Chapter 19

"Here my pet, it's time for your walk" called Gawan, tugging on the chain connected to the collar around Tyrion's neck

The cruel boy was grinning at him as he pulled him forwards. They were in Kings Landing heading towards the Red Keep and no matter how hard he tried Tyrion couldn't get to his feet. Instead he was dragged along on all fours like an animal. His tunic was gone and the back of his shoulder burned painfully. As they approached the Red Keep, thousands lined the street laughing at his humiliation. The people he'd once saved on the Blackwater spat at him and taunted him as he was paraded down the streets.

"Good boy, we're nearly there" called Gawan cheerfully as the doors to the throne room loomed ahead of them

Tyrion tried to escape but he was powerless as Gawan pulled him up the steps and through the open doors.

"Bet you're proud of yourself, aren't you? Disgusting little creature, shaming the family name"

He turned to see his father glowering down at him, as he was dragged past. Tyrion's face glowed red in humiliation as he was led towards the Iron Throne. Thousands had mocked him outside, but the throne room was filled with only a few; and it was their words that cut him the most.

"Vile little monster" called Cersei "Should have never been born"

"Traitor" said Grey Worm, levelling his spear at him

More faces he knew were there; Bronn with the crossbow, Shae, Tysha, Missandei, Joffrey

All of them were either taunting him or reminding him of his many failures – every word, every threat pierced through him and the burning on his back grew worse

"I trusted you; I was your friend and you betrayed me" said Daenerys, purple eyes glowing as bright as fire as she looked down at him

"I wasn't wrong about her" said Varys, pity in his eyes "You knew I was right but you sacrificed me to save yourself"

"I'm sorry" he said, stumbling along "I'm sorry!"

The throne room seemed longer than he remembered but eventually they drew near the Iron Throne; the chair that had cost so many people their lives.

"You disappointed me"

Tyrion raised his head to see Arya staring down at him, grey eyes studying him with distaste "Arya, I'm sorry..."

"I treated you like my brother – you don't deserve that title"

Tyrion trembled at her look of disgust. The youngest Stark girl turned her gaze from him, flicking her eyes up to the throne. Sansa stood before the seat of power, a crown on her fiery hair.

"Sansa – I..."

"Enough" growled Gawan, tugging on the chain "Good pets don't speak without their master's permission"

Sansa's eyes were cold and unforgiving as she studied him "How could I ever love something like you? You're not worthy to stand where my father and brother once stood. I've married a man who is worthy"

Tyrion's heart shattered at her words, when a man stepped from the shadows to stand at Sansa's side.

"Sansa needs a real man - not a pathetic dwarf. Look at the state of you; barely worthy of cleaning the floors" said Robin, smirking at him "It's good she gave you to Gawan – I can see he's left his mark already"

The pain in Tyrion's shoulder turned to a throb at the words and Gawan eagerly run his hand over the mark.

"Took a few lessons, but he's broken in now" beamed Gawan "Shall we give Robin and Sansa their wedding present?"

Tyrion shivered on the floor as Gawan handed over a small box "He won't be needing those bits anymore. Nice and smooth down there now"

Horror filled Tyrion and he glanced down to find his breeches had disappeared, revealing a jagged scar where his manhood had once been. Laughter broke out around the hall and Sansa joined it as a scream tore from Tyrion's throat...


Sansa's eyes grew wet once more as Tyrion squirmed on the bed. After all the tears she'd shed yesterday, it surprised her to find she could cry anymore. Last night she'd gone straight from the Maester's room and broke down to Arya. Her little sister's eyes had widened as she threw herself on top of her and sobbed. She'd confessed everything; from the conversation she'd overheard between lord Glover and lord Manderly about marrying her off, to forcing Tyrion in her bed despite his protests. Her walls of ice had shattered yesterday, giving way to a waterfall of long repressed emotion which even now continued to leak out of her. Unloading all the terrible things she'd done; all the fear and worry she'd carried with her had left Sansa empty inside - fragile enough that any sudden breeze might knock her over and plunge her into despair once more.

