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Chapter Text

The Dragon Dance

An undulating mass of people, horses, and tents surrounded the walls of Winterfell, the largest army ever assembled. Sansa felt that the high castle walls were just an island in an angry ocean and she often felt she was waiting for the waves to crash over her. However, today the sea had stilled and had turned eerily quiet. All eyes were turned to the spectacle in the sky. The dragons were dancing.

That’s what it looked like to Sansa at least from atop the walls of Winterfell. Dancing, weaving, parrying, crashing into each other..all with mighty roars and quieter chuffs to each other. Drogon and Rhaegal with scales gleaming like jewels in the setting sun were eclipsing all the heavenly bodies in the sky with their performance. The display had started hours ago but was clearly reaching a fevered crescendo to what end she didn’t know. The latest aerial acrobatics involved both of them flying up so high in the sky they became pinpricks of black and green (Like Tyrion’s eyes Sansa thought) and plummeting to the ground. One of them would pull up at the last minute catching the other in an embrace of wings, most often Drogon catching the smaller Rhaegal. It was an enrapturing and bewildering sight and Sansa could not tear her eyes away.

“What are they doing?” she asked Tyrion breathlessly her hands clutched tightly to the railing. He stood on a stool beside her watching the two magnificent creatures. They were almost always together since he had arrived two moons ago with the Queen. Working so closely together and with a past forced intimacy, they had fallen into an easy friendship. Little had been said about their marriage, no time for dwelling on that with the long night almost upon them they had agreed. The fact is that there was just too much to say, too many emotions, too many literal and figurative bodies to dredge up the past. Sansa could barely keep herself together regarding more recent events then what had happened in King’s Landing those years ago. Best to keep those emotions locked down safe in her armor, but like most things long hidden, they were surfacing unbidden threatening to break their way through.

“They are seeking solace in each other.” Tyrion said. “As most of us do in the face of overwhelming grief.” Grief of course for Viserion. The dragons’ grief had been palpable to all especially Rhaegal who had cried a keening mournful cry and stopped eating for days. Drogon was often found with a wing over the smaller dragon with their Queen mother holding his muzzle, lost in her own grief.

“By Dancing?” questioned Sansa.

“By Mating.” replied Tyrion with an emotion in his voice she could not quite place. Longing maybe?

She stared back at the dragons studying them. “They are coupling?”

“No, this is the courtship display...foreplay if you will. I imagine the actual consummation is not done in the air. Drogon will lay her eggs before we march for the wall.”

“Drogon is the female?” Sansa said with a start. “I just assumed that Rhaegal was the female.”

“Why because he is smaller? I am smaller than you. Does that make me not a man?” Tyrion said this with a self deprecating smile that did not reach his eyes but she could hear the note of steel in his voice. “Don’t answer that.”

Sansa felt a tremendous wave of guilt surge through her body. She had grown so accustomed to him just being well just Tyrion in her mind that she sometimes forgot how much of his self-worth was wrapped up in his dwarfism. It was such a part of what made him the man he was but not something she much thought about when he was around. She was much more inclined to think of his sharp mind, his wit, his laugh, the way his blond curls and beard made him look every part the dashing Lannister lion. She blushed both out of shame and something else, these unsettling feelings that had recently appeared when Tyrion was with her. She started to open her mouth not quite knowing what to say when he interrupted her.

“In many animals, the female is the larger gender. Dragons are apparently one of them. The Queen herself just figured out what gender they were recently, she has never thought them as sons or daughters--just her children.” Tyrion continued. His voice had lost most of its usual warmth. He started to step down from his stool. “And if you will excuse me Lady Stark, I am going to retire to my chambers.”

He had always called her Lady Stark since their reunion, never Sansa. She had never asked him why, afraid to upset their precarious new friendship. Once he had slurred “Yes, wife.” when he was deep in his cups and she was upset with him over it. She felt his mind was too sharp to dull with casks of wine and more selfishly she felt bereft whenever he chose drink over her company.

She laid her hand on his not wanting him to leave upset. “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

An unexpected surge of heat swept up her arm from their touch as his eyes softened. “Yes, just a little longer if it pleases my lady.” he said quietly.

“It does.” They stood in companionable silence for awhile, her hand still on his watching the dragon’s courtship.

“I have a question for you my lord.”

“Yes, Lady Stark”

“What is foreplay?”

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Seven hells! Tyrion thought to himself. This woman would be the death of him.

Chapter Text

“What is foreplay?” Sansa asked, her voice nothing but innocent curiosity.

Seven hells! Tyrion thought to himself. This woman would be the death of him.

He was painfully aware of the auburn haired beauty by his side. She was no longer the little dove that Cersei had always called her, not that she ever was. She was a Stark, a wolf queen and was now free from all the cruel men and women that had tried to chain her. And despite his kindness to her, he had been of them. True, he had been shackled himself but he had deceived himself into thinking the she-wolf would ever trust, let alone care for her captor.

If it had been just about any other woman in all the lands, he would have made a lecherous joke and invited her to his chambers for a demonstration. But as much as he had fantasized of his small hands gliding over her smooth alabaster skin, caressing those impossibly long legs leading up to...no, he just couldn't. Not to her. She deserved so much more than unwanted passes from a lusty little beast like him.

Time had given him a second chance to know this new woman made of ice and steel and he felt blessed of the strange friendship that had blossomed between them. It was not until the last few weeks that her smile and voice had started to awaken parts of him that he had thought long burned away. Her company had become too important to him to risk letting his baser urges out. He was not that man anymore.

With his free hand, the one not being clasped by hers, (And yes dear gods she was touching him and it felt like the blood in his veins had been replaced by the sweetest wine and his whole body tingled and burned) he dragged his palm down his face trying to compose an appropriate reply. His silver tongue and sharp wit rarely left him speechless but sometimes her flashing blue Tully eyes did.

He cleared his voice and said in his most charming voice with his famous impish grin, “Foreplay is something my dear Lady Stark that I shall personally make sure all your future suitors are intimately familiar with.” As the words poured out, he heard them out loud and realized how crass they sounded. Sansa pulled her hand away abruptly and Tyrion could swear he could feel the ice wall thrown up by the turn of her shoulder.

“Thank you Lord Hand, but I shall not be in need of such services as there will NEVER be any such future suitors.” she said with such cold formality that he could scarcely believe he was talking to the same woman he had been clutching hands with a moment ago. With a twirl of her furs, she was bounding down the stairs at such a pace that he could never hope to catch her. So he watched her go as his heart sank down into his toes.

“I am a stupid, stupid man.” he said to no one in particular whilst banging his head slowly against the stone wall.

“Yes, you Lannisters are a couple of stupid cunts.” said a cocky familiar drawl. Bronn leaned his back on the rail, biting into an apple and stared up at the dragon’s in the sky. “Are those two nasty beasts done fuckin’ yet?”

“Not that I don’t love the insulting repertoire of my favorite sellsword, but aren't you supposed to be on a ranging mission with my brother and Lady Brienne?” Tyrion said in his usually sardonic tone, but his heart just wasn’t in it.

“The sexual tension was as deep as the fuckin’ snow between them I was afraid I might get fucked accidentally by one of them so I bailed.” he said with a smirk.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows and smirked back. “Oh please do continue...” he said, anything to keep his mind off Sansa.

“So two days out they are just starin’ at each other with these moony eyes and whenever the other isn’t lookin’ and every word between them is filled with so much goddamn meaning and repressed emotion. And I can’t get a fuckin’ break from either of them cusses because now I’m some sort of fuckin’ old septa keepin’ them from jumpin’ each other. I finally couldn’t take it anymore and I said fuck it and pretended to pull a muscle in my groin so I couldn’t ride no more figurin’ Jamie could finally bury his cock in her and put us all out of our misery.”

Tyrion laughed, “That’s what you get for following Jamie North”

“Like I was gonna stay with that crazy cunt you call a sister.”

“So what did they say when you told them to leave you behind.”

“The best part of this whole fuckin’ story is what happened. I was fakin’ so much pain that Lady Brienne insisted on massaging my pulled muscle” he said with a wicked grin as he pointed to his right inner thigh. “Her hands might be large and rough but goddamnit she’s a fine lookin’ woman and it’s been a while since I bedded one. She had me so hard if she had accidentally touched my cock I would have exploded in my pants like a boy.”

Tyrion’s jaw dropped. “Bronn of the Blackwater, the consummate gentleman. And where was Jaimie during all this?”

“About ten feet away lookin’ like he was going to castrate me. And you know what’s really funny?” Bronn said dropping his voice conspiratorially.

“What?” Tyrion said still grinning at the thought of this tableau in his mind.

“Part of me thinks that “Maid” of Tarth knew just what she was doing to me and was trying to get Jamie’s blood boiling.” he said slyly.

Tyrion’s shoulders were now shaking with suppressed laughter at the whole farce, the scene playing in this mind. He just knew what expression Jamie would be wearing on his face.
“They’re due back in a few days, I guess we’ll see if you’re little charade worked.” he said.

“It better have worked, I even sabotaged one of their two tents so they’d be forced to share.” Bronn said.

At that admission, Tyrion started laughing so hard he could hardly breathe.

When he finally stopped laughing, he noticed the dragons were done with their courtship display. Which only reminded of him of watching them with Sansa. Sensing the change in mood Bronn asked him “And how is your lady wife? She seemed pissed, but knowing you I’m sure it was well earned.”

“She is not my wife, she is the Lady Stark, wolf-queen, and Wardeness of the North. My wife, Sansa Lannister, disappeared from King’s Landing four years earlier and I presume is long dead and buried by Lady Stark. And of course she’s pissed at me because I’m a stupid, stupid man who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“You’re fucked in the head you know” replied Bronn with a dumbfounded reply.

“I know.” Tyrion replied with a grimace. “Let’s go drink until I pass out.”

Chapter Text

Sansa stormed angrily across the courtyard knowing that her long legs would carry her quickly away from her humiliating encounter with Tyrion. She could not believe him! Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and her eyes were blinking away hot, angry tears. Whilst she was no longer a maid, she knew she was still naive about many things. However, she was not stupid and knew enough to understand exactly what he implied. It was just another thing Ramsey had stolen from her--her home, her maidenhead, her sleep, the list was endless. In another life, one not beset by tragedy, she should have been married by now to a handsome lord with a babe on her hip--the brave, gentle, and strong man her father promised he’d find for her. The one she had screamed that she didn’t want, that she wanted Joffrey instead so she would be his queen, and her life would be like the songs. Foolish stupid girl!!! Petyr had warned her life wasn’t a song. Sansa had always had fanciful notions of love, marriage, and family and in many ways blamed herself for finding her life like this--a ruined woman she thought, twice married. One marriage a “sham” as Tyrion so bruskly told Jon (she did not care for that word, but she had no energy to examine the complex emotions behind it furthur) and the other to a monster--a man that was everything Joffrey would have become. And never, ever again would she agree to be married. The thought of another man thinking she was something to possess, something to touch--oh gods she would sooner die than let one of them touch her. To seven hells with Tyrion and and his damn suitors!!

She kept her head down with her hair swept over her face to avoid any conversation. It would not have mattered anyway, all eyes were still on the glorious bejeweled beasts dancing in the sky. She was about to escape into one of the smaller side passages when she heard a collective gasp from the people around her. Her head shot up as the dragons plunged nose first to the ground. Their wings wrapped in the tightest embrace, tails intertwined, and heads bowed together. Sansa stopped in awe, the two creatures had melded into one gleaming body and it was both poetically beautiful, intimate and frightening. That this power, this desire, this love (Do dragons love?) could make them heedless of the danger of their plunge from the heavens. “So they couple on the ground, huh Lord Tyrion?” she said to herself. No..not these powerful beings of air and fire, the ground would not do for the creation of dragons.

Watching the pure unadulterated passion of the winged beasts threatened to erupt some deep set feelings threatening to break through her closed off heart. Despair..longing...desire...remorse..she barely knew how to name exactly what she was feeling. She had watched her family observing her, waiting for the armor to come away, looking for some part of the fragile dreamy girl they knew instead of the ice queen she has become. She wanted to find that Sansa too some days, anything to feel more alive in this world of winter and death. The only times she even thought she caught a glimpse of her is when she saw herself reflected in her former husband's eyes. Perhaps that is why she desired his company, he could see her as she used to be not just the ice queen she had become.

Her introspection was broken by a deafening roar of both the dragons and the shocked crowd as the beasts broke apart at the very last second before hitting the ground and shot back up into the sky, flying for the setting sun. The dragon dance officially being over, people snapped out of their revery and started back to their tasks. Sansa ducked into the little used side passage to avoid being seen and in her haste skidded on a patch of ice and slammed her back into the rough stone walls of the castle. And just like that, her world came undone. She felt the large, poorly healed scar on her back, the final gift from her savage husband, rend open and she screamed noiselessly into her fist. She had learned not to scream..never ever to scream.. it only gave him more pleasure and she would not allow him to have it, even in death. Although, she was not as silent as she had hoped, as two figures descended on her in the darkened passage. It was the Unsullied leader Grey Worm and the Queen’s advisor, Missandei who had just left her quarters.

Missandei knelt down beside her and asked gently, “My Lady Stark are you alright, do you need me to fetch one of the maester’s or your family?” At the same time Grey Worm knelt as if too scoop her up and carry her.

“Please, please, no..maester’s.” She had hated having any of them touch her after that perverted old Maester Pycelle and his examinations. She took a deep breath and stared at Missandei beseechingly hoping she would understand her hidden meaning. “I have... scars on my back and the largest has never healed right and I think my fall has torn it open. I do not wish for my family to know. I do not want them to see.” The woman was a former slave after all, that much she knew, as well as incredibly smart and perceptive. She could see the realization dawn on her quickly in her soft brown eyes.. Rumors of Ramsey’s horrors and death had spread even to the foreign army.

Missandei quickly took charge, indicating to Grey Worm to carry her to her room. She was roughly the same height as the eunuch but he carried her as if she were a feather and her mind dizzy with pain wondered at the last time she had been carried. All that did was drug up painful memories of her father.

Once they were safely behind closed doors, Missandei helped Sansa take off her furs and glanced briefly at her back before making a list and handing it to Grey Worm. She kissed him briefly on the cheek and whispered “Please be quick and discreet, my heart, and fetch these from our supplies for Lady Stark. Knock three times when you return.”

“On my honor.” he said with a lingering gaze on the foreign beauty, “I will be as swift and quiet as a shadowcat as my lady commands.”

Missandei had Sansa strip down to her waist and lay on the bed. She covered all but her back with thick furs as Sansa started to tremble. Gently, she started cleaning the wound as Sansa trembled with shock and shame. And then suddenly, she started to cry, not delicate lady like weeping but full blown sobs racking her body. All the while, this kind stranger was doing nothing but soothing her hurts with her words and hands. She could feel the slash on her back, like an angry gaping mouth laughing at her. Sansa’s back was a maze of fine angry scars, the story of her last marriage written in her flesh. The last and greatest was given to her right before she and Theon escaped when Sansa knew she would rather die than suffer at his hands anymore.

Sansa had just started to calm down ashamed at her display of weakness, when there was a soft knock followed by two more at the door. Missandei opened the door a crack and retrieved a bundle from Grey Worm. They had a short whispered exchange and she closed and locked the door.

When she returned to the bed, she knelt by it to see Sansa’s tear streaked face. Gently she said.“My lady, you are correct that your wound has reopened. It will need to be cleaned and excised of the festering impurities that are causing the wound to not heal properly.” She hesitated. “I have seen this before in Essos amongst my people and believe I can help but are you sure you do not wish someone to be here? I will have to close your back with needle and thread. It will be painful.”

“The only needle my sister is adept with is her sword. She will not be useful here.” she took a long shuddering breath. “The visual signs of my suffering by a man long dead will only fuel her hate and she already overflows with that. I will not add to that on my account. The same with Jon, he need not suffer my pain. Bran of course already knows too much and is the source of little comfort I’m afraid.”

Missandei started to prep for the undertaking by applying a numbing salve, and cleaning the wound with a stinging liquid that burned her nose. As tears welled up in her eyes, she wished she had somebody to hold on to. Images of her mother, father, septa and even Lady appeared to her. Oh, she missed Lady so much! Still after all these years she missed her. When the nights were endless and she couldn’t sleep, Sansa had taken to drawing and Lady had been the first sketch she completed. She had slowly been sketching portraits of all of her family and loved ones but Lady was the first, because her cruel, needless death had been the first of far too many.

Hesitating over her with the needle and thread, Missandei asked “Are you sure you don’t want me to get somebody? This is going to hurt. Tyrion perhaps?”

“NO.” she said a little too vehemently.

“Some ladies find comfort in their husband’s arms.”

“He has not been my husband for a very long time. Plus we never had that kind of marriage--it was a sham (That word again, why did it taste bitter in her mouth)”

“But you are always together.” she observed.

“Friendship is not marriage.”

“But it is a very important part of marriage.”

“I do not need my first husband to see what my second husband has done to me.” she sniffed. “I do not need his pity.”

“I don’t think it would be pity he would feel for you Lady Sansa.”

“It matters not, plus I’m angry with him so he’s most likely using that as in excuse to drink himself into a stupor.”

At that Missandei laughed, “For a little man,he has a big mouth he does not know how to keep shut. Have you heard the story of how he met my Queen?”

With that, she wove a story of Meereen, the fighting pits, Ser Jorah, and the silver tongued dwarf. As she stitched her back, she added other stories of her time with Tyrion in Meereen, of drinking, of learning to tell jokes with Grey Worm. But Sansa’s favorite story was the one of Tyrion and the dragons. Missandei told her what Varys had seen underneath the great pyramid. She could picture him, a mighty little lion, so small and so brave using his wits and charm to free the dragons. She told Missandei what she just thought, amazed that she had finished her suture already distracted as she was by her words.

“It was not his charm and wit Lady Stark that kept let him unchain the dragons. The dragons could sense his honesty in wanting to help them and his gentle kindness. The strength of his character is what won them over. Or at the very least, kept them from devouring him” she japed.

“I see those joke lessons paid off.” Sansa almost laughed.

“Yes.” she smiled as she covered the stitches with a dressing and more salve. “He has brought some levity to the Queen’s court, something we didn’t know we were missing. We all enjoy his company..he is a good man.”

After she finished helping Sansa dress, Missandei addressed Sansa “May I offer you some advice Lady Sansa?”

“I owe you more than I can say. Please do.”

“Don’t let any other old wounds fester. It is best to open them up and let them heal properly.” she said while looking her in the eye imploring her to understand the double meaning.

Yes, Sansa thought she had all sorts of wounds that festered in her heart. Like words that have not been spoken, foolish things said and done, kindnesses not returned, misplaced blame and overwhelming guilt.

“I truly am the stupid, stupid little girl Petyr said I was” she thought as all those old hurts tore open. As she left to face the world again, she couldn’t help herself as her thoughts turned to a small, brave, gentle, and strong man who faced dragons.

Chapter Text

Bronn lead Tyrion to a large structure made of canvas at the edge of the army encampments. Inside was a comfy improvised tavern, complete with tables, braziers, and casks of wine and ale. The place was quite full doing a brisk business and Tyrion was impressed at the ingenuity of the proprietor, a large bald man with a droopy mustache who dispensed the drinks with a smile and laugh. Serving girls bustled about flirting with the patrons and Tyrion knew half would be sharing a bed with one of the men that night for coin.

Bronn immediately caught the eye of a beautifully stunning woman with long curly brown hair. As she approached, Tyrion could tell that she was older than her figure suggested with fine lines around her eyes putting her at an age close to his sister's. She linked her arm through Bronn’s with a salacious smile and guided the two men to a quiet table in a darkened corner of the tent. Tyrion was glad. He just wanted to drink and was not in the mood for joking (or being the butt of jokes more likely) with the other men.

“Anna, my dear, my little friend here is in a very, very foul mood and is in desperate need of refreshment.” Bronn said kissing her hand.

“Copious amounts of whatever your strongest wine is please.” Tyrion added.

She eyed him appraisingly, “Of course my lord.”

She left and while she was retrieving their drinks Tyrion asked “I thought it had been awhile since you bedded a woman.”

“Oh, it has!” Bronn laughed. “This one's makin’ me work for it. She’s the big man’s sister” indicating the man with the mustache “and a widow since the young Stark lord marched to his ruin down south.”

“Ah, another victim of the Lannisters.” Tyrion thought. Just great.

“Don’t forget I fought by your side.” Bronn said.

“Does she know?” Tyrion asked.

“She’s knows I’m a sellsword and my loyalty was to the coin I made which ain’t exactly makin’ her clothes fall off. However, she has two boys 15 and 16. I’ve been training’ them to fight until I rode off with that great horse’s ass you call a brother.”

Anna, came back smiling with their drinks. Tyrion filled his goblet eagerly and downed the first cup like a man parched in the desert heat. Anna eyed him again saying “So you’re that damn one handed fool’s brother. Has he told that tall lady knight he’s in love with her yet?”

Tyrion was glad he had already swallowed the wine or he may have spit it out. Apparently, everybody but him knew of his brother’s infatuation with Lady Brienne. He had sensed...something...but was unaware that it could be love. Although truthfully, he had lately been distracted by other things, like an impossibly tall, clever woman with copper tresses.

“Love you say?” Tyrion asked the beautiful barmaid while pouring himself another glass.

“Men. You are so blind sometimes.” she said with a trace of humor as she looked deeply into Bronn’s eyes. She had settled herself on to Bronn’s lap and was tracing his lips with her fingers. Tyrion’s gut lurched with envy. No woman had ever looked at him like that without him paying for it. He pictured Sansa sitting in his lap, looking at him with adoration and lust. Quickly, he downed his second glass of wine overcome with self-loathing and heartache. He was such a pathetic old dwarf, who would ever want to look at him like that? Especially a beauty like Sansa.

“Yes, he is deeply in love with her and her with him. I could see it after just a short time in their company.” she said.

“I just thought they wanted to fuck.” Bronn said bluntly.

She laughed melodiously, tossing her head. Bronn proceeded to tell her the story he had told Tyrion with some minor adjustments (like his lustful thoughts about Lady Brienne.) He had his arm around her waist, looking in her eyes as he told his story while she laughed and smiled. Tyrion felt more and more wretched and envious. He was happy for his friend but oh so jealous of the easiness he had with his new lady love. He polished off a third glass of wine during Bronn’s recitation and was happily noting that the alcohol was starting to take effect.

Had he ever heard Sansa laugh like that? A few times he had made her laugh and smile with his wit and jests since they had been reunited, but they had been hard won, never being given so freely and easily. He had a brief wicked thought of lying in bed with Sansa, tickling her until she was breathless with laughter, and then making wild, passionate love to her. Oh Gods, he was still the lustful little beast thinking such things about such a sweet, virtuous, kind woman.

He had overheard whispers of the man she had married after him. Nobody wanted to tell him all that had been rumored to have befallen her by Ramsey and he had not pushed as he didn’t really want to know. He had been able to halt most of Joffrey's torment in King’s Landing but had been unable to protect her from being sold by that prick Littlefinger to further his agenda. The story of Littlefinger and the revelations of all his schemes to gain the Iron Throne was the most the former spouses had delved into the shared fall of their families. Jon had told him Littlefinger had claimed to love Sansa before he left for Dragonstone. Only Jon's fear of the Night King had propelled him to leave her to his clutches. Although, she and Arya had turned the tables on him hadn’t they? He was glad the prick was dead.

Bronn went to pour himself a glass of wine and found the pitcher empty. “Really?” he asked Tyrion turning it upside down.

“I’ll fetch some more.” said Anna. She retrieved a new pitcher, kissed Bronn on the cheek, and said “I have work to do, enjoy, and I’ll catch up with you later handsome.”

“I should go away more often.” said Bronn kissing her hand again. He poured both of them a new glass of wine.

Turning and casting a derisive eye at Tyrion, Bronn said,“So you gonna tell me what in all gods stupid fuckin’ thing you said to get your lady all riled up? You to were as thick as thieves before I left.”

“I offered to ummm..screen her future suitors.” Tyrion said realizing how stupid it sounded. “She informed me rather vehemently that she would never allow any such future suitors.”

“You’re a dumb cunt.” Bronn said bitingly. He slammed down his wine and pointed a finger at him. “That lady’s been married twice for the pure political aspirations of hateful men, and been nothing but a plaything to torment by most of them, you aside. What makes you think she ever wants to be cloaked again by another one of these aspiring lordling fucks?”

He continued, “Do you remember the Eyrie and all those simpering fools throwing themselves at that crazy bitch aunt of hers? Do you think your Lady Stark would welcome that in her home? Gods! I haven’t said more than five words to her and I can see that she’d hate that. I thought you were the clever one, what were you thinking?”

“That she deserves to be happy.” he groaned feeling low.

“Marrying her off to another asshole who only wants her for the Stark name and the heir’s he’ll squirt in her womb?”

“I just wanted her to have her knight, castle, and children. I want her life to be the song she always dreamed of.”

“Gods, I think you actually are the stupidest Lannister. Those are the dreams of a child bride. What you are dealing with now is a formidable woman who has been dragged through all the seven hells and is still alive. Do you think she still has the same dreams of love and marriage after being held hostage by you Lannister fucks, watching her family murdered, being manipulated and lied to by almost everyone, and lastly being raped and tortured by a mad man?”

Tyrion’s face twisted into a grotesque mask, his insides a knot of hate, rage, and overwhelming grief for Sansa. She had been so innocent and lovely. He remembered how happy she had been thinking she would be marrying Loras Tyrell, and moving to Highgarden. He remembered how he had been the one to rip that dream away from her and inform her of their impending nuptials. He just wanted to go back and fix that for her, marry her to her pretty knight instead of a repulsive dwarf. Although given the proclivity of that particular knight, she may have found herself as miserable and as much a maiden as she was with him. He had been unable to protect her from everything else Bronn had recited. Littlefinger, Ramsey, his own father..he had utterly failed her as he had failed Tysha.

“You really aren’t helping. I don’t want to talk anymore. Just let me drink.” he said like a spoiled child, splashing is wine. He was starting to get quite drunk.

“Fine then, let’s play a game. A drinking game, remember the one I played with you and Shae after we met.”

Tyrion groaned, “Of course I remember! I make a guess about your life and you drink if it is true, I drink if it’s not.” He glared at him over the cup. “You’re not going to let this go are you?”

“Nope! I’m fuckin’ tired of you lovesick Lannister cunts so time to sort some shit out.” Bronn said forcefully.

“If you want me to play then I’m going to enact the potato sack clause of our relationship.” Tyrion grinned.

“I fuckin’ hate the potato sack clause and you fuckin’ know it.”

“I know you would charge me double on those nights.” Tyrion said. “I’ll sweeten the pot by offering my room at Winterfell for you and your lady should you need it soon. Can’t imagine either of you can find much in the way of privacy around here.”

He stared longingly at Anna across the room before saying, “Agreed, but if you bullshit me or yourself playing this game the deal is off.”

“You wound me Ser Bronn. I shall endeavor to be perfectly honest.” Tyrion said with an impish smile.

Bronn stared at him appraisingly. “I’ll start.” He thought for a moment. “The last time you bedded a woman was across the narrow sea”
“Drink.” Tyrion said.

Bronn stared at him thinking. “You haven’t bedded a woman since you came back to Westeros.” Tyrion drank. With a sudden realization Bronn lunged forward in his chair, “That means you haven’t bedded a woman since you left King’s Landing, since Shae?.” he said with disbelief.

Tyrion drank. His celibacy was not something he loved anybody knowing, he was the imp after all! He just couldn’t bring himself to bed a whore anymore after Shae. Plus, the one thing he could give Sansa was to be an honorable husband to the vows he made her, even if others had persuaded her they were null and void.

“How long has it been?” Bronn said quietly.

“Four years, almost five.” he said. In another few moons, it would be five years since he married Sansa and he hadn’t bedded Shae after his wedding.

“No wonder you’re such an unhappy fucker.” Bronn said with a low whistle. “I won’t ask why, I have my guesses.”

“They are probably right, doesn’t take a greenseer to know my motivations. Are we done?” Tyrion asked, filling his goblet. He had lost track of how many times it had been filled.

“Not even close.”

“My turn.” Tyrion pointed in Anna’s direction. “You like that girl, you just don’t want to fuck her.”

Bronn drank. “Aye, I like that woman. Don’t care for silly girls anymore, I want somebody who knows who she is and what she wants, in and out of the bedroom.”

“Bronn, I never can quite figure you out. I think I got it but then I don’t.”

“Back to you, we’re here getting sauced because you can’t get your shit straight.” Tyrion drank and Bronn laughed.

“You have FEELINGS for your ex-wife.” Bronn said.

“That’s vague.” Tyrion said. “I have many feelings about many people. Right now I feel like you are an asshole.”

“Fine. You still want to fuck that Stark girl.” he said bluntly.

“Woman.” Tyrion drank.

“Yes, woman.” Bronn echoed.

“You care for her, more than you care for most people.” Tyrion drank.

“You feel responsible for her.” Tyrion drank.

“You’ve been in love with her since the day you married her.”

“Drink.” he ordered Bronn. Bronn drank staring up in the air thoughtfully.

“You were in love with Shae.” Tyrion drank.

“But you came to care for Sansa.” Tyrion drank.

“I knew you sent Shae away for her own safety from your father and cunt sister. But there was more to it. You were starting to have feelings for your child bride, you wanted to do right by her, honor your vows and try to be a good husband to her.” If Tyrion weren’t so drunk he may have been impressed at how well Bronn read the situation. Instead he let out a large belch and finished his cup in one swig.

Tyrion eyes were starting to cross as he topped off their cups. “Final turn. I’ll go first. You always said that coin was your only motivation, so why are you here Bronn? I know Daenerys isn’t paying you and you took a great risk coming here after shooting Drogon. It was very smart of you to steal the plans for that device so we can take down the wights dragon. Probably the only reason she didn’t let her dragons eat you.”

“What’s the statement Lord Tyrion?” he said sarcastically.

“You do give a shit don’t you?”

Bronn thought for a moment and took a long drink. He then pierced Tyrion straight to his heart, “And you...you’re crazy in love with your lady wife, Lady Stark.”

Tyrion drank the rest of his wine and laid his head on the table groaning while the room spun. He was totally overwhelmed that he had acknowledged his feeling for Sansa and was hoping the darkness at the edges of his vision meant the blackout was coming soon. Bronn got up.

“Where you going?” Tyrion slurred, “We had a deal.”

“I’m off to find a potato sack, you sad, miserable little fucker.”

Chapter Text

Sansa went back to her room after her fall and laid down for a long nap, waking a few hours after nightfall. She often took naps at unusual times since she slept very little during the night if at all. The residents of Winterfell were used to her erratic sleep schedule and were never alarmed to find her sleeping during odd hours of the day or wandering the corridors at night. She woke several hours later starving and ate some bread and cheese left for her on the table. Her back ached but it was not causing her considerable pain. Missandei said she would check on the sutures tomorrow to make sure they were healing properly this time.

Her brain still slightly foggy with sleep, she ate her meal and flipped through her sketch book. She had started her sketches with Lady, but had done so many now. Her father with his greatsword Ice, her mother, Robb and Grey Wind, Rikon and Shaggydog. She also had one of Bran as a child with his wolf, Summer, and another of him now, the three-eyed Raven. It was evident, to her at least, her feelings about the subjects in the way she brought them to life. She adored Bran the sweet summerchild she left, but felt removed from the man (is that what he is anymore?) he had become. There were two portraits of her sister, one as a wild child with her Needle and wolf, the other a lethal teen assassin of a thousand faces . She loved and adored her sister but wondered if they would ever truly understand each other.

Jon’s younger portrait portrayed how guilty and ashamed she felt about how she treated him growing up. He had often looked miserable and you could see it in her sketch. It helped her remember how things were, and how things changed. As a child, she had a fanciful ideal of her parents relationship and Jon’s existence poisoned that image. Coupled with her mother’s disdain she had never even tried to love him. His adult sketch was of a powerful, serious man, the King of the North, striding toward the viewer with Ghost at his side. She knew now he was her cousin, not half-brother but she felt closer to him than her other family. Realizing how much closer they could have been was a regret she was trying to make up for now and she loved him with all her heart.

She flipped past pictures of her Septa and Maester Luwin and landed on the sketch she had buried deeper in the book. There he was, Tyrion Lannister. Not the one she had yelled at today, but the one she had married all those long years ago. Unlike her other pictures, this was a portrait of him from the chest up. He was dressed in his wedding finery with no beard to adorn his face, his scar still fresh and angry. His mouth turned down slightly, his grim eyes full of misery and resignation. This was the man she married that day in the Great Sept, a man who no more wanted a sullen child bride than she wanted him. At the time a small part of her wondered if her hand was some sort of reward to Tyrion from his father. She now knew she was in fact just more punishment for him. A sulky, angry, grieving child who hated the name he bore and was repulsed by his form. He had been chivalrous and kind, keeping her safe from Joffrey. She had been cold and withdrawn, not acting as a caring wife in or out of the bedroom in spite of the fact that this was literally all she had been trained for her entire life. She knew she had only been a child, not ready to be wedded or bedded, but she could have at least tried to return his kindness. Angry at herself she slammed the book shut. She needed to see him, it was finally time to mend some old wounds she thought as a knot formed in her stomach.

She grabbed her sketchbook and headed to Lord Tyrion’s room but found it empty despite the late hours. She settled herself in the library opposite his room (she had put him here deliberately knowing how pleased he would be by her family’s collection.) Lighting the fire Sansa remembered that he often kept the same bizarre hours she did as he admitted to sleeping poorly as well, working late into the night. The night she had yelled at him for his drinking (when he had called her wife) shortly after he arrived was a night he later admitted to drinking to excess to just get some sort of rest. She wondered if either of them would ever sleep peacefully again or if that was another thing that life had taken from them.

She was intently working on her latest sketch when she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Bronn adjusted the load on his shoulder as he carried the little shit back to his room. Stupid potato sack clause! Only the thought of Anna, naked and willing, in that big bed up in Winterfell kept him from dropping him in the nearest snow drift. Tyrion had often drank until he was incapacitated in King’s Landing and figured out the best way to avoid embarrassing gossip and his father’s wrath was to be snuck back into the Red Keep---in a fuckin’ potato sack on Bronn’s back. Luckily, he didn’t weigh much. Bronn felt a stab of affection for the drunken dwarf. The Lannister brothers had become brothers to him as well. Bronn has realized after Jaimie rode North that if he had been roasted alive by that dragon, the only two people who may give a shit were now on the opposing side. That was a hard realization for him, that maybe coin wasn’t everything as he had told himself his entire life. He had made sure he told both those Lannister cunts that they owed him a big fuckin’ castle but Tyrion, the perceptive little fucker, had seen through that though.

Running through their drunken game in his mind, Bronn was worried about the lump on his shoulder. All men were haunted by the demons of their past, but Tyrion’s seemed larger than most and he used alcohol to quell them. He had not seen him drink like this since his arrival at Winterfell suspecting that Lady Stark’s presence was as intoxicating to the younger Lannister as his beloved wine. Tyrion really had it bad for her, he thought. Bronn had witnessed the relationship of Shae and Tyrion from its inception to its bitter, bitter, end and knew that he had loved her and she loved him in return. But the anguish that Tyrion had expressed, just from a quarrel with his former wife told him that this woman meant more to him than any other ever had.

Finally, Bronn reached Tyrion’s room and dumped him unceremoniously on the bed, yanking the sack off his head. He rolled him on his side and placed the chamber pot by the side of the bed. Exhausted, freezing, and a little drunk himself he settled himself in a chair by the fire the servants had started in the room and added another log. Maybe, I’ll just stay here tonight he thought not rellishing going back to the tiny cell of a room he shared with Jamie. He guessed he was lucky, if not for Tyrion, Brienne, and Podrick speaking up for them, they would have been in a dungeon cell or dead. He had stretched out his long legs and had just started to doze off when he heard a tiny rap at the door.

“Tyrion?” Lady Stark said as she peaked around the partially opened door that Bronn had forgotten to close all the way. The firelight kissed her red tresses and alabaster skin. Bronn had never been able to deny her legendary beauty but admired the fire that burned inside her so much more as the Lady of Winterfell rather than the weeping scared girl in King’s Landing.

“He’s passed out I’m afraid Lady Stark.” Bronn said startling her, “Apparently he was quite upset about being an ass to a lady and had a bit too much to drink.”

She walked over to the bed and stared down at Tyrion. “Impossible man.” she muttered with exasperation and what sounded like affection in her voice. She deftly removed his boots and furs, covering him with a blanket.

Bronn snorted, “He’ll know that wasn’t me.”

“Well maybe if he knows it was me, he won’t do it again.” she said with steel in her voice.

“Why do you care if he drowns in his cups every night?” asked Bronn. He knew he was being harsh, but he had to feel her out. Helping with this mess was not going to be as easy as sabotaging a tent he thought.

“Why don’t you care? Lord Tyrion has one of the sharpest minds in all the kingdom’s! We need his wits to defeat the Night King. He is a brilliant strategist, and one of the few people able to reason with the impulses of the queen!” she fumed at him with ice in her voice. She had approached him by the fire while speaking, but when the fury left her body he sensed trepidation and terror under her wall of armor. He could tell she had suddenly realized that they were essentially alone and she turned as if to flee the room.

It truly saddened him. He knew he looked dangerous in his black garb and weapons but he had never forced himself on a woman. The poor girl really had been treated maliciously by men. He sighed deeply. “Join me by the fire Lady Stark, you have nothing to fear from me. The little shit on the bed paid me a ransom’s worth of silver to keep you safe from that pecker Joffrey and his Kingsguards while you were married. I have spent many a night sleeping outside your chambers and will always be nothing more than a sword at your command.”

She stopped suddenly by the door, clutching a large book to her chest. Turning slowly towards him, he could see the terror start to ease in her eyes. “Yes,” she said, ‘I remember a tall, dark, protective shadow often dogging mine and Lord Tyrion’s moves around the capitol. I would not speak for Jaimie when you both arrived but I did tell Jon and the Queen to spare you as your sword had protected me many times. I apologize Ser Bronn, the night is dark and full of terrors and sometimes I can’t remember friend from foe.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in that Lord of Light bullshit, Lady Stark.” Bronn quipped back hiding the lump in his throat that this highborn powerful woman would spare a moment to speak for him against the Dragon Queen.

“The dead have risen, the Wall has fallen, there are dragons dancing in the sky above Winterfell, and my dear sweet brother is now a preternatural being. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” She slipped gracefully into the seat opposite him by the fire placing her book on the table. He noticed her eyes checking on the figure asleep in the large bed.

Smirking to himself, he noticed that the book she had placed on the table was actually a book of sketches. A mostly finished sketch of a gorgeous girl sitting on a garden wall in a backless dress of the south. Her face was in profile and piles of curly hair streamed down her back. “Queen Margery, the Rose of Highgarden.” he whispered. “Only a cunt like Cersei could destroy such beauty.”

