Rise & Fall Chapter 29, a game of thrones fanfic

Chapter 29

After last night's celebration Winterfell was unsurprisingly sleepy as Tyrion made his way through the halls.

"Morning m'lord" greeted one of the servants sweeping the corridor

"Good morning" he returned

The drink and food had flowed freely last night and Winterfell appeared to be paying the price today with many of the guests sleeping off their merriment. Tyrion on the other hand, felt great. One of the many benefits of no longer drinking was no longer suffering the consequences. As surprised as everyone was by his soberness since coming North, no-one was more surprised than him. Part of his reason for no longer engaging in wine was guilt. If he hadn't been drinking so heavily, would his mind have been sharper? Could he have seen Daenaerys for what she was, or stopped her before she slaughtered innocents?

Tyrion was not proud of the man he became after leaving Kings Landing. The trial, Shae's betrayal and killing his father had broken him in a way that had never healed. In Essos he'd become a shadow of his former self. Drinking excessively, making mistakes that cost lives. Sansa had been right when she said he feared Daenaerys; as much as he refused to believe it. Tyrion had become a coward - too afraid to stand up to Daenaerys when he knew she was wrong. The slaughter of Kings Landing was a guilt that would never go away, but Tyrion would never be that man again.

"Want to come the practice yard, I can teach you to throw knives?"

Arya's voice slowed Tyrion down as the great hall came into view. The King was being wheeled out by Pod while Arya stood before them. Tyrion hung back, not willing to interrupt.

"No, thank you" came Bran's emotionless reply

"We could go to the crypts. You always liked seeing the statues of our ancestors"

"I can't" said Bran "I need to speak to Sansa"

Arya wasn't the most demonstrative of her emotions, but Tyrion didn't miss the flash of hurt on her face.

"I'll leave you to it then" she said, voice hardening as she pushed her way past Bran and out of the great hall

Tyrion had already had breakfast with Sansa and had been on his way to see Wolkan about his hand, but now he changed direction to follow after Arya. His hand could wait. The cramping and stiffness was slowly lessening but the Maester insisted on checking it regularly anyway and Sansa agreed.

He waited until Pod and Bran were out of sight before hurrying after Arya. His ankle groaned at the exertion, but he had to catch up with her. Spilling out of the great hall and into the courtyard, his eyes frantically searched the snow covered area for any sign of her.

"Arya?" he called

The courtyard was a hub of activity but there was no sign of the younger Stark.

"Arya!" he tried again

He was about to give up when something cold slammed into his back.

"Up here"

He turned to see Arya sat on top of a pillar several feet above him, another snowball ready in her hands. Her face was neutral but the way her foot was kicking absently at the pillar betrayed her hurt at Bran's rejection.

"Is that any way to greet your brother?" he asked, craning his neck to look up at her

The question was answered by a snowball landing in his face, the icy cold slithering down his neck and soaking into his tunic.

"Arya!"

She rolled her eyes, jumping agilely down from the high pillar to land beside him. Tyrion pouted at her, wiping the snow from his face.

Her grey eyes flickered with amusement "You were looking for me?"

"If you're not too busy hurling snowballs at innocent dwarfs I thought you might help me with something"

"With what?"

"I have a plan"

"Dangerous words big brother"

"Will you help or not?"

Arya shrugged "Sure"

Tyrion grinned up at her, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her towards the castle "Excellent. I'll explain everything, but your help is essential"

Some of the sadness lurking in Arya's face faded as curiosity took over. He'd been considering this idea for a few days and now was the ideal time. The only real issue he could foresee was the need to go into the village. The thought of leaving the safety of Winterfell caused his stomach to twist, but he couldn't hide here forever. He'd intended to carry out his plan alone, but he was loathe to leave Arya when she looked so lonely. Aside from that, her company would hopefully ease his nerves.

He pulled her along by the wrist, brushing past a snow covered fence. His right hand swept the snow into a ball, and he turned towards Arya launching his projectile as quickly as possible. She leaned easily out of the way, the snowball sailing past her head. No sooner had the snow left his hand did a heap of snow land in his face sending him staggering backwards.

"How did you-"

Arya snorted in amusement "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that"

When the door to her chambers creaked open Sansa was sat in the same position she had been since Bran left not long ago.

"Hello Sansa" called her husband, wandering towards where she sat at the desk. A second set of footsteps indicated he wasn't alone.

The Queen lifted her head to see Arya was with him. Her sister hung back near the door while Tyrion approached her. The lord of Winterfell appeared uncertain as he stood beside her, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Did you see Wolkan about your hand?" she asked

"Oh, yes" he said, waving the appendage dismissively "I met with Arya and we saw the Maester before coming here. He said its fine"

Sansa's mind was stuck on her conversation with Bran but Tyrion's nervousness was quickly gaining her attention. She reached out to grip his good hand "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he said, shooting her a smile "I just thought…perhaps…I could go to the village today?"

"Are you asking, or telling me?"

"Asking…no…telling?" he said, studying her as though trying to decipher which answer she'd prefer

Sansa's face softened as she tugged him towards her, lightly wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she stared into his conflicted green eyes.

"Why would you need to ask, when the North is your home?"

"It seemed good manners to ask the Queen" he said, a hint of red creeping up his neck "If you need me for anything today, I'm quite happy to stay"

Sansa's eyes strayed to her sister, who shook her head. Ever since Tyrion had been returned to her she'd tried to make it clear this was his home - not his prison. It was a message she'd thought he was accepting. The Queen turned back to her husband who was fidgeting in her grsap.

"Bran came not long ago. He thinks there's a way he can help us but I'll need to meet him in the Godswood"

Tyrion nodded, relief flickering across his face "I understand. When do we need to go?"

"Bran said it can only be me. I'm to meet him alone"

It was when Tyrion tensed in her arms she realised why he'd asked her if he could go to the village; he wanted her to say no. Arya had commented the other day that Tyrion had expressed no interest in going beyond Winterfell's gates, whereas he'd previously gone to the village quite often to fulfill his lordly duties. Sansa had dismissed her sisters concerns. Her years away from home had made her reluctant to leave the castle walls, and she was quite happy to keep her husband safely tucked away in Winterfell.

"You don't need to ask my permission to go anywhere" she said gently "I don't know what help Bran will give us but he said we could be in the Godswood for a while"

"You don't need me to do anything while you're busy?"

"No my love. I think most of Winterfell will be sleeping off last night's celebration" she said "I'll be spending the day with Bran by the sound of it"

Sansa didn't miss the way Arya's face darkened at her words, crossing her arms as she hovered at the edge of the room.

"Suppose I'll go the village with Arya then" he said biting his lip

"You could sound a little more cheerful" called Arya, her face softening "come on Tyrion, we'll have fun"

As much as she wanted to protect Tyrion, allowing him to hide in Winterfell would do nothing to help his battered self-confidence.

'You hide in Winterfell' taunted her mind

Sansa was terrified of letting him go, but he needed her reassurance not her worry. She forced a smile, cupping his face and tilting it upwards to meet her gaze.

"Have fun" she told him, kissing his forehead "there is one thing I would ask..."

Tyrion eyed her curiously as she considered her words. She didn't want to sound as though she was giving him rules or controlling him, but her worry would never ease if she didn't say something.

"Sweetheart, the North is yours to go where you like when you like" she said, stroking his cheek "but please, for my peace of my mind – bring your sword when you leave the castle. Take Lyon with you. I know you're not in the habit of carrying a weapon, but I worry. The North is so much more spread out than Kings Landing, and...I can't bear the thought of you not being safe..."

Sansa trailed off, worried she'd come off as controlling but to her surprise Tyrion's green eyes shone brightly at her words.

"Of course" he said, mouth turning upwards "Lyon would pout if I went without him anyway"

It took a moment for Sansa to realise why he looked touched rather than annoyed at her worry. Most men would be frustrated at their wife's fussing, but Tyrion wasn't most men. She doubted anyone had ever shown genuine concern for him when he went out. From what she knew of his family they'd most likely hoped he wouldn't come back.

"Thank you" she said, leaning her head against his

Arya rolled her eyes impatiently "Hurry up. If you two start kissing we'll never get anything done today"

The redness that flooded Tyrion's face surely matched the colour rising in her own. Nonetheless she tugged her husband closer enjoying his warmth. Bran's words hadn't filled her with enthusiasm for her own day.

'There is one way I might offer you some help' he warned 'but it won't be pleasant'

Of course she'd agreed. Anything would be helpful at this point. Tyrion pushed back from her, embarrassment lurking on his face.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned she'd made him uncomfortable

"It's just..." he started "I'm not used to wearing a sword, and I'm not entirely sure...could you?"

"Oh" she said, understanding flooding her "I'll help you, though I can't say it's my area of expertise"

"Seven hells" muttered Arya, moving from her place by the door to pick up Tyrion's sword "You two are hopeless"

Unease wound through Bran as Sansa appeared in the Godswood, making her way towards him. He'd offered the only help he could and by coming here his sister had accepted.

"You're sure?" he asked as Sansa approached

The Queen was wearing a dark blue gown with fur trim as her Stark cloak hung over her shoulders. The Northern air was crisp, and fresh snowfall covered the ground and trees of the Godswood. Bran had warned his sister this could take a while.

"I'm sure" she said, schooling her face into a mask of determination "will this help find Robin and Gawan?"

"No" said Bran, meeting her gaze "please sit, and I'll explain what I can"

Sansa dropped onto the log next to his wheelchair, both as close to the heart tree as possible. The three-eyed raven had asked Pod to move the log closer to the tree before sending his sworn shield away. When he'd visited Sansa before he'd made it clear this had to be done alone - there could be no-one else in the Godswood. His sister had agreed to his request and instructions had been given that they were not to be disturbed. Several guards were positioned at the entrance to stop any possible intrusions.

"You know my power comes from the old Gods?" he asked, as Sansa nodded "Their power is strongest in the North and limits my own. I can't tell you where to find Robin Filnt or Gawan Glover because I cannot see them. The last few days I've searched for any way to help. The old Gods are clear that I cannot interfere; they've chosen their champion"

"Who?"

Bran gave only a sad smile, shaking his head "I know I frustrate you. I wish it didn't have to be this way. Things must happen in their own time. I can give you no information about the future or present"

Sansa was far more intelligent than she'd let people believe in childhood. The Queen quickly saw through his words "You can give me information on the past?"

"Not exactly"

"You're not making any sense"

The three-eyed raven shifted in his wheelchair, studying the Queen in the North. He wanted to help his family, but this was all he could do - a fact that frustrated Bran Stark to no end.

"I can see the past through the raven's eyes" said Bran "I think I can show you the past too"

"To see what?"

Bran shook his head "I don't know. You'll see what you need to - what the old Gods will allow you to see. I tried this with Ser Davos the other day but it didn't work. It should work with you though; you have Northern blood and you are Queen. If the old Gods will allow it, you will see as I do"

Sansa's face was neutral but her eyes betrayed the fear she was hiding. Bran understood. His power frightened Sansa - sometimes it frightened him too. While he wasn't entirely certain what Sansa would see, he had several ideas; none of them good.

"Will this help?"

He leaned back in his wheelchair, tilting his head to one side "This will give you information. When or how you use it depends on your own choices and what you see"

Sansa pressed her mouth into a tight line nodding sharply "Show me"

"I've never done this before and it is likely to take all my concentration" warned Bran "Whatever you see is in the past - it can't be changed"

Bran reached a hand out towards his sister. The Queen hesitated a moment before accepting it, her slender fingers closing hesitantly around his own. The Godswood reached out to Bran like an old friend as his mind flew, this time taking Sansa with him.

However hard she tried, Arya struggled to shake off the sting of Bran's rejection. Ever since he arrived at Winterfell she'd tried to spend time with the brother she rarely saw, but he seemed to want nothing to do with her. The rejection hurt but hearing Bran was going to spend the day with Sansa instead had made it worse.

Arya glanced to Tyrion at her side. At least he hadn't forgotten her, though the little Lannister had grown increasingly nervous as they left the safety of Winterfell and headed into the village. Part of the reason she'd taken him to the forest the other day was to test her theory - that he was afraid to leave the castle. As much as his confidence had grown within their family, there was still a long way to go to build his self-esteem. While he'd been enthusiastic in explaining his plan to her this morning, he'd lost most of his nerve when it came to actually going into the village. Fortunately Sansa had seen his asking permission for what it was and encouraged him to go - though she had made a request.