Arya hadn't judged her; she seemed to already know or have guessed most of what Sansa confessed. Her little sister had merely looked at her with pity and charged her to make it right. How could she possibly make this right? Sansa had raped her husband; forcing him through the act both times knowing he didn't want it. Her skin crawled as she remembered the justifications she'd made for her actions - there was no excuse for it. Tyrion had been nothing but kind to her since they married in Kings Landing, going against his father's orders and not consummating the marriage, doing what he could to make life a little more bearable; and she'd betrayed him horribly. She'd trusted Robin and Gawan, turning a blind eye to their often cruel jokes at Tyrion's expense and treated them as honoured guests. Yet she'd made certain Tyrion would be brought North in chains, humbled before all the lords and ladies.

"Shh, you're ok" she soothed, tucking the blankets around Tyrion as the frown on his sleeping face deepened

After Sansa had cried herself out, Arya had told her everything she'd seen in the Wolfswood. No detail was spared and the image it painted would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her husband chained to a post in the snow, about to be executed when Arya and the men arrived. Sansa shuddered. Grey Worm would have killed Tyrion if not for the direwolf; her sister said they were too far away to stop him. Her eyes wandered to the small wolf pup lying at Tyrion's feet. She'd asked a servant to bring a bowl of water and some food for the creature which he eagerly devoured before returning to his place beside his master.

Hearing the full story of what Arya had seen hadn't added much to what they already knew. Her sister believed Grey Worm wasn't involved in the plan to sell the women into slavery and the unsullied leader had been used by Robin and Gawan. Then there was the issue of finding her former friends. Letters had been sent to every Northern house demanding their capture and she'd written to Bran as well, pleading with her brother to help find them before they could escape justice. Lord Robett Glover had been sent a longer letter detailing the crimes his son was accused of, and it was still unknown whether he was involved or not. A headache began to form as her mind automatically started looking at what she could do and what actions to take.

Then Tyrion started to fidget under the pile of blankets and nothing else mattered. The politics, the game that had ruled her life the last few years faded to non-existence as she leaned forward in her chair to comfort her husband.

"You're all that matters now" she said, stroking his face to calm him "like you should have been before"

He didn't answer and the frown on his face didn't lessen no matter how much she tried to soothe him. Last night a man who was apparently the captain of the Winterfell guards had carried Tyrion from the Maester's room to their chambers. Alec, her sister had called him - he was friends with her husband. The man had helped to settle Tyrion in the bed and then gone off to organise more search parties for the monsters that hurt the lord of Winterfell.

Sansa wondered if it was possible to drown in guilt. Yesterday's realisation of her actions hadn't just shone a light on her treatment of Tyrion, but her actions in general. Her father had known every member of the Winterfell household and treated them with kindness. He'd listened to lords and smallfolk with equal attention and earned his reputation as an honourable, kind lord. Her parents would be utterly ashamed to see their eldest daughter disgracing the family name. The small folk had no love for her; the guards and servants feared her - she was becoming Cersei Lannister and the thought filled her with revulsion.

All night and through the next day Sansa had kept watch over her husband, positioning herself in a chair by his side of the bed. Maester Wolkan had given him milk of the poppy last night to ease the pain and Tyrion hadn't woken since, though he appeared to be suffering nightmares. Every so often he would start to move on the bed and Sansa would try and keep him still, whispering reassurances in his ear.

He settled again and Sansa sighed, reaching for her needle work. The lion blanket she'd made for Tyrion was draped over him, and she hoped it might offer him some comfort. As soon as Tyrion was coherent enough she would tell him the truth about King's Landing. He deserved to know exactly what she'd taken away from him, and she owed him so many apologies. For now all she could do was wait and hope her husband would heal.


"Ser Podrick, you wish to ask me something?"

"No, your Grace" he said, shifting on the spot in Bran Stark's chambers

Bran tilted his head to one side, observing his sworn shield. The young man was dutiful and kind. His loyalty was unquestionable, but for all of that he was a poor liar.

"You wish to know how lord Tyrion fares?"

Ser Podrick swallowed "It's not my place..."

