Chapter 28
Tyrion fidgeted on the stool as Sansa prodded his face. Her fingers gently traced his scar from top to bottom, and he couldn't quite suppress a wince when she reached the bottom part that disappeared into the beginnings of his beard.
"I'm sorry" she said
"It may only be temporary irritation"
Sansa shook her head "Better not to risk it. I don't want you to get sick"
He sighed in defeat "You're right, it'll have to go"
"When the skin's had more time to heal you can always try again"
Tyrion nodded at the idea, but part of him suspected it was hopeless. He'd let his beard grow out the other week and the same thing had happened – the bottom of his scar had become inflamed and sore. Maester Wolkan believed it was caused by a combination of the already delicate skin being reopened by Gawan, and the cold Northern air making it harder to heal. Whatever the case; the outcome was clear – no more beard.
He'd awoken this morning to find Lyon lying in place of Sansa, his wife already up and ready for the day. The memory of last night's dream and the utterly paralysing experience that had followed lingered on the edge of his subconscious; fortunately the memory of Sansa's arms around him and her heartbeat in his ear kept it at bay.
The Queen had pulled him onto the stool by her dresser when he'd awoken, insisting on examining his scar before he got ready for the day. Her fiery hair hung loosely behind her as she cupped his face, her eyes brimming with sympathy.
"Suppose I should call upon Tom and get my beard removed" he said, offering her a sad smile
"There's no need – I can do it"
"You don't need to trouble yourself. I do believe Tom is rather fond of hacking off my hair"
"There's not much to shave" she said "and if you're going beardless from now on, letting me do it whenever needed will be much quicker"
"I could probably do it myself" he mused. Smallfolk surely didn't have a barber to handle such matters. Unfortunately being highborn meant he'd never had to do it himself.
Sansa snorted "You're not doing it yourself. Robb tried once and cut his face to pieces"
"I'm hardly going to make my face any worse"
The Queen tightened her grip on his face "You're very handsome, and I won't have you speak of yourself like that"
Tyrion lightly gripped her hands with his "You're too kind to me"
"I'm honest - you're cruel to yourself"
The words struck a strange chord in him, halting his protests. The Queen kissed his forehead, pulling back from him with a gentle smile.
"Stay right there" she said
Was he cruel to himself? All his life he'd been told how ugly he was – a monster. Sansa had never told him that though; or mocked his height. Even now he was sitting in just breeches, his twisted, scarred body under her scrutiny and she didn't seem at all disgusted. Last night he'd refused Sansa's offer of finding him something else to wear mostly because he didn't want her to move away from him. She hadn't minded; rubbing her hands soothingly over him as he lay against her. This morning he'd worried he'd somehow offended Sansa when she wasn't in bed with him, but her warm smile had quickly put that fear to rest. He'd intended to get changed right away as he still wasn't fond of Sansa seeing his disfigured body, but she'd tugged him over to examine his scar before he had chance.
Sansa was a truly unique woman. A Queen who could have chosen any man – and she'd chosen him. For the first time since they married in the Godswood Tyrion considered that fact. There was no political benefit to marrying him, although he knew part of the reason was security; he would never hurt her. Then again, Cley Cerwyn was a kind man. She chose him instead – a disfigured dwarf. Even after the Wolfswood she refused to end their marriage or send him away.
Tyrion was still pondering this new perspective when Sansa returned with a basin and razor.
"Ready?" she asked, brandishing the blade
"Very well" he conceded "my face is in your hands"
"You doubt my skills with a blade?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as she set about wetting his face
"I trust you" he said "You have steady hands and a delicate touch. Your needlework is excellent"
Sansa's face brightened and she quickly set about the task. As necessary as it was Tyrion felt a glimmer of sadness at the loss of the beard he'd had since fleeing to Essos. Finding it gone after the Wolfswood had been difficult enough, but accepting he wouldn't be able to grow it back for the foreseeable future felt like a permanent end to that chapter of his life. Sansa appeared to sense his melancholy, pausing her work.
"You grew a beard when you fled Kings Landing, right?"
He nodded "Better to hide myself from Cersei's assassins"
"You're home now" she said gently "you don't need to hide anymore"
His wife smiled tenderly at him before resuming her work. Lightness spread through Tyrion as her words sank through him. It was true, he realised. Cersei was dead. He was no longer a fugitive hiding from justice. Winterfell was his home; the Starks were his family.
The blade continued to scrape steadily at his face, removing the shield he'd worn for so long. It didn't take long for Sansa to finish; carefully wiping his face after it was done.
"Perfect" she said, blue eyes shining as she tilted his head to inspect her work
"I'm starting to think you had a plot against my beard" he said, narrowing his eyes playfully at her
"I did like your beard – but I love seeing more of your face"
Tyrion bit back his usual retort of 'Why would anyone want that?' even as it burned on the tip of his tongue.
Sansa stroked his bare cheek "This has many benefits my love"
"Like what?"
A smirk tugged at her mouth as she cupped his face, leaning in and littering him with small kisses "There's more of your face to kiss"
"Sansa Stark!" said Tyrion, laughing as she repeated the action
"Kissing your beard just isn't the same"
"Oh, I knew you had an ulterior motive!"
Without thinking, he pushed his hands up to capture Sansa's face – avoiding her kisses before retaliating with his own. Sansa blushed furiously at his attention, her arms winding around his shoulders as her blue eyes sparkled.
Tyrion had reacted so instinctively the idea Sansa may not welcome his affection didn't occur to him until he was already kissing her face. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the most carefree laugh fell from Sansa that he'd ever heard as she tugged him closer. The sound seeped into him, filling his heart with warmth as she returned his kisses with more of her own.
It was only in seeing Sansa enjoying herself so freely, he realised how rare it was. One thing was certain however; Tyrion would do whatever he could to see it again.
Arya was on the verge of searching for Sansa and Tyrion when they didn't arrive at the morning meeting. Just before she could raise the alarm and seek them out, the two appeared - and it was very obvious why they were late.
Both their faces were flushed as they sank into their respective seats, continuously brushing against each other and struggling to not smile. While Arya very much doubted they'd spent the morning in bed, they'd clearly been enjoying each other.
"Apologies for keeping you waiting" started Sansa, casting a not very subtle smirk at her husband "What are the updates and business of the day?"
The meeting was being held with Maester Wolkan and Alec in a room just off the great hall. If either of them noticed the connection between Sansa and Tyrion they didn't say anything.
"Well your Grace, the hunt for Robin and Gawan is still ongoing - without any new leads I'm afraid" said Wolkan, glancing at his papers "The Tallhart and Cerwyn parties have been sighted riding for Winterfell and are likely to arrive early afternoon"
"Very good" said Sansa "Any other developments?"
It was Alec who answered "Your Grace, the scouts have reported sightings of other parties moving towards Winterfell"
All traces of mirth fell from her sister's face, and Arya's heart ached for her. Tyrion noticed the change too, his green eyes studying his wife with worry.
"Who?" asked the Queen, lacing her hands in front of her
"A party bearing the sigil of house Mazin has been sighted, as has a group that appear to be house Dormund"
"Did you invite them?" asked Arya
"I extended the invitation to all the Northern houses but only had a few replies. You know the Glovers and Manderlys won't support me until the situation with Gawan is resolved. Larence Hornwood sent an apology for not attending as he's got too much to handle with his new lordship"
"You heard nothing from house Mazin or Dormund?" asked Alec
"No. I sent a letter back with the young lord Mazin for his father, apologising for ignoring them" said Sansa
"I wrote to both houses after that" said Tyrion "I explained our theory about Robin interfering with the Queen's correspondence. I sent a similar message to lady Dustin. Only lady Dustin has answered my letter however"
Maester Wolkan tapped his chin thoughtfully "House Mazin brought you news of the attempted rebellion, it's unlikely they will have turned against you since then"
Sansa's face was tight as she nodded "True. Karlon Mazin didn't like me, but he respected Tyrion"
"House Dormund is unknown" summarised Arya
Tyrion grimaced as he rubbed at his healing hand "I've exchanged some correspondence with house Dormund before but not much. They are quite close with house Glover, so it's strange to see them riding for Winterfell when house Glover is not"
"They may simply be answering the Queen's invitation to attend the signing of the trade deal tomorrow" said Wolkan
"Or they may have joined Robin and Gawan" said Arya
Sansa's face twisted in despair, and it turned Arya's stomach. It wasn't fair. When she'd come to the meeting Arya had seen a glimpse of the girl Sansa had once been, her face relaxed and happy as she gazed at Tyrion. Now the weight of the crown had fallen on her shoulders again, extinguishing the well-hidden spark of innocence.
Tyrion brushed his hand over hers, offering the Queen a small smile "I suspect house Dormund have come on behalf of house Glover – to investigate the claims against Gawan first hand. I doubt they've come for battle"
The Queen nodded, biting her lip "That's quite likely. If that is why they're here, it will be made very clear that Gawan Glover and Robin Flint are traitors and will die – as will any who aid them"
"What are your orders my Queen?" asked Alec "Shall we stop their approach?"
