Rise & Fall

by rhaellion

Post Season 8 - Sansa Stark is set to be crowned Queen in the North, following Bran's election as King. As Queen she has big plans for the North and those plans change the fate of Tyrion Lannister - a broken man following the deaths of his family and Queen.

23. Chapter 23

A/N - This chapter only covers half of what I wanted it to, but it was getting too big. Let me know if you're still enjoying this story!

---

Chapter 23

Sat in her favourite chair by the hearth, Sansa continued to stare at the letter in her hands - her mind focused on the conversation across the room.

"Lyon's cute" giggled Nessa

"Say hello to Nessa"

A little bark sounded and the corners of Sansa's mouth twitched upwards. She'd insisted to Tyrion that he let his friends visit him and she knew it had been the right choice, however reluctant he'd been at first. Fatigue continued to drag Tyrion to sleep throughout the day, but when he was awake she'd found visits with his friends distracted him from the melancholy that otherwise hung around him. The night before, Tyrion had told Sansa of the nightmare he'd suffered, which proved to be a memory. Her stomach still twisted at the thought of her husband being butchered in such a manner.

Glancing across the room, she could see Tyrion and Nessa chatting happily as he introduced his squire to Lyon. She liked seeing him so engaged and cheerful even if it was only temporary. She'd found over the days following his illness Tyrion was prone to moods. Sometimes he was more willing to converse with her and accept her affection, yet other times he would retreat completely. When that happened, Sansa could see his mind was far away and several times she'd considered pushing him for his thoughts. Rather than push him before he was ready she'd sit quietly next to him - a reminder she was here if he needed her. Things were slowly improving, although her husband still often looked out of place in his home, regardless of her gentle reminders this was where he belonged.

"When you're better are you going to bring Lyon to see mother and Ethan?" asked Nessa

"Do you think they'd want to see him?"

"Yes! Direwolves are magical"

Tyrion laughed "Don't tell Lyon that, there'll be no living with him if he thinks he's magical"

Reluctantly, Sansa turned away from the scene. The girl was still wary of her, but relaxed instantly with Tyrion. Seeing them together filled her with a strange loss. Her red flower had been several days late, and fear had wound through Sansa that she was pregnant. When her monthly blood arrived this morning a mixture of relief and sadness had stirred in her heart. She'd always wanted to be a mother and a few weeks ago she was willing to do anything necessary to take a child from Tyrion. Now the thought of having a child conceived through the vile means she'd used sent a shudder down her spine. How could she expect Tyrion to look at his child without relieving the pain she'd caused him to produce one?

Sansa had already resolved to never repeat the act again after seeing how hurt he was the last time she forcibly joined with him. What he'd suffered since then had only strengthened that commitment and filled her with shame for doing it in the first place. Her mother had spoken of the night she conceived Robb with such fondness - she wanted the same for them. Sansa was well aware Tyrion would likely never want to join with her in the marriage bed after her treatment of him and she would never force him again. She'd come to terms with the idea that her life would be childless; but at least she'd have Tyrion. That was enough for her - it was still more than she deserved.

She bit her lip hearing the quiet voices chatting away at the bed. Despite her resolve her heart ached at the prospect of never being a mother. She knew Tyrion would be a great father and last night he'd admitted his sadness at the option nearly being taken from him. Tyrion had looked so confused when he confessed that to her; as if afraid she was going to climb on top of him then and there. They desperately needed to talk about it, but the time never seemed right. Telling her of Gawan's cruelty last night had been a big step for him - a sign that he trusted her even a little to share something so deeply disturbing. Her mind kept coming up with excuses to delay the conversation they needed to have; most centred around driving Tyrion away from her once more, but he needed to know there was nothing to fear from her ever again.

'Don't worry Tyrion. You're safe' she thought 'I'll protect you from all the monsters - even me'

---

When Tyrion peeled open his eyes it was to find an unexpected face sat at his bedside.

"Alec?" he said groggily

"Been awhile hasn't it?" said the captain of the Winterfell guard, smiling at him

Clumsily Tyrion fumbled with his right hand to push himself upwards in the bed, once again cursing the sling that immobilised his left.

"Need a hand?" said Alec

"No, I'm fine" said Tyrion, determined to do it himself

It took longer than Tyrion wanted but he eventually managed to prop himself upright against the headboard, though the effort had tired him already. Glancing around the chamber he saw no sign of Sansa, and he wondered how long Alec had sat waiting for him to wake up. Much of his days seemed to be spent sleeping unfortunately.

Tyrion turned his attention to Alec. His appearance was a bit more unkempt than usual and his clothes were dusty and travel worn.

"Just got back?" asked Tyrion

"Aye, I would've come to see you sooner otherwise"

"You don't need to see me at all if you don't want"

"We're friends aren't we?" said Alec, eyes studying him

"Yes, we're friends" said Tyrion

"Then why wouldn't I come?"

Tyrion fidgeted with the bandages wrapped around his arm "You saw me in the Wolfswood. You saw how they humiliated me"

"I did" he agreed "there's nothing to be ashamed of though. What they did says everything about them and nothing about you"

Tyrion wasn't entirely sure that was true but he had no desire to reminisce on his experience with them, and decided to change the subject.

"How's your wife?" he asked "I hope she's keeping well"

Alec's face relaxed as he sat back in the chair "She's great. I called to see her before coming to see you"

"You mean I was your second choice?" said Tyrion, mouth turning upwards as he glanced at Alec

"You are. My third choice is a hot bath"

"As long as I'm higher up than Brice" said Tyrion, before rolling his eyes "and yes I realise I'll never be physically higher than Brice"

Alec laughed "It's good to see you"

"You too. I've been inundated with visits from my friends" he said, voice growing quiet "most unexpected really"

"I'd get used to it Tyrion. You'll know no peace until you're back on your feet in the practice yard"

A wave of sadness swept through Tyrion "I don't think I can"

"Why not?"

"Look at the state of me – I can barely sit up" he said, frustration growing in his voice "Sansa's only just stopped having to feed me, my ankle is snapped, wrist and hand are in pieces and they..."

Tyrion trailed off, clamping his mouth shut before anything else spilled out. It was true his continued weakness was bothering him more and more. No matter what Sansa said he hated being a burden to her or being reliant on anyone for that matter.

"and they what?" asked Alec, mouth set in a firm line

"You know what they did"

"No, I only saw the end result"

Tyrion squirmed under his friends gaze. What hadn't they done to him? They'd beaten, humiliated and branded him.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, but I'm here if you want to" said Alec, leaning forward to grip his shoulder

"Thank you" said Tyrion "maybe someday..."

Alec nodded in understanding "Don't worry about your injuries either – there's ways to adapt your sword fighting if they prove an issue"

"You seem quite certain that I'll return to the practice yard"

"Of course you will, your friends won't let you give up. Besides you like learning – you're too curious to give up on something you're interested in"

"That's true. My curiosity has proven rather troublesome"

---

Piles and piles of letters.

They spread from one end of Arya's room to the next, though most centred on the desk.

"Please don't tell me you actually read and answered all these letters yourself?" asked Arya, tilting in her chair to find her sister hidden behind a pile of correspondence

The Queen didn't answer, continuing to stare at a letter before her. Even from a distance Arya could see Sansa wasn't reading it.

"Ignore me then" muttered Arya, turning her attention from her sister

Following lord Mazin's warning that Robin Flint was attempting a rebellion, Arya had thrown herself into finding any clues as to what they might do next. Her first step – which she regretted immensely – was to go through her sister's correspondence. The Queen in the North was meticulous in her work, and for reasons that Arya had no desire to understand kept every single letter she received. This had resulted in Arya spending most of her waking hours shifting through the correspondence to identify any houses that Sansa had ignored – these were the ones most likely to be targeted by Robin and Gawan after all. While her sister was now devoting the majority of her time to Tyrion, she had taken a break today to assist Arya in her search.

A search that was coming up empty.

The Queen kept records of each house and brief details of their correspodence with her, including replies and dates. Even looking at Sansa's organised ruling method, made Arya want to poke holes in all the letters. How could anyone live this way and remain sane? No wonder her sister had been so stressed the past few months – to make things worse she'd been doing it nearly all alone.

"Sansa" she called "Why do we have a Maester?"

Her sister drew her gaze up from Arya's, brow furrowing "What?"

"Why do we have a Maester?"

"Maester's keep records, write correspondence, give advice and they have medical training" explained Sansa as if Arya had lost her senses

"I like Wolkan. Do you?"

"Yes, he's a good Maester – a decent man"

"Good" said Arya, nodding her head "then why don't you trust him to handle some of your work? Surely you don't need to personally keep records of all this shit?"

