Chapter 22
The sunlight streaming through the windows of her chambers did nothing to chase the chill from Sansa as she reread the letter for what could be the tenth time.
Lord Mazin
It's come to my attention that naming Sansa Stark Queen in the North may have been an error. She is a Queen for the few and not the many. Her time away from the North in her youth has made her one of them rather than one of us. I'm well aware of the sacrifices your house made to aid the Starks in reclaiming Winterfell from the Bolton's, yet your own pleas for help have continuously fallen on deaf ears. The North finally has independence; there is a whole world of possibilities out there for us but Queen Sansa continues to cling to the six kingdoms of Westeros where her brother rules. We should be making our own trade deals across the narrow sea - not relying on the cooperation of a kingdom that has continuously scorned us Northerners.
I believe that now the war is over the North has had time to truly look at the Queen, and her failings have become increasingly clear. We can do better and we must if we want an independent North to flourish. The North remembers and that includes every house and every man from the highborn to the lowborn.
I offer you a chance to help shape the future of the North, to show the Starks that Winter is coming for them and our families sacrifices matter as much as theirs. They were once a great house, but the past few years have shown them to be weak - it's time for a new great house. I hope you will join the new age of the North. Send your reply to the Dreadfort - I look forward to working with you.
As Karlon Mazin had said the letter bore no sigils or anything that could identify the writer but she knew this was Robin Flint. She'd spent enough time with him to recognise his manipulative words that hid a lust for power. Gawan was no doubt working with him, but Robin would be the brains behind the operation. Following her meeting with the young lord Mazin, Sansa had offered him the hospitality of Winterfell which he reluctantly accepted out of exhaustion.
A rebellion.
Sansa swallowed thickly; they wanted her gone. She'd fought for an independent North and when she got it she'd made a mess of everything.
She'd practically run back to her chambers following the meeting, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. Tyrion was still sleeping soundly, but Arya's eyes had widened in shock as she explained what had happened. Her sister's face tightened as she read the letter, her fingers twitching towards needle.
"Arya…I don't know what to do. Should I give up the crown? I don't want more Northerners to die - no more blood needs to be shed"
"That is exactly why you can't give it up" said Arya, gripping Sansa's arms "You made mistakes - but you truly love the North"
"They don't want me anymore; I'm as bad as Cersei" said Sansa "How could I let this happen?"
"Think about it - we know this letter is from Robin Flint. If you give up the crown then he'll move for power with Gawan. Do you really want those monsters ruling the North? He even mentions trade across the narrow sea - what do you think he's going to trade? Young girls into slavery most likely. You saw what they did to Tyrion, they can't be allowed near power"
Sansa reluctantly met her sister's gaze, seeing determination blazing in her grey eyes "You're right. They can't go free - not after what they've done…"
"You've been under a lot of stress taking care of Tyrion; you need to unwind. I'll talk to Maester Wolkan and then we can all meet tomorrow to finalise a plan"
Sansa struggled to find the right words to express her gratitude. The weight of her responsibilities had been about to crush her, but Arya's reassurance and quick plan had eased it a little, even if only temporarily.
"Thank you" she managed
Arya's mouth quirked up "Always. Besides Tyrion's going to need you. He can finally start healing now he's getting over his illness but what he suffered in the Wolfswood needs to be dealt with. You focus on him, and let me handle this for now. Gawan's an idiot and Robin's not as clever as he likes to think"
Sansa glanced longingly at Tyrion. She wanted his advice more than anyone's but Arya was right - his sickness had distracted them from dealing with the horrors he endured in the Wolfswood. She couldn't leave him alone to deal with that; no matter what he was her first priority.
Arya had left a couple of hours ago, leaving Sansa alone with her thoughts and her husband. Tyrion hadn't woken yet but she was content that he was merely resting. Standing stiffly from her chair by the hearth, she moved to check on him. Wolkan had needed to replace all of his splints and bandages following the ice bath she'd given him and the Maester had decided he no longer needed a dressing over the brand on his shoulder, but still needed to cover the healing gash across his chest. His left arm was once again in a sling and his broken ankle was propped on a cushion, but his face looked much more relaxed than it had for the past few days.
Sansa smiled at the sight of him. He was lying on his back with his right arm wrapped loosely around Lyon. The golden direwolf looked as content as his master as they slept.
"No more nearly dying" she whispered, brushing a hand over his forehead - relieved to find a normal temperature "The idea of losing you nearly broke me - I couldn't bear the real thing"
When awareness returned to Tyrion he began to have sympathy with the practice dummy he was fond of hitting. Everything from his head to his feet ached. He peeled his eyes open to find himself in bed, Lyon trapping his right arm beneath him as the direwolf curled against his side. Tyrion tried to slide his arm free without waking the wolf pup, but it was no use as green eyes darted open to find him. Lyon let out a soft bark, standing on the bed and licking his face.
"I think we need to talk about that" said Tyrion, grimacing at the dampness on his face. Lyon merely gazed at him before leaping off the bed and towards a bowl of water in the corner of the room. Regardless of the large ache that enveloped him, he decided sitting up would be a better – less helpless position to be in.
"Tyrion?"
He was leaning on his right side to try and push himself up when Sansa's familiar voice reached his ears. Glancing round the room he noticed the Queen rising from an armchair and hurrying towards him - a wide smile on her face.
"Hello Sansa" he said, frustration rising as his body trembled at the attempt to move
Why was he so weak?
"I'm so glad to see you" she said, appearing at his side of the bed and sinking onto the mattress "Do you want to sit up?"
Tyrion's face burned as Sansa easily slid her arms around him and propped him against the headboard like a small child. She cupped his face, staring straight into his eyes.
"It's really you" she said, letting out a breath
"Who else would it be?"
"You've not been yourself for the past few days"
Tyrion's brow furrowed trying to remember what had happened. He'd tried to leave Winterfell but hadn't, Nessa had visited him and Sansa thought he was getting sick. He recalled throwing up several times and Sansa's concerned blue eyes as she tended to him. There were snippets of memories, and things he'd heard.
"I've not been myself?"
Sansa took hold of his right hand, gently rubbing circles with her thumb "What do you remember?"
"You were crying" he recalled "was someone unwell? I heard Maester Wolkan say 'if he survives the night' and something about an ice bath. Jon and Bran are okay I hope?"
Sansa stared at him for a long moment "That's what you remember?"
"You seemed upset and I wanted to help you but…" he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably "I couldn't get up for some reason. I think I saw Arya too. Whoever you were worried about, are they alright?"
Sansa was smiling as she sat opposite him but tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
"I was crying" she admitted "I came very close to losing someone precious to me. What you heard was right, Maester Wolkan didn't think he would last the night but if he did there was a chance he would recover"
Tyrion swallowed hard, wondering who could be important enough for Sansa's tears to fall "Did he survive the night?"
"He did" said Sansa a twinkle in her eyes "He's only a little lion, but he's so very strong"
It took Tyrion longer than he'd care to admit for his brain to register what Sansa was saying "What..?