"He's back at Winterfell"

The tension left Pod's face at the words "That is good your Grace"

'Is it?' wandered Bran 'That depends if Sansa has learned her lesson I suppose'

It would do no good to voice these thoughts to Podrick; it was a family matter after all. The afternoon sun crept into Bran's room as he stared out of the window. He'd seen Tyrion's time as a captive through the eyes of the raven, and he'd seen Grey Worm move to kill him. Bran had been unable to intervene; the Old Gods power held great influence in the North and their power had limited his own. The direwolf pup had puzzled him. Bran Stark could warg into any animal, but the connection was strongest with wolves. Yet he hadn't seen the golden direwolf in any of his visions and hadn't been able to warg into or even sense the creature.

It was strange to see a direwolf so far south of the wall. Summer had bonded to Bran like his siblings wolves had bonded to them; but they all had the blood of the North in them - Tyrion did not. Though it was impossible to deny the connection between the wolf and Tyrion. The little creature had saved the dwarf and raced immediately to his side afterwards. Of all the possible futures and events he'd seen, at no point had he seen another direwolf. Bran's face grew pensive; it was certainly a curious development.


Sansa lay her head against Tyrion while Maester Wolkan changed the bandages around his chest. He was lying against her while the old man checked the stitches that stretched down from the bottom of his chest and across his ribs. Arya had told her how that injury happened. The top of the wound was just below his heart. If the direwolf hadn't attacked Grey Worm, Tyrion would be dead. Instead the spear thrust had carved a vicious line across his torso, certain to leave a nasty scar. Too close; it had been far too close.

"That seems to be healing well enough, as does the wound on his arm. I'll change the cloth covering the burn on his shoulder and put fresh bandages on"

Tyrion remained unconscious in Sansa's arms, lying against her like a small child. The slash on his arm would leave another scar, and her heart twisted at the thought. He looked so innocent as the Maester bound his injuries again; it wasn't fair. How could anyone hurt him?

'You hurt him' taunted her mind

"Why won't he wake up?" asked Sansa, lying her cheek on the top of his head "He's going to die isn't he?"

"I've seen nothing to suggest lord Tyrion will not recover in time, your Grace" said the Maester "Though it's important to continue monitoring him - it's possible he will pick up an illness. These things don't always happen straightaway"

"His eyes never open. He squirms on the bed though, like he's having nightmares"

Wolkan smiled at her gently "That's a good sign, your Grace. I would be much more worried if he wasn't moving at all, though it would be best to try and keep him still lest he aggravate his injuries. His rest is long overdue"

Sansa's brow furrowed "What do you mean?"

"Lord Tyrion has hardly ate or slept since he came to Winterfell, eventually his body would have turned on him. This incident has forced him into a rest he was badly in need of. It's natural he's not woken yet"

Familiar guilt gripped Sansa as she held her husband tighter - she should have noticed he wasn't well. She should have taken care of him before now.


"Appreciate you letting me see him"

Arya glanced sideways at the wilding woman as they moved towards the Queen's chambers.

"It's only fair you see what happened to him after he rescued you"

"Bet your sister aint pleased" said Rose, as they approached the door

Arya didn't respond but led the way into Sansa and Tyrion's rooms. The women who Tyrion had rescued were leaving today and Rose had asked to see the lord of Winterfell before she left. The few girls taken from the nearby villages had already gone but the bulk of the women were wildlings and they were heading back to the Gift with several Winterfell guards as escorts.

As expected her sister was sat at her unconscious husband's bedside which she hadn't left for the past two days.

"Hi big brother" said Arya, moving to see Tyrion

He hadn't woken at all since Wolkan treated his injuries when he first came home and it was worrying Sansa to no end. It worried Arya too, but she thought it was kinder to let Tyrion sleep through the worst of the pain – he would wake up when he was well enough.

Sansa rose from her chair, eyes locked onto the wildling woman.

