A/N: As promised, here is the next chapter. I only have two more chapters to go, if you can believe it. In the meantime, I hope this chapter makes you all happy :3

I would like to thank TheLastPhenom as my beta.

Reviews are very much appreciated.

A Lannister pays his debts

She's not a child.

Tyrion was still getting used to this new idea but it was proving to be a very promising concept for the both of them at this point. He knew that he was guilty for treating Sansa as a child for a long time because she was, but there are also so many ways that she wasn't. It had little to do with her flowering although he wouldn't lie about the fact that she has become more desirable to him as a man by now, and available at that, for she is rightfully his. She is bound to him by the laws of the Seven, and yet Tyrion would not claim her for himself unless she wants him. She won't want me that way, he warned himself but that idle reassurance did little to undermine his desire of her.

It wasn't her flowering that defined her womanhood. For Tyrion, it was that strength he had recognized back then but could only truly comprehend now. He had seen it before in her late mother; the kind of strength that bends only to shape itself into a weapon that whatever a dangerous situation might require. Sansa Stark, my lady wife, is a tempered steel, he thought. There was admiration in this realization which was quickly replaced with guilt.

My wife she may be, he contemplated sadly, but I remain more of a warden than her husband. She still belongs to the den of lions.

When he was summoned to the small council meeting that afternoon, he was almost tempted to turn the invitation down (though he knew too well it was obligatory and it must be considered an honor when it was Tywin Lannister who summons you). He didn't want to leave Sansa's side, mostly because he was comfortable in her presence for the first time. She spoke her mind more freely now and she seemed generally at ease with him, considering their awful wedding night. Tyrion knew he had said some regrettable things to her then but everything else was a blur. He remembered that he was angry because she was needlessly spiteful that night, but he couldn't recall the exact words he said that must have changed her mind. Whatever it was, she was slowly beginning to trust herself to be genuine around him again. Tyrion wanted to know if that's a sign for good things to happen from now on.

He dismissed it. Nothing will ever come easy with us.

He saw Joffrey smiling as soon as he walked into the hall and that was a very bad sign indeed. He seemed quite pleased and Tyrion dreaded the reasons. He glanced at Cersei who was presently sullen (which worried him some more) and then he met his father's gaze as one would look at a wall and find absolutely nothing was staring back at him. Once seated, Joffrey hurried to his side like a boy who has just killed his first animal and was eager to present it. Again, that was not a helpful indication, but instead of a dead animal (which would have been better, as Tyrion thought afterwards), Joffrey showed him a parchment.

As his eyes perused the contents (the details were not specific, cleverly phrased in symbolism that left him unsettled), he almost wanted to crumple the paper and feed it to his nephew. He paused first before he remarked, "So the Young Wolf has perished."

"A fitting justice, don't you agree, uncle?" Joffrey might even giggle. He simply could not contain his mirth. He addressed Lord Varys. "Tell them what else was done to the corpses. Tell my dear uncle what your spies have reported."

Lord Varys acted as if he's detached from the situation as expected but his eyes had a dark tinge Tyrion noticed. His tone did not fluctuate in any way as he explained. "Robb Stark's direwolf was beheaded and its head was sewn into his corpse. Lady Stark was stripped bare and thrown into the river as a mockery of the Tully funerary traditions, no doubt."

This time Joffrey did giggle. The sound pierced through Tyrion. He raised his hand from the table slightly, aching to slap him. He didn't dare to comment further. Instead he found himself watching Tywin from the other side of the table who was just as silent as he was as if he couldn't care less about the news himself. He was not fooled though. Tyrion knew his father orchestrated everything; the Freys would not act on their own without the guarantee that the mighty lion will protect them. He glanced at everyone around the table and everyone looked grim or at least not as expressive with their celebratory sentiments.

"Lord Varys," Joffrey said in a sickly sweet tone. "Is it possible to acquire Robb's head? His corpse no longer needs it after all. Would you be so kind and fetch it for me?" He grinned widely. "I shall like to present it to Sansa on my wedding feast."

"Enough!" Tyrion snapped, unable to control himself. "How many times do I have to tell you? Sansa is my wife and she is no longer yours to torment."

"Everyone is mine to torment!" Joffrey spat out. He took a deep breath and then angrily proclaimed. "I am THE KING!"

