Chapter 18
Sansa paced the length of her room, agitation in every step. It had been nearly a day since Arya left Winterfell to find Tyrion and Sansa had known no peace in that time. She'd spent some of her time overseeing the rescued women. None of them liked being in Winterfell and were eager to leave, but Maester Wolkan had insisted they stay a couple of days before making the journey back to the Gift or their own villages. Many were run down and in desperate need of food, which Sansa had granted them - but their distrust of her was clear. They'd been offered rooms in the servant's quarters but instead opted to remain in the great hall where they huddled together in groups. She did sympathise with them - the experience must have been traumatic, and it was understandable they would distrust highborns after their experience with Robin and Gawan. The servants had removed the collars from their necks and Sansa had ordered them to be stored as evidence against her former allies. Politically, this was a nightmare - the heir to Deepwood Motte and the lord of Widows Watch involved in the slave trade and the kidnapping of the lord of Winterfell. Sansa wished it wasn't true; but the evidence mounted up. One way or another they would pay for taking Tyrion from her.
The room was warm and comfortable, but Sansa couldn't enjoy it. It had snowed again last night and her thoughts had continuously wandered to her husband. She hated him being away from her. Was he warm enough? Had he been given food? The wildling woman had told her she'd seen one of the lords forcing him to eat like an animal and he'd been left outside in the cold all day before the escape. Sansa ran her fingers over the now complete blanket. It was a thick black material, decorated with golden lions. When Tyrion came home, she would tell him about Kings Landing and apologise for everything. It would be fine. She'd make sure he was warm and comfortable, and it would all be fine.
'When you sit on the throne, the truth is what you make it' taunted a voice in her head
Yesterday evening Maester Wolkan had come to her, sorrow written all over his face.
"Your Grace, I believe I know who sent the letter" he'd said, staring at his hands
"Rose already told us she'd heard the names Robin and Gawan. Presumably it was one of them" she'd said, mouth turning into a frown
"No, your Grace" he'd said, shaking his head "I believe this letter was sent by a member of the Unsullied"
Sansa's heart had shuddered. The Unsullied were savage killers.
"Why do you think that?" she'd said
"Like you I assumed the poor writing was an attempt to disguise the education of the writer and to trick us into believing it was someone lowborn. Yet given what Rose told us about Robin and Gawan the letter didn't fit. It is personal - someone with a grudge against lord Tyrion"
"Grey Worm" she said, swallowing hard. The pieces fell together; the manner of writing had seemed familiar because it reflected the broken language used by the Unsullied captain "It's too late to warn Arya - I hope you're wrong about this Maester"
"As do I, your Grace" he'd said with a sigh "You should know the discovery was made by lord Tyrion's squire - Nessa. I showed her the letter and she recalled lord Tyrion telling her of the poor writing he saw in Essos. If not for her, I may not have made the connection"
"Where is this squire?" she'd asked "Why did she not come to me herself?"
"I believe she was rather nervous of you, my Queen - she is quite young"
She'd thanked the Maester for his information and asked him to keep the letter safe in case they had need of it. Her face hadn't wavered from the calm, dignified Queen in the North even as her stomach heaved. Grey Worm had been furious in Kings Landing, the deaths of Missandei and Daenerys turning him dangerous. Sansa didn't want to consider him anywhere near Tyrion; she'd heard enough from Jon about how he executed Lannister soldiers who's surrendered.
Sansa's brow furrowed trying to remember the squire as she settled into her chair by the hearth. She vaguely recalled seeing a tatty headed young girl following Tyrion around, but she usually made herself scarce if Sansa appeared.
Was she that intimidating?
It was true that none of the servants or guards really spoke to her unless necessary; though from what she'd seen they always greeted Tyrion warmly and he seemed to know many of their names. She swallowed hard thinking of her husband. Grey Worm was utterly ruthless. If Maester Wolkan was correct Tyrion could already be dead. Then there was Gawan and Robin. Presumably all three of them were connected in this, but she had no idea how. There were far too many unknowns for Sansa's liking.
'Knowledge is power' whispered one voice
'Power is power' insisted the other
Whoever was involved would pay the price. No-one would dare lay a hand on Tyrion again. She bit her lip, worry for her husband and sister consuming her mind. The waiting was the worst part, she decided.
She'd just started combing through the correspondence she'd ignored the past few days when frantic banging sounded on the door.
"Your Grace!" called the voice "Lady Arya has returned with Lord Tyrion"
Sansa darted from her chair to wrench open the door, coming face to face with a young Winterfell guard covered in filth. Long brown hair hung around his face and his eyes were frantic as he faced her. Sansa vaguely recognised him as the guard who'd come to her and Arya yesterday, informing them of the women being brought to Winterfell - her sister knew who he was.
