Chapter 27
"Thank you for joining me" said Sansa, her footsteps ringing out against the stone floor as she wound down the steps
"Certainly, your Grace" said Brienne, her hand resting on her sword
"You can call me Sansa" she said "I'm not your Queen after all. We're friends are we not?"
The older woman smiled "Of course. I may be the lord commander to King Bran, but my sword is always yours should you need it"
Some of the tension eased out of Sansa. When Bran had become King he'd taken nearly everyone she trusted with him – especially Brienne. The Knight's loyalty to her was unquestioned and Sansa trusted her more than most. The fact Podrick had also gone was another blow. Both had protected her when she had no-one else.
"Have you not been down here since the prisoner arrived?" asked Brienne, as the guards parted to let them through
Sansa shook her head "No. I always meant to, but Tyrion needed me. Arya has been down here a few times. I doubt Grey Worm has anything more that could help us, but it's worth a try"
The increased guard presence was satisfying to see as they drew closer to the dungeons. Sansa had barely spared Grey Worm a thought for weeks. As far as she was concerned he was a dead man waiting for his time to come. Tyrion had only asked her once what was to be done with him and she'd been very clear that he was to die. For some reason her husband had seemed torn on the decision, but he'd eventually nodded. Sansa had no desire to keep secrets from her husband and she'd told him earlier that she intended to speak with the unsullied captain. Fear had swept across his face at the news.
"Grey Worm blames me for killing the two people he cared for the most" he'd said, grasping her hand "He wants to kill me. If he can't get to me, he might settle for hurting you"
"He's under heavy guard – there's no chance of him hurting anyone" she'd told him "Arya's spoken with him, and that's all I intend to do"
"I'll come with you"
Despite his offer, Sansa could see in his eyes he was reluctant to see Grey Worm. There was no chance of her letting Tyrion near him either. The scar that cut across his chest and ribs was a permanent reminder of just how close Grey Worm had come to killing him.
"I don't think that's a good idea. He tried to kill you my love; seeing you could enrage him and then we might not get any information out of him"
Eventually Tyrion had agreed to let her go without him as long as someone went with her for protection. Her husband had immediately suggested Alec, but Sansa had asked Brienne instead. While she trusted Alec as much as she could – her trust in Brienne was unwavering. Aside from that, she valued the older woman's instincts. Before heading down here she'd pulled Brienne aside explaining the basics of what had happened in the Wolfswood. Apparently Bran had already told his council all that he knew - a fact which annoyed Sansa. He knew what was going on as it was happening, but hadn't helped her to find Tyrion?
They paused at the door to the dungeons, Sansa addressing the guard. Today it was a tall middle aged man. The guard bowed his head at their approach.
"Your Grace" he greeted
"Good morning" she said, nodding at him "We're here to speak to Grey Worm"
"Certainly, your Grace. Good luck getting him to talk though. He's been here weeks and he barely moves or speaks"
"We'll make him talk" said Brienne, grasping her sword
The guard raised his eyes at the tall knight "Hope you get something out of him. Sooner he loses his head the better"
"Agreed" said Sansa "I try to forget he's down here"
It was true. Knowing her husband's would be killer was locked away below them had caused her many sleepless nights. She found it easier to pretend he wasn't here at all.
The guard opened the door for them and they made their way into the dimly lit dungeon. It was rarely used, with Grey Worm being the only current occupant.
Sansa led the way past the empty cells, Brienne barely a step behind her. The Queen heard no sounds of life as she arrived outside the prison holding Grey Worm. The unsullied leader was sat on the bed with his feet drawn up. Chains connected his hands and feet to the wall which the man glared at; as if it was responsible for all his problems.
"Grey Worm" she called
The unsullied captain didn't answer, continuing to stare ahead of him. His clothes were ragged and his hair had grown out giving him a wild, unkempt appearance. The stumps of his two missing fingers were visible; a reminder that Lyon could be dangerous to enemies.
"The Queen spoke to you" said Brienne
"Not my Queen" growled Grey Worm
"No, I'm not" said Sansa "Your Queen slaughtered innocents - she was a butcher"
Dark eyes bore into hers "Lannister helped"
"Lord Tyrion supported her" she agreed "Until she became Queen of the ashes - then he did the right thing"
Grey Worm's tone was expressionless, as if he no longer had the energy to converse "She trusted him. He betray her. I seek justice for Queen Daenerys. All I wanted"
"Instead you helped slavers" said Sansa
"I tell you all - I no slaver!"
"They're still out there" continued Sansa "You'll die for what you did to my husband, but Robin and Gawan will be brought to justice first. You spoke with them - is there anywhere they could be hiding?"
The unsullied captain didn't reply, though his eyes studied her. Sansa bit back her frustration, she'd known this was likely a waste of time, but she'd hoped to at least get something from him.
Brienne stepped closer to the door "The unsullied claimed to support Daenerys' fight to end slavery. Your people fought honourably in the long night. Those boys used you, mocking the values you hold dear. Whatever your feelings are about lord Tyrion, surely you want to see justice done to those who made you an accomplice in slavery?"
Grey Worm's nostrils flared "They use me - bring dishonour to this one"
"Is there anything else you know about them? Every moment they're out there, they escape justice. Forty women could have been sold into a cruel life" pressed Brienne
Sansa hung back, observing with rapt attention. Brienne was speaking to him in a way she couldn't - warrior to warrior.
"They lie to me. I already tell Arya Stark everything"
"There's nothing else?" asked Brienne "This is your chance to try and restore your lost honour"
Grey Worm's brow furrowed, shaking his head "No. Only…"
"Only?"
"I ask them once what they do with money. Say they making deal across sea to secure North"
Sansa's mind whirred to life, a slight chill creeping through her. It was entirely possible they'd been referring to selling slaves across the narrow sea, but a darker possibility lurked in her mind. If Robin and Gawan had been plotting a rebellion from the beginning, perhaps the slaves were just a commodity - as was Tyrion? They would have made money for selling slaves and Grey Worm paid them huge amounts of gold to get Tyrion.
Slaves weren't the only thing you could buy across the narrow sea after all.
Sansa pressed her mouth in a tight line, nodding to Brienne. The Knight returned the gesture, turning her attention to Grey Worm.
"Is that all?" she asked
"Yes" he nodded
"Very well" said Sansa
She turned to leave, Brienne at her side
"You love Tyrion?" called Grey Worm halting her departure
Sansa glanced back at him. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were filled with sadness.
"I do" she said firmly "I would do anything for him"
Grey Worm nodded, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes "I love someone once too"
Podrick heaved in a lungful of air, clasping hands with Alec.
"Good match" said the Winterfell captain, looking equally winded
"I enjoyed it very much" said Pod
"Been a while since I've lost a match" said Alec
"You nearly had me plenty of times" said Pod
The Winterfell air was crisp and clean compared to Kings Landing, and Pod found the cold breeze surprisingly refreshing. Once again King Bran had claimed he had no need of him, leaving him free for the day and more than a little hurt.
He enjoyed serving Bran - as boring as it could be. When Pod gave his word or swore an oath he meant to keep it as well as he could. Although it was becoming increasingly apparent he was disposable to Bran. Anyone could stand outside his door, the King told him.
"Payne, you gonna have a drink?"
Brice's booming voice drew his attention to where the large man sat on a stack of unused crates with Tyrion - Alec already heading over to them. His former lord had invited him to the practice yard yesterday and with nothing better to do Pod had joined him again today. Seeing Tyrion again had pleased him to no end. Of all the people he'd served, he had a soft spot for Tyrion. As Tywin Lannister's son he could've had his pick of better squires from major houses - but stuck with him anyway, treating him far kinder than other lords and ladies ever would.
Pod made his way across the yard, joining the other men at the crates. Brice thrust a skin of water towards him, which he gratefully accepted.
"You're quite the swordsman Pod" said Tyrion, absently petting Lyon who sat beside him
"Ser Brienne taught me well"
The direwolf had stared hard at Pod when he met him earlier, but the wolf had eventually barked as if to say he was acceptable and allowed him to scratch his ears. Tyrion looked rather tired slumped on the crates. Pod had seen him working hard at the practice dummy earlier on, but it was obvious his injuries were still hindering him. Bran hadn't told them specifics of what had happened to Tyrion, but as soon as they got North the rumours were rampant. It was impossible not to hear what had supposedly happened in the Wolfswood and the state the lord of Winterfell had been found in. Pod had dismissed the tales of torture and branding right up until he saw Tyrion. At that point it was obvious he'd suffered horrendously. He'd been limping heavily with his left arm immobilised in a sling - but it was the haunted look that often drifted into his eyes that truly convinced Pod.