"You wanted to see lord Tyrion" she said, tone cold

"Aye, little lord saved us all. Heard rumours he got hurt bad for it – looks like they were true"

"They tortured him" said Sansa wrapping her arms around herself

Rose moved further into the room, and Arya stood close to the bed observing the two women. Sansa was blocking Rose from getting close to Tyrion and she was intrigued to see how the wildling woman would handle it.

"He could have escaped you know" said Rose, pausing her approach

Sansa's body went rigid, and it was Arya who answered "What do you mean?"

"I told you he was tied to a post beside the barn. He spent all day sawing the ropes against the wood and freed himself. Could have gone into the Wolfswood alone and found that hidden path he sent us down – he could have saved himself. I asked him why he didn't leave on his own; it would have been easier, but he said he wouldn't let us be sold into slavery. Rather than leave he came up with a plan and helped us escape"

A lump formed in Arya's throat at the information. Tyrion could have saved himself, but he chose to save the women from a terrible fate instead.

"I told ya he's a hero" continued Rose "Me and him were the last to leave and when we were followed he stayed behind to fight; letting us escape"

"And look what they did to him!" said Sansa voice rising "Why are you here? You have your freedom. Tyrion might never recover"

"Sansa, let her see" said Arya, stepping away from the bed and gently leading her sister to the other side of it

Tyrion's direwolf raised its head as Rose approached, eyeing her warily before relaxing on the bed again.

Rose sank into the seat beside the bed, pulling the covers back to see the full extent of the damage. Arya knew her sister didn't want people to know how badly Tyrion had been hurt, but too many guards had seen him in the Wolfswood and word was already spreading throughout the North about what had been done to the lord of Winterfell. Tyrion would be humiliated to know the whole of the North knew what had happened to him, but as far as Arya was concerned it was more evidence against Robin and Gawan – Tyrion was a hero and he had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Is it true?" asked Rose, raising her eyes from Tyrion "Did they brand him?"

Sansa trembled next to her and Arya nodded stiffly. The wildling woman gazed at Tyrion a moment longer before pulling the blankets over him again.

"Thank you little lord" she said, face grim "Aint many who'd do what you did. Most would save their own skin"

Rose stood, locking eyes with Sansa as she swept down and kissed Tyrion's head lightly "Tell him when he wakes up if he ever needs us to send word to the Gift. The free folk owe him a debt and he has my respect now – aint many lords who earn that"

"If he wakes up" snapped Sansa, glaring at the wildling

Rose turned to leave "He's a tough little lion; he'll wake up"

"Tyrion will wake up Sansa" said Arya, nudging her sister

Rose's eyes flicked between them before landing on the direwolf pup at Tyrion's feet "Don't see many direwolves south of the wall"

Arya followed her gaze "It saved his life in the Wolfswood and hasn't left his side since"

"It is strange" agreed Sansa, moving back to her seat at the bedside and fussing over Tyrion

The wildling shook her head "That aint strange – that's a gift from the North for the lord of Winterfell"


Tyrion didn't like this dream. He'd had it so many times over the past few years and it often came back to haunt him.

He was back in Kings Landing after he was accused of Joffrey's murder - left to rot in the black cells awaiting his trial. Only this time, the trial never came. He wrapped his arms around himself as he huddled in the corner of his cell. He'd been here so long and no-one ever came to see him. He tried calling for help but no-one could hear him. The door wouldn't budge and Tyrion knew with certainty he'd been forgotten.

There would be no trial.

He would be left in that cell to die alone. Tyrion shivered. He didn't want to die alone. No-one would miss him. Maybe Jamie would be a little sad but Cersei would soon distract him.

His father would be relieved to find his rotted corpse; he'd probably just toss it into the sea. Tywin Lannister would go on pretending he had no second son. Cersei would be delighted, if she had her way his head would decorate a spike.

The single candle illuminating his cell was rapidly burning down. Tyrion buried his head in his arms. It wasn't fair. He hadn't killed Joffrey, but he was going to die for it anyway. Why did everyone want him dead? It wasn't his fault he was a dwarf, or his mother died giving birth to him.

