Chapter 32
It occurred to Arya that perhaps she should start knocking.
On the other hand, she hadn't expected to barge into Sansa's chambers this morning to find her and Tyrion naked in bed. Both had clearly been asleep when the sound of the door woke them. She couldn't see much of her sister as Tyrion was lying on top of her – but it was very obvious what they'd been doing.
"Arya!" shrieked Sansa, wrapping her arms tightly around Tyrion as if to shield her modesty
The lord of Winterfell was somewhat slower on the uptake, sleepily lifting his head "Arya's here?"
"Yes" said Sansa "Stay still"
Arya remained rooted to the spot as Sansa tried to hide herself beneath Tyrion. The furs and blankets covered most of them but Arya could clearly see Tyrion's bare back – the brand glaring angrily at her across the room. She swallowed thickly at the sight. Since Tyrion had healed enough to wear proper clothes Arya hadn't seen his back, and even before that she'd taken care to not let Tyrion catch her staring. The old scars across his back and the brand on his shoulder were in perfect view now and the sight stirred her stomach. Revenge would come sooner or later.
"Why are you here?" asked Sansa, poking her head over Tyrion's shoulder
Arya blinked, remembering why she came "Oh, I came for Tyrion"
"I'm rather occupied" he said, yawning "Your sister is using me as a blanket"
"You shouldn't just barge in here" snapped Sansa
"Oh, and why's that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Finding Tyrion and Sansa in such a position was quite the surprise. Arya knew they'd gotten closer, but she hadn't realised quite how far they'd come. As pleased as she was for them, Arya had no intention of letting Sansa out of this easily. Years on from their childhood and causing her older sister to squirm was still a great source of amusement.
Arya made her way around the side of the bed as Sansa yelped and buried herself under Tyrion. Her husband took pity on her, reaching back and tugging the blankets further around them.
"So why shouldn't I barge in here?" she asked
Tyrion's mouth twitched up as he laid against Sansa, though the Queen's face reddened.
"We could be dealing with important business" she said
"Oh? Like what?"
"Matters of state"
Tyrion's eyes flicked fondly to his wife's increasingly red face as Sansa cuddled him against like her favourite toy.
"These matters of state require you to be undressed?" probed Arya as Tyrion rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going, but was wise enough to leave them to it.
Despite how brightly her face was burning Sansa still managed to construct a Queenly face. She locked her eyes on Arya with as much seriousness as she could.
"Yes. It was vitally important"
"So what was so important?"
Arya's mouth turned upwards as her sister squirmed for the answer. Sansa had always been a proper lady; discussing such matters had her stuttering like a maiden. She fully expected Sansa to turn to Tyrion for help, but to her surprise the Queen held her head with as much dignity as she could.
"The lord of Winterfell had pressing business that needed handling"
Tyrion spluttered in shock, his eyes finding Sansa who was trying hard to keep a regal face.
"Gods Sansa, is that your idea of a euphemism?" said Arya, a laugh slipping from her
"I don't know what you're talking about" said Sansa, kissing her husband's head "We've been hard at work"
"You might as well just tell her we were fucking" said Tyrion, shaking his head in resignation "I've much to teach you wife"
"I'm eager to learn" said Sansa softly
The two met each other's gaze, a tender smile crossing their faces as they lost themselves in each other. To Arya it was both heart-warming and awkward – she'd honestly never expected to find them like this. Part of her wanted to leave them in peace, but she'd come here for a reason and Arya hated a wasted journey.
Reaching across she flicked the side of Tyrion's head.
"Ow" he complained, lying his head back on Sansa as she brushed her fingers through his hair "That's not very nice little sister"
"I need your attention"
"I suppose you can have it" he said, his mouth twitching upwards "though I do believe Sansa is challenging you for it"
"Thanks for the book you left"
"You like it?"
"It's interesting. Jamie knew a lot of great Knights"
"He did" agreed Tyrion "I thought you might get some use out of it. New ways to kill people and such"
"Always good to know" said Arya "I've decided not to kill you for entering my room"
"I couldn't bribe anyone else to do it" said Tyrion, nuzzling contentedly into Sansa as she played with his hair "I was rather worried you had traps set in there. It was quite the stressful venture"
"Is there anything else we can do for you?" asked Sansa, narrowing her eyes at Arya
A grin spread across Arya's face "In a hurry big sister?"
"Well there's breakfast to be eaten, council meetings to attend and a Kingdom to run"
"I'm not stopping you" said Arya as Sansa's face tightened
"I'll handle this" said Tyrion, turning his head up to kiss his wife's jaw "Lyon chase!"
When nothing happened all their heads turned to Lyon's corner. The little wolf was lying on his side, a sad whimper coming from him. He looked as though he had neither the energy nor will to answer his master's call.
"Gods, what did you do to Lyon?" asked Arya
Tyrion sighed "I told him all that meat was no good for him"
"You mean that huge lump of meat I saw Nessa with yesterday?"
"Yes. I owed him a debt and he requested a piece of meat as big as him – I don't know how he managed to eat all of it"
Between the comatose wolf in the corner and Sansa and Tyrion's bed situation, Arya decided she'd started the day with as much strangeness as she could handle.
As Sansa took her seat with her council the familiar weight of responsibility dropped onto her once more. Taking a day off yesterday had been a great relief and Tyrion had implored her to take as much time as she needed, but she couldn't neglect her duty. What she'd seen in the past would haunt her for many nights to come, but it was the past - the present and future needed her attention.
"How are you, your Grace?" enquired lord Cerwyn
"Much better, thank you" she said, smiling at the young man.
The meeting was comprised of herself, Tyrion, Arya, Maester Wolkan and Alec as well as lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn. The older woman smiled in greeting - she was the only one who knew what action she would propose today. Sansa had intended to tell Tyrion last night but he'd swept her away for a romantic night and talking about work hadn't seemed right.
"I'd like to thank you all for your continued support, particularly yesterday when I was unavailable" she started "I think it would be best to start with anything I missed yesterday. Lord Tyrion, is there anything to report from the court sessions?"
Her husband and Wolkan shared a nervous look that made her stomach twist "Most of the issues were common place, but there were a lot of merchants who'd been experiencing the same problem"
"What problem was that?" she asked
Tyrion glanced at her apologetically "It appears many of the goods the merchants ship through White Harbour are not being sent onto the merchants"
"There have been no reports of issues at White Harbour" she said "Do the merchants have any idea why?"
Her husband wouldn't meet her gaze "No, your Grace. There's been no change in their agreements with White Harbour or issues with payment. The issue appears to have mostly affected the villages near Winterfell"
It took a moment for Sansa to process what Tyrion was saying, but when she did a fire ignited in her gut, burning hotly through her veins "This is deliberate"
Tyrion nodded "That's what we believe"
Cley leaned forward in his chair "There have been a few instances of the same happening to my merchants. Not enough to raise concern, but knowing what's happened here…"
"Torrhens Square has had a few reports as well. As lord Cerwyn said, not quite enough to appear suspicious but enough to trouble the small folk" added lady Tallhart, her mouth curving with displeasure
"This won't go unpunished" said Sansa, to a chorus of nods. Arya smirked at her, grey eyes darting to Tyrion and back again. Of course - her sister had been at the court session wearing a different face. None of this was news to her, but she was going along with it anyway. However Tyrion had handled it had clearly amused Arya.
"What did you tell the merchants?" asked Sansa, returning her gaze to Tyrion who was fiddling with his sleeves
"I asked Maester Wolkan to take an inventory from each of the merchants of the goods delayed or not received. I told them the loss of profit would be paid back double to them and charged to lord Manderly. If it continued he would be charged triple" said Tyrion, dropping his head when he finished - as if worried he'd overstepped his bounds
Sansa would never understand why Tyrion doubted himself as lord. His ruling on the issue was both fair and a deterrent to lord Manderly. She'd given Tyrion the authority to rule in her stead and he'd clearly done so with as much ease as she'd imagined. The only problem was his self-confidence.
"Good" said Sansa "I won't allow this to continue. Lord Tyrion's ruling will stand for any merchant across the North. I will write to lord Manderly and demand answers as well. Maester, do you have the lists?"
"Yes, your Grace" he said, sliding a pile of papers towards her "These are the missing items from the local merchants. If you intend to expand the ruling across the North, I can write to the other Maesters across the North and ask them to provide similar evidence"
Sansa nodded "I shall leave that to you Maester. Any other issues?"
