Chapter 38

"Don't you want..." gasped Tyrion "to talk about tonight?"

"Tomorrow" said Sansa, capturing his face in her hands "All I want tonight is you"

Sansa didn't wait for him to respond, eagerly claiming his mouth for another kiss. She wound her hands into his curly hair, pulling him as close as possible. Tyrion gladly obliged, his own hands wandering to her waist as she tried to lose herself in her husband.

Gawan grunted as Arya lazily drew her knife across his stomach, leaving a line of red in its wake. It wasn't deep enough to kill – merely a taste of what was to come.

"What's Robin planning?" asked Sansa

Gawan barked out a laugh as blood dripped from the wound "Is that what this is? I talk to you and the pain will stop?"

"No" said Sansa "The pain will come either way"

Tyrion groaned as she moved to the edge of the armchair, her knee brushing against the bulge in his breeches.

"You're overdressed love" teased Sansa, moving from his mouth to press kisses along his jaw towards his ear

"I could make the same complaint" he said, running his hands down the sides of her gown

"You could" she agreed "but tonight is about pleasing you"

If Sansa let him Tyrion would focus on pleasing her and nothing else. Not tonight though. Tonight Sansa needed to put her focus elsewhere, and where better to put it than pleasing the man she loved?

"I think he's withholding information" said Arya, lifting the severed finger for closer inspection "What do you think Sansa?"

Gawan was shaking in his restraints, blood dripping from the stump of his little finger "Twisted freaks...I'll kill you for this..."

"No, you won't" said Sansa, turning to her sister "I think another finger will loosen his tongue. He was so eager to take some from Tyrion after all"

Gawan's eyes widened "How did you...you can't know that"

"I saw the Wolfswood" said Sansa, smiling thinly "I saw everything"

Clasps were a problem; they made it so much slower to remove Tyrion's clothing. The bed creaked beneath her as she shifted her position to speed up the process of stripping her husband. Tyrion made no protest lying against the pillows; a dreamy look covering his face as his cock strained against his breeches. For once his physical urge had overtaken his mind, leaving him helpless to her touch. That was good. Sansa didn't want to think tonight; all she wanted was Tyrion.

"Sansa, are you sure you're alright?" he asked, the serene look on his face momentarily giving way to concern as the last clasp fell open

"I'm fine sweetheart" she promised, shooting him a smile "Now I believe I promised to distract you tonight"

"I rather enjoy distracting you" he said, his fingers brushing enticingly over the top of the gown where her breasts lay

Warmth sparked in Sansa at the action, and she quickly traced her finger over the lacing of Tyrion's breeches, making him squirm beneath her.

"Oh…" he breathed

She repeated the action, gently pressing on his eager manhood and eliciting a groan from him "You're all mine tonight Tyrion, and I have many ideas for you"

He laughed "Is that why you're torturing me?"

Sansa had often wondered what monsters were like without their masks. She'd seen glimpses over the years – Joffrey clawing at his throat, Ramsay's face as his hounds started to eat him. It always confused her why people without any mercy seemed to expect help when the tables turned.

"Please..." sobbed Gawan, as Arya cut away his breeches. She was covered in blood, but hummed as she worked – all eight of Gawan's severed fingers impaled on a rod in front of him.

The smell of burning flesh hung in the air, but it was necessary to cauterise the wounds; Gawan couldn't die too quickly. Tears trailed down his face, and not a flicker of remorse went through Sansa. Monsters had no pity, nor did they deserve any.

"What houses have turned against me?" asked Sansa

"Locke..." groaned Gawan, as Arya prodded Gawan's manhood with the tip of her knife "House Locke"

"Who else?"

"Don't know...Robin didn't say" he said, shaking in his restraints "Please, let me go"

Arya snorted "That won't happen, there's too many pieces of you left"

"She's right" agreed Sansa "You'll be much more docile without those pesky bits between your legs"

Arya's grey eyes gleamed in the dungeon "I'll make you smooth down there"

A familiar vulnerability lurked in Tyrion's eyes as she tugged his breeches free, leaving him fully exposed before her. There was no need for him to worry; she loved every inch of him. Sansa knew it would take time, but little by little she would erase his insecurities.

She lifted her eyes to Tyrion, smiling softly "Perfect"

He returned her smile, brushing his fingers through her hair "Not as perfect as you"

"You're very handsome" she said, running her hand down his chest "You shouldn't disagree with a Queen"

"Oh? Just what will you do about it?"