"You" she laughed, taking his face in her hands once more "The winter fever nearly took you my love, but you survived. You'll be ok now, I promise"
A whirlwind of emotions swept through Tyrion. An illness - he'd nearly died.
"You were crying because of me?"
"Of course I was - I love you. The fever raged for days, and you were delirious for most of it"
That would explain why he remembered so little "I remember throwing up"
Sansa nodded "It was just after that you got worse. It's been three days since you were throwing up, after that you deteriorated and weren't yourself"
Three days. His mind struggled to comprehend what Sansa had told him, but his weakened state was evidence enough. The pillows and headboard were the only things keeping him upright; his body was as feeble as a new born kitten.
Tyrion fiddled with the blanket "I'm sorry Sansa. I just keep causing you problems. First I get captured by…them…and then I get sick"
Sansa stared at him before tilting her head to one side "If I was taken by Robin and Gawan, what would you do?"
A sudden, all-encompassing fear gripped him at the thought "I'd never let them take you - I'd kill them all myself"
"But it would be my fault"
"No! Of course it wouldn't…"
"What if they hurt me? You'd have to get rid of me; I'd be a useless cripple after all"
Why was she saying this? He didn't want these dark thoughts of anyone hurting Sansa - she was innocent and good and kind. Her face turned away from him as she spoke.
"Never - I'd help you" he promised, searching for her blue eyes; hoping she could see his sincerity "I'd never turn away from you, not for anything"
"Even if I got sick? Even if I needed help to do everything for the rest of my life - you'd stay by my side?"
"Of course" he said immediately "No matter what"
Tyrion's heart hammered against his chest. Why was she thinking this? No-one would hurt Sansa - everything good in his life had been taken from him, he wouldn't let anyone hurt Sansa. Her face was downcast and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Was she afraid of something? Reaching out to Sansa his body trembled, but he managed to enclose her delicate hand in his.
"When I wrapped my cloak around you, I brought you under my protection. I made vows to both the old gods and the new to care for you. Have no fear Sansa - no matter what I'll be there for you" he said, squeezing her hand "For as long as you'll have me by your side"
A few moments passed before Sansa lifted her gaze to meet his, tears trickling down her face. "You're a good man Tyrion Lannister, and a far better husband than I deserve"
"You deserve more than I could ever give you" he said, familiar shame eating at his heart for his many inadequacies
Sansa took her hand from his, winding it through the back of his hair and bringing her face close enough for him to see the sparkling blue of her eyes "You wouldn't hesitate to protect and care for me - why should you expect anything less?"
Realisation hit Tyrion like a slap to the face and he felt more than a little stupid for not seeing through her words. The situation she'd described was what had befallen him. The idea of Sansa suffering even a fraction of what he had sent a shiver down his spine. He'd meant every word he said though – he would never turn his back on Sansa if she needed him.
"You may have cloaked me and brought me under your protection, but you're under mine too. Don't forget that Tyrion; you have a family that loves you"
"I...thank you" he said, struggling to find the words "for everything you've done for me"
"You never have to thank me. When I thought you were going to die I was willing to do anything to save you. Death would not take you from me – I wouldn't allow it"
"It was that bad?"
Sansa nodded "If the ice bath hadn't helped break your fever, we would have lost you. The illness took a lot out of you on top of your injuries, so you'll need plenty of rest to recover"
Tyrion dropped his gaze as Sansa brushed her hand over the side of his face. It was strange to come so close to dying and not even be aware of it. In the Wolfswood death had hung over him like an axe and he'd tried to make peace with it. To hear how he could have died without even being aware of it was rather unsettling.
Tyrion's head jerked up, eyes widening "Wait, what's this about an ice bath?"
Sansa had the decency to look sheepish "You were burning sweetheart, rest assured there was only us here. No-one else saw you naked"
"I was naked?" said Tyrion, heat creeping up his neck
"Well it was a bath. You weren't conscious which was probably for the best – I know you don't like the cold and I was rubbing snow all over you"
"That doesn't sound pleasant" he said, unable to look Sansa in the eye
Having Sansa help him dress and make use of the privy was one thing, letting her see him totally naked was another thing entirely. He'd never been proud of his body and had hoped Sansa would never have reason to see it.
Sansa continued to wind her fingers through his hair and he chanced a glance up at her to see amusement dancing in her eyes.
"What's so amusing?"
"It's just..." started Sansa "considering your nickname and tales of your exploits I never imagined you'd be so bashful about a woman seeing you naked"
"You're a Queen - not a whore I've paid to tell me sweet lies"
Sansa leaned forwards kissing his cheek "I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Your shyness in this regard is actually very sweet"
Tyrion couldn't be angry at Sansa, he could see she'd truly worried for him and done whatever she could to make sure he'd survive. Though it was hazy he could still see Sansa's distraught face as she spoke with the Maester. Letting him die from an illness could have freed her from him and their marriage easily – but she'd fought to save his life instead. A strange tingle warmed his chest as he sunk further into the pillows...maybe it wasn't just pity or duty she felt towards him. The flickering hope in his heart grew a little brighter but Tyrion refused to continue the train of thought. Sansa had gone to extreme measures to keep him alive; she'd done nothing but care for him since his return to Winterfell.
All the same he pouted at her "No more ice baths?"
"No more ice baths" she promised "unless you ever dare to get that sick again, in which case I'll give you one every night if I have too"
"I certainly won't get that sick again then"
The Queen in the North smiled at him tracing a finger over his shoulders "Not sure why you're embarrassed my love, you're a lot more muscular than I imagined"
A blush tinged his cheeks as she appraised him "I hoped you'd never see me naked"
"You've nothing to be ashamed of Tyrion"
"I'm a dwarf" he mumbled "a twisted little monster"
"You could never be a monster and being a dwarf doesn't matter to me - it shouldn't matter to anyone" she said, cupping his face "You're a hero Tyrion. All those girls are safe because of you. Rose came to see you before the wildlings left; she said you'd earned their respect and if you ever needed them to send word to the Gift"
"That was kind of her" he said, swallowing thickly
"It was. Though if we ever go near the Gift we'll need an armed escort"
"You don't trust the free folk?"
"Certainly not. I heard the way they were talking about you - they would be fighting each other to be your spear wife"
Tyrion's eyebrows rose "I find that rather hard to belief"
"It's true" she said "and I will not allow some wildling to steal my husband away"
His head was growing heavier as a soft yawn escaped him before he could stop it.
"You're tired" said Sansa, blue eyes searching his face "You seem much better than you were - how do you feel?"
"I'm fine" he said, shrinking under her sceptical gaze
"Do you want anything for the pain? I watched Wolkan redo your bandages, your injuries must be hurting you"
"No, thank you"
Sansa's eyes grew sad, though she smiled at him nonetheless "Is there nothing I can do for you?"
"You do far too much already"
"I want to help you Tyrion. Promise you'll tell me straight away if you don't feel well - I don't want to lose you. Please"
Sansa's eyes pleaded with him and he found himself unable to refuse "I promise"
"Good" she said "now I think you need some rest"
He made no protest as Sansa settled him into the bed, though guilt for his weakness continued to gnaw at him. Rest was necessary - he couldn't deny it, and despite his words to Sansa his injuries did continuously ache. The pain was a reminder of what had been done to him and no matter how kind Sansa was he couldn't quite shake the shame his injuries brought him.