Tyrion visibly relaxed at her acceptance of his decision as the talk moved on to some of the minor issues that had come up. Sansa found herself relaxing more too. She'd taken a day off but everything had still been done. Maester Wolkan had handled any correspondence, Alec had continued to co-ordinate the hunt for Robin and Gawan and received word from lord Mazin that they'd met the wildlings fleeing south and were on their way to Ramsgate. Lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn had entertained Bran's royal party at dinner in her absence.
The biggest help had been Tyrion, of course. He'd done his own duty as lord and completed hers too - listening to petitioners, making decisions and simply leading. Tyrion may not like the power that came with his position, but he was well suited for it.
Alec had just finished reporting on the wildling movement when Arya spoke up.
"Tyrion, I heard you cut someone's fingers off yesterday?"
Sansa's head whipped to Arya and then to her husband, who was rapidly sinking into his seat. Arya was feigning ignorance but she'd been there - she'd seen. Tyrion hadn't mentioned punishing anyone, but Arya bringing it up as an innocent question was going to force his hand. Her stomach churned at the question, worry washing through her.
"You heard?"
"I hear everything brother" said Arya "Who was it?"
"A butcher from the village" said Tyrion, squirming in his seat
"Was he rude to you?" blurted Sansa
Annoyance flickered in Tyrion's eyes "Do I look like my father?"
Sansa clamped her mouth shut. Of course not; Tyrion wouldn't punish someone for an insult.
"The butcher falsely accused a boy of stealing" said Cley, breaking the odd tension between them
Tyrion's green eyes bore into her "He accused a boy of stealing when he was the real thief. The man would have let me mutilate the boy if Lyon hadn't realised something was wrong. The boy's father died and the butcher refused to pay what was owed to his family, so the lad took it himself. I took three fingers from the butcher"
"Serves him right" said lady Tallhart, her nose wrinkling "Poor boy"
"Lord Tyrion carried the sentence himself" added Cley, a hint of admiration in his eyes
Shame crept through Sansa for her rash words "A just sentence, my lord"
Tyrion nodded, the annoyance fading from him as quickly as it came. The butcher had more than deserved it, though she was surprised Tyrion had done it himself. As sweet and kind as her husband was, he was no stranger to battle and blood - why should she be surprised he performed the duty as any Northern lord would?
She smiled across at him, hoping to convey an apology. Sansa hadn't meant to offend him, but she could see how her words would sound to him. Her assumption that he would resort to such measures lightly had clearly struck a nerve. To her relief, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. She'd speak to him about it later - for now there was another matter to deal with.
Straightening in her seat, Sansa set forth what would happen next "As you're all aware the hunt for Robin and Gawan has continued without result. I spoke with lady Tallhart yesterday and I believe it's time we changed our approach"
Alec leaned forwards in his chair "What will we do, your Grace?"
"They're hiding in the North somewhere, and I refuse to believe no-one knows where they are. Gawan is the heir to Deepwood Motte but Robin is lord of his house. I will send a force to Widows Watch and reclaim it in the crown's name. Any of Robin's men found there will be taken prisoner"
"Your Grace, Widow's Watch has been checked several times - they aren't hiding there" said Cley
"You're hoping to smoke them out of hiding" said Arya, nodding in approval "it might work. Losing his ancestral home won't look good for a would be King"
"That isn't my plan" said Sansa, a smile creeping over her face "There are too many empty seats further North - doubtless they're hiding in one of them or moving between them. I intend to install a garrison at each until suitable lords can be found to rule the lands. We've had guards searching them for weeks but I believe they need to be permanently manned"
"A decisive action, your Grace" said Alec "Though I fear there aren't enough Winterfell guards to man such an operation and protect Winterfell"
"I've already pledged my men to this course of action" said lady Tallhart
"As will I" said Cley, inclining his head "my men are yours"
Tyrion drummed his fingers on the edge of the table "It's quite likely such action force them into the open. Though it is a bold move, my Queen; to Robin and Gawan's supporters it will be seen as an act of war - not to mention lord Glover"
Her husband was right and it was precisely why she'd avoided such action until now. Such open action against the heir to one house and lord of another was a risky strategy - particularly with lord Glover and lord Manderly remaining impassive. For too long she'd tiptoed around the issue, keen to keep the peace in the North. Seeing the Wolfswood herself had shattered whatever restraint she had. The monsters that hurt Tyrion would not be free any longer.
Sansa locked her eyes on her husband's uncertain face "If there is war, let there be war"
"We'll be on our way soon" said Ser Davos, rubbing his hands together for warmth "Do you reckon Bran will be sad to go?"
"It's hard to tell with Bran" said Brienne, watching Pod train with the guards below. She stood with the older Knight on a covered bridge that overlooked the training yard; the Northern breeze both cold and welcoming.
It had taken time but Pod had grown into a very capable fighter. He was loyal to a fault and served those in need – the very basis of a good Knight. She'd respected Bran's decision in turning him down for the Kingsguard but she hadn't understood it.
"Have you enjoyed your time North Ser Brienne?" he asked
"It's nice to see Arya and Sansa again"
"Aye. Shame we couldn't see Jon, but I'm not sure I'd last beyond the wall. It's bloody cold enough here"
"What about you Ser Davos? We've only a few days left up here. I can't see Bran wanting to return for a while"
"I'd say it's been a nice break, but all I've done is work"
Brienne's gut twisted in guilt "I fear I haven't done much to help on that count"
"Don't worry. At least I haven't lost you. Gods know where Bronn is" said Ser Davos, shaking his head
"Bran seems certain he'll return"
"If the King isn't concerned I should probably relax"
Brienne returned her attention to the training going on below. Podrick was Bran's sworn shield but the King seemed to have less and less use for him. Pod wasn't one to complain, but he had asked her the other night if he'd done anything to displease the King. She understood her former squire's frustration – there was nothing obvious behind the shift in Bran's attitude. If anything he'd grown increasingly morbid; as if preparing for a loss or end to something.
"At least Ser Podrick's enjoyed the trip" said Ser Davos, leaning on the railing
"He's quite fond of lord Tyrion. Seeing him again after hearing what happened has certainly cheered him up"
"Aye. Lord Tyrion isn't like he used to be that's for sure"
"Neither's Sansa" said Brienne, her hand resting on Oathkeeper "I was worried when I left her service to serve Bran. She'd suffered horrendously and there was such coldness around her..."
"You don't need to remind me. It took her a long while to warm up knowing I once served Stannis" said Ser Davos
"We all served different Kings and Queens" said Brienne "Renly, Stannis, Daenerys"
"We all believed in them too" said Ser Davos, bitterness colouring his tone "Until they showed us what they really were"
Brienne nodded. She'd heard about Stannis burning his own daughter – and how close Davos had been with her.
"I'm happy for Sansa. She got her home back and seems very happy with Tyrion" she said "I worried she'd be alone when Pod and I left"
"She seems happy" agreed Davos "So does Tyrion. I didn't hold out much hope when he was sentenced in Kings Landing – he was a broken man"
"Yes, they've certainly been good for each other"
"Bran's taking the afternoon off to do something with Tyrion in the Godswood" said Davos, raising his eyebrows
Brienne sighed, gripping the railing "Gods, I hope this goes better than it did with Sansa"
"So do I. Arya was near murderous the first time"
"He can't mean to show lord Tyrion something – wouldn't he need to be a Northerner?"
Ser Davos shrugged "Bran said he tried it with me and it didn't work"
"Did you even know what he was doing?" asked Brienne, her brow furrowing
"Nope. Not a clue" he said, stepping away from the railing "But when your King orders ya to sit nice and quiet in the Godswood for a few hours you don't say no"
"What did you think he was doing?" she asked, casting a final glance at Pod before following the Kings Hand back into the warmth of Winterfell
"I've learned its better not to ask"
"You didn't find anything odd about his request?"
Ser Davos shrugged "I thought he was giving me a well-earned break"
Tyrion was barely aware of what he was putting in his mouth as he consumed lunch. Memories of last night swirled through his mind and putting them in any semblance of an order was proving problematic.
His surprise had gone far better than he could have hoped. All of yesterday he'd worried Sansa might not like his surprise or reject his gift, but the smile on his wife's face when he removed the blindfold had quickly slayed his fears. Glancing across at Sansa eating beside him, he was pleased to see the necklace hanging proudly around her slender neck.
At dinner they'd talked and laughed so openly Tyrion feared it may have all been a dream. Returning to Winterfell they'd continued their affections until his enthusiasm had become noticeable. A flicker of embarrassment went through him at the memory of Sansa noticing his cock had stirred to life like a green boy.