"Wouldn't fancy crossing swords with Ser Brienne" said Brice, shaking his head "Watching her fight is terrifying enough"
"She defeated the hound" said Podrick, a hint of pride in his voice "It was amazing to see"
"Arya and Brienne are always interesting to watch" said Alec, gulping at his own skin of water "Hugely different styles but they've both found something that works for them"
"What you thinking about Lannister? You look miles away" said Brice, nudging his lord
Tyrion jolted in surprise, a hint of red colouring his cheeks "Sorry"
It was impossible to not notice how different Tyrion was now compared to when Pod had first met him. Dinner the past two nights had been awkward to say the least. There was more than a little frost in Sansa's voice when she spoke to Bran, and Tyrion barely spoke at all. Neither Sansa nor Arya acted as if it was unusual behaviour but Pod and the rest of the King's group had found it strange. Particularly Bronn. The former sellsword's attempts to spark conversation with Tyrion were met with nothing more than polite responses. More than once Podrick had noticed Tyrion's mind drifting in a way it never used to; as if he was consumed by memories. Sansa seemed particularly attuned to the behaviour, subtly drawing her husband back to the present with practiced ease.
"So Pod, are you still hoping to join the Kings Guard?" asked Tyrion, winding his fingers into Lyon's fur
"I'm not sure" he answered, rubbing the back of his neck "King Bran refused my request, making me his sworn shield instead"
"Gods know why – you're certainly not lacking any skill with a sword" said Alec
"King Bran said it wasn't right for me"
"Reckon you got lucky lad" grunted Brice "I've nothing but respect for the Stark's but Bran is creepy as hell. He's got an old power in him that's for sure. You really want to spend your life guarding him while he does whatever the hell it is he does?"
That was exactly the question that had begun to plague Pod's mind. Knighthood was something he'd always desired; he would be honoured to serve in Brienne's Kings Guard – but was it what he wanted the rest of his life to be? Pod could feel the weight of Tyrion's gaze on him; seeing through him as easily as he'd once seen through the many liars of Kings Landing.
"The Kings Guard is a great honour to be sure" said Alec "but I think it suits some people better than others. Look at Ser Barristan Selmy – his life was his sword"
"Aye, Ser Brienne seems much the same" agreed Brice
"I think Jamie regretted it" said Tyrion quietly, drawing their attention
"Wasn't he one of the youngest to ever join the white cloaks?" asked Brice
"He was, and his sword meant everything to him" nodded Tyrion "Jamie often dreamed of honour and glory as a young man – the Kings Guard seemed the epitome of it. A place for the best of the best. The reality was rather different"
"How different?" asked Pod
Tyrion smiled sadly at him "Jamie served a mad King who burned people for amusement. He then served a King who had no interest in ruling. Robert would make Jamie stand guard at the door while he repeatedly dishonoured our sister with different women. While there was no love lost between Cersei and I, it was difficult to not feel sorry for her in that regard"
Alec nodded "I've heard many tales of King Robert. Most focus on how he won the throne and the man he was back then. Not the King he became"
"He did well winning the throne, and was a decent enough man" agreed Tyrion "Ruling on the other hand was not something he had any interest in, and it made him a poor King"
"If you do join the Kings Guard, at least Bran isn't mad or lazy" said Alec, patting Pod's shoulder
"Are you sure about that?" muttered Brice
"Might I offer you some advice Podrick?" asked Tyrion, green eyes studying him
Pod let out a breath "Please do"
"Don't put on the white cloak until you're certain that's what you want" said Tyrion "The vows you take will follow you for the rest of your life. Jamie killed the mad King because he had wildfire stashed throughout the city and was about to kill thousands"
Brice and Alec's eyes widened at Tyrion.
"I never knew that" said Brice
Tyrion shook his head "Very few did know the truth and even less cared. All that mattered was Jamie broke his oath to protect a mad King who burned people for fun. You know what he was called Pod; Kingslayer, oathbreaker, man without honour. My brother paid a heavy price for doing the right thing – and it followed him everywhere"
"I think Ser Brienne knew" said Pod "she always believed Ser Jamie was a man of honour"
"He had his own sense of honour – twisted as it often was" said Tyrion, offering him a smile "You're a good man Pod. If I was Bran I'd sleep soundly knowing you were at my door, but it's whether you're willing to sacrifice everything else for it"
Alec nodded "A wife, the possibility of children"
"But you get a fancy white cloak" said Brice, grinning at him "and plenty of past Kings Guard are known as legends"
The talk moved on, but Pod's mind stayed firmly on the conversation they'd just had. When he'd originally asked Bran everything had seemed so simple and certain. His time as sworn shield had cast a few doubts on that certainty and Bran's indifference to him since coming North had make him question it even further. Seeing Tyrion with Sansa yesterday had only added to his conflict. Did he want to give up everything for a King who insisted anyone could do his job? He liked Bran – peculiar as he was. Pod would give his life to protect him as duty demanded...but was it wrong to want more? Brienne's devotion to Knighthood and honour had certainly influenced his own, yet Pod no longer had the certainty that was everything he wanted.
The knowing glint in Tyrion's eyes didn't help. The lord of Winterfell seemed to already know the truth Pod was trying to deny.
"Sellswords?" asked Arya
Sansa nodded as Arya curled her fist around the hilt of needle "If that's true the North could be in big trouble"
The Queen looked exhausted; the pressures of ruling wearing her down.
"It would make sense" sighed Sansa "Gawan is the heir to Deepwood Motte and Robin is the lord of Widows Watch - both already have land, gold and power"
"But not enough to overthrow the Queen. If one of them had married you, taking over the North would be easier" said Arya
"Eventually I would have been disposed of"
"More than likely after producing an heir with Stark blood"
Sansa paled, and Arya inwardly cursed her thoughtless words "Sorry"
"You're right" said Sansa "marrying Tyrion likely ruined their plans. Cley was the only other likely suitor besides them - Tyrion was unexpected"
"Out of your three suitors, you'd have chosen Robin" said Arya
Sansa slumped in her chair at the words, but they both knew it was the truth. Out of the three, Robin had been the most likely. If Tyrion hadn't been brought North, Sansa would have unknowingly wed a monster.
Her older sister had sought her out not long ago, the two retiring to Arya's chambers to talk. Sansa had visited Grey Worm earlier and came to the grim realisation that Robin and Gawan may well be hiring sellswords.
"Look at it this way" said Arya "They didn't sell those women into slavery, so they've lost money on that - and we're on to them now"
"Grey Worm already paid them huge amounts of gold to get Tyrion though, and Robin has all the wealth of his own lands behind him" said Sansa, wringing her hands
"Gawan doesn't. Lord Glover is still in control"
"We still don't know what other houses may have joined them. Tyrion's written to most of them, and only some have replied so far. Both lord Glover and lord Manderly won't support me until the situation with Gawan is resolved"
Arya huffed "Robin and Gawan aren't as clever as they think they are. If any houses do join them it will be the minor ones. If they're hiring sellswords it's because they doubt they'll have enough support from other houses"
"We don't know how many sellswords they could hire though. The North is still recovering from years of war - we are not at full strength"
"Do you really believe Northerners will kneel to a King who stole the throne with sellswords? The North remembers Sansa. They chose you as Queen"
Her sister nodded hesitantly at her words "That's true. Daenerys came to help in the long night and her foreign troops were treated with suspicion"
Arya's mind drifted back to that terrifying night. In some ways she did feel sorry for the dragon Queen who brought her armies North to help them. Sansa was right though - her unsullied and dothraki troops had been treated as outsiders and barely tolerated by the Northerners.
"Did you tell Tyrion your theory on sellswords?"
"I did. He thinks it's likely that's what they're planning, but said they'd need huge amounts of gold to buy enough sellswords and ship them across the narrow sea. The Golden Company was the biggest sellsword group and they were slaughtered in Kings Landing. He thinks if any do come they'll be cheap mercenaries rather than disciplined killers"
Arya's grey eyes flicked over her sister. Her face was scrunched in worry, bags hanging under her blue eyes. It was cruel - that Sansa had to deal with such problems so early into the North's independence. Her sister had sought to escape the North in her youth, yet now she defended it passionately. Time away from home and the cruelty that came with it had changed Sansa in so many ways.