Tyrion kept glancing at his waist as he walked beside her, eyeing the valyrian steel sword hanging from his belt. The sheath that went with the blade was black with golden inlay criss-crossing throughout the pattern.

"Have you never worn a sword before?" she asked as they wandered through the village.

"I've never owned a sword before" he said "Father forbade it. I've had daggers and worn them on occasion, though they are much smaller to carry. I used an axe in the battle of Blackwater, but Pod carried it until I needed it"

Arya nodded. To her it was bizarre that Tyrion had never owned or regularly carried a weapon bigger than a dagger. In the North wearing a sword was as much a part of life for men as wearing breeches. Tyrion had appeared quite embarrassed at not knowing how best to wear a sword and for some unknown reason assumed Sansa would know. Fortunately Arya had the expertise in this area and had shown them both how to secure it to his belt and draw it quickly when needed. They'd both been surprised to learn it wasn't as simple as attaching it anywhere. Arya had learned through experience that a weapon had to be secure and accessible – the wrong placement could be a costly mistake if you needed to use the weapon. Tyrion had looked rather awkward when it was done, as though expecting them to mock his lack of knowledge - something that would never happen. It wasn't his fault no-one had ever taught him such things. When he used a sword in the practice yard Arya knew he borrowed one from the rack and returned it afterwards; wearing a sword would take some getting used to.

"Thank you for helping with the sword" he said, fiddling with the pommel "I should have known how to do it, but it's not something I ever really paid attention to before"

"Anytime" she said, bumping his shoulder "it feels strange now but you'll get used to it"

Arya suspected part of Tyrion's discomfort was due to his height. While his weapon was a short sword, his size made the weapon seem larger than it was – bouncing awkwardly against his leg.

Over his weeks of recovery Tyrion had gradually opened up around them, joking and smiling far more regularly than when he first arrived. It was easy enough to see he was growing comfortable with his new home and family. Yet the further they went from Winterfell the more withdrawn Tyrion grew, glancing nervously around him as though he expected to be attacked or scorned. Arya's fingers flexed as her brother shrunk in on himself beside her. She would enjoy killing Robin and Gawan. Several villagers had greeted the lord of Winterfell warmly upon seeing him again, though even this did little to ease the anxiety clinging to him. Within the castle Tyrion was mostly protected from the whispers and rumours about the Wolfswood and what had befallen him. Out here, Tyrion was exposed to the fact everyone in the North had heard some version of what happened to him.

If only he could see the villagers were loyal to him. Their stares were not the condescending sneers of windbag lords, but pride for their lord who had sacrificed himself to save lowborn girls.

Arya didn't think Tyrion had anything to fear in the village, though she understood his nerves. Most of this morning's enthusiasm had crumbled under his fears however. Tyrion looked ready to bolt back to the castle, but Arya wouldn't let him hide. The North was his home and she wouldn't let Robin and Gawan make him feel unsafe. It was different this time; he wasn't alone in the village, and at Sansa's request he'd agreed to carry a weapon if he left the castle.

The other part of Sansa's request was with them too. Lyon trotted just in front of them, head held high as the small folk admired him. Many had heard whispers of the direwolf bonded to the lion lord of Winterfell. Arya and her sibling's wolves had attracted a lot of attention as well; but they were Starks. Tyrion was well-liked by the small folk and accepted as one of them, despite what lord Dormund had said the other night. The fact a direwolf had chosen Tyrion as master had further endeared the Northerners to their Lannister lord. Unlike Tyrion, Lyon rather enjoyed the attention he received as he walked proudly in front of them – green eyes searching intensely for who was most likely to scratch his ears.

"Thank you for coming with me" said Tyrion, watching his wolf dart off to meet his admirers

"Anytime"

"I'm sorry about Bran" he said, eyes downcast "it's my fault he's spending the day with Sansa instead of you"

"How is that your fault?" asked Arya, crinkling her brow

"What happened with Robin and Gawan...it's caused huge problems for everyone" he said, fidgeting with the pommel of his sword "if I hadn't been captured by them...Sansa wouldn't have to deal with the other lords questioning her, or be under so much pressure..."

Arya's mouth fell open in surprise, but Tyrion ploughed ahead before she could respond.

"I can't help but think if I hadn't come here, things might have been better for you both. There would be no unrest in the North, no hunt for Robin and Gawan. The Queen wouldn't have wasted so much time looking after me..."

That was more than enough for Arya as she grabbed Tyrion's shoulder halting his walk "Hold on"

Green eyes peered warily up at her, a deep regret buried in them. She'd thought her brother was accepting his place in their family, but his words showed only his doubts. Arya wasn't sure whether it was lord Dormund the other night or anxiety from leaving Winterfell, but these dark thoughts would not be allowed to cling to Tyrion. The younger Stark crouched before him, roughly grabbing his shoulders.

"Are you really trying to convince me that we would be better of without you?" she said, digging her fingers into his heavy clothes "You're the only reason Sansa is still alive"

Tyrion's face paled "What?"

"You're a clever man. If you hadn't come here it's clear enough what would have happened. Sansa would have married Robin most likely – because of you we know that he only wants power. He wouldn't settle for being lord of Winterfell; Sansa would be killed eventually"

His eyes widened at the thought, his body tensing under her hands.

"If you hadn't come here forty women would have been sold into slavery. No-one else would have bothered to try and find them" continued Arya, locking her grey eyes onto Tyrion "Without you Sansa would still be the Queen of ice. You saved her from herself. I couldn't reach her; I didn't think anyone could. When I brought you home from the Wolfswood I got my brother back – and my sister too"

"Arya..."

She tightened her grip, shaking him "Don't you dare think we'd be better off without you. It was your courage that saved those women and exposed those bastards for what they are. It was you that brought back the real Sansa Stark. House Mazin refused to join a rebellion, not because of loyalty to house Stark but because of their respect for you!"

As she spoke her hands had wound tightly into Tyrion's tunic, her voice rising. Arya blamed a lot of people for Tyrion's despairingly low self-esteem. Top of that particular list were his family followed by Robin and Gawan, everyone who'd ever mocked him and that stupid lord Dormund. It was only respect for Sansa that had stopped her launching a blade at the up jumped lord. If he ever dared to enter Winterfell again he'd better bloody crawl to Tyrion.

"Arya, I..."

"I swear to all the Gods if you apologise again..."

"Thank you" he said, covering her hands with his own. There was a desperate hope lurking in his eyes that wanted to believe her words, though it was embarrassment that covered his face.

"You're right" he said softly "I know all that, I just..."

He trailed off and Arya loosened her grip, offering him a smile "You just needed reminding"

"Yes, I suppose"

"You're family Tyrion. It wasn't your fault you got hurt so badly, and we'll always take care of you – it's never a burden" she said "You need reminding again come to me, or Sansa if you want the nice approach"

A half smile curved across his face "I'll remember"

Arya straightened up, nudging him to continue their walk. Everything she'd said to Tyrion was true. Without him Arya had no idea how she would have saved Sansa from herself. The Queen of ice had proven to have only one weak spot; and that was Tyrion. When confronted with her husbands battered body, she'd thankfully regained her Stark identity. The closer Sansa got with Tyrion, the more Arya saw the sister she'd known in childhood.

Arya was happy for them both. Sansa's loving attention was slowly healing years of hurt in Tyrion, while he was breaking through Sansa's defences. Her sister may have made terrible mistakes, but Sansa deserved her knight in shining armour; different as he was from her childhood fantasies. The lord of Winterfell kept patting the object in his pocket, as if reminding himself why he'd ventured out of the castle. Arya tried to hide a smile. She had no doubt her sister would be thrilled with what Tyrion was planning.

"Good to see ya m'lord!" called an old man pushing a cart along the road

"Lord Tyrion" greeted a young dark-haired woman. Bowing her head as she tugged two children down the road

Everyone they'd come across so far had greeted Tyrion cheerfully. He was well known in the village as a good, fair lord. If any of them were sceptical about having a Lannister as their lord, Tyrion had worked hard to prove he wasn't like his family.

"You're a good lord, you know"

Her brother's face grew red at her words "I'm not sure about that. I try to do what your father and brother would have done – to honour the position"

"You more than honour it. The small folk respect you. Sansa should go into the villages too; she never leaves Winterfell"

"Understandable after all she suffered since leaving here"

"I understand why she's nervous, but I think if she had her way she'd never set foot outside the castle again. If Sansa could get away with it she'd probably keep you locked in Winterfell too"

"She's mentioned us going out riding" said Tyrion, a frown twisting his face "she went out with Gawan once"

"The thought of her alone with him" said Arya, her hands clenching into fists

"I know" said Tyrion, face darkening "the thought of those monsters near Sansa or you..."

Tyrion shook his head to clear the dark thoughts, as Arya's heart stirred at the protectiveness in his tone. Arya had survived years on her own, and in that time she'd often missed the protection only a brother could provide. Wild and deadly as she was a tiny part of her craved that comfort. It was a comfort that had gone North with Jon. As much as she loved Robb and Bran and Rickon – she'd been the closest with Jon. Most likely it was a comfort Tyrion missed too. While she hadn't paid much attention to Jamie when he was at Winterfell, it was obvious when Tyrion spoke of him how he idolised his older brother. It was a feeling she could well relate to with her own brothers.

Jamie was dead. Jon might never return and Bran was something else.

As much as Arya missed them, she still had a brother in Tyrion – and he had a sister in her.

The oddest spinning sensation enveloped Sansa as she took Bran's hand. One minute she was in the Godswood with her brother, the next she was stood on the outskirts of the village with Winterfell looming in the distance.

"Bran?" she called, seeing no sign of him

The Queen took a deep breath observing her surroundings. She had to trust Bran; there was no other choice. She thought he'd be here with her, but the three-eyed raven had warned bringing her here would use a lot of his focus. The sun was beginning to set and a light snowfall covered the ground, though Sansa felt none of the cold evening. It was a strange experience, everything around her seemed real but there was still a sense of being apart from it.

Sansa was about to move off when she saw him.

The Queen's legs trembled beneath her as Tyrion walked up the path in the direction of Winterfell. Her husband looked weeks from death. Tyrion's face was hollow as his clothes hung limply around his small frame. Golden hair fell lifelessly around his face, and his beard looked no better kept. His familiar green eyes were dull and tired as he walked straight through her.

"Tyrion?" she called, throat tightening

Her husband didn't hear her as he traipsed towards the castle; his prison. Bran's words came to mind, fighting against the shame that surged through her. She was in the past; whatever this was had already happened. Sansa followed after Tyrion, guilt clawing at her heart with each step.

How had she ever believed he was fine?

This Tyrion was before the Wolfswood; of that she was certain. His poor appearance was the product of months of neglect and abuse at her hand. He hadn't been looking after himself and she'd allowed him to carry on in this state; paying no mind to how unwell he clearly was. What kind of wife was she that had been so blind to the poor state of her husband? When Tyrion was sick with winter fever, Maester Wolkan had tried to tell her it was inevitable given his lack of self-care. Only now did she truly appreciate what he meant.

'Everyone else could see it but you' whispered her mind 'look at what you caused'

Sansa was so focused on Tyrion she didn't notice the two men following them until they stood either side of him. Fear flashed in her husband's eyes as he increased his pace, but it was no use. Sansa was helpless to watch as the two men turned on him.

"Leave him alone" she shouted, as one of the men waved a knife at Tyrion. It was useless - they couldn't hear her. Tyrion tried to escape, but he was easily overpowered.

One was bald with a pointed face; while the other she recognised. Sansa's blood boiled at the sight of Reg. The man had confessed to kidnapping Tyrion, taunting her and Arya with the fact. Now she was forced to watch as her husband was thrown to the snowy ground with the bald man tying his hands behind his back.

"Night, night lord of Winterfell" said the man as Tyrion writhed beneath him.

The Queen flinched as he was struck in the back of the head, ending his struggle. The men laughed as the newly made gash in her husband's head leaked crimson into his golden hair.

Sansa crouched next to Tyrion, reaching her hand out to touch his unconscious face. Her heart twisted as it went straight through. It was then she realised exactly what this was. Bran had warned her that the only help he could give wouldn't be pleasant, but never had she imagined it would be this.

The Queen in the North fought to separate her emotions as the two men gagged Tyrion and carried him away from Winterfell - laughing as they went. A cart was waiting not far away and her husband was thrown in with a thud; as if he was worthless.

