LION TRAP, game of thrones

𝐈𝐈𝐈. gold

Every day, at the same time every day, Sansorr was brought something to eat.

It took time for his body to recover, until he could keep down the greasy food, which by now he thought was leftovers from the feasts that probably took place elsewhere in the castle.

Sansorr learned during this time that it was up to Tywin how much he got, if he got something. The Hand of the King visited him regularly, but Sansorr could not tell if it was daily or less often. He was brought a new torch with every meal, but he could hardly measure time by that. But when Tywin came, he asked Sansorr things. The first few times, when the fever was still shaking him, he was allowed to lie on the bunk, but now he had to sit on the old stool while the lord faced him like a stern teacher.

They were everyday topics, stories from Winterfell and his youth. Sansorr was still too exhausted to think much, it took too much effort to keep himself upright on the stool.

He was still scrawny and unwashed, but if he dared to beg Tywin for more food or enough water for at least a quick wash, he would be punished and the lord would starve him, sometimes more, sometimes less.  Sansorr found himself spending the whole day sitting on the bunk, listening to the sounds outside the chamber. Whenever he heard footsteps, he jumped up to sit on the stool. But if no one came in, he would go back to the bunk like a sad dog.

But the worst days were those when Cersei came instead of her father. Sansorr had not yet understood how to satisfy her whims. So he was at her mercy, too weak to fight back and too afraid of losing her family's favor.

Cersei's favorite subject was what was now known as the Red Wedding. How Robb, his wife and Catelyn had been betrayed and killed - she told him again and again, with a brutal sense of detail. Robb, with his direwolf's head sewn to his shoulders; Catelyn, clawing her eyes out at the sight of her dead son... Sansorr hadn't been there, but Cersei's stories were beginning to make it feel that way.

When he collapsed, he always knew straight away that he would starve for the next few days, as if father and daughter were in collusion.

The more Sansorr showed his suffering, the longer the punishment. But Sansorr could hardly wait to see Tywin again each time, hoping to prove to him this time that he was worthy of his attention.

On Cersei's last visit, he had fallen to his knees before her and begged her to stop. Now he had been starving for half an eternity.

He sat on the edge of the bunk and stared at the torch, which was only glowing slightly; for the first time since Tywin had taken care of him, it would now burn out completely and send Sansorr into darkness. When Sansorr thought about it, he felt sick with fear.

He watched the dying fire like a moth a flame and fought the panic inside him. He would not endure the darkness again. No way, he wouldn't stand being abandoned by Tywin. He could be strong enough, he could be...

Steps.

"Tywin",Sansorr gasped and jumped up, making his way to his stool. The door was dynamically yanked open and Sansorr stumbled in the semi-darkness, falling towards the open door, warm midday light streaming through. He was caught by strong, warm arms.

In the backlight stood his knight in golden armor.

"Sansorr..." Jaime Lannister said in surprise, his green eyes widening. He held Sansorr effortlessly and the latter was grateful for it, for his legs could barely carry him.

The knight held him as if he had rescued a drowning animal and now considered throwing it back for good. But he didn't drop him, he went to his knees and helped Sansorr to sit down leaning against the wall.