"Ready for another exciting dinner?" asked Arya, throwing a leg over the arm of her chair
Sansa slumped deeper into her own seat "I can't wait for them to leave"
"Bran's our brother"
"Is he?" asked Sansa tiredly
Arya couldn't deny her own irritation at Bran. Sansa had told her about the conversation they'd had and it had annoyed her to no end. They were his family, and Sansa had asked for his help – but Bran's words had been cruel. Arya understood Bran was different now - but he was still Bran. He had to be. Unfortunately Bran wasn't the only source of irritation.
"If Bronn doesn't keep his mouth shut tonight, do I have your permission to close it for him?" asked Arya
Sansa's eyes narrowed "We have to endure him - he is master of coin. Though I quite understand the sentiment"
"What in the seven hells made him think asking Tyrion about the brothels in Essos was appropriate dinner conversation?"
"Gods know" said Sansa, rubbing her temples "Bran did nothing to stop him either"
Arya clenched her jaw, recalling last night's dinner. It was no secret Bronn was trying to drag Tyrion into conversing with him as they used to. The new lord of the Twins seemed unable to accept that Tyrion had changed however. Her brother's newfound quietness was glaringly obvious to anyone who knew him before the destruction of Kings Landing, and for reasons unknown Tyrion appeared to have no interest in his old friend. A fact Bronn refused to accept. Unfortunately, the former sellswords attempts to engage Tyrion were growing cruder and cruder.
The lord of Winterfell had turned crimson as Bronn asked him about the brothels in Essos, stammering out that he wouldn't know as he hadn't used them. Bronn had refused to accept that however, demanding details of Tyrion's supposed conquests. If Brienne and Davos hadn't intervened, Arya would have happily poked a hole in the former sellsword. Her brother had looked utterly humiliated, sinking further into his seat throughout the rest of the dinner.
"He was so embarrassed last night" said Sansa, her face softening "as soon as we got back to our chambers Tyrion swore to me he hadn't been with anyone since Shae. He said he tried to go to a brothel once in Volantis but he just couldn't do it anymore"
"It's history now anyway" said Arya. While she had never met Shae, her sister had told her long ago of Tyrion's relationship with her - and her death.
Sansa nodded "I told him it was all in the past and it wouldn't bother me if he had visited every brothel in Essos - though I'm quite glad he didn't"
"Shae really messed him up"
Her sister's face darkened "He loved her and she betrayed him horribly. It's no wonder he finds it difficult to trust now"
"Or that he gave up whores" agreed Arya
Arya noticed her sister biting her lip, her eyes turning downcast.
"What's wrong?" she asked
"It's just…Tyrion said he stopped bedding Shae after we married in Kings Landing. I never really thought about it before…but if he hasn't been with anyone since…"
"Then you were his first for years" supplied Arya
Sansa's blue eyes were swimming in guilt as she met her gaze "I was his first for years…and I raped him"
"Ah Sansa - Tyrion forgave you"
"I wondered why he was so hesitant to go to bed on our wedding night, but I didn't care" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around herself "This guilt will never go away will it?"
"It won't" said Arya, seeing her sister slump at her words "but you're trying to fix it. I've heard rumours the Queen and the lord of Winterfell were even seen kissing in the corridor yesterday"
The Queen's eyebrows shot up "How did you-?"
"Servants talk Sansa" said Arya, smirking at her sister "I'd say Tyrion's forgiven you if he's kissing you"
"I'm very lucky" said Sansa a faint smile crossing her face "After everything that happened, I'd made peace with the idea that Tyrion would never trust me again. I understood why – I would happily spend the rest of my life giving him all my love even if he never returns it"
"He does trust you Sansa. You've done your best to earn it"
"I don't deserve it" said Sansa, a fond smile crossing her face "but I'll happily accept whatever trust Tyrion is willing to give me. He's in control – whatever he's comfortable with"
Arya smiled at her sister. The growing closeness between Sansa and Tyrion was hard to miss, and it pleased her to no end. They were exactly what the other needed. Tyrion needed Sansa's caring affections and reassurances as much as Sansa needed a husband she could confide in and lean on for support.
It was the third day of Bran's visit and after another awkward dinner, Sansa had suggested they all retire to another room to enjoy each other's company - or at least pretend to.
Since her visit to Bran yesterday she could barely stomach the sight of her brother and the empty expression on his face as he watched them. As pleased as she was to see Brienne, Pod and even Davos she could do without Bran and Bronn. The group had settled into a range of comfy chairs spread out around the hearth, with ale, wine and water available for all of them. She was doing what was expected of her as Queen in the North, but she'd much rather be alone with Tyrion.
A third letter had arrived today for Tyrion with more taunting words; describing in detail how her husband would be punished for his 'disobedience' and escaping his captors. It sickened Sansa to her stomach, but Tyrion insisted it didn't bother him. Her husband was determined to carry on as though he'd never read the letters and Sansa had no idea how to help him. Asking him if he wanted to talk about it was met with polite refusal, and she found herself at a loss.
Looking to her right she saw her husband absently tapping his fingers on the edge of the chaise as he sat beside her. Arya had claimed a chair to herself not far from them as had Brienne and Davos, leaving Pod and Bronn on the other chaise lounge opposite them. Bran was in his wheelchair near the fire, his dark eyes drifting around the room.
"Lyon's very sweet" said Brienne in a valiant attempt to start a conversation
"He rather enjoys the attention" agreed Tyrion, his eyes wandering to his little friend now napping in the corner
The direwolf had appeared not long after dinner, finding his way from their chambers and into the current room without assistance. Lyon had darted straight to Tyrion, nudging against him and licking at his face. For Sansa it was rather a worrying sign. The wolf was always affectionate to Tyrion, but for him to seek out his master was enough to concern Sansa. If Tyrion was distressed about anything, Lyon always knew - no matter how well her husband tried to hide it.
At least the direwolf had distracted them all for a time. After confirming Tyrion was alright, Lyon had paraded around the circle of guests soaking up as much attention as possible. Notably, he'd avoided Bronn when the former sellsword reached down to pet him and glared at Bran before ignoring him entirely. All in all, Sansa had never felt closer to the wolf. When fully satisfied with the attention he'd received from Pod, Brienne and Davos, Lyon had wandered to the corner for a nap - most likely to prepare for more ear rubs later.
"Have you heard from Jon at all?" asked Davos
Arya shook her head "No. I write to him a lot, but he must be beyond the wall still"
The older knight sighed "I've written to him a couple of times too and had no response. Hope he's alright"
"Jon's fine" said Bran, staring at the fire "Happier beyond the wall than he would have been in Kings Landing"
"That's good to know" said Ser Davos, emptying his cup of wine "Jon's a good man"
Bronn had been unusually quiet since dinner, where he'd once again spent his time making bawdy jokes and asking Tyrion different things. Her husband had a lords manners and was perfectly polite to him, but there was no warmth there. Tyrion hardly spoke at all unless he was directly asked something and Sansa hated seeing him so withdrawn. While he was a lot more open around her and Arya than when he first came to Winterfell, the arrival of their guests seemed to have him on edge. The only person she'd seen him really speak with was Podrick.
Davos and Arya were chatting idly about Bravos, with Brienne and Pod joining in on occasion. Sansa's eyes wandered over her brother, his gaze lost in the flames as if there was no-one else here with him. It was when she landed on Bronn that unease curled through her. The new lord of the Twins was staring directly at Tyrion – his mouth pressed in a hard line.
"Oi, Tyrion" he called a moment later, sending Sansa's blood cold
All conversation ceased, attention moving to Bronn and Tyrion.
Sansa felt her husband tense beside her, answering softly "Yes?"
"They cut your tongue out in the Wolfswood?"
Tyrion flinched "No, they didn't"
"Oh, so you can speak?"
"I can" he said, shifting uneasily
"Then why don't ya?"
"I've nothing of interest to say"
Bronn snorted "Never used to stop ya"
"You thought only death would shut me up" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze "turns out you were wrong"
Sansa's stomach churned uncomfortably. She wasn't entirely sure what they were referring to, but Bronn had no right to bring up the Wolfswood to Tyrion.
Bronn leaned forward in his chair "What – ya can't say anything to your old friend?"
"If I've offended you somehow, I apologise"
Tyrion bowed his head slightly, looking anywhere but at their guests. Bronn looked more annoyed than before, clenching his fists as he stared at Tyrion.
"What the hell happened to ya? Wolf got your tongue?"
