Title: By the Old Gods
Author: PrettyPoppy
Summary: After discovering that their marriage is still valid, Sansa and Tyrion renew their vows in the godswood.
Author's Notes: Although this story is technically a companion piece to "Into the Long Night," it was written as a standalone and can be read without any knowledge of the fic that inspired it. For those who have read "Into the Long Night," this story takes place between Chapter 44 and the epilogue. When complete, this fic will have five chapters. I will post them as I finish editing them.
Dedication: This story is dedicated with much love and appreciation to KatMorgan and VickSaturn. While commenting on "Into the Long Night," they both suggested that Sansa and Tyrion should renew their vows in the godswood. Without them, this story would simply not exist.
Chapter One: Sansa of House Stark
Sansa Stark stood in front of the lone mirror in her bedchamber, catching one last look at her reflection before she was to make her way to the godswood to marry Tyrion Lannister. Her heart fluttered nervously, but she knew there was no reason to be nervous. She had married Tyrion once before, in the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. She had been nervous then, but circumstances had been very different. She'd been heading off into the unknown, to marry the enemy. But now, she was on her way to the godswood to marry the man she loved, and her heart fluttered for a very different reason.
A fortnight earlier, Sansa and Tyrion had been left alone at Winterfell while everyone else they loved had gone off to fight the White Walkers and the Night King. In the hours they had spent alone, something had blossomed between them, and Tyrion had ended up in her bed. The next morning, they had both been surprised to discover that, according to Samwell Tarly at least, their first marriage had never been properly annulled and they were still very much wed. Had they learned the truth just a few hours earlier, their marriage would never have been consummated and they might have gone their separate ways. But they had learned the truth too late, and Sansa couldn't even pretend to be sorry.
She loved Tyrion with all her heart. He was kind and gentle and trustworthy. Clever, witty, and brave. He never failed to make her laugh or to touch her heart. And when they were alone together in her bed, everything he did left her breathless. He was a wonderful husband, and had she been about to take her vows with the most dashing knight in all the land, she didn't think she could have been happier or more nervous.
Although they were still married in the Faith of the Seven, Jon had suggested that Sansa and Tyrion also take their vows in the godswood, just so there would be no doubt about the validity of their union. Sansa had taken vows in the godswood once before, beside Ramsay Bolton, and at first, she had been reluctant to agree to Jon's request. But a few soft words from Tyrion and she had changed her mind. She was a northern woman, and she deserved to marry the man she loved before the old gods. She would not let Ramsay Bolton take that away from her, not even in death.
And so now, she was preparing to join Tyrion and the rest of her family beneath the heart tree for a private ceremony to reaffirm her commitment to her husband. In another fortnight, there would be a second wedding at Winterfell, between Jon and Daenerys. But tonight was Sansa and Tyrion's night, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Sansa pulled her eyes away from the glass. "Who is it?" she asked tremulously, fearing that it might be Tyrion. Even though they were already married, she didn't want him to see her until she came to him in the godswood. She had donned a stunning gown of snow-white brocade, a matching maiden's cloak emblazoned with the Stark sigil draped across her shoulders. Although she was no longer a maid, Sansa had no desire to break with the traditions of the old gods and so had worn the cloak just the same. She'd had her maidservant arrange her hair in an elaborate coiffure, woven through with white ribbons, the snowy silk standing out in stark contrast against her fiery tresses. She wanted to cherish the moment Tyrion first caught sight of her in the godswood. She didn't want him to see her before the ceremony.
"It's Arya."
Sansa exhaled a relieved sigh, though she felt just as much disappointment as relief. She hadn't seen Tyrion since early that morning, and she was already longing for his company again.
"Come in," Sansa replied.
The door opened, and Arya stepped inside, her eyes traveling up and down the length of her sister in bold assessment. She let out a long, low whistle. "All that for the Imp?" she asked, closing the door behind her.
"Must you call him that?"
"Well, he is, isn't he? Or do we not call him that anymore because he shares your bed now?"
"We don't call him that anymore because he is the Lord of Winterfell. You would be wise to remember that."
Arya smirked as if she found Sansa's threat utterly laughable. She clasped her hands behind her back and ambled into the room, walking a long, slow circle around Sansa, idly examining her as she moved. When she was finally in front of Sansa again, she stopped and turned to face her. "Do you really love him?" she asked.
