In the following week, Sansa tried to spend much time with her husband, with no success.
During the day they were both busy, so it was no good. At nights, he would often stay with the small Council until late, or come to their quarters only briefly to eat and rush out still chewing the last mouthful of mutton, or forget to come at all.
She should have been used to that, and until not long time ago she was. In truth, she would often do the same. But now it had started to become an issue.
And...he didn't even look at her!
It was so frustrating.
Rationally she understood that she couldn't expect him to just run across the room and sweep her off her feet every time she smiled at him: she had spent the great majority of their time together ensuring that he understood that she didn't want to have anything to do with him, at least from a physical point of view, and now that he was behaving exactly as she had wanted him to...but still.
She felt discouraged.
He even made sure to never, ever touch her, she had found out with mortification.
Yes, they occasionally held hands when they were in public and needed to convey an image of harmony and union (other ladies leaned on their husbands's arm, but that would have been impractical for them, due to the height difference), but he would let go on the moment when it was not strictly necessary anymore.
When he passed her an object, he would put it on the table instead of handing it to her, or, if he had no choice, he made sure that their fingers never brushed together.
And the worst part was that she could tell that he didn't even think about it. It was second nature to him, probably a habit developed after months and possibly years of her flinching at his touch.
The very thought made her heart sink. She'd rather not think about it.
And then... her manners!
It was like she suddenly had become a little girl again, because all her confidence and her armour of courtesies seem to crumble whenever she gazed into his mismatched eyes.
They were so beautiful. How come she had never realised before?
Whenever he made one of his signature japes, the green one stayed cold and sarcastic, while the black was filled with warmth and humour. It made her feel something in her belly melt.
And he was so smart. In truth, she didn't manage to fully appreciate his wits lately, because in his presence she spent most of the time in a daze.
It made having a proper conversation with him even more difficult.
One day, at breakfast, Rickon was stirring wearyingly into his milk and oat bowl.
Beside him, Tommen was trying to convince him to finish his breakfast.
The boy was so patient, Sansa reflected. Considering that his parents were the Kingslayer and Cersei Lannister, she wondered from whom he could have inherited his nurturing side.
From behind the table, Shaggydog let out a noisy fart.
-Ugh- grimaced Sansa, while the boys laughed –Rickon, have you been giving him milk again?-
Rickon pulled a guilty face:-He just wanted to have breakfast with us.- he explained.
-Milk creates air in the belly… that's why he shouldn't drink it.-
-You're drinking milk right now.- protested Rickon.
She sighed: -I'm a human.-
In that moment, Tyrion entered the room in a hurry. He was wearing elegant court clothes, and his hair was brushed back on his clean-shaven face.
-Oh Tyrion- Sansa blurted out before she could stop herself –You look so lovely today!-.
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. Tommen and Rickon exchanged a puzzled look.
-Yeah- said Tommen, uncertain but full of good will –I like your… pin.-
At least someone had learned how to behave, Sansa thought, blushing furiously.
-Er… thank you, both of you.- Tyrion answered, still disconcerted –That's very courteous.-
-I think you look just like every day- Rickon declared.
-That's because you wouldn't recognise a courtesy if it bit you on the arse.- he grinned as he sat next to the boy. Rickon nudged him jokingly in the ribs.
Tyrion grabbed bacon, brown bread and a mug of ale.
-How fare you Starks and Baratheon today?-
Sansa opened her mouth to comment the beauty of the day, but Rickon preceded her:- Sansa has got a belly full of air because she drinks milk.-
-That's not what I said!- she said. Screamed, more like.
Tyrion chuckled, although to his credit she had to say that he stopped almost immediately when he saw the look on her face.
–I was talking about Shaggydog!- she added desperately.
-Milk creates air in the belly.- Rickon went on.
-It can do that, it's true.- Tyrion nodded, appearing genuinely interested.
-And Sansa has drank a whole mug of it, so she's probably going to fart a lot today.- the boy added, pointing at her mug.
Tommen snorted so heavily that milk went out of his nose, as Sansa felt her cheeks turning crimson.
I'm going to kill him, she thought.
-Rickon!- she exclaimed –I don't…fart!- she couldn't find a polite euphemism, so she lowered her voice to say it.
-You do!-
-No, I don't!- she insisted.
Her brother raised an eyebrow:-This is not possible, Sansa – he said, in a didactical tone –Everybody breaks air from time to time. Are you the only person in the world that never does it?-
-I… it's not…- she gasped, lost for words.