"Enough of that" said Davos, shooting a glare at the former sellsword "We're guests here"
Sansa thought that would be the end of it, but Bronn refused to take the hint – a smirk crossing his face as he leaned forward. A cold realisation fell over Sansa. Bronn's attempts to engage Tyrion the past few days had all failed. Running out of patience, he'd apparently decided to provoke a reaction from her husband. Sansa saw rather quickly where this was about to go and it tore at her heart. As much as she wanted to end the conversation and protect Tyrion, doing so would cause him to lose face and likely damage his fragile self-confidence. Glancing at Arya, she saw the same conflict mirrored in her sister's eyes.
The Queen brushed her hand against Tyrion's leg, a gentle reminder she was here for him before turning a frosty gaze to Bronn. For now she would hold her tongue, but if things went too far she wouldn't hesitate to defend her husband.
"Guess the wolves did take your tongue" said Bronn "Never thought you'd lose your balls to a woman – but I should have known. Shae had you wrapped around her little finger too"
"Enough" said Tyrion, eyes narrowing
Bronn leaned back, shaking his head "Look at ya, sat there like a perfect little lap dog. I always knew you wanted to fuck the Stark girl, didn't realise you were desperate enough turn on your friends"
"Do not disrespect my wife" said Tyrion, voice turning deadly "and we were never friends"
Despite her growing fury at Bronn, Sansa's heart skipped a beat at Tyrion's words. While she regularly claimed him as her husband and called him as such, she couldn't recall Tyrion ever claiming her as his wife. The fact he'd called her as such so fiercely and publicly thrilled her.
"Of course we're friends" said Bronn
"Really? Do you threaten all your friends with a crossbow or just me and Jamie?" said Tyrion, a sardonic smile twisting his face
Bronn huffed "That was business and you know it"
"Cersei's business"
Ice slithered down Sansa's spine at the dead Queen's name "What was Cersei's business?"
The new lord of the Twins looked decidedly more uncomfortable than he had a few moments before, shifting in his seat "It's in the past. Not important"
"It was very important to you at the time" said Tyrion "Cersei offered you Riverrun if you killed Jamie and I, didn't she?"
"Aye, but you're still here so I obviously didn't do it"
"Ah, yes. Very friendly of you – to offer us a chance to make you a better offer" said Tyrion, voice rising
"Which I took" said Bronn, spreading his hands "and here we all are. I have two castles now – your brother's debt is paid in full. No reason we can't be friends; I aint a sellsword no more"
Sansa could feel the anger rolling off her husband, his face tight with pain as he stared at Bronn "Yes, it all worked out rather well for you. You got your castles, and I have a dead brother"
"It aint my fault your brother got himself killed" said Bronn, shrugging "I liked Jamie"
"You don't care that he'd dead though, do you? No-one else cares but me!" snapped Tyrion "Jamie and I were just bags of gold to you – to everyone. Tossed aside when we served our purpose"
Whatever reaction Bronn had hoped to evoke from Tyrion, it clearly wasn't this. The former sellsword had gone from goading her husband, to looking desperately around the room for help. Sansa's heart lurched at the pain spread across Tyrion's face.
"That aint true" tried Bronn
"Yes it is" snapped Tyrion, green eyes blazing "You took what you wanted from me without a second thought – and then left when it was convenient. Why won't anyone leave me alone?"
"I'm not-"
"Everyone wanted me to go away and stop talking – then when I do, it's still not good enough. What do you want from me this time? Here to extort another castle from me? Or are you just here to hit me again?"
"I don't want nothing from ya" said Bronn raising his hands "Besides if I was after a castle I'd be extorting your wife not you"
While Sansa suspected it was meant in jest, it was clearly the wrong thing to say.
"Don't ever threaten Sansa" said Tyrion, voice turning icy
At his words, a low growl echoed around the chamber. A golden streak shot past the chaise where they were sat, launching towards Bronn. Lyon landed on the former sellsword with a thump, knocking him back into the chaise as he bared his teeth.
Bronn flailed, his hand reaching to a knife in his belt, but it was hopeless. Lordship had clearly dulled some of Bronn's reflexes. The direwolf would rip his throat out long before Bronn could use the knife. Davos and Brienne were watching the scene with growing horror, but Sansa's gaze was firmly on her husband. Anger rolled off him in waves, but there a hint of fear hiding in his face. Bronn's mocking threat to Sansa had clearly rattled her husband. His green eyes were locked onto his former friend as Lyon growled in his face.
"I weren't threatening no-one" spluttered Bronn "Call your beast off"
"You can threaten me, mock me – I don't care" said Tyrion "but if you threaten Sansa or Arya, I will make sure you regret it"
"Alright! I swear I didn't mean it" said Bronn, eyeing the wolf's jaws inches from his throat
Tyrion held his gaze a moment longer before slumping next to her. The anger drained from him as suddenly as it came, her husband sinking into his seat beside her. Lyon settled down as well, bouncing off the former sellsword and padding over to his master. Sansa's restraint dissolved in an instant and she wrapped her arm around her husband drawing him against her. He sat stiffly, his face turned downwards. Already she could see his anger melting into embarrassment.
Bran's face was expressionless as he watched the scene; doing and saying nothing as usual. Davos and Brienne were both glaring at Bronn while Podrick was watching Tyrion worriedly. Sansa pulled her gaze from Tyrion just in time to see a flash of steel cut through the air. The knife thudded into the chaise barely an inch from Bronn's neck.
"In case it isn't clear" said Arya, her eyes unforgiving "If you so much as insult Tyrion again I'll kill you myself"
Tyrion felt utterly ashamed as Sansa and Arya marched him back through Winterfell. He hadn't meant to lose his temper with Bronn - since he arrived he'd tried to ignore the master of coin. Why couldn't Bronn just leave him alone?
The group had quickly dispersed after Arya threw the knife, exchanging a few meaningless pleasantries before heading off. Sansa and Arya had quickly closed in on him, tugging him from the chaise and marching him through Winterfell, with Lyon sauntering behind.
"I'm so sor-" he started, as they headed up the stairs towards the Queen's chambers
"Don't" said Arya, her face grim
Tyrion's stomach lurched as the door came into sight. He'd never meant to embarrass Sansa, yet that was exactly what he'd done. She couldn't even look at him. The dark voice of his insecurities grew louder as they steered him towards the chaise, pushing him onto the seat and standing over him. This was it; they'd finally had enough of him.
He kept his gaze on the floor, waiting for them to pass judgement. His good hand began fiddling with the sling holding his left arm in place as the silence stretched on. Lyon didn't seem particularly concerned, trotting off to his bowl of water and another nap.
A slender hand closed around his a moment later, tugging it gently from the damaged limb. Tyrion risked a glance up to see Sansa's blue eyes gazing at him. Her face held none of the disgust or disappointment he'd feared - only tenderness.
"Tyrion, I'm so sorry" she said, crouching in front of him
Arya's face was grim as she nodded "We had no idea Bronn had threatened you before – or hit you"
"I never would have allowed him North if I'd known" said Sansa
"Don't worry; he won't be threatening you again"
"I'll have him banished from the North. I don't care whether he's Bran's master of coin – he won't be near you"
It took longer than it should have for Sansa and Arya's words to sink in, but when they did a lump formed in Tyrion's throat.
"There's no need for that" he said shaking his head "it was my fault. He's your guest and my behaviour was entirely inappropriate – I'm sorry"
"Don't you dare apologise" said Arya, crossing her arms "As far as I'm concerned Bronn deserved far more than that"
"Exactly" said Sansa, squeezing his hand "If you hadn't spoken up for yourself, I would have – and things would have been much less pleasant for Bronn"
Tyrion looked between Sansa and Arya. Both their faces were etched in concern, no sign at all they were angry with him. The evidence was in front of him, but a fearful part of him had to be sure.
"You're not upset with me?"
"Of course we're not" said Sansa, as Arya nodded "I promise"
The tension drained out of Tyrion at the sincerity in their eyes, leaving him feeling rather foolish for doubting them in the first place. Time and again they'd told him he wouldn't be thrown out if he did something wrong, but the doubt continued to plague him anyway.
'The next time you fail me, will be the last time you fail me' whispered the Queen of the ashes
Daenerys had turned on him after too many mistakes; he didn't want to fail anyone again. The chaise groaned as Sansa and Arya dropped onto it either side of him. The Queen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in to kiss his cheek.
"What actually happened when Bronn threatened you?" asked Arya, lounging against the arm of the chaise
"Cersei sent him to make sure Jamie and I didn't leave the North alive" said Tyrion, dropping his gaze "He was there on Cersei's orders, but he thought Daenerys had better odds of winning than Cersei"
"If Cersei was dead she couldn't pay up" guessed Sansa, rubbing the top of his arm "He wanted a deal from you"
"Jamie was never the swordsman he used to be after losing his hand, and I would be no match for Bronn. He threatened to kill us with a crossbow unless we improved on Cersei's offer. I offered him Highgarden"
Arya nodded, her grey eyes dangerous as she soaked in the information "Bronn hit you?"