He'd done his best as hand of the King to help the people of Kings Landing and they'd turned on him without a second thought. Tyrion shivered as the candle flickered out, plunging his cell into darkness. His own family hated him enough that they would let him die for something he didn't do. Was he really so horrible? Everything he'd done had been to try and help his family, make them proud rather than ashamed of him. It wasn't enough; no matter what he did. Now he would die alone and forgotten.


Sansa rubbed her eyes as she watched Tyrion. She was so tired. It was late into the second day since he'd been moved into their room and he hadn't woken up yet, though he continued to squirm and fidget under the covers. Yesterday Maester Wolkan had told her he could be given some light food and water to build up his strength so Arya had helped to prop him up while she spooned some soup into his mouth. It broke her heart to see him so helpless. Sansa had hoped he might wake up after being fed but he hadn't, and they'd repeated the same today with the same result.

He might never wake up. The thought had lurked in the back of her mind since he was brought back to Winterfell and grew stronger every time she looked at his sleeping face. Sansa sagged in the chair. Was her last memory of Tyrion going to be his frightened pleading to go home as he trembled in her arms? The thought of his death had established a firm grip on her mind and she found her thoughts growing increasingly morbid.

She'd have to make the funeral arrangements. Where would he be buried? Casterly Rock was his ancestral home but she'd taken that away from him; Winterfell was his home now. She'd never asked him what he'd prefer. He should be buried in the crypts with the past lords of Winterfell, where she and Arya could visit him. They were his family after all.

Sansa was just compiling a list of people who might be suitable for making his statue, when her door opened and her sister entered the room. Arya moved to her side, gazing down at Tyrion.

"How is he?" she asked

"The same" said Sansa, biting back a yawn "Do you think he'd mind being buried in the crypts? I know Casterly Rock is where he was born, but he's our family now. Surely he should rest with the previous lords of Winterfell"

Arya's mouth fell open and her eyes widened at Sansa "He's not going to die Sansa - he's just resting"

"He won't wake up" she said rubbing at her face "I don't blame him. There were so many times I wished I wouldn't wake up when Ramsay had me…"

"Stop that! You're not Ramsay" said Arya, gripping Sansa's shoulder and squeezing "You've done some horrible things to Tyrion - I won't lie. Do you regret them?"

"Of course I do. If I could do anything to take back hurting him I would, but I can't Arya and Tyrion's going to die and I'll never get a chance to make things right with him and he's going to die thinking I don't love him" said Sansa, words tumbling out in a rush "and I love him more than anything, but I never told him and now it's too late!"

Sansa's head ached as she slumped in the chair, a shiver going through her. Arya gripped her wrist guiding her hand to the bed and placing it on Tyrion's neck.

"Can you feel that?" asked Arya

She nodded, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.

"Good" said Arya "Now you need to rest, I'll watch Tyrion"

"I'm not leaving him"

"Then get in the bed next to him, or you can use my bed - either way you're sleeping"

"No, he needs me. What if he dies and I'm not here?"

Arya sighed "Sansa, I know you're scared but I promise he'll wake up. You'll get your chance to apologise. You felt his heartbeat didn't you? He's just resting and it's for the best. He'd be in a lot of pain if he was awake"

There was truth in her sister's words Sansa realised, as she brushed her hand over Tyrion's face "I don't want to lose him"

"Neither do I" agreed Arya, pulling Sansa from the chair and dropping into it herself "Now you need to rest"

"Arya, thank you but really…"

"Don't try and tell me your fine" said Arya raising an eyebrow "You were just planning your husbands funeral - clearly you need sleep. You're no help to Tyrion if you get sick"

Reluctantly Sansa nodded her agreement. She swayed where she stood and turned her attention to Tyrion, tucking the blankets tightly around him and gently kissing his head.

"I love you" she whispered "please come back to me"

"Are you staying here or going to my room?" asked Arya, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair

"I'll use your room" she said, heading to the door. It didn't seem right to lie next to her husband until she'd had a chance to speak with him at least.