"You'll need to be punished I'm afraid - no leaving this bed for the rest of the night"

Tyrion's smile widened "A harsh sentence"

Blood dripped steadily from Gawan, joining the ever growing pool beneath him. He hung limply in his restraints, sobbing weakly as Arya cleaned the blood from her knife.

"Didn't take long to break, did he?" said Arya "Embarrassing really, I thought Northerners were tougher than that"

Sansa's face was grim in the light of the torches as she took in the state of the creature that had tormented Tyrion. All traces of arrogance and cruelty had quickly fled him when the pain started. His mocking lies that Tyrion had begged for mercy were soon replaced by his own pleas for help. When Arya took his fingers he'd cried for his mother, but there was no-one to hear him down him. Moving him from the main dungeon to the hidden level they'd found had ensured they'd have privacy for this.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" asked Sansa

Arya snorted "He told us everything as soon as his second finger went"

Her eyes moved over Gawan, taking in the odd bend in his broken legs and the long gashes that covered his torso. The stumps of his fingers were blackened from being cauterised and the area between his legs was lacking certain features. Arya was right; it hadn't taken long to get answers from him, but the answers had been far from pleasant.

"What next?" asked Arya

"Nothing" she decided "I've no more questions, and Gawan's time is up"

"There's still a bit of life left in him. We could get a few more screams before the end"

Sansa shook her head "Tyrion will be back soon and I want to be ready for him"

"Are you planning to ride him?"

"I'm going to enjoy my husband" said Sansa, redness tinging her cheeks

"Fair enough" shrugged Arya, glancing at the whimpering Gawan "No-one's going to enjoy Gawan Glover anymore"

"I doubt they did anyway"

"Shall I put an end to this?" said Arya "His desperation is grating on me"

Sansa shook her head, holding her hand out for Arya's knife "He's mine to kill"

It never ceased to amaze Sansa just how perfectly Tyrion fit against her. As much as Tyrion disliked his short stature Sansa loved being able to wrap her longer body around him - it made it so much easier to lavish him with attention.

"Sansa…you're spoiling me" he groaned as she kissed her way down his chest, letting her hands explore his toned arms

"You deserve to be spoiled" she said between kisses

Tyrion's eyes brightened "Please, tell me what I did so I can do it again"

So many things - it would take hours to tell him all the things she loved about him. She propped herself up, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek "You were you"

Gawan was trembling in his restraints as Sansa approached, the handle of the knife digging into her hand.

"Please…mercy" he begged "father…"

"I'm going to burn your body" said Sansa, her blue eyes as hard as ice "Lord Glover doesn't want your bones so they'll be tossed in a hole somewhere no-one will ever find them. The pain you caused Tyrion will always be with him, but he's too strong to let it break him - not like you. Tyrion will be remembered as a hero for generations to come; a lord of Winterfell who single-handedly saved forty women from slavery…and you'll be nothing"

The manic light that had burned so brightly in Gawan's eyes was drowning in fear and pain. Just like Joffrey, he couldn't take what he so eagerly delivered.

"You'll die" he whispered "Robin...he'll kill you for this...and the imp"

"Lord Tyrion" corrected Arya from behind "I wouldn't disrespect my brother"

"The North will burn" said Gawan, tears falling down his face as a grin twisted his battered face "You'll all-"

He was cut off as Sansa began pushing the knife into his chest; where Arya had told her the heart lay.

"I Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, sentence you to death" she said, the knife sinking deeper with every word "May the old gods punish you"

The castle was quiet and the night still as Sansa nuzzled her face into Tyrion's shoulder, laying her arm protectively over him. The lord of Winterfell seemed perfectly at ease as he slept, a small smile on his face that sent heat racing through Sansa. After all she'd suffered since leaving Winterfell Sansa had lost faith in the idea of love; it was a childish notion that couldn't survive reality. She'd married Tyrion because she trusted him; they were friends and she cared about him – marriage to him would be easy. Never had she expected just how deeply she would come to love him. She brushed her hand through his golden hair, gently kissing his forehead.

"I love you so much" she whispered "I'd do anything to protect you"

Was that what she'd done in the dungeon? Gawan had already lost; he'd been sentenced to death and no longer posed a threat to her family. It had been necessary to gather information. If anyone knew what Robin was planning it was Gawan. Perhaps her actions had been extreme but the information was vital to protecting those she loved. He'd answered all of her questions with a little prompting from Arya; it hadn't taken long to learn everything he knew, but Gawan's torment had continued long after that.

'Was it necessary little dove, or did you just enjoy the power?' whispered Cersei

Sansa cuddled closer to Tyrion, savouring the feel of his warmth breath tickling her cheek. It had been necessary. They needed answers and justice needed to be carried. As Queen it was her duty to swing the sword and end Gawan's life.

