Thank you for the follows, and especially the reviews! They let me know I'm doing things right. Also, I was requested to write more of Margery, so she will appear again, several times.

Tyrion

Tyrion sat alone "working." In total honesty he was thinking about Sansa and his father while drinking ale. Not wine, he wanted to keep a relatively clear head to think things through. He had no doubt his father meant his threat. After all, Walder Frey had married someone Sansa's age, and he was probably older than Tywin. Tywin Lannister wouldn't let a little problem of a fourteen year old virgin get in the way of his vision of the future and their family name.

The truth was, Tyrion liked her. To survive this long, she had to have some common sense and strength of character. She'd lived by her wits too, and he was enjoying those brief glimpses of herself that she sometimes allowed him, beneath the armour she cloaked herself in. As well as the fact she was beautiful and if he were being honest with himself, he did want to bed her. But he knew she wouldn't want him, which left him with a very thorny problem. How to either make her give herself up willingly, or to avoid sleeping with her at all. The second option had an unfortunate time limit though, thanks to his father. Oh Gods be good.

Sansa

Briony had braided her hair far too tightly this morning and she had a massive headache. She'd just sat down that evening to undo it when Tyrion came in, closing the door. "Good evening," she said politely before she began pulling at her hair viciously, trying to undo it.

"Are you trying to pull it out?" he asked, watching her. "Scissors would be more effective."

"I don't think that Briony has ever done a lady's hair before. This is so painful."

"Let me," he said, before thinking about it. "You keep going like that, you're not going to have any hair left." She dropped her hands and faced the faded mirror as Tyrion's hands started gently loosening her hair. She sighed as she felt the pressure release on her scalp slightly. He worked her hair free in the silence and his touch was incredibly soothing. Especially when the last braid came lose and she felt like she could think properly again.

Her hair was free, she knew that and yet Tyrion's fingers kept running through the long strands comfortingly. He was gentle and careful and she began to enjoy his touch, now that the pain in her head began to subside. His hands started to slow.

No. Don't stop. I like that. She didn't dare say it though. Instead, she reached for the brush on her dressing table quickly and handed it to him before she could change her mind.

"Would you… do you mind?" she asked hesitantly.

"No," he said, voice low. "I don't mind." He took the brush, their fingers grazing for a moment and returned to his task, brushing out her beautiful auburn locks. Sansa closed her eyes at the methodical way he brushed her hair, being very gentle. As the minutes drew on, he stopped. She turned to look at him, not sure what look he was giving her. His eyes were dark in the candlelight, staring right at her, as if into her very soul. She felt her breath catch for a moment and then he turned away and the moment was gone.

"I have bad news," she said.

"More?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. "What now?"

"We're requested to dine with the King tonight."

"Oh."

"A squire gave me that," she said, nodding to the invitation on the desk. "I don't think we can say no."

"No, I don't think we can," Tyrion agreed. "Does he… are you frightened?"

"No," she lied. He frowned at her. Clearly she wasn't convincing enough.

"I won't let him hurt you," Tyrion said sincerely. "Or any of my other relatives," he added. "I promise."

"Thank you," she said. Not entirely reassured, but she knew he meant it. Her trust for her husband was beginning to grow, and she knew it. He wouldn't consciously let anyone hurt her.

Tyrion

Entering the dining hall, he saw full benches and sighed. On the top table in the centre was Joffrey, Margery by his right, Cersei on his left. Also present was Tywin, Jaime, Tommen and several other of his lesser Lannister relatives. Sansa was frightened, he could tell, but she was doing a very good job of letting no one else see. Margery smiled at the pair of them before turning back to her betrothed and saying something Tyrion couldn't hear. Sansa had slowed her pace so that he wasn't required to jog to keep up with her and he felt grateful at her thoughtfulness.

"Good evening," he said to the table. Jaime was the only one whose smile reached his eyes, and Tyrion felt glad that there were two empty seats there. He lead Sansa, who sat in between the brothers, Tyrion on the end of the table.

"Good to see you can finally join us uncle," Joffrey said. "Have you worn your new bride out yet?"

Sansa looked at the table, blushing hotly and Tyrion felt a quick fire of rage in him. "That's no way to speak to your aunt," he said quietly.

"Don't criticise your king! I'll speak whatever way I like!"

"Play nicely now," Tywin said. "We won't ruin this wonderful meal with shouting, will we?"

Joffrey scowled at his plate before taking a swig of wine. Tyrion watched him carefully, aware that Sansa and Jaime were now speaking.

"How are you, sister?" Jaime asked.

"Very well, my lord," she said sweetly.

"How is my brother treating you?"

"He's a good husband," she said, and Tyrion recognised the automatic line, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Jaime spoke quietly, obviously intending for Tyrion not to hear.

"My brother is not cruel," he said. "He's not the monster everyone would like to believe he is."

"I know he's not," she said sincerely. Tyrion dared look at her, and saw her smiling, a real one too. "How are you, my lord? How's your arm?"

Jaime looked down at his missing hand and smiled. "No one asks me that. Everyone else has avoided mentioning it," he said. "As if not talking about it will fix the problem. I'll live," he added shortly. "Though, I'll never hold a sword or fight in a battle again."

"I'm sorry my lord," she said formally and Jaime inclined his head.

"Have some wine," Tyrion said, wanting Sansa's attention away from his handsome brother. Handsome and tall brother, he reminded himself.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the goblet. They were being watched, by both Joffrey and Cersei, neither of whom made him feel comfortable. He covered Sansa's hand with his own, trying to get her attention, and she bent her head to his.

"We won't be here long," he said lowly. "Just long enough not to cause offence." She smiled her thanks and began to eat.

More soon. Thanks for reading.