Chapter 33
After her own experience of seeing through the eyes of the three-eyed raven, Sansa had been horrified at the prospect of Tyrion attempting the same. Even when her husband returned to her, a smile on his face as he described seeing his mother – Sansa had still thought Bran careless. It could have so easily hurt Tyrion rather than help him.
Now the Queen was willing to re-evaluate her opinion.
The knowledge that his mother had seen and loved him appeared to have healed something inside him. While Sansa wouldn't say it had changed him as such, Tyrion did seem more comfortable in his own identity.
"You're staring at me again"
The words pulled her from her musings to the smirk on Tyrion's face as he sat across from her.
"Perhaps I am" she said
"Anyone would think you desired me"
"Maybe I do" she said evenly "your bed hair is rather captivating"
Tyrion ran his hand through his messy curls, making it worse "For your eyes only wife"
A girlish giggle escaped Sansa at his teasing, and Tyrion's smile widened at the sound. She returned her attention to her forgotten breakfast, trying not to get distracted by her husband. Last night their playful banter had led them to joining in the bed again, and for Sansa it was every bit as magical as the night before. This time there'd been less hesitation in getting undressed for each other and she'd loved spending the night with Tyrion in her arms.
"So, how long do you think Pod will last?" she asked, between mouthfuls of food
"Quite a while according to whispering whores"
Sansa rolled her eyes "Before he begs you for help"
Tyrion snorted "Why would he do that?"
"At your suggestion he just became one of the most powerful lords in Westeros"
"Bran made the decision"
"Not really – he just agreed with you"
"Pod doesn't need help" said Tyrion dismissively "not least from me. Unless he wants a list of all my mistakes so he can avoid making them"
"You're a great lord and Pod respects you more than anyone" she said gently "don't be surprised if he asks for your advice"
Sansa continued eating, watching Tyrion's forehead crease as he considered her words. In all honesty Sansa was surprised Podrick wasn't knocking on their door.
"I wouldn't know what to tell him" said Tyrion, shaking his head
"You know he'll soak up any advice you give him" she said "You've got experience that he doesn't. If Pod asks you, think about what you'd tell your younger self"
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully, sinking back in his seat "You're quite wise Sansa Stark"
"I am" she agreed "and it often goes unnoticed"
"Modest too"
"It's my Stark blood"
With breakfast finished they went about getting ready for the day. While being undressed in front of each other hadn't been an issue in the bed, in the light of day both preferred some privacy. Sansa was just selecting her gown when she noticed Tyrion rummaging through his draws for a tunic. Usually he would grab whatever was on top unless she left something out for him, but today he seemed set on finding something. The Queen watched him from the corner of her eye, a smile tugging at her mouth as he pulled out a tunic embroidered with lions.
When Tyrion had been missing in the Wolfswood she'd gone through his clothes adding lions to some of the otherwise plain clothing, but Tyrion very rarely used them – as though to distance himself from his Lannister identity. The past few weeks Sansa had encouraged him to wear his sigil more often; choosing tunics for him and telling him how handsome he looked.
Today Tyrion had chosen one himself and Sansa suspected the reason had a lot to do with seeing his mother yesterday. From what he'd told her Joanna Lannister had accepted him easily as her son; affirming his place as a Lannister. Her acceptance was in direct contrast to how his father and sister had treated him and seemed to have given her husband a little more pride in his identity. Sansa smiled to herself, watching him disappear behind his screen before moving behind her own. She'd make certain to tell him how nice he looked when he was dressed.
By the time Sansa had dressed in a deep navy gown with grey trim and emerged from her own screen, Tyrion was still behind his. Her brow furrowed - he was nearly always ready before her. Making her way across the room, Sansa stopped a short distance from where her husband was changing.
"Tyrion, are you alright?"
Faint shuffling sounded from behind the screen, followed by a small voice "I'm fine"
"Do you need any help?"
When he didn't answer a knot of worry curled through Sansa's stomach. He'd seemed fine before he went to get dressed, what could have changed? Various possibilities drifted through Sansa's mind, from his hand cramping again to a bad memory creeping up on him – there was only one way to find out.
"Tyrion, please come out. Let me help you" she said, remaining in her position a few steps away from the screen.
It was tempting to just go around the flimsy barrier and see her husband, but Sansa forced herself to stay still. As much as she loved it when Tyrion was teasing and playful she was very aware it hid a lot of self-consciousness. The Tyrion she'd eaten breakfast with and the one hiding behind the screen needed completely different things from her.
"Promise you won't laugh?" he said, his voice heavy
"I promise" she said immediately "I'll never mock you Tyrion"
Sansa was well and truly puzzled at his words, but much to her relief he shuffled out from behind the screen. He was dressed in his breeches and under shift, but the tunic he'd picked out was only half-fastened, stopping just below his chest.
Tyrion's head hung low as he stood awkwardly before her "I guess your campaign to fatten me up has worked"
It took Sansa a long moment to realise what the problem was, and when she did it was only her promise to Tyrion that kept the laugh from escaping her mouth. The tunic was too small for him; the clasps not reaching across his chest and shoulders. As amusing as she found it, the insecurity in Tyrion's eyes warned her to approach this gently.
"Let me have a look" she said, kneeling down to examine the clothing
Tyrion kept his face turned away from her as she checked the size of the sleeves and the clasps. As she inspected it her forehead creased in confusion. It was strange how this one didn't fit and his others did.
"Suppose I should warn Esther all my clothes will need letting out to accommodate my newfound plumpness" he said, eyes downcast
The Queen dropped her hands to his shoulders, gently working her way down his arms and feeling what she could through the clothes he wore.
"What are you doing?" he asked, tensing beneath her
"Inspecting this fat of which you speak"
Tyrion didn't protest her wandering hands and she took her time exploring, moving across his chest and ribs. Sansa opened the bottom clasps of the tunic so it hung open over his shift, before moving her hands to cup her husband's face.
"You're not getting plump my love, its muscle"
Tyrion snorted "I'm a dwarf"
"And?"
"Dwarfs can't build muscle. They're born weak and are fortunate if they don't get fat" he said, self-hatred lurking in his eyes
Words failed Sansa, and she struggled to not laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. There wasn't an ounce of fat on Tyrion – if anything he was still a little too lean. He was the cleverest man she'd ever met, yet his words were full of childish belief and Sansa didn't need to think hard on where he'd developed such a belief. That he'd spoken with such conviction warned Sansa that this false belief had been held for a long time and would be difficult to change. Tyrion was usually very logical. Telling him wouldn't suffice; she needed to show him the flaws in his thinking.
"How do you know dwarfs can't build muscle?" she asked, lightly rubbing her thumb against his cheek
"I've never been strong Sansa"
"I see" she said, nodding "Before you came to Winterfell did you ever help out in the kennels?"
"No..."
"Did you eat three proper meals a day and get a full night's sleep?"
"Sometimes"
The redness creeping into Tyrion's face proved her words were having the desired effect, but her strongest evidence was undeniable.
"Did you go to the practice yard every day and train with a sword?" she asked, stroking his face
"Of course not"
Sansa smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead "Sweetheart, I love you but when we married in Kings Landing the closest you came to physical labour was lifting your wine glass"
A hesitant smile tugged at Tyrion's mouth "I carried an axe in the battle of Blackwater"
"If I recall correctly, Podrick was carrying it for you"
"Axes are heavy"
Embarrassment burned across his face as he accepted the truth, shuffling half-heartedly in her grasp. Sansa refused to let go, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks as her fingers tangled in the ends of his hair.
"I'm sorry Sansa, you must think I'm stupid" he said, lowering his eyes "When it wouldn't fit...I was embarrassed"
"No need to apologise or be embarrassed my love" she said "You can tell me anything – always"
"It's just...I always believed I would be physically weak. I'd never be as strong as Jamie"
"Who told you that?"
