He had never looked so small.
Of course he was a dwarf, the infamous half-man of Casterly Rock, but she had never thought of him as small. Short yes, but not small. He was a man that filled a room with his booming voice, his sharp wit, and boisterous personality. No, she thought, Tyrion Lannister had never been a small man no matter his stature.
But limp and pale upon the large bed he looked childlike. A broken, discarded doll and she was finally able to see how vulnerable he was. She had a lot of time to think about this, living in this chair beside him, waiting-waiting for when he would wake. (When, it must be when he wakes. Not if. If was a possibility she would not allow.)
Occasionally, she would leave the chair. His brother would take her spot, they would share a few words on his condition, on the maester's prognosis, and she would leave him. She supposed they could find another chair, share their grief and fear, but she thinks they both preferred to keep their time with him to themselves. She knew Jamie spoke with him, talked incessantly as seemed to be a Lannister trait. Sometimes she stayed and listened in the hall, heard Jamie alternately cajole, threaten, and beg life back into his brother. Sansa could only sit and watch, keeping her hands busy with sewing and mending.
When not at his side she would spend the days wandering the castle. Initially, she had tried to take up the reins of leadership but the lack of sleep and worry made her foggy and what had once come so easily to her no longer did. Luckily, the reverse had happened with her younger brother since the Night King fell. He was coming back, back to life, back to Bran. Where before he was more Three-eyed Raven than human, the Raven's hold on him grew less everyday. Like his father before him, he took on the responsibility no second son ever wanted of becoming Lord due to his elder brother's death.
Vaguely, Sansa wondered if she should be upset. She had led their people when her brother's didn't. The Knights of the Vale had come to her aid, turning the tide. She and Jon had reclaimed their home.
But Sansa wasn't upset at all. Having Bran back was worth any price and honestly she had never expected to be Winterfell's Lady. Winterfell was supposed to be the home of her childhood, not of her adulthood. Daughters always left to become Ladies of their husband's keep.
(If they had made it to the ship would she be Lady of Casterly Rock now? Only vaguely aware of rumors of a dead army and of dragons over the Westerosi sky? What blissful ignorance.)
A week had passed since the Long Night and the army prepared to leave the next day. She had spent the last two days (roughly a third of it asleep as Arya spiked her tea with nightshade so she'd finally rest), avoiding the little chair by Tyrion's bed by trying to help the preparations and sort through the rubble of her mind. What really happened is she spent time observing all the happy couples. Jon and Daenerys acting in unison as they prepared to march south. Brienne and Jaime sparring, bickering, and holding hands over Jaime's worry for Tyrion. Arya and her Blacksmith saying a painful goodbye (Arya hadn't told her exactly what happened, but rumor had it their soulmarks indicated they had very different roads ahead of them) and she had arrived at a painful conclusion.
She could not take Tyrion up on his offer to be his wife. Even if he loved her if his slip of the tongue was true.
Because she was in love with him.
(Stupid girl that she was, she hadn't even realized the emotion for what it was. Only that she was lost without him. That she wanted nothing more than to gather his still form to her breast until he awoke. That she craved his voice, his laugh, his touch. Nothing would be sweeter. It was Arya, Arya of all people who took one look at her sister, stone faced and petrified by her ex-husband's sick bed, and informed her in an authoritative but gentle tone "You love him." She realized now after seeing her and Gendry together that it was easy to recognize heartache when you were experiencing your own.)
And because she was in love with him, she would not deprive him of the possibility of him finding his soulmate even if she had given up on hers. Or worse yet, his soulmate coming into his life after they had remarried, had built a life, had children. He was a good man, he wouldn't spurn her, or leave her for his soulmate. But it would cast an ugly shadow over their marriage like a hangman's axe, and slowly poison whatever life they had built together until her heart broke completely and she had no choice but to leave him for his own good.
(Not all soulmate fairy tales had happy endings for all parties involved. She just never pictured herself as a side character, the one who lost the hero to his true love.)
But he was still her friend, and she was drawn to him as only a woman in love with someone unattainable could be, so she returned to the chair.
Jaime relinquished it, excited that Tyrion had shown some signs of regaining consciousness by becoming more restless in his sleep. Samwell Tarley and Maester Wolken believed he would wake soon.