Cersei looked like she was going to say something but it was their father who spoke up. "A true king does not need to shout his authority for it to be recognized."

Tyrion bit his tongue to stop himself from smiling as Joffrey turned his proud head towards Tywin's direction. He knew better than to talk back.

Tywin held Joffrey's stare with ease, as if the entire thing was more of an irritation than real trouble. He dismissed the boy king by saying, "I think some milk of the poppy will calm Your Grace's nerves. Maester Pycell, would you kindly escort him back to his chambers?"

But Cersei was also standing up. She placed her hand on her son's arm but Joffrey shook it off and roared pitifully. "I am not tired!"

Still unmoved, Tywin merely stared in silence until Cersei managed to mutter comforting words and sway Joffrey to walk out of the hall with her. Joffrey shot Tywin one last lingering defiant look and then he scoffed and turned away. When he passed by Tyrion, he couldn't help but sneer at him. Tyrion wanted to grin just to mock him but he restrained himself, cautious not to further infuriate the boy king and add insult to injury.

Tywin turned his attention back to his son. Tyrion waited.

"I expect you're doing your duty," Tywin remarked with a tone of finality.

"You expect too much," Tyrion didn't mean to say that aloud.

"Sansa Stark is the heir to Winterfell," Tyrion replied, "Bedding her and putting a son in her belly will secure our claim to the North." The explanation was simple and there was no indication that Tywin cared about anything else but the fulfilment of that command.

Tyrion exchanged glances at Lord Varys and the spider only nodded his head solemnly to show his agreement. Suddenly, Tyrion chuckled but without a trace of amusement.

"And when do you think is the moment for bedding most ripe for our lady wolf?" He was already pushing himself off the chair. "Once I tell her that her mother and brother have been viciously killed? Do you think that would make her spread her legs for me?"

Tywin stared and said nothing, just as he had when he had Joffrey sent away earlier. But, unlike the boy king, Tyrion did not hesitate to storm out of the room.

Tyrion slowed down his steps as he reached the chambers he shared with his wife. He stopped by the wooden door as he tried to sift through the rage and guilt so he could compose his thoughts and deliver the crushing news.

After a few more minutes, he pushed the door open and stepped in.

Sansa was by the bed, knitting. When she looked up to see him enter, there was a small smile playing on her lips. Good gods, she looks pleased to me. Tyrion would give the other half of his nose to turn back time so he wouldn't be standing here to tell her the awful truths she should never have to listen to.

He opened his mouth to call her but he couldn't go on after that.

"What is it?" Her face quickly changed.

"I'm sorry," Tyrion would have knelt, hoping that would be enough penitence. He took a step closer, dreading the deluge that will come after. "I'm so, so, sorry…"

Sansa's expression was inscrutable. The lifeless quality in her eyes terrified Tyrion more than anything. But he also couldn't look away as she said, "Tell me."

He parted his lips but the words wouldn't come. Tyrion closed his eyes and then he opened them again as he almost murmured softly, dreading she will hear the words. "Lady Catelyn and your brother Robb passed away."

No pause whatsoever. She asked with a calm tone, "What happened?"

When he said nothing more, she simply asked again, "Tell me."

"It was…" Tyrion pretended to clear his throat, and then he went on. "There was a wedding at the Freys. Your uncle Edmure was to wed one of Walder Frey's daughters. Robb and Lady Stark were invited and during the feast, they were…"

The wound on his nose itched. He wanted to rip it apart

"Tell me," Sansa sounded to strange as if she was so far away.

"Your brother was stabbed and they killed your mother last." Tyrion's voice quivered in spite of himself. "It was…my lady…Sansa," he looked at his feet, afraid that the tears in his eyes will only make her angry. "I am truly—"

"Did the Freys act on their own?"

He suddenly looked up in surprise. His reaction was enough answer. He could see that she understood. He knew that the Lannisters had a hand in it…

"Sansa," he tried to beseech her, "I didn't know. If I did, I—"

But Sansa now towered above him. "May I be excused?" She didn't wait for an answer from him, however, and was already walking out of the room. It took seconds before Tyrion could react and when he did, the panic in his gut rose to his throat.

"Sansa!" Tyrion followed, quickening his steps. "Please, my lady. Talk to me!"

Don't shut me out.

