Author's Note: I hope you are still enjoying this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Please do leave reviews and favourite it as it will definitely be completed seeing as I've finished it already! I am going to see the new Star Wars film tomorrow (I began writing this chapter on Boxing Day 2015) so have all my creative juices flowing thanks to the great idea to revive one of my favourite franchises of all time.

DAENERYSTARGARY3N

"You know how much I love my family"

2 months later…

Sansa was in shock. She felt as though she were being prematurely torn in two by what - she could not bring herself to refer to it as a 'who' - was thriving within her. It seemed too soon, it had happened too soon for her to ready herself for the possibility of conceiving a child. She had believed that with her husband's…condition, sterility would be the accompanying gift.

"What if…" Sansa whispered in abject fear.

She felt ashamed of herself for dreading her child's birth, but knowing what had befallen the Lady Joanna, her lord husband's mother, she could not resist the strong feelings of fear and anxiety brewing in the pit of her stomach. She was slight in frame and Tyrion had remarked on how tight she was. What if she was too narrow to birth a malformed dwarf-child? Would she die in childbed and leave a baby of her flesh and blood, of Stark lineage to her captors in only Tyrion's care?

"Tyrion!" Sansa exclaimed, thinking of her husband at long last.

Her husband was the bane of his family and her only ally in King's Landing. He had been gallant in the wake of their catastrophic wedding night, never seeking her company or her touch outside of their conjugal bed. He even performed his marital duties with her speedily, ever apologetic but ever mindful of her mood and pleasure.

The Septa who confirmed Lady Lannister's suspicions that she was with child was in the pocket of the Hand of the King and while she accepted that it was a mother-to-be's right to divulge her condition to her husband and family, she warned the young Stark woman to be hasty, for if, after a day, she kept her condition secret or made attempts to rid herself of "the Imp's cursèd offspring", she would go over Sansa's head and inform Tywin Lannister of his daughter-in-law's state herself.

Sansa loathed the dirty politics and corruption that occurred within the Red Keep. She was a Stark. The daughter of Eddard Stark who had been raised to value honour and justice above all else. Residing in the capital where it seemed none had heard of those things, and nothing could pass without some hidden agenda or manipulation soiling it.

Tonight was her only opportunity to inform the other Lannisters of her impending motherhood before the chance was usurped by bought Septas. It was to be one of the Hand's mandatory family banquets where all members of the royal family had to attend and share thoughts on the Seven Kingdoms and how the Lannister family could soar to even greater heights by paying off more courtiers.

Later, as she sat beside her lord husband, watching in contempt as Joffrey devoured a roasted leg of boar making her nauseous as a result, she concluded her belly would not settle and if she did not excuse herself from the table and provide good enough cause for her premature exit, then she would void her stomach before the unsympathetic audience that was her new family.

She rose steadily, drawing the gaze of the blondes around her, "Forgive me, Your Grace, My Lord Hand, Lady Cersei, my lord husband, I am unwell. I fear I must take my leave and retire for the evening."

Before she could explain herself, Joffrey in his usual rudeness and brash manner, beat her to the punch, "Maybe my uncle's seed has taken root and the dwarf sprog is already a source of shame for its mother."

Sansa's blue Tully eyes widened in fear, yet she squared up to the table and announced more proudly than she felt, "Your Grace is very perceptive. I am indeed with child. A child to be born after seven moons."

After the diners stared at Sansa for what seemed to her to be an eternity, Tywin rose to stand with her and led his family in expressing their gladness at Sansa and Tyrion's joyous news and permission for Sansa to return to her chambers and take great care of the Lannister heir to Winterfell and the North.

Expecting her father-in-law to have the final word, as he so often did at family gatherings and official ceremonies, Sansa began to extricate herself from between her chair and the table. Just before she began to turn away, His Grace's malevolent voice caught her attention.

"Well," Joffrey began, not meaning his 'aunt' well in the slightest, "now that the Stark bitch has been knapped by the Imp himself, there is no chance of her bearing any other family's descendant. That is reassuring. Now, she has done her duty and will - I have no doubt, for her and her child's sake - continue to perform her duties to the Lannisters by carrying the thing to full-term, I suppose she can service anyone."

Those words, those words dripping with threat and danger, sent ice directly to Sansa's heart. The king had made known his intent to continue his pursuit of his uncle's wife, and his pregnant wife at that. She had lulled herself into the belief that since her wedding and her forced first encounter with Tyrion, Joffrey had lost interest in her body. She had let her guard tumble down and like a craven, blackguardly knight, he had breached her defences and shattered her sense of security with arrowheads of ice.