The color had returned to his face since she last saw him, and someone (Podrick she assumed who flitted in and out of the room constantly fussing over his former Lord) had trimmed his beard nicely. How she had ever found him anything other than devastatingly handsome was beyond her. Feeling a bit like a naughty child stealing a cooling lemon cake from Old Nan, she took advantage of his unconsciousness to touch his face, trace his scar and lips. Her fingers danced, combing through those lush golden curls. It would probably be the most she could have of him. The temptation to steal a kiss was almost too much but she just couldn't bring herself to do it, cheapening something that would have been precious to her. Instead she checked on his broken and splinted arm noting the wrap had come loose in his increasing restlessness.
She unwrapped the bandage from around his hand. A hand that held her own through countless struggles and had wiped away her tears. A hand he had injured in defence of her life. She did indulge herself then with a kiss to the swollen and bruised knuckles as she held it to her cheek.
"Please don't hate me for what I will say when you awake. In another life, free of soulmarks I would happily marry you time and time again. How I envy Missandei and Greyworm who can just freely follow their hearts! But I can't take a chance that you would only be mine briefly. If somehow your soulmate revealed herself while we were together, it would break me. It would break me to lose you, and it would break me not to see you have your perfect other half. Because you deserve it Tyrion. You deserve the happily ever after." Her voice faltered a little "I'm just afraid it's not with me."
After the despair of the words washed away with hot tears that fell freely, Sansa wiped her eyes and returned to the business at hand. Pulling away the bandage from his wrist she revealed the very soulmark that was the reason for all her heartache. She had never paid it much mind in their marriage, always covered with the bracelet that matched her own. He never spoke of what it said, choosing to keep the words a private matter (at least from her).
The embellished W was on the larger side for a soulmark letter, perhaps to make up for his smaller form or to reflect his large personality, and it was quite lovely. She couldn't help but admire it. Noticing something odd creeping out from underneath the gauze dressing next to his soulmark she removed the rest of the bandage around the wrist to see what it was. What lay underneath would change her life forever.
Wolf Wife
There was a grotto at Casterly where Tyrion would swim with his siblings, their friends, cousins, and visiting children they had been charged to entertain by Tywin. Half was a lovely shallow pool with a sandy beach perfect for swimming and playing. But if you dared to walk out to the back towards the inlet from the sea, along the slippery rocks between the water and the sheer cliff face, the clear water dropped down into a deep blue hole of considerable depth, perfect for diving. It was one of his favorite spots at the Rock, one where Tywin never was to be found, and Tyrion spent a considerable part of his childhood there. He couldn't swim and dive as well as the twins, but could outmatch any of the visitors who did not live by the sea. However, he could hold his breath underwater longer than anyone.
He loved swimming to the bottom of the blue hole. The noises from above would fade to whispers, the faces blurry and indistinct as they peered down at him.
Other than lost in a book, it was the time he was most at peace.
Somehow (and Gods he doesn't know how he can't remember), he was back in the blue hole looking up. Jaime was there, he knew for sure, talking to him, calling for him to come up, come to the surface and join him. There were other faces as well, obscure and nameless (why can't he remember?), a woman with silver hair accompanied by a serious looking man, a heavy set fellow in Maester's garb, a small sharp faced girl, a familiar man with a boyish face, a blonde giantess. These figures came and went, but there was always the maiden with the long, red hair watching him. She didn't speak but she was always there (She was important, she was important to him. He needed to reach her that much he knew). He tried several times to swim to the surface, but his legs were like lead and no matter how much he kicked he couldn't reach her.
And then one day he looked up and she was gone, and he no longer felt like trying to get out of the blue hole. He was tired. So tired. Everything hurt, his arm throbbed uselessly and he turned his back on the faces above. He just wanted to go home (I have no home. Not anymore…. Of course you do. It is where you will find her.) He closed his eyes and sank further, the blue hole deeper than he remembered, the darkness enveloped him but he was not afraid.
With a gasp, he woke upon the beach fully clothed in a doublet of crimson and gold yet somehow dry. The light had a peculiar golden softness to it, but he was undoubtedly on the grotto's beach at the Rock. With no memory of how he came to be here, he stumbled away from the beach finding himself in the gardens, but not the gardens as he remembered. The gardens he had grown up with were colorless. They entertained little after his mother's death so Tywin had no regard for them. He demanded that the gardens be used for practical purposes, the growth of herbs for cooking or medicinal purposes, or vegetables.
