~ TYCHE ~

Author's Note: First of all, as usual, I have to say that I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones, which belong to George R.R. Martin and HBO (lucky bastards!). This story was born in an unusual way where I decided on the title and the format of the story first and then it took me a year to discover that Tyche was going to be a Tyrion and Sansa story about suffering, abuse, love, redemption and acceptance. It is M-rated mostly from beginning to end with scenes of a sexual nature, explicit language and adult themes. While this should put you off if you are sensitive to that kind of thing, it's really nothing that isn't in the show or books, so as readers you should be okay. The inspiration for the opening premise was born from my favourite tv show, Showtime's The Borgias, and a scene in the final series where Lucrezia and Alfonso are made to prove that their marriage is incontestable and more than politics. I would really recommend the series if you haven't seen it but I'm not copying anything from either show or book series with the exception of chapter titles which are quotes from either the HBO show or George R.R. Martin's saga, plus Tyrion's Knight of the Flowers line which I have kept in because I do love it oh so much! Anyway, enough boring drivel from me, and happy reading!

DAENERYSTARGARY3N

Tyche (English /ˈtaɪki/; from Greek: Τύχη, meaning "luck") was the presiding tutelary deity that governed the fortune and prosperity of a city, its destiny.

"You won't be a prisoner after today, you'll be my wife"

"Bring the groom and its lucky, lucky bride! He won't be difficult to carry, ladies! The conjugal bed awaits the newlyweds," the King of the Andals and the First Men roared out in his lion cub voice over the feasting horde of courtiers, before whispering for his uncle's ears only, "and I am sure the show will be...thrilling."

Before Tyrion could find his words he was swept up by a swarm of gowned ladies of the court. He watched helpless as his new lady wife was treated in the same manner by a few of his nephew's odious white cloaks. Luckily their chamber wasn't far from the banqueting hall, so Tyrion had little to no time for his fears concerning Joffrey's menacing words to thrive in his imaginative mind.

Once the ladies of the court had dumped him unceremoniously onto his bed, Sansa was thrown down onto the scarlet covers beside him, trembling with fear and apprehension. While the white cloaks and noblewomen made their exit, the king, Tywin Lannister and Cersei accompanied by some Lannister men-at-arms entered the newlyweds' bedchamber.

"What do you want?" Tyrion inquired.

The evil smirk that swept across Joffrey's face spoke volumes but nevertheless, he said, "What I want is to see what this little traitor you have as your wife will have to endure in her marriage bed from the Imp. Yet, grandfather seems to…"

"You need not speak for me, Your Grace," Tywin boldly interrupted, "for I am not so senile or without my wits that I do not know my own wishes. Now, Tyrion, Sansa, I want that the two of you conceive a child, a Lannister child that can inherit the North. To be sure I will eventually get what I want, it is necessary that I make sure your union is consummated and that you are indeed a virgin so that no questions can arise as to your child's parentage. I will be certain that your husband is the only man - though I hesitate to call him thus - between your thighs. I will see the deed ahead of you both done to my satisfaction."

"Your satisfaction? Father," Tyrion raged, now fully aware of what his vile relatives had entered their rooms to witness, "you wish to watch me, the son you can barely stand take my wife's maidenhead? You would humiliate us both further? Have the pair of us not been humbled enough this day? You would force us to suffer more?"

Tywin ignored his son's anger, "You are always proclaiming yourself the 'god of tits and wine', or some other ridiculous title. Now, you have had your fill of wine, so it is time to prove your worth in your other…domain."

The young woman lying on the bed who had been listening to her new husband rail against his father had been struck dumb in fear for what was to come. She knew she was expected to be a true wife to the dwarf beside her but he had always shown her mercy in her times of hardship in King's Landing and part of her heart had been hoping he would allow her space in her new marriage to resign herself to her fate as the Imp's wife. Upon realising that her new father-in-law, sister-in-law and the king, along with a band of common soldiers, were going to spectate as her grotesque husband was intimate with her, her quivery heart overwhelmed her good sense.

