Kingslayer

Safety

The journey was long and hard. Tyrion cast a worried glance over to his brother every two minutes. Jaime had yet to regain consciousness. But by the time they reached the gates of King's Landing, Jaime was still alive. They were let in straight away, yet Jaime was still unrecognisable even though he was in the city he had called home for the last twenty or so years. Tyrion was disheartened. His brother had had a terrific fall from grace which would take him a long time to build back up. He had been a prisoner for a year. Would he be able to cope again with the fineries that came with living in the Red Keep? A year in a mud filled cage will change anyone's view of living. 

The guards were ordered by Tyrion to carry Jaime to his chambers and get Grand Maester Pycelle to start treating him straight away. He, on the other hand had another task which was equally as important. Time to report to Tywin.
Tyrion went into the Red Keep and stopped a passing servant.
"Where is my father?"
"In his chambers my lord."
"Thank you." The servant nodded and left. Tyrion made his way to Tywin's room and knocked on the door.
"Enter," the booming voice belonging to the elder Lannister said. Tyrion went in. Tywin was instantly on his feet. "You're back. Where's your brother? I would have expected him to join you here. Where is he?"
"In his chambers. He's not well. He's been beaten."
"What?"
"Stark's guards. The boy claimed he had nothing to do with it."
"He would, wouldn't he? I take it he's alive?"
"Just. I have warn you father, it was bad. He hasn't woken. He looks terrible." Tywin pushed past his younger son and strode out the room. He was set on his destination. The White Sword Tower. Tyrion struggled to catch up, not being able to walk as fast.
Lord Lannister muscled his way past the other knights of the Kingsguard and into Jaime's sleeping cell. He shoved Pycelle out the way. Tyrion had warned Tywin but nothing could prepare him for his father's reaction. Tywin could barely conceal his rage. His face was red yet his lips were white. His fists clenched at his sides. This was his eldest son, his golden boy on the brink of death. This was not how prisoners of war were meant to be treated, especially knights and high ranking generals such as his son. Stark must have known this would bring retribution. What was he thinking?

Tyrion saw the new black and blue bruises that covered Jaime's body. There was no part of him untouched. The results of the beating Stark had warned him about, but it was worse than Tyrion had first feared. But it didn't look like Robb had helped Jaime after it and that was days ago. He was still caked in mud and blood. Robb seemed like the kind of man who would look after a prisoner, no matter who they were. Clearly he was wrong. Kyra knew what she was doing. Jaime had said it himself. He had trusted her. So why hadn't Stark recruited her help? Tyrion would have to ask his brother when he woke.

If he woke.

He looked on the still form of his brother sadly. The peace soon disappeared though. Cersei was in the room a couple of minutes later. She banged the door and Pycelle was pushed away for the second time in the space of twenty minutes. She leaned over him and brushed a finger lightly over his cheek.
"Jaime. Seven hells," Cersei whispered. Then turned volatile. "Stark will pay for this."
"What are you going to do?" Tyrion said sarcastically.
"Crush them."
"How? They've beaten us every time."
"I don't know. But they can't get away with what they've done. Look at him."
"I can see him perfectly well," Tywin snapped. "Cersei, stop with the hopeless dreams of storming the Stark camp. Tyrion, leave your sister alone. By the Gods, it's like dealing with children." He glared at both his active children who became subdued before looked at the maester. "Save him." Tywin left the room, his face painted with rage.
Tyrion glanced at Cersei but she didn't have the usual look of disdain that was permanently on her face wasn't there. She was despondent and distant, worried for her twin. She sat next to his bed, casting him feverous glances and squeezing his hand tightly.
Tyrion decided to back out of the room and leave her to it. He didn't need Cersei to turn ugly on him when there was no need for it. And the situation was so fraught that anything could happen.

Whilst Jaime was starting to get the help he needed, Robb had also returned to his camp with Sansa. Catelyn had been in her tent anxiously awaiting thier return, pacing up and down, fiddling with the seams of her dress. She'd prayed every day that the Lannisters returned her daughter unharmed, especially after Tyrion had spent two nights in the camp. Jaime hadn't been treated that well and he'd been ill for ages. The Crown could always have backed out of the deal. They could have hurt her girl for the Stark's hurting Tywin's son. But as Robb's outriders seemed to say, she seemed to be OK.
"Mother!" She heard the distinct voice of her eldest son call out. It was time. Her daughter was returned. She rushed out her tent. And in front of her was her eldest daughter. Looking unharmed, smiling. Tears filled Catelyn's eyes. The relief was overwhelming. Sansa ran towards her mother, arms outstretched, crying. She enveloped her mother in a hug. Robb stood back, letting them reunite. After embracing for a long time, the mother extracted herself. Catelyn walked towards her son. She stroked his cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered through tears. "Thank you." She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I need to talk to my advisors. I'll leave you both to it." Robb smiled and walked away. Catelyn led Sansa into her tent and sat her down.
"It's good to have you back. Did you get treated OK?"
"Yes mother. Joffrey tried to hurt me but Lord Tyrion stopped him before it got too bad. Tyrion was kind." Catelyn sighed. Tyrion may have been kind but he was still a Lannister. The enemy.
"Well you're back with us now. That's the important thing." Sansa smiled. "You're home."