The garden Tyrion found himself in now overflowed with blooms of all colors and sizes. The trees bore immense fruit, bright red apples twice as big as his fist, vibrantly hued oranges, limes, and lemons. The smell of it all left him a bit overwhelmed. He had just reached for a lemon (Lemoncakes are her favorite. I shall make sure to plant a whole grove for her when I bring her here.) Confused by the memory he dropped the lemon, just as he heard laughter.
Following the giggles, he believed himself lost in a memory as he found two golden haired teens playing a game of tag around a large ornamental fountain in the center of the garden. He was certain it was the twins, until the girl spotting him, launched herself at him crying "Uncle!" The boy, all gangly long arms with a soft round face, also crashed into him picking him up and swinging him around. When finally placed back down, he stared into the eyes of his beloved niece and nephew and burst into tears of joy.
Myrcella and Tommen were a bit taken back by his tears. He could hear Tommen whisper to Myrcella "Why didn't she tell us he was coming here today?"
"Because he's not supposed to be here." chimed a melodious voice. One that Tyrion had only ever heard in his dreams. From the far side of the fountain, a figure resplendent in a gown of deep green embroidered with golden lions emerged. Tyrion knew immediately who it was with her emerald eyes and golden curls so like his own.
"Mother" he whispered, falling to his knees.
"My boy, my darling boy." she swept closer gathering his face in her hands. "Look at you. So handsome like your brother." Joanna Lannister peered at him closely. "And clever like your father." she said wistfully. "But so kind like.."
"My mother," he said horsley.
She beamed at him, tears in her eyes. "Welcome home my son."
Tyrion wasn't sure how long he spoke with his mother, or told stories of all he had seen to his niece over Cyvasse, or helped Tommen care for his kittens while telling him of dragons. He just knew the strange golden hue had changed to twilight when his mother ran her hands through his curls and said sadly, "You don't belong here, at least not yet my love."
"I know." and he did know. "I have to go back. I know that. But I don't remember how I came to be here. So much is missing."
"It is time for you to remember," she said, handing him the lemon he had dropped earlier.
(Memories flooded his mind. A young maiden and a direwolf in the courtyard of a castle, the same girl stripped and beaten in a throne room, a bloody word on ivory skin, a gown of gold, a tearful bride, an imp and his maiden-bride walking through a garden, a pale slender fingered hand in his own, a ship sailing glimpsed through prison bars, dragons, a silver queen, the maiden now a woman smiling down at him, the dead, the crypts, the pain as his arm was crushed.)
"Sansa" he whispered. "I must get back to her."
Joanna just gave him a sad smile, "I will miss you my dear. But I will see you again of that I am sure."
"I hope so."
"There is time for you to atone for your sins Tyrion. Go back. Do good. Let love fill your heart, not hate, grief, or resentment."
"Like Father."
"Like your father." she sighed sadly clutching Tyrion tightly to her chest, giving him a final hug full of love.
Myrcella and Tommen also hugged him good-bye. "Tell our father that we love him." whispered Myrcella "and that we're happy for him and Ser Brienne."
"I will." he croaked.
They bid him farewell at the edge of the grotto and he watched them walk away until they were out of sight before edging along the rocky narrow ledge to once again stare at the blue hole. Determined that this time he wouldn't stop until he reached the faces he saw before, he dove into the brilliant blue waters the color of Sansa' eyes.
It was dark in the room, with the exception of one candle when Tyrion finally opened his eyes. The world was far blurrier than he remembered, but it was slowly coming into focus. His arm was splinted and wrapped and a dull, throbbing pain radiated from it. His head felt ten times heavier than it was and it took tremendous effort to turn it towards the figure he had glimpsed in the chair at his side.
Eyes squeezed shut, Sansa hunched over the side of his bed, his hand clenched in her own as she held it against her cheek. Whispered words escaped her lips but he couldn't quite make out all of what she was saying except "All this time, all this time…" Several tendrils of her crimson hair that had escaped from the single braid she wore draped across both her cheek and his hand. He tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry no sound emerged. Instead he was able to move one of his fingers and stroke the peachy softness of her cheek.
