TYRION

He couldn't believe what his queen had just told him. Jon Snow is really Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The queen had just heard it herself from Jon. They'd met just moments before and she looked surprisingly calm. "He doesn't want the Iron Throne and we don't care about our apparent relation. Targaryens often wed brother to sister, what's an aunt to a nephew?" He'd accepted her decision but was still blown away by the revelation.

It had been just past dinner time when he finally made it back to his chambers. Just as he reached the door, a serving girl rand by. "My Lord, I've been looking for you for hours! The lady Sansa has invited you to dine with her in her rooms." Looking out the windows he saw how dark it already was and cursed inwardly.

"Thank you." He said, not bothering the change his clothes or even look in the mirror. Fuck. How late was he? Surely it was at least an hour past the time he should have arrived. He finally reached her door and knocked three times.

"Come in."

He pushed open the door and found Sansa sitting at her table, a platter of untouched food placed between two place settings. He'd expected her to be angry or annoyed but she just smiled teasingly. "You're lucky I remembered that you were often late for meals. I'm glad to see some things haven't changed. Sit." She said, motioning to the chair across from hers.

He closed the door behind him and walked to the table to join her. He studied her as he took his seat. She was dressed comfortably in a light blue wool dress, much simpler than the one she'd been wearing the previous night but of course, there was no grand feast. Her hair was in a simple plait down her back and she wore no jewelry. He smiled sheepishly at her when she offered him some wine. He nodded and she poured them each a generous cup.

She served him some mutton, pease and corn, and there was a sideboard of cheese and dried fruit to pick from. They started eating silently when Sansa looked at him, an amused look on her face. "I trust your pease aren't burnt my Lord."

His head snapped up and he looked at her, smiling. She remembers that? They both laughed before he answered. "No, my lady, they're cooked to my liking. You know I'd yell if they were." They maintained eye contact as they laughed together, turning an awkward moment into a nearly nostalgic one.

"Are you curious about why I asked you to join me tonight?" Sansa asked between mouthfuls.

"I suppose we haven't had a chance to discuss this new development." He said, grabbing his goblet.

"Sam told you?" Sansa asked, surprised.

Tyrion was confused. "No… Daenerys did. She said she'd spoken to Jon about it and, as her hand, she felt it was something I should know. I'm inclined to agree."

Sansa put her fork down carefully but annoyance was clear on her face. "And? What do you think?" Her eyes bored into his.

Copying her, he put his fork down and put his hands together, thinking. "Well, I've only just found out so I haven't had much time to think about it but I suppose we just have to accept it."

She did look surprised then and swallowed loudly. She took another drink of wine and looked at Tyrion, appearing unsure about her next words. "Oh." She wasn't expecting that answer.

"Oh?"

She licked her lips to wet them. "I just thought you'd need more time to… to decide. It's been so long and I was so..." shaking her head from her thoughts she took a deep breath and straightened her back. "You're being very gracious. Most men would have turned their backs and never looked back." She smiled politely and resumed her meal.

"It was shocking, to be sure, but I don't think this will affect her ability to rule." He was relieved that this strange conversation was over and continued eating.

Sansa stopped eating again and looked at him, clearly lost. "What are you talking about?"

Now it was Tyrion's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I asked you first."

She has to know already, surely Sam and Jon would have told her before Jon told Daenerys. "I'm talking about Jon's true parentage and the resulting incestuous relationship between him and his aunt. Isn't that what you were talking about?"

Sansa let an uncomfortable laugh escape her lips. "No, my lord, that is not what I was talking about." She was clearly embarrassed and poured herself more wine, not meeting his gaze.

"Are you planning on telling me what it is you were talking about? Why am I gracious? What should I be turning away from?" Seven hells, is she drunk?

"Not sober." She answered, draining her second cup.

When she reached for the pitcher he grabbed her hand to stop her. He didn't let go until she met his eyes. "Sansa, tell me what's going on." That seemed to harden her resolve and she nodded, taking his hand in hers.

Gods, she's beautiful. He still felt the pain from the night before. When he finally admitted to himself that he loved her, and that he always would. His heart hurt more with her proximity but he couldn't make himself leave. If this was all the time they'd have together, he'd take it, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

She took a deep breath and visibly forced herself to look into his eyes before she spoke. "I spoke with Samwell Tarly about our situation." Tyrion nodded his understanding of what she meant and she continued. "It's all very confusing and I won't try to explain it but I'll be here talking all night but the point is – " she paused, taking another breath to settle her nerves, "the point is that me marrying Ramsay didn't annul our marriage." When he didn't answer right away, she added: "We're still married."

Oh. He smiled at her then. "Yes. Well, I can't say that I'm shocked. You were married under two separate faiths."

She rolled her eyes but seemed relieved. "Of course you would have already figured it out. Here I am worried about your reaction."

"Why?"

"I suppose I thought you'd feel trapped. It's not like the North is rich with septons who could annul our marriage."

Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't – "What if I don't want it annulled?" Fucking idiot. He didn't know why he'd said it. Maybe it was a mixture of his fresh feelings come to light and the looming sense of impending doom with the march of the undead, but he felt the need to just be honest with her.

Their hands were still joined and he didn't let go. Not yet. She wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking at their hands and she was deep in thought. It felt like hours to him. He'd laid his heart between them and she was holding a knife over it.

He knew his face betrayed him. He wouldn't insult her intelligence by trying to talk about politics and alliances. He could feel the burning love and desire clear on his face and he wasn't going to spend another four years denying it. When she looked up and met his eyes he could see his heart reflected back to him.

"Then I suppose that means we're man and wife." She said, solemnly. Then she gave him a small smile before letting go of his hand.

"Sansa," he began, "if you don't want this, I will help you get this annulment. But you asked me what I thought and now I've told you." She continued to look at him, her expression soft and pensive as he spoke. "I don't want anyone else. I won't have anyone else." He concluded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"I don't want an annulment."

That did surprise him. "Oh."

"Oh?" She said, teasing. He smiled at quick witted jab and took his goblet in his hand.

"I won't lie to you Sansa. I'm surprised. After our conversation last night I thought you were angry with me. I certainly didn't imagine that I wouldn't have to try to sway you into marriage." He said, joking.

She nodded, finally allowing herself another glass of wine. "I wasn't angry with you. I was confused and you had shaken my resolve. I thought I knew what I wanted; what I didn't want. And then you show up and stir up all these feelings."

"And what feelings might those be?" He wasn't asking sarcastically as was his usual defense mechanism. He would waste no time with games, not this time.

Her eyes were wet and she let a tear fall on her cheek. She made to wipe it away when he stopped her hand. He didn't remember standing, but suddenly he was standing next to her. He let go of her wrist and wiped away the tear with his finger. He took the chair next to hear, abandoning his meal and took her hands in his, urging her to speak.

"Before Jon and I won Winterfell back," she began, "the last time I felt anything close to safety was when we were married. You protected me when you could, you defended my honor, and despite my attempts to push you away you tried to make me happy, to comfort me. Since I've been home I've been surrounded by bannermen who are as fickle as whores and the only family that I have left is unrecognizable. These walls have ghosts. Nearly everywhere I go I can hear him. In the courtyard I can still see the bodies he flayed. I know I'm safer now than I've ever been since the day I left my home, but I don't feel safe." She squeezed his hands and looked at him pleadingly. "Tyrion, I cannot promise you my heart, and I can't tell you that I love you, but I can promise that I will do my best every day to be a good wife to you. I'll be your friend, your partner and I will share your bed."

He'd started shaking his head, about to tell her that his promise to her still stood when she stopped him with her hands on his face, holding his attention. "I am not fourteen anymore and I am not a maid." He winced at that. Taking her hands off his face and into his hands again he sighed.

"I know you're not, and I will never hold that over your head. What happened to you was not your fault and I need you to know that I don't think any worse of you because of it. If anything, it only makes me admire you more. The strength you have inside you is a force to be reckoned with and I am honored that you've accepted me into your life." She leaned in before he could stop her and she kissed him softly on the lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but there was genuine feeling behind it. She pulled away and gave him a smile.

"I'm not saying it's going to be right now. But I want you to know that you won't be celibate forever." The look in her eyes and the husk in her voice stirred up a feeling inside him that he hadn't felt in years. It took all of his restraint not to grab her head and pull her down to him. He gulped hard and returned her smile, albeit a little shakily.

"We don't need to discuss that tonight." He said, struggling to pull away. "Let's get to know each other." He took a step back and extended his hand to her. Smiling, she let him lead her to the chairs by the hearth.

The talked well into the night, Sansa telling him stories about her childhood in Winterfell and Tyrion telling her about his adventures in Mereen and how he'd freed two of the dragons who were chained in the catacombs. They laughed and drank until nearly dusk when Sansa started yawning. Tyrion stood and stretched. "Perhaps we should try and get some sleep before the rest of the castle wakes."

Sansa nodded and started to undo the laces of her gown. Tyrion made to look away when she laughed. "Can you help me? I've had too much wine." She pouted hilariously and Tyrion cracked a smile, making his way towards his wife's vanity.

"Sit." He ordered. She sat on the bench and he went to work on the laces going down her back. He couldn't help but brush her skin with his hands and his breath caught in his throat. He slowly pulled the dress down over her shoulders and looked at every mark.

"I'd forgotten about those." Sansa said, exhausted. She turned around and looked him in the eye. "I'm broken." She said, laughing. She laughed until tears streamed down her face and then her laughter became sobs. She fell onto him and he just held her in his arms. He stroked her hair and whispered in her ear that everything would be alright, that she was safe, that she was beautiful.

"Sansa look at me." He waited until her eyes met his before he continued. "You're beautiful and you're strong and you're… you're mine." He didn't know if it was the wine or their mixed exhaustion but he couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled her wet face onto his and kissed her, deeply and passionately. She wrapped her arms around him and tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.