Sansa shook her head "Let them come; they are invited guests after all - but remain vigilant. We can speculate on motives, but we have no certainties. Winterfell will be busy in the coming days and any hint of trouble should be dealt with accordingly"
The council continued finalising plans for the guests soon to arrive but Arya's focus was on her sister. As much as she enjoyed being Queen, the pressure was wearing her down. Her face looked tired, her hair hanging limply around her face. Sansa was excellent at maintaining her dignified Queen in the North facade, but Arya could see through it – Tyrion could too. The lord of Winterfell's face was full of concern as he sat by her side.
The three-eyed raven saw through a thousand eyes, the power of the old Gods boosting his own in the stillness of the Godswood. He saw many things - too much for one person to see. It was like reading only one word from a thousand books and trying to deduct a story from it. The past was always easiest to see, though often unpleasant.
Bran opened his third eye wider, hoping to see more - anything that could help. He flew further than ever, testing the limits of his power that came from the North. There was something lingering just beyond his reach. He reached out for it, only to be slammed backwards. The force sent him reeling, his mind tumbling until he returned to himself.
The King rubbed his face tiredly, his eyes wandering to the unmoving face of the heart tree. It was as he expected - regrettable though it was. The old Gods would not allow him to interfere; all he could do was guide.
Since returning to Winterfell he'd spent as much time in the Godswood as possible, much to his council's concern. He was King, he had responsibilities - but his duty as the three-eyed raven was heavier still. Bran's mouth pressed into a grim line. It would not be pleasant but he'd offer Sansa the only help he could and do what needed to be done.
Bran Stark revolted at what was coming - his family had suffered enough. Yet the three-eyed raven knew this was the only way. The fate of the North was inexplicably linked to Sansa and every decision she'd already made and would make. Telling his sisters wasn't an option - things had to happen in their own time without interference. Bran was no prophet, but talk of destiny and whispers of the future had a peculiar way of warping people. Stannis Baratheon was a prime example; as was the dragon Queen.
The knowledge he held could not be shared, and Bran's role was merely to warn and remind. In his mother's faith of the seven he was like both the Crone and the Stranger. Foresight and the unknown. Wisdom and death. As a boy he'd longed to be the Warrior; even now he wished to join his family's battle.
It was a battle the three-eyed raven had little place in it however. The old Gods had already chosen their champion; and the pieces were rapidly falling into place.
Bran screwed his eyes shut, a sigh escaping him. What came next was painful in every version he'd glimpsed; but there was no avoiding it. The time was coming to give Sansa the only help he could.
"Are you alright?"
Tyrion's concerned voice cut through Sansa's muddled mind as they wound their way back towards their chambers.
"I'm fine" she said attempting a smile.
The morning had started very well. While Tyrion was somewhat resistant to losing his beard, he'd allowed her to shave it off and what had followed sent Sansa's heart racing. Seeing Tyrion so distraught in bed last night and his sadness at losing his beard this morning had made her eager to lighten his mood. Her idea to smother his face with little kisses had been risky, but to her joy he'd laughed. She'd hoped to make him smile; reassure him of her love and wash away the insecurities that clung to him. Never had she expected him to return the gesture.
Their playful kissing had quickly turned more passionate, changing from small kisses over each other's faces to their lips joining together. Sansa could kiss Tyrion all day. She'd been kissed before; Joffrey, Ramsay, littlefinger. Each time it had been controlling, cruel and possessive - but it was nothing like that with Tyrion. With him it was gentle - full of care and respect. At their first wedding in Kings Landing they'd been forced to kiss, but it had been the merest brush and to her shame Sansa had been disgusted. Not because of who she was marrying - but because she was being forced to marry a Lannister. Even now she could recall the flash of hurt in Tyrion's eyes after the kiss.
"Had you plans to meet with Brienne?"
Her husband's voice cut through her wandering thoughts, drawing her attention to the tall woman stood in the corridor before their chambers.
"No, I'm fairly sure I didn't" she said, brow furrowing as they approached the Knight
"Queen Sansa, lord Tyrion" she greeted, nodding her head respectfully
She smiled at the older woman "Sansa - I'm not your Queen"
"I'm certainly not your lord" added Tyrion, shuffling awkwardly next to her
Sansa reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. It was no secret Tyrion was particularly nervous around their guests, growing quieter whenever any of them were around. It had confused her at first, but she had an inkling of why he was hesitant to converse with Brienne; Jamie's departure from Winterfell had broken Brienne's heart.
Brienne smiled sheepishly "As you wish. I hope I'm not interrupting either of you?"
"Of course not" said Sansa "Did you wish to speak with me?"
"If you're not busy"
"I always have time for you" said Sansa, relieved at the distraction.
The news of unexpected guests heading to Winterfell had set her heart racing in entirely the wrong way. The rush of joy she'd felt with Tyrion this morning seemed like a distant dream compared to the anxious thoughts swimming in her head. There was nothing she could do except wait for them to arrive and see what happened. Visiting with Brienne would be a welcome distraction.
Tyrion slipped his hand from hers; stepping backwards "I shall take my leave then"
"Wait!" said Brienne, panic flashing in her eyes "I actually hoped I might speak with you Tyrion"
"Oh…of course" he said, nodding reluctantly
It was only then Sansa noticed a battered wooden trunk sat at Brienne's feet in the corridor. Her curiosity piqued, but the Queen said nothing as she led the way into their chambers. Tyrion trailed after her with Brienne carrying in the trunk.
"I know you have guests arriving soon, so I won't stay for long. I thought this had waited for long enough however" said Brienne, dropping lightly into an armchair with the trunk in front of her.
Sansa had no idea what the older woman could possibly be referring to or why she'd asked to speak with Tyrion. Her husband appeared equally confused, fidgeting in his seat as they sat together on the chaise.
"Tyrion, this is for you" said Brienne, sliding the trunk across the floor towards him
It was faint, but a lion sigil was carved into the top of the trunk. Her husband leaned down to open it and Sansa noticed Brienne's face softening.
"I tried to send it on, but King Bran forbade any contact with you" she said, eyes turning misty "not much survived the destruction of Kings Landing, but this is everything I could find"
Sansa was still confused as Tyrion eased the wooden lid upwards, revealing a pile of seemingly random items.
"Things you left behind in Kings Landing?" asked Sansa
"No" said Tyrion, face tightening as he stared at the contents "these are Jamie's things"
Understanding flooded Sansa and she shuffled to the edge of the chaise, draping her arm supportively around her husband. Brienne's usually serious face was twisted in grief, her eyes staring distantly at the trunk as if seeing a ghost.
"I'm sorry it took so long to get this to you Tyrion - and for your loss" said Brienne, swallowing hard "Ser Jamie was an honourable man. Whatever else is said about him, he loved his family more than anything"
Tyrion didn't answer, his eyes locked onto all that remained of his brother. Sansa gave his arm a gentle squeeze, tugging him against her. When her and Jon reclaimed Winterfell, she searched the castle for any of her family's belongings. Much had been destroyed but whatever she did find had both thrilled and pained her in equal measure.
"Thank you Brienne" said Tyrion, his voice thick with emotion
The knight smiled sadly "I'm glad I could give it to you"
Brienne stood to leave, a hint of grief lingering on her face. Sansa smiled gratefully at her friend. She knew from experience how painful the loss of family was - in Tyrion's case, Jamie was the only family member who had ever cared for him.
The lord commander had only taken a few steps when Tyrion spoke "He did love you. When I saw you together it was the happiest I'd seen my brother in a long time. You brought out the best in him; a side too few ever saw"
Brienne froze at the words, and Sansa noted the slightest tremble as her hand brushed the hilt of Oathkeeper. Tyrion's eyes never left the open trunk in front of him, but a bitter smile crossed his face.
"Cersei was poison - I'll never quite understand her hold over him. Jamie did truly care for you though…I wish he'd stayed with you"
Her husband's voice broke as he finished and Sansa gently rubbed his back, reminding him she was here for him.
"Thank you" said Brienne, shaking her head "He couldn't stay with me though - his duty was to his Queen and his family. I hated him for it at first, but eventually I understood. Jamie wouldn't leave her to face death without him; an oath he couldn't break"
Tyrion said nothing though his face contorted in pain. Brienne shot Sansa a sad smile before leaving them alone. As soon as the door closed, she turned her attention to her husband.
"Are you alright?" she asked "I wondered what was in the trunk, but I never expected this"
"I'm fine…just surprised"
Her eyes wandered over the contents of the trunk. There wasn't much in it, truth be told. A few objects bearing the lion sigil stood out and there appeared to be a cloak in there too. Tyrion sat quietly next to her, his eyes a thousand miles away.
The Queen was torn on what to do. She suspected Tyrion needed some space to sort through this alone, but she didn't want to leave him without her support either.