"Good, you've been hogging him for days. I want to spend some time with my brother too"

"Promise you'll get me straight away if anything changes" said Sansa, locking eyes with her younger sister

"I promise" said Arya, rolling her eyes before turning her gaze to Tyrion "You're actually my least irritating sibling, you know? Sansa's impossible, Bran's some kind of mystic and Jon's just like father. You're much easier to deal with big brother"

"You're impossible too Arya!" called Sansa, heading through the doorway


Awareness crept slowly back to Tyrion, and he wasn't sure how long he drifted between unconscious and conscious. The first indication he was alive was the pain. The left side of his body appeared to be the centre of the pounding ache that enveloped him. Slowly, he began to discern one ache from the next. His arm and ankle were the worst, a throbbing pain enveloping both limbs. The brand on his shoulder was burning too, though not as violently as it had before. A familiar splitting sensation covered his face, reminding him of the aftermath of the battle of Blackwater but not quite as intense. The sensation was worse across his chest and his upper arm, as if there was something stuck between the skin.

Tyrion tried to move but his body was too heavy and he was forced to remain where he was. That was a good question - where was he? He was comfortable. There was something soft underneath him and he was quite warm. His body wouldn't really cooperate with his attempts to move, so instead he focused on opening his eyes. Light flickered into his dark world and he blinked wearily, trying to focus. A soft bark sounded from somewhere as he tried to lift his head.

"Tyrion?"

He knew that voice. The images in his vision became clearer, and he found himself staring into the blue eyes of Sansa Stark. Her fiery red hair framed her pale face as she leaned closer to him.

"Sansa?" he said, voice muffled by what he now realised was a pillow

"Are you really awake?" she asked, brushing her hand over his head

"I think so"

Tyrion gazed past Sansa, taking in his surroundings. He was in their chambers at Winterfell, he realised. His mind was sluggish to start with, but slowly a picture formed. He remembered now. Grey Worm had been about to stab him. Arya had arrived with the Winterfell guards. Guilt and panic rose simultaneously in Tyrion - he'd asked them to leave him there. He couldn't let Sansa see what had happened to him. She'd hate him; he had to leave.

He pushed up from the bed with marginally more success this time, though the movement sent spikes of pain throughout his body. Sansa's hands were on him in an instant, pressing him against the bed once more.

"Stay still!" she said, panic in her voice "You're really hurt, please rest. You're safe I promise"

Warm hands pressed against him, tucking the blankets around him. He shouldn't be here - in Winterfell. But his head had gone dizzy as soon as he tried to move and he found himself powerless to resist as Sansa settled him against the soft bed.

"Sansa, I'm so sorry" he said, dropping his gaze from Sansa's face.

Instead he focused on his broken wrist, lying on a cushion at his side. The limb was encased in layers of bandages and Tyrion couldn't move his hand or fingers at all – presumably some kind of splint was pinning them in place. Warm breath tickled his face as Sansa placed a long kiss against his cheek.

"Don't apologise Tyrion, you've done nothing wrong"

"I shamed you Sansa" he said, eyes downcast.

"Never. I missed you so much" said Sansa, gently tilting his face to meet hers.

Her eyes glistened with tears, but she was smiling at him. Tyrion's stomach twisted. Why was she being so nice?

"If you saw what they did to me Sansa...I should have fought harder. I shouldn't have been taken in the first place" he said, half burying his face in the pillow and away from her soft gaze

"Do you mean the brand?" she asked quietly, twirling her fingers through his hair, which he seemed to have a lot less of.

His heart raced. She had seen it. If she'd seen that then she'd seen the scars on his back...

'Stupid dwarf' he thought as realisation came to him 'look at yourself, you're only wearing breeches. Everyone's probably seen the scars'

"Tyrion? Relax sweetheart, you're ok" she soothed as his body grew tense

"You saw it?" he asked, screwing his eyes shut "The scars on my back too?"

"Look at me" said Sansa, tugging his head out from the pillow so she could see his face "The mark on your shoulder is nothing to be ashamed of"

"Yes it is" he said "They were going to brand the girls before they sold them but when they escaped they branded me instead. I'm sorry I couldn't stop them"

"This is not your fault. That mark just proves how strong you are. All those women are safe because of you; I heard what you did for them my brave little lion"

"You don't understand" he said, voice breaking. Sansa was looking at him with such tenderness, but she didn't understand. He'd lied to her.