"Language" said Sansa on reflex "I'm the Queen – I need to do this myself"

"Because you don't trust anyone else"

"That's not true – I trust you and Tyrion"

"Both excellent choices" she agreed "but Sansa, you're running a kingdom yourself when you have people to help you. Do you think Bran is handling everything himself in Kings Landing? No – he has Davos and a small council"

Sansa sighed, rolling her head "What are you saying Arya? I'm in no mood for games"

"I'm saying – you need help. You need a proper council of people you trust to help you with all this"

"There lies the problem. I don't trust anyone but you and Tyrion"

"What about Maester Wolkan? He could help you with all of this record keeping. Alec is the head of the Winterfell guard and he's a good man – add him to your council. Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart are our friends, you know they'd help"

"I can't take that risk" said Sansa, curling her hand closed "I trusted Robin and Gawan and look what happened"

"That wasn't your fault"

"This is all my fault and we both know it" snapped Sansa, snatching another letter of the pile and turning her attention from Arya

'You can't poke a hole in your sister' Arya told herself 'however tempting she makes it'

The sister's lapsed into silence and the younger Stark continued her search through the correspondence. She'd spoken to lord Mazin before he departed and the young lord had struggled to hide his contempt for the Queen. While she did not doubt he was telling the truth, Arya was struggling to find any correspondence from house Mazin at all. Something didn't add up, but there was still heaps more letters to go through. It would take days if not weeks to do a thorough search.

Turning her gaze to Sansa, Arya noted she was once more pretending to read a letter.

"What's wrong Sansa?" she said "we both know you're not reading that"

The Queen slumped in her chair, fiddling with her hands "Do you think Tyrion is afraid of me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"He never seems completely comfortable around me" she said, turning her gaze to the table "It's like he expects me to suddenly turn on him"

"Have you apologised to him yet?"

"I've apologised for..."

"For raping him?"

Sansa's expression grew tight "No...I need to, it just never seems the right time"

"He deserves an apology at least"

"I know" she sighed "he deserves a lot more, but I don't want to scare him away. He's starting to trust me"

"You just said he's not completely comfortable around you"

"I mean he's better than he was"

Arya tapped her fingers on the table. Sansa was very smart, but for some reason her wits deserted her when it came to her husband. It was hard to compare the Sansa before her now to the emotional girl she'd once been – the years had been cruel to her; and somewhere along the way she'd detached from her emotions. As far as Arya was concerned the situation with Tyrion was fairly obvious. He had very little self-esteem and had lost the sense of identity he'd always clung to. Everything was new and unfamiliar to him, including his place in their family. His insecurities could be dealt with in time, but Sansa had to confront her own crimes against him.

"Sansa, if you want Tyrion to trust you completely it will take a long time. You've seen how insecure he is right now"

"I know – I just don't want him to be nervous around me. I'm his wife; I can help him"

Arya's heart twisted at the pain and remorse spread across Sansa's face "You know how to start fixing that"

"I need to apologise"

Arya nodded "You do – he needs to know that won't happen again"

"It won't" said Sansa, expression darkening "Never again"

"Good. Are you going to actually read any letters now?"

Her sister's gaze moved to the door "Maybe I should check on him"

"He's fine" said Arya, rolling her eyes "He's probably trying to teach Lyon to read or something"

"Tyrion loves him" said Sansa, a bitter smile crossing her face "I think he trusts Lyon more than me"

"Well you know how to fix that" said Arya, lounging back in her chair "If you're really jealous, I can ask Tyrion to scratch you behind the ears every once in a while"

"You're impossible" huffed Sansa, a tinge of red colouring her cheeks

"You're not actually jealous of Lyon? Gods, Sansa..."

"He fell asleep the other night curled around Lyon" said Sansa, eyes sparking with fondness "it was adorable but-"

"You want him to curl around you" finished Arya, rolling her eyes "You need to earn his trust – you can't demand it"

"I know. I feel awful though – I'm his wife and he finds no comfort with me"

"Give him a reason to then" said Arya "and if you can't..."

"If I can't?" said Sansa, unspoken fear covering her face

"If you can't then try and negotiate a custody agreement with Lyon. You get Tyrion for so many hours a day and Lyon gets the rest. Be prepared though – if Tyrion's been teaching him it'll be a tough negotiation and-"

Arya ducked as her sister's ink pot flew over her head.

"That wasn't very Queen like" said Arya, grinning at her sister "and you missed"

"Did I?"

Arya turned to see the ink had splattered all over her Valyrian steel dagger – and most of the bedding.

"Sansa!"

The Queen rose from her chair, face betraying nothing "I'll leave you to clean up. The servants know you don't like anyone entering your chambers, but I'll remind them all the same"

"This is cruel – you know I hate cleaning"

"Do you?" said Sansa, mouth twitching upwards "I'd stay and help, but as you pointed out I have negotiations to make"

---

The ever growing look of despair on Tyrion's face was breaking Sansa's heart, but her husband was refusing to do anything about it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go look for him?" she asked, moving from her desk to sit on the edge of the bed beside her husband

Tyrion was fiddling with his lion blanket when she sat down "No, its fine. If Lyon wants to come back he will"

"He'll come back" she said, hoping her words were true

As soon as their chamber door had opened this morning, the golden direwolf had shot past the startled servant and out into the corridor. Tyrion had tried to recall his friend to no avail and her husband had grown increasingly anxious as the day progressed.

"Direwolves aren't meant to live indoors" he said, voice heavy "Lyon was getting bigger – it's for the best he's gone back to the wild"

"He's probably just hunting" said Sansa "he'll come back afterwards. All our wolves did the same"

Truth be told Sansa was suprised the direwolf hadn't gone outside sooner. The little creature hadn't left Tyrion's side since they met and her husband had somehow trained him to do his business in a box in the corner of the room. Food and water was brought to their chambers for the wolf every day, but his instincts were to hunt - when he grew bigger he would need more food. Despite her reassurances to Tyrion, doubt gnawed at Sansa. Lyon was rather unusual. He was clearly a direwolf and as Tyrion pointed out he had grown marginally bigger, but he didn't seem as large or powerful as their direwolves had been at that age. If anything he reminded Sansa of Ghost – a loner. When they'd all been together in Winterfell, the Stark wolves had often hunted as a pack, with Ghost the outsider of the group.

Considering his initial reluctance towards the creature, Tyrion had grown very attached to Lyon. From what Sansa could see, the wolf was one of the few things that brought him joy and her husband was at his happiest showing her what tricks Lyon had learned. Several hours had passed since the wolf left and Tyrion's worry for his friend had turned to sadness; as if his last friend had rejected him. She'd offered to go and find Lyon or to send someone out in search of the wolf but Tyrion had refused, saying if Lyon wanted to go he wouldn't keep him here.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like me to read to you?" she asked, moving from the bed towards her bookshelf

Tyrion's eyebrows quirked up "Read?"

"Yes, my love. I'm going to read to you"

"You don't need to do that Sansa. I though you had work to do"

"I'm taking a break" she said, finding a book on Northern heroes and climbing into her side of the bed next to her husband

"Sansa – you needn't bother. I may be rather feeble, but I can still read"

"You can" she agreed, settling against him "but I would like to read to my husband"

Tyrion relented, leaning against the headboard as she opened the book. There wasn't much he could do at the moment given the fatigue that frequently dragged him off to sleep. Some of his strength was returning, but it would take weeks, possibly months for him to recover fully. She'd offered to read to him many times since he returned to Winterfell and he always declined, but today she wouldn't take no for an answer. The sadness across his face at the prospect of losing Lyon was too much to bear. The little wolf had quickly become his closest companion, but Sansa wanted Tyrion to know he could rely on her too – she would never leave him.

As she read, Tyrion's interest picked up and he leaned into her to see some of the accompanying pictures. Sansa gladly obliged, laying the heavy tome across their laps. Sansa was fairly certain Tyrion had read this book before, but he listened attentively nonetheless. At the very least it had temporarily distracted him from his missing friend and given her an excuse to spend some time with him.

When they reached the end Tyrion turned to her, forcing a smile "Thank you Sansa, you didn't need to do that"

"Anytime" she said "I like spending time with you"

Time had flown by as they read and there was still no sign of Lyon. Sansa bit her lip, glancing at her dejected husband. He was trying to hide it, but Sansa could see the worry in his eyes for his missing friend. Losing Lyon would crush him, and she wasn't sure he could take another setback at the moment. She was about to offer to search for Lyon again when a tentative knock sounded on the door.

"Who's there?" called Sansa, straightening up in the bed

It certainly wasn't Arya; who would have barged in, and the knock was too nervous to be the servants or guards.