"Sleep well my love" she said, kissing his forehead as she tucked the blankets around him "I'm here if you need anything"
It was so tempting to lean into the care Sansa was offering him. He'd chosen to stay at Winterfell - with Sansa, but each time he wanted to give into her affections or return them, a flicker of doubt would warn him against it. The last time he'd given into the temptation had been the night Sansa demanded an heir from him. The memory of her bedding him always chilled whatever warmth rose within him, casting a doubt over her sincerity and then guilt at himself for doubting her. It wasn't her fault - he just found it hard to trust…even though his heart wanted to.
It was the early hours when Sansa pulled herself from bed, determined to sort through the ever growing pile of correspondence she'd been ignoring. Tyrion was still sound asleep as she settled in at her desk. Talking to him yesterday had brought her great relief after the confusion that had plagued him during his illness - even if it showed how far he still had to go in order to heal.
More than anything she'd wanted to pull him against her to feel his still beating heart, and chase the shame from his eyes as she told him of the illness that had almost claimed him - and what she'd done to save him. Reluctantly she'd restrained herself. As eager as she was to shower her husband with her affection she was very aware he might not welcome her touch given her…treatment of him. She tried to content herself with kissing his face and holding his hand - small gestures to show her love.
Her mother had always praised her caring instincts although they'd become increasingly well hidden over the past few years. Now they urged her to take care of Tyrion - to give him the love and attention he so clearly needed. Part of the problem was getting him to accept it. During his illness he'd clung to her and despite the situation she'd loved being able to comfort him. The night he chose to stay at Winterfell he'd surrendered to her comfort and Sansa had treasured holding him safely in her arms that night – as if she was in some small way atoning for her mistreatment of him.
The Tyrion she'd married in Kings Landing would have eagerly accepted and returned whatever attention she gave him, now there was something holding Tyrion back from accepting her affection.
'You know what it is' hissed Cersei's voice 'Don't be ashamed little dove, you had every right to take him - whether he wanted to or not'
Sansa screwed her eyes shut, urging the dead Queen to leave her be. Deep down she knew what the root cause of the distance between her and Tyrion was. She'd apologised for having him exiled and mistreating him, but she had yet to properly apologise for…raping him. Some part of Tyrion must fear her - how could he not? Ramsay's touch had made her skin crawl, the thought that Tyrion might feel the same made her wary of forcing her love on him. They had to talk about it at some point, but how to broach the subject with him was a huge problem. She was certain he wouldn't want to mention it, but she needed him to know she regretted it - she needed to reassure him that it would never happen again. Maybe then he would start to trust her…maybe they could still be affectionate even if they were never again intimate. She liked being close to Tyrion, she wanted to care for him - if only he'd let himself be loved.
Suppressing a sigh, Sansa glanced across at the bed where her husband rested. He was alive - that was all that mattered. There was time to work on everything else.
Shuffling through her letters, Sansa sought a good place to start. There was so much to go through and she needed to be up to date for her meeting with Wolkan and Arya. Finally, her eyes landed on a letter bearing Bran's three-eyed raven sigil. Letters from her brother were always welcome, even if they did tie her stomach in knots. You never really knew if it was Bran or the three-eyed raven speaking; his words were often simple and vague - laced with double meanings. Sansa found she disliked that uncertainity. Dismantling clever words like littlefinger had once spoken now came easily to her, interpreting Bran's seemingly innocent words gave her nothing but a headache.
Her fingers quickly broke the seal, the paper rustling lightly as she spread it before her.
Queen Sansa,
Ser Jamie Lannister's sword has been recovered during the rebuilding of the Red Keep. As you know this sword is Valyrian steel and the other half of our father's great sword. The end is missing and the steel damaged. There isn't enough steel left to make a full length sword, but it could still be reworked into two daggers or another bladed weapon. The sword belongs in Winterfell. It is for you and Arya to decide what is done with it. There is still one smith in Kings Landing who can rework Valyrian Steel - let me know what you want done with it and I'll send it onwards to you.
I've been told by Ser Davos the major trade deal you've been creating between our kingdoms is ready for completion. It's an important sign of unity between the kingdoms and as such it should be signed in person. I would like to return to Winterfell to commemorate this deal and strengthen the links between the North and the six kingdoms. Send word if you are amenable to this and we should arrive within three weeks, though regrettably we will not arrive in time for lord Tyrion's name day. Give my best wishes to Arya and Tyrion.
Bran Stark
Sansa's eyes widened at the letter. It was formal and emotionless - even for Bran. Her brother sent his regards to Tyrion and Arya but not to her. Was he angry with her? Sansa wasn't sure Bran was capable of anger anymore, but the tone of his letter was strictly business towards her. A slither of ice slid down her back. Bran was the three-eyed raven. He'd seen her wedding night to Ramsay - he could see everything now. How much of her mistreatment of Tyrion had he seen?
Shaking her head to clear the disturbing thought, she refocused on the letter. A royal visit whilst rumours of rebellion were circulating in the North; Bran's timing couldn't be coincidental. It was no matter - she would not refuse a visit from her brother however different he was these days. There was truth in his words about the trade deal. She'd poured months of work into it and it would hopefully show her people that she was working in their interests when it brought food and work into their villages.
The sword was useless to her. Sansa had no desire for a weapon and Arya had a valyrian steel dagger as well as needle. Brienne had offered to leave her sword behind when she joined Bran's kingsguard as it was forged from their father's sword, but Sansa and Arya had adamantly refused. Oathkeeper was Brienne's sword and she was using it honourably to defend Bran.
Her eyes roamed over the letter once more, focusing on one line; Tyrion's name day. Much to her shame she didn't know his name day was coming up or even when it was. To the best of her memory she didn't recall Tyrion ever mentioning his name day, and glancing across at her husband she doubted he would. Life had never been fair to him, and since she brought him North she'd done very little to improve that. The past few weeks alone he'd been captured, tortured and so ill he nearly died. Obviously they would celebrate his name day and Sansa resolved to make it special for him. She'd speak to Arya and make her plans, but they wouldn't tell Tyrion - not unless he mentioned it.
A whirlwind of emotions swept through Sansa. Everything was happening at once; a rebellion, a royal visit and Tyrion's name day. Out of all those things that were now warring for dominance in her mind, Sansa knew which mattered the most to her.
Upon reading the letter that lord Mazin had received suggesting a rebellion, Arya had fought the urge to find her sister and say 'I told you so'. Part of Arya knew she was being unfair; Sansa had never been taught how to rule and was doing the best she could. On the other hand her older sister had turned into someone else over the past few years. Her words, actions and style were a blend of her Northern heritage and the brutal education she'd been subject to since they left Winterfell. The sister in Arya understood that Sansa had suffered horrendously and her reign as Queen was tainted by what she'd endured. The more rational part of Arya knew this disaster was partly her sister's own doing. The small folk had no love for the Queen who never saw them in court or left the walls of Winterfell, while many of the minor Northern houses felt snubbed in favour of the major houses.
