His mattress seemed to be slipping out from under him. He groaned and began to roll over until his mattress let out a small squeak before moaning itself. Tyrion opened his eyes. Sansa lay partially beneath him, entirely without clothes and, based upon her current facial expression, a fierce hangover. Tyrion reached out a hand towards her and she flinched slightly. She seemed rather confused, did she not remember the previous night? Or perhaps she worried about what he might have done to her unconcious and nude form in the night.

His hand slipped down her cheek and pulled up on her chin so that their eyes met. "I assure you, nothing happened last night Sansa, my beautiful lady wife." She looked at him searchingly before nodding very slightly. She began to pull herself up, all the while hiding herself from him with the covers. And then she groaned aloud and fell back into the bed. Tyrion couldn't help but chuckle. She glared across at him. He chuckled harder, it seemed the Sansa that had scolded him for the delivery of her lunch all those weeks ago still remained within his wife. He slipped out of the bed, far more dressed than she was, and left the room quietly.

When he returned several minutes later, Sansa was sat on the floor leaning against the bed with a nightshift on. Tyrion deposited a small vial into her hands. "Drink, it does wonders." She looked up at him, removed the cap and drank it in one. Her pained look quickly faded. Worryingly it was replaced by a different expression. Tyrion wasn't quite sure how to interprete it. Her eyes seemed to become steel and she tensed significantly. "As today is the day after our wedding... our weddings? We will likely be left to ourselves. Usually this is to, well, continue the activities of the previous night but..." He paused and glanced away from her. He flushed slightly, it was peculiar but talking about not doing it seemed to be more intimate than talking about doing it. "I wondered what you might like to spend today doing?"

Sansa had stood up slowly during his rambling. "Shouldn't we consummate the marriage my lord?" Tyrion sighed and opened his mouth to speak. Sansa rolled her eyes. "Tyrion." He grinned at her and she grinned back.

"We don't have to." She looked down at her feet.

"But isn't it better to. If we consummate once then no one need know if we do not repeat it. You won't have to bed me any more than you wish. Else it will be known that we haven't consummated and then well, your father." Tyrion took a step closer, she stiffened and internally cursed herself. One of Tyrion's hands closed about one of hers.

"We shall wait until you are ready. Regardless of my father's attitude." Sansa looked up, about to respond before thinking better of it. She didn't know why she was pushing for it. Didn't she want to delay it for as long as possible? "So, my lady Sansa. How shall we spend this day?"

Sansa glanced back at the bed. She wouldn't have minded some more time in the bed, and yet she doubted it would particularly lady-like. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow. It only toughened her resolve. "A walk in the gardens." Sansa walked to a nearby dresser and took out a dress. "Did you dismiss Shae?" Silence. Sansa glanced at the mirror on her vanity and watched Tyrion shuffle. She turned around. "I don't have a handmaiden anymore." Tyrion frowned.

"Then I'll be sure to find one for you. I'm sure there are plenty of handmaidens available." It was Sansa's turn to raise an eyebrow. She tried to put on her dress by herself. Tyrion looked away.

"Was it because she spilt wine on you?" Tyrion flushed and shook his head. His mouth opened and quickly shut. She could see him swallow.

"She was my mistress." Sansa froze. One arm was still sleeveless. "I vowed not to be disloyal to you. She refused to understand that and I had no choice but to send her away." He looked back up at her.

"Did you love her?" He shook his head.

"I don't know." Sansa nodded slowly, taking in this newest information. Tyrion may have sent away a woman he loved in the interest of ensuring this marriage began correctly. Sansa wondered how many other lords would have done the same. Her own father had had an affair during the early years of his marriage and he was widely regarded as honourable.

She stumbled inside her half worn dress and fell to the floor. Tyrion stood before her, he had caught an arm resulting in her knees and one side of her body to hit the cold stone floor but at least he had saved her another brutal headache. Sansa looked about the bedchambers. The walls were painted like the forests of the Ironmountain, weirwood trees and old soldier pines reached for a beautiful painted sky. The forest had been painted by Lord Idris' men as no one else in the Red Keep had ever lived in a forest before. When she looked around it seemed much like the Wolfswood. There were differences of course, fewer oaks lived in the wolfswood and weirwoods didn't grow scattered about the wild forests of the north as they did on the slopes of the Ironmountain. But all the same she appreciated the effort. Likely Sansa would have found it difficult to sleep peacefully in the gaudy red and gold decorations she expected to drape a Lannister's bedchambers.

On one wall hung both her Stark and her Lannister cloak. Tyrion had hung them himself from pegs that already rested on the wall. She was forbidden from having the Stark sigil on anything but, as Tyrion had pointed out, he was not forbidden from keeping reminders of his conquest over the barbaric northern pretender's family.

Eventually all of Sansa's limbs found a place within her dress and she took Tyrion's hand to begin the descent from their chambers to the gardens. She pulled him to a stop in a secluded part of the garden, knelt down and kissed him gently. He froze in shock before beginning to return her kiss.

When she pulled back they were both grinning.