"Cersei" he admitted
There was a grain of truth hidden beneath Cersei's cruelty; he would never be as strong as his brother – his size would always leave him disadvantaged in that regard. That didn't mean he was incapable of developing some physical strength however. Sansa smiled at her husband, hoping he would see the humour in this situation. The few times she'd had the opportunity to see Tyrion naked she'd commented on the benefits of his sword practice, but apparently he'd taken her compliments as empty words. She'd have to fix that. They'd joined in the bed twice now and despite her best efforts Tyrion always managed to turn the focus to her pleasure, carefully thwarting her efforts to focus on him. Despite her many reassurances of how desirable she found him, Tyrion's discomfort with his body would take far longer than a few weeks to vanquish. It was something she was determined to do; seeing him so self-conscious broke her heart.
"I think Cersei was jealous" she said
"Oh?"
"You were clearly the smartest Lannister. Brains and brawn would have made you too dangerous" she said "I think that's why she was so awful to you"
"An interesting theory"
"Based on fact – she certainly wasn't the cleverest Lannister"
Tyrion's eyes brightened, a smile crossing his face "Thank you Sansa, you always know how to put things into perspective"
"Any time - I know how lost you get in your head"
"I'm sorry I'm like this; you shouldn't need to reassure me over something so stupid..."
"You're perfect exactly as you are Tyrion" she said, tightening her grip on his face "and comforting you is one of the many benefits of being your wife"
"Gods know there can't be many"
"Stop that" she said gently "You mean everything to me and I won't let anyone insult you – including you"
His green eyes studied hers for the briefest moment as if searching for any hint of dishonesty. Sansa didn't mind; she'd grown used to Tyrion's need to be certain of someone's words. Hesitantly he nodded, leaning into her touch.
"I love you" he said
"And I love you" she said, guiding his mouth to hers for a kiss
Unlike the teasing, passionate kisses that left them hungry for more this was simpler though no less full of love. When they pulled away she was relieved to see the shame creeping out of Tyrion's eyes.
"Now, how about we find you a different tunic?"
Tyrion nodded, biting his lip "Will they fit?"
"My love, you haven't grown overnight" she said, moving her hands to the tunic hanging open around him "Was this one at the back of your draws?"
"Yes" he said, fidgeting with his shift "I know you did the stitching on this one"
"I did" she said "When you were missing I noticed how plain all your clothes were – nothing to show my husband was a lion, so I pulled out a few of your tunics to work on. I'll find you another one"
"Any will do" he said, tugging off the ill-fitting one
Moving stiffly from her kneeling position Sansa made her way to Tyrion's draws, searching for one of his newer ones. Seeing as he'd made the decision to wear one with lions Sansa would choose one too.
When she returned to Tyrion with a dark grey tunic covered in golden lions, her husband was fidgeting on the spot – nervousness in his eyes as if afraid this one would also refuse to fit.
"Let me" she said, helping him into it and doing up the clasps. Unlike his original choice, this one fit him perfectly – a fact Tyrion couldn't understand.
"Why would this one fit and not the other?" he asked "Esther hasn't measured me for clothes since our wedding"
"She's a seamstress Tyrion. If you're interested in needlework you develop an eye for size" she explained, smoothing out the tunic across his shoulders "Esther's probably noticed you've gotten broader and adjusted your newer clothes accordingly"
"The difference can't be that noticeable"
Oh, but it could. Sansa might have been inclined to agree with Tyrion if she hadn't seen the Wolfswood for herself. The image of how sickly Tyrion had looked when he was taken from Winterfell was fresh in her mind; contrasting sharply with the healthy husband before her.
"It's very noticeable my love" she said, trailing her hand down his chest "If you're still not convinced I'm willing to further examine your so-called fat"
"You are?"
"Certainly" she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek "your shift was hiding much from me and it simply won't do. As you pointed out, my campaign to make you eat properly contributed to this and I should inspect the rewards"
A laugh fell from Tyrion, his face brightening "You accept responsibility for my now useless tunic?"
"Gladly"
Over the week and half Bran had been at Winterfell, Arya knew there were only two possible locations to find him - his room or the Godswood. Given the Godswood was currently empty that left his chambers. Confident she wasn't going to find him in the same position she'd found Tyrion and Sansa in yesterday, Arya eased the door open and slipped inside.
For once Bran wasn't staring vacantly out the window, but had his wheelchair pulled up to the desk in the corner of the room - his head bent over a letter.
"Hello Arya" he said, not lifting his head
"Bran" she greeted, wandering into the room "Am I disturbing you?"
"Would it matter if you were?"
"Probably not" she said, pulling up a chair to the side of the desk
He went back to his letter, adding a few more words before signing it and folding it over.
"Doing anything important?" she asked
"I'm King, on occasion I must do some work"
Arya nodded, studying her brother. She'd heard from Ser Davos they were planning to leave in a few days, but Bran hadn't mentioned it. As excited as she'd been to see her brother again he seemed to want little to do with them. In truth she still wasn't happy with what he'd put Sansa through.
"Tyrion told me what you showed him yesterday" she said, watching Bran heat his seal
"It was his name day gift"
"He seemed happy"
"Good"
The art of conversation was well and truly dead with Bran. The past few days it had become increasingly obvious Bran didn't want to talk to her, but she couldn't understand why. Arya liked to think that out of their family she was the most accepting of his strange abilities.
When Tyrion had come to her before dinner yesterday, a smile on his face as he eagerly told her of the Godswood it had taken all her willpower to not knock down Bran's door. What in the seven hells was Bran doing? First bringing Sansa back to see the Wolfswood and then showing Tyrion how his mother died. Arya knew her sister would be haunted by what she'd seen and Bran was very lucky Tyrion wasn't the same. To her relief and probably Sansa's as well, Tyrion's experience had given him a chance to see his mother and he appeared to have cherished it. Arya was happy he was happy - but it didn't mean she wasn't angry with Bran for taking such a risk. It could have so easily hurt him.
"Can you bring anyone to the past then?" she asked, tracing the grooves of the table with her finger
Bran placed his sealed letter to one side, settling back into his wheelchair.
"No. I could show Sansa only because she has Northern blood and the old gods allowed it. They didn't like it, but she is Queen in the North"
"Tyrion has no Northern blood. How could he see?"
"Why is Lyon bonded to him?" he shot back, folding his hands in his lap "The old Gods favour him"
Arya narrowed her eyes "Why?"
Bran stared at her, his eyes both familiar and strange "What do you want from me Arya?"
"To spend time with the brother I don't see" she said, curling her hand into a fist "I know you're different now Bran, but you're still a Stark - still a wolf"
"I'm not really"
Why was he saying this? Arya studied her older brother, searching for any hint he was joking or merely in need of reminding - but everything about him was indifferent. His hands were folded in his lap, his head tilted to one side as he watched her.
"You'll always be a Stark; it's in your blood"
"Bran Stark lost everything so he could become the three-eyed raven" he said "I could have never become this if I hadn't left Winterfell - if I hadn't gone beyond the wall"
"That doesn't make you any less my brother"
"To become this I gave up my claim to Winterfell, I gave up the direwolf sigil - people died so the three-eyed raven could live"
"You're not making any sense"
Bran shifted in his wheelchair, his dark eyes staring through her "You came here looking for your brother Bran Stark - he's dead"
"You're lying"
"You don't understand"
"Then explain" she said, leaning forwards in her seat
"There's nothing more to say" he said, lowering his gaze. For the briefest moment sadness swept across his otherwise neutral eyes, and it was all the incentive she needed. Moving swiftly from her seat, Arya placed her hands on the arms of Bran's wheelchair, locking her eyes onto his.
"If something's bothering you, let us help - we're your pack"
"No, you're not"
"Bran, please…"
"Sansa and Tyrion are your pack" he said, his voice hardening "If you're desperate for company visit with them"
Her chest tightened at the harsh words, but she wasn't willing to give up "You're not being you. I know you're different - we all are. The real Bran is still in there"
For the first time Arya felt like she was looking at a stranger when Bran's dark eyes burned into hers "I'm the world's memory. You, Sansa, Tyrion - you're all just pieces of a greater whole to me. We were family once, but not anymore"
Something hot pricked at the back of Arya's eyes, but she refused to let her tears fall "Why are you saying this?"