She made to run. Before her head could stop the message her nerves sent to her slender legs telling them to get her out of the bedchamber and as far away from peril as she could, Sansa gathered her gown up and propelled herself out of bed and towards the door.

Quickly, the Lannister guards were surrounding her and had their arms about her waist and arms tugging her unkindly back to her husband in their bed. Once they had deposited her where she belonged now, Joffrey approached and brought his closed hand down hard upon her, with a force so strong that she fell back against the wooden headboard with a dull thump.

"You cowardly, evil little shit! King or not, I am warning you, Your Grace," Tyrion spat, his voice full of venom, pulling Joffrey down to his height, "no one, including you, raises a hand against my wife! Now she is mine, my property, you will not touch her! Am. I. Clear?"

Tyrion shoved the king away from the bed and back into the arms of his mother who had suspiciously stood silent until now.

"You do not threaten him, dwarf! Who do you think you are to utter such words against your king?"

"Cersei, be silent!" Tywin ordered curtly, not caring for his only daughter's rancor against her brother.

"Tyrion," the Hand of the King continued, "if you do indeed have such strong feelings of protection to your wife, I suggest that you make her your wife in more than name only. Else, I can always find another Lannister to take your place and 'protect' your wife."

Just the suggestion of another blonde-haired man fucking the virginal Stark girl made the insides of both newlyweds churn. Neither wished to subject Sansa to the cruelty she would endure with Kevan, Lancel or even Tywin Lannister himself as her bridegroom.

Joffrey turned away from his mother's breast to whisper loud enough for all to hear, "I wouldn't mind the feel of her maiden cunt around my cock, grandfather, if uncle is not up to bedding his wife…"

Since Sansa thought that the Lannisters her mind had furnished as stand-ins for her husband would be unkind spouses, her imagination sent her into hysterics at the prospect of the king, reputed for his many acts of savagery, sadism and depravity with whores summoned to his bed, being her first lover.

Pulling herself forward so she was right beside Tyrion and taking his face in her palm, she murmured, "My lord, Tyrion, please do as they command. You must take me. I am your lady wife and you have to take me. Neither of us want this and it will be unpleasant, yet we have been given no choice. You are my lord husband and it has to be you that takes my maidenhead. I cannot have the monster who murdered my father have that pleasure. Please."

Tyrion was stunned by the girl's plea. It broke something within him that the daughter of Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully had been brought so low that she had to beg the Imp to fuck her while his family looked on. He would, of course, oblige his wife, but he had no intention of her first sexual experience being as unpleasant as she believed it would be.

While the couple were ensconced in their internal preparations for what was to come, Cersei had overheard Sansa's words to her little brother. She had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from expressing her anger at what the little bitch said about her boy.

"Well, little dove," the queen regent snarled, "I was going to leave you with the men to complete your wedding night, but seeing as you actually want to have my brother between your thighs, I think I will remain. I've always been curious as to how women can stand to have him put his member inside them but here you are…begging him to take you. I want to see if the god of tits and wine in all its disgusting glory."

The god of tits and wine rolled his eyes at his sister's eagerness to find out why any soul in Westeros would find him amenable.

"My lord?" Sansa asked him when all drew quiet and still in the calm before the storm.

Tyrion smiled at her, his new wife, "Lie back, Sansa."

Sansa saw the tenderness and care in her husband's mismatched eyes and felt relief as her fear began to ebb. He had shown her mercy and he would not hurt her any more than was to be expected. As her husband slowly pushed the hem of her gown up her calves, then her thighs until it pooled just at her pelvis, her breathing grew more erratic as her husband drew closer.

"Sweetheart," he said, watching her chest rise and fall wildly, "relax. I know I am not the husband of your dreams; I am no Loras Tyrell. I am ugly and I am many years your senior. In the light I am a deformed dwarf and only worthy of the whores I used to bed, but I promise you, in the dark I am the Knight of the Flowers."