"I tried to talk my way out of it, but he hit me to shut me up" said Tyrion, bitterness colouring his tone "Rather ironic now he wants to talk to me"
Arya's face grew tight as Sansa tightened her arms around him. Some part of him was embarrassed by their attention. He wasn't a child – they shouldn't need to treat him with such gentleness. Yet his soul needed it desperately.
"Bronn will be gone by morning" promised Sansa
Tyrion shook his head "Thank you – but there really is no need. Bronn is part of your brother's council. I'll apologise tomorrow and we can move on from it"
"You've nothing to apologise for" said Arya, mouth turning down
"It'll be easier for everyone if we move on from this. Bronn is master of coin – maintaining a good relationship with him is important" said Tyrion
"Not as important as you" said Sansa
Arya's grey eyes studied him "I never actually met Bronn before he came here, but I'd heard you were close friends"
"I once thought we were" said Tyrion "but it wasn't real. His loyalty was to my gold rather than me; I think I always knew that on some level. It just never bothered me before now"
"Until he threatened you and Jamie?"
"Partly" agreed Tyrion, adding quietly "but mostly because I know what it's like to be truly cared for now. You've both shown me how much I didn't know was missing"
Tyrion dropped his head awkwardly as he finished; it was true though. He had no gold, land or powerful family name to offer them anymore. Whatever worth he'd once held had been stripped away, leaving just him - and for some reason Sansa and Arya loved him. They gave him so much without expecting anything in return, and to Tyrion it was a foreign concept. His family had taught him long ago that everyone wanted something. Nothing was free; not even love.
"We'll always take care of you" said Sansa, kissing the top of his head "You've still much to learn my love"
Arya nodded, a small smile on her face "You're part of our pack big brother. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives"
Warmth spread through Tyrion at their words. Never would he have imagined finding a place with the wolves; but he had - and it meant more to him than anything ever had.
"Are you sure you don't want us to banish Bronn?" asked Sansa
"I'm quite sure. Unity between the two kingdoms is important, particularly with Bronn as the new lord of the Twins. He is the closest lord to the border between the North and the six kingdoms"
Neither of them looked pleased about it, but Sansa eventually nodded realising the truth in his words.
"Alright" she conceded "Bronn gets one more chance – but if he ever dares to speak to you like that again he'll be banished"
"Fine" huffed Arya, disappointment in her eyes "but if you change your mind I can make his death look like an accident"
"I think Lyon already scared him" said Sansa "Bronn's reflexes aren't what they used to be apparently"
"Who knew Lyon could be so terrifying?" said Tyrion, eyeing his direwolf
Lyon was currently lying on his back in the middle of the bed, his paws in the air as he napped. Seeing him now to when he was at Bronn's throat was like seeing two completely different wolves.
Arya snorted "No-one rushed to save Bronn"
"Davos looked quite excited" mused Sansa
The three lapsed into a light-hearted discussion of Bran's council and how Ser Davos seemed to drink much more heavily these days. Some of his embarrassment faded as they spoke, enjoying the easy familiarity between them.
"Guess I'll leave you two alone" said Arya some time later, standing from the chaise and stretching upwards
Sansa nodded "I'll meet you in the morning"
"Good night" said Tyrion, offering her a smile
Arya smirked at him, reaching over to flick his head "Anyone threatens you again - tell me. It's been a long time since I poked a hole in someone"
"You're rather terrifying sometimes" he said
"Only sometimes?" she called, ghosting across the room towards the door
When they were alone, Sansa tilted Tyrion's face up to meet hers.
"Are you really ok?"
"I'm fine" he promised "I'm still sorry for embarrassing you"
"You've never embarrassed me" she said, brushing her thumb over his cheek "I just need you to know – if you ever want to talk about Jamie...or what happened in Kings Landing I'm here for you"
"It's in the past" he said, lowering his eyes "Everything's so different now"
"It is" she agreed "but it doesn't change what's already happened. You tried to get me to talk about my family plenty of times in Kings Landing and I always refused – even though it was what I really needed"
"That was different Sansa. You were a child being held prisoner; far from your home and family"
"The situation was awful, but you always tried to help" she said "I've had time to work through the loss of my family – and I'm very lucky to still have Arya, Jon and Bran alive. You lost everything so suddenly my love"
"Not everything" he said quietly "I have you and Arya"
"You do - always" she promised, leaning her head against his "You have a new family, but you don't have to forget everything about your past. When I brought you here I never even considered you might be mourning your brother or everything else that happened. I'm here for you Tyrion – whenever you want to talk about it"
"Thank you" he said, warmth igniting in his chest
Sansa's words were true; he did mourn Jamie. As he did Varys and even Daenerys to some extent. He'd lost everything so suddenly, before being thrust into a new life in the North. Feeling Sansa's warmth against him as they sat on the chaise, Tyrion thought he'd gained a lot too.
Bronn wasn't in a good mood as he made his way through Winterfell in search of breakfast. He could already imagine how insufferable Davos and Brienne were going to be about last night. Even Pod had been glaring at him as they went their separate ways.
The lord of the Twins pushed his way past the many servants scuttling about the castle as he headed into the great hall. The head table was already set out with a range of food; Davos and Brienne already eating. To his surprise he saw Tyrion sat with them – Arya at his side. Bronn slowed his walk as he approached the table. The Starks didn't usually join them for breakfast.
"Morning" greeted Ser Davos, eyeing him warily as Bronn dropped into the seat beside him
Brienne and Arya were already talking about something or other, though both shot him the same warning glare.
"Ser Bronn" said Tyrion, fiddling with his fork
His old friend looked completely unsure of what to say – and it irritated him. Tyrion had never been lost for words in Kings Landing. No matter what anyone said to him, he'd never let it bother him – but the man sat opposite him was like a stranger.
"Lord Tyrion" returned Bronn, impaling a piece of sausage on his own fork
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the direwolf lurking, green eyes glaring at him like prey. Damned wolf, he thought. Things had been going badly enough last night before the direwolf jumped on him. To his annoyance, Bronn had found his reflexes too slow in reaching his knife. The creature would have had his throat long before he could have stopped it – he was getting old.
"I wish to apologise for last night" said Tyrion, his eyes looking anywhere but Bronn "You're a guest of the Queen and I should not have spoken to you as I did – or allowed Lyon to threaten you"
Bronn considered his friend. If he wasn't a golden haired dwarf with a scarred face, Bronn would barely recognise him. The cutting sarcasm and Lannister arrogance was all gone; he looked more like a beaten dog these days than a proud lion.
He smiled at Tyrion anyway, waving his hand dismissively "No harm done, eh?"
"Lyon's very protective of Tyrion" said Arya, eyes moving from Bronn to the knife next to her plate and back again "I'm sure you understand"
'He aint the only one' thought Bronn, recalling the knife that had flew past him last night. The younger Stark was as dangerous as the damned wolf. Even the Queen had stared at him like prey.
"I understand alright" said Bronn lifting his chin, a smirk curling over his face "reckon the little wolf just wanted to say hello"
The lord of Winterfell forced a smile, returning to pushing his food around the plate. Bronn could feel Davos and Brienne's gazes burning into him, but he focused on his own breakfast. Gods he hated the North. The weather was shit and the people were bloody miserable.
"So where's your Queen?" he asked, between mouthfuls of food
"Something came up that required her attention" said Arya, her eyes flicking worriedly to Tyrion
"Anything interesting?" asked Bronn
"No, it isn't" said Arya, her face tightening
"Plenty to organise for the deal getting signed the day after next" said Ser Davos
Arya nodded "Some of the Northern lords and ladies are arriving tomorrow"
"It'll be strange to see Winterfell so busy again" said Brienne
The three carried on chatting about the work going on in the North and Kings Landing. Tyrion continued staring at nothing, his mind clearly miles away. He'd heard plenty of tales about what had supposedly happened in the Wolfswood, but Bronn wasn't thoughtless enough to ask Tyrion for specifics. As far as he could tell a couple of lords had set up a slavery business and kidnapped Tyrion. He knew Grey Worm had somehow gotten involved and was in the dungeon, awaiting execution. If Bronn had been in charge all of those cockless bastards would have been killed for what they did in Kings Landing - not sent off with gold and ships.
