Rise & Fall Chapter 30, a game of thrones fanfic

Chapter 30

Once again Tyrion found himself cursing his short stature. He was little help as they led Sansa through Winterfell and towards their chambers. It shouldn't be like this – he should be able to lift her in his arms and carry her to safety. Instead he could only hobble beside her, clinging onto her hand.

When he saw Sansa in the practice yard he'd assumed she'd finished with Bran and come looking for him. Never had he expected her to be utterly distraught. As he'd reached for her hand, Sansa's thin mask of calm had broken and she'd dropped to her knees pulling him into an embrace. Arya had quickly joined them, demanding to know what had happened.

Sansa was not overly demonstrative of her emotions. While she was far more open with him and Arya, in public she generally maintained a regal face. Getting the Queen into the sanctuary of their chambers was the first priority.

Between him and Arya they'd got Sansa to her feet and she'd reluctantly released her death grip on him, though she'd seized hold of his right hand - as if afraid of losing contact with him. They'd done their best to avoid the servants and guests, but Tyrion was fairly sure word would already be spreading of the state of the Queen.

"I love you" she murmured once again, squeezing his hand.

"I love you too" he replied, rubbing her arm as he tried to support her. Arya stood on her other side, one arm around her sister's shoulders.

Sansa's skin was normally as white as snow, but it somehow seemed paler than ever as the door to their chambers came into view. Tyrion was desperate to know what had happened to cause his wife so much distress. He'd seen Sansa upset before, but never had he seen her so shaken.

Arya pushed open the door to the room, leading Sansa towards the chaise. A bark sounded and Tyrion looked around to see Lyon rolling around on his back in the middle of the bed.

"Lyon!" he said, raising an eyebrow at his little friend. They'd wondered why there was so much golden hair on the bed. The wolf shot him a scandalised look before resuming his afternoon activity.

The hearth was burning cheerfully as they settled the shaken Queen onto the chaise. Tyrion's heart constricted at the sight of Sansa's blue eyes swimming in tears. Even as she sat down, Sansa continued to grip his hand as if it were her only lifeline.

"Do you mind?" she sniffed, gazing at their joined hands

"Of course not" he said, lifting his other hand to brush a few tears from her cheek "What's troubling you so?"

Tyrion exchanged a worried glance with Arya as they stood watching Sansa's normally composed face twist in despair.

"Bran offered to help" she said, pulling in a shuddering breath "He said he could show me…"

Sansa appeared unable to go on as a sob broke from her throat.

"Show you what?" asked Arya

The younger girl was tapping her foot in agitation. Bran had already irritated her, and finding her sister so upset after disappearing with him for hours had furthered her annoyance. Tyrion suspected Bran was going to have a rather unpleasant visit later. That was if they could find out what had actually happened.

"I flew with him. Saw like the three-eyed raven" choked out Sansa

Tyrion's eyes widened in surprise - he didn't know Bran could do that.

"Did he show you the future?" asked Arya, recovering first "Was it something bad?"

Sansa didn't seem able to formulate an answer, and Arya's protectiveness for her family appeared to be getting the best of her. The girl was like a wolf just waiting to be told where her prey was hiding. He had little doubt she'd be out the door as soon as she'd established the facts.

Tyrion's mind whirred to life at Arya's suggestion - it wasn't quite right. While Bran did seem to have some sense of foreshadowing what might happen, when Tyrion had spoken to him before the long night it was apparent his power did not reside in the future.

"He showed you the past, didn't he?" asked Tyrion softly

When Sansa's face crumpled he knew he'd hit the mark.

"Sansa please - tell us what you saw" said Arya

"Whatever it is" said Tyrion, squeezing her hand "Let us help you"

Sansa's blue eyes were haunted as she looked at him, biting her lip to stifle her sobs. What could she have possibly seen in the past that would upset her so much? The first thing that came to mind was Ramsay, but surely Bran wasn't callous enough to show his sister that? The red wedding, her father's execution - there were many horrors in Sansa's past that could hurt her.

"Will you sit with me?"

The quiet question drew Tyrion from his musings to his wife's blotchy face. She looked nervous at asking; as if he would actually refuse to comfort his wife. Immediately he joined her, tugging his hand from hers and wrapping his arm around her waist so she was settled against him. The height difference made it somewhat awkward but Sansa didn't seem to care as she melted into him.

Arya stood watching them, her hand twitching towards needle at her hip.

"Thank you" she murmured, wiping at her eyes

"I'm your husband, let me help you Sansa" he said "Can you tell us what happened?"

The Queen nodded, drawing in a shaky breath "You're right Tyrion – he showed me the past. Bran said he'd never done it before...but if the Old Gods allowed it I could see as he did..."

"Did you?" asked Arya

"I saw, but Bran wasn't there...I was alone" choked Sansa "Bran said seeing the past would give me knowledge that could help at some point...everything he said was vague"

"Isn't it always" muttered Arya.

Tyrion rubbed his hand over Sansa's side "What in the past did you see?"

The Queen dropped her head, a tremor going through her "I saw the Wolfswood...I saw you - and what they did to you"

The blood in Tyrion's veins turned to ice at her words.

No.

Sansa couldn't have seen that - seen his greatest shame?

Just this morning he'd begun to accept that what happened maybe wasn't his fault, but that was before Sansa had seen.

"I watched them take you away, and saw you save the women" said Sansa, screwing her eyes shut "I couldn't change anything, or touch you. I watched those beasts hurt you..."

Tyrion tightened his arm around Sansa as he tried to force down the familiar shame creeping into his heart. The only positive of the Wolfswood was that Sansa and Arya hadn't been there to see his degradation – but Sansa had seen it now. How could she ever look at him the same?

"Why would Bran show you that?" asked Arya, an edge of steel in her voice

"I don't know what I was supposed to see" said Sansa, before turning to face him "I'm so very proud of you"

"They humiliated me – I humiliated you" he whispered "I'm sorry you had to see that Sansa"

"Never. You're so brave...no matter what they did to you, you wouldn't break"

Tyrion shifted uneasily at her words. He hadn't felt brave. All he'd felt in the Wolfswood was fear and shame. Arya's face had tightened considerably as her sister spoke, her fury barely contained.

"Bran brought you to the past and then left you?" she asked "This doesn't make any sense"

"He said something about the old Gods" said Sansa, shivering beside him "I was in the past for days but it's not been days has it?"

Tyrion shook his head "No. You've been gone hours; it's mid-afternoon now"

"Did you see Bran at all in the past?" pressed Arya

"I was sat with Tyrion in the…stables" she choked out "a raven with three eyes spoke to me once. He kept telling me to focus…I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, this is all my fault...I made a mess of everything"

"None of this is your fault" said Tyrion, rubbing his hand over Sansa's back

Sansa shook her head "I should have been focusing. I knew the past couldn't be changed but I couldn't bear to leave you alone. They hurt you so badly..."

The Queen dissolved into tears again leaning into him and Tyrion gladly wrapped his arms around her. Tyrion had no desire to think about the Wolfswood ever again; it already haunted him enough. Now it was haunting Sansa too.

Arya's face softened as she looked at her sister "I'm so sorry Sansa. You never should have seen that"

"What they said to you Tyrion - it wasn't true. We were looking for you, I promise. I'd never leave you, I missed you so much…"

Sansa trailed off burying her face in his neck and Tyrion's stomach twisted. It was unthinkable now, but at the time he had wondered if Sansa would even want him back. In seeing the past, Sansa had seen his doubt.

"I know" he said, kissing the top of her head "it's alright Sansa"

"You didn't know then" she said, her body shaking "you endured everything thinking I didn't care about you. I treated you horribly"

"That's not true" he said automatically, looking to Arya for back-up

The younger Stark said nothing, her mouth pressed into a grim line as she watched them.

"Everyone could see how poorly I treated you but me. Arya and Wolkan both warned me you weren't well but I wouldn't listen. Robin and Gawan called you my pet lion – even they saw how I treated you!" continued Sansa, her tears running off her face and soaking into his tunic

Tyrion pursed his lips, considering how to handle this. It took him a moment to realise why Arya hadn't jumped to reassure her sister but the truth was difficult to swallow. What Sansa had said was true, and he couldn't deny it – as much as he wanted to. He'd tried to do just that, but the words had been hollow even to him. For a moment Tyrion found himself envying Arya's bluntness. As sharp tongued as he could be, part of him still didn't want to accept Sansa's treatment of him was her fault and not his.

"You're right" he said, feeling Sansa stiffen in his arms "I didn't think you cared about me at all. I thought you would get your use out of me and then toss me aside like everyone else. When they...hurt me I never considered coming back to Winterfell. I thought you'd be ashamed of me. Better to die in the cold than be rejected by you"

"I understand" she mumbled, a sob wracking her body "I treated you like you were nothing. I forced everything on you – not caring what you wanted...I'm so sorry Tyrion. You should hate me for what I did"

Sansa didn't say it, but Tyrion knew she was referring to bedding him as well as everything else. The Queen stiffened in his arms pulling away from him. Tyrion didn't let her. He tightened his grip, running his hand through the back of her hair.

"I didn't want to come back here when Arya found me. I thought you'd be disgusted" he continued "but you weren't. From the moment I woke up you cared for me in a way no-one ever had. All the coldness and manipulation was gone from you. Queen Sansa had gone – instead I saw the real Sansa. The girl who was sweet and caring and loved her family more than anything. I saw the real Sansa Stark, and I fell in love with her"

"Oh, Tyrion – I'm so sorry my love"

"You've already apologised and I've already forgiven you" he soothed, continuing to rub her back as she cried into his shoulder "This is our second chance isn't it?"

She nodded, lifting her tear stained face to meet his "I don't deserve it, but I'll gladly accept it. I swear Tyrion – I will spend the rest of my life loving you as I should have"

"And I you"

Sansa calmed somewhat as she laid her head against him and Tyrion found Arya's gaze. She'd remained silent as they spoke, but she nodded approvingly at him now. He meant what he said – he had already forgiven Sansa. The dark voice in his mind would often drip poisonous doubts and fears into his ear but Tyrion was getting far better at ignoring it. He'd given Sansa another chance and she'd done nothing to make him regret it. Every day they grew closer.

