Chapter Text
Tywin Lannister seemed to fill the entire hall, not just because his head was almost at the ceiling with his blond and grey hair brushing the lamp. The red paint had worn off from most parts of the walls revealing the hopeless concrete that the scruffy building had been made of in the first place.
The building had had an exciting modern look to it a good 30 years ago.
In ten years it had turned from yuppie dink's first live together apartment into artsy folks' gallery homes, until finally poor undergratuate students had found its location and rent perfect.
Looking at his cold watery eyes Sansa wanted to slam the door shut right in front of him. Wearing her favourite hello kitty pj's and stripey, worn out leg warmers she felt utterly unprepared for the battle she anticipated he had brought to her. The old lion eyed her like mutton.
"Good evening, miss Stark."
"Good evening, mister Lannister."
The lion stared at her calmly,
"You should let me in."
His watery eyes were like frozen puddles with chunks of black seaweed floating on the surface.
Sansa took a deep breath and prepared to slam the door shut.
"Miss Stark, I have something you should see. I have come all this way and won't leave before showing them to someone, your neighbors might be intrigued..."
"Please come in."
The picture on mr. Lannister's pad would have made her laugh out of surprise unless it had been for the familiar furniture and the date on the right corner.
Sansa whispered,
"You look like you are having lots of fun, mr. Lannister..."
Her voice faded to the old lion's frown.
Sansa gulped,
"Er, Robert Baratheon makes a handsome bookshelf for you, mr. Lannister... The chandelier is ingenious..."
Abruptly turning the pad around it was almost as he would have blushed.
He hissed between clenched jaws,
"Clearly this was not meant for you. Just a moment..."
Feeling her stomach turn upside down she took a long breath,
"Wait! Please, sit down. Would you like a glass of wine? I know I could use one right now."
The lion smiled shortly and relaxed on the couch. Coffeetable made it impossible for him to extend his legs to their full lenght.
"A glass of wine might be helpful."
Knowing he meant her, that the glass would be helpful for her, not for him, Sansa spinned around into the tiny kitchen.
If the old lion had gotten restless before Sansa placed a cheap goblet of even cheaper wine on the table for him it didn't show through his stoic exterior.
She sat herself next to him and relaxed the more Tywin Lannister drank.
His pad was on the table, running a slideshow of three pictures.
The surface of the flat machine reflected the light of the fluorescent lamp on her ceiling, yet the images of herself kneeling on Jaime's leash while he was playing with Brienne were clear.
Jaime had convinced that taking photos was strictly prohibited and that guests were checked so that all cameras and phones were left at the door.
All three pics were of the threesome.
None had seen her with Euron apparently.
Sansa emptied her goblet with a long sip and placed it on the table,
"How did you manage to get pics taken at the mansion?"
"More easily than you'd think, young lady."
Something in his voice made Sansa's skin prickle.
He was eyeing her legs.
At first Sansa assumed that he was disapproving her worn out leg warmers and pj's but when his cold gaze moved to her waist and breasts she had to use all her willpower not to cross her arms around herself.
"Do you always dress like a homeless ten year old at home?"
His voice was so matter of factly, so lacking of any emotion, that Sansa could not think of a snarky response and stared silently at the table.
Finally he drank up his wine.
"Would you like those photographs to find their way to your brother?"
"No..."
"So you'll do as I tell you. First go change that outfit... Wear the blue dress you have on that photo. No lingerie. I'll teach you how to conduct yourself like a proper little bitch. You'll apologize my son, crawl back to him and you'll never publicly humiliate him again by removing his collar."
Sansa had already escaped to the bedroom before the word bitch left Tywin's lips.
The tiny bed creaked when Sansa sat to it. She placed a timer on her phone to ring in five minutes and pulled a fleece hoodie over her pj's.
She played with the phone almost dialling the number Euron Greyjoy had typed in it.
When her timer went off she dialled the only person she could think of and started to babble breathlessly once the call was answered,
"I'm really in trouble now, he is on the couch, he said he'd show my pics with Jaime and Brienne at the mansion to Robb and..."
"Sansa?"
"Jon! What are you doing taking Ygritte's calls?"
"We are coming there right away."
"Er... Please hurry."
Taking off the bottom of her pj's she looked for her jeans and pulled them on.
She walked with silent steps behind Tywin. His head was resting against the cushions and his breathing was steady.
With three little steps she was in front of him.
Eyes closed, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Sansa took the goblet she had roofied and rinsed it in the kitchen.
Ygritte stared at the drooling lion and tilted her head,
"Djevel..."
Sansa sobbed,
"Promise me Jon, not to tell Robb or mom!"
"Sansa..."
The look in Jon's eyes was so disappointed that tears filled Sansa's.
"How did you come to have roofies, Sansa"
"Uhm... Confiscated them from Arya..."
Ygritte scoffed and smacked Jon's buttocks,
"Don't be stupid. Of course he wont say anything!"
Jon frowned, Ygritte smacking his ass was apparently not something he was accustomed to.
The norwegian grad student studied Tywin's long body,
"We'll shove him through the garbage chute and carry him to the van from there. He'll get a bruise or two. The sorority has been in dire need of a french maid..."