"So you'll stop looking for Bran Stark"
"I will never stop looking for my brother"
"I thought you understood becoming no-one? A girl must give up her name and everything she holds dear if she is to become no-one. The same is true of the three-eyed raven"
"I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell" she said, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the arms of the wheelchair "and you are Brandon Stark of Winterfell. You're Ned Stark's last living son"
"Am I really living?" he asked "I see the past and the present; glimpses of the future"
"You're pushing me away. You have been since you got to Winterfell"
"I don't need to push you away"
Arya's throat tightened as she stepped back from the wheelchair "It won't work. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives"
"I'm not a wolf"
She couldn't take it anymore. Everything he was saying was to push her way, but she had no idea why. There'd been flickers of the real Bran throughout his visit, but it was like he was using the three-eyed raven as a shield. Reluctantly, she turned away from him, unable to hear anymore.
She pulled the door open, pausing for a moment "There's room in the pack for a raven with three eyes"
A thousand questions bubbled through Pod's mind as he made his way down the path that led into the village. He glanced sideways at lord Tyrion, who was clutching the pommel of his sword - a hint of nervousness in his face since they left the gates of Winterfell, though he was trying to hide it. Lyon trotted ahead of them, occasionally darting back to brush against his master.
The lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West - titles never meant for Podrick Payne.
While he had grown increasingly less satisfied with his role as sworn shield, and joining the Kingsguard had lost its appeal - lordship had never seemed an option. Not until the man beside him suggested he become lord of Casterly Rock. A fierce pride had ignited in him when his former lord suggested him. That Tyrion thought he might be worthy to rule his ancestral home was the greatest compliment he could have hoped for. It was only when Bran and Brienne dragged him off for a meeting the reality had set in. He was going to be the lord of a great seat and Warden of the West. No longer would he be serving other lords; they would be serving him. The realisation had washed over him like cold water, waking him from the dream like trance he'd been in following dinner.
The hours had dragged on endlessly through the night, until it was at last morning and an acceptable time to call upon lord Tyrion and ask to speak with him. Sansa and Tyrion were already working at their shared desk when he arrived, but neither had seemed surprised to see him. Sansa had invited him to join them, but Tyrion had asked Pod to accompany him into the village instead.
"I'm afraid I misplaced them some time ago" said Tyrion as they walked
Pod glanced down at him in confusion "My lord?"
"The keys to Casterly Rock lord Payne" he said, a grin tugging at his mouth "I fear you'll need to break into your new castle"
"Lord Tyrion-"
"I'm not your lord anymore" he reminded him "and you are now lord paramount of the West. The lords of the Westerlands must always bow lower to you or they will respect you no more than they did my grandfather"
"Lord Tytos" said Pod, as Tyrion nodded
"Indeed. By all reports my grandfather was a kind man but he allowed the other lords to have power over him. While I detest the methods my father used to bring about the end of the Tarbecks and Castamere's, there was a need to restore discipline amongst the banner men" continued Tyrion, as Winterfell faded into the distance behind them "Now tell me Pod, what can I do for you?"
They were friends now; no longer lord and squire. There was no reason he shouldn't be honest with him. All night Pod had been consumed by the task before him, planning what he needed to ask Tyrion. Now was his opportunity.
Pod sucked in a breath, straightening his posture "There are so many things I don't know about ruling. I don't know where to begin"
"I see"
"I'd ask for your advice. I was never meant to be lord of anything…I…I'd appreciate your help"
Tyrion smiled widely at him "Then you shall have it"
"Thank you" he said, some of the tension leaving him "I don't want to let you down"
"You needn't fear on that count; you've never let me down Pod" said Tyrion, patting his back "Nor should you concern yourself with pleasing anyone. I suggested you because you have the makings of a great lord"
Pod's cheeks flushed at the praise "I don't have any experience in ruling. I'm from a minor branch of house Payne"
"Experience comes through practice, and a wise lord knows what he knows and seeks advice when he doesn't" said Tyrion "You are the last of your house if I'm not mistaken?"
"I am, but I was never close with my house. Ser Cedric Payne took care of me but treated me as a servant"
Tyrion nodded in sympathy. None of this was news to him; Tyrion had enquired about his relation to house Payne years ago "Being the last of one's house can be lonely, though it does present an opportunity to reinvent one's self. You've noticed the banners in the great hall?"
"Black with a golden lion"
"When I came to Winterfell I tried to distance myself from the Lannister name. Better to blend in with the Northerners. When I became the lord of Winterfell I didn't use the lion sigil that was my birth right - I used a W for Winterfell"
Pod said nothing, absorbed in the story as Tyrion's eyes grew distant.
"After the Wolfswood…things changed" he continued "Sansa insisted I use a proper seal; either the Lannister lion or the Stark direwolf. A seal is such a simple thing, yet to me it was a huge decision. Everything I'd done since coming North was to hide, and later to honour the Starks as lord of Winterfell. I'd done my best to become a wolf, choosing the direwolf sigil would seem obvious, wouldn't it?"
"You didn't though"
Tyrion shook his head "I didn't. Partly because I did not wish to dishonour the Starks - but mostly because I could no longer deny what I was. I am a Lannister, and as much as I resent it, in many ways I am my father's son"
"You're a good man" insisted Pod "You could never dishonour the Starks"
"Sansa and Arya have told me the same often enough. They accepted me for who I am, even when I didn't accept myself" he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards "The point of this rambling Pod is the best advice I can offer you; be yourself. You do not need to rule Casterly Rock as the Lannister's did any more than I need to become Ned Stark"
"I…I understand"
"Good" said Tyrion "I cannot change being a Lannister, but I can make it my own. I chose the lion sigil with black wax - a Northern lion as Sansa is fond of saying. Accepting who you are is difficult, particularly when you dislike your own reflection - nevertheless it is healthier than pretending to be something you're not"
Podrick nodded, eagerly soaking up the hard won wisdom Tyrion was imparting. He'd planned a list of things to ask Tyrion; how to do this and that, who to appoint to which position. The lord of Winterfell seemed to have anticipated what he wanted and instead given him what he needed; a push to be himself.
"I can't be you" said Pod
"Thank the gods for that"
"I need to rule Casterly Rock as Podrick Payne"
Tyrion's face brightened at his understanding "Quite so. I believe house Payne's rule over Casterly Rock will be the start of a new age for the Westerlands"
Pod reached down, grasping his former lords shoulder "Thank you Tyrion"
"You're more than welcome" said Tyrion, smiling warmly at him "I'm at your disposal - any knowledge I have to offer is yours"
"I'd appreciate that very much"
"You're a good man Pod - believe in yourself" said Tyrion patting his arm as they continued into the village "Now what questions did you wish to ask?"
Podrick smiled as he reassessed what he actually needed to know. Years of squiring and serving in different castles had given him plenty of insight into what worked and what didn't. If he'd asked Tyrion all the things he thought he needed answers to he may as well not be lord of Casterly Rock. The only people Pod served now were Bran and people of the Westerlands - and he could rule it as he saw fit. The task had seemed monumental this morning, but the man beside him had quickly put things into perspective.
Learning to be a lord would take time but things weren't as hopeless as he thought. Experience would come in time, and he had people to turn to for guidance. From what Pod had seen, being a good lord was based on being a good man; and Tyrion had taught him that long ago.
The great hall wasn't the same as when he was a boy.
It was to be expected, years of war and the long night had left lasting scars across Westeros – Winterfell was no different. Much of the castle had been damaged by the long night, and as Sansa ordered it be rebuilt things had changed. The great hall was longer and the walls higher than before; more suited to a Queen than a lord. The damaged towers had been rebuilt much the same as before, but the castle was brighter than when Bran had last been here. Whether consciously or not Sansa's influence could be found throughout the castle. Her youth spent in Kings Landing had changed her tastes, and Winterfell itself was more open to light – as if it was somehow enough to chase out the shadows that lurked in the walls.
Winterfell had played host to both moments of great joy and terror. It was little wonder Sansa had changed the castle somewhat – some of her darkest memories were locked inside these walls.