She noticed that Tyrion kept chewing on his breakfast, but was trying really hard not to laugh. His face was all red.
-If you would excuse me, my lady.- he said, when he finished the bacon –I have to ask…something….to my squire.-
As soon as he had waddled off the room, Sansa started beating Rickon with her spoon.
-I hate you!- she yelled- You're the worst sibling ever! You're worse than Arya!-
-You're in love with Tyrion!- Rickon teased her, in a childish singsong voice, between one hit and the other –"Tyrion and Sansa under the weirwood tree…" Ouch!-
-Shut up! You're ruining everything!-
Tommen had to take them apart:- Stop it, both of you!-.
Sansa fixed her hair behind her ear and smoothened her skirts, realising how unladylike she must look, but still kept glancing murderously at Rickon.
-And there's no point in making fun of Sansa and Uncle Tyrion if they love each other.- continued Tommen –Of course they do. They're married, remember?-
Rickon locked his eyebrows together, then opened his mouth to say something and closed it a couple of times, as if there was something wrong with this reasoning but couldn't figure out exactly what.
When Tyrion came back, he announced that he was going to assist the Queen at court that day.
-I'll come with you.- decided Sansa, on an impulse.
Behind Tyrion's back, Rickon pretended to smooch his mug. She ignored him.
As they walked down the stairs of the Tower of the Hand she tried to think of something to say to him.
-Will you be holding court today?- she said at last.
-No - Tyrion answered –The Queen will do that. I'll just sit around like a good gargoyle, to scare the prowlers away.-
She couldn't think of a smart thing to say. She almost complimented his looks again, but she remembered she had already done it.
As he slowly walked towards the Great Hall, she observed him, noticing for the first time how different he was from the early days of their marriage.
Certainly he wasn't any taller nor had his nose grown back, but the gash wasn't raw and scabbed anymore. His scar had cicatrized into a thick white line that protruded slightly on his face. He had got rid of that unsightly yellow and black beard, and also his silver-blonde hair was much shorter.
It made his face look sterner, but it also gave an impression of authority.
He's not hiding anymore, she thought.
Also, he had stopped wearing the over-lavish clothes that the Lannisters seemed to prefer, crimson velvet and brocade, padded shoulders and puffed sleeves covered in gold and jewels, that always made him appear bundled up.
Now he preferred simpler, neatly cut garments. That day he was wearing a dark blue doublet that favoured his light complexion and brought out the colour of his green eye; his only ornament was a small silver pin representing a three-headed dragon, which signified that, as Hand, he was acting at the orders of the Queen.
She had never seen him wearing the traditional golden Hand chain after the war. Sansa thought that perhaps it had disappeared during the fighting.
His new clothes were clearly conceived to follow the shape of his body instead of trying to hide it. In her opinion, they suited him much better.
These new garbs had also another virtue, she couldn't help noticing... the dark breeches were expertly tailored on his body, no doubt, because they hung beautifully on his butt.
It made her blush just to think of it, she mused, putting a hand over her mouth to stop the girlish giggle that threatened to come out of her mouth.
But now that she had noticed, she found herself staring at it more than once as they walked.
Yes, his legs were bowed and made him sway when he walked... but his butt was an entirely different matter.
It really had a beautiful shape, she reflected. It was small, but round. Like an apple.
It also looked so... firm. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hand over it... she bet it was soft but muscular. It would have been so good to grab it and dig her fingers into its flesh when he was on top of her and pull him deeper...
-Sansa?-
Oh no, I did it again!
She had got lost in her fantasies once more.
-Yes?- she asked as innocently as she could.
-What's wrong? Do I have something on my back...?- Tyrion asked perplexed, trying to turn his head to peer over his shoulder.
-Oh just something... here.- she said, picking an imaginary hair on his doublet -Yes. Gone.- she smiled nervously.
Tyrion looked at her with suspicion:-You are exceedingly twitchy lately.- he said.
-I am just... overcome with joy to come with you to court.- she explained.
It was true, in a way. It was so good to be next to him.
Tyrion moved closer to her:- My lady, if there's something that concerns you, please, don't hesitate to confide in me. You don't need to keep your worries to yourself. It's very important to me that we are true to each other, like the best of friends.- he gave a sympathetic smile and a little shrug -We are married, after all.-
She sighed. Could she tell him about her attraction for him? Would he be happy, or reject her?