Sansa sprinted to her old chambers and locked the doors.

Let me in.

He would have pounded at the wood frantically and urge her to open herself up to him but what could he do to lessen her pain, let alone heal it? What could he possibly offer her that she would take? She's been battered and abused by demons and he had been their kin. In spite all this, somehow she still allowed herself to trust him and that faith was repaid by blood and death. Tyrion never felt so small and helpless until this very moment as he stood on the other side of the door that is not the only thing that separates them. He wanted to give up. He shouldn't force her to confide in him. Indirect as it may be, he was responsible for her wounds. Tyrion took a step back and closed his eyes, praying to whatever god would hear. If there was anything worth praying for, anyone who is ever worth saving—

"Please," Tyrion whispered, and then he raised his voice. "Sansa, open the door."

He waited. Everything has ceased to exist at that point, and there was only the door before him and the prayer in his heart.

Finally, he heard a voice. But it came from behind him.

"My lord," It was Varys. He held out a hand where a key lay on his palm. "I heard voices so I came to see what had happened. It seems that the lady Sansa is grieving quite profoundly, and it is your duty as her husband to soothe her."

Tyrion didn't ask where he even got a key (with Varys, sometimes there are questions one shouldn't ask). He took it and unlocked the door. And then he turned to look at Varys to say something but the spider was already walking away. He made a note to thank him later.

It took a while for his eyesight to adjust in the semi-darkness. There was a candle near the bed. He sought for Sansa and found her near the window, her back turned away from him. She looked as haunting as she was beautiful and Tyrion could hardly believe there was ever a time when she was just a happy, carefree girl back in Winterfell. She had tasted too much despair for her age. He had to call for her name twice before she finally met his gaze.

Tyrion was about to say something to comfort her but then his eyes travelled down her hands which clasped something tightly between them.

"I wanted to do it," Sansa spoke up, her voice so hushed he could barely hear it.

Tyrion risked a step closer. "What do you have there, my lady?"

Half of Sansa's face was cloaked in shadows. She lowered her hands and showed him what was inside. Tyrion was close now and as soon as he glimpsed at the small vial of wildfire within, the first thing that came to his mind was to grab her wrists and force her to give up the flammable poison. He restrained himself; he didn't want to alarm her. Besides, he could see that the urgency to kill herself has subsided already and was instead replaced by grim surrender. Tyrion reached out a hand, imploring her, "Please, Sansa."

She looked at him meekly, all life force drained out of her. From this distance and minimum light, she might as well have been a ghost.

Carefully, Sansa placed the vial on Tyrion's palm. He didn't care to look at it as he approached her table so he could pull out a drawer and safeguard it there. He sighed and turned to her again, measuring his next words. "Give me your ring."

Sansa didn't move at first and then she raised her hand and did what was asked. Once she slipped the ring from her finger, Tyrion walked to her and gently took it from her grasp. It was as big as a thumb, made of gold and encrusted with small, delicate rubies. He allowed himself a smile of relief and then he took Sansa by the other hand and led her to the bed where he made her sit. Gathering courage and certainty, Tyrion began to speak.

"I have never been more ashamed to stand before you…" he paused and then continued, "…a Lannister. I am sorry that we took you from your home where you were safe and where you were loved, and for all the darkness and deaths that surrounded our families."

Tyrion raised the ring as he announced boldly. "As your husband, I pledge to you on this day forward and for many days to come to cherish and protect you, to lay down my life for you if it means your survival." He took her hand and slowly slipped back the ring in her finger. "I am no handsome prince or dashing knight," he went on as he looked into her eyes. "But show me your heart and the pain it carries and I will try everything in my power to cease its aching." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with all the tenderness he can give.

When he pulled himself away to gaze at her face again, he saw the tears in her eyes glistening against the soft light from the candle beside them. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off when Sansa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, clutching him with a possessiveness and strength that astounded him. He couldn't move at first until he heard her sob against his shoulder.

Tyrion closed his eyes and held her back, remembering the first time he did when she was naked and bruised after Joffrey and her knights had their way with her. His own tears stung. His chest was full and empty all at once.

The gods have heard me, he thought as he buried his face on the locks of her hair and the scent was exactly what he imagined home must be.

The morning found Sansa as a woman.

