Pacing the room as he drank a cup of wine seemed like the right thing to do considering the circumstances in which he had found himself. It wasn't supposed for things to go like this. Yes, he had never underestimated Ned Stark's pup but, in reality, he had hoped the boy at least showed weakness and not the heartless facet he had until then. He hadn't made one mistake so far, except maybe taking Jaime as his prisoner.
Glaring once more at the message his father had sent, he sighed. How was he supposed to react to it now that things were upside down?
Renly Baretheon had just died and now the forces from the Reach would probably join the northerners since already half of them were fighting with them. The only option his father saw was to promise Joffrey to marry Margaery, since at least the Young Wolf couldn't really offer her more – he was already married to the Targaryen girl and she was popping out pups for them, little hybrids, half wolf and half dragon.
Unfortunately for Tyrion, it wasn't just that his father wanted when he wrote the message. He wanted to remind the boy king who had the upperhand, and that it didn't matter how many battles he was winning, this was a war he wasn't going to come up as victor.
It was supposed to be a message, to show him that it didn't matter if Jaime was fighting for him, if he had been taking prisoner – no one really blamed the Young Lion for making whatever he had to in order to keep his head over his shoulders.
Still, the measures Tywin wanted to take seemed too much. Or maybe it was just that Tyrion's heart was soft when it came to things broken and abused such as Sansa Stark.
"A finger!" Tyrion shouted at no one but Bronn shrugged a shoulder as he toyed with a dagger. "He wants me to cut her finger to send it to the boy."
"It might do some good," Bronn provided with that air of carelessness he always had, as if a life was just a commodity – which probably was for him, since he got paid to end them.
"Good?!" Tyrion exclaimed, slamming his cup against the table. "Do you believe Robb Stark will be more merciful if he finds out that we have not only killed his father but also are mutilating his sister? What if he already knows we have lost Arya?"
"If he's as good as people say, he is not keeping your pretty brother without a plan."
"Destroy my father, of course. It's no secret Jaime is my father's favorite," he scoffed. "More now that my dear sister has taken all the wrong decisions regarding this situation."
"Then I say follow your Lord father's instructions," Bronn said, not without a good portion of sarcasm.
"I won't cut that girl's finger!"
"He would do it."
It was hard to know in certainty if Bronn was referring to Tywin or Robb, but Tyrion knew quite well the two of them wouldn't doubt on maiming an enemy in order to save their family. The thing was Tyrion didn't see a threat in Jaime's captivity. If his brother had fought along the northerners, he must've had more reasons than just the possibility of losing his life.
"And my nephew would be eternally pleased to satisfy my Lord Father's orders, which serves as proof of how wrong this is."
"So what are you going to do?"
Tyrion pursed his lips, quickly planning on how to fulfill his father's wishes but also doing things his way. He knew the Young Wolf better than his father did and knew for fact that he wouldn't be stopped by sentimentalisms now, his skin had gotten thicker and he was no longer fighting for just his family. Besides now he had the advices of the Mother of Dragons in his ear, and she probably wanted more blood spilled.
"Look for a girl," he spoke. "Give her a few coins."
"So a noble girls can't lose a finger but any other is fine."
Tyrion gave him a look.
"I'm not judging." He sheathed his dagger and righted himself after leaning against a pillar. "I'll be back for dinner with your precious finger."
"Make sure is… delicate enough to pass for her finger."
"Oh, I'll make sure," Bronn replied, smirking in a very unsettling way, but wasn't that way how it was supposed to be?
Tyrion thought of himself no more than what people saw, at least on the outside. He knew he was not like his brother, handsome and skilled swordsman. And yet he thought he appreciated beauty better than anyone from his point of view. Sansa Stark was a very beautiful girl, not long ago full of dreams and innocence. She had been mistreated but always kept her head high, never complained, always acting like a lady should.
Taking more from her seemed unnecessary and completely cruel. If he couldn't quite protect her, he would at least do whatever he could.
He might have been an imp, but that didn't make him a monster.
-o-
It was a very lonely life to be a prisoner yet not acknowledged as one. She trusted no one and still tried to behave like the lady she was raised to be but it was a very lonely and sad life the one she had in King's Landing.
She missed her lady mother so much, especially now that her father had been executed – especially now that she felt so guilty over many things. And Robb, he was also having a hard time taking his role as lord and now King in the North, but with his new family and war, would he remember her as she remembered him? Would he save her? She really hoped so.
Bran and Rickon must have been so big unlike when she left Winterfell. She wanted to see them become men, to know how Bran was doing now, after the accident. She wanted to meet her nephew and see if Robb's wife was as pretty as the maids around the castle gossiped – and if she was as heartless, but she doubted Robb would wed a despicable woman.
But only at the thought of Arya was at which Sansa let a few tears fall. She had been so mean to her younger sister, and now she had no idea where she was or if she was alive even. No one knew anything about her apparently.
And when the Queen forced her to write those messages for Robb, she couldn't let herself stand up against it. What would it be of her if she dared not to follow orders?
She was still shaking as her ladies in waiting tended her injuries, as she replayed in her mind the horrible scene she had been part of moments before, those men who tried to take her by force, the people screaming in the streets, the riot and the curses. It was madness and she still tried to make it seemed as if things didn't happen to her.
It was all a nightmare. It would go away. It had to.
