Nine
~Tyrion~
Tyrion stops dead in his tracks. Sansa's grip tightens on his hand, almost crushing his fingers.
"Jaime is back? Is he alright?"
"He's not dead," Tywin says. "Now, come with me... alone."
Tyrion nods and turns to face Sansa.
"I'm sorry to leave you, my lady. This is not how I pictured ending this evening," he tells her.
I won't tell you what I pictured, though it would be worth it to see the shocked look on my father's face and the beautiful blush that comes so easy to your fair cheeks.
"I understand, my lord. You should see to your brother, I'm sure the tale of how he came to be here is a fascinating one."
He can see the curiosity and fear bright in her eyes, no doubt wondering if Jaime had to kill any of her family to escape.
"I'll try to be quick, but it would be best if you didn't wait up for me," Tyrion insists.
Sansa only nods before offering Tywin a small curtsy and entering their chambers alone.
Jaime always did have the worst timing.
Tywin heads off, not bothering to accommodate his speed to Tyrion's small strides. By the time they reach Tywin's chambers in the Tower of the Hand, Tyrion is quite out of breath, but his discomfort is forgotten when he finally lays eyes on his brother.
"Jaime, thank the gods! I— oh... oh, no… Are you alright?" Tyrion asks, seeing the stump where Jaime's sword hand used to be.
"I'm not particularly happy… or in one piece… but I am alright," Jaime says, quietly.
"How did you escape?"
"Catelyn Stark."
"Did you—?" Tyrion starts, afraid to ask.
"I didn't kill her," Jaime scoffs. "She freed me."
"What? You were her son's best bargaining piece. Why would she just let you go?"
"Because your brother is a fool!" Tywin growls. "He made a promise he cannot keep, making a mockery of our name."
"I could keep it, if you weren't being so unreasonable!" Jaime shouts.
Tyrion, and Tywin for that matter, are shocked. Jaime never questions Tywin; he's always been the perfect son.
"What promise?" Tyrion asks.
"I promised Catelyn that in exchange for my freedom I would return her daughters to her. I was not aware that Cersei had let the younger one escape, or that Sansa had been married."
Tyrion is surprised at the amount of venom in Jaime's voice as he spit Cersei's name. He files that tidbit away as something to investigate later.
"Sansa is my bride."
"Hence the problem," Jaime grumbles.
"That is not the problem," Tywin booms, "the problem is that you made a deal you had no right to make! Whether the girl is married or not, I would not send her back to those damned northern fools."
"Why?" Jaime questions. "Offer her back along with a peace treaty! We have no love of the North, offer Robb Stark his kingship of the North and his sister back, the one you haven't lost, and he will end this damnable war."
"No!" Tyrion protests. "I will not have another marriage torn away from me. Offer your peace treaty, but you will not send my wife away."
The two other men in the room stare at him, one with a bored smirk and the other with full-blown skepticism.
"Do you care for the girl?" Jaime asks.
"It's becoming quite clear to anyone with eyes that your brother is infatuated the girl," Tywin says.
Tyrion looks away. He doesn't like having his feelings on display… especially around his family, who would turn his feelings into weaknesses if it suited them.
"Robb Stark would not accept a peace treaty without the return of his sister," Tywin insists, "and at least two of the people in this room are against giving the girl up. So, I will have to find a way to put an end to this debt you've incurred on my own because—"
"A Lannister always pays their debts," the brothers finish.
"At least I've taught you something."
Tywin gives them both a disgusted look before stalking out of the room.
"Tell me about your bride," Jaime requests.
"Tell me about your hand," Tyrion counters.
~Sansa~
Despite Tyrion's warning not to wait up for him, that's exactly what Sansa tries to do. After she changes into her night shift she starts pacing the chamber. She's so anxious after hearing about Ser Jaime's return to King's Landing.
How did he escape Robb? What's happening? Is my family okay?