Whatever horrors Sansa had been forced to watch had clearly dislodged some residual guilt for her actions. Never had he seen her so distraught, and he hoped never to again. His stomach twisted somewhat at the knowledge Sansa had seen so much of his shame. While he'd told her a few bits and pieces he'd spared some of the more shameful details. Part of him wondered exactly how much she'd seen.

"Are you going to be ok big sister?"

Arya's question drew Tyrion's attention back to Sansa. She was still trembling and her face was red and puffy from crying. Even now a few tears leaked from her eyes.

"I...I think so" she said

"You look exhausted Sansa" he said "Do you want to rest?"

Sansa looked uncertain; biting her lip "Will you stay with me?"

"There's nowhere I'd rather be"

The faintest smile crossed her face as she lightly kissed his cheek.

Arya moved to the edge of her seat "Get some rest Sansa - I'm going to see Bran"

Sansa nodded "Thank you"

"Need some help getting to bed?" she asked

"Please. I feel shaky...everything feels strange" said Sansa as Tyrion helped her move to the edge of the chaise

"Don't worry Sansa – I'll look after you" he promised, glancing at the bed "though I do believe we'll need to negotiate the bed from Lyon"

The direwolf perked up at his name before dropping on his back and rubbing against the covers once more.

"Is this what he does when you're not here?" asked Arya, a flicker of amusement in her eyes

Tyrion nudged Sansa, a small grin on his face "And you thought all those golden hairs were mine!"

As soon as the door to Sansa's chambers shut, Arya's rage returned with a vengeance. Her sister had suffered enough without being forced to watch Tyrion in pain. Arya had stayed long enough to see her sister settling onto the bed in Tyrion's arms before taking her leave. Sansa's anguish was completely understandable - and a long time coming. Bits and pieces had leaked out over the past weeks, but what she'd seen had been the breaking point. Tyrion had the situation under control and Arya knew it was his comfort her sister wanted. She would give them space and deal with Bran.

Arya stormed through the castle, winding her way towards her brother's chambers. As soon as she got close to the door she could hear some kind of commotion inside.

"You need to rest"

"…don't look well, your Grace"

That didn't stop Arya as she barged into the room.

"How could you do that?" she demanded

Her sharp eyes scanned the room. Brienne's hand went straight to her sword at the intrusion and Ser Davos jerked backwards at the unexpected visitor. Both of them were stood either side of Bran's wheelchair with Podrick hovering behind. All three of them visibly relaxed as they realised who their visitor was, but Arya paid them little attention.

"Hello Arya" said Bran, in that monotone voice that sounded nothing like her brother

The three-eyed raven looked exhausted. He was slumped in his wheelchair, his forehead creased as if he was in pain.

"Lady Arya, is everything alright?" asked Ser Davos, glancing between her and his King

"No, it's not"

"Is Queen Sansa well?" asked Pod "I saw her run from the Godswood"

"That's hardly surprising" said Arya, crossing her arms "Thank you for your concern though Podrick - it would be nice if your King cared too"

"What happened?" asked Brienne "Ser Podrick found Bran barely conscious in the Godswood"

A tiny piece of Arya thrummed with concern for her brother, but it wasn't enough to overwhelm her anger.

"Bran took Sansa into the past" she announced "He showed her the Wolfswood"

Brienne and Pod exchanged matching looks of confusion, while Ser Davos rubbed his beard.

"When you asked me to sit in the Godswood with you the other day - you were practicing weren't you?" said the Kings hand

Bran nodded "I was, but it wouldn't work with you"

"Why would you do that to Sansa?" asked Arya, curling her hands into fists "She's your sister"

Bran sighed "We should talk in private"

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Ser Davos "You look a bit rough"

"I'm fine" said Bran nodding at his council "All of you can go"

Brienne looked as though she was going to protest but Davos shook his head and the three reluctantly left until it was just Arya and her brother.

"How is Sansa?" asked Bran

"So now you care?"

"I've always cared" said Bran "Sansa wanted my help. I did all that I could"

"You must have known that would hurt her" pressed Arya, a glare twisting her face

"I thought she would be able to stay distant, but her emotions got the better of her - an unexpected development"

"Sansa loves Tyrion. There was no way she could watch him being hurt without reacting"

"I underestimated how much she loved him" admitted Bran, wincing as he rubbed his head

Arya shifted awkwardly on the spot. Bran wasn't denying anything nor was he remorseful. He acted as though it was an experiment that had gone awry, rather than a cruel way to treat a family member.

"Did you know that was what she would see?"

Bran tilted his head, considering the question "I assumed so"

"You didn't tell Sansa"

"I wasn't certain"

"You left her alone in there"

The accusation hung in the air between them. That was what this came down. That Bran hadn't protected his sister - his pack.

"The old Gods didn't like what I was doing" said Bran, a frown tugging at his mouth "They allowed Sansa to see only what they wanted. They helped and punished her. I thought I could control it but the old Gods are stronger in the North that I am"

"Were you punishing her?" asked Arya, heat rising through her.

"No. Her guilt is her own doing"

Part of Arya wanted to shake her brother. Nothing he said had any emotion behind it; as if he felt nothing at all.

Arya sucked in a deep breath, trying to temper her anger - it was difficult when Bran sat watching her with distant eyes.

"If you knew she would see the Wolfswood why didn't you let me do it?"

"You love Tyrion too. Would it have hurt you any less?"

"No, but Sansa's suffered enough. She already feels guilty about what happened. I could have handled it"

"It had to be Sansa - only she could see what needed to be seen. The old Gods didn't like me showing her, but I doubt they'd have let me show you. The North is the old Gods home and Sansa is Queen; she is under their power"

"Did she see what she needed?"

"Time will tell" shrugged Bran "When the old Gods had finished with her she fell away from my control. I eventually found her again in Tyrion's childhood"

Arya's stomach churned uncomfortably. She wasn't sure what bothered her more - that Bran was speaking of losing their sister or that he was doing it so casually.

"Why did she end up there?"

"She had a desperate need to see Tyrion - she brought herself there"

"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly

"No. Sansa asked for my help and I did what I could. It's up to her now"

Arya shook her head "I don't mean that. Do you regret becoming the three-eyed raven?"

For the briefest moment a flicker of emotion passed through his dark eyes "Bran Stark had nothing left. He will never walk again - but he can fly"

"I don't think Bran Stark had nothing" she said, turning on her heel and towards the door "the three-eyed raven might"

Tyrion Stark.

Sansa could make him a Stark; if that was what he wanted.

She lifted her head to see her husband properly. When Arya left, Sansa had curled up on the bed, laying her head on Tyrion's chest before sobbing her heart out. Every time she closed her eyes she relieved what she'd seen in the Wolfswood - how did Tyrion live with it? He'd been nothing but kind to her, whispering reassurances and holding her against him as the cruelty she'd seen hit her full force.

At some point she'd drifted off to sleep, waking to find Tyrion's arms around her as he also slept. He'd looked tired when she saw him in the practice yard; he was healing but he wasn't fully recovered. Careful to not wake him Sansa lightly traced a finger down the side of his face, relishing the feel of his skin beneath her fingertip. His heart beat thudded steadily beneath her ear, soothing a few of her nerves.

Did he want to be a wolf?

The thought had plagued her since hearing Robin and Gawan's repeated taunts. She couldn't dismiss it as empty words; the evidence had been in front of her all along. Just the other week she'd heard his answer to Arya's question; which house would you want to be born into? He'd been so shy about it but he'd said Stark.

Her hand wandered to his hair, lightly stroking the soft ends. Guilt settled over her heart once more. Tyrion had been so unsure since coming North, stripped of his land and titles and banished to an unfamiliar place that had never been kind to him. Rather than reassuring him and making him comfortable in his new home she'd only furthered his loss of confidence - however unintentional.

A marriage before the old Gods was similar to that in the faith of the seven; the groom would cloak the bride with his house's sigil, bringing her under his protection. For their wedding she'd told Tyrion he would cover her with a Stark cloak and he'd agreed without a word of protest. There had been no lion sigils at their wedding; nothing at all to represent Tyrion or his family. How could he not wish to be something else when Sansa's actions had given him the message that being a lion wasn't good enough? Everything he'd done since being brought North had been to blend in; to hide himself amongst the Northerners.

Tears pricked at Sansa's eyes as she gazed at her sleeping husband; seeing the boy who'd once wanted to be a knight. He'd found little comfort in his own family - rejected by his father and sister for who he was. It was little wonder he'd changed himself to find acceptance in the North.

"You're a lion sweetheart" whispered Sansa "and I'm very proud of that. I'll make sure you are too"

There had been a few signs Tyrion wasn't entirely separated from his Lannister identity. When she'd insisted he use a proper seal he'd chosen the lion, though he'd used a Northern colour. For his name day both her and Arya had gifted him things with the lion sigil – hoping to show him they accepted him as he was. Sansa often found him huddled in the blanket she'd made for him, and she hadn't missed the slight smile whenever he saw the black banners with the golden lion in the hall. It was a good start, but Sansa would do whatever she could to make things right. Never again would she allow her husband to fall into such a poor state.

Gently, Sansa shifted on Tyrion's chest, tilting her head to examine him more closely. The Tyrion in the Wolfswood was the product of months of neglect and mistreatment. He'd been a shadow of his former self; a dying man.

It had only been seven weeks since the Wolfswood but some long overdue love and care had already made huge a difference to the lord of Winterfell. He'd filled out a little, no longer looking so gaunt and sickly. The tiredness in his face had diminished as he now went to bed with Sansa and woke with her in the morning. Gradually a light had returned to his green eyes that had long been absent, replacing the dull, distant look he'd worn since coming North. It had taken time and there was still a ways to go but he looked so much healthier already.