She didn't feel four-and-ten years old anymore and her body certainly didn't seem like it either, not with its deep-seared scars and familiar wounds that have yet to scab.

She was lying on her left side, watching Tyrion Lannister snore peacefully beside her. The battle scar he had sustained from Blackwater etched his features from the cheek to half his nose. It was a gruesome sight but some may even say the same thing with the lashes on her back or the knife-imprints on either wrist. Sansa peeked through her arms then, tracing a finger through the skin, remembering the harshness of the cold blade slicing the flesh. She remembered the way she whimpered; the way Joffrey asked her to scream for him.

Sansa closed her eyes to forget the feeling, and when she opened her eyes again she only saw Tyrion now, her benefactor, protector and loyal husband. She would never doubt him ever again. This will be enough, she smiled wistfully to herself, to chase the ghosts away.

Cautiously, Sansa traced his scar with her little finger yet barely touching his skin. She breathed out and listened closely as it matched his own. She glanced at the rest of him from underneath the covers; the stunted legs, most of all. He's small like a child but he is every inch a man, she mused as she placed a hand on his knee and then she raised it to feel the steady heartbeat in his chest. He's a grotesque creature. A dwarf. She thought about the songs and how some of its tales depicted his kind as cowards or mummers, their purpose is to delight or to be ridiculed. The gods might have made him a dwarf but he's never been more perfect for me, Sansa leaned closer to kiss his cheek. She pulled away slightly and closed her eyes.

Tyrion stirred slightly and grumbled. He was still fast asleep.

She slowly sat up, careful not to wake him. As soon as she did, the door opened and both Shae and the squire Podrick entered her chambers.

Podrick look abashed and he lowered his head. Shae looked at Sansa as if not really seeing her and then she said. "Does my lady wish to break her fast?"

"Yes, thank you," Sansa smiled at her. "Just bring the food here."

As the servants settled the plates and pots on the table, Tyrion still slept through, turning to the right side once and not giving any indication he's going to wake up soon. Sansa ate her bread with eggs and enjoyed the warm goat stew. She even allowed herself to a sip of wine to accompany her small feast. She couldn't remember the last time food tasted this good and filled her stomach with satisfaction.

I wanted to die the night before, she thought to herself, and now it's as if my life is finally mine again and I could live it as I please. She glanced behind her where her husband lay. Queen Cersei was wrong about the songs after all. I knew they can't all be lies.

When she finished her meal, she asked Shae to accompany her in the garden and for Podrick to watch over Tyrion until he wakes up. Sansa was hoping that she would encounter Lady Margaery on her stroll today. She hasn't spoken to her since two days before the wedding. But there was no sign of her anywhere; not even Ser Loras was in sight. She wondered if the Tyrell siblings still plan to continue a friendship with her. She hoped they would. Margaery is important to her. Aside from Shae, she was the only person in King's Landing she could bear her secrets and innermost thoughts to.

Sansa looked over Shae and hesitated. Should I confide in my handmaid?

Quick as ever, Shae noticed and inquired. "Something on your mind, my lady?"

"Well," Sansa felt the color rise in her cheeks. "I'm not sure how to explain it."

"I can wait," Shae reassured her.

Sansa slowed down her pace and her handmaid followed suit. She began speaking in a hushed tone, "You must wonder why Lord Tyrion and I were in my chambers last night."

"It's a duty behind man and wife."

"No, that's not it," Sansa now blushed. "We did not—not on our wedding night or last night. He and I have been…very good friends before all of this. It was uncomfortable at first since we got married, but now I think it's becoming easier for both of us."

Shae said nothing so Sansa went on. "He paid for my education. He kept me away from Joffrey. He encouraged me to befriend the lady Margaery," she looked at her hands and smiled. "He wrote me letters. He gave me the book about Ser Dunk's adventures."

Shae turned to her and said, "Yes, he has been kind to you."

"It's not only that," Sansa replied, measuring her next words. "I think he wanted me since he saw me in Winterfell. When Robert was king and he visited us to ask for late father to become Hand, I met Lord Tyrion for the first time. I still remember it…" she trailed off for a while to recall the incident. "He had too much wine and I had to hold him up so he could walk back to his room," she chuckled. "I thought he was funny."

She looked across Shae to see her reaction but her handmaid only nodded at her to acknowledge that she was following the conversation.

