Just an hour after the ending of the battle at the Green Fork, the army had returned to the camp; with the exceptions of those left behind to deal with the bodies while also getting an account on how many were lost.
Visenya and Tywin had returned to their tent to discuss in private but also to remove their armour. Mostly, it was Tywin, who wished it off since unlike hers; his was heavier and unnecessary outside of battle.
The old habit of dressing and undressing armour was not lost through the years and instead continued ever since this war campaign started.
While they both had squires, both preferred each other when they had the time and the chance.
Visenya had removed her arm guards already but kept the rest of her armour for now, choosing to help Tywin with his.
His breastplate was gone first and he had grabbed himself a goblet of wine to refresh after the battle.
With one hand he sipped some of it while his Lady Wife opened the straps of his armguard on his unoccupied hand. Her goblet rested on the table, having chosen not to drink yet but she would rather soon.
"It looks like I underestimated the boy," she said as she removed the first buckle and worked on the second.
"The boy had played it fool so long; I doubt it was him that changed the plan. Someone else must have whispered into his ear" Tywin commented as his one hand was now free from that annoying restrain.
He passed his goblet to the now unarmed hand and let her work on the armoured hand instead.
"It doesn't truly matter now, since we harmed his number of men and in our next encounter; he will be weakened"
"I will look at it that way once I find where he went or hid. It did not make sense for him to separate his army like that unless he needed to focus on something else" she mumbled her thoughts out loud as she finished with the last strap and removed his lower arm guard.
Just then, Tyrion marched into the tent and made both of them stop for a moment; like two lovers caught in the act.
It was not uncommon for a wife to assist her husband, although few truly knew their way around armour. Someone might even joke that it looked similar to how two lions would groom one another after a hunt and a meal, cleaning the blood of each other's fur.
"Tyrion" she greeted him as she took Tywin's armguards and walked to leave them on the table along with hers.
"Father, Good-mother" he greeted back, taking a few steps deeper into the tent.
"Your clansmen fought well" Tywin told him as he drank some more from his goblet and headed for the table; Visenya already leaning on it with her goblet in hand.
"You sound surprised that they did. Although, I guess it is expected after you most likely sent them straight for butchering" Tyrion said, showing that he became aware or started to be aware of his plan.
Tywin felt annoyance building up at the blunt accusations, not that they were a lie.
"I did expect the left to collapse, hoping that Robb Stark would press into the breach where he would eventually get captured" he confessed as he sat on a chair, next to Visenya and leaned back at it.
He talked of his plan to just use the men and his son as bait without truly any guilt because he felt none. To him it was war; it was a very well-thought-out plan and casualties were common all the time.
He glanced at his Lady Wife, who shook her head faintly since she could see the situation worsening. Tywin knew that but he had no fear of pushing Tyrion until he learnt his place and obeyed without questioning back.
The young lion felt angered at the way his father treated all of that and even at his good-mother, who obviously knew, had told him nothing the night prior.
"And why was I not informed?" he asked, his anger flaring slowly.
"A feigned rout is always less convincing. Through my years Tyrion, I picked up the habit of not trusting men, who consorted with savages and sells-words" he said.
"Tyrion" Visenya said, drawing his attention from his father on her.
"What happened, happened. Right now we need to focus on the fact that Robb Stark proved more cautious than expected" she reminded him and Tywin felt the need to say something but she moved her leg and bumped the side of her boot against his.
Don't start now. It is not the time
This movement while subtle did not go unnoticed by Tyrion, who arched an eyebrow. It was the first time that he truly took notice of the quick and small body movements that acted as communication between them.
Made him wonder how many of such small subtle movements he had ignored or missed over the years.
Just then, Ser Addam Marbrand entered the tent out of breath.
"My Lord, My lady" he started, catching his breath as he marched towards them. "We finally extracted the information from the prisoners"
"And?" Tywin asked, arching one eyebrow.
"Robb Stark has crossed with most of his horsed men at the Twins and is riding hard for Riverrun"
299 AC - King's Landing, CrownLands - Seat of Power: Joffrey I Baratheon
The execution of Ned Stark was something that even Trystan expected to see but he knew the moment the news would spread, it would be a new war.
He knew his father was not going to be happy by the result and a part of him even felt bad for writing that letter.
Now, why did he feel bad? He was not sure. Was it because he knew it would upset his father? Or perhaps was it because he would only speed up the fury of their father upon themselves?
In Tywin's eyes, everyone would have a sharing in blaming and no one would be safe; even if Trystan was the one to snitch on his siblings first.
With only Sansa in their custody now, things were becoming harder for negotiations and leverage from their side.
The youngest, Arya, had escaped and only her sister remained back; to be mentally tortured by her husband-to-be and his sadistic ideas.
In one of those ways, Trystan had accompanied them along with the Hound and two King's Guards. Joffrey led his beloved to where the spikes were positioned, the head of his father placed freshly there to rot under the sun and have his eyes and tongue eaten by the crows.