She gave her husband a gentle squeeze, drawing his attention "I need to start getting ready for this afternoon, but I'll be here if you need me, ok?"
Tyrion nodded slightly and she pressed a firm kiss to his head as she stood up, leaving him to sort through the belongings of Jamie Lannister. As much as she wanted to comfort her husband while he sorted through this, Sansa was well aware that grief didn't always need an audience. If she sat with Tyrion, no doubt he would try to push aside the emotions and memories that accompanied the items. At least if she busied herself in their chambers she could keep offer her support whenever needed.
The arrival of house Cerwyn and house Tallhart wasn't treated with the same excitement as Bran's arrival, but the Winterfell household still formed a welcoming party in the courtyard of the castle. Arya cast her eyes over Sansa as she waited for their guests to dismount. The Queen's demeanour was the icy calm the Northerners had come to expect, but Arya could see the cracks in her facade. The silver crown which sat atop her fiery hair glinted in the afternoon sun. It suited Sansa – but it was a heavy burden.
Alec's scouts had reported earlier that house Mazin would likely arrive a little later this afternoon with house Dormund after that. Tomorrow would be the signing of the trade deal but tonight Sansa would host a formal welcome to all the lords, and set out the agenda for the next few days. King Bran and his council would also be present.
Her sister was nervous, but doing her best to hide it. Talk of rebellion and their failure to capture Robin and Gawan was an ever growing pressure resting heavily on the Queen.
"Queen Sansa" greeted Lady Tallhart, bowing her head at her approach. The older woman smiled kindly at the Queen, as the young lord Cerwyn came to her side
"Your Grace" said Cley, bowing his head
"It is my pleasure to welcome you both to Winterfell; our hospitality is yours" said Sansa, her voice carrying across the area
Arya rolled her eyes. There were so many formalities to observe all the time; it was boring. Nevertheless she waited for Sansa to move forwards, breaking the formal atmosphere as she embraced lady Tallhart.
"Lord Tyrion, it is good to see you" said Cley, smiling as he shook hands with the lord of Winterfell
"And you lord Cerwyn" said Tyrion
"Lady Ayra" greeted the older woman, smiling warmly at her
The Winterfell household dispersed leaving the five of them in the courtyard. The Tallhart and Cerwyn men were led away by Alec to where they could rest.
Lady Tallhart approached Tyrion, laying her hand on his shoulder "I'm pleased to see you looking so well my lord – we were all very worried"
Tyrion flushed at her words "I owe both you and lord Cerwyn a debt. I'm aware you sent your own guards to search for me"
"Of course" said Cley, a frown crossing his face "I'm only sorry we didn't find you sooner"
"Nevertheless, Winterfell is in your debt – as am I" said Sansa, reaching for her husband's hand "Rest assured, those responsible will pay for what they've done"
"As they should" nodded lady Tallhart "You have the full support of my house. Whatever you need"
"House Cerwyn stands with you as well" added Cley "Justice will be done. The captain of my guard will testify to everything he saw when lord Tyrion was rescued – as will all my men"
Arya didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her sister's eyes at their words. She'd told Sansa repeatedly that they had friends; people they could trust. Hopefully she would start to see that not everything had to be done alone.
"Thank you" said the Queen, nodding her head in acknowledgment "I'm sure you're both tired from your journey. I'll have servants show you to your chambers. Tonight there will be a formal welcome and feast with King Bran"
"I believe I met Bran once when he was a boy – he was such an inquisitive child" said lady Tallhart, following the Queen's lead as they headed across the courtyard towards the castle
Arya snorted "He's still inquisitive – except now he knows all the answers"
"He just won't tell you" muttered Sansa
Tyrion hobbled along after Arya, his ankle creaking stiffly beneath him as Lyon trotted next to him. It was much better than it was, though a dull ache often spread through the limb. It had been a strange day already and it was only early afternoon. Receiving his brother's belongings had been both exciting and heart-breaking. Jamie was a man of few possessions but the few he did have that survived destruction had clearly meant a great deal to him. Sorting through the trunk had been difficult and he was grateful Sansa had given him some space to do it alone. He wanted to show her what was in there, and share some pieces of his family with her - but the arrival of the trunk had been so unexpected he needed a little time to get his thoughts in order.
After greeting their guests he'd had lunch with Sansa and Arya. His wife had explained that she was to meet with lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn before dinner to update them fully on the situation with Robin and Gawan.
"If you're ok with it Tyrion, I was going to tell them more of the details about what happened in the Wolfswood. There are a lot of rumours going around and they're our strongest allies" Sansa had said
He wanted to forget all about it, but Sansa was right; they needed all the allies they could get and this would be a sign of trust from the Queen to the houses that had stood faithfully beside her.
Reluctantly he'd nodded his assent "I understand"
Sansa had smiled, sympathy brimming in her eyes as she took his hand "You don't need to come to the meeting. Maester Wolkan and Alec are coming with me - I understand it might be difficult for you"
Tyrion wanted to deny it, but it was true; he had no desire to speak about the horrors of the Wolfswood or be the subject of conversation. All the same, it was his duty as lord to be there - supporting his Queen.
"It's alright Sansa, I'll be fine"
"Sweetheart, you don't need to be there. Let me protect you"
"He's not going to that meeting" Arya had said, grasping his other arm and tugging him from the seat "He's coming with me instead"
In the end he'd given a few weak protests, but was rather relieved to not attend the meeting. Although it had left him at the mercy of Arya - who appeared to be leading him out of Winterfell.
"Where are we going?" he asked, slowing down as they approached the gate
"Out"
"Oh"
Tyrion scratched his neck, his heart picking up pace. Arya was waiting expectantly at the gate for him; her face betraying nothing. The last time he'd left Winterfell, he'd been kidnapped. The only time since was the night he'd tried to leave, and he'd only taken a few steps beyond the gate then.
"Shouldn't we stay in Winterfell? What if Sansa needs us"
"She'll be fine. Bored, probably - but fine"
There was no reason to be nervous. After marrying Sansa he'd often left the castle and walked alone into the village. He wasn't alone now - Arya and Lyon were here. The little direwolf nudged against him; urging him onwards.
"Are you coming?" called Arya. Her face remained impassive, though her eyes softened as she watched him
He nodded, though his legs trembled beneath him as he moved to join Arya at the gate. The younger Stark threw her arm around his shoulders, grinning at him as she steered him towards the small forest right of the castle.
'It's not the Wolfswood' he reminded himself 'It's just a forest'
Much to his relief, Arya didn't take him very far. They only went a few trees deep into the forest and the walls of Winterfell could still be seen behind them. Even so, the trees made Tyrion claustrophobic. So many of his nightmares centred on the Wolfswood and not being able to escape the hellish place. Arya stopped at a large, snow covered boulder with a few smaller ones scattered around the base of it. Lyon didn't seem at all bothered by the forest, wandering towards a patch of sunlight on the light snowfall - and immediately settling down for a nap.
"So much for protection" he muttered, raising an eyebrow at his little friend
"What do you need protection for?" called Arya
He turned to see her already sat atop the boulder, spinning a knife lazily through her fingers.
"Arya, what are we doing out here?"
"Come up here" she said, patting the space next to her on the boulder
Mercifully it wasn't too high and the smaller boulders acted as stepping stones - though his old injuries did ache at the exertion of scrambling up next to Arya.
"I'm here" he breathed, dropping down beside her
"Good"
"Are you going to tell me why we're sat on a boulder in the forest?"
"I didn't think you wanted to go that meeting" she said, staring off into the trees
He twisted his hands, there was no point denying it "I didn't really"
"You were going to though"
"I have a duty" he said, shrugging "It shouldn't bother me anyway - it's in the past"
"You never talk about it" she said, turning to look at him "It's not been seven weeks since we brought you home. No-one expects you to be over what happened in the Wolfswood"
"I try not to think about it" he said, stomach lurching "my dreams remind me often enough"
Arya nodded, returning her gaze to the forest spread out before them. Silence fell between them and Tyrion dared a glance at the ground some seven foot below them. They weren't terribly high up, but he wasn't excited about attempting to climb down either.
"I'm glad you didn't take Bran's offer the other night"
Tyrion turned his focus back to Arya. The younger Stark wasn't looking at him, but her hands were tapping against the rough stone beneath them. His brow furrowed; was this why she'd dragged him out here? While Sansa hid her emotions, she was still easy enough to read if you knew what to look for. Arya was totally unpredictable.
"There's nothing left for me at Casterly Rock" he ventured "and I've no desire to leave Winterfell"
"Good. I wouldn't let you leave"
The corners of his mouth turned upwards "Why Arya, it almost sounds like you'd miss me"
Arya rolled her eyes "Of course I would idiot"
"You needn't worry. As I told your sister - I don't want to leave"
"Didn't you hear me? You were never going anyway"
As much as it warmed his heart to know how much Arya cared for him, he suspected that wasn't the entire reason she'd brought him out here. Something was bothering her. The more he considered it; he hadn't seen much of Arya the past few days outside of meal times.