She tries to keep her worried tears at bay, and picks up her embroidery to keep her busy. She's been neglecting it since her wedding, but now she relishes in the distraction. She's careful to make each stitch perfect, and precise. Sansa practices breathing rhythmically with the movement of her needle, finding the act both distracting and calming.
She hums quietly to herself, an old lullaby her mother used to sing to her, and doesn't here her chamber door creak open. It's the loud slamming that alerts her.
"Tyrion!" she exclaims jumping up and discarding her needlework.
Fear seeps into her belly, heavy as lead, when she sees it isn't her husband. Instead she finds Joffrey leaning against the closed door giving her one of his sickening self-satisfied smiles.
"Guess again, dear lady."
"Your grace… w—what are you doing here?" Sansa asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
She feels exposed in just her nightgown under his lecherous gaze.
"I knew my uncle would be busy with, well, my uncle and I thought you might be lonely. Missing the company of a man."
Joffrey saunters towards her, eyeing her like a predator stalking his prey. He walks in a slow circle around her, appraising her.
"Thank you for your concern, your grace, but I think I will be alright on my own. No need to trouble yourself over me."
"It's no trouble," Joffrey tells her reaching out to stroke her arm.
Sansa shudders in revulsion of his touch.
No. No. No.
"Do you often sit around in your night things waiting to receive guests? It is very unladylike," Joffrey admonishes.
"It is late. I was not expecting visitors, and you didn't even knock… your grace."
"It is my castle, I do not have to knock. You are right about it being late, though. It's almost time for bed. Is this how you sleep after my uncle is done with you? In your shift? Or do you remain naked, just waiting in case he has more need of you?"
Sansa flushes and looks away. Joffrey's hand grabs her wrist tightly.
"Answer me," he snarls.
"I— sleep in my shift, your grace."
He clicks his tongue, and starts pushing her backwards towards the chaise. When the backs of her knees hit the edge she starts to panic. Sansa tries to pull her wrist from his biting grasp, but his fingers only tighten.
"Are you going to be an ungracious guest? As I said this is my castle, you are only here because I allow it."
"If I am a burden, your grace, you could always send me home," Sansa offers.
Joffrey snorts.
"I think not. They only way any part of you could leave this castle would be your head in a box, addressed to your traitor brother. So, if you wish to prevent that, I suggest you be a bit more accommodating of your king. I could always have Ser Meryn come in and join us. He's just outside after all," Joffrey says, gesturing towards the chamber door.
Sansa swallows back the bile threatening to rise.
"That will be unnecessary, your grace," she says, taking a seat.
"That's a good girl."
Joffrey sets down next to her, and drapes an arm across her shoulders. She tries to hide her fear, knowing it only encourages him. Sansa keeps her chin high and looks at him defiantly.
Tyrion, come back. I need you.
Joffrey starts playing with her hair, running his fingers through it and twisting the curls around his fingers.
"You must feel very honored I have come to you. You are very beautiful, much more so than my demon monkey uncle deserves."
She remains silent, and when he realizes she isn't going to respond Joffrey twists her hair into a cruel fist and yanks her head back. She hisses at the pain, but he ignores her and presses his face close to hers.
"Your king just paid you a compliment."
"Yes, your grace, thank you. I am very honored."
"Then I shall honor you some more," he smiles wickedly, pushing her against the chaise.
Joffrey forces his knee between her legs, and Sansa starts shaking her head no. She tries to think of something to say that won't make things worse.
"P—Please, your grace. I am a traitor's daughter…I'm not worthy. You shouldn't sully yourself."
He just laughs at her.
"I'll take a bath after."
He reaches down, wrapping his fingers softly around her neck and the true fear sets in. Instead of squeezing, as she expects he starts to run his hand lower, stopping when he cups her breast.
A huge commotion in the hallway interrupts and Joffrey swears. He grabs Sansa's hair again and pulls her up to give her a brusque kiss, she tries to pull away but he bites her lip and she gives in. She doesn't fight she just sits there as he attacks her mouth.