Honestly he was fortunate she hadn't noticed sooner. Their kissing and growing closeness the past few weeks had reawakened a long absent desire in his lower region which Tyrion hadn't been ready to take further. Unfortunately it had gotten increasingly difficult to ignore. A hand through his hair, a gentle smile and Sansa's lips on his for even a moment – the slightest affection from his wife had his cock stirring in his breeches.
However willing his body was, part of him had still been reluctant to go further. His reluctance had nothing to do with Sansa's bedding of him and everything to do with his own nerves. It was irrational and somewhat ridiculous but he'd feared bedding Sansa. His every experience of sex had been paid for, knowingly or not. For so many years he'd confused sex with love.
'I'd like to know what making love really is'
Sweet Sansa. Given his reputation it was only natural for her to assume he knew what it was. In reality he knew no more than she did. Yes, he knew many things about fucking. Making love was an entirely different story. In the end he'd given into his body's urges. It wasn't fair that his insecurities come between him and his wife.
Seeing how unsure Sansa was as they progressed had given him some confidence at least - he knew how to please a woman and it was increasingly obvious Sansa had never experienced any pleasure in bed.
Tyrion was so lost in his thoughts he missed the tell-tale signs of cramping in his hand until a spasm went through it and his fork clattered to the ground.
He winced, searching the floor for his fork as his hand throbbed. Almost immediately soft hands enclosed his damaged one, drawing his attention to Sansa's concerned blue eyes.
"Are you alright sweetheart?" she asked, gently massaging his hand with her fingers
"I'm fine" he said, a blush colouring his cheeks at her ministrations
Sansa didn't stop, her warm hands soothing the ache as she rubbed it "You don't seem to get cramp as often"
"No, but it's rather embarrassing when I do"
"You've no need to be embarrassed my love. It's only been seven weeks since you were hurt" said Sansa, her blue eyes growing distant as she examined his hand
Tyrion swallowed thickly. Sansa knew exactly what had happened to his hand now - how he'd acquired so many injuries. She'd seen his complete and utter humiliation at the hands of Robin and Gawan. Yet somehow she still loved him. No disgust or blame - only fury on his behalf and a tenderness she gave only to him.
"I love you" he said, his heart filling with warmth for his sweet wife.
"And I love you" she replied, her own mouth curving into a smile as she continued massaging his hand
What he'd shared with Sansa last night had far exceeded any false notion of love he'd found in the arms of whores. Now he understood what it meant to make love - to trust someone completely. Despite the horror Sansa had endured with Ramsay she'd been brave enough to push through her fears, trusting him to take care of her. Even as she'd removed her shift, he'd seen a tiny slither of doubt in her eyes - most likely because of the scars. The Bolton bastard had left several scars around Sansa's legs and more across her back and hips. Some were small and faded, others had clearly cut deeper.
Tyrion hated that anyone had hurt Sansa. He'd gladly bring Ramsay back to life just to kill him himself. His wife needn't fear any rejection from him however - she was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen and her scars were only proof of her victory against those who'd hurt her. If nothing else, seeing Sansa so vulnerable before him had confirmed his own theories; that she didn't truly understand bedding and how it was supposed to be. The biggest reason he'd been able to forgive Sansa for taking him in the bed was because he suspected she knew no better. To her the marriage bed was a power struggle, where there was a victim and a victor.
It meant the world that she trusted him enough to show her differently. That it wasn't about power and control; that it could bring her pleasure rather than pain. Tyrion regretted nothing about last night, though there was one action that left him conflicted. It had played on his mind all day and he knew Sansa had noticed his distance, her blue eyes watching him with worry.
"What are you thinking about my love?"
The gentle voice drew his attention to Sansa - and his hand clasped between hers.
"Oh, sorry" he said sheepishly, moving to withdraw his hand "It's better now, thank you"
The Queen raised an eyebrow, tightening her grip "I never said you could have it back. You've been staring at the table for so long I've decided to keep your hand"
"Oh, have you?"
"Yes" she said, lifting the appendage and kissing the palm of it "All mine now"
Tyrion laughed as she returned his hand to the table, firmly clasped in her own.
"What's distracting you so?" she asked again "Is it what I said earlier?"
"What you said?"
"In the meeting" she reminded him "I'm sorry Tyrion - I never meant it at all like it sounded. I know you'd never punish someone for an insult; I was just worried someone had threatened you"
"Oh" he said, recalling her words and his prickly response "its fine Sansa. I just…don't want to be like my family"
"You never could be"
If there was one thing Tyrion was certain of, it was his desire to not become his father. The idea he would maim a man for insulting him had struck a raw nerve. No matter what he wouldn't become his family.
"Are you sure you're ok?" she asked, her blue eyes swimming with concern "You can tell me anything"
Tyrion wavered in the face of Sansa's concern. He knew he needed to talk to her but his thoughts were just too muddled. Perhaps when he got those thoughts in order he would be ready.
He forced a smile "I'm fine, just thinking"
"If you're sure" she conceded, squeezing his hand "No-one's upset you?"
"No"
"Challenged your authority?"
"Certainly not"
"Questioned your status as a Northern lion?"
Tyrion couldn't help but laugh at Sansa's playful smile.
"Not that I'm aware of"
Sansa leaned in, her fingers stroking his cheek "If you're sure sweetheart. I'll happily sheep shift their beds for you"
A grin spread across Tyrion's face "Sansa Stark - who knew you were capable of such unladylike thoughts!"
"They'd never suspect it was me" she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper "We could do Bronn's bed first. It would serve him right for wandering off"
"A tempting idea"
"We could do Arya too - for walking in on us this morning"
"Gods no! Can you imagine what kind of revenge she'd take? We'd have to take turns sleeping and walk around the castle in pairs"
Sansa's blue eyes sparked with mischief as they conspired, and Tyrion's heart soared at the sight. He loved seeing Sansa smile and laugh. No matter how he tried to push his worries aside, that one decision from last night continued to eat at him however. In the moment spilling his seed in Sansa had seemed right - she wanted children. In the fresh light of morning his oldest guilt came back to him. Would bearing his child condemn Sansa to the same fate as his mother?
The sight of her tender smile and the feel of her delicate hand clutching his own - Tyrion knew he wouldn't survive losing Sansa.
"When the trial?"
Grey Worm watched the guard hand twitch at the question. He'd seen this man before – in the Wolfswood and then with Arya Stark. After so many weeks of watching he'd learnt to recognise the guards who brought him food and emptied the bucket for his business. This was the one he'd been waiting for; the one who was in charge.
"Finally found your voice?" he asked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword "You've not spoken to any of the guards since you arrived. Why now?"
Grey Worm shrugged "You captain. Other guards won't know when trial is"
The man nodded "The Queen hasn't decided yet"
He let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes landing on the chains around his wrists and ankles. The mother of dragons had freed him – and now he was a prisoner again. For weeks he'd tried to make sense of the accusations; how he could have possibly helped slavers. At first he was certain it was a trick, but with all the time he had there was little else to do but analyse what had happened, and it didn't look good.
"You catch slavers yet?" he asked
"That's not your concern"
That meant no. Grey Worm shifted on the bed to appraise the man. He had short, light brown hair and a beard - his face was twisted with disdain as he glared into the cell.
"You friends with Lannister" said Grey Worm "You asked in the forest if I cause injuries - I did not"
"No, you just tried to kill him"
"For Queen"
"Your Queen slaughtered a city and you killed men on their knees. Think you were any better than those you were killing?"
"This place is evil" snapped Grey Worm "Everything go wrong when we come here. Missandei died in chains. Not right - she was free woman"
The guards face didn't change, but sympathy shifted through his eyes for the briefest moment.
"Cersei was evil and deserved to die. Your Queen was no better in the end" he said
Grey Worm eyed the man "What of your Queen?"
"A good Queen - and just. Your trial will come" he said, turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.
Grey Worm listened until his steps faded down the corridor. He didn't quite know why he'd bothered asking the guard about the trial. He was guilty of trying to kill Tyrion and he would die for it.
He'd made his peace with that; it was his role in slavery that haunted him. It spat on every value he had - on everything Queen Daenerys had believed in. His eyes moved to his chained hands and then the missing fingers on his right hand. If not for the wolf, Tyrion would be dead - justice would have been found.
Grey Worm flexed the remaining fingers, gritting his teeth at the spikes of pain where his other fingers once were. Unsullied were supposed to feel no pain.
A knock on the door in the early afternoon was rarely cause for alarm, though Sansa was surprised to find Pod waiting outside.