"I've always believed I'll marry someone like the Knight of Flowers," Sansa looked across the garden, her eyes resting upon the roses around them. "To get that, I know I need to learn everything there is about being a lady. And I did everything right. I also believed in the magic and joy of songs. I believed in everything my lord father and lady mother told me even if they turned out to be half-truths in the end." Sansa tried not to think about the late Lady Catelyn. She tried not to picture her face; her hair that was a darker shade of red than her own. She stopped walking altogether to face Shae. "I only have to follow a straight line to get everything I want; like all the songs have promised as long I am a good girl. I did my duties without complaints, expecting rewards someday."

Shae only listened. Sansa let out a sigh and then went on. "But since meeting the Lannisters, I lost more than I wanted to gain and preserve. I also learned a new set of lessons of being a proper lady here in King's Landing. I learned to lie, to suppress my thoughts, to deny my feelings—to live each day like it still matters, even if all I wanted to do is to either die or go home. And I can never go home."

"My lady," Shae began but did not finish.

As if understanding that she wanted to offer her comfort, Sansa took her hand and squeezed. "But I don't want to die." She blinked away the tears. "It took being so close to the edge of death for me to understand how much I wanted to live, and to accept the things I'm willing to do and sacrifice in order to do just that."

She let go of Shae's hand and started walking again. "I'm not afraid anymore." She announced it not just to herself or her handmaid but to the rest of the world and the gods whom she knows only listen and watch. It was only her who could help herself now.

"I'm happy to see you grow up, Sansa." Shae took her hand this time and made her stop on her tracks so they could face each other. "That's all I wanted for you."

Sansa smiled at her and cupped her cheeks with her hands. "Thank you. It's a rare thing for me to find an ally who cares as much as you do." She lowered her hands and looked off in the distance. "He cares about me too, and for a time it scared me because it didn't make sense. But now it does." She smiled softly and glanced back at Shae.

"I have been falling and falling and falling—I thought it would never end," her smile widened. "But I have landed at last. I found myself in his arms. I could be in the darkest pits of the unknown and I wouldn't care as long as he holds me close to him."

Shae blinked at her but said nothing, listening earnestly to every word.

"I love him, Shae," Sansa finally said it and her face felt like it was going to melt. Her throat felt dry. Her chest hurt. But she finally said it. "I'm in love with a man I should have every reason to hate." She felt her eyes well up with tears again but they were because of joy for the first time since she came here. "I'm in love with Tyrion Lannister."

Tyrion told Podrick to eat with him since his lady wife was with Shae for her morning stroll. His squire was shy as always but he could tell that the goat stew pleased the boy because he had not eaten anything like it before. Tyrion regarded him with warmth, remembering how brave he was during the Blackwater battle; that the boy saved his life. There are many things for me to be grateful for, I suppose.

Afterwards, he changed into fresh garments and set out to look for Lord Varys. He found the spider tending to one of his little birds, a young boy about eight years, with a sunburnt face and some missing teeth. His eyes darted nervously between Tyrion and Lord Varys but the spider patted his head as if to assure him that Tyrion is not a foe. When the boy left them, Tyrion seated himself on a chair across Lord Varys and said, "You were very helpful last night. I feel as if I owe you a debt that I need to pay now and get over with."

Varys' smile was mild. "You're very welcome, Lord Tyrion." He paused and then, "As for debts, I don't require anything urgent; just your constant presence in the king's affairs."

Tyrion chuckled bitterly. "You would have me risk my head for our beloved Joffrey? I might be his uncle but he heeds no other counsel than the demons in his head."

It was Varys' turn to chuckle. "When you were Hand, King's Landing has prospered under your direction even if that progress was gradual and subtle."

"My father is Hand as the gods would have it." Tyrion remarked. "And all is well."

"How is the lady Sansa?" Varys decided to change the subject abruptly.

Tyrion didn't mind. "She has slept and eaten well."

"And you, my lord?"

"I feel just fine, Lord Varys," Given everything, that is.

"I saw Lady Sansa walking with our common friend in the gardens." His smile was a tad wider now. "Wouldn't you join them?"

"I certainly plan to," Tyrion eyed the spider for a while before he got on his feet and left him to his schemes. Varys is both friend and foe, depending on the situation, he surmised.

