Seven hells but you guys are the best! Thank you so much for all the love. I do what I do because of you. No joke. I wouldn't write if it weren't for your guys. So thank you.

Yeah, I kinda mighta given you all heart attacks at the end of the last chapter. Sorry. But I'm really not because it was an important twist.

The song for this chapter is Radioactive originally by Imagine Dragons (I see a GoT reference there... and everywhere) but I'm doing the cover by Mr. Tyler Ward. Love him. He is very talented and such a great guy. Seriously he makes me laugh almost as much as you guys. I just hear from you more.

TISSUE ALERT! We are not done with our angst fest yet. In fact you don't like angst, then this story is going to really disappoint you.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the Iron Throne, not the North and definitely not Tyrion Lannister. But oh the things I could do if I did.

Chapter Ten: Radioactive

Tyrion begged for death.

He knelt before Daenerys, his father and Joffrey in the same position to his left. They hadn't surprised Daenerys at all. She was waiting for them by the sea. Her dragons made quick work of their soldiers and her Unsullied had captured the three of them and they had been towed back to King's Landing. He had begged anyone they saw for information about his wife but no one knew what happened to her and he prayed that Varys had kept his promise. Cersei was dead, poisoning herself and Tommen when the enemy had breached the Throne Room. Tyrion felt sick at the thought and prayed to the Seven for his nephew to be granted safe passage and comfort in the Night Lands.

"Joffrey of house Baratheon, first of your name, you are charged with the following crimes against the people of King's Landing and the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys proclaimed. As she began to list off all the crimes and cruelties that Joffrey had committed, Tyrion reflected on his own life and crimes. Would she even bother to address them or would she simply accuse him of being born a Lannister and have him beheaded in spite of his feelings about how his nephew ruled? Tyrion couldn't pretend that he wasn't afraid of the death he was sure was coming. He never wanted to die, not in this fashion.

Since he married Sansa, he had always pictured he would die in his bed, his arms around her and hers around him, their children and grandchildren surrounding them with saddened faces. She would still be beautiful, even in her advanced age. And then it wouldn't matter when Death came to take them because everything would be right in the world. His worries and fears would be banished and he would know that even if he had ruined everything else good in his life, he hadn't ruined that. He hadn't ruined her. He had protected her. He'd made her happy. They'd had children and grandchildren and lived untouched by the cruelty of his family, ensconcing themselves at Winterfell and spending their days riding through the Wolfswood or the Godswood.

His reverie was broken by the singing of a sword slicing through the air followed by the wet thud of a head hitting the floor. He saw Joffrey's eyes staring blankly past him as blood poured from his neck onto his face. Tyrion swallowed, the imminence of death seizing him and coating his heart with ice, the freezing cold of the Wall seeming to move through his body. Tywin didn't meet his eye, didn't even acknowledge his presence as he glared down the new queen. Tyrion tried to find Varys but his so-called friend wasn't to be found among the lords and ladies near the queen. He knew he had been pardoned, that Jorah Mormont had vouched for him with the queen. Had he managed to get Sansa to safety? Tyrion would gladly welcome death if his wife had already suffered it at someone else's hands. Life without her was completely without merit. Had the queen already taken her head as punishment for bearing the last name of Lannister? Or was she still alive, laying in some dungeon waiting for the next man to come and do despicable things to her? Tyrion's blood boiled at the thought but he had to trust Varys to have saved her.

He had spoken for him as well but the queen wouldn't hear of it. She told him that to spare one Lannister would give her enemies a rallying point and tell her enemies and people that she was weak. Tyrion couldn't blame her. He knew that were it him, he would worry for his safety and the loyalty of his people if he allowed the advisors and family of the ruler he had conquered to live. Had Sansa been killed then? She was a Lannister and he didn't doubt that there were several people in court who would gladly sell out his wife in an attempt to gain favor with the new ruler. It was no matter.

He would join her shortly.

He was pulled from his thoughts again as he felt the spray of hot blood hit his cheek. He looked over wildly and saw that his father had suffered the same fate as his grandson. Tyrion had every reason to wish his father dead. He'd been given many from his birth. But as he watched the blood pour from his father's body, he felt an ache in his heart because despite his hatred for him, his father had always done right by him. He had given him everything, entrusted him with power and reputation, even praised him in his quiet, stiff way. He had liked Sansa, seen her as a daughter and not just the blood of his enemy. While his daughter and her children brought no honor to the family name, he had stood by them. Family came first and Tywin had always done that, if not misguidedly, at least loyally.

"Tyrion Lannister," Daenerys said and he looked at her before bowing his head in resolve, closing his eyes and picturing Sansa's sweet, smiling face as she lay in bed next to him, the morning sun catching her fiery hair and making it look as though it were aflame, the echo of her laughter surrounding him like a blanket, warming him as the queen proceeded to pass judgment on his life.

I am coming, my sweet Sansa.