Chapter Six
Sansa wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking. She felt like crying. Despite her resolve to detach herself from the current situation, Tyrion's rejection had cut her to the very core.
Sansa had been so certain she'd been doing the right thing when she'd asked Tyrion to be her husband. She'd thought they had understood each other, that they both wanted the same thing. But apparently, she'd been wrong. And now, her position and her marriage were both as uncertain as ever. If Tyrion would not come to her until she wanted him, they would never consummate their marriage, and just like before, their union could be torn asunder at any moment.
Sansa bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She would not cry. She was Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North. There was no room for weakness or tears anymore. She had to be strong.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Sansa's whole body stiffened. Had Tyrion reconsidered? Although her mind prayed for it to be true, her heart beat a very different rhythm. If he had returned, there would be no turning back this time, no reprieve. She would have to lie with him, as was her duty to her people and her kingdom.
Sansa lowered her arms, pulled back her shoulders, and inched her chin higher. She would not show weakness to anyone. Not even her new husband. "Come in, my lord."
The door creaked open, and Arya crept into the room.
The instant Sansa saw her sister, her resolve crumbled, and the tears flowed freely.
Arya closed the door behind her and crossed the room to where her sister stood, crying beside the bed. She wrapped her arms around Sansa and held her tightly.
For the longest time, they just stood there, Sansa crying into Arya's shoulder, all the pain of the past several years pouring from her. It had been so long since anyone had held her. For a moment, she was even able to pretend that it was her mother, Catelyn Stark, whose arms were around her. It made her feel both whole and hollow.
When Sansa had cried herself out, Arya finally pulled away, holding her sister's hands in her own. She looked Sansa up and down. "You're too pretty to be crying, especially on your wedding day."
"It seems that's all I ever do on my wedding days. Maybe I should stop having them."
Arya squeezed her hands. "Hopefully, this will be the last."
"Not if Tyrion has anything to do with it." Sansa pulled her hands away and moved around Arya so that she could sit on the edge of the bed.
Arya turned to look at her. "What does that mean?"
"Just that Westeros' most lecherous lord refuses to perform his husbandly duties."
A smile crept across Arya's lips, and a small laugh escaped her throat.
Sansa scowled. "This isn't funny."
"You're right," Arya said, trying desperately to suppress a smirk, "it's not."
"It isn't. This is a matter of political importance."
"Sansa, I don't think anyone cares whether or not you and the Imp share a bed. It's not keeping anyone awake at night."
"Well, obviously."
Arya fought back another laugh. Instead of laughing, she joined her sister on the bed, leaving a comfortable distance between them. "Did he give a reason why he refused to do his duty?"
Sansa straightened her spine. "He said he will not share my bed until I want him. And I will never want him."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Then why are you so hurt?"
"What?" Sansa finally turned her head and looked at Arya.
"You're so used to fancy knights and princes fawning all over you. I think you're hurt that one of the least attractive men in the Seven Kingdoms rejected you."
Sansa shook her head. "No, no, it isn't that. I am frustrated by the fact that he agreed to this marriage but obviously had no intention of fulfilling all of his obligations to it. I fear I have made a dreadful mistake."
"Would you like me to kill him for you?"
Sansa held her breath for a moment, uncertain if Arya was joking or not. Finally, she managed, "No. No, thank you."
Arya shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Sansa looked away then, her eyes drifting across the room, her mind lost in thought. "I just . . . I just want this to be settled. I want to know that our alliance is unbreakable. I want some stability for Winterfell for once. That's all."
"For Winterfell and for yourself."
Sansa nodded.
"If you want my opinion, I don't think you've made a mistake at all."
Sansa looked at Arya again. "How can you say that? My husband walked out on me on our wedding night."
"He turned away, not because he doesn't want you, but because he wants you too much."
Sansa's eyes narrowed in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense."
"He cares about you. He respects you. And, like every other man in Winterfell, he wants you."
Sansa's skin tinged pink at the implication.
"But," Arya continued, "he knows you don't want him. You should be pleased that he cares enough not to force you, especially after everything you've been through."
Sansa knew Arya was right. Tyrion was being noble to a fault, and yet, she was frustrated with him because all she cared about were her own insecurities. She was still living in fear, no matter what she told herself. She was afraid of the instability in her life, of not knowing exactly where she stood in the world. So many times, she'd had everything she loved ripped away from her, her name changed, her status changed. She didn't know who she was anymore, and she was trying desperately to find some sure footing. She no longer saw Tyrion as a man, but as a means to an end. She wondered how she would feel if she started thinking of him as a man again.
"You know that I chose Tyrion because I trust him," Sansa said.
"Yes, and yet now you're distrusting his judgment. Isn't that one of the things you married him for?"
Sansa nodded, unable to deny it. "He is a very wise man."
"Then trust that he knows what he's doing." Arya got up from the bed then and turned to leave, but Sansa grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
"Don't go!"
"You can't want me to stay."
"I do. Just like when we were little girls. Remember? And Mother would tuck us in and tell us stories of noble knights and their ladies fair."
"We're not little girls anymore. And even when we were, we never got on very well."
"I know. But just for one night. Please?"
It took Arya a moment, but finally, she nodded, and Sansa was overcome with relief. Arya moved to the other side of the bed and began divesting herself of the simple, unadorned gown she had grudgingly agreed to wear for the wedding.
Sansa left the bed to douse the lights. As soon as she was done, she slipped under the covers to wait for her sister.
When Arya was in nothing more than her shift, she joined Sansa. They both lay on their backs, staring up into the semidarkness. The only light to be seen was the glow of moonlight through the windows and the radiance of the fire still burning in the hearth. Sansa wished Arya would hold her again, but she didn't know how to ask her sister for such comfort. They had never been close, and the fact that Arya had agreed to stay at all had been a blessing. Sansa didn't want to ask for too much, lest she lose what little she did have.
Finally, Arya broke the silence. "You know, when I came in and found you crying, I thought it was for a very different reason."
"What other reason could there have been?"
"I thought Tyrion had bedded you. I thought he had hurt you."
"He would never hurt me." As the words left her throat, Sansa realized just how true they were. She knew them to be true in the deepest recesses of her soul. It was one of the reasons she had asked Tyrion to be her husband. He would never hurt her.
"Not intentionally, no," Arya replied. "And not physically, either. But emotionally. After everything you've been through, I can't imagine that you'd ever desire the touch of a man again."
"I don't."
"So, when you finally do lie with him, it may be a traumatic experience for you. Whether you want him or not."
"Well, I don't want Tyrion, but that doesn't matter."
"It obviously matters a great deal to him."
Sansa didn't want to speak of such things anymore. She wanted to sleep, to close her eyes and forget that she was now the wife of Tyrion Lannister and Lady of Casterly Rock. For just one night, she wanted to be Sansa Stark, sleeping in her own bed, beside her little sister, pretending that her future was a bright and happy one, just as she had as a little girl.
Before she could lose her nerve, Sansa turned and snuggled up against Arya's side. "Do you mind?" she asked, silently praying that Arya wouldn't push her away.
Arya wrapped her arms around her sister in answer.
Sansa sighed heavily. She closed her eyes and shut out the world. Her fears would still be with her when she awoke, but for tonight, she would forget them all and just sleep in the warmth and safety of her sister's arms.