LION TRAP, game of thrones

𝐕. bones

They fed him regularly for seven days.

Sansorr gained strength, or at least the symptoms of starvation became less severe. The cough remained, but at least his saliva was no longer mixed with blood. The headache also subsided.

He slept most of the day, rising only when food was brought to him. Tywin did not come, but instead a maid who did not look at him and always disappeared quickly.

Through the unlocked door.

Sansorr sat on the bunk and stared at the door.

Arya and Sansa.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. He had other things to think about.

Tywin trusted him. Tywin fucking Lannister was the last person in the world who still had faith in him. The only person who hadn't given up on him.

Arya and Sansa.

Jerking to his feet, he didn't give himself a moment to overcome the dizziness and opened the door. He almost expected Tywin Lannister's wrath to strike him immediately. But of course nothing happened, he stepped out into the corridor undisturbed.

"He's just a man too, not a bloody god you stupid idiot," he muttered to himself before slipping barefoot, on aching but silent soles, through the red keep. He found the secret passage Jaime had taken him through again, finally emerging in the corridor where Jaime's chambers lay. His nieces were of nobility, they wouldn't be housed just anywhere.

There were hardly any guards here and if he did come across them, he was always able to hide in time. The damn Red Keep was convoluted enough for that.

His heart was beating fast, as if it was too much for it to cope with this sudden freedom. His breath whistled softly in his lungs and he cursed that he was so out of shape.

He pressed himself flat against a wall and pressed a hand over his mouth until he had conquered the urge to cough and was back in control of his breathing.

Sansorr listened at doors, trying to sharpen his perception as he used to when hunting in the lands around Winterfell. But he was haggard and emaciated, a shadow of his former self. His own heartbeat thundered so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear anything else.

He turned the next corner and found himself at the top of another spiral staircase. Sudden recognition made him breathe a sigh of relief. When his brother had still been a hand, his chambers had been up there, Sansorr was sure of it.

With one hand against the stone wall, Sansorr began the climb. It became harder to control his breathing with each step and he wondered how he was going to get Sansa and Arya out of here. Perhaps they were in even worse condition than he was and then their chance of escape would be even slimmer.

A cough escaped his lips and he swallowed dryly.

"You have to at least try, you damn hypocrite," he urged himself hoarsely and walked on.

At last he reached the top of the stairs. He actually found the door he remembered. He carefully opened it. The chambers appeared deserted and quiet.

"Arya? Sansa?" he called into the room, hoarse and raspy, before taking a few steps forward. The chambers were almost insanely idyllic. Sansorr approached a window. From here he could see the sea. He breathed in the fresh air, which caressed his skin and gently ruffled his hair. He could almost imagine living here, never being hungry again and partying all day long.

He had to force himself to avert his gaze and turned around again. "Sansa! Arya!" he shouted louder and burst out coughing. Saliva splattered in all directions and he wiped his mouth in frustration.