Bran sat in his wheelchair along from Sansa's throne. The Queen would be holding court soon and the long tables had been moved aside for the occasion. His eyes wandered to the banners hanging in the great hall; the wolf, the lion and the raven. One of them was out of place in Winterfell.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor and Sansa's conversation carried through to Bran.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"Perhaps your Grace, but lord Tyrion has received a letter every day for over a week now – for it to stop so suddenly is rather odd"
"Maybe they finally got bored Maester"
The footsteps came to a sudden halt and Bran turned his head to see Sansa stood in the entrance to the great hall with Maester Wolkan at her side.
"Hello Bran" she said, her eyebrows knitting in confusion "I didn't expect to see you here"
"I thought I might watch you hold court?"
Sansa nodded slowly "Of course"
Bran smiled, returning his gaze to the banners and the empty hall before him.
"If you could make the preparations for court Maester" he heard Sansa say, followed by the sound of the old man's chain clinking as he disappeared back into the corridor
"Court never interested me much as a boy" said Bran as Sansa climbed up the steps to join him "I wanted to be a knight – not a lord"
"So did Tyrion"
"A path not meant for either of us. You were always meant to be a Queen though"
The side of Sansa's mouth turned upwards "That almost sounded like a compliment"
"It was meant to be. You are where you're supposed to be Sansa"
"So are you. You may be King little brother but Winterfell will always be your home too"
"Arya spoke to you?"
"If you could call it speaking" she said, lifting an eyebrow at him "It involved a lot of pacing and threats against ravens"
Bran shook his head "I told Arya what I had to. It's true as well – I'm not a wolf anymore"
Sansa hummed, turning her gaze to the banners "When Tyrion came here he tried to not be a Lannister, and all it did was hurt him. I didn't notice at the time...but now it's so clear. Everything he did was to fit in; to become one of us. Tyrion never needed to change himself; I love him because of everything he is. Being a lion is part of him, however different he is to the man I once knew"
"There's no wolf left in me"
"Arya doesn't believe that"
"The three-eyed raven can't be biased. You understand better than most what power can make you do"
Sansa stiffened for an instant beside him before relaxing "What you showed Tyrion yesterday – was that for a greater purpose? Or did you just want to make him happy?"
"It was the old Gods who allowed him to see" said Bran, lacing his fingers in his lap "When Tyrion knelt before you in chains, you told him a man gets what he earns in the North. He earned a gift"
His eyes flicked to Sansa's in time to see the remorse twist across her face at the reminder of how her husband had been brought to her.
"I regret that" she said, her voice heavy "Having him brought here like a prisoner. I shouldn't have asked you to sentence him like that...what I did was cruel"
"It was" agreed Bran "but I did as you asked because it was the only way"
"For what?"
"If Tyrion was to go North he had to lose everything – it was the only way he would find a place here" said Bran "As you told him in the crypts; his divided loyalties would have been a problem"
Sansa's face didn't change but her posture grew rigid at his knowledge of their conversation during the long night.
"Coming here cost him so much…if I hadn't interfered and left him in Kings Landing he wouldn't have suffered any of this"
"He would have been safe in Kings Landing, serving as my hand. He'd have done an excellent job too - but he wouldn't have been happy"
Sansa turned to him, one hand fiddling with her other "What do you mean?"
"I've told you before I can't see the future, but I do know Tyrion wouldn't have been happy in Kings Landing. He'd have served me dutifully for a year or so, but lack of self-care would have caught up with him eventually. Tyrion would have died alone"
The Queen grimaced at the image, shaking her head "You wouldn't have let that happen. Pod, Brienne, Ser Davos - they'd have looked after him"
"They'd have tried I'm sure" said Bran "but it wouldn't have been what he needed"
"What did he need?"
"A home, a family - you"
Sansa's face reddened at his words, but they were the truth. Bran had already told Sansa he let her take Tyrion to save her from herself - he was the only one who could reach her. Yet the reverse was equally true; Sansa was the only one who could heal Tyrion. It had taken far longer than Bran had hoped but the Wolfswood had been the breaking point for both of them; breaking Sansa's icy mask and exposing Tyrion's shattered soul - they needed each other.
"For someone who claims to not see the future you seem to have a solid idea of how things would have happened. Who's to say Tyrion wouldn't have found a wife and been happy?"
It was Bran's turn to shake his head "What happened in Kings Landing broke him"
"I made things worse when he came here" said Sansa, her face tightening "you know that"
"I knew sending him here would cause him great pain, but there was a tiny chance of a successful outcome. I took the chance"
"Do you regret it?"
"No. Tyrion is where he's supposed to be - I'm sure of that now"
Sansa raised an eyebrow "Does this mean you'll stop trying to kidnap him?"
"I think he's rejected me enough, and Pod is now lord of Casterly Rock anyway" said Bran "I could always offer him Highgarden"
"Don't even think about it" warned Sansa, though a smile pulled at her mouth "Brother or not I would call the banners"
Bran smiled, returning his gaze to the empty great hall. It was a lifetime ago since he sat here with Robb and Rickon. Sansa seemed to sense his melancholy, her eyes turning distant "I miss our family"
"Everything's changed" he said
"It doesn't have to. Arya thinks you're pushing us away"
"Arya thinks I'm still Brandon Stark"
Sansa sighed, stepping away from Bran towards her throne "So you want to watch my court session?"
"If I won't bother you"
"You're always welcome little brother"
Bran shifted in his wheelchair, making himself comfortable as Sansa prepared to receive her petitioners. Winterfell guards took up place around the hall and Maester Wolkan returned to assist her. The three-eyed raven could see everything through a thousand eyes, but sometimes Bran liked to use his own.
Tyrion fought back a smile watching Nessa and Pod. After leaving Winterfell they'd made their way into the village and Tyrion had gone to collect his squire. The young girl had greeted him and Lyon with her usual cheerfulness but her eyes had narrowed upon seeing Podrick.
"I think Nessa's a bit jealous" whispered Tess, leaning against the frame of the door
"Arya shared a similar thought with me" he said
Pod had apparently noticed the girl's reaction to him throughout his stay at Winterfell and greeted her warmly, complimenting her balancing skills. When they arrived Nessa had been demonstrating some sort of game to Ethan. Tyrion hadn't quite worked it out, but the game appeared to involve hopping along a winding path marked by sticks - a game Podrick was losing.
"You put your foot down" said Nessa gravely "back to the start"
"Again?" asked Pod, visibly deflating
"Those the rules" she told him
"I think he needs another demonstration Nessa" called Tyrion, shooting a grin at the young knight as the girl jumped into position.
Unlike Podrick's ungainly hopping, Nessa made quick work of the course - balancing with the ease only a child could have. When she reached the finish line, Nessa immediately turned to Tyrion and her mother - both applauding her efforts.
"Well done Nessa!" he said "You made that look easy. Surely Ser Podrick can manage?"
"This could take a while" said Pod, moving back to the start as Nessa beamed at the praise
"Well we can't possible move on until you complete it" said Tyrion "Can you imagine telling Ser Brienne you lost a game of balance? She'd have you sparring with her on one leg"
Pod rolled his eyes, but dutifully went about trying the course again. Tyrion turned his attention to Tess, who stood watching her daughter with a warm smile. The woman's health was always fragile, but today she seemed more tired than usual.
"How are you?" he asked
"I'm fine - just a little tired"
Tyrion nodded "I know how prideful you Northerners are; if you ever need help please let me know. Don't suffer in silence"
"You're too kind Tyrion" she said, smiling warmly at him
"My reasons are entirely selfish" he said "Nessa is my squire and it is my belief a happy squire is more productive. Therefore, her family should also be happy"
Tess laughed, turning her attention back to Pod's wobbling attempt to finally complete the course to Nessa's satisfaction "Are you going to tell her Podrick isn't here to reclaim his old position? I've tried to convince her he serves King Bran and not Queen Sansa"
"Nessa needn't worry - as if anyone else would want to serve a grumpy dwarf"
"You'd be surprised" she said evenly "A lot of the village children are rather jealous Nessa gets to work for you"
Tyrion raised an eyebrow "Oh, please"
"It's true" she insisted "They're all quite taken with their lion lord"
Something stirred deep inside Tyrion at her words. Was it possible? He'd tried to be a good lord and honour the Starks, but as he pointed out to Podrick earlier - he couldn't be Ned Stark either. As much as he'd tried to blend in he couldn't deny who he was entirely. Northern lords were used to manual work, seeing the small folk and living without the pampered luxuries their southern counterparts enjoyed. Tyrion had done his best to embrace their way of life and to his surprise he enjoyed much of it – but he would never quite fill Ned Stark's place. Tyrion was bookish and cunning where lord Stark had been a soldier through and through; physical and direct.