"Help me to understand" she said, studying him "Would you like to sit up for a little bit?"

Sansa didn't wait for his answer and to his shame he was no use as she manoeuvred him upright, propping him against the pillows and headboard. His body trembled, and pain stabbed through him at the change of positions. Sansa moved a couple of cushions out of the way and sat on the bed next to him.

"Is your shoulder ok sitting like that?" she asked studying his face "Maester Wolkan said you shouldn't lie on it for a couple of weeks at least"

"It's fine" he said, dropping his eyes to the bed "I shouldn't be here Sansa"

"Where should you be?"

"Away. Out of sight and out of mind" said Tyrion, his heart cracking as he spoke "I'll take the black. That will leave you free to marry again and rid you of any responsibility you feel towards me"

"Tyrion..."

"But I beg you; please don't marry Robin or Gawan - they're cruel. They could hurt you. Please stay away from them" he lifted his head to look at her "I couldn't stand the thought of them near you – I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please my Queen - don't trust them"

Sansa's face was frozen in shock at his words, before it crumpled to tears and she carefully wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh Tyrion, you're a good man and I've been really awful to you" she said, arms shaking "You're my husband from this day until your last day. I'm never going to marry anyone else, and the next time I see Robin and Gawan will be the day they're executed for hurting you"

"Sansa, you can't...I've lied to you. I'm not fit to be your husband, to be anyone's husband. What Robin and Gawan told you about me is true" he said as Sansa pulled back from hugging him.

Her face was red and tear stained as she grasped his right hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. She said nothing and Tyrion forged ahead; Sansa had to understand exactly what he was, but it was hard to tell her when she was looking at him so sweetly. He should have told her long ago.

"In Essos, Jorah and I were caught by slavers. They put us in chains and sold us at an auction. They only wanted to buy Jorah but I convinced them to buy me too so we wouldn't get separated. We ended up in the fighting pits at Mereen where I met Daenerys. I'm so sorry Sansa; I should have told you before you married me. You could get an annulment, as Queen I'm sure they wouldn't refuse you. Tell them I lied to you; tell them whatever you wish I won't contradict you"

His body was trembling as he finished, but Sansa was still rubbing his hand. What was she waiting for? Just get rid of him and be done with it.

"Look at me" she said, placing her hand on his jaw and turning his head to face her "I'm so sorry about what happened to you in Essos – that must have been a horrible experience. You didn't have to tell me; there's things Ramsay did to me I've not told anyone. I understand not wanting to talk about the past"

His battered heart thumped painfully at the look of sympathy across her face – he didn't deserve it.

"I'm not getting an annulment either" she said, holding his face "I was angry when I saw the old scars across your back"

"Sansa I'm –"

"I was angry because those scars meant someone had hurt you. You don't have to tell me what happened; you never have to tell me. But if you ever trust me enough to share your pain I'm here. Please let me help you" said Sansa, blue eyes shining "When I saw what those monsters had done to you - I cried. My sweet, kind husband suffering at the hands of those butchers"

"You're too kind to me" he said face growing warm "You deserve a knight in shining armour"

"You're far more than I deserve" said Sansa, stroking his cheek "I love you Tyrion. I've treated you terribly and I'd understand if you never forgave me – but I'll make this up to you somehow"

A lump formed in Tyrion's throat as she spoke. Could she love him? No, that was impossible - however desperately he wanted to believe her. She felt sorry for him right now, but she'd get over it in a few days and realise how disgusting he actually is. A few minutes passed with Sansa rubbing his hand while he wondered what she would do with him.

"I..I need to tell you something" said Sansa, squeezing his hand

Her normally proud face was full of regret as he looked at her. This was it; she was going to ask him to leave.

"I understand Sansa - it's for the best that I go. If you don't want me to take the black…I'll go somewhere else. You'll never have to see me again"

"No! Please don't talk about leaving, I only just got you back" she said, lifting his right hand and kissing it "I have to tell you something…something terrible. I'm so sorry Tyrion. No matter what, I want you to know this is your home and we're your family"

Tyrion's stomach fluttered looking at Sansa's guilty face. What could she need to tell him?