Arya had helped Sansa change into a simple gown and taken some of the braids out of her hair before she left. Tyrion had taken his tunic off before joining her in the bed, leaving him in only his breeches and under shift. She traced her hand lightly down his face and across his chest, soaking in every detail as she had the Tyrion in the Wolfswood. He was still too thin for her liking, and he'd seemed a bit lethargic the last few days. Her brow furrowed. He'd been working hard in the practice yard, and spending more time moving about the castle. Through his shift she could feel some lean muscle in his shoulders and arms. The training was helping a great deal with his injuries, but she didn't want him to wear himself out either. She made a mental note to make sure he ate a bit more. If he was putting a lot of energy into his sword practice then he'd need to eat more to keep his strength up.

"Seen anything interesting?"

Sansa's cheeks flushed red at her husband's deep voice. She was so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realised Tyrion had woken up – while she was running her hand over him. She glanced up at him, thankfully seeing a hint of amusement in his eyes. The last thing she wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

"Sorry" she said, offering a sheepish smile

"Were you looking for something?" he asked

"Just admiring my husband"

Tyrion snorted, but didn't comment. She felt one of his hands move to her hair, lightly brushing through it.

"How do you feel?" he asked

"Ok, I guess" she said "Better now I'm with you"

"Can I get you anything?"

Sansa shook her head "You're all I need"

"Then you shall have me" he said, corners of his mouth turning upwards "Apologies for falling asleep - I had every intention of watching over you while you rested"

"You're still getting your strength back my love" she said, brushing the side of his face "You look a little tired"

"I'm fine" he promised "you worry too much dear wife"

Warmth spread through Sansa at the term of endearment - she did love when Tyrion called her as his wife. The Queen dropped her head back onto her husband's shoulder, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the security he provided. For someone so unused to being cared for, Tyrion never hesitated to give comfort.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly "Seeing the past must have been a strange experience"

"It was strange" she admitted "I could see and hear everything, but I couldn't change any of it. I wanted to hold you and protect you but I couldn't. Every time I reached out to touch you my hand went straight through"

"What…how much did you see?"

Sansa's hand found his upper arm, rubbing soothingly as he held her against him. Since his return he'd gradually told her bits and pieces of his suffering, but now Sansa had seen everything; the few details he'd shared - and everything he hadn't. She would need to handle this carefully. As much as she wanted to discuss the horrors she'd witnessed, she was very aware Tyrion hadn't told her much of it. If he wasn't ready to talk about it she didn't want to bring it up. The panic on his face when he realised she'd seen the Wolfswood had been warning enough.

"I saw the night you were taken" she said "and when Robin and Gawan were speaking to you. I watched you plan with Rose and then the escape. It's no wonder the wildlings think so much of you - what you did was nothing short of heroic"

Tyrion tensed beneath her, waiting for her to continue. It was after the escape the true horror began.

"I saw them bring you back" she said softly "I saw them hurt you. I left you once to follow Robin and Gawan into the farmhouse"

"Suppose Gawan was skinning rabbits for fun"

"He was sharpening his knives" said Sansa, nuzzling into her husband's neck "Robin was in charge really. They didn't say anything we didn't know, but Robin said he'd been destroying my correspondence. Your theory was right"

Tyrion nodded, his fingers fiddling with her hair "They'd planned this for a long time"

"Robin wants to be King. He spoke to the guards about their 'cause' and how I don't have a right to rule just because my name is Stark"

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. Months of her cold behaviour had played into their hands, giving them further evidence to sway people to their cause.

"You don't have a right to rule" said Tyrion "the people chose you to. They did not choose Robin Flint. Marrying you would have given him a cleaner path to the crown however"

"He'd have killed me eventually" said Sansa, a shudder going through her "probably after I gave him an heir with Stark blood"

Tyrion's arms tightened around her, but he couldn't deny it "The Northerners would have likely raised him to King if he was widowed. Arya would be the only other claimant to the throne. If I'd died in the Wolfswood, Robin would have tried to marry you again. He planned to comfort you over my death, and you wouldn't have known he orchestrated it"

The thought was like a dagger to her heart. She'd only narrowly avoided losing Tyrion - and wedding a monster.

"It was so close" she murmured "I was blind to what they were. I know you've forgiven me Tyrion, but I truly am sorry my love. If I could do things over again, I'd do everything differently"

"Oh? What would you change?"

He asked it casually, but Sansa could detect the insecurity behind it. The Queen tilted her head up, lightly kissing his jaw to reassure him.

"Firstly, I'd ask you to come North with me - to be my hand" said Sansa "I'd beg if I had to"

"Suppose I'd say yes. I do have a weakness for beautiful women"

"We would work together to rebuild the North. I'd need to take a husband - my council would insist"

It was then he tensed beneath her, as if subconsciously preparing for a rejection.

Sansa propped herself up slightly to find Tyrion's gaze.

She made certain she was looking him in the eye as she spoke "I would choose you as my husband every time. I'd ask you to marry me, and if you said no - I'd respect that"

At her words a smile spread across Tyrion's face, his green eyes brightening. She stroked her hand through his golden hair, savouring the feel beneath her fingers.

"That's not to say I'd give up" she said, her mouth curving upwards "I'd spend the rest of my days trying to convince you - eventually I'd wear you down. And if not I'd learn to live with a broken heart, never marrying at all"

Sansa leaned forwards, kissing his forehead "We wouldn't join in the bed unless we both wanted to. I'd spend the rest of my life loving you and treating you as you deserve"

"That's quite the fairy-tale" said Tyrion, his eyes glistening

"I'm only sorry it wasn't our reality" she said, familiar regret eating at her heart

They lapsed into silence and Sansa dropped her head next to her husband, burying her face in his neck. How she wished things could have happened like that. She was dimly aware of Tyrion fidgeting with something on the night stand, but she was far too focused on enjoying the feel of Tyrion entwined with her. There had been an awful moment in the past where she'd feared never escaping. Being trapped in that unending horror, unable to hold her husband - it would have been her own personal hell.

Tyrion's hand brushed the side of her face a moment later "If you asked me to marry you now Sansa; I'd say yes"

"And I'd be the luckiest woman alive" she said, tilting her head to look at him.

He wore a smile on his face, though there was an edge of nervousness in his gaze. Her brow furrowed, wondering what could have caused it when Tyrion gave her the answer. He lifted his right hand close to her face - one of her ribbons dangling in his grip.

"Since this is our second chance; or third depending on how you count things - I thought we could…maybe signify a new beginning" he said, quickly lowering his eyes when he finished

All the air fled Sansa's lungs as she gazed at the dark navy ribbon.

"We don't have to" he said quickly at her lack of response "I just thought…if we were both willing this time…"

Sansa covered his hand with her own, her heart pounding in her chest "Yes…yes, my love"

Tyrion nodded, relief covering his face that she hadn't rejected his idea. Sansa untangled herself from him and they rearranged themselves to sit beside each other in the bed. Tyrion was wearing only his breeches and under shift, while Sansa wore only a crumpled gown. It was just the two of them - no families, no expectations. They were both suffering from bed hair and Lyon was snoring in the corner. None of that mattered to Sansa as Tyrion lifted the ribbon to show her.

"I know we're already married, but I thought we could…renew our vows - just for us" he said, a tentative smile on his face "Whatever mistakes we've made our forgiven"

"Never to be repeated" she promised, her stomach fluttering "A fresh start"

Tyrion took her right hand in his left, holding their joined hands out before them. With his right hand he laced the ribbon around them; binding them together. She reached over with her left hand to help him tie the ribbon in a knot.

When it was done, he looked at her, a nervous smile on his face "I think we can dispense with the lengthy prayers. The septon would tell us to look at each other and say the words"

Sansa squeezed his hand, a wide smile covering her face.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." they said in unison

"I am his and he is mine…"

"I am hers and she is mine…"

"From this day, until the end of my days" they finished together

Warmth pricked at Sansa's eyes as she lost herself in her husband's tender gaze. They'd been married twice, but this time the vows meant so much more. They'd both chosen each other - freely and willingly.

"With this kiss I pledge my love" said Tyrion, leaning towards her

Sansa melted into the kiss as the loose knot fell undone on their joined hands. The ribbon could fall away, but their souls would remain joined together.

Maester Wolkan paled as he read yet another letter that had been sent to lord Tyrion. Thankfully the lord of Winterfell had finally heeded his advice and stopped reading them - the content was stomach churning.

I hope you still have your collar, my pet. If you've lost it I'll need to punish you. I hope you aren't too attached to your fingers.

I'm getting closer to you every day little lion - it won't be long now.

Your defiance when we were together was rather irritating. I've waited too long to hear a lion cry. One way or another you will cry for me.

For whatever reason lord Tyrion had persevered in reading them until finally giving up the charade that they didn't bother him. Now if lord Tyrion saw a letter from them he passed it straight to him. The old Maester was keeping all of the correspondence as evidence in his chambers in a closed box. The most recent were always on top but when he'd pulled them out earlier to examine them for any clues he may have missed, they were ordered randomly. Wolkan rubbed tiredly at his eyes, the signing of last night's trade deal had been a major event and after it was over he'd stayed up later than usual copying all the details into back-up documents. He must have mistaken the letters order in his tiredness.

While lord Tyrion had stopped reading the letters, the Queen and lady Arya hadn't – unfortunately there was very little to be learned from them. The only thing Wolkan had learned was the depths of cruelty those boys were capable of. He hadn't been overly fond of either of them while they were at Winterfell, but there had never been any sign of them capable of this.

A knock sounded on the door causing the Maester to straighten from his hunched over position, his bones cracking with the movement.

"Come in" he called, turning on the stool to greet his visitor

"Maester" greeted Arya Stark, stepping into the room "am I interrupting you?"

"Certainly not my lady"

The youngest Stark needed no further invitation as she joined him at the work bench, her sharp eyes scanning the letters.

"He's still getting them?" she asked

"There was another today" he confirmed, handing her the newest message "the content is much the same as the others"

Ayra's face was unreadable as she read the message before passing it back to him "I'm going to enjoy killing them"

"It is a sick mind that could write letters such as these" agreed Wolkan "Is there anything I can do for you my lady?"

The girl studied him for a moment before pulling over another stool to join him "What do you know about the three-eyed raven?"

"Very little I'm afraid"

"When you studied at the citadel you never saw any mention of powers like Bran's?"

