Seven
~Sansa~
When Sansa wakes in the morning she can feel a satisfied smile spread across her face. She's not sure what caused it, but last night was the best night of sleep she's had in months. She keeps her eyes closed, wanting to enjoy that luxurious feel of contentment that comes with being on the verge of wakefulness.
She stretches her legs, and the arm she isn't laying on. When it comes back down to rest, her brow furrows.
What is that? She thinks hazily.
Sansa had thought she was cuddling her pillow, but the closer she comes to full consciousness the more she starts to recognize the shape beneath her. She gradually traces her hand across the firm surface in a small circle.
The surface is moving, she realizes suddenly, and she understands. You are cuddling your husband!
Sansa sucks in a breath, hoping she hasn't woken Tyrion. From the position she is laying, it is obvious that she was the one to seek him out in the dark.
She's so embarrassed!
Slowly, and carefully, Sansa starts to lift her head and pull away from Tyrion. She's biting her lip in concentration when she gets far enough back for his face to come into view.
His eyes are wide open, and he is watching her with an impish smirk.
Sansa's cheeks flare red, and she looks away, ashamed of her body's childish need for closeness.
"Forgive me, my Lord," she says after a moment, her voice quiet and shaky. "I did not mean to invade your space. I must have done so while I was sleeping."
"There is nothing to forgive, my dear Lady. I promise it was not an imposition. In fact, that was the best rest I've had in quite a while."
Tyrion gives her a bright smile and sits up. Sansa is lying on her side, facing him, but her eyes are focused on the sheets.
"There is no shame in needing a bit of comfort. If it is something else you are worried about… after last night… I can assure you I kept my hands to myself," Tyrion tells her.
Her head pops up in surprise.
"No, of course not! I didn't think you, I mean, I know you would not do such a thing. You've proven that time and again. I'm just a bit embarrassed, I suppose, over how childish I must seem."
Tyrion laughs.
"Sansa, I can promise you that turning to your husband for a bit of comfort is the least childish thing out there."
Sansa feels her cheeks burn even brighter when she gets his meaning, and something else a bit lower starts burning too. She's starting to recognize the feeling as… arousal.
The heated look in Tyrion's eyes makes her wonder if he knows what she's feeling. Thinking that he might makes her feel even more flustered. Her chest is feeling tight, her lungs constricting. She knows if she doesn't do something she'll surely suffocate.
Sansa barely notices the distance closing, and the next thing she knows she's kissing him.
Her need to feel him close to her drives away the worries of her inexperience. In fact, the shocks vibrating through her body drive all her worries away until there is nothing but them.
All that matters is that they be closer.
Tyrion, having gotten over his initial shock at being attacked by his wife, snakes his hand into her fiery locks, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.
Sansa's mouth opens as she moans, and Tyrion slips his tongue between her lips. This new sensation sends shivers throughout her and she experimentally tries to mimic his tongue's movements.
She thinks she's doing it right as Tyrion groans and leans back into the bed pulling her with him.
Sansa can barely comprehend what's happening. She's in sensory overload. She can feel his firm chest pressing against her breasts as she leans into him, her fingers are clutching at the soft material of his tunic, and his tongue is everywhere.
Who knew kissing could be so… completely perfect?
Tyrion's hand leaves her hair, slowly making it's way down her neck, her shoulder, her chest… his fingers have almost reached her breast when they hear the clatter of breakfast china.
"Oh! Please forgive me!" Pippa exclaims. "I thought you were sleeping. I'll— just be back a little later."
Sansa jerks away and the spell is broken. The need is gone and in it's place her embarrassment has returned tenfold.
~Tyrion~
Tyrion could flog the maid when she slams the dishes onto their table.
He doesn't know what came over Sansa, but there was no mistaking the fact that she kissed him. When he saw that glazed look in her eye as she studied him he thought he'd lose it and pounce on her, but she surprised him by being the first to spring.
Last night's kiss, while replaying in his dreams all night, pales in comparison to the passionate embrace they just shared.