"Where are they?" she demanded, relief flooding her at their return
The guard was panting as if he'd run to her room "With the Maester - your Grace he's…"
Sansa didn't wait for him to finish, rushing past him and down the stairs towards Maester Wolkan's room. They'd have brought him there first to get checked over, no doubt. A smile played across her face at the prospect of being reunited with Tyrion. Her footsteps rang out against the floor as she drew closer to the room. She'd imagined how the reunion might play out many times over the past few days - he'd be tired and perhaps a bit dirty, but he'd smile at her reassuringly and she'd wrap her arms around him; telling him how much she missed him.
The wooden door was closed when she got there and voices could be heard from the other side, but the Queen in the North didn't hesitate to push her way into the room.
Maester Wolkan was flying around the room gathering equipment, and she saw another young guard stood to one side that bore a striking resemblance to the one who'd come to her room. Arya looked fine but was bending over the examination table. All movement paused as she entered the room and her eyes finally found who she'd been looking for.
"Sansa…" started Arya, tears glistening in her eyes as she turned to her
Tyrion was lying on the examination table, a mess of blood and dirt. They'd lay him on his side and Sansa didn't need to be a Maester to know the situation was bad. Makeshift bandages were wrapped around his left arm and ankle while blood stained rags lay in a heap next to him, revealing a large, bloody gash that curved down from his chest and over his ribs. Her heart seemed to stop as her eyes raked over his broken body. His back was a mess of scars, but her eyes zeroed in on the bright red, inflamed skin on his shoulder. Bile burned its way up her throat as her mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. The back of his shoulder had been burned in a pattern, she realised. How had that happened?
Understanding came to her and her stomach rolled violently. Someone had branded him. Sansa stared at the mark for what could have been an eternity until her gaze moved up to her husband's face. His eyes were closed, but blood coated his face and a thick band of black was wrapped tightly around his neck. Sansa swallowed hard. He wore only his breeches and was shivering violently on the table.
Sansa's body started to shake too.
He wasn't fine.
A sob built in her throat "Tyrion?"
This couldn't be real. Why would anyone do this to him? He was kind and gentle – and they'd hurt him.
They were all looking at her, waiting for her to take charge. She couldn't do it.
Sansa's legs shook as she bolted from the room, stumbling along the corridor until she threw herself into an empty chamber. She took only a few steps into the room before dropping to her knees and emptying the contents of her stomach across the floor. Her shoulders shook as the vomit burned its way up her throat. Gods, they'd brutalised him. Someone was sobbing and it took Sansa longer than it should have to realise it was her. She hadn't properly cried in years, Kings Landing had taught her it was weakness. The last time she'd cried had been when Theon died. Now loud sobs echoed through the room as every defence she'd built over the years crumbled to nothing. This was her fault – she'd treated him horribly and now he was badly hurt. Was he even alive?
Her shoulders shook as the dark thought flitted through her mind? No – he was alive; he was shivering. He didn't like the cold.
'I trusted Robin and Gawan and they...they...'
Sansa couldn't finish the thought. She'd tried to play the game of thrones; using the people around her like pieces in a game, building alliances where she could - and this was the result. Betrayed by two men she'd trusted, her husband beaten beyond recognition; heat rose through Sansa, melting the Queen of ice.
When she could vomit no more, Sansa pushed herself to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her as she made her way to the lone mirror in the corner of the room, she had to see herself; really see herself. Sansa looked at her reflection every day, but today it wasn't Sansa Stark staring back at her – it was Cersei Lannister.
The dead Queen smirked at her, as her taunting voice echoed through her mind 'You're my true heir, aren't you little dove?'
Tears streamed down Sansa's face as the image morphed to Petyr Baelish and then Ramsay Bolton, though it always returned to Cersei. Sansa staggered back from her reflection, sinking to the ground as she wrapped her arms around herself. The woman in the mirror was no true Queen, no true Stark; she was a monster.
'Now you finally understand what it means to rule little dove' taunted the dead Queen 'love no-one but your children. Everyone else is expendable'
A moan fell from her lips as the truth of her actions hit her full force. She'd lied to and manipulated Tyrion; forcing him into the North, into marriage and into her bed. It had all been for the good of the North, she'd told herself – told Tyrion. Now he was lying broken down the corridor. Sansa's chest heaved as the rationale for every decision she'd made crumbled to dust. She was a monster, Sansa realised, just like Cersei. There were no excuses for what she'd done, howeber she tried to defend her actions. Why hadn't she listened? Her sister had tried to warn her, even now Arya's words came back to haunt her.
'That's all he wants, you know – your love'
"Oh Tyrion, I do love you. I love you so much" she said, voice breaking "Nothing is worth hurting you"
"Maybe you should try telling your seriously injured husband"
Sansa lifted her head to see Arya in the doorway, her face twisted into a glare.
"How dare you run away from him - he needs you!"