Immediately, Sansa turned to look to the side; unable to bear the sight as she even had fainted right after the execution.
However, Joffrey was not pleased with her reaction.
"You promised to be merciful" Sansa cried faintly, keeping her head turned to the side and her eyes closed. She even tried to take a step back but found her back pressed against Trystan's armour.
"I was. I gave him a clean death. Look at him" Joffrey ordered.
"Please let me go home. I won't do any treason, I swear - "
"Mother says I'm still to marry you. So you'll stay here, and obey. Look at him!" he ordered, this time louder.
Sansa did not wish to obey, did not wish to see that horrific sight.
She was about to fight again when she felt two hands holding her arms but in a far gentle grip. Then, a familiar voice spoke close to her ear.
"Obey him, my lady. Do not test his patience" he advised, his voice oddly comforting.
Gathering all her courage, she eventually looked up at the head of her father.
"Well?" Joffrey asked.
"How long do I have to look?" she asked, doing her best not to shed any more tears.
She tried to focus on anything but the face and found the feeling of Trystan's body close to hers. Unlike with other Lannister men or knights, Sansa did not feel afraid with his presence or thought he would harm her.
"As long as it pleases me. Do you want to see the rest?" she heard Joffrey ask her.
"If it pleases, Your Grace."
"That's your Septa there" he pointed to the impaled head of a woman with the traditional Septa headscarf. "I will tell you what; I am going to give you a present. After I raise my armies and kill your traitor brother, I am going to give you his head as well."
Something about having the feeling of a strong knight behind her, even if he was not under her command; made her feel stupidly brave.
"Or maybe he'll give me yours," she said and looked defiantly at Joffrey.
The boy king cowered for a moment but quickly regained his composure.
"My mother tells me a king should never strike his lady. Ser Trystan" he ordered and Sansa turned sharply, looking at the young Lion with fear in her blue eyes.
Trystan did not hold resistance and let her spin but did not lift a single hand.
"I am sorry, your Grace but I was taught to never lift a hand on a woman" he lied, leaving his hands by the sides of his body.
This seemed to anger Joffrey who glared at his uncle. He then turned to one of the King's Guards.
"Ser Meryn"
The older knight pushed Trystan to the side and delivered a hard strike with the back of his armoured hand; effectively leaving her lip bloodied.
At the sight of it, Trystan's eyes darkened and when Ser Meryn was about to hit her again; he grabbed his wrist.
"What do you think you are doing boy?" the man hissed and tried to pull his hand back but the Lion was stronger and also taller than him.
"Ser Trystan, are you defying my orders?" Joffrey asked, narrowing his eyes at him.
"No, your Grace but I do believe she learnt her lesson. She is a smart lady" he said, his tone civilised despite the need to just back-slap Joffrey himself a few times.
The boy king looked at her.
"Will you obey now? Or do you need another lesson?"
Sansa lowered her head in defeat.
"I will obey" she whispered, feeling the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.
Her words pleased him and he ignored her for a moment as he moved closer to the edge of the stone bridge that led to the street some feet below.
She moved forward to lunge at him from the edge, but she was stopped by Trystan.
He immediately turned her to face him and held her there, his eyes doing all the talking.
Don't do anything stupid, they said.
He released his one hand to grab his hanger chief and hand it to her.
"Here," he said and gently cleaned her bloody lip.
"Hound, we are leaving. Girl, I will look for you in court later on. Uncle, make sure she shows up" Joffrey said, ignoring the scene in front of him as he passed by them and continued walking.
The Hound looked at the two of them one last time, giving the faintest of nods to Trystan for his quick and right thinking before he followed the boy king.
Once those two were alone, Trystan let out a sigh and released her.
"My lady, I know it is hard but do not fight him. Trust me, just go with what he says" he is like his mother, it requires patience, he continued in his mind.
Sansa nodded a few times but felt her legs weak. She was about to collapse again when Trystan caught her and moved her away from the edge and closer to the wall, placing her down and letting her back press against it.
The Stark girl could not take it any longer and the tears she tried to hold back started to escape her eyes. She hugged herself for some comfort and out of embarrassment as she sobbed silently in front of the Lion.
Trystan watched her, one hand faintly extended to touch her but he withdrew it in the end. It was not the time and he was not sure how to comfort her either on the subject.
In defeat, he let out a sigh and sat down next to her; waiting for her to calm down.
It took a while but eventually, Sansa stopped and she slowly looked up with red puffy eyes, in her hands the white piece of fabric Trystan had given her. She held it tightly for support, feeling the soft silk material against her palm.
Once she realised that she had let the knight wait for her by sitting next to her, she felt embarrassed.
"Ser Trystan...l am sorry that you had to wait for me...l..." she tried to stand up but he gently placed his hand on her arm and pulled her down without harming her.