"Easy enough job" said Reg, securing a tarp over the cart and hiding Tyrion from view

"You thought kidnapping a dwarf would be hard?" sneered the other man "The way Robin and Gawan talk the Queen might not notice her imp's gone for a week"

Reg snorted "Aye, he'll be dead by then"

The scene around Sansa began to change as the cart trundled off, taking Tyrion away from his home and towards the Wolfswood - towards the suffering that awaited him there.

Coldness spread through Sansa as the world morphed around her. She was going to see the horror her husband endured first hand - and be powerless to stop it.

Ser Davos massaged his temple as he felt another headache building. Sansa had kindly given them a room to use for meetings so they could continue working while they were at Winterfell - not that anything was actually getting done.

"Can we please focus on getting through some of this work?" he tried again

"Why? Is the King working?" asked Bronn, tilting back in his chair

"King Bran is busy in the Godswood today and isn't to be disturbed - as you well know" said Brienne

"What could he be doing in there that he hasn't done every day since we got to this shithole of a place?"

Ser Davos sighed "Family business that's nothing to do with us. Whatever he's doing he is King and we serve him. Satisfied?"

"No, not really. You know what would satisfy me right now; a woman" said Bronn, gazing around the table

"Don't look at me" said Brienne crossing her arms

"Not if you were the last woman alive" snorted Bronn "we both know I aint blonde enough for ya - and I've got one too many hands"

They'd been sat here for half an hour and already Davos suspected it was too long. The hand of the King badge on his tunic was woefully unassuming considering the burden it carried. At least in Kings Landing he had Samwell as back-up. Brienne was easy enough to work with, but her and Bronn together were a nightmare from one of the seven hells.

Brienne's jaw tensed as she stared across at the sellsword "Don't take it out on me because lord Tyrion won't play with you anymore"

"I don't give a shit about the grumpy little bastard" said Bronn, a scowl curving over his face

Ser Davos wondered if it was too early to start drinking. Any hope of completing some work had gone out the window with the mention of Jamie and Tyrion.

"I'm not surprised he wants nothing to do with you" said Brienne, eyes narrowing "threatening to kill him all because his sister waved a bag of gold in front of you"

"Don't pretend you care about the little shit" said Bronn, jabbing his finger towards the lord commander "we all know you're only upset 'cause I threatened your precious Jamie"

"If Sansa had known you'd came here and threatened anyone she would have had you killed"

"Enough!" said Ser Davos glancing between the two of them "whatever happened is in the past. In the present we all have duties to do"

"You're right" agreed Brienne, taking a breath "We're all sworn to the same King now"

"Right, the priority needs to be filling the empty seats. Highgarden and Casterly Rock are the biggest to fill. Any suggestions?" asked Davos, his eyes wandering over the lists stacked before him.

Many of the more experienced lords had been killed in both areas. Minor houses had been wiped out completely through years of war, leaving the task of filling major seats even more difficult. For months Davos had poured over potential lords with Samwell. Whenever they found someone possibly well suited the King would void their suggestion – as if he knew something about that candidate no-one else did.

"What about bringing in lords from other areas? Highgarden in particular needs experienced hands as it's one of the main food sources in Westeros" suggested Brienne

"I've looked at it, but minor lords are unlikely to accept an outsider"

"Give Casterly Rock back to Tyrion" said Bronn, examining his fingernails

Ser Davos wondered if it was too late to go beyond the wall with Jon; surely there were no small council meetings there.

Brienne heaved out a sigh "You were there the other night when Bran made that offer to lord Tyrion. He refused"

"Aye, but I reckon he's not in his right mind"

The lord of the Twins leaned forward in his seat to explain his theory and the Kings hand knew any hope of work was dead. Brienne was eyeing Bronn with suspicion, but she was clearly intrigued by his statement too.

"Why do you think that?" asked Davos, taking the bait

"The other day I saw him helping this old bloke shovelling dog shit out of the kennels" said Bronn, eyes widening "you ever seen a Lannister do physical labour?"

"Arya told me he often does that" said Brienne "from what I've seen lord Tyrion is well liked by the Winterfell household and the small folk"

"Then there's how quiet he is. Barely says a bloody word"

"He is quieter" conceded Davos

Bronn spread his hands "The North has fucked him right up. He doesn't drink, he barely talks, he-"

"loves Sansa and Arya" finished Brienne, adding softly "he's happy here"

"How can he be happy? You heard what happened in the Wolfswood. Those bastards near killed him and they're still out there"

"The Queen's got most of the North hunting them down" said Davos

"Aint found them, have they? You can't deny how different he is since he came up here. Poor bastard's like a beaten dog; he should come back south with us"

Brienne arched an eyebrow incredulously "What would you have us do – kidnap him from his bed? Bran offered, and Tyrion refused. This is his home, as he told us"

"He doesn't know what he wants. Needs a stiff drink and a nice whore if you ask me"

"No-one asked you" said Brienne "and lord Tyrion is married – quite happily by the looks of it"

Ser Davos nodded "Brienne's got the right of it. No denying he suffered horrendously, but it's clear enough he wants to stay"

"There aint nothing for him up here. He always wanted Casterly Rock and now he can have it" said Bronn

"Some things are more important than castles" said Brienne "surely you've seen how Sansa and Arya act around him? He has a family here"

"True enough" added Ser Davos, turning to the former sellsword "you want to tell the Queen your taking her husband south whether he wants to go or not?"

Bronn looked between them, a scowl twisting his face. As annoying as the master of coin could often be, Davos liked him well enough. Since coming to Winterfell he'd grown moody, and it was undoubtedly linked to Tyrion's reaction to him – a fact that puzzled Ser Davos. If Bronn was so concerned for his friend why hadn't he tried to help him in Kings Landing? Brienne appeared to be having a similiar thought. Her face softened as she looked at Bronn.

"Have you considered apologising to Tyrion?" she said "If you feel that guilty-"

"Guilty for what?" snapped Bronn "I did nothin to him"

"Who are you trying to fool?" asked Brienne, brow furrowing "Just apologise to your friend"

"You heard him; we were never friends" said Bronn, hand curling into a fist

Ser Davos decided it certainly wasn't too early for wine, as Bronn and Brienne locked horns again. They were two of the most stubborn people he'd ever met, and he'd met the young lady Mormont.

"If you're not his friend and you really don't care, then what does it matter to you if Tyrion stays in the North?" asked Brienne, daring the master of coin to argue

"I don't give a shit what he does. He can stay here and get eaten by the wolves for all I care"

"It sounds like you care rather a lot"

That it turned out was crossing the line. You could accuse Bronn of being a thief, a liar and a man without honour - but don't accuse him of caring.

At Brienne's words, Bronn leapt to his feet; dark eyes glaring at them both as if daring them to stop him leaving.

"Where are you going?" asked Ser Davos, tapping his shortened fingers against the table

"Had enough of all you miserable shits and the bloody North. I'm gonna find a woman, a warm bed and plenty of drink"

"You're master of coin. You have a duty to Bran" reminded Brienne

"Aye, I do. The King who's sitting in the Godswood dreaming. If he wants to get rid of me, he can take it up with me himself"

The lord of the Twins swept from the room, the door banging shut behind him. Brienne slumped in her seat, a sigh escaping her.

"Ser Davos, I apologise. I shouldn't allow him to get to me like that"

"It's fine" said Davos sinking in his chair "he's been building up to that since we got here. He'd have gone off sooner or later"

"I'll explain to Bran if you like"

Ser Davos shook his head, feeling older than he truly was "I'm his hand – it's up to me. Knowing Bran he'll probably have already seen it"

Why did Sansa think she would be able to distance herself from what was happening to Tyrion?

When she realised what she was going to see the Queen resolved to push her own emotions down and lock them away – to focus on what she was doing here. It was impossible. Every time Sansa looked at her husband guilt tightened around her throat like a noose.

Now she crouched beside Tyrion as he sawed his hands against the rough wooden post to sever the rope. Never in all her life had she felt more helpless. She'd listened to Robin and Gawan mocking her husband; heard their plan to kill Tyrion and let Robin marry her.

'The Queen's pet lion' they'd called him. It was true wasn't it? That's all she'd treated him as - even the other lords could see it.

She'd tried to punch Robin's smirking face; her hand sailing straight through him. Sansa wanted nothing more than to beat them both bloody with her own hands. As much as she hated it, Robin's words were true. If Tyrion had died her council would have married her off – most likely to him.

Sansa had no idea what she was supposed to learn from this, other than how badly she'd failed Tyrion. Her husband was so clearly unwell – how had she missed it? The green eyes she loved so much were swimming in the self-loathing and insecurities she'd spent the past weeks trying to vanquish.

"Bran!" she shouted, hoping to find her brother

What was she supposed to do? She'd agreed to this assuming Bran would be here to guide her. Sansa had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for, and it was abundantly clear she could do nothing but watch. The Queen sank onto the ground next to her husband as his attention turned to the barn - and the wary face of a woman peeking through a broken panel of it.

Part of her wondered if she should have followed after Robin and Gawan, but how could she leave her husband? Instead she listened as Tyrion and Rose spoke; pride filling her as he plotted their escape. He was a good man, a brave man; despite what he thought of himself. A true lord of Winterfell.

If Tyrion knew what saving the wildings would cost him; would he still do it? Sansa longed to warn him - beg him to save himself and escape. It was a foolish hope. This was the past, and Tyrion wouldn't leave them to their fate. They were innocent children and women and for all her husband believed himself a monster Sansa knew that couldn't be further from the truth. Deep in her heart she knew Tyrion would still make the same choice even if he knew the pain it would cause him. In Kings Landing she'd seen first-hand who he truly was. Among all the knights and nobles that filled the court, he was the only one who'd defended her - and she'd betrayed him horribly.

"I'm sorry" she told him "this is all my fault"

It had been years since Bran Stark could feel his legs, and now he couldn't feel anything apart from the crippling pain in his head. Using his power to bring Sansa to the past had proven to be a rather large mistake. The old Gods had brought them to witness the capture of Tyrion Lannister and then his arrival in the Wolfswood.

The three-eyed raven hadn't been sure this would work at all, despite what he told Sansa. The old Gods were less than happy at what he was doing. Their power was tugging Sansa from his grasp and blocking him from joining her.

It shouldn't be this difficult. Bran had expected to feel a certain strain on his powers, but not like this. Almost as soon as he flew the old Gods had caged him, removing Sansa from his grasp and into their own. He could see what was happening, but he couldn't be there with his sister. Sansa was by her husband as he sat tied to a post outside the barn. Gawan had hold of Tyrion now; forcing his face into a bowl of slop he was supposed to eat.

It was arrogance to think his powers could subvert the will of the old Gods in their home. Tyrion was their champion; not the three-eyed raven. The Weirwoods were mostly gone in the south, rendering the old gods powerless; that wasn't the case in the north however. In Kings Landing the three-eyed raven's power seemed limitless – his current situation was tearing that belief to shreds.

A jolt of pain ran through Bran as Sansa's emotions spiked. The Queen had made several attempts at stopping the humiliation of her husband, all to no avail as her strikes passed harmlessly through Gawan.

Bran Stark had wanted to help his family, and this was the only possible chance he had to do it. The old Gods had allowed him to bring Sansa to the past, but now their power clamped around him holding him prisoner.

They would allow Sansa to see; to gain the information she would need - but it would be on their terms.

His father had often said the North was a harsh, unforgiving place. Sansa was being both helped and punished and Bran could offer her no support. If he was there he could encourage her to focus and see past what was being done to Tyrion – but all he could do now was watch.

Bran suspected he was guilty of a great many things, and would be guilty of far more before he left the North. One such thing was underestimating the love his sister had for her husband.

The Queen of ice might have been able to remain impartial; to see things objectively. It was a skill Bran had been depending on when he considered this plan.

The ice Queen was dead however. A broken shield that could no longer hide Sansa Stark from the truth she'd long been blind to. Guilt was drowning Sansa and if she didn't push through it this whole exercise would give her nothing but pain.

'Sansa, focus!' he shouted as the power of the old Gods crushed the three-eyed raven.

On more than one occasion Sansa had wished Tyrion had left the girls to their fate in the Wolfswood and saved himself. It was a selfish thought; one that went against every value she'd been taught growing up. Sansa was never proud when the dark thought drifted through her mind, but she was downright ashamed when she watched Tyrion help them escape. Truthfully she'd paid very little attention to them over the few days they remained at Winterfell; her mind consumed with her husband.