The old man shook his head "I fear not my lady. The citadel contains vast knowledge though I fear its knowledge of the North is somewhat limited. Stories of white walkers, what lies beyond the wall – it's regarded as fantasy by most Maesters"

Arya nodded as though she expected that "Do you believe its fantasy?"

"I did" he admitted "Until I saw the white walkers for myself. I've seen dragons, direwolves and King Bran's power – it's hard to be a sceptic after that"

The girl grew silent and Wolkan waited patiently for her to speak. Nothing Arya did was without reason, and he was certain they were about to get to the reason for this visit. Something was bothering her.

"Do you think it's possible the three-eyed raven is evil?"

Wolkan raised his eyebrows "My lady, what makes you think that?"

Arya drew in a breath, her gaze studying him as if deciding how much to divulge.

"Bran brought Sansa to the past" she said after a moment "he showed her the Wolfswood"

A thousand questions exploded in his mind. What Arya was saying was beyond belief, yet everything he'd seen since he came into the service of Winterfell had opened his eyes to things he'd never thought possible. The Stark boy was strange - there was no denying that. He'd met him not long after the Starks reclaimed Winterfell and helped design his wheelchair.

"I trust the wheelchair is acceptable, lord Stark?" he'd asked

"I'm not lord Stark. I'm the three-eyed raven" he had replied, watching him with too old eyes "Thank you for your help Maester. You shouldn't blame yourself for Walda Bolton and her son's death. You tried to warn her to flee Winterfell and Ramsay"

"I-how could you possibly…?"

"I'm the three-eyed raven" the boy had replied, folding his hands in his lap "you will serve my sister well"

It was impossible but the boy had known about his attempt to convince Roose Bolton's wife to leave Winterfell after he'd watched Ramsay kill his own father. The woman had refused to believe there was any kind of danger from Ramsay who'd always shown her a charming face. Wolkan had heard about her and the babe's terrible death from the guards.

The old Maester rubbed at his beard, contemplating what Arya had just told him. He'd grown quite fond of the Starks. They were honourable rulers and serving them held none of the terror of serving the Bolton's.

"What did Bran hope to accomplish in showing her the past?" he asked

"Sansa wanted his help to stop Robin and Gawan. According to Bran that's all he could do"

"Did the Queen see anything that would help?"

Arya shook her head "No, she had to watch while they hurt Tyrion"

"You believe Bran showed your sister this to hurt her?"

The girl shifted on her stool, her mouth pulled into a frown "That's what I'm trying to figure out"

"What does Queen Sansa think?"

"She was so upset earlier" said Arya, a sigh escaping her "Tyrion sent me a note before saying they weren't coming to dinner tonight"

"Is there anything I can do for her?" he asked "I have essence of nightshade if she's in need of rest"

"I think she just wants to be with Tyrion. She said when she was in the past there was nothing she could do to change any of it. She couldn't touch or interact with anything"

"Ah - I understand" said Wolkan, nodding

The Queen in the North could be as terrifying as a blizzard when she wanted to be, but her family was her weak point. As reserved as Sansa Stark was, seeing her husband's agony and being unable to change it would surely be a traumatic experience.

"My lady, for all Bran may be different to who you once knew – he's still your brother. Surely he would not subject his sister to such an experience if he did not believe it necessary"

Arya's brow pulled downwards, considering his words "Bran is our brother, but I can't see any reason for showing Sansa that. She says there was nothing we didn't already know"

The Maester hummed, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the bench "Bran has vast knowledge at his disposal. What your sister saw may not prove useful right now, but is it possible it has a future purpose?"

"I don't know"

"Showing the past to Queen Sansa; was it simple for Bran?"

"He looked tired when I spoke to him. Brienne and Davos were worried about him" she admitted "Sansa mentioned the old Gods interfering with whatever he was trying to do"

Wolkan nodded, offering the girl a smile "I can offer no knowledge on the old Gods – but do you think your brother would give such effort to something simply to hurt his older sister?"

Arya's mouth pressed into a tight line as if weighing his words. It seemed to the Maester the youngest Stark had come to him in search of an ear for her concerns. Brienne and Davos were loyal to Bran, and she clearly didn't wish to disturb Sansa and Tyrion at the moment. Whatever was said to him was always in confidence – he would not repeat it. Even so he filed the information away. If the Queen was in a state of distress it was possible she may require something to steady her nerves.

"I hope you're feeling talkative tonight Maester, because I'm certainly not" said Arya, standing from the stool

Her eyes were unreadable and he wasn't entirely certain what conclusions she'd come to about Bran, nor would he ask. Both of the Stark girls guarded their inner thoughts with the fierceness of a wolf. They would not speak about something if they did not wish to. Lord Tyrion was somewhat easier to read in that respect. Where the Starks both hid behind their own cold masks when it suited them, Tyrion's emotions could be read in his every expression if you knew what to look for - it was what had made it so very obvious that he wasn't well upon his arrival at Winterfell.

"Dinner is still going ahead?"

"Tyrion's note said Sansa wanted dinner to go ahead as normal since we had guests. He said Sansa certainly wasn't up to it and he'd only convinced her to not go because I'd be there to represent house Stark" said Arya, the slightest pout covering her face

"Ah, so you will be entertaining the guests I assume"

"I'll be trying not to say something Sansa will make me regret. You will be entertaining the guests"

Wolkan raised an eyebrow "As you wish my lady; though I fear my dinner conversation is somewhat dry"

Arya snorted "So is Sansa's – they'll hardly notice a difference"

Sansa leaned into her husband, allowing his melodic voice to soothe her nerves as he read from an old book of fairy tales. His idea to renew their vows had been incredibly sweet, and the kiss they'd shared afterwards had been filled with an equal passion. Eventually Tyrion had pulled away and she'd let him go, keen to not make him uncomfortable despite the ache she always felt when they stopped.

Her mouth twitched into a smile as Tyrion changed his voice to match the story. He'd insisted they skip dinner and she'd agreed with only a few protests. No matter how forgiving Tyrion was, Sansa would never forgive herself. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his broken face staring back at her. Tyrion was doing his best to distract her from her dark thoughts and she cherished having him so close. He'd pulled out a battered book of fairy tales similar to the ones she'd read cover to cover as a child, insisting on reading to her. Each story involved a range of amusing voices and questionable accents, as well as several verses she was certain weren't there before. Tyrion was getting quite involved in his retelling of the bear and the maiden fair, the story growing more elaborate as he read.

"Oh, I'm a knight - prepare to fight, I'll never dance with a hairy bear" said Tyrion, changing his voice to match the maid turned knight of the story

While it may have been more popular as a song, Sansa had read the story as a child and didn't recall anything about a knight. Despite her best efforts to focus, Sansa's mind continued slipping into the past and all she'd seen. It was the branding that stood out. It had been the start of the horror and left a permanent mark on her husband's mind and body. Tyrion disliked showing his scarred back to anyone and Sansa made sure to not linger looking at it on the rare occasions when it was visible. Yet now she had a strange desire to see the mark she'd watched being burnt into her husband. As if its existence alone would prove the connection between the broken Tyrion of the past and the man sat beside her now. For in truth it was hard to reconcile the two – as if they were entirely different people.

It took her a moment to realise the room had gone quiet and Tyrion was watching her with increasing worry.

"Are you alright?" he asked, closing the book on his lap

"Sorry" she said "my mind got away from me"

"Don't worry – I'm sure you've heard these stories many times"

Sansa huddled closer to him "I rather enjoyed your retellings"

"Good" he said, a half smile crossing his face "I thought they were in need of an update"

"I don't recall the maid being a knight in the original bear and the maiden fair" she said "or being rescued by a one-handed knight"

"Does it not make for a better story?"

Sansa snorted "It was certainly more interesting. Where do you come up with these things? I used to read to Rickon and he complained my stories were boring because I read the actual story; he much preferred Bran's made up tales"

"I take inspiration from life. Nothing is more powerful than a good story" he said, a teasing grin on his face "though I will confess to borrowing that one. Jamie told me once how he rescued Ser Brienne from a bear"

The Queen's mouth fell open "What?"

"Brienne lived in Winterfell and never told you?" said Tyrion, his eyes turning thoughtful "Perhaps it's a painful memory. She'd been left at Harrenhal while Roose Bolton's men escorted Jamie back to Kings Landing. You can imagine what they planned to do with her. Jamie insisted on going back and found they'd thrown her in a pit with a bear and a wooden sword. He jumped in to aid her escape"

"No wonder she cared for Ser Jamie"

"Perhaps"

Melancholy descended on Tyrion and his eyes wandered to the battered trunk that held all that remained of his brother. After Brienne had presented it to Tyrion, he'd spent an hour or so sorting through it alone before asking her if it could stay in their chambers.

"Of course" Sansa had told him "this is your room too"

Tyrion had eyed the battered trunk with the Lannister lion sigil engraved on it "If you're sure"

Sansa wasn't entirely sure why he thought she'd object to the trunk, but she suspected it was to do with the Lannister sigil. He'd placed the trunk in the corner next to his draws and to her knowledge hadn't opened it since. Tyrion hadn't mentioned anything about the contents and she hadn't pushed him, despite her own curiosity. Guilt flared in her heart as she eyed his few meagre possessions. The book he'd been given by Arya and the ones Pod had brought him were sat on a shelf next to his draws. The box Arya had gifted him and the stuffed lion from Nessa sat atop his draws - his sword was also there, the golden thread glinting in the late evening light.

She wrapped her arm around Tyrion's shoulders drawing his attention.

"I saw something else in the past" she started "it was a memory of you"

Panic flared in his green eyes and Sansa forced herself to plough ahead. She wasn't entirely sure whether she wanted to tell Tyrion what she'd seen of his childhood – it was a far from pleasant memory. Yet she hoped it might spark a conversation with him; allow her to know every piece of her husband.

"What did you see?"

"It was your childhood. After seeing Robin and Gawan leave you in the Wolfswood, I begged for Bran to get me out of there. I couldn't take it anymore. Rather than returning to the Godswood I ended up in Casterly Rock"

"How did you know it was Casterly Rock?"