"It's okay. I understand you needed your time. We do not have to return to court if you do not feel ready yet" he explained and while his face seemed like a stone mask, his green eyes told a different story.
It was then that Sansa noticed the golden flecks he had in them, something no other Lannister did or how his hair seemed to change shade depending if the sun hit it right or wrong.
Realizing she was staring, she looked forward again.
"Thank you, Ser Trystan...you are too kind"
The teenager leaned his back more against the wall and lifted one knee to support his hand.
"I just try to be right, my Lady. Do not want you to think that all of us Lions are that sadistic or psychopathic to be more precise" he said in a subtle attempt to joke and it worked for she cracked a faint smile.
"Thank you again" she said, slowly regaining her voice.
A small silence was between them and Sansa tried not to look at the head, afraid she would break down again. Trystan, who saw this, decided to distract her.
"I didn't have the chance to properly know your father, but he was a good man. I could see that and an even better father"
The discussion about her father was not that pleasant but as she tried to think more of him, of the happy memories she had; she felt that little spark of warmth deep into her chest.
"He was. He was always just and...There were times he was strict but he cared deeply...of his family and his friends..." she said, the faintest of smiles forming on her lips as her fingers played with the handkerchief.
He kept looking forward, serious as always but there was a little less tension in his body.
"He sounds like a good man, loyal for sure"
"What about your father?" she asked him, as she finally gathered the courage to look at him.
"My father?" he questioned and pressed his lips on a thin line.
"I wouldn't exactly call him that...I mean, he helped create me but he is not the father type you knew or saw in the North" he started, increasing her curiosity.
"To my father, family is everything but it's not always the people, it's mostly the name and the legacy. He is strict, in case you were about to ask. He is really a hard man to please and it's easier to fight and earn his approval than his affection"
Trystan was not someone, who talked in depth or about his emotions unless he was around his mother. Then he might be a little more open but he usually just suppressed them with cold logic and mental control.
When he talked about Tywin, he did not show any anger because he felt none towards him. That was his character, that was the way he raised his family and the half-lion had learnt to accept that and move on.
"I am sorry...he doesn't sound like a pleasant man to be around" Sansa said, feeling bad for forcing him to talk about a topic that was not happy for him.
The young Lion let some air out of his nostrils and his gaze softened as he turned his head slightly to look at her better.
"You apologise too much, my Lady...and don't worry about it. It's who he is..." he looked forward again.
"Although, my siblings told me it was worse before my mother was married to him"
Sansa nodded silently and looked forward at the other side of the wall, never on the bodiless heads.
She thought of his mother, the famous Dragoness that Arya was obsessed with. The stories made her sound like a fierce warrior, even a cold-blooded killer but by the way Trystan was; she doubted it.
"I would like to meet her, one day. She sounds like a good person" she finally said, hoping this topic was better.
Trystan smiled faintly.
"She is and with her heart in the right place. I think she would like to meet you too. Perhaps when all of this is over, you two might meet" he said and stood up, offering his hand to her.
"I know you might not be entirely ready but I am afraid we cannot be absent any longer, my lady"
Sansa looked up at him and stared silently for half a minute.
There was this kindness and depth in his eyes, this serious but gentle personality of his hidden behind his well-structured face.
All this time, she thought Joffrey was the perfect man; being a prince and kind.
In reality, she came to understand that she saw it all wrong. Joffrey might be a prince in title but the character of a real prince from her stories...only Trystan had it.
She accepted his hand and allowed him to help her stand, his hand carefully supporting her waist and doing everything not to harm her with his strength.
Once she was on her feet, he withdrew his hands like a true gentleman.
"Thank you, Ser Trystan...for everything" Sansa said, looking at him with those dove eyes of hers.
The Lannister Knight could not help but feel the curve of his lips turning up ever so slightly.
"I know it will be hard, my lady but do not give up. Be obedient, keep your head down but do not let them break you" he said, genuinely in his words.
"Do not give my sister or my nephew the pleasure of breaking you"
Sansa nodded her head a few times, understanding what he was saying.
She then remembered that she had his handkerchief in her hands.
"This is yours, although it is stained," she said, noticing the little spot of red from her bloody lips.
Trystan lifted his hand and dismissed it.
"Keep it, in case you need it again my lady. I have more" he said and then moved to stand by her side.
"Now, I do believe we have to leave before a search party is sent our way" he tried to humour again, once again succeeding. Sometimes, he was glad Tyrion had tried to teach him how to make jokes for the ladies when he was younger.
"Are you ready?"
She lifted her chin and gave another nod.
"I am"
He smirked.
"Good" and offered his elbow for her to take, like a true knight.
She wrapped her hand around it, feeling better than before. She let him walk her down the hallway and unlike the time in Winterfell, she did not feel odd with his presence.
Instead, she felt more comfortable.
Perhaps not all Lannisters are bad, she told herself; her naive childish self that still held hope in her heart.