Now Sansa watched as girls as young as four and ten were led silently from the barn and into the thick canopy of trees that surrounded the area. Most were wildlings – not her subjects and not under her protection. It was impossible to tell who the few girls from the villages were and who the wildlings were however. They were all just children and young women; frightened and far from home as she had once been. Slave collars were fastened around their necks and it was apparent some had been held prisoner there for many weeks while the Queen did nothing.

Sansa tried to focus instead on Tyrion. She'd watched as he killed a guard and began the escape. The free folk rarely trusted anyone south of the wall, but Rose had put her trust in Tyrion. The wildling woman followed his plan to the letter, hanging back with him as the last few girls escaped.

'This is the past' she reminded herself as guards emerged from the farmhouse and discovered the escape. It didn't matter, Sansa's heart pounded just as frantically as if she was there. The Queen raced through the Wolfswood with her husband, watching as the guards caught up to them.

'It's already happened' she thought, biting her lip as Tyrion turned to rescue a young girl – and chose to stay behind. It was a decision that would cause him so much pain.

For all she'd once admired Loras Tyrell, Sansa now thought the boy looked pitiful compared to her husband. Tyrion was a true lion as he battled the guards, awkwardly swinging a sword that was clearly too big for him. The fighting was brutal and deadly. Her heart crawled up her throat as one of the men sliced her husband's upper arm, unleashing a river of blood that soaked his tunic. She recognised him as one of Tyrion's kidnappers – Reg's friend. It was satisfying when Tyrion killed him.

Two men were dead and the third was dying with his severed leg beside him. Voices sounded in the distance that warned of the reinforcements to come. Tyrion should be running to escape – why wasn't he trying to escape?

"Run Tyrion!" she shouted, to absolutely no effect

Her husband stumbled towards the dying man, severing his head as reinforcements poured into the Wolfswood. The man was dying – why waste time making sure he was dead?

It was as the guards began to search the Wolfswood following the most obvious paths Sansa realised why Tyrion had made sure their three pursuers were dead. Only Tyrion would now know which way the girls had gone – down a long forgotten path the enemy was unlikely to find.

Sansa was so distracted with the search she turned to find her husband hanging limply between a group of guards as a fist crashed into his face.

"Should just kill him now" growled one of the men, looking at their fallen comrades "he killed 'em all"

"The lords will want him" spoke a gruff older man "take the little beast back while we get the women"

"He's not a beast!" shouted Sansa, her heart thumping in her chest as she took in the sight of the man she loved hanging unconscious between the guards.

They dragged him carelessly back through the Wolfswood with Sansa following next to Tyrion. She reached out to brush a hand against his exhausted face, anger curling through her as it went straight through.

It wasn't fair. Why had Bran brought her here? She couldn't do anything; she couldn't change any of this. She couldn't even comfort her husband.

'You never brought him any comfort before' hissed her mind 'look at the state of him; no wonder he didn't want to go back to his prison in Winterfell...'

"Bran!" she tried again, gaining no response

Tyrion was dragged back into the camp and dumped in a heap of snow at the feet of Robin and Gawan. The young lord Flint's face curled in distaste.

"He's caused quite the problem"

"If you'd let me play with him this wouldn't have happened" said Gawan, nudging the lord of Winterfell with his foot

Robin rubbed his chin "Sansa's pet isn't as docile as we thought"

"The little bastard killed Duke. He killed our men" growled Reg. The large man was as stupid as Sansa remembered from their brief conversation. He was looking between Robin and Gawan as if he honestly expected them to care about his now dead friend.

Robin's face twisted into a smile "I had no plans to harm lord Tyrion, but I think a punishment is in order, don't you Gawan?"

The wild boy's eyes brightened "Yes! He messed up our plans for the day"

Sansa's stomach lurched as she watched her former friends eyeing Tyrion like a piece of meat. She could have been wed to either of them. The Queen screwed her eyes shut, sinking onto the ground next to her fallen husband.

If not for Tyrion she would have married a monster. Possible futures with Robin or Gawan as her husband raced through her mind, each more gruesome than the last. The fear of another Ramsay had compelled her to force the marriage with Tyrion; a man she trusted. Every mistreatment of Tyrion she'd rationalised as for the good of the North; it wasn't. It had all been done to protect herself and in doing so she'd hurt the person she should have been protecting.

"You should hate me" said Sansa, wrapping her arms around herself as she sat beside Tyrion

The Queen was so lost in her own failings; she almost missed the slightest whisper that brushed against her mind.

'Sansa, focus!'

"Bran?" she said, jerking back to alertness

Time had moved rapidly on as she sat there. The sun was beginning to creep up in the distance as her husband stirred to life beside her.

Focus. She had to focus. Sansa rose to her feet, annoyed with herself. Her brother had warned her the past couldn't be changed, she was here for a reason. Sansa moved slightly away from the bench, observing the scene from the side. Reg and another man pulled Tyrion to his feet, holding him upright between them. The guilt and regret tearing at her heart would have to wait. Dwelling on it now was a distraction. Emotion was dangerous in the game of thrones.

Sansa Stark had just about got her Queenly mask in place when Gawan began slicing the clothes off Tyrion. Distant. She had to remain distant - it was the only way to survive this.

"Would killing me not be easier?" said Tyrion as he was left in only his breeches

Gods. Tyrion looked almost skeletal without his tunic. She should have noticed he wasn't eating properly. Despite her resolve to remain distant, Sansa found herself edging closer to her husband. An all too familiar shamed burned in his eyes as his body was exposed to them. The blood soaked clothes and a handful of golden hair now sat to one side. It would be packaged up and sent towards the Kings Road before Arya intercepted it.

"Look at his back! Someone's taught him a lesson"

The guards lifted Tyrion, forcing him chest down on the bench where Robin sat. Laughter rang out from the group as they prodded the lash marks that covered his back.

"Stop laughing" she warned, throat tightening "stop laughing at him!"

It was no use; Sansa couldn't change the past - however much she wanted to. Robin was talking to Tyrion now as a slave collar was tightened around his neck. Her gaze followed Gawan as he retrieved a pot of hot metal from the nearby fire.

"I could melt your face with this" said Gawan, excitement dancing in his eyes as he shoved the pot near Tyrion "burn your eyes, dip your fingers in and watch them melt - but I have other orders"

Her husband squirmed on the bench but couldn't escape as the collar was sealed shut around his neck.

"Doesn't that look good?" purred Gawan, patting his back as if he was a dog

Bile crawled up the Queens's throat as the scene unfolded before her. Monsters. Who were they to degrade the lord of Winterfell? Gawan had moved off after sealing the collar and Sansa moved closer to the bench. Robin was unfolding a piece of paper, showing it to Tyrion as he remained trapped on the bench.

Was this what she was meant to see? Sansa hurried forwards, eager to examine the paper for whatever clue it may hold. Her brow furrowed at the image drawn on it. She'd seen it somewhere before…

The realisation came to Sansa just as she turned to see Gawan positioning himself behind Tyrion.

"No!" she begged, horror filling her eyes at what was about to happen

The young lord Glover wore a wicked grin on his face as he pushed the hot iron into the back of Tyrion's shoulder. Her husband writhed at the contact, but the guards were pinning him too tightly to the bench. He was helpless to escape as Gawan branded him.

Tyrion trembled silently on the bench as the men laughed at the mark now permanently etched into his shoulder.

Sansa wasn't silent. A scream tore from her throat as the last vestiges of her icy walls shattered.

"Doggy!"

"Silly Ethan - Lyon's a wolf!" corrected Nessa, as her younger brother grinned widely at the direwolf

A smile tugged at Tyrion's mouth as he watched the children pet Lyon. He'd promised Nessa he would bring Lyon to see her mother and brother when he had recovered. Aside from that he wanted to thank them for their kindness when he was hurt. The stuffed lion toy the children had given him for his name day continued to sit proudly on his drawers.

He'd only planned a quick visit to collect his squire, but Tess had insisted on him and Arya joining them for refreshment.

As much as he trusted Lyon, Tyrion wasn't entirely sure how patient the wolf would be with children. While Lyon knew Nessa and was very friendly with her, he'd worried how the direwolf would react to strangers. It seemed there was little to fear, if Lyon sensed no threat he was perfectly happy to accept any attention. Even now the golden wolf held his head high as Nessa instructed her little brother on how to rub behind his ears in the way he liked best.

"I'm glad to see you've recovered so well Tyrion" said Tess, sinking into a chair opposite him and Arya. He'd long ago insisted she forgo the titles.

"Yes. It's nice to get out of the castle again" he agreed "I owe you my thanks. The bread cake you sent, and the children's gift…it meant a lot to me"

The woman smiled warmly "It was our pleasure. You're always welcome here"

Some of the tension that had clung to Tyrion since leaving Winterfell had eased since entering Tess's warm home. It was only a small house, but the family love that resided there washed over him whenever he visited. Tess still appeared in poor health, but the adoration in her eyes when she watched her children hid any frailty.

"Lyon loves the attention" said Arya, raising an eyebrow at the satisfied looking wolf

"I fear his head may no longer fit in the castle"

"He's very well-behaved" said Tess "Nessa said he was friendly, but I was a bit sceptical"

Arya smirked, reaching for her drink "He's friendly to everyone but Sansa"

"Yes, they do have an interesting relationship" said Tyrion

The conversation continued around him, but Tyrion found his attention drawn to Arya. He'd asked her to accompany him in the hopes of lifting her mood, yet as soon as they left the castle he'd needed her help. Truthfully, Tyrion hadn't expected returning to the village to cause him so much unease. Walking down the path where he'd been kidnapped had sent his heart racing, his mind urging him to return to safety. Arya had been perfectly patient even as his guilt bubbled to the surface.

It was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that had grown louder the last few weeks as he returned to his duties as lord of Winterfell. Sansa and Arya had worked tirelessly to bring justice to those who hurt him. Most of the North was hunting them down. So much of their time had been taken up with caring for him…the guilt grew heavier just thinking about it.

This particular guilt had come out with Sansa on occasion, though she was quick to soothe his insecurities. However, on this matter it was Arya who had put things in perspective. The younger Stark was blunt in a way Sansa wasn't. Everything Arya had said was true. If he wasn't here, Sansa would have likely married Robin - who'd been undermining her reign from the beginning.

The idea of Sansa being married to either of those creatures sent a shudder through him. Tyrion hated being a burden or dependent on anyone; his family had always made sure he knew what an inconvenience he was. The Wolfswood had left him utterly helpless, but there was nothing he could do about it. Accepting that was difficult. For so many weeks he'd blamed himself for all of it. The capture, failing to escape - he blamed himself for every injury he suffered.

Yet, now he wondered…was it his fault?

Sansa and Arya had never blamed him. No-one had.

Why was he blaming himself, for something he had no control over? He hadn't wanted to be kidnapped or tortured. He'd done his best to escape.

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards as his hand closed around the object in his pocket. The Starks had given him so much. For weeks Sansa had tried to make amends, showering him with love and affection. It had taken time but she'd worked her way through his walls and into his heart; a place very few had ever entered. That he cared for Sansa was never in question; allowing himself to fall in love with her was a different matter entirely.

As impossible as it seemed Sansa Stark loved him; and he believed her. Tyrion loved her too. It was difficult to express - doubt and self-loathing continuously dripped their poison into his mind. But Tyrion wanted to show Sansa how he felt as freely as she did. Hopefully his plan would express what he'd struggled to put into words.

As she sat in the stables watching her husband shiver beside her, Sansa found herself regretting all the time she'd spent dutifully praying in her youth. The Gods were cruel; why else would she be forced to watch this unending horror without any chance of changing it?

Tyrion had been dragged off to the stables after they branded him, the collar around his neck chained to the wall and his hands chained to the ground in front of him. Never in her life had she felt more helpless as Tyrion tugged against his restraints in frustration, shame flooding his eyes.

'He's used to being property. He's just changed owner - from Sansa to us'

Gawan's words repeated through her mind, a deep shame swelling in her chest. Everyone had seen how poorly she'd treated Tyrion - everyone but her.

Her husband trembled next to her, his body shuddering as he tried to move. The bright red mark on his shoulder was a horrific sight; Sansa couldn't begin to imagine the pain it caused. The slash on his arm had finally stopped bleeding but gaped open in need of medical attention. His breath frosted in the air as he shivered against the cold. All day he'd been given no food or water. Tyrion tried to lean back against the wall, accidentally brushing the burn. A jolt went through him but his restraints made it impossible to move. He screwed his eyes shut, the faintest whisper coming from his trembling form.