The Starks were putting on a show for them, pretending everything in the North was fine. It obviously wasn't - Bronn had heard there were whispers of rebellion in the North, but there was clearly something else going on too. Arya was chatting with Davos and Brienne, but her attention was on Tyrion. Over the past few days he'd noticed both the Stark girls continuously checking on him; as if expecting something to be bothering him.
He didn't like it. There was far more going on than he knew about, but everyone was too busy pretending to care about this trade deal.
"Eh Tyrion, you wanna grab a drink later?" asked Bronn as more talk of deals and negotiations assaulted his ears
Immediately the rest of the groups' eyes fell on him.
The lord of Winterfell shifted uncomfortably "Thank you, but I don't think so"
"Come on, we can drag Pod along" said Bronn "Get away from all this politics and shit"
"That's kind of you, but I don't drink anymore and…there are things I really should be doing"
It was a weak excuse, but Bronn wasn't going to provoke him again. It was obvious enough Tyrion didn't want to go.
Bronn forced a smile "Another time, eh?"
Tyrion nodded, returning to his empty staring. The direwolf had been watching him eat, but now padded over to his master nudging his leg with a soft whine.
There was something else going on, Bronn decided. Annoyance flickered through him - the man sat before him was hardly Tyrion Lannister anymore. Whatever he'd been through since coming North had damaged him beyond repair.
"Can you move your fingers my lord?"
Sansa watched her husband's face twitch in discomfort as he followed the instruction. The last two fingers on his left hand didn't curl in as easily as the rest, but they did bend - however stiffly.
They'd awoken that morning to their usual pile of correspondence; this time with two letters for Tyrion from his tormentors. Sansa would never understand how anyone could be so cruel. With each letter her husband grew more distant, though he continued to deny their threats bothered him. Todays had not only detailed their plans for hurting Tyrion, but their plans for hurting her and Arya as well.
He'd gone with Arya to breakfast with their guests and apologised to Bronn. To Sansa there was nothing he had to apologise for, but Tyrion was insistent and she could see his point about maintaining good relations. She'd had no interest in seeing Bronn after last night, and had instead met with Alec to discuss the letters and any progress in the hunt for Robin and Gawan. To her continued disappointment there was no progress.
"Here" said Wolkan, holding out a stick "Could you try to close your hand around that my lord?"
Tyrion's mouth pressed into a tight line as he slowly curled his hand around the stick. The appendage trembled with the effort but he eventually managed a loose grip. Wolkan let go of the stick and Tyrion held it for a few seconds before it clattered to the floor. Her husband clutched his hand, face tight with pain.
"Are you ok?" she asked worriedly, leaning closer to him on the exam table
"Cramp" he muttered, screwing his eyes shut
The Maester reached across, taking hold of the hand and examining it. She rubbed her hand over her husband's back; waiting for the old man's judgement. After weeks of resting his damaged arm and wearing the tight splint around his hand, today was the day they would see if it had worked. Sansa had met her husband after breakfast, accompanying him to the Maester's room. It was no secret he was nervous of the outcome; but they'd done everything possible to fix the damage.
"Hmm" mused Wolkan, prodding the hand "I think the bones have healed as well as could be expected my lord. Is it paining you at all?"
"It's stiff and tight" said Tyrion, grimacing at his hand
"Understandable. After so many weeks immobilised there will be some weakness and stiffness for a while I'm afraid. Your wrist and fingers have healed quite well. The priority now is rebuilding your strength in that limb"
"What can we do about that?" asked Sansa, as Tyrion pulled his damaged hand back
The old Maester sat back on his stool, scratching his beard "I would recommend stretching your hand and fingers each day, gradually working it into your everyday use. It isn't your dominant hand, but you may wish to find some kind of activity that involves using it. Continued use and stretching should help to build strength in it"
Sansa nodded, smiling at her husband "I'll help you. You'll get your strength back in no time"
Tyrion returned her smile half-heartedly, his gaze turning to Wolkan "Thank you Maester. Your assistance and support these past weeks has been greatly appreciated"
"You're more than welcome my lord" said Wolkan, bowing his head "It is good to see you recovering"
"Happy to get your arm out of that sling?" asked Sansa
"Yes, it was rather irritating" he agreed
"You've healed much better than I expected, lord Tyrion" said Wolkan, chain clanking as he rose from his chair to tidy away his supplies "Even your stamina is much improved from last week"
Sansa had noticed that too. When her husband had first returned to whatever he did in the training yard, she'd been terrified of him overdoing it. Each time he returned to their chambers exhaustion hung heavily over him and he was noticeably stiffer the next day. However, as the days wore on she'd noticed a definite improvement in Tyrion. His limp wasn't as pronounced and as Wolkan pointed out he didn't tire as easily. The visible benefits had quickly won her over, dispelling some of her worry over Tyrion.
Much to her surprise he hadn't yet used his new sword, though she'd seen him admiring it in their room several times. When she'd asked him about it, Tyrion had said it wouldn't be right to use a real sword until he'd regained his strength with a practice sword. She suspected the issue was more one of confidence than physical ability, but she hoped with his left arm back in use Tyrion would start to regain his lost confidence.
Glancing down at her husband, her stomach twisted at the distant look on his face. As much as he was healing she knew bringing Robin and Gawan to justice would give him the greatest relief. The taunting letters were continuously plaguing his mind; that much was obvious.
The face in the heart tree might be scary to some people, but to the three-eyed raven it was like seeing the face of an old friend. The King brushed his fingers over the rough bark of the tree, a thousand images rushing through his mind.
The past, the present and occasionally the future danced before him. The past was set, the present happening around him – only the future could be changed. The words he'd spoken to Sansa were true. He had seen glimpses of a future where Tyrion Lannister was never taken to the Wolfswood. The lord of Winterfell was already dead – his broken body lying at the bottom of the highest tower.
Bran sighed. He'd only ever seen that possibility once, and mercifully it had never come to pass. Since coming to Winterfell Bran could see things had changed; Sansa had changed. He'd offered Tyrion a way out of the North, but he'd refused claiming this was his home. Hurting Sansa was never Bran's intent, but he had to be sure. The three-eyed raven knew everyone was where they should be, that things had happened as they were meant to. Bran Stark felt guilty. Watching Tyrion suffer in the Wolfswood was awful. While he still wasn't recovered, he was far better than Bran had seen through the ravens eyes.
Loud footsteps crunched through the snow, drawing Bran's attention. The master of coin ambled through the trees, his face lighting in surprise as he spied Bran. The three-eyed raven smiled. Bronn wasn't surprised to see him, nor had he came across him by accident.
"Your Grace" greeted Bronn, giving an exaggerated bow as he approached
"Ser Bronn"
"Fancy some company? Or are ya talking to the trees?"
"I think they've said enough for today" said Bran, folding his hands in his lap
Gruff, unpredictable and completely lacking in etiquette – Bran found he enjoyed the former sellswords company. As much as he valued Davos' loyalty and Brienne's honour, he often found Bronn the most interesting companion.
"Are you enjoying our trip North?" he asked
"Sure" said Bronn, dropping onto the ground and leaning back against a fallen log "reckon they're a bit serious up here for me"
Bran nodded "My sisters don't appreciate your humour"
"Exactly. All they wanna do is work"
"Lord Tyrion wouldn't have a drink with you"
The older man raised an eyebrow at Bran's knowledge "That aint lord Tyrion"
"Isn't it?"
"Dunno what the wolves have done to him, but he aint like he used to be"
Ah, so that was what Bronn wanted – to know what had happened to Tyrion. He'd told his council the basics of what had happened, but not the specifics.
"It must hurt, to see your friend so different" said Bran. He knew all about that – Meera had looked at him like a stranger too.
"Didn't ya hear him last night? We were never friends"
"Is that so?" he asked, a humourless smile crossing his face "You want Tyrion to be as he was; he'll never be that man again"
"Don't see why not"
"You saw Sansa in Kings Landing. Is she the same girl she once was?"
Bronn snorted "Gods no. Surprised I didn't get frost bite from the way she glared at me last night"
"My sister suffered greatly" said Bran, turning to the tree "She married a monster here; who abused her horrifically. After everything she suffered, Sansa changed"
The lord of the Twins sighed, rubbing at his face "The rumours about what happened to Tyrion are true, aint they?"
Bran said nothing. It wasn't his place to tell Bronn the details of Tyrion's suffering; though his silence spoke volumes.
"The bastards are still out there"
"They are" said Bran "and they continue to torment Tyrion"
"You gonna tell your sisters where?"