"Do you remember when Bran sentenced you in Kings Landing?" she asked, fiddling with his hand

Tyrion nodded "He took away my land and titles, banishing me from the six kingdoms of Westeros. He gave me to you"

Sansa grimaced hanging her head "Bran sentenced you like that because I asked him to. He wasn't going to banish you - he was going to name you hand of the King"

A thousand thoughts raced through Tyrion's mind. Why on Earth would anyone want him to be their hand?

"You would have been the lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and hand of the King" she continued, voice breaking "I asked Bran to banish you instead and give you to me. I'm so sorry Tyrion"

"It's alright Sansa" he said, as her shoulders shook

"No, it's not. What I did was selfish. Everyone else was leaving me and I wanted to keep you close. You're one of the only people I trust and Kings Landing is such a horrible place I thought if I brought you North I could keep you safe - keep you with me" she said, tears streaming down her face "but I've treated you horribly. I had no right to take you away from your home"

Tyrion shifted slightly against the headboard, and tried to smile at her. He hated seeing Sansa upset.

"I was a prisoner in Kings Landing. My fate was yours to decide. I do not deserve to be hand of the King or hold my family's titles any more than I deserve to be your husband or the lord of Winterfell. Sansa, I should have lost my head. Instead you took me into your home and I let you down"

Sansa's blue eyes were swimming in guilt as she looked at him, but Tyrion meant what he said. He was at their mercy in Kings Landing, and prisoners did not get a vote.

"You've never let me down and this is your home" she said, clutching his hand "I'm sorry for everything Tyrion. I'll make this up to you, if you'll let me. You're not a prisoner here; whatever you want is yours"

His throat constricted at Sansa's words. She leaned forward cupping his face and pressed her soft lips onto his.

"I love you so much - I know I haven't shown you, but it'll be different from now on" she promised, pulling back from him

He slumped against the pillows, his eyelids growing heavy. He hadn't been awake long but already he was growing tired. He should be stronger than this. Sansa felt guilty about his sentence - that explained why she wouldn't send him away even though she should. It would be for the best, he'd humiliated her. She'd trusted him with the title her father and brother held with honour before him and he'd allowed two stupid boys to degrade him.

The blankets rustled, drawing his attention and a small creature with golden fur scrambled towards him.

"Is that the wolf that attacked Grey Worm?" he asked as the creature nudged him with a wet nose. He vaguely recalled seeing a golden blur dart past him and attack the unsullied leader

Sansa smiled at the creature "He's your direwolf"

Tyrion shook his head "I'm not a Stark - I can't have a direwolf"

"Of course you can"

"He ripped Grey Worm's fingers off" said Tyrion, tilting his head back as the wolf pup tried to lick his face

"He won't hurt you Tyrion" she said with a light laugh "He's your direwolf - they can be dangerous, but not to their masters"

"You or Arya should have him. You're both Starks and you both lost your own"

Sansa's eyes grew misty as she shook her head, taking Tyrion's right hand and placing it on the creature's fur "That's very sweet, but he's meant for you. Our wolves were bonded to us like this one is bonded to you"

The wolf pup leaned into Tyrion's hand as Sansa guided him to stroke his soft fur. Bright green eyes gazed up at him, tilting his head to one side. Tyrion swallowed hard. This wasn't right - he didn't belong in Winterfell or deserve a direwolf. He needed to leave.

"You look tired my love" said Sansa, brushing his hair "let me take care of you"

Tiredness was overcoming him and he was helpless to protest as Sansa poured some medicine down his throat and settled him back on his side in the bed, propping his broken limbs on cushions once more.

He dropped his gaze from Sansa as she tucked the blankets around him. The direwolf had curled up near his feet. Already his eyes were sliding shut. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be letting Sansa take care of him.

"I love you" she said kissing his forehead "I'm so sorry for all of this. You're safe here; I won't let anyone hurt you ever again"