He walked along the rosy pathway, taking note that since the Tyrells have settled and occupied the Red Keep, the gardens have been implanted with roses of red, white and yellow. He wondered if that was symbolic; roses are not just fragrant flowers but weeds that might need some plucking if they persist to grow and enshroud the castle walls. Tyrion didn't think it concerned him for now, but he knew Cersei would see it as a bad omen.

He saw Sansa and Shae at last. They were sitting on a bench, facing the ocean. There were some ships across the harbor and Sansa looked like she was telling Shae about them which he found strange. Was she thinking about her escape? If she was, would he discourage her? She has every right to flee after all. Though he knew this to be true, it somehow made him sad to think about the possibility of her leaving. Will she leave me behind and not think twice about it? Tyrion might know that the honorable thing to do is to let her make that decision but there was a part of him that wanted to make her stay and build a life together.

As he approached them, Tyrion's thoughts turned to his first wife Tysha. He was about to recall the song she used to sing to him when Sansa turned to see him just in time. He allowed himself to smile. The sun was in her hair again, and it made it appear luscious. It made him want to run his fingers through it. He felt ashamed of that but then Sansa returned his smile. It made him think about the vow he swore to her last night and the way she wrapped herself around him in a vice grip as if she had done it a hundred times before.

He stood in front of her and Shae, and greeted them.

"May I have a word with my wife?" he asked Shae who looked at him blankly and went her way. He watched her go. It has been a while since they were alone and it made him feel guilty. He promised Shae he would provide for her and now that he has a legal wife at his side, where could Shae possibly fit into that arrangement? She was his whore, but she was also so much more than that to him. He cared for her. He needed her. But as he looked back at Sansa who was still smiling at him, he didn't think he would want to spend another day with Shae again unless to sleep with her because it doesn't seem like his lady wife would presently do that despite it being her foremost duty.

Tyrion sat beside Sansa now, trying to stop thinking about his problems about this new situation. His gaze rested upon the ocean and the ships, understanding the appeal of escape at this moment. An idea occurred to him.

"You've never been to Casterly Rock," he began. "It's just as warm as King's Landing but it smells even better than this rat hole," he paused and watched her expression. She was listening intently so he went on. "When I was of the right age, my father assigned me to clean and organize the drains and dykes of the city. I was quite effective on that post." He cleared his throat and faced her completely now. "When the time is ripe, I could take you there. Granted it's not Highgarden but the rock has mines where we procure our gold."

Sansa nodded and said nothing. Tyrion was starting to worry so he kept talking. "You could come with me inside the mines so we could watch the workers. The caves would glimmer sometimes because of the gold," he looked down while he remembered the sight. "My favorite part is when the welders would melt the rocks and shape them into coins or jewellery." He placed his hand on top of hers where she wore her wedding ring.

"That sounds quite splendid, my lord," she beamed at him and then squeezed his hand. "You must take me there someday."

"Would you really like that?" he asked.

Sansa just smiled wider. "It sounds quite dreamy."

Tyrion nodded and turned away. He also withdrew his hand.

"What's the matter, my lord?"

"I was just…" Tyrion trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. He looked at her again. There are so many things he wanted to say but only one clearly stood out among the rest. With a soft murmur, he said. "I'm very sorry about your mother and brother. If only I could do something to—"

"My lord," Sansa interjected. "I wish not to dwell on losses anymore."

Tyrion watched her face for a while before he nodded. He then let out a chuckle and remarked. "I wish I could say I know what you're going through. But when my own lady mother died during childbirth, I shed no tears. I did not know her enough to grieve the loss."

"But you must think about what she was like."

"I do know what she was like," Tyrion explained. "Everyone loved the late Lady Joanna. Her servants spoke well of her. My father was also deeply devoted to her. Jaime would often tell me how beautiful she is, and how kind and humble in spite of her station. I tried talking about her with Cersei once, but my sweet sister considered it an insult to her memory that I would even attempt to associate myself with her."

"Surely they do not blame you for her passing."

"You've met Cersei," Tyrion shot her a look. "You know how she loathes everyone save Jaime and her children. I bet even her own reflection makes her cringe."

