After the wedding finished, everyone gathered for the festivities and mostly the feast that was planned. Music played, and couples danced or discussed with one another as they were placed at their respectable tables.
The main three tables were in a Π formation. The main one was the one belonging to the bride and groom. The table by their right was for the Lannister family, with Cersei the closest to them, followed by Joffrey, Trystan, Tywin, and eventually Visenya. Across from them, the Tyrells were placed due to Margaery soon marrying Joffrey and also to show how much the Lannisters 'appreciated' the alliance they had.
Tyrion kept filling his glass to the brim and then being quick to empty it, getting more and more drunk with each passing minute. Sansa was by his side, barely touching her drink or her food while looking around uncomfortably.
She knew no one there truly, and seeing Tyrion getting wasted was not helping. From moment to moment, she would manage to catch the gaze of Trystan at the other table, but none would be able to look at each other for long without raising suspicions.
The only one who seemed to enjoy it all was Olenna, who was busy trying to explain to her grandchildren the complicated family they were soon to be. "So their son will be your... nephew, after you're wed to Cersei, of course. And you will be the king's stepfather and brother-in-law," she told Loras, who was so close to banging his head on the table.
Olenna then turned to Margaery. "When you marry the king, Joffrey's mother will become his sister-in-law and your son will be Loras' nephew? Grandson? I'm not sure. But your brother will become your father-in-law. That much is beyond dispute." Eventually, Loras had enough and stood up; deciding to try and escape this madness. Margaery watched him go but said nothing, her attention far too often on Sansa and Trystan, seeing their quick stolen glances at one another or how the young Lion was disapproving of his brother's behaviour as he embarrassed himself and his wife as well.
Tyrion grabbed an empty golden plate from the table and used it to check his teeth for any remnants of food. When he was done, he tossed it to the side and grabbed his goblet, only to spill some of the wine on him before he could even make it reach his lips.
To make matters worse, he started to clean himself with the tablecloth, further embarrassing himself to a new degree.
Sansa, who could simply not bear to see this and sit next to him; snapped from her shock. "Will you pardon me, my lord?"
"Of course. Of course. En-enjoy." He told her, trying not to slur his words.
She got up rather quickly but also gracefully enough and wasted no time to leave the room, needing just to get away from everyone and everything but especially Tyrion. Unfortunately for her, she was noticed by Joffrey who smirked as a sadistic idea came into his mind.
He had stood up almost fully when his mother steadied him with a touch to the hand. " Perhaps you could talk to your bride-to-be instead." She advised him, glancing at the table across from where Margaery was.
Joffrey looked her way but was far more interested in his plaything. "I've got a lifetime for that." He shook off her hand and left, leaving behind a shocked and mentally tired Cersei.
She let out a heavy sigh and got up to follow. When she saw her handmaiden that had started to trail after her, she stopped her with one single command. "Stay."
At the same time, almost, Tywin pushed his chair back. Visenya could only watch him as he made his way towards Tyrion, his face an impossible-to-read mask but his eyes were dark with hatred, disgust, and annoyance.
She barely managed to part her lips, hoping to stop him, but she knew it would be futile. She understood that Tyrion wished to get drunk to forget, similarly to the tavern, but now he was crossing the line.
Unfortunately for him, Tywin was not like her and was not one to easily forgive.
With Tywin gone from the table, Trystan wasted no time to look around and spot Sansa walking up the steps towards the exit of the Grand Hall with Joffrey close behind her. He narrowed his eyes, knowing too well that little psycho had something bad in his mind.
He was about to stand up and follow them when Visenya spread her hand and placed it on his, keeping him down. This sudden move made him stop his actions halfway and look at her, who had a faint disapproving look on her face.
"Your quick glances at her have not gone unnoticed, Trystan," she said in High Valyrian but in a lower tone as he was forced to bend to be closer to her to hear properly as well. "If Tyrion had not gotten your father's full attention, he would have seen it as well. I warned you about it."
Mother and son glanced at Tywin, who was talking with a drunk Tyrion, and were sure he was about to snap the short man's neck in one go.