Startled, her eyes shot open and he found her piercing blue eyes filled with tears. "Tyrion" she cried as she gently cupped his hand to her face. A smile as bright as the dawn made its way across her face. "Welcome back." she said softly, wiping away her tears.
He tried to smile reassuringly, but his lips cracked as he moved them. Sansa fetched him some water while he struggled with his good arm to sit up. She held the cup steady for him while he sipped it slowly. Finally, his tongue functioned again and he croaked out "What happened?"
Sansa filled him on the events of the Long Night and the week that he had missed. (Arya Stark had killed the Night King and Jon Snow was really a Targaryen and the true heir to the Iron Throne! The only thing that could have stunned him more would be if his soulmate were to suddenly appear!) He was relieved to hear of his brother's safety as well as that of so many of his friends. Ser Jorah's death hit him hard and he was also sadder than he'd thought to hear about Theon, if only because he could see how grief stricken Sansa was. Sansa gave him a letter from Daenerys who had left that morning, but his headache (and a hint of wounded pride at being left behind) caused him to put it to the side until later. Sansa explained that the army was only moving as far as Moat Cailin to convaless for a few weeks. Bran had discovered a cache of food there, sealed off and hidden before the Iron Borne sacked the keep.
"I promised Ser Jaime I'd fetch him the minute you gained consciousness, but I need to speak with you first." she said quietly, reaching for his bandaged hand.
His stomach clenched painfully. "Is this about my proposal of marriage?"
"In a way." she said quietly. He subtly tried to wrest his hand from her own, finding her touch in the face of her imminent rejection unbearable, but she only clutched it tighter.
"I shouldn't have put you in that awkward spot. I put the feelings I have for you ahead of what is right for you." He broke eye contact and stared at the blanket. "We both know that the only way you will marry again is when you find your soulmate."
"So what you said in the tunnel, about protecting the ones you love.." she questioned.
"I'm not sure what you want to hear Sansa or what is to gain from this conversation." he said, still unable to look at her.
"The truth Tyrion."
"I'm in love with you." he blurted out almost angrily. He finally looked at her again expecting her face to show at worst disgust or at best pity. He saw neither, just a longing ache that matched his own feelings.
She pulled her hands away from him and started to unsnap her bracelet that he had given her before they wed. "You're right about me Tyrion. In fact you know me better than I know myself. I can't marry anyone but my soulmate, but I also know that the same is true for you." A thousand rebuttlels voiced in his head, but they were silenced as she lay her arm across his chest.
"For years I doubted my soulmark, but it never led me astray. At first, I just didn't listen or understand what it was telling me and then later I had lost my faith and trust in everything, not just soulmarks." She smiled at him through his hurt and confusion. "I learned that the journey to find my soulmate was not just about finding the right person, or the perfect timing. It was about me finding the perfectly, imperfect version of myself so that I was ready for him. It was about my perfectly imperfect soulmate, finding the best version of himself so he was ready for me."
Love swelled in his heart for her, even if with a sense of dread he could read the radiant peace and joy coming off of her. "You found your soulmate." he swallowed the lump in his throat as she nodded in affirmation. "Congratulations, it's all I've ever wanted for you. To be safe and happy….and loved." Tyrion meant every word he said through his broken heart.
"I'm giving you back this bracelet. My soulmark is now a source of joy to me, not something to be hidden away and ignored. I won't cover it anymore. I want him to be able to see everyday how much I love him."
"It was a gift Sansa. Do with it as you please." he said numbly, wondering if he had in fact not made it back to the land of the living but was in fact in one of the Seven Hells.
"Please take it off." she said in a pleading voice.
Tyrion used his left hand to slip it off her wrist. Free of the bracelet, Sansa did not pull back her arm but instead turned it so her soulmark was facing towards him. The "L" was familiar; he had seen it before it all it's elegant beauty when he had cleaned the blood and gore from the jagged letters she had carved next to it.
But those scars were long gone, and in their place were the words "Little Lion."
The sob he had been suppressing surfaced violently, joy now replacing the anguished sorrow. "I spent the last week in this chair by your side, unable to function at the thought you may not recover. In that time, I realized that I was in love with you but I could not marry you. I couldn't bear the thought that you would never truly be mine."
