I do not own ASOIAF nor any of the characters mentioned here. All rights go to George RR Martin. Please enjoy!
A small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the Red Keep and most talked amongst themselves as they waited. But there was one man of slight stature who stood silently amongst the throng. The moment was finally upon him, the one he had spent the last few months dreading. But now that it was here, a bit of excitement as well as apprehension caused a tightness in his chest.
You fool, Tyrion scoffed at himself silently. She will not welcome the sight of you, if that is what you believe.
In truth, there was no part of him that thought his former wife- for though their union had never officially been annulled, it was quiet certainly over at this point- had any desire to reconnect with him. There marriage had been a farce, and Tyrion often wondered if Sansa had been happy for even a moment of it. No, what he was really longing for was a reaction from the girl who had left him to take the blame for King Joffrey's murder, to see if she cared at all what had become of him. He even had a few sharp words and accusations to throw her way, all of which he could hide under the guile of polite conversation. Subtle verbal insults were one of his many specialties.
An unexpected pang of guilt rose in him as he thought of this, making the dwarf shuffle uncomfortably. Tyrion had never taken pleasure in being unreasonably cruel to others, as he has suffered the mockery of many in his life. And could he really blame the girl for leaving him as she did? He was one of the lions that had helped slaughter her family, after all, and the marriage to him had been unwelcome and forced upon her. Still, he had treated her with every kindness, and she had rebuffed him. And she was implicated in the death of Joffrey, the very crime Tyrion had taken the blame for. So perhaps she was not as innocent as he gave her credit for.
Tyrion was drawn out of his thought as the great iron gates were beginning to draw upwards, where behind them a glimpse of the procession could be made. In some very short minutes, a large carriage had pulled up in front of the gathered people, all of whom were quite silent now. A young man with the air of a minor lordling about him and dressed well in green and black stood before the door of the carriage and bowed deeply.
"I have the honor to present Sansa of House Stark, First of Her Name, Lady of Winterfell and Queen in the North," He announced with a flourish as he opened the carriage door.
From the darkness within the opening, a red haired woman stepped onto the cobbled stone below. Tyrion could not help but suck in his breath at the sight of her. He remembered his lady wife as being a very pretty child, but the Sansa that stood before him was beautiful and a women grown.
Her skin was pale as steel, and she wore a winter dress a shade of blue so dark that it appeared black except for where the weak sunlight caught it. It was modest, with a collar that went halfway up her neck and long sleeves that reached her wrists, but the bodice was tight and showed her form well. The dress was trimmed with black lace and a pure white fur cloak was draped around her shoulders, held in place with two silver direwolf clasps. Her hair looked like fire pinned in Northern braids behind her head.
But the thing that drew the most attention was the crown that lay atop her auburn locks. It was wrought black iron, made in the likeness of a circlet of flowers with many twisting stems, leafs, and blooms. And in the twists, sharp metal thorns could be made out to be pointing in various directions. If one was not careful, they could easily cut themselves while adorned with the crown. It was both very beautiful, and very dangerous.
Just like Sansa, it would seem, now that she's all grown up, Tyrion mused. He could see why she was known as the Winter Rose, for her loveliness was truly astounding to behold. Dressed as she was, she reminded the dwarf of the pale blue roses that grew in the North, the ones that Prince Rhaegar had given Lyanna Stark all those years ago, to a disastrous end. But he did not forget that they called Sansa the Wolf Queen as well, and he could see the regality and ferocity in her features even from where he stood back.
He was broken from his thoughts as his own queen stepped forward to greet the visitors. Queen Daenerys was older than the Stark girl by a few years, but was still a head shorter. She nevertheless looked extremely imposing as she moved towards Sansa, who bowed before the monarch.
"Your Grace, it is an honor." Her voice was smooth and courteous, though deeper than Tyrion rembered.
"The pleasure is mine, Queen Sansa," Dani spoke with a light voice, her violet eyes peering at the younger girl. "I am glad to welcome you back to King's Landing. I trust the journey was well?"
"It was, Your Grace. We faced very little trouble on our way here."
The queen smiled. "Excellent. You needs be introduced you to everyone, of course." And so she went around naming the various crowds folk, all of whom were Queensguard, members of the small council, or otherwise important to the court or the queen. Most bowed respectfully in turn, and if Sansa thought it odd that Dothraki horsemen or former Merense slaves were among those gathered, she did not show it.
"And then there's my trusted Hand, Lord Tyrion." Dany beckoned him forward and he complied. "I am informed that you two are acquainted, yes?"
"Married, Your Highness." The words that came out of the Northern queen's mouth shocked Tyrion, and he looked into her bright blue eyes to see if she was joking, but it did not seem so. He had once thought her eyes like pools of water, but now they were as hard as ice.