He hadn't known Ned or Robb Stark very well, but he rather doubted either of them had been as pathetically sensitive as he was. Shame for this morning hung over him like a cloud. Tyrion had always thought he had his mind if nothing else, but even that had betrayed him this morning – spiralling into a panic when his tunic didn't fit. Logic and reason had gone out the window, giving way to the childish beliefs buried within him.
Sansa had soothed him with practiced ease, carefully deconstructing his false belief with fact. She hadn't mocked him; despite how ridiculous his behaviour surely seemed. Tyrion had gotten much better at ignoring the dark whispers of his mind, but when they did take hold it left him exposed in a way he hated. There was nothing he disliked more than feeling vulnerable; it wasn't how he wanted Sansa to see him – yet she didn't seem to mind.
When doubts and insecurities plagued him, Sansa reassured him.
When the dark voices said he didn't belong, Sansa said he was hers.
As Tyrion watched Ethan toddle over to him, a smile on his young face –he thought it didn't matter he wasn't Ned Stark. Sansa and Arya accepted him as he was, as did the Winterfell household and the smallfolk. If they accepted Tyrion Lannister despite his many flaws, perhaps he could accept himself. Giving the advice to Podrick was easy; doing it himself would take time.
"Ty'ion" said Ethan "Play?"
The little boy beamed up at him, his dark eyes full of hope. As soon as they arrived Ethan had abandoned Nessa's game in favour of petting the 'doggy' as he called Lyon. The golden wolf had quickly forgiven the insult as the small boy smothered him with attention.
"Ethan, Tyrion is a lord – he might not have time to play" warned Tess
The lord of Winterfell looked between the hopeful boy and Pod's flailing efforts at Nessa's increasingly difficult course. He turned to the boy, offering him a smile "I think I have time Ethan. Based on Pod's performance we may be here all day"
'Trouble is the perfect time for training'
Arya's sword sliced through the air in a furious arc before jabbing forwards. It took all her willpower to not imagine the three-eyed raven on the other end. Between her and Sansa she'd always had more patience with his abilities. Where Bran's knowledge and vague words unsettled Sansa, Arya accepted it as part of who he was now. What she couldn't accept was why Bran was pushing her away.
'The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true'
There lay her problem. Her heart ached and her mind was angry - but her eyes had seen little. Everything Bran had said was with the same monotone voice and expressionless face. Only for the briefest moment had she seen something to give her hope. A flash of sadness in his dark eyes - as if the real Bran Stark hadn't liked what he was doing.
Arya pivoted on the spot, needle twisting and turning effortlessly in her hand. Bran was distancing himself from her, what she didn't know was why. After speaking to him, she'd gone to Sansa wondering if her older sister had experienced the same.
"Who really knows with Bran" the Queen had said, shuffling through the correspondence on her desk "One day he acts like our brother, the next he doesn't"
"This was different" she'd insisted "it was like he really wanted us to give up on him - like he didn't want to be family anymore"
"Well that won't happen, no matter what game he's playing. I wouldn't worry Arya; trying to figure out what Bran really wants will drive you insane"
It was easy for Sansa to say, she'd never been as close to Bran as Arya had. It was on her way out to the practice yard she'd gone past the great hall to see Sansa holding court - and Bran watching. He spent time with Tyrion yesterday and Sansa today; but not with her?
The youngest Stark drew in a breath, willing herself to become lost in the water dance. Bran had made it abundantly clear he didn't want her company, and it was time she accepted it. That didn't mean she wouldn't observe from a distance; that momentary break in demeanour where she'd seen Bran beneath the three-eyed raven was enough for her to believe Bran's actions had a purpose.
It took a while but the sword practice gradually wore away some of her frustration with her brother. If she was to see clearly, emotions couldn't distract her. Guards came and went in the practice yard but none bothered her - they knew better than to approach when she was armed.
Years of developing her senses told Arya she had an observer. The heavy crunch of boots against the snow stopped a short distance from her. A smile pulled at her face; there was only one person those steps could belong to.
"Care to join me?" she asked, keeping her back to her opponent
"Gladly"
The faintest scrape of a sword being drawn reached her ears and Arya spun on the spot to meet Ser Brienne's blade with her own. Whatever hesitation the knight had once had in sparring with her had long faded and both treated each match as if it was a real fight.
Energy shot through Arya as she threw herself into the fight. This was exactly the release she needed. Practicing alone was fine but it never quite compared to a well-matched opponent. The guards would spar with her occasionally but there was only Alec who gave her a half-decent match. Sparring with Tyrion was interesting in the sense he would do the unexpected - using his mind to compensate for their difference in skill. It wasn't the same as fighting Brienne though. Many of the guards feared facing her, and she was careful to not push Tyrion and risk damaging his confidence.
As she ducked a slice that would have taken her head off, Arya had no such concerns with Brienne. Both could hold their own despite their differences in size and style. Leaping to one side, Arya jabbed forwards with needle aiming the blade at Brienne's throat. The knight flicked her own sword up in time to deflect the blow, following up by ramming her shoulder into Arya.
Staggering back from the blow, Arya grinned at her friend "Rough morning?"
"You could say that"
Readjusting her stance, Arya danced just out of reach of the follow up strike, dropping back into her guard "Does it happen to involve a raven?"
Brienne grunted, throwing all her strength into a blistering assault that forced Arya backwards "What makes you think that?"
"Bran informed me this morning that Bran Stark is dead - that he isn't a wolf anymore"
"He told me he already has a new sworn shield that's accepted the position"
"One of the guards?"
"Meera Reed"
Arya's brow knitted together "Pod only got Casterly Rock last night, how has that happened so fast?"
The lord commander's face darkened as they exchanged strikes and Arya's mind whirred to life at the implication. Bran must have already asked Meera. Arya hadn't met her but she'd heard how the Reed children had helped Bran go beyond the wall. From the little she could gather Meera had returned to Winterfell with Bran, but the two had parted on poor terms.
"We stopped at Greywater Watch on the way here. Bran spoke privately with Meera and has been writing to her since" said Brienne, clenching her teeth as Arya slipped under her guard and struck rapidly with needle until her sword found Brienne's exposed throat
They froze in place until the knight nodded, accepting the defeat. Both lowered their weapons, panting heavily as the frosty air turned their breath to mist.
"You think he planned to replace Pod?" asked Arya
Brienne shrugged "I don't understand why. Podrick's served him faithfully, but since we came here Bran has treated him poorly"
"I noticed Pod looking a bit lost"
"I offered to speak to Bran about him joining the Kingsguard again, but he didn't seem as keen as he was"
It was unusual for Brienne to complain, but Bran's treatment of her former squire had clearly offended her. Podrick had served her faithfully too and his new lordship meant he was bound for Casterly Rock - not Kings Landing. Sympathy wound through her for the knight; she would be losing one of her closest friends.
"It's Bran's loss. Pod's a great knight, and he'll be a great lord" said Arya, crossing her arms
Brienne forced a smile "I'm sure he will"
"I've not seen him since dinner last night, is he happy?"
"I don't think he could believe it. Pod has great respect for lord Tyrion and being chosen by him to rule Casterly Rock…I think it means a lot to him"
Arya offered her friend a smile "He's well prepared for it. Squiring for you and Tyrion will have taught him a lot"
"When I saw him this morning he was on his way to Tyrion. I think his nerves might have caught up with his excitement"
Sansa had said much the same. Tyrion had taken Pod to the village with him and she could only assume they were discussing his new role. If she was in Pod's place she'd be doing the same.
