Tell him you are sick from what you have seen. Tell him you are getting flashes of memory of your own assault, anything. Do not risk yourself for me.”
Sansa shook her head. “No, my father always taught me to choose the path of honor. I won’t abandon someone dear to me. I will be as brave as he was.”
Seven Hells. Well, I wish to see my brother anyway. Even if it accomplishes nothing, I will try.
“You Starks,” he shook his head but smiled at her, “very well. I will speak to my brother. Can you arrange it to be done privately?”
“The king would most like want to have someone listening in, but… I will try. My hope is I can catch him shortly after he wakes, but before he is in his cups too deeply.”
As she rose, he took her hand. “Just be careful. Sansa, you… you’ll never know how much I value your kindness. If fate is kind to me, I’ll repay this favor to you one day.”
She squeezed his hand once and left the room. The warmth of her touch lingered.
***
Tyrion hadn’t fully bought it, but by playing up Robert’s instability I was able to get his agreement. I would get him into the room with Jaime. Weiss would already be inside and be able to eavesdrop on everything. Other tasks needed to be done before that, including a visit to Kevan Lannister.
Kevan had been treated relatively well, Lord Royce had seen first-hand that it was Kevan who may have well-saved the king’s life. Robert would almost certainly see that too, and there would be no consequences at all for him. Perhaps even praise, but Kevan didn’t know that.
As I headed to where he was being held, Lord Varys appeared.
“Lady Sansa, and the hero of the hour, the mighty Visha.”
“Lord Varys,” I inclined my head.
“Might I walk with you for a moment? I’ve been curious about how you have been faring after such a terrible event.”
Well, it really couldn’t be helped. I’m taking part in interrogations. It was bound to have alerted people that I’m taking part in the games of court.
“I would be happy for your company. I’m off to visit Ser Kevan and see how he is faring in captivity.”
His eyebrows rose. “Truly? Isn’t the king normally with you when you extract your confessions? I must admit, it feels as if we ever bring back the old position of lord confessor, you may have found a suitable position in court for your many talents.”
“I just want to help. Sometimes a soft voice and the sight of the one who was nearly an unintended victim of treachery helps loosen tongues.”
He tittered a bit.
“Indeed. In truth, I am relieved at what you are doing. I had feared the worst, a great wave of violence and executions that could fracture the realm. But I wonder, Lady Sansa, were you aware that not all view this in the same light?”
“I imagine not. Treason is a terrible crime. I confess, I do not like bloodshed. If we can see less of it, and provide able warriors for the Night’s Watch during their time of crisis, why not? But it sounds as if you had someone in particular on your mind.”
“Renly. He speaks to the Lord Hand of the unseemly nature of you participating in discussions with prisoners. That your womanly heart is making Robert soft. I thought you would like to know, for the man wishes none other than himself to influence the king.”
Figures as much, given his desire to brand Tommen and Myrcella bastards. He also is very pointed in his barbs toward Stannis being unfit to rule Dragonstone for his failure to promptly tell his brother of treason he believed to be true.
“Thank you, Lord Varys. Renly has made plain what he thinks of Myrcella and Tommen. What have you advised the king?”
He blinked. “I seek less to advise, and more to inform. As for proof of adultery or incest, I have none to provide.”
“But if he asked for your counsel?”
“I would say that unless we can extract a confession of such a dark deed, we should proceed with caution.”
He would have been a great politician in the modern world.
“Thank you. Myrcella and Tommen are very dear to me. I could not bear it if something happened to them because the king believed a lie.”
Varys left me and I finished my journey to see Kevan.
“Lady Sansa. You look much better than last we met.”
I deliberately shuddered. “Last we met I was covered in the gore of Visha’s kills. My heart had raced so hard I feared it might burst through my chest. Then after, all my energy seemed to fade to nothing. I could barely keep my eyes open.”
Kevan nodded. “Sometimes happens to soldiers on the battlefield. Once the fire leaves their veins they are listless for a time. I am glad you were otherwise unscathed by this unfortunate business. But I must ask, why are you here?”
I looked at him and then crossed the Rubicon.
“Because the king listens to me. And that has value.”
Kevan looked surprised, but gestured for me to continue.
“I can speak to him of how I am fearful of all Lannisters. How the queen was rude to me after Joffrey’s death. How my father would tell me stories of how Tywin, and you, sacked King’s Landing and let your men do the same things that those brigands did to me. I can speak to him of how much hate I have for Jaime for what he did to noble Edric Dayne. I can weep tears and beg him to do away with the bad lions all together.”
