Chapter 3
Tyrion was gone when Sansa awoke even though it was still early. The uneaten meal sat on their table, and Sansa hoped her handmaidens would come soon to clear it away. She couldn't tell if Tyrion were just that upset by something that he didn't wish to talk about, or if he was avoiding everyone.
"We were never friends," she told herself. "We were never even really confidantes. There's no reason to think he'd avail himself of his troubles to me. He was kind to me when I needed it and nothing more. If I'd not been a girl when we wed, I might have learned Tyrion better."
As Sansa went through her wardrobe and selected a dress for the day, it occurred to her that she knew next to nothing about the man she married although she'd lived with him for four years. She didn't know what books he read, or what he did for a pastime. She didn't know his favorite color, or what he thought about almost all the Tyrells moving into the Red Keep to be close to Margaery. She didn't know if he ate regular meals, if he enjoyed his work, or even if he approved of the way she carried out her public duties as his wife. She slept beside the man, but he was a complete stranger.
"Many marriages are so," mused Sansa, but the thought was far from comforting.
After her handmaidens made her ready, she stole back down to the library and crept behind a bookcase again. To her surprise, Prince Jaime was in Tyrion's lap, and a roll of parchment was spread before them on the table.
"This is the library," chattered Prince Jaime. "I put lots of books in it for you. Over here, I put a room for you to keep dragon skulls in."
"Marvelous!" exclaimed Tyrion.
"I know how you like 'em," said Jaime. "May we go see their skulls again someday?"
"Absolutely."
"Why aren't you afraid of them? My daddy says he's glad there are no more dragons."
Tyrion ruffled the boy's hair. "Well, I don't know. I suppose that I have so much trouble walking that the idea of flying wherever I want to go is quite appealing."
"Do your legs hurt, Uncle Tyrion?"
"Terribly, but it's nothing for you to worry about. My legs take me everywhere I need to go. Even if I had legs as long as your father's, I'd still admire dragons. As fierce as they were, they made all men equal regardless of their height for few men stood a chance against a dragon."
"They ate everyone!" cheered Jaime.
"Indeed they did!" Tyrion pulled the boy's head under his chin. "What room is this, my boy?"
"That is Aunt Sansa's room."
"Thank you for drawing this for me. It truly is splendid. I'll walk you back to the nursery, and tomorrow you can show me what else you've come up with."
Sansa did not show herself to Tyrion this time. She let him lead Jaime out of the stacks of books through the library and only came out when she knew she wouldn't be discovered.
"Why is he so different here?" thought Sansa. "I may not be the ideal wife, but neither is he the ideal husband. Surely he's not angry with me when we were both forced into this union."
But she knew there was more to it than that. He'd pushed everyone else away as well.
As she walked through the winding corridors leading back to her chambers, she was full of worry and consternation. So lost in her thoughts was she that she nearly walked straight into Ser Bronn. He apologized profusely as he helped her gather the handkerchief and book he'd accidentally knocked out of her hands.
"He used to be close to Tyrion," thought Sansa. "He might know what is going on with my husband."
"Ser Bronn, do you mind if I have a quick word with you in the garden?" asked Sansa.
He smiled at her and accepted her request, but she could tell he wasn't completely genuine. If she wasn't a Lannister, he'd tell her where to go in a heartbeat. It was in his eyes that he trusted her no more than she trusted him. His tone of voice when he spoke to her said it all: he thought she was too demure, too proper, and too high-born to be likeable.
"How can I assist you, Lady Sansa?" he asked as they strolled amongst climbing roses and palms.
"I don't know that you can, Ser Bronn," said Sansa. "A change has come over Tyrion these past few months. I'd wondered if you'd noticed."
"I don't think there's a person in King's Landing who hasn't noticed. He's drunk all the time now, and sullen where he used to be sharp-witted. He hasn't spoken to me in weeks." Bronn withdrew a flask and took a sip.
"Did something happen?"
"I should say something did! But what did happen is anyone's guess. Why are you asking me?"
"Because I thought the two of you were close."
"Aye, I suppose, but is Tyrion Lannister really close to anyone? With him being married, I naturally assumed the two of you were fussing or going through a difficult time."
"No." Sansa hung her head. "We haven't had a single disagreement."
"We'd have to talk first to have a disagreement," Sansa thought.
Bronn shrugged. "I'm sorry that I don't have any insight about your husband."
Sansa thanked him and hastily left the garden. The expression on his face was clear: he found her questioning odd and felt she should know more about her own husband. And she couldn't feel insulted because she truly ought to know more about her husband.
She'd known Tyrion was kind, but she'd never noticed how adept he was with children. If he was like that with a nephew, what would he be like with his own child?
His own child.
Sansa touched her stomach. His child would be her child too.
But she didn't have to worry about any of that. She was eighteen, untouched, and married to someone who had wished that she'd disappear. She'd let him annul the marriage on grounds of nonconsummation. She didn't want them to consummate any more than he did. It was just that she wanted to see him happy and ready to live life to the fullest again before they went their separate ways.