They had just been walking through the city with Joffrey and the Queen. There were guards everywhere but the crowd was so angry at them, hungry and needy. And when they insulted Joffrey, he ordered to kill them as if that solved everything.
Little Bird she was as ser Sandor Clegane said. And she was put in a cage as such.
"Are you feeling better, my lady?" Tyrion Lannister asked as she sat at the edge of her bed, the handmaids still flying around her in a hurry.
Like many times before, she felt the anger inside her but somehow it was put under control. She was not her but a shell of herself. What did he care about her well-being? She was only kept alive so his brother had a chance.
"I'm fine, my lord."
He gave her a look as he exhaled noisily though his nose. He noticed but he ignored it as everyone else. She would never be fine anymore.
The Queen entered her room just a brief moment later, the hint of a cruel smile on her lips but her tone tried to mimic sympathy as she asked how she was.
"It's such a shame they have no respect for you. It's not your fault your father and brother are traitors. You've been so loyal to us."
Loyal? She had only ducked her head before them, bowed to them but her heart and spirit would never belong to them.
"A shame, Your Grace," she repeated. "I'm honored to be kept as your guest even under such unfortunate events. I'm nothing but thankful."
Cersei smiled even as her nose crinkled in disdain. She soon left her alone but Tyrion reached for her hand and smiled, it seemed quite honest as he uttered the words, "I'm glad you are safe now."
But was she safe? Was he glad?
"Thank you."
She would be even more thankful if she were free. A free little bird.
-o-
The cupbearer girl was certainly a mystery. She was not like children of her class should be. She was too smart as it was but knowing how to read put her in another level. It was hard to decide if she would become a threat or an ally, given that she was a northerner.
He was not oblivious enough to believe every lie that fell from her mouth but she couldn't lie all the time. And if she was smart, she could prove knowledge of the lands and the people, of how they would react and the rumors among those bastards.
The only thing he had in mind though was to drive the damned wolf out of his lands now. There was no time to lose interrogating a girl with little use so far.
He might have not had the loyalties and promises Robb Stark had but he had the money to buy it. Everyone knew that even the most honest man had a price and being a Lannister, that price could be negotiable.
When the door opened to reveal Amory Lorch and the man subsequently fell to the ground dead, Tywin knew the dart in the fat man's neck must have been for him. And if that was the case, then someone betrayed him.
"A man tried to kill me. I want his name and I want his head," he ordered.
"We think it was an infiltrator of the Brotherhood Without Banners," the Mountain replied in his dull and deep voice.
"I want them dead. Everyone."
"Killing them isn't the problem. Finding them is."
"You're going soft, Clegane?" It was difficult to deal with a man whose anger gave room to outbursts of madness and bloodshed but Tywin wasn't afraid of him, or anyone. He could manage it if he used the right tone and words.
Gregor Clegane left the room with his orders and Tywin got ready to eat. But as the cupbearer placed the food on the table, he was suspicious. If men had tried to kill him before, then who said they weren't now?
"Eat," he order after some exchange of meaningless conversation.
"I'll eat in the kitchen. Later."
"It's bad manners to refuse a lord's offer. Sit." The girl followed his command, finally not making up excuses. "Eat."
She was small for her age, skinny like most beggars one could see in places like King's Landing. It was easy for her to pass for a younger boy with her looks, but as soon as she opened her mouth, she revealed she was not like most beggars. Actually, he had never met a poor kid with the wits she had.
"This will be my last war. Win or lose," he said as he looked through the window.
"Have you ever lost before?"
Before? Was she implying he was going to lose now? The nerve.
"You think I'd be in my position if I'd have lost a war?" She meekly shook her head when his cold eyes fell upon her. "This is the one I'll be remembered for." He paused, thinking about how true it was. "The War of Five Kings, they are calling it. My legacy will be determined in the coming months. You know what legacy means?" Again she shook her head. "It's what you pass down to your children and your children's children. It's what remains of you when you're gone."
Harrenhal, where they were, had once been the most magnificent and strongest castle ever built. It was impregnable but now it was in ruins. Why?
"Dragons," the girl replied to Tywin's surprise.
"Yes. Dragons," which only served to remind him about the rumors of the Young Wolf's bitch. The Mother of Dragons, people called her. "Who would have thought wolves mixed with dragons now?"
The girl's eyes rose from her empty plate to meet his. "Daenerys Targaryen has given Robb Stark an heir," she mumbled carefully. "They say he is the Ice Dragon."
"Heir of what?" Tywin scoffed. "By the end of war he'd have nothing. Not even the pleasure to say he killed my son. He wouldn't dare if he knows what is best for him and his… kingdom." His eyes narrowed as he sipped from his cup of wine. He believed the girl was smarter than believing in fishwives' tales. "Do you believe they have dragons, too?"
She shook her head but pursing her lips, as if she wanted to believe it but refused to let him know she held onto hope. "No."
Lies.
"Do you believe Robb Stark will be a dragonrider like Aegon the Conqueror and people will still be speaking about him in three hundred years?"
"No. He's not blood of the dragon. She is. She could be like Visenya Targaryen, who rode Vhagar to battle."
"You think she'll save the North?" He asked, this time his voice was void of all humor.
"No. Dragons are extinct, my lord." She ducked her head as if she regretted her thoughts.
"That's right. And the last Targaryen will die like she should have all those years ago."
Tywin wondered if that would make the girl finally reveal her true persona, but she just kept quiet. The girl indeed needed to be watched.