"It's Nessa" came the timid reply

"Come in Nessa" called Tyrion

The door creaked open and the little girl entered, followed by a familiar golden wolf. Lyon sauntered into the room, heading to his bowl of water as if he hadn't been the cause of his master's distress all day.

"Lyon!" said Tyrion, face lighting up at his direwolf

The little creature barked in greeting before returning to his drink.

"Tyrion, why was Lyon outside?" asked Nessa, taking quick steps towards him

A large parcel was balanced precariously in her skinny arms, which she slid onto the chair at the bedside

"He ran out this morning and I haven't seen him since. I thought he'd left me" said Tyrion, eyes following his wolf

Nessa shook his head "I saw him trying to get into Winterfell through a side gate but it was shut. When I opened it he followed me up here"

"I told you he wouldn't leave" said Sansa, smiling at the relief on her husband's face

"I never considered doors might prove a problem for him" said Tyrion, tilting his head thoughtfully "Lyon, here!"

The wolf darted from his drink and clambered onto the bed, pushing against Tyrion.

"Have you been hunting? I thought you weren't coming back" said Tyrion, stroking his fur

"The door was all scratched" said Nessa "I think he'd been there a while"

"I'd let you in and out myself but I can't at the moment" Tyrion told the wolf "I suppose you'll need to hunt again though"

An idea came to Sansa and she reached across to ruffle the wolf's fur, smiling at Nessa "Maybe your squire could help?"

"I'll help" she said eagerly, bright eyes gazing at Tyrion "What can I do?"

Her husband appeared to have picked up on Sansa's idea, asking Nessa "Are you comfortable with Lyon?"

"He's cute" she said, reaching her hand out to Lyon which he eagerly bumped his nose against

"Would you mind taking him out to hunt? I'll let the rest of Winterfell know too so if they see Lyon they'll open the gates for him" said Sansa

Tyrion turned to Nessa, face serious "Stay close to the castle. If Lyon wanders off, just let him go"

"I will" she said "He's clever, he won't get lost"

Her husband turned his attention to Lyon "You need to keep an eye on Nessa too, understand? Don't let anything happen to her"

Green eyes stared at Tyrion, before he licked at his master's face.

"More training required?" asked Sansa, watching her husband wipe at the drool

"Apparently so"

The little girl turned to leave before her eyes fell on the large package she'd discarded on the chair "Oh, Tyrion! I nearly forgot, this is for you"

Nessa handed the parcel up to Tyrion, her husband pulling it onto his lap.

"What is it?" he asked, brow furrowing

The little girl beamed up at him "Esther asked me to give it to you. I met Lyon on the way up here"

"Thank you Nessa" said Tyrion, nodding at his squire "Will you come here in the morning to take Lyon out?"

"I will" she promised, reaching up to pat the wolf's back "Bye Tyrion! Bye Lyon!"

The girl glanced at the Queen, as if debating whether to say goodbye to her as well. In the end Nessa gave her a little wave before hurrying out the door. Lyon sniffed at the package before jumping off the bed and moving towards the hearth.

"He leaves me all day, and doesn't have the decency to apologise?" grumbled Tyrion

"I know you missed him" said Sansa, leaning closer to Tyrion in the bed "at least he's back now"

"Do you think I could train him to open doors?"

"I'm still not sure how you trained him to do his business in a box"

"Hmm, it's a problem to solve"

Sansa's gaze softened at her husband's happy expression. The reputation he'd earned over the years and his clever mind was enough to make Tyrion seem dangerous to many people - painting him like a cunning monster from a fairy tale. That's not what Sansa saw though. Through the time she'd spent caring for Tyrion, she'd discovered a well hidden innocence in him, particularly when it came to personal relationships - as if the whole concept of family was new to him. It was the clearest to see with Lyon, where her husband often acted like a child with their first pet. Discovering this side of her husband had thrilled Sansa - as if it was a secret only she knew. Aside from the sense of closeness it brought her she found his moments of innocence rather sweet.

"I love you" she said, turning to kiss the top of his head

"Even though I've pouted all morning, and been thouroughly miserable company?"

"Even then" she said with a laugh, turning her attention to the package sat in his lap "Are you going to open it?"

Sansa held it while Tyrion fumbled to untie it with one hand, after a few minutes of struggling he nudged it towards her.

"Would you mind?" he said with a sigh

"Of course"

She made quick work of it and the packaging fell away to reveal a pile of clothes, a note fluttered from the top onto Sansa's lap.

"What does it say?" asked Tyrion, poking at the clothes

"To my favourite little lion, I hope these clothes will be comfortable while you heal" read Sansa "I look forward to your next visit"

Sansa turned to her husband seeing his cheeks burning bright red. She raised an eyebrow "Should I be worried?"

"Absolutely not - Esther is the seamstress"

"You visit her often?" asked Sansa, corners of her mouth lifting into a grin

"She's a kind old woman and rather alone. I call upon her with Nessa sometimes to check she's ok"

Pride swelled in Sansa's chest for her husband. He looked embarrassed by the note but he had no reason to be. It was easy for Sansa to see the respect this woman and the small folk clearly had for her husband even if Tyrion still seemed surprised by it. Sansa had known Tyrion was a good man for a long time; his actions since coming North were finally showing people who he truly was - away from the poison of his family.

"Well, shall we see what she sent her favourite little lion?"

Tyrion groaned at her gentle teasing, pulling at the clothes in the pile. The package contained a few sets of breeches and tunics in dark colours and a lighter set that would be ideal for in their chambers.

"It's very kind of Esther" said Tyrion rubbing the fine material "though I fear getting them on over my broken limbs might prove a problem"

The quality was excellent but Sansa's sharp eyes picked up there was something different about these clothes.

"Not necessarily" she said, gesturing to the sleeves "look here, they're a lot wider than usual and there's some lacing around the cuff"

"I believe this is more your area of expertise than mine"

"It means they're wide enough to go over your bandages and you can pull the cuffs tighter so they don't look too baggy. The breeches are the same"

Tyrion's face lit up in understanding "You mean I can start to wear proper clothes again?"

"When the bandages come off your chest in a few days I think so"

"Good" he said grinning at her "A Queen shouldn't have a half-naked dwarf in her bed"

"It's our bed" she said, brushing her hand over his "and I'm quite fond of the man who shares it with me"

Sansa smiled at her husband's excitement. She knew he hated wearing nothing but the overly large breeches they'd found for him, but his injuries made it difficult to put any clothes on him. The sleeves on his normal tunics were too narrow to force his bandaged arm through and getting his own breeches over his broken ankle was near impossible. He'd somehow struggled into a tunic the night he tried to leave Winterfell, and getting the sleeve off his mangled arm had caused the splints to move. At least with these clothes they would be easier to put on and give him some normalcy. Maester Wolkan had mentioned getting Tyrion out of bed soon and believed the gash across his torso was healing well enough that there was little risk of it reopening.

"It will be nice to wear clothes again" he said, sinking back against the headboard "I shall ask Nessa to deliver a proper thank you to Esther. I wonder how she knew about my clothing issue"

"I suspect Nessa told her"

"Most likely, or perhaps one of the guards"

Part of the reason for his excitement over the clothes was hiding his scars - of that Sansa had no doubt. Whenever anyone came to see him she'd noticed how careful he was to keep his back out of sight, usually pressed against the pillows. Even when they were alone Tyrion tried to avoid letting her see the old scars that covered his back. While Tyrion hadn't told her how he'd got them, both Arya and Wolkan recognised them as lash marks and suspected it had happened to him in Essos.

Then there was the healing brand on the back of his shoulder. The Maester had removed the bandages that covered it and since then Tyrion seemed to have grown even more self-concious of the mark, doing his best to keep it hidden from view. Sansa chewed her lip considering the problem. There had to be some way to help Tyrion be more comfortable in his body. He always seemed on edge; as if he expected her to suddenly find him revolting when the opposite was true. While she'd thought Tyrion handsome enough when she married him, her time caring for him had only increased her attraction. His scars didn't bother her at all, but they clearly bothered him. Since they'd been married he'd never removed his shift in front of her, and now he could dress again she didn't want him to feel the need to hide from her once more.

Shaking her head, Sansa glanced at Tyrion admiring his new clothes beside her. Things couldn't go back to how they were; she'd do whatever she could to make things better.

---

"Tyrion!"

He glanced wildly around, searching for the familiar voice.

"Sansa!" he shouted

He tried to move but a collar around his neck yanked him backwards, as two men came into view guiding Sansa between them. Tyrion's heart thudded at the sight - had they hurt her? Tyrion tore at the collar and chain tethering him to the post, but it refused to budge. He was in the Wolfswood again, why was Sansa her? She shouldn't be here - it was dangerous.