"Ser Podrick" she greeted, stepping aside to let the young man enter
"Good afternoon, your Grace" he returned, bowing his head
Her husband lifted his head from the map they'd both been studying, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his former squire.
"Ah, Pod. What can we do for you?"
The Queen shut the door before resuming her seat at the table. Following lunch she and Tyrion had pulled out a map of the North to plan out which seats were the priority to reclaim and any smaller holdfasts that could be used by Robin and Gawan. Lady Tallhart and lord Cerwyn would return to their own seats tomorrow and the bulk of the plan needed to be finalised by then.
Turning her gaze to Pod, Sansa gestured to an empty seat "Would you like to join us?"
He smiled, shaking his head "Thank you, but I've come at King Bran's request"
Sansa's eyes narrowed. She had yet to see her younger brother after the Godswood "What does he want?"
"The King has requested lord Tyrion join him in the Godswood"
Sansa's blood turned to ice as her gaze snapped to Tyrion. The lord of Winterfell didn't seem at all surprised as he nodded.
"I wondered when he wanted me to meet him"
"You knew?" she asked
"I spoke to Bran yesterday and he said he wished to show me something in the Godswood" said Tyrion, glancing at Pod "I suppose it's time"
Sansa's heart crawled into her throat. After the horror Bran had shown her…surely he didn't intend to show Tyrion?
"Did he say what he was going to show you?" asked Sansa, reaching out to grasp her husband's arm
"No. He just asked me to meet him in the Godswood"
She turned her eyes to Pod, who had the decency to look sheepish "Do you know what Bran wants?"
"He said it was a gift for lord Tyrion's name day and I'm to bring him alone"
"Very well" agreed Tyrion easily, rising from his chair
Sansa tightened her grip on her husband, stilling his movement. Tyrion raised an eyebrow, but nodded at Pod. The young Knight's shoulders sagged with relief as he quickly made his way out of the room. The door clicking shut until only she and Tyrion remained.
"Are you alright?" he asked
"Tyrion…what Bran showed me was awful. You can't mean to go?"
A smile tugged at his mouth "I don't think Bran is going to show me anything. I have no Northern blood. When I spoke to him yesterday he said you only saw because you were Queen and the old Gods allowed it. They're hardly going to let a dwarf from the Westerlands see anything"
Sansa swallowed thickly. He'd agreed to go so easily because he didn't believe anything was going to happen. Sansa had doubted too until she found herself trapped in an unending nightmare. Bran hadn't been there to guide her and openly admitted to losing control.
"Bran's powers are strange" she warned "It could be dangerous"
"He's your brother"
"That didn't stop him from showing me what he did. I love Bran but he's not who he used to be. Please, don't go"
Tyrion covered her hand with his own, offering her a smile "Bran is certainly different but I don't believe he has malicious intentions towards any of us. He holds the world's memory - a great burden, but equally fascinating"
It was then Sansa knew she'd lost him. The curious gleam in his eyes wouldn't be satisfied until he saw whatever Bran planned to do. His cynicism had him believe he wouldn't see anything at all, but the chance to see Bran's powers himself was too good to pass up. Considering how unhelpful her brother had been, Tyrion did seem to have a soft spot for Bran. While the three-eyed raven's vague words and emotionless tone frustrated her and Arya to varying degrees, Tyrion merely accepted it - listening to whatever he said with mild curiosity.
"If you're sure" she conceded, biting her lip
"It'll be fine Sansa" said Tyrion, pressing a kiss to her forehead "I'll see you later"
As Tyrion moved to the door a bark sounded, and Lyon waddled forwards to join him. After his large meal last night the little wolf had spent most of the day sleeping it off.
"You're coming too?" he asked
Lyon barked again, padding over to his side.
"Very well" said Tyrion "The walk certainly won't hurt you after last night, though Bran might want you to wait outside the Godswood"
Tyrion shot her a reassuring smile before him and Lyon left. It had taken everything in Sansa to not beg him to stay, but Arya's words from yesterday came back to her. She couldn't shield Tyrion from everything. He wasn't her prisoner or her child.
It was likely Tyrion was right and it wouldn't work. Bran had tried with Ser Davos and nothing had happened - all her worry could be for nothing. Still, she wouldn't relax until Tyrion returned.
Accepting she couldn't make Tyrion's decisions for him was difficult, but it was right. However much she resolved to let go of her need for control, it always wavered under pressure. She couldn't convince Tyrion or go with him - all she could do was hope it went well and be here for him when he returned.
"Are you sure Lyon's alright to join us?"
Bran smiled "Yes, Lyon won't disturb us"
It was other people he was worried about. Bran found it better to keep the Godswood clear while he tried this. What he was doing involved using a lot of his own power and required cooperation from the old Gods.
The three-eyed raven turned his focus to Tyrion as the golden wolf wandered off through the trees. The lord of Winterfell was sat on a log leaning against the heart tree as Sansa had the day before last. Recovering his strength from showing Sansa had taken its toll but Bran hoped this would be easier.
"I'm surprised Sansa let you come, considering what she saw"
"Now that you mention it, she wasn't keen on the idea" said Tyrion, kicking his feet against the log
"My sisters don't trust me anymore"
Tyrion tilted his head, considering the statement "I think it's more complicated than that. They do love you though"
'I hope you're right' thought Bran.
He had one final task in the North and it wouldn't be pleasant. Pushing aside the thought of what was to come, Bran focused on what he was about to do. Tyrion was smiling amicably but his eyes betrayed him; he was a sceptic at heart.
"Ready for your name day gift?" asked Bran
"I suppose" said Tyrion "though you know there's no need to bother"
Bran allowed himself a smile "Of course there is brother. I want to show you something in the past"
Tyrion traced the rough grooves of the log with his fingers "Will it work with me? You tried with Ser Davos didn't you? I'm not a Northerner"
"You have no Northern blood" agreed Bran "but the old Gods favour you. That's why they guided Lyon to you"
"Why would the old Gods favour me?" snorted Tyrion
'You're their champion' thought Bran. It was best to not tell Tyrion. He doubted himself enough and his scepticism of the Gods would make it even more impossible to believe. Sansa was Queen and her decisions would shape the North but Tyrion's role was perhaps more important.
Rather than burden Tyrion with the truth, Bran merely smiled "The old Gods have their reasons. I believe they'll let me give you this gift though, if you're willing?"
The three-eyed raven extended his hand and Tyrion didn't hesitate to grasp it. The last thing Bran saw of the Godswood was the shock sweeping across Tyrion's face as they flew.
When Tyrion took Bran's hand he honestly believed nothing would happen. He didn't doubt Bran's powers or that Sansa had seen the past - he just didn't believe he would. The Starks were connected to the first men. There'd always been rumours of their connections with direwolves and the old Gods. Tyrion was from the Westerlands - his only connection to the North was his banishment and marriage to Sansa.
There was no way to describe what it was like to fly. One minute he was sat with Bran in the chill of the Godswood and then the world tilted around him. The sensation was akin to falling in your sleep, except when you woke up you were somewhere else.
Tyrion blinked taking in his new surroundings. It didn't feel exactly like reality. The first thing he noticed was the lack of senses. There was no smell or feeling - just a lightness that reminded him this wasn't the present. He turned, noticing the tall young man stood beside him.
"Shall we?" asked Bran, a smirk pulling at his mouth
"You can walk?"
"Bran Stark will never walk again - but he can fly. When I fly I can walk - though it's not entirely the same" he said
Tyrion nodded, a thousand questions racing through his mind. This was surreal. Almost like a dream, except more solid.
"I should have known you'd be tall" said Tyrion, glancing up at Bran
The King's smile widened "The wheelchair hides it. Sansa will always seem taller than me"
"Don't remind me - I get a crick in my neck talking to her"
Tyrion turned his focus to where they were. Judging by the high walls and windows it appeared to be a castle. They were stood in a corridor with windows looking out across the sea. The sound of waves could be heard crashing against the-
No. It couldn't?
Tyrion whipped his head around, taking in the finer details. It appeared to be some time in the afternoon and the corridor was lined by unlit torches, the holders shaped like lions.
"Casterly Rock" he whispered, a mix of emotions swirling through him at the return to his childhood home
Bran nodded, his brown eyes solemn "We should move on"
He followed in a daze as Bran expertly led him through the castle. As they walked it became more obvious where they were. Lannister banners decorated the walls and red and gold could be seen everywhere in the decor. Tyrion memory whirred to life as he recognised the various doors and rooms he'd known so well in childhood.
They'd just gone up stairs and were heading down a corridor towards the family rooms when he heard a scream. Bran wasn't fazed, continuing onwards. As they drew closer the shouts grew louder, and the strangest dread stirred in Tyrion's chest.