"I'm a monster" said Sansa, shoulders shaking "this is all my fault. You were right - I'm no better than Cersei. Tyrion deserves so much better"
Her sister's face had frozen in the face of Sansa's tears, softening slightly from its deadly glare. Arya's clothes were covered in dirt and blood, and tiredness was evident in her face, but her expression was filed with reproach as she gazed at her older sister. Sansa ran her hands up and down her arms, suppressing a shiver. It was as if her icy armour had been stripped away revealing the scared, vulnerable girl she'd once been - before she learned to play the game.
"It's not all your fault" said Arya, uncrossing her arms "You didn't hurt him like that – Robin and Gawan did"
"I've done plenty to hurt him" she said, heaviness settling over her "Arya…I thought he'd be fine. How could I be so stupid? He's always been fine"
"He's not been fine for a long time"
"Gods Arya...what've they done to him? I can't lose Tyrion, I wouldn't survive that" said Sansa, warm tears running down her face
"They tortured him and humiliated him" said Arya simply "I'm no Maester but nearly all his injuries were deliberate from what I could see"
Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. She'd trusted both Robin and Gawan to varying degrees; considered them friends. Never did she think they'd do something like this.
"Tyrion must hate me" whispered Sansa wrapping her arms tighter around herself "He didn't want any of this...and I forced him into everything. I took everything away from him"
"You did" agreed Arya
"I shouldn't have run like that; Tyrion shouldn't be alone"
"I know – that's why I came to find his wife" said Arya, voice hardening "Cayn's with him now; he's his friend"
Sansa crumpled under her sister's scrutiny; her parents would be ashamed of her. Bran's message had been a warning; Family, Duty, Honour - and she'd utterly failed to uphold those values.
"Tyrion didn't want to come back, you know. He kept telling us to leave him there" said Arya, sadness tinging her voice "He said he'd shamed us and you'd hate him for what they did to him"
'What kind of monster am I, that my husband feared coming home?' she thought, disgust rolling through her
"That's not true" said Sansa, shaking her head "None of this is his fault. I would never blame him for this"
Arya crouched down besides Sansa "He's not going to believe you if you tell him. He's broken Sansa. Those bastards branded him, beat him and had him chained to a post like a dog. Gods know what else they did to him over the past few days - I only saw the end result"
"I'll make him believe me" said Sansa, clenching her fist "I've been awful to him; but I'll take care of him now – like I should have done before. He might never forgive me, but I'll spend the rest of my life treating him like he deserves"
"Good – you're starting to sound like a Stark again"
Sansa wiped at her eyes "I've not acted like a Stark, have I? The power of being Queen...it changed me. I'm not sure I recognise myself anymore"
"The real Sansa Stark is still there; you've just been hiding behind your wall of ice. For a long while it's been hard to tell who's the Stark and who's the Lannister between you and Tyrion"
"He's a good man, it doesn't matter that he's a Lannister. He's more honourable than half the lords and ladies in the North combined" said Sansa, pride rising up in her for her husband.
Arya's intense grey eyes studied her "His first thought was of you. He begged me to not let Robin marry you, or let either of them get near you. Despite all the pain he was in, protecting you was his priority"
Sansa's heart constricted at her sister's words "I need to be with him"
Arya nodded, straightening up and offering her sister a hand "I'll fill you in on everything that happened later"
"There's so much to do Arya – will you help me?" said Sansa, legs trembling as she stood "I can't right now; I just want to be with Tyrion. Nothing else...nothing else matters anymore"
It was true, she realised. All the things she'd poured so much time and energy into seemed so trivial in the face of what had happened. Her time and energy should have been spent elsewhere – somewhere it mattered. Everything was so much clearer now; as if someone had thrown cold water over her and washed the filth from her vision.
"You know I will" said Arya as they headed to the door "Be patient with Tyrion. When we found him…it was bad, Sansa. I'm glad you didn't see it"
"I don't want to imagine it"
"One more thing - a direwolf pup came back with us. I'll explain later, but it saved Tyrion's life and it's not left his side since"
A ghost of a smile flitted over Sansa's face as she wiped at her damp eyes "Tyrion has his own direwolf?"
Her sister nodded, corners of her mouth twitching up "There's no doubt it was meant for him"
A direwolf was incredibly rare to see south of the wall - the thought of one being bonded to her husband filled her with warmth. Lady had been her fiercest protector and most loyal friend; perhaps this direwolf would be the same for Tyrion.
"Arya" she called, as her sister turned to leave "Thank you - for bringing Tyrion home, and for everything you've done"
"He's my brother now" said Arya, smiling sadly "I won't lose another brother"
Sympathy rolled through Sansa as she parted ways with her sister; Robb and Rickon were dead, Jon was exiled to the nights watch and Bran was hardly Bran anymore. It was no secret Arya missed Jon the most - they'd always been close. They'd lost too many family members, and Sansa was determined to lose no-one else.