“She was my friend. Pretty much the only friend I had in that cursed place. When I found out I was to marry Lord Tyrion she tried to reassure me that he would be a good husband to me, that he was kind. She even told me she that she thought he was good looking, especially with the scar. That he had a way with women…” Blushing, she trailed off in a way that Bronn knew she thought she had said to much.

“Good gods woman, please don’t ever tell him that. His head is big enough already.” Bronn laughed. “As far as a way with women, yes, he sure does know how to piss them off.”

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

She smirked at Bronn’s statement. “I assume he told you what we argued about?”

“Yes, and I told him he was a fuckin’ idiot and you had every reason to be angry with him.”

“Good.” She said and then fell deep in thought, staring at the fire with occasional glances towards the small shape on the bed. Changing the subject she asked. “You are in no doubt aware of Lord Baelish’s fate?”

“Yes, he was a slippery fuck, glad he can’t manipulate anybody anymore.” he said.

“He was a master of deception and lies and I find myself still trying to sort the truth from the fiction he told me.” Casting her eyes about she said. “He..he told me of the news..from the capitol afterwards about what happened during Tyrion’s arrest and trial.”

“After you fled with him and left Tyrion to hang? How kind of the fucker to keep you apprised.” Bronn gave her a hard look. She knew it was deserved and it made her stomach clench with guilt and regret.

“I didn’t know.” she whispered. “I wasn’t in on the plan. Petyr...he said..he said he would take me home.” She could feel the scar throbbing on her back. “We all know how that worked out for me.”

Bronn grumbled, “I’m sorry Lady Stark. You are only here having this conversation because you did escape that day. It was just harder on those left behind because you disappeared. Some of us were even worried for your safety.” he said with a slight tip of his head towards Tyrion. “I will answer whatever questions you have, if I can, but this isn’t my story, you two really need to talk.”

“I know you're right..but it’s hard. We’ve been getting along so well, finally becoming friends after all these years but I feel like if I know the truth it will help us move forward.” She cleared her throat. “Specifically, I need to know about Shae, she was a part of my life too and spoke lies against me as well. Was she truly his whore?”

“Yes.” he said without preamble. “I found her for him as a camp follower for the Lannister forces after I helped free Tyrion from your mother and crazy Aunt Lysa.”

“I had never really heard much of how he came into your services. Nobody much talked to the traitor’s daughter.”

“Yeah, started out that little adventure workin’ for your mum to kidnap a dwarf. Ended up championing this silver-tongued fucker” gesturing towards Tyrion, “ in a trial by combat, throwing a knight of the Vale out the Moon Door and befriending a bunch of crazy hills tribespeople. The life of a sellsword is never dull.” He stared at her, studying her face. “You look just like your mum, but you are not like her at all.”

“How do you mean?” She wasn’t sure if she should be offended

“If you had been in your mother’s shoes would you have gone after Lord Tyrion?” Bronn asked.

“No, it was foolish. Half of her family was in the Lion’s mouth and she pulled it’s tail.” Sansa said bluntly. She loved her family, but most of them had made fatal decisions that had brought about the fall of her house. She had learned cruelly from the experts, how to play the game of thrones and would never have acted so impetuously.

“You are smarter and less rash, able to see things she couldn’t see.” he said. She hated to say she agreed but her mother couldn’t find the good that she could in the hearts of bastards and dwarves.

“Truthfully,” Bronn continued, “during Tyrion’s mock confession, I could see that your mother realized how truly she had fucked up.”

“Confession?”

“Yes, he confessed to gambling, whoring, and stealing a servant girls clothes while she bathed in the river.” he grinned. “It was quite the sordid story.”

Sansa gave out a short unexpected laugh. “I’m sure mother loved that.”

“Aye, she did. You know he saved her life when we were attacked on the way to the Eyrie. Your mum cut Tyrion loose of his binds, he returned the favor by bashing a man about to gut her with a shield. First man he ever killed was to defend his future mother-in-law. If this were any other story, I’d say it’s romantic. But we all know it’s not.” he said staring at Sansa.

“And Shae?” Sansa said ignoring Bronn’s comment.

“Anyway, after we left the Eyrie, Tyrion somehow talks the hill people into working for him instead of killing us so we brought a bunch of crazy fuckers to fight for his dad. Lord Tywin rewards this effort by putting us all in the vanguard. Tyrion was convinced of his impending doom so he asked me to find him a whore, and I found Shae. After the battle and your father’s execution, Tywin sent Tyrion to King’s Landing in his place as Cersei could not control that fuckin’ son of hers. Tyrion brought Shae with him.”

“So he planted her as my handmaiden? To spy on me?” she asked.

“All servants are spies for someone or another in the Red Keep but he knew she would watch over you and her disguise as a servant kept her from gaining the attention of his family. This was all before your betrothal of course.”

“Did...he love her?” she asked. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. To think their marriage lost him a woman he loved was almost more of a tragedy than she could bear. But there was also another emotion attached to that thought, that made her heart twist.

“Yes, and she must have loved him too. I can’t see why else she would have gotten so jealous of you.”

“Jealous! Of me?? Gods, my life was a neverending nightmare.”

“You were a highborn lady married to the man she loved and all she could do was sit back and watch. Put yourself in her place. Plus she had grown fond of you.”

“There was nothing to be jealous of, it was not a love match. I would have not cared if they were together.” Was that true she thought? At the time yes, but if she had not run that fateful day would she have really wanted a husband like King Robert?

“But he did.” Bronn said, clearly studying the reaction on her face.

“Why would the famous Imp care if he whored around on his wife?”

“Your good Lord Husband was married before, and it ended badly for him and especially the girl thanks to that fuckin’ father of his. So I think he took his wedding vows seriously to protect you as he couldn’t protect her, even if it was just saving you from gossip and humiliation.”

“He was married before me? Who...when?”

“As I said earlier, not my story. Somethings you’ll need to learn first hand.”

“So what happened to make her turn on Tyrion, on me?”

“He was always worried for her safety from his family and the morning of the royal wedding he knew that they were getting close to being discovered. That coupled with the complications of your marriage forced him to break it off with her. She didn’t want to hear it and he said cruel things to make her go. He ordered me to board her on a ship to Pentos and she slapped me hard when I made her leave him.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As you said, he has a way with women, knowing how to piss them off. Although I don’t know how she ended up at the trial and why she said what she did but the result is the same.”

“He was condemned to death and he killed her and Lord Tywin the night he escaped.”

“True. He went to Tywin’s rooms I imagine to confront his father and she was there naked in his bed. A knife was found by her hand so I imagine it was self defense on his part. She didn’t deserve it, but after all Tywin put Tyrion through he absolutely did.”

“That was mostly what Lord Baelish told me, but he made sure to emphasize how much Tyrion and Shae’s affair must have humiliated me and that he didn’t bed me out of kindness but because it would make his whore angry.”

“I won’t deny there is probably an element of truth to that but he wasn’t bedding her either after you were wed. I usually had a hand in sneaking them together and he never asked for her during your marriage. As I said before, he took his vows seriously even if he still loved Shae.”

No wonder he looked so miserable on their wedding day Sansa thought.

Suddenly exhausted from the events of the day, she quickly scribbled a note onto a spare sheet in her book and walked over to Tyrion’s bedside slipping the note by his head. He looked so peaceful, almost childlike with his small form. Impulsively, she ran her hand lightly through the curls on his head forgetting Bronn for a second. Many emotions churned in her heart for her little lord husband, chiefly sorrow for all that he had endured and a lot of guilt for anything she had contributed to that sorrow.

She turned to him as she was about to leave the room, “Thank you, Ser Bronn for shedding some light on things.” She paused cocking her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a ranging mission with Lady Brienne and Jaime?”

“Yeah...about that. I thought maybe those two needed some alone time. You may want to arrange for some Moon tea for your sworn sword when she gets back.” he said with a wicked grin on his face.

A laugh escaped her lips, and she quickly covered her mouth. “The love between them is pretty obvious isn’t it?”

“Yes, but yet they still needed a little push.” He gave her a look that made her uncomfortable with some underlying meaning to it. “Good night Lady Stark.”

“Good night Ser Bronn”

Chapter Text

Jamie had the dream he was drowning again, sinking to the bottom of that river that Bronn had thrown him into after he foolishly charged a dragon. He couldn’t breath, his lungs felt constricted and the weight of the water was crushing him!! He woke suddenly gasping for breath in the bitter cold. Fighting his furs, he kicked them off needing to be free of them just so he could fill his lungs with the icy air. Disoriented, he turned trembling to see himself lying next to another inside a small tent.

As a soldier, Jamie was use to sleeping hard and easily. In war, you slept when you could. He also never had nightmares about battle. He did however have a few repeating nightmares that haunted him ((the Mad King screaming of wildfire on the iron throne, a boy (sometimes the Stark boy, sometimes his son) falling from a tower, the singing blade chopping off his hand, Myrcella bleeding from her nose)) and now the water trying to swallow him. He checked on his sleeping companion, expecting to see Bronn’s eyes glowering at him waiting to cuff him on the side of the head for waking him. The only time he hadn’t called him a cunt and hit him is when he told him he had dreamt of Myrcella’s death. The old sellsword had witnessed that too and a shadow passed over his eyes at her name.

But instead of two glowering eyes looking at him, there were two large soft pools of the deepest blue. Brienne...suddenly Jaimie was drowning again, but this time in her eyes. She reached out for him with a tremulous hand and he clutched it in his own laying back down slowly with his eyes never leaving hers. He traced circles with his thumb on the back of her large, rough, calloused hands. They were as large as his but slender and beautiful because they were hers.

What was this thing between them?? He needed her calm steady, quiet, presence to envelope him as much as he needed the air in his lungs. Everything was better as long as he was with her. He was stronger, THEY were stronger when together. He knew she could feel it too this thing, this air that hung between them. Both frightened, both unwilling to part with what they did have because it was so godsdamn important and fragile and necessary for their existence. But what if it could be more?? Was it selfish that he wanted more?

He wished for the millionth time that he had both hands. They were so close now, faces inches apart. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, trace the outline of her lips. But he was a pathetic old cripple so he only had his one good hand, embraced in her two. How could he have ever thought her anything other than beautiful? And he wasn’t the only one that had noticed her unconventional beauty...that red-haired wildling, gods even Bronn! But did they really know her true inner beauty looked like? No, that was only for him. He knew her soul and she knew his and yet she still held him like this without the repulsion he thought he deserved. No other man deserved to have her look at him like this if they didn’t know her as HE did.

He suddenly knew with all certainty what this thing was between them. Love. What else could it be but love? Gods was he desperately in love with this woman..his wench? Yes..of course he was how could he not be? Could she love him too? With an impulse born from love and tempered by a desperate possessiveness, he surged forward to claim her lips. They were soft and welcoming, unsure and sweet. He quickly found himself devouring her, pulling her solid muscled body to his with his right arm and caressing her cheek and neck with his one hand. He murmured her name like a prayer as his lips touched every inch of skin he could find and Brienne with a low moan of his name, started removing their clothing so he could find more. He explored her body with his hand and tongue while she whimpered and said his name over and over.

With an urgency and a sudden feeling of absolute rightness with the universe, he was inside her. She was wet and willing and years on horseback and in armor had left him no barrier to breach. Only pleasure, no pain as she moaned when he thrust deeply into her. As he held his body atop her,feeling her tightness engulf him, listening to her soft whimpers of pleasure he truly understand the words he had heard a hundred times in the Sept “One flesh, one heart, one soul.” Plunging repeatedly into her depths he whispered those words in her ear as she reached her peak and cried out his name. Her tightening muscles caused him to see stars as he quickly followed her release with his own. Crying out her name, he slowly thrust in and out of her until she had milked him dry.

He held her until she opened her eyes, the blue shining more than ever. He gave her a huge grin. “Marry me wench, I have loved you for longer than I know, more than I ever knew I could. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you.”

“Yes, because I love you today and for the rest of our days, I am yours and you are mine Jaime Lannister.”

***********************************************************************************************************

The next day they found a small band of refugees heading for Winterfell. Their leader was a young and eager Septon who was more than happy to marry this tall couple in exchange for their protection and escort.

“So are you going to kill Bronn when we get back?” Brienne laughed.

“I am going to give him a big fucking Castle. He can have Casterly Rock for all I care.”
Jaime smiled at his wife. His home was now with her.

“I’m still going to make that groin injury real” Brienne replied.

“The tent was a nice touch you have to admit.”

“Fine, I’ll just give him a black eye.”

“Wife, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

Usually when Tyrion awoke from sleep, he found reality in all its ugliness to be the preferable alternative to the nightmares that generally plagued him.  However, this morning he had dreamt of his return to Winterfell and the first time he beheld the magnificent woman his child bride had turned into.

Tyrion’s heart leapt up into his chest the second he saw Sansa.  Her long auburn hair was like fire against the bleak snow and stone covered courtyard.  Sansa had come straight to him, ignoring her King, his Queen and all the others. Eyes locked on his, he saw glistening tears as they embraced and she said “Welcome home my Lord Husband.  I have missed you terribly.” He had then bent his head to hers in a passionate kiss and whispered “Not as much as I have missed you my beloved wife.” At that point everybody else disappeared and he lifted her up, wrapping her long legs around his waist, his large strong hands firmly holding her glorious ass. He started carrying his wife to their bedroom as she moaned and kissed his collarbone.  As he passed a mirror in the hall, he saw his beautiful young wife in the arms of a dashing knight. But it was not him at all, he would never be that, instead he saw Jamie staring back at him.

Tyrion opened his eyes groggily staring at the canopy.  His head felt like an overripe melon that had split open, his heart felt shredded, and worst of all he had a raging erection.  He rolled over groaning and couldn’t remember the last time he had a dream where he was like Jamie. It was something he had often as a teenager envious of his brother and all the other men around him.  In his dreams he could be like other lords and knights winning the favors of fair maidens, and respect of other men. But that was not reality, and after Tysha...he had stopped having dreams of being a knight and replaced them with nightmares of laughing soldiers and silver coins slipping through Tysha’s fingers.

The worst of it was that he could still feel Sansa in his arms.  He could still...and he had no idea how..smell her intoxicating scent...lemons, sugar, soap.  Sitting up he noticed that his boots and furs had been removed. Knowing full well that Bronn would not have been so kind, he wondered who had been in his quarters until he saw the note.

Picking it up, he knew who it was from before he could even open it.  The neatly folded paper was the source of the scent and he inhaled it deeply, briefly remembering kissing Sansa in his dream.  He hadn’t acted or felt this way about a woman since he had been a foolish boy. As a man, this pathetic pining over a beautiful woman who would never, could never, love him back just made him feel smaller than he was. Made him feel like a damn fool.  He had hardened his heart after Shae for years and it had only took a few weeks of just being near his former wife to strip all that away. He opened the note.

We need to talk.  Find me when you are sober.

-S

“FUCK!”  he said angrily, throwing a pillow across the room.

“Why are you yelling? Are the dead here?”  said a pissed off voice half asleep. It was Bronn who had passed out in a chair by the fireplace.

“No.  But you’re about to be a dead man if you let Lady Stark in here last night.”

“You tell the Lady of Winterfell where she can and can’t go in her own fucking castle.  I prefer to keep my balls attached to my body.” Bronn said while stretching. With a shit eating grin he addressed Tyrion.  “It was super sweet her fussing over you. Like your wedding night---you passed out drunk, her covering you with a blanket.”

“Did you speak with her?” he asked incredulously.

“Aye, and I suggest you do the same.”  Bronn said heading for the door. As he opened it, Podrick came scurrying in with a tray.  Bronn grabbed half the food off the tray and dashed out the door before Tyrion could question him further.  Tyrion was glad to see the boy and what looked like his traditional hangover cure in a cup on the tray. He was glad that Podrick had insisted he look after him when he arrived at Winterfell sighting that anybody else might not be so happy to work for a Lannister and Lady Brienne was kind enough to let him.

“The Queen has commanded a meeting of the war council this morning my lord.  May I suggest a quick bath?”

“Do I smell that bad?”  he japed. Although a bath may help him deal with his other pressing problem in his breeches.

Podrick smiled.  “Only of wine my lord, but I think it might help sober you up.  Her grace has asked all the Starks to be at the council as well.”

“FUCK!” he said again but headed off to the bath in order to present himself a bit more like the Hand of the Queen and little less like the Lannister Imp.

****************************************************************************

Tyrion decided to take care of his aching cock by remembering the way Sansa’s ass had felt in his hands during his early morning dream.  One of the few advantages of his height had always been being able to ogle his favorite part of a woman’s anatomy with little repercussion---not his fault their beautiful behinds were at his eye level!   Of course he loved breasts too, he imagined Sansa’s were snowy white with maybe a scattering of freckles near the top with rosy red nipples that hardened into nubs when touched. And he bet her cunt tasted as good as she smelled--and with that thought, his cock exploded in his hand.

Feeling relieved, but as always slightly disgusted with himself for lusting after Sansa, he wondered if life had been easier in Essos where most of his sex drive had dried up (like his love for Shae he thought).  After that fateful trip to the brothel where he was kidnapped by Ser Jorah, he realized he could never bed another whore. Celibacy has been an interesting experience and one he never thought he’d ever have. His whoring and excessive drinking had been such a part of his identity that in a way, he had been reborn in Essos with a new life and purpose.  He also liked knowing he was being true to his wedding vows, it made him feel like a better man even if it was just a sham marriage. Plus mention of his wife across the sea kept away the more aggressive women who wanted to use the bedroom to manipulate the Queen’s hand for their own purposes. However, his libedo had returned with gusto in the last few weeks thanks to a red haired beauty and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to get it back in check like before.

Dressed he left his rooms and headed across the courtyard to the Great Hall for the war council.  As he trudged through the snow, he recalled the day of his real return to Winterfell.

He hated being on horseback for the long, cold ride from the ship as his body was not designed for lengthy riding.  Everything ached or was frozen on his entire form and his brain was a desperate swirl of thoughts processing Daenerys and Jon’s new intimate relationship.  Worst of all, he hadn’t had wine since they left Dragonstone and now was not the best time for sobriety. He wasn’t looking forward to arriving at Winterfell, expecting as warm an arrival from the Westorosi  Northern lords as he had from young Robb Stark the last time he was here. “Well if they kill me” he thought “at least I won’t be so fucking cold anymore.” He followed Jon and Daenerys into the courtyard and caught his first glimpse of the remaining Starks.  The crippled boy he had last seen when he had given him the plans for a special saddle was now a young man in a wheeled chair. The wild wolf girl was now a small and imposing woman. And Sansa, good gods, Sansa, the years had turned his lovely bride into the most exquisite creature he had ever seen.   Her copper tresses hung loosely around her face giving her a fiery halo that stood out against her ivory skin and bright blue eyes. She had always been a beauty, but the years had given her some more womanly curves and dear gods was she taller? His tongue tied for once he was glad of the distraction of Jon with his siblings while he got his emotions under control.  He found his eyes unwittingly returning to Sansa and was fascinated to watch her interaction with his Queen. He could tell, maybe not others, that she was not pleased with the current turn of events. Jon may have been named King of the North but she ruled as much as he did and he had bent the knee without consulting the Lady of Winterfell. Her armour of courtesy was ever in effect but she had not changed so much that he couldn’t see through it.  Good, he thought she has learned to play the game and had become a powerful player, a true steel lady forged in the Hell of his family’s reign over the seven kingdoms. Finally, it was his turn to speak with the Starks. Bran addressed him first.

“My Lord Tyrion, it is good to see you again.  I wanted to thank you for the gift you gave me when I was first crippled.  Being able to ride again as a young boy did bring me some joy during such a joyless time.”

“What gift?” asked Arya.  Sansa still said nothing, looking at him quizzically.  Her eyes boring into him made him uncomfortable.

“On my way back from the Wall, I stopped at Winterfell and gave Bran some plans I drew up for a special saddle so he could ride again.  Jon and I had become friendly and he had asked me if I could help his brother when he heard you had awoken from your fall.”

“That was very kind----- for a Lannister.” replied Arya suspiciously.

“You are correct Lady Arya, kindness is not a habit with us Lannisters, I fear, but I have some, somewhere.” he said watching Sansa out of the corner of his eyes.

“You are not like the other Lannisters.  You were always kind to me.” Sansa said.  Her tone had the barest hint of warmness to it but there was truth to her words enough to make his heart skip a beat (What was that??? he thought.)

He turned to address her finally, counting on his wit to get him through this exchange without making a fool of himself.  Somehow, he felt as clumsy and foolish as a young lad in front of this new imposing version of Sansa. If it had been any other highborn Lady of his acquaintance he would have reached for her hand to formally kiss it but he did not want to make her uncomfortable.  Nor did he want the Northern Lords thinking he was making some sort of claim on her due to their past. It would be best to be at his most formal. “Lady Stark, it gives me much joy to see alive and well in your home where you belong.” Yes, Lady Stark he thought was who she was now.  His dear sweet Sansa was long gone, and she had never really been his Lady Lannister, more like a child ward he hadn’t wanted. But a small dirty part of him had always wanted her to be his wife in truth despite her age and he hated himself for it.

“Yes, I am home again.”  she said looking uneasy. He noticed she did not agree that she was well and it made him wonder how badly she had been treated by the Bolton bastard.  He had thought it odd that Varys’s little birds had been so silent on the matter, but with a sinking feeling he realized they probably hadn’t and he had been kept mostly in the dark.  A knot of anger formed in his stomach.

“Lady Stark,  I should wish to talk to you sometime about…”  Tyrion started. (We need to talk he thought about King’s Landing, our marriage, Shae, and what happened that fateful day.  Why did you leave? Did you know? Do you still hate me?)

She abruptly interrupted, “Yes.  Many things need to be planned for the war to come and we will need to work together to plan the logistics for feeding and clothing so many.”

That was not at all what he wanted to say. He felt as if he has just offered a tentative branch of friendship and she had slapped it out of his hand.  Apparently, she had no interest in discussing anything from their past and only the matters at hand.

“Of course Lady Stark.  I am here to serve you and the Queen.”  He said ending the awkward exchange. He left feeling confused and wondered why the tone of this reunion made him feel more melancholy than ever.

“Now of course,”  Tyrion said to himself entering the Great Hall.  “She fucking wants to talk.”

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He entered the room and sat by Daenerys’ side. She quirked her eyebrow at him recognizing the glower in his eyes as the remnants of his hangover.  Somedays, she reminded him of Cercei, or at least the sister he had always wanted. A younger sister that mothered him was exactly what she was. He deliberately avoided eye contact with anybody else by studying some scrolls on the table.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sansa whispering with Bran and Arya farther down the table.

“Why are the Starks joining us today?”

“Bran had a vision.” she replied.  “Also your friend Ser Bronn and the smith Gendry will be here to update us on the progress of the Scorpion.”  He could see the pain in her face at the mention of the Scorpion, it was being built for the sole purpose of bringing down her undead child.

The Queen and Jon opened the meeting and immediately turned the floor over to Bran.

“The Night King has started his final march for the south.  We will meet him here” Bran said indicating a spot on the map about a days ride from Winterfell “on the evening of the full moon in five days time.”

A collective gasp echoed through the Hall.  It was an eventuality they had all planned for but the reality of it was still shocking.  

“But my dragons are gone..we will need them to defeat the army of the dead.” said an upset Daenerys.

Bran continued,  “The Dragons will be back before we leave, as well as Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne.  With the exception of my sisters, all of us will leave in four days.”

“Like hell, I’ll be left behind.”  Arya said with a yelp.

“I do not see you on this battlefield.  Your job is to stay behind to protect Sansa.”  Bran continued. “If something happens to Jon or Daenerys in the coming fight, Sansa will become Queen of the North.”

Jon spoke, “He’s right Arya.  Nobody doubts your skill with a blade, but your skills are  better suited to protect Sansa.”

“From whom?” Arya said.  “The fight is to the North.”

“From my sister.”  Tyrion said flatly.  Of course he sighed to himself.  Cersei would send an assassin to take out Sansa at Winterfell while the rest of them fought for humanity.  “Sansa’s assassination would hurt the North and all the Starks and eliminate a possible threat to the Iron Throne.”  And of course killing her hated little brother’s wife would be sweet too he thought. He finally dared to look sideways at Sansa.  She held her head regally, and showed no sign of fear on her face, but he could see the nervous way her hands twitched in her lap. Sansa’s hands were always her tell he thought, it was her face that was always a mask.  He wondered who else knew that.

Arya looked thoughtfully at her sister and Tyrion knew she saw the fear in Sansa as well.  “That makes sense. Will Lady Brienne be staying behind as well?”

“No.” said Bran.  “Her and her husband both have swords of Valyrian steel made from our father’s sword Ice.  We need them to battle the dead.”

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the hall.

“ Husband ???” Sansa squeaked.

“Yes, Lady Brienne married Jaime Lannister this morning.  They will be home early tomorrow with some more refugees.”

Tyrion’s eyes shot to seek out Bronn.  The arrogant sellsword had been tipped back in his chair acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  When Bran dropped that little revelation, Bronn’s chair fell over backwards and he landed on the ground with a solid thud.  He dusted himself off and quickly excused himself for the door. As the door closed, Tyrion could hear Bronn’s loud outburst of laughter ring across the courtyard.

He smiled to himself and caught Sansa’s eyes as she smiled too.  He quickly looked away his face burning. Well, at least he knew he wasn’t the only topic of conversation between Bronn and Lady Stark last night.

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Bronn laughed so hard and for so long that he was physically in pain but still couldn’t stop.  Wiping tears from his eyes, he would double over in laughter every time he thought of Lady Stark squeaking “Husband???”  “Oh that Lannister cunt owes me so big he’ll be in debt to me until the day he dies.” he thought. Although, that may only be a few days time according to the crippled boy.  That though sobered up his laughing somewhat until he saw Podrick Payne carrying some weapons across the yard.

“I thought you were in the council meeting with the Queen?” he said

“What does she need me for?  To say I know how to work that damn machine Gendry made?  Of course I fuckin’ do, she saw me shoot her damn dragon months ago.” he japed.  “Besides, I just learned some of the most interesting news. I’ll tell you all about it as you help me move Jamie’s shit out of my room into that of his new bride’s.  He’s Lady Brienne’s fuckin’ problem now.”

“What??”  Podrick exclaimed as he dropped all the weapons he was carrying.  The look on Pod’s face was enough to send Bronn into another fit of laughter.

Chapter Text

The rest of the council meeting stretched endlessly, although for once Tyrion was glad of it. He knew the minute it was over, he would need to find Sansa, and have a conversation he was not sure he was prepared for. The last hour or so had just been himself, Daenerys, Jon, and Ser Davos. The tension between Jon and Daenerys was unbearable at times after the revelation of his parentage. They were like two magnets drawn together but unable to touch through a thin sheet of ice. In time he knew the ice would melt but time was something they had precious little of according to Bran.

And with that thought, of time running out, setting things right with Sansa became very important to him. Even if she never wanted more from him, at the very least, they had become friends or so he hoped. In fact he thought, it had become the most important friendship of his entire life.

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Sansa sat in a chair by a fire in her room slowly sipping some mulled wine to help calm her nerves. She was both bone wearingly exhausted and a bundle of worry and anxiety. A combination that was making it hard to keep the necessary composure of calm and strength she needed to exhibit as the Lady of Winterfell. She could feel her ever present armor slipping and had retreated to her room a short while ago for a respite. She reached for the wine again wondering if Tyrion had started to be a bad influence on her. Smiling at the notion, she remembered how he had come into the meeting that morning and had barely looked at her. She hoped it was because he was feeling contrite after a night of heavy drinking with Bronn and not because he was angry she had snapped at him yesterday. She wished she hadn’t yelled at him.

How was he to know how she felt about the possibility of remarriage? The thought of another man, holding her down, grunting, and thrusting between her legs was enough to make the contents of her stomach shoot burning up her throat. And what was the point of it anyway? How long had Ramsey had her, raping her daily, and yet no seed had taken root. Her mother had become pregnant with Robb on her wedding night and because of that Sansa often wondered if she was barren. Ramsey’s paramour Myranda was always sent to Sansa’s chambers with a fertility tea after he was done with her and to clean and dress any wounds that were inflicted upon her flesh. And yet she still remained childless, which was both a blessing and a curse. She suspected if he had impregnated her before her escape she most likely would have thrown herself from the top of the Wall at Castle Black rather than let the Bolton bloodline continue. But the fact that she never became pregnant, never so much as had a late moon flower, dashed her hopes for ever having children. What was the point of having a husband if she could not have children? She did not want a man controlling her life and using her body if there would be no benefit for her, no babe at her breast. She hoped she would never be forced to remarry, Daenerys knew what it was like to be sold to a husband and if she or Jon sat the Iron Throne she hopefully could rule Winterfell alone.

She often wondered what her life would have been like had Tyrion consummated their marriage on their wedding night as his father had commanded. Maybe Petyr would not have been able to sell her to the Boltons if her marriage to Tyrion and been legitimate. She sighed thinking, drinking more wine. No, Petyr would have found a way to absolve her marriage consummated or not, he and the Boltons would not let a little thing (like her little husband) get in the way of their plans. She had been such a damn fool for trusting Littlefinger. She thought she was being rescued from one of the Seven Hells when she left King’s Landing but she had walked willingly into a worse one. At least in King’s Landing she had Margery, Shae, and even Tyrion. She smiled again, thinking of that time in the garden with Tyrion and Shae, talking about sheep shifting beds. But Gods what a child she had been! Not knowing vulgar words, not even noticing the glances between her husband and handmaid that in retrospect were so obvious.

She stared into her cup, lost in thought with all the revelations at the council meeting. Lady Brienne Lannister, what a thought! After the initial shock, she now found great joy in her friend’s happiness. Sansa had her own misgivings about Jaime Lannister, but if Brienne and Tyrion, two people who she trusted without question, vouched for him she would listen to them. She started formulating plans in her head for a wedding reception tomorrow night. An excuse to celebrate something before the possible end of days. One last night of revelry before all the prayer and preparation for the upcoming battle for humanity. Her stomach tightened as her thoughts turned to the other news of all of her loved ones leaving her to fight the dead but Arya. She felt weak and helpless remembering all to well the Battle of Blackwater and being locked up with the other ladies and the Queen. The battle that had permanently altered Tyrion’s face but he had saved them that day of that she was sure.

She was only broken out of her spiraling thoughts, by a knock at the door. Based on where the knock was located on the door, she knew it could only be Tyrion and her heart did a sideways lurch that both surprised and unsettled her. “Enter Lord Tyrion.” she called with a hidden smile. She liked being able to disconcert him on occasion, it kept him on his toes.

He peeked his head in the door, “Um, how did you know it was me?”

She simply raised an eyebrow at him and continued to sip her wine.

He stared at the door, “Oh.” realizing his knock had betrayed his height and identity.

As he approached her, she stared at his face and the scar she was just been ruminating on. She was trying to figure out exactly when she had started to agree with Margery that he really was rather good looking, scar and all. She also very much liked his beard, all good Northern men had nice full beards in the winter and she found it very becoming on him.

“Have I got something on my face Lady Stark?” he asked stroking his beard.

“Sansa, my name is Sansa.” she said. “I know why you address me as such when others are around but I do not care for such formalities in my own chambers. Not from you, not after all we’ve been through.” Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, she turned hers toward the fire. “As for what I was looking at, I was admiring your beard. Very Northern of you.” she quipped.

“It hides the atrocity that is my face. I grew it to help disguise myself from the bounty on my head. Sadly, there was little I could do for the rest of me.” gesturing to his small form. He settled into the chair opposite her. She offered to pour him some of the wine, but he demurred. “You asked to see me when I was sober and now you offer me a drink. Is this some sort of test?” his voice made it sound like a jest but she could sense the seriousness underneath.

“No, you impossible man. I just prefer your company when you have your wits about you. I do not like it when you are blackout drunk, it reminds me too much of….” her voice tightened as an abrupt wave of repressed anger and fear washed over her body.

“Our wedding night.” he finished sounding pained. A small man already, he seemed to shrink in to himself some more. Apparently, the memory was as painful for him as for her. For so long she believed that she had been the only one to truly suffer in their marriage and the dawning realization that it had affected him as deeply as her was eye opening. But after her conversation with Bronn last night she now knew at least some of the reason.

“I am sorry that drunkenness was how I chose to deal with our farce of a wedding. I should have stood up to my father but he was determined to marry you to a Lannister and I could not bear to think how Lancel or one of my other cousins would treat you.” he continued softly.

Sansa shuddered, remembering how Lancel had been a party to the horror in the throne room that awful day until Tyrion had come to stop it. She shuddered, remembering her dress being ripped, the feel of the swords beating her.

“When you passed out, dead to the world on the settee that on our wedding night, I was terrified.” she said.

“But I spared you from sharing a bed with me, I promised I wouldn’t unless you wanted...I promised I’d never hurt you.” he said in a low voice not daring to meet her eyes.

“Yes, but it was not you of whom I was terrified, or of losing my maidenhead. If you had chosen to consummate, I believe you would have been...tender.” She swallowed hard wondering briefly at what might have been. “Earlier... at the wedding reception... Joffrey...he...he threatened to come to our room and rape me after you passed out. He said he’d have Ser Meryn and Ser Boras hold me down. He said it didn’t matter what Lannister put a babe inside of me.” she said through a clenched jaw. And even after all the horrors she had suffered later, she could still feel the fear gripping her like a vice. Joffrey much like Ramsey was a ghost that could still haunt her after all these years. “I lay awake that night for hours, waiting. Waiting for him to come savage me, while you lay passed out, oblivious to everything in your drunken stupor. So yes Tyrion, I do not care for your company when you are too deep into you cups.”

She almost felt guilty for lashing out at him and stared at the fire, wondering if she had gone too far, wondering if he would get up and leave.

He did get up to get a drink off the sidebar, his back turned to her but she could see his hands shaking as he poured water into a cup that he could barely hold. He put down the drink and gripped the bar, head bowed, with both hands steadying himself.

“I am so sorry Sansa...I had no idea.... If I had known...I would have...I would have never let him touch you. You know that, please say you know that.” his voice was low and resonating but cracked on the last thing he said to her.

“I know that now Tyrion. I also know that you paid Bronn to watch over me too. But that night, I didn’t know and I was so frightened and alone.” she looked at her hands, afraid to look at him, afraid she had said too much. “I forgive you Tyrion. If I were in love with another on my wedding day, I might drink too.” she said softly.

“Oh.” he said and was quiet. He turned his head towards her barely meeting her eyes. “Bronn?” he asked.

“Yes, I had already heard the worst of if from Littlefinger. Last night I asked Bronn for the truth, I thought it might help us resolve any tension between us. Plus, Shae was part of my life too.” she said.

“She loved you Sansa, don’t doubt that. All that happened, before and during my trial was about Shae and I’s relationship. I did love her, but after we were married….things changed, became complicated. My family was closing in and I couldn’t bare the thought of them hurting her. By being cruel to her, to make her leave, I must have revealed her true nature. I had selfishly deluded myself that a woman could truly love me, the demon monkey, and paid the price with the lies she told at my trial.” his words sounded hollow and raw. Sansa could feel the misery coming off of him in waves.

“But what of your first wife? Did she not love you?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

“Bronn again? What did he say?” his voice was angry now.

“Just that here was a wife and it ended poorly because of Lord Tywin.” she said gently.

“Poorly”, he scoffed, “Yes it ended poorly.” he said his voice an equal mix of anger and anguish.

He turned to look at her. “Any poor soul doomed to marry me, is bound for disappointment and ruin with me as their husband.” She looked up abruptly at this statement and saw his eyes brimming with self-loathing. With a heart rending realization she realized that nobody, she thought, hated Tyrion more than Tyrion hated himself. “I don’t blame you for hating me, for running away. How could you not? You are as smart as you are beautiful and you had a golden opportunity to escape from King’s Landing, from Joffrey and my family...from me.” He said the last syllable so quietly she could barely hear him. But she did and it tore at her heart.

“I do not hate you Tyrion. I hate your name, I hate your family, but I do not hate you. You were always so kind and chivalrous to me. In fact, you are the only man in my life not of my blood who has never asked anything of me, has let me have some level of control of my life.” Her voice was shaking now. “I am sorry Tyrion. Sorry for abandoning you in that place, alone. I was too wrapped up in my grief and fear to see clearly just how much we were both trapped. I was too repulsed by the Lannister name to appreciate how kind you were, how concerned you were for my well being and safety. With much reflection, I believe that had I given it a chance our marriage could have been no different than any other arranged marriage. A love match for those of our station is not the norm. Maybe we would have become friends and with time I would have learned to trust you. Instead I left with someone I thought I could trust. A man who rescued me from the lion’s den and turned around and sold me into a living nightmare. I foolishly left my sweet kind husband who wouldn’t touch me without my permission and ended up with a true monster of a husband who brutalized my mind, body and spirit. Who left me with mental and physical scars. Who ruined me.” Sansa’ voice choked. “He was everything Joffrey would have become if he hadn’t been reined in by you and your father. Petyr knew that and he still convinced me to marry that monster.” She paused and tears began to stream silently down her cheeks. “ I was just so desperate to be home but is this even my home anymore? I don’t know. I’m here but was it worth it, worth all I’ve been through? I just don’t know!” By the time she was done talking her voice was bordering on hysterical.

Tyrion had quickly come to her side at hearing her distress, his face full of worry and something else, something soft and warm, something that frightened her as much as memories of monsters long dead. He reached slowly for her hand, waiting for her to accept or deny his touch. This was the dance between them--she would always lead and he would follow--it was the unwritten covenant of their relationship. She inched hers toward him and he took her hand in his kissing it roughly and holding the back of it to his cheek. “Sansa, you could never be ruined. You are so strong, stronger than all of us. Don’t you see, you’ve won, you’ve beaten them all. You have survived, you are the fierce strong wolf woman of Winterfell and they are nothing but spirits and cannot touch you. Anyone who is privileged enough to know you, to really see the remarkable, clever, strong and beautiful person you are is a lucky person. I know I thank the gods daily for bringing you back into my life despite everything that has happened between us. I am a fortunate man indeed to have even been your husband for even a brief amount of time, even if it was a sham.”

Sansa couldn’t breathe for a moment, marveling at the feel of his rough beard against the back of her hand. Impulsively, she reached out with her other hand to cup his cheek. “Please don’t use that word anymore to describe our marriage. At least there was kindness there, although I contributed oh so little to it. I have been trapped in a marriage of cruelty and pain---that is the real sham.”

She stared deeply into his eyes for a minute and finally said “I am also glad that you are back in my life. These last few weeks, spending all this time together, becoming close friends. It just means so much to have someone I don’t have to pretend with.” She pulled away gently, the intimacy to much for her. But the thrumming in her body didn’t stop. Tyrion looked at her with that same soft, warm frightening emotion he wore before and was about to say something when there was a courtesy knock at the door followed swiftly by the entrance of her sister.