"Jamie, please…"

What remained of Sansa's heart cracked at his plea. She would give anything to comfort him; to hold him against her and keep him safe. It was far too late for any of that. This Tyrion knew nothing of her love; only her cruelty. The shock and agony of what had been done to him had caused him to ask for the only comfort he'd ever known - and it wasn't her.

The Queen drew in a shuddering breath, dampness gathering in her eyes. They'd been sat here for several hours and in that time she'd examined every inch of her husband, forcing herself to memorise every detail of his abused body. From the dark shadows that hung under his eyes, to his malnourished form. Robin and Gawan's mistreatment had added to it, but this was her doing.

Footsteps crunching through the snow drew her attention as it did Tyrion's. The smirking faces of Robin and Gawan appeared at the end of the stall, though Robin's eyes were dark with annoyance.

"I need something from you" said Robin

Despite the haunted look in his eyes, Tyrion straightened in his restraints "You want my breeches too?"

"Our men have been searching the Wolfswood for the slaves and found no trace of them"

"Did your men get confused? One tree looks very much like the other after all"

Pride ignited in Sansa as her husband refused to cower before his captors, brushing aside their attempts to intimidate him as easily as swatting a fly. Tyrion's defiance was neither angry nor threatening. It held a quiet strength and dignity. They may have control in the situation, but Tyrion was still the most powerful man in the room; he would not bend to them.

Sansa forced herself to focus on Robin and Gawan as they conversed. There had to be something she was meant to see.

"You have a choice lord of Winterfell. You can tell me now what directions you gave them and where they're hiding – or I'll let Gawan take the answers from you. I had planned on keeping you in one piece for your execution" said Robin, shrugging "but I don't care much either way"

Robin was good at hiding his emotions. He was acting as though this was a minor inconvenience, but his sharp face had tightened throughout the conversation, betraying his anger. It was Gawan that truly turned her stomach. He was positively beaming at the prospect of hurting Tyrion.

Despite the indignity of his position, Tyrion's gaze was unflinching as he stared at the two boys "I am the lord of Winterfell, and they are slaves no longer"

Tears slipped from Sansa's eyes at his answer as Gawan bounced into the stall. She leaned closer to Tyrion, whispering in his ear "You are sweetheart - a true lord of Winterfell. I'm so proud of you"

This was all for a duty Tyrion hadn't wanted. He'd begged to not marry her, but she'd forced him to be her husband and carry the burden that came with it. Regardless of how he felt about it, Tyrion had accepted his duty and he would see it through until the bitter end.

The mask of gallantry Gawan had worn when trying to gain Sansa's favour was completely gone as he prodded the brand on Tyrion's shoulder. His eyes were filled with a cruelty she'd seen only twice before; Joffrey and Ramsay.

"I've been waiting for this" he said, grinning at Tyrion as he lifted a small hammer "I don't think breaking you will take long, so we'll start small. What about your fingers?"

Sansa's heart lurched as Gawan grasped hold of her husbands chained left hand, forcing it flat against the floor. The boy brought the hammer over the hand, teasing the edge of it against his fingers.

"We only need a location Tyrion" said Robin, spreading his hands as he stood at the gate "there's no need to suffer"

Tyrion remained silent, his mouth pressing into a tight line as he braced for the pain to come. He didn't wait long as Gawan brought the hammer down on Tyrion's little finger – the snap sounding in the stall. Tyrion didn't react, though his face tightened.

"Sure you don't want to tell us?" teased Gawan, moving the hammer to the next finger

Silence filled the air, followed by another snap as the next finger was broken. Sansa flinched at the brutality, though her husband appeared to be withdrawing into his mind - the distant look on his face was one she'd often seen as he recovered. He wouldn't tell them what they wanted. Gawan's mouth turned downwards, annoyed at the lack of reaction.

"Why so quiet little lion? Are you pretending to be a wolf?" mocked Gawan, pressing down on the broken fingers, and still failing to elicit a response

Robin's face had twisted into a deep frown, glaring at Tyrion with contempt "This doesn't have to be personal. Tell us where you sent our slaves and you can die a clean death"

Still Tyrion said nothing, though his eyes narrowed on the young lord.

"I doubt Sansa's noticed you've gone, but I hope Arya comes looking for you – she can join the fun too"

"Let's hope so" said Gawan, flexing his hand "little bitch still needs punishing for that damned fork through my fingers"

"They won't come" said Tyrion, a flicker of sadness crossing his face "you won't be able to hurt them"

Robin sneered "You're right – who would come for you anyway? If we can't hurt them, I'll settle for hurting you. Gawan's very excited to play with his new pet. Sooner or later you'll tell us everything we want"

The lord of Widows Watch nodded once to his friend before leaving the stables. Sansa was dimly aware of Gawan taunting her husband as he lifted the hammer again, but her mind was locked on what she'd just heard.

Her vision blurred as she reached out to touch Tyrion's face. A strangled sob breaking from her throat as her hand once again passed through him. Had he really endured all this pain, believing no-one was looking for him? That they didn't care for him? Tyrion's face was a grim mask; refusing to give his tormentors any satisfaction. Sansa knew him though. His green eyes held such a deep resignation, Sansa knew he did believe it.

"It's not true" she said, begging him to hear her "I love you Tyrion. I'd do anything for you"

His face contorted briefly in pain as another crack reverberated around the stables. Sansa whipped her head around to see Gawan grinning cheerfully as he prepared to bring the hammer down again on Tyrion's left hand. The heir to Deepwood Motte had unchained the limb, pinning it beneath him as he struck it with the hammer. Damage that would take weeks of agonising recovery.

On and on it went. Sansa didn't think she'd ever be able to unhear the crunching and snapping as Gawan mangled Tyrion's arm.

"Come on Lannister; I want to hear you roar!"

Sansa's heart snapped along with her husband's wrist. Not a sound left Tyrion, though the little colour he had drained away.

"Don't touch him!" growled Sansa as Gawan grasped her husband's face, a glint of madness in his eyes

"Aren't you a good little lord - trying to be as stoic and silent as the Starks. It won't work. You're not a Northerner, and you're not a wolf. You're a lonely little lion far from home. No-one in Westeros wanted you and no-one in the North wants you"

Sobs wracked Sansa's body as she was forced to observe the scene. Tyrion wouldn't break for them, refusing to let their torture garner any response from him. As much as he was hiding his emotions, he couldn't ignore their cruel words. Sansa had heard Tyrion belittle himself many times, and the depths of his self-hatred often shocked her. That Tyrion thought so poorly of himself broke her heart, but hearing others mock him ignited a fierce protectiveness in her. For all he pretended not to care, Sansa had come to realise Tyrion wanted to be liked and loved. It was a basic kindness that had always been denied him.

'You didn't love him; you used him – just like everyone else' whispered the voice of Cersei Lannister 'you're a Queen and he's nothing. Leave him'

"No!" said Sansa, her chest tightening as she turned to Tyrion "I love you. I won't ever leave you, I promise"

"Are you the lord of Winterfell?"

Arya could feel Tyrion stiffen at her side at the question – though she doubted he was in any danger from the small boy who asked it. After visiting Nessa's family, Tyrion had asked for his squire's help with his plan. The young girl had lit up at his request and quickly gone off to make the arrangements. Her and Tyrion had called in to see Esther after that and were on their way to the inn when a group of children playing on some fallen logs had stopped their games to watch them; whispering and pointing at Tyrion. There were about ten children in the group; a mixture of boys and girls ranging in age from about five to nine.

It was a boy of about eight with black curly hair who'd asked the question. Bolder than his friends, he'd stepped towards them halting their walk.

"I am" said Tyrion, shifting uneasily

The boy's face brightened "You're Tyrion Lannister"

"That's right" he said "Who might you be?"

"I'm Ben" said the boy, glancing back at his friends

This appeared to be some unspoken signal that it was safe to approach for the rest of the children moved forwards as well, huddling behind Ben. They were all wearing a mismatch of breeches and various pieces of heavy clothing covered in damp patches from the snow they'd been playing it. Tyrion was eyeing the children warily, and it occurred to Arya he was expecting them to laugh at him.

Lyon moved forwards sniffing at the children.

"Is that a direwolf?" asked Ben, eyes widening as the wolf stared at him

"Yes, his name's Lyon" said Tyrion

"Is he yours?"

Tyrion nodded, and the boy gazed at the golden wolf in wonder.

"Are you married to the Queen?" asked a younger girl, twisting her hands nervously

Tyrion offered her a smile "I am"

The children were not going to mock Tyrion, of that Arya was certain.

"Never met a lord before" mumbled another boy, before panic settled over his face "We should have bowed!"

At that the children broke into a frantic bobbing off heads.

"There's no need for that" said Tyrion, a small laugh escaping him at the sight

"Mother says you gotta bow to the lords or they'll have your head" said the red haired boy, his eyes wandering to the sword on Tyrion's hip

"Some lords perhaps, though I'm not in the habit of removing heads"

The children relaxed somewhat, but their eyes were filled with curiosity as they stared at Tyrion.

Arya nudged her brother, whispering in his ear "I think they have questions for you"

Tyrion swallowed thickly, nodding "It appears so"

It was obvious enough to Arya the children were only curious about the Queen's husband, but Tyrion had lived his life expecting to be the subject of mockery. To Arya this was a good opportunity to erase some of his old fears, and make him see the respect the small folk had for him. Tyrion was well-liked by the small folk, however much he doubted it. The children's curiosity was only natural too. Unlike the Northern lords who lived and grew up in the area, Tyrion was from the Westerlands.

Arya glanced around the area, spying the fallen logs where the children had been playing.

"Do you have questions for lord Tyrion?" she asked the children

They all nodded, some more nervously than others. She threw her arm around Tyrion's shoulders steering him towards the logs. The lord of Winterfell shot her a nervous glance, but she patted his shoulder reassuringly. This would be good for all of them. The children would get to know their Lannister lord and Tyrion would hopefully see how accepted he was in the North. Too few lords left their castles, and Sansa never did.

Tyrion was already well-known in the villages. Letting the children get to know him too would only be a good thing. One day they would be the petitioners seeing him in court.

The children followed in a small herd, whispering amongst themselves as she steered her brother onto one of the logs.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered "I don't want to frighten them..."

Arya snorted "You're about as scary as you are tall. Just be yourself"

The children had gathered around them as Lyon trotted to Tyrion's side. The lord of Winterfell appeared to be considering her words, nodding once to her before turning to the children.

"Would you like to ask me anything?"

A blanket.

While her husband was tortured and degraded by two men she'd trusted – Sansa had sat making him a blanket, in case he was cold when he got back.

A laugh escaped Sansa – how naive she'd been. Since Tyrion had been returned to her she'd coaxed bits and pieces of his suffering from him; listening sympathetically and giving him as much reassurance as she could. Every time Tyrion shared something with her she considered it a small victory. Whether it was a throw away comment or her husband confessing what he'd seen in his nightmare, Sansa thought she had a fairly good picture of what had happened in the Wolfswood.

How wrong she was.

The few words Tyrion spared for his suffering did nothing to describe the true horror.

He'd been left alone after Gawan broke his hand and wrist, shivering violently from the cold and pain. Sansa had stayed by his side as a guard forced some water down his throat and the daylight faded away. Snow had fluttered down outside the stables as darkness fell over the Wolfswood.

That was when Gawan came. When she heard Gawan humming the rains of Castamere, Sansa knew what was coming. It was one of the few things Tyrion had shared with her after she woke him from a terrible nightmare. Hearing Tyrion describe it in a few words and seeing the horror unfold were two completely different things however.

Tyrion had been right all those months ago when he'd said Gawan was like Joffrey. That his victim was refusing to react had infuriated the boy to the point where he'd threatened to mutilate her husband. Even hours later she could hear the vile threats as the boy pushed the tip of his blade against her husband's manhood.

"You're making this difficult dwarf. I might need to take more extreme measures"

"As you wish"

"Think I'll cut your cock off. Maybe your balls instead" Gawan had said, running his knife over her husband's breeches "or maybe both. Weren't you friends with the eunuch? You could be one too"

Until her dying day, Sansa knew she would never forget this. There was an inhuman pain in watching the one you loved suffering – and being helpless to stop it. Sansa thought she knew pain and suffering but what was that compared to seeing your husband's face being carved open? The slash on his arm had been cut into as well, deepening the injury.

Eventually Gawan had tired of tormenting Tyrion, a child-like pout covering his face as he left the stall. Her husband was lolling to one side in his restraints, blood dripping from his face and onto his chest. He didn't cry, or shout or react. He simply sat there, shame flooding his green eyes as he awaited death.

