Wedding arrangements

"You're as fine a husband as any woman could hope for," Sansa said, as he relayed her the news. Tyrion shook his head. They were seated at the dinner table, celebrating the birth of Jon's first born. Sansa had travelled all the way to King's Landing for it. Jon was keen to find her a husband, apparently, and they'd already found him a match. Tyrion was not pleased about it, but when his Queen had begged him to marry the girl, he found it too hard to refuse her. He was to marry in a fortnight.

"You were not so fond of my merits as a husband when we were married," he said. Her face fell a little.

"I have seen more of the world since then," she replied, looking him straight into his eyes. He smiled at her. "Haven't we all?" he said grimly, but he laid his hand briefly on her arm. I'm not angry with you, the gesture meant. His hand rested quite closed to hers afterwards. "Thank you," he said after a while. She put her hand on his, gave it a soft squeeze, and picked up her spoon again. "She will be luckier than most, this girl you are to marry." Sansa sighed and then continued: "They intend to marry me off as well."

"Do they?" Tyrion said. It didn't come as a surprise to him. Married people often wanted others to share their bliss, he thought angrily. As if every marriage was blissful! Jon and Daenerys were building their empire, making alliances where-ever they could.

"I won't let them," she said, gritting her teeth. "My last marriage has turned me against the whole thing."

"Jon wants to pressure you?" Tyrion was a little taken aback. "Surely as a widow you can be Warden of the North yourself?"

"I've done perfectly fine so far," Sansa agreed. "But he wants new young Stark blood. Wolf litter." She laughed a little hoarsely. "It's not as if Bran or Arya will do it, so I'll have to. According to Jon, that is."

"I don't see why Bran or Arya couldn't…." Tyrion began, but she cut him off. "Bran, well, he's not exactly ordinary, and Arya…. Well, she isn't either. She is often gone for days and when she comes back…." Sansa fell silent, lost in thought, before she whispered, "another of our enemies is gone."

"Her training," Tyrion gathered. He'd heard about the Stark girl not exactly being a little lady.

"She scares me sometimes," Sansa said. "I wouldn't want to marry her as a suitor either." She shivered. "I shouldn't say this," she said, "but every once in a while, I see Joffrey in her. The joy of hurting people. I've tasted but a little of it myself, when Ramsey was torn apart… But Arya! She truly enjoys it, and it worries me."

"So it is up to you," Tyrion said.

Sansa shrugged. "So it seems, but I won't. I will not do it. Jon best make many more children himself. And who knows, perhaps Arya will meet someone like her on all her travels and they can make themselves little murderers."

"You're a bit harsh on your sister," Tyrion said, but she laughed at him. "You're one to talk," she said. "You killed yours with your bare hands!"

"That's different," Tyrion said. "She hated me. It was either me or her and it was not going to be me."

"Hear, hear," Sansa said, with twinkling eyes and raising her goblet at him.

Tyrion had no choice but to join her.