Bran's face pressed into a grim line "I can't. The Old Gods only allow me to see so much. The North will rise or fall by Sansa's hand"
"What about Tyrion? He's your brother now aint he?"
"He is, but I can't help him either. If not for him the North may already be lost – the Old Gods favour him. He's in their power and beyond my help"
The former sellsword scrunched his face in irritation "If that's what their favour looks like, I'll skip the Old Gods"
"The North is a harsh place. A man gets what he earns, and the old Gods rarely care what that is. They led Lyon to him though"
"Damned wolf" muttered Bronn
"You were quite calm when Lyon jumped on you" said Bran, corners of his mouth twitching upwards
"Why wouldn't I be? You can warg into any animal, reckon you'd have saved me before I gutted the little fleabag"
"I can warg into any animal" agreed Bran "but not Lyon"
Bronn paled slightly at his words.
"It's unusual, but Lyon is of the North and I suspect the Old Gods have given him immunity from me. You saw how he avoided me yesterday"
They lapsed into silence and Bran observed the older man jabbing his fingers into the light snow of the ground. He'd come here for a reason - that was never in doubt.
"You sure we can't do nothing to find those bastards?" asked Bronn, not meeting the King's stare
"I can't help my sisters how they want" said Bran, tilting his head to one side "Does it bother you? Tyrion isn't your friend after all"
Bronn snorted "Course it don't bother me. North aint my problem - or Tyrion. I'm glad to be done with the bloody Lannisters"
"There's only one lion left"
"Where?" asked Bronn, jumping to his feet and brushing the snow from him "Only wolves here, that's for damned sure"
Death had come to claim him. Tyrion had defied it for long enough and now it was coming to claim its prize. His day had gone about as well as could be expected. He'd answered letters, gone the practice yard and had dinner with Bran and his council once again. Oh, and there was that other thing. He'd received two letters from Gawan and Robin today – they were coming to get him.
He wasn't sure how they got him – but they had. Tyrion was at their mercy again, helpless to save himself as he was bound to a table. The cruel words sang through his mind as Gawan and Robin hacked pieces off him. There was no escape, no relief – only pain. His fingers had been removed one by one, followed by his toes. His manhood had been the first to go, rotting next to him on the table. Blood coated his chest as Gawan idly carved cruel words into his skin; monster, imp, freak. The knife was cold and unforgiving as he writhed beneath it.
"You're starting to bore me pet. Breaking you was fun, but I have other projects to work on" said Gawan, turning his head from him
Tyrion followed his gaze to see Sansa and Arya bound and gagged in the corner of the room, their eyes bright with terror.
Robin loomed over him, a smirk twisting his face "Gawan's done good work. This is the end for you lord of Winterfell"
Tyrion had to save Sansa and Arya but he couldn't move; they'd broken him. Gawan reappeared, a large knife in his hand "Farewell, my pet"
He woke just as the cruel boy plunged the knife into his chest – except he was still going to die. Nothing felt right. His heart was hammering inside his chest and he was shivering uncontrollably. Was this still a dream? Tyrion didn't know – he didn't know anything anymore.
"Focus on my heart beat" commanded a familiar voice; but it seemed so distant
How could he focus on anything when he was about to die? He didn't want to die.
"Breathe in, and out" continued the voice, demonstrating the rhythm
Some part of him knew the voice – and trusted it. Tyrion found himself following the advice. He breathed in, and then out in a rhythm until things slowly became a little clearer. He wasn't tied to a table; he was in bed at Winterfell.
Nausea rolled through Tyrion, even as the shadow of death crept away from him.
"Keep breathing" encouraged the voice
Tyrion realised who the voice belonged to – and where he was. Sansa had somehow pulled him on top of her, the top of her shift pulled down slightly to pillow his head over her heart. The steady thrum of her heartbeat sang into his ear as her hands held him against her; lightly brushing through his hair and across his back.
"It's ok Tyrion" she said "Just lie still. Keep breathing with me, ok?"
He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. Somehow his mind and body seemed to have detached; grasping onto reality was difficult.
"Wh-what happened?" he asked, voice hoarse and so very shaky
"You were distressed in your sleep my love. You'll be ok, just focus on breathing"
"Sorry-"
"Don't apologise. This used to happen to me a lot after Ramsay" said Sansa, rubbing his back "I had a maid who recognised what it was and helped me through it. I felt like I was going to die – but it's a trick of the mind"
Shame wound through Tyrion for his weakness, but Sansa's ministrations were working. Gradually his breathing became more even and the present became more real to him. He wasn't going to die. The covers were thrown off them and he noticed his bed shirt was missing, leaving him wearing only the light breeches he slept in. Sansa's warm hands brushed over him, drawing him against her and keeping his head pressed against the top of her exposed chest.
"What..?" he asked, stumbling to find the words for his confusion
"I woke up when I heard you shouting in your sleep. Your breathing was awful and you were shaking. Lyon was licking you - trying to wake you up, but he couldn't." said Sansa "Just focus on my heart beat. You'll feel strange now, but it will pass - trust me"
Sansa was right - everything felt wrong. His body was weak and shaky, his stomach churning as if he might be sick. Flashes of his nightmare came back to him, cruel words echoing through his mind. A soft rustling registered in his distant mind which he assumed was Lyon at the bottom of the bed near his feet. He stared out across the room, not risking a glance at Sansa. She was being so kind to him, despite his weakness.
"The letters" he said, throat tightening "they…they do…bother me"
"I know they do" she said gently "Don't think about that now, focus on something that makes you happy - like Lyon, or sword practice"
Tyrion had pretended for as long as he could that the letters didn't bother him - but they did. All day and night the words whispered through his mind. He'd done his best to block it out, but in the end the only one he'd been fooling was himself. Sansa could see through him as clear as day.
He followed Sansa's advice - to think about something that made him happy. Gradually his breathing evened out and his pounding heart slowed down to join Sansa's steady rhythm.
'One flesh, one heart, one soul - now and forever'
The words whispered through his mind, a fragment of their sham wedding in Kings Landing. At the time the whole thing had been one huge, unfunny joke. With Sansa's arms around him, it took on a whole new meaning.
"That's good" encouraged Sansa, her fingers curled in his hair as she held him against her "Are you thinking about something that makes you happy?"
Tyrion nodded against her, his voice a whisper "You"
Sansa's fingers stilled in his hair and Tyrion carried on, dampness creeping into the corners of his eyes.
"I really love you" he said, voice breaking "I should have told you before now"
His wife's heartbeat picked up pace beneath his ear, her lips pressing against the top of his head a moment later.
"I love you too"
Tyrion lay against Sansa as she continued soothing him, surrendering completely to her care. Never in his life had he felt as safe and loved as he did lying in her arms. She'd given him everything he didn't know he needed; security, comfort and so much love. The words he'd struggled with for so long seemed so simple now - how had he ever struggled with them?
He had no idea how long they lay like that, but gradually a sense of normalcy returned to Tyrion. Hesitantly, he turned his head upwards to see her face. Bright blue eyes met his, a soft smile curved over Sansa's delicate features.
"Feeling better?" she asked
"Yes, thank you"
"I'm sorry for taking your bed shirt off" she said, rubbing his back "but you were sweating through it and skin to skin contact helps"
"A maid taught you all this?"
Sansa nodded, sadness entering her blue eyes "Ramsay used to leave me locked in the room all day and abuse me all night. When he was gone I'd try to sleep, but the nightmares were awful. Once it got so bad; I couldn't breathe or think - I thought I was going to die. A maid came in to clear the room and realised what was happening"
"What was happening?" asked Tyrion
"She called it a night terror, but said it's known by other names in different places. Her father suffered them when she was a child and her mother taught her what to do" said Sansa "The maid pulled me against her, pulling down her clothes so I could feel her heartbeat. She showed me how to breathe through it, and eventually it stopped. When it was over, I asked her how she knew what it was"
"I'm so sorry"
Sansa stroked his cheek, keeping him against her "Three times she helped me through those attacks. Each time I learned a little more about them and how to handle them"
Tyrion swallowed "What happened to the maid?"
"Ramsay was cruel - everyone knew to fear him and his father. The maid never told me her name and I never asked. When Jon reclaimed Winterfell for us, I asked around hoping to find her and thank her properly. It was too late - Ramsay had already flayed her"
Anger coiled through Tyrion at Sansa's words. She'd suffered far too much in her young life. His body had returned to normal, but he still felt somewhat shaky. During the night terror Tyrion had been utterly convinced his end had come. The idea of Sansa suffering through such an experience alone, with only strangers to aid her filled him with sadness.