His lady met his eyes and she nodded slightly, comprehending his kind platitudes. His endearment and oath did not take away all of her anxiety but knowing that her lord husband wished to please her and had more grasp of the situation than she did was of comfort.

"Please, my lord," Sansa replied breathlessly, "just let it be over soon."

At once, Tyrion pushed himself up and kissed her full on the mouth. He could feel her surprise at his lips seeking to claim hers and his ardent desire to know her body in more detail, but she did return his gesture having forgotten the presence of the silent audience they had beyond their bed.

Breaking their kiss, Tyrion whispered, "Sansa, you have said that I am your husband. It is my duty not only to protect you but to make you happy and to bring you pleasure. Now, I may yet need to work for your heart's contentment, but here I can tend to your body and its satisfaction. Let me love you and give you what little happiness you can find in this cursèd city."

She could only nod in response, his words were so sincere and romantic. As she watched her husband lower himself back down so that his face was inches away from her womanhood, her anticipation grew and quelled her fear.

Tyrion placed a chaste kiss to the soft skin of her thigh and peppered her lean stomach with more. When he heard his wife let out a quiet and no doubt, involuntary, moan of pleasure, he smiled against her navel before blowing a small gust of air into the dip. He silently vowed then that he would learn this body and study its motions and reactions to his ministrations like a book. He would one day play his wife like a musical instrument. He would master the art of lovemaking with the only partner he would have now.

While his mouth continued to bestow kisses upon his wife's lower abdomen, his fingers caressed their way up Sansa's inner thigh. They soon reached their destination and Tyrion slowly stroked Sansa's mound, surprised at the wetness he felt there. With a stretch, his mouth moved higher to his wife's waiting and pert tits. Littering kisses along the valley between her breasts before sucking the hardened nipples on both breasts combined with the attentions he was paying to her crotch proved to be a successful manoeuvre in eliciting more sounds of ecstasy from the young woman.

"Tyrion…" Sansa sighed.

He stopped his play with her breasts and sex to gaze at the beauty beneath him, unable to trust what his ears had heard. She had breathed his name in her pleasure and he kissed her passionately for it. This time, the kiss shared between them was not chaste or innocent, but filled with ardour and gratification.

Encouraged by her utterance of his name, Tyrion moved down to place his mouth at her entrance, confident that he would give her her first orgasm with his talented tongue alone. He kissed the top of her mound gently before trailing his tongue down to her glistening, untouched cunt.

When he slipped his tongue inside her folds, her gasp followed loudly. He did not cease his ministrations and quickly found her sensitive bundle of nerves that would swiftly seize and release sending euphoria through every beautiful part of her being. As he licked and swirled his tongue around her clitoris, he fingered her labia, coating his digits in her wetness before inserting one of his stubby fingers into her.

Sansa had never been under such intense stimulation or perfect pressure in her life. When Tyrion had kissed her breasts while stroking her, she thought that her pleasure had reached its peak. She had surprised herself by uttering his name in the throes of passion but was glad that it pleased her husband. The kiss that followed was hot and bursting with desire. The only thought she had in the moments before her husband commenced his seduction was that she did not desire him, yet he had been explicit with his desire to make her happy and lust for her body. She could not believe that the man who was derided by nearly all who met him and dubbed ugly and vile by the world was bringing her such pleasure and satisfaction with only his mouth and fingers. He truly was the Knight of the Flowers…

"More, my lord, please."

His wife's plea stirred her husband to thrust one more finger inside her tightness. As he continued to fondle her clit with his tongue and started to scissor his fingers within his new-minted bride, feeling how narrow her channel was and how wet she had become, he knew her orgasm was fast-approaching.

"Say my name, Sansa, say it again." Tyrion demanded, his lips still against her womanhood.

"Tyrion."

Smiling, Tyrion bit down gently on the thrumming bundle of nerves at her opening and felt her walls shudder about his fingers and a warm flood coat his hand.