"But mother, Joffrey—"
"Will not harm her while we are all around. He might try to scare her but he won't act stupid," she interrupted him, seeing some people looking their way. "Either sit down or start socializing with ladies and young lords alike."
Knowing too well that her son did not enjoy fake smiles and pleasantries, she saw as he sat back in his chair. Unless he had no choice, he was not going to willingly go talk to someone he was not interested in.
He could easily use charming words and throw a smile here and there, pretend to be interested in all kinds of tales, but that was all an act, just copying his mother when in court or important events.
Usually by now, Trystan would have excused himself to go find a book, but he knew his father was not going to let him, not right now. Seeing him angry enough to pull the goblet from Tyrion and stain his hand with wine, Trystan knew that it was wiser for him not to chase his luck.
Instead, he sensed a pair of eyes on him once again and when he searched for the source of it, he spotted Margaery looking at him from across the other table. She was offering a small charming smile, batting her eyelashes at him.
However, he returned none of her actions but due to courtesy, he had to offer a small smile in return and a small nod of his head in acknowledgement.
Around the same time, Tywin returned and sat back on his chair, silently fuming at how his son was embarrassing them all. He said nothing but silently accepted the napkin from Visenya to wipe his hand from the wine that stained them while he never stopped glaring daggers at the dwarf.
"In your wedding, I expect you will act properly compared to your disappointment of a brother," he said, momentarily glancing at Trystan.
"Of course, father," the boy said, a phrase he had repeated so many times that he barely had to think about it.
Visenya let out a sigh and merely passed her goblet towards her Lord Husband. "Here," she said in a lower tone but he heard her nonetheless.
He took it without even glancing at her and took a few deep sips of the wine to help keep his temper in check and also do something for his rising migraine.
Yet, the worst had yet to come but eventually did take place and it all started with the only sadistic enough person in that room to cause it all.
Joffrey stood at the railing above the main wedding table, behind him the doors that led to the exit of the Hall. He clapped a few times, earning the attention of the crowd.
"Time for the bedding ceremony," he said with a smile that would make any logical person uncomfortable.
Tyrion, still brooding and almost falling off his chair, spoke up. "There will be no bedding ceremony."
However, his words were not taken into consideration as he took Sansa's hand and led her to the central banquet floor. "Where's your respect for tradition, Uncle?" he asked and stopped in front of the main table as the crowd got up and slowly started to get ready, with only two Lions and a Dragon remaining seated. "Come, everyone. Pick her up and carry her to her wedding bed. Get rid of her gown. She won't be needing it any longer," he continued, making Sansa wrap her hands around her body in fear. "Ladies, attend to my uncle. He's not heavy."
At the talk of it and seeing Sansa trying hard to remain strong, Trystan's gaze darkened like the day he found those men about to rape her. He was ready to stand up, to do something but to his surprise, someone else did.
"There will be no bedding ceremony," Tyrion repeated, glaring at his nephew.
Drunk or not, he was not going to let Sansa pass through that horrible experience; not after what she survived through when the common folk attacked and almost raped her. King or not, he did not care and he would fight the tyrannical boy if he had to.
"There will be if I command it."
As if expecting what would happen next, Visenya and Tywin exchanged a look only for the very same second to have discreetly stood up. The Dragoness moved first and silently, making her way through the crowd while the Lion took slow and careful steps towards the trio.
Trystan could only watch in mild confusion but deep down hoped they would truly put Joffrey back to his place because if they didn't, he felt that he would; his father be present be damned.
Suddenly, Tyrion stabbed his knife resoundingly into the table in front of him, shocking his nephew. "Then you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock," he threatened openly.
Joffrey quickly passed over his shock. "What did you say?" he asked, challenging him to repeat his words. "I am King and if I say so, it will happen."
"No, you won't," Tyrion argued back, leaning closer to the table and ready to just jump on it and attack him.
Seeing that he was about to be humiliated by the Imp, Joffrey lifted his hand to smack him when someone grabbed his wrist mid-air. A small gasp was heard from many of the guests as the boy-king turned to glare at the person who dared to stop him.