"What's going on?" he asked
Bran smiled sadly, pausing outside a door that appeared to be the source of the commotion "Do you trust me?"
Whatever was the other side of the door, Tyrion suddenly wasn't sure he needed to know. Bran didn't wait for his answer, casing a final glance at him as he stepped through the closed door. Tyrion stared at the door. Several voices could be heard along with a lot of groaning. If he didn't follow Bran he'd regret it for the rest of his life.
Tyrion drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him. Copying what Bran had done, he walked up to the door and straight through it.
The three-eyed raven stood near a bed in the middle of the room. His eyes brightened seeing Tyrion had followed and he gestured for him to come closer. Tyrion's body moved almost without thought as his mind struggled to put the pieces together. A Maester was hurrying around the room with blood soaked rags, barking orders to several servants. The room was a hive of activity.
It was only as he drew nearer to Bran he noticed the man sat in a chair on the other side of the bed.
Tywin Lannister's face was tight with pain as he gazed at the woman lying there. Somehow Tyrion pulled his eyes from his father to the woman in the bed. At first glance she looked like Cersei; long golden hair and sharp green eyes set in an oval face.
Tyrion choked out a sob as the realisation hit him.
"Mother?"
No-one heard him, apart from Bran. This was the past and it was rapidly dawning on Tyrion what part of the past this was.
"No..." he mumbled, stepping back from the bed "Bran...please no"
Sansa's warnings echoed in his mind as he glanced at Bran. Why show him this? Show him how he killed his mother.
"Tyrion, you need to see" called Bran
"No I don't" he mumbled "Why would you show me this? I thought...I thought we were friends"
"We're not friends" said Bran, distant eyes staring into him "We're brothers now"
Tyrion had stepped back from the bed but he remained rooted to the spot, unable to flee the scene. In desperation he turned his focus to the rest of the room. It was just after the birth he realised.
"Don't you trust me?" Bran had moved closer to him, his face twisted in a frown "It's not what you think Tyrion – I promise. This isn't to hurt you"
Having assumed this wouldn't work in the first place, Tyrion hadn't given much thought to what Bran actually wanted to show him. Tyrion studied the three-eyed raven. He'd told Sansa not an hour ago that Bran had no malicious intentions towards them. Surely there was a reason to show him this?
He'd committed to doing this – he had to see it through. Slowly Tyrion stepped back towards the bed, Bran standing beside him. It occurred to him this was the only time he'd get to see his mother.
"Tywin" she groaned. The birthing bed was soaked in blood, the Maester working hard to stop the bleeding.
"You will survive" said Tywin, his face twisted with more emotion that Tyrion had ever seen
"No, I won't"
The lord of Casterly Rock grasped her shoulders "We are lions – we survive"
"Where's the child?" she asked, panting for breath "I want to see the child"
Tywin's face contorted into the anger Tyrion knew so well "The child's a monster – it killed you"
"It's our child" she said sharply, turning to the Maester "What is it?"
The Maester was covered in blood as he met her gaze "A boy, my lady"
"Bring him to me" she said, a shudder going through her as her strength faded
"No" snapped Tywin "The creature's stunted, it won't survive"
Joanna Lannister was deathly pale, but her glare was unflinching as she turned to her husband "I want... to see my son"
Tyrion's heart constricted at her request. He'd always wondered if his mother had seen him; if she looked upon her killers face before dying.
Tywin screwed his eyes shut, his hand curling into a fist as he turned to the servants "Bring the child. Now!"
"Your father had you removed from the room as soon as you were born" said Bran "when they realised something was wrong"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His father was arguing with the Maester.
"Lord Tywin, there's nothing more to be done" pleaded the Maester, a middle aged man with light brown hair
"Find a way to save her" roared his father "or I'll find a Maester who will!"
Tyrion turned his focus to his mother. Her strength was fading quickly as she lay against the pillows, her eyes moving between Tywin and the door - awaiting the creature that stole her life.
A few moments passed before the door flew open and soft cries could be heard from a small bundle as the servant rushed the baby into the room.
"Tywin help me" said Joanna, trying to straighten up
Reluctantly his father accepted the baby, passing him over to his wife. Seeing himself as a baby was the strangest thing he'd ever experienced. Tyrion knew it was him, but at the same time he felt no particular connection to his infant self. The baby had a light covering of golden hair as he cried beneath the blankets. Tyrion quickly moved his attention from himself to his mother, his stomach churning in anticipation. This was it. Now he would see first-hand how disappointed his mother was that her life was cut short for something like him.
Joanna tugged the blankets away to see the rest of the baby, and Tyrion braced himself. Sadness passed through her eyes for a moment, before a smile tugged at her mouth.
"Hello" she said softly, lifting her shaking hand to brush his cheek
"It's a monster" said Tywin, his voice heavy with contempt
"He's our son"
As cruel as his father was to him, Tyrion felt a slither of sympathy with him in that moment. All his life his father had been cold and intimidating, yet this Tywin Lannister was distraught – no matter how he tried to hide it. Whatever else he was, he'd loved his wife. Tywin's face morphed from anger to grief and back to anger as he watched his wife holding the baby that would take her life.
"This won't do" he muttered, pushing out of his chair and going to argue with the Maester again.
Bran stepped back as well, patting Tyrion on the shoulder before retreating to the other side of the room until only he and his mother remained.
"Hush little lion" she said, cuddling him against her. Despite her obvious pain she had nothing but smiles for the baby "I'm afraid we won't have long together"
Tears burned at Tyrion's eyes as he witnessed the scene.
Joanna cast a pitying glance at her husband before returning her dwindling focus to the baby "I fear your father will take this poorly; you'll have to be brave. A woman's fight is in the birthing bed and I won – I have another son"
Tywin returned to the bedside, his face tight "You won't survive"
"I know love" she said "It's a risk every woman takes"
"The creature won't live"
At that Joanna raised her weary gaze to her husband, her green eyes sharpening "Yes he will...he's a Lannister"
"He's a dwarf; he killed you" choked out Tywin
"He's our son" said Joanna, sinking weakly into the bed "promise me Tywin. You won't harm him"
His father's face hardened at the request, before he slumped into the chair "The boy will live. I promise"
Joanna nodded; satisfied with his word she turned back to the baby "Be brave. You're a lion of Casterly Rock; you're my son"
"A name" said Tywin, his eyes filling with grief as his wife faded away "You choose"
"Tyrion" she said immediately, pressing a kiss to the baby's head "Tyrion Lannister"
Tywin nodded, his face grim "Maester, take the boy to the nursery"
The woman's eyes were full of regret as she cuddled the baby for the last time "Goodbye Tyrion. I love you"
The Maester reached down to take the baby from her, and Tyrion found himself reaching out to touch his mother. His hand found her limp one lying on the blood stained blankets, but passed right through. He choked back a sob, recalling Sansa's tale of seeing the past and being unable to interact with it.
When Bran reappeared at his side, it was increasingly obvious Joanna Lannister was about to pass. The servants had followed the Maester out of the room leaving just Tywin and his wife. His father's usually condemning eyes were heavy with grief as he clutched Joanna's hand. Tyrion was dimly aware his mother was asking her husband to give her love to the twins but he couldn't focus on it – his mind replaying back what he'd just seen.
"Let's go" said Bran, grasping his shoulder.
The world twisted around Tyrion but he hardly cared. All he could see was his mother's smile and hear her soft words in his ear.
Sansa paced around the room, half-heartedly shuffling papers and tidying as she awaited Tyrion. No matter how much she told herself Tyrion would be fine, her worry had only grown over the time he'd been gone. She'd continued working on the map for a while and debated seeing Arya. By all accounts her younger sister wasn't happy with Bran and that wasn't likely to improve if she knew he was trying to show Tyrion something in the Godswood.
The Queen had just settled onto the chaise to do some needlework when the door flew open and hurried footsteps raced over to her.
"Sansa!"
Her heart leapt at her husband's voice as he came to stand before her. Tears glistened in his eyes, but the widest smile covered his face leaving her thoroughly confused.
"Tyrion - are you ok?" she asked, taking his hand and tugging him towards her. His clothes seemed a little damp from the Godswood and his hand was cold in hers, but other than the tears on his face he seemed well.
"I'm fine" he said, practically bouncing on the spot "It worked Sansa - I saw the past"
"Really?" she asked, forcing a smile. Gods what had Bran shown him? Despite his red rimmed eyes he seemed excited enough. Sansa tugged his hand, guiding him onto the chaise beside her "You're a little cold, come sit by the hearth my love"
He dropped next to her and Sansa quickly wound her arm around him, pulling him in to kiss his forehead "How did it go?"