"By the Gods!" Sansa shrieked as the height of pleasure drowned her.

Feeling accomplished with himself and pleased by his young wife's reaction, Tyrion placed a kiss on her hipbone as he crawled up towards her while she came down from her high.

"That was all very…educational," the voice of Tywin Lannister said, interrupting the lovers' respite, "but not what is required. Do. Your. Duty."

Tyrion turned to his wife and stroked her flushed cheek, "Sansa, this next bit will be painful for you and I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. You deserve so much better but I will do everything in my power to ease the pain."

She drew in a quick breath at the remembrance that she would soon be hurt but felt comfort in the embrace of the man - her husband - who had just brought her more pleasure than she knew existed in the cruel world she had grown accustomed to and was reminded of by her father-in-law's interjection.

"I trust you, husband."

Tyrion kissed her for that and then pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it out of the bed for a servant to retrieve later. He noted Sansa's eyes flit down in an attempt to catch sight of his manhood, but was grateful that the shadows created by their bed protected her from that vision. As he lowered himself down her body, he parted her knees and fit himself in the divide between her sylphlike legs.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he muttered as he positioned his tip at her opening, "it will be over soon enough."

Sansa was about to soothe his worries, surprisingly relishing the second time that term of endearment had fallen from his lips addressed to her, when the agonising intrusion into her body came. She cried out as she felt her barrier breached and her slim passage expand to accommodate her lord's phallus.

"Sansa?"

With tearstained eyes, she looked at him and winced slightly at the pain, but nodded and groaned, "I'm well now. You may move."

Sansa's permission was all he needed, the sensation of her tightness pulling his cock into her growing intolerable, and he pulled out slowly before thrusting back into her warmth hard.

When her tears fell from blue eyes that had witnessed too much sorrow in her short lifetime, Tyrion kissed her stomach and cursed his stature. As he pistoned his cock into his wife's cunny, he brought his thumb down to press and rub her clitoris. By the sounds of mixed pain and pleasure now emanating from Sansa, her climax was impending. He yearned to bring her climax faster, end her pain sooner and see his family depart earlier.

"Oh, yes!" Sansa cried out, feeling the pressure coiling in her belly release.

"Fuck the Seven!" Tyrion bellowed as he came seconds after his wife.

Their coupling over and Sansa's virginity taken, Tyrion fell beside her. Neither spoke as their breathing evened out and sweat rolled off their bodies.

The bystanders stood watching the pair as they regained their breath before the Hand ordered the soldiers out of the room.

"Well, welcome to the family, My Lady Lannister. Now, that you're incontestably your husband's wife, I wish you all the luck in providing him with an heir, tall with Lannister looks, to Winterfell. I expect an announcement within the year, else I will know the reason why and will have all your nights watched."

Both Tyrion and Sansa understood his meaning, that no matter what feelings or opinions on their coupling had arisen, they would need to continue their physical relationship, at least until Sansa took with child.

"Yes, my lord." Sansa answered, suddenly becoming cognisant of her nakedness and that of her bedfellow, tugging the bedclothes over her bosom.

As Tywin, Cersei and Joffrey quit the room, the newlyweds overheard Tyrion's sister say to her son that she still did not see what the fuss over Tyrion's libido and sexual prowess was about. Joffrey merely laughed in response.

Sansa, spent from her first experience of sex, in a moment of vulnerability turned into Tyrion's open arms and pulled his other around her.

"What is this, lady?" Tyrion asked, more than expecting that she would leap out of the bed at her earliest opportunity and flee his presence.

"Comfort, husband," Sansa replied automatically, "and gratitude. My wedding night may not have been what I wanted or expected in my girlish years but I will say this…I now know what the 'fuss' (as your sister calls it) is about."

Tyrion could see she was moments away from drifting asleep and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Caressing softly the angry welt that was forming on her cheek from his nephew's treatment of her, he felt proud to know such a woman was now his lady.