“Am I interrupting?” asked Arya cooly, giving Tyrion a withering stare. Tyrion, to his credit, did not give her the satisfaction of looking unsettled. Sansa had seen Arya’s hard stare unnerve seasoned warriors so it bemused her to see Tyrion pointedly ignore his sister’s glare.

Arya dropped a package on Sansa’s desk. “Moon tea for your swornsord and goodsister my lord and lady. I still can’t believe Lady Brienne married a Lannister.” she said with venom on the last word and now Sansa knew she was deliberately trying to provoke Tyrion. They both chose to ignore her.

Sansa picked up the package and as the smell hit her, she was transported back to the pain in that bedroom, her skin raw, her insides torn to shreds. “Are you sure this is moon tea?” she said. She hoped she sounded normal but inside she was quavering.

“Yes, Sansa. I spent some time working as a servant in a brothel in Braavos, the smell is everywhere. Lord Tyrion, you have spent a lot more time in brothels than I have, would you care to reassure her.” Arya said with a pointed glance at Tyrion again trying to needle him.

“No, Lady Arya I trust your judgement.” Tyrion looked at Sansa. “Are you alright my lady?” he said with concern.

No, Sansa, thought. I’m not alright. That bitch Myranda gave me moon tea and I thought I was barren because of it. She probably swapped my fertility tea with her moon tea hoping Ramsey would kill me if I didn’t provide a heir.

“I am just exhausted...do you two mind if I excuse myself for a nap?” It wasn’t a lie, she was exhausted by all she had just learned and needed time to reflect on all it meant for her future.  If they were to have a future that is.

Arya and Tyrion both headed for the door. As he left, he caught her eye and her body thrummed again from his soft warm look. But she was able to put a word to part of what she felt....it was hope.

Chapter Text

Tyrion was so lost in his thoughts and concern for Sansa after their conversation that he paid little heed to the smaller she-wolf that strode ahead of him down the hall. His face burned where Sansa had touched him and he kept seeing those beautiful, sad, deep blue eyes staring at him like maybe he wasn’t a monster after all. But she knew monsters now didn’t she? Rage and revulsion churned in his gut as he imagined all she had been put through by that vial creature (because he wasn’t a man but a daemon made flesh he thought).

He blames all these thoughts of course for distracting him. Which is why he was caught completely off guard when the lady spun around and tossed him through the nearest doorway. She was quick, so quick, quick as a snake. In a blink, Arya had him pinned against the wall, slamming the door behind her with her foot. She held him by the throat lifting him slightly off the ground and with the tip of her dagger (yes, that dagger, the one that started this whole goddamn thing) touching the underside of his chin. Her eyes were cold and Stark gray, betraying no emotion and he could see her appraising him in an objective away. It amazed him that this girl, scarce a head taller than him and about the same weight could immobilize him so quickly. As always, he decided to use his wits and words to get out of this situation.

“Please Lady Arya, I do not need a shave. Your sister just finished telling me how much she likes my beard. We wouldn’t want to displease her would we?” he squeaked through her choke hold hoping the note of panic he was feeling was not discernable in his voice. She smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. However, she did let go of this throat and he was on his own two feet again.

“What were you doing in my sister’s chambers?” she hissed. He could feel the tip of the blade tickling his chin.

“Talking, just talking my lady. She had left a note asking to speak with me. Nothing untoward I assure you.”

“My sister had been mistreated by a great number of men, you understand my caution Lord Hand when I find one alone with her in her chambers.” she said icely.

“I was not one of them. I promised her the day we wed that I would never hurt her. I have kept my word, I will always keep my word to her.” he said defiantly as anger crept into his voice, his fists clenching in rage.

“Yes, your marriage...I have some questions about that.” she said twirling the blade.

“And I would be happy to answer them, perhaps over some wine sitting on a couch, without a blade at my jugular?” he said in a disarming manner eyeing the blade.

“I don’t think so little lion. I think this blade might help you speak more truly than dance around with your pretty words like I’ve seen you do.” she said with a trace of humor.
“As you wish my lady. I will answer your questions...just watch the beard. I was serious about Sansa liking it.” he japed with his heart in his chest.

“Everything is always a joke or a jest with you isn’t it little Lannister? Was it a joke when you married a child half your age?” There was anger in her voice now.

“Yes, a terrible joke orchestrated by my father. I asked for Casterly Rock as my reward for my role in the victory at Blackwater Bay that gave me this horrible scar. Instead he awarded me the dreadful position of Master of Coin and a beautiful child bride that hated my name and was repulsed by my form. So yes a joke, a joke on me. Your poor sister was an innocent bystander.” he said bitterly.

“Why did you not consummate the marriage my lord? Is my sister not beautiful? I have seen you look at her with desire in your eyes--do not deny it my lord. My sister and I were both trained to be dutiful wives and spread our legs for our lord husbands. She would have obeyed without question my sweet sister and not fought you and you would have your reward.” she seethed as the words tripped bittlerly off her tongue.

“I will not be in a ladies bed where I am not wanted. Especially a poor innocent, broken child like she was. I told her I would not hurt her, so no I would not rape her on our wedding night. And that’s what it would have been whether she spread her legs dutifully or not. It would not have been her choice!” he said harshly.

She seemed pleased by the truth of his words and pulled the knife away sliding it into its sheath.

“And your relationship now? What is she to you now, Lord Tyrion?”

“She is...my friend. A friend you have gone into battle with and will always have the bond of surviving...together.” he said wistfully.

“You love her.” It was a statement not a question.

“I…”

“You are in love with my sister.” Her eyes bored into him as if she were daring him to deny it.

His shoulders slumped and his mouth dry he looked at Arya. He opened and closed his mouth several time before settling on the right words, the true words. “I don’t see how it’s possible for me not to love her. Sansa...she is everything a man could ever dream of--smart, fierce, strong, clever, and breathtakingly beautiful.” and she does not treat me like a creature to be scorned and pitied, but a man, and I could love her for that alone he thought.

“My sister is indeed strong and survived more horror than I ever could have. But all that horror has broken her in a myriad of ways. You are a clever man and can no doubt see the armor of ice that keeps her together. The scars in her mind are worse than the numerous ones that cover her body. It will take a strong man with lots of patience to truly love her as she needs, as she deserves.” she said.

“I once told Bran shortly after his fall that I have always had a tender spot for cripples, bastards, and broken things.” he said softly.

She laughed. “Well that’s three of the four Starks. Except the cripple can fly, the bastard is not, and the broken can heal--especially with a little help.” She eyed him again appraisingly but he believed he passed whatever test this was. “You may do.”

“Do?” he questioned. Had she just given him permission to court her sister? She just smirked and headed for the door clearly done with this conversation.

Tyrion, never one to not have the last jab said “And you Arya Stark? Are you also a broken thing?” he asked.

“No my Lord, I am No One.”

***********************************************************************************************

Bronn was working with Podrick in the training yard as he saw Tyrion approach. Bronn had just finished working with Anna’s sons and was now trying to pound some moves into Pod. While Lady Brienne had done an admirable job starting to shape the lump of clay the boy was, he still had a lot to learn. Moves that might save his life but might not be admired at a tourney. REAL fighting as Bronn thought, not pretty chivalrous sword play. Pod was in desperate need of the exercise at the least since he was still so twitchy after learning of his lady’s nuptials.

“Do you think she’ll still want me to be her squire now that she’s Lady Lannister? Do you think she’ll still fight like she does now?” Podrick asked anxiously.

“You’re daft if you think Jaime will stop her from fighting. Probably turns him on.” he said with a wink as he took advantage of Pod’s wince from his remark to strike a blow.

“Will I have to squire for Ser Jamie as well?” Pod asked.

“Well, if you do, at least Jamie could knight you when the time comes.” Bronn replied as he wacked him hard on the backside after Pod dropped his guard. “But based on this fight it ain’t gonna be any fuckin’ time soon.” Bronn got a couple more blows in that Podrick successfully countered but looked slightly cheered at the prospect of a knighthood.

“You know, worse comes to worse you could be my squire.” Bronn said as they took a breather sitting on a bench. Podrick’s facial expression blanched and he tried to cover for it quickly. “Well fuck you too.” Bronn said cheerfully before continuing. “I’m sure Tyrion would love to have you back as well if you’d like to work for that little fucker again.” This brought another smile to the boy’s face.

“Speaking of the little shit, here he comes now.” Bronn said as Tyrion strode across the courtyard. He caught site of Bronn and scowled deeply but approached anyway. He was clenching and unclenching both his jaw and hands looking deeply agitated. Tyrion looked like he wanted to hit him or something else at the very least.

“You look like a man who is dire need of one of the five W’s.” Bronn quipped trying to diffuse the murderous look in his friend’s eyes. That stopped Tyrion in his tracks.

“The five W’s??” Pod asked. Tyrion groaned.

“Oh gods, it looks like Ser Bronn is about to treat us to more of his sage sellsword wisdom.” Tyrion said plopping resignedly on the bench next to Pod. “Please enlighten us all with your insight Ser Bronn” Tyrion replied sarcastically cradling his head in his hands. The poor angry little bastard looked like he had the wait of the world on his shoulders Bronn thought.

Bronn preened a little before launching into his explanation. “When a man is feeling frustrated, aggrieved, aggravated or angry, one of the five W’s will usually set him to rights.” Bronn said with a knowing grin. “A man either needs one) wine, two) a woman, three) a wank, four) work, or five) a weapon.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he listed each one. “In this case” nodding at Tyrion, “I think the first four are out being as a woman is probably the source of the problem and you already tried wine, work, and probably a wank already.” He smirked at Tyrion and gave him a wink. “You, my little friend, need to work out your frustrations with a weapon.” Tyrion glared at him. “Go fetch our lord here an axe Pod, the swords are all bigger than him unless you can get the scary Stark girl to lend you hers.”

While Pod left to retrieve an axe, Tyrion growled at Bronn “You talk too fucking much.”

“Aye, and you do to. But not to the right fucking people, not about things that really matter.” Bronn countered.

“No more Bronn. Anything else...let her hear it from me first.” Tyrion said with more pleading than anger in his voice.

“I tried to tell her that last night, but she’s as persistent as her direwolf sigil with its prey when she’s sniffin’ out information. Plus, I let a dwarf get me drunk.” he said with an apologetic smile.

Pod returned with an axe. “Am I supposed to humiliate myself against you in the training yard Bronn?” Tyrion asked.

“Nah, we need wood for the fires and a tree ain’t gonna hit back too hard. Pod can show you where some dead fall is out west of the keep.” Bronn drawled.

“Where are you off to then?” Tyrion asked.

“I gotta clean up, gotta date with the first two W’s” Bronn said happily.

“Give Anna my regards...and apologies for last night.” Tyrion said ruefully.

*****************************************************************************************************

“I assume Bronn told you about Jaime and Lady Brienne?” Tyrion asked Podrick gently. Pod was leading him through a path into the forest. Trekking through the snow was already making Tyrion exhausted with his stunted legs but the heft of the axe felt good in his hands and he desperately wanted to hit... something.

“Yes my lord.” Podrick said somewhat mournfully. “He made me move all your brother’s stuff to my lady’s chamber.”

Tyrion chuckled. “Sounds like Bronn.” They reached a clearing in the forest full of trees some of which were half fallen or split at the top so only a trunk remained.

Podrick turn as if to leave when Tyrion stopped him. He gestured toward a bench like tree trunk and brushed off the snow so they could both sit.

“Podrick, I am going to ask you some questions that might make you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t ask them of you but I find myself in a difficult situation and I need some harsh truths others will not tell me. I am no longer your lord and you are no longer my squire so I am asking you this as a friend. And as my friend, you can deny me, you are well within your rights and I will have no hard feelings. You are amongst an elite group of people who have saved my hide and I am forever in your debt.” Tyrion said truthfully.

Podrick swallowed hard and blushed pleased by the praise. But much to Tyrion’s surprise he said “You are going to ask me about Lady Sansa.”

“Good Gods did Bronn get to you too!” Tyrion lamented.

“No, my lord. But I know you care about her...you always have.” Pod said with a questioning look.

“My lady….Lady Sansa...how bad was she..when you and Lady Brienne found her after her escape from Winterfell?” Tyrion asked. He was ashamed of himself for putting Pod in this situation but more ashamed of not asking sooner.

“She was..” Pod stammered, “Frightened...frozen..half starved..she moved as if every little movement pained her. Theon was worse..like a feral dog, half-beaten to death.” He took a deep breath. “But she was also beautiful, regal and proper as she took Lady Brienne’s oath as her sworn sword. Lady Stark, she is strong my lord, so very strong.” Pod’s eyes were slightly misty.

Tyrion was quiet picturing his tall, beautiful, former wife still acting so lady like and proper despite being in such physical and no doubt mental pain. It broke his heart.

“What else Pod? Please, I know you know more. You are more perceptive than anybody gives your credit for and have an uncanny ability to be out of sight in plain sight, a remarkable skill. Please Pod, I just want to help her.” Tyrion pleaded.

“Lady Brienne and Lady Stark met with Lord Baelish near Castle Black. I stood guard outside...but I overheard the conversation. Lady Stark was very angry and she accused Lord Baelish of knowing what a monster Ramsay was. She said he beat her...cut her...and did other things to her that he would know about because he was a brothel keeper.” Pod continued softly, almost telling the story to himself.

Tyrion’s hand tightened around the axe. He was not sure how much more he could take. Picturing Sansa’s beautiful porcelain skin covered in purple bruises, the savageness of her second wedding night, blood on the sheets, blood on her skin. He was caught in a torrent of horrendous images of Sansa crying and in pain.

“Anything else?” Tyrion croaked, so full or rage and anguish he could barely see.

“I saw what he did to her my lord. I didn’t mean too but on the way to the Wall, Lady Sansa was in so much pain, Lady Brienne was helping her dress and I saw her back returning with some wood for the fire. Her back is covered with scars but she had a giant, gaping, gash running from shoulder to waist that weeped blood still. I hadn’t seen anything like it since…” he looked at the scar on Tyrion’s face.

Tyrion traced the scar on his face with a finger. “You saved me that day. Nobody else may know, but I do Podrick. I cannot knight you but I will damn well make sure you are knighted and become Ser Podrick Payne. Nobody has ever had a better squire.” He clapped Pod on the back and strode toward the nearest tree. He definitely needed to hit something.

“Best not to watch this my friend. I am about to make a fool of myself.” he said not turning back.

“There is nothing foolish about loving someone my lord.” Podrick said sagely.

Tyrion sighed wishing his feelings were a little less obvious. “What am I to do Pod? I am too old, too embittered, and too….” gesturing at his form (an ugly scarred dwarf he thought) “to pine after a beautiful young woman.”

“She’s not just a beautiful young woman to you is she my lord?” Pod said quietly.

“No….she is...she is everything.” he whispered. And with that admission he took a swing at the nearest tree trunk taking a major chunk off of it. He could feel the rage, the hatred, and the love that powered it all, flowing into his muscles as he swung at the tree. He forgot about Pod watching him quietly and could only think about the pain Sansa had gone through. He tried to picture Ramsey’s face but as he had only heard descriptions (such as he was much more comely than himself) he found himself instead picturing Joffrey. Joffrey’s face turned into Cersie’s, than his father’s, than Littlefinger’s smug smirk. All those faces of monsters, all more beautiful than him, their images fueled the anger powering his swing. As he chopped the tree steadily, Shae’s cold dead face came to mind followed by Tysha’s face covered with tears. And as the tree fell, the only face he saw as the axe fell heavily again and again was his own ravaged face. He truly was the monster, the demon monkey. Every woman he had ever loved had died by his own hand or suffered because of him.

Pod said nothing as Tyrion came back to sit beside him and Tyrion was grateful for his silent presence. Slowly, Tyrion’s breathing came back to normal and he could feel the sweat pouring down his back. But he did feel slightly better, less agitated. Bronn was right again and that pissed off Tyrion. He was still angry with the man for running his mouth to Sansa, especially about Tysha. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be ready to discuss her with Sansa, not after all she’d suffered. What would she think of him if she knew what he had done to his own wife?

They sat in silence as the snow started to fall. Pod sighed and said “I really don’t care for winter. I have always preferred spring. Do you know that spring is my favorite season my lord? I love watching the earth come back to life.” He turned to Tyrion. “There is nothing more beautiful and satisfying than watching a seed long ago planted, bloom into life, bringing color back to a bleak world.” With that being said Podrick left to return to the keep, leaving Tyrion to ponder his former squire’s words.

‘A seed planted long ago blooming into life’

Chapter Text

Tyrion trudged back to his room from the woods axe in hand.  He was utterly spent in every way and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.  But a familiar figure staring into the Godswoods from the surrounding walls caught his eye and he approached cautiously.

“Mormont, what interests you so?  Are the old Gods talking to you as well as Bran?” he japed.

“I have been looking after our Queen, Lannister, while you drown yourself in wine and self pity.” growled Jorah.

He looked down below and saw Daenerys all in white standing near the Weirwood tree.  The Queen and always been a beautiful, imposing woman regardless of her petite size but she had seemed smaller, more fragile in the North.  He wasn’t sure if it was the loss of her dragon or her strained relationship with Jon. She kept her eyes on the entrance clearly waiting for somebody.  A brooding, handsome figure all in black appeared and approached her. Tyrion could see the minor, unconscious changes she made in her posture as her lover came to stand with her.  Sometimes, it was hard to remember how young she was but her feelings for Jon brought it out in her.

The night he had seen Jon go into Daenerys room on the ship he had felt his heart sink.  Not because he wished it had been him, but because it changed everything he had planned. He was also jealous, not because he wanted her but he wanted her to be lonely like him.  She had loved and lost as he had and he thought he had found a kindred spirit, one who lived for the game and had hardened their heart to love. Had he met her at another time, he may have been a lovesick fool for her like Jorah, but his soul was full of hurt and anger that love was the last thing he thought he would ever be capable of again.  That was until Sansa had slipped herself so easily into his heart as if it had always been hers alone to claim.

He sighed, “How do you do it Mormont?  How can you be near her everyday, knowing she can never love you as you love her without it killing you slowly?”  Tyrion felt a sudden kinship to the older knight and understood him so much better. He had been suffering with his feelings for Sansa for only a few moon’s turn, how had Jorah stood it for years?

“Who says it’s not?”  Jorah admitted. “ I am a weak man in many ways with a heart that both rules and ruins my life.  But I’ve let it linger too long, I’ve lingered too long. I should have stayed away after she banished me, should have stayed away after I was healed.  But I couldn’t, I knew, I just knew she still needed me by her side. So Lord Hand, I do it, I do it for her. But she will not need me for much longer.  She has finally found a man worthy of her now-- if he can see past his damnable Stark pride.” The two men looked down below to see the two figures below talking in hushed tones.  

“Besides it turns out, I am needed elsewhere by another young woman.  A different sort of love, one that will be better for my soul. It is time for me to go home.” Jorah continued.

“Your cousin Lyanna will rule us all one day.”  Tyrion said without a trace of joking in his voice.

“She is a commanding young lady, wise beyond her years, but still a child, a child alone without any family but me.  I never had a child of my own and now I will be her family and make sure no one brings her to harm or manipulates her power for their own agenda.  Lyanna has an agreement with the King of the North that I am to be pardoned for my crimes if I pledge my sword to her as Lady of Bear Island.”

“Gods help anybody that gets in her way...or yours.” Tyrion said.  He looked down below and saw the last two Targaryen’s having an intimate discussion.  “Are those two finally coming to their damn senses? Love..love like that is not something to be so easily put aside.” he said wistfully.

“The Khaleesi is with child.”  Jorah said in a flat voice.

Tyrion’s mind spun remembering his conversations with Daenerys, how she said she couldn’t bear children.  “How..I thought...she told me she couldn’t. How do you know??” he sputtered.

“When you truly love a woman for as long as I have, especially from a distance, you notice everything .  I know her looks, her smiles, her subtle small movements, what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. I was with her when she swelled with child before.  I could see her body subtly starting to do the same, the unconscious way she touches her stomach when she thinks nobody is looking, how fragile she has been since we arrived at Winterfell.” Jorah said quietly.

Jorah continued, looking down at Tyrion, cleary avoiding the pain of seeing Jon and Daenerys together.  Tyrion could see Jon cupping her cheek as she leaned into it. The memory of Sansa touching his cheek like that earlier filled his heart and he too looked away caught in his own damn emotions.   “After the council meeting today, learning of the upcoming battle, I told her I knew she was with child and that if she didn’t tell Jon that I would. We all might die in the upcoming battle, the man deserves to know that she carries his child.  That she loves him...loves him even more than that damnable Iron Throne she’s been chasing her entire life.”

A strangled sob escaped the figure in black in the Godswoods, as Jon sank to his knees and wrapped himself around the Queen’s slight figure.  His head pressed to her stomach as to be closer to his unborn babe. Tyrion’s heart ached with joy for them, pity for the tall older knight beside him, and a touch of envy wondering if we would ever feel like that.

“Tyrion.”  his head snapped up at that not remembering if Jorah had ever addressed him by his first name.  “Take some advice from an old man, do not let fear hold you back. If you have a chance for that level of happiness” he said pointing down below “you take it.  But make your feelings known to your Lady wife, promise me that. I at least know where I stand, thanks in no small part to you. It might not be what my heart wants, but it’s better than not knowing.  Just don’t let it linger like I did, it has consumed me. I hold no hard feelings or regrets but I don’t wish for another to suffer like I have.”

“Do I walk around with my heart on my sleeve Ser Jorah?  You are in a long line of people that has accused me of being in love with my wife in the last day.” Tyrion sighed.

“You do not walk around like a man in love, but a man in pain, and it takes one to know one.  Tell her, time is short. If she doesn’t feel the same, get the damn annulment. Make a clean break, go South if we survive the day ahead.  The Queen will find you a wife to warm your bed and give you children. You may not find love, but contentment in time. But you need to know if she feels the same or you will never have a moment's peace.” Jorah continued vehemently.

Tyrion swallowed hard, all of his witty retorts frozen on his tongue as the truth of Jorah’s words reverberated through his soul like a bell.

“I will keep that in mind Ser Jorah, and I shall miss your glowering face when you return to Bear Island.”  Tyrion left him there staring at the happy couple and headed back to his room even more spent and exhausted than before collapsing into a dreamless sleep. 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Surprisingly to Sansa, she did collapse almost immediately after Tyrion and Arya left her chambers but did not fall straight into slumber.  The emotional conversation with Tyrion as well as the revelation about the moon tea had drained any energy from her. Her thoughts about a possible post-war future had changed so dramatically in such a short period of time, that her head was spinning.  She full well knew that she had been using her possible barrenness as an excuse against remarriage when the truth was more simple. She was frightened. Frightened of men, frightened of being bedded, frightened of losing control of her life again. But the hope of having a family, a new pack, and maybe a marriage full of love and mutual respect like her parents was enough to light a candle in the darkness. .  She was coming to realize as she drifted off that while she might not need a husband she thinks she may want one of her choosing after all.

As she finally succumbed to a peaceful sleep, thoughts flitted around her brain like butterflies and she remembered Tyrion’s soft warm eyes, his kind words, and the feeling of his beard as she cupped his face.  In the last few weeks she had found his face joining that of her father, brothers and all of the good, kind, strong men and women she cared for and cared for her. She needed the reminder before sleep-- Arya had her list, Sansa had hers.  The names and faces helped quiet the nightmares more often than not. Although tonight only two faces would come to her, Tyrion Lannister telling her how strong she was and how grateful he was to be in her life and her father telling her he would find her a brave, gentle, and strong husband.

****************************************************************************************************

Sansa was in Winterfell overlooking the courtyard watching a boy of about ten training with her sister.  The boy looked so much like her brother Robb it was like she had been transported back in time. But she knew without a doubt this dream took place in the future.  Winterfell looked different then it had when she was a child, she could see all the new construction, even the broken tower in the distance was clearly repaired. The dream, the details, were so vivid she wondered if she really was dreaming or if she had in fact slipped into her future self.  Aside from the boy and her sister below, she noticed several other figures on the wall. A very serious looking male child of about seven who had the Stark coloring but her bright blue eyes looked enviously down below. Another child, a girl of five hopped up and down off her stool full of energy.  She had luminous blonde curly hair cascading down her back, but her slate gray eyes, stubborn set of her chin, and soiled dress reminded her of Arya as a child. The blonde girl was playing with another girl of similar age who was a duplicate of Arya in almost every way except her hair was much, much darker, a gorgeous coal black.  This child was full of impatience and shouted below “Mama, are you almost done training cousin Robb? I want to go riding!”

“Yes, Cat we are almost done.  After I check on little Jon in the nursery, I will take you, Ned, and Jojo riding.”

The two little girls whooped and the boy looked far less serious at this announcement.  The older boy looked unhappy that is training is coming to an end. “Don’t be sad Robb. Ser Podrick will be back from his visit to the Twins soon and we’ll both be training you so hard you won’t be able to pick up your sword.”  Arya said.

At this point Sansa became aware of the other figure by her side, based on the size she was guessing the twin of the serious male child.  His hair was a longer curly ash blonde and she combed her fingers through it lovingly. This must have been a common way she demonstrated her love to this child as he leaned into it like a cat seeking attention.  She had remembered trying to do this with Bran and Rikon but they would always pull away embarrassed by the attention. She was content just to stroke his hair when suddenly a Septa came out of one of the wings onto the wall carrying a small bundle in one arm and holding the hand of a red haired girl of about two in the other.  The girl ran to Sansa shouting “Mama” and she scooped her up and placed her on her hip while the Septa took her squalling infant nephew to his mother in the courtyard. Sansa kissed the girl feeling that her heart would burst and the child returned her kisses with a sloppy one of her own. However, the girl started squirming almost immediately and impatiently lurched out of Sansa’s arms saying “Papa, Papa story!”  Sansa turned to the side looking for the girl’s father---her husband?-- and was startled to see the child reaching for the small figure beside her. And that’s when she saw the figure turn his head and the small bearded man took the child that promptly jumped into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled before burying his head in her neck and tickling her with his beard as the little girl giggled.

“Myra, Papa will read you a story but you must be more careful with Mama.  Remember she has a baby in her belly.” Sansa looked down at the swelling of her stomach as both her husband and youngest child touched her belly lovingly.  At this point she looked at him, really looked at him--her husband-- and her heart just knew how right this felt. He was the same but older, more gray in his beard and hair, but he looked lighter, happier than he did now.  As she took him in with all his perfect imperfections, he gazed up at her with so much love it took her breath away.

Sansa touched his face, “You spoil her.” she chided.

“I spoil all my girls.” he said.

“Yes you do.”  she smiled and leaned down to kiss her handsome, dwarven husband.

**********************************************************************************************************

Sansa woke with a start. “Oh.” she said out loud as a million thoughts and emotions churned through her body all at once.  Most of which involved the small man she had just dreamt of.

“Oh what?” said her sister, sitting on the bed beside her.

Sansa sat up in bed startled to see it was the next morning.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so long or so deeply.   She was so shook up by the dream she found herself needing to talk. If a girl couldn’t talk to her sister about such personal matters who could she talk to?  “Arya, have you ever been in love?” Sansa asked boldly.

To her credit, Arya probably only showed a fraction of the surprise she felt at the question Sansa asked.  “Who says I’m not in love now?” she answered. Her eyes glittered with mirth and was it joy?--yes, joy and happiness.

“How do you know you’re in love?”  Sansa asked. Her heart felt light just thrilled to be having this conversation with her little sister.

“I don’t know how to describe it.  He makes my soul feel both calmer and easier.  I think about him constantly and miss him when we are apart.  He’s both my best friend and the family I choose. Love is a friendship that has caught fire and all you want to do is dance in the flames. Arya turned her head and looked at her.  “And Sansa, all those awful songs and poems the bards would play that you use to love and I hated? They all make sense.”

Sansa smiled overjoyed for her sister.  “The Baratheon boy?”

“Boy?  He’s older than you, Lady Stark.”  Arya said teasingly.

“He’s quite good looking, what color would you say his hair is?”  Sansa asked giving her a sister a sideways looks.

“Coal black, like all Baratheons.” Arya replied peering at her sister closely.

Sansa smirked remembering her sister’s child in the dream.  “Have you taken him to bed yet?” she asked

This time Arya did look shocked.  “I can’t believe my prim and proper sister is asking me if I’m fucking a bastard!”  She laughed.

Sansa frowned.  “I don’t like that word.”

“Sorry, making love.”  Arya replied rolling her eyes.

“Not that word.  Fucking is fine. I don’t like the word bastard anymore.  I think we’ve learned more than anybody that a person should be judged on their character, not their name or family.” Sansa replied.

Arya leaned back in the bed crossing her arms casually under her head with a dreamy look in her eyes.  She looked at Sansa “Sister, fucking is more than fine, so much more than fine. If only young women were told how pleasurable the right partner could be for a woman, no bride would go to their wedding bed afraid.”  She gave Sansa a sad smile. “My times with Gendry has been nothing short of magical. I wish I could take the pain from you and you could experience what I have.”

“Are you offering to share your handsome blacksmith?”  Sansa teased not wanting to think about the past.

“No sister, he is mine and I am his and you would need to be in love with him to experience what I have.  Besides, I think he’s much too tall for your taste.” And with that last pointed remark, Arya flounced off the bed while Sansa stared at her dumbly.  What exactly was her sister implying? But then she blushed a little remembering kissing Tyrion in her dream.

“Get dressed Lady Stark.  Lady Lannister will be here soon, and we have a party to plan.” Arya said as she headed out the door.

As Sansa dressed, her dream kept haunting her and she began to pray that maybe it could be real after all.  Her heart swelled with hope and an all encompassing, joyfull, yet frightening emotion for a man who was starting to become everything she never knew she wanted until now.  

Chapter Text

The last day of Jaime’s life had been a dream, a perfect dream from which he still hadn’t woken.  He, Jaime Lannister, had married the perfect woman, a kind woman, a strong woman, a beautiful woman, a honorable woman.  And Gods was she fantastic in bed or a bedroll at the very least.  He couldn’t get enough of her and hadn’t felt this way about a woman...well ever to be honest.  Frankly, his whole relationship with Cersei had been some sort of sickness from its inception. They were bad for each other, brought out the worst in each other.  Brienne had found what little was left of him, of his honor, of his soul, and had recovered it bit by bit on the long way home to King’s Landing. Of course being the fool he is, he went back to Cersei, but it had never been the same.  His heart knew it wasn’t right and that it wanted to be elsewhere. Watching Brienne ride away with Podrick, wearing the armor and sword he gave her was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He desperately wanted to go with her, and wondered what even possessed him to stay sometimes.  Some misguided sense of duty, honor? Although if he had left, Tyrion would most likely be dead but his father alive. Jaime shook his head just thinking of it. He would choose his little brother again in a heartbeat.

Brienne rode beside him and he found himself just staring at her.  He couldn’t believe she was his wife, that he had finally had enough courage to make his move, to tell her, show her how he really felt.  He chuckled to himself imagining the looks on the face of their loved ones when they told them the news.

“So what do you think the Ladies Stark are going to make of you being Lady Lannister?” he quipped.  “I don’t see Lady Sansa being too pleased that her sworn sword is a Lannister.”

“Husband, I love your dearly foolish man but you know nothing of the Stark women.”  she sighed rolling her eyes. “Firstly, Sansa and Arya will be happy because I’m happy.  Secondly, please remember Sansa was Lady Lannister before I was and very well may be again given the amount of time she spends with your brother.”

Jaime pulled his horse up suddenly.  “What?” he said incredulously. While it was true he had often seen them in each other’s orbits, he hadn’t thought...Gods yes it was so obvious in hindsight.  Tyrion and Sansa had been dancing around each other in the same strange courtship dance that he had been doing with Brienne.

“I don’t know your brother well enough to read him but I know that Sansa has never been happier since I met her.  I never heard her laugh, not once, until Tyrion came back into her life. I never saw a genuine smile that lit up her entire face either, but I saw it happen a week after he arrived.  When we get back, watch them, tell me I’m wrong.” Brienne replied.

“My brother---our brother now sweet wife, is a man that craves love desperately and has been denied it even by his own family.  If you think he only frequented brothels due to his famed sexual appetite, you don’t know men well. Sex is the illusion of love for some men, so much so they’re willing to pay for it even for a short period of time.  As for Lady Sansa, I’m sure he’s had feelings for her since they were married. He’s always been a chivalrous creature, his head filled with as many stories as her. I’m sure a small part of him hoped she would learn to love her husband given time, patience, and the kindness he tried to show her.  He will deny all this of course but I know him well enough to know it’s true.”

“A brother.”  Brienne said. “I like that, to have a family beyond just my father.”

“Like it or not my love, you are a Lannister now.  I think you will be a good sister to Tyrion, he needs a woman who will not be afraid to put him kindly and lovingly in his place.”  Jaime said with a smirk full of love at his wife. They rode for a little longer in silence before he returned to their previous conversation. “Given their pasts, both shared, and individually, I think they would be good for each other.  However, given their histories, I wonder if they will be able to get past their insecurities to give their relationship a try.” Jaime said wistfully, thinking that he could easily have been speaking of his and Brienne’s relationship a few days earlier.

Brienne must have been thinking the same thing.  “Perhaps we should have Bronn sabotage their tent?”  she said with a laugh. “I wonder if Bronn has noticed the same things I have between Tyrion and Sansa, he seems to have a better handle on what you Lannisters are feeling than you two do.” Brienne replied with a smirk.

“You weren't exactly forthcoming yourself, wife.”  Jaime replied.

“You know my history.  I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of ‘Brienne the Beauty.’  Do you blame me?” she said quietly.

“Those men...were a bunch of dumbass cunts.”  he said curtly channeling Bronn momentarily. “You are the single most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life.  I can’t believe you love me..despite all I have done and how wretched my soul is. You are the sexiest creature I have ever seen and I can’t wait to share a real bed with you tonight and show you over and over again how much I want you.”  He gave his wife a lecherous lear. She glared at him but he could see the barest hint of a smile and knew she was looking forward to tonight as much as he was.

After they got their new Septon friend and his flock settled with the other refugees, Brienne and Jamie rode into Winterfell and were surprised to see a small welcoming party waiting for them.

“They know.”  Brienne said.

“How?”  Jaime asked.

Brienne gave him a withering glance.

“Bran.”  They both said simultaneously.  

Jaime shook himself quietly.  To say the young man was spooky was an understatement.   Of all the reunions at Winterfell, theirs had been the most awkward.  Even more so than with the Dragon Queen who wanted to roast him alive.  He had approached Bran privately after Jon and the Queen had released him.  Bran had barely acknowledged Jaime’s profuse apologies. He had said that it was preordained that he lose his legs so he could find his real calling as the three eyed raven as Jaime needed to lose his sword hand to find his honor again.  Bran had asked him indicating his hand “Are you sad to be a cripple, a grotesque Jaime Lannister? Would you have preferred a good, clean death?” And Jamie, startled at hearing his own words from so long ago, retained his composure and responded in his brother’s words.  “At the time yes. But death is so final and life is so full of possibilities. It took losing my hand to see most of them.” Bran had just smiled in his otherworldly way and the conversation was over.

The party waiting to receive them was small, Lady Sansa, Arya, Tyrion, Bronn, and Podrick.  The two women wore delighted smiles, Podrick looked relieved and nervous, and Bronn had the biggest shit eating grin he had ever seen.  He sighed to himself internally. Bronn was going to be impossible to live with after this. Maybe he would let Brienne seriously injure his groin after all.

Lastly, his eyes settled on his little brother.  Tyrion gave him a smile but underneath it Jamie could tell he was miserable.  The look in his eyes was the same as it had been as a small child, when Jamie would return from whatever he had been assigned to do for the day leaving Tyrion to Cersei and his father’s clutches.  A look of desperation, relief, hope, and love for the big brother that would protect him and make everything better. The memory made Jaime’s heart swell with love and a fierce sense of protectiveness.  But Tyrion was a grown man now, and Jaime felt he was hardly a big brother worthy of such devotion anymore. But he knew something was very, very, wrong with his little brother and after his revealing conversation with his wife this morning he was sure he knew what it was.

After they dismounted, Brienne was swamped by the two Stark ladies who started chattering about a wedding feast being put on for them tonight.  Jamie knelt to hug his brother and gave Bronn and Podrick a hard questioning look while gesturing with his eyes at Tyrion. To his credit, Bronn stopped grinning and gestured with a head tilt and an eye roll to the tall red headed woman talking to his beautiful wife.  Podrick had also glanced quickly towards Lady Sansa but quickly stared at his shoes before going to unload his Lady’s horse.

Jaime squeezed his brother tight.  Tyrion’s biggest weakness was his need to be loved and in doing so he often placed his heart in the wrong hands.  There was little he could do but love him but a thought did occur to him. “I have brought us a gift little brother.  A wife for me and a sister for you. A woman who will bring honor back to the Lannister name.”

“We are in sore need of that I’m afraid.”  Tyrion said with a grin. “I like my new sister but does she have to be so tall?  I shall get a crick in my neck!” he laughed.

Jaime was thrilled to hear his brother laugh and indicated for the ladies to join them.  Apparently Brienne had overheard his conversation with Tyrion as she knelt on one knee to talk to him.  “I do not want you to get a crick in your neck goodbrother.” she said with a shy smile. “ I know this is sudden, but I love your brother with all my heart and I am also thrilled to gain a brother as well.  For as long as I can remember it has just been me and my father so it gladdens my heart to expand my family.”

“You’re our family too.”  stated Arya. Sansa bobbed her head in agreement.

“Yes, Lannisters, Starks, and Targaryens, former enemies, now an odd family.  And family is very important right now with the possible end of days upon us.” said Sansa.  She had held Tyrion’s eyes while she said this but he had looked away before he could see the blush creeping up her cheeks. But Jaime had caught it, and wondered if  he may gain a sister as well. Apparently, Bronn has spotted it too because he just rolled his eyes and shook his head at Jaime.

“Enough of this sappy shit.  Have you heard we leave it a few days?”  said Bronn.

“We heard rumors at the refugee camp.”  Brienne replied.

“Yes.  But tonight is about life and their will be a feast, not as grand as I would like, for you tonight.”  Sansa said sternly. “I know you are not comfortable being the center of attention Lady Brienne but this will be good for morale and you would be surprised by the amount of people here who love and respect you.  Now I know you two are tired from your journey, and I have asked the maids to have a bath waiting for you in your quarters. I believe Podrick has already moved your things, Ser Jaime, to your wife’s quarters. Now if you’ll excuse me and my sister we have arrangement to be made for tonight.”  She gave them all a nod, blushed again as she stared at Tyrion ( what in seven hells!!)   and left with Arya for the great hall.

Jaime pulled Brienne to the side and whispered to her quietly “Wife, why don’t you go ahead and get cleaned up.  I would like to speak with my brother.”