Sansa cried for him, wrapping her arms around herself. What was she supposed to do in this hell? Nothing around her could be changed; she could offer Tyrion no comfort. Eventually daylight had crept into the stall once more, a chorus of birds chirping outside as more snow fluttered to the ground.

"Come to laugh at me too?" whispered Tyrion "I don't mind, I'm used to it"

At the sound of Tyrion's voice Sansa jolted to attention, her eyes flying to her husband.

"Tyrion?" she asked

For a moment Sansa had thought Tyrion could see her, but his gaze was focused on a raven peering into the stall. The bird merely tilted its head as Sansa slumped back beside her husband. He was terribly pale, agony and exhaustion warring for control of him as he gave a half-hearted shuffle in his restraints.

"Shh love, I'm here" she whispered, reaching for his hand only to pass through him once more

Angry tears burned at her eyes at her complete failure to comfort her husband. The raven cawed on the post and something inside Sansa was drawn to it, as if it were a familiar sound. She looked at the raven, noticing this time it wasn't normal – it had three eyes.

"Bran?" she asked, scrambling forwards

"Sansa" he croaked, as if every word pained him "can't change this...focus...see"

"Where are you? I don't want to be here anymore" she said "please, help me"

"Old Gods...can't" the raven croaked, twisting its neck from side to side "...your own"

The raven's neck snapped violently to one side and when its gaze returned to watch Tyrion it was an ordinary bird – no third eye. Sansa sank to the ground rejoining her husband.

She was on her own. Whatever had happened to Bran it seemed he wouldn't be coming to help her. The Queen screwed her eyes shut swallowing down all the pain and guilt that so easily consumed her. Bran was right; she had to focus. There was something she had to see and crying helplessly next to Tyrion was wasting time.

Her heart and mind were at war. Logically, Sansa knew there was nothing she could do – this was the past. Yet her heart didn't want to leave Tyrion alone. For so many weeks she'd left him to suffer in silence; ignoring how unwell he obviously was. The Queen's stomach lurched at the choice, but it had to be done.

Even so she moved to kneel in front of her husband. The lord of Winterfell was covered in a mess of blood and filth as his lost green eyes stared blankly at the floor; the sight threatened to break her resolve.

"You don't know this yet; but I love you" she told him "more than anything, I love you. Hold on a little longer my love and Arya will bring you home. This time I'll make sure it's home for you; not your prison"

Tyrion didn't respond and Sansa knew he couldn't hear her; but a piece of her had to tell him. It was the only way leaving his side would be bearable.

"It takes a lot of time and you have setbacks, but you start to recover. I apologise for treating you so badly, and by some miracle you give me another chance" she said, tears sliding down her face "I try to make amends, though it will never be enough. I do my best to show you Winterfell can be your home, and we can be your family. Things get better. You have a direwolf who becomes your best friend. Arya and your friends visit you and you start to heal"

Sansa drew in a shuddering breath; it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, but this was the past and she was here to observe. She leaned closer to Tyrion, her heart lurching at the barely hidden pain in his dull eyes.

"I tell you every day I love you, I try to show you how much. Little by little I gain your trust. It's more than I deserve, but I accept it gratefully" she said, her voice breaking "then one night, when I'm holding you in my arms you say that you love me – and it means everything. Far more than any crown or castle ever could"

Sansa leaned forwards pressing her lips as close to Tyrion's forehead as she could, and feeling nothing there.

"My brave husband, you'll be home soon – and I'll spend the rest of my life loving you"

The Queen rose on trembling legs, her heart breaking as she left Tyrion in the stall and stumbled out into the daylight. If there was anything at all in this hell that could be used against those bastards she would find it. Whatever it took Robin and Gawan would not get away with this. She'd burn the North to the ground before letting those creatures go free.

After he left the meeting with Brienne and Davos, Bronn gathered all the belongings he would need before hovering around the ramparts of the castle. As eager as he was to leave Winterfell behind him, Bronn couldn't leave until he was certain and that meant one final attempt to speak to Tyrion.

He'd heard the lord of Winterfell had gone into the village with the younger Stark girl and it was just after midday when they reappeared. Fortunately they parted ways at the gate and for once Tyrion was on his own; even his wolf had wandered off once inside the castle gates.

Bronn checked around him before hurrying down the ramparts, slowing down as he sighted Tyrion. The Lannister appeared to be deep in thought, fidgeting with something in his pocket as he made his way around the side of the castle. The former sellsword slowed his pace, making certain they were alone as he approached Tyrion from behind.

"Nice time in the village?" he called

His old friend jumped in surprise, hand flying to the hilt of a short sword hanging from his waist as he turned to see Bronn. They were stood in a narrow path at the side of the castle, the high walls obscuring them from view, and leaving them unlikely to be interrupted.

"Yes, thank you" he said, eyeing him warily

Bronn bit the inside of his cheek. The lord of Winterfell was glancing around as if hoping someone else would appear and rescue him from the conversation.

"Fancy sword" he said, gesturing to the black and gold sheath hanging at his side

"Oh…yes, it was a gift"

"Can I see it?"

A strange feeling stirred in Bronn that he didn't much care for as the dwarf nervously withdrew the blade and handed it over. Tyrion was watching him as though he expected him to steal it.

It was a fine blade; smoky black, with a lion head pommel. Bronn turned it over noticing how the lions head merged into a direwolf on the other side.

"Valyrian steel?" he asked, knowing damned well where the sword had come from.

Tyrion nodded, his eyes following the weapon "It's the other half of Ned Stark's sword"

Bran had told them what Sansa had done with the sword, and Bronn was as surprised as everyone else had been - except the King. He'd never known Tyrion to possess any interest in weapons, but he'd seen the lord of Winterfell practicing with the guards. Valyrian steel was incredibly rare, for the Starks to give him this…

Bronn forced a smile handing the blade back to Tyrion, much to his apparent relief.

"Saw you kill a man with a shield, reckon a sword like that'll make it easier"

"I suppose it will" said Tyrion, shifting uneasily

It was increasingly apparent how uncomfortable Tyrion was, and how eager he was to leave. Bronn was eager to leave Winterfell far behind him, but he had to be sure.

"Had enough of the North I have" said Bronn, crossing his arms "Too bloody cold up here. You hate the cold, don't ya?"

"I've grown used to it"

"We're going back south soon. You could come with us, leave all this shit behind ya"

Surprise flickered momentarily across the Lannister's face, before he shook his head "This is my home now"

"You always wanted Casterly Rock; it's yours now. Your father or sister aint here to bother ya"

"I don't want Casterly Rock anymore"

"Don't tell me you're blaming yourself for Kings Landing? You weren't the one giving the orders to burn the city down"

Tyrion frowned, regret creeping into his eyes "I didn't see Daenaerys for what she was - in some way I am responsible for all those deaths"

"Her madness wasn't your fault. No reason to punish yourself by staying up here"

"I'm not punishing myself" said Tyrion, adding quietly "I like it here"

Bronn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose "I heard what happened in the Wolfswood. How can ya want to stay here after that?"

The lord of Winterfell paled at the mention of the Wolfswood, his fingers fiddling with the pommel of his sword "It won't happen again"

"You don't know that. They're still out there aint they? You'd be safer in Kings Landing or Casterly Rock" said Bronn, spreading his hands "there's nothing here for you"

"Sansa and Arya are here" said Tyrion, his voice hardening "Since when do you care what happens to me anyway?"

Bronn bristled at the accusation "Bran told us you'd gone missing and they were hurting ya"

"So what? I doubt you lost any sleep over it" said Tyrion "Most of Westeros were probably very happy to hear it"

The master of coin clenched his fist, his argument dissolving as he saw the old hurt flash across Tyrion's face. Even when he was hand of the King to Joffrey he'd wanted people to love him. The trial for killing the little shit and Shae's betrayal had been the final rejection for Tyrion. The message was clear; Westeros, his family and his lover all wanted him dead. More than once Bronn had tried to warn him about wasting time trying to get people to like him, but the little Lannister had been determined to prove his worth to the family that didn't want him - right until it ended in blood and murder.

"You really want to stay?" asked Bronn

Tyrion nodded "Until the day Sansa orders me away"

"Fine. I aint gonna bother you no more" said Bronn, stepping away from the dwarf "I've had more than enough of the bloody North. Goodbye m'lord"

Bronn didn't give Tyrion a chance to reply as he turned back down the path heading out the gate. His duty to Bran be damned; it was time to have some fun in this shithole. Davos and Brienne could carry on with their meetings while the King daydreamed in the Godswood. He'd be back in time to leave and if Bran didn't want him on the council no more, then so what? He had two castles anyway.

"I need more time" growled Gawan, pacing back and forth in the farm house.

Robin was sat in an armchair around the hearth studying his friend. The lord of Widows Watch was quite good at hiding his true emotions – far better than Gawan. Sansa had always been wary of both of them, but that was something she'd blamed on her past experience with men. Certainly in her presence they'd both acted as one would expect from young lords. Robin had been somewhat arrogant, but charming in a way she might have liked in her childhood. Gawan had a petulant side reminiscent of Joffrey but the only sign of his cruelty had been when he'd killed those rabbits. Even that she'd brushed aside as showing off for the Queen.

After tearing herself away from Tyrion, Sansa had walked through a door and straight into the farm house that appeared to be the base of operations. The talk so far had focused on their failure to find the women. Guards had started to arrive back having given up the hunt.

"I can break him – I know I can" said Gawan, his hands curling and uncurling "if you'd just let me do things my way..."

"I would, but we've already sold him. With the slaves escaping we need the gold from selling the dwarf. The idiot is paying a fortune to kill the imp. There needs to be something left to kill"

Gawan sighed running his hand over the knives on his belt "You're right, I know that! But the little monster won't even scream. I had my knife in his breeches and he still wouldn't tell me anything"

"Forget it Gawan. There's still a chance our men can capture the slaves without Tyrion giving us a location"

"If not?"

"Then we'll have to move quickly. Whether we get the slaves back or not we'll need to be ready to leave tonight. Grey Worm will come to collect his prize and we need to be gone by then. He may be stupid but he's dangerous"

Gawan nodded his shaggy head, a grin lighting up his face "He wouldn't be happy to learn he's been propping up our slavery business"

Sansa's stomach stirred as she listened to their conversation. Neither of them had said anything she didn't already know, but she had to keep trying. Reluctantly Sansa remained in the farm house observing them throughout the day. It was immediately apparent Robin was in charge. The guards reported to him when they returned, while Gawan spent his time sharpening his knives.

Yet another guard returned without the girls and the frown on Robin's face deepened.

"What do you mean there's no sign of them? They were half-starved; how could they vanish into thin air?" snapped Robin

The guard was a middle aged man with scruffy light brown hair "I don't know m'lord. I've had men all over the Wolfswood and there's no sign of them"

"The imp's hidden them somehow" said Robin tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair

Gawan glanced across the table where he was toying with a long thin blade "Let me have another go at him. Losing a few fingers will loosen his tongue"

Robin pursed his lips considering Gawan's idea, when a young man with short black hair rushed into the farm house "M'lord, they've reached Winterfell"

At that Robin's normally controlled face twisted into a snarl "What? How the hell did they get through the Wolfswood without being found?"

The younger man panted on the spot as if he'd run to deliver the news "We had men all over the main paths. One of the men further up saw the Winterfell guards find them - the message has just got here"

A satisfied smirk pulled at Sansa's mouth. Good. Nothing pleased her more than knowing her husband had outsmarted these young lords.

"They were supposed to be getting shipped off to Essos in a couple of days" pouted Gawan "I wanted to brand them"

"What are your orders m'lord?" asked the older guard

Robin laced his fingers together "The dwarf has ruined months of work and cost us a lot of money. It's far from ideal but we'll have to move onto the second plan. Sansa's reign as Queen will come to an end one way or another"

"Icy bitch doesn't even realise we've been setting her up" said Gawan

"She thinks she has a right to rule because her name's Stark" said Robin, a smirk crossing his face "We'll see how proud she is when the North turns on her"

"Can I keep the imp as a pet?" asked Gawan "It would be a fitting punishment. Imagine Sansa's face seeing her husband at our feet!"

"I'd like to give him to you" said Robin, amusement dancing in his eyes "but with the slaves gone we need the gold from selling him more than ever. I've been destroying letters from minor houses for weeks - by now they should be ready to turn on the Queen in the North"

"What if they don't?" asked the older guard "We'll all be hung as traitors"

Robin's sharp eyes flickered over the man "Do you doubt our cause?"