"So when I walked in on Bran this morning was he in the middle of writing a love letter to Meera?" she asked as they made their way out of the practice yard
"I can't imagine that"
"It would explain why he wanted me gone" mused Arya
"Bran's words are either vague or cutting; can you imagine a romantic letter from him?"
"Gods no" snorted Arya, changing her voice to imitate Bran's monotone "I liked that blue gown you were wearing by the marshes the other night. I was the frog on the left"
Brienne spluttered, fighting the grin on her face "Arya…"
"Do you think that's why he's been spending so much time in the Godswood? Warging into frogs to court Meera - she probably carries one around with her for when he wants to visit"
"I shouldn't laugh" said Brienne, her face turning red at the effort "Bran is my King"
Arya shrugged "Sansa's my Queen and she's not exempt"
"Nice to know you treat your royal siblings equally"
"Tyrion too. Have you ever seen him pout?"
"I don't believe so"
"Wait until dinner. As soon as I tease him he'll turn to Sansa with his big green eyes and she'll just melt in his hands"
It was midday when the Winterfell household gathered to see off the Cerwyn and Tallhart parties. Bran hadn't come but Podrick had turned up with Tyrion and Nessa. Sansa glanced down at her husband as the last of the horses disappeared into the distance. Tyrion had been so embarrassed this morning, but thankfully he seemed more himself now. Lyon whined at his feet, rubbing against him for attention.
"Yes, you can have a nap now" said Tyrion, scratching the wolf's ears "I'm sure playing with Ethan exhausted you"
"How was the village?" asked Sansa, taking his arm as they turned back to the castle. Arya had already disappeared while Pod and Nessa appeared to be engaged in some sort of storytelling
"It went well enough" he said "though many of the merchants are struggling without their supplies from White Harbour"
"Maester Wolkan sent word of your ruling to lord Manderly the other day, and I wrote to him today reinforcing it. He should have got your letter now and things should get moving again"
"I hope so. Many families are struggling"
Sansa nodded, her eyes wandering to Pod and Nessa ahead of them "What happened there? I thought Nessa was jealous of Pod"
Tyrion glanced up at her, his brow furrowing "Did Arya tell you that?"
"It was obvious" said Sansa, shaking her head
"To everyone but me apparently"
"Nessa loves serving you and she knows Podrick was once your squire. If you were a little girl like her wouldn't you be worried a knight like Pod was going to take your place?"
"Hmm, maybe you're right" he said "In any case Nessa now knows Pod is lord of Casterly Rock and will not be retaking his position as my squire"
Sansa nodded "Explains why she's now happy to talk to him"
"Poor Pod did his best to win her over. I lost count how many tries it took him to complete her hopping course"
"Do I even want to know what you've been doing?" asked Sansa
"Probably not" he agreed, squeezing her arm "How was your court session?"
"Nothing of importance to report, though Bran did come to watch"
"Oh?"
"It was strange" continued Sansa "Arya was complaining this morning about how Bran was pushing us all away, but then he turns up to watch my court session?"
"Strange" said Tyrion "but it probably made sense to Bran"
Walking up the few steps into Winterfell, Sansa caught sight of Alec hovering near the door.
"Your Grace, my lord" he greeted as they approached. Sansa knew the titles were for her benefit – none of her husband's friends used his title when they were in private company.
"Alec – are the men ready?" she asked, taking in his riding gear
"Aye, your Grace. We'll be riding shortly and will meet up with lord Cerwyn's and lady Tallhart's men before moving to take Widows Watch"
Sansa nodded in satisfaction. While their allies had just left for home, they'd sent instructions yesterday for a number of their men to ride for the Kings Road. Alec would lead a group of the Winterfell guard to meet with them and together they would march to take Widows Watch in the crowns name. A letter had been sent to house Mazin and house Hornwood asking for reinforcements to join with them at Ramsgate. The young lord Mazin was still escorting the wildlings to Ramsgate, but it was likely he would arrive ahead of the joined forces. Sansa's letter was written to his father, but she suspected his son would be eager to join the attack when he learned of it.
"Good luck" said Tyrion, clasping hands with the Winterfell captain "Who's going with you?"
"I'm taking Lyle, but Cayn and Brice are staying here"
"How well did that go with Cayn?"
Alec shrugged "He was disappointed, but we need men here too"
"How are the preparations for putting a garrison in place at the empty castles?" asked Sansa
"Slowly I'm afraid. Ideally a mix of men from your closest allies would be best at each location, but co-coordinating it over raven is slow work. Maester Wolkan is going to continue the communication while I'm away and hopefully we'll have a force ready to take the Dreadfort soon"
"Who knows how long they'll need to stay there" said Tyrion "Robin and Gawan could be hiding anywhere North of Winterfell"
Sansa shook her head "I should have filled the empty seats by now, but there are so few families left to inherit such important seats"
"We'll find them one way or another" said Alec, clapping Tyrion on the shoulder "If you could stop Cayn moping while we're away I'd appreciate it"
Tyrion laughed "Perhaps I can convince Pod to spar with him"
"It would be good practice" said Alec, before turning and bowing his head to Sansa "With your leave I will ready the men to depart"
The Queen nodded "I wish you good fortunate. Take any prisoners you find; if you hear word of a possible location for Robin and Gawan report immediately"
"Yes, your Grace" he said, straightening up "We will not fail"
As Alec walked away, Sansa's attention fell to Tyrion beside her. Guilt was creeping into his face as his friend left.
"This is my fault" he said softly "If any of them are injured or killed-"
"No" said Sansa, finding his hand and enclosing it in her own "This is for the safety of the North Tyrion"
"If I hadn't been captured..."
"Then we wouldn't know there was an enemy until it was too late to act"
Tyrion nodded, though he didn't seem convinced "You're right, I just...wish it was over"
"Soon my love" she promised "this is a positive step forwards. We're not on the back foot this time"
There was no reason for anything to go wrong with this operation. The houses she'd involved were the ones she trusted the most. Houses Cerwyn and Tallhart were their staunchest allies, while houses Mazin and Hornwood had proven their loyalty before. She'd decided not to notify house Glover and house Manderly. It was clear they would not aid Winterfell until the situation with Gawan was resolved, and she'd excluded house Dormund because of their ties to house Glover. The only other major houses she hadn't informed were house Dustin of Barrowton and house Locke of Oldcastle. While both had eventually replied to Tyrion's letters, Sansa didn't know either well enough to trust with this.
"Tyrion!" called Nessa, sticking her head out of the great hall "everything's ready for court"
"Thank you Nessa" he replied, as she ducked her head back in the hall
"Are you ok?" asked Sansa, squeezing his hand
"I'm fine" he said, offering her a smile "Do you have need of me this afternoon?"
"Not for anything particular, though your company is always welcome"
"Podrick is joining me for court and I thought I might walk him through the layout of Casterly Rock afterwards"
Sansa forced a smile for her husband, hoping he didn't see the guilt in her own eyes. Tyrion seemed fine with the loss of his childhood home, but Sansa still blamed herself. She knew that some part of him was likely still attached to Casterly Rock, however happy he was at Winterfell.
"I'll see you later then" she said, sweeping down to kiss his forehead "If you're busy I might see Ser Davos to discuss some trade"
"Bring some wine for the poor man – I saw him working this morning and he seemed in need of it"
"The life of Brans hand"
Tyrion slipped away from her, shooting her a grin "You may well have saved me from a cruel fate Sansa Stark"
With the departure of the Tallhart and Cerwyn parties Winterfell seemed far emptier than Brienne had become used to as she wandered through the halls. As pleased as she was to see Sansa and Arya again, her time in the North hadn't been the happiest. Arguing with Bronn and his subsequent departure had been a constant source of irritation, while Bran had spent most of his time alone. As lord commander protecting Bran and organising the Kingsguard was her duty, but there was little need for her skills while they were tucked away in Winterfell.