“I told you so.” she said looking at Sansa’s retreating form.  “Don’t be long husband, and maybe we can share a bath again.” she replied softly with a lascivious smile.   Jamie’s cock twitched at the thought, remembering her glistening wet form in the baths of Harrenhal all those years ago. He growled softly in her ear “Don’t you dare get out before I get back.”

*********************************************************************************************************

Jaime and Tyrion returned to his room where Tyrion had some wine and food waiting for them.

“So big brother, how did you pull this off?  Apparently half of Winterfell knew you were in love with each other and were just waiting for you two to realize it.”  Tyrion said without preamble. “I must say I am beyond happy for you although I was in the oblivious half until Bronn and his lady friend pointed it out.  I knew she was a good friend to you and brought out your better qualities but apparently I missed the other unspoken aspects of your relationship.”

“I finally realized myself that all the complicated emotions I felt for her really just boiled down to one thing, that I was hopelessly in love with her.  And with that realization, everything became clear and I decided it was better to know than not to know how she felt. So I kissed her and to my delight she kissed me back.  It honestly was that simple.” Jaime said wistfully. “So simple I wish I had done it long ago. As for you not knowing, well you have been distracted.”

“Yes, the war, Jon’s parentage, his strained relationship with the Queen, all very distracting.”  Tyrion quipped.

Jaime gave Tyrion a hard look. “Oh, is that all?  I thought it might be something or should I say someone else?”

“Don’t, just don’t.”  Tyrion said harshly. “I am sick and tired of people telling me my own feelings.  I know how I feel, I’m the one living with it.” He started to gulp down his wine thought better of if, and put down his cup.  Nothing could have shocked Jaime more, apparently wine was not his brother’s first love anymore.

“I’m just saying little brother that it may be time to make your move.  We leave soon for battle and with the way your wife kept glancing at you and blushing just now makes me think it might be well received.”  Jaime replied before drinking his own glass of wine.

“First of all, Lady Stark is not my wife.  The Boltons and Littlefinger saw to that. Secondly, you’re daft. Lady Stark does not blush like a smitten maiden, let alone at me.  Thirdly, I promised long ago to never try to share Lady Stark’s bed until she wanted me to, so no I will never initiate anything physical with her.” Tyrion said resignedly.

“Does calling her Lady Stark make it easier to remove yourself from your feelings or does saying her name just burn your tongue? Try saying it brother..Sansa..Sansa.”  Jaime said wickedly rolling her name on his tongue. He was rewarded with a scowl from this brother.

“I’m beginning to regret wishing for your return.  I forgot you also have the Lannister mean streak.” Tyrion replied.

Nonplussed Jaime continued, “ As for your marriage, I had a very interesting conversation with the Septon that married me and I believe her second marriage was the invalid one as yours had never been officially put aside by the High Septon or Council of the Faith.”

“Nobody here considers her to be my wife, including Sansa.”  Tyrion said her name deliberately slowly giving his brother a cold look.  “That is all that matters.” Tyrion replied.

“And in answer to your other statements, she most certainly did blush and stare and you like a moony maiden just now.  I’m not blind to an infatuated woman. Although usually those looks were directed at me, come to think of it.” Jaime said smugly.  He knew he was provoking Tyrion but the man needed to stop his self-pity.

“Gods Jaime, I though Cersei was the cruel sibling.  Why are you lying to me?” Tyrion replied.

“Why on earth would I lie to you about this?  And Cersei called me the stupidest Lannister before I left King’s Landing.  What in the world could I gain by tricking you? Is it so impossible to conceive that she may have feelings for you as well?” Jaime asked.

“YES!  LOOK AT ME!  I am a hideous dwarf!  I am a murderer!!!!” Tyrion seethed.

“All of us have blood on our hands here, including Sansa.  And stop using your height as an excuse for cowardice. As for the last thing you said earlier, I told you to make your move, not jump her.  You’re a clever man, use your words to woo the maiden fair. Gods know you talk enough.” Jaime said evenly.

Jaime finished his wine and stood up. “As for me, I’m going to go enjoy the fruits of my labor and join my wife in the bath.  See what happens when you make your move.” He said this with a wink.

“Fuck you Jaime.”  Tyrion said in way of reply.

“I love you too little brother.” Jamie answered as he closed the door.

*****************************************************************************************************

When Jaime arrived at Brienne’s room, no their room he thought, he was rewarded with the delicious sight of a trail of clothing from the door to a large copper tub set behind a privacy screen.  Through the screen, he could just make out the silhouette of Brienne’s head and strong muscled arms in the bath. The stirring of his cock became stronger and he hastily (and sloppily he thought wondering if he would ever get use to only having his weaker hand) removed his own clothing and that thrice damned golden hand and strolled over to peek behind the screen.

“Jaime?”  she said questioningly.

“You better not be expecting anybody else wench.”  he said as he came around to the side of the tub. She was lounging now with her head and tops of her breasts above the water, both of her arms resting on the side of the tub.  One of her glorious, long, muscled legs was flung over the side and he couldn’t help but gently stroke her calf and elegant foot.

Her eyes admired his nude form appraisingly and he could tell she was pleased by his aroused state.  She looked up at him with desire in her eyes and his breath caught just a little at the amazement of it all.  “I remember the last time I saw you coming towards my bath, I thought you half a God, half a corpse.” Jaime stopped breathing at this statement unaware that she had found his maimed, starved body even half desirable.

“And now?” he asked with his voice husky and full of emotion.

“I just see a man.  A man that fills my heart and soul and has brought me untold pleasures with his body.” she said with a smile as she traced her breasts with her hand.

Unable to wait a second longer, he climbed into the tub facing her and began to kiss the leg and foot he had just been rubbing.  His hand creeped up her thighs to the junction between her legs and he found her little nub and began to circle it with his thumb.  He could feel her strong muscles tense around him as she began to find her pleasure in his actions.

“When you stood up in the tub at Harrenhal and I saw your glorious naked body, even feverish and half dead as I was, I became aroused.  Never doubt how desirable I find you my love.” Jaime said his voice full of love and lust.

She moaned as his rubs became harder and more frantic.  She reached into the water and grabbed his cock and he let out a strangled cry.  She quickly rose to her knees, straddling him, and mounting him in one swift movement.  He used his one good hand to grip the side of the tub for leverage as she rode him. He kept his other arm underneath the water so she wouldn’t have to see his stump.  Sensing this, she grabbed his arm, and began kissing it, including the scarring at the end of his limb. He moaned, not because of the sexual pleasure this act gave him, but because of the joy it gave his heart to know that she wanted all of him, including his crippled limb.  He wrapped his strong arm behind her back so he could guide her frantic movements into a steady rhythm they both could enjoy. All too soon, he could feel that familiar feeling in the back of his balls and knew he was on the edge of climax. He surged forward capturing her small breast in his mouth while holding her and thrusting frantically.  He was rewarded with a deep, shuddering moan, as his wife quaked around him in climax. A few more frenzied thrusts and he followed her over the precipice groaning her name.

Afterwards, holding each other  in the tub, they spoke of his conversation with Tyrion.

“Do you really think he’ll try to woo her with his words?”  Brienne said with a smile lazily tracing patterns with her finger on Jamie’s bare chest.

“For both their sakes, I hope he does.  We don’t have much time left.” he said holding her tightly.

“Well, I spoke with Bronn while you were with Tyrion and we came up with a plan as well.  He said jealousy worked so well on you that we should try it with them too.” she said with a brazen look.

Jaime rolled his eyes, “Tyrion is always jealous of other men due to his height.  I don’t think it will do anything but make him feel more unsure and inadequate. Bronn should know better.”

“Oh, he does husband.  We weren’t talking of making your brother jealous.” she said with a wink.

“Lady Sansa?”  he said. “How and with whom are you planning to make her jealous?”

She told him their plan and he smiled.  “Well, she is a territorial she-wolf. Maybe your plan might just work wife.”

She grinned and kissed him which quickly led to another round of lovemaking in the tub.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until after the midday meal, that Sansa realized that she hadn’t seen Tyrion all day excepting the brief welcome of the newlyweds that morning during which they hadn’t exchanged words. He hadn’t joined her for breakfast in the Great Hall, nor come to her solar for lunch as had become the custom between them.  Normally he spent his mornings in the war council with the Queen and Jon, and his afternoons in her solar dealing with the more domestic aspects of housing and feeding the North and the Queen’s army. Everything had been so out of sorts between them lately, and it seemed their pattern had broken leaving her feeling low and out of sorts as well.  She hadn’t talked to him since their intimate and long overdue conversation. Was he avoiding her? Was too much or not enough said between them? She sighed frustrated. Her dream last night was starting to unveil feelings she wasn’t as yet comfortable with and her fear held her back from naming them and accepting them fully yet. The only thing she really knew at this exact moment is she wanted to be near him, to hear his laugh, see his smile.  He made her feel safe and she craved if more than the warmth of a fire in this eternal Winter.

He had also looked unwell this morning, down and forlorn.  She thought he would be thrilled of his brother’s return but perhaps his brother’s nuptials reminded him to painfully of his own failed marriage...or should she say marriages.  Guilt consumed her again as it often did thinking of that time so long ago. Yesterday, she had at long last apologized to Tyrion for her unkindness and he acted as if she had nothing to forgive, but it would be much longer before she forgave herself.  It was just one more awful thing she had done in her youth. Sometime she wondered how those around her could have forgiven all her awful behavior. She had treated her father, her septa, Arya, Jon, and Tyrion abominably. Probably more people as well.

Her concern for his well being as well as his conspicuous absence made her more desperate to find him.  The servants and Podrick had not seen him, nor had Missandei seen him or knew him to be about on any business for the Queen.  Sansa had also noticed that the Queen and Jon were not to be seen and wondered if that meant they had finally reconciled. Sighing Sansa knew just who to ask,  Winterfell’s own mistress of whispers, Arya.

Arya, when Sansa could find her, was always in one of two places the forge or the training yard.  The rest of the time she was an apparition and Sansa often wondered which of the servants or stable boys flitting around Winterfell was actually her sister in disguise.  This time Sansa found Arya in the forge staring at the young blacksmith’s bulging arms. She was talking and flirting with Gendry in such a way it struck an envious chord in Sansa’s heart.  Flirting with a man was a womanly art she had never had a chance to learn. She had wasted what little energy she had in her early girlish bloom pining for either a monster or a man who preferred men before being forced into marriage not once but twice.  

Sansa gestured for Arya to come towards her so the could converse in private.  “Have you seen Lord Tyrion since this morning? I can’t find him and I’m worried.  He didn’t look himself this morning nor join me for meals.”

Arya sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.  “Yes, I know where he’s holed up, but I believe it’s a place one usually goes to seek solitude.”  Sansa could feel Arya studying her face. “What do you need with the Imp anyway?”

“Don’t call him that.”  Sansa snapped.

Arya smiled.  “What would you have me call him sister?”

“His name is Lord Tyrion Lannister or you can call him Lord Hand.”  Sansa said dumbfounded. “You are still a Lady like it or not.”

“Oh, I thought you might give me another name to call him soon.”  Arya said.

Sansa was stumped for a minute and then her face flushed scarlet to match her hair.  Ignoring the second dig in a day at her relationship with Tyrion, she just blurted out “So are you going to tell me where he’s at?”

“He’s in the Godwoods, in that private little nook near the hotsprings where the water goes into the walls.  It looked like he was writing something and lost in thought the last I saw.” Arya said.

“Thank you.”  Sansa spun on her heal, anxious to get to the Godswoods.

“Sansa.”

“Yes?”

“I’d be happy to call Lord Tyrion by whatever name you’d like.” Arya said while looking at her inquisitivly.  “I had a little chat with him yesterday, and I like him the better for it. He really isn’t like the other Lannisters is he?”

Sansa’s face reddened.  “No, he is not. And please stay out of my affairs sister or I shall insinuate myself in yours.”  She said with a mild threat indicating Gendry with her chin. She moved towards the exit.

“Sansa”

“Yes?” Sansa said resignedly.

“Fear cuts deeper than swords.”  Arya said knowingly.

Sansa left her sister without another word.

********************************************************************************************************

Tyrion was indeed holed up on a small bench in the spot Arya indicated.  She could see him hunched over a small ledger writing with occasional pensive glances as if he was trying to pull the words from the air.  He looked ragged and tired around the eyes and she worried for him. He doesn’t always take the best care of himself, Sansa thought. Some men were like that when they got busy and overwhelmed with work.  Her father could get like that, but he had her mother to take care of him to make sure he was eating and sleeping. Of course her father would do the same for her, especially when she was large with child.  It would be lovely, she thought, to have someone to help carry your burden. Despite all that had happened, her parents were lucky to have found that in this life and Sansa envied that.

It took him a moment to notice her and a thrill ran through her when his eyes lit up and the corner of his mouth lifted into a small involuntary smile.   “I see there is no hiding from the Lady of Winterfell.” Tyrion said in a teasing manner looking up at her.

“And why would you need to hide from me Lord Hand?”  Sansa said in the same light teasing voice attempting to be flirtatious.  She wondered if she missed the mark but as Tyrion responded with a larger smile she took it as a success.

“Not hiding from you in particular, just hiding in general my Lady.”  He turned to look at his writing. “It occurred to me that I may be called upon to say a few words on behalf of my brother this evening at this soiree you planned.  I thought I might gather my thoughts and write them down but they are alluding me.” he sighed. He closed the ledger, clearly giving up on the endeavour. “I can say some things about my brother, but I have nothing of wit or wisdom to say about love or marriage.”  He stopped his ruminating and eyed Sansa. “I’m sorry I’m drathering on about trivial matters, I assume I’m needed somewhere if you’re seeking me out. What can I help you with my Lady?”

“I thought we discussed not using formalities anymore Tyrion.  And I was concerned about you.” she said with a slight frown. “You didn’t seem yourself this morning, and I missed you at meal time.” She glanced at the bench.  He noticed and quickly indicated that she should sit. She sat next to him turned slightly so she could see him better, causing their knees to touch sending a warm feeling through Sansa’s body.  She picked absently at her skirt afraid to meet his eyes. “I meant to apologize yesterday and was afraid you might be cross with me and were avoiding me.”

“Why would I possibly be cross with you?” he asked with genuine surprise in his voice.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you the other day after you offered to screen my... suitors.”  She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the last word. “There was no way for you to know how I felt about the possibility of remarriage at that time.  Although, I do believe my thoughts on that have dramatically changed in the last day.” she said shyly.

“You certainly had every right to yell on me, I was crass and rude.  I truly just want the best for you and wish if you do choose to remarry that he is kind, chivalrous, and worthy of a great Lady like you.  You deserve to be adored and worshipped Sansa Stark.” She blushed at his words, feeling a swelling in her breast and looked up finally meeting his eyes as he smiled gently at her.  “Tell me what has changed your mind my dear Lady? Has a handsome face caught your eye? That young lord from the Vale, Harrold Hardyng ,I hear is the talk of many of the young ladies.”

“I would think you would know me better than to think a handsome face is all that’s needed to win my favor.  I am no longer that foolish girl.” she scolded him mildly. “As for why...” she paused not quite knowing how to continue. “I had become of the opinion that I might be barren after..”  She took a deep breath steading herself not sure if she was ready to discuss her past horrors. But Tyrion just sat there quietly, patiently as he always was with her and that gave her the strength to talk this over with him. She pressed on quietly.  “Despite his best efforts, and much to his displeasure, Ramsey did not impregnate me. After I caught the scent of the moon tea Arya brought yesterday, I realized that his paramour had been dosing me with it the whole time keeping his seed from taking root and that in fact I very well might be able to have the large family I dreamed of.”  she blinked away the tears threatening to spill over in her eyes. Tyrion looked stunned next to her, his jaw tight, betraying his anger, but his eyes...oh they were so soft and kind and warm causing something to stir in her heart.

Sansa continued, finally verbalizing all the thoughts she had since she learned the truth yesterday.  “I have always very much wanted children, a new pack for Winterfell. Of the Starks left, it will be most likely be inherent on me to provide the heir to Winterfell.  My father always said there must be a Stark at Winterfell and Bran and Arya have no interest in being it’s Lord or Lady. Should the Night King be defeated, Bran will return North as the Three-eyed Raven and while Arya may marry her blacksmith and have children, she will be hard pressed to stay in Winterfell.  She has seen too much of the world now and I think wishes to see more while I have no interest in ever leaving. Despite all the bad memories here, the rooms I no longer go to, this is my home and I will be it’s Lady and a Stark until I die.” She turned to him earnestly, grasping his hand “You are a smart man, Tyrion.  What kind of man would marry a woman who refused his name for not only herself but their children?”

He sighed, leaning back against the thermally warmed wall.  His eyes held hers. “You are correct that most men might take issue with that.  But I think for the right man, the benefits of being your husband could overcome any foolish, masculine pride.”

“You mean because he would be Lord of Winterfell.” she said coldly.  She wondered if that’s all she’d ever be to most men, a way to be Warden of the North.

“There is that, but he would also have you as a wife and that would be worth it alone.  As your former husband, I can attest to that.” he said in a flattering voice, clearly trying to cheer her and lighten the somber mood.  

“If I had wanted to hear false words of flattery, I would be talking to one of those so called suitors you keep bringing up.  Don’t be like that. I did not seek you out for that. We both know I was more your ungrateful ward than your wife so you have no way to heap such praise.”  she pulled her hand away from his.

Tyrion’s face fell and Sansa was immediately sorry.  “You are correct my lad--Sansa.” he said stumbling over his words.  “Time and our friendship has colored my view of that brief time years ago you were my wife.  Your assessment of that time is far more accurate. Just know I believe what I have said and base it on the woman you are now, not the child you were.  What I am trying to say, all be it badly, is that if you were to marry a man who truly had both your’s and the North’s best interests at heart, he would understand your need to carry on the Stark name.  You should settle for no less.”

Sansa rubbed her throbbing wrist unconsciously, using the moment to try to figure out exactly what she wanted to say to him.  While the opening of the scar on her back had been the major injury her fall on the ice had caused, she had twisted her wrist as well and it had been giving her some issue.  She sighed in both frustration and pain. She was not great at verbalizing her feelings after having to mask them for so many years and it was even worse because they were all in a muddle in her head anyway.  But her dream from the night before was on the forefront of her mind and her heart ached wanting to reach out to this man, but every other part of her screamed to run away and bury these new feelings in a vault of ice.

Tyrion noticed her wince as she rubbed her sore joint.  “What happened?” he said indicating the wrist.

“I fell on some ice after I stormed away childishly the other day.”

“Are you OK?” he said his voice full of concern.

“I am now.  I reopened an old injury but Missandei saw it happen and took care of me.  She is a lovely and kind woman and I only hope your Queen knows how valuable she is.”  Sansa said truthfully.

“Oh, she does.”  he chuckled. “May I?”  he pointed at her arm. “Myrcella broke her wrist as a young child and often came to Uncle Tyrion when it pained her as her parents were either neglectful or in denial that the injury ever happened.”

“Denial?”  Sansa asked as his description was so odd. “How did she injure herself?”  She handed him her arm and her breath caught as he deftly removed her glove and pushed her sleeve up slightly to start massaging her wrist.

“Take a guess, based on what you know of my family.”  he said in voice colored with both anger and sadness. He was now lightly holding her hand in a grip with left hand while massaging the bones of her sore wrist with his right.  Her heart thudded, with fear or excitement she wasn’t sure. His hands were warm and his fingers were deft and sure for their size.

Sansa turned her mind from his ministrations to answer his question.  “Joffrey. I’m guessing she did something to displease him.” She knew all too well the consequences of displeasing the boy king.

“Sadly, you know my family too well.  She was too fearful to give me all the details but he was a sadistic monster even when he was younger.  I did my best to threaten their septas that she and Tommen never be left alone with him after that.” He looked sadly at the ground.  “They may have been royal children but only myself and Cersei really loved them. Probably the only thing we truly shared in common. Robert was too busy whoring and drinking to be their father, Jamie acted only as a distant uncle as to not give anybody ideas, and of course my father did not care about people but only of what they could contribute to his legacy.”

Tyrion stopped talking, his mind clearly on his dear niece and nephew.  He kept up the wrist massage and the pain subsided, giving way to the new tingling sensation that had started shooting up her arm and consequently to the rest of her body.  She tried to control her breathing but it was starting to becomes shallow and uneven as she processed this totally foreign and wonderful sensation.

He finally continued with this thoughts, looking off into the distance, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on her.  “I failed them both, as I failed my wives, my lover, and as of late my Queen.”

Sansa did her best to not think of the tingling that was turning into wildfire coursing through her body in order to have the wits to refute his statement.

“Their deaths were not your fault.” she said sternly.  Tommen’s death was due to his mother’s madness. Myrcella died due to misdirected anger at the death of Oberyn, his sister, and her children.  As for Shae, from what I know, you tried to send her away many times. But she was a stubborn woman and refused. I will never in my heart know why she betrayed you but can only surmise she ultimately loved herself more than anyone.  A woman truly in love with a man would never be able to hurt him as she did and for that I grieve for you. You are a kind, sweet man, with as big a heart as I have seen and deserve a woman who loves you more than herself.”

Tyrion turned her head to look at her, clearly startled and amazed by her words.  But Sansa wasn’t finished yet. “As for your Queen, you are nothing more than her advisor.  Your job is to present her with plans and advice. The power is ultimately with her and even the best and cleverest of plans can and do fail.  That is the life of a Hand.”

“Lastly, you never failed me.  There was only so much you could do to protect me and it was my decision to trust Petyr more than you that brought about dire consequences for myself.”  she said.

“I could have done my duty, consummated the marriage, and bound yourself to me.”  he whispered hoarsely. “Then Littlefinger could not have sold you to the Boltons.”

“If you had forced me, I would have still run away but would feel far less guilty than I do now about abandoning you to take the fall for Joffrey’s death.  And much reflection tells me my maidenhead meant little compared to my name as far as the Boltons were concerned so I still would have become Ramsey’s wife.   We also would not be sitting here having this conversation if you had done as your father commanded. Jon went to Dragonstone because we both trusted you and your vouching for this strange foreign Queen. True, it helped Daenerys had some dragons and armies we needed but she was a stranger to us.  Had you been a lesser man and his sister’s rapist, I doubt Jon would have bent the knee to Daenerys and would have traveled to Dragonstone only in the hopes of giving you a case of sword through bowels.”

“As for your first wife, all I need to know is that Lord Tywin was involved.  I’m sure he was the source of everything that caused it to end poorly as I was told.”   At this she paused her speech, and touched his chin lightly with her not occupied hand so he would look at her.  “I hope someday if you need or want to talk to me about…” she deliberately let the sentence hang hoping for some bit of information.

“Tysha” he said in a voice so low she could barely hear him.  He still avoided looking at her, lost as he was in some painful memories.

“I want you to know that I am here to talk, if needed.  We are friends are we not?” Sadly, Tyrion had stopped massaging her hand after she brought up his first wife, frozen as he was in his grief and pain.  She wasn’t sure what Tywin had done to this Tysha, but sure it was one of the major reasons he died with a quarrel in his gut based on the look of anguish on Tyrion’s face.  Sansa started to remove her hand thinking he was done with her but he did not relinquish her hand to her delight but returned his attentions with a gentle vigor that stoked the wildfire burning her body.

“Yes, we are friends, the very best of friends” he agreed his voice gravelly and thick with emotion.  He finally lifted his head to meet her gaze and she was startled to see tears in his eyes. “And I want you to know that I am here for you as well, should you ever need to talk, or cry, or”

“Need a wrist massage?” she teased.  He smiled wanly at her jape.

“If you need anything Sansa, anything and I am yours to command.” he said in that deep voice that soothed her, made her feel safe, but more excitingly fueled the fire that was starting to consume her rational mind.

Desire.   That’s what she felt, the word appearing unbidden in her mind.  She wasn’t sure what startled her more, the fact that she was experiencing physical desire or that she recognized what it was.  She looked at Tyrion and wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to be the one to initiate a kiss. Tyrion was a man with a reputation as a lover of women.   Would he respond to her fumbling attempt or find it naive and laughable? Did he even think of her as a woman or was she ever too much a babe to him, more on par to a beloved niece?  She locked eyes with him and willed him to see the desire flooding her being. In a moment that was both seconds and an eternity, she thought she could see the reflection of her hunger burning back at her.  Just as she had built up the courage to lean forward, he abruptly broke off eye contact and gently returned her arm to her lap.

He started to excuse himself with some platitude about checking on Jon, Daenerys and the dragons that had returned earlier that day.  But all Sansa heard was the deafening sound of her own fears that had just acquired a new voice: rejection. She hadn’t even done anything, just thought about it, and she felt rejected.  An evil little voice inside reminded her that she had spitefully rejected him all those years ago and this was just comeuppance. “ And if I never ?” Stupid, hurtful, ignorant child!  What does a summer girl of ten and four know of what she might desire as a woman of ten and nine in the depths of winter?

She was prepared to let him go and wallow in her own miserable thoughts when the angry roar of a dragon rang through the keep and the resounding hills.  Tyrion glanced at her in panic and they both took off at a run towards the field that the dragons were using.

****************************************************************************************************

Tyrion had never been so glad to hear an angry dragon in his entire life.  He had almost done something stupid, so very stupid. But she was so close, so vulnerable and pure, and Gods he wanted her!  And when she had looked at him just now, he was so caught up in his own emotions that he imagined he saw something in her eyes.  But it was something despite want Jaime wanted him to believe that was an impossibility, a dream and nothing more. So, he did the smart thing, the rational thing, and started to leave before he kissed her.   He wanted to kiss her, to tell her, to show her how much she meant to him but he was a craven after all...at least when it came to his heart. He had just started to figure out how to put his heart back together and wasn’t sure if he’d survive if it was shattered again.

Despite all the angry roaring or more likely because of it, only Daenerys, Jon, and Ghost were in the field with the agitated dragons.  Tyrion questioned his own sanity for running towards the sound, and doubly questioned Sansa’s for following him.

In the middle of the field a defiant Rhaegal stared down his mother, roaring and growling.  A perplexed and upset Jon stood behind her while Ghost lay flat and whimpering next to his master.  Drogon just cocked her head and was peering at the whole scene with occasional hisses to both her mother and mate.  Tyrion and Sansa moved to join them.

As they approached Tyrion could hear Jon say quietly, “Dany, Tyrion said the dragon chooses the rider according to all he’s read.  You can’t make him accept me as his rider.”

“It’s destiny Jon don’t you see it!  He is named after your father. We are the last of the Targaryens and he is to be your mount in the wars to come.  You need to learn how to work with him, we don’t have time for his obstinance. I am his mother and he will do as I bid!”  she shouted angrily at the dragon.

“Jon’s right you know.  The dragon/rider relationship is a strong and complex one, you can’t just will it into being your Grace.”  Tyrion reminded his Queen.

The presence of the two additional humans distracted Rhaegal somewhat as he peered down at them still hissing.

“Nonsense, he’s just being a petulant child.  Jon go mount him. He’s being better behaved now that he has an audience.” Daenerys commanded.

Jon, with a despondent look of a man going to the executioner, approached the now growling Rhaegal.  Rhaegal backed up like a cornered animal as Jon approached and screamed angrily, belching flames above Jon’s head..  It was a terrifying scene, especially now that Drogon was getting upset enough that steam was starting to pour out her nostrils.

“STOP!”

Tyrion, Jon, and Daenerys whipped there heads towards Sansa.  Rhaegal even stopped his own screeching..

“Can’t you see you can force this!  Look what you’re doing to him, look what you’re doing to Jon!  This is a lifelong relationship. You can’t just expect that kind of bond to form overnight!  Trust needs time and patience. Ultimately, coercing this relationship is only going to cause resentment, and he will never accept Jon.”  Sansa conveyed her tirade angrily to Daenerys, towering over the smaller woman. Tyrion could almost feel the anger coming off of her in waves  She stared at Rhaegal and he could almost feel the understanding pass between them as the beast lowered his head and regarded the fire headed woman with a low chuff. Speaking only to the dragon she said “I know what it’s like to have your fate decided for you.”

Sansa, looking suddenly exhausted, gave the shocked Queen a withering glance.  “Give them some time together, alone, without your interference. If it’s meant to be, it will happen.  Jon has a gentle, honest soul. Rhaegal might be able to see it if you let him make his own choice.” She then called to the wolf  “Come Ghost, it’s time for Jon to be with the dragon side of his family, this is no place for us wolves.” She left the three of them stunned.

“Who was that?”  Daenerys said with the barest hint of an astonished smile.  “Don’t tell your sister, but that’s the kind of woman Winterfell needs to lead the North.”

“That your Grace, was the real Sansa Stark.  Something is starting to melt her icy demeanor.”  Jon said with a smile.

“Isn’t she glorious?”  Tyrion said with a sigh staring longingly at her retreating form.  

Jon and Dany stared at each other wide eyed, both wondering if Tyrion knew he said that out loud.

Watching her leave, Tyrion realized it didn’t matter if his heart shattered again, because it wasn’t his anymore, it was hers.   He was tired of being a craven and he would let her know somehow..tonight.

Chapter Text

Tyrion realized two things about a hour into his brother’s wedding feast; firstly that Sansa Stark had never looked more beautiful in her entire life, and secondly that she was most definitely and inexplicably avoiding him.  He had no idea why she was steering clear of him and wondered perhaps if she had sensed his foolhardy desire to kiss her and was upset about it?  Honestly, he didn’t know. It felt like every time they made strides forward in their relationship, something inevitably pulled it back. Tyrion was coming to believe that the forced intimacy of the past, which had allowed them fall into an easy friendship to begin with, would never allow them to just be friends.  There was just too much history, too much to overcome. That and his feelings for her would not allow the current state of affairs to continue. Inevitably, it would end tonight, if (no when you coward he thought) he told her he was irretrievably in love with her.  

In spite of all this and despite the heartache it was causing him, it was still the preferable alternative as far as wedding feasts go given their shared history.   Gods be good, he wouldn’t end up in the black cells accused of murder or frighten a young girl with the thought of sharing her bed. Although he might threaten some of these young lordlings fucks (as Bronn so eloquently put it) with castration, as he did Joffrey, if they kept staring at the Lady of Winterfell with such hungry looks.  Looks that were desirous for both her body and her power, not her beautiful soul or her clever mind. Letting out a long breath of pent up frustration, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted her too. But he wanted all of her, he wanted to comfort her, hear her laugh, share in her joys and sorrows, not just share her bed.

The only good thing, if there was one, with the appearance of a bevy of handsome young suitors was that he got to watch Sansa dance.  She was elegance in motion, her gray dress trimmed with white ribbon swirling about her lithe frame. A large white dire wolf was embroidered on the skirt done so expertly that only Sansa could have done it.  He remembered her skill with the needle from long ago, but had seen little of it in the bleak, black clothing she wore now.

While Sansa and whatever partner she had were currently making a noticeable appearance on the dance floor, nothing could beat his brother and wife.  Lady Brienne was in a striking azure dress embroidered with the Tarth sigil, no not a dress, an interesting outfit with the appearance of a dress but actually flowing pants.  An ingenious design, no doubt also constructed by Lady Stark for her sworn sword. He wondered how Sansa ever had time for all this, guessing she never slept. Jaime, of course was Jaime, born to beauty and grace and always more handsome then every man in the room.  And Tyrion thought, the lucky fucker was glowing , like a moony maiden who had been given a favor by a handsome knight.  Love, he thought looked good on him and if Tyrion didn’t love him so much, he’d probably hate him right now.   Lady Brienne had seemed hesitant at first reluctant to dance, but Jaime soon charmed her onto the floor. With him to lead her, she soon blossomed and moved with a grace and lightness of foot unexpected for her size.  Her smile was radiant and she soon dazzled most of the room.

He stared at the wine cup in front of him on the table.  Gods he wanted a drink, but he had made a promise to himself earlier to hold off.  He wanted, no needed, to talk to Sansa to finally confess his feelings and he’d prefer to be sober.  He’d save the drinking for afterwards when she most assuredly would refuse him gently but firmly. At the very least, he would get the hand full of well meaning busybodies off his back that kept harassing him to tell Sansa of his love for her.

Tyrion studied his former wife, noticing how when looking in his direction her eyes glanced over him like he was nothing more than a tapestry on the wall.  He must have really fucked up earlier but he didn’t even know what he did! Just like everything else in his life, he really was a walking, talking curse to all he knew.  It would probably be best for everyone if he did fall in the battle ahead. He could feel the vortex of self-pity and misery pulling him deeper, making the wine cup call to him ever so sweetly.  He chugged what he had in the goblet, and reached for more deciding maybe he did need the wine for courage. A large scarred hand laid on top of his and forcefully pulled the decanter of wine away from him.

“That’s enough for now.”  Bronn said firmly. “At least until you talk to her.”

“It’s impossible to talk to a woman who is actively avoiding you.”  Tyrion said, trying to reach for the wine again.

“What stupid thing did you do this time?”  Bronn said wrestling the decanter out of his reach and emptied the contents into his own wine cup.

“Nothing, I did nothing!  That is what is so damn infuriating!  I almost….did something impulsive and crazy, but I didn’t.  I did the wise thing, the mature thing, and stopped myself before I made an unwanted advance on her.” Tyrion said levally.

“How do you know it was unwanted? Maybe that’s the problem.  You did nothing, and she wanted you to do something.”   Bronn said the last word with a wink, and smugly drank his cup of wine.

“I can’t tell if you’re a damn fool, an eternal optimist, or a hopeless romantic.”  Tyrion said bitterly.

“You know, if you ask her to dance she’ll have no choice but to talk to you.  Plus it would save her from some of those fucktwits salvating over there” Bronn said pointing at some of the young Lords eyeing Sansa.  “Especially that one.” Bronn said gesturing at the young Lord Harrold Hardyng. “Anna said that fucker should be called Harry the Hard-on and reckons more than one of her serving girls will be carrying his bastard before he leaves Winterfell.  Rumor has it he already has a few back at the Vale too.”

“Aw, a young Robert Baratheon.”  Tyrion said his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “And I have decided you are a damn fool if you think I’m going to dance with her.  You ever seen a dwarf dance?” Bronn opened his mouth. “NOT in a mocking mummer’s show you dolt?”

Bronn snorted, “No.  But I’d still think you should ask her.”

Tyrion watched the young Lord Hardyng, dancing with another young woman.  He noticed his hands were subtly touching the woman rather inappropriately, and grew angry thinking of how upset Sansa would be with a wandering hand taking liberties.

“What should he ask her?”  Arya said wandering up to the table with Gendry in tow.  Tyrion knew that Bronn had become fast friends with Gendry working on the Scorpion together so it was no surprise that he had befriended “the scary Stark girl” as well.  Arya was also wearing a gray dress with an embroidered running wolf although the cut of her dress was a little less form fitting and with more range of movement than Sansa’s.

“Tyrion should ask Lady Sansa to dance before Harry the Hard-on gets his paws on her.  He’s maneuvering his way closer to her the smarmy fucker.” Bronn said getting agitated.  Tyrion was surprised by the sellsword’s concern wondering if he was starting to soften as he aged or if his relationship with a certain barmaid was changing him.

“It would be an embarrassment to such a fine lady to dance with me, and I’m sure Lady Sansa is capable of taking care of herself.  She most certainly doesn’t need me. However, I would give a gold dragon to anybody who would remind him to act more gentlemanly around woman.  I don’t love the smug look on his face and his partner is starting to look uncomfortable.” Tyrion frowned.

Arya gave Tyrion a tight smile.  “You are both right and wrong about my sister.  And I expect that gold dragon when I return.”

Arya stalked off like a wolf in search of her prey, circling the unwarry Harry looking for an opportunity to pounce.  In the few short minutes since she left, she had retrained her face to look innocent and doe-eyed. With her flinty look gone and without her breeches and sword (although Tyrion suspected that damn dagger was somewhere in the folds of that dress), she had transformed into just another simpering maid fawning herself over the handsome young Lord.  It was amazing what she could do with her own face, Tyrion couldn’t imagine what she could do as a Faceless man.

Bronn, surprised by the transformation, (Tyrion knew better--Arya was a singularly scary young woman) turned to Gendry.  “How do you sleep at night lad? I’m afraid I’d wake up with no balls.” Bronn took a drink and turned back to the farce playing out in front of them.

“I sleep very well Ser Bronn.  By the time she’s done with me most nights, I’m too exhausted to see straight.”  Gendry said with the smallest smirk on his face.

Bronn started choking on his wine and some started to spray out his nose.   Tyrion let out a bark of laughter at both Gendry’s statement and Bronn’s reaction.

Bronn turned to Gendry wiping the wine off his face, “You may very well be the luckiest fucker in this room, well except for him,” he waved at Jaime.  “Is that dumb cunt glowing?”   He asked incredulously staring at the newlyweds.  

Arya had subtly scared off the other young woman while simultaneously ensnaring the young lord with her womanly wilds. They were dancing now and he could see Arya whispering to the young man as his eyes got larger and his smug look started to look panicky.  After the song ended, he quickly left the great hall with some of his friends watching Arya as he left. She waved goodbye prettily to him but she was smirking with a hard flinty look.

She caught Tyrion’s eye with a look of triumph and rubbed her fingers together indicating he should pay up.  He hauled out a coin and flipped it back to Gendry who caught it in the air and quickly left to meet Arya on the dance floor.  She curtsied prettily in response and turned to talk to Sansa who had watched the interaction with curiosity. It was the most Sansa had acknowledged his existence all night.

He smiled at her but she just looked at him in that same infuriating dead-eyed gaze that had been his constant companion when they were married. He had learned that meant she had retreated from the outside world because her thoughts, emotions, grief, and fear were too much to process.  Alarmed, he wanted to go to her but as quickly as the look came it disappeared as soon as she started interacting with her sister. So that look was for him...he was too much...her feelings for or about him were too much to deal with? He replayed the earlier scene from this afternoon, remembering how soft and warm her delicate hand had felt in his, how close they had sat, how she had touched his cheek, the long lingering look as she leaned forward.  What? He replayed the scene burned in his brain. She had been leaning towards him, right before he stopped...oh Gods! HAD SHE BEEN BENDING OVER FOR A KISS? He had been so caught up in his own desires in that moment he had thought he had been the one angling unconsciously towards her for a kiss. A kiss he had stopped before it began due to his own feelings of inadequacy! Curse the Gods, had he accidentally rejected and hurt the woman he loved? With the dawning realization of how badly he may have fucked himself, he laid his head on the table and let out a long moan of despair oblivious to Bronn’s presence.

“Finally figure out what the fuck you did wrong?”  Bronn said.

“Yes...no….maybe.”  Tyrion said into the wood of the table.

“Good.  What you gonna do about it?”  Bronn said

“I don’t know.  She’ll barely look at me, let alone talk to me.”  Tyrion said.

“You always brag about how clever you are, buried in all your books, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”  Bronn replied.

Tyrion sat up as an idea formed in his mind.  A book yes, that was what he needed. Answers were always in books, he thought with a wry smile if you knew what to do with the information.  He hurried quickly off to the library to find what he was looking for.