Now sitting across from Sansa in the meeting room with Maester Wolkan, Arya could see her sister was realising her mistakes. What had happened to Tyrion had proved to be the Queen of ice's breaking point, but now Sansa could see her mistakes clearly and the view was bleak.
"What can we do? The people want me gone" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around herself
"It's only one letter" said Arya
"Who knows how many more have been sent across the North?"
"Not many I would think" said Maester Wolkan, lowering the letter to the table "Robin would not risk sending a letter like this unless he thought it likely the recipient would side with him. That has already proved to be wrong in the case of house Mazin"
"Only because they respect Tyrion" said Sansa, looking away from them
"Lord Tyrion is well respected by many of the minor lords and word of his heroics in the Wolfswood is only strengthening his support" said Wolkan
"While the rumours of what Robin and Gawan have done are costing them support" said Sansa, her mouth pressing into a tight line
"No true Northerner would support people found guilty of slavery or working with the unsullied against the lord of Winterfell" said Arya "we just need to show everyone how guilty they are"
"To do that we need to find them" said Sansa
"The letter instructed lord Mazin to send a reply to the Dreadfort" said Wolkan
"Robin and Gawan won't be there" said Sansa "That part of the North is full of empty seats and was badly damaged in the long night. There is only the Gift being used at the moment. Most likely they're moving between the empty seats. The North is huge and searching it all would be impossible"
Arya hid a smile at her sister's observation. Sansa was good at politics despite her mistakes as Queen - she was far more intelligent than people gave her credit for.
"I would not worry too much about this your Grace" said the Maester, offering her a kind smile "I don't believe the North has an appetite for further conflict and many like lord Mazin will not answer their call"
"Regardless we need to prepare for the possibility that some houses will" said Sansa "if any major houses joined them, minor ones would follow"
Arya drummed her fingers against the table "Well we know lord Cerwyn and lady Tallhart won't join them - they're loyal friends"
"Lord Hornwood is also unlikely to support them given you legitimised him and made him a lord" added Wolkan
"Agreed. Lord Manderly hasn't responded to the letter calling for the capture of Robin and Gawan - more than likely he's communicating with lord Glover and both will not act until we prove the allegations are true. They are two of the biggest houses in the North and could cause a huge problem if they went against us" said Sansa
"I'd suggest the best course of action is to continue hunting for Robin and Gawan" said the old man his chain clinking as he sat back in the chair "Murmurs of rebellion plague every monarch and it very rarely results in action"
Arya glanced across at her sister "Maester Wolkan's right - I think Robin and Gawan are getting desperate and trying to save themselves. When we capture them any whisper of rebellion will die with them"
Her sister nodded at them both, though her gaze wandered to an empty seat beside her. It was no secret who's advice Sansa wanted the most, but they'd all agreed to not mention any of this to Tyrion until he was stronger or he asked them what had happened to Robin and Gawan. Arya's brow furrowed thinking of him - it was strange he hadn't inquired about his captors or Grey Worm. The unsullied captain was still being held in the dungeon under heavy guard where he apparently rarely moved and never spoke. Convincing him of his role in the slave trade Robin and Gawan had been running hadn't been easy, but it appeared to have broken something inside the man. Not that Arya cared, it was because of him Tyrion had been taken in the first place and she blamed him nearly as much as Robin and Gawan for what her brother had suffered.
"There is also the matter of King Bran's visit" said Wolkan "what is your decision, your Grace?"
"I've already sent a raven inviting him to come. He should be here in a little over three weeks" said Sansa, mouth tugging downwards into a frown
"Maester, did you find out when Tyrion's name day is?" asked Arya
"I've done some research, and records show it is in two weeks time"
"Very good" said Sansa "We're all in agreement to not mention his name day to him - I want to surprise him"
"Sounds good to me" said Arya, as Wolkan nodded.
The last thing Sansa needed was to get overly distracted or worried over a rebellion. As far as Arya was concerned it was rumours and nothing more. It pleased her now to see Sansa's focus was where it should have always been; her husband. Tyrion's name day was a good distraction from the horror of Robin and Gawan, and they had plenty of reason to celebrate. Seeing her brother so close to death had terrified Arya - so many of her family was dead or gone already. Hopefully a celebration would boost Tyrion's spirits and show him how loved he was.
"Have you told him Bran's coming?" asked Arya
"Not yet, I'll talk to him about it later. I don't want him to know about Robin or Gawan yet either. Tyrion's not asked and I don't want to worry him"
"Of course, your Grace" said Wolkan "though it may be prudent to tell him before King Bran comes"
"Grey Worm's still in the dungeon too. I know you want to protect Tyrion, but he'll need to know soon or later about what's happening" said Arya
Sansa nodded, though her eyes were sad "You're both right. If he doesn't ask, I'll tell him everything before Bran comes. I'd execute Grey Worm but we may need him as evidence against Gawan and Robin. I hoped we'd have caught them by now and he wouldn't need to worry about them ever again"
"He doesn't need to worry; they're not getting anywhere near him" said Arya, fiddling with needle at her side
"Lord Tyrion's only concern should be his recovery" agreed Maester Wolkan "he's suffered a terrible trauma - that cannot be ignored if he is to heal"
Sansa slumped at Wolkan's words and Arya felt some sympathy with her sister. She'd confided her fears to Arya that Tyrion may never accept her love or affection and she'd done her best to console her older sister. As much as Arya understood why Sansa's behaviour had been so twisted since becoming Queen her remorse alone couldn't wash away what she'd done. It would take time and a lot of patience, but Arya was confident the real Sansa Stark could do it.
Following the meeting with Arya and Wolkan, Sansa made her way back to her chambers as quickly as she could. Tyrion had been awake when she left and reluctantly she'd left him alone for a few hours. He'd made his choice to stay at Winterfell and Sansa knew she couldn't live her life constantly watching him in case he disappeared. Leaving him alone for a little while would hopefully show Tyrion she trusted him and start to break the idea that this was his prison.
There was much that she needed to discuss with Tyrion. Telling him of Bran's visit was the first thing to do, but she would need to talk to him about their relationship sooner or later. She loved Tyrion, and she knew he cared for her too, but the circumstances of their marriage and the subsequent bedding threatened to drive a permanent wedge between them. It would be a difficult talk - Sansa had no doubt about that. Her biggest fear was driving Tyrion further away to a place where she couldn't reach him.
Sansa was contemplating how to possibly have that much needed talk with Tyrion when voices at the top of the stairs caught her attention. Her footsteps echoed as she made it to the top, while her eyes zeroed in on the source of the voices. Two Winterfell guards with long brown hair were having what appeared to be a heated discussion.
"You ask"
"No way - you're older"
"You spoke to her once before and survived"
"That was different. It's your turn"
The young men didn't seem to notice her approach until she was stood before them, clearing her throat subtly to catch their attention. Immediately they straightened up, looking between each other as if imagining the other's head on a spike. A large, older man wearing a guard's uniform was stood a short distance behind them, shaking his head at their display.