"Queen Sansa" greeted a sneering voice "nice of you to join us"

"Tyrion, what's happening?" called Sansa, looking to him for help

Robin and Gawan emerged from the trees surrounding the area, watching him struggle with satisfaction. The guards were holding Sansa too far away for him to reach, but he continued fighting to reach her – the collar digging painfully into his neck.

"That's easy Sansa" said Robin, smirking at Tyrion as he stepped between them "You have some choices to make. Gawan wants to play a game you see"

"I won't let you hurt her!" shouted Tyrion, wanting nothing more than to kill them both

"Oh, we won't hurt Sansa" said Robin

"You can save the North or you can save the imp. But you can't do both" said Gawan, eyes glinting with madness as he stood beside Sansa.

Sansa's blue eyes locked onto Tyrion's, filled with emptiness "I have a duty"

Gawan clapped his hands together "Let's start"

"Sansa, you can lose the support of house Tallhart or Tyrion can lose a finger" said Robin

"Finger"

What? Her voice was emotionless as she made the choice. No, Sansa wouldn't do struggled as guards took hold of him, pulling his right arm in front of him. Gawan's grinning face appeared in his vision before the boy pulled his hand open and sliced through his little finger, severing it at the base as blood spurted from the stump. Tyrion bit back his cry as the finger fell to the ground and pain roared through his hand.

"Wasn't that fun?" laughed Gawan, picking up the bloody finger and waving it in front of him

His stomach churned at the sight of the severed finger but Tyrion kept his eyes on Sansa's empty face, searching for any hint of the love she'd promised him. Sansa loved him; she told him all the time. The North was her duty, but he was her husband. She'd save him. It was only a finger, he could get over that.

"Lose a trade deal with Dorne or Tyrion get's ten lashes"

"Lashes"

The whip slammed against his back until his clothes fell off him in a bloody heap; still his eyes remained locked on Sansa.

"Lose Winterfell or Tyrion gets a beating he won't forget"

"Beat him"

Fists thudded into Tyrion as the guards assaulted him, bones cracking and breaking under the onslaught until he was left lying in the dirt.

On and on the questions went until Tyrion could barely lift his head. At Sansa's choice his chest had been sliced open by Gawan leaving scores of gashes across him, he'd lost two more fingers and had his leg broken. After each punishment his heart broke a little more, but he continued looking at Sansa – hoping to find her behind the empty eyes.

"Sansa..." he wheezed as the guards let her approach him, Robin at her side

"One more choice Sansa" promised Robin "You can give up your crown and leave here peacefully with what's left of the imp, or you can keep your crown and sell him into slavery. Won't be worth much though, I'm afraid"

Gawan appeared on Sansa's other side, a glowing hot iron in his hand as the guards held Tyrion in place.

The Queen approached him, staring directly into his face.

"I thought you loved me" he said, voice breaking

Sansa's empty expression twisted into a smile "You thought wrong"

She seized the hot iron from Gawan, moving behind him as the guards tightened their grip. Robin and Gawan's cruel laughter filled the air as he went limp in the guards grip; the fight and hope draining out of him.

"Try not to move" she whispered in his ear "I want this mark to be clear - so everyone can see what you really are"

Fire erupted across his shoulder as a cry of pain tore from his throat.

Tyrion awoke in a panic, the bed creaking as he shook. The brand on his back ached as if remembering how it got there. Sucking in a lungful of air, he gazed around the room seeing Sansa fast asleep on the other side of the bed. His dream had been horrible; playing out his worst fear that Sansa didn't actually care for him.

'Don't be stupid' he told himself 'she's not left your side for weeks'

Twisting on his side to see Sansa, the urge to wake her up nearly overwhelmed him. Part of him needed to see her blue eyes weren't empty – needed to see the warmth and tenderness they'd held for him these past weeks. He shook his head clearing the selfish thoughts. Sansa was resting peacefully and he had no need to disturb her over a stupid dream. That nightmare had spawned from the dark voice that whispered insecurities in his ear – that reminded him of his failings and inadequacies. It was the voice he was trying not to listen to anymore.

His eyes wandered over the gap between them in the bed. Tyrion always tried to keep some distance between them, curled up on his side of the bed...but maybe Sansa wouldn't mind if he went a little closer. The bed creaked as he shuffled closer to the Queen, until the warmth of her back could be felt against his arm. Would she mind if he stayed this close? The vision of his dream was hard to forget and Sansa was so warm. Something inside him urged him to go closer, promising safety and acceptance with her.

Closer to Sansa than he usually was Tyrion settled down against the pillow, forcing the horrid images from his mind. It wasn't real. Sansa wouldn't hurt him like that.

'She hurt you before' taunted the voice 'She'll do it again. She's tricking you'

No - that's not true. Tyrion reached for Sansa with his good hand, tilting onto his broken side and wrapping his hand in the softness of her shift. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the voice to leave him be. Sansa had hurt him…but she'd been so kind to him since then. She wanted him here; she promised to love him.

'Fool, she'll only use you'

He kept clinging to Sansa, as if the connection to her was enough to ward off the dark thoughts that so eagerly wanted to claim him. It was a dream - a terrible dream. Sansa wouldn't hurt him anymore.

---

Stretching in the bed as her eyes fluttered open, Sansa had the unusual sensation of something behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she stifled her shock at the sight of Tyrion curled tightly against her, his right hand wound into the fabric of her shift. Lightly taking hold of his wrist, she eased his grip from her and turned in the bed until she was facing his sleeping form, laying his hand back on her side.

To say she was suprised at his closeness was an understatement. Aside from the couple of times he'd allowed her to hold him while he slept, Tyrion nearly always curled up as far from her as possible in their bed. Part of her was thrilled at having him so close while the other part wondered what could have prompted it. A nightmare perhaps? She hadn't been sleeping well lately, but last night tiredness had apparently pulled her into a deeper sleep than usual and if he was distressed in the night she hadn't noticed.

Shifting in the bed, Sansa brushed the hair from his forehead, watching the frown on his face. A nightmare she decided; his face often held that wary tightness after bad dreams had plagued him. She shuffled closer to Tyrion, pulling the blankets around them and draping her arm over his side. Whatever he'd seen must have been truly awful for him to seek comfort from her – normally she had to offer repeatedly before he'd accept the smallest gesture from her. It was unlikely he'd tell her whatever had plagued him, but Sansa would have happily comforted him last night if he'd needed it.

"I'm here" she whispered, keeping her arm protectively around him "I'll protect you"

Sansa lay with Tyrion as the sun continued to creep further into the room, the birds outside chirping as they started their day. He stirred beneath her arm, green eyes blinking open to meet her own.

"Good morning" she said, smiling at him

His gaze darted around as he realised where he was lying, panic taking over his face. Sansa leaned forwards kissing his forehead "Did you sleep well?"

"Um yes, I mean no - I had a nightmare" he said, his eyes staring deeply into hers as if searching for something

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The tension left his face as he found whatever he was searching for in her gaze "No, thank you. It was a stupid dream. It wasn't real"

---

Arya glanced across at her brother lying on the chaise lounge. He'd improved quite a bit in the week following his illness but it would be a while before he was back to full strength. Sansa had left not long ago to handle some personal business but Arya knew when she returned her sister planned on apologising to Tyrion - as far as Arya was concerned it was long overdue. She understood her sister's reluctance to bring up the bedding when Tyrion was slowly becoming more open around them, but it was absolutely necessary. Maester Wolkan was going to assess his injuries tomorrow and he'd expressed a desire to get Tyrion out of bed if his injuries were healing well enough. It was the first step to returning to normalcy but Sansa had already told Arya things would not go back to the way they were. A hint of pride crept through Arya; her sister had made huge mistakes with her treatment of Tyrion but she was determined to fix them now. The real Sansa Stark was back.

Between herself and Sansa they'd carried Tyrion out of bed and set him up on the chaise lounge for a change. While he'd been excited to get out of bed he was far less enthusiastic about his transportation and had huddled a blanket around himself to hide his back from view. Arya frowned, recalling the shame that crossed his face when they helped him. It was obvious he hated wearing only breeches; leaving his upper body exposed aside from the bandages wound around his torso - though Arya had no idea why. They were his family; they weren't going to mock him. Her older sister had a plan for dealing with his embarrassment, but that would depend heavily on how their conversation goes. For now she turned her attention back to Tyrion, sat along the chaise lounge with his ankle propped up as he huddled under a blanket.

"So, big brother - how about a game?"