“You better be back in time for the toast or Jaime’s getting stuck with whatever filth comes out of my mouth.”  Bronn called after him.

“I’ll be back before then.”  Yes, the toast,it might be the only way he could guarantee she would listen to him.

*****************************************************************************************

After Tyrion left, Bronn quickly became bored.  Arya and Gendry were talking to Jon and the Queen and everybody else was dancing.  He’d like to dance with Anna but she was working the beverage tent set up in the training yard, plus she was integral to the plot he had cooked up with Brienne and it wouldn’t do for them to be seen together by a specific lady quite yet.  There was a certain song he did want to dance to though that he thought might bring a laugh. He chuckled to himself, yes, it would be quite fun indeed. He approached the musicians during a short break.

“Do you take requests?”  Bronn said flashing a coin.

“Anything but the Rains of Castamere .  Lannister wedding or no we’ve been threatened with violence by no less than five people if a single note of that song is heard.” said the leader with a smile as he plucked the silver from Bronn’s hand.

Bronn laughed, “Let me guess, all of the Starks and all of the Lannisters am I right?”

“Yes!  The little scary one especially threatened to shove my chello up my ass. Her sister was more subtle and just mentioned if I had heard any rumors about her dead husband and his hounds.”  said one of the musicians.

“Don’t worry boys, ain’t asking for that one.”  he whistled a few notes of the song he was looking for.

“Of course we know that one, everybody does.”  the leader scoffed.

“Play another song first when your done with your break, something slow and quiet.  I need to talk with somebody first. When it’s done, give me enough time to switch partners and launch into the song.”

Bronn made his way down to the dance floor and made his was to Sansa just as the band came back from break.  He seized her hand just as she was about to give it to another lordling fucktwit and escorted her onto the dance floor with a “Shall we dance Lady Stark?”

She was startled at first, but heaved a sigh of relief as he moved her through the steps.  She whispered “Thank you.”

“I may be a low-born sellsword turned up-jump knight, but I can still sense a lady in distress.  Why are you giving these little shits the time of the day?” he asked.

“Partly duty, partly testing the waters.  I may choose to marry again, I may not. Jon says he and the Queen have agreed that is totally up to my discretion.”  Sansa said. “Also, I really love to dance and rarely get the chance.”

“And how are the waters Lady Stark?  They looked rather ugly from where Tyrion and I were sitting.”  Bronn said with a grin. He couldn’t help but notice that she stiffened in his arms at the dwarf’s name.

“The waters are full of meaningless words and handsy young men.  At least Arya scared off the worst of the lot.” Sansa said.

“Aye, yes.  Lord Harry the Hard-on”  he laughed. “I suppose Arya filled you in on that.”  They danced for another beat or two and he noticed that Sansa was sneaking glances at the table Tyrion and he had been at earlier.  “Don’t worry my Lady, between Jaime, Gendry, Pod, and myself we’ll keep your dance card full so you don’t have to dance with anybody else you don’t want to.  I even tried to send Tyrion out here earlier to dance with you.”

She snorted in derision. “He wouldn’t even dance with me at our wedding.  Why should he want to dance with me now?” Bronn could hear the icy hurt in her voice.  Yes he thought, she was definitely upset that the little shit didn’t do something.

“He said he’s just be an embarrassment to you and you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.”  Bronn replied. He realized when he saw a blaze of anger in her eyes that maybe he shouldn’t have shared this conversation.

“He cares more about his height than anybody else here.  Frankly, I’m tired of hearing that as in excuse. And yes, I’ve learned the hard way the only person I can rely on is myself.  It would just be nice….” she trailed off…”to have a partner like that” she said nodding her head at Jaime and Brienne “who always was there to support you and have your back.”

She was right Bronn thought, a partner to share your life with and have your back would be nice.  Anna popped into his head without warning. He hadn’t even bedded her yet and he already thought about her more than any other woman he had ever spent time with.  Tyrion called him right on it the other day. The end of the damn world was even making the hearts of old embittered sellswords come to life.

“Where did he scurry off to anyway?”  Sansa asked casually while acting anything but.

Bronn figured now would be a good time to start casting the bait for the plot he and Brienne had cooked up that poor Anna had reluctantly agreed to be a part of.  “Not sure, he may have gone outside to the beverage tent to check on our friend running it. Lovely lady, she helps run her brother’s tavern after she was widowed fighting for your brother.  Why do you need to talk to him?”

The song ended before she had a chance to answer him.  Satisfied that he had started the ball rolling, he moved over to Jamie and whispered “My turn to dance with the bride.  Go dance with your former or possibly future goodsister if your brother ever comes to his senses.”

Jaime and Bronn switched partners and Bronn looked to the musicians who immediately launched into A Bear and the Maiden Fair.  Bronn grinned evilly and started belting out the lead while spinning a startled Brienne across the floor.  A war of emotions flooded her face, shock, anger, and finally, blessedly, hysterical laughter. Bronn was glad his instincts were right and she didn’t pummel him then and there.  As soon as he had her laughing, he passed her back to Jaime while he stood up on a table continuing to sing. The rest of the room had stopped dancing and was now clapping and singing along watching Jaime and Brienne dance and laugh.

When the song was over he caught a glimpse of Anna in the doorway with her arms crossed just shaking her head at him with a wide smile.  He grinned back, jumped off the table and went to talk to the newlyweds. “I always promised myself I’d do that if you two got together after listening to Jamie drone on and on about you and that damn bear all the way to Dorne.  He was in love with you even back then I’m sure.” He clapped Jaime on the back and gave Brienne a surprise kiss on her cheek before heading to the doorway to talk with Anna.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”  she said with a sly smile.

“Aye, do you like it?”  he said pulling her into the shadows.

Her response was to lick her lips before she kissed him forcefully and pushed him up against the stone wall.

“Will you stay with me, share my bed tonight?” he breathed heavily almost pleading and pulling her up against his body in an embrace.  “Tyrion owes me his palatial room for a night.” Gods, he had never wanted a woman more!

“Yes, Gods help me, I want you.” she said into his hungry mouth.  She pulled away and looked at him “So what foolishness do you and Lady Brienne have planned before we can go jump into this big bed?”

“Go sit with the sad, little fucker while the rest of us dance.  Your beauty and her imagination will do the rest. If it looks like your flirting even better.”  he said with another kiss.

“I’ll be happy to get off my feet so that won’t be hard.”  They looked out the door and saw Tyrion had reappeared carrying a small book.  “Which one of us should go in first?”

“I will, I want to see her reaction when you sit by him.”  he said. Yes, a jealous Sansa Stark would be a sight to see.

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Tyrion returned to the Great Hall with his book of poetry just in time to see his dream from two nights ago haunting him.   Sansa Stark in the arms of his beautiful brother who was leading her gracefully across the dance floor. Jaime’s shadow had always been a tough one to grow up in but he’d thought he had moved on, grown up from that.  But all his insecurities that had always been quietly churning in the background, had come back with a fervor when his heart had opened to the possibility of love. Jealousy not so much of Jaime’s life but more of what his life could have been had he been born in a similar body.

He returned to his now empty table and started flipping through the pages.  It was a book of poetry, and he was looking for one in particular. He was rather engrossed in his book when Anna sat beside him greeting him with a friendly smile.  She really was a lovely woman, the kind he would have gladly tried to lure in his bed a lifetime ago.

“Why aren’t you dancing with our mutual friend my lady?”  Tyrion asked.

“I am exhausted from serving all day, besides you looked like you could use some company.  Bronn says you still haven’t worked things out with your lady yet.” she laid her hand on top of his and gave him a sad smile.  She moved a little closer to his side to see the book he was looking at. She really was a gorgeous woman and he couldn’t deny enjoying her company or close proximity.  “Valyrian Poetry? How lovely! Is this for your toast tonight?” she said.

“Yes. Valyrian Poetry translated to the common tongue.   Actually I’m glad you’re here. I need a woman’s perspective.”  Tyrion said. They poured over several pages and took turns reading the poetry to each other. She laughed at a few of the terrible poems that he read in a mocking tone, throwing her head back and grabbing his arm. She was as bright as she was beautiful and Bronn was a lucky man if he was smart enough to not fuck it up he thought.

Shortly after that, she turned to him and said, “Why is Lady Stark staring at me?  Bronn seemed to think it was fine if I joined you after I was done serving.”

Tyrion finally looked up from his book to see Sansa dancing with Podrick now, but staring at Anna like she was trying to bore holes in her.  Her face was pinched with a slight scowl, but the moment she noticed Tyrion watching her, the dead eyed mask of courtesy dropped back in place.  Confused by Sansa’s behavior, Tyrion patted Anna’s hand. “No, my lady of course you shouldn’t leave. In fact, I think if your feet are well rested you should grant my poor friend one dance.”  He beckoned for Bronn to join them.

Before he could reach them, Anna leaned over whispering in his ear  “Is Lady Stark the lady in question? The one that made you drink yourself to death a few nights ago?”

He just blushed.  

“Then you may just be in luck my Lord, because I just realized what that death stare was about. Jealousy.”  She winked at him. She rose as Bronn came over, and he gave her a formal bow before asking her to dance.

Tyrion scoffed loudly at Anna’s remark and said to her “You’re as delusional as he is.  You’re perfect for each other.”

Anna shook her head in disbelief.  “You men are SO blind.” She leaned over and kissed him on the temple.  “Good luck my Lord with the toast and other things…..”

Before they left to dance, Bronn leaned over to Tyrion and whispered “Time for this Lannister to pay his debts.  Looks like you’ll be needing to find a new place to sleep tonight.”

Tyrion groaned.  “Of course, I’ll go find a couch to sleep on, one of the few times it’s easy to be a dwarf.”

Jealousy, really, Tyrion shook his head in disbelief at the couple walking away and continued to flip through the pages of his book even though he already had one marked.  He could only hope that Sansa would know that the words it contained were actually meant for her.

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All too soon it was time for the toasts.  Sansa and Arya said some kind words about Brienne.  Podrick gave a toast to his Lady and mentor that could make even the most callous of men choke up and of course Bronn, being himself, roasted Jaime mercilessly.  Finally it was his turn. He stood up on the table and made sure that he was in Sansa’s line of sight.

“There are many things that have been said about the Lannister brothers over the years but the one thing that has never been said about us is that we are lucky in love.  Tonight that changes, my brother has done the smartest thing in his life and married the lovely Lady Brienne. Such a true and equal partnership, with a strong foundation in friendship that blossomed into true love.  A relationship that most of us only dream about, but so very few achieve. If I have learned anything from by brother and his wife, I have learned to marry your best friend. I do not say this lightly. Really, truly, find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with. Someone who speaks highly of you, someone you can laugh with.   Make sure they are somebody who lets you cry, too. Despair will come. Find somebody who you want to be there with you through those times with a love that will never dilute-even when the waters get deep and dark.”

Tyrion held up his glass and raised it to his brother and new goodsister “Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always. A promise. Like a reward for persisting through life so long alone. The belief in each other and the possibility of love. A decision, to ignore or simply rise above the pain of the past. The covenant, which at once binds two souls and yet severs prior ties. The celebration, of the chance for two will always be stronger than one. Like a team, braced against the tempest’s of the world. And love... will always be the guiding force in your lives. For tonight is mere formality.. only an announcement to the world for feelings long held. Promises made long ago -- in the sacred space of your hearts."

Tyrion was pleased when applause erupted.  He noticed Sansa clapping quietly and looking tearful.  With his heart thumping a mile a minute, he opened the book to a certain page. It was now or never.

“Since NONE of us were invited to this wedding and I didn’t get to contribute a reading,” He cast a raised eyebrow at Jaime who looked sheepish.  “I have decided to finish this toast with a lovely poem I have always found perfect for a man to tell a woman how much he loves her.” With that Tyrion captured Sansa’s eyes with his own even though she was across the hall, and pleaded silently to the Gods for her to listen.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up,

And the sun does not appear

I will be here

If in the dark we lose sight of love,

Hold my hand, and have no fear

I will be here

I will be here

when you feel like being quiet

When you need to speak your mind,

I will listen

I will be here when the laughter turns to crying

Through the winning, losing and trying we'll be together

And I will be here.

If in the morning when you wake, if the future is unclear

I will be here

As sure as seasons are made for change,

Our lifetime's are made for years

I will be here

I will be here

And you can cry on my shoulder,

When the mirror tells us we're older,

I will hold you, to watch you grow in beauty

And tell you all the things you are to me

And I will be here

I will be true to the promises I have made

To you and to the Gods who gave you to me

I will be here

Because my love is yours forever

And I will be here.

He read it slowly in his deep timbering voice and tried not to let his voice tremble with all the fear and love that was coursing through his small body.  He made damn sure he never lost Sansa’s eyes for more than a moment. This was for her. The last stanza wasn’t part of the original poem but it was truest thing he had ever said and he needed her to hear the words.  And for a moment, a fleeting eternal moment, he thought he saw love reflecting back on to him as a tear silently ran down her porcelin cheek.

But the room erupted in cheers, and the music roared back to life and Tyrion was swept off the table in a bear hug from his brother.  A few minutes passed before he was able to look around for Sansa and he couldn’t find her. He methodically made his way around the perimeter of the room, surreptitiously looking for her, and making small talk with the other guests.  The burgeoning hope he had felt at her reaction was starting to seep away and was slowly being replaced by a cold knot of despair as more and more time passed. He slowly returned to his table, feeling hollow, a shell of the man that had started out the night.   He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. She was gone. That was all and that was everything. So he guessed that act in itself was the answer to how she felt about him. How he had deluded himself about the moment they had earlier was beyond him!   He was a halfwit, halfman who stupidly thought the most beautiful woman in Westeros had wanted anything more than friendship from him.

As he watched the other guests get drunker, he poured a glass of wine and was staring at it reflectively wondering if he’d find solace in the bottom.  Had he ever? No. He pushed it to the side, just as he noticed Bronn and Jaime giving him sideways glances while having a whispered conversation. He sensed he was the topic and he was in no mood to speak to either of them as humiliation and pain tore at his soul.  They had both fed him fanciful ideas of Sansa returning his affections and he was fool enough to have begun to believe them.

As swift as he could, he left the hall with a quick trip to his room to grab some extra furs and a pillow.  He settled into the library by his room, not even bothering to start a fire. The cold seeping into his bones just numbed his body and hopefully with time would numb his mind, his feelings, his heart…

Tyrion must have nodded off at some point because he was startled awake by the library door opening and then being rapidly and forcefully closed.  He was able to make out a tall lean figure press their back to the door and slide slowly to the ground while letting out a stifled, anguished sob. When a shaft of moonlight hit the figure’s head, he saw a curtain of red hair.

“Sansa?”

Chapter Text

Earlier….

Sansa had spent the rest of the afternoon in her room finishing up Brienne’s wedding “dress”.  It was a gift she had been working on for her name day but Sansa knew it would be perfect for the feast tonight.  It was also a very convenient excuse to hide away from both Tyrion and the Queen after her outburst with the dragon earlier.  Secretly, Sansa agreed with Daenerys. Jon and her were the last Targaryens, it was his destiny to ride beside her on the dragon named after his father.  But she knew from listening to Tyrion, who had spent a great deal of life reading about dragons, that a strong bond must be formed with a human before a dragon would accept them as a rider.  The Targaryens of old accomplished this by putting eggs of dragons into the cradles of their children, ensuring a bond at an early age. She imagined it was much like a betrothal of young children by their parents.  But this was an adult man and a full grown dragon so the circumstances were much different, and watching Daenerys trying to force it like a hastily arranged marriage had enraged her. She had felt empathy for the damned beast and even for poor Jon who was just doing his best to please the Queen and prepare for battle.  

Mostly though, she really just needed time in her room to think and wallow in the sea of emotions threatening to drown her concerning Tyrion.  She could still feel the desire in her body that his gentle touch had awakened. She could also feel the sharp hurt in her heart when he had broken off contact leaving her feeling low and rejected.   Life had been easier before she felt these things for her former husband. The icy exterior she had adopted had been a facade at first to protect her, but soon it permeated her inner self and she had felt cold and numb to her core.  Now she wasn’t sure if she should be grateful for the thaw, or angry that she hadn’t been able to maintain control of her feelings forever. All she did know was that she was going to distance herself from Tyrion starting now, so she could get a grip on the swirling storm in her head and her soul.

She finished her sewing and started laying out the clothes she had made for the feast.  Arya and Brienne would be arriving soon to get dressed and a bit of “girl” time before hand.  Sansa thought this was an important part of any wedding that Brienne had missed out on. Or maybe Sansa, was just projecting this on her as she had not had that at either of her disastrous weddings.  The most she had was Shae. Shae, the exotic foreign beauty with her accent and dark hair, no wonder Tyrion had fell for her! She was forthright, petite, had a fiery disposition, and knew how to please a man.  So, basically everything Sansa was not. Idolly, she wondered if Tyrion’s first wife had looked and acted like Shae. Men tended to have a type after all in her experience. Maybe that’s why he had reacted in the way he had.  She knew she was pretty but maybe she simply wasn’t his type. But she could swear, she had seen something there at times...in his eyes that made her heart pound quickly. Shaking her head, she tried to clear any thoughts of him out of her mind but still thought of him as she dressed, wondering if he would like how she looked in her new dress of gray with white trim.

The door opened and Brienne and Arya came in neither looking enthused at the prospect of putting on more traditional female attire.  Once Brienne realized her dress was actually loose pants, Sansa quickly had a happy bride. Arya was surprisingly easier to please. Sansa had shown her where she had put a secret slit in the skirt so she could easily access her dagger that could be strapped to her thigh with a leather holster.

“I must say, we do clean up very nicely.”  Sansa said with a smile, while putting a small braid in Arya’s hair.  She especially thought Brienne looked lovely. She had a serene, glow about her and her eyes looked even deeper blue with the azure dress.  “Love looks wonderful on you Brienne.” Sansa said quietly, enviously.

“I think it’s all the good fucking, that suits Lady Brienne sister.”  Arya said with a grin, trying and succeeding in shocking her sister. “At least I assume it’s good, based on the giant smile I see you and Ser Jaime wearing this evening.”  Arya stared pointedly at Lady Brienne.

Brienne flushed scarlett and started and failed to speak.  Finally she chuckled, “You both read me very well in different ways.  But yes I am very much in love with Jaime and I love sharing my body as well as my heart with him.  I may have been a maid for a long time and had started wondering if I would die one, but it was worth every second of the wait. He was worth the wait.”  She stared at her hands somewhat shy all of the sudden. “I hope the same for both of you. I hope Gendry is kind and good to you Arya. If he isn’t I know you can take care of yourself but I’d be happy to help, he’s a big lad and I can help hide the body.”  Brienne said with a coy smile causing Arya to laugh.

At this point Brienne came to Sansa and clasped her hands.  “My dear Lady Sansa, I know that life has been unkind to you, but I hope that you can still open yourself up to love.  I know it’s scary and frightening to be vulnerable and to trust someone completely with your heart. Even more so to trust that person to show you that love in a physical way.  Don’t be afraid to love my lady. It’s worth the risk.”

“And don’t be afraid to make the first move!”  added Arya. “Gendry was too ashamed of his bastard status to ever think that I’d want him.  He would have just loved me forever from a far. Good thing I told him he was stupid and kissed him or we’d still be staring at each other longingly.”

“I’m the one that’s been married twice.  I should be the one giving advice on your wedding day!”  Sansa said.

She was trying to be lighthearted but Brienne and Arya saw through the false bravado.  They looked at each other before Brienne cleared her throat, “My Lady, about Tyrion..”

Sansa abruptly cut Brienne off.  “There is nothing to discuss.” Her voice was as cold and sharp as ice and she spoke in her forceful Lady of Winterfell voice that could make a grown man shake.  She grabbed her furs and headed out the door, clearly done with this conversation. “It’s time for the feast. I’ll see you two in a few minutes.”

******************************************************************************************************

Arya just let out a long frustrated sigh as her beautiful, foolish sister swept hurriedly out of the room.  Poor Brienne’s emotions flickered on her face from dismayed and sad to frustrated and angry.

“Are you certain he loves her?”  Brienne asked.

“Absolutely, he told me himself... with a little cajoling.”  Arya smirked fingering her dagger.

Brienne gave her a side eye.  “I would have paid to see that.”  She stood thinking quietly. “And you think she loves him?”

“I believe she’s in love with him but unfortunately I don’t think she really understands that’s what she’s feeling.  She’s too frightened.” Arya said with melancholy in her voice wishing she could resurrect and kill Ramsey and Joffrey herself.

“So, she’s afraid to feel and Jamie believes Tyrion’s afraid of being rejected.“  Brienne knew how her goodbrother felt all too well having also been mocked for her size and looks.  “Let’s hope Bronn’s silly plan works or Jaime convinced Tyrion to make his feelings known. Otherwise, I have half a mind to thrown them in a dungeon cell together until they figure it out.”  Brienne said.

“Let’s call that Plan B.”  Arya said. “Bronn’s plan worked last time didn’t it?”

Brienne gave Arya a surprised look.  “Please, you don’t think I haven’t heard the story...it’s Bronn.  EVERYBODY has heard the story. Man doesn’t shut up when he has nothing to say.  Do you think he’s going to shut up when he has an interesting story to tell? Especially one where he comes out the matchmaking hero.”  Arya chortled loudly and grabbed Brienne by the arm. “Come Lady Lannister, your wedding feast awaits. As for the rest we can only wait and see.”

*****************************************************************************************************

Sansa knew the best place to avoid Tyrion without being too obvious about it would be on the dance floor.  It was also as good a time as any to get the measure of the young lords that kept putting themselves in her path, looking to claim her title, her lands, her bed for their own.  She doubted there was one among them that she would really like, but she couldn’t make a new Stark pack on her own could she? If only babies came from the Weirwood tree like Old Nan use to say in her stories.  They were at least pleasant enough to dance with although she could scarcely tell one from the other. Normally, names and faces were something she was very strong with, but truthfully she just didn’t care right now.  Her body was here dancing, but her mind was elsewhere in the Godswoods with Tyrion where she had thought just for a moment...one moment..she could be happy. It didn’t help that he was watching her with rapt attention, no doubt screening her “suitors” mentally to give her a full report.  Just like a good uncle or family friend would do for a beloved niece or ward. Her stomach felt sick and her heart dropped at the thought of the conversation. She chose to pretend like he wasn’t there. Soon he wouldn’t be anyways. Provided they defeated the Night King in the days ahead, he would ride south with Daenerys to Kings Landing and she would most likely never see him again.  Instead of bringing her relief, the prospect of Tyrion not being in her life made her feel hollow. Maybe she would just be the icy armor she wore after all.

She pasted a fake smile on her face and focused back on the present realizing she had already forgotten the young man’s name but saw from his sigel he was from the Vale.  She exchanged idol words and meaningless conversation with him and the young man afterwards. It was like she wasn’t even in her own body, just a passenger, or the trained little caged bird that Sandor had always called her.  She smiled briefly at the thought of Sandor who had ensconced himself amongst the wildlings where rumor had he was being fought over by a number of spearwives who lusted after battle-scarred men.

The only joy Sansa was experiencing other than the act of dancing (and Gods she did love to dance) was seeing Brienne so blissfully happy.  She and Jaime were a sight to see, a beautiful and sure footed couple, golden haired, tall and regal, and obviously smitten with each other.  Sansa felt a stab of jealousy, but it was overshadowed with her love for Brienne.

Sansa noticed Arya and Gendry talking with Tyrion and Bronn.  They kept looking in her direction and also at Lord Harrold Hardyng.  She hoped they weren’t trying to match her up with him. He was Robin Arryn’s heir so a good match but she had heard the rumors of his womanizing and was doing her best to avoid him at all cost.  She kept her face the same impassive mask that had always served her so well but was glad to see Arya stalking across the dance floor clearly on a mission. She cut Lord Hardyng from the other lords and ladies with as much effort as a hound cutting a sheep from its flock.  Silently, Sansa laughed to herself as Arya tried (and succeeded) in looking like a moony maiden swooning after Hardyng. She saw Arya whispering in his ear as they danced. She never heard what she was saying but he kept trying to distance himself from her embrace but Arya dug in with her nails and kept her whispering up.  

By the time they were done with the dance, he about sprinted out of the Great Hall and Arya gazed at the trio of men in victory indicating one of them owed her money.  Sansa watched Tyrion give Gendry a gold coin. He smiled at her but Sansa just returned his look blankly. She guessed he thought Hardyng an unworthy suitor and Arya offered to run interference.  Well, at least he cared about her future. She dropped his gaze and was upset to find the hollow feeling being slowly replaced by misery. She could handle numbness, but this heartsickness was becoming too much to bear.

Shortly thereafter, during the musician's break, she had noticed Tyrion had left the hall.  She took the opportunity to eat and drink a little as she didn’t have to actively move around to avoid him.  Arya and Gendry kept her company and she was starting to feel a little less melancholy but the prospect of dancing with more young lords felt dreadful.  That’s why she was overcome with relief and gratitude when Bronn grabbed her hand.

“Thank you.”  she whispered almost weak with relief.  She was so happy to see a genuinely friendly face and he was a surprisingly good dance partner.  He wasn’t bad on the eyes, and taller than her which was always a treat. Made her feel less tall and gangly, she could only imagine how Brienne felt being a half foot taller than her.

“I may be a low-born sellsword turned up-jump knight, but I can still sense a lady in distress.  Why are you giving these little shits the time of the day?” he asked.

“Partly duty, partly testing the waters.  I may choose to marry again, I may not. Jon says he and the Queen have agreed that is totally up to my discretion.”  Sansa said. “Also, I really love to dance and rarely get the chance.”

“And how are the waters Lady Stark?  They looked rather ugly from where Tyrion and I were sitting.”  Bronn said with a grin. Sansa stiffened when she heard his name and the misery deepened.

“The waters are full of meaningless words and handsy young men.  At least Arya scared off the worst of the lot.” Sansa said.

“Aye, yes.  Lord Harry the Hard-on”  he laughed. “I suppose Arya filled you in on that.”  They danced for another beat or two and Sansa scanned the hall looking to see if Tyrion returned.  “Don’t worry my Lady, between Jaime, Gendry, Pod, and myself we’ll keep your dance card full so you don’t have to dance with anybody else you don’t want to.  I even tried to send Tyrion out here earlier to dance with you.”

She snorted in derision. “He wouldn’t even dance with me at our wedding.  Why should he want to dance with me now?” While this hadn't bothered her at the time, it bothered her now more than she’d like to admit.  Even now his pride was more important than dancing with her.

“He said he’s just be an embarrassment to you and you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.”  Bronn replied. Sansa felt the empty melancholy in her soul being joined by anger.

“He cares more about his height than anybody else here.  Frankly, I’m tired of hearing that as in excuse. And yes, I’ve learned the hard way the only person I can rely on is myself.  It would just be nice….” she trailed off…”to have a partner like that” she said nodding her head at Jaime and Brienne “who always was there to support you and have your back.”  Gods, Sansa wanted that more than anything. She wanted what her parents had.

“Where did he scurry off to anyway?”  Sansa asked Bronn trying and failing to sound casual.

Bronn cocked his head studying her.  She was pretty sure she was not fooling him after their conversation the other night.  “Not sure, he may have gone outside to the beverage tent to check on the woman running it. Lovely lady, she helps run her brother’s tavern after she was widowed fighting for your brother.  Why, do you need to talk to him?”

She didn’t know if she did want or need to talk to him.  What was there to say? ( I dreamed of you.  I feel safe with you.  I’m scared to lose you.)    Just then Bronn’s words sunk in.  Who was this woman and why would Tyrion be checking on her?  Before she could ask Bronn, she found herself switching partners and was soon swept up with the crowd singing The Bear and the Maiden Fair.   For a moment she forgot her woes and was swept up with the singing and dancing crowd.  The looks on the bride’s and groom’s faces were priceless. Even Jon cracked a smile, although she noticed Jon and the Queen leaving shortly thereafter following Ghost. Sansa wondered what that was about and almost followed them but when she turned she ran straight into Jaime Lannister.

“May I have this dance Lady Stark?”  he asked in his most charming voice. She didn’t think she had ever been this close to the Kingslayer.  He really was devastatingly handsome and she thought he looked even more rugged with the beard he had grown for winter.  He had the same Lannister green eyes and golden locks as Tyrion but lacked the curls Sansa longed to run her fingers through.  Sansa swallowed hard in amazement at the thought. Apparently, her womanly desires had been resurrected and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

Jaime gathered her in his arms and moved her gracefully around the dance floor.  He was probably the best partner she had ever had. What she couldn’t get over was how much he reminded her of Tyrion, she really could see the resemblance now.  Maybe she could just close her eyes and pretend for a moment…

“Am I really that bad to look at or are you thinking of someone else?”  Jaime japed.

“You know you’re a handsome man Ser Jaime.  I was only thinking you and Tyrion actually do look similar.  I don’t think people see that, and our solely focused on his height.”  Sansa said.

“So much of his life has been focused on his dwarfism, if only everybody could see what a privileged few can see and know that great things come in small packages.  I often wonder what his life would have been like had he been born of average height.” Jaime mused.

“He would not be the Tyrion that he is today and the world would be all the more worse off.  Truthfully, the struggles he’s gone through have made him the man he was meant to be. I am glad he is as he is.”  Sansa said, her voice breaking a little.

Jaime, a man who was rarely ever flustered, almost stumbled in surprise at her response.  He looked at her intensly, as if he was trying to read something in her face. Finally, he said quietly so soft she could barely hear him, “Do you love him?”  There was nothing smug in his countenance or tone, it was a genuine heartfelt question.

Sansa didn’t answer, she simply didn’t have the words.  Love was as foreign and mystical to her as any fairy tale and probably as much of a lie.

He sighed, “If you do, you should tell him.  We don’t get to choose who we love, but we CAN choose to let that person know how we feel.”  Jaime let that sink in before adding. “The world may end in the next few day, but I die knowing the woman I love will be by my side knowing how I feel.  I’d wish the same for you and the same for my brother.” Sansa dared to look at him and even his eyes looked like Tyrion’s so warm and soft. It was too much.

Blessfully, the song ended and she was able to switch partners to Podrick.  He was the perfect partner since he required all his concentration to keep from stepping on her feet, so there was no danger of conversation.  She was still ruminating on Jaime Lannister’s words when she noticed not only had Tyrion returned to his table but a beautiful woman had joined him and they were talking too intimately for Sansa’s liking.  She was close to Tyrion’s age and had the Northern look to her with lush brown curls and a trim and petite figure. Her dress indicated she was not a high born lady, but not a servant or whore either. But whatever and whoever she was, she was most definitely flirting with him.  Touching his arm, laughing at his japes, and tossing those brunette curls that Sansa was beginning to think he preferred. Her eyes narrowed wondering what this woman’s game was to be flirting with the Hand of the Queen. Money, maybe although she was sure she wasn’t a whore so not that.  Power, a way to manipulate the Hand for her own gain? She didn’t look high born enough for that game. What was left? The worst possibility of all. Maybe, just maybe, she liked him for himself. He was charming, handsome, thoughtful, kind, considerate, witty and smart. He in short, would be a catch for any woman despite his size and a smarter, older woman would see past that quickly unlike Sansa had in her youth.

While she was running all this through her mind, the woman caught Sansa staring at her and Tyrion.  She gave her a knowing smile and turned to whisper something to Tyrion. Sansa could feel the blood pumping through her veins and had to fight an impulse to snarl at the beauty.  Tyrion looked up from his book at her curiously after the woman whispered to him and it was all she could do to compose her face. He said something to her and patted her hand before summoning Bronn to join them.  Sansa saw the woman lean over and whisper something in his ear, something that made him blush, before kissing him on the temple. All Sansa could see was red, her heart pounding, teeth grinding, as a strong irrational sense of rage and possessiveness washed over her body.  Who did this woman think she was? The worst of it is she watched Sansa the whole time slyly, like she knew how Sansa was reacting to her presence around Tyrion.

She saw Bronn whisper something to Tyrion before bringing that woman towards them on the dance floor.  She heard Bronn casually say to Jaime walking by “Guess I’m the little shit’s dancing feet as well as his sword arm now.”  Well, at least Tyrion wouldn’t dance with her either for what it’s worth she thought.

Excusing herself, Sansa, headed for the outside to get some fresh air.  She needed to think, get control of herself. She was careening dangerously out of control and it all pointed to Tyrion Lannister.  She took a deep breath. Avoiding him, was clearly not working. But what would she say to him? She admitted to not being as loquacious as her former husband but she felt at a loss, almost like her feelings for him were a strange foreign language and she had no way to translate them.  She stood in the snow for a while letting the flakes calm her before hearing a call for the toasts of which she was expected to lead off as Lady of Winterfell.

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After Arya, Pod, Bronn and herself gave their toasts, Tyrion stood up on the table so everyone could see him and began to speak.  Sansa had half expected his to be more of the same ribbing Bronn had given him and was floored by his beautiful speech. It was such a powerful statement on love, friendship, and partnership that Sansa started to get teary-eyed.  She wanted what he talked of so badly someone to share her joys and sorrows somebody to love and love her in return.

“Do you love him?” she heard Jaime ask in her head over and over.  

She was so carried away in her thoughts she belatedly heard Tyrion say ““I have decided to finish this toast with a lovely poem I have always found perfect for a man to tell a woman how much he loves her.” And then he looked at her all the way across the hall, capturing her eyes in those warm, soft orbs she couldn’t look away from and started to read his poem.  As the beautiful words wrapped around her heart and soul, and she fell under the spell of his voice and there was a part of her that just knew he was telling her that he would be there for her, always.   A second later or a lifetime later as time currently had no meaning to her, he said the last line “ Because my love is yours forever” and something deeply buried inside Sansa broke open releasing parts of her she had sealed away. Could he really love her, could anybody really love her?  The only outside evidence to this complete and sudden upheaval of everything inside her was the single tear that ran down her cheek.

“Do you love him?”

Overwhelmed and frightened by the torrent of emotions flooding her body,  Sansa did what she always did in the end when it came to Tyrion, she fled. Unnoticed, she slipped out easily into the night as the musicians started up again.

“Do you love him?”

She ran away as the words chased her, echoing in her head, and she left so quickly she forgot her furs.  Fleeing to the Godswoods to the Weirwood tree, to go where her father would pray and seek guidance from the Old Gods.  If only he were here now, would he help her know her heart?

“Do you love him?”

Tears streaming down her face, she knelt  in front of the Weirwood tree her dress getting soaked in the snow.  She prayed to the Old Gods and the New, to her parents, her brothers, to all those she had lost for guidance.  She had only felt fear and anger for so long, that she had closed her heart and she thought it had withered away.  But it hadn’t, and it was wonderful and scary and her little Lord husband, Tyrion Lannister, of all people made her believe in love again.

“Do you love him?”   Only this time she heard her father’s voice and this time she knew the answer.

“Yes father, I love him.”  she whispered to the Weirwood tree that had stood witness to the story of her life.

Exhausted and stunned at her self revelation, she sank deeper in the snow, crying silently and getting colder until a heavy set of furs covered her shoulders.

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Jorah Mormont waited silently in the cold for Sansa to compose herself as she wrapped his furs closely around her frigid body.  She was grateful it was him that found her. He was a stern, reserved Northerner thru and thru and would not question her about why she was in the state she was in.   He helped her to her feet. “Sorry to disturb your prayers my Lady but I was worried when I saw you without your furs, even us Northerners need them in this cold.”

“That means you too Ser Jorah.”  Sansa said. She was still shaking, from both her emotional revelation and the cold.

“I’ll get some in a minute, her Grace has something to show you.” he said leading her towards the field the dragons resided in.

Sansa reached the treeline, leaning heavily on Ser Jorah’s arm.  She wanted to find Tyrion but there was little you could do when summoned by the Dragon Queen.  As she approached Daenerys, she saw a scene featuring the same players as before but telling a much different story. Firstly, it was quiet--no agitated dragons or screaming queens.  In the center of the field Rhaegal was lying prone on the ground staring intently at a large pile of snow. No not snow, it was Ghost who was lying in a mirror position of the green dragon.  They seemed to be communing with each other. Jon stood a little way off watching the interaction between the two with interest. Drogon was curled up like a cat also watching the proceedings with half lidded eyes.

The Queen turned and saw Sansa, startled by her appearance.  “Lady Sansa, are you unwell? You’re as white as the snow.”

“I went to the Godswoods to pray and forgot my furs.  Ser Jorah was kind enough to give me his. Please send him back to the keep to get another set.  I won’t have him freeze on my account.” Sansa replied.

Daenerys nodded at Jorah and he retreated quietly to the keep.

“You forgot your furs?”  she asked dubiously raising an eyebrow at her.

“Some prayers require more urgency than others.”  Sansa replied cryptically. She straightened her spine feeling stronger now.  “What am I seeing here?”

“I wanted to show you that you were right about Jon and Rhaegal...well partially at least.  They did need time with no interference from me. Although it turns out it was Rhaegal and Ghost that needed the time to bond.  They needed to work out their own relationship as Ghost is also bonded to Jon. Jon is both Stark and Targaryen, wolf and dragon.”

“Will he accept him now as his rider?”  she said nodding at Rhaegal.

“I believe so.  We’ll try again tomorrow.  Riding a dragon is different than a horse, I’d like Jon to have some practice before we leave for battle.”

Sansa waited quietly, hoping the queen would dismiss her soon.  Gods only know what Tyrion would think of her running out on him like that and she needed to find him.  He had been beyond patient with her so far, she could only hope he’d wait a little longer.

“Do you love him?”  This time it was Sansa that asked the question.

“More than I ever thought possible.”  Daenerys said, touching her stomach in such a way that Sansa knew Jon’s babe was in her womb.

“What will you do?”  Sansa asked.

“Rule...together.”  she answered honestly.  “He is the ice to my fire and we will bring peace back to Westeros.  Tyrion advised as my hand before we crossed the Narrow Sea, I would most likely need to marry for political alliances.  I had no idea what life had in store for me, that I’d find my soulmate and fall in love.” she smiled and her whole face lit up.  

“I am happy for you both and happy that love drives your marriage not just politics.”  Sansa said.

“Unfortunately, more alliances will need to be made and marriage is one of the best ways.”  Daenerys continued. Sansa took in a sharp breath. “Don’t worry Lady Sansa what I said earlier still stands.  You have been forced to marry twice, I will never ask or even hint that you should again. However, I may need to ask Tyrion to marry again and because of that I will need to get your marriage to him officially annulled.”

“I married another man, it’s been annulled.”  Sansa replied coldly.

“Unless you petitioned it to the High Septon or Council of the Faith it was not annulled officially in the Faith of the Seven.  I imagine his wife will be from the South, maybe the Reach or Dorne and most of them worship the Seven. I just don’t want any doubts to obscure an alliance.”  she said.