Brienne had filled her days trying to help Ser Davos with his workload and visiting with the Stark girls. She'd devoted some time to her sword practice and sparred with Podrick to keep him sharp. Her heart twisted at the thought of her former squire. He would not be returning to Kings Landing with them. Bran had decided they would all go to Casterly Rock on the journey back and he would introduce Podrick as the new lord – then they would leave him.
As happy as she was for Pod, the idea of returning to Kings Landing without him was hard to swallow. He'd been her shadow for so long and was in many ways her closest friend. It was as she wandered upstairs and down yet another winding corridor she heard voices.
"-think it through" came Tyrion's voice
"Easier said than done" answered Podrick
"If you were to attack the rock, how would you do it?"
Brienne had no intention of disturbing them, but her feet had a mind of their own, drawing her closer to the half open door. Peering in the gap, Brienne saw Pod and Tyrion sat at a table near the window; a map spread between them. It was mid-afternoon but the hearth was burning in the corner, chasing out the draughty Northern air. Her heart lurched watching Tyrion prepare Pod for his new role. This meant a lot to Podrick; she knew how nervous he'd been this morning when the reality of the situation hit him.
The knight was about to continue on her way when a bark echoed around the room, followed by paws padding across the floor. Brienne made to retreat, but it was too late. Lyon's face appeared in the doorway, and his bark had drawn his master's attention.
"Ser Brienne" called Tyrion, his mouth turning upwards as his gaze found her in the doorway "would you care to join us?"
"I'm sorry" she said quickly "I was just on my way past"
"Lyon must have sensed the potential for attention" said Tyrion, as the direwolf in question whined at her feet "Come join us"
"I don't want to disturb you" she said, reaching down to ruffle the wolf's fur
"Please" said Podrick, his eyes begging "I don't know where to begin with this"
Brienne wavered in the face of Pod's pleading. It wasn't like she was busy…and she wouldn't see much of Pod after they left Winterfell.
"If you're sure" she said, slipping into the room as Lyon wandered over to Tyrion
She dropped into a seat next to Podrick, her eyes scanning over the table. To her surprise there were two maps. One was weather worn and fraying at the edges but showed the Westerlands, while the other appeared to be a plan of some kind. It took Brienne a moment to realise it was a hand drawn plan of Casterly Rock - as if one was looking down on it from above.
"Where did you find this?" she asked. The plan looked far newer than the map, and Brienne couldn't imagine where they'd got it. Plans such as these would hardly be easy to get hold of, let alone in a rival castle.
"Tyrion drew it" said Pod, nodding towards the dwarf
"It must have taken a long time"
"It took him less than an hour" confirmed Pod, a hint of pride in his eyes
Brienne raised her eyes to find the lord of Winterfell was rapidly turning red.
"It's only a rough outline" he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly "Pod's never actually been to Casterly Rock and I thought he should be aware of all its hidden tunnels"
"Should I be seeing this?" asked Brienne, tearing her eyes away from the detailed plan
"That's for lord Payne to decide" said Tyrion, smirking at the young man
"I trust Ser Brienne with my life" said Pod immediately.
Heat stung the back of her eyes at his response. There wasn't a moments doubt or hesitation in his words, and his respect for her meant everything.
"Very good" said Tyrion, rubbing his hands together "I've been explaining the layout to Pod and the main entrances and exits"
Brienne paid close attention as Tyrion caught her up on what they were doing, and pointed out the key areas on both the map and his own plan of Casterly Rock. As far as she knew Tyrion hadn't set foot in Casterly Rock for years, yet his hand drawn plan was sharp and detailed. As lord commander Brienne was familiar with the type of plan he'd drawn since she'd studied many for the Red Keep, but Tyrion's was far more precise and well done than the ones produced by most Maesters.
"It's good you're here Ser Brienne" said Tyrion "I've tasked Pod with coming up with defensive strategies for the rock. You have a far better mind for military tactics than I; how would you attack Casterly Rock?"
Brienne chewed her lip considering the problem. Tyrion's idea was clever - Pod would be a young, inexperienced lord in an unfamiliar castle. Understanding the strategic strengths and weaknesses of his new lands would be essential. Her eyes flicked to Tyrion, his gaze fixed on the marker indicating Casterly Rock. It occurred to Brienne very few people would do what he was. His ancestral home had been taken from him and given to a new lord - however agreeable Tyrion was to it, on some level it must hurt him. Yet here he sat, preparing the new lord to take over his childhood home; offering all his knowledge and guidance.
While she didn't know Tyrion particularly well, she knew how much he meant to Sansa and Arya – and how Jamie had cared for his little brother. It was obvious when they arrived Tyrion was rather different than he used to be. He was far quieter, content to sit in the background rather than join in. This was probably the most she'd spoken with him since she gave him Jamie's things and part of her was ashamed of that.
There was no reason for her to have not made an effort to get to know Sansa's husband...only she struggled to look at Tyrion without seeing Jamie. They were different in many ways but Brienne couldn't miss the similarities either; their sense of humour, the teasing smiles – the sword that was a twin to her own. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of the sword hanging at Tyrion's waist. Sansa had reforged the broken blade, but it had once belonged to Jamie.
"Ser Brienne, are you alright?"
She drew her gaze from the sword to Tyrion's green eyes that for an instant reminded her of Jamie. It had broken her heart when he left her and Winterfell for Cersei, but eventually she'd understood – his duty was to his family. What would Jamie think if he knew what had happened to his little brother?
"I'm quite alright" she said, returning her attention to the map "the walls make a direct assault near impossible without huge casualties"
"What if there was a secret way in?" said Tyrion, leaning back in his chair as Lyon laid his paws in his lap
"Is there?"
"Perhaps. Pod where would you put a secret entrance?"
The new lord of the Rock scrunched his face in concentration, his finger running over the plans spread before them.
They might only have a day or so left in the North, but there was no reason she couldn't befriend Tyrion. When he'd angrily snapped to Bronn that no-one else cared Jamie was dead it wasn't quite true. Despite her best efforts, Brienne found she cared rather a lot and being alone in her grief had been awful. She could hardly imagine how much worse it was for Tyrion who'd been banished North.
When they left Winterfell Brienne had no idea when they'd next venture North, or when she would see Podrick again after they left him at Casterly Rock. It occurred to Brienne she should be making the most of the time they had left rather than wasting her time alone.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was light, and Bran found himself wishing he could be part of it. For the three-eyed raven it simply wasn't possible.
Arya hadn't spared him a word after this morning, but she seemed to be in good spirits as she playfully teased Tyrion. Whatever Arya was doing appeared to have worked as the lord of Winterfell turned to the Queen for support - a pout covering his face.
"Sansa, Arya's spreading filthy lies about me and Lyon!" he said, leaning into her with pleading eyes
Bran watched his sister happily wrap her arm around him, fighting back a smile "Its jealousy my love"
"You aren't fooling anyone Lannister" said Arya, as Brienne tried to stifle her amusement "You use Sansa's oil when you wash your hair - and Lyon's used it too!"
"Lies" he protested
"Lyon was looking awfully fluffy the other day" pressed Arya
"Who knows what he gets up to when we're not around?" said Tyrion, his face bright red
"If you're jealous Arya, you can borrow my oil too - gods know you could use it" said Sansa, lifting an eyebrow at her younger sister
"Oh no" said Arya "Just because Tyrion lets you play with his hair doesn't mean I will"
Tyrion shrugged "It's only fair Sansa enjoys it now"
Sansa brushed her hand through his curly hair "Why's that?"
"Dwarfs go bald eventually" he stated, casually sipping his water "it's a common fact"
The corner of Bran's mouth turned upwards at the look of abject horror on Sansa's face, just before laughter rang out from Arya and Brienne. Tyrion's face cracked into a smile at his wife's expression.
"Aww Sansa…you look like someone told you the world's ending" choked out Arya
"It's not true?" asked Sansa, glancing hopefully around the table
Pod took pity on her, shaking his head "That's not a fact"
"That's a cruel trick" said Sansa, narrowing her eyes playfully at her husband
Tyrion's face was a picture of innocence "Would you not appreciate my baldness wife?"