"Are you enjoying the royal visit?" he asked, noticing her jaw tighten at the question
"About as much as you and Sansa"
"Sansa's not enjoying it at all" he said "I thought you were happy to see your brother again?"
"You're my brother"
"True" he agreed "but so is Bran"
Arya's shoulders slumped as she turned to look at him "I know Bran's different. I don't expect him to act like he used to - he's the three-eyed raven now. We're his family; his pack - and he acts like he barely knows us"
"It's true that Bran isn't like he used to be, but he'll always be your brother. None of us really know what it's like to be the three-eyed raven. To see so many things must be a terrible burden" he said "I think it takes quite a toll on him"
"He won't tell us where Robin and Gawan are. He wouldn't tell us where to find you in the Wolfswood"
"I cannot answer for Bran, but I spoke with him at length when we were preparing for the long night. It was strange to hear him speak of the three-eyed raven; as though he was a different person than himself. Whatever power Bran has, I do believe it creates a conflict within him"
"So we should accept that he won't help us?"
Tyrion shrugged "I think we shouldn't pay too much heed to what he does and doesn't say. Whatever he said to Sansa the other day clearly upset her"
"You're a cynic"
"I believe what I see. Bran does have power - but he is not a God and he is not infallible" said Tyrion, squirming on the boulder "Have I cheered you up yet? I'm rather new to being a big brother, you know"
At that Arya gave a half-hearted smile "Not a bad effort"
"Good. I suppose we should go and rescue Sansa"
"That eager to kiss her again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes
"How did you-"
"As if it wasn't obvious why you two were late this morning"
Heat crept up Tyrion's neck at her observation. Arya's tone had been mocking, but he hadn't missed the flicker of hurt in her eyes. He hadn't meant to sound like he wanted to leave; he just assumed they were done.
"I'm quite happy talking with you" he reassured, shooting her a smile
Arya snorted, jabbing him in the ribs "You thought I dragged you out here to talk? No, I brought you here for a purpose"
"Are you finally going to tell me what that purpose is?"
It was unusual for Arya to be moody but Bran's distance was obviously bothering her. Tyrion silently berated himself for not noticing the shift in her mood. Ever since he was brought to Winterfell Arya had looked out for him; making sure he ate and left his room in those early days. While he'd noticed her absence the past few days, he'd assumed she was busy with Bran. Now he wondered whether she'd been on her own. The developing closeness between him and Sansa saw them spending more and more time together - and less with Arya. Guilt bloomed in his chest. He loved Arya; she was the sister he'd always wanted. Did she feel excluded?
He turned to Arya intending to apologise, only to find her brandishing six wicked knives in her hands. How she'd managed to conceal them on herself he had no idea. She smirked at the shocked expression on his face, mischief sparking in her eyes.
"Seven hells" he muttered, eyes widening at the blades
"Little off the top, big brother?"
"Sansa would lock you in the dungeon if you touched my hair. You know it's her favourite toy"
"Imagine the look on her face if we shaved your head"
"As amusing as it would surely be, I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer"
"Fine" said Arya, sighing in resignation
"Dare I ask why you're carrying so many knives?"
She placed the knives on the boulder next to them, reaching across to grasp his left hand.
"I heard you needed to find an activity to do with your left hand"
Tyrion nodded "Maester Wolkan suggested using it more than usual to build strength and reduce some of the stiffness"
"Sansa said you get cramps in it"
"A few times" he said as she prodded the hand
Since Wolkan had cleared him to use the hand yesterday he'd tried to start using it again, with limited success. Cutting his lunch had caused his hand to cramp and ache to the point Sansa had insisted on doing it for him.
The younger Stark nodded, releasing his hand "I have the perfect activity for you"
"Oh?"
She lifted a knife pressing the handle into his left hand "I'm going to teach you to use a knife"
He arched an eyebrow "Does one not just stick them with the pointy end?"
Arya smirked, effortlessly twirling a knife through her fingers. She spun it several times before launching it at a tree with lightning speed. The handle quivered as the blade stuck fast in the trunk opposite them.
"Very impressive" he said, astounded once again at her skill with weapons
"I'm glad you think so" she said "your turn"
"Arya, I appreciate the offer but there isn't a chance in hell I could do that"
"You fight with a short sword. Knowing how to use a knife is essential against bigger opponents" she insisted
Tyrion had no desire to disappoint Arya, and passed the blade to his right hand to have a go. Immediately she caught his arm.
"This is a left-handed activity. You fight with a sword in your right hand. Your left hand can be for throwing knives, and it'll build strength in it"
Her grey eyes bore into him, daring him to argue. She was still the stubborn girl he'd come to know, but there was a hint of loneliness in her eyes that he knew all too well. Jon was gone and Bran had disappointed her. Sansa spent all of her time with him; leaving Arya a lone wolf. It was strange in a way, as Arya had always appeared totally in control. In all his time here, he'd never seen any hint of vulnerability in her. Yet it was there, lurking just below the mask. Her pack had left her alone.
'Not anymore' he vowed 'I'm her big brother - I'll make sure she never feels excluded or lonely ever again'
Jon wasn't here to look after her and Bran wasn't really capable anymore; he would take care of Arya. His own big brother had always done the same for him.
"Very well" he said, gripping the knife in his left hand "though I do hope you're a patient teacher"
Her grey eyes lit up "We'll start slowly. You're a quick learner, I'm sure you'll pick it up"
"I'm also clumsy. If I lose a finger you have to explain it to Sansa"
"Deal"
Arya's face brightened as she began showing him how to best grip the knife for effective use. He listened intently, giving Arya all his attention.
As they worked, Tyrion silently promised to make sure he spent time with Arya. However close he and Sansa got, his relationship with his little sister was just as important.
"My lords and ladies, I'd like to formally welcome you to Winterfell and extend the full hospitality of the castle to you all. I recognise your sacrifice in taking time away from your own seats to join me as we take the first steps in building a better, brighter future for the North" said Sansa, pausing to let her words settle over the guests
The Queen swept her hand to the left "King Bran and his council have travelled North in order to reaffirm the alliance between our separate kingdoms, and sign the historic trade deal that will usher in an era of wealth and prosperity for all"
The great hall was packed; the long tables were occupied by the Cerwyn and Tallhart parties, alongside King Bran's guards and the Winterfell household. Sansa stood at the head table with Bran on her left and his council alongside him. Tyrion sat to her right as her husband and the lord of Winterfell, followed by Arya, lady Tallhart, lord Cerwyn, Maester Wolkan and Alec. The set up was similar to the one they'd taken when Daenerys came North.
All the eyes of the hall were on her as she addressed them, though her own gaze wandered to the Mazin and Dormund parties that had arrived not long ago. She hadn't been able to greet them at the gate but Alec and the Maester had, settling them quickly into rooms just before dinner. The young lord Mazin was watching her intently as she spoke, while lord Dormund appeared more focused on Tyrion at her side. She'd only met him once before. Lord Dormund was a middle aged man, thin as a stick with a bald head and light brown beard covering his face.
"Tonight I wish to confirm the agenda for the coming days, after which I believe a feast is in order" she finished, settling into her seat as the Northerners banged their fists on the table in agreement
Sansa was about to ask Wolkan to read out the agenda for the next few days, when lord Mazin got to his feet.
"Your Grace" he called, bowing his head "before you begin, I ask that I may speak for my house?"
The Queen's face was impassive as she nodded; no-one would notice the way her hands twisted in her lap as the young lord moved to the centre of the hall. Karlon Mazin looked far cleaner than the last time he'd been at Winterfell. Gone were his dusty travelling clothes, replaced by a dark blue tunic with golden details. A golden cloak hung around his shoulders, bearing the sigil of house Mazin. His mess of dark hair hung loosely around his face, though the scar across the right side of his neck stood out angrily despite his lordly appearance.
The young man dropped to one knee before the head table, his eyes searching the Queen's face before landing on her husband.
"It is an honour to meet you lord Tyrion" he said, bowing his head low
"And you lord Mazin. I've exchanged correspondence with your father often - he speaks highly of you" said Tyrion, inclining his head
The lord turned his attention back to Sansa, his voice carrying throughout the room "Your Grace, I come to beg forgiveness on behalf of my house. I accused you of forgetting us in our time of need, but it is clear now that was never the case"
A few of Sansa's frayed nerves relaxed, as she searched the young man's face for any sign of dishonesty.
"We received a letter from lord Tyrion just a fortnight ago, which suggested the Queen had never received my father's letters in the first place as a traitor was working against the crown" he said, lip curling in distaste "On behalf of my father and house I beg your forgiveness, your Grace. We doubted you when we should not have"
Lord Mazin dropped his head awaiting judgement, and Sansa felt every eye in the great hall on her. She glanced at her council seated to her right. Alec and Wolkan appeared to be satisfied with the man's honesty as did Cley. Lady Tallhart gave the slightest nod, signalling her acceptance of the apology. Arya's eyes were narrowed on the kneeling man, but she also nodded to Sansa. Finally her gaze landed on Tyrion at her side - it was his advice she would always value the most. Her husband offered her a small smile, inclining his head.