However, upon seeing those glowing amber eyes with the tint of red narrowing down at his form from their height, he found himself losing all of the courage he had. For a moment, he truly felt as if looking directly into a hungry dragon.
"Grand-Grandmother," he said, stuttering faintly while he craned his head up to look at her as she stood by the edge of the table.
"I believe we can dispense with the bedding, Your Grace," she suggested, releasing his hand.
"Why dispense the wedding ceremony? It is a tradition!" the boy whined.
"An old one, Your Grace. Not every wedding follows it and the feast can still continue."
Joffrey tried to argue. "But—"
She did not let him though. "Think about it, Your Grace. When the time comes for your wedding, would you like your beautiful wife to be held and touched by any other man other than you? Risk being grabbed and who knows what without your permission?" she asked him, honeycoating her words.
Her gaze did not soften but her presence had stopped intimidating him. He tried to argue but her words were chosen very carefully, making him even look at Margaery, who smiled at him and showed him that she trusted him.
Realizing that his grandmother had a point and not wishing to hurt his new wife that he had gotten smitten with, he answered, "I wouldn't."
Tyrion was about to protest but the Dragoness barely sent him a warning look. Not another word, she would say if she could open her mouth. She then focused back on her grandson. "Then I do believe we can agree that there will be no bedding ceremony. I'm sure Tyrion did not mean to threaten the king."
Tyrion's hand was shaking with rage as he gripped the knife with all his strength. Suddenly, he regained his drunken composure, released the knife and laughed obsequiously.
"A bad joke, Your Grace. Made out of envy of your own royal manhood. Mine is so small. My poor wife won't even know I'm there." He said, used to making jokes that mocked him by now.
Joffrey did not seem that pleased, still angry at how openly the Imp had humiliated and threatened him. However, another voice joined the discussion.
"Your uncle is clearly quite drunk, Your Grace," Tywin said, moving from the other side of the table with slow confident steps.
"I am. Guilty. But- but it is my wedding night."
Joffrey kept glaring at the dwarf but upon sensing a pair of eyes on him, he had to look at them. He saw Visenya, standing close to his side with a look of motherly warning but anyone knew that warning also bore dire consequences.
Then, he looked at Tywin; who had stopped walking. The man towered over him even when both were standing and he could remember how a few days ago, they talked while he was sitting on the Iron Throne. He remembered how intimidating his grandfather could be and not wishing to face that look again, Joffrey found himself taking a few steps back.
Trystan was satisfied to watch his parents work so well, two pieces of the same puzzle. They knew their words as if they had rehearsed them beforehand and always moved in a way that they had each other's back. Seeing how easily they cornered Joffrey, making him uncomfortable enough to back down and even be forced to agree, pleased him. He sent Sansa a reassuring smile since he had told her that she would be safe with those two around.
"My tiny drunk cock and I have a job to do," Tyrion said as he stood up and walked around the table, almost bumping into his family. Sansa stood up slowly, her eyes falling on Joffrey but Visenya moved to be closer to the boy-king, successfully forcing him to take yet another step back. "Come, wife."
Sansa looked at the Dragoness, relief and gratitude in her blue eyes before she turned to focus on her husband while they walked towards the exit of the Hall.
Tywin & Visenya's Chamber, Red Keep - King's Landing, Crown Lands - A few hours later
After Tyrion and Sansa left the Banquet Hall, many chose to also leave but a few remained to enjoy the free wine and good food left. Trystan had been the first to excuse himself and retreat into the Library, wishing to bury his thoughts deep within the pages of a book.
He knew that Tyrion would not harm her and would not force her to do anything, which was the only thing that would help him sleep better at night.
His parents had also left soon after, too tired to do any more damage control for the day. Instead, they chose to seclude themselves into their chambers where they could enjoy a glass of wine in peace.
Having gotten rid of their fancy clothing and remaining in something simpler to sleep in, the two of them took their respective spots. Tywin had chosen to enjoy his armchair by the fire, letting the sound of the cracking flames be the only thing he heard.