"There was red and gold everywhere; lion sigils decorating the walls"

"Fair enough" nodded Tyrion "So you saw my childhood home?"

"I was alone in the corridor" she said, tugging her husband closer to her "I heard voices so I followed and found myself in your father's study"

"A place best avoided"

Sansa smiled at Tyrion, pressing a kiss to his head "I saw you my love - when you were a boy. Your father was lecturing you; he'd found out about you practicing with a sword and took it away from you"

"I vaguely remember that" said Tyrion "it's blended together with all the other things he lectured me about over the years"

"You were so upset. When you left the room you were crying in the corridor, and then Cersei found you. The way her and your father treated you was awful"

"They both hated me" he said with a sigh, dropping his head onto her shoulder "it's a strange thing for you to have seen. Why would Bran show you that?"

"I don't know" she said, shaking her head "Jamie stopped Cersei taunting you though. He picked you up and carried you back to what I assume was his room"

Sadness flashed in Tyrion's green eyes "Sounds quite accurate. Jamie was the only reason I survived my childhood after all"

Sansa instinctively tightened her grip, rubbing her hand up and down his arm "He seemed like a good brother"

"He was" said Tyrion, drawing in a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face "So what did you think of Casterly Rock during your visit?"

The change of subject was expected but saddening all the same. On the odd occasion Tyrion spoke of his childhood he only ever recalled the jokes he'd played on Cersei or the few happy memories he had. Rarely did he speak of the venom he'd experienced at his family's hands. Sansa could only hope one day he might open that part of himself to her.

"It looked lovely" she told him "I could see the sea and beaches from the windows"

"You would like it there" he said, nostalgia filling his eyes "there's plenty of caverns and caves to explore around the castle - Arya would enjoy that. Jamie once found a tiny piece of beach separate from the main one after exploring one of the caverns. It was sheltered by all the huge rocks and the only way to find it was through the caverns. Cersei was particularly horrible to me one day so he showed it to me rather than her. Whenever I got upset I'd go there - only Jamie and I knew how to find it"

Sansa's heart swelled listening to Tyrion describing Casterly Rock. As a girl she'd dreamed of castles like that - where the sun shone regularly with beautiful views. It wasn't until she was older she appreciated the beauty of her own home.

"Whatever happened during the day, there was always something calming about sitting on the beach at night as the sun disappeared into the sea. I'd love to show you one-" said Tyrion before stopping abruptly

Loss flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before he hurried to correct his words. It was too late; Sansa had seen his expression and knew what he meant to say.

Showing her his childhood home was no longer something he could do. He was an exile; he'd lost Casterly Rock - as she'd ordered. It would be given to a new lord soon enough and all memory of the Lannister's would gradually fade. Bran might have offered to restore it but Tyrion had ultimately chosen her and Winterfell instead; accepting the loss of his childhood home as punishment.

"Uh-what I meant to say…"

Sansa cupped his face guiding him to look at her. Embarrassment flooded his green eyes for what he'd started to say.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, kissing his forehead

"No. Don't be, I just forgot" he said, forcing his mouth upwards into a pained smile "Did you see anything else of interest in the past?"

That Tyrion was deflecting the attention away from what he'd almost said was obvious, but Sansa had no desire to push him. The only thing she'd really learnt from the past was that it couldn't be changed. The sentence had already been passed, and Tyrion had accepted the punishment. Knowing Tyrion had chosen to stay with her did little to ease her guilt for taking so much from him however, but she would do everything possible to make him comfortable in his new home.

Sansa wrapped her arms around Tyrion, drawing him into her side "I saw the most adorable child"

"Oh?"

"Curly golden hair, bright green eyes - I wanted to pick him up so badly" she said, dropping her head against her husband "you were so precious"

Tyrion snorted "You can't mean me?"

"Of course I do!" she said "Who else would it be?"

"Jamie"

"Jamie did not have curly hair, nor was he as cute as you"

At that Tyrion laughed, a wide smile covering his face "Sansa Stark I do believe you are the only person who has ever considered me cute"

"I barely put Rickon down when he was born - if you were my brother they'd have never separated me from you. You would have been my baby and no-one else's"

"I can only imagine" said Tyrion, grinning at the thought

Sansa sighed contentedly, relishing the feel of her husband in her arms. Her mind was still struggling to right itself; to reconcile the lifeless Tyrion in the Wolfswood with the one she held against her. A piece of her refused to accept it, wanting to believe it had all been a bad dream - that her husband hadn't been degraded and abused. The more his injuries healed the harder it was to think of how close to death he'd been only seven weeks earlier.

There was so much to sort through and no time to do it. As tempting as it was to let the past slip away, Sansa couldn't afford to forget. What she'd seen in the Wolfswood was real, as much as she wished it had been a nightmare, and she knew there was only one way to solidify that fact in her mind.

Bran watched the hearth crackling, delivering both warmth and light into his chambers. The King heaved a sigh, rubbing his aching head.

Taking Sansa into the past had not gone at all as he'd hoped. While he'd suspected what she was going to see he'd planned on being there with her as a guide. The old Gods had soon shown him how pointless his plans were. Sansa had been left alone to face the past and then somehow ended up in Tyrion's childhood.

For a horrible moment Bran thought he'd lost his older sister. Her distress at seeing the Wolfswood had been overwhelming - her own desire to see Tyrion had taken her to his past before he found her.

"Can I get you anything, your Grace?" asked Podrick, standing in the corner of the room

The pounding in Bran's head was slowly lessening but his council were still worried for him. He'd insisted Davos and Brienne go to dinner - which he didn't feel up to. They'd agreed on the condition Pod stay behind to keep an eye on him.

"I'm fine" he replied "Where do you think Bronn has gone?"

"My guess would be a brothel, your Grace" said Pod, shifting uneasily "I'm sure he'll return by morning"

"He won't" said Bran flatly

"Guards can be sent to find him if you wish"

"I don't wish for anything anymore" said Bran, turning to look at his sworn shield "What do you wish for?"

"Your Grace?"

"Did I stutter?"

Pod reddened, glancing down at the floor "I wish to be a good man; to protect people who can't protect themselves"

Bran nodded "Some would say you already do that"

"I try to"

"Do you ever wish for more Podrick?" asked Bran, moving his gaze to the dark sky outside his window

He'd expected the young Knight to deny it – to claim he wanted nothing more than serving his King. Instead the soft reply surprised him "Sometimes, your Grace"

Bran nodded "Me too"

Tyrion's gaze studied his sleeping wife as he stood beside the bed. The Queen's mouth was pulled into a frown and exhaustion lay heavily over her delicate features. Despite the trauma she'd endured that day Sansa had still wanted to go to dinner and continue her Queenly duties, even though it was very obvious she was in no fit state to do so. He'd convinced his wife to stay in their chambers tonight and he'd spent the rest of the evening trying to draw her mind from the horrid things she'd seen and make her smile. He hated seeing Sansa upset. The Queen had done her best to regain control of her emotions but Tyrion knew it was hanging by a thread.

Sansa's tale of seeing his childhood had been fascinating, though it had stirred some well buried sentiment for his childhood home. When they'd married in Kings Landing he'd hoped to eventually take Sansa to Casterly Rock and away from Kings Landing, though he'd never gotten the chance. Speaking to her about Jamie and his home had been nice and for a moment he'd allowed himself to get carried away with thoughts of showing Sansa all the hidden places he'd enjoyed as a boy. The reality had soon sobered him however. Casterly Rock was no longer his home – soon it would be someone else's.

He'd known that since the moment the sentence was passed, but today was the first time it had really struck him. Sansa had noticed the moment – how could she not – and the guilt in her eyes had been painful to see. Bran had offered to restore what was taken, but accepting it would mean leaving behind what he'd built at Winterfell. Leaving behind Sansa.

Watching Sansa's sleeping face; Tyrion knew he had made the right choice. A castle, a hand of the king badge – it was all meaningless compared to Sansa. Nothing was worth losing her.

He brushed his hand across Sansa's cheek, lightly kissing her head as he tucked the covers around her.

His beautiful wife.

While renewing their vows had been his suggestion, a small part of him had feared Sansa would think it ridiculous. The guilt and self-hatred in Sansa's eyes as she lay on him had been too much to bear however. Tyrion had hoped the gesture would prove he'd forgiven her; that this was a new beginning for them. As much as her actions had hurt him, Tyrion didn't want Sansa to carry that guilt forever. She'd done her best to make amends - he trusted her.

Sansa had done her best to smother her feelings over what she'd seen with Bran but the trauma it had caused was clear enough. Her mood had shifted between sadness, distraction and pretending to be fine all afternoon. Eventually she'd grown tired and he'd insisted she sleep. Tyrion had every intention of joining her soon, but there was one task he needed to complete - it was something he'd put off for far too long already.

Turning away from his wife he made his way to the desk, setting up to write the letter he'd put off for months. Lyon padded over to him, bouncing his front paws onto his lap.

"Hello" he greeted, winding his fingers through the thick fur as the wolf licked at his face "I see you've been enjoying the bed when Sansa and I aren't around"

Lyon tilted his head to the side, his ears drooping.

"Don't look at me like that" said Tyrion, rolling his eyes "We saw you rolling around on the bed - and there's golden hair everywhere. It's either yours or mine"

The direwolf whined softly, green eyes gazing up at him.

Tyrion sighed, rubbing Lyon behind the ear "If you're going to play on the bed when we're not around, at least hide the evidence. Sansa thought my hair was falling out the other day!"

Lyon's ears perked up, licking his face once more before curling up at his feet. Tyrion wiped the drool from his face as he considered the task before him. The last time he'd seen Jon Snow had been when he convinced him that killing the woman he loved was the right thing to do.

'Love is the death of duty'

'Sometimes duty is the death of the love'

How do you write a letter to someone after convincing them to do such a terrible thing?

It took even longer than Tyrion imagined and it was well and truly night when he finished, but eventually he'd written the letter that should have been sent long ago.

Dear Jon

I fear I don't know a good place to start, so perhaps a reassurance will suffice - your sisters are fine. Rest assured they are both well as is Bran, and they are not the reason for this long overdue letter.