'Did you need to torture him?'

The new voice rippled through her mind, reminding Sansa too much of her father. What would he have done?

'You know that' taunted her mind 'He'd have taken his head, like Jon would have. Like Tyrion would have'

Getting answers had been necessary; there was no denying that. Arya would have tortured Gawan all night if given the chance.

'You got the answers and carried on anyway' whispered Ramsay 'I told you I'd always be part of you'

A shiver crept through Sansa as she fought to push the dark thoughts away. No – she wasn't a monster. Gawan had earned every inch of his punishment; she'd seen exactly what he'd done to Tyrion.

Against her will Sansa found herself examining her hand that lay across Tyrion, triple checking for any drops of blood. She'd changed her clothes and washed herself thoroughly before her husband returned. He'd have questions in the morning, and Sansa would need to answer them no matter how much she wanted to pretend Gawan had been lying. Tyrion had asked her how it went as soon as he returned but she couldn't bring herself to speak of it tonight. Gawan had deserved everything he'd gotten – but there'd been so much blood. Even as she'd sat waiting by the hearth for Tyrion the smell of blood and the sound of Gawan's begging had clung to her.

It had been a relief when Tyrion arrived; his warm green eyes breathing life into the shards of Sansa's soul. Her soul had been broken for so long, but Tyrion had a way of making things better – of reminding Sansa of who she used to be. The rational part of her mind had no problem with what she'd done in the dungeon; it was necessary, it was justice.

Yet, seeing Tyrion had stirred a different part of herself – a part that was terrified of what she'd become. An internal war had erupted between head and heart, and Sansa had thrown herself into the safety net of Tyrion. It was easier to forget what she'd just done when she was focusing all her attentions on Tyrion; her sweet lion who treated any display of affection as if it was a gift to be cherished. A lifetime of insecurity was hard to overcome, but one day she'd convince Tyrion her love for him was endless – that he needn't fear it would run out.

Distracting herself only worked for so long; poor Tyrion had been exhausted by the time she'd finished with him. As he drifted to sleep in her arms, the memory of the dungeon returned to her bringing with it the feel of a knife travelling into a body and warm blood coating her hand. The girl who left Winterfell as a child would be terrified of the woman she'd become; of the things she'd done. Her parents would be ashamed. Being Queen in the North had come at a high price, but Sansa thought perhaps she wasn't completely a monster.

The way Tyrion looked at her...there was more loving tenderness in his eyes than she deserved, and it reminded Sansa of so many things. Of the dreams she'd had as a girl, of the person she'd wanted to become. More than anything Sansa wanted to reclaim that part of herself but it was too much of a risk.

Sansa Stark couldn't defeat the monsters, but the Queen of ice could. It took a monster to defeat a monster after all. Gawan was dead, but the real threat was yet to come. Here with Tyrion she could be Sansa Stark – the best parts of her were long broken, but they would always belong to him. To those who threatened her family she'd offer her worst parts; the pieces of her soul that had been sharpened into weapons by those she'd once trusted.

Sansa Stark would do anything to protect her family, and the Queen in the North would be ruthless in doing so.


It had been a long time since Tyrion woke up feeling the effects of the night before, but there was no denying the drained ache in his body as he stretched in the bed. He had no idea what had overtaken Sansa last night but she'd been utterly relentless in her affections. She'd gently refused his attempts to reciprocate and focused purely on his pleasure, proving both that Tyrion was the luckiest man alive and Sansa was a fast learner.

When they'd first started joining in the bed Sansa had been somewhat shy – letting him take the lead and inadvertently providing evidence of how little she knew of physical intimacy. Slowly that had changed, with Sansa gaining confidence and wanting to explore his body. The idea had terrified him at first; there was nothing desirable about him after all. Yet, Sansa had never been anything but kind about his body, and his own defences had carefully crumbled under her persistently sweet words. Sansa would not mock him. Their joining in the bed had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with love, and it was a feeling Tyrion wasn't sure he'd ever get used to.

He turned on his side, enjoying the sight of Sansa curled against him. The smallest frown pulled at her mouth as her red hair spilled messily across her pillow. His legs ached as he settled into his new position, and Tyrion thought perhaps yesterday's horse ride shared some of the blame for his current achiness.

Gods, where were his clothes?

Sansa had taken them off with unrivaled enthusiasm last night and by the time she'd finished with him there had been an excellent chance his legs wouldn't support standing. Sleeping naked with Sansa after an intimate night was one thing, but in the light of the day he'd much rather be covered – particularly when Sansa was wearing a shift.