Sansa didn't want to push Tyrion to share whatever he'd experienced if he wasn't ready, but to her joy he eagerly launched into the story. The smile didn't drop from his face throughout, and Sansa listened with rapt attention.
Her stomach dropped when she found out what he'd seen, and the urge to throttle Bran reared up inside her - tempered only by how Tyrion seemed to be happy. Despite her husband's excitement, there was no way Bran could have known he'd react like this; being brought to see his mother's death when giving birth to him could have gone disastrously wrong.
"My mother loved me Sansa" said Tyrion, his green eyes bright with amazement
"How could she not?" she said, smiling sadly at him
"She didn't blame me for what happened at all – or what I am"
"It was never your fault my love"
"She said a woman's fight is in the birthing bed"
"My mother used to say the same"
"I never knew she saw me" he said "or that she chose my name"
Tyrion fell quiet, his brow furrowing as if lost in thought. Sansa studied his face, searching for any sigh of distress and, thankfully, finding none. She relaxed a little more, relishing her husband's warmth as he sat against her on the chaise.
To her the idea of reliving a family member's death was horrifying - watching her father lose his head already haunted her. She could see how it was different for Tyrion though. All his life he'd been blamed for his mother's death and told very little about the woman; from what Tyrion said he'd never known his mother saw or held him. On the surface Bran showing that moment to Tyrion seemed cruel, but from Tyrion's perspective it had likely given him relief. It showed his family's words for the lies they always were.
It was several minutes until Tyrion stirred to life, turning on the chaise to look at her "Sansa, I've been meaning to speak to you about last night"
"Of course" she said, nodding her head
Tyrion began fiddling with his sleeves "I know I've been somewhat distant today, but I just wasn't sure what to say"
"We can talk about anything" she assured him
He still looked undecided and nervousness wound its way through Sansa. Had he not been ready to go that far? Tyrion had seemed fine last night and while he'd clearly been distracted all morning he hadn't seemed upset.
"Sweetheart, what I said still stands and it always will; only if you want to. If you never want to join in bed again we never will"
"Oh, no!" said Tyrion quickly "That's not at all what I was thinking. I very much enjoyed last night - and I hope you did too?"
"It was wonderful"
"Good" said Tyrion offering her a smile. He drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself to voice his thoughts. He reached for her hand, enclosing it in his own as his green eyes met hers "I regret nothing about last night Sansa. The only thing that…worries me… is how it ended"
He trailed off looking awkwardly at her, as if hoping she would pick up his meaning. Unfortunately Sansa had no idea - to her everything had been perfect. They'd spent the night in each other's arms and Tyrion had seemed perfectly happy to do so.
Tyrion sighed at her puzzled expression, lowering his gaze "Sansa…I finished inside you"
"Oh" she said, understanding flooding her "I know"
"There's a chance I got you with child" he explained; as if she truly had no idea how babies were made
Sansa laughed lightly "I'll confess to not knowing much of what goes on in the marriage bed my love, but I do know that"
Tyrion blushed furiously "Right, of course. It's just…"
"Do you not want a baby?" she asked, softening her tone
"It's not that"
"What's troubling you so?"
"It's…if you carry my child there's a chance you could die" he said, squeezing her hand "I was selfish - I put you in danger"
A rush of love spread through Sansa for the man sat before her. Tyrion's eyes were full of concern for her - as if he'd possibly given her a disease rather than the chance to have a child. There were very few men who would care this much if their wife lived or died as long as they produced an heir.
"Tyrion, there's always a risk in child birth. I don't think your condition has anything to do with it" she said gently
"I don't want to lose you" he said, biting his lip "I wouldn't survive that"
"You know I'd like children" she said "but whether we have any or not is up to you. I'm perfectly happy either way"
That wasn't entirely true. Sansa did want children and the thought of never having any caused a hollow ache in her chest - but she had no desire to guilt Tyrion into it either. If he didn't want children she would understand. On the other hand, Tyrion had spilled his seed last night knowing the possibilities. Perhaps he wasn't as opposed as she thought.
"Would you like children?" she asked
Tyrion considered for a moment, before nodding his head.
"I do" he confessed - as though he were guilty of a great crime "I think…I'd like to be a father"
Sansa's heart leapt, though she was careful to contain her excitement. Tyrion's eyes were still conflicted. Seeing his mother's reaction to his birth had given him pause to re-examine all the false beliefs he'd clung to for years. It would take time for Tyrion to sort through all that.
"You'd be a great father, and I'd be very proud to give you children" she said, brushing her hand against his cheek
"They could be like me" he warned
"Why would that matter to me? I love you very much exactly as you are and I happen to know you were an utterly adorable child"
A smile pulled at Tyrion's mouth "I'll take your word on that"
"As you should; I am the Queen"
As much as Sansa had always wanted children and was thrilled to know Tyrion was open to the idea, there was a single dark voice that lurked in the depths of her mind. She should tell her husband; he was being honest with her and he deserved to know the truth.
"You should know Tyrion; all the times Ramsay raped me I never got pregnant" she said swallowing thickly "I was relieved of course, but it did make me wonder…"
Tyrion's face darkened at the mention of Ramsay, but he squeezed her hand gently "I understand Sansa"
She breathed out, grateful he didn't ask for any further details. The fear she may be barren often drifted through her mind, souring any future dreams of children.
"There's no rush to decide anything" she said
"Of course not" he promised
Tyrion's easy understanding of her worries lightened her mood. She still had many years ahead of her for children. There was no need to focus on her fear of being barren now.
"After last night, I just wanted to make sure you were alright with what I did" said Tyrion
"You're my husband" she said, dropping her voice "You're welcome to…leave a present anytime"
Tyrion laughed, sitting back on the chaise and cuddling into her "Sweet Sansa - I fear you need educating on appropriate euphemisms"
"That was better than this morning" she defended, a blush rising to her cheeks
"Nothing was as bad as that" he agreed "Even Lyon looked ashamed"
"I dare him to come up with anything better"
"Best not to encourage him dear, it would be rather embarrassing if he did"
Sansa cuddled closer to Tyrion, dropping her head on his shoulder "So will the lion be hunting again soon?"
"Oh, gods…"
"Come into my castle?"
"I might return to celibacy until you can think of something better"
"Putting your sword in its place?" she tried "I can't give up now, you've raised the stakes"
"Are you saying you desire me Sansa Stark?" he teased
"It's your fault for being so very wonderful"
Tyrion turned his head, kissing her cheek "Rest assured wife; the lion is eager to retake his castle"
Dinner was a grander affair than usual as it was the last night before lord Cerwyn and lady Tallhart left. The Queen had led a toast thanking them for their staunch support during this time and wishing them safe travels.
The talk was the usual mix of pleasantries and business, though Tyrion noticed Pod was somewhat quieter than usual. When the young Knight had come to bring him to Bran that afternoon Tyrion hadn't missed his unusual mood.
"Strange of Bran to send you on such an errand" he'd commented as they made their way through the castle
"He has little use for my sword" admitted Pod "he says anyone can guard him"
"You're his sworn shield - an anointed knight" pointed out Tyrion "far superior to any guards"
"That's kind of you m'lord"
"Tyrion" he'd corrected "Have you asked about joining the Kingsguard again? Surely if anyone can guard Bran he's no reason to deny you"
Pod had shifted uncomfortably "I don't think I want to anymore"
The young man hadn't said much more and Tyrion hadn't pushed. It had struck him as odd how Pod seemed to do less and less for Bran. Sending him to bring him a message was the work of a squire not a Knight - surely Bran knew that.
Tyrion turned his focus to the three-eyed raven, currently making polite conversation with lady Tallhart.
Bran's gift had meant a lot to him.
He'd always wondered what his mother had thought of him, or if she'd even seen him. His father and sister had only ever described how he killed her - ripping her apart. In reality it hadn't been quite like that. The birth had killed her; there was no doubt of that - but his baby form wasn't so monstrous. He'd been a small baby, his limbs short in comparison to the rest of him. Rationally Tyrion had always known it wasn't his fault or choice that his mother had died, but years of hearing how he tore Joanna Lannister open had left him with an image of a monstrous baby clawing its way out of the innocent woman. The reality had been tragic enough; but it was an accident with no-one to blame.
A warm tingle spread through his chest recalling the way his mother had smiled at her baby - at him. She'd seemed sadden at his condition, but there was no angry denial or disgust. She'd accepted it quickly, claiming him as her son.