"As long as it isn't a test of strength" he said lolling against the chair

"No, it'll be fun" she promised

"Very well"

"Ok" said Arya, rubbing her hands together "We take it in turns to ask each other a question - the stranger the better. Questions can be about anything"

"Alright, you can start then" he agreed

Arya considered for a moment "What is your favourite colour?"

"That's your strange question?" he said with a snort

"You going to answer it?"

"I rather like blue" he said, corner of his mouth twitching upwards "I can't say it's something I've given much thought too however"

"Not red?"

"Just because I'm a Lannister doesn't mean I love red and gold. Have you ever seen a Lannister camp? Red everywhere you look, though I will admit to liking certain shades of red"

"Fair enough" said Arya with a nod "Your turn"

"What's the biggest lie you ever got away with?"

"That's not a strange question either!" she said

Tyrion shrugged "You set the tone"

"Fine - I think it's probably…fooling your father"

At that Tyrion's eyebrows shot up, and his face lit up in interest. Arya smirked - that certainly got his attention.

"Well?" he prompted

"I never said we had to explain"

Tyrion groaned, eyes begging her "You can't expect me to not be curious about that"

"I don't know brother…" she said, tapping her fingers against the chair

Of course she was going to tell him, but there was some fun to be had in making him beg for it. She resisted his pleading face for as long as she could before leaning forwards in her chair.

"Oh fine" she said, with a dramatic sigh "I can't watch you pout anymore"

"I do not pout"

"Yes you do - It's the exact same look Lyon gives you when he wants a scratch behind the ears" she said "Now do you want to hear how I fooled Tywin Lannister or carry on denying that you pout?"

"Fine - I pout like Lyon" he agreed, nodding eagerly "Now will you tell me?"

"I suppose" she said, rolling her eyes "When I escaped Kings Landing with the nights watch we were captured by Lannister's and taken to Harrenhal. I had them all convinced I was a boy until your father turned up and saw straight through me"

"Wait, he never realised who you were?"

"He'd never seen me before and I hardly looked like a highborn lady. Your father ordered all the prisoners to be put to work and made me his cupbearer"

"A higher position than he ever gave me in my youth"

Arya snorted "I spent weeks as his cupbearer. He realised I was Northern and had some education. That was my fault - I read in front of him. I told him some lies about my family to make me seem believeable, but I don't know how much he actually believed"

"All that time he had a Stark under his nose and he didn't realise" said Tyrion, grinning at her "I'd love to see the look on his face if he found out his cupbearer was Arya Stark"

"Your father wasn't what I expected" mused Arya "I expected him to be some kind of monster - which he was, just not like I imagined"

Tyrion's face darkened at her words "My father was an evil man - but most of his actions held a cold logic. He never killed for fun like Joffrey, but he was cruel in his own way"

"That's why his name was on my list"

"Your list?"

"I had a list of people I was going to kill"

"Who was on your list?" he asked, fiddling with his sling

"Joffrey, Cersei, Walder Frey, Meryn Trant, Tywin Lannister, the red woman, Beric Dondarion, Thoros Of Myr, Illyn Payne, and the mountain" said Arya, familiar regret for not killing more of them herself bubbling through her. The hound had been on her list too, but she'd taken him off long ago. She'd lost interest in some of the other names as well, but at the time they'd all earned their place.

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably on the chaise, green eyes flickering to her uncertainly "Was I ever on your list?"

"No. You never hurt my family personally, and when I reunited with Sansa she said you were her only friend in Kings Landing"

His face relaxed at her words, but Arya felt a little guilty all the same. If he'd hurt Sansa when they married in Kings Landing she might have added him to her list. Now it was impossible to was her brother - she loved him.

"You're my family now" she told him "anyone who hurts you ends up on the list"

"I pity them - they wouldn't stand a chance against you" he said, smiling at her "Sansa thought I had a kill list in Kings Landing once. She heard me repeating the names of those who mocked me; she thought it was so I could have them killed"

"You weren't?"

"No - as I told your sister I'm not Joffrey. It was more a list of those in need of some retribution. Sansa was quite keen on the idea"

"That's not very lady like"

"Sansa is a perfect lady" he said, mischief taking over his eyes "though she did suggest we sheep shift their beds"

"Sheep shift? Don't you mean sheep shit?"

"That's what Sansa told me it was called"

Arya snorted "Oh Gods, she thought that was the vulgar word for dung? Typical Sansa"

"It was very sweet" he said, with a grin

Arya smiled at the fondness on his face as he spoke of Sansa. As much as she hated how hurt Tyrion was, there was no denying his recovery had brought him and Sansa closer. It was obvious to her they both needed each other; she only hoped the talk Sansa was planning would bridge the gaps between them rather than break the growing trust.

"No more distracting me Tyrion - it's my turn to ask a question and it's going to be a big one after that!"

---

Returning to her chambers just after midday, Sansa slowed her steps as she approached the door. This was it, she realised. There could be no more putting off this conversation with Tyrion. She'd arranged with Arya earlier for her sister to visit while she took some time alone to gather her thoughts. The past couple of hours Sansa had spent wandering through the Godswood, hoping the place her father had so often retreated to for solace could offer her some comfort too.

It hadn't.

The icy wind had whipped around Sansa as if chastising her for the many mistakes she'd made, and the face in the heart tree held nothing but contempt for her. Arya knew what she was going to do, and Sansa had told her sister knowing that doing so would compel her to follow through. She couldn't put it off any longer. Raising her hand, Sansa eased the door open to find Tyrion and Arya sat by the hearth where she'd left them - the fire warming the room as the sun filtered in through the window.

"Sansa, just in time" called Arya, her feet swung over the arm of the chair "you can answer this question too"

The Queen made her way towards them, her eyes automatically checking over Tyrion. Her husband was propped up on the chaise lounge, cocooned in his lion blanket as she moved past him before sinking into her usual armchair.

"What's the question then?" she asked, trying to hide her nerves at the imminent conversation

"Arya asked what house I would be born into it, if I had a choice" explained Tyrion, giving her a small smile

"Do I even want to know what you've both been doing?" said Sansa

"Probably not" said Arya "Come on Sansa - we can all answer this question"

The Queen forced herself to focus on the question, and not the hundred thoughts and worries swirling through her mind.

"I think I'd choose house Tyrell. I know they're extinct now but Highgarden sounded beautiful and Margarey was quite clever too. The way she handled Joffrey and Kings Landing was impressive"

"Yes, Margarey was rather like her Grandmother, though her thorns were better hidden" said Tyrion "a shame the men in their family weren't nearly as smart"

Arya rolled her eyes "Of course you'd choose the pretty house"

"What about you Arya? Hard to imagine you as anything but a wolf" asked Sansa

"I'm proud to be a Stark, but if I had to choose another house I think I'd choose house Martell. The Dornish are more liberal and a lot of their girls learn to fight; it's not all marriage and babies"

"Weren't Prince Oberyn's daughters fighters?" asked Sansa, not knowing a great deal about the Dornish

"They were known as the sand snakes. Excellent fighters, though quite vicious" said Tyrion, a flash of sadness sweeping his face before it disappeared "You're right Arya, Dorne would certainly be more liberal than other parts of Westeros"

"Come on Tyrion, your turn" said Arya "You've put it off long enough"

"Oh, alright" said Tyrion, turning his gaze to the hearth "When I was a boy I often dreamed I was a lost Targaryen prince; that a dragon would swoop down and fly me away"

"So, you'd choose Targaryen?" asked Arya, keeping her tone light

"No – that was a child's dream of a pet dragon" said Tyrion, voice growing quiet "I think now...I'd choose house Stark"

Sansa's heart skippped a beat at his words, as he began to hurriedly defend his choice.

"It's just...I think if I had your parents they might not have hated me for what I am. Perhaps I might have been better accepted in the North"

"True" said Arya nodding "the south is a lot more bothered by appearances than the North. Actions count for far more up here"

Tyrion had answered so shyly – as if nervous they would be offended. Arya's acceptance of his answer had waylaid some of his anxiety, but his gaze kept flickering to her.

"I think you'd make a great Stark" she said, smiling warmly at her husband as the moment of unease left his face

"Absolutely" agreed Arya "Lyon clearly agrees or he wouldn't have bonded to you"

"Direwolves are better than dragons anyway" he said, glacing at his little friend currently taking an afternoon nap in the corner of the room

Arya and Tyrion moved the conversation on to direwolves and Sansa sat lost in thought, barely listening to their talk. She often wondered what her parents would think of her choices, in particular her choice of husband. There was no way to know what they thought, but Sansa liked to believe they would approve. Tyrion was a good man and a great lord of Winterfell – if her parents knew him as Sansa did she felt certain they would accept him as family.