The corridor was empty as she made her way back to the Maester's room, breathing deeply to regain some composure. Tyrion needed her to take care of him; not the other way around. Her brave little lion had always protected her - now it was her turn. Low voices could be heard behind the door and to her surprise it opened just before she reached it.
"Your Grace" said the large, bald man standing back to let her through
The man was familiar though Sansa couldn't recall his name; she was fairly certain he worked in the castle. Nodding her thanks, she made her way into the room, taking a final deep breath to steady herself.
Tyrion was lying face down on the examination table, with a couple of pillows beneath him that lifted his left side up and cushioned his limbs. Bandages wound tightly around his torso, and Maester Wolkan was examining the back of his head when Sansa approached. A young guard sat in the chair next to Tyrion and appeared to be whispering to his still form.
"Your Grace" said the young man, jumping up as she approached "I was just-"
"You're his friend aren't you?" she asked, looking at the guard as if seeing him for the first time
"Um, yes your Grace" he said, fidgeting under her stare
'Is everyone in Winterfell afraid of me?' she thought 'I truly am a monster'
Sansa offered him a small smile "Thank you for looking after him. You should get some rest too. The guards and yourself have more than earned it"
The guard relaxed slightly at her words "Yes, your Grace. Lord Tyrion's our friend; if he needs anything we'll be there"
Sansa nodded her thanks as the young man quickly left the room and Sansa slid into his seat besides the table. Her eyebrows rose as she took in Tyrion's bare face and much shorter hair.
"What happened?" she asked softly, stroking his undamaged cheek
"It was necessary, your Grace" said Maester Wolkan, tilting Tyrion's head forward as he examined him "His beard was full of dirt and insects - as was his hair. From what Cayn told me he'd been left outside for hours at least. The scar on his face has been cut open though thankfully not too deeply and he has a gash on the back of his head. It was safer to remove his hair than risk infection. Thankfully, Tom found no lice and the gash in his head isn't too deep a couple of stitches should close it"
That explained the large man she'd seen leaving thought Sansa, as she ran her hand over the top of his now short curly hair. The back and sides were very short, but the top was longer as she brushed it gently from his forehead. The shorter hair and lack of a beard gave him a young, vulnerable look. Sansa leaned forwards, pressing a long kiss to his forehead.
"I missed you so much" she said, tears burning at her eyes once again "I'm sorry for all of this"
Maester Wolkan adjusted Tyrion's head once more and began stitching the wound as Sansa focused on her unconscious husband. The blood had been cleaned from his face, but his old scar was now a bright red line that cut across his features. Thankfully the collar had been removed, though it left deep grooves around his neck where it had been wrapped too tightly against his skin. A couple of small burns were visible at the back of his neck and with a sickening feeling she realised the collar had been sealed shut. Her eyes narrowed at the marks; how dare they degrade her husband like that?
'Like you degraded him?' taunted her mind 'You used him without a second thought'
"I've been really awful to you" she whispered, leaning her head close to his "I'll do better now, I promise. It won't erase the way I've treated you, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it"
Tyrion's face remained unmoved and Sansa's nerves intensified. His small body was still shaking on the table, but his eyes remained closed. Would he wake up? Anxiety rolled through her at the thought she might not get the chance to apologise.
"Has he woken up at all?" she asked, eyes moving down from his face to the bandages wrapped around his torso
"No your Grace, but Cayn said he woke up several times on the journey back which is a promising sign"
"He feels cold" she said, pressing a hand lightly to his bruised chest. Relief flooded her at the heartbeat she found there. It was a little fast perhaps, but comforted her all the same.
"From what I can gather Lord Tyrion's been left outside in freezing conditions. It's lucky the cold didn't kill him, but I suspect it will make him ill at the very least. It will be a very difficult recovery unfortunately - physically and mentally"
"But he will recover?" said Sansa, raising her eyes to meet the old man's eyes
He sighed, tapping his hands against the table "With proper care and a lot of rest, he has a chance of recovering. Though I fear this may have caused irreversible damage to his mind"
"I'll take care of him. I'll do whatever it takes to help him recover" said Sansa brushing a hand down the side of his face "Shouldn't we warm him up? He doesn't like the cold"
Maester Wolkan smiled slightly "Lady Arya said he was near frozen when they found him. Warming him up gradually is the safest way and I'd prefer him to be awake right now, but given the trauma his body's been through it's understandable he's unconscious. If not for the wolf pup, I fear he'd be in a far worse position. It lay against him the whole journey back, keeping him warm"
Sansa followed the Maester's gaze to a small wolf with golden brown fur in the corner of the room. It was clearly very young but sat alert, with bright green eyes trained on Tyrion. Arya was right; there was no doubt this wolf was meant for Tyrion.
The Maester moved his attention to a deep gash on Tyrion's upper arm "Your Grace, I fear treating lord Tyrion's injuries will not be a pleasant process. If you wish to leave, I'm sure he would understand"
"I'm staying" she said immediately "What can I do to help?"