Kevan shifted uncomfortably.
“Or… I can talk of how my mother always spoke of the need for the Mother’s mercy. I can speak of how Lord Tyrion has always been kind to me. I can remind him how much my father needs men and supplies for his campaign against this unknown threat in the North and a costly conflict with the Westerlands would prevent the rest of the Seven Kingdoms from lending their aid, should it prove necessary. I can vouch for you and Tyrion, I can be Tommen and Myrcella’s biggest advocate, and I will even make an effort to allow Jaime Lannister a place on the Wall instead of in the grave.”
Kevan straightened his back. “Who pulls your strings, Lady Sansa? If I am to give a bribe, I would prefer to negotiate with that person, and not a child.”
Incredible. I want everyone in this city to think I am harmless and have no agency, except in this very moment. Oh well, this works too.
“How…” I shook my head and then bit my lip. “Look, ser, I am doing this out of my own desire to aid my family in their time of crisis. What matters to you should be the survival of your house. His Grace already feels he has failed me by being so close to having Ser Jaime’s sword remove my head. I… I don’t like talking about it, but I could truthfully tell him about the nightmares I have from that day.”
Kevan stared at me, and I squirmed a bit, but then stared back steadily. The muscles of his jaw flexed and he finally gave me a short, sharp nod.
“I cannot speak for my brother, but a Lannister always pays his debts. What is it that you want?”
“What else? Gold. Right now, war might still occur. If all three of your brother’s children are executed, perhaps even you, what then? What if his grandchildren are disinherited, or worse, what will your brother do? War would be certain, and the entire debt that the crown owes the Lannisters discharged. His Grace is being advised to have the debt removed in its entirety, regardless.”
Kevan’s look of dismay almost made me grin, but I kept my composure.
“But… even in this I could advocate on your behalf. Say, if a third of the debt would remain honored, then half of that would be provided to House Stark.”
“Five hundred thousand gold dragons? For words?”
“For your house’s future. For the life of your nephew. Perhaps even your own. I want to be clear. I’ll spread no lies in either case, the king can always count on me to be honest. But what I choose to say, and how I say it, matters. Beyond that, ser, I want your word that what I say to you goes no further than you and your brother. I’m not to share how much… I mean, I’d prefer not to make it known by all that the king listens to my counsel. And yes, that includes the king as well.”
Kevan gave me a hard look. “You have more than just your mother’s look. If the realm is looking for accusations of adultery they might look to Winterfell first, for I doubt you have a drop of Stark blood in your veins.”
Rude.
“Ser, may I again remind you that you can look at this from two different perspectives? If I do nothing, remain utterly neutral, your house is out three million gold dragons. By my actions, you might preserve five hundred thousand gold dragons. Why view this antagonistically? It was your family that nearly killed me. I believe I am being generous. We don’t wish to continue this quarrel with the Lannisters. It serves no purpose.”
Kevan gave me another hard look. “Get me ink and I’ll send a raven to my brother. If I, Tyrion, and all the guard I arrived with go free, I believe he will consent. I don’t expect you will be able to save Jaime or Cersei from the headsman, but if you can, I promise you that we will look kindly on you and your patron.”
I was playing a dangerous game, but one that allowed several outs. If Kevan ratted me out to the king, would he even be believed? I risked Lannister enmity, but they wouldn’t know the whole idea of penalizing them by removing a portion of the debt was my idea, not Robert’s.
I returned to the king, who unfortunately had been drinking again.
“Your Grace,” I bowed.
“Sasna, back from visiting the lions? You can’t trust them, ya know. They’re all liars. What’d they say, let’s hear it now.”
His inebriated state annoyed me. It was highly unprofessional. We had already finished our interviews with the Kingsguard and the Lannister officers but still, he’s the king during a highly volatile time!
“I believe Tyrion and Kevan Lannister are innocent. I will take Tyrion to visit Jaime in the morning. A friendly face might help loosen his tongue.”
A moment of sobriety appeared. “Take a squad of guards with you, and the Kingslayer is to remain shackled for the entire duration. The man is dangerous even wounded and unarmed.”