"No, m'lord. The North needs a proper Northerner to rule it. The Queen is too close to the southerners - she's one of them"

Gawan spread his hands "You don't need to worry. Grey Worm has paid a king's ransom for the dwarf and that money will ensure our victory one way or another"

"We will win this war and reclaim the North. The Starks weakness has ruined it for too long" said Robin "First we need to leave. Ready the men to break camp"

"At once m'lord" said the older guard, bobbing his head and leaving with the younger man

Gawan was pouting as he twisted his knives in his hands "I could have broken the little monster"

"Cheer up Gawan" said Robin "When I rule, we can restart our slavery business properly and you can play with them as you like"

"I suppose"

"I think we have time to pay the lord of Winterfell one final visit"

The boys shared a cruel smile as Sansa's heart dropped. These men she'd trusted had been against her from the start, and she'd devoted so much of her time to pleasing them and building good relations - all for the good of the North. Wining and dining them while ignoring Tyrion; one of the few people who actually cared for her.

Sansa followed Robin and Gawan as they prepared to break camp, but she learnt nothing she didn't already know. They spoke little of their plans for what came next. Darkness was falling when they made their way back towards the stables where Tyrion lay.

The Queen followed at a distance as Robin stormed into the stall. The lord of Widows Watch had grown angrier throughout the day as his plan fell apart; a fury that was about to be unleashed on Tyrion.

"You little bastard"

Sansa flinched as her former friend lifted his foot and kicked Tyrion in the ribs. Her husband could do nothing to avoid the blows as they crashed against him, silently enduring the punishment.

"You ruined everything" said Robin, crouching down and roughly grabbing his blood covered face

"Good" mumbled Tyrion

"Look at the state of you" said Robin, dropping his weight onto Tyrion and straddling him "Sansa will be ashamed when she gets your corpse"

"No, I won't" shouted Sansa, unable to hold her tongue. She knew it wouldn't change anything, but part of her couldn't allow these vile lies to go unchallenged. They weren't true - yet she could see in Tyrion's eyes that he believed them.

"Why won't you speak!" said Robin, slamming his fist repeatedly into Tyrion's chest "You could have spared yourself all this, if you'd told us where the slaves had gone"

"Not worth it" said Tyrion

Sansa heart thudded painfully as she watched the punishment. Gawan was making his way towards the stall now, a group of guards with him. Her eyes narrowed on lord Glover's son. He'd pouted all afternoon over his failure to break Tyrion, but now his eyes sparked with energy - as though excited for what was going to come next.

The Queen returned her focus to Tyrion, where Robin had pulled him forwards to prod the brand on his back. However hard she tried, Sansa couldn't separate herself from the broken look in Tyrion's eyes. Finally Robin pushed off from Tyrion, though his taunts didn't stop.

"We've had to change plans because of you, but don't worry - your executioner is on his way. The fool paid us a King's ransom to get his hands on you"

"Believed everything we told him" said Gawan "but I suppose revenge makes you blind"

"The slaves have reached Winterfell" admitted Robin with a sigh "and that means Sansa will be sending out people to bring her pet back. We can't be here for that, you see. As much as I'd love to watch him gut you, we'll have to leave you behind to await the familiar face of death"

"It's a shame really" said Gawan, looking mournfully at Tyrion "I wanted to keep you as my pet, but we needed money to run this operation and his demands were very reasonable"

Sansa couldn't take it anymore. She hurried into the stall, dropping beside her husband once more as Robin and Gawan continued to taunt him. He looked worse than when she'd left him, the collar around his neck was the only thing keeping him upright. His mangled arm was swollen amid a mess of bruising.

"Poor little lion wanted to be a wolf" mocked Gawan "now he's just prey"

At Gawan's words, a deep sadness swept across Tyrion's face that sent Sansa's heart into a spasm. Was that what he wanted? To be a wolf, and not a lion? Her mind drifted back through everything she'd seen and heard. There had been several comments about Tyrion trying to be like the Starks. His whole behaviour since coming North had altered drastically.

She could make him a Stark, if that was what he wanted. Tyrion could leave his Lannister identity behind – be a lion no more. Guilt wormed its way through Sansa. Had Tyrion changed his identity because he wanted to fit in with them?

"My love" said Sansa, lifting a hand to his face and feeling nothing there "I love you just the way you are"

She gazed at her husband. His golden hair was overgrown and filthy, and his green eyes were empty as he stared at the floor - but he was a lion. Somehow Sansa would make sure he was as proud of that as she was.

Sansa was so lost in her musings she didn't realise what was going on until a snap filled the air and Tyrion's face creased in pain. She whipped her head around to see Robin grasping hold of her husband's now broken ankle - and twisting it side to side.

"No!" she shouted, bile clawing up her throat as the bones ground together

Oh Gods, Sansa felt sick.

"Why won't you scream imp?" asked Robin, dropping the snapped ankle back to the ground "You've disappointed Gawan - he hoped to hear a lion cry. Hurting you wasn't in our plans but you brought it on yourself by interfering"

"We've tried to keep the damage to one side of your body. This guy paid a lot for the honour of killing you - least we could do was leave him an undamaged side to work on" said Gawan

"It would be bad business otherwise" agreed Robin "Gawan, come take your pet for his last walk"

Sansa stood on shaky legs as Gawan bounced towards Tyrion. They spoke about him as though he was nothing. As if he didn't have thoughts or feelings.

'That's how you treated him' whispered her mind

To her surprise Gawan unchained Tyrion's wrists and unlocked the chain tethering his collar to the wall.

"Let's go" said Gawan tugging on the chain attached to the collar

For the rest of her life Sansa would never forget what happened - or how helpless she was to stop it. Her gentle, kind husband was pulled out of the stall as if he were a dog being taken for a walk. Tyrion tried to stand but his body was far too weak. Frustration welled up in his eyes as Gawan dragged him out of the stables and into icy snow. Guards formed a pathway as he was pulled onwards.

Sansa studied the guards, burning their faces into her memory as they kicked and spat on Tyrion. They would all die.

"Good boy, not far to go" said Gawan, grinning down at Tyrion as he petted him

The snow had soaked through Tyrion's breeches by the time he was pulled towards Robin, who stood waiting at a post. A sign had been nailed to the top that read; the lord of Winterfell.

'Oh Tyrion, I'm so sorry' thought Sansa 'You didn't deserve to suffer any of this'

The chain attached to Tyrion's collar was fixed to the post high above where he could reach it. The boys moved forwards to address their men as the lord of Winterfell lay discarded in the snow.

Vaguely Robin's rallying speech reached her ears, but she couldn't tear her eyes from her husband.

The Queen was shaking now, a sob breaking from her throat as she stared into Tyrion's broken green eyes.

"Enough" she whispered "I've had enough"

Nothing changed, the scene continued to unfold. She wasn't strong enough for this.

"Bran!" she shouted, her voice breaking "Enough…please make it stop! I've seen enough"

The idea of being trapped in this hell had begun to take hold of Sansa when the world spun around her.

Tyrion's mind was a mess of thoughts as he wound his way towards his and Sansa's room. Seeing Bronn had rattled him. He'd done his best to avoid the master of coin while he was at Winterfell, but Bronn had managed to corner him…and tried to convince him to leave?

Why would he want to leave Winterfell? There was nothing in Kings Landing for him. The people hated him - he'd be alone.

He wasn't alone here; not anymore.

Tyrion's stomach fluttered at the thought of tomorrow. For weeks Sansa had doted on him, caring for him in a way no-one ever had before. When he chose to stay at Winterfell, Tyrion promised he would try and make things work. He and Sansa had become far closer than he'd ever dared to hope and he wanted to do something nice for his wife - he only hoped she liked his surprise.

As he approached the door to his chambers he found Arya lurking outside. The girl was leaning against the wall, half hidden in a shadow.

"They're still in the Godswood" she muttered, a frown twisting her face

Tyrion's stomach churned. It was the middle of the afternoon, what had they been doing there all day?

"Do you think Sansa's alright?" he asked

She shrugged "There's guards at the entrance to the Godswood saying Bran and the Queen aren't to be disturbed"

Understanding dawned on Tyrion. Upon their return to the castle Arya had quickly excused herself and Tyrion had wandered off to make a few final arrangements and to find Sansa. Now he realised where Arya had gone. Finding her brother still busy with Sansa had once again darkened her mood.

"I'm sure they won't be much longer" offered Tyrion

"I don't care how long they take" she said, grey eyes daring him to disagree

Well this was awkward. While Arya's mood had brightened while they went around the village, Bran's continued absence had once again offended her - not that she would admit to such a thing.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, eyeing him curiously

"I'm quite alright" he said. The village was the furthest he'd been for weeks, and the exertion had certainly drained a lot of his energy - but he needed to push himself to rebuild his stamina. He was nowhere near old enough for a walk to be tiring him out.

"Want to go the practice yard?" she asked, glancing at his sword "You should practice with it if you're going to start wearing it"

"Yes, I'll go" he agreed "You're right - I probably should get used to this sword rather than the training ones"

Arya patted his shoulder "I've seen you practicing, you're more than ready to use a proper sword again"

Together they turned, heading back down the corridor. The sword Sansa had gifted him was an excellent weapon - far better than he deserved. He'd told Sansa he was waiting to get his strength back before using it, but truthfully he didn't want embarrass the Starks. It was the weapon of a true lord, not intended for an imp. Arya was right though. If he was going to carry it he should be used to using it. Aside from that, if Arya was joining him he was going to have little choice - the stubborn girl would not suffer any excuses from him.

"You did well with those children" she said as they made their way to the stairs

"I appreciated your help" he said "I wasn't entirely certain what they wanted from me"

"I knew they weren't going to laugh at you. They were just curious - not many lords bother to leave their castles"

"My father rarely left his"

"Mine did, but not as many people approached him as they do you"

"Strange as it sounds I prefer helping the small folk. They suffer the most in a war and are often forgotten when it's done"

Arya raised an eyebrow at him "Very true, big brother"

It had been a rather strange experience in the village. Cersei had often told him how terrifying he was to children, but Arya was right; they were just curious. Much to his surprise the children hadn't mocked him at all, instead asking questions about Lyon, the Queen and even Casterly Rock. That had truly shocked him - that they were curious about his ancestral home. A few had asked if he'd ever seen a real lion, and one boy had even asked how good Jamie was with a sword. He'd always though being a Lannister in the North was a death sentence. Burying his past and blending in seemed the best way to survive, yet people didn't seem to find his presence offensive anymore.

There had been none of the sneering judgement he expected as he walked through the village. The small folk had greeted him warmly and the children had petted Lyon and asked to see his sword. Gradually his nerves had slipped away and he found himself enjoying the children's company as they asked him questions. He'd thought Nessa and her family's acceptance of him was a rare treat, but the children had shown no fear or hatred of him - only curiosity. Arya had been a great help as always; encouraging him along and staying by his side.

As much as he could use a nap, it was obvious enough Arya didn't want to be alone and he was more than happy to join her in the practice yard. Although his mind did drift to Sansa. What was taking her so long? He'd expected to find her in their chambers. Tyrion pushed down the knot of worry, determined to focus on Arya as they stepped outside the castle and the cool Northern air greeted them once more.

Sansa was a very capable woman. Whatever she and Bran were doing, he had no doubt she could handle herself.

When the world tilted around Sansa and the Wolfswood slipped away she'd expected to return to the Godswood with Bran. Not to find herself standing in an unfamiliar castle. She was stood in a corridor with windows looking out across the sea. Beaches lined the edge of the sea stretching along the coast. Turning her attention back to the corridor she noticed the red and gold that lined the walls – and the lion sigil. This was Casterly Rock.

"Must you humiliate the family name?" barked a severe voice in the distance

Swallowing down her panic Sansa moved towards the voice coming from behind a closed door. The Queen hesitated only briefly before stepping through it and into what appeared to be a spacious study. Lion banners decorated the walls and a desk occupied the far end - with Tywin Lannister sat behind it.

The little girl in Sansa froze. The old lion was a cruel man; responsible for the red wedding as much as the Freys.

'This is the past' she reminded herself, forcing her feet onwards

The lord of Casterly Rock looked a fair bit younger than when Sansa had met him, but no less severe. She followed his gaze to find a small child stood to the side of the desk - a mop of curly golden hair covering his head.

No, it couldn't…

There was no mistaking it as she knelt next to Tyrion. The boy's green eyes were shining with fear as he gazed up at his father. He was small, with noticeably short arms and legs. If Sansa had to guess she'd say he was about six years old.