“How does Tyrion feel about this?  Have you made your plans known to him?”  Sansa asked her heart aching at the thought of him with another woman.

“He’ll recognize the value of a political ally through marriage.  I haven’t talked to him about it yet. I will though. Nobody asked me when they sold me to Drogo so I promise I won’t do that to anybody.  But don’t you think Tyrion would want to marry again? I think he’d be a good husband. Plus I think he needs someone to look after him, he doesn’t always take the best care of himself.”

“He would be a doting husband.”  Sansa admitted “He was always kind to me. I was too young and blind to see it at the time.”

Daenerys looked at her curiously and had just started to speak when Sansa pointed at Jon.  “Look!”

Rhaegal had lowered his wing to Jon and crooked his neck, inviting Jon to ride him.  Jon was momentarily stunned but walked swiftly towards the dragon while an excited Ghost dogged his heels.  Daenerys gave Sansa an apologetic look but ran quickly to a suddenly awake Drogon to show Jon the best way to climb aboard a dragon.  Jon didn’t even look, he climbed aboard Rhaegal as if he had been born to it. When mounted, he looked at her. She leaned forward to Drogon and commanded “Sōvēs!!” (Fly!)  Jon nodded and shouted the same to Rhaegal who roared and shot off into the sky like an arrow with Daenerys and Drogon right behind them kicking up a small blizzard of snow in their wake.

As the whirlwind of snow settled, she could see Ghost sitting in the middle of the field, his head tossed back, howling silently to his new winged pack in the sky.

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At last Sansa was able to return to the keep, as eager to come back as she had been to leave.  It wasn’t until she got back that she realized how much time had actually passed. A few drunk revellers remained in the Great Hall but most had returned to their quarters.  She saw no sign of Tyrion, the bride and groom, or Arya. She turned toward the wing housing Tyrion determined to talk to him no matter the hour, no matter if she had to pull him out of bed. (Or maybe he could pull you in it she thought).   The idea no longer frightened her and the blood in her veins sang as her heart thumped and a dull ache started in her womanhood.

In the guest wing, she could hear the sound of coupling behind many a door but one couple in particular was very loud.  She smiled to herself as she approached Tyrion’s door thinking the poor man couldn’t possible sleep with the neighbors moaning and carrying on so.  The smile quickly died on her lips as she realized the sounds of passion were in fact coming from Tyrion’s room. She froze and felt if as the earth beneath her feet had given out.  Then a distinctive feminine moan came from the room and despite every fiber of her being screaming NO she pressed her eye to a crack in the door. All she could see was a narrow sliver but she could see a nude woman’s back as she crouched over an unseen figure on the bed.  The woman let out another moan and tossed her head and Sansa gasped in shock as the long curly brown hair she had seen earlier settled on her beautiful back, unadorned with the scars that criss crossed her own. Oh gods, oh gods , it was that woman...that woman was with Tyrion and they were fucking.   Oh gods , had she completely misread his reading earlier, hearing only what she wished in her heart??  Or worse yet she was too late. She had panicked and fled and had hurt him in her own fear and confusion so he found comfort in the arms of another.

Numbly, Sansa stumbled across the hall crashing through the library door, desperate to escape the amorous sounds. She closed the door rapidly before leaning her whole body against it, sinking to the floor, and choking on an anguished sob.  She had just found her heart again and it was already broken. She pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head on them shutting out the world with the curtain of her hair.

“Sansa?” A familiar timber said her name questioningly.

Her head snapped up at the voice and a small figure rose from the couch and approached her in the dark.  It couldn’t possibly be him, but as he came into the moonlight she could see Tyrion’s distinctive face clearly. Tyrion had clearly been sleeping and wore only a loose linen shirt and pants.

“Sansa, are you alright?”  he said with concern coming to stand in front of her.  “Did somebody hurt you? Did one of those brutes touch you?”  She could hear the ferocity and anger in his voice at the thought of somebody hurting her causing her heart to swell even more for him.

She stared at him blankly, hardly believing he was real.  His curls stood out wildly on his head giving him the most adorable case of bed head she had ever seen.  The loose linen shirt was unlaced at the neck revealing a fair amount of chest hair that she desperately wanted to feel under her fingers causing desire to course through her body.

“No” she said weakly “Nobody touched me.”  She shifted slowly pulling her feet under her bottom so she was sitting on them rather than the floor putting her at the same height as Tyrion.  Feeling a tenuous bit of bravery she looked at him wiping away an errant tear from her cheek with her thumb. “I went to your room to find you.”

“To find me?”  he said choking on the words slightly.  He almost indiscernibly cocked his head looking in her eyes.

“I heard….noises….coming from your room.”  she said in a whisper.

“Noises?”  he questioned.  He must have still been half asleep because he didn’t seem to catch her meaning.

“A woman...moaning.  I could see a sliver through the door and could see that brunette you were talking to naked on your bed.”  Sansa said with a slight tremor in her voice but feeling more calm and settled than she had been in days. He wasn’t in that room.  He wasn’t fucking that woman. He was here with her, where he belonged.

“Did you think she was with me?”  he asked incredulously his eyes opening wide in shock.

“Yes.”  she said softly her eyes sweeping over his handsome face.

Tyrion looked away from her, glancing at the ground nervously.  It almost made him more adorable to see how she could affect him so.  He asked in an almost pleading voice “And this...upset you?” he looked up finally meeting her eyes.

She gave a half smile.  “No, it didn’t upset me.”  She held his gaze not letting him look away.  “It devastated me.” Sansa hesitated momentarily before looking deeply into those warm, soft eyes she could get lost in for the rest of her life.  “Because you are suppose to be with me!” And then with a shot of courage she reached out grabbing his shirt and hauling him towards her before her lips crashed into his with a passion and ardor that only he could make her feel.

Chapter Text

This was surely a dream Tyrion thought, in fact he was almost positive it was.  After all, Sansa Stark had pulled him in for a passionate kiss and had said some impossible words about how he was suppose to be with her.  So yes, definitely a dream---as the real Sansa had disappeared moments after his crazy, poetic declaration of love taking all his hopes with her.  But after a few seconds of her lips on his, he came to realize that he was actually awake and not having the best dream of his entire life. When he was able to conceive that for once in his fucked up life that reality was better than anything his mind could conjure up, his mouth sought hers with a pent up desire long in the making.

While Sansa had initiated the kiss, Tyrion quickly took control over it since she hadn’t much experience in the area.  Tyrion intended to change that. He would kiss her until her lips were swollen and tender if she would allow him to. His body reacting quicker than his mind, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his hand in her auburn tresses cradling her head and tilting it slightly so they could deepen the kiss.  Hesitantly, he caressed her lips with the tip of his tongue and was rewarded when she both moaned and opened her mouth mimicking his own movements with her tongue. Sansa’s hands had released their grip on his shirt and now one was subtly caressing him, wandering up the hair on his chest to his neck pulling him closer while her thumb stroked his beard.  Her other hand had wandered to his back pulling him even closer to her and he could feel the warmth of her body, the swell of her breasts pressed against him causing a tightness in his breeches.

Still not believing she was real, he peaked his eyes open to make sure.  She was so breathtakingly beautiful. Sansa. ..his Sansa, the Maiden maid flesh.  Her face was like ivory in the moonlight with a splattering of freckles across the nose.  Her eyelashes long and lovely. He moved his hand from the back of her head to trace that long swan like neck he admired so long ago.  She shivered delightfully under his caress and her tongue shot into his mouth desperately seeking his own. He continued his soft touches on her neck and jaw until finally he tore his mouth from hers to trace those movements with his lips and tongue.  Sansa gasped and pulled him even closer, clutching the back of his head as his kisses ravished her neck and collarbone. He returned to her mouth with a fierce intensity, intoxicated by her touch and smell, his hands starting to wander the curves of her body.

The lusty little beast in him that hadn’t been with a woman in almost five years was yearning to be loosed, but he had learned to control him and moved his hands back to cup her face.  While Sansa had initiated this physical act, a kiss was not an open invitation for him to grope her. Feeling guilty enough that he might have already pushed her more than she wanted, he let his heart take control, containing his lust.  He kissed her softly and deeply, with gentle movements of his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip. She held him tighter and he wished he had more control over the erection that had grown rockhard and was pressing into her abdomen. There was no way she hadn’t noticed it.  He finally pulled away when he became afraid that he would either frighten her with his physical wants or spill his seed in his pants like a greenboy. He wanted to be neither of those men for Sansa.

He held her hands and couldn’t help but notice that she was trembling.  No, he looked at their hands again. They were both shaking and breathing hard.  Tyrion bowed his head and helped her to her feet as he had that awful day in the throne room so long ago, and holding her hand lead her to the couch he had been sleeping on so she would no longer be kneeling on the cold hard floor.

They both sat just staring at each other in the dim moonlit room, neither being willing to break the spell they were under.  He was captivated by her eyes and her swollen lips and longed for another taste of her sweetness. Finally, because he was the greatest fool in the world and one that couldn’t keep his mouth shut, he broke the spell with just one word, the question that nagged him, “Why?”

“Why what?” she asked before kissing him once softly.

“Why would you want to be with me?”  he asked genuinely confused. No woman had ever wanted him without the promise of coin, it was impossible for him to conceive that anybody ever would.

She studied him and sighed sadly, resignedly before squeezing his hand and answering his question with one of her own, “What you said, in the toast, in the poem…” she trailed off, the confident Sansa vacillating with the scared, abused girl  “Did you mean it?”

He could hear the hidden meaning and knew she meant Was it for me?   He answered with a deep rumble in his chest as he almost choked on his love for her.  “Every. Single. Word.” and he half smiled at her hopefully with his heart in hand. She returned his smile pulling their hands to her mouth as she kissed his.  She didn’t look up for a few moments just letting her cheek rest on his hands before turning her misty eyes back to meet his own. She stood up abruptly pulling his hands.  “Come with me, my Lord.”

“Tyrion.  My name is Tyrion.” he said automatically.

She rolled her eyes, before tugging him again onto his feet.  He stood up and she grabbed his furs lowering herself on one knee before him to wrap them around his small form.

“Where are we going?”  he asked feeling off kilter.  It didn’t really matter where, he would follow her through all the seven hells if she would just look at him again like that and kiss him so sweetly.

“To answer your question.”  she said. But made no move to get up.  Sansa continued to stare at him and was starting to look a little exasperated and Tyrion had no idea why.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked and felt like he was failing some sort of test.  He hated when people played these games and was not going to start whatever this was with Sansa with that hanging over them. He had watched Cercei manipulate Jamie like that for years.  “I do not like games Sansa, please be direct. If I am doing something wrong, or you want something from me just tell me.”

Sansa looked slightly chagrined.  “No games.” she promised. She stood brushing off her skirt and went to open the door before saying,  “I was just hoping that you would kiss me this time.”  She turned and gave him a smoldering look and muttered “Impossible man” before slipping into the hall.

Feeling flummoxed and speechless he hurried after her as quick as his legs would allow.  Next time, he thought ruefully that was a test he would most certainly pass.

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Sansa walked to the end of the hall and turned waiting for him to catch up to her.  She started leading him out of the current wing of Winterfell and out on to some of the snowy ramparts.  She paused to look around clearly checking on the state of the castle, mistress of her domain. The castle was as quiet as it ever got these days and the moon was full reflecting off of the snow making it as clear as day.  The sky was a full kalliope of stars beautiful and endless but all he could see was her. While admiring her tall, lean form and her graceful movements he realized that she was wearing somebody else’s furs and that somebody else was a tall man.  

“Whose furs are those and where are yours?”  he asked trying and failing miserably to not sound jealous.

“I left the hall in a hurry after….”  She didn’t finish, he knew exactly when she had left.  His face collapsed at the recent painful memory.

She moved to sit on a bench under the covered part of the walkway while he obstinately stood by the railing, looking over the interior courtyard unable to look at her suddenly.  He was wounded by her actions earlier. Finally he spoke somberly “I thought I had ruined everything, that I had lost the single most important person in my life. When I couldn’t find you, I just assumed that was it, that was how you felt, and you were just figuring out he best way to tell me.”

“Tyrion”  Sansa pleaded. He finally turned to look at her and Sansa’s face fell when she saw the anguish in his.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That is the last thing I’d ever want to do. I was scared of my own feelings and between your poem and what Jaime said..”

“What did Jaime say?”  Tyrion said abruptly with a hard edge in his voice.  He knew his brother and Bronn meant well but he was growing tired of their interference.

She looked at him and sighed.  “So many questions. That one will have to wait.  I’m still trying to answer the first one. As to your earlier question, I went to the Godswood to pray and Ser Jorah found me and lent me his furs before I became the ice queen everyone thinks I am.”  

He moved to sit by her clasping her hands in his own.  “I don’t think you’re an ice queen. I have seen your fire.  You are Valyrian steel, strong, powerful, and beautiful.”

When she turned to meet his eyes, he didn’t miss his opportunity this time and claimed her lips with his own.  He kept the kiss light at first but Sansa returned it passionately running her fingers through his curls with a small moan.  They kissed for a few moments longer before Sansa broke it off pulling away from him gently. “I’ll never answer your question at this rate.” she sighed chuckling softly.

“I have questions?” he japed before he stole one last lingering kiss, running his hands through her mane of fire once more, causing a low groan to escape his lips.  He stopped resting his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry if I scared you. You wouldn’t talk to me and I was done pretending I felt nothing for you but friendship.”  he whispered.

“Tyrion, I was scared of myself, not you.  For so long, I’ve kept so many things buried.  Just to survive, to keep moving forward. Hiding all my softness away, letting only fear, hate, and anger rule me.  Yet somehow you have found that part of me tucked deep in my armour and it broke free, frightening me and changing how I see everything.”  She took a deep breath. “Even more, yesterday when you touched me,” indicating her wrist, “I felt something I had never felt before, like a fire burning through my body, my soul.  I wanted to kiss you then, but I was afraid you’d find my naive attempt laughable and didn’t see me as a woman. And just when I had worked up a morsel of courage to move towards you, you pulled away and I thought that you didn’t feel the same desire for me.”  She smiled shyly and said with a lilt of humor in her voice. “I think now that I may have been wrong about that.” This time she leaned in and he angled up pulling her face to his and kissing her with a ferocity that was sure to give her some beard burn but she didn’t seem to care and clutched him tightly.

“I’ve never NOT wanted you Sansa, even when I shouldn’t have.  Back in King’s Landing, on our wedding night, I was beyond tempted.  But I couldn’t...I just couldn’t.” His stomach churned with nausea as thoughts of Sansa’s terrified face as she undressed and Tysha’s face as she was brutalized by the soldiers blurred into one horrific image.  He stood quickly trying to shake the memory with any activity or distraction. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

Sansa studied him, confusion and concern etched in her face, but she clutched his hand in her own and silently started leading him to a more remote and partially abandoned area of the keep.  They walked silently for a few more minutes and he noticed as he began to calm down, she was becoming more agitated and was squeezing his hand tightly while her face became stony. They walked slowly up a long flight of stairs, Sansa always conscious to keep her steps even with his.  They finally reached the top landing with a single door that curiously lacked a door knob. Tyrion could see where one had been but it had been removed.

Growing concerned by the visible distress coursing through Sansa’ body he asked “What is this place?”  

“My prison cell.” she said flatly staring numbly at the door.  With a sense of revulsion Tyrion realized that this was the room that Ramsey had kept her in to be his sadistic plaything.

“Sansa, why are we here?  There is no need to go in there!  This won’t answer anything for either of us.”  Tyrion said in alarm, desperately pulling her hand.  “Let’s go back to the library, we can build a fire and talk.  Or back outside Sansa, anywhere but here!”

“No.”  Sansa said with determination in her voice.  “I left something in there and I’ve lacked the strength of will to go in there until now.”  She squeezed his hand. “Please Tyrion.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand back.  This was clearly important to her for some reason.

Sansa nodded back and wrenched open the door.  She moved ahead of him inside and froze almost instantly.  Tyrion could see her eyes flickering around the room as he was sure an ugly montage of dreadful memories bubbled to the surface of her mind.  

Still holding her hand he squeezed and whispered “Sansa.”  She didn’t respond. “Sansa.” He said louder but she still stood frozen awash in past torments.  “SANSA!” he said in a deep, loud voice normally reserved for large rooms where he was speaking before an audience.  He also pulled hard on her arm, cursing his small stature. If he weren’t a half man he would pick her up and carry her out of this horror and be done with this nightmare.

She shook her head, as if clearing it. “I’m okay, Tyrion.  It’s just…” she paused trying to come up with the words. “Winterfell is my home.  But when I was held prisoner in this room, it ceased to be no matter what I told myself.  That’s why I wouldn’t come back here to this room until now. Jon and I took this place back, made it our home again and I didn’t want the memories of this” gesturing at her former cell “to take that from me ever again.”  She looked around her now. “I can now see, it’s just a room-- just stone, wood, and furniture. Nothing special, nothing good or evil.”

Tyrion’s eyes wandered around the room and agreed with Sansa, it looked like any ordinary room.  It appeared to be used for some storage now with crates stacked about haphazardly and a large pile of furs to one side.  A bed frame stood shoved against the wall, but lacked a mattress.

She saw him look at the bed frame.  “I had the mattress burned along with my wedding dress.” she said in a hard voice.

“Sansa…” he said in a pleading voice. “Let’s find what you left here and leave the ghosts in the past.  There is no need to relive these horrors.”

“I live with them everyday.”  she said flatly. She dropped his hand and walked over to the window staring at the night sky.  The moonlight lit up her pale skin in a ghostly manner and her haunted eyes sent a shaft of sorrow straight to his core.

“Before I fed him to his hounds, do you know what that evil bastard said to me?  He said You can’t kill me, I’m part of you now.”   She grimaced a look of anger and resignation crossing her face. “The sad part is he was right.”

He crossed over to stand beside her touching her elbow lightly.  “He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

She looked at him with a frown.  “Did killing your father quiet his voice in your head Tyrion?  Or is Tywin Lannister just the voice now to every self loathing thought you have?”

“You know me too well.”  Tyrion whispered with a greater understanding of the battles she fought in her mind.

“You have Tywin.  I have Joffrey and Ramsey, even Petyr Baelish in my mind.  I’m telling you this because if you truly want to be with me, I want you to know who I really am and what you’re really getting yourself into.  I need you to know what happened here.” She grabbed him under the chin looking in his eyes “I’m trusting you with this part of me.” her voice was firm but broke slightly.

Tyrion nodded solemnly.  “To earn the trust of Sansa Stark is a great honor.  I will never betray it, not for anyone or anything.” he said gravely wondering how he was possibly going to project the calm, strength he felt she needed from him right now.

It took a moment for Sansa to start her story. “For my second wedding, I wore a beautiful white gown and furs of my own design, so much more suited to me than that awful gold thing your sister put me in for our wedding.  I married Ramsey under the Weirwood tree, as I had dreamed of since I was a girl, but none of my family or friends was there. Although I guess none were at our wedding either were they?” she said wistfully. Tyrion swallowed hard at the guilt he felt even though he had as much influence on their nuptials as she did.

“Roose Bolton married us as Warden of the North.  So I was wed by my brother’s murderer.” She chuckled darkly. “Although, I was given away by my father’s murderer at the first one so I guess I will call that a draw as far as weddings go.”  She paused to appraise him. “My first groom was a scarred dwarf from a very powerful family I hated. My second groom was a dark haired Northerner, handsome in a rugged way, and also from an aspiring family I hated.  I hardly knew either of these men well but was given no choice but to be their bride, being nothing more than a pawn in the game of thrones.”

“Before my first wedding, my groom came to me and tried to reassure my fears promising me he wouldn’t ever hurt me. I wanted to believe him, but I didn’t trust him because of his name.  Before my second wedding, Ramsey’s lover told me stories of past women and the abuses they suffered trying to frighten me. I didn’t want to believe her, but after what he had done to Theon I did.”  Tyrion noticed that when she spoke of him, she would hold his eyes. When she spoke of Ramsey, she stared out the window.

“After my first wedding there was a great feast and my new husband got very, very drunk.”  While this was ground they had already covered, Tyrion didn’t feel any the less wretched about it.  “After my new nephew-in-law threatened to rape me, he called for a bedding ceremony and my husband threatened to castrate his nephew/king if he forced us to do so.  I was frightened yet grateful that at least I’d been spared a little humiliation. My dwarven husband and I returned to our room where he continued to drink and made an odd comment about my neck.”  She gave Tyrion a smirk before continuing. “I drank some wine for courage and started to remove my gown preparing to do my duty and give my husband my maidenhead. I could feel his eyes on me as I undressed.”  Tyrion looked away guiltily at the floor. He had been so very drunk that fateful night but her milky, white, skin had still called to him like a siren song. “Despite that, the hunger that even the most naive of young maidens recognizes in a man’s eyes, he told me to stop.  That he would not share my bed until I wanted him to.” She paused and gazed at him with sharp bright blue eyes that pierced his soul before addressing him. “I had been prepared for the pain of losing my maidenhead, prepared to endure his touch, but I was not prepared that my new husband was actually a good, kind man.”  She smiled at him making his heart melt and he could see just how emotionally exhausted she was. But he was smart enough to not insist she stop delving into the past, Sansa knew her own mind and clearly needed to tell this harrowing story.

She held her hand out to Tyrion and he clasped it, noticing how cold she was despite her furs.  If he couldn’t drag her out of this hellhole he could at least make it more bearable. He held out a finger telling her to halt her tale as he arranged the musty pile of furs on the platform that had supported the discarded mattress.   He escorted her to it and tucked some furs around her gently before sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. She intertwined her fingers with his laying her head on his shoulder. They sat like this for a few blissful moments of peace and Tyrion thought maybe she was drifting off to sleep when she started to talk again.  “There was no feast and no bedding ceremony for my second wedding night. My husband and his servant, a man who had both been my brother and betrayed my real brothers, escorted me to this room.  There were candles everywhere, almost romantic in a way. Ramsey asked me if it was true that I was still a virgin.  When I said yes he asked me jokingly why I was still a virgin... was I afraid of dwarves?” She snorted derisively. Tyrion could feel the first tingling of rage swirling up his spine at this bastard mocking both him and Sansa.  “I told him ‘ Lord Tyrion was kind, he was gentle.  He never touched me. ’”  

Tyrion squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Sansa’s hand tightly as a wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm him.  He was floored that she thought of him that tenderly after their brief strained marriage . He also sensed that this was prelude to abuse and suffering and that a man such as Ramsey would not take kindly to Sansa speaking of her first husband so highly.

“He asked if I was lying to him.  I said no and he said that honesty was important in a marriage and then he kissed me.  I thought for a split second it might be bearable. Until he told me to undress and ordered Theon to stay, telling him to watch him make me a woman.  Then I finally knew I was in a hell even worse than King’s Landing. He forced me face down on the bed ripping my dress down the back and raped me so brutally I bled for days.”  

Sansa’s voice remained hollow, even, detached.  She didn’t scream nor cry nor yell, although Tyrion wanted to do all three.  Tears streamed silently down his face but he refused to wipe them away, not wanting to call attention to the way her tale was affecting him.  He just whispered “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” and wrapped his arms around her pulling her tightly to his small body.

“I lost track of the days I was prisoner here.  Aside from the rape, he also beat me savagely and when that stopped making me scream he started cutting me.  I have a scar on my back now that makes the wound on your face look like nothing more than a scratch, plus a hundred more smaller ones.”  She turned to face him during the last sentence to trace the scar on his face and pulled her fingers back in amazement when she felt the wetness from his tears.  She leaned forward and kissed his eyes where the tears fell and wiped them away with her lips and fingers. Tyrion felt nothing but overpowering love for this strong woman beside him and also great, great shame that she was comforting him through her story instead of the other way around.

“There were only a few things that kept me going during my time here.  Memories of my family, my friends, of the good people that did live and some that still live in this world of never ending war and terror.  I wondered where my siblings were and if I would ever see them again. Were they alive, safe, and happy? I prayed for all of them. Of course I also fantasized of revenge on those that hurt me, and always I dreamed of escape.”  Sansa stood pushing the furs to one side and walked over to the fireplace examining the stones carefully around the mantle. With a triumphant smile, she removed a small loose stone and fetched something hiding in the nook behind it.  She came back to the bed and Tyrion took no time to tuck the furs back around them. Sansa clutched the object in her fist but Tyrion could not see what it was.

Sansa continued her story.  “When I left the Eyrie with Petyr after watching him murder my Aunt, I left almost all vestiges of the South and my old life behind.  Changing my clothes and my hair-- I had convinced myself I was a new stronger Sansa, no longer a pawn anymore. Of course, I was just as stupid and foolish as ever trusting in Littlefinger, I just didn’t know it yet.  However, for some reason there was something I just couldn’t leave although I told Petyr I had thrown it out the Moondoor before we left. Instead, I sewed it into the lining of my dress and later hid it from Ramsey behind that stone. I felt compelled to keep this one little part of my life from King’s Landing as it reminded me of someone who had always treated me kindly.  I’d look at it sometimes and wonder if he was still alive, was he safe, and if I’d ever see him again. I told myself if I ever did, I’d give this back to him and thank him for being a friend to me, even when I didn’t want his friendship at all. That I’d ask for his forgiveness for my undeserving coldness towards him and tell him time, distance, and a lot of maturity on my part allowed me to see him for who he really was.”

She paused for a minute, but Tyrion kept quiet which was a struggle for a man that felt a need to fill a room with conversation.  Just being next to her was enough for him. “After my mother took you prisoner and your brother attacked and wounded my father in the street, my father wanted to send both Arya and I home for our safety, as well as break my betrothal to Joffrey.  Neither of us wanted to go, and I screamed at him that I was to marry Joffrey and be his queen and have his babies.” She looked ashamed of the naive, spoiled girl she had been. “My father then told me when I was older he would make a match for me with somebody worthy of me.  Someone who’s brave, gentle, and strong. Tragically, he never was able to do that for me.”

Sansa opened his hand placing in it the object she had recovered.  It was a huge, ostentatious gold ring with two circles of small rubies surrounding a central large one.  It practically screamed Lannister property which was probably the point when his father had picked it out.  Her wedding ring was heavy in his hand and he could only imagine how shackled to him it had made her feel. He stared at it in awe, amazed that it had traveled with her all this way.  That it meant something important to her. That he meant something important to her.  Perhaps he mused, Sansa Lannister wasn’t dead and buried by Lady Stark as he had told Bronn but instead buried deep inside Lady Stark.

“Tyrion, you asked why I would want to be with you.  It’s because you, my dear sweet man, are all the things my father promised for me in a husband and so much more exceeding all of my youthful hopes and dreams.  I just wish I had realized it sooner.” She took the ring from his hand, placing it back on her left ring finger where it belonged and pulled him to her again for a kiss full of longing and love.

Chapter Text

Sansa woke with a start not knowing where she was.  She could sense it was about a hour before dawn and her body ached from the hardness of the wooden bed frame she..no they slept on.  Tyrion, by gods, he was really here with her. Her head was on his chest with her hair fanned across him and she could hear the thud of his heartbeat under her ear, a sound that she knew she would never grow tired of.  The steady beat soothed her and felt more like home than the stones of Winterfell ever would. She raised her head slightly so she could study him. She could see the scar that transected his face peeking out from under his beard and curls and traced it lightly with her finger tip and then moved to trace his lips that looked swollen still from all of their kissing.

Sansa had been so relieved at his response to her story of being Ramsey’s prisoner.  There was still an irrational part of her that felt guilt and shame...that felt dirty and soiled by him.   She wanted Tyrion to know who she was, scars (both physical and mental) and all, and not some idealized version of her.  She could tell he was a romantic at heart, and wanted nothing more than to rescue her like a knight on horseback from her monsters. But those were just stories and what they could have, a real relationship, built on trust, friendship, and love was so much better than any romantic lark.

Love.  She realized of all the words she had said last night she had never told him directly that she loved him.  That she was desperately, hopelessly in love with him. Although he hadn’t exactly said those three words either.  The love was there, open and honest, she knew the words would soon follow.

She stared at the Lannister ring on her finger, that had once felt so heavy and now felt so right.  There was no way she would let another woman wear his ring and share his bed. The queen would just have to find another way to make her alliances.  Tyrion Lannister was not hers to marry off, he was Sansa’s and she intended on keeping him this time.

Suddenly his arms tightened around her and his eyes fluttered open.  “Sansa” he rasped. He looked around blinking trying to remember where they were.  He reached up to touch her face, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  With his thumb he stroked her cheekbone and stared at her longingly. “Am I dreaming? Because if I am, please don’t wake me up.”

“If it is a dream, then we are both having the same one my lord.” she whispered teasingly.  She proceeded to wrap her lithe body around his smaller one so their bodies were touching as much as possible causing a groan of satisfaction on Tyrion’s part.  She gazed down at him and lowered her mouth to his for a light kiss. Well, at least it was supposed to be a light kiss, but it quickly turned passionate and hungry.  Sansa desperately wanted him to touch her feverish body to quench the burning fire he had awoken in her, but he frustratingly kept his hands to her hair and face.

“Touch me.”  she whispered hoarsely.

He pulled back staring at her with dark, desirous eyes.  “Are you sure Sansa? I only want to do what you want to do.”

“Tyrion, trust me to know my own mind and that I will be vocal when I want you to stop.  In return I trust you to pull back if I say the word. Now by the seven please touch me you foolish man!” Sansa said as her own hands danced over his chest and her pelvis rocked against his side seeking a more intimate contact.

“Gods” he choked at both the words and her touch. With that a damn broke and his hands were suddenly everywhere and all Sansa could do was try not to drown in her desire.  She wished they were in a real bed with a lot less clothes on. She felt restricted by her dress and wished suddenly it was one of those southern numbers that showed a lot of skin so he could touch her.  She draped a leg over him to pull him closer, the contact still not being enough.  The change in position meant she was no longer grinding against his side but there was now something large and hard pressed against her inner thigh through their clothes.  They both groaned softly at the sensation and Tyrion’s hand touched her bare calf stroking it gently, hesitantly. Feeling impatient because the fire inside of her was going to consume her unless he did something about it, she pushed his hand until it was midway up her thigh.  Sansa was lost in the sensation of his touch on her skin, the taste of his lips, his hardness, when suddenly she froze. His hand had found one of her scars and was tracing it tenderly. He sensed her hesitation and started to withdraw.

“No.” she said firmly.  “I don’t want you to stop.  It’s just..” she said pleadingly not even able to verbalize her thoughts.  Could a man, especially a renown lover like Tyrion, deal with what was under her clothes?  They were repulsive enough to her, how could he bear to look? Especially since her virgin, unscarred body had been his to claim and now she could only offer it to him used and abused.   

He placed her hand on his facial scar while he continued to stroke hers on her thigh causing her to breathe hard in fits and starts.  “Do you honestly think I give a shit about your scars other then the distress it’s causing you?”

“No?” she said hopefully.

“I can see I need to convince you.”  He rolled her off of him and slid off the bed standing and staring at her with an intense hunger in his eyes.  He reached down grabbing her by her waist and pulling her towards him until she was straddling him with her long legs and both of her feet flat on the floor.  She had lost almost all coherent thought except that she realized that he was a surprisingly strong man for his size. Kneeling ,he pushed her skirts up and found the scar he had touched earlier but this time it was his lips that started to caress it while his hands slid under her heart shaped ass drawing her closer to the edge of the bed.

Sansa’s back arched as a mewling noise escaped her throat and she felt a sudden wetness between her legs.  Tyrion’s hands explored her long alabaster legs and everytime he found a scar he moved his mouth to it, kissing it and licking it.  Agonizingly slowly he worked his hands upwards towards her womanhood moving his thumbs in circles, his mouth hot on her inner thighs making her dizzy with want.  When he reached her small clothes, he lightly brushed the damp fabric covering her cunt and the shock of intense pleasure nearly launched her off the bed. Tyrion chuckled and she could feel his hot breath inches from her opening.  He continued to kiss and lick her thighs, while slowly tracing a finger just barely under the edge of her small clothes causing her to writhe and moan. He pulled his head away, but continued to stroke her with his fingers through the fabric.

Sansa opened her eyes and saw him gazing up at her reverently.  “Tell me how to please you Sansa.”

Sansa felt confused.  What was he talking about?  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He frowned.  “How do you pleasure yourself?”

This time the confusion must have shown on her face.  In stunned disbelief he said “You’ve never..?”

“Never what?” she croaked thrusting her hips, wanting him to put his mouth to better use than this line of questioning.

“No...of course not.”  he sighed shaking his head in a mixture of sadness and anger.  

He moved his hands to her hips and the ties of her small clothes.  “May I?”

“Gods yes!  Just...I want...I need.”  She threw an arm over her face in embarrassment not knowing exactly what she wanted.  When would she ever stop feeling like a naive child around this man?

“I know Sansa.  Just be patient and I’ll take care of you.”  He slowly, sensuously pulled the ties of her small clothes while his warm hands caressed her hip bones causing a shudder to move through her body.  She could feel her soaked under things being removed and the cool air touching her damp curls. He moved his head towards her now exposed womanhood and whispered, “I will always take care of you Sansa.”

He touched her, lightly tracing her folds and hissed in satisfaction,  “You’re so wet Sansa.” The tone in his voice indicated that this was a very positive thing which was good because she was getting slicker by the second.   He settled between her legs forcing them wider making Sansa feel delightfully debauched. Suddenly Sansa felt his mouth on her inner thighs again but this time his kisses didn’t stop at the junction between her legs and then she felt his tongue (there, OH GODS there!) licking and sucking like a man possessed.  Feeling like she could burst, she let out a stifled scream of pleasure, feeling like a wanton woman and loving it.

She heard Tyrion say softly, “You taste so sweet.  Better than the sweetest wine and as smooth as silk.”  He redoubled his efforts and she could feel his beard rough against her contrasting with his clever tongue making her even more heady with desire.  He settled his attentions at the top of her sex, a spot to which her entire body seemed to be connected and she bucked hard against his face. Without conscious thought, her fingers dove into his curls holding him tightly to her.  Shocked at herself, she started to pull back but his answering groan stopped her as well as his hand which he used to hold her own fingers to his scalp, caressing the one wearing the Lannister ring.

Sansa could feel herself slipping away, flying, to what ends she didn’t know.  His tongue was swiping away her sanity slowly. Every muscle in her body was tightening and suddenly there was an enormous shift and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed over her.  Her back arched off the bed, and she threw her head back moaning Tyrion’s name. He intensified his ministrations with vigor excited by her sounds and Sansa held his head even more tightly to her sex until she became too sensitive and pushed him away gently.

Sansa’s eyes were closed and she was breathing very, very hard.  Tyrion had pulled down her skirts with one last lingering kiss on the scar he had first touched only minutes before and settled on the bed beside her.  Once her breathing calmed, she slowly opened her eyes and could see him studying her with a worried look on his face.

“Are you OK?”  he asked in a grave voice looking genuinely concerned.  Sansa turned to look at his serious face but it clashed so much with his wild hair and a slickness of her own making on his lips and beard, she burst out laughing.

“Yes, you dear, sweet, impossible man.  I am beyond OK. I am still somewhere amongst the clouds and stars.”  She said with a shy grin before kissing his face and tasting her own sweetness.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure.” he said with a deep rumble. “I hope I was able to answer your question as well Sansa.” He teased gazing into her eyes with a smile.

“Which one was that?”  Sansa said.

“The one you asked me when we were watching the dragons dance.” he replied with an impish grin.

Realization dawned on Sansa and she blushed as bright red as her hair.  “Yes. Thank you my Lord Tyrion for demonstrating what foreplay is. Now tell me,” she said shifting herself so she was laying on top of him, her waterfall of hair enclosing them so they were sealed off from the rest of the world  “is that it or is there need for more demonstration?”

Tyrion’s hand slid down her back and rested on her behind cupping it with a smile.  “Oh there is so much, much more my Lady. It may take me a lifetime to show it all to you.”

“I look forward to it.”  Sansa said before kissing him once more knowing the hour was closing fast and they would have to leave this room and go back to reality.

*******************************************************************************************************

Bronn lay in the giant four poster bed, alone, as Anna had just slipped out the door.  She had tried to leave about a half hour earlier to slip out of the castle and return to her boys but Bronn had pulled her back into bed and lost himself in her yet again.  He was not a young man and no stranger to the pleasures of a woman but last night...last night had been a new experience for him.

The first time had been frantic, powerful, and all too fast as both of them had not been with a partner in quite some time.  The second time had been sensual and hot as she rode him to a mind numbing climax. It was the third time that had been new to him, that he couldn’t stop thinking about.  

They had both fallen asleep for a short time and he had awoken to Anna in his arms draped across him, his nose buried in her curly brown hair.  He had felt something shift deep inside him then and it wasn’t his cock for round three, not yet at least. It was like a part of him that had been empty for as long as he remembered, so long he forgot it even existed, was suddenly and completely full.  Slowly, she had stirred awake in his arms and he had captured her lips with his in a long, deep, lingering kiss trying to convey these unsettling yet wonderful feelings in his chest. He had kissed and touched her all over until she was panting and aching for him but even then he had not taken her roughly as was his normal desire.  He had gone slow and gentle watching her the entire time, amazed at this dynamic woman sharing her body with him, sharing herself with him. She keened and sighed, and wrapped herself around him begging for more...more and he had obliged by making his strokes deeper but still slow and gentle.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her and when she came apart underneath him he had never seen anything more beautiful and chased her release with a very powerful one of his own.  He had never had sex in all his life like that and wondered if this is what those damn romantic twats meant by making love.

He got out of bed examining himself in the mirror.  When had he gotten so godsdamn old? Sure he was fitter than most men his age or younger and still a hell of a fighter, but his face was weather worn and covered with lines.  Some days more than others, he felt himself closing in on the time he’d have to hang up his sword. The cold of this fuckin’ freezing hell surely didn’t help his joints, not that he’d let anybody know he was slowing down.  He sighed, wondering if he’d survive the battle to come and to be honest a part of him didn’t expect to. And after that what? Deposing of the the bitch sister of the Lannister brothers? Would he see the south again? Did he even want too?  The thought of leaving the North had lost all appeal. Hell, the thought of a castle and a highborn lady had lost its allure as well. He had known for a bit now, but after last night he knew for sure. He’d give up everything just for that feeling he had last night holding Anna, loving Anna, to continue for the rest of his days.  He wanted a home, family, all the things he never had and didn’t even know he wanted. Bronn looked back at the rogue in the mirror and didn’t even know who he was anymore. The identity he had clung to for the better part of four decades was slowly being stripped away and it was fuckin’ disconcerting.