"I need to stitch his arm and then examine his limbs – Alec did what he could for his injuries in the Wolfswood but tells me both his left wrist and ankle are badly broken. As you pointed out he is rather cold and could do with warming up. The burn on his shoulder and the stitches I've just put in his head mean he can't lie on his back, nor can he lie completely on his front given the damage to his chest and ribs. If you were willing, perhaps he could lie on you? There's a chance he will wake when I set his bones and he'll need to be kept still while I treat him"
"I would like to hold my husband" agreed Sansa softly, moving from the chair and climbing onto the examination table.
Between them they managed to move Tyrion so his right shoulder was lying in her lap while his head lolled against her stomach. He was mostly on his front but his left side was tilted up against her leg, and the Maester placed pillows under his left arm and leg. Sansa leaned back against the wall, stroking the top of Tyrion's short hair as Wolkan started stitching his upper arm. The gash on the back of his head wasn't overly large, but the position made it too difficult to bandage – she'd have to make sure the stitches didn't get caught or pulled while he rested. Fortunately his face hadn't needed sewing up, but she'd need to be careful the fragile skin wasn't torn open again. Silently, Sansa started compiling a list of his injuries and how she could help make him comfortable while he recovered. Planning was something she could do; she liked to solve problems and the practice helped to soothe a few of her raw nerves. Seeing the state of her husband had broken her; revealing a cruel, manipulative version of herself. The revelation had torn at her heart but left her determined to do better from now on.
Sansa moved her gaze to her husband trembling in her arms. Up close he looked even worse. Tyrion was far too thin, though his chest and arms were surprisingly well muscled. Undoubtedly a result of his sword practice - something she only knew about because Arya told her. Exhaustion was clear on his face and guilt wracked Sansa for not noticing sooner. Arya and Maester Wolkan had both told her Tyrion wasn't well; that he needed help, but she'd allowed him to carry on assuming he would be fine. Despite the injuries that littered his body it was obvious he hadn't been taking care of himself for some time; or nobody had been taking care of him.
From Tyrion's position in her lap Sansa was forced to confront what she'd avoided looking at since entering the room; his back.
It was the brand that drew her attention. The mark stood out red and angry on his skin, covering most of his left shoulder. It was a pattern - a large circle with a series of lines and curves within it.
'He's ours now' it seemed to say, sending a shudder through her 'for the rest of his life'
"Is there nothing we can do about that?" she asked, voice breaking as she stared at the burnt skin
"I'm afraid not, your Grace" the old man said, following her gaze as he finished wrapping bandages around Tyrion's upper arm "Branding is a short but excruciating process – and quite permanent. It will fade over time but he will bare that scar for the rest of his life"
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you Tyrion" she said quietly, bending down to kiss his head "That…that must have hurt you so much"
While the brand was the most noticeable mark on his back, Sansa's eyes travelled across the multitude of old scars that crossed his skin. The lines covered the whole area reaching around to the edge of his ribs and up to the top of his shoulders, though the bandages around his middle obscured some of the damage she'd seen earlier.
"They are a few years old, your Grace" said Maester Wolkan, coming around the table to the back of Tyrion "It would appear at some point he was lashed - quite severely judging by the number of marks"
"Why would anyone do that to him?" she said, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes once more
If the Maester was surprised she hadn't seen the marks on her husband's back before, he didn't show it "I do not know, your Grace. Although lashing is a common punishment in Essos - a cruel practice"
Sansa's stomach dropped, remembering what Robin had told her so long:
'There's a rumour he was caught by slavers across the narrow sea, you know. Bought and sold'
Was it true? She'd dismissed it as lies at the time, but now as she traced the scars that covered his back she wondered whether it was true. What had happened to him after Joffrey's death? She knew the basics of where he'd been but apparently none of the details. Were the scars the reason he never removed his nightshift in front of her? Sansa had scars too. Did he think she'd judge him for his?
'You never asked' whispered her mind 'You didn't care'
They'd been married for several moon turns now and it seemed she didn't really know Tyrion at all anymore. He worked hard as the lord of Winterfell, and often completed work for her as well, easing her burden as Queen. Shame flooded Sansa – beyond his duties as lord she had no idea what he spent most of the day doing, who he spoke to or if he even ate during the day. She saw him at dinner each evening and if she woke during the night he was in the bed, but she was asleep long before he came to bed and he was gone when she awoke each morning. That would all have to change. Arya had told her Tyrion thought of this as his prison rather than his home and she was beginning to understand why.
Part of her mind still fought to deny the truth, frantically searching for proof she wasn't a cold, manipulative wife – that they had spent some time together that wasn't business. She'd spent time with all the lords and ladies on her council. She'd walked and drank with Robin, gone riding with Gawan and…spent no time with Tyrion. Coldness crept down her spine as she recalled the attention she'd eagerly given to the monsters that hurt her husband; while giving him none. The only memory she could find was from nearly a week ago when they'd talked and laughed in their chambers - until she'd insisted on producing an heir. All traces of happiness had fled from his face, replaced by resignation while the deed was done. He'd turned away from her after and Sansa knew she'd hurt him, but she hadn't understood how.