"Rise Lord Mazin" said Sansa, turning to face the lord "I well understand how my perceived silence to your calls for aid damaged relations between our houses. The relationship between house Mazin and the crown has always been excellent, and I look forward to working together in the future. Your apology has been fully accepted. I hope your father accepted my own?"
"Certainly, your Grace" said the young lord, mouth twitching upwards "my father was touched that you wrote to him personally. When lord Tyrion's letter made it clear you had never received our correspondence and were not at fault he asked that I ride here with haste to beg your forgiveness"
Sansa struggled to contain the satisfaction that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Perhaps her worry had been for nothing. House Mazin would not turn against her, though perhaps there was a way to strengthen the connection.
"Lord Mazin, your house has stood by the Starks for generations. You were integral in helping us reclaim Winterfell. It is long overdue therefore that I ask you to join my council and represent your house"
"I would be most honoured, your Grace" said lord Mazin his face lighting up, as he bowed lowly "I am yours to command"
The Northerners cheered at the appointment, their jubilant shouts echoing around the great hall. The young lord made his way back to his table, his own men thumping him on the back with enthusiasm. Sansa turned to her husband, dropping her voice.
"What do you think?"
"A wise choice" he said "Quite the honour for a smaller house and certain to heal over any lingering cracks in the relationship"
Sansa prepared to continue with the address when lord Dormund rose. Ice slithered down her back as the lord approached. Unlike lord Mazin, she suspected this man was not here to pledge his support. All throughout her welcoming address and conversation with lord Mazin, the older man's face had grown increasingly agitated. His eyes narrowed on her as he strode down the centre of the hall until he stood before the high table.
'He's one of them' whispered her mind 'he's here to take everything from you'
The anxiety that had pestered her all day roared to life once more.
"Your Grace" he started, bowing his head "I am sorry to interrupt you, but I fear we cannot continue this meeting until certain malicious rumours are put to bed once and for all"
"What rumours are they?"
She was a Queen; this man was nothing.
"Lord Robin Flint and lord Gawan Glover are being slandered across the North; accused of treason, torture and slavery. It is an utter farce, damaging to the North as a whole. Surely you wish to put right these lies?"
"They are not lies" she said, forcing her voice to be firm "They are accused and will face justice"
"On what evidence? I've heard from multiple sources no-one ever saw either of them in the Wolfswood. Are we to take the word of wildlings and children?"
'They don't believe you, little dove' sang a voice that sounded sickeningly like Cersei 'Kill him. Power is power'
"That is untrue" shouted lord Mazin from the back of the hall "lord Tyrion was there. He saved all those women from slavery; including a young girl from Ramsgate"
"That is hardly evidence" dismissed lord Dormund, his eyes never leaving Sansa "Lord Gawan grew up playing with my children - he's a good lad. Lord Robin is a well-respected Northman from a strong family"
"You doubt my husband?"
"I respect lord Tyrion" he said, though he lacked any conviction "he has done excellent work in the North - but he is not one of us"
Immediately a defiant roar went up around the hall from the Winterfell household, joined in equal force by the Tallhart, Cerwyn and Mazin houses. Lord Dormund was either deaf or dense for he didn't flinch from his position. Bran was observing the scene with distant eyes while his council watched her with sympathy. Sansa's own council were furious, but holding their tongues - waiting for her lead. Arya looked positively murderous as she stared down the lord.
Sansa's breathing picked up pace. She had to say something; how dare he insult Tyrion? Yet when she opened her mouth the words refused to come. Sansa wasn't the Queen of ice right now; weeks of stress and worry had damaged her defences. It was Sansa Stark, the scared little girl sat at the high table - not the Queen in the North. Her husband stiffened at her side, shrinking into his seat.
Despite the numerous glares he was receiving, lord Dormund continued on "Lord Robin and lord Gawan are of the North - and the North remembers. To accuse them of such heinous crimes without evidence is unthinkable"
"It's interesting how you speak and lord Glover's voice comes out" said lady Tallhart, frowning in distaste
"There are many in the North who share my scepticism, my lady" said lord Dormund, his eyes flickering to the older woman briefly before returning to Sansa "We merely wish for proper clarification. What happened in the Wolfswood exactly? What evidence do you have?"
"That's none of your business" snapped Arya, her hand curling into a fist
"With all due respect it is my business. It is the North's business" said lord Dormund, his group of men bellowing their agreement "The rumours are laughable. Some claim it was unsullied behind the abductions while others claim the Lannister - with no Northern blood - rode on the back of a direwolf! As the lords who chose you as Queen, we demand clarity your Grace"
Sansa was losing control. Tyrion had told her pieces of what happened in the Wolfswood, but every confession from him was hard won. She'd asked his permission to tell Cley and lady Tallhart because they were friends, and even then she'd stuck to the basics of what happened – focusing on his capture, rescue of the girls and Grey Worm. Sansa had told them both her husband had been tortured and badly hurt; but she would not go into details. It was Tyrion's pain to share when he was ready. Now lord Dormund stood before her demanding details she wouldn't give. Telling him what he wished to know would betray the trust Tyrion had given her – and that mattered more than anything.
The lord wanted details, but she suspected he'd already made his mind up. This man was only the first; the rest of the North were going to rise against her. She fought to control her mind as the voices of her long dead mentors bombarded her with advice.
'Appease him; he may be useful. Tyrion has no use' said littlefinger
'How dare he address his Queen with such arrogance; show him real power' adviced Cersei
The noise in the great hall was deafening as the groups loyal to her began to argue with those sceptical of her. How could she unite the North when she couldn't even unite her guests? Her council and Bran's were watching her expectantly, waiting for her to respond. Lord Dormund's face was neutral but his eyes glinted in satisfaction, sensing his argument had won. Sansa shrunk in her chair, biting her lip. She had to do something, but she couldn't – her mind was in chaos.
Before she could attempt to regain control, an unexpected voice cut through the room instantly silencing the Northerners.
"If you wish to know what happened in the Wolfswood, perhaps you should ask someone who was actually there"
Sansa turned to Tyrion. His green eyes sparked with anger as he stared down the lord before them.
"You want details, am I correct?" he asked
The older lord appeared somewhat surprised by the turn of events, but he kept his head high as he met Tyrion's gaze "We deserve the truth"
"Very well. Here's your truth; Robin Flint and Gawan Glover made a deal with the unsullied. They would hand me over in exchange for huge amounts of gold"
Lord Dormund scoffed "They are both wealthy lords; why would they need gold?"
"Running a slavery business has costs I suppose. There were forty women being kept in a barn in the Wolfswood when I was brought there. They had to pay their guards somehow" said Tyrion. His voice was calm and controlled; but there was an edge of steel beneath it that Sansa hadn't heard since Kings Landing.
"Aye, I'll accept there was some bad business happening in the Wolfswood, and I'll even accept your role in saving those unfortunate women" said lord Dormund "what you speak of could have been run by anyone however"
"Yet it wasn't. I saw Robin Flint and Gawan Glover many times when I was there; spoke to them many times"
Murmuring broke out in the hall, and lord Dormund looked distinctly uncomfortable "If you were their prisoner why would they speak to you? I've known Gawan all his life and he's a good lad"
"Why would they speak to me? To find out where the women had escaped to – they couldn't find them after I directed the women to a forgotten path in the Wolfswood. Does this satisfy your need for evidence my lord?"
Lord Dormund was rapidly losing ground, but still he continued to cling on "It's your word against theirs. There is no further evidence"
At that Tyrion's voice turned icy, as he leaned forward in his seat "That's where you're wrong. You see, I am the evidence. That good lad you claim to know so well tortured me for days; and he left his mark"
"My lord, I..."
"I will spare you the details of what those beasts did to me; I already relive it every bloody night"
With lord Dormund quaking under his gaze, Sansa was unexpectedly reminded that Tyrion was the son of Tywin Lannister. It was a fact the lord standing before them seemed to be rapidly remembering.
"Is that enough evidence for you lord Dormund? Or do you wish me to strip down so you can inspect that good lad's work up close?"
"Of course not, I only wished for clarity my lord"
"Lord Robin made certain he had a turn, are you here to defend him too?"
The older lord took a step back, the colour draining from his face "No, I..."
"What Gawan Glover and Robin Flint have done shames us all" said lord Mazin, banging his fist on the table "justice must be done for the girls who suffered and for the lord of Winterfell"
Tyrion's green eyes were filled with contempt as he stared down lord Dormund "I don't care what you think of me or what you believe. Everything I've told you is the truth. My word means nothing to you though; I'm not one of you, am I?"
"I didn't mean it like that..."