Sansa resolved to speak:- Why yes, there is something that troubles me of lately. Well, in truth... it's a delicate matter, but...-
He smiled reassuringly:-I'll be as tactful as I can. Now tell me, Sansa...-
She took a deep breath. Maybe he had already understood. Maybe he felt the same way...
-...is it your bowels that afflict you?-
Her face fell.
-Excuse me?-
-Oh, there's no need to be embarrassed!- said Tyrion -It's absolutely normal!-
-My bowels are perfectly fine, thank you.- she said stiffly.
Tyrion sighed:-Sansa, even the most graceful ladies sometimes experience... how can I say... interruptions in their regular activities...-
-I am not constipated!- she yelled.
A noble lady turned towards them in surprise, and Sansa forced a polite smile on her face as if Tyrion had just said something very amusing, until she walked away.
-I'm not constipated.- she repeated, in a much lower voice -Stop saying that. That was just Rickon being... well, being Rickon. I am in perfect health.-
-I apologise, my lady... I just assumed...-
-Let us not make the Queen wait.- Sansa said to abandon the subject, and entered the Great Hall.
The room was crowded with noblemen, knights, the Essosi Queen's guards called Unsullied, and even common people from the folk that came to address their plead to the Queen.
Joffrey had only done it a handful of times (and the Realm thanked the Gods for that, since he had been unjust and cruel in his decisions as he had been in all his life), and she knew that no one ever bothered to make Tommen do it at all, but Queen Daenerys always listened to her subjects herself, at least those who fell under her direct jurisdiction and took personal care of all the questions regarding the relations with the countries outside the Seven Kingdoms.
Queen Daenerys was very young, about her age, but looked much older. It wasn't her face, which was smooth like a child's (it wasn't a coincidence that she was considered the most beautiful woman in the world), but the solemn way in which she carried herself and in which she uttered every word.
Her dark purple eyes stared into you as if they could read into your very soul.
She was intimidated by her at first, but despite her aloof appearance, she soon discovered that Daenerys was much more reasonable and apt to hear other people's opinion that most of the royals Sansa had ever met.
Sansa stayed in the crowd, while Tyrion went to take his place next to the Queen, at the right hand side of the Iron Throne.
The Queen gestured to her guards to let the first petitioner speak.
As the court session went on, Sansa observed how the Queen and Tyrion looked so alarmingly close.
She would often turn towards him to ask for his advice, and they would talk in low voices, their heads close together. She sometimes put a hand on his arm to catch his attention; and a couple of times she saw the Queen letting a small, private smile escape at his words.
They're lovers! She thought, aghast.
Of course... this explained everything!
Why he spent so much time away from their quarters, all the evenings in which he came to bed late, why he never sought her attentions.
Of course he doesn't need me, he is bedding the most beautiful woman in the world, no less, she thought bitterly, crossing the arms on her chest.
She felt her stomach turn at the very thought of what they could be doing together during all the nights in which he returned to their quarters late and tired.
She wasn't that comely anyway, she thought. Daenerys was at least half a foot shorter that she was. But then, this might even be better from Tyrion's point of view. Damn.
There was just a small element that didn't fit in this theory: if he was engaged in that steamy affair with the sovereign, why was he... being serviced by that courtesan, the day she saw him?
She reflected on it.
There could be only an explanation: clearly his lust couldn't be satiated by just one woman.
What a despicable creature he was, she thought scandalised.
She knew that he was very popular at court. He surely had no difficulties in seducing any woman.
Maybe he had even lied with most of the women in the room!
She looked at the despicable creature who, at the moment, was studying some letters the Qarth envoy had just brought, and was scratching his head with the back of a pen in concentration.
She had to admit that it seemed like extra-marital affairs were the last thing on his mind.
She was so confused: only a short time before, she was convinced that no woman would ever sleep with him but for the love of coin, and now she was paranoid, seeing a potential lover in every woman that talked to him.
Sansa left the Great Hall and took a walk in the yard to clear her mind.
I want him, she realised. I want him to talk to me with the same confidence he talks to the Queen, to jest with me, to touch me, to tell me about his worries and his joys. And I want him to look at me only.
A vague idea of a plan started to form in her mind: she had to seduce him.

That seduction idea left Sansa uncertain on many aspects.
She knew she had often aroused desire and infatuation in men, but she never had to do anything in particular.
Just... well, sort of staying there and looking good. Say something courteous, on occasion.
But of course, this couldn't work with Tyrion, because it wasn't much different from what she did everyday, and obviously it wasn't working.
The problem was, Sansa had no idea from where to start.