Unfortunately as soon as Sansa realized they were not alone, she snapped back to her normal distanced self. He could see the walls sliding back into place behind her eyes, and had to fight the urge not to verbally abuse the handmaiden.
"That won't be necessary," Tyrion groans, talking to Pippa, as Sansa pulls further away. "You can continue about your work now."
He gives Sansa one last wistful look before climbing out of bed and pulling some trousers on.
He runs through a list of fates he would like to subject Pippa through as he seats himself for breakfast.
A quick beheading would be too kind… maybe a march through the streets while the low borns fling dung, and then a beheading.
Sansa joins him for the morning meal, but she is layered in her dressing gown and thoroughly distant. When he eats his fill, a quick task due to lack of appetite, Tyrion dresses and excuses himself. He thinks Sansa will probably be grateful for some alone time.
"Meet me here an hour before dusk. I should know by then if we'll be required to attend another family dinner," Tyrion says before heading out the door.
She won't even meet my eyes.
When he finds Bronn, Tyrion is in an extremely foul mood.
"What's the matter with you then?" Bronn asks, taking one look at him.
"Who said anything is the matter?"
"No one had to say anything. I can see it on yer face. You look like a littleling who's had his sweets snatched away… and that's not a play on your size."
Tyrion sighs, and glares up at the sellsword. It doesn't have the desired effect so he gives in and tells Bronn what happened with Sansa.
Bronn whistles lowly.
"I'd have dragged the maid out by her hair right then," Bronn says, after the story is told.
"Considering her hair was a good two feet out of reach, I don't think that was an option. Besides, it was too late then. My lady wife had already reverted to her distant, proper self."
They walk quietly together, heading towards a solar in the Tower of the Hand where Tyrion attends to all the master of coin business. When they arrive, and both have heaping goblets of wine, Bronn starts laughing and shaking his head.
"What's so funny?" Tyrion asks, not amused.
"You. You are so… pouty. Most men would chop off their arm to be in the position you are in."
"And what position is that? Hated demon monkey of the Lannister family?"
"No. You are a high Lord, married to a beautiful young Lady, whose sons will inherit the north, might I add, and she has just started to discover her budding sexuality. Yet you pout," Bronn says.
"Well—" Tyrion starts.
"No. You will not defend your attitude to me. So, you're pissed the maid walked in. Get over it. Odds are Lady Sansa would have pulled away sooner or later. You'll need more than a few kind words to get under that shift."
"What would you suggest?"
"Romance," Bronn says nodding.
Tyrion snorts into his goblet.
"What would you know about romance?"
"Hey, I know plenty. Just because I don't have time to woo a lady, don't mean I don't know how."
"Do share your wisdom," Tyrion sniggers.
"I will. I'm going to help you win over your wife."
~Sansa~
Sansa lets Pippa help her dress, being too distracted to give it much thought herself. The handmaiden chatters away about this bit of gossip, or that, but Sansa pays no attention.
You just… attacked him! Like some sort of loose woman. He probably thinks you're mad, or at the very least just another heathen Northerner.
He didn't seem to mind, she counters to herself.
Yes, well, everyone knows he has a taste for whores. It was unladylike to do that. All the songs say the knight kisses his maiden fair. Not the maiden fair acts like she works in a brothel.
He isn't exactly a knight from the stories though, is he?
Sansa contemplates that. No, Tyrion isn't at all like the knights, or heroes, from her favorite songs and stories. When she had first laid eyes upon him in Winterfell, she wondered how he would ever find a bride.
And yet…
When she looked at him, last night before he kissed her, and this morning before she pounced on him, she saw so much more than what she used to. She knows he is no knight, and no handsome prince, but Sansa has come to see that he is indeed handsome in his own way.
"Lady Sansa?" Pippa asks.
Sansa jerks out of her thoughts and turns to face her handmaiden. The look on Pippa's face suggests that wasn't the first time she tried to get Sansa's attention
"Yes?"
"Lady Margaery has requested you join her in her chambers for tea."
"Yes, of course."