"Oh really, how did you mean it?" said Tyrion, raising an eyebrow "I believe I've told you far more than you deserved to know. I don't care to know what rumours are going around, but I can guarantee you I did not ride on the back of a direwolf"
Sansa caught the smallest twitch of Tyrion's mouth as a low growl erupted from behind them. Lyon had somehow made his way into the hall and now prowled to Tyrion's side, brushing against him before darting under the table to stand in front of it. Direwolves were incredibly rare. A symbol of both house Stark and the North. An awed silence fell over the hall as the golden wolf stood in front of them - glowering at lord Dormund. While the Winterfell household had grown used to Lyon, the sight of him had stunned the rest of the hall.
"I may be small but I'm not sure Lyon could carry me" said Tyrion, leaning back in his chair "It's true I have no Northern blood, but it doesn't seem to bother my friend"
As Arya had often pointed out, Lyon was the most Lannister looking direwolf she'd ever seen. This wasn't lost on the older lord. His eyes widened at the sight of the Northern direwolf that was so clearly bonded to the lord of Winterfell.
Lord Dormund dropped to his knees before the high table, all traces of arrogance wiped from his face "Mercy my lord. I did not mean to offend...I only...lord Glover was most upset"
Lady Tallhart tutted "Lord Glover should be crawling here on his knees to beg lord Tyrion's forgiveness for his sons crimes – not sending a jumped up minor lord to do his dirty work"
"My men aided in the search for lord Tyrion. They will all attest to what they saw in the Wolfswood" added Cley
"As will I" said Alec, contempt twisting his usually calm face "I did not think any man capable of such atrocities as they committed"
The chaos that had gripped Sansa's mind eased as her husband so expertly tore lord Dormund to shreds. She could see him for what he was now. Not a threat - a pawn.
"I hope this satisfies your need for evidence" said Sansa, forcing the tremor from her voice "Or do you doubt your liege lord as you do your Queen?"
"No, your Grace. My lord" he said, raising his bald head "I beg your forgiveness; my loyalty is to the crown. House Dormund will stand with you against these traitors"
"Very well" said Sansa, narrowing her eyes "You will return to lord Glover and tell him all that you have heard. Remind him that if he wishes to speak on behalf of his son he has been invited to do so. Slavery will not be tolerated in the North, nor will treason. Justice will be done for all those who suffered at their hands"
"I...I will ride at first light, your Grace"
"No, you'll ride now"
The lord flinched "Your Grace…"
"That is an order my lord" she said, adding icily "and lord Tyrion is very much one of us. The disrespect you've shown him tonight could yet cost you. My husband would be well within his rights to have you punished for your insubordination. As lord of Winterfell, all Northern houses hold fealty to him"
She turned to Tyrion at her side. The anger had fled his face, leaving behind the uncertainty she'd come to know so well.
None the less, his voice was steady as he spoke "I think lord Dormund understands his errors"
"I do, my lord" he said, bobbing his head up and down
"Besides, Lyon's already eaten"
Lord Dormund paled as the Northerners jeered him. The crippling anxiety that had overtaken Sansa before had all but left now; leaving both anger and guilt in its wake. She nodded to Alec, and the captain of her guard rose while Lyon eyed the kneeling lord as though considering a second dinner.
"Come lord Dormund, my men and I will ensure you're well prepared for your journey back to lord Glover"
Utterly humiliated, lord Marlin Dormund left the hall in disgrace – his men following silently behind.
"I believe it's past time we continued with this meeting" said the Queen
Maester Wolkan finally stood to set out the agenda for the coming days, but Sansa's mind was a million miles away. After the chaos of lord Dormund the rest of the meeting was rather slow and by the end Sansa could see the Northerners were growing restless. She announced dinner would be served soon, following a short break. As desperate as her people were to get on with the food, Sansa needed a minute to breathe – and speak to her husband.
Tyrion had sat silently at her side following the departure of lord Dormund. When he intervened, Sansa's heart had leapt at seeing the old Tyrion who'd played the game so well in Kings Landing. When she first brought him North, she'd been desperate to find the old Tyrion behind the quiet mask he wore. Now she understood her mistake. The old Tyrion didn't exist – he was a mask. One her husband had worn for so long everything thought it was the real him. When Sansa stopped trying to find the man she once knew, she found the real Tyrion. There was no doubt his ruthless intelligence and cutting wit were part of him – but they weren't all of him. Sansa understood. She had her own mask too.
She had loved the old Tyrion; but she adored the real one. The man who befriended the smallfolk, who spent hours reading to his direwolf; the man who was sweet and kind and surprisingly shy.
"Will you step outside with me?" she asked, laying her hand on her husband's shoulder "I could use some air"
Panic flashed in his eyes, but he nodded all the same. The earlier tension had left the hall with house Dormund, leaving the Northerners bantering cheerfully as they waited for dinner while Sansa slipped out of the hall with Tyrion. She reached for his hand, rubbing a gentle circle with her thumb to try and reassure him. No matter how many times she told her husband he was never going to be sent away, the unspoken fear continued to lurk in his eyes.
The crisp Northern air was welcome as it sliced at Sansa's face. Whatever paralysis had overtaken her in the great hall faded under the Northern moon as it cast a soft glow over the Winterfell courtyard. It had been snowing. Their footsteps crunched as they made their way around the ramparts and up onto the battlements. Sansa took a moment as they reached the top to let her gaze wander over the snowy expanse of the North. It was huge; the responsibility for it resting heavily on her shoulders. Her duty to the North was immense - but nothing was as important as her duty to Tyrion.
She turned her gaze to her fidgeting husband, gently squeezing his hand "Why so nervous my love? You've done nothing wrong. I do owe you an apology, however"
Tyrion's brow furrowed "For what?"
"Lord Dormund insulted and disrespected you. I should have defended you...instead I did nothing"
"It's quite alright Sansa – I know you've been stressed with Bran's visit"
"It's not alright" she said crouching down to be eye level with Tyrion, and taking hold of his face "Lord Dormund said you weren't one of us, and that couldn't be further from the truth"
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, but he shook his head "I'll never be a Northerner"
"Just because you weren't born here, doesn't mean you don't belong" she insisted "being a Northerner isn't about blood, it's about character. You're honourable, loyal and a good man"
"I'm not a good man Sansa – I've done terrible things"
"Being good doesn't mean you always make the right choice, it means you always try to" she said, brushing her thumb over his cheek "I've done terrible things as well, but I'll do my best to make up for it."
His face scrunched up as though considering her words "Perhaps"
"Lord Dormund had no right to speak to you as he did. As Queen I should have demanded he address his liege lord with respect. As your wife I should have had him thrown out for insulting you" she said, dropping her gaze "I'm sorry Tyrion...I just froze"
"You put too much pressure on yourself Sansa. I don't really care what some minor lord thinks of me"
Sansa knew that wasn't entirely true. As much as Tyrion tried to pretend he didn't care what others thought of him she'd realised over the past weeks he cared rather a lot. She stared into his familiar green eyes, searching for any hidden hurt. Ever since Bran had told her he'd glimpsed a future where Tyrion was dead by his own hand, her nerves were constantly on edge with the horrible thought lingering at the edge of her mind. Before tonight's dinner she'd sought Bran out, cornering him in his room. While she'd avoided her brother as much as possible for the past few days, she had to know.
"You mentioned a future where Tyrion was dead by his own hand" she'd said, swallowing hard "Is that still a possibility?"
The three-eyed raven looked unusually tired in his wheelchair, though Bran had tried to smile "I only ever saw that possibility once Sansa and Tyrion was very alone. He's not alone now"
It was hardly a reassurance, but there was some truth to it. Even so she found herself constantly watching her husband for any sign he was upset or unhappy. A hand brushed against her face and she was drawn from her musings to see Tyrion watching her with concern as he lightly cupped her face.
"Are you well?" he asked "You seem tired...and distracted"
It was with some embarrassment she realised she had been holding her husband's face while staring blankly at him for the last few minutes.
"I'm fine" she said, though her eyelids felt like heavy blankets above her eyes
"Did you mind that I intervened with lord Dormund?"
"Of course not" she said, noting the hint of uncertainty in his eyes
"I just couldn't listen to him anymore. He kept asking you for details, and I knew you wouldn't tell him to protect me"
"You trusted me with what you told me. I wouldn't repeat it without your consent – and he had no right to demand anything"
Tyrion smiled, brushing his fingers lightly down her face "It was quite fun putting him in his place; and all without a drop of wine"
"I wish I could do it as easily as you"
"Practice and experience" he said, with a shrug "When I served as Joffrey's hand I often saw men like him. A major house wants something – usually information – but don't want to be seen to want it. They fire up a minor lord with promises of gold, glory or both and send them off to do their dirty work. My father dealt with many at Casterly Rock, and eventually you learn to see through them"
Sansa sighed, leaning into his touch "I shouldn't have let him rattle me. For a moment he had the power...and I was helpless again"
"You're far from helpless" said Tyrion "and you're quite new to ruling. Learning to see through the lords around you is a skill that takes time"
"Today's been so strange" she said, recalling the mixture of emotions that had stirred within her throughout the day
"It started with the loss of my beard if I recall"
"Are you still in mourning, my love?"