She had always assumed that men would fall for her without much effort on her part.
Much to her embarrassment, she realised she needed advice.
If her mother was still alive, she might have gone to her.
As to Arya… no, she couldn't possibly write to Arya about that.
She wished Myranda Royce was there. She surely would know what to do.
For the lack of better alternatives, she resorted to asking advice to Lyanna and Wylla.
She would have preferred Lyanna, but she was unwed while Wylla was, so she doubted she could be much of help.
It wasn't wise to discuss these… personal matters with bannermen, she was aware of that.
These kind of problems should be kept within the family… but what family did she have now? Surely she couldn't ask Rickon.
She invited them to lunch in her rooms, and then exposed them the matter.
They stared at her with their jaws dropped.
-So you two never…?- Lyanna asked.
-No.- Sansa admitted.
-Because you didn't want to.-
-No.-
-And now you want, and you don't know how to let him know?-
-This is more or less the situation, yes.- she confirmed.
-What changed?-
Sansa shook her head:- I don't know!-
Wylla looked perplexed:-Do you really think he has an affair with the Queen?-
-There's no other explanation! They are always together, she doesn't take a step without consulting him.-
-That's kind of his job though, he's her Hand.- objected Lyanna in a reasonable tone.
Wylla didn't seem convinced either:-Queen Daenerys, as you surely know, swore she would never marry for political interests again, but she has no hesitancy in keeping an official paramour.- she was talking about Daario Naharis, the Tyroshy sellsword Captain that had followed the Queen to Westeros.
-She's very transparent about her lovers. She doesn't strike as the kind of woman who would have an affair in secret.-
Sansa sighed:-I don't know... I can't think straight anymore.-
Lyanna furrowed her brow:-Why don't you just tell him?-
Because I don't have the courage, Sansa thought.
Wylla shook her head:-Absolutely not! By any means, don't do that.-
Sansa was baffled by this vehement answer:- Why not?-
Wylla sighed:-Because that's not the way. Men have to feel like hunters. They will go after what they think they can't have. Everyone knows.-
-Oh.-
That made sense. When she didn't care for Tyrion, he had desired her after all.
-So you have to make sure that he doesn't realise that you want him. Be careful not to give it away. You have to be absolutely unreadable, don't let him understand that you swoon after him.-
-Yes!- Sansa agreed, relieved –I'll try!- a thought struck her –Wait a moment, how would that be different from before, when I really didn't want him?-
Wylla thought about it.
-This could be a problem.- she admitted.
Sansa took a deep breath and put aside the modesty that suggested her to be silent and asked:-What do you do, when you want your husband do…er… join you? In your marriage bed?-
She couldn't think of a more polite way to say it.
Wylla just smiled knowingly:-Oh, he's a Umber.- she said, as if this explained everything.
A puzzled silence followed.
-So what?- asked Lyanna at last.
She sighed:-Well, you know. Hard people, the Umbers. Very patriotic.-
Sansa and Lyanna exchanged an uncomprehending glance.
-I usually do this: I wait for him to come home, then I creep behind his back and hit him on the head with a vase…-
-You hit him on the head?!- gasped Sansa, in shock –But that's terrible!-
-Oh no, it's very fun!- Wylla assured happily –Then I say "I'm the Queen beyond the Wall and I'm taking over your lands!" and he says "Over my dead body! King in the North!" and then…-
-Thank you, Wylla.- Sansa interrupted her –I'm not sure I want to know.-
She shuddered and tried to shake the image away.
Sansa sighed, discouraged: this didn't help her at all. She doubted that Tyrion would interpret a blow on the head as a mating signal.
-I tell you what- said Lyanna –It's like for bears. My mother told me everything about it.-
-Really?- asked Sansa, dreading what the analogy could be.
-You know what bear couples do when the right season comes? They go away from the other bears and they walk for miles and miles to find a place where to be alone. That's what you should do too, I think… spend time together, get to know each other. Like bears.- she explained.
That was actually a good piece of advice, she marvelled.
-How would a she-bear explain to a bear that she always pushed away that now she can't stop thinking about him?-
Lyanna shrugged:- There is nothing to explain. It's the change of the season.-

Luring her bear away from the others was more difficult than it looked.
She asked Tommen, who was, after all, the person that knew Tyrion best, what subjects he could he interested in talking.
It was awkward that they had been married for more than six years, and she never bothered to learn more about her husband. True, they had been separated for four years... but still.