Tyrion was in a cyclone of emotions since his wife took to her feet. Firstly, the mixture of pride and fear that rushed through his body when he learnt he had impregnated his young wife overwhelmed and terrified him to his core. Next, he was hit by a wave of relief when he felt the minimal - but visible - pride that his father felt towards him upon learning that the son he despised and mocked had fulfilled his wishes and provided him with the heir to the Stark legacies in the North. The final salvo that hit him was the most startling. The danger his despicable nephew posed to his wife and the mother of his child was now spoken and confirmed. The urge and paternal need to protect his family from his brother and sister's child was paramount in that moment.

"I will escort you back to our chambers, Sansa," Tyrion announced, unwilling to let her be alone while they both processed Joffrey's words, "and I am sure I won't be missed, so no one here will mind my absence. Isn't that right, father?"

Though Tywin was a hard-hearted cunt when he believed he needed to be and when it suited him, Tyrion knew that out of all his relations, only Tywin wanted the child in Sansa's womb and its lady mother to be safe as much as Tyrion did. Even though Tywin's reasons were entirely political and material, in the effort to safeguard his wife and child, Tyrion could not have cared less why his father wanted Sansa protected.

"No, you shall not be missed. You may go with your wife."

The walk from Tywin's private dining rooms in the Tower of the Hand to Tyrion and Sansa's rooms was drawn out and wordless. Neither had the words or the wherewithal to discuss what had just been intimated to them by the king or what it meant for their future and that of their unborn child.

Once they reached the sturdy oak door to their private chambers, Sansa shoved it open violently and as soon as her husband passed its threshold, propelled it shut loudly before slumping down against it and curling her knees up to her breasts as if to guard her belly and the precious life that dwelled within.

Only when she felt Tyrion's bulbous fingers wipe away the moisture from her pale cheeks did she realise that she had started to weep. Instinctively Sansa leaned into his touch, appreciating her husband's warmth and constant acts of comfort in a world where a family's warmth had turned to cold and comfort was replaced by her captor's cruelty.

"Tyrion…" She whispered, her voice now hoarse.

He moved a hand down to find one of her own and held it tenderly as he replied, "I know, Sansa, I know. I was there."

Just the knowledge that she had someone who shared her grief, her fear and her child made Sansa feel lighter than she had ever felt in the time since her father's execution. Requiring more than words and a slight touch, she leaned her upper body down so she lay partly over Tyrion's lap.

He was surprised by his wife's show of emotion and vulnerability after eight weeks of minimal contact and merely civil interaction. As his wife was prostrate over his lap, all he could glimpse of her was her beautiful auburn hair. Not able any longer to caress her cheeks, he turned his attention to stroking her long and beautiful hair that spilled over her shoulders and back.

"We need to plan, Sansa," Tyrion said gently, his ministrations never ceasing, "since the imbecile that sits on the thrones has - for some reason that is beyond me - made it his mission to do you harm. We - no, I have no right to speak for what you need, - but mostly I, need to know that you are safe, that you both are safe from whatever my nephew's twisted mind can concoct."

"He is the king. He can do what he wants to me. Your plans won't make a difference, nor will they protect the child."

Tyrion attempted to stifle the flinch that was the reaction to her denouncing him as a father that had not the capability to protect his family, but his attempt was fruitless.

Sansa wished she could have sucked the words back from the air between her and Tyrion, but she felt his midriff jerk as if he had balked at her harsh meaning.

"I apologise, my lord. That was uncalled for. Please forgive my cruelty; it was not meant."

Tyrion sighed but nodded his forgiveness, "Sansa, I am going to be frank with you. I have never been anything but honest with you since I met you but since I took you to wife I have known that this day was coming: the day when you and I might have to protect our child. I may not have anticipated His Grace's intentions to pursue you further once you became pregnant but that is only an added obstacle. It is a dangerous problem, but we cannot face it as of yet because you and I are still behaving as Stark and Lannister. That is the past, sweetheart," Tyrion declared, trying not to be as unfeeling as he tried an untested endearment to lessen the hurt of his words, "the Starks as they were are gone. Your father is dead and you have been married. I realise you have had the worst luck in bridegrooms and in not being given back to your brother in exchange for mine, as I petitioned the king to do. Now, though, you are a Lannister, but you are my Lannister. We are not my father or sister or nephew. We are a different kind of Lannister but Lannisters tied together nonetheless and being thus, we can - no, we must - be allies, or else you will be proven right, whatever plans I make and whatever stratagems I enact to make sure you are protected every minute of every day will fail and I have no doubt the consequences will be dire…for you, for me and for our child growing in your belly."