Tyrion's eyes sparked with mischief "If I still had my beard I'd look more Northern. Pesky minor lords wouldn't be questioning me"
"I do believe we discussed the benefits of no beard this morning"
"I fear it's been a rather long day" he said, offering her a shy smile
Sansa smiled at her husband "Do you require a reminder my lord?"
Tyrion leaned forward pressing his mouth gently onto hers, and the heat that spread through Sansa melted her worries away.
The icy voice of the Queen in the North kept whispering about duty and going back to the great hall.
Sansa Stark on the other hand, was in no rush at all.
"The free folk residing on the Gift are said to be fleeing South" announced Alec, his face grim as the council met early that morning
Arya drummed her fingers on the table, observing lord Mazin out of the corner of her eye. It was a good choice to ask him to join the council. While Arya didn't share Sansa's interest in politics she recognised the benefits of keeping the young lord close and giving him responsibility. It was a clear message as well. The Queen in the North would remember who was loyal to her.
"Why?" asked Sansa, stress hanging heavily over her face "It took nearly three weeks for the rescued women to be escorted back to the Gift. The guards who went with them only returned to Winterfell a week ago"
"I have scouts stationed throughout the North in the hunt for Robin and Gawan" said Alec, pointing to several places North of Winterfell on the map "we suspect they're hiding in that area, and using the empty castles for cover. The area is far too large to search without anything to narrow it"
Maester Wolkan leaned over the map "Karhold, Last Hearth and the Dreadfort are all empty. Unless the free folk strike out towards Deepwood Motte the first castle they will likely come upon is Winterfell"
"It's possible they're heading South because of Robin and Gawan" said Arya, crossing her arms "presumably they're hiding somewhere further North and the free folk are the only other people between here and the wall"
"I could send men to intercept them, your Grace - though if they're fleeing I can only assume there's a problem at the Gift" said Alec
Arya watched her sister rub her temples, gazing at the map. The wildlings had been given the Gift as a reward for their help in the long night and to keep Jon's deal with them. They wouldn't need to bend the knee to Sansa as Queen, but that also meant they didn't benefit from the crowns protection. They were supposed to remain peacefully at the Gift.
"Is there any way to help them?" asked Tyrion quietly "They're mostly women, children and the old. If they're being pursued by Robin and Gawan they won't stand a chance"
"What would you have me do?" asked Sansa, turning to her husband
"I know they're not under your protection as Queen, but perhaps they could stay South of Winterfell until Robin and Gawan are caught?" said Tyrion, squirming in his seat
Sympathy swelled in Arya for her sister. She was damned either way. If she forced the wildlings back to the Gift and they were attacked she would be known as the Queen who let innocents die. If she let them come South of Winterfell the other Northern houses would be furious. Many of them still despised the free folk despite their help against the white walkers. Then there was Tyrion. He'd sacrificed himself to protect the wildling women and girls. Leaving them at the mercy of Robin and Gawan would make his suffering meaningless.
Sansa turned to lady Tallhart. Without lord Manderly or lord Glover, she was the most experienced on the council. The young lord Cerwyn sat at her side.
"What do you think my lady?" asked Sansa
"I believe lord Tyrion is correct" she said "whether they bent the knee to you or not, they still reside in the North. Until Robin and Gawan are brought to justice it is better to not leave anyone in their path"
"I wouldn't want any of them to get hurt" said Sansa "but the other Northern houses are unlikely to welcome them either"
"Your Grace" said lord Mazin "there is land near Ramsgate. We may be a small house, but the North remembers. Ramsgate will shelter them until those beasts are dead"
"Would the free folk trust the protection of any of us?" asked Cley "Their girls suffered because of two Northern lords after all"
"I could go to them" offered Tyrion, rubbing the back of his neck
Sansa's face remained calm, but her eyes flashed with horror at the prospect of Tyrion leaving as she grasped his arm "It's far too dangerous my love"
"I don't want those girls to suffer anymore" he said, shifting uncomfortably "There's more chance of them trusting me"
When Arya had taken Tyrion out of Winterfell yesterday he'd looked terrified - and they hadn't gone far beyond the gate. Looking at his face now it was clear he wasn't ready for such a journey; however willing he was to protect the girls.
"You're still recovering" said Sansa, biting her lip
"Lord Tyrion, allow me to go in your stead" said lord Mazin drawing the council's attention "My house are in your debt. One of the girls you saved was my guard's daughter. She speaks highly of your courage, and the kindness the free folk showed her when she was afraid and far from home. Please, allow me to serve you now"
Sansa looked ready to knight the young man in relief.
Lady Tallhart nodded in approval "A good idea. Better to not risk lord Tyrion; if Robin and Gawan are behind this undoubtedly they would want revenge against him for ruining their plan"
Tyrion looked almost as relieved as Sansa, as he slumped in his seat "Thank you lord Mazin. Your offer is most kind"
Arya raised an eyebrow at the young lord. He'd greeted Sansa far more warmly this morning than on his last visit to Winterfell, though it appeared he had more interest in Tyrion. Lord Mazin had been particularly eager to meet him when he arrived at the meeting, clasping his hand and thanking him personally for what he did in the Wolfswood – much to Tyrion's embarrassment. Now his dark eyes shone with determination as he looked between the Queen and the lord of Winterfell
"Your Grace on my honour, I will not fail you" said the young man
All eyes were on Sansa now, awaiting her decision. Arya's focus was once against drawn to how tired her sister looked. Her red hair hung limply around her shoulders and her face seemed paler than ever. Handling the royal visit and the ongoing strain of finding Robin and Gawan was wearing her sister down.
"Agreed. Lord Mazin will ride to meet the wildlings and bring them to Ramsgate" said Sansa, as her council nodded their assent "I will ask the Winterfell guards who escorted them back to the Gift to accompany lord Mazin and his own men. Lord Cerwyn is correct - they are likely to be wary of us. Familiar faces will hopefully ease any concerns"
"With your permission your Grace, I will write a note to Rose. She cannot read but if someone could read it to her she should recognise it is from me, and understand this is not a trap" said Tyrion, glancing sideways at his wife
The Queen smiled at her husband "Of course"
"Very well" said lord Mazin, bowing his head "I shall leave after the trade deal is signed tonight, if that is acceptable?"
"Yes" said Sansa "I'd like as many Northern lords there as possible"
The council continued to make the necessary arrangements for the wildlings, before the talk moved to the trade deal. It was mostly Wolkan and Sansa discussing it with lady Tallhart, with Cley occasionally offering input. Alec and lord Mazin were more focused on the map and where the free folk were most likely to be found.
Arya was bored. She always found these meetings dull, but today she couldn't be bothered pretending to listen. She'd asked Bran earlier if he wanted to play cyvasse or do something together and he'd once again refused.
She missed Bran - the real one, not the three-eyed raven. She missed Jon too. Her relationship with Sansa was far better than it had been in childhood and she enjoyed her sister's company; but Arya missed her brothers. It often felt as though Tyrion was the only brother she had left, and Sansa rarely let him out of her sight. At least yesterday she'd been able to pull him out of Winterfell and spend some time alone with him.
Her eyes wandered to the little Lannister sat beside the Queen. Tyrion appeared to be fiddling with something in a pocket of his tunic, glancing worriedly at his wife. Today would be the culmination of months of work by Sansa when the trade deal was signed. Arya hoped when the deal was done, some of the pressure would lift from her sister's shoulders. Bran had also appeared rather tired the past day or so, his eyes more distant than ever.
For years Arya had fought to get her family back, but nothing would ever be as it was. She would keep trying with Bran though. As Tyrion pointed out, he would always be her brother no matter how different he was these days.
Where Bronn's reflexes may have slowed over the years, the skills he'd learned had not. Since his argument with Tyrion the other day, Bronn had taken it upon himself to discover what exactly was going on with his old friend, for he was certain there was more happening at Winterfell than what he'd been told. The lord of Winterfell was nearly unrecognisable from the man who'd once served as Joffrey's hand.
For the last few days he'd employed some of his old skills to observe the little Lannister from a distance. Bronn had watched Tyrion in the practice yard, chatting easily with the men as he worked at a practice dummy. He'd followed Tyrion as he helped the old kennel master shovelling up piles of dog shit. Not once did Bronn see him drink any wine or even ale. Much of his time was spent with one or both of the Stark girls, who constantly fussed over him.
Tyrion was quiet - even around the Starks. When that bald Northern lord had started mouthing off last night, Bronn had been dumbfounded at Tyrion's intervention. For a moment he'd seen a shadow of the man he'd once known. It faded as quickly as it came however, with the Queen taking her husband outside before dinner was served. Bronn had followed soon after them on the pretence of needing to piss. He wasn't sure what he expected to find but seeing the two of them kissing on the battlements wasn't one of them.
