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Every day Lord Tywin came to visit his grandson. Every day at the same time, before the sun would go down. He knocked slightly on the door and entered without awaiting an invitation.

Normally Sansa occupied herself with some needle work at this time of day, sitting in an armchair near the fireplace, where she could see the manger. The fire warmed her and her sleeping child, illuminating the room in warm light in contrast to the dark winter outside the walls of the Red Keep.

Tyran was not yet a year old. He had come strong into the world, Sansa remembered how Tyrion had placed him into her arms, ignoring all demands he should first show him to his waiting family. A totally healthy boy with auburn gold hair and green eyes. A quiet child, not easily trusting with strangers. Her world, Tyrion's world.

She recalled with horror her son's first encounter with Joffrey and how Tyrion nearly slapped him when the King had wanted to go near him. Joffrey was forbidden near him now, Sansa had now clue how. But nobody could deny Lord Tywin to see his grandson.

The grim looking Lord of Casterly Rock entered her chambers as always, long steps straight in the room. She quickly rose from her seat to greet him, receiving just a small nod in return. Tyrion was still working, as always when Lord Tywin visited. Faking a smile Sansa sat down again, pretending to continue her work, but actually observing Lord Tywin during his daily ritual.

Ignoring her further he headed straight to the manger, standing in front of it.

First he looked down on Tyran, his face an unreadable stern expression. He stood like a statue with his hands folded behind his back. What happened next was always the strangest.

Lord Tywin reached into the manger with his hands and carefully lifted his sleeping grandson up, holding him in front of him. It was like he would check if he turned into a dwarf like his father over the night. As always he hadn't had. Sansa was tense while she watched her little son in this man's hands. He knew too much not to be.

And now Tyran woke up, slowly and sleepy he opened his eyes, peeking out who might had dared to disturb his rest. When he beheld his grandfather he suddenly was very active. He started to squeaked joyfully, moving his little arms and legs up and down in delight.

Every man in the seven Kingdoms feared Tywin Lannister, even Joffrey, they crumbled in fear in front of his hard gaze, except Tyran. He loved his grandfather, he was always happy to see him, every day, he woke him up from his slumber.

For what followed Sansa had to watch carefully, it happened only in the span of a blink, if she would look away she would miss it. Tyran grabbed Lord Tywin's arms or hands, or nose, whatever he could get in his tiny fingers and pressed down. And Lord Tywin, the Lord of Casterly Rock, the lion of Lannister, smiled. Just for a blink, but Sansa always saw it, she always saw it. A warm, friendly smile, for a moment he was a happy grandfather with his grandson on his arm. If she wouldn't know better she would think he looked as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It was strange, surreal.

"He is strong." Lord Tywin commented short before placing the heavily protesting Tyran back down into his manger, stroking his hair. He straighten up again, folding his hands behind his back. His face turned back in its usual demeanour.

"Thank you my Lord." Sansa replied courteous, bowing her head. She didn't want to show him that she saw it, the smile.

Lord Tywin left without a word, as always. He would come back tomorrow, he would come back every day.


I just wanted a Fic where Tywin isn't the big bad, read chapter 2 for the angst part but if you happy with this light drabble don't ruin it with dark thoughts

I have 3 more Fics nearly ready, I will launch them every Sunday now

Author's Confession: Whenever I see a Petyr/Sansa fic, prompt or whatever I literary vomit a little bit and die a bit inside

Review please