'That's all he wants, you know – your love'
Again Arya's words came back to her and Sansa's stomach churned – she knew why now and it made her no better than Cersei Lannister.
"I'm so sorry" she whispered, leaning close to his face
The way she'd treated him, the way she'd manipulated him; how could Tyrion not hate her? She'd treated him as a means to an end; giving no consideration to what he wanted. Arya was right – she'd used him like a prisoner, not loved him as her husband. Of all the things Sansa had been forced to realise over the past few days, it was the realisation she had turned into her tormentors that truly struck home. Cersei, littlefinger, Ramsay – they'd all taught her different lessons, and she'd used them to her advantage. Rather than using those lessons to strengthen herself, she'd turned into a monster like them.
Wolkan had untied the makeshift bandages around Tyrion's wrist and was examining the limb when the weight on her shifted slightly. Sansa looked down to see familiar green eyes blinking up at her with confusion. Her heart leapt - he was awake.
"Oh Tyrion" she said, tears rolling down her cheeks "I'm glad to see you"
"Sorry…" he said, voice weak and broken "Sorry…so sorry"
Her eyebrows furrowed; why was he apologising? This wasn't his fault.
"You've done nothing wrong" she said, tugging him closer "I missed you very much"
"My lord, it is good to see you awake" said Wolkan, eyes moving to focus on Tyrion's face
"…not a lord…don't belong" he said, squirming in her arms "failed Sansa...so sorry"
Sansa's heart cracked as Tyrion grew increasingly agitated in her grasp "You've not failed anyone. I'm very proud of you, my brave little lion"
The Maester had been observing Tyrion as he spoke and stood from his place beside the table "He's in shock your Grace. Given the cold exposure and trauma he's experienced I believe he's not in his right mind. He should be better with rest, but for now I wouldn't pay too much heed to what he says. I'm not entirely sure he's aware of where he is or who he's with"
Wolkan moved off towards a cupboard and Sansa fought to control her emotions. It appeared the Maester was right - Tyrion's eyes were unfocused, but filled with fear as he gazed around the room. She'd seen that look in his eyes before. The first time was when he came with Daenerys, he spoke nothing but praise for her yet he'd feared her all the same. Since she brought Tyrion to Winterfell, his eyes had held the same look of fear – she'd just chose not to notice until today; when the truth was right in front of her.
"It'll be ok" she said, trying to keep the sorrow from her voice "We just need to get you better, don't we?"
"Sansa trusted...me" he said, trying to pull away from her "let her down..."
She tightened her grip, running her hands soothingly over his cold skin "You've never let me down"
A few moments passed with Tyrion shivering in her arms, frightened eyes darting around the room while she tried to settle him. Her heart lurched at the way he flinched from her touch, but she knew this was her own doing – she'd flinched from Ramsay's touch too.
"Home...please...want to go...home" he said, a sob sounding in his throat as he struggled weakly against her
"You're home Tyrion" said Sansa, running her hand over his undamaged cheek "You're safe here"
"Jamie...please...take me home" he said, tears glistening in the corner of his eyes "want...to go home"
"Sweetheart, this is your home" she said softly
Sansa's heart shattered at his plea. She'd taken his home away from him after all - not considering how it might hurt him. Her chest grew tight as she looked at his frightened face calling out for his dead brother; how many times in Kings Landing had she wished for one of her brothers to come and take her home?
"I know you miss Jamie – but I'll take care of you" she said, stroking his cheek "I love you so much Tyrion"
"...I'm a monster" he said, trembling in her arms "too weak...couldn't stop them..."
Tears flooded her eyes as she leaned down to kiss Tyrion's head.
"You're not a monster my love" she told him, rubbing circles on his back "The people who hurt you are monsters, but not you – never you"
The pain in Tyrion's voice broke her heart and she wanted nothing more than to convince him he was very loved and this was his home – but too much damage had been done for words to fix. She would have to show him; every day for the rest of her life she would show him. Maester Wolkan appeared at Sansa's side, handing her a half filled cup.
