Sansa

Jon hugged her warmly when they said good night.

"Be happy if you can," he whispered before letting go. "Sorry for keeping you so late," he said.

She wondered what he meant. Wedding feasts could last for several days and nights. Not that there was anything regular about this one. Arya's wedding had been attended only by the Queen, the King and two of the four Wardens of Westeros.

Daenerys smiled at her before exiting the Great Hall, and Sansa was sure she knew about her and Tyrion. She stayed rooted to the spot, realizing that she didn't mind. People had laughed at her or pitied her when she was the Imp's wife. Fear of Joffrey was the only thing that kept the shame from crushing her the first time.

She went to her room, wondering about what their lives would've been like if Tyrion had made other choices back then. She might have found pleasure in his bed, young as she was, disgusted as she was of him.

In her room, she put on a simple night dress and unbraided her hair. She brushed it with slow movements, picturing her younger self caressed and loved by her husband.

A discreet knock brought her back to the present. Her hardened nipples pushed against the fabric of her night dress. Heat pooled in her belly. The present was far more compelling than any might-have-beens.

"Come in," she said.

Tyrion was wearing the same clothes he'd worn at the feast.

"I had to take care of some things for the morning," he said. "They leave tomorrow and I needed to make sure everything is ready…"

"What?" she asked when he fell silent.

"You," he whispered. "Brushing your hair. Dressed for bed. Waiting for me. It's something out of my dreams."

"Don't you resent me? Even a little?"

"For what?"

"For the way I was with you."

"You were frightened. After your father… and then Joffrey…"

She hung her head. It was an excuse, and they both knew it. Wouldn't it be easier if she just accepted his explanation and let go?

"I told you I would never want to share your bed."

He came near her chair. While she was sitting down, they were at eye level. Seeing him so close, she could see the lines age had put on his face, not just the scars. She felt the years between them as strongly as she did on their wedding night. Unlike then, she wanted his approval this time.

"You were wrong."

Sansa leaned in and kissed his lips delicately. "The Queen knows."

"She suspects," he said.

Their lips brushed against each other's while they spoke.

"And Jon," she said.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, and deepened the kiss. His response was weaker than she expected.

"Does it bother you?" she asked.

Confusion flickered on his face. "I should be the one asking that."

"The world has changed, my lord."

He shivered in her arms when she said it. She used the title fondly, as if the word husband came after it.

"Maybe I died, and this is my afterlife," he said while she kissed his neck and her hands were working on getting him out of his jerkin. "I can't imagine what I did in life to deserve this, though."

"You flatter me," she said, kissing her way down his exposed chest.

"Outrageously," he admitted, making her smile. "Don't stop."

She beamed at the pleading note in his voice as she traced his hardening cock, pushing shamelessly against the fabric of his trousers. The books she'd read didn't cover the practical aspects of undressing a man, and Sansa enjoyed exploring it for herself. There was a heady power to knowing the man in front of her wanted nothing more than her touches.

He thrummed with expectation while she tugged at his trousers, but didn't shed them himself.

"You left a lot of books in Winterfell," she whispered, nibbling at his ear.

"What?"

"Incredibly dull, so many of them. But there were others…"

"Fuck," he cursed when she got his cock out.

"Yes, please."

He wrapped her hand around his cock. Sansa gasped when she felt it harden and grow under her touch. His free hand fisted in her hair and pulled her into an urgent kiss. She fell to her knees to be closer to him.

"Nearly fucked you like this in my office," he said, lowering her to the floor.

The fire in his voice burned through her. Her very core pulsated with need, craving to have him inside again.

His cock slipped out of her hand when he positioned himself on top of her. He bunched up her night dress and spread her legs with a knee. Sansa moaned as he started pushing inside her. His thick shaft sunk into her, deeper with each impatient thrust until he was completely engulfed in her throbbing pussy.

Sansa let go of all memories and regrets, enjoying the moments of pure bliss. Waves of pleasure rose inside her. She ran her fingers through Tyrion's hair. When he looked up, his focused expression bordered on agony.

"Don't hold back," she whispered.

"I'm too close." He struggled to say the words, buried inside her, not moving for fear of breaking apart. She felt him pulsate, on the brink of finishing.

"Let go."

He came smoothly, as if she pulled at the end of a ribbon to untie a perfect bow. He remained there, his head resting on her breast, listening to her heart while her own body calmed down after the rush of her climax.