'You're no son of mine'
'You're my son'
The conflicting voices of his father and mother rang through his mind. In his final moments his father had disowned him. In her final moments his mother had claimed him. When Tyrion realised what moment of time he'd been brought to he'd thought Bran cruel, but when they returned to the Godswood he couldn't have been more grateful. Somehow seeing his mother's acceptance had healed a tiny piece of his soul that had died with her. He didn't know what she'd think him of now or the choices he'd made; but he would be better. Since coming North, Tyrion had tried to do better.
It was when they returned to the present the enormity of what had happened hit Tyrion. He'd thanked Bran as sincerely as he could and for once the three-eyed raven hadn't seemed so distant; a genuine smile crossing his face at Tyrion's gratitude. He'd spoken to Bran for a few minutes but it was Sansa he was eager to tell. He'd raced back to their chambers as quickly as possible to tell his wife all that had happened.
Tyrion turned his head, glancing up at his wife's regal face as she sat beside him. The Queen was discussing various issues with Ser Davos much to the older knight's apparent relief. From what Tyrion had seen of Bran's small council no-one else discussed much business – particularly following Bronn's disappearance.
If anything seeing his mother had given him the push to tell Sansa the concerns that had clung to him all day. When they joined in the bed last night Sansa had told him it was up to him how he finished. He'd intended to pull out, but for a moment he believed he could have it all. A home, a family that cared about him, a wife that loved him – and a child of his own.
In the moment he'd believed it was possible. How could he not? Sansa's blue eyes had looked at him with such tenderness as she said 'I love you' – it had overridden his fears until he finished inside her. It was only in the light of morning he realised what he'd done. That he'd possibly given his beautiful, caring wife who had her arms wrapped around him so sweetly a death sentence. The guilt had eaten him alive all day.
It was only in seeing his mother and father at his birth that put things in perspective. He knew Sansa wanted children, despite her claims to be fine either way. She was a grown woman and she fully understood the risks of child birth. As a highborn lady she would have been prepared for marriage and children from a young age. The problem wasn't that Sansa didn't want a child, or that she was opposed to the possibility it could be a dwarf – the problem was him. It was his own selfish desire to not risk losing Sansa; and it wasn't fair to her.
"Are you alright?"
He turned to Sansa's concerned eyes watching him and smiled up at her "I'm fine"
Realising she'd caught his mind wandering again he quickly returned his attention to his half-eaten dinner, though his mind stayed firmly on Sansa. Tyrion's blood boiled recalling her quietly spoken words of how the Bolton bastard raped her repeatedly without producing a child. While he was glad for Sansa's sake she didn't have her abusers child it had clearly planted the idea in her mind she may not be able to get pregnant. Tyrion certainly wasn't going to ask for details on how often she'd been raped, but it was evidently enough for Sansa to doubt her ability to reproduce. Tyrion had no bastards to speak of either. He knew whores drank moon tea to prevent such occurrences but it hadn't stopped King Robert producing children with them. As far as he knew Tyrion had never fathered a child – perhaps he couldn't.
A pang of sadness went through him at the thought; finally ending his inner conflict. Both he and Sansa were open to the idea of children – there was no real reason not to other than his own fears. It was also likely one or both of them couldn't produce children, given their past experience. Tyrion relaxed somewhat. It was pointless to worry over something that may never happen or could take many months if it did. There was no rush anyway – he and Sansa had all the time in the world to figure it out.
"Lord Tyrion?"
He jerked his gaze from his plate, berating himself for losing focus again "Sorry I missed that"
It was Ser Davos who'd spoken "I wondered if you knew much of Merlon Crakehall?"
"Sounds familiar" he said "Isn't he Desmond Crakehall's youngest son?"
"Aye, but he's the last of his house now"
"Unfortunate. The Crakehalls were loyal bannermen to my father"
"He won't do" cut in Bran, emotionless eyes turning to Ser Davos
The Kings hand slumped in his seat, defeat written across his face.
Brienne twiddled with her fork "We're having trouble filling empty seats"
"So are we" said Sansa "years of war has killed the more experienced lords"
Tyrion listened raptly, quickly catching up on the conversation. They were discussing empty seats – and that included Casterly Rock. Yes, that would make sense. Most of the lords and houses in the Westerlands would have been decimated in Kings Landing. Guilt and loss stirred in his stomach. Despite his miserable childhood part of him was still somewhat attached to the Rock. It was right he'd lost it though. After supporting the dragon Queen who slaughtered the Lannister forces it wouldn't be right to hold his family's titles.
Ser Davos and Sansa were discussing the Reach when Bran's voice drew the table's attention.
"Tyrion, what do you think?"
"With the loss of the Tyrell's the Florents are likely to want…" he started
"No, I mean Casterly Rock"
All the eyes of the table found him as he shrank into his seat "I'm hardly the best placed to advice you"
"Of course you are. You know the Westerlands better than anyone else here" said Bran, his brown eyes studying him "If you were my hand who would you choose?"
Arya rose up beside him, her glare icy "Is it really appropriate to ask Tyrion?"
"It's alright Arya" said Tyrion, before she could start another argument with her brother "I don't mind. Winterfell is my home now"
Sansa's hand found his beneath the table and the feel of her slender fingers gripping his gave him the push he needed to answer Bran's question.
"Do you mind Ser Davos?" he asked
"Not at all" said the older man, holding his hands up "I'm right out of ideas"
"Very well" said Tyrion "The best choice would be someone from the Westerlands"
"Agreed" said Bran
Tyrion turned his mind over all he'd heard of the current state of the Westerlands. No wonder Ser Davos was struggling – many houses were on the verge of extinction.
"What are you looking for exactly?" asked Tyrion "I've no doubt Ser Davos has made many sensible suggestions, yet you've turned them down"
"They've all lacked something" he replied "The lord of Casterly Rock will be the warden of the west and need to manage whatever gold is left in the region. To do that they need experience, and inspire respect"
Tyrion nodded, running through all the possibilities. It was a difficult task, but Bran was right. After the damage his family had done in the Westerlands the people were in need of a likeable lord without any skeletons in his past. Tywin's respect was won through fear and Cersei had commanded with fear – that wouldn't do anymore.
"Forgive me Bran, but I do believe the answer has been right in front of you"
"You mean to accept my offer?"
"Certainly not" said Tyrion "You want someone from the Westerlands with experience of battle and some experience of ruling. You want someone the people will respect. Look no further than Ser Podrick Payne"
All eyes turned to the Kings sworn shield. The young man's mouth had fallen open in shock, his eyes widening "No, I couldn't possibly..."
"Why not?" asked Tyrion
"It's your home"
"Not anymore" he said gently, feeling Sansa's hand squeezing his "You are from the Westerlands. You squired for me when I was the Kings Hand and assisted me with running the Kingdom. You fought at the battle of Blackwater and in the Long Night. You're an anointed Knight, you've served as the Kings sworn shield – and you're a damned good man Pod"
Podrick's face burned bright red at the list of his accomplishments, even as he opened his mouth to deny it.
"Done" said Bran
"Your Grace…" stammered Pod, turning to his King
Bran turned to him a smile on his face "I refused to let you join the Kingsguard because somehow it didn't seem right. This seems right. Do you accept?"
The rest of the table held their collective breath as they awaited the reply, but it was Tyrion that Pod turned to. He smiled at his former squire, giving him an encouraging nod.
When Podrick turned back to face the King, his eyes were burning with determination "I accept your Grace"
After Pod became the lord of Casterly Rock the atmosphere at the high table turned celebratory. Arya didn't know much about house Payne but from what she could gather they were a minor house in the Westerlands and Pod was the last of his house. The only relative she knew of had been Ilyn Payne, but the Kings Justice was long dead and by all accounts Podrick was from a minor branch of house Payne and had little to do with his extended family.
When Tyrion had suggested Pod she didn't think anyone could quite believe it, but when he explained why it did make sense. Following dinner they'd gone their separate ways and Pod had been whisked away by Brienne and Bran; presumably to discuss his lordship. Sansa and Tyrion had disappeared with Cley and lady Tallhart as well to finalise the plans for tomorrow.
Arya was on her way up to her chambers when she noticed the door ajar on one of the meeting rooms - the hearth burning in the corner. Moving on silent feet she peered in the room to see Ser Davos pouring over piles of letters and notes. The onion Knight was rubbing tiredly at his eyes and Arya was reminded sharply of Sansa - her sister had spent the first few months of her reign doing nothing but work. Fortunately Sansa had corrected the behaviour by taking regular breaks, and Tyrion was always on hand to pull her away from work when it overcame her.