"You never should have had to suffer such abuse" he said, brushing her arm
"Nor you, my love"
"Do…do you still have them? The night terrors" he asked. As kind as Sansa was being to him, he couldn't deny his embarrassment at needing her support once again.
"Not for a long time" she said, tugging him closer "I still have nightmares, but they're not as frequent as they used to be either. I know it seems like the nightmares and the memories will never go away, but I promise they will. Things will get better sweetheart - you're doing so well"
"I believe you" he whispered
He hoped that was true. While his body was healing his mind continued to turn back to all that had happened, the now daily letters from Robin and Gawan adding to his fear. His eyes wandered to his discarded night shirt, reaching out with his good hand towards it. Sansa was right; it was damp with sweat as his fingers brushed over it.
"I wouldn't put it back on tonight, it's too wet" said Sansa, following his gaze "I'll find you something else for now if you like, and have it cleaned for tomorrow"
Sansa moved beneath him and Tyrion wound his hand into her night shift, stilling her movement.
"It's ok" he said, throat tightening "You needn't bother"
"Are you sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow "It's no trouble - I know you don't like sleeping without it"
Tyrion shook his head "I…I'll be fine tonight. If you don't mind that is…"
"Of course I don't" she said immediately, wrapping her arms around him
"Do you want me to move?" he asked "I've disturbed your sleep enough for one night"
To his relief Sansa shook her head "I'm very happy with you right where you are, unless you're uncomfortable?"
"I'm quite alright" he said, adding quietly "Thank you Sansa - for everything"
Tiredness swept through Tyrion as he settled down against his wife, her arms wrapped protectively around him as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Somehow he knew staying close to her would keep the nightmares away. He was safe with Sansa.
When the first rays of sunlight broke into the darkness of their chambers, Sansa stirred to life. Tyrion had slid off her at some point during the night but to her joy was still huddled against her. She turned on her side to face him, enjoying the closeness between them.
When he'd started shouting in the night, she'd been terrified. Tyrion often had nightmares and she regularly found him shaking silently beneath the covers. His terror was nearly always soundless, yet last night his shouts of fear had echoed around their chambers. It was when she'd tried to wake him she realised what was happening. His eyes were open, but his mind was trapped in some kind of hell.
Sansa's heart broke at his distress, but at least she knew how to help him. Eventually he'd returned to her, his face pale and frightened. She understood – she'd experienced night terrors before.
'I really love you'
Her husband's words whispered through her mind as she brushed the hair from his forehead. She'd known it already – his actions more than proved it. Even so, hearing him say it meant the world to her. After all that had happened; the things she'd done – Sansa had been prepared to never have his trust or love. A tingle spread through her chest as Tyrion subconsciously leaned into her touch, his face relaxed and peaceful. Her eyes drifted to his growing beard - and the increased redness of his scar. The wound had healed quite well but whenever Tyrion's beard began to grow the end of his scar would become red and inflamed. Sansa sighed, stroking his cheek. He wouldn't be happy about it, but his face would need to remain bare for the foreseeable future - the damaged skin was just too sensitive.
More than anything she wanted to stay in bed with her husband, but her duty as Queen demanded her attention. Lord Cerwyn and Lady Tallhart would be arriving today, in preparation for the deal being signed tomorrow. Sansa had invited all of the Northern lords and ladies, but they were the only positive replies she'd had. Houses Glover and Manderly had refused, and aside from a few apologies she hadn't heard from the rest of the houses. A slither of nerves trickled through her. Had she had so few responses because the rebellion against her was finding followers? The Queen shook her head, dismissing the thought. Worrying would do no good; whatever was going to happen would happen.
Reluctantly, Sansa untangled herself from Tyrion, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and tucking the covers around him as she rose from the bed. She lifted up his discarded night shirt, still damp with sweat. She knew he preferred to sleep in the bed clothes Esther had made him, and hated exposing the scars that littered his body. Yet last night he'd been content to stay in his only breeches – another sign of his growing trust. The Queen had taken several steps towards her dresser when she noticed an unusual sight.
Lyon was sat on top of his blankets in the corner of the room, his ears drooping as he stared at the ground. He looked as though he'd failed his sole mission in life. Despite Lyon's indifference to her, Sansa changed course to see what was bothering the little wolf.
"What's wrong Lyon?" she asked softly, crouching in front of him
The direwolf whined, glancing sadly at the bed where his master slept.
"Tyrion's fine" she told him
Lyon whined again, dropping his head and scuffing at the floor with his paw. It took Sansa a moment to realise what had upset him. When Tyrion's distress had finally roused her, Lyon had already been there licking at his face to try and wake him. The wolf's efforts hadn't worked and in desperation, Lyon had bounced on top of her pleading for help. He'd remained on the bed with them until he was certain Tyrion was alright before disappearing. Sansa had assumed he'd returned to his own sleep, but it now appeared the golden wolf had been brooding on his apparent failure all night.
"You did everything you could" said Sansa, feeling somewhat silly for chatting to Lyon as her husband did
Lyon huffed, turning his head from her. The Queen sighed. A direwolf identity crisis wasn't her ideal start to the morning.
"Lyon, I know you love Tyrion. You protect him so well and you've known something was bothering him the past few days, haven't you?" she said, pieces falling into place "That's why you've stayed so close to him"
The direwolf gazed at her with sad green eyes.
"You do so much to take care of him. I love Tyrion too. There are ways you help him that I can't, and there's things I can do for him that you can't. He needed me last night, but he'll always need you too"
Sansa reached out to pet the wolf and he allowed it with only a slightly haughty look "Don't blame yourself because you couldn't help him last night. I'll always look after him"
Lyon's eyes wandered to the bed, a hint of longing in them.
Sansa glanced at her husband, turning back to his wolf "I need to get ready for the day, but Tyrion looks a bit lonely, doesn't he?"
The wolf considered her for a moment before his ears perked up and he trotted off towards the bed. Lyon clambered onto the bed, casting a final look glance at her before curling up next to his master.
The Queen sighed as she straightened up. The first crisis of the day had been dealt with at least.
Arya lifted the letter from her desk, the early morning sun reaching into her chambers.
Jon,
I hope you're happy with the wildlings. When you eventually return to Castle Black and see all these letters from me – don't panic. I'm writing to keep you up to date with our family, and talking to you is easier than poking holes in Sansa or Bran.
King Bran has arrived at Winterfell along with Davos, Brienne, Bronn and Pod. As excited as I was to see them, Bran is hardly our brother anymore. I'll never understand the three-eyed raven, but I've always trusted Bran. Some of the things he's said to Sansa have been cruel though. Ser Davos misses you, I think. His time as Bran's hand seems to be giving him a drinking problem – further observation required to verify.
Our sister is doing better, but still carries the weight of the North on her shoulders. Accepting help is difficult for her and she blames herself for a lot of things, no matter how much she seems to be forgiven. There are still days I want to strangle her – mostly when she's being particularly stubborn.
Tyrion is much better than he was physically. His injuries have mostly healed and he can move around the castle again. The bastards who hurt have started sending him letters though. I can barely stomach reading them, so they must hurt him a lot. Things between him and Sansa are much improved, even if he still seems uncertain about his place in our family. You'd hardly recognise him from the man he was.
That's all the news for now. Take care of yourself big brother. Anyone bothers you – stick 'em with the pointy end.
Arya
Satisfied with what she'd written, Arya sealed the message with her direwolf sigil. She'd written to Jon regularly since he was sentenced to the Nights Watch, and she knew Sansa had written to him a few times. As much as she realised Jon was probably happier with the wildlings, it didn't make her miss him any less.
Her excitement at having Bran back at Winterfell had faded the past few days. He'd told them both he couldn't help them find Robin and Gawan, which irritated Arya to no end. Surely Bran could give them some idea? Tyrion was family - why wouldn't Bran want to help him? He'd been quick enough trying to take Tyrion away from them though. Poor Sansa had looked as if she might burst into tears when Bran made that offer.
She'd always trusted Bran - no matter how strange he was now. Yet, the past few days she'd felt the faintest stirring of distrust. They were his family, this was his home - but Bran seemed to have very little interest in any of it. At least when Cley and lady Tallhart arrive later there will be more people to distract them at dinner. Fortunately Bronn appeared to have lost interest in provoking Tyrion, instead staring moodily at his plate last night.
Arya twisted the letter in her hand. She missed Jon a lot - he would know how to handle all of this far better than her.