After cleaning himself up, he dressed looking around Tyrion’s room.  He wanted to clear out before the servant’s came around, but decided to stay just a bit longer hoping he would catch the dwarf.  He recalled the look of despair that Tyrion had carried last night when he had left the hall after Sansa had disappeared. Bronn wasn’t sure what happened.  His plan had worked perfectly with Sansa clearly jealous of Anna’s flirting with Tyrion. Hell, Jamie’s advice to his brother had even been on the mark as Tyrion had finally, publicly told Sansa in a roundabout way how he felt with that toast and poem.  Anybody with a clue of their relationship and half a brain would have seen that. Maybe, he shouldn’t have congratulated himself so much on his matchmaking prowess after all and be content that at least he helped one fucking Lannister brother get the woman of his dreams.  With that thought, another unsettling feeling he was unfamiliar with settled in his chest. Guilt. He probably just should have left fucking well enough alone with Tyrion’s love life. One victory had made him cocky.

All of these new very feelings made him feel very raw and not the man he thought himself of at all.  Perhaps that’s why the first words out of his mouth when Tyrion returned to his room a few moments later were “I’m sorry.”

Startled, Tyrion approached Bronn his hood up and the dim light of the edges of the dawn barely revealing his face.  “Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have interfered.  Your life, Lady Sansa’s life is none of my business.  I’m a great fuckin’ cunt and I thought I was so fuckin’ smart trying to make her jealous.  I just...thought. Well, hells! You’ve been such a mopey pain in the ass, I thought a push was needed!”

“A push by making Sansa jealous?”  Tyrion questioned sounding both incredulous and angry.

“I thought it worked too, for a minute.  You didn’t see her eyes but man she looked every second a territorial she-wolf when you were talking with Anna.  But maybe I just saw what I hoped for you. After she left, your brother and I were worried about you and then you disappeared too before we could talk to you.”  Bronn said.

“I should have known a beautiful woman like Anna wouldn’t have flirted with me willingly.  I gather you put her up to it.” Tyrion replied.

“Me and Brienne.”  Bronn replied.

“Oh good, my new sister is as bad as her husband.”  Tyrion said glumly.

“She didn’t do it for you.  She did it for Sansa.” Bronn answered defending the lady knight. “For what it’s worth, Anna said flirting with you was no chore and that you are “Handsome, charming and a catch for a lucky woman.”  Not exactly the words about another man you want to here from the lady you are in bed with.”  he said with a smirk.

Tyrion walked around the room, looking closely at both the door and the bed before returning to sit next to Bronn by the dormant fire.  His face still mostly hidden in the hood his eyes bored into Bronn’s. “She saw you. There.” pointing at the bed. “Well not you, Anna.  Was that part of your plan too? To make Sansa think I was fucking another woman? That’s low even for you.”

“Gods no!”  Bronn sputtered.  “Fuck, fuck. No, Gods.”  He looked at Tyrion with genuine remorse.  “It never even occurred to me.” He stood up “I’ll find her, straighten this out.”  He hurried for the door before pausing and then wheeled back, stomping and leaning over Tyrion.  “How the fuck do you know she saw us you little shit? She already knows it wasn’t you doesn’t she?”

Bronn could see his eyes twinkling.  “She found me across the hall after she saw Anna on top of somebody in my bed.  Good for you by the way.” he said with a trace of humor in his voice.

“AND?”  Bronn practically shouted.

“She was upset, crying, thinking I was with another woman.”  Tyrion replied steepling his hands in front of him.

“AND?”  Bronn questioned loudly, wanting to shake the little man.

“She kissed me and told me I was suppose to be with her.”  Tyrion said wistfully, and gave Bronn a heartfelt smile.

“Fuck me.”  Bronn said plopping back down on the couch.  “What then?”

“Somethings are private.  Somethings are yet unresolved.”  Tyrion said pushing back his hood.  Bronn took one look at his face and burst out laughing.

“You better clean your face if you want those things to remain private m’lord.”  Bronn said mockingly hitching his belt and heading for the door. Tyrion moved to the mirror seeing Sansa’s arousal still in his beard.

“Tell me my Lord Tyrion, how do you like the Winterfell Red?”  Bronn guffawed, all traces of guilt evaporating.

Tyrion just smiled into the mirror, seeing Bronn reflected in the background.  “A vintage so exquisite another shall never touch my lips.” he said wryly.

Bronn laughed all the way down the hall, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Yep, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, matchmaker extraordinaire.”  And starting to be a lovesick fool of his own, he thought with a longing sigh wondering how soon he could sneak into town to see Anna and her boys.

Chapter Text

Sansa headed back to her room, her heart full and still with Tyrion as he headed for his own quarters.  She could still feel the slickness between her legs from the pleasure Tyrion had given her and it made her feel so gloriously alive.   Her small clothes stuffed up her sleeve like a handkerchief made her feel a bit like a slattern, but it also made her feel like she had learned one of the secrets of the universe, the factor that motivated a huge part of men’s and women’s desires.

Although the physical pleasure had left her both delirious and giddy, it was truly the joy of love and being loved that made her soul want to sing. Her heart ached thinking of the last sweet kiss they shared and the promise of more to come.  They had agreed to meet later that day as soon as they could. So many thing were still unresolved and there were so many things still to discuss. There were a mountain of obstacles (not one but two wars to come, the duties of a Hand to his Queen, the duties of the Lady of Winterfell)  for them to overcome but she knew if any two people could do it they could. Between his cleverness (and hers to be honest), and her Stark stubbornness and Tully heart ( Family, Duty, Honor ) not even the Gods could keep them apart if they so desired.  

She reached her room, not seeing a single soul, and was startled to find a figure lying on her bed.  Arya lay on her bed fully dressed on top of the covers, breathing softly, and looking deceptively innocent and childlike.  Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she saw her sister looking...so soft. She truly was beautiful, and those who had know her Aunt Lyanna said Arya was just like her and Aunt Lyanna’s beauty and spirit had caused a war between two men of which Westeros was still suffering.  

Quietly, Sansa made her way towards the bed in hopes of slipping in next to her sister without disturbing her.  She should have known better, Arya was wired like a seasoned warrior now and came awake all at once sitting up rapidly on the bed, her dagger springing into her hand and a look of hardened warriness on her face.  The innocent child was gone.

“Arya, it’s just me.”  Sansa whispered.

“Where did you go? I couldn’t find you.  I was….worried.” Arya said with concern coloring her words.  “You left so suddenly after Tyrion’s speech. I thought you might need sometime to yourself to sort out…”  She huffed out a breath, blowing her hair out of her face. “Whatever it is you feel for him.”

Sansa moved to the other side of the bed laying down, her excitement of the events of the night finally catching up to her.  She sighed contently settling into the feather bed, eyes closed, her head resting on the pillow. Arya laid back down as well, turning and facing her.

“I was confused.”  Sansa finally said.  “For so long, after everything that has happened, I’ve felt hollow, empty, encased in ice.  All of my softness, gone. The girl that loved romantic songs and stories, gone. Hope, gone.  My heart, gone. Just anger, fear, and hatred kept me going.” She grabbed Arya’s hand. “I think you understand how I feel.”  Arya nodded her head.

“It can keep you going for a while.”  Arya whispered.

“But it’s not enough to make life worth living.”  Sansa replied

“For some, not for us.  We had love here, a family here, and we want to create it again.  The four of us are together again, a pack, but it’s different now.  We’re different.” Arya replied revealing some of her softer side and Sansa had never loved her more.

“Yes, we’ve grown, become hardened, become adults.  You and Jon have been lucky and found love, increasing our pack.”  She gave Arya an inquisitive look. “Did you know the Queen carries his babe?”

“I made some assumptions, based on the chamber pots I emptied from her rooms disguised as a maid.”  Arya replied totally nonchalant about spying on the queen. “How did you find out?”

“After I left the hall last night, one of the places I ended up was the dragon’s field.  I spoke with her. She truly does love our brother desperately. I can see it, she wants to rule Westeros with him, and the way she touched her stomach ”  Sansa imitated it and immediately felt a touch of envy. “it was obvious. And Arya, “ she brightened smiling “I saw Jon ride Rhaegal. He’s a dragonrider now!”

“Jon’s fate was always so much more than the bastard of Winterfell.  Little did we know how far he’d rise. No man is more honorable and no one deserves it more.  He deserves all the happiness in the world. So do you Sansa.” She reached out and held Sansa’s hand.  “What else happened last night? Where did you go?”

“I went to the Godwoods to pray hoping to find father’s voice.  I was frightened and overwhelmed by all that Tyrion said and what I might feel for him.  And I was haunted by a single question asked by Jamie Lannister of all people.” She confessed.

“About Tyrion.”

“Yes.”

“Do you love him Sansa?”  Arya asked softly.

Sansa’s eyes widened.  “How did you know that was what Ser Jamie asked me?”

Arya smiled “I didn’t sister.  But do you?”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears.  “I do. I’m completely and utterly in love with him.  I knew it in the Godwoods but was only brave enough to do something about it after Daenerys asked me to officially annul Tyrion and I’s marriage and the thought of him marrying another crushed me.  I went to his room to find him to tell him how I feel and that’s when I saw that women he was talking to last night naked on his bed moaning.”

Arya clutched her hand desperately “You know that wasn’t him right?”

“I do, but who was in that in Tyrion’s bed with her since you seem to know so much.” Sansa asked frowning.

“The woman’s name is Anna and she’s been seeing Bronn.  I think he may actually have real feelings for her.”

“They were really having a good time last night that’s for sure.”  Sansa giggled. “It’s hard to picture Bronn in love with anybody but himself.”

“Time changes everybody Sansa and with the wars to come, we need to seize happiness when and where we can.  It could be over tomorrow.” She paused studying Sansa’s face. “I take it you found Tyrion since you know it wasn’t him.”

“I fled to the library thinking he was with her.  Tyrion was sleeping in there. I was so relieved and so happy, I took my little sister’s advice.  I made the first move and I kissed him.” Sansa said with a smile.

“Oh, Sansa, I’m so happy for you and proud of you for being brave.  I’ve tried not to pry to bring up bad memories but I know this is not easy for you.  So what now? Are you together? Going to remarry? Where will you live?”

“I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.  I know I love him and the thought of being parted from him is devastating.  I don’t think I could be separated from him now like mother and father were but I know Jon and Daenerys will need him in King’s Landing for awhile should they take the throne.  However, my duty is here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. We’ve survived worse but I’m not sure how much my heart could take being parted from him now.”

“Sansa, you are not the only Stark.  I will never be the Lady you are but I could take up the duties for a time, just not forever.  You know just as much about the houses and politics of King’s Landing as Tyrion and would be as invaluable to our new King and Queen as he is.”  Arya said seriously. “It might also help me learn if I would want to be the lady of a castle. Jon’s been making some noises about legitimizing Gendry and giving him Storm’s End.  I think he really wants it, wants to marry me and make me his Lady but I don’t know if it’s what I want. Being the temporary Lady of Winterfell might let me sort some of that out.” Arya said with almost a pained look on her face.  Sansa was beginning to wonder if maybe Arya and her blacksmith were meant to be. Only time would tell.

“Oh, Arya!  I promise it won’t be forever.  I have no intention of raising my family anywhere but here.  Maybe, just maybe this could work. I suppose I should talk to my husband about the future we’re planning for both of us.”  Sansa said.

“Husband?  So you do plan on remarrying?”  Arya said.

Sansa pulled her left hand out from the pillow and Arya gasped at the large wedding ring on her finger.  “As far as I’m concerned I’ve always been married to the same sweet, lovely man and was never the wife of that monster.”  She said. “I have no desire to be given away again like some piece of property in some wedding. All that’s still needed is the consummation and I have every intention of inviting my husband in my bed tonight and for all the nights to come.  So little sister, if you choose to come to my bed again in the morning, you’ll find the other half occupied.”

“The prospect of being bedded no longer frightens you?”  Arya said.

“No.  Tyrion is kind and gentle.  I love him and I believe he loves me too.  We never said those exact words last night, but the way he kissed me and touched me, I know it to be true.”  Sansa said breathlessly.

Arya smirked and laughed  “So that explains why your small clothes are shoved up your sleeve like a naughty wench!”

Sansa flushed bright red and hit her sister with a pillow.  Arya just laughed. “I’m happy for you sister. We all need a good ravishing every once in awhile!”

****************************************************************************************************

Tyrion cleaned himself up and sat at his desk, pondering the future.  Trying to figure out how to keep Sansa and himself together, the thought of losing her more than he could bear.  He knew of course they would have to live at Winterfell. Sansa had made it clear. Having his children be of the name Stark was of no matter to him nor was being Lord of Winterfell.  He just wanted Sansa and he wanted to make her happy. He would have to resign as Hand of the Queen but he couldn’t do that until Daenerys and he guessed Jon as her King were secure on the throne.  As plans circled in his head, he became drowsy after the activities of the night and passed out on the desk dreaming of a future with Sansa at his side.

He was woken by a figure sitting opposite him.  He knew who it was before he even opened his eyes the way you only can do with those closest to you.  He muttered into the desk “What could possibly drag you from your bride’s bed to my door so early, brother?”

“First of all it’s not that early any more, and secondly I truly love but two in this world little brother.  I know the welfare of my wife. I do not know however how you are doing. After your toast, when Sansa disappeared, you looked so forlorn and before I could talk to you, you were gone as well.  I am glad you followed my advice but am sad it didn't work out as I had hoped. I guess it is better to know than not to know.” Jamie said sadly but with a hint of remorse in his voice.

“Who says it didn’t work out as hoped.”  Tyrion said groggily raising his head and meeting Jamie’s surprised looked with a smile.

“You found her?”  Jamie said.

“She found me and then she kissed me.”  Tyrion said sitting back in his chair.

Jamie raised his eyebrows and let out a huge sigh of relief.  “Good. Father treated you abysmally for your entire life, but I think he inadvertently may have done you the biggest favor by marrying you to Sansa.”

Tyrion silently agreed but it did not make him think any more kindly of Tywin Lannister. “Last night she showed me she had kept her gaudy Lannister wedding ring, she kept it to remind herself of me.  She brought it all this way, hid it from Baelish and the Bolton bastard. That means something doesn’t it?”

“Yes it means something.  I vaguely remember this ring.  It was an over the top Lannister gold/ruby/lion monstrosity much like the sword my wife wears.”

“Yes, Tywin Lannister was very insistent on marking his property.  May he burn in the hell I sent him to.” Tyrion took a drink of his wine and looked down after seeing the pained look in Jamie’s eyes at his statement.  “I regret many things in my life Jamie. Sending father to hell is the least of them. You only know a fraction of the abuses I suffered under that man’s thumb.  All of them because I had the audacity to live.”

“I am sorry for any role I played in all of that.  The girl, your wife..” Jamie looked at him with genuine despair in his eyes.

“Tysha.”  Tyrion choked out wondering if he would ever say her name without pain.

“It wasn’t my idea you know.  Father told me to make a man out of you, he was trying to marry you off and you were so shy you wouldn't even talk to or look at a girl.  I knew nothing of whores so I had some friends of mine arrange it.” He looked guiltily at the floor. “Had I an inkling of what was to happen, I would have told father to go to hell myself.”

“There’s no point in us revisiting the past anymore, brother.  We are both sorry for the hurts we have caused the other. I know I will probably need to talk about... Tysha. ..with Sansa soon, so please let’s drop the subject.  I only have so much emotional energy and I’m saving it for my wife.”  Tyrion said.

“Wife?”  Jamie replied sounding pleased for his brother.

“Didn’t you say your Septon friend says we are still married by the laws of the Seven?  I’m hopelessly in love with her and she told me she wants to be with me.  Last I saw her she wore her wedding ring proudly and kissed me more tenderly than I knew was possible.  So yes, she is my wife in my heart at least.”

“And her bed?”  Jamie teased.

“I’ve waited this long.  I’ll continue to wait. A turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes for her to be ready.”  Tyrion said.

“And if this marriage upsets your Dragon Queen’s plans?”  Jamie said.

“This union was in place before I came into her service.  She will just have to adjust her plans accordingly.”

“And if she still objects?”

“Fuck the Queen.  I’ll resign my post as father resigned from her father’s service.  My wife comes first.”

Jamie just laughed “Hear me roar?”

“Yes”  Tyrion chuckled repeating the Lannister house words.  “Hear me roar, indeed.”

They were still talking when Missandei tapped on the door.  “Our Queen calls us to her chambers.” she addressed Tyrion

“War Council?”  Tyrion replied thinking it was rather early in the day.

“No she said it was of a personal matter.  I was just to gather you and Ser Jorah as well as the Stark siblings.”

Tyrion willingly hopped off his chair curious to see what Daenerys wanted but even more excited about seeing Sansa.

******************************************************************************************************

“Tonight?”  Sansa said incredulously.  “I can’t possibly pull off a wedding in a few hours!  Especially a Royal one!”

“Lady Sansa, Jon and I both want to be married.  Just a simple ceremony under the Weirwood tree with our friends and family there.  No one else even need know until later.” she held Jon’s hand and stared up at him lovingly as he stood beside her chair.

Jon said “Sansa, you know the long night is upon us.  It’s very important to me that my child not be born a bastard if I fall in the war ahead.”  Daenerys looked shocked at Jon as if he had said to much, but then noticing the expressions on the six people gathered, that all of them already knew of her condition.

“Who will marry you?”  Jorah asked.

“Sansa will as Lady of Winterfell in Northern tradition if she agrees.”  Jon replied

“Of course.”  Sansa said flattered.

“Ser Jorah, will you escort me down the aisle?  You are my oldest and dearest friend and nothing will make me happier.”  Daenerys said sincerely.

“It would be my greatest honor.”  Jorah replied. Tyrion felt bad for the old knight but knew his words to be true.

“Then it’s settled.”  They set a time and listed a handful more guests to be invited.  Everyone started to leave including Jon when Daenerys called to Tyrion “Not you Lord Hand, I have a separate matter for you.”

After they left, she handed Tyrion a scroll.  “I already talked to Lady Sansa about this so I took the liberty of having Maester Wolkan draft a document.”

Tyrion opened the scroll reading.

We Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock and Sansa Stark of Winterfell attest to the invalidity of our marriage based on non consummation and coercion by outside parties.  We apply for the dissolution and annulment of our marriage in the Faith of the Seven by a decree from the newly appointed High Septon or Council of the Faith.

He noticed two lines left for signatures and was relieved to see Sansa’s was not on there yet.  “I will discuss this with Lady Sansa.” he said tightly before quickly leaving the room and a puzzled Daenerys behind.

****************************************************************************************************

Daenerys had just finished getting ready to leave for the War Council when a knock came at her door.

She opened the door finding a troubled looking Arya Stark.  “We need to talk with you. It’s important.”

“We?”  She looked out into the hall and noticed Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime as well.

She let them in sitting on her chair regally her hands in her lap.  “Very well, what is it?”

Arya cast a glance at Jamie before he answered, “Our siblings your Grace.  We come to you on behalf of the welfare of Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa.”

“I’m listening.”  Daenerys leaned forward intrigued before learning the most interesting thing about her Hand and future good sister’s relationship.  Once she did, she felt ill but it had nothing to do with her pregnancy and she wished she had never given Tyrion that scroll.

Mournfully, Daenerys confessed her hasty act, to the groans of unhappiness of the three in front of her.

Arya sighed.  “I have a plan and hopefully this annulment nonsense won’t affect it.”  She told the others of her plan and soon the four were nodding in agreement, the four of them especially pleased by the details.

Brienne and Jaime left shortly.  “Will it work?” Brienne said.

“It is rather brilliant, and I’m sad I didn’t think of it myself.”  Jamie said. “Of course it will work. Love will always find a way.” and he kissed her thanking the Gods they were together and hoping for the same happiness for his brother.

Chapter Text

Podrick hadn’t meant to fall asleep outside Lady Stark’s door but last night had been very long and very wonderful. He smiled thinking of the Lady that he had danced with several times.  Podrick always felt shy and ungainly around girls and had a difficult time talking to them. However last night, with Lady Brienne’s encouragement, he had met and danced with a young Lady who turns out was just as awkward as he.  After they bumbled through the steps and had both stepped on each other’s feet multiple times, they had both limped to the side of the dance floor laughing. Suddenly the awkwardness evaporated, and they talked for hours even dancing a few more times.  He had never felt anything like it, had never had fun like that with a girl close to his age. He had never courted a girl before, let alone a Lady of a Northern house. But maybe if he survived the next battle and was knighted, and Gods know he was getting a little old to be a squire, he may be able to be considered as a possible suitor for her.

His eyes heavy he tried to stay awake because Lord Tyrion had asked him, no entrusted him, with a very important message for Lady Stark that was to be hand delivered to her.  And of course he said he would. He was no longer Lord Tyrion’s squire but he respected and loved the man.  Not that he’d ever say that to him but Lord Tyrion had been good to him when so many had dismissed him over being clumsy and gawky.  But he was a good man and he hadn’t just been good to him but also to Lady Stark when she had been his wife.  Podrick was one of the few people that knew the depth of their relationship from the beginning and he knew he had been only one of a handful of people that had known that speech and poem last night were for Lady Stark and not for the bride and groom.  He groggily remembered the pinched look on Lord Tyrion’s face when he asked him to make sure nobody saw the scroll but her. He hoped that it was nothing that would keep them apart. He had always thought they were perfect for each other, and it was even more evident now than when they were first married.  But maybe he was just a romantic..maybe Lord Tyrion could help him...find a poem for Lady Karstark (“ Call me Alys ” she had said after he had escorted her to her room and kissed her hand.) he thought sleepily before he finally slumped to the floor head on his chest.

He was awoken by a gentle tap on the shoulder, his dreams of a dance where he and the lady moved elegantly across the dance floor disappeared.  He blinked up at Lady Stark, who looked even more beautiful than ever and softer somehow. Between her and Queen Daenerys it was no wonder why some women, no matter how kind and lovely, felt inadequate.  Podrick sensed some of that from Alys last night and he understood as somebody always in the shadows himself. But during their second attempt at dancing, she had looked him in a way that made his heart stop, like he was a man, and not some goofy, oafish boy.  From that point on she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“Late night Podrick?”  Lady Stark teased gently.

Yes, he thought definitely softer, “I have a message for your from Lord Tyrion.”  he said and her lips smiled slightly. Podrick couldn’t help but smile in return realizing that Lord Tyrion was the source of her new softness.

She opened the door beckoning him inside.  He scrambled to his feet and followed her, with the message clutched tight in his hand.  While making eye contact with a resolve he didn’t know he had “May I speak with you freely Lady Stark about a personal matter?”  He asked quickly. She arched her eyebrow in surprise. He could tell she was desperate to read the message he had but her curiosity at his boldness intrigued her.

“Of course Podrick, you have my attention.”  she said indicating the chair in front of her desk.   Pod sat in the chair, but it felt wrong. He was so use to standing and serving those of a station above him that he felt strange sitting and looking eye to eye with the Lady of Winterfell.

“What do you know of Lady Karstark?”  he asked boldy, afraid he would become craven if he didn’t ask her right away.

If Lady Stark was surprised by the question, she did an excellent job of hiding it. “What I know is her father and grandfather were traitors.” she said coldly.  “I still believe Jon should not have allowed her to keep her title or lands but personally I do not know the Lady. So far she has been true to her word and pledge of fealty to our house.  Only time will tell if she truly is loyal.”

“It’s difficult to be the traitor’s daughter.”  Podrick said his words soft but the underlying meaning more bold than he expected.

Lady Stark’s eyes widened as the realization came crashing in.  “It is difficult to be held accountable to the actions of your family of which you had no part.”  she stared at her hands. “Thank you for reminding me of that Pod.” She sighed. “The only other things I know is that she is the last of the Karstarks and of age with my sister Arya.  Why do you ask these things Pod?”

She glance up at his face and saw a blush creeping up his neck.  With that wordless tell she jumped on his embarrassment with a smile.  “Do you fancy her Podrick Payne?”

Refusing to meet her eyes he said “I had the opportunity to get to know her last night.  Lady Brienne saw that she was shy and was not dancing and didn’t want any Lady to feel left out at her wedding as she had been made to feel as a young lady.  She asked me to dance with her and it turns out we both are terrible at dancing, but we had a grand time talking.” He paused nervously before stammering, “I enjoyed her company.”

“Lady Brienne has the biggest heart of anybody I know.”

“She does my Lady.”

Sansa thought briefly.  “Honestly Pod, not to put the cart before the horse, but I can think of no better way to insure the fealty of house Karstark then to make one of the most loyal and honest men I know it’s Lord.”  Pod blushed again. “War is coming, until then take time to court the Lady and find if you are compatible. May she endeavor to deserve a good man like you.”

Standing to leave after thanking her, he handed over the message from Lord Tyrion.  Before she took it he looked her in the eye, “Lord Tyrion is a good man.”

“One of the best I know.”  she said with a genuine smile.

“I’d hate to see him hurt my Lady.”

“I’d sooner hurt myself.”  she said quietly.

Relieved Pod bowed and left the room, happiness for his friend, and hope for himself filling his chest.  He had just made it to the outside and was wondering what he should do when he heard a door slam and Lady Stark came storming out of her room clutching a crumpled scroll with anger and hurt in her eyes.  As she swept by him he hear her mutter “I’m going to kill him first and then wring her pretty neck with that silver hair.”

Agast, Pod stood there with his mouth open until Ser Jamie came up to him clapping him on the back with his gold hand.  “I thought things were finally going to be settled between Lord Tyrion and her.”

“Don’t worry Pod, we’re going to get this all sorted out tonight.” Jamie said with a smile in his voice.

“Not another Bronn plan!”  Pod said with a nervous wail.

“Gods no.  Lady Arya’s idea and brilliant one at that.  I promise it will all work out.”

“Good.”  Pod said relieved.

Escorting Pod through the yard Jamie slung his arm around the young man laughing “Now tell me of this young Lady you danced through the night with.”

*******************************************************************************************************

Sansa was so beyond furious, she couldn’t even see straight as she barrelled past Pod, Ser Jamie, and countless others striding towards Tyrion’s room.  The frozen air did nothing to cool her temper but her anger was quickly being joined by heartache which dulled the angry edge in its own horrible way.

She glanced briefly into the library as she stroad by, unable to breathe suddenly as she remembered kissing Tyrion there last night and the joy that had filled her body as he kissed her back.  Why on earth would he write her this note after all they had shared? The annulment was clearly the work of Daenerys, written in Maester Wolkan’s hand, and as much as she wanted to strangle the Queen she was clueless regarding the wants and feelings of herself and Tyrion in such matters.  Tyrion on the other hand…

Sansa-

My Lady, our queen has had a formal annulment for our marriage drafted for us to sign.  She indicated that she had already talked to you about such matters. I understand completely if this is what you need to create the life you want for you and your people.   A marriage between us will require sacrifice on both our parts and I understand if your duty comes first causing you to seek a legal untangling from myself. I just need you to know that despite this, I will be your friend and humble servant for all of eternity.  

-Tyrion

Sansa flung open the door to Tyrion’s room without a thought or a knock, entering and slamming the door with a bang.  Angrily she threw the lock so nobody could interrupt them. It was only a two hours until the royal wedding and she would have things settled before then for her own sanity.

“Seven hells!” shouted a startled, angry voice from the otherside of a privacy screen.  She saw a hand move the screen revealing Tyrion’s head and neck peeking out of the top of a large copper tub.  Apparently, she had interrupted his bath. Embarrassment flooded her face adding to the maelstrom of strong emotions threatening to drown her.  Her feelings were reflected in his face along with the vulnerability of being naked in front of somebody. That sweet, vulnerable look on his face was almost enough to break her.  Almost.

Trembling in anger and fear, ( fear of what she thought? fear of losing him her heart answered ) she held up the scroll and in a voice that wavered more than she liked “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.  She threw the scroll on his desk in disgust and averted her eyes from his nude form turning her back to him. “Do you really think after last night and all that was said and done I’d want an annulment?  Do you know how demeaning and hurtful that is? I shared things with you that I shared with no one. Thoughts and secrets, scars and hurts, and you send me that note with that thrice damned annulment!”

“Sansa I--”

“I know our marriage will cause complications.  I thought that we were going to meet tonight to discuss logistics, not whether or not we were recommitting to our marriage.  We are two of the cleverest people in the kingdoms, there’s nothing we can’t figure out if we really want it. In fact I’ve already discussed things with Arya and she’s willing to stay here and rule temporarily so I can go South with you, Jon, and Daenerys.  But now you send me this note and I don’t know if you even actually know me like I thought you did to think that this annulment was my idea.” Sansa paused only to breathe simmering still with hurt and anger.

“Sansa, please..”

“Are you trying to break my heart Tyrion?” she finally said as the tears finally started to form.  “Because that’s what you are doing.”

“Look at me Sansa.”  Tyrion said his voice tremulous and deep.

She turned to look and could see Tyrion from his chest up in the bath leaning over the side desperate to see her face.  Just the glimpse of his damp curls, imploring face, and smattering of chest hair was enough to make her wounded heart race.

Tyrion took in a deep breath before holding her gaze. “I love you. I love you more than anyone or anything in this whole fucked up dying world.  I love you with a depth of love I didn’t know existed or that I was capable of. I love your mind, your tenacity, your fierceness. I even think part of me has loved you since that day we wed five years ago in the Sept.  I love that you look at me and see me for a real man, not just the drunken dwarf characterture everybody else sees me as.”

“Tyrion”  Sansa said breathlessly wanting to tell him that she felt the same.

“Please don’t speak Sansa.  If you feel anything like I do for you, you wouldn’t want the first time somebody tells you what’s in their heart to be a parroted reciprocation and if you don’t feel the same my heart just can’t take that right now.”

She noticed that his eyes were starting to look red now too causing fresh tears to stream down her face.  He loved her, really truly and honestly loved her.

“I’m sorry about the note.  I wrote it in shock after Daenerys gave that damned annulment to me.  I was upset, not thinking, still raw from last night. I’m a stupid, stupid man who’s always prepared to have any possibility of happiness taken from me.  I thought that you had come to your senses and may have started to regret what happened between us. You deserve so much better than me.”

“I want, no I deserve a man that loves me for me, just Sansa and I believe you are that man.  And you are not a stupid man but my impossible man, and you love me.” Sansa said as all the feelings from last night came flooding back into her body.

“With all my heart and every inch of my small form.”  Tyrion said smiling ruefully gazing at her with a look of unabashed worship.

“Even now, you can’t stop mocking yourself.”  Sansa said sternly. “Around me, that stops now.  An insult to my husband is an insult to me as well.”

“Yes wife.” he said with a smile resting his head on his arms and staring at her adoringly.

As her love for this man overflowed her heart and filled her body, she made a decision.  “Close your eyes Tyrion.” Sansa said, her voice a bit low and husky from both the yelling and crying.

“Why?”

“You won’t let me tell you how I feel, so I guess I’ll have to show you.  Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say.” Sansa said in a stronger voice.

He closed his eyes leaning back in the tub.  With trembling fingers, Sansa undid the ties to her dress letting it fall to the floor, removing her shift and small clothes too.  She piled her hair into a sloppy bun on top of her head adjusting her usual clips and braids. Scared out of her mind but positive this was what she wanted, she approached Tyrion’s tub naked as the day she was born.

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Tyrion laid back in the tub smiling.  He was in love and if he was very lucky his beautiful wife was coming over to give him a kiss.  He couldn’t imagine why else she would ask him to close his eyes. Luckily, the bath salts and soap had made the water cloudy so she would be spared seeing most of his naked form.  He heard her footsteps as she approached waiting for her to lean down to him.

“Move forward.”  Sansa said gently.

Surprised, Tyrion did as requested but was disappointed that she didn’t kiss him.  Perhaps she wanted to wash his hair? The thought of her fingers digging into his scalp was enough to make parts of him aroused.

Suddenly, he both heard and felt as she stepped into the tub behind him and his eyes flew open in shock just as Sansa said  “Eyes closed Tyrion.” She knelt behind him and he could feel her arm graze his own as she reached for the soap and washcloth.  Slowly, sensuously, she began washing his back. One hand gripping his neck lightly, she started circling the thumb in massaging circles massaging away the tension she found there.  Tyrion couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the way her hands felt on his bare skin. She took the time to touch and rub every inch of skin on his exposed back before moving her hands to his hair.  She sighed audibly as she began to wash his hair.

“I adore these curls, it’s been hard to keep my hands out of them since I dreamt of them a few days ago.”  Sansa whispered in his ear making his cock harden.

“You dreamt…”  Tyrion cleared his throat feeling choked up.  “Of me?” he finally uttered throatily.

“Yes.  I dreamt of Winterfell years in the future, of my family, and I kept running my fingers through the hair of a small figure by my side.  At first I thought it was one of my children, but then I saw your face looking at me full of love and devotion. Nothing had felt more real or more right and from that moment and I knew you were suppose to mine.”  Sansa said as she moved closer to him and he could feel her breasts touching his back as she massaged his scalp, tenderly washing his hair.

Tyrion simultaneously felt more aroused and more relaxed than he had in his entire life.  It took every ounce of self control not to turn around and kiss her, to bury his head between her breasts and devour her lean body with his eyes and hands.  Instead he kept his eyes tightly shut as she had asked and his hands to himself, gripping the sides of the tub as if he were endanger of drowning. And he was drowning, in her scent, her touch, her very existence.

She finished washing his hair and shifted in the bath, settling on her bottom, stretching her long alabaster legs to the sides of his stunted ones.  She then proceeded to encircle his chest with her arms pulling him back to lay his head on her chest. Feeling the soft pillowyness of her breasts he sighed audibly.  “I know now I’m not dreaming. I have fallen in battle and I am now in one of the seven heavens.” he said with a teasing voice. He moved his hand to her calves, unable to keep from touching her any longer.

Sansa’s fingers had been starting to dance through his chest hair when they stopped.  “Please don’t say such things. I couldn’t bare it if something happens to you. I feel like you have pierced my soul with love and light and I simply could not survive fading into the dark again.”

“As long as I have breath in my body, I am yours.”  He grabbed one of her hands kissing it firmly, wishing he could kiss more.  “And you are stronger than you think, my love.”

Her legs and arms tightened around him and he could feel the course hair of her womanhood brushing his body eliciting a groan of frustration as his cock became painfully hard.  He tried to concentrate just on the pleasurable sensation of being bathed and touched so lovingly but the touch and smell of Sansa was becoming overwhelming as well as the need to release his seed.  He wasn’t quite sure if it would do more harm to ask her to leave, or to take himself in hand. As he was just working up the courage to move away from her embrace, her hand with the washcloth moved lower accidentally grazing his engorged member.

He hissed in both pain and pleasure bucking at the touch, sitting upright and alarming Sansa.  “Sorry, did I hurt you?” she said her voice tinged with worry and sweetly naive to the plight her touch had caused him.

“Gods, no my sweet Lady.  But I think maybe I should finish up by myself.”  he said.

“Oh” she said sounding hurt and and yet her fingers still clung to his chest.   He gently grabbed her hand so she wouldn’t pull away from him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her thinking he was rejecting her so he just said honestly “I haven’t been with a woman since we were married.  And now the woman I love, who is also breathtakingly beautiful even though she’s being evil and not letting me look at her, is sharing my bath. I’m afraid there are parts of my body, that are enjoying your presence, far, far too much and my control is at its limit.”

His outburst was met with complete silence.  Finally, a small voice said “Who would have thought that Tyrion Lannister, the famous whoremonger of Westeros, is a true and loyal husband?   Even though his foolish young bride would not share is bed.”

“Tyrion Lannister became the drunken, celibate dwarf of Essos is what happened.  And I won’t lie Sansa, it wasn’t about you, most of it was about me. But no I haven’t had a woman touch me intimately since Shae, since before we were wed.  So now my body is reacting like a starving man at a feast.”

“Well” she said with a coy lilt of humor in her voice, “I can’t let my husband starve now can I?”  She pressed her breasts tightly to his back before reaching around to find his manhood. They both gasped audibly, for different reasons, when she grasped his shaft firmly.  Experimentally, she started moving her hand slowly up and down his length before whispering in his ear “Show me how to please you.” echoing what he has asked her this morning.

Tyrion moved his hand to cover hers, guiding her movements, showing her the way to pump him that made him pant and groan.  As she became more confident in her strokes, she leaned forward to kiss his neck and ear, tightening her thighs around him as she became more aroused herself.  Knowing he wouldn’t last long, he braced himself to the tub before abandoning himself to the ecstasy of Sansa’s touch. Her touch, her kisses, her sweet whispers were too much for him to take.  With a deep groan, he arched his back, spilling his seed into the wash cloth in a shuddering climax causing spots to appear before his closed eyes. Sansa continued to stroke him until he softened and he grabbed her hand pulling both of her arms around his chest tightly.  She held him close, so close, and sighed softly, contentedly in his ear. At that sigh was his undoing, and to his shame he began to quietly weep.

He wept for the child, that had only been touched reluctantly and often in disgust by servants.  He wept for the young man that had been so starved for love and affection he had fallen in love with the first girl that had smiled at him( he was so clever, he should have seen the lie) .  He wept for the girl that had bedded and wedded him and the punishment she had received from his father.  He wept for the hardened womanizer who used sex as a way to feel love, to feel intimacy, if only for a fleeting moment.  He wept for the man who had fallen in love with a whore despite knowing better and they had both suffered cataclysmic consequences.  He wept because for the first time in his life he knew the love and caresses he was receiving were pure and genuine, and not that of falsehood and for coin.

Concerned, Sansa held him closer, tightly wrapping herself around him.  Knowing that he was in pain, but not knowing why. Finally she said so quietly,  “Please talk to me, Tyrion. What is going on in that beautiful mind?”

And he told her, he told her everything.  He told her of Casterly Rock, the sneers from the servants, Cersei's and Tywin’s torments.  He told her of Tysha and of the well meaning but ultimately disastrous plan of his brother’s.  He spoke of his first wedding, the two weeks of married bliss, the heartbreaking revelation of the truth, the annulment, his father’s wrath, the soldiers, Tysha’s cries and tears, and the silver coins slipping through her fingers.  He spoke of Shae, of her betrayal, finding her in his father’s bed, the tussle, and his hands on the golden chain.

He couldn’t stop, it was like he was finally excising his soul--laying it open, raw and fetid for her to see the monster he was.  To show her he wasn’t deserving of her love.

He layed in her arms for an eternity, waiting for her to leave him, to push him away in disgust.  Instead she just cradled him softly and whispered through tears of her own “I’m sorry Tyrion. The world is a cruel place and it has been especially cruel to you.  I’m sorry for your suffering but as I told your brother yesterday your struggles have made you the man you were meant to be. I am glad you are as you are. You are perfect to me.”

Stunned by her words and not daring to believe she was not going to leave, he tentatively asked.  “You mentioned something last night about Jamie, what did he say to you Sansa?”

She shifted slightly and he could practically hear the smile in her voice.  “Ask him yourself and tell him the answer to the question he asked me is yes.”

They lay there for a while, not speaking, just holding each other, just being together . Finally Sansa commented,  “I think I have to marry my brother/cousin to his aunt the dragon queen soon.”  She paused to laugh “That may be the strangest thing I’ve ever said.” She kissed his forehead.  “I need to dress husband.”