Tywin glared at his son, a wooden sword sat on the table next to him.

"Why were you using this?"

"Wanted to practice..."

"Practice for what?"

"When I'm bigger I'm gonna be a knight" said the little Tyrion, a hopeful smile crossing his face

Despite the horror she'd just witnessed, Sansa found herself smiling along with Tyrion. The boy had a sweet face, childhood innocence shining in his eyes.

Tywin's face tightened, though it held no sympathy for his youngest son "You're a dwarf. Do you know what that means?"

A frown crossed his face "It means I'm small – but I'll get bigger one day!"

"No, you won't" said Tywin, his eyes as hard as stone "You will not get bigger nor will you ever be a knight"

Tyrion's shoulders trembled "But…I thought I could be like Jamie…"

"Your brother is the future lord of Casterly Rock. He has a future that you do not"

"I can still use a sword" insisted Tyrion "Jamie showed me how"

"No you won't" barked Tywin, mouth curling in distaste "You are forbidden from training in arms. I will not have you further disgracing our name by pretending to be a knight. Do you understand?"

"But father…" said Tyrion, eyeing his wooden sword

"Do you understand?"

Sansa's heart cracked as Tyrion nodded his head, tears welling in his green eyes.

"Now go" dismissed Tywin, turning back to his papers and tossing the sword into the corner where it clattered against the floor "and don't ever let me catch you with a sword again. It's a weapon for knights and lords - not dwarfs"

The boy turned and fled from his father's study, Sansa hurrying after him. It was when the door banged shut behind him that his face crumpled and tears spilled from his eyes.

Every instinct in Sansa wanted to sweep the boy into her arms and hold him close.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry" she said, reaching towards him only to pass right through "You'll be a great lord some day and have a sword of your own"

If Tywin Lannister wasn't dead, Sansa would have gladly killed him. How anyone could be so cruel to their own child was beyond her. Even Cersei, as monstrous as she was had cared for her own children.

The little Tyrion stumbled down the hall, wiping at his eyes as sobs wracked his body. He made it to the next corridor before tucking himself into a corner and sinking to the ground. It was then his emotions truly broke free. Every sob she couldn't soothe was like a dagger to Sansa's heart as she crouched in front of him. She had no idea why she'd been brought to see this piece of Tyrion's childhood – she was as helpless to change it as she was the Wolfswood.

"What are you crying for?" demanded a shrill voice

Sansa turned to see a pretty golden haired girl of about ten or eleven standing over Tyrion. Despite her youth, Sansa knew she was looking at Cersei Lannister.

"Nothing" said Tyrion, burying his face in his arms "leave me alone"

"You're not a real lion" she said, turning her nose up at him "lions don't cry"

"Go away!"

"Don't know why father lets you stay here. You're not good for anything"

A cruel smile crossed the future Queen's face as her little brothers sobs turned to heart-breaking wailing. Anger flooded Sansa as the boy cried. Never would she or her siblings have been let away with this cruelty.

"Pathetic" sneered the girl

"That's enough Cersei!"

Sansa turned to see a tall athletic boy with golden hair standing behind Cersei. His arms were crossed and he was glaring at his twin.

"Jamie" said Cersei, voice turning far too sweet "I didn't see you there. Come on let's do something fun"

"No" he said flatly "apologise to Tyrion"

The girl's eyes narrowed "No. He's an imp and no-one wants him"

"He's our baby brother - apologise"

"No" said Cersei, shaking her head "Come on; we can go swimming before dinner!"

Tyrion was still sobbing in the corner, his legs and arms drawn up into a ball.

Jamie pushed past his sister, but she caught his shoulder halting his movements "Forget about him. We can play that game you liked so much"

Jamie's face reddened and Sansa's stomach churned uncomfortably as the implication set in. However odd his relationship with Cersei was, Sansa couldn't fault him as a big brother. He shrugged out of his sister's grip, crouching in front of Tyrion and easily lifting the crying boy into his arms. Immediately Tyrion turned his head into his brother's shoulder, short arms winding around his neck as he tried to stifle his cries.

Cersei did not like to be ignored, her hands clenching into fists "You're going to turn down my offer for the little monster?"

"He's not a monster" said Jamie, his face hardening "Apologise to Tyrion and maybe you can play with us"

"No chance" sneered Cersei "Why waste your time on the thing that killed mother?"

"I'm sorry" cried Tyrion, his shoulders heaving "Didn't mean to..."

"Don't be stupid Cersei" said Jamie, meeting his twin's glare "that wasn't Tyrion's fault. Aunt Genna said lots of women die giving birth"

"Father says it's his fault" said Cersei, stamping her foot "Why are you taking the imps side?"

"There is no side" said Jamie, pushing past his sister and carrying Tyrion away

Sansa followed them, leaving the petulant girl in the corridor. Even months after the Queen's death there was great satisfaction to be found in Cersei not getting her own way. The corridors of Casterly Rock twisted and turned until the young Jamie Lannister pushed open a door into a spacious room, decorated in red and gold. Everything in the room looked expensive, from the bedding to the belongings strewn carelessly across the floor. It was a room fit for the heir to Casterly Rock.

Jamie deposited his little brother on the bed, sinking onto it beside him. Sansa stood opposite them, her heart thumping painfully at not being able to comfort Tyrion.

"How did it go with Father?" asked Jamie, as Tyrion wiped at his red-rimmed eyes

"He said... I won't get any bigger…"

The other boy shifted awkwardly on the bed, offering his brother a smile "You'll get a bit bigger I think"

"Not like you"

"What did he say about the sword practice?"

"I'm not allowed to do it anymore" said Tyrion, wrapping his arms around himself

Jamie sighed, draping his arm around his little brother "I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault" said Tyrion, biting his lip "Thanks for showing me anyway…I can't be a knight"

Sansa's heart ached to comfort Tyrion herself, but she was helpless to watch. This was just one memory. How many times in his childhood had Tyrion experienced such cruel words from his family? Sansa knew she had been mean to Jon in their childhood, but that was nothing compared to the sheer venom Tyrion had experienced – all because he was a dwarf and his mother had died.

Jamie smiled at his little brother "So what if you can't be a knight – you're still smarter than all of us"

"No-one cares about that" sniffed Tyrion, pouting at the floor

"You could be a lord like father"

"You'll be lord of Casterly Rock, not me" said the boy, green eyes far too sad for a child his age "I'll be nothing"

Jamie squeezed his shoulder "Not true; you'll be my brother. Besides I'll need someone clever to help me. No-one's as clever as you"

"Cersei will help you"

Jamie wrinkled his nose "Cersei's not that smart and she can be annoying. I want you to help me"

A small smile flitted over Tyrion's face "Ok"

"When I'm lord of Casterly Rock you can practice with a sword all you want"

At that Tyrion's eyes lit up "Really?"

Jamie smiled, ruffling his brother's curly hair "Of course"

The young Tyrion threw his short arms around his older brother's waist "Thanks Jamie! Don't know what I'd do without you"

Jamie returned the hug "Don't let Cersei bother you either. Do you remember what I said?"

Tyrion's head bobbed dutifully up and down "Go away inside"

"Exactly" said Jamie, smiling at the boy "No-one can hurt you there"

Sansa was so lost in the scene before her she didn't notice her own brother until he stood at her side.

Bran's face was haggard as he reached out to her "Quickly..."

As soon as he made contact with her arm, she found herself flying away from the scene and Tyrion. Everything around Sansa spun in a twist of colours and voices until she thudded back into something solid. With a jolt her eyes shot open, desperately sucking in a lungful of air as if she'd been suffocating.

The Queen jerked forwards on the log, inadvertently shaking lose a pile of snow that had accumulated over her. The familiar Northern breeze greeted her like an old friend and Sansa brushed her trembling fingers over the rough log beneath her. A thrill of excitement went through that she could touch and feel again.

The elation of being back in the present, of escaping that hell lasted only moments before a torrent of emotion swept through Sansa. A shudder went through her, followed quickly by another until she'd wrapped her arms around herself and sat shaking on the log.

"Sansa…I'm sorry"

Her brother was slumped in his wheelchair, snow covering him as it did her. The three-eyed raven looked exhausted, his face pale and drawn.

"What-what…why?"

"I thought I could control it" he ground out, rubbing the side of his head "the old Gods took control…pulled you from me"

"They hurt him so much" said Sansa, tears escaping from her eyes

"I thought you'd be able to stay neutral - see what you needed to"

"Stay neutral?" she breathed "While those-those creatures tortured and degraded my husband? What was I supposed to see?"

Bran's head lolled to one side "I don't know. The old Gods have shown you whatever they would allow you to see - to learn"

Sansa stood on shaking legs, her voice a whisper "All I learned was how much I failed Tyrion!"

"Perhaps that's what you needed to learn" muttered Bran, screwing his eyes shut as if he had a headache

Images of what she'd seen continued to flit through Sansa's mind, her heart crumbling to pieces at each memory "I need to see him"

Sansa spared one last glance at her brother as she staggered from the Wolfswood, a desperate urge carrying her onwards. Pod was stood with another guard at the entrance to the Godswood, his eyes widening in surprise as she hurried past him.

"Queen Sansa, what-?" he called

"It's over" she called back, vaguely aware of the young man running into the Godswood.

Tears burned at her eyes, why would Bran show her that? She knew she had a reputation for being cold. Did Bran really think she'd be able to watch what happened to Tyrion with indifference? A thousand thoughts and emotions clawed at Sansa's mind threatening to tear her to pieces. The single overriding thought was to find her husband.

How long had they been in the Godswood? It appeared to be mid-afternoon as she slowed her frantic pace, yet she'd been in the past for days. It can't have been that long. Someone would have come looking for them if it had been that long.

The Queen wandered up the ramparts, trying to piece together where her husband might be. It was as she walked along the battlements she heard a shout.

"Come on Tyrion!"

Sansa hurried towards the shout, her legs barely supporting her as she rounded a corner and found herself under the covered bridge where her parents used to stand. Below her she could see the practice yard where training was taking place. Her eyes swept over the group of men sat watching at one side, vaguely registering Arya amongst them.

She searched the area until she found who she was looking for. Tyrion was engaged in a battle with Alec. The Winterfell captain hammering away at her husband as he swung his valyrian steel sword to block the vicious strikes.

Sansa sagged against the railing.

He was here; he was safe.

This Tyrion was a far cry from the man she'd seen in the past - whole, hearty and very much alive.

The Queen watched as her husband blocked another attack, before Alec struck towards his bad leg. Instantly Tyrion dropped to defend it, but Alec had tricked him. He changed targets at the last second, bringing his weapon to rest at Tyrion's throat.

"Dead?" asked Alec, breathing heavily

"Dead" agreed Tyrion

The fight over Sansa could contain herself no longer, hurrying down to ground level and waiting off to one side. Tyrion was panting for breath but his green eyes shone brightly as Arya and the men bantered with him.

"You nearly had him Tyrion!" said Cayn

"That wasn't really close" breathed her husband

"It's been ages since you've done some sparring" said Lyle "You didn't seem rusty at all"

Alec clapped him on the back, smiling at his friend "That was a good fight. If you hadn't fallen for my trick, we'd probably still be going"

"Better I did fall for it then" panted Tyrion "I couldn't go much longer"

It was Arya that noticed her first, nudging Tyrion as the men broke into chatter. Her husband turned, his face brightening as he saw her. Sansa pressed her mouth tightly together, hiding in the shadows as she waved to him. His brow furrowed at the unusual gesture and to Sansa's relief he excused himself from his friends to come over to her.

"Sansa" he greeted "how did it go with- Are you alright?"

The Queen was fighting a losing battle to keep her emotions under control as Tyrion stood before her, his gaze filled with worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching out to take her hand

The moment he made contact, Sansa broke.

She sank to her knees in the sludgy snow wrapping her arms around Tyrion as a sob broke from her throat. Instantly she felt his arms wrap around her, rubbing her back.

"Sansa, what happened?" he asked, confusion lacing his tone

"I love you" she murmured in his ear, tears racing down her face "I love you, I love you"

Tyrion tightened his grip around her, as the weight of everything she'd seen crashed down on Sansa. How could she even begin to explain the hell she'd seen? She was dimly aware that Arya had joined them, whispering frantically with Tyrion.

Sansa didn't care what they were saying. All that mattered to Sansa was having Tyrion in her arms - it was something she would never lose again.