"We aren't done here," he insists when he at last pulls away.
Joffrey stands up and marches across the room, flinging the door open.
"What is going on out here?" he demands.
"Lord Tyrion sent me to check on Lady Sansa, and Meryn wouldn't let me in," she hears Bronn say from the hall.
"I'm done here, let the slut attend to the next one," Joffrey sneers storming away.
With Joffrey and Ser Meryn gone, Bronn rushes in to find Sansa nearly in tears.
"Are you alright, my lady? Did he harm you?" Bronn asks, surprising her with the concern in his voice.
"Fine, thank you," she mumbles.
"I don't believe that."
Sansa stands to check her appearance in the mirror, and can see why he wouldn't believe her. Her hair is in knots, her cheeks blotchy, and her bottom lip is bruised and swollen.
"Tyrion sent you?" she asks, picking up a brush and trying to comb out the mess.
"No. I was just down this way when I saw Meryn outside your room. I know the Kingslayer has returned and thought you might be alone here. I wanted to be sure you weren't being harmed."
"I thank you, kind ser. You arrived just in time."
She puts the brush back down and wets a cloth from a basin to wash her face. She scrubs her tears away, and places the cool cloth on her lip.
"I must tell Lord Tyrion about this, he—"
"No!" she exclaims, dropping the cloth. "He mustn't know!"
"My lady, it is his right. He should know that Joffrey has been… threatening you."
"Why? So he can put himself in more danger? That's what will happen. He will confront the king and end up with his head on a spike. I will not have his death on my conscious. You must not tell him!" Sansa insists.
"I work for your husband."
"Yes, you do. It is your job to protect him. Having this knowledge will only endanger him. Don't tell him, I can handle Joffrey."
Bronn sighs and seems to consider her words.
"Fine. I won't say anything this time, but if it happens again, I must tell him."
"Thank you," she gushes, relieved.
Bronn just nods.
"What's going on in here?"
Sansa's eyes dart to the door, and she can't help the relief that floods her when she sees Tyrion standing there. She knows she's being too open with her feelings, and that both men can clearly read her reaction, but she doesn't care. She's feeling hurt and vulnerable and all that matters in that moment is the small man looking at her with nothing but kindness in his gaze.
"Were I a jealous man, I would be suspicious of my best friend in my bed chambers with my semi dressed wife," Tyrion muses.
"I was just checking on the lady, my lord," Bronn says stiffly.
"He saw Ser Meryn roaming these halls and wanted to be sure no one was bothering me," Sansa tells Tyrion.
"I don't think Lady Sansa should be without a guard when you are not around," Bronn insists. "There are too many enemies within these walls."
Tyrion seems to consider this for a moment and nods.
"You make a good point. I'll be sure to notify you next time I am called away so you can protect my lady, Bronn."
"As you wish."
Bronn nods a goodbye to the both of them and excuses himself, but not before giving Sansa a withering look that clearly says, "tell him."
"I told you not to wait up for me," Tyrion smirks, taking her hand to kiss it.
"How is your brother?" she asks, ignoring him.
Tyrion sighs wearily.
"Can we talk about it in the morning, I am exhausted. I will assure that none of your family were harmed."
Sansa lets out a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"Yes, it can wait until morning."
Tyrion helps her put the candles out and when they climb into bed, Sansa doesn't hesitate to curl up to him. She needs his warmth and comfort after her encounter with the king.
It doesn't take long for her to drift off to sleep. She vaguely realizes someone is pressing a kiss to her forehead before she falls into dreams of a magical garden and a handsome knight.
Author's Note: Again, I want to thank you for all of your wonderful reviews and words of encouragement, they mean a lot and really do keep me motivated. All of you waiting patiently (or not so patiently) for the M material, I don't want to give you spoilers but your wait will be over soon ;)
On another note: Did anyone else practically squeal with excitement from the adorable interactions between our favorite pair in the season finale? Ah, I just loved it!