"Yes, I do. More than you could ever know."
Arya's brow furrowed. "But why? Simply because he can please you in bed?"
"No, not at all."
"So he can't please you in bed? But I thought—"
"Yes, he does," Sansa said, her cheeks flushing warmly, "but that isn't why I love him. He's a good man, Arya. As good and true as Father or Robb or Jon. If he weren't, I would never have taken him to my bed in the first place, and I would never have allowed him to have Winterfell."
"Are you sure he hasn't just bewitched you? They say he has a silver tongue. I'm sure he could talk a silent sister into breaking her vows. How do you know he hasn't just besotted you?"
Sansa shook her head. "Because I know him, better than you can possibly imagine. He was kind to me in King's Landing. He was patient and understanding, and he never demanded anything of me that I wasn't willing to give. He's the only man I've ever known, beyond our own Stark men, who didn't try to use me or manipulate me. I trust him, and that means more to me than anything."
Arya nodded thoughtfully. "I see you've matured more than I thought. I'm glad. I've wanted to see you happy for so long. I'm glad that you've finally found that with Tyrion. No one deserves it more."
Sansa moved forward, reaching for Arya and pulling her into her arms to hug her tightly. She was deeply grateful for her sister's love and approval. Arya had been wary of Tyrion since the day he had returned to Winterfell, and it was a great relief to know that she approved of him and that he and Sansa had her blessing.
"Thank you, Arya," Sansa said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you for loving me and for understanding."
Arya hugged Sansa back just as tightly. "Of course, I love you. And of course, I understand. I just want you to be happy, Sansa. As happy as Mother and Father were."
"And I am, Arya. I'm happier than you can imagine. I swear it."
"Good."
Arya pulled back then, and Sansa was forced to let her go.
Arya's eyes skimmed down the front of Sansa's gown. "I think I've wrinkled your dress."
Sansa looked down. Her gown was indeed wrinkled, but the damage wasn't permanent. The brocade she had chosen was very forgiving. She quickly fluffed out her skirt, and in an instant, the gown was perfectly smooth again. "No harm done," she said as she looked back up at Arya.
"Well, in that case, I suppose we should be on our way then." Arya turned to leave, but Sansa stopped her.
"Arya, one more thing."
Arya halted, slowly turning around to face her sister again. "Please, don't tell me that you need advice about what to do on your wedding night. If Lord Tyrion hasn't been able to teach you yet, I certainly can't."
Sansa almost laughed. Even though Arya was quite worldly, they both knew Sansa had a lot more experience in that regard than Arya did. In fact, as far as Sansa knew, Arya didn't have any experience in that regard at all.
"No, it isn't that," Sansa said. "You've given me and Tyrion your blessing. When are you going to do the same for Jon and Daenerys?"
Arya's eyes darkened, though the change was so subtle that Sansa almost missed it. "I'll give Jon my blessing when he finds a bride who isn't his aunt."
Sansa shook her head. "You know it can't be helped. She's already carrying his child. Don't you think it's best just to accept it? For everyone's sake?"
"I have heard that people in love tend to want everyone else to be in love as well. You want Jon and Daenerys to be just as happy as you and Tyrion are, don't you?"
"I do. Jon deserves it just as much as I do. Even if you don't care for Daenerys, you must admit that."
"I will admit nothing."
"But you know it in your heart."
Arya didn't reply, but Sansa hoped that her words had meant something to her anyway. Arya loved Jon more than she loved anyone else in the world, and she wanted him to be happy. She wouldn't deny Jon his happiness forever. Perhaps it would take some time, but Sansa was certain that, eventually, Arya would give Jon and Daenerys her blessing.
"Is there something else you want," Arya asked, "or may I go?"
"You may not go."
Arya arched a brow in question. "And why not?"
"Because," Sansa said, unable to keep the smile from her lips, "we should go together."
Arya took several steps back and opened the door for Sansa. She bowed like a gentleman and said, "Right this way, my lady."
Sansa wanted to argue that Arya was every bit the lady that she was, but she knew now was not the time or place. She pulled back her shoulders, held her head high, and walked through the door, Arya right behind her, and together, they headed toward the godswood.