With nothing better to do Arya decided she might as well see what was keeping him busy.
"Does Bran not let you sleep?" she called, pushing her way into the room
"I'd say he actively encourages it - but there's just too much to do"
Arya nodded, sliding into the seat opposite him "Thought you'd be briefing the new lord of the Rock"
"Brief him? Do you know where house Seaworth is my lady?"
"Stormlands"
"Aye. When Stannis knighted ne he gave me some lands; I have a small keep by the sea. In no way at all is that comparable to being lord of Casterly Rock and warden of the West"
"You're the Kings Hand" she said, a smile tugging at her mouth "I'm sure you have some advice for lord Podrick"
"I'd tell him to be wary of wine but the lad's got a better tolerance for it than I"
"As he should; Pod said Tyrion educated him on such things"
Ser Davos nodded "Its lord Tyrion's advice he'll be wanting. If I was Podrick I'd be begging him for help"
Arya suspected Davos was right. After dinner Pod had clearly wanted to speak to Tyrion, but he'd been swept away by Bran and Brienne to discuss his change in position. Undoubtedly Pod would seek out Tyrion tomorrow. It was no secret how fond the young Knight was of his former lord, and having Tyrion suggest he become the lord of his ancestral lands was likely as touching as it was daunting.
"Look on the bright side, it's one less seat to fill" she said
"True. If lord Tyrion could fill the rest I'd much appreciate it" said Ser Davos, leaning back in his chair "I was never meant for this"
"You're the only one for it"
"Lord Tyrion would be a better hand"
"Sansa claimed him for the North. If you try and smuggle him back with you I guarantee Sansa will go to war"
Ser Davos laughed "Best not anger your sister"
Arya traced her fingers over the cracks in the table. Being Bran's hand couldn't be easy. He'd been in Winterfell less than two weeks and already she was growing tired of his vague words laced with double meaning. Attempting to decipher that and turn it into royal decrees and policy was a job for someone with deep reserves of patience, and Arya knew there were few who would match Ser Davos in that.
"Do you go to the Stormlands much?" she asked "To visit your keep?"
"I've only been back once" he admitted "my wife passed some time during the war. I didn't know until the dust settled"
Sympathy swept through Arya "I'm sorry"
He nodded "It was natural causes. I was used to being gone for long periods and she was used to me coming home sooner or later. I wasn't a good husband or father"
"I'm sure that's not true. You were Jon's most trusted advisor; you're a friend of house Stark"
A sad smile pulled at his mouth "You're too kind my lady. I went back to see where my wife had been buried and have stayed in Kings Landing ever since. No point visiting an empty keep"
"Did you write to her?"
"A little girl taught me to read and write. I sent Marya a few letters when I was practicing, but she was used to not hearing from me. She always thought it was comforting. If you hear word of a smuggler it means they haven't done a good job"
"True" she agreed. Arya had no idea Ser Davos had lost his wife though it did explain why he'd thrown himself into work – a welcome distraction from his loss. As insightful as the knowledge was, Arya was keen to not linger on it. She hadn't come in here to dredge up sad memories for the man "Was it hard learning to read and write?"
His mouth quirked up "Learning to read was the hardest part, and being Kings hand has given me plenty of opportunity to work on my writing"
"It's a skill some people take for granted"
"Indeed it is m'lady" he said "Lord Gendry's been practicing hard at it in Storms End. I like getting his letters – seeing the improvement reminds me of when my son learned. He was the first in our family to learn those things..."
Arya nodded along as Ser Davos reminisced, though her mind wandered to the stack of badly written letters hidden in her room. Gendry's first letter had been near illegible but it had asked if she minded him writing the odd note to her for practice as she wouldn't laugh at him like his bannermen would. She bit back a smile thinking of the notes. Most were short and usually included his astonishment at discovering some other part of lordship or castle life. His last one had included a rant about some minor lord begging to see him over an urgent issue that turned out to be a pet cat that was run over by a horse – the man had requested justice for his cat.
"Any ideas when you'll be setting sail?" asked Ser Davos
"Not sure" she admitted "There's still planning to be done and I don't want to leave Winterfell until Robin and Gawan are caught"
As keen as she was to discover what was west of Westeros, there was no way she would leave her family with a threat hanging over them. After so many years of moving from place to place Arya had never expected to feel settled anywhere again, but the longer she stayed at Winterfell the more she fell into comfort. Reminiscing with Sansa on their family, teaching Tyrion to throw knives, games of cyvasse and just being part of a pack again - it would be difficult to leave behind.
Brushing out her long red hair Sansa's eyes wandered to her husband's reflection in the mirror sat before her. Shifting slightly on her stool she got a better view of Tyrion as he sat in their bed; a heavy book spread across his lap.
The lordship of Casterly Rock had been decided and the lions would rule there no more. Despite Bran again offering it to Tyrion, her husband had rejected it for the final time - suggesting Podrick Payne become its lord.
Sansa drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes against the guilt that stirred in her heart.
No matter how many times Tyrion assured her of his forgiveness; that he was happy here - it would never quite overcome her remorse for taking so much away from him. It was her selfish desires that had caused so much misery to those around her. She'd thought herself so clever in all her planning. She thought she'd gone from being a victim to a survivor; but instead she'd turned into a monster.
So much time she'd spent appeasing the lords and ladies who named her Queen, only for two lords to betray her and two major houses to stay silent while she picked up the pieces.
Sansa opened her eyes, forcing herself to examine her reflection more closely than usual. When Tyrion had been brought back from the Wolfswood Sansa had seen the horrible truth of what she'd become. The mask she'd worn for so long hadn't been that of a proud, fair Queen - it had been Cersei Lannister. Looking in the mirror that day she'd seen the dead Queen staring back at her and not Sansa Stark.
Now as she looked, her heart settled somewhat. She saw her long red hair, Tully blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her pale face. It wasn't the ruthless mask of an unbreakable Queen but it was real - it was her. Her eyes wandered again to Tyrion's reflection as he sat with his head buried in a book, perfectly relaxed in their chambers. A smile tugged at her mouth as she watched him. The Queen of ice wouldn't have the privilege of that view; and Sansa wouldn't change it for anything.
"You're watching me"
"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, continuing to watch his reflection
"I can sense it" he said, his eyes never leaving his book "You're like a wolf stalking your prey"
"Oh really?"
"Most certainly. My survival instincts will spring to life any second"
Sansa turned on her stool to face Tyrion, amusement on her face. Her husband had yet to lift his gaze from his book and hadn't moved a muscle as they spoke.
"What survival instincts would those be?"
"Fight or flight as with any prey" he said "Though flight is hardly an option; a quick hobble is the best I can do and your long legs would easily catch up to me"
"That leaves you with fight"
"A lame lion against a fierce wolf? I'm doomed either way"
"So you've accepted your fate?"
Tyrion shrugged, finally lifting his bright green eyes to her "There's simply no other choice. The best I can do now is show my belly and pray for mercy. As one does when faced with a wolf"
A smile stretched across Sansa's face, as she rose slowly from the stool "Do you think I'll have mercy?"
"Hard to say"
Sansa climbed onto the bed, lying on her stomach facing her husband as he discarded his book on the nightstand. She ran her finger over his hand, drawing slow circles "I could be merciful"
"Perhaps"
"I hear lions are clever. What's to say my prey doesn't escape?"
"What's to say he wants to?"
Sansa's heart soared as Tyrion's eyes sparked with mischief. He scooted closer to her, lying on his back and arranging his face into a pout.
"I'm at your mercy wolf Queen" he said, struggling to not smile "Be gentle; I am but a little lion"
"Hmm, what to do with you…" she mused, nuzzling her face by his ear before pressing several kisses down the side of his neck
Tyrion laughed as she continued kissing him, his arms coming up to wind around her waist "Ha, you fell for my trap!"
Sansa squealed in delight as Tyrion tugged her on top of him, his mouth kissing gently up and down her neck.
"You tricked me" she laughed
"You shouldn't trust a lion" he said, growling playfully in her ear
Heat rushed through Sansa as they kissed at each other; laughing and teasing. Without a doubt, Sansa knew there was no-one she trusted more. Whatever manipulation and lies had started their relationship were in the past and couldn't be changed. It was the present that mattered, and despite her mistakes Tyrion had chosen her.
Seeing the happiness in his eyes as they continued their playful banter the guilt eased in Sansa. This was all she wanted - a loving husband and a home filled with the joy she'd known in childhood.