She kissed his forehead "I love you, hair or not - but let's try and keep your hair"
"Arya had a scheme to shave it off last week just to see the look on your face" he confided
"Arya!"
The younger Stark shrugged "It would have amused me"
"Speaking for the hair challenged" said Ser Davos "you get used to it"
Bran contented himself to watch as the group continued bantering and teasing each other. When they'd first arrived dinners had been formal and cold affairs; fraught with biting words. Now things had settled. The guests had left, Bronn was gone - and Bran was silent. The three-eyed raven knew he'd contributed to the unease that hung over the group, and for that reason he resigned himself to watch - they deserved one night.
His eyes moved to Tyrion; smiling at his wife and engaging in the fun. The last Lannister would never be the man he was - too much had changed him. Bronn believed all that remained of Tyrion was a shadow, but Bran knew that wasn't true; this Tyrion was far more real than the man Bronn had known. Stripping away his home and titles had left him vulnerable, but he was where he was meant to be now.
Sansa had changed too. The Queen of ice was a mask that Sansa knew when to wear and when to take off, rather than a way of life.
It was as his eyes moved to Arya that something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Bran Stark had always been close to Arya, but not anymore - it had to be different now. What he'd said to her this morning had been cruel, but it was also a warning;
'Don't expect me to be who I was'
The great hall was warm and full of life; filled with a joy long absent. It was strange then, that Bran Stark felt nothing but cold.
"Bran was rather quiet tonight" said Tyrion, pushing back the furs to climb into the bed next to his wife
"A little" she said "though it could have been a wise choice. Arya was furious with him this morning"
Settling into the soft bed, Tyrion turned on his side to face Sansa. The Queen was propped up on her elbow, her long red hair falling loosely around her face.
"Yes, I noticed she was ignoring him tonight - at the expense of mocking me"
The Queen rolled her eyes, a grin tugging at her mouth "Don't listen to her my love, you can use my oil on your hair any time"
Heat crept into Tyrion's face "You said you liked it soft"
"Oh, so this was for my benefit?" she teased, reaching out to stroke her hand through his messy curls
"I aim to please wife"
"You most certainly do"
Tyrion leaned forwards, pressing his mouth onto Sansa's - his heart picking up pace as she eagerly kissed him back. He would never get used to this; how this woman's eyes could hold such love for a creature like him. Tyrion was quickly losing himself in the kiss when Sansa's hand gently grasped his shoulder moving him back. Instantly he stopped his advances, his eyes searching for hers in panic that he'd done something wrong.
Sansa was smiling as she quickly kissed his forehead, stilling his panic before it developed.
"I believe we have unfinished business from this morning" she said, rubbing her thumb in circles on his shoulder
"We do?"
"Oh, yes" she said, trailing her hand down to the buttons on his bed shirt
Understanding dawned at what she was saying, followed swiftly by embarrassment "I still feel rather silly about that. You're right of course - I haven't become plump overnight"
"You seemed quite convinced this morning" she said, toying with the top button
"My body was awake but I fear my mind was somewhat sleepy - thank you for being so patient"
"You never need to thank me Tyrion"
"Even when I'm being stupid?"
"You could never be stupid" she said, her slender fingers opening the top button and brushing against his chest
"Ridiculous?" he tried "Pathetic?"
Sansa shook her head "None of those things. You're a little lion who lacks confidence and is in need of educating"
"Oh?"
Sansa nodded "You seem to harbour many false beliefs about yourself my love, and it simply won't do"
A thrill went through Tyrion as Sansa's hand wandered to the second button on his night shirt "It won't?"
"Not at all. You're mine now and I will convince you how wonderful you are"
Sansa moved closer, gently guiding him to lie on his back as she leaned over him. A flicker of nerves went through him as he realised Sansa intended to focus on him tonight.
"You don't need to convince me" he said, as her hands moved down the buttons of his night shift until it hung open
Sansa ran her hand down his chest and across his ribs, her touch unleashing a wave of excitement in his lower region.
"I'd like to convince you" she said, her eyes searching his face for permission
Tyrion was torn. Both of the times they'd joined in the bed he'd made sure the focus was on Sansa; that she'd be too distracted to pay much attention to his deformed body on top of hers. Hesitantly he found her earnest blue eyes – no trace of deception in them. Sansa wasn't going to mock him; she wanted his trust.
"We don't have to do anything if you're uncomfortable" she promised, seeing his hesitation
Tyrion forced a smile, trying to relax into the pillows "It's alright; I'm quite willing if you are"
"You seem nervous"
"I am" he admitted
Sansa moved her hands from his open night shirt to cup his face, her lips pressing against his forehead "Don't be. We'll go as far as you're willing and no further – I promise"
Tyrion's stomach twisted at Sansa's misunderstanding; his nerves had nothing to do with Sansa taking control and everything to do with being under her scrutiny. His wife may have seen him naked several times but she was normally well distracted – that wouldn't be the case if they continued.
"I don't doubt that" he said, struggling for the words "it's just...you're the only woman I've been with that hasn't been paid to lie to me"
He cringed at his own words, and Sansa's face creased in puzzlement. Before he could think of another way of phrasing it, understanding bloomed in Sansa's eyes.
"I'm a very lucky woman then" she said "I'll be the first to tell you the truth about yourself"
Did he really want to hear the truth? For so many years he'd paid whores to tell him the things no-one else would; that he was handsome, good and kind – that he wasn't a monster. A lifetime of scorn urged him to stop; to not let Sansa near the hole in his heart. Yet a tiny piece of him relented; Sansa wouldn't hurt him – she promised to love him.
Tyrion nodded, relinquishing himself to Sansa's control. The smile that lit up her face was enough to make the risk worthwhile. Aside from his own fears, he supposed this might help Sansa too. It had become glaringly obvious to Tyrion over the last two nights that Sansa had been used like a dog in the marriage bed. While she seemed to trust he wouldn't hurt her, she also seemed genuinely surprised that he didn't ram into her the moment his cock came to life. It had given him some pride knowing he'd at the very least given her a pleasant experience of sex – that Sansa had enjoyed it enough to want to repeat it. The abuse she'd suffered with Ramsay had cast a dark cloud over Sansa's idea of intimacy, and it thrilled Tyrion she was keen to learn.
As her hands began to guide his arms out of his bed shirt Tyrion knew he had to let Sansa do this; that he should let her explore his body as freely as she'd allowed him to. Besides if Sansa could trust him after all she'd suffered, there was no reason he couldn't do the same.
"Now where did we get up to this morning?" she mused, settling him against the pillows
"I believe you were examining my so-called fat"
"Oh, yes – if I recall there was a pesky shift disrupting my examination"
"How unfortunate"
Sansa's smile widened, her fingers drawing a lazy circle on his chest "Not to worry my love, I'll be very thorough this time"
The cell he'd spent weeks in was devoid of natural light, but Grey Worm had soon learned how to tell what time of day it was. The Winterfell dungeon ran to the same schedule every day, with very little variation in the routine.
It was what made the soft footsteps creeping down the corridor in the middle of the night all the more noticeable.
The faintest flicker of light danced along the walls as the footsteps grew closer. Shifting upright on the sparse bed, Grey Worm was instantly alert. His whole life had shaped him into a weapon and instincts would never die.
Grey Worm's chains clinked as he stood to see the visitor. If this was death, he would greet it on his feet. He tilted his head in confusion as the visitor stood before his cell. The torch he carried was small, casting only a small glow around the area - though it illuminated a strangers face.
"Who are you?" he asked, taking in the man's scraggy red hair pulled up into a loose bun.
"Doesn't matter"
The man was young, his voice betraying his youth. Grey Worm stepped forwards, his dark eyes scanning over the man's uniform with the direwolf sigil. He was a Winterfell guard, but not one Grey Worm had seen before.
"What you want?" he asked
The man stared straight through him, and the oddest shiver crept down his back. There was something strange about this man.
"Doesn't matter what I want" he said, lifting his hand to show a set of keys "Do you still want revenge?"
