Tyrion sighed yet again, as he rolled over, only to roll back as he remembered the situation; he and Sansa, sharing a bed. True to his word, he hadn't pressured her about making a child as his father wished and did not intend to. However, as squires and handmaidens entered frequently to clean and give messages, it only made sense that the 'couple' keep up the pretence that they had indeed consummated the marriage.
Tyrion felt in necessary to attempt to give Sansa her personal space; one of the small freedoms he had the power to grant. Whilever they slept together, he made sure to wear a shirt and something covering his lower half to avoid any uncomfortableness. He also thought it would be extremely awkward if she awoke to find him attached to her like a squid, so he tried to fall asleep facing away, close to the edge as possible to allow her plenty of room between them.
Whether she appreciated these small actions or was indeed aware of them at all was entirely ambiguous. She probably still despised him and yes, why not? His family and him by extension were responsible for the death of her whole family. Sansa's expression in his presence was still a mask of composure and stiff acceptance. They never spoke much in bed, either finding the situation too strained or simply having nothing to say. Every other day Tyrion would stomach lectures from his father, ringing with demands that Sansa be with child as soon as possible.
Shae didn't make it any easier either; always accusing him of being attracted to the child that Sansa was. He would lie easily that he had no interest in Sansa, but just couldn't help himself. What man could, other than the spider, Lord Varys? She was a great beauty, with a broken heart to boot - no man would deny a night with her. Yet one had. It weighed upon him heavily that he was capable of rape, that he had that power, practically the right.
Their marriage would potentially span decades; if it did, he didn't want every experience to be soured by one night of selfish immorality. Abusing her would poison their relationship, would make him more of a monster in her eyes than his name ever could. He was glad of the faint shadow of trust she had for him, bitter though it was. Stirring him from contemplation, his foot ghosted against her leg.
"Apologies," he muttered, immediately moving closer to the edge.
No response. It was late, very late and it occurred to Tyrion that she may be in as deep thought as him, maybe even despairing over the same context? The starched sheets scratched over each other as she shifted. Tyrion gripped the edge of his pillow, trying to move further off the bed.
"If you go much farther, you'll fall out of bed," Sansa said suddenly, her elegant voice piercing the dark silence. "If I am so repulsive to sleep beside, perhaps I should sleep elsewhere."
Tyrion turned immediately. "It is not that I find you even slightly repulsive, rather that I am trying not to cause you undue distress. I said that you have nothing to fear from me and I mean to stay to my word."
Sansa's face was shadowed and covered with loose hair, but her eyes were still luminescent blue by Tyrion's sight.
"Thank you, Lord Tyrion," she replied stiffly, turning to face the ceiling.
"Just Tyrion."
"Yes, Tyrion."
An uncomfortable silence prickled at them both.
Tyrion swallowed annoyance. "I wish you were more angry at me. I wish you insulted me and showed disgust every time I spoke."
Sansa sat up slightly against the headboard. "Why would you wish that?"
"Because," Tyrion explained. "anything would be better than this silence."
Her silence stretched until he thought she was asleep for sure. "My family is dead. I don't think I could stand to be happy whilever the reason for their death rages on. This stupid war."
"I don't think the war is ending any time soon. I don t think many will be happy either, even after the war. But perhaps you can afford to be " Tyrion trailed off, unable to convey what he meant through words.
"I don't think I can," Sansa said, understanding anyway. "I want to be grateful. I know I could have ended up with a far worse match. I know you could have already But you didn't."
Tyrion snorted in disgust. "Don't mistake my cowardice for altruism. Any sane man would have taken you already. You're just too I can't. You're practically a child."
"I have bled," Sansa said automatically.
"That doesn't make you a woman," Tyrion laughed humourlessly. "You're you deserve more; a husband of your choosing."
"I chose Joffrey," Sansa said hollowly, continuing at Tyrion's surprise. "Before I knew what he was. Before I came here. I chose him; I thought he was a charming prince. Honourable."
"Every man is not the same as him."
"No," she agreed softly. She slipped down into the sheets and lay her head on the pillow. Tyrion thought then that she was far braver than any of his father's best soldiers.
"Are you afraid of anything?" he whispered, thinking aloud half-heartedly.
Sansa whispered back. "Many things. Snakes. Spiders. Joffrey scares me a lot. Being alone scares me the most though; if I'm alone, everything I'm scared of can get me."
"Joffrey can't touch you. I'm protecting you now and I'll do everything I can to keep him from you. I can hire a footpad to follow you from a distance if you want."
"I just don't want to be alone," Sansa whispered, falling silent.
Tyrion considered holding her hand. Just to say .he didn t know. He was shocked for sure; he had just spoken to Sansa; real Sansa, not fake Sansa. She doesn't want to be alone, he thought as he drifted into sub-consciousness. Me either.
Author's Notes: This is my first work on so if I'm doing something wrong with tagging or ratings I'm just new (haven't even read much on here either) I'm so used to the Ao3 format I'm bound to make a mistake at some point ╮(╯▽╰)╭ This won't add up with GOT canon obviously tbh I may lose the plot to fluff half way through but