"I should have seen through her earlier," Sansa muttered as she looked down at her hands. "There were many times when the truth was laid before me and I simply did not want to see." She looked back at him. "But I see things better now and my heart has never been sure…" she reached out to touch his hand. Tyrion tried not to wince.

He could not speak at first. And then he said. "I'm glad that you don't doubt my sincerity anymore." He squeezed back her hand. "I meant everything I said last night."

Sansa said nothing. She merely slouched in her seat, sliding down just a bit. He watched her curiously as she turned completely to meet his gaze. She leaned closer. In this position, he was staring directly in her eyes and that's when he realized what she was about to do. He waited for her face to reach his, just to be sure. As soon as she closed her eyes, Tyrion let her hand go so he could place it under her chin as gently as he could. His eyes were already shut when their lips touched. He didn't dare to deepen the kiss, savoring the sensation of her lips first. When she slightly pulled away to look into his eyes again, Tyrion saw something he hasn't seen in a while and recognized it as genuine affection.

And it destroyed and saved him all at once.

Cupping her cheeks with both hands now, Tyrion kissed her with certainty, giving in to urgent need that he has suppressed for so long. She tasted like never-ending summer and the heat it brought passed through his loins; it felt as though it could overflow out of him. Sansa pulled him up by the shoulders so his hands were now pressed on her lap. The thought of her thighs underneath him filled him with an overpowering desire that he had to pull away to take a gulp of air. He was literally breathless and Sansa was laughing. Her cheeks are almost as red as her hair. Tyrion did not have the words nor did he wish to speak. All he wanted to do was to kiss her all day. It turns out that Sansa had the same wish because she pressed her lips against him once more, her soft giggles pouring out as he parted his lips to accept her again. He held her by the arms now and the kiss was savage this time. He didn't think he could ever stop. But he managed to. Sansa looked disappointed.

"I don't—" Tyrion took a breath and continued, "think this is the right place for this."

"Then let's find the right place, my lord," Sansa's smile was suggestive and the sight of it made Tyrion's head spin a little.

"Sansa, I..." he thought about what his father said yesterday. His expression changed and Sansa saw it. Before she could ask, he began to explain. "My father sees you as a way to secure the North, to bring your fellowmen into the fold. And for that, he requires that we provide him an heir." He turned away now.

But Sansa would not hear any of it. Instead she ran her fingers through his hair which made him look at her. "I grieve my brother's lost cause since you told me the news of his death. I dreamt of home so many times that I forgot to live for what is within my reach now." She touched his cheek. "This war will only get worse at this point but I have no wish to spend my days and nights dwelling on ghouls anymore."

"He wants to use whatever child we may have as a means to his end." Tyrion was overcome with sorrow then. "That is the debt we must pay."

"A price I could learn to live with," she remarked, "if it means I could be with you."

Tyrion opened his mouth to say something but could not find the words to describe or let her know that he loved her from the day he saw her, and had continued to love her since even if he didn't know it himself. There was no other way to express the deluge of those feelings because words will never suffice or capture the magnitude of that truth.

But Tyrion did his very best to express it all with another kiss.

Tyrion did manage to stop kissing Sansa after a while when he was summoned for another small council meeting that afternoon. He left Sansa reading more of Ser Dunk's tales as she lay on the bed inside their shared chambers. No sooner when he got out of the room when Shae followed. He stopped on his tracks, waiting for her approach him but she merely stood from afar, watching him with an expression he could not decipher.

"My lady," he began.

"I'm no lady," Shae finally walked toward him. He could hear her say I'm your whore even if she didn't verbally express it. Embarrassed, he took a step back.

They waited for a few seconds to speak. Tyrion doesn't know how to even explain how the circumstances have changed but Shae thankfully took the lead.

"I want you to know I understand," she said.

"I will still take care of you, Shae," he assured her.

"No," she answered curtly.

"But Sansa sees you as her friend."

Shae interjected. "I stayed in King's Landing for you. So what happens to us now? What purpose will you have of me if not to warm your bed and fulfil your whims?"

"Shae, please." I never wanted to hurt you.

"You must do your duty as son and husband, little lion." Shae was now heading back towards the door to join her mistress inside her chambers. Then she turned around to look at him and added. "But make your choice quickly because I have already made my own."

She left him there to contemplate the enigma in her last words.

"Just hold onto me. I'll hold onto you. It's you and me against the world" ~Parachute