“I will, Your Grace. I don’t intend to even enter his cell. I also spoke with Ser Kevan about how his family might make amends. In exchange for Tyrion, Kevan, and the guardsmen he brought with him being released unharmed, he believes Tywin will not push back against reducing the debt owed to his family by half.”
Robert chuckled. “I’ve little use for counting coppers, but that will make the lions squirm.”
I nodded. “I know, but I also did something Father may not approve of… but I leave it to your judgement. I was just so worried about the threat of the north, it seemed practical,” I said with deliberate hesitation.
He scratched at his messy beard. “Oh? I cannot imagine you doing something wrong.”
“I told him that I would intercede with you to prevent the entirety of the debt from being reneged upon for the crimes of his kin. This would be done in exchange for a vast sum of gold that will be used for supplies and resources in the upcoming conflict.”
Robert looked at me. Blinked. Then roared with laughter.
“You… you… you convinced me to punish Casterly Rock with a fine of what, a million or two gold dragons or some such, and then you told Ser Kevan that you would intercede on their behalf to rob them of even more gold?” Tears were streaming down his face. “Gods! Haha, haha, Seven Hells I needed that laugh.”
I looked down. “Was I wrong? It could make the difference between victory and defeat, but it felt underhanded.”
Robert shrugged. “My brother counsels me to kill every Lannister in the city and then demand Tywin come and renew his obeisance to the throne and thank me for carrying out the king’s justice. That’ll be war, and I was so wroth that I might have agreed. You, Sansa, you reminded me what I’ve endured for so long, the peace and plenty of my reign. If Ned can get what he needs to keep the Wall intact, so be it! Rob the lions blind for all I care.”
He let out another laugh. “And then have them thank you for it? Ahahaha.”
We talked a bit further, and I secured his agreement to keep my role in this quiet from everyone else, for I was still somewhat ‘shamed’ by my actions that my father might not agree with. It really was entertaining how the more I protested that I was sullied by this act, the more he reassured me that my actions to rob the Lannisters were an act of justice. Seeing his good mood, I also pressed for Alyn to be knighted and be added as a replacement for one of the disgraced members of the Kingsguard. I had a whole litany of rationale to make my case, but he didn’t even let me begin before agreeing.
I also used the little trick of under-promising and overdelivering. My arrangement with Kevan was that the Crown’s debt would go from three million to one million, but half of that would come to the Starks over a set period of time. When I eventually returned to him and said I had done even better, and arranged for them to keep one point five million of the debt, the assumption from him would mean my fee would rise by another two hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons, when I declined as a gesture of ‘good faith’ it would come out smelling like a rose in his eyes. I was making an assumption that Kevan had some influence on his brother, but my talks with Tyrion about his family led me to believe they had worked hand and glove for decades. He was literally Tywin’s shadow and his right-hand man.
***
Tyrion was nervous about seeing his brother. The guards had not been deliberately cruel, but they had stripped him of even his small clothes to ensure he could not pass anything to him before allowing him to dress himself. He felt their eyes on him the entire time, though none made any snide remarks.
My brother attempted regicide and is the greatest swordsman of the realm. They are right to be cautious.
“What is that?” Tyrion asked as he saw a long crimson slash across the sky.
“The smallfolk are saying it is the Seven’s anger writ in the sky at the Lannister treachery. Blood red for the colors of your house, crimson for the bloodshed. I was actually a bit alarmed when I saw it because celestial bodies rarely grow so close and then stay visible in the sky with such luminosity… but it seems that its path will not lead it to crashing into the ground, so there is no need for alarm,” Sansa answered.
Tyrion misliked it. It felt ominous, but perhaps that was just him dreading what was to come. If the king already mistrusted him, he could think of nothing this conversation would bring to renew confidence in his word. But Sansa was stubborn enough to try, so he would see.
The dungeons were where Jaime was being kept. It was heavily guarded and more than one guard sneered at him as he passed. The place was dirty, and he could see rat droppings on the floor. He was again grateful for Sansa, at least if he was to face the headsman he wouldn’t have to endure this beforehand.
Jaime was manacled to the wall with a thick bandage covering much of his face. The cell smelled of shit, and Tyrion wondered if they had even allowed him to use the privy since being locked inside.
“Tyrion,” Jaime’s green eyes flashed to his bandaged hand. “Did they…”
“This?” Tyrion shook his head. “Someone did, but not our king it seems. Our old friend the Hound has no love for us I’m afraid, it is quite unrelated to the mess you put us in. As for the mess, my own fate may well be sealed as well.”