I am sorry.

I've thought long and hard on how to possibly apologise to you, but for all the long-winded words and explanations I came up with nothing seemed as sincere as the simplest words.

I am truly sorry Jon for what you had to do. I cared a great deal for Daenaerys, but part of me feared her - long though I denied it. What happened in Kings Landing was something I did not like to believe her capable of, though the signs were there if I'd been willing to see them. There are many things I regret, far too many for one letter to contain. The biggest of those regrets was what my actions or lackof made it necessary for you to do. In ending Daenaerys you likely saved countless lives and cleaned up the mess I helped to create.

It's neither right nor fair that you had to be the one to do it, but in the end you were the only one who could.

I know Arya has written to you often and Sansa writes as well, though they've yet to receive a reply. I'm fairly certain their letters will catch you up on whatever news you've missed.

Gods, I hope you don't read this letter first. On the off chance you do, Sansa asked me to marry her and we were wed before the old Gods. I live in Winterfell now, and serve as its lord. It was entirely her idea, and I swear to you I will never hurt her. It's possible you'll never get this letter anyway and I doubt you would want to hear from me, but it seemed important to write it all the same.

What happened to you was unfair. You should be here, in Winterfell with your family, not banished to the nights watch. Bran says you're happy with the free folk and I hope that's true. I should have lost my head for all my crimes, yet I was spared true punishment. I do not deserve to be Sansa's husband or Arya's brother. I shouldn't be the lord of Winterfell either, and I'm sorry it's me here and not you - but I love your sisters. I care for Bran too though he is based in Kings Landing and rather different these days.

While I cannot change what has already been done, I do promise you one thing - I will protect them for you. It's hardly the same as you being here with your family, but I swear by all the Gods I'll keep them safe.

I shall end my rambling here and leave you in peace - which is something I truly hope you finally have.

Best wishes

Tyrion Lannister

P.S - Somehow I've acquired a direwolf pup. Perhaps if you ever come to Winterfell Ghost would like to meet him. His name is Lyon. They could go hunting together?

Rereading the letter Tyrion decided it sounded far more desperate than he'd intended. He had no idea how much Jon knew of what had happened since Kings Landing or what Sansa and Arya had told him in their letters. Presumably one of them had told Jon that he now lived at Winterfell and had married Sansa. Adding the information seemed a good idea just in case they hadn't.

Tyrion folded the letter, sealing it with his lion sigil in black wax. At best Jon might reply someday if he ever returned to the wall. At worst he'd descend with an army of wildlings and kill him painfully for daring to wed his sister.

Either way, writing the letter had lifted some of the guilt from him. His remorse for Jon Snow's fate had hung over him like a dark cloud for far too long. Apologising for his role in what happened had seemed the only way to ever move on from it.

After everything she'd seen that day, was a dreamless sleep really too much to ask for?

Apparently it was as Sansa found herself wandering alone through the countryside. Rolling hills interspersed with small lakes made up the landscape as she wandered towards a magnificent castle by the sea. The castle itself wasn't familiar but the Lannister banners hanging outside told her this was Casterly Rock. A tiny part of Sansa sparked with fear that she was once again in the past, but each time she looked at the castle parts of it changed. The past had been strongly defined and immovable; this was fluid – it was a dream.

It was as she approached the gates she heard a desperate sobbing. Sansa followed the sound to see a familiar boy crying into his arms behind a bush not far from the gate.

"Hello" she said, crouching down to speak to the child

The boy raised his golden head, wary green eyes observing her. Perhaps this dream wasn't so bad. Seeing her husband as a child had clearly left an impression on her as she watched the boy's tear stained face studying hers.

"Who are you?" he asked, curling tighter into himself

"My name is Sansa"

"Did you come to laugh at me?"

Her heart twisted at the question "No. Why would I laugh at you?"

"I'm a dwarf. Everyone laughs at me"

Sansa swallowed thickly, offering the sad boy a smile "You're Tyrion Lannister aren't you?"

He nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I've heard you're a great lion – that this is your home"

Sansa had thought her words might cheer the child, but he dropped his gaze to the grass at his feet "Not anymore. They don't want me – nobody does"

She moved closer to the boy, lowering her head to see his face "I think you're better than them. You're a true lion aren't you?"

"Cersei says I'm not" he sniffed "I'm not allowed in Casterly Rock anymore. They hate me"

"I think they're very stupid" said Sansa, anger coiling within her "Would you like to come with me?"

"Where?"

"I live in a castle called Winterfell in the North" she said, offering her hand to the child "You can live with me – I'll look after you"

"I'm a Lannister" he said, puffing out his small chest "not a baby"

Sansa bit back a smile "You're certainly not a baby – you're far too clever. I could use a strong lion like you in Winterfell. Sometimes I get scared on my own"

The little Tyrion considered her words, before nodding his head "OK, I'll protect you"

Much to her joy the boy took her hand and they set off down the road together - away from Casterly Rock.

The further they got from Casterly Rock the more nervous the boy became, fiddling with the edge of his shirt "Will I like Winterfell?"

"Oh yes" she promised "There's a lot of snow there. Have you ever seen snow before?"

"I read about it"

"You'll love the snow. We can play in it and I can show you how to build castles out of snow"

Her words did little to reassure him as the landscape blended and merged around them as they travelled. Tyrion soon grew tired as he stumbled along beside her, the look of fear in his eyes growing as they moved further from his home.

"Can I carry you?" she asked, adding quickly "I get nervous and having you close will be sure to protect me"

"Ok" he agreed, nodding his head quickly as Sansa scooped the child into her arms.

Instantly his arms wound around her neck and she rubbed his back to soothe him as the landscape grew decidedly more Northern. A light covering of snow began to cover the ground as she walked onwards, her little husband tucked safely in her arms.

"Want to go home" he whimpered, a shudder going through him

"Don't worry sweetheart, we're nearly there" she promised, kissing his head "you'll be happy here. I'll take care of you, I promise"

Tyrion fell silent, though his arms tightened around her neck. Unease stirred within Sansa as the towers of Winterfell came into view – there was something off. The North was her home; it should have felt welcoming, instead an unspoken threat hung in the air.

"Can I go home now?" asked Tyrion, tears spilling down his cheeks

"This is your home now little lion" she said, pressing him tighter to her

"I don't belong here" he cried, squirming in her grasp "I want Jamie"

Sansa's heart lurched "You do belong here. I'll take care of you Tyrion - I promise"

The boy cried and trembled in her arms as she headed towards the gates of Winterfell, murmuring about going home and not belonging here. Sansa merely clung on tighter, whispering reassurances and promises to the increasingly frightened child.

It was at the gates where her dream turned to a nightmare.

"Hello Sansa" called Robin, a smirk on his face "what brings you to my castle?"

"This is our home" she growled "You're not welcome here"

"Not anymore" said Robin, lifting a crown to his head "nice of you to bring a pet for Gawan though"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did powerful hands clamp hold of Sansa, as Gawan appeared in her vision - tearing Tyrion away from her. She fought to hold on to him, but he was quickly ripped away from her.

"No!" she cried out as the crying boy was carried away by Gawan,

"Help me!" he cried, his hands reaching desperately towards her

Sansa fought with all she could, but she was as feeble as a new-born. Nothing she did could free her from the iron grip behind her.

"Give him back!" she begged

Gawan deposited the frightened Tyrion at his feet, clamping hold of his shoulders as a beaming grin covered his face "Why would I do that? The little lion is going to have such fun with me"

Robin shrugged "Gawan wanted a pet to play with, and no-one's going to miss the imp anyway"

Heartbroken green eyes met hers, tears spilling from them "You promised to protect me"

"What'll it be first little man" asked Gawan, showing the boy an object in either hand "The hammer or the branding iron?"

"No!" she screamed, fighting to get free "Let him go. Leave him!"

"I think we'll start with the branding" said Gawan, clamping an arm around Tyrion to hold him still as he ripped his shirt from him "make sure you know your place"

"Stop, please stop" cried Sansa, tears flooding from her eyes as Tyrion's face twisted in agony as the hot iron was pushed into his back.

"I promised to never hurt you!" sobbed the boy, betrayal in his voice "I kept my promise – why didn't you keep yours?"

"No, stop!" she sobbed, as Gawan waved the hammer in front of the child "Let him go – take me instead!"

"Oh I intend to" purred a deep voice in her ear

Icy terror gripped Sansa's heart as she turned to face the man holding her captive.

"If you thought this had a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention" said Ramsay, his eyes burning cruelly into hers

It was late in the night when Tyrion felt Sansa stir beside him. He'd expected her to have nightmares after her experience with Bran and a few times he'd noticed her squirming restlessly in her sleep. A brush of his hand over her forehead, whispering some words of comfort in her ear - the simple actions had been enough to keep Sansa asleep and ease the frown from her face.

It appeared Sansa was fully awake this time however, and Tyrion had been about to roll over to speak with her when he felt her hands lightly tugging the back of his night shirt down. The action stilled him instantly, his heart picking up pace in his chest.

Tyrion had tried to sleep lightly in case Sansa needed him, but he'd apparently dropped off completely for a little while. He was lying in his usual position facing away from Sansa when she began to fiddle with his clothing.

'What's she doing?' he thought with increasing panic

The room was dark apart from the faint moonlight illuminating Sansa's side of the bed. Tyrion forced himself to remain totally still, breathing evenly as if he were still asleep. Whatever Sansa was doing she was taking care to not wake him.

He didn't react as her hand reached around him to open the top button of his night shirt. The style of his bed clothes was somewhat unusual but Esther had designed them for ease of wearing over his injuries. He continued wearing them as he preferred them to the shifts he'd previously worn and felt less exposed in bed - something Sansa was trying to change.

In the darkness of their chambers Tyrion was acutely aware of every movement Sansa made. Part of him wanted to show her he was awake, but a larger part of him was curious about what she wanted.

'You renewed your commitment to her' sang the dark voice of his mind 'she's going to take you again'

No - that wasn't possible. After everything they'd built together, he refused to believe Sansa would rape him again. The guilt for those vile acts swept through her eyes every time he pulled away from their kissing. Sansa regretted it - she wouldn't do it again.

