After the rough conversation, they had stood in unison. Tyrion had moved to wipe the spilled wine off the table and refill the glasses and Sansa to splash cold water on her face and run a comb through her hair. Once back in order, they returned to the couch together. They sat up late into the night, drinking and talking just like they had before this whole mess. Sansa told him about her budding friendship with Margaery, and Tyrion told her of the engagement between Cersei and Loras. Sansa had laughed out loud at the idea of the icy queen with the awkward knight of flowers. It was a ridiculous match. It had also lent credence to Tyrion's version of what happened. She knew Cersei would never have agreed to such a match if it hadn't been for their father's forceful hand.

However, as the night went on, the bed on the other side of the room seemed to grow, acting as an ever looming threat. Sansa yawned tiredly, and Tyrion followed suit. A rush of apprehension flowed through her and she couldn't help her eyes from darting towards the bed quickly. Tyrion caught the motion and shook his head slightly. "I promised you I wouldn't touch you tonight, and I meant it. I don't care what my father says."

Sansa sighed with relief, but was still concerned. It wasn't that she was so adverse from being with Tyrion, it was that she was terrified of the deed itself. And to be honest, after just putting faith in him again, she didn't want to be too intimate with him right away. She had decided to resign herself to the facts. She was married. To Tyrion. Eventually they would have to consummate their relationship. But if he was willing to give her time to get to know him as a partner, then she was more than happy to take that time. But it was bound to be limited. The mighty Tywin Lannister would not allow their feelings to get in the way of a lion in Winterfell.

The fact of the matter was that Tywin Lannister was going to sell her off. It was never up for negotiation. Her claim was too powerful to allow it to fall to any other family and the lord hand was not going to let an opportunity like that pass. She'd much rather have Tyrion as her husband than any other.

"You take the bed. I'll sleep here" he patted the couch.

"Don't be ridiculous" Sansa rolled her eyes, standing and stretching her arms. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. There's no reason for you to hurt yourself trying to sleep on this hard thing."

"But I want you to be comfortable." Tyrion insisted and Sansa smiled at him.

"You promised you would not touch me. Were you lying?"

"Of course not." he shook his head emphatically but still looked at her with concern.

"Then I trust you." Perhaps it was the wine's effect on her, but she didn't feel uncomfortable with the thought of being so close to him at all. She trusted his word that he would not push her yet and it would be silly to respond to that generosity with distrust. By allowing him into the bed, she hoped to show him that she took his word.

His smile told her that her message was clear.

The two readied themselves separately before meeting on opposite sides of the bed. For the first time since he had stopped her from disrobing a few hours ago, Sansa felt apprehension fill the air. She pushed her thoughts away as she turned the blankets down and settled into bed. He would not touch her-he promised. After extinguishing the candles he did the same across from her. They sat silently, awkwardly, like two stiff dolls in the bed before he sighed heavily.

"I can still sleep on the couch...if you want..." he offered and Sansa pinched herself for being silly. She took a deep breath and turned to him with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Hush. That couch is hardly comfortable to sit in, let alone sleep. I can handle this. You are already being far more kind than I could have expected from anyone else."

He looked saddened by her words and reached out to take her hand.

"You deserve so much more than this." He whispered.

"I know," she said honestly. "But to be honest you do to." He scoffed, making her smile. She squeezed his hand. "This is awful for both of us. But a friend told me recently that we must make the best of our circumstances. I don't believe you asked for this, and I certainly didn't, but it's happened. It's done and it could be a whole lot worse if you ask me."

He looked relatively grim before flashing her a wicked smile. "We're better off than poor Loras" he quipped.

Sansa laughed as any hint of apprehension faded. She settled herself down between the pillows, allowing her exhaustion to take the better of her.

"Good night, Tyrion." she whispered into the darkness.

"Good night, Sansa."

A/N: And a short chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed a rather less terrible wedding night than you were expecting!

I just wanted to show the progression of their friendship and Sansa's inability to fit back into the mask she had clearly grown out of. She really had every intention of keeping it all inside, but was obviously unable to do so. I wanted them to have the real conversation on their wedding night that they didn't have in the show.

Happy New Year everyone! Hope everyone had a spectacular start to 2017- I certainly did. Please review!