Hello lovely people of fanfiction.
I know I have a million and one stories going (okay, only like one. With another on the way.) but I have to write this. There is a disturbing lack of Sansa/Tyrion stories. And I love me some Tyrion.
The name comes from the song Awake My Soul by the wonderful Mumford and Sons. Check them out if you haven't. They have an awesome song called Little Lion Man that reminds me of our favorite Lannister. I will be using it later.
The song for this chapter is After the Storm by Mumford and Sons. Don't worry, they won't be my only inspiring artist.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the Iron Throne, not the North and definitely not Tyrion Lannister. But oh the things I could do if I did.
Chapter One: After the Storm
It had been two months, one week and three days since his wife had spoken to him. He hadn't thought that she would last that long, that she would hold it against him for weeks. He knew that she blamed him, hated him simply because his last name was Lannister, because it was on his family's orders that her brother and mother had been murdered. He hated this! He hated that his family had caused her so much pain, so much loss. And there was nothing he could do about it, gods curse it!
He paced outside his door, too frustrated with the icy demeanor his wife treated him with to go inside but too lonely to go anywhere else. Bronn was at the brothel, getting some skirt and Pod was running a message to Verys for him. Shae had left for Pentos after Tywin discovered her relationship with him and Tyrion managed to get her out before he could kill her. Left alone with his thoughts and aggravation, he continued to pace outside the room, working up the courage to go inside, to face his wife's apathy and disgust.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned, freezing when Sansa came into view. She also froze, eyes locked with his in terror. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, tears still fresh on her face. Her chest was heaving with what he assumed had been sobs mere moments ago. She stood there, eyes shifting between him and the door. He was frozen, unable to move, worried to frighten her away. Finally, he couldn't take the silence any longer.
"What happened? Was it Joffrey? Did he attack you again?" Tyrion ignored the fact that she hadn't spoken to him in months, that she hated him. She was crying and it felt as though each tear was a knife to his heart. She shook her head, pushing past him into their room. He followed, undeterred by her rejection. "Sansa, please, it's been months!" She whirled to face him, fire flashing in her eyes.
"Yes! It has been months! Two! It's been two months since my brother and mother went to a wedding and were brutally killed on your family's orders! So, you're right, I haven't spoken to you. Because every day I'm reminded that Lannisters killed my family and I'm married to one! I am a Lannister now and how in the seven hells does that not make me a traitor to my own blood?" At this point, her voice broke and she sank to the floor, sobs wracking her body and tears pouring from her eyes. He reacted instinctively and dropped to the ground, wrapping his short arms around her. She clung to him, blindly burying her face in his chest.
"I know my family had wronged you, that my nephew has treated you in deplorable manner. My father is a bloodthirsty tyrant and my sister is an incestuous snake. And I know," he said, pausing and he felt her go still, "that your father and brother weren't traitors. Your father was an honorable man who believed in duty and loyalty above all else. And he and your mother and brother were betrayed. And I can never fix that, I cannot give you their lives. But I can promise to give you the freedom to love them and mourn them. And I promise to never stop treating you like a queen." She had raised her head halfway through his speech and now, as she stared into his eyes he could see some of her pain melting away.
"I'm afraid I don't want to be queen. It doesn't seem that magical anymore," she admitted and Tyrion felt himself begin to laugh. She smiled and then began to laugh too, doubling over and clutching her sides as her laughter mixed with his and filled the room.
When their laughter finally subsided, she grabbed his hand and he felt his heart quicken. "Thank you. I'm sorry for being so unfeeling these last months. It was unfair of me to punish you for your family's cruelty."
"Sansa, you have nothing to be sorry for. If I were in your position, I wouldn't talk to me either. Of course, I wouldn't talk to me under any circumstances," he added and she laughed softly.
"You shouldn't tear yourself down, my lord."
"Tyrion," he said and she smiled to herself.
"Tyrion. You are so much more than people think you to be." Tyrion felt himself blushing at her words and shook his head.
"It's not hard to be more than a demon monkey," he said and she rolled her eyes.
"If we're going to make this work," she said slowly and his eyes locked onto her face, hope stirring in his chest, "then I am insisting that you are no longer allowed to tear yourself down. If you cannot see the beauty in you, then it will just be up to me to show you." Tyrion stared at her, mesmerized by her. Her strength, her respect, it all made him realize that she truly got the short end of the stick marrying him. She was so good, so loving despite the atrocities that had befallen her family and she had been forced to endure.
"My dear lady," he said, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it, "I do not deserve you." She blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. He smiled to himself, pleased at having caused her cheeks to flush. He felt something stir in his breast, as though his heart was becoming too large for his chest. He felt drawn to her, like there were strings attached his very being and she was pulling him in, dragging him into her delicious warmth, so much like the summer sun that warmed all it touched. She was beautiful and modest and for all the pain and suffering she had endured, maintained a level of innocence and naiveté that he found endearing.