Before he could move to get dressed Sansa stirred beneath the sheets, the frown on her face deepening "Not...monster"

"Sansa" he said softly, brushing his hand against her cheek

"Ugh...no"

"Sansa, wake up"

Unease crept through Tyrion as Sansa huddled up beneath the blankets. As wonderful as last night had been there was a definite sense the Queen had been distracting herself. She'd quickly dodged his question about Gawan when he returned; saying only that the beast was dead before drawing him into a passionate kiss.

Whatever had happened he would soon find out. Gawan was dead but that wasn't the end of their problems.

Tyrion leaned towards Sansa, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone as a whimper escaped her. He kissed her forehead, dropping his hand to gently shake her shoulder.

"It's alright" he said "I'm here Sansa, you're safe"

She drew in a sharp breath, her eyelids jolting open to reveal the deep pools of blue beneath them "Tyrion…"

"Good morning wife" he said, kissing her forehead again "Are you alright?"

Her gaze flicked around the room before some of the tension eased out of her "I'm fine sweetheart, how are you?"

It was no use; something was bothering Sansa and he wouldn't let her evade the question.

"You didn't seem fine in your sleep" he said, smiling lightly "Was the prospect of waking to the naked dwarf in your bed so terrifying?"

"It's our bed" she said, cupping the side of his face "and I rather enjoy this view"

"I wouldn't get too attached - this view will be disappearing as soon as I discover what you did with my clothes"

"Perhaps I'll make it a royal command; the lord of Winterfell is forbidden to wear clothes"

"That would certainly make my court sessions more interesting"

Tyrion studied Sansa's face, giving her some time to get her thoughts in order. Her behaviour last night and distress in her sleep made it obvious enough something was troubling her; the question was whether she would confide in him.

A few moments passed with Sansa twirling her fingers through his hair until it became obvious she wasn't going to start the conversation. A flicker of hurt went through him but he quickly pushed it aside; he knew Sansa struggled to share her problems.

"You seem troubled" he said eventually "Is it about what happened with Gawan last night?"

Tyrion could almost see the shield going up around Sansa and he knew instantly he'd guessed right. Familiar guilt bloomed in his chest; he should have been there.

"Sansa, you can tell me-"

"He's dead" she said, her face tightening "He won't ever hurt you again"

"I appreciate that more than you could ever know" he said "Did you get any answers from him?"

"We did" said Sansa, pushing herself upright in the bed and away from Tyrion

"Is there anything-"

"There will be a council meeting later - I'll go through everything then"

Tyrion sat up too, alarm spreading through him at her change in demeanor "I don't mean to pry Sansa…"

Her face softened "Sorry. It's not you love…it's just not good news"

He reached across, grasping her hand "Whatever it is, we'll handle it. You're not alone Sansa - no matter what"

Something flickered through Sansa's eyes as she looked at him, but it passed too quickly for Tyrion to decipher what it was.


"Robin Flint has been running a recruitment campaign in villages across the North, specifically targeting those without work or those who suffered the most in the recent wars" announced Sansa, her mouth a grim line "There's no way of knowing how many have joined him, but we do know Robin has hired a sellsword company from Essos called the Iron Shields, which is said to be about six thousand men strong. He also has the support of House Locke and at least one ship at his disposal. Given the size of his sellsword army they are likely to have travelled in a few ships from Essos"

Arya glanced around the room as her sister delivered the news, taking in the expressions of Tyrion, Alec and Maester Wolkan. None of their faces gave away much, but what they'd learned from Gawan last night merely confirmed what they already expected. Sansa had delivered the news as one might the return of the White Walkers, but to Arya the situation was hardly that desperate.

It was Tyrion who broke the silence that had fallen over the room "Whatever gold Robin made from selling me to Grey Worm must be near gone by now. The pieces he has on the board now will be all he has"

"I should think so" agreed Maester Wolkan, rubbing his beard "Ships and sellswords are expensive, and I mean no disrespect to you my lord but I'm surprised Robin had enough gold from selling you to afford what he has"

"I often wonder how much I was sold for" mused Tyrion "Exiled dwarf with scarred face - hardly an attractive package"

The corner of Arya's mouth turned upwards "Let's face it big brother; Grey Worm got a bad deal"

"Are you saying I was mis-sold?"

"I'm saying he probably didn't understand Westerosi money enough to know he was getting robbed" said Arya "If I had to guess-"

"Grey Worm wanted revenge and he wouldn't have cared about the cost" cut in Sansa, lacing her hands tightly on the table in front of her