Jaime’s words were slowly spoken, probably to avoid ripping any stitching underneath the bandages.
“I’m sorry…” he hesitated, “is the guard still outside? I heard footsteps fade, but…”
The room was bare, nothing he could stand on to look out. Sansa had said they would have privacy, but warned that she had no writ to command the guards if they came back. She had suggested they whisper to ensure the privacy. He explained as such and then tested by knocking on the door with moderate strength and asking for the guard, when none came he was more assured they would not be overheard.
“Good enough, brother. I’m sorry, we couldn’t wait. Stannis had sent a letter declaring Cersei’s children were mine. Robert has little love for her. The only reason she wasn’t replaced by the whore of Highgarden was due to Tommen and Myrcella. Given the chance to abandon them… well, he would have taken it. I wish I could have warned you to leave the city before that took place, but there was no time.”
Jaime let out a wince, and slowed his speech again.
“It was my own fault. I chose mercy and now Cersei will die.”
“Mercy?” Tyrion asked.
“Aye, your damn she-wolf. She was there with the king and Ser Barristan. I told her if she swore by her old gods to repeat the lie we told, she could leave under guard. I sent two with her and right as they crossed the door the wolf was ripping a face off while the king was throwing the fucking table at me.”
Tyrion frowned. There had been no mention of that event, not from Sansa or anyone else. Perhaps that could be used as a reason for mercy?
No… Robert was there, he already knows it. Pycelle didn’t know about it, or I think he would have mentioned it to me.
“Hard to blame her. She most likely thought you just wished to remove the direwolf from the room. Not a bad idea, given how they would have terrorized the guards you had with you.”
“I did it for you, brother. I knew how important she was and how much it upset you what happened at the Trident.”
What a bitter irony.
Tyrion looked at the way Jaime swayed. Had they given him wine before this meeting?
“Well… I thank you for it, even if it has led to all this. Sansa thinks my own head might be spared if I can be of use here. I think it is a fool’s hope, but they have questions about Bran. With your attack, you and our sister are now being blamed for all sorts of things it seems. The king wants confirmation, the more I think on it, the flimsier it becomes. Most like, just Robert looking for a way to make amends with Stark by hearing you confess for a crime against his friend’s son.”
A bitter laugh rang out. And Tyrion reminded him to lower his voice.
“It is strange to be blamed for a deed I took no part in, but not the deed I did do. I pushed him, Tyrion. He saw us, mid-fuck. I pushed the spying boy off the tower. ‘Tis strange, no? I thought it was Cersei who ordered his death, but she swears to me it wasn’t her, and she’d have no reason to say otherwise to me. Mayhaps the boy made a habit of it and some other fellow did him in. But if it lets you keep your head, I’ll confess to both.”
Tyrion looked away. “A child? Gods…”
“What would you have had me do, brother? If he spoke of it, Cersei dies. Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella as well.”
Tyrion needed to sit, but there was no chair. He went next to the wall and sat down, causing one of the nearby rats to scamper. Tyrion idly wondered if they brought morsels of food for the rodents as a way to break prisoners held here.
I think of anything but what is before me.
“Jaime, you were the one there for me the most. I… I do not know what I will do without you. Maybe there is some slight hope you can be sent to the Wall, but if you speak of Bran, I do not think the king will reward you.”
Jaime’s arm moved and the chain rattled. “It’s a fool’s hope.” He barked out a laugh. “Perhaps I deserve it. I have done so much ill, but oh, what an irony. The one good act, I will forever be reviled for. Killing Aerys saved this city. The people who will cheer as my head is lopped off will never know they didn’t burn because of their hated Kingslayer.”
“What do you mean?”
“No one would believe it either. Aerys. The Mad King. He swore to give Robert ‘naught but ashes.’ Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Rossart, Belis, Garigus were all part of it. I hunted them all down. They were going to ignite wildfire and burn the entire city down.”
Tyrion gaped at his brother.
“Why didn’t you speak of it?”
Jaime let out a another pained laugh. “Do you think the noble Lord of Winterfell wanted to hear my explanations of why I slew the king? He only had to look at me to judge me guilty. I had intended to take this to my grave. None would believe me after all. People would think it some clever trick of my father’s to clear my name. I’d rather not be seen as a craven, afraid of the title of Kingslayer. Better to wear it proudly and not concern myself with the opinions of my lessers.”