"Well since I'm the daughter of the 'traitorous' King of the North and you're the demon monkey," she said, teasing him and he smiled, recalling the sunny walk they had taken in happier times before her family had fallen at the hand of his family, "I think you must have done something to deserve me." He chuckled and brushed a hand along her cheekbone, reveling in the soft skin.
"I… I know that our marriage has been tenuous at best," he stuttered. Why was he stuttering? He was usually so eloquent. "But I would very much like to try and make this work. I know that you didn't want to marry me, that I am not much of a catch, but you are better than I could have ever hoped for in a wife."
"I would like to try also," she said after a moment, nervously smoothing her dress. He grinned.
"Well, that's settled then. I think it is time for bed." She froze and he could see her throat working, swallowing thickly. "I-I didn't mean, together. I just imagine… tired. You must be very… tired."
"No… well, yes, I mean, I am… I just…" she stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I have had a very trying day… year," she admitted after a moment. "I was wondering if perhaps tonight, you could keep me company." His breath stopped as he stared at her, worried to move an inch lest he frighten her. "Not in the way that your father demanded, but… when I was little, my mother would hold me after something terrible happened. When my little sister became ill and I heard the servants say that she was going to die, I was so frightened. My mother climbed into my bed and held me. She would run her fingers through my hair and tell me about the waters of Riverrun and her childhood there. It always calmed me down. I just… you are the only person I have left who actually cares about me, not who my family is or what you can get from me. And I… I feel safe with you." He stared at her, trying to process the unbelievable truth that he was telling her. "It is silly," she said after a moment, getting up and moving to the bed agitatedly.
"No," he said suddenly and she turned, staring at him with startled eyes. He could see rejection and pain beginning to form tears. "I meant, no, it's not silly. I would be happy to oblige you, my lady." She smiled shyly and began to undress, removing her clothes until she remained in her shift. Tyrion moved to the other side of the bed and began removing his clothes as well. She climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her and turning on her side to face him. He climbed onto the bed once he was finished and blew out the candle on his side, leaving the room in darkness save for the small amount of moonlight shining through the window. He laid down, scooting closer to her until she rested her head on his chest, wrapping her slender arms around him. He began to comb his fingers through her hair, relishing in the feel of the silken strands between his fingers and moved his other hand up to grasp her arm.
"I remember the first time I saw Winterfell," he said quietly. "The towers rising up, surrounded by trees that had withstood countless winters, the harshest of environments. I wondered how anything could survive in so cold a place. But after observing your family, seeing their strength, your beauty, I came to realize that only the strongest things survive in the North." She laughed humorlessly. "You are one of the strongest people that I know," he said after a moment. "You have survived the harsh winters of the North, the burning politics of the South and you will survive whatever else may be thrown at you. I have never met anyone as strong as you." She smiled into his chest, the compliment warming her.
"I remember when you first spoke to me, the first time I saw you after my father's death. You offered your condolences. I remember being so surprised, so taken off guard that someone would feel sympathy for me. Not just anyone but a Lannister. I wanted to cry, to thank you for not treating me as though I had not just watched my father die. You showed me kindness when no one else would. It is the reason that I did not do something drastic like throw myself from a tower when I learned we were to be wed."
"I would have been devastated if you had done so," he said, sitting up to stare at her. "Even then, when I knew that marrying me would be the worst kind of fate. You are too special to lose." She smiled and without thought, he bent over and pressed his lips to her forehead. She smiled to herself and he laid back down again, resuming the stroking of her hair. "Although I understand the impulse," he said after a moment and she rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm. "Ouch," he said, removing his arm from under her head and rubbing the offended appendage. "You are surprisingly strong for a nobleman's daughter." She laughed.
"I am a daughter of the North. We are strong people," she teased and he rolled his eyes.
"Using my own words against me! How did I come to be such an abused husband?"
"By marrying a woman who is not cowed by your intimidation or wit," she replied without hesitation. Tyrion smirked.
"So you admit, I'm clever," he said. She rolled her eyes and made to punch him again. He flinched and she laughed, rubbing his arm in a soothing manner.
"I think you are too clever for your own good," she teased.
"Alas, you are not the first to tell me," he said, shaking his head. "But such is the curse of having such a brilliant mind." Sansa rolled her eyes.
"I think I'm the cursed one," she muttered, rolling over in the bed.
"Yes, I suppose you are cursed," he said, rolling over and placing his arm around her waist. "Cursed with a charming husband."
"My 'charming husband' had better stop talking or he'll be sleeping on the chaise again," she mumbled sleepily.
"Sorry, wife. I will try and keep my musings to myself." She just hummed in reply and he lay there, running his fingers through her hair and holding her waist softly, feeling blessed instead of cursed for the first time in his life.