Mercifully Sansa only undid the top button, before returning her attention to his back. This time she was able to ease the light shirt down enough to expose the back of his shoulder. It struck him then what she was doing.

The brand.

Familiar shame ate at his heart as his wife studied the mark. He understood now what she wanted. She'd seen the Wolfswood - seen how it had been done. For whatever reason, Sansa had wanted to see the brand and had waited until he was asleep to do it.

It made some sort of sense. Sansa knew he hated anyone seeing his back and would be uncomfortable letting her study it as she was obviously doing right now. Tyrion focused on maintaining his false sleep as Sansa's feather like touch traced the mark.

Was she ashamed of him? She'd told him the mark didn't bother her, that there was no shame in it - but that was before she'd seen how it happened. He'd been stripped, collared and forced on a bench while they branded him. Tyrion found his thoughts growing increasingly panicked as she studied him. A desperate part of him wanted to face Sansa and apologise - beg her to not send him away. Tyrion would not survive leaving Winterfell and the Starks, of that he was certain.

Before he could do anything, Sansa's fingers left his back to be replaced by her lips a moment later. It was the lightest of brushes, but it sent a tingle through his whole body that paralysed him. It was the same action she'd done when giving him a bath, but it was different now - knowing she'd seen the whole story.

Tyrion remained still as Sansa gently tugged his night shirt back into place and reached around him to fasten the button again. To his surprise she left her hand there, cuddling carefully into the back of him.

"I'm so sorry my love, I should have taken care of you" she whispered, kissing the back of his head "You're mine to protect - I won't fail you again, I promise"

As Tyrion lay there with Sansa's arm draped lightly over him, he found his eyes growing increasingly damp. How could he have thought his sweet wife meant him harm, or that she would send him away?

If she'd asked to see the brand he would have reluctantly agreed, but it would have been incredibly uncomfortable. Sansa had known that; it was likely why she'd tried to do it without his knowledge. He had no idea why she wanted to see it, and in truth it didn't matter.

Tyrion forced himself to concentrate on Sansa's warm breath tickling the back of his neck and her arm lying protectively over him – not the dark voice that haunted him. Listening to those thoughts had nearly cost him so much. Years of insecurities and hurt had almost led him out of Winterfell and away from Sansa. Just thinking of what he could have lost caused his heart to ache.

The sight of golden hair and green eyes was exactly how Sansa loved to start her mornings – though she could do without the wet nose.

"Lyon?" she asked, rubbing her eyes as the direwolf came into focus

He was sat on Tyrion's side of the bed, staring down his nose at her. Finding the wolf in bed wasn't unusual, but waking without Tyrion was. Panic wound through her as she moved to push herself upwards in the bed, only for Lyon to place his paw on her arm, a soft bark escaping him.

"What's wrong?"

Sansa went to move again and Lyon repeated the same action, tilting his head to one side as if to say 'You really want to play this game?'

This was strange behaviour, even for Lyon.

The Queen bit her lip, considering the situation. Lyon appeared to be following orders, and the only person who could give him orders was Tyrion. If anything was wrong with her husband, the direwolf would likely sense it – she could at least assume Tyrion was ok. Glancing at the bed covers, she noticed Tyrion's lion blanket had been tucked around her. She wound her hand into the thick material, tracing one of the lions.

"Is Tyrion alright?" she asked the wolf, who continued to stare at her

Sansa reached out to pet him, and he endured it with barely concealed distaste – glancing at the door as if expecting Tyrion to rescue him.

Deciding to stay in the bed for now, Sansa turned her mind to where her husband could have gone. Since his return from the Wolfswood they always went to bed and woke up together. Waking to find him gone sent her mind into a spiral of increasingly horrible possibilities.

She hadn't missed the loss in his eyes when they spoke of Casterly Rock yesterday. Tyrion had tried to hide it, but Sansa could see through him. Was that where he'd gone - to accept Bran's offer and leave her? Sansa's throat constricted until she could hardly breathe.

No. That couldn't be possible.

Tyrion wanted to stay; they'd renewed their vows.

A chill wrapped around Sansa as her nightmare flashed before her eyes. It had been a pleasant dream until things started to go wrong. The little Tyrion's tears as she took him away from his home to a strange place; those creatures snatching him from her arms – it may have been a dream but the grains of truth it contained couldn't be denied. When she woke from the nightmare Sansa had given into the thought that had plagued her all afternoon. She had to see the brand; it was the only way she could think of that would anchor the horror of the Wolfswood to reality. As real as it had seemed when she was trapped in the past, Sansa found her mind already starting to file it away as a vivid nightmare. That couldn't be allowed to happen – it was real and she could never forget that.

Fortunately Tyrion had fallen asleep with his back to her and hadn't stirred as she eased his shirt down to see the evidence.

There it was; burnt into his shoulder.

The moonlight had allowed her to see the shape that was permanently etched into him, and Sansa had traced it with as much pressure as she dared. It was fortunate Tyrion had slept soundly; explaining what she was doing would have been incredibly awkward and she was terrified of making him uncomfortable around her. The fact he willingly kissed and held her was already far more than she deserved.

'He's going to leave you' whispered Ramsay's voice 'I'd have never left you'

Sansa screwed her eyes shut, breathing in the scent of the blanket that reminded her of Tyrion. He wouldn't leave – this was his home.

'Lions don't belong in the North' warned Cersei

"Enough" mumbled Sansa, willing the voices to leave her be

Lyon huffed, nudging her with his paw as if to silence his prisoner.

Where was Tyrion? After making sure she had every curve and line of the brand committed to memory she'd whispered both an apology and promise to her sleeping husband. Normally Sansa wouldn't go near Tyrion in the bed unless he came to her first or willingly accepted her presence, but she couldn't bear to part from him after her nightmare and had tentatively cuddled against his back with her arm over him.

Sansa's stomach twisted violently; had she made him uncomfortable? The Queen tried to sit up once more and Lyon jumped up with both paws landing on her in warning.

"I want Tyrion" she said, swallowing thickly "I need to know if he's ok"

Her jailer was immovable however, glaring at her with green eyes that reminded her too much of her husband.

"I can't believe how long it took you to decide" said Arya, glancing sideways at him as they made their way through Winterfell

"It was a difficult decision" defended Tyrion

"You're happy with this?"

"As satisfied as I'm going to be"

Tyrion carefully adjusted the plate balanced precariously in his good hand. It was fortunate Arya had come across him really – he would have never been able to carry all this food himself. Sansa had been sound asleep when he woke up and Tyrion had dressed quickly with the plan of bringing Sansa a hearty breakfast. Of course, the servants brought them breakfast every morning, but he'd wanted to surprise his wife by doing it himself. Aside from that she'd eaten very little yesterday and food was important - as she was fond of reminding him. Upon arriving in the kitchens he'd faced the dilemma of what Sansa would enjoy the most; a problem that had consumed him for a solid twenty minutes before Arya had arrived and sped up the process.

Arya was carrying several plates with an inhuman grace as they climbed the stairs. He'd gone to take a plate in each hand and his left had cramped so badly he'd ended up only carrying one.

Tyrion slowed down as they approached the door, glancing uncertainly at his plate of food "Do you think Sansa will like this? Maybe I should bring something else too"

"Don't even think of turning around Tyrion" warned Arya, stepping behind him to block his path "breakfast is supposed to be eaten in the mornings and if you go back to the kitchens now, we'll be choosing lunch instead of breakfast"

"Fine" he relented, turning to the door

He eased the door open in case his wife was still asleep and the sight that met him was rather unexpected.

Tyrion had left Lyon in charge while he went to the kitchen, with orders to keep Sansa there until he returned. He'd been gone far longer than expected, and his direwolf had taken his mission more seriously than he'd imagined.

The golden wolf was sat on top of Sansa, staring down at her as the Queen conversed with him.

"...all I'm saying is a schedule will help. You get the mornings, I get afternoons and we can share evenings. Nights will be mine, but you can join us occasionally"

Sansa was quite oblivious to him and Arya stood in the doorway as she appeared to be making some kind of plan with Lyon. The wolf looked less than impressed, his ears flattening as if insulted.

"We need to share" insisted Sansa "this arrangement could give us both what we need"

Tyrion was well and truly confused when a laugh broke from Arya beside him. The girl's eyes shone brightly with amusement as the sound drew Sansa's attention.

"Tyrion!" called Sansa, relief flooding her face at the sight of him

"Hello Sansa" he answered, shooting her a smile

"Oh Gods Sansa, please tell me you weren't doing what I think you were" wheezed Arya, struggling to contain her mirth

Her sister's face flushed a bright red as she turned her gaze to Arya "This was your idea!"

"What idea?" asked Tyrion, looking between the sisters

"I suggested Sansa negotiate a custody arrangement with Lyon" snorted Arya

Tyrion's brow furrowed "Custody of what?"

"You"

Arya looked thoroughly amused as she carried her plates to the table and set up for breakfast, while Sansa's face had turned almost as red as her hair. Lyon was still pinning her to the bed, and Tyrion quickly deposited his own plate before heading towards his wife.

"Were you negotiating for me dear?" he teased, standing at her side of the bed

The Queen groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Turning his attention to Lyon, he wound his fingers into his friend's fur "Good work Lyon. The debt will be paid as agreed. Nessa is waiting downstairs to take you out to hunt"

The wolf claimed an ear rub from him, before leaping off Sansa and sauntering out of the room. The Queen was still refusing to show her face, and Tyrion leaned on the bed so his head was next to her ear.

"You needn't negotiate for me wife" he whispered "I am yours after all"

One of Sansa's blue eyes peaked out from between her fingers, mumbling "I would have won that negotiation"

"Of course" he agreed, nodding his head "Do I get to see the rest of your face now?"

Sansa finally pulled her hands from his face and to Tyrion it appeared she'd been crying at some point.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking hold of her hand as she sat up

"I'm fine" she said, offering him a smile "Are you going to explain why I fell asleep with a lion and woke up with a wolf?"