Now the lord of the Twins found himself lazing on the top of a stack of crates hidden by a pillar of the castle. It would be difficult for anyone to notice him in the shadows unless they looked up, but it gave Bronn a good view of the stables across from him. It was nearing midday and the sun shone on the castle as the Winterfell household hurried through the sludge of snow to complete their duties.
"Have you given instructions for your saddle to be made?" asked Sansa, her voice carrying lightly from the stables to Bronn's ear
"Yes" said Tyrion "it should be ready in a few days"
"When it's ready, we can go for a ride if you like? There's a lovely stream not far from here"
"I'd like that" said Tyrion, and Bronn could practically hear the smile in his voice "thank you for the horse Sansa. It's been a while since I've been riding - on my own horse at least. Sharing a horse with Cayn just isn't the same"
"I'm sure it isn't"
Bronn leaned out from his hiding place to see the stables more clearly. Tyrion and Sansa were stood admiring a young, grey horse. The lord of Winterfell seemed perfectly happy chatting with his wife, though Bronn's mind wandered to last night. He'd heard many rumours about what had happened to Tyrion in the Wolfswood, but no-one seemed to want to tell him specifics. At least with lord Dormund demanding answers Bronn had heard them too, and it painted a nasty picture of what had happened.
'Tortured me for days' Tyrion had said 'left his mark'
Bronn sighed, rubbing his face. As far as he was concerned Tyrion would have been better off as Bran's hand in Kings Landing. The North was a shithole and the people were weirdos. He'd heard plenty of talk about Ramsay Bolton and Tyrion's tormentors seemed to be just as twisted.
"Another letter came this morning" said Tyrion, drawing Bronn's attention "I stopped reading it when I realised. I just can't stomach it anymore…"
Sansa wrapped her arm around his shoulders "I'm sorry Tyrion. We will catch them, I promise"
"I gave it to Wolkan to put with the rest. It shouldn't bother me" he said, adding so quietly Bronn had to strain to hear "but I can't forget what Gawan writes. I can hear his stupid voice whispering in my ear all day and night"
"You think it's just Gawan writing the letters?"
"I don't know. Robin is cruel, but those words are all Gawan. The boy's deranged…"
"I won't let anyone hurt you ever again" said Sansa, bending down to kiss his head
Bronn watched his old friend as Sansa comforted him. He didn't catch what she was whispering to him, but a smile crossed the little Lannister's face as he took her hand. When Bran had offered to restore his land and titles, Bronn assumed Tyrion would jump at the chance. He'd always wanted Casterly Rock after all - and there was nothing up here for him. Hearing Tyrion confirm the horrors he'd suffered had made his refusal even odder.
After observing him the past few days Bronn had been forced to accept Tyrion would not be coming back with them. He suspected there were several reasons why Tyrion wouldn't leave the North, but he knew the Stark girls were two of them. Bronn didn't know what he expected to find by observing Tyrion, but he hadn't expected to see him so comfortable at Winterfell. The small folk knew him, the guards were his friends - even the servants liked him.
Watching Tyrion and Sansa make their way out of the stables hand in hand, Bronn knew he would have to give up. The Tyrion Lannister he knew was dead. The last lion was happy among the wolves.
Applause rang through the great hall as Sansa signed the trade deal lying on the table. The hall was packed with the visiting lords and ladies as well as many of the local traders. Her council sat behind her to the left of the hall, while Bran's occupied the seats to the right. A table had been brought forwards on the raised platform where the deal was being signed. The Queen stamped her direwolf seal next to her name, before stepping aside for Bran.
The King was rolled forwards by Ser Podrick Payne, adding his name along from her own and stamping it with his three-eyed raven seal.
Maester Wolkan had earlier read out the contents of the agreement before placing it on the table for her and Bran to sign. Sansa held her head high as the people cheered - this had taken months of work. The Stark banner hung behind her as Bran's banner hung next to it. The decorations in the great hall had been changed temporarily to reflect the union between the kingdoms. The Stark banners were interspersed with Bran's three-eyed raven banners, as well as the new black banners bearing Tyrion's golden lion sigil she'd had made for his name day. A smile tugged at her mouth recalling her husband's surprise at seeing the banners in the hall after his name day. Tyrion had apparently thought the banners were just for that night, but Sansa had quickly made it clear they were to stay. Even today the lord of Winterfell had grinned at her upon seeing his new lion banners hanging proudly in the hall.
Sansa looked at her brother, who nodded his assent.
"All of you present today are witnesses to the signing of this historic trade deal, which will enable both kingdoms to recover from the years of war that have ravaged this country" she said, voice echoing off the walls "Today represents the beginning of a strong, independent North. As we move forwards we will work with the six kingdoms of Westeros as friends and allies"
"The relationship between our kingdoms is vitally important" agreed Bran, voice monotone "many difficult choices have had to be made over the last few months, and more will follow. Deals such as this will pave the way for both kingdoms to prosper"
While the audience had cheered at Sansa's words, looks of unease spread through the crowd at Bran's. It was fortunate that Bran had no more to say, folding his hands in his lap and looking to Sansa to continue.
With the deal officially signed, the feast began in force. Music filled the great hall as Sansa was swept along by the rush of people who wished to speak with her. As soon as the feast began she caught her husband's arm, guiding him along with her. As much as he denied it lord Dormund's disrespect was clearly lingering in his mind. That everyone in the North had heard rumours about the Wolfswood didn't help either. She'd noticed many of the guests pointing at him and muttering amongst themselves. If left to his own devices she was certain Tyrion would hide in a corner all night, but Sansa wouldn't allow him to hide in his home. She was proud of her husband; he had nothing to be ashamed of.
Hours past in a daze of conversation, music and wine. A warmth filled the great hall that had been lacking for far too long as the Northerners danced to the musicians tune. A wistful sigh escaped Sansa as she watched the scene in the great hall. Lords and ladies dancing and laughing, servants giggling at the handsome guards. This was what she wanted for the North - so people could live in the kind of peace she'd known before leaving Winterfell.
Tyrion slipped his arm from hers, whispering "You should join them"
"Do you want to dance?" she asked quietly
An old sadness came to his eyes as he shook his head "I can't…"
Sansa smiled at her husband, lightly kissing his head "I don't want to dance either"
"You needn't deny yourself. I'm perfectly happy watching you"
"And I'm perfectly happy with you" she said, taking his hand and tugging him towards some empty seats at the side of the hall
"I'm sorry" he said as they sat down, green eyes turning downcast "You deserve more than this. More than me"
Sansa sighed snaking her arms around Tyrion and drawing him against her side "My love, when will you realise you're everything I could ever want? There's not a man in this room that compares to you"
Their position was drawing more than a few curious glances. Her Septa would have told her it wasn't proper for a lady to drape herself so wantonly around her husband in public, much less for a Queen. Tyrion appeared to have noticed the attention, squirming slightly in her grasp but Sansa didn't care what people thought of her. She loved Tyrion - she was proud to be his wife and she'd be damned if anyone made her feel ashamed for showing it.
"I love you" she said, kissing his cheek
"Sansa, everyone is watching us"
"I'm sure they're rather jealous" she said "the most handsome man in the room is all mine"
She lay her head against his, waiting for the self-depreciating comment that was sure to come. To her surprise it didn't.
"I love you" he said, dampness gathering at the corners of his eyes as he turned to look at her. A wide smile covered his face as his lips brushed against hers for the sweetest of moments.
Bran watched the feast with distant eyes, Ser Davos downing his fifth cup of wine beside him.
"Do you not dance Ser Davos?" he asked
"I'd never humiliate you like that, your Grace"
His eyes wandered to Pod who'd attracted the attention of several girls near the back of the hall, before his gaze moved towards Brienne. Ever watchful the lord commander's hand rested on her sword as she spoke with Arya and a few of the guards. She'd spent quite a bit of time here with Sansa; her and Podrick were familiar to many of the Winterfell household. Ser Bronn had disappeared soon after the signing of the trade deal, but that was to be expected. The master of coin had been rather moody since his argument with Tyrion.
"Queen Sansa looks happy" commented Ser Davos, his eyes finding the same scene Bran was watching.
Sansa and Tyrion were totally lost in kissing each other, a happiness filling his sister's face that Bran hadn't seen since childhood. He'd meant to speak to her tonight - to offer what help he could. The three-eyed raven understood it had to be soon, but Bran Stark wasn't willing to disrupt his sister's happiness yet.
His help would cause her great pain; but it had to be this way.
Arya kept glancing at him across the hall, and something inside him twisted for pushing her away. Bran ground his teeth. His father had always taught him that duty was a heavy burden - and what had to happen next weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Bran could only hope his sisters trusted him - however different he was now. If not, their pack would not survive what was coming.