"Oh, is that so?" Dany's blonde eyebrows quirked up. "I was under the impression that had ended."
"It's not as if we were actual-" he began, but he was cut off as Sansa spoke.
"Well, we were never officially separated by the Faith, so we are technically still married."
Tyrion couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had assumed that Lady Sansa would want their union to be void, but now she spoke as if she felt they were still tied together.
Daenerys gave him an unreadable look and spoke after a moment. "Well, its sounds as if you two have much to talk about, and I must meet with the rest of your party. Tyrion, why don't you see Queen Sansa to her rooms and see that she settles in?"
He wasn't particularly pleased by the idea, but he nodded to his queen all the same. After a moment, Dany and the rest of the group moved on to greet the many noblemen and women who had also come south.
With a wave of his hand, Tyrion gestured to the castle. "Shall we go, my lady?"
Sansa nodded curtly and they began to make their way inside, stuck at a slow pace due to his own waddling gate. The silence hung awkwardly in the air for several minutes, neither knowing what to say.
"It is good to see you're well, my lord," she finally said without really looking at him.
Somehow I doubt that, he thought. It seemed she had maintained her rigid courtesy over the years. He thought of how to respond, for now that she stood next to him, he found that he could not bring himself to say the cruel remarks he had thought of earlier.
After a moments pause, he answered, "Thank you, Your Grace. You are looking very well yourself."
Sansa smiled, though he couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. "My Lord is kind to say so."
It seemed odd for her to address him that way. Those were words that she would have said to him when they were married, but hearing them now that she was a queen it felt... wrong, somehow.
Several more minutes passed by in silence before they were standing before the the chambers that had been granted to the Northern ruler for her stay. Sansa's hand rested on the thick wooden as if she meant to push it open, but she instead simply stared down at Tyrion with those eyes made of ice.
"I'll... leave you to your accommodations, my lady." He gave a stiff bow and turned to leave, but a soft voice halted his progress.
"If you would, I'd like to speak with you privately later. Would you care to come to my chamber after the feast?" Her voice was commanding, but there was a questioning look about her features that made Tyrion wonder if the young queen was as sure of herself as she sounded.
He gave a brief nod, though the last thing he wanted was to spent more alone time with his stiff former wife. If the awkward walk to the room had been any indication, the talk would be torturous. "Of course, Your Highness. I shall be present." And with that, he took his leave.
The rest of the afternoon was spent going over the accommodations for the many Northern guests that now occupied the Red Keep. There were also many meetings with the lords and ladies of various houses to discuss land rights, debts, rebuilding, and other such matters. Tyrion had probably attended a hundred of meetings like these since the war had ended. His damned family had plunged the kingdom into a state of ruin and chaos, and as the Hand he took on much of the responsibility of cleaning up the mess.
Before he knew it, the sun was sinking in the sky and the welcome feast for the Northerners was upon him. He took care to wash and change into his best crimson and gold doublet before he made his way to the Great Hall, for though he cared little of his appreance these days, it would not befit a high lord to be seated by two queens while dressed like a kitchen boy. The Hall itself was nearly packed by the time he arrived, filled with a cacophony of a hundred different conversations going on at once. The atmosphere was at ease, though Tyrion noticed precious little interaction between the people of the Keep and the new Northern guests. The war might have been over, be still some old tensions remained.
He took his place at the high table, seated at Queen Daenerys immediate right. On the other side of the young queen sat Sansa, who looked as cool and courteous as she had earlier that day when she'd arrived. But she was less rigid now, and she and the queen seemed in the middle of a pleasant conversion. He poured himself some wine and listened to the two discussing.
"I have heard much about the North, Lady Sansa," Dany commented. "I hear tales of how harsh and unforgiving the land is, and how it's people are much the same. But with a queen as graceful as you, how can these rumors be true?"
Sansa gave a small smile. "Yes, my home is not the hard wasteland many make it seem to be, but it is no summer island either. The people of the North are made of ice and honor; I confess I don't represent their resilience well." Still modest as ever.
Dany peered at the girl with intense violet eyes. "I do not think that is the truth, for all I hear tells me you are far more resilient than most," she spoke softly, but her words carried much weight. "I think the crown you wear is proof of that." She gestured at the sharp ring of iron flowers upon the other queen's head.
Sansa seemed taken aback by Dany's words for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "Thank you. I wear this crown as a reminder or the dangers of leading, and how easy it is to loose one's way with power. The idea came from the Iron Throne that your ancestor forged, which has been known to cut those who are not careful with it. A throne should not be easily sat, nor a crown easily worn."