“You are telling me now. Jaime, crippling a boy, killing the king’s squire, trying to kill the king, these all damn you. But counterweight that to the thousands who you saved… I dare say you’ve done more good than ill compared to any other man in the Seven Kingdoms.”
Jaime’s green eyes glimmered in the gloom.
“I say this… so that you might think fondly of me. I know this is the last time we may speak to each other. Gods my debt to you is greater than you know. I’ll swear to anything before that fat wretch of a king if it keeps your head attached to your little body.”
“Debt? What debt? You are the one who made my life tolerable, it is I who should be trying to find the words to somehow save you from your fate. Maybe I can tell the tale of the pyromancers. If they free me I could bribe the High Septon to maybe… no Robert wouldn’t listen…” Tyrion trailed off in frustration.
“I… I speak of not being a craven, but here I am at the hour, and I am. Some doors are best left closed.”
Tyrion’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Is there something grim and ugly behind it? Could it be that some said something cruel about me once? I’ll try not to weep. Tell me.”
Jaime’s head hung down, and then he said one word that caused Tyrion’s breath to catch.
“Tysha.”
“What of her?”
“She was never a whore. I never bought her for you. That was a lie that Father commanded me to tell you. She was what she seemed to be. A crofter’s daughter, chance met on the road.”
Tyrion was glad that he was sitting. A stew of emotions boiled through him. Despair. Rage. It was too much. He closed his eyes and let them wash over him.
“My wife,” Tyrion heard his voice break. “She… wed me.”
“For your gold, Father said. She was lowborn, you were a Lannister of Casterly Rock. She knew that. All she wanted was the gold, which made her no different from a whore, so… so it would not be a lie, not truly, and he said that you required a sharp lesson. That you would learn from it, and thank me later…”
“Thank you?” Tyrion’s voice choked with rage now. “He gave her to his guards. An entire barracks full of them. They raped her. Over and over and over again as I watched.”
And me as well. What did she think of me as I took her that last time and was made to give her a gold dragon, because a Lannister is worth more.
“I never knew he would do that. You must believe me.”
Tyrion snarled and got to his feet. Jaime was halfway kneeling; the chains had been fastened in a way that would not let him stand nor would it allow him to properly sit either. But it made him the perfect height to reach.
Tyrion lashed out. He struck him with his fist right upon his wound. Once, twice, thrice, and then he lost count. The rage took him and he felt the guards grab at him. Jaime was mewling the words ‘I’m sorry.’ The repeated blows had pulled free the bandage and torn the stitches.
“Get a hold of yourself, Imp. Gods damned dwarf, should have never left him alone with him.”
Tyrion let himself be manhandled out of the cell. Beating his helpless brother filled him both with satisfaction and complete shame. He let out mad laughter as he now felt the pain from his fingers. The splint the Grand Maester had added to them was broken, but at least the sharp wave of agony let him concentrate on something other than the horrifying betrayal.
The guards shoved him out of the outer cell and he saw Sansa.
“What have you done to Lord Tyrion? He’s wounded! His Grace had said…”
“Lady Sansa, your pardon, but we did not do this to him. The Imp was beating his brother.”
“Your hands…” she knelt down to examine them.
Tyrion realized he had no idea what he intended to say to Sansa. He had no idea what he wanted any longer. The one he had cherished most in all the world had betrayed him in a way no word could capture.
He kept it secret for over a decade. I could have done something for Tysha… Gods what they did to her… what I did to her.
“Fetch Grand Maester Pycelle, Tyrion needs milk of the poppy, the wounds have driven him to senselessness. Go!”
Tyrion wept, forgetting any pride or semblance of dignity and clutched at Sansa. Still clueless as to what, if anything, he would say about Jaime, Cersei, and filth that was his entire family.
Author's Note: This chapter caught me by surprise. I had originally not intended the Tysha discussion, but the more I thought about how Sansa had set the stage, the more it made sense. Jaime thinks this might be the last time he sees his brother alive, at least privately, and wants to unburden himself. This in turn creates a messier situation in which Sansa now fully gets just how unbelievably fked up the Lannisters are. What thinks and how she reacts... find out next time!
Also a quick note on pacing. I generally try to at least do three chapters a week, but this week has been more productive because my muse is really latched onto the story. The words just be flowing!