She moved her hands towards his injured arm, and he reluctantly let the words he had been waiting a lifetime to see out of his sight. Tenderly she unwound the bandage from his hand and wrist to reveal his own soulmark, and as the words "Wolf Wife" appeared he lost control and sobbed openly.
"It was you all this time." she said tenderly kissing the words. "Love my soulmark told me, each time you came to Winterfell."
"As mine told me to go to Winterfell and that my Wife was there." he paused looking at her seriously. "All this time.' he said wistfully.
"But we're here now."
"And that's all that matters." She looked at him shyly. "Will you kiss me now?"
"Only if you'll marry me Wolf Wife."
His lips met hers tenderly with all the love and emotion of a long waited soulbond years in the making.
They married four months later on a terrace overlooking Black Water Bay (and the ship on which they would be sailing on for their long, long overdue honeymoon) officiated by the Queen as her King was busy giving away the bride. Sansa hadn't wanted to marry in the God's Wood again, wanting not the slightest stain of her second marriage on her third. Plus she wanted her entire family present (which was a first) so it was easiest to do it the days following the coronation of Jon (aka Aegon) and Daenerys Targaryen.
The battle for King's Landing had been a relatively bloodless event in the end. Cersei had counted on using the citizens as human shields, locking down the city and attempting to starve them into submission, but the people escaped in droves thanks to Varys network and knowledge of the underground tunnels. Ser Bronn of all people became the inside leader of the exodus (While he was eventually given a title and castle for his deeds, when pressed one drunken night by Tyrion about his true motivations, Bronn finally replied "You ever seen a child starve to death and been helpless to do a fucking thing about it? At eight I was, and my five year old sister paid the price. I wasn't fucking helpless this time.") and the citizens of King's Landing poured out of the city like a sieve in a few weeks time.
With the innocents safe, the dragons took out Euron's Iron Fleet in a single surprise attack while the combined Army took the city. Faced with her own downfall, Cersei took her own life rather than surrender. (As for evidence of the child she bore, none could be found. The sad truth was eventually found in the notes in Qyburn's journal, a phenomenon known as a hysterical pregnancy. Cersei wanted another child so badly, she had willed her body to believe it was pregnant. It was the one and only time Tyrion wept for her.)
They still hadn't completely mapped out their future. Small council positions had been offered to them both, but the Rock also needed it's Lord and Lady. (Jaime had flat out refused the title claiming there were two many memories to haunt him there and that he and Brienne would be settling in Tarth. Tyrion just laughed and told Sansa "I've seen the ghosts. They're nothing but friendly, trust me.") All that really mattered is that they would be together, because they had found their home in each other.
Arya's ship sailed right after the ceremony and a few hours before their own. Sansa couldn't help but watch it disappear over the horizon from their balcony in the Red Keep. Looking down she could see that she was not the only one as she made out the black hair of the newly named Lord of Storm's End watching as well. Tyrion came to join her, clasping her hand in support.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd be jealous my new bride is staring at another man." he teased with a gentle kiss to her hand.
"It's obvious that they love each other deeply. I'm sure their soulmates, if only she had stayed..." she lamented.
"Sansa, my love, light of my life, my moon and stars…" he waxed poetically.
"Yes, my silver tongued husband, my best friend, and my soulmate." she replied in kind.
"Haven't you learned by now from our own star-crossed experience that we can't force these things? That sometimes love and soulmates come the long way round?" he said his eyes gazing at her softly and full of love.
"And it was worth the wait." Sansa said kneeling beside him and kissing him passionately. Their lips danced together with practiced ease. They'd certainly done a lot of it over the last few months. "Speaking of waiting, we have a few hours until we leave…."
Tyrion just hummed an affirmative as he ran his tongue up and down her collarbone, knowing all the places that made her moan and shudder.
"I was hoping.." she gasped as his hand cupped a breast.
"That you may want to to join me..." his nimble fingers were unlacing the back of her gown touching as much skin as possible. "in our.."
"Lady Lannister, are you asking for me to bed you?" he said tantalizingly as her gown puddled to the ground leaving her in just a sheer shift.
"Yes please." she said divesting him of his own garments.
They almost missed that ship too.