-Oh, many things- Tommen answered -Dragons. And books. And books about dragons. About history too, he knows every anecdote about every Targaryen king. And he often talks about all the strange places he has visited.-
It was a start.
One night Sansa decided to wait for Tyrion awake. It was, after all, the only time of the day in which she was sure she would see him.
She put on her best sleeping shift (a tunic in satin and Myrish lace that she had received years before as a present from some noble family and never even bothered to unwrap), and strategically chose a random book about dragons from Tyrion's library.
She put a flask of Arbor red on the sideboard.
When he'd come to bed, she'd offer him a glass of wine and he'd see the book and they would start talking. He'd be so besotted with her beauty that he'd have to fall in love with her. Yes, that had to work.
As he waited for him, she started reading the book, to have something to say about it.
Gods, it was boring, she couldn't help thinking.
She had chosen a very old tome in High Valyrian, a chronicle of the reign of some Aegon, the Second or the Third.
The parts about dragons were quite interesting, she had to admit, but they were drowned in pages and pages about family lineages, crops, troops and provisions. Soon she was dozing off.
She fought to keep her eyes open... maybe she could close them, just for a minute.
The next thing she heard was the door closing and Tyrion walking in.
-Oh...er...Tyrion... it's good to see you.- she said, trying to recompose herself.
-I'm sorry I woke you up.- he whispered -go back to sleep, don't mind me.-
-No, no, I'm not sleeping- she protested- I'm... reading.-
Tyrion raised an eyebrow:-With no light?-
She realised that the taper had died, probably hours before.
There was still some light from the hearth, anyway... if she concentrated really hard, she could read the words, so it was perfectly believable.
-Would you like a glass of wine?- she offered.
Tyrion yawned:-No, thank you. I think I'll go to bed. To... "read".- he said.
No, no! If he didn't take the wine the whole plan would crumble!
-But it's a really good wine!- she insisted.
-I'm sure it's delicious. Maybe another time.-
He started taking off his jerkin. He really wanted to go to sleep, it seemed.
Come on, Sansa, say something!
-I was reading this book. Your book. From your library. About dragons. Dragons are very fascinating.- she blurted out at once.
-Yes... they are.- he sounded puzzled.
Sansa took a deep breath: -And I thought, maybe you could suggest me something else to read... to learn more about them. The dragons. That are very fascinating.-
-Let me see.- he said, moving closer to her.
He distractedly rolled up the sleeves of his tunic.
Heavens, his arms were attractive. They looked so strong and hairy...
-This is a very old tome- he explained, examining the book -Not very accurate, in truth. If you want to know more about dragons I'd suggest you to take a look at the two living specimens that live in the great stables, it's probably the easiest way.-
Oh yes, those. Drogon and Rhaegal. Viserion, the white one, was in the North with Jon.
They were magnificent, of course. But they did have the annoying habit of burning everything around them, and Sansa was not especially keen having his hair or clothes burnt to ashes. But still.
-Maybe you could accompany me sometime.- she suggested.
Tyrion thought about it: -You know what, you should go to the Stables and ask for an Unsullied called Hero. He loves them, especially Drogon. He will be happy to escort you and explain you everything you want to know. That would make his day.-
Sansa did all she could not to roll her eyes.
Gods be good, for all that he was the smartest man in the realm, he could be quite thick.
She tried to come up with some excuse.
-Oh, I wouldn't want to deprive the Queen of one of her personal guards. You know how it is for a royals... plots everywhere...-
Tyrion furrowed his brow:-What do you mean?-
-I'm just saying that... well, I think the Queen should keep his guards as close as possible at any time, that's all.- she shrugged.
He looked very concerned:-Are you aware of some plot against the Queen?- he asked, taking her hand in his.
He's touching my hand, he's touching my hand, he's talking to me and touching my hand!
-Er... maybe...I've heard... something, around.-
-From whom?- he urged.
-From... Lord Poole, I think.- she answered, inventing wildly- He heard it... from some...squire.-
No, no! What was she saying? There was no plot to kill Daenerys!
-This is very serious. I had no idea.- he reflected.- I should probably tell the Queensguard to increase the number of guards around them...- he added, more to himself than to Sansa -And probably...yes, double turns to watch the castle walls...-.
He walked to his bed and put his jerkin back on.
-Are you going somewhere?-
-I'm sorry, my lady.- he apologised -But this plot could be very dangerous and we are underprepared. I need to take care of this matter now.-
And he hastily waddled out of the room.