"It's been fun Tyrion, but I have other things that need my attention as well" said Arya, rolling smoothly from the chair and to her feet

"Are you calling me a thing?"

"I certainly am big brother" she said with a grin, moving past the chaise to flick him on the head

"You shouldn't hit cripples" he protested

Arya smirked, repeating the action "Good thing you're not a cripple then"

"If you've finished hitting my husband" said Sansa, tapping her fingers nervously on the arm of the chair

"I'm done with him for now; he's all yours big sister" said Arya, moving to the doorway "See you later"

The door shut with finality, leaving Tyrion and Sansa alone at last. The relaxed expression on her husband's face dissapeared somewhat as Arya left; replaced by a well-hidden wariness. It was so subtle Sansa wasn't sure he realised he was doing it, but whenever it was just the two of them a guard went up around him. It hurt to see there was a part of him that feared her even a little, no matter how subconcious his reaction might be.

Sansa took in a deep breath before rising from her chair and perching on the edge of the chaise lounge facing her husband. It was just wide enough for her to sit next to Tyrion's legs as he sat propped up at the arm.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

"I'm quite alright" he said "it's nice to be out of bed"

"Good. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes Sansa, I'm fine"

His face seemed relaxed enough, but his good hand had begun to fiddle with his blanket – a sign that he wasn't entirely sure where this was going.

"I love you very much" she said, reaching out to stroke the side of his face "but I haven't treated you like someone I love"

"That's not true. You do far more for me than I deserve"

"You deserve so much more" she said, shaking her head "First of all, you deserve a proper apology"

His brow furrowed "For what?"

Sansa's body trembled with nerves, but she forced herself to hold her composure as she slipped from the chaise to kneel on the floor – her hand taking hold of Tyrion's.

"Sansa, what are you doing?"

His voice was panicked at her actions, but Sansa squeezed his hand gently "What I should have done a long time ago"

The Queen forced herself to look Tyrion in the eye, hoping he could see her sincerity "You've never hurt me – not ever. My honourable, brave, kind husband. In Kings Landing you were forced into marriage like I was, but you did your best to make it tolerable. You were kind and patient and understanding in ways I didn't appreciate until you weren't there. I brought you North for many selfish reasons, but mostly because I trusted you more than anyone else. You were my friend; my very best friend – and I hurt you horribly"

"No" he said, shaking his head "I had nothing left and you took me into your home..."

"Our home" she corrected, lightly kissing his hand "I brought you North and I forced you to marry me. I forced you to consumate the marriage"

"It was duty" he said, shifting uncomfortably "I understand duty"

"No, my love – it was selfish. I was scared Tyrion. I couldn't stand another arranged marriage so I married a man I knew would never hurt me; someone I could trust. When I became Queen I wanted to make the North strong and successful, to rebuild what years of war stole from us. That crown turned me into someone who wasn't Sansa Stark; it turned me into a monster"

"You're not a monster" he said, shaking his head "never a monster"

"I had no idea what I was capable of doing until I'd done it. When I told you that you were going to wed me, I asked for your word that you would be there. Tyrion – I meant what I said at the time. If you hadn't given me your word I would have locked you in your room and had you dragged to the Godswood for the ceremony. I knew you didn't want the marriage, but at the time it didn't matter. I was going to marry you and that was that"

"It's in the past" he said, eyes turning downcast "it doesn't matter"

Sansa rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, steeling her nerves for what had to come next "You didn't want to consummate the marriage – and I raped you"

"No" he said, tugging his hand from her grip "A man has the right to bed his wife willing or not; you have the same right with me. It was duty, I understand that"

Her heart cracked as he pulled away from her, but she had to plough ahead – however much Tyrion didn't want to hear this.

"A man has that right" she agreed "which you never used in Kings Landing"

"You were a child being forced to marry a man you hardly knew, into a family you hated. It wasn't the same thing"

"How many men would have shown me the kindness and care you did? I've seen the world since then Tyrion; most men would have eagerly taken me in bed"

"Sansa it's entirely different. You're my Queen – whatever you want from me is yours to take"

"So it didn't bother you that I forced you into a marriage?" she pressed "You weren't hurt when I pushed you on your back and claimed you as mine? I raped you twice..."

"Enough" he said, screwing his eyes shut "Sansa, please...why are you doing this? If you want to use me like that again...I-I won't stop you. It's only duty - I understand, just please get it over with"

Sansa's heart thudded painfully at the fear on his face. Tyrion wouldn't look at her now, glancing down at his blanket. Did he really think she was going to rape him again? She would reassure him it would never happen again, but first he had to accept what she did was wrong. Her hand shook as she reached for his once more; hurt coursing through her as he flinched at her touch. Swallowing down the guilt that threatened to drown her she gently prised his hand from its place wrapped in the blanket and took it in her own.

"Tyrion, I'm not bringing this up to hurt you - I'm bringing it up to apologise" she said "What I did to you was wrong and I am sorrier than you could ever know"

"It was my fault" he said, refusing to look at her "I convinced myself you wanted a husband in name only - I never thought you'd want to consummate it. You were doing your duty to the North Sansa, I should have done mine"

"No" she insisted, squeezing his hand "There are no excuses for the way I treated you. The second time I raped you…Tyrion you were so hurt. I knew I'd gone too far, but I had no idea how to make things better with you. I was selfish and cruel – I never even bothered to ask why you wouldn't bed me"

"Shae" he said, screwing his eyes shut "After what happened with her…I couldn't go back to what I was before. I loved her, I trusted her and she betrayed me"

A flicker of understanding went through Sansa, followed swiftly by more guilt. There was no doubt at all that she was in the wrong, but her husband was still refusing to blame her. Sansa's stomach churned at what she was about to do, but there was no other way.

"Tyrion, can you honestly say you weren't hurt by my actions? That it didn't bother you when I pinned you beneath me and bound us together?"

"No… stop"

"You promised to never hurt me - I used that against you. I planned for the possibility you wouldn't bed me. One way or another we were going to be joined"

"Sansa, please…"

"I could feel you struggling beneath me right until I sank on top of you. The second time you didn't bother to struggle…"

"Enough!" he shouted, wrenching his hand from hers "Do you want the truth Sansa? Yes - you did hurt me. You hurt me in a way I didn't think possible. All I ever wanted was someone to love me. Not my family name, not my money - just me. I knew when you married me it was duty not love, but I hoped you might care for me a little"

Tears were threatening at the edge of his eyes, as years of hurt swept across his face. Sansa hated having to provoke him, but she couldn't let him continue to deny his pain any longer. He'd forgiven every mistreatment he'd suffered at her hands without a second thought – it was far more than she deserved. Not this though – she couldn't let him push away his anger for being raped. If he did Sansa knew the distance between them might never close.

"Oh, sweetheart I do love you" she said, reaching towards him as he huddled away from her "I love you more than anything in the world"

He was breathing heavily following his outburst, but the anger drained from him almost as quickly as it came "I'm sorry Sansa…I shouldn't have shouted at you. I'm sorry…"

More than anything she wanted to wrap her arms around him, but it wasn't time yet and Tyrion looked so hurt and scared. As if afraid his anger at her actions would turn her against him.

"I knew saying those things would hurt you Tyrion - but you're so quick to defend me. I wanted you to accept that I was in the wrong; not you. I blamed myself for what Ramsay did to me in the beginning, but then I realised it was his fault not mine. It was liberating in a way - to not have that guilt for something I had no control over"

"I'm sorry, shouldn't have lost control…" he said, drawing in on himself

Sansa bit back her frustration. He had every right to be furious with her, but instead he looked terrified showing his real emotions would turn her away from him.

"There's nothing wrong with being angry at me - I understand if you hate me; if you can't trust me. I abused you in the worst way my love"

Tyrion shook his head, shoulders slumping "I could never hate you. I couldn't blame you either. Everything you thought you knew about relationships was poisoned by Cersei, Joffrey, littlefinger and all the rest"

"That doesn't change what I've done" she insisted "my parents taught me right from wrong long before I left Winterfell - what I did to you was wrong"

An awkward silence fell between them. Coaxing the anger from him had been awful, but Sansa doubted there was anything left to be gained from pushing him further. She'd done what she could to own up to her mistakes, and show Tyrion it was her fault - not his. The only thing left to do was move forwards.

Sansa gazed up at her husband, her own heart shuddering as she watched him wipe furiously at his red rimmed eyes.

"Tyrion" she said, hoping to draw his attention "Nothing I do will make up for the pain I've caused but I swear to you by the old gods and the new that it will never happen again. If we ever join in the bed; it will be when you want to. I'm so sorry Tyrion"

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to share your bed...I'm not me anymore" he said, voice breaking

"Then so my watch begins"

Tyrion wrapped his good arm around himself, curling away from Sansa as she echoed the words he'd spoken so long ago. He wouldn't look at her as she knelt beside the chaise.