Tyrion had not intended to rail at her and cause tears to flow in rivers down her cheeks once again, but he was glad she carried his child. He had almost given up hope that he would have a family other than his hateful sister and father, and the Kingslayer wherever he was. Sansa was his last hope for a family and even if she could not bring herself to love her husband, he would be a good father to their child; a child he desperately needed to see born safe and out of Joffrey's reach.

"You are happy I'm with child."

Tyrion nodded, unwilling to disown his own flesh and blood for a second.

"Even though you do not love me, you already love our child as I do," Sansa said, almost as if she were convincing herself of her husband's stance instead of telling him, "even though, since we were wed, all we've shared with each other is our bodies and our bed."

"Sansa," Tyrion called, drawing her up from his waist so he could look in her beautiful but sad eyes, "I may not be in love with you but the point is not that all we've shared is the bed and sex, it is that we've shared it. It is the fact that you are my wife in name and in everything else. I would like to share more with you, as I would like you to be more open with me, but I have no wish to force your hand. More takes time and as long as we are allies and learn how to survive the coming months together, we can have more and we can find the happiness we crave. We can be good parents to the child we conceived, Sansa, but only if you truly accept your place here as my wife and accept me as your husband in more than your bed and your body."

Sansa glimpsed the strength in her husband for the first time that night. He had weathered his family's taunts and many injuries at their hands. Tyrion was her good husband. He was not the perfect husband of her naive, childish dreams…her Knight of the Flowers in appearance or in manner. Yet, it was slowly becoming indubitable to her that Tyrion Lannister was her Knight of the Flowers in their bed where he ensured she had her pleasure before he found his, in captivity in the Red Keep where he was her only constant and benefactor, in their equal marriage where his ability to survive matched hers and in parenthood where both had already fallen in love with their unborn child and pledged their every means and effort to protect them. She was also willing to concede that Tyrion had captured a piece of her heart in his respect for her and treatment of her since she had so callously humiliated him at the cloaking.

"I do accept you. I have ever since our wedding night when you were the only kind one in a room of cruel souls. You were knightly and honourable and heeded my suffering while you were in pain as well. That night you became a true friend, Tyrion, and I have been…guarded. I was frightened to discover I was with child for you and I am sorry I said such hurtful words to you when you have done nothing since my arrival in King's Landing to wound me and everything to protect me. I have no doubt, absolutely none, in my heart and mind that you will continue to protect me and our child from the king and the other Lannisters."

Tyrion was in awe of his wife. For a virtual child, who had aged in spirit since she had been brought before the kings and queens of the Seven Kingdoms, his lady wife spoke with the airs and graces of a queen and a formidable woman. Since Varys had relayed the news that Daenerys 'Stormborn' had become quite the powerplayer in Essos, Tyrion wondered often how a girl of her few years could have the presence and authority to wield such power, but looking at Sansa as she said her piece, it was plain to him what gave both his wife and the Khaleesi across the sea such fire. Both had endured the loss of their homeland, their loved ones and their freedom and that is what made them fierce as direwolves, lionesses and dragons. He was honoured that a woman such as Sansa Stark, the direwolf, had been made Sansa Lannister, his lioness.

"I will protect you and our child with my life and with everything I have, Sansa, for you both are my greatest gifts and my last chance." Tyrion vowed, pressing his small, misshapen hand against his wife's still flat stomach.

Sansa laid her hand upon her ally's, her friend's and her husband's and smiled, feeling more confident and sure of her safety in King's Landing than she had ever before, "And I will protect you, Tyrion."

"What do I need protecting from, my dear?"

Treasuring the way the endearment fell from his lips for her, Sansa's smile grew and she replied, "While you may protect me and our child in body from the king and those who mean us harm, you need guarding from your family too, my lord. I have already said I have entrusted a small part of my heart to your guardianship as my friend, my husband and the father of my child. Yet if your father, your sister and her odious son continue to besiege your heart, then it will be hardened and you will wall it up so steeply that none will ever breach its battlements again. You will never know if I can love you as more than a husband and friend and our child will never know your heart. He will be like you, Tyrion, always longing for your love but never receiving it. I will protect your heart from your family as you protect my body. We will protect each other so that this child," she pressed both of their hands harder into her abdomen to emphasise her point, "can know the love of both its parents."