Now, this whole seduction thing is proving more difficult than I thought.

After a long day of fighting between the Karstarks and the Magnar of Thenn, Sansa decided she could really do with a long, hot bath.
She told her handmaiden to bring the hot water to her rooms and undressed, leaving only her smallclothes, a white cotton tunic, on. When she stepped in the bath room, she found that the wooden tub was already filled with water and with an occupant.
-Pod?- Tyrion called when he heard the steps behind him.
-No, it's me.- she said, walking closer to the tub.
He was sitting in the water, which was so hot that she could see faint lines of vapour rising in the air.
There was a layer of soap and foam on the surface of the water, so it wasn't an improper situation... but how could it be improper anyway, they were married!
-Ah.- Tyrion moved uneasily in the tub -sorry, did I steal your place?-
She shrugged:- I called for a bath, but I can wait.-
She knew she should go... she was supposed to... but she couldn't bring herself to.
Tyrion looked at her:-I'm almost finished anyway.-
She could tell it wasn't true: the water was steaming hot and his hair was still dry, which meant that he had probably just stepped in.
-Take your time. I can wait.- she repeated. I should really go and leave him alone.
Tyrion rubbed his neck distractedly. She had an idea.
-Is your neck sore?- she asked.
Tyrion nodded:-Ah, yes, as usual. I spend too much time hunched to read.- he explain.
She sat down near the tub, behind his shoulders:-Here, let me do it for you.- she offered, and started to rub his shoulders.
Tyrion wriggled nervously:-That's kind of you, but there's really no need...-
-Shut up, Tyrion.- she commanded, and he resolved to silence.
His muscles were so tense at first that they felt hard as stones, but as she gently massaged his shoulders, she felt them relaxing. She had learned to do that for her cousin Sweetrobin. Sometimes it was the only thing that helped him calm down and sleep.
-This is actually really nice.- he said, slightly surprised, after a while. His eyes were closed.
She smiled.
Soon his head was lolling forward, and she proceeded to rub the base of his neck.
There were scars on his back that looked like whipping marks. She half wanted to ask him how he got them, but at the same time she didn't want to spoil the moment.
It was so intoxicating to finally be able to touch him so openly.
She saw that on his back and on his shoulders there were little moles here and there. She thought they were very pretty.
And his scent... Now that she was so close she could smell it clearly. It came from his skin and especially from his hair. It was so good, clean, sweet but with a wild note underneath that made her feel a stir in her lower belly.
She wanted nothing more than bury her face in the nape of his neck and drink fully in it.
Now that he was so close she could see that a two-day stubble had grown on his cheeks, giving him a scruffy look.
Sansa started to massage his neck, insisting on the points where she could still feel tension.
His skin was so fair that even her gentle touch left red marks. She wondered how would it feel to kiss him on the neck... She would be delicate at first, barely brushing her lips against his soft skin.
She lightly ran her fingers on the exact point that she wanted to kiss. Then she would press her lips harder, tracing her way to his jaw, and then next to his ears... she would nibble at them, feeling his hair scraping against her nose.
She realised that at the very thought her nipples had hardened under her tunic.
Tyrion was so relaxed that his muscles were like clay under her hands.
She eased him gently against her shoulder, pressing her breasts against his back.
She had to suppress a moan at the contact, because the water had soaked the fabric and it felt almost like touching him directly.
Sansa massaged delicately his scalp, starting from the back oh his head and carrying on towards the sides. Tyrion let out a soft sigh.
He likes it, she realised. Maybe it wasn't as intense as what that woman was doing to him, but the look on his face was so similar...
I'll kiss him now, Sansa decided. Who cared about strategy and hunters and not showing interest first. He was so close that she just needed to lean forward and their lips would be brushing together.
She let her hand move on his chest, touching his wet hair (My little lion...), and she closed her eyes, ready to kiss him.. when Tyrion's hand hastily grabbed hers.
-Sansa, stop.- he said. His voice sounded hoarse.
It felt like a cold shower. She opened her eyes.
-It was very...very...lovely. Very therapeutical. Really kind of you.- he added, plunging deeper in the tub until the water reached his chin -The water is getting cold, so I better finish the washing, so then I can leave the tub for you.-
He sounded very embarrassed, gathering the brush, the soap and the sponge closer, and she couldn't understand why.
-Thank you, really. I already feel much better.- he added.
He realised what I wanted to do and was horrified, she thought.
She wanted to cry. She blabbered something to take leave and stormed off.