Visenya, on the other hand, sat on the edge of the open window, letting the night autumn breeze caress her skin while her unique eyes remained locked on the full moon towering over King's Landing.
Eventually, Tywin started to vent about Tyrion and his behaviour, as she expected him to do so. "That little..." he did not continue with the adjectives he had in his mind for the Imp. "I give him a wife far beyond his status, I give him chances to have some sort of power other than my family's name and yet he still has the audacity to try and make me uncomfortable," he spat, his eyes glaring at the flickering amber flames.
It was those times he regretted not drowning that child in the waves or throwing him off the cliff of Casterly Rock when it was just a baby. Tyrion truly made him regret his choices to keep him around and let him be raised amongst his own children, including Trystan.
Now, was this how to be repaid for everything? After all, he did for that ungrateful Imp things that no other Lord in their logical mind would ever do, he had to keep being tormented by him? Had his family name, which he fought so hard to drag out of the mud, been humiliated by someone who should not be alive in the first place?
Realizing that Visenya had been awfully quiet, he turned his head to glance at her, only to see her with a small smile on her lips while her attention remained outside.
"What are you smiling about?" he questioned now that most of his anger and frustration was gone.
The Dragoness' smile grew a little bit more. "Because this wedding reminded me of ours," she started, earning an arched eyebrow from him. "How it was time for our bedding ceremony but Kevan and the soldiers stopped the Lords from touching me."
A scoff of amusement left Tywin's lips as he sipped some of his wine. "I do remember. If those soldiers had not reacted first, I know I would have," he confessed, making her smile turn to that of surprise.
She blinked a few times, processing his words and then turned her head to look at him. "You would?" she questioned, somehow not expecting that answer.
Her words offended him but he did not show it. Instead, he started to swirl the red liquid inside his goblet. "You were my wife and I will have to be buried six feet under along with the rest of my ancestors before I will allow another man to touch you," he explained simply, the smile returning on her lips and her gaze softening.
"Well, the soldiers saved you from that trouble in the end," she commented and slowly moved her body to stand up and walk towards him, goblet at hand.
"Yes, because that day the soldiers truly took you as their Lady and would protect you with their lives."
"You know..." Visenya said as she moved to sit at the armchair by his side but had turned her body to face him properly. "It has been almost two decades and yet...it does feel like it has been far less ever since that wedding," she confessed, drinking a little bit of wine.
Tywin did not say something nor did he comment, but he did grace her with an audible humming sound that meant that he agreed. Because there were times he did think far fewer years had passed ever since, but the age of his children and the white of his hair were a reminder of it.
He glanced at her, taking a good look at her body and face. Despite the passing years, age had barely affected her as it affected most women. Her body was still in fit condition and tight, her skin barely having any wrinkles other than the faintest at the edge of her eyes.
Only her eyes seemed to have aged, looking far wiser than they used to, but her face did not match her physical age. Tywin remembered King Aegon when he was his cupbearer and how he had also looked younger than he was, something he suspected was a trait for most Targaryens.
"Tywin," Visenya said, breaking the small silence existing between them and his staring.
"Hmm?" he exclaimed, focusing on her once again.
"I have a plan for tomorrow morning," she started, drinking some of her wine and collecting her thoughts. "I want Sansa to break fast with us as a family. Not Cersei's kids but us and our kids alone."
Tywin did not seem to like the idea from the very beginning, but he was not going to disrespect or downright refuse her, because he knew that she would not just bring that up if she did not have reasons behind it, good ones.
"And why would you want that?" he asked, swirling the wine in his goblet once again.
Visenya looked from the flames at him, her expression serious but there was this softness in her eyes. "Cersei and mostly Joffrey have tormented her long enough that she mistrusts us all as a family. I want to change that and offer a chance for us to know her better. After all, she is a Lion now." Tywin scoffed. "Whether you like it or not. The least we can do is learn more about her."
The Lion looked from his goblet at her, his eyes narrowing faintly in thought but also a sign that he was not really buying the idea. He had far more important things to do, duties as Hand to deal with, than to spend time around a Stark.