"No, Sansa… you want children and deserve a man who can give you that. Who can truly be your husband. I won't stand in your way – if you want an end to this marriage I'd understand"

"I will regret treating you as I have until the day I die" she said firmly "but I will never regret marrying you. Don't ask me to end our marriage Tyrion – it's the one thing I won't give you"

She'd suspected he would offer her a way out of their marriage again before she began this conversation. Unlike the last time she knew he didn't truly want to leave Winterfell. He'd chosen to stay; he was beginning to accept his place in their family. If she offered Tyrion a way out of their marriage, she knew he would take it – but not because he wanted to. He would take it because he thought it was the right thing to do; the best thing for her. Yet Sansa knew it wasn't the best thing for either of them. The selfish part of her couldn't bear to part from him, and Tyrion clearly needed a family's love. This was where he belonged, and no matter what Sansa wouldn't lose him again.

"I just want you to be happy" he said, face twisting in anguish "You suffered so much Sansa; you deserve it more than anyone"

"You make me very happy. I hope one day I can do the same for you"

His face crumpled at her words and she was unable to bear his turmoil a moment longer. Sansa moved from her kneeling position to sit on the edge of the chaise next to Tyrion. She swiftly cupped his tear stained face, tilting his head up to look at her. Leaning forwards Sansa pressed a long kiss to his forehead.

"I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it – my love and my heart are yours now and always"

When Tyrion finally turned his eyes to her, she saw all of his pain and insecurities laid bare across his face. His gaze studied her own with wariness and Sansa kept her gaze steady as he searched it – hoping he could see there was no doubt or hesitation in her words.

"I'm so sorry for the way I've treated you and I swear it will never happen again. You are the only man I want to share my life with, and if you ever decide you'd like to be a father I would be honoured to have your children" she continued, stroking his cheek with her thumb "I've made Winterfell seem like your prison, but it's your home and it always will be"

He said nothing, mouth pressing into a tight line as he searched her face. This was it, she realised. All the time she'd spent considering how to possibly apologise for her vile actions had led to this moment.

"I've no reason to expect your forgivness or trust - but I will ask for it anyway. Will you give me another chance to be your wife?"

Tyrion stared up at her as warm tears trickled down his face and against her hands. An eternity passed with Sansa's heart hammering in her chest, until Tyrion's head nodded forwards and a small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I forgive you Sansa"

"Thank you" she breathed, a crushing weight lifting off her shoulders

"Are..are you sure you still want me to be your husband?" he asked, twisting his hands

Sansa smiled "Of course sweetheart - I love you"

"I quite like having a wife" he said, giving her a tentative smile "I don't want to be alone…"

"You never will be" she promised "You're mine to love and protect"

"I…" he started, fumbling for the words "I'll always be here for you too"

It didn't matter; Sansa knew what he meant even if he couldn't put it into words.

"I know you will" she said, eyes growing damp as she gazed fondly at her husband

Reaching forward Sansa carefully moved to hug Tyrion and when he didn't protest she drew him tightly against her.

"It'll be ok" she whispered in his ear, feeling his good arm lightly wrap around her "I'll take care of you"

---

When Arya returned to her sisters chambers hours later she eased the door open to find a surprising sight. Ghosting across the room on soundless feet, Arya took in the scene that met her. Tyrion was still propped against the arm of the chaise lounge, but Sansa was now curled against him - both sound asleep. Her arms were wrapped around Tyrion in a death grip while his unbroken arm was lying across her back.

Lyon was lying in front of the hearth, his green eyes flickering to hers as she approached. Bending down to ruffle the wolf's fur, Arya moved her gaze to her family.

A slow smile spread across her face. Tyrion looked surprisingly content with his wife pressed against him, even though Sansa's face was still dripping in guilt. If their current position was any indication her sister's apology had been accepted and Arya found herself relieved for her older sister. Sansa had been so afraid Tyrion might not forgive her, even though Arya didn't doubt he would. Trust would need to build between them and there was still a good way to go for the rifts between them to fully heal; but they were on the right track. Sansa had to face her duties as Queen; and Tyrion had to deal with what he'd endured in the Wolfswood. Perhaps this time, they could face their challenges together. Both of them had struggled alone for far too long.

---

Tyrion sat up in bed, his gaze turning to the empty place beside him Sansa had occupied not long before. Yesterdays apology had meant a lot to him, as had her assurances that she wouldn't repeat the act. Regardless of how much care she'd shown him the past couple of weeks, his cynical side had constantly warned him of the possibility that Sansa would take him in the bed again. He'd chosen to stay at Winterfell and had tried to make peace with the fact Sansa would most likely use him for his seed at some point; however much the thought revolted him. Since being forced to watch his first wife being taken by his father's guards, he held a particular hatred for rape. Hearing Sansa had suffered such abuse by her last husband had sickened him. Becoming the victim of such an act had hurt him in a way he thought he'd never experience.

Shaking his head to clear the thought, Tyrion tried to focus on the future. As far as he could see Sansa had been utterly sincere in her apology and promise to never force him in bed again. In return he'd told her the unfortunate truth - he didn't think he'd ever be ready to join with her in the bed. However many years passed, the consequences of his relationship with Shae still haunted him. Doubt and insecurity were his oldest enemies, dripping poison in his ear however much he wished to move forwards. Nonetheless he'd given Sansa his forgiveness. By choosing to stay at Winterfell he'd promised himself he would try. That meant trust. It meant taking a leap of faith.

The door creaked open and Sansa entered, followed by two servants carrying a heavy tub. Wolkan was coming this morning to check over his injuries and upon waking Sansa had kissed him gently before excusing herself for a short time.

"Just over there" she said to the servants, gesturing to Tyrion's side of the bed

Tyrion scratched his head as the servants began to fill the tub with hot water. Why was Sansa having a bath next to him?

"Shall I give you some privacy?" he asked Sansa as she moved beside the bed

"For what?"

Tyrion stared at her "I thought you were having a bath"

"Perhaps later"

"Then what's the tub for?" he asked, a slither of unease creeping down his back

Sansa smiled brightly at him "It's for you. I thought you might like a hot bath"

"That's a nice idea" he said, swallowing nervously "but wouldn't the bandages get wet?"

"I spoke to the Maester and he's going to take them all off today anyway and apply new ones as needed. When you've had your bath he'll come up to see you"

"Oh" said Tyrion, eyeing the tub as it was filled near the top

His mind whirled trying to think of some kind of excuse to free him from this. There was no chance he could get in or out of the tub on his own, and cleaning himself properly would also prove a problem. Sansa knew this - surely she didn't mean to bathe him? Since he'd been bed ridden Sansa had often brought a cloth and water to the bedside to keep him clean. That was embarrassing enough - this would be humiliating. The servants finished filling the tub as steam wafted in the air, one of the girls leaving a couple of jars to one side.

"Thank you" said Sansa, as the servants took their leave

The door closed with finality as Sansa turned to him once more "Are you ready?"

"I appreciate the thought Sansa…but I…um"

The bed creaked as Sansa sank onto the mattress beside him, her eyes sympathetic "I'm not going to make you have a bath if you really don't want to. Hopefully Maester Wolkan will give you the all clear to leave the bed and start moving around a bit. I thought a bath might make you feel better - ready for a fresh start"

Sansa was studying him closely. She'd clearly planned this and had every intention of giving him a bath, but he knew if he refused she wouldn't push it. Every instinct in Tyrion was screaming no, but he found his head nodding his assent anyway. He'd forgiven Sansa; he needed to try and trust her.

"Good" she said, face brightening "let me help you"

Tyrion tried to hide his nerves as Sansa pulled the blankets off him and helped him towards the edge of the bed. She smiled reassuringly as she undid the sling around his arm, easing the damaged limb into his lap.

"Is that ok?" she asked, noting him wince at the movement

"Its fine" he said with a grimace "just been a while since I've been able to move that arm"

Her hands moved to his breeches, blue eyes asking him silently for permission. This was his last chance, he realised. Did he really want to be so vulnerable in front of Sansa? Biting down his panic, Tyrion tried to focus on Sansa's words from yesterday. She wanted his trust; could he really deny it her?

'She'll be disgusted by you' whispered his fear

Looking away from Sansa, he nodded once more. His gaze wandered to the door as she unlaced the overly large breeches and began to tug them free.