Daenarys nodded at the the wisdom of the other woman's words, and Tyrion too thought that there was much sense behind what she said. He wasn't sure he'd go as far to wear something that could easily kill him, but the sentiment rang true. If only Robert had understood that, or that bastard Joffrey, or my sister. The Mad King and half the Targaryens that came before could have used that lesson as well. The kingdom had a pension for crazy, self-centered and destructive rulers. But looking at the two young woman, both solemn and aged beyond their years, with kindness and compassion for those who were suffering, Tyrion had hope that things could change.
Much later, the dwarf had retired to his chambers and sat robed, reading a book by the light of the many candles. The feast had gone well, save for a few druken brawls, but that was to be expected at an event such as that. Tyrion himself was a little lightheaded from all the wine, but he'd kept himself from getting well and truly drunk like he might once have. Advising Daenerys, helping to lead her to reclaim her throne, and putting the kingdom broken by years of war back together need a clear head, not to mention that the queen was very adamant that she would not have a drunkard for a Hand. But now that he was in his own room, with no duties to attend to and no public scrutiny, he allowed himself to divulge in a large flagon of wine.
Then, as he drank and read a huge tome by some long-gone Maester, a soft knock came at the door. Tyrion looked up and wondered blearily, Who the hell would be here this late? Since returning to Kings Landing, he had very few in the way of friends or visitors. None, really. The knock came again, louder this time, and he pulled himself to his feet to go and answer it. When he did, he saw none other than Lady Sansa standing outside his door, wearing a much simpler dress than before and no crown.
She looked down at him with an expression that he almost thought was nervous, but her words were calm and collected, "I apologize if I'm intruding, my lord. But when you did not come to my chambers after the feast, I began to grow worried that you had forgotten."
Tyrion cursed at himself. In truth he had forgotten about the meeting entirely. "Forgive me, your majesty. I did not mean to leave you waiting, I suppose time just got away from me." He hesitated, then stood back to open the door more. "It's far too long of walk to your chambers for us both to go. Why don't you come in and we can talk?"
The Wolf Queen gave a stiff nod and strode into his room. As she walked by, he suddenly remembered to that he was dressed only in a robe, hardly appropriate attire to be meeting the head of a kingdom in. She's seen more of you than this, and you of her. He told himself, thinking of that first night after their wedding before he had told her they would not consummate. That night felt like a thousand years ago now.
Sansa had taken a seat at the table and he went to join her, setting aside the book he had been reading. He could see her mouth tighten disapprovingly as he poured himself another glass of wine, but he really didn't give a damn. He wasn't drunk enough for this conversation yet, in his opinion.
"So," he began, taking a sip, "you were rather mysterious earlier. What is it you wished to discuss?"
The Northern girl took a moment before she responded. "I suppose I wanted to clear a few thing up. We did not part in such great circumstances."
"You mean when you fled the capital right after the king had been murdered, leaving me to take the blame and nearly get executed?" He responded dryly without thinking, and regretted it. He didn't want this to be more awkward than it already was.
But Sansa didn't flinch at the accusations, simply answered in an even tone, "Yes. It was not my intention for you to be arrested. I didn't even know Joffrey was going to be killed, but I can't say I'm sad he was."
Tyrion thought of the the child she had been, crying as she was stripped and beaten in front of the court by his nephew's command. "No, I should think not," he spoke softly. "And Olenna Tyrell told us about the whole hairnet poison plot when Highgarden made its alliance with Daenarys. She could not say, however, whether or not you knew of it."
"I didn't," Sansa affirmed again. "I just thought the hairnet was meant to be a symbol to whoever was supposed to take me away. I was told by... well, it doesn't matter now, but I was told that I must wear it to the wedding if I wanted to leave Kings Landing."
The dwarf gave a thin smile. "Of course, so you wore it. I wouldn't blame you, I wouldn't want to suffer any more days as the Imp's wife either." He had meant it as a jape, but his former wife looked at him critically.
"I did not leave because of you. The plan to leave Kings Landing was made long before we were married, when I was still betrothed to Joffrey." Her voice was reproachful, and he thought she had taken what he'd said as a slight on her.
"It was a bad joke, my lady. I understand why you fled," he apologized, and she seemed to relax a little. "If I might ask, what happened after you left? I've been curious about it for some time."
Sansa hesitated, then spoke slowly. "I was taken to a ship where Petyr Baelish waited. I was shocked to discover he was the one behind it all." Tyrion nodded. Lady Olenna had told them that it was Littlefinger who had orchastrated the Purple Wedding, and they'd had other confirmation that he'd been the one to spirit Sansa away, but there was little information about what transpired after.