The old man's gaze was full of pity and it was obvious he'd heard their conversation "I can't give him milk of the poppy yet, now he's awake it's important to try and keep him awake for a while, even if he's a little…confused. This will make his body relax while I set the bones; though it won't numb the pain unfortunately"
Sansa turned her watery gaze to her shivery husband. He appeared to be trying to curl in on himself, and the tension in his small body was clear. She nodded her understanding to the Maester, taking the cup in one hand
"Let me help you drink this" she said "It'll help - I promise"
"Feels funny" he mumbled as she run her hand through his much shorter hair, gently tilting his head back to give him the drink
"You've had a bit of a trim I'm afraid" said Wolkan, settling on the stool beside the table and resuming his examination of Tyrion's wrist
"Don't worry you're still very handsome" said Sansa, offering him a small smile as the liquid slid down his throat
It took only a few minutes for the medicine to take effect and Sansa noticed his body relaxing against her. His head lolled against her as she brushed her hand through the top of his hair. Tyrion went quiet but his face held nothing but fear as he stared at the far wall. She continued to try and soothe him as he lay unmoving against her. It was clear he wasn't in his right mind and she wondered what he was thinking about. His normally sharp, warm eyes were empty as they stared out into nothing, and it was increasingly difficult to see. Sansa focused instead on what Wolkan was doing – and then wished she hadn't. Her stomach heaved at the mangled mess of his left arm; huge dark bruises covered his hand and his wrist was hanging at an odd angle.
The Maester was setting splints against the last two fingers on his left hand and his gaze kept turning to Tyrion, concern etched on his features. Sansa watched with a grim fascination as the old man bound the fingers tightly to the thin pieces of wood, straightening out the broken digits. Tyrion's hand was the next to be treated and the Maester went about setting small pieces of wood in various positions against the top and bottom of his hand. The room was quiet and the bones crunched as they were being set with the splint, causing the frown on Wolkan's face to deepen. Sansa turned her attention back to Tyrion's face, which was tight with pain as he stared into the distance.
Gods, his arm was a mess. Setting it must be agony...yet Tyrion had made no sound. Realisation set in and she glanced between the broken limb and her husband's face.
"My lord, can you feel this?" asked Wolkan as he secured the splint
"...not a lord" he said, screwing his eyes shut
Wolkan softened his voice "I'm sorry Tyrion. Can you feel this?"
The old man lightly pressed on his broken fingers and hand in turn, causing Tyrion's face to contort in discomfort.
"Feel it..." he said, taking short gasping breaths
The old Maester observed Tyrion for a moment longer before resuming his work on the limb, while Sansa watched on in confusion. Sansa was only observing the treatment and wanted to scream at the sound of the bones grinding together, yet Tyrion didn't make a sound.
"You're very quiet Tyrion" said Wolkan gently, as he continued his work "What I'm doing is very painful – we'd understand if you needed to shout or cry"
The old man gazed at her expectantly and Sansa was quick to agree "Of course we would"
"No...won't embarrass Sansa...anymore" he said, and the pain in his voice was clear
"That wouldn't embarrass Sansa, it's a very normal reaction" said Wolkan, now working on the snapped wrist
Sansa stayed silent, though she continued brushing her hands over him to try and soothe some of the agony on his face. It was obvious Wolkan was trying to get Tyrion to talk and she would sit quietly and listen until needed. Reassuring him that he hadn't shamed anyone seemed useless at this point – he didn't believe her and it was a conversation they would need to have when he was more lucid.
"No" said Tyrion, face contorting as the splint was tightened around his limp wrist "won't give...them what they want"
"What do they want?"
"Hear...a lion cry"
Sansa's blood froze at Tyrion's reply. Was that what those monsters had wanted when they hurt him?
Wolkan's shoulders slumped at the answer, but he smiled kindly at Tyrion "Lion's cry Tyrion – as do wolves, bears, stags and all animals. It doesn't mean they're weak"
"...said nothing...kept quiet" insisted Tyrion, his eyes flickering shut "even when...they...marked me as theirs...made no sound. Sorry…sorry Sansa…shamed her"
His voice broke as he spoke and Sansa leaned forwards, covering his head with light kisses.
"You're not their property – never theirs" she told him "You've been so brave, but you're home now. You don't have to be brave anymore; I'm here to protect you"
His eyes slid shut and Wolkan checked his breathing and vital signs "He's exhausted, your Grace. The longer he was awake the better, but given the state he was in and the fact I've still got his ankle to treat it's perhaps better he's passed out"
Sansa nodded, her own shoulders heaving with unshed tears. She'd kill them – every last one of them who hurt Tyrion. Anyone who helped them would have no mercy from her. When she was finished the Rains of Castamere would sound like a lullaby.
It took another hour until Wolkan had finished treating Tyrion. His left wrist and hand were secured by several splints and encased in thick bandages to cushion the limb. His snapped ankle had fared no better and the Maester had been forced to fashion a wooden frame to hold the bones in place before wrapping it in heavy bandages. They'd had to remove his filthy breeches, and Sansa was quite glad her husband was unconscious for that - no doubt he would've been embarrassed at his nakedness. Wolkan had found some spare breeches that were too big for Tyrion, but after cutting the legs shorter they hung loosely around his waist and their baggy size meant they wouldn't interfere with the splint around his ankle. There wasn't much to do for the brand. A piece of cloth was coated in paste and pressed on top of the burn and bandages were wound diagonally across Tyrion's chest to secure it against the wound. The patch would need changing every day for the next week at least, but it would hopefully prevent a nasty infection. A long recovery, Wolkan told her, a chance his broken bones may not heal properly and leave him lame. Sansa absorbed all the information, learning everything she could to give him the best chance of a full recovery.