"Good evening" she greeted
"Good evening, your Grace" they chorused, voices trembling
A flash of her childhood swept through her mind, reminding her of the camaraderie and mutual respect her father had shared with the guards and household staff of Winterfell. All she'd achieved was a reign of fear and rebellion.
"Can I help you with anything?" she asked
"Um…no…thank you…your Grace" started one of the men, who she vaguely recognised as the one who had come to her chambers with news of Tyrion
The other looked slightly younger, but they were obviously brothers "we were just…you know"
"I'm afraid I don't know"
Sansa bit her cheek, trying to not show her sadness at their fear of her. The younger one was familiar too - he'd been sitting with Tyrion when he was brought back to Winterfell. Arya knew both of them, but for the life of her Sansa couldn't remember either of their names. The larger man had been stood a little back from them, but now he stepped forwards clamping a hand down on each of them.
"Gods be good - you two are hopeless" he muttered, before turning to her "Pardon us, your Grace we were wondering how lord Tyrion fares?"
The younger men both let out a relieved sigh at their friend's intervention, while the older looking brother turned to her with pleading eyes "We heard he'd suffered a sickness"
"That's true - he was very sick, but he should recover now"
"Good to hear, your Grace" said the larger man, a scruffy dark beard covered most of his face "we was worried for him"
The younger brother nodded, adding quietly "He's our friend"
"Oh" said Sansa, taking in their faces and finding only concern for her husband. It warmed her heart to see that these men cared for Tyrion. When bringing him North she'd worried the Northerners wouldn't accept him, but her fears appeared to be unfounded.
"Sorry to bother you, your Grace" said the large man, bowing his head and tugging at the younger men "Come on lads, we've got a duty to do. Best leave the Queen in peace"
"Wait!" said the younger one, slipping out of his grip to face her once more "Queen Sansa…if you see lord Tyrion will you…maybe…please tell him we miss him…that we're here for him if he needs us"
The young guard looked like a rabbit being hunted as he faced her, but friendship with Tyrion had apparently overcome his fear of her.
"I will tell him" said Sansa, guilt stirring in the pit of her stomach "though much to my embarrassment I fear I'll need to ask the names of his friends"
"Thank you, your Grace. My name's Cayn" said the younger guard, flashing her a smile before pointing to his brother "this is Lyle"
"I'm Brice, your Grace" said the older man, shooting a look at Cayn "Sorry for disturbing you, we'll be on our way"
The three turned to depart, when an idea clicked into place.
"Wait" she called, as they all turned to face her "Is what Cayn said true - you're all friends of my husband?"
"Yes, your Grace. Alec's his friend too, but he's leading the hunt for the ones who took him" said Lyle, as Brice nodded
Sansa's heart swelled with pride that Tyrion had earned such acceptance and loyalty, followed swiftly by shame for not knowing how her husband spent his free time in Winterfell. She knew he went to the practice yard and had been learning to use a sword only because Arya told her – she knew very little of who Tyrion was these days. She had a second chance though; she could make it right.
"Perhaps you would be able to assist me then" said Sansa "There are duties I must attend to as Queen and Tyrion must stay in bed while he heals. I don't want to leave him on his own too much...particularly after what's he suffered. Would any of you want to visit him?"
Sansa didn't want this to be an order, but she hoped having his friends spend time with him might help him recover and lift his spirits. Whatever worries she had faded to nothing as Cayn and Lyle's faces lit up at the suggestion, and Brice grinned at her.
"Yes, your Grace – I think we'd all like to see him" said Brice
"Very good" she said, smiling at the men "I'm sure he'd like some company besides me and Arya"
The guards bowed their thanks and Sansa bid them a good night. It was an unexpected development but the more she thought on it the better the idea seemed. The men had seemed eager to see Tyrion and perhaps having other people to talk to might help him move past what he'd suffered in the Wolfswood.
The door to her chambers came into sight and sweat crept down her spine as she moved down the corridor. The chat with the guards had temporarily distracted her from her main fear; an empty bed. Easing the door open she let out a breath at finding Tyrion sat up in bed engaged in an important chat with Lyon.
"Give me your paw" commanded Tyrion, holding out his right hand
Obediently Lyon's paw rose as well pushing against his outstretched hand.
"Busy night?" asked Sansa, stepping into her chambers
Her husband was grinning as he looked up at her "Sansa, you need to see this!"
Her heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice and she halted her entrance to see what he wanted to show her.
Tyrion looked the wolf straight in the eyes as he spoke "Lyon – find Sansa"
The wolf tilted its head to one side before ambling off the bed and coming to her feet, his head twisting back to see his master's approval.
"Hello" said Sansa, reaching down to scratch behind his ears – not that the wolf had any interest in her attention.
"Good boy" said Tyrion "now return"
Immediately Lyon bolted from Sansa and scrambled back onto the bed beside Tyrion, brushing against him for attention which Tyrion quickly gave. There was something about seeing her husband with his direwolf that warmed her heart – particularly after his initial reluctance towards the creature.
"Well, I see you've been busy" said Sansa, climbing onto her side of the bed next to Tyrion, who was now tickling Lyon's stomach as the wolf lay on his back – eagerly claiming his reward for following orders.
"I thought Lyon may need some training" said Tyrion, the corners of his mouth turning upwards
"What've you been teaching him?" she asked, keen to keep conversing with him
"Basic things – lie down, stand up, give me your paw and find Sansa"
"How did you teach him to find me?"
At that her husbands face grew red "Oh...I may have encouraged him to sniff your pillow to get your scent. It's possible he got overenthusiastic"
Sansa glanced at the pillow before raising an eyebrow at him "You'd have me believe this drool is Lyon's and not yours?"
"If that was my drool on your pillow you'd know about it - I produce far more than he does"
"I'll take your word for it. He's very clever to learn so much so quickly"
"Direwolves are an intelligent species..." he started, before stopping himself "I'm sorry, you had a direwolf and lost her – of course you know what brilliant creatures they are"
The smile dropped from his face as though guilty of enjoying his new friend. Sansa still missed Lady, but it had been many years ago and she wanted Tyrion to love his direwolf. For a moment she'd seen a glimmer of the old Tyrion, but before her eyes he was retreating back into his shell.
"Lady was obedient but she still needed more training than Lyon. You'll have to show Arya – she was hopeless at training Nymeria" said Sansa, leaning closer to him in the bed
"Perhaps" he said quietly, still stroking the wolf's fur
It hurt to see his defences going up again - training Lyon had obviously consumed him for the past few hours, distracting him from whatever darkness plagued his mind. Now the melancholy descended on him once more, extinguishing the brief excitement he'd had. At the very least, Sansa had a little more hope that in time he could heal - though it would certainly take more than a night. Even now Tyrion looked exhausted as he sat next to her, and no matter what he said Sansa knew his injuries must be paining him.