"You were asleep when I got up and I thought you'd like a nice breakfast"

"That doesn't explain why Lyon was holding me hostage"

"I didn't want you to worry so I left Lyon as guard. You were worried though, weren't you?"

Sansa bit her lip, looking somewhat embarrassed "I was afraid you'd left me"

"Never" he said, kissing her hand "This is home"

"Always" she said quickly, brushing her hand through his hair "I'm being silly my love. I had a nightmare and it's lingering, that's all"

Tyrion nodded "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you. It was just a dream"

He didn't really believe that, but if Sansa didn't want to talk about it he wouldn't push her. Tyrion understood better than most the horrors your mind could inflict on you.

"If you're sure" he said, squeezing her hand "Ready for breakfast?"

"Sounds lovely" she agreed, shooting him a smile as he handed her the robe she used in mornings

The Queen stood, tying it around her slender figure, before sweeping down to kiss him. Tyrion eagerly met her lips with his own; returning the sign of affection.

"I rather missed waking up with you" she said, pulling away

"There's always tomorrow" he replied, losing himself in her blue eyes that held such warmth for him. Sansa appeared equally absorbed, staring at him as if he were some precious thing and not a little monster

"Are you two going to eat, or stare at each other all morning?" called Arya. The younger Stark sat ready at the table, lazily twirling a fork through her fingers.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, taking his wife's hand "I hope you don't mind, I picked up a stray on my travels"

"If I hadn't found him, he'd still be stood in the kitchens debating what you'd prefer for breakfast" shot back Arya, as they took their seats opposite her

Sansa's eyes widened as she took in the wide spread of dishes including bread, bacon and sausage.

"Are we having a feast?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him

Heat crept into Tyrion's face as he rubbed the back of his neck "You had a hard day yesterday, and didn't eat much…"

His wife's eyes brightened, a gentle smile playing over her face "This is very sweet, my love"

Much to Arya's delight they finally ate breakfast, trading idle conversation between them as they enjoyed the meal. Tyrion found himself observing his wife as they ate. She was doing her best to project a Queenly face, but it was obvious enough yesterday's experience had left her rattled. As amusing as her conversation with Lyon had been, it had certainly shone a light on her own insecurities. Sansa worked hard to make sure he didn't doubt her feelings towards her, and Tyrion had no intention of allowing her to doubt his. Tonight's surprise would hopefully go some way to prove his commitment to her.

It was at the end of the meal when Arya finally broached the subject of yesterday.

"Are you feeling better today Sansa?"

"Yes, thank you"

Arya nodded "Surprising - because you look awful"

The Queen narrowed her eyes "Excuse me?"

"You better not be thinking about leaving this room today"

"I have duties Arya"

Tyrion sighed. When Arya had come across him in the kitchens she hadn't been in a particularly good mood. She'd spared few words for it but Bran was clearly the source of irritation and Tyrion could only assume her talk with him hadn't gone well. However annoyed she was with her brother, she'd been nothing but concerned about Sansa - particularly after seeing her in such distress yesterday. Tyrion more than agreed with Arya's concerns; they both knew Sansa was going to pretend to be fine. Unable to leave his sister on her own, he'd asked Arya to join them for breakfast. A moody Arya stalking around the castle alone was hardly going to end well. They were both in agreement that Sansa should take the day off, but for reasons unknown Tyrion had decided to let Arya talk to Sansa about it - a decision he already regretted.

"So you're totally fine after watching your husband being brutalised by your former friends?"

"Of course I'm not" said Sansa, her voice dropping dangerously low "and they will die for every insult, every injury and every indignity they inflicted on him"

Heat ignited in Tyrion's chest at the protectiveness in his wife's voice. He didn't think he'd ever quite get used to being loved as Sansa loved him - unconditionally and without shame. Tyrion reached out, covering her hand with his own.

"What Arya's trying to say is; we're worried about you"

Sansa's face softened "You don't need to worry about me, I'm fine"

"I do believe worrying for your welfare is one of the many privileges of being your husband" he said, gazing into her blue eyes "You've been working non-stop and I've been told by a very trusted source that's not healthy behaviour. Please, won't you take the day off?"

"Tyrion, I'd like to but I'm supposed to hold court today. There's a back log of people who need to see me"

"Don't think about duty" he said "do you feel up to it? If you held court today, would you be giving it your full attention?"

Sansa held his gaze for a moment longer before her shoulders slumped in defeat "You're right. A distracted Queen serves no-one well. There are merchants waiting who've travelled to see me and I don't want to disappoint them"

Tyrion pressed his mouth together, considering the options. It wasn't something he wanted to do at all, but Sansa desperately needed a break. At the very least he should offer.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he ventured "You need to rest and if there's any way to make that choice easier for you…"

Sansa's blue eyes brightened as she turned her hand over to grasp his "You're right, I do need some time. Would you, maybe, cover my court session?"

Tyrion's mouth went dry, but he forced a smile "Of course. I am yours to command, my Queen. Though I'm not entirely sure how happy your petitioners will be seeing me rather than you"

"You're the lord of Winterfell and you'll be acting with my authority" said Sansa, squeezing his hand "Whatever decisions you make will have my full backing"

A knot of tension coiled in Tyrion's stomach. He'd once enjoyed the power of ruling; of showing his mind was as sharp as any sword. Now the thought of being in such a position terrified him, particularly since Sansa was placing such trust in him. His own authority as lord of Winterfell was daunting enough.

He swallowed thickly "We have an agreement then. You will take the day to recuperate and I will do my upmost to cover your duties for the day"

"Deal" said Sansa, leaning forwards to seal it with a kiss.

Tyrion savoured the kiss, forcing his mind to focus on the trust Sansa was placing in him and not the ghosts of his past failures.

The Queen pulled back, offering him a warm smile "You'll do great sweetheart - believe in yourself"

"Hold it right there" called Arya, drawing both their attention to their forgotten breakfast guest. She had her arms crossed; glaring at her older sister "I just spent five minutes trying to convince you to take a day to rest and all I got was frostbite. Some sweet words and pouting from Tyrion and suddenly you're all for it?"

Sansa shrugged "Saying no to you is easy, you have a complete lack of charm - unlike my husband"

"I can teach you if you wish little sister" said Tyrion, shooting her a grin across the table

"I'll stick to my approach, thank you very much" said Arya "Unlike you big brother I can't pout at Sansa and melt her icy walls"

"I do not pout"

"You're doing it right now"

"No, I'm not!" he insisted, turning to Sansa for support

A soft laugh fell from her as she brushed her hand through his hair "Don't worry my love - I find it very endearing"

The sound of Sansa's laugh filled Tyrion with lightness as he leaned into her touch "Arya doesn't appreciate my many charms"

"I must be immune to you" said Arya, rolling her eyes

"I'll wear you down" he promised, eyes sparking with mischief "I have an infinite capacity for that"

Ser Davos sighed, rubbing his beard as the King laced his fingers in his lap - a thoughtful frown tugging at his mouth.

"Apologies your Grace" said the old Knight "I shouldn't have let Bronn wander off in another kingdom"

"You couldn't have stopped him"

"Aye, I aint much of a fighter" agreed Ser Davos "Thought he'd be back this morning mind"

Bran's mouth twitched in amusement "Did you?"

"He's master of coin - got a duty to you"

"I hardly inspire devotion" said the young King "I fear I've rather neglected the six kingdoms since coming North"

The older man sat back in his chair, enjoying the warmth of the hearth in the Kings chambers. Working from the North was even more difficult than in Kings Landing. Samwell wasn't here to offer his knowledge and Bran had spared little interest for the affairs of Westeros since arriving here.

Nonetheless he smiled at Bran "I wouldn't trouble yourself your Grace. I've heard reports the six Kingdoms are still standing"

"No thanks to my efforts" said Bran, shifting in his wheelchair "Our time in the North is coming to an end Ser Davos. We will leave in four days' time"

"As you say. What of Ser Bronn?"

"He'll be back by then"

Bran didn't volunteer how he knew and Ser Davos didn't ask - he'd found things were simpler that way.

"There's no rush, your Grace. You don't get to see your family much. If you'd rather we stay longer I don't think Samwell will destroy Kings Landing"

The boy smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes "Thank you - but my sisters will be eager to see me gone"

Sympathy wound through Ser Davos. It was easy to forget how young Bran was and how much time he spent on his own. As much as he wanted to reassure the young man, Davos suspected he was right. Their time at Winterfell had been somewhat fraught, with both the Stark sisters growing more annoyed with Bran.

"I'm not sure that's entirely true. Arya was certainly annoyed yesterday, but I doubt she'll hold onto it"

A humourless laugh fell from Bran "You'd be surprised how well Ayra holds onto things. We have a few days left and there are some family matters I need to deal with before we leave. I trust you will make the arrangements to leave and continue to cover the absent Kings duties"

"Certainly, your Grace" said Ser Davos, inclining his head

"Good. The Godswood drained my strength yesterday and I will need to recover it for what comes next"

Unease crept down the onion knight's spine "What does come next?"

"The end of our visit to Winterfell" said Bran, his eyes growing distant "I wish to spend some time with Tyrion before we leave. My new brother seems to have been avoiding me"

"I'd say he's been avoiding all of us"

The corner of Bran's mouth twitched upwards "Perhaps I should reassure him Bronn won't kidnap him from his bed"

Ser Davos sighed "Aye, Ser Bronn was rather insistent on doing so. He refuses to believe lord Tyrion could possibly be happy here"

"Happier than he would have been as my hand" said Bran "I fear your duty to me is a heavy burden Ser Davos"

"It's a great honour my King" said Ser Davos "though small council meetings are enough to send me North of the wall"

The three-eyed raven smiled before turning his attention to the flames dancing in the hearth. Over the months of serving him Ser Davos had come to see the different sides of Bran. His mood often shifted from distant and all-knowing to lonely and uncertain. Ser Davos did his best to serve him and offer his ear; he'd hoped coming to Winterfell might brighten his mood but it had only darkened it - as if Bran was preparing for something unpleasant.

The onion knight slumped in his chair, a familiar headache starting. He didn't envy Bran at all. Over the years Ser Davos had learned knowing too much could often be more dangerous than ignorance.