"I can't help feeling I should apologize for taking you on the floor," he said.

"I can't help wondering what it would have been like if we did it in your office earlier."

"Lady Sansa, you have a naughty streak."

"You finally noticed!"

"Please say you won't leave in the morning," he said.

"I won't leave in the morning."

"Or the day after tomorrow."

She hadn't heard this shade of desperation in Tyrion's voice in all the years they had known one another.

"Or the day after tomorrow," she said.

She put a finger over his lips when he was about to speak.

"I can't stay as long as I wish."

He kissed her finger, then he took her hand in his, and kissed it respectfully. His kisses went up her arm and lost all traces of respectability.

They spent the next few days and nights wrapped up into one another. When her carriage left Casterly Rock, Sansa's heart was light. For the first time in her life, she had warm memories to keep her company.

A part of her held hope that she was wrong about being barren. As soon as she imagined a child, clouds came in her soul. A child born to the heads of Houses Stark and Lannister, even out of wedlock, would create many problems.

And yet, Sansa was smiling. If they were to have a child, she and Tyrion would find a way to work it out.


Three months later

Tyrion

After their unexpected reconnection, his correspondence with Sansa increased in frequency. Due to the distance between them, they were forced to have at least two conversations at the same time. They wrote to each other every week, but the letters took longer than two weeks to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell.

In his previous letter, which still hadn't reached Sansa, Tyrion had told her that the Queen and King would be attending the Royce-Frey wedding. One of the girls that survived Arya's visit was marrying Albar Royce.

The shadow of the Red Wedding still hung over the Twins, and Darenerys wanted to give them a chance to cleanse it. Tyrion expressed his regrets for not attending. The head of House Lannister should be there, to show remorse for their involvement in the massacre. However, the Hand of the Queen should be in the Capital in her absence, even if she'd only be gone for two days.

The letter he received that morning from Sansa informed him that she was going to attend the wedding in person. He had expected her to want to face that dreadful place, as she had faced all the monsters of her past. And yet until he'd seen it in her own writing, he hadn't realized how much he wanted to attend that wedding. For a whole different reason than expiating for his family's sins.

The wedding was the very next day. Daenerys and Jon would get to the Twins in a few hours flying on their dragons. It would take him a full week by Queensroad, and by that time, Sansa would be on her way back to Winterfell.

He tried to put the matter out of his mind, but when his audience with the Queen was at an end, he couldn't help himself.

"Your Grace, I have a favor to ask."

She raised an eyebrow, and nodded for him to go on. He hadn't asked her for anything personal before. She had always given him honors, and lands, and most of all, her trust without him ever asking.

"I would like to attend the wedding at the Twins. My father was the architect of the Red Wedding. People must know that House Lannister is different now."

"Of course. You can ride with me. Be at the Dragonpit in the morning."

He bowed his head, ashamed to have concealed from her the most important reason he wanted to be there.

#

His heart beat faster when Sansa walked in the great hall than when he'd been flying across Westeros on the back of a fire breathing dragon. She looked thinner than last time he'd seen her. That crushed his unreasonable hope that, despite not mentioning it in her letters, she carried his child.

He held his breath, and took in her beauty before he had to untangle his tongue to talk to her as if they were mere acquaintances. Her dress was far from the colorful, revealing garments she wore in Casterly Rock. She had come to a wedding, but he knew from her letter that she came to make peace with the death of her mother and brother.

She must have sensed his gaze, because she turned her head toward him. Her sad eyes lit up when they landed on him. He hurried toward her.

"Lady Stark, it's good to see you again."

He bowed respectfully, and she curtsied.

"My Lord Hand, I didn't know you'd be here."

"Couldn't stay away," he said so quietly that only she could hear him.

Her skin flushed and her eyelids fluttered. She squeezed his hand tightly when he accompanied her at her seat next to Robin Arryn. A few vague pleasantries with the Warden of the East, and he went to his own seat, by the Queen.

"Your sister looks gaunt," Daenerys was telling Jon. "Is it just this place or something else troubles her?"

"Being here, at a wedding… is not easy on any of us. But I have a wife I love and two children. All Sansa has to go back to are the stones of Winterfell."

Tyrion's jaw clenched. Sansa's loneliness weighed heavily on him. He wanted her to be happy, and yet… his heart was going to break into a million pieces when she would find someone to make her happy.