Sansa checks over her appearance, and decides that Pippa did an adequate job. Her hair is done in the summer fashion of King's Landing, and she is wearing an amethyst colored silk gown.
Pippa escorts her all the way to Margaery's chambers, and Sansa feels a twinge of sadness when she thinks of Shae, wishing it were her here to be escort.
"Sansa! So glad you could make it," Margaery exclaims, when they enter. "You left rather abruptly the other day."
"Yes, do forgive me of that. I fear I may have reacted improperly."
Margaery laughs.
"Telling off Lady Kells was the highlight of the afternoon, if that's what you're talking about. After you left grandmother gave her a nice scolding as well."
Sansa can't help the smirk that forms. Lady Olena is known for her sharp tongue. She almost regrets not being there to see it.
"Come, sit," Margaery orders, gesturing her to small table set for two. "You must tell me how things are going with your handsome husband."
Sansa smiles, recalling a previous conversation with Lady Margaery. Sansa had just found out she was to marry Tyrion, and Margaery had reassured her, pointing out all of the good things about him. His kindness, his influence, his experience, and how handsome he was, especially with his scar.
"Things are… difficult," Sansa tells her.
"How so?"
Sansa isn't sure how much is appropriate to tell her. She wishes she had her mother to talk to about these things, or even Shae.
But you don't…
Realizing how great the need is to get things out in the open and talk to someone, Sansa starts spilling all the details of her last few days with Tyrion. Margaery listens with interest, only taking time to pour the both strong cups of tea.
"Wow," Margaery breathes, when Sansa finishes telling her story.
"I made such a fool of myself this morning!" Sansa fumes, trying to keep her tears at bay.
"What? No, no, no! Sweet child, you were perfect."
"He must think horribly of me for being so… brazen."
Margaery laughs.
"My dear, you could not have done better if you planned the whole thing. Trust me, he is not thinking ill of you. I bet he quite liked that you were the one to make a move."
"But only because he has a soft spot for whores. I acted as no Lady should," Sansa says, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
"No, that isn't why," Margaery sighs. "Do you know why Lord Tyrion has visited so many brothels in his life? No? Well, think about it. Just look at him. I mean no offense to your husband, as you know I find him quite dashing, but there are not many women out there lining up to willingly climb into his bed."
"Isn't that why most men go to brothels?"
"Well, yes, but you're getting off subject. His whole life Tyrion has been rejected, you see the way people treat him. He thinks the only way he can find someone to be with him is when he pays them. Then here you come, sweet girl."
"We were forced to marry," Sansa objects. "He knows that."
"Yes, but no one forced you to kiss him. Don't you see what something like that would mean to him? For possibly the first time in his life, someone reached out to him, not because you were paid to, but because you wanted to. Wanted him," Margaery smiles. "Let me assure you, he does not think ill of you. If anything he probably thinks you a goddess."
Sansa is unsure if she believes Lady Margaery's reassurances, but she just nods along anyways and lets the subject drop. They spend the rest of the afternoon talking about the upcoming royal wedding, and the changes Margaery hopes to make when she becomes queen.
They are just discussing the plans to have Cersei shipped off to High Garden, when Pippa returns to escort Sansa to dinner.
"We should meet again soon," Margaery says, hugging Sansa. "You'll have to keep me updated on how things are going."
"Yes, it is nice having someone to talk to about these things."
Sansa follows Pippa from the room and is surprised when the girl turns in the opposite direction from her chambers.
"Where are we going?" she asks. "Lord Tyrion instructed I meet him in our rooms."
"I just spoke with Lord Tyrion, my Lady, and he gave me other instructions."
Pippa says no more and continues walking, so Sansa hurries to follow her, confused.
This is the wrong way from the royal dining room, too.
The handmaiden seems to be taking her towards the castle gardens, and sure enough the next thing she knows Pippa is signaling Sansa to go outside.
"What is going—" the words die in her throat as the garden comes into view.
Maybe he does think I'm a goddess.
Author's Note: Hang in there, the really good stuff is coming! ;)