"You don't have to worry" said Sansa, easing his breeches further downwards and exposing him "this isn't an ice bath - it's nice and warm for you"

"That's a relief"

Sansa took great care to ease his breeches gently over his broken ankle, before discarding them to one side. Familiar shame for his body burned through him as he sat naked before her, ducking his head to one side to avoid her gaze. Pressing his mouth into a firm line, he steeled himself for the disgust that was sure to follow. Instead he felt Sansa's delicate hand wind into the back of his hair before she tenderly kissed his head.

"Let's get you in" she said, wrapping her arms gently around him to guide him from the bed

Mercifully the tub wasn't very high and with Sansa holding most of his weight he managed to hop the very short distance to the bath. After so long in bed his body was weak and uncoordinated - without Sansa's help he would have fallen over straight away. She didn't seem at all surprised by his weakness and helped him into the tub with ease, making sure no weight was put on his broken ankle. The hot water was welcoming as it lapped over him, coming up to just below his shoulders as he pressed his scarred back rigidly against the tub. Sansa sank to her knees beside him, a wash cloth in hand.

Before he could protest, she dipped the cloth in the water and lifted it to his face.

"You don't need to do this" he said, pressing back against the tub as much as he could "I can manage"

"I know" she said "but you don't have to manage"

"You already do far too much for me" he said, eyes downcast at the helpless state his injuries had left him in

"I don't do nearly enough – but I will. Besides I like taking care of you" she said, blue eyes pleading with him

Against his better judgement Tyrion found himself surrendering to Sansa's care, and she eagerly began to clean him. He made sure to keep his back out of sight, and gripped the edge of the tub with his right hand as Sansa gently moved the cloth around his face. She was right about the bath – it felt good to be clean again and the hot water was soothing against his battered body. Despite that, Tyrion found it hard to relax as Sansa worked.

Part of him had hoped this would be an embarrassing but quick exercise in trust, yet Sansa seemed in absolutely no hurry to get it over with. Instead, her bright blue eyes never left him - as if he was worth looking at.

"Your face is healing well" she said, her fingers lightly brushing the scar

"Well enough for my beard to return?"

"Not just yet" she said "Soon"

"I'm starting to think you don't like my beard" he said, forcing himself to relax under her scrutiny

"It's very nice when it's neatly trimmed" she said, stroking his bare face "I like seeing your face though"

"Are you implying I don't look after my beard?"

"You don't look after yourself at all - your beard is an unfortunate victim"

"What do you mean?" he said squirming under her scrutiny

Sansa raised an eyebrow as she moved her attention from his face to his chest, gently wiping the cloth over him "You consider one meal a day and hardly any sleep to be looking after yourself?"

"I'm only small - I don't need much food. Sleep has never been kind to me either"

The Queen leaned forwards, kissing his wet cheek "That's exactly why you can't be trusted to look after yourself"

His face burned at her words "I'm not a child; I don't require supervision"

"No, you're my husband who deserves my attention - I won't forget that again. You certainly won't be running yourself into the ground either" she said "Proper sleep and food"

While part of him wanted to deny her allegations, his heart warmed at her words. Everyday Sansa kept chipping away at his defences and it was becoming increasingly difficult to control his attachment to her. Life had taught him many times whatever he cherished could and would be taken from him…still it was increasingly hard to fight against his feelings for Sansa.

"Sit forward a little Tyrion - I need to do your back"

His fingers tightened on the wooden edge of the tub as Sansa waited patiently for him to move forwards.

"That's ok" he said "You don't need to do that"

'What are you so scared of?' whispered his mind 'She's seen all of you before'

"How else are you going to clean you back?" she asked

Once again his fears wavered in the face of Sansa's pleading eyes. She wanted his trust and he'd agreed to give it to her. Sliding forward in the tub, he saw Sansa shuffle behind him with the cloth in hand. He hung his head low, staring into the water as Sansa's delicate fingers brushed against his scarred back. A moment later her fingers were replaced by the cloth moving slowly against his skin.

Tyrion hated his body; he always had. The scars on his back ignited a particular hatred in him. The lash marks were a constant reminder of Essos and his experience of slavery. Now the brand on his shoulder added a new level of shame.

"Not very pretty is it?" he ground out after a few minutes of her gentle cleaning

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean"

Sansa's scrubbing stopped and her fingers replaced the cloth, tenderly tracing the scars that covered him "I love you - and your scars don't bother me at all. Why do they bother you?"

"Why? They're a constant reminder of what I really am" he said "a disfigured dwarf"

"Hmm, that's strange" she said, his body tensing as her fingers moved towards the brand on his shoulder "I'm fairly sure this one says you're a hero - not a disfigured dwarf"

"I'm not a hero"

"There are a lot of wildlings who disagree, followed by many northerners and the Queen in the North" she said, tracing the pattern with a feathlight touch "Does it hurt?"

It was still tender - but that was nothing compared to the burning agony when it had been done.

"Not really" he said

Her fingers disappeared from his back only to be replaced by her lips pressing a tender kiss against the brand a moment later. Every nerve stood on end at the action, but Sansa merely resumed her cleaning of him as if nothing strange had happened. A lump formed in his throat at the gesture, and his walls crumbled a little more.

"Lashed" he said, swallowing hard "I got lashed in Essos, that's what happened to my back"

He couldn't see Sansa's face as she continued cleaning him, and for some reason it made it easier for him to get the story out. He'd never planned on telling Sansa, but he wanted to trust her - to show her he was trying. Perhaps giving her this piece of his past might go someway to show her that.

His words tumbled out; about the girl, his offer to pay for the bread…and how they took their payment.

"I'm so sorry" she said when he was finished, pausing her cleaning of his back "You did a brave thing, trying to save that girl from losing a hand"

"It was stupid, as Jorah pointed out to me later" said Tyrion, screwing his eyes shut against the memory "that girl most likely stole again and lost a hand anyway"

"You don't know that. What you did might have been the only kindness that girl had ever experienced" said Sansa, lightly tracing his scars "You've no reason at all to be ashamed; you should be proud"

Tyrion mulled over her words as she, guided him back to rest against the edge of the tub, though he kept his face towards the water.

"I'm very proud of you" she said, leaning around the back of him to kiss his cheek "Please don't feel like you have to hide from me. This is your home and I'm your wife; I want you to be comfortable"

His chest tingled at her words and Tyrion felt himself relaxing more despite his reluctance in the bath. Sansa was right; he couldn't live the rest of his life hiding from her. He'd chosen to stay at Winterfell and Sansa had done everything these past weeks to show him it was home. The only real barrier to accepting his place here was himself.

Tyrion was drawn from his musings as hot water cascaded over his head, plastering his curly hair to his face.

"What was that?" he sputtered, as the water ran down his face

"You didn't think I'd forget your hair" she said innocently, running her hands through his damp hair

Sansa's grinning face appeared at his side and she passed the cloth to him, indicating his lower region.

"I thought you'd rather…"

"Yes" he said immediately "thank you"

"You clean yourself and I'll deal with your hair"

Tyrion cleaned himself as well as he could with one hand while Sansa seemed content to keep soaking his hair. It was only when a rather feminine scent met his nose that he returned his attention to what Sansa was doing.

"Hold still" she said, running both hands gently through his hair...and rubbing.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"I love your hair" she said with a contended sigh "all curly and golden - a bit of this oil will make it so soft"

"Men don't use that sort of thing" he protested as the scent wafted around his face

"Are you afraid your friends will mock you for having nice hair?" she teased

"No – it's Arya who won't let me live it down. You know she'll notice! What about Lyon?"

"He has nice hair too"

"This will confuse him. How's he supposed to know my scent if I smell flowery? He'll wonder how long he's been hunting for"

Sansa moved from behind Tyrion to his side; long fingers still massaging the oil into his hair.

Her eyes sparked with amusement at his pouting "Lyon has eyes Tyrion, I'm sure he won't get confused because your hair is fluffier and smells nice"

Tyrion stared at her, mouth turning upwards "Oh, I see what this"

"See what?"

"You only suggested a bath so you could play with my hair" he accused, as Sansa's smile widened

"I've wanted to do this for a long time" she confessed "I was devastated when Maester Wolkan had your hair cut really short. Thankfully it suited you, though I am glad it's growing out a bit"

"A cruel trick Sansa Stark. Tricking innocent dwarfs into baths so you can play with their hair"

Sansa laughed "You're hardly innocent"

"You admit it was a trick"

"Yes, I lured you into my trap" she said, continuing to run her hands through his hair "Your punishment is soft, fluffy hair"

Tyrion's nerves eased as him and Sansa continued their playful bickering. He liked being close to Sansa - the warmth in her eyes was enough to chase away his insecurities, even for a short time. Despite his protests he didn't really care what she put in his hair as long as she smiled at him when she did it.