"He took me first to the Fingers, and then the Eyrie. He had me color my hair and pretend I was his bastard daughter so that no one would be suspicious. Things were alright at first, but I never liked the way he looked at me. And there was this singer who tried to... lie with me, even after I told him no." Her words were flat and her eyes hard, as if she spoke of some trivial matter, but Tyrion felt a wave a pity and anger for all she'd been through. I tried to protect her, and still she suffered.
She continued on, "Then my aunt Lysa accused me of trying to seduce her husband and tried to kill me, but Petyr came and threw her out the Moon Door instead."
"I thought some jester killed her," he said surprised. Littlefinger was conniving and shrewd, but Tyrion had never pegged him as a cold-blooded killer.
Sansa shook her head. "That was the singer, and Littlefinger blamed him because he was there when Aunt Lysa attacked me. After that, he had control of the Eyrie and told me that I was going to marry the heir to the Vale. But he began to treat me less like his daughter. He would kiss me and tell me how beautiful I was, even though I thought it inappropriate.
"I was a fool to think he would help me." Her voice was no longer flat, but tinged with a deep bitterness. "I thought that by leaving Kings Landing I would be free, but I just ran strait into the arms of someone else who only wanted to use me and my claim to Winterfell. I was a stupid girl with foolish dreams of heroes and valiant knights..." She trailed off and took a deep breathe, seemingly to gather her wits.
When she spoke again, Sansa once more sounded unperturbed, "I realized that Baelish would not help me, so I fled again and made my way to Winterfell, with the help of Lady Brienne, and with Jon we were able to take back our home." Tyrion knew the events that happened from there, how she was crowned Queen in the North and how she had discovered the truth of Jon's lineage and sent him to make an alliance with Daenerys.
"Truly, I am sorry for all you suffered through," he said kindly, and was rewarded with a small but sad smile.
"The cruelty I faced made me the person I am today, made me the kind of ruler that the North needed," she said simply. "And I am sorry for abandoning you when you were in the most need of allies."
In truth, he found that he wasn't really upset over it anymore. Yes, she'd left him, but he understood why and knew that she'd been manipulated and used by people she thought she could trust. It wasn't her fault, not really. How had his feelings over the matter changed so much since this morning?
So he just sipped his wine and said, "Think on it no more, my lady, for it is all in the past. You were but a child, forced into a loveless marriage to a man more than twice your age and apart of the family that destroyed yours. I know I was not the husband you had hoped for, and I wish that our marriage had not added to your suffering. You deserved better." This time, he did not mean what he said as a joke, but he felt truly sorry for the cruelty that had been afflicted by his family..
"You're wrong, Tyrion." She was deadly serious, and Tyrion was taken aback. Never had she called him by his name withought being prompted to do so, and now she stared at him with an icy gaze so intense he almost squirmed in his chair. "You were the one person in this whole gods forsaken city that was always kind to me, without any plan or ulterior motive. You stood up for me when no one else dared. I was distant and insincere during our marriage because I feared your family and thought that you were like your father and sister. But now I see how wrong I was, and how lucky I was that of any Lannister, I was married to you. Believe me when I say that you didn't add to my misery, but lessened it at least in some small way."
For one of the few times in his life, Tyrion had no words. Once again he was brought back to their marriage night. He had refused to bed her, had told her that they would wait until she wanted to be with him. She had responded by asking what would happen if she never wanted him. It had hurt, more than a man who had taken so many blows from the world before cared to admit. Could she truly feel differently now? It seemed impossible.
Finally, after a long pause and many sips of his wine, he responded, "I am glad I helped improve your time in Kings Landing. It may have been only in a little way, but I am only a little man after all."
For the first time since he'd met her as a child in Winterfell, Tyrion heard Sansa laugh, a high and pure sound that he was sure brightened up his room more than the candles on the table. She was the frigid Wolf Queen no longer, but just a young woman with the lightness of joy about her. He grinned and chuckled as well, taken by the feeling in the air, and though both their laughter faded after a few moments, his grin did not. They sat there like that for awhile, looking at one another and smiling lightly. They both had need this conversation, this absolution of guilt, he thought.
"If only our marriage had been like this, eh?" he said, though not without humor. "Things might have been quite different."
"Ah, our marriage." Sansa continued, a smile still softening her serious demeanor. "A topic for another time, I think. Now it is late, and I need to return to my chambers."
He nodded as they stood and made their way to the door. Tyrion was not sure if he really wanted to talk about their spousal situation later, as it was likely to be a painful and awkward conversation and he was loathe to loose any of the trust of comfort they had gained around each other. But perhaps he would be surprised by the turn of events, as he certainly had been tonight.
He opened the door for Sansa and as she made her way down the hall, she turned back and called to him, "Goodnight, Tyrion."
He smiled again. "Goodnight, my queen."