“I’d rather you didn’t and I’d rather you’d let me open my eyes.”  Tyrion said with a small impish smile on his face.

She splashed water on his face causing him to bolt upright in the tub.  Giggling, she slipped out of the tub. A moment later she said, “You can open your eyes now Tyrion.”

She had wrapped herself in a linen, and stood by the fire drying herself.  The linen barely covered her to mid-thigh, and those gorgeous long legs of hers stretched on for miles.  She had just finished manipulating her hair from it’s bun atop her head, and it cascaded down her back swiftly like a river of fire.  She turned, and gave him a slow, sexy smile that lit up the room and Tyrion knew that he would be mad for this woman the rest of his life.

He stared at her in awe.  “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“I hope you find me just as beautiful tonight under the Weirwood tree.”  she smiled.

“I won’t be able to keep my eyes off you.”  he said speaking only the truth.

She walked back over to the tub and kissed him full on the mouth.  He grabbed her face pulling him to her and they kissed passionately until they were out of breath.  She pulled away and whispered “Close your eyes, again.”

Forever at her command, he did as she wished.  He could hear the rustling of clothes and knew she was dressing.  He thought about peeking, the thought of finally seeing the body that had clutched him against her overwhelming, but decided that there must be a reason for her request.  He didn’t want to violate her trust but he was worried she was still concerned about her scars. He’d happily show her again and again how little he cared about them and how much he desired her.

“You can open them Tyrion.”  She was fully dressed again and holding the scroll again.

“We can talk to her tomorrow.”  Tyrion said nodding at the scroll.

“No, we will tell her tomorrow that we are irrevocably married.”  Sansa said.

“Irrevocably?”  Tyrion said wondering if she truly knew what she was saying.

“Irrevocably.”  Sansa said before tossing the scroll into the fire.  “Your watch is over Tyrion, come to my room tonight and share my bed with me.”

Momentarily speechless, Tyrion finally said “Sansa, you don’t have to do this tonight out of fear.  We can wait, nothing can take me away from you.”

“But you see dear husband, I know that I don’t have to.  I want to.”

Chapter Text

Sansa stood in the Godswood observing all the activity around her.  Missandei had taken upon herself (with Sansa’s blessing and gratitude) to decorate as best she could for a royal wedding.  It was amusing watching the Unsullied soldiers being ordered around to clear a path, light lanterns, and string Targaryen and Stark banners around.  While Sansa adored her brother, she just didn’t have it in her to plan a wedding albeit a small one. It was all she could do to keep her nerves together at the prospect of a wedding under the Weirwood tree.  At least the dragon banners everywhere did a good job of reminding her that this was Jon’s wedding and not the nightmare that haunted her for years. She remembered walking with Theon to the Godswood and being sold again like a broodmare.  Sure she had said the words just as she had to Tyrion in the Sept, but she hadn’t meant it. Not to either of them. She had no choice in the matter, was a commodity to be passed around. Sansa swore to herself she would never be sold again.

It was a tragic thing to hate weddings now.  As a girl it was all she had dreamed of. Making her siblings or friends play with her, forcing one to be the groom usually poor Arya.  She had witnessed a few weddings in the Godswood and a few in her mother’s Sept and they all seemed so romantic at the time. She had planned so many in her head, the dress, the guests, the handsome groom.  Only now she saw them for what they really were, a bill of sale from father to husband tied up in a pretty bow. They made her skin crawl. She hoped in a world where a woman might rule the seven kingdoms, women might have more control over their lives.  

Sansa tried to break out of her thoughts.  This wedding would be different. These were two equals that chose each other out of simple love which brought Tyrion to the forefront of her mind.  She was hopelessly smitten with her little husband and a new influx of nerves and butterflies started when she thought about asking him to bed her tonight.  She studied the Weirwood tree again remembering her father sitting under it, remembering how she prayed to him just the night before and felt her heart open while Ser Jamie’s question circled in her head.  Her nerves quieted. Her father was here, he was always here with her and she just knew he would bless her marriage to Tyrion.

Sansa heard the footsteps approach behind her and was shocked to find that she knew who it was as she would her family, but she supposed he was her family now too.  The Lannister men just put off the same energy, a cocky swagger hiding a world of self-doubt. It was just this Lannister had a longer stride than the one that made her heart race.

“Good evening Ser Jaime.  What brings you to the Godswood so early?  We still have a bit of time before the wedding.”  Sansa said. She turned and gave him a smile, reveling in the fleeting shock she saw on his face.   He was almost as much fun to mess with as his brother.

Ever a Lannister,  Jamie came back at her with a biting comment.  “My wife asked me to keep an eye on her Lady while she was with Lady Arya.  I figured it was as good a time as any to get to know my new sister.” He looked pointedly at her ring finger where he could see a large lump covered by her gloves.  He lowered his voice but addressed her pointedly “My brother has a glass heart under all that intellect and sardonic wit. I’ll not see it shattered again. So I ask you once more, do you love him Lady Sansa?”  His tone was passionate, protective, honest, and raw. For a moment she understood why Brienne and Tyrion loved him so. Perhaps she would in time too.

“Yes.  I love him with an intensity I didn’t know I’d ever feel.” she said truthfully catching his eye and then turning to the Weirwood tree saying a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods for bringing Tyrion back into her life.

“Good.  He deserves nothing less.  Now dear sister, would you like me to escort you to your brother’s chambers so you can check on the groom?” Jamie said offering her his arm.

“Yes, and you can tell me what it was like to grow up being outshined by such a handsome little brother.”  she said playfully as she took his arm.

“I give my brother the kindest, warmest woman in the world as a sister and he gives me a wolf with a wicked bite.  I hardly think this is a good trade.” he said with a wounded pout, his eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Oh it’s exactly what you both needed.  Tyrion needs kindness and acceptance and you need a bit of humility my arrogant new brother.” she said with a laugh.

“You’re not wrong”  he chuckled. He gave her a kind appraising look and she could see his resemblance to Tyrion once again  “I can see why my wife and brother adore you.”

“Come Ser Jaime,  I need a cup of wine before I marry two dragons.”  Sansa said heading back into the keep.

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Tyrion took longer than usual with his appearance before the wedding that evening.  After what Sansa had said, inviting him to her bed tonight, he recognized that this would be his “wedding” night as well.  The least he could do was do what he could with what he had. He contemplated for half a second shaving his beard. The hints of gray in it made him feel old, but Sansa had said she liked it.  His hair was it’s usual mess of curls but Sansa liked that as well. He briefly remembered how her hands had felt in his hair when she washed it earlier while her nubile body had pressed close behind him and he quickly became short of breath his heart hammering in his chest.

He examined his old battle wound.  At least it had faded from the angry red it was when he first married Sansa and was partially hidden by his beard.  His face was starting to look more and more aged with the weathering elements of desert heat in Mereen to the frigid cold here at Winterfell.  At least his new clothing was better suited to him. He preferred the dark woolens of the north to the Lannister red and gold leathers of the South.  And the cuts took his stature into mind better than his old ones which made him feel like a child playing dress up. With one last withering look in the mirror he turned to go.  Sansa deserved someone better looking, a man that could literally sweep her off her feet. But he knew one thing, no one could love her more than he could. No one could respect her, adore her, and challenge her as he could.  And no one would make sure her first love making experience would be as tender and passionate as he would. Although a new wave of anxiety struck him, as he was acutely aware that it would be the first time he would actually make love to a woman that genuinely loved him in return.  His hand shook at the thought and he gulped down a cup of wine before heading for the Godswood.

Tyrion joined his brother and Lady Brienne with the other handful of guests gathered by the Heart tree.  He took the time to admire the beauty of the Wierwood with its long ivory limbs and bright red leaves. He thought of Sansa in the firelight of his room earlier that day and wondered if she was a nymph of the Weirwood tree with their coloring being so similar.  He had a flitting image of a summer day spent here with Sansa in a light flowy gown dancing under the tree. He would weave flowers in her hair, make her laugh with bawdy songs and jokes, and she would be his wood sprite and he would be her dwarven love. Maybe he thought, he’d try a hand at poetry himself, he certainly had a muse now.

He snapped out of his thoughts to see Jamie staring at him with a smile and shaking his head.

“You’re completely smitten brother.”

“Why, because my face looks a lot like yours does recently?”  Tyrion countered.

“Touche”  Jamie smirked before taking an admiring glance at his wife.

The final few guests gathered by the tree and shortly there after the Lady of Winterfell swept down the rudimentary aisle in a pale blue dress with white furs.  Her eyes met Tyrion’s and he could feel them pierce his heart and he believed the red hue to her cheeks wasn’t just the cold. She turned to face the intimate crowd with Bran and Arya by her side.

Jon strode down the aisle every bit a King in his dark furs with Longclaw on his belt and Ghost trailing beside him.  He turned to wait for his bride and was surprised and pleased when Missandei handed him a cloak for the ceremony. She just nodded and smiled and stepped back next to Grey Worm.

As they waited for the bride to make an appearance, Jamie knelt down beside him.  He whispered “I’m going to need your help. I have a surprise for someone I love.” his eyes darted to Brienne, “and I’m going to need you to follow my lead when  Daenerys addresses the crowd after the ceremony.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes, “Fine, but in return you must tell me what it is you asked Lady Sansa last night.  She told me the answer, but said I should ask you what the question was.”

“And what was the answer she gave you little brother?” Jamie said with a smile.  “I want to make sure it is the same one she told me earlier.”

“She just said that the answer is yes.”  he looked at Jamie quizzically.

Seeing movement coming nearer the gathered guests, Jamie moved as if to stand.  But not before a desperate Tyrion pulled on him impatiently. “What did you ask her?”

As Jamie pulled himself to his full height, he looked down at Tyrion’s pleading face.  “I simply asked her one thing--Do you love him?”

Tyrion’s face must have reflected both the shock and joy those words meant to him.  He barely had time to compose himself before Ser Jorah escorted Daenerys down the aisle.  She was ethereal and radiant in a dress of Targaryen red covered with white furs. Her eyes never left Jon’s for a moment and a smile never left her lips.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”  Sansa said loudly for all to hear. She looked as regal as the royal couple and Tyrion was proud of how strong she was.

“Daenerys of House Targaryen”  Ser Jorah looked to his queen with a glance and she shook her head back and forth quickly.  Now was not the time for her lengthy list of titles, tonight she was just a woman marrying the man she loves.  ‘A woman true born and noble who has come to ask the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Tyrion could see the pinched look on Sansa’s face at those words and he couldn’t disagree.  Wives were often treated like property, but Ser Jorah had just repeated the traditional Northern words as he was sure he’d done dozens of time and meant no harm.

Jon was a wiser man than most gave him credit.  “No one can make a claim on a Queen and the Mother of Dragons, but I Aegon of House Targaryen and Stark” he said while looking at his Stark family. “Come forth this night before the Gods to join her in marriage.”  and then he grinned at his bride stretching out his hand “If she’ll have me.”

In her eagerness, Daenerys stepped forward and grabbed his hand skipping ahead in the ceremony she had only learned hours before “I take this man.”  She said her eyes full of love and tenderness. Jon unveiled the cloak Missandei had made which had the traditional Targaryen symbol with the Stark symbol embossed where the body of the dragon was creating a sigil representing both sides of his heritage.  He wrapped the cloak around her slender shoulders and beamed in happiness at his new bride.

The rest of the ceremony was brief and ended as all wedding do in a kiss to seal their vows.  Tyrion tried to remember his with Sansa, if he recalled it was nothing more than a perfunctory peck that sadly tasted of her tears.  His heart ached at the thought, and he wanted nothing more than this ceremony to end so he could kiss her the way she deserved and erase the bad memories of the past.  He was so distracted by the thought he barely heard Daenerys address the crowd.

“I do understand that there is another couple this night who wished to wed before the Old Gods.”  Daenerys said with a knowing and gleeful look to her eye. Her new husband looked at her in surprise.

Jamie caught Tyrion’s eye and stepped forward into the aisle.  ‘Oh so that’s what this is about!’ Tyrion thought. Gods his brother really was an attention whore.  He already married Brienne by the eyes of the Seven and they just had a party for them, now he was going to wed her again in front of the Old Gods.  He shook his head trying to remember that this was all for his new sister.

He expected Jamie wanted him to announce Brienne as she had no other relations there.  Turning his head to look for her, he saw Brienne glancing at him with the same smug secretive smile his brother had on earlier.  They truly were two sides to the same coin. Her look told him that his assumptions about Jamie’s surprise were most definitely wrong and this was confirmed a half step later when he bumped into Jamie’s back as he addressed the Queen.

“Yes, your Grace.”  Jamie said with a slight bow.  “This night I bring forth my brother, Tyrion of House Lannister, Hand of the Queen, a man both true born and noble to be wed before the Old Gods.  Who would claim this man?”

Tyrion’s brain was quite frozen and he turned his glance to Sansa who looked as surprised and confused as he did.      

Tyrion could feel himself trembling but he couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion causing it as he was experiencing everyone imaginable at once.  He felt them all as he gazed at Sansa, the woman who captivated his soul: fear, joy, bewilderment, love, desire, and the most dangerous of all...hope.  Hope that maybe he was wanted by someone for maybe the first time in his life and that of all the men in the world she would choose him as her husband.

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Sansa was a bit annoyed with Daenerys after she made her surprise announcement.  In general, Sansa hated surprises. She had spent so much of her life under someone else’s thumb so  that now control was very important to her. However, she was learning that letting go of control wasn’t  the worst thing in the world. After all she had just fallen head over heels in love with Tyrion Lannister, and that had been completely out of her control and she had never been happier in her whole life.

Sansa whispered down to Arya, “What nonsense is this going on?” she said as she saw Jaime Lannister come forth followed by Tyrion.  Her heart squeezed a little at the sight of him, so handsome in his fine woolen clothes. She could tell by the querysome face glancing between Brienne and his brother that he was as surprised at this turn of events as she.

A rudimentary thought appeared that perhaps Ser Jaime meant to have a second ceremony with Brienne so their friends and family could be there.  This was reinforced by the fact that both Podrick and Ser Bronn holding the hand of that beautiful brunette woman had suddenly appeared at the edge of the crowd.

Arya just turned at Sansa’s question and leveled her with that gaze only she had.  But instead of the cold, stoniness behind it, there was warmth. “There is no nonsense in loving somebody and choosing them freely sister.”

And that is when she heard Jaime Lannister speak, bringing his brother forth in the traditional bridal roll and her eyes met Tyrion’s in frozen shock.  That’s when she heard Arya whisper “You said you didn’t want to be given away again but I know you well enough that there is still a small part of you that wanted your girlish dreams to come true.”

Sansa just gave her a smile, feeling tears beginning to form.  She turned to look at Tyrion who looked at her with such love and hope, she realized that this was the perfect ceremony for them.  He needed to be chosen, to know that he was wanted and desired, as much as she needed the freedom to choose and control her own destiny.

Without a second’s hesitation she stepped forward and announced loudly,  “I Sansa of House Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, also Sansa of House Lannister by the eyes of the Seven come forth to claim this man, Tyrion Lannister, as my husband for all eternity.  I ask the blessings of the Gods this night and of all our loved ones that are here with us in spirit.”

As those words left her mouth, a warm breeze appeared from nowhere, rustling the blood red leaves, and swirling the snow at Sansa’s feet.  She just knew that her parents were there with her, giving her their love and blessings knowing that she was following her heart.

Jamie urged Tyrion forward and he walked to Sansa as she sank to her knees in the snow, oblivious to the cold, focused only on his face.  A face she adored, full of love and kindness. How could she have ever thought otherwise?

Before he could reach her, Arya announced loudly.  “Tyrion of House Lannister, do you take this woman as your wife?”

“I’ve been taken with her for years and once more I take this woman to be my wife, from now until the end of our days.” he said finally reaching Sansa and clasping her hands.

With that Arya unclasped her cloak of gray with a direwolf sigil embossed on it handing it to Sansa to cloak her groom.  Smiling, she tucked it around him as Arya said “You once cloaked your bride in the Sept of Balor bringing her under your protection, as she cloaks you this day know that this represents you becoming a member of the Stark pack.  When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” She then winked at him and said “Welcome to the pack big brother.”

Tyrion gave Arya a warm, rueful smile at her jape before turning his eyes back to  his bride. The tears were finally starting to fall from her eyes. “I love you Tyrion Lannister, falling in love with you is the best and most unexpected thing that ever happened to me in my entire life.”

“I love you too Sansa Stark and I shall spend every moment of the rest of my life endeavoring to deserve your love.” he said as a single tear fell into his beard.

Sansa pulled off her glove, revealing the Lannister ring on her finger.  He kissed it tenderly and looked deep into her eyes before whispering, “One flesh, one heart, one soul.”

She whispered it back to him while tenderly cupping his cheek.  “One flesh, one heart, one soul.”

Arya said smiling, “You may now seal this union with a kiss.”

This time when Tyrion kissed her lips and tasted the salt of her tears, he knew they were tears of joy and he kissed her back tenderly trying to convey all the love and longing he felt for her.  In return she kissed him back passionately and for the first time in his life he knew what true love and happiness felt like.

Chapter Text

Tyrion sighed contentedly by the fire in Sansa’s room ( or was it their room now? ), clutching a glass of wine in one hand and his wife’s delicate hand in the other. He turned to look at his beautiful wife.  His wife he thought with joy in his heart.  That word meant something this time around, in fact it meant everything for him.  He loved her with a passion that would never dim. He squeezed her hand, his grip rarely leaving hers since their marriage had been renewed under the Weirwood tree.  Once again he brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. How badly he wanted to show her how much he loved her, to show her the pleasures that he knew he could bring out in her.  But he was nervous, not wanting to scare her with either is naked misshapen body or his barely reined in lust for her.

She turned and smiled down at him,  “What did our King and Queen say to you after the ceremony?”

“Well Jon started to make some sort of huffy threat as a good elder brother would, but I informed him that Arya had beaten him to the punch and was way more frightening than him anyway.” he said with a grin.  She chuckled lightly at the thought. He had placed down his wine and was using his free hand to trace circles on her wrist and back of her hand and was delighted to see her shiver in response to his touch.

“Daenerys was more interested in knowing if she should look for a new hand.  I told her that she would have two for awhile, and then she will need a new one after Cersei’s defeat.” he said

“Two?” she questioned a  line creasing her brow. Gods, she was even lovely when she frowned Tyrion thought.

“Yes my lovely wife.  Both of us. You were able to see Cersei’s plans better than anybody.  I was a great fool for believing her as well as Jamie. Only you knew.”

“I was her unwitting and unwilling apprentice for many years.  She taught me and told me things that I think she would only share with another woman and one she thought of as a foolish little dove.  And I learned from her, how she thinks, what her motivations are. I also learned what I don’t want to be like.” she said.

He moved his free hand from her hand to her loose hair beside him and began to play with it, running his fingers through it and dreaming of brushing her hair.  Would she think it odd? He could feel his nerves getting stronger and he longed to kiss her but was still afraid to make the first move. Instead he asked, “I saw you talking with our sellsword friend and his lady.  What did Bronn have to say?”

“Quote ‘I fucking knew it’ end quote.” she said with a laugh.  “His woman, Anna, is quite a lovely creature by the way now that I know she doesn’t have designs on you.”

His eyes twinkled.  “I quite like a jealous Sansa Stark, but it’s hard to believe it’s about me.”  

She let go of his hand and caressed his face instead, stroking his beard and tracing his lips with her thumb.

“Tyrion.” she whispered.

“Yes?”  he choked out with the last limits of his self-control

“What are you waiting for?” she breathed seductively into his ear, moving his arm to her waist.

“You, my darling Sansa, I’ve been waiting for you all my life.” he whispered hoarsely before capturing her head by the nape of the neck and kissing her passionately feeling the years of celibacy and a lifetime of loneliness slipping away.

It was the most heated kiss they had ever had and he found her tongue inside his mouth, causing a moan to escape from his lips.  He shifted to his knees during their kiss so he could reach her better moving both hands to touch her face, her hair, her lovely long neck.  He could feel the heat, the want, in her kiss and felt his reservations, his fears and nerves evaporating. And a newborn confidence taking its place.  He used to be good at this, very good and those time were with women he didn’t love. What could that added layer of true love add to the pleasures of the bedroom, what additional heights and joy could actual love making bring for both of them?  He devoured every inch of skin he could find until she was gasping as his tongue delicately traced her neck and collarbone.

He felt warm all over and wanted to touch her skin, peel off her clothes, her armor, her walls until he could just find the core of her.  Just Sansa, his gorgeous, clever wife in all her glory. An alter that he could worship at for the rest of his days.

To his alarm, she pushed him back gently and he was afraid he had pushed her too far, too fast.  His face fell and she reassured him she was not rejecting him by kissing him fervently before rising from the couch and beginning to divest herself of her clothing.

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Unlike their previous wedding night, she held his eyes as she undressed, watching him watch her.  She so enjoyed his eyes on her. She started by removing her outer dress to reveal her shift. Her shortest, clingiest, white silk shift that she has worn knowing that she would be bedding Tyrion that night.  His mouth hung slightly open at the sight of her and filled her with a feeling of both love and desirability. She didn’t even care that more of her scars were showing the way he drank in her body.

Feeling emboldened by his hungry look but knowing he would never touch her without her desire, she propped her long leg beside him on the couch, and untied the ribbon holding up her thigh length woolen stockings common among ladies of the North.  Slowly she rolled the stocking down listening as Tyrion’s breath became shorter and shallower and she smiled to herself. This act of stripping slowly for her husband and knowing he wouldn’t touch her until she was ready made her feel like she had some power and control over her own body.  And she needed that to overcome her fears. She repeated the process with the other leg but decided to let him remove the stocking. He rolled it down with deft fingers and they felt hot to the touch sending a jolt through her as her need for him started to flare. He caressed her calf and gazed up at her as if she was a goddess before pressing his lips to her inner thigh right below the shift.  She gasped in pleasure and he just smiled.

Sansa reluctantly took her leg from him and sat beside him on the couch starting the arduous process of undoing her braids causing her breasts to jut out with her hands behind her head.  Tyrion moved to her table returning with her brush, and indicated that she should sit on the stool. He was at the perfect height standing to brush out her hair and he did so with such tenderness that Sansa could feel herself melting into him.  Sansa had a memory of one of the last times she was with her mother was in this room while she did her hair, trying to impress Joffrey. Meanwhile her future husband slept in one of the guest chambers. Life was a strange wonderful journey at times.

Tyrion finished and he swept her fiery hair over her shoulder and laid a single kiss on the back of her neck.  While chaste as kisses went, it made her go rigid. She knew it was Tyrion, the man she loved, kissing her from behind, but old fears plagued her.  He had felt her stiffen and questioned “Sansa?” while moving around to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t.  Don’t ever apologize to me.”  He said clasping his hands to hers.  “What made you uncomfortable Sansa?”

“I...I just need to see you.  To know it’s you.” She closed her eyes remembering the dress being torn and being forced face first on the bed.  

“Of course my love.  Face-to-face. I promise”  Tyrion said before giving her a reassuring smile and pulling her in his arms.  He kissed the top of her head and held her tight.

After a few deep breaths, she turned her head up to his and kissed him.  The kiss started out shy and tender, growing more hungry and passionate as it went on.

He pulled away, both of them breathing hard and Sansa could see the unbridled lust she felt mirrored in his eyes.  And that excited rather than frightened her. “Shall we to bed Lord husband?” she said coyly.

“Gods yes” he said with a strangled moan.  Sansa walked over to her large bed and climbed upon it kneeling, her shift sliding high up her thighs.

“Do I please you husband?”  she said as his eyes roamed her body.

“My wife is not a wolf but a vixen and pleases her Lord husband very much.”  he said approaching the bed after taking off his own outerwear clad only in his breaches and a loose undershirt.

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Tyrion was not sure why the most beautiful woman in Westeros was inviting him into her bed, but he decided not to question it anymore less he miss out.  He approached the side of the bed that she had not used and began the embarrassing process of clambering up it when he noticed a foot stool place there for such purposes.  He smiled in delight and his heart ached at the thoughtfulness of his bride.

She had moved to lay on her side and observed him getting into bed.  He noticed she was shivering and he wasn’t sure if it was cold, fear, or anticipation so he pulled the furs over both of them and moved to lay near her.  Tyrion reached out a hand to trace the outline of her face, her cheekbones, her kiss swollen lips. She shifted so she was on her back with her hair spread out like a lava flow on the pillow while Tyrion shifted so his face was right above hers, studying her eyes, her smile as if he was trying to capture every moment.

“Sansa, you are the most beautiful woman that has ever lived.”  Tyrion said almost sounding as if he were in pain. “I love you so much it almost hurts and I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone or anything in this world.”

“Tyrion, I am yours, and you are mine.  From now until the end of our days.” She stroked his beard.

“You will tell me as you did before if anything makes you uncomfortable?”  he grumbled while starting to kiss her ear, driving her wild.

“Yes, I swear!  Oh, don’t stop….” she moaned as he started kissing her neck and collarbone.  

He continued to kiss her and touch her, his hand starting at the waist of her silken shift but moving slowly towards her breasts.  He moved his hand up and down her side for awhile, grazing the side of her breast but not really touching it. Slowly, he reached up for the thin strap of her shift and pushed it down her arm, kissing her shoulder as she eagerly peeled down part of her top exposing her chest to him.  He repeated the process with the other side and suddenly she was topless before him. He saw a few scars and burns here or there but was relieved for Sansa’s sake that she was mostly unscathed on this part of her body. Her breasts were perfect, full and lush, white and snowy as he had imagined with a scattering of freckles across the top.   Her nipples were erect with the cold and arousal and he longed to take one in his mouth. But only when she begged him. He might be an older man with a young beautiful wife, but he would make her body sing only for him.

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Sansa waited for him to touch her, to take her breasts in his hand, she was practically aching for it.  Slowly he traced his finger from her lips down her neck, between her breasts, and slowly began to circle her teat with one finger, spiraling towards the center, but never reaching it.  He did the same thing with the other one while Sansa started to squirm making impatient noises.

“What’s the problem my lady?” he said in a teasing voice.  His hot breath blowing across her left nipple.

“I need you to touch me.” she said impatiently.

“I thought that’s what I was doing” he said before deliberately blowing cool air on the pert rosebud by his mouth.

She gasped and groaned trying to pull his head down to her breasts. “I need more.”    

“As you wish.” he said as he cradled her right breast in his hand using his thumb to caress it’s center while simultaneously lowering his mouth to her left.  He kissed it chastley at first before licking it gently and she arched her back letting out a joyous sob when he finally took her into his mouth swirling his tongue around her peak.  Sansa could feel her heart pounding in her ears and a pull in her womanhood, giving her that desire to be filled, to be touched, to reach that epitome of pleasure she had the night before.

Tyrion lavished her lush tits with his tongue and fingers as she ran her hands through his curls.  A sudden urge to feel him against her fully, without the barrier of clothing overcame her and reluctantly she pushed him off of her sitting up.  He stared at her in confusion, and she could see he was afraid he had made her uncomfortable again. Nothing could be further from the truth. She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and began tugging it over his head.  “I need to see you, I want to feel your skin on mine.” she whispered.

At last she threw his shirt across the floor, and was able to run her hands over his chest, feeling the muscles of his pectorals, the hardness of his nipples, and most wonderful of all the sprinkling of chest hair that her fingers at long last could dance through.  Tyrion groaned in pleasure and amazement. She pushed him down on the bed, and removed the rest of her shift that had puddled around her waist in the process. Bare but for her small clothes, and suddenly not cold anymore and in fact getting warmer by the second, she began the same pattern of kissing and nips to his torso that he had just done to her.  She was intrigued and aroused by the trail of hair leading down into his breeches and spent a considerable amount of time tracing it with her tongue. She could see the outline of his cock straining against the cloth and teased him by tracing it with a single finger. He let out a strangled groan. She moved her hand to the ties of his breeches. “Do you want to take these off?”

“Yes, Gods, yes.” he whimpered huskily.

She pulled at the laces, going slowly, teasing in a way that delighted her and frustrated him.  She loved knowing how she was affecting him as he thrust his cock against her hand. Growing impatient, he finally pulled off his own breeches and small clothes letting his considerable manhood free and like the lion he was growled as he pushed her down gently on the bed.  He teased her as she had him, kissing and licking her stomach, her thighs, her breasts but never coming near her womanhood which was drenched in her want for him.

When she could take no more, he moved up her body and started kissing her mouth again while one single finger lightly ran under her small clothes. She moaned and arched her back trying to move towards him and pull him closer, feeling his hardness against her hip.  The feeling of his skin on hers was like heaven, like home.

He moved back down her body lingering at the ties of her small clothes at her hips.  Gently he pulled one loose with his teeth with a little growl, causing her to giggle and her chest to flush red.  Their eyes met and she smiled, caressing his head as his mouth moved agonizingly slowly to the other tie repeating the maneuver.  He truly was the cleverest of men with his silver tongue.

He moved between her legs nows spreading them apart as he removed her small clothes.  When she was completely bare and open for him, he rocked back on his heels and just looked at her in amazement.  Finally in a soft, incredulous voice he asked “Is this real? Are you sure this isn’t a dream, a fantasy, or heaven?”

“It’s all of those things Tyrion.”  she said overcome with love for him.  “A real dream come true for both of us.”

“I need you.” she said reaching for his cock, stroking the velvet hardness as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.  Sansa was feeling a strong ache in her core and was desperate to be filled by him. She continued to pump him, until a glazed look overtook his eyes and he moved her hand off of him.

“Not just yet”  he said with lust in his eyes as he lowered his tongue to her nub, causing her to moan loudly and thrust up at him.  He placed one hand above her auburn curls to hold her in place while the other experimentally thrust one finger inside her slickness.  Sansa gasped in pleasure, rocking her hips against him as she chased the climax she had felt for the first time the night before. Sensing her eagerness, he doubled his efforts and added another finger.  As her hips rocked faster, his fingers thrust in and out of her harder and more rapidly. She clenched around his fingers, so close, and so eager to reach that peak of pleasure. She was almost there when he withdrew and she mewled in protest.

“Not yet, not until I can feel you around me.”  he whispered. He moved to position his throbbing manhood at her entrance, and hesitated checking her face silently asking if he could proceed.  She nodded her head and grabbed his cock guiding it towards her opening. Rubbing him against her slickness, she could feel the tip starting to slip in agonizingly slowly.  She moaned his name in impatience, and with a powerful thrust of his hips he was sheathed deep inside of her and Sansa felt deliriously drunk and deliciously full. Grabbing her hips, he started at a slow teasing pace to make sure she had adjusted to him but she grabbed his shoulders thrusting eagerly against him, wanting more.  He moved harder and faster inside of her and was rewarded with a cry of pleasure from Sansa’s lips with each thrust. Within minutes she could feel the tension building, and with a few powerful thrusts, making sure to rub against her nub with his pelvis, she climaxed powerfully, clenching hard around him calling out his name. Tyrion had stopped thrusting and stayed deep inside her until she was done convulsing.

He shifted his position slightly until he was kneeling and took one long ivory leg and threw it up over his shoulder changing his angle.  He started out loving her with long deep strokes while kissing her leg on his shoulder but soon got lost in his own pleasure until he was driving into her with abandon chasing his own climax.  He stiffened and a strangled cry of her name passed his lips as his hips jerked forward and she could feel his warm seed pump inside her. He stayed motionless for a moment and the looks of bliss and pleasure on his face was a sight she would never forget as long as she lived.

He collapsed boneless but gingerly on top of her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, relishing his weight on top of her.  He sighed contently with his head between her breasts and she stroked his hair and back gently feeling loved and cherished. Her husband, her beautiful, clever, loving husband and given her a gift.  Tyrion had shown her love in every way and made sure she felt safe and secure during their lovemaking. Gods willing she would return this love by bearing him a child. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought and she held him tightly.

Too soon for her, he shifted pulling out of her and crawling up to lay his head beside hers.  She turned to him and their foreheads touched and she kissed him softly.

“Thank you for being patient with me and kind and tender.  Thank you for showing me what love is, for breaking down my walls.”  Sansa whispered stroking his face reverently.

“Oh, my love, it is I that should thank you.  Your love has helped me want to live again and for the first time I don’t feel alone.  Whatever happens in the wars to come, as long as I have your love to hold onto I have something to fight for.  Thank you for choosing me to be your husband, it is something that I will never truly be able to thank you for.”  Tyrion said as his eyes began to get misty.

She snuggled into him, laying her head on his chest.  “Is what...just happened now. Is that what it’s always like?”

“I don’t know.  That was a first time for me too Sansa.  I want you to understand that any physical pleasure I’ve had in the past doesn’t hold a candle to what just happened.  I’ve never made love to anyone before, I’ve never had a woman want me. I imagine it’s the difference between riding a horse and riding a dragon.  One will get you there, and one is just pure magic.” Tyrion explained.

“And um...how long until we can “ride the dragon” again husband?”  Sansa teased.

“Until you can come up with a new euphemism for lovemaking my dear wife.  No offense but “riding the dragon” makes me think of what the other couple that married tonight might be doing.” he said while wrinkling his nose.

She smiled at him wrinkling her nose too at the thought.  They lay there quietly in the afterglow, just holding each other for awhile when finally Sansa said  “What was it you said the dragons were doing when they were dancing in the sky?”

“A courtship display.”

“No, that’s not quite right for dragons.”  Sansa said with a frown “It was most definitely a dance.  A courtship dance.” Her eyes lit up and she kissed his lips.  “So dear husband, when can we have a courtship dance again?”

“How about now?” he said pulling her on top of his body with a grin.  “I love you Sansa.”

“And I love you too, Tyrion, my impossible husband.” she said before kissing him with all her heart.

Chapter Text

A dozen years later…..

A strange sense of deja vu hit Sansa as she stood on the walls of Winterfell watching her eldest child Robb train with his Aunt in the courtyard below.   As she looked around everything clicked into place to that prophetic dream she had so long ago: Winterfell was reconstructed, her children--Robb, Ned, Joanna, Myrcella and one on the way, Arya and her two young Baratheon children.  But most of all, her wonderful husband who had stood by her side through all of it with a love that would only deepen over the years. Sansa thought of all that had happened since that dream and their second wedding night shortly thereafter.

It turned out Arya could be the Lady of a great house and she was the Lady of the Stormlands--at least part of the time.  The other half of the time she was the Royal Assassin, who better than the girl that had killed the Night King? (Of course Bran hadn’t seen her on the battlefield.  She was a faceless man after all!) Her smith-turned-Lord husband had learned this was the price for a life with Arya and he loved her as she was and would take what she could give him.  She would disappear for months at a time on missions often accompanied by Sandor Clegane who had pledged his sword to her looking for a purpose after he had finally sent his brother to a fiery hell during the fall of King’s Landing.  Sandor had gotten his vengeance but Circie had tossed herself from a tower window as the dragons flew over the Red Keep much like Tommen, denying Arya hers. Her broken body, with a pillow creating a false pregnancy was found and later buried by her brothers in an unmarked grave.

Jamie and Brienne has settled in Casterly Rock and had quickly produced three strapping Lannister sons.  All were as tall and honorable as their mother with their father’s good looks and charm. Rumor had it that the eldest would likely not inherit the Rock as he had become best friends with the young Targaryen princess and would likely be her consort if their youthful friendship blossomed into love.  

Podrick had been knighted by Ser Jorah shortly after the Battle for Winterfell for helping to save Queen Daenerys’s life.  Alys Karstark had been gravely injured protecting Bran and Podrick had pledged to help her rule during her recovery first as her sworn sword and secondly a year later as her husband.  They had a few children of their own, the eldest a girl named Brienne, who Sansa thought would be a good match for one of her sons.

Bronn had married Anna the day after the Night King was defeated. He had said “I am not wasting another fucking day.” and swept her off to the nearest Sept with her son’s blessing and encouragement.  The new Targaryen King and Queen had offered him the Twins as his reward for service to the crown. Bronn had delighted in turning one half of Lord Frey’s castle, the scene of the most infamous act of a violation of guest rights in history, into an inn and bar run by his wife’s family.  There was always a large number of travelers of all creeds and types around who enjoyed throwing darts at Walder Frey’s portraits as much as their host.

Sansa was broken out of her thoughts by an unexpected visitor.  Her brother Bran had returned from North of the Wall with his long time paramour Meera Reed.  After the Night King had died, more of the human side of Bran had re emerged as the Three-Eyed Raven was able to rest with the danger gone.  He had quickly written to Meera, offering his apologies and their friendship and more had blossomed. They appeared riding giant elk that were better suited to the winter snows and harsh terrain of the “true” North and that were docile with Bran’s warging.  Each Elk pulled two sledges and Sansa notice that one held a large container covered in furs. The Stark siblings and their families converged in the courtyard to greet them.

“Sansa, Arya, I come with gifts for my nieces and nephews.” Bran said with a touch of the distant three-eyed raven voice as Meera removed the furs from the cage revealing a litter of direwolf pups of various colors.  She opened the cage and each pup purposely darted for one of the Stark cousins jumping into their arms and licking them furiously. Little Jon’s pup sat quietly by Arya until she bent over and he licked the babe's head excitedly and whimpered.

One of the servants brought over the wheelchair he used when at Winterfell and Bran moved into it from the kneeling beast with expertise.  Meera pushed him over to Tyrion and Sansa. He noticed her large swelling belly and beamed up at her. “When we found the pups, their mother had been killed by an ice bear that also died in the fight.  They were frightened of us, and I was afraid I’d have to warg into all of them to bring them to us. However this one” Bran unzipped his jacket revealing another pup with tawny gold fur “walked right up to us and barked to the others and they followed him without question.”  He pulled out the pup handing him to Tyrion and only then did they notice he was a third of the size of his siblings. “For your new son. He will be a little golden wolf, and the spitting image of his father in every way.”

Tyrion looked at Sansa with worry.  She knew he didn’t want his children to live with his same condition but Sansa was not concerned.  Her son would not have the same terrible childhood as her husband. She bent down and kissed him reassuringly while the pup nuzzled her stomach.  “His life will not always be easy.” Tyrion said.

“But it will be full of love.” she said as the children and their wolves swirled around the courtyard laughing and Sansa finally felt that Winterfell and the Stark family were rebuilt once more.  All because of the love of a wolf and a little lion.

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She had looked for his coming as warriors come,

With the clash of arms and the bugle's call;

But he came instead with a stealthy tread,

Which she did not hear at all.

She had thought how his armor would blaze in the sun,

As he rode like a prince to claim his bride:

In the sweet dim light of the falling night

She found him at her side.

She had dreamed how the gaze of his strange, bold eye

Would wake her heart to a sudden glow:

She found in his face the familiar grace

Of a friend she used to know.

She had dreamed how his coming would stir her soul,

As the ocean is stirred by the wild storm's strife:

He brought her the balm of a heavenly calm,

And a peace which crowned her life.

“Love’s Coming”  by Ella Wheeler Wilcox