"Can he be moved to our rooms?" she asked, eyes focused on her husband's tense face as he slept
"I'd like to observe him for at least a few hours, just to make sure I've missed nothing, but I see no reason he can't be moved to his own bed. He will need to be watched closely and confined to the bed for a while, but it might bring him some comfort"
The old man's gaze was full of pity as he looked at his patient "Your Grace, this has been very difficult for you. If you wish to take some time Tyrion is quite safe with me"
She didn't want to leave him. Sansa thought she might never let him out of her sight again, but the Maester was right – her heart was broken into a thousand pieces and she needed answers. She needed to know exactly what had happened in the Wolfswood and then she needed to get their chambers ready for Tyrion to be moved. Between them, they settled Tyrion on the examination table as he had been before - mostly on his front with pillows cushioning his broken limbs. It certainly wasn't ideal, but it was the setup they would likely need to use for the next week or so until he could lie on his back.
"I'll be back soon" she told him, tucking a blanket around him and kissing his forehead "I love you"
A golden blur streaked past Sansa as she turned to leave and scrambled onto the chair beside the table before leaping up beside Tyrion. The little creature nudged her husband with a soft whine before settling against his stomach.
"Maester Wolkan - thank you" said Sansa, voice heavy as she moved to the door "I don't say that enough do I? I take everyone for granted"
The old man looked exhausted himself, but smiled at her nonetheless "You're very welcome, your Grace. Rest assured - I will monitor lord Tyrion closely"
Sansa took one last look at her husband. He looked so small and vulnerable as he lay on the table - held together by bandages and stitches, with his direwolf pressed against his side. They were all guilty, they all deserved punishment. They'd done this to him; Greyworm, Robin Flint, Gawan Glover and…herself.
Despite her best efforts Arya's eyes continued to drift closed as she wrote letter after letter in her room. Truthfully, she'd wanted to stay with Tyrion but she understood this was something Sansa needed to do. It had taken far too long but her sister seemed to finally understand what she'd become - and the hurt her actions had caused. When Sansa had fled from Tyrion, Arya had followed with the intention of slapping her sister until someone like Sansa Stark re-emerged from beneath the layers of ice. When she had caught up to her sister it was clear that was no longer necessary - Sansa had been sobbing and it appeared seeing what had been done to Tyrion finally broke her Queen of ice persona.
Arya was exhausted, but there was so much that needed doing. She'd sent fresh riders out to join the search for Gawan and Robin and was in the process of writing to all the houses of the North. Unlike Sansa her message was simple;
By order of the Queen in the North, Sansa Stark -
Lord Robin Flint of Widows Watch, and Lord Gawan Glover of Deepwood Motte are wanted for the following crimes;
Treason
Engaging in the slave trade
Kidnapping
Torture
Attempted Murder
They are to be brought before the Queen immediately if found and any information on them is to be brought to Winterfell. Any who assist them will be judged as guilty to their crimes.
It wasn't her most elegant work, but Arya was too angry and tired to care. She'd expected Tyrion to be hurt; she hadn't expected to find him half-dead. If not for the direwolf she would have been bringing home a corpse. Her hands clenched into fists as she added that letter to the pile she'd already written. Grey Worm had made no protest as they'd chained him up in the dungeon under heavy guard. Arya would much rather be using him for target practice than writing letters, but she consoled herself with the thought his time would come.
A soft knock sounded on her door, and Arya wearily made her way to answer it.
"Arya…"
She froze at the sight of Sansa's shaking body in the doorway. Her sister's face was red and she was hugging herself.
"Are you ok? Where's Tyrion?" she asked, panic bubbling in the pit of her stomach
Sansa sucked in a breath "Tyrion is resting, and I know I should be with him…but I'm not ok"
Her sister's voice broke on the last word and Arya found herself swamped as Sansa collapsed sobbing against her.
"It's so bad Arya" she sobbed "What they did to him…what I did to him. He doesn't deserve it"
"We'll fix this" she said, rubbing her sister's back "We'll make them pay"
"You were right about everything. Tyrion wasn't in his right mind but he woke up and…"
"And?"
"He kept apologising…and he wanted Jamie to take him home…I don't know how to fix this"
Sansa sank to her knees, clutching Arya like a lifeline as she tried to soothe her sister "We'll look after him big sister - it'll be ok"
Arya wasn't particularly good at comforting, and she'd never been that close with Sansa but she didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around her sister. This was long overdue after all. Sobs wracked the Queen's body and Arya found her own eyes growing wet.
Robin and Gawan would die for this; Arya would hunt them to the end of the world if she had to.