"I ran into some of your friends on my way back" she said, trying to draw him back into a conversation "Three men called Cayn, Lyle and Brice"
"Oh"
"They were worried about you. They asked me to let you know they miss you and are here if you need them"
Tyrion fiddled with the sling holding his arm in place "That was kind of them"
"I thought it might be nice if they came to see you" she continued "You won't be able to leave the bed for a while, but there's no reason you can't see your friends"
"I'm sure they have better things to do" he mumbled "I'm hardly exciting company"
Sansa swallowed, reaching across and clasping Tyrion's right hand, gently guiding it from the bandages he was fiddling with "I love your company. When you were gone everything seemed wrong without you"
Tyrion said nothing, but his eyes appeared far away as she gripped his hand.
"The main reason I wanted you in the North was so you'd be close to me" she said
"You wanted me to help you rebuild it - I fear I haven't done much on that count"
'If only you knew you're the one stopping a rebellion against me' she thought, warring with her decision to not tell him what was going on.
"That's not true. You're an excellent lord of Winterfell" she said instead
Looking at his pale face she hardened her resolve - he wasn't ready yet, and he hadn't asked her anything about Robin, Gawan or Grey Worm since he was brought back. They lapsed into silence, and Sansa continued gripping his hand - unsure how to continue. There was so much that needed to be said, but it couldn't all be fixed in a single conversation - maybe not a single lifetime.
"Tyrion" she started, rubbing her thumb over his hand "I know you don't want to talk about what happened to you in the Wolfswood - but I think you need to. If not to me then talk to Arya or your friends or someone; but please don't try to push it away. I've tried that myself and all it did was turn me to ice inside, blinding me to the truth of what I was becoming"
"I'm sorry for what you suffered" said Tyrion, finally looking at her "I'm truly sorry Sansa. I'd do anything to change what happened to you"
"If I could change what happened to you, I would too" she said, lifting his hand and kissing it "but we can't - all we can do is pick up the pieces"
Green eyes shining with fear turned to her "I don't know how Sansa. There are so many pieces…"
"Then we'll pick them up together" she promised, as his haunted eyes turned back to Lyon lying across his lap
'Yours and mine' she thought 'I won't leave you alone to face your pain. Never again'
It was two days after he arrived at Winterfell that lord Karlon Mazin was preparing to ride back to Ramsgate. Sansa stood with Arya in the courtyard to see him off as he swung onto his horse. The young lord wanted nothing to do with her and had remained mostly in the guest room until him and his horse were rested enough to return home.
"I thank you again my lord for the support of your house and for bringing this matter to my attention" said Sansa
"My father and I refused their offer of rebellion against you out of respect for lord Tyrion and nothing more" he said, a scowl curving across his face
"I understand" said Sansa, tugging her cloak tighter around her against the cold "House Mazin's loyalty will not be forgotten"
"As you say, your Grace"
Sansa fought back a sigh - the young man would not believe her words. Not that he had any reason to. His family's loyalty to the Starks had cost him two older brothers and left their house forgotten as she focused her attention on the major houses. This time it would be different. This time she wouldn't forget.
"Lord Mazin, does your father intend to send any reply to the Dreadfort?" asked Arya
"Yes, he will send a refusal when I return"
Arya nodded "Good. We're going to send people to the Dreadfort on the off chance Robin or Gawan are waiting for the reply there"
"I hope you catch those bastards" he grunted "the girl from Ramsgate they were going to sell into slavery is only young. I hear she's still traumatised from the experience - one of my guard's daughters"
"I'm truly sorry for her suffering" said Sansa "but you can tell her the guilty will be punished and slavery will not be tolerated in the North"
"Aye. From what I heard, that girl was one of the last to escape and one of their men caught hold of her in the Wolfswood. Lord Tyrion freed her and stayed behind to fight. For his sake and all the girls who suffered I wish you success against them"
Sansa stepped forwards; lifting a letter sealed with the Direwolf sigil towards the young lord "This letter is for your father - would you mind delivering it to him?"
Lord Mazin gazed at the letter for a moment before accepting it "As the Queen commands"
"Thank you, my lord" said Sansa, stepping back as the young man urged his horse forwards and out of the gate.
Despite Arya and Maester Wolkan's assurances that a rebellion would not happen, Sansa couldn't shake the fear that they weren't safe. Wrapping her arms around herself, Sansa watched the retreating form of lord Mazin. Her indifference to the people she swore to protect could plunge the North into civil war.
'Father, what would you do?'
Tyrion grimaced at the sight of the long scar that curved downwards across his chest and ribs.
"It's healing well, my lord. Another week perhaps and you may not need the bandages to cover it" said Wolkan
"Wait till Lyle sees, he'll be so jealous" chirped Cayn as the young man sat on the chair beside the bed
"Why on Earth would he be jealous?" said Tyrion
"He thinks he's a hard man cause he's got a scar like this big on the back of his leg" said Cayn holding his thumb and finger about an inch apart "You've easily got him beat with that"
"Would he like to swap? I have plenty he can choose from"
"You're looking at this all wrong - in the North scars say how tough you are"
"Hmm, and here I thought they said; you're not as clever as you once thought"
"No way! Besides Northern ladies love a tough man - ask the Queen" insisted Cayn, as Wolkan finished wrapping the bandages around his chest once more
Tyrion rolled his eyes "Yes - that would surely go well. If Sansa loves tough men she married the wrong man"
"I don't know Tyrion, word of your daring deeds has spread far and wide across the North" said Cayn, nudging him with a grin "Just yesterday I had to break a young maiden's heart by refusing to sneak her in here to see you"
Heat crept up Tyrion's neck at what his friend was saying "A likely story - I'm sure you were there to console the poor girl"
Cayn shrugged "I tried but she only had eyes for you"
Tyrion had been reluctant to let his friends see him, particularly after they'd found him in the Wolfswood. They'd seen him at one of the lowest points in his life where he'd been utterly broken and humiliated - he hadn't wanted to see the disgust in their eyes. Sansa had insisted on letting them visit and for the past few days a different friend had come to see him. Yesterday Lyle had come and updated him on what he was missing in the practice yard, while Brice had visited the day before and told him tales of the wars he'd fought in and complained about the clueless green boys playing at war in the villages. Today Cayn had come to see him and the Maester had arrived not long after to check his injuries. Whatever fears he'd had of the men scorning him had quickly disappeared. Much to his surprise they all seemed eager to see him and had quickly brushed aside his words that they needn't bother. He was their friend, they insisted, that's what friends do.
"The slash on your arm has healed enough that the dressing is no longer needed, my lord" said Wolkan, prodding the area on his upper arm now marred by a vicious scar.
"Do you think Lyle wants this one too?" asked Tyrion
"He's an attention whore - he'd have them all if he could" said Cayn
"That's funny; he says the same about you"
"You know I'm right"
Despite his reservations Tyrion found he enjoyed these visits with his friends. As much as he appreciated Sansa's continued fussing over him, communicating with her was never as easy as talking to the men or even Arya. It was a different relationship, he realised. Sansa told him every day she loved him and her actions gave no indication she was lying, but her affection towards him caused him guilt all the same. He was broken, damaged and his heart was in tatters.
'She could do better than you' whispered his inner sceptic 'her love is only pity for the poor dwarf who got hurt'
Tyrion was trying his hardest to not listen to that dark voice anymore - the voice that had so nearly led him out of Winterfell and away from Sansa. Instead he tried to find the flicker of hope hiding within him. He had to try. Choosing to stay at Winterfell had been his choice, and now he needed to try to be the man Sansa deserved - however hopeless it seemed.
