Little Wolf

He reached for me, his pale hand stretching for me, for my throat. Iron fingers wrapped around and squeezed. Slowly life ebbed out of me as I struggled. My father was a traitor, my mother and brother are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved, Joffery. I thought over and over as he squeezed harder. I should have said it more, shouldn't have remarked when I did, should've looked past my father's head… But now his fingers were tracing down, in between my thighs, lifting my skirt… I tried to scream, but nothing came. I saw nothing, but his smirking face as he ripped into me all the while constricting my breathing. This is how I would die.

I nearly screamed as I shot up in my bed. Sweat clung to every patch of skin on me and my breaths came raggedly into my chest. I touched my throat and made a tentative touch between my legs, It was a dream, Sansa, merely a dream. Nothing to fear, Joffery's gone.

Wasn't he? In my delirium I couldn't remember. A soft rustle beside me made me gasp and nearly scream again before I realized whom it was. My husband. I had a husband.

"Sansa…?" He asked, sleep coating his voice. His face was as ugly as ever, but I hardly noticed, my eyes clouded by tears. Tears? I realized I was crying… No sobbing. My breath was rushing through my lungs in short bursts, sobs wracking my entire body.

I saw him immediately sit up, concern crossing every feature. Joffery was here, breathing on my neck, watching my movements. No he was with Maragarey. Margery Tyrell. No he was here. He will take me. He will kill me. I sobbed again.

Tyrion seemed to move toward me, to want to comfort me, but just as quickly jerked back, staring helplessly. We had a deal, I remembered, he wouldn't touch me unless I allowed it.

"Sansa…" He nearly wimpered and I dug nails into my knees. Something cool and liquidy was running down my calfs. Blood. I realized. Stark blood. Blood of my father, of my brothers, of my sister. Blood, blood, blood.

I was speaking, I realized suddenly, I was saying something about my father, about Joffery, about flowering. Tyrion merely stared, eyes meeting mine fleetingly. I hardly saw him.

"Sansa, tell me how I can help."

I shook my head. "Joffery will get me…. he will take me just like he took my father…." I said through shaky breaths, barely able to communicate.

I glanced at my husband then, slowly reaching down to the real world. Water dripped down his cheek, I realized. Did he bathe? No tears, those were tears. Tears for what?

"Why do you cry…?" my voice was hardly audible. My sobs still came, my wailing stopped. When? I don't know.

"Because you're in pain." He whispered.

I was confused. My head was seeking clarity, finding none. He was Lannister, bad. He was Joffery's uncle.

"Why do you care?" my voice was empty, somehow.

Tyrion gave a sad smile, "Because you are my wife."

I laughed, I don't know where it came from, but my laughter echoed off the walls, strong. Tears slipped, blood dripped, fingernails ripped. Tyrion stared.

I looked at him then, really looked. I did not see the scars, were they ever there? Was his face really misshapen? Was he really a dwarf? I stared, stared, stared. Falling. I fell, collapsed. My face hit something hard, a shoulder I think, my hands gripped around strong muscles. A torso? Not sure. I couldn't think, couldn't think, couldn't breathe

A hand landed on my head, soft and loving, "Hush, little wolf, he can't touch you. He will never touch you. I will protect you."

Something calm spread through me, gripping every inch of my body. Clarity also reached me. Little chest hairs tickled my nose. I had touched him, he had touched me. We touched.

"How…?" I whispered, "He is everywhere, he is the king. 'A king can do as he likes.' He always says…"

He chuckled then, "Joffery may be Lannister, but he is no lion. More like a house cat. He meows loudly, but he can be stopped by those who do not fear him. I do not fear him."

I nuzzeled closer to him, I don't know why. He smelt good. He was warm. He was comforting. I felt his other arm come around me, short as it was it still wrapped around my back. Strong, I realized. Little, but strong. My tears were drying, slowly, I believed his words.

"The things he would do, Tyrion, have done to me. You can't even understand…If we had not wed, he would have taken me."

Tyrion sighed and his breath tickled my scalp. I was being honest. I could be honest with him.

"I would not have let that happen, Sansa, I would have done everything in my power to get you home, but my father meddled with everything and here we are."

I looked up at him, knowing I looked beyond a mess and he smiled. It was a ugly thing, making his grotesque face skew in horrid ways. Yet his eyes were kind… His eyes were loving, caring. His eyes said I could trust him. I didn't look away and neither did he, though he seemed surprised that I didn't recoil. The face didn't bother me, I just stared at his eyes. Seeing him.

I leaned closer and felt the tension in his body as I came closer to him, ever so slowly. I didn't know how to do this, nor if it was a good idea. I wanted to be nearer to those kind, lion eyes. Tyrion scarcely breathed. I brushed my lips against his, only for a moment, but something happened. Warmth spread through my body, a sweet warmth.

I kissed him again, this time longer, but no less sweet. His hand pulled me a bit closer toward him before the moment was gone and I slide back down his chest, laying my head peacefully there. His hand traced ever so hesitantly to my hair and he stroked his short fingers through it lightly.

"Sansa Lannister." I whispered.

Tyrion chuckled, "I'm afraid it's not as pretty as Sansa Tyrell."

I shook my head, "I wish more than anything for it to be Stark."

I felt Tyrion nod, "I know, little wolf, I do not know how I will ever repay that debt."

I sighed, feeling the finality of marriage settle in my stomach, "It isn't your debt to pay."

"I love you. " He said, his voice nearly cracking.

I nuzzled a bit closer, "I know."

There was a long pause as the moon danced through our window, painting the floor with crystal blue.

"My mother once told me, when I was betrothed to Joffery, that love wasn't a passionate thing, that she and father had built it over the years. That they had hardly known each other when they wed, that she nearly hated him when he returned from the war with Jon. At the time, I cast it off as silliness since I was betrothed to my prince, but now I see the wisdom. Her and father were not so different as you and I," my voice cracked a bit, remembering my father at Winterfell, "perhaps we can build it too."

Tyrion held me closer, not so hesitant this time and I rejoiced in it somehow, "Perhaps, little wolf, perhaps. It would be the first time in history that Lion and Wolf managed to lie in the same den."

I laughed slightly, "Yes I suppose it would be, but it is also the first time a bastard sat on the throne and a Stark lost the North. It is an age of firsts."

"Indeed it is."

A/N: Found this chillin on my computer, thought you might enjoy it at least a little. Some fluffluf :P.

Review appreciated .