"If you wish for her to trust us, why don't you approach her alone? Do your thing and befriend her," he pointed out.
"Because this won't do. I need her to see the family in general, at least an aspect of it," she mumbled the second phrase, making him arch his eyebrow but he understood what she meant. "But that is not the only reason," she added, and he motioned silently with his eyes for her to continue. "The Tyrells had been trying to make themselves look more family to her, Margaery especially. If that is to be successful, she will grab any chance to betray us if they manage to help her. However, if we earn her trust first, perhaps we can be alerted of any secret plan the Tyrells tell her before it can take place."
Truth be told, Visenya did wish for Sansa to feel more comfortable around them and get to know her, of course. She looked like a sweet and innocent kid, barely past the age of four-and-ten. She was alone in this rather...challenging family, alone from what she was used to and the people she knew.
She wished to help her more but she could not do it so openly, not without raising suspicions from others and especially Tywin. Her Lord Husband clearly did not see Sansa as anything else than a way to get his hands on the North and she understood his way of thinking, but she was not him.
She knew, though, that to persuade him to agree to that family gathering and her plan, she had to find a reason that would justify the idea in his mind. Thankfully for her, she had enough time to do so and based on the changing expression on his face, she knew she was successful.
"Very well. Tomorrow morning, only once. After that, you can personally keep her close and earn her trust," he commented, emptying his goblet.
Visenya smiled and extended her hand, placing it upon his. "Thank you. You will not be disappointed by it."
He smirked and placed his free hand on top of hers. "I hardly am lately. My Lady Wife seems to be in quite a cunning and planning mood."
Her smile turned into a smirk. "It's the good night's sleep, it helps with thinking," she joked, earning a scoff from him.
"What sleep? You have been waking up from your prophetic dreams ever since we returned from Harrenhal," he reminded her. He then looked at her in the eyes, any amusement leaving his face. "What have you been dreaming to wake you up that way?" he asked in all seriousness, jokes aside.
The Dragoness took a moment to reply, unsure what to say. The past two days she had the same dream again and again, but it was not the one with the winter and the mysterious frozen army.
It was something else...far worse.
It was nightfall in her dream, taking place in those very same chambers they would sleep in every night. She was alone at first and then she wasn't, seeing Tyrion with a crossbow. He was asking about Tysha and was throwing accusations bluntly.
She saw guards ready to tackle him and she saw the bolt from the crossbow heading straight for Tywin.
She would always wake up before she could see what would happen next and whether Tywin was harmed or worse, killed by Tyrion. It was a terrifying dream to her because she could not bear to lose him of all people; she was not ready for it.
However, she knew she could not do something about it because she might as well be the reason behind it. The dreams were always so vague, so confusing that she never truly knew what she should do with them.
Sometimes, she dreamt of things that would take place elsewhere and she had nothing to do with it, like the death of her sister after childbirth. Even if she was present, she would not have been able to help in any way.
Sometimes, those dreams were simply going to happen no matter what. Back then, she had dreamt of her nephew fighting in the tourney and then receiving an arrow at the back of his shoulder. After it all took place, Visenya came to understand that in her dream she never saw Rhaegar, just herself in his armour.
Reminding herself that Tywin was expecting an answer, she chose not to lie but not bring that certain dream either. "I dream of the Northern plains beyond the Wall. Something is going on there, far too away from us and I do not know if it is going on now or will eventually happen," she explained, choosing to remain vague.
She could not truly put into words what those frozen skeletons were or how they existed in the first place. She knew that they could not really be happening now because there would have been word from the Wall, right?
There should be, especially if a huge dragon was to fly and head towards the Wall, if indeed she saw the army heading towards it and not in some other direction.
"The Wall is far away from us and there are a lot of things that might be happening with those wildlings and whatever else was kept away all those years ago," Tywin said, not understanding what that dream could mean. However, because so far her dreams had been true, he was not going to take it lightly. "I will talk with the Small Council tomorrow. See if we have any news of the Wall or anything suspicious."
She smiled and lowered her head slightly. "Thank you," she expressed, a small weight having been lifted off her shoulders.