"Tyrion" called Cayn, drawing him from his thoughts "why doesn't Lyon like me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look" said Cayn, turning his attention to the golden direwolf sat across the room from the bed "Lyon, here!"
The wolf's ears pricked up at the sound of his name, but he made no move to go to Cayn.
"I think he's confusing me with Lyle you know" said Cayn, crossing his arms "I carried him back to Winterfell - I though we bonded"
"That's unlikely" said Wolkan, moving his attention to Tyrion's ankle "direwolves are intelligent creatures - he would not have confused you with your brother"
"You're not that similar anyway" said Tyrion "I could always tell you apart"
"You're a clever sod though. Even Mother still confuses us"
Tyrion straightened up in the bed, his body creaking sorely at the movement. Some meagre strength was returning to him, but he still needed help to do nearly everything.
"Watch and learn" said Tyrion, holding his right hand towards the wolf "Lyon!"
Immediately the direwolf shot across the room and clambered up beside Tyrion, pushing against his hand with a small bark.
"Show off" said Cayn, ruffling the wolf's fur "Don't you remember me Lyon? I thought we were friends"
Lyon merely cocked his head to one side before gazing at Tyrion once more
"Yes, he's a friend" Tyrion told him "You don't need to bite his fingers off"
The wolf's ears drooped at the news and Cayn leaned back from him.
"I know it's disappointing" continued Tyrion, stroking his back "I'm sure there'll be other fingers to bite in the future"
"Dunno what's creepier - you talking to Lyon like he understands you, or the fact he actually understands you"
Tyrion eyebrows rose "Oh, he thinks we're creepy Lyon. How many fingers do you think that will cost?"
Cayn tilted back in the chair as Lyon jumped on him, licking at his face.
"Lyon! I don't need a bath" protested Cayn, grappling with the wolf
"I wouldn't be so sure" muttered Wolkan
Tyrion grinned at his friend "You did want his attention Cayn"
Sansa had been pretending to sleep for several hours when Tyrion began squirming in his sleep beside her. Worry for the North was a constant strain on her mind, haunting her throughout the night as it did during the day. But that paled in comparison to her worry over Tyrion's welfare; he was her priority – always. He made no sound but the moonlight creeping in through the window illuminated the tightness of his face as he twisted beside her. Things were marginally improving between them. While Tyrion was still withdrawn and reluctant to accept her affection, they did speak more - if only about trivial things. Reaching out she stroked his cheek shuffling closer to him in the bed.
"Shh, you're ok Tyrion" she said, as he shuddered next to her
Tyrion needed a lot of rest at the moment, which meant he often slept through much of the day and night. Sansa had taken to doing some small pieces of work from their chambers and her own sleepless nights meant she was no longer a stranger to the nightmares that haunted him. He never cried out or made any noise but his body would tense and shake while his mind was trapped in a dream. Over the past few days she'd found stroking his face or whispering reassurances would sometimes soothe him back to sleep, but occasionally he would wake up in a panic. When that happened she would always ask if he wanted to talk about it, hoping he might confide in her. So far she'd had little success, with Tyrion politely declining her offers and apologising for disturbing her.
His face contorted into a look of horror and Sansa propped herself up in the bed, running her hand down his face.
"Tyrion" she called "wake up"
A few moments passed before his eyes shot open. His chest heaving as he drew in short shuddering breaths "Sansa?"
"I'm here" she said "You're safe"
"Sorry" he said, glancing around their dark chambers "did I wake you?"
"No, I was awake"
It must have been a particularly bad dream. Tyrion's face was pale in the moonlight, and she lowered her hand to his chest where his heart thudded quickly against her fingertips.
"That seemed like a bad dream" she said "it might help to talk about it"
"It's not very pleasant"
Indecision tore across his face, and Sansa's heart leapt that he hadn't outright refused. Deciding to push him a little further, she snuggled close to his broken side, wrapping her left arm carefully around his waist as she dropped her head next to his ear. She didn't want to make Tyrion uncomfortable but she hated the look of fear on his face when he had nightmares - she wanted to comfort him. He didn't protest her embrace as his breathing grew steady once more.
"You can tell me anything" she coaxed, feeling the tension in his body
Tyrion turned his face away from her and she feared that was the end of the conversation, but much to her surprise he began to speak.
"I was in the wolfswood - in the stables" he said quietly "Gawan was crouching over me with a knife, humming the rains of Castamere. He wanted me to tell him, but I wouldn't. I was in chains; I couldn't move"
Sansa said nothing but rubbed her hand over Tyrion's side, letting him know she was here; he was safe.
"He took the knife and ran it over my breeches. He said he'd have to take extreme measures…" Tyrion trailed off, his voice dropping to almost a whisper "he said he'd cut off my…cock and balls… and send them to you as a wedding gift. He pushed the knife into the laces of my breeches. I could feel the tip of the knife pricking my skin - it was so cold. One thrust and I'd never…be whole again"
"It was just a dream" she said, drawing Tyrion tightly against her "a horrible dream"
Sansa's own heart was pounding at the vivid, terrible nightmare he'd had. No wonder he looked so shaken. Her husband shook his head, refusing to look at her.
"Not a dream" he breathed "a memory"
Sansa's body froze as an icy terror gripped her heart. No. That couldn't be true…it was just a bad dream, wasn't it? One look at Tyrion's frightened face told her it was true. A desperate fear overtook Sansa and she fought the urge to pull Tyrion's breeches down and check everything was there. She took in a deep breath, fighting to control her emotions. They hadn't done it; she'd seen Tyrion naked several times since then. Wolkan had checked him thoroughly. He was fine; he was safe.
"I'm so sorry" she whispered, tightening her hold on him
"If he'd done it, I'd be useless to you" said Tyrion, sucking in a breath "I couldn't give you children"
Was that all he thought he was to her - a means of producing children?
'Of course he does' whispered her mind 'that's how you treated him'
"If they'd...hurt you like that" she said "it wouldn't have changed anything. I love you – not your ability to produce children"
"Gawan said he'd make me smooth down there" said Tyrion, shuddering in her grasp "he didn't in the end…said I was too disgusting for him to touch. So he cut my face open instead"
Sansa's stomach rolled violently as Tyrion's story sunk in. They'd nearly mutilated her husband; her sweet, kind Tyrion. An image of Theon Greyjoy after the same had been done to him came to mind, and Sansa fought the urge to be sick. Theon had been a broken man after Ramsay was through with him. Only a glimmer of the real Theon had remained at the end. Knowing those monsters had hurt Tyrion at all turned her blood to ice…but the idea of doing that to him.
"They're monsters" she said, nuzzling her face against his neck "what they did to you was inhuman, but you're safe now. Do you have that dream often?"
Tyrion nodded, though he still wouldn't look at her "Sometimes it changes from what actually happened…sometimes he does it"
They lay silently for a few minutes with Sansa rubbing her hand soothingly down his right side.
"Tyrion…" she said, unsure whether to ask "what did they want you to tell them?"
"I told the women of a hidden path in the Wolfswood…if they found it they might escape. They knew I'd helped the women escape, they wanted to know where they were"
"You wouldn't tell them" she said, a mixture of horror and pride filling her as some pieces came together
"Never told them anything" he said "those girls were innocent. Some as young as Myrcella was the last time I saw her"
His voice broke at the mention of his niece and Sansa leaned closer to him, pressing a long kiss to his damp cheek.
"Is that why they hurt you so badly, my love?"
Tyrion nodded, subtly leaning into her and Sansa decided to not ask any more questions tonight. She'd been desperate for him to confide in her, and he finally had - though the image his words painted was sure to haunt her.
"You're so very brave" she said, gently turning his face to look at her "to sacrifice yourself to save those girls. I'm very proud of you my love"
"I didn't feel brave" he whispered, green eyes shining at her "…I was scared"
Sansa's heart broke at his confession, and she ran her hand through his golden hair "I can't imagine how awful that was for you"
"I was sad too…" he said, glancing at her nervously as though afraid to say whatever he was thinking "When the knife was in my breeches…"
"You can tell me anything" she promised
Tyrion wouldn't meet her eyes as he mumbled "I was sad I might never be a father"
"I thought you didn't want children" she said gently "Would you like to be a father?"
"I don't know" he said, biting his lip "I thought I didn't until the chance was nearly taken from me"
Sansa's heart leapt that he wasn't completely opposed to children, but he'd said it so nervously - as if afraid she was going to demand an heir from him immediately. A grimace covered his face, demonstrating his newly conflicted feelings over children and Sansa wondered whether now was the time to apologise for bedding him. She desperately needed to talk to him about it, but perhaps tonight wasn't the right time. His dream had been horrible enough without her reminding him of how she took him in the bed - particularly when he was letting her comfort him.
"You'd be a wonderful father" she told him, stroking the side of his face "I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner Tyrion"
"Not your fault" he whispered
"You shouldn't have had to suffer any of this"
"It doesn't matter. It's over" he said shaking his head "I'm sorry, I've kept you from sleeping"
"Don't apologise - I'm quite happy lying here with you" she said
The corners of Tyrion's mouth tugged upwards "Thank you…for not leaving me"
"I will never leave you. Why would I?"
Tyrion shifted in her grasp, looking away from her "I never wanted you to see me like this - to see me so weak. I promised to protect you"
"I know you'll protect me - I trust you more than anyone else" she said "but I get to protect you too"
"Do you know where my family put me after the battle of blackwater?" he whispered "My face was split in half - I was unconscious for days. The first thing they did was take the hand of the king badge from me and throw me in a small, dark room so father could have the hand's chambers. I nearly died trying to save the city and do my duty to them - and they threw me away and forgot about me"
A glimmer of understanding came to Sansa as if Tyrion had just handed her a puzzle piece she didn't know she was missing. She'd heard in Kings Landing that Tyrion had suffered an injury and his father had claimed his role as Hand, but at the time she'd cared nothing for their family drama. Now it angered her. It was hard to imagine being hurt so badly and then left alone as if you didn't matter. Was that what he was afraid of? He thought she'd take the opportunity to get rid of him?
"Is that why you didn't want to come home? Arya said you told them to leave you there"
Tyrion drew in on himself, but Sansa merely tightened her grip
"I thought you'd be disgusted by me" he said "I thought I'd let you down"
"Never" she promised, kissing his cheek "Your family were awful to you, weren't they?"
Her husband nodded slightly "Except Jamie. When I woke up in Kings Landing only Podrick helped me. Bronn and Varys visited a couple of times - but father never came to see me. Cersei only came because she heard I was going to talk to father"
"I'm so sorry"
"I don't tell you this because I want your pity" he said, voice breaking "I just want you to know… I am trying. Past experience has made me wary that anything I love can be taken from me - makes me reluctant to get attached"
"I understand" she said as her eyes grew warm "thank you for trusting me"
Tyrion lapsed into silence but Sansa's heart warmed at his words. While he hadn't said it outright, it was clear to her what he meant - and his care for her meant everything.
"Can I hold you while you sleep?" she asked, noting the tiredness in his face "It might help you sleep better"
Her husband nodded warily and Sansa adjusted her grip so she wouldn't aggravate his injuries.
"Good night Sansa" he whispered, tilting his head away from her as his eyes closed
"Sleep well, my love" she said "You're safe; you're home"
Sansa lay awake long after Tyrion fell asleep in her arms. She'd longed for him to talk about what he'd endured during his imprisonment, but she'd never imagined the depths of the horror. The idea of being sent Tyrion's severed manhood…
It had taken time and patience, but they'd made a start in healing. Sansa carefully filed away the information she'd learned tonight. The time for vengeance would come and every hurt inflicted on her husband would be paid back tenfold. Until then she would continue taking care of Tyrion, hoping he would continue to open up to her.
Bran smiled reading the reply from Sansa. Much like his own it spared no empty words, but the words it did contain gave him reason to smile.
"Is that a genuine smile, your Grace or one that means some type of disaster is coming?"
"I'd say genuine"
"You're going North, aren't you?" said Ser Davos with a sigh
"It appears so"
"When will you leave?"
"In five days time. Give these instructions to the smith with regards to Ser Jamie's sword and have it sent on to Winterfell" said Bran, passing the letter to his hand
"Very good, your Grace. Can I ask who's going with you?"
"You will accompany me"
"As you say, your Grace"
"As will Ser Podrick, Ser Brienne and the master of coin. We'll bring a small number of guards as well"
Bran watched the despair that crossed the older man's face at the news of his travelling companions.
"I suspect this will be an eventful journey" said Davos, reaching for the wine on the table between them "Starting to see why lord Tyrion drinks so much"
"Used to - he hasn't touched wine since he left Kings Landing" said Bran "I fear being my hand is rather a cruel punishment"
"It's a great honour" said Davos "I'm not sure I'm the right man for it truth be told"
"You were the only man for it after Sansa took my first choice"
"I'm still flattered to be your second choice, your Grace"
Ser Davos might not have been his first choice, but he was a good hand. It had taken some getting used to and the small council were prone to bickering, but Bran was satisfied everyone was in the right place.
"Dare I ask who's going to be in charge while we venture North?"
"Sam is Grand Maester - he will keep the six kingdoms together in our absence"
"Good thing you're bringing lord Bronn with us. Can you imagine leaving him in charge?"
"For all I can see, that's one thing I'd rather not"
Their trip North wasn't truly necessary, but Bran suspected it was needed. Besides it had been a long time since he saw his family. Arya would be excited to see him, and Bran had yet to greet Tyrion as his new brother. Sansa was the only concern. Her decisions could yet prove disastrous for the North, and her mistreatment of Tyrion annoyed him - he'd trusted her after all.
"Would you like to break the news to the small council, or should I?"
"Might be better coming from you, your Grace" said Ser Davos, leaning back in the chair "I'm going to have to find my heavy clothes again. Did I mention its bloody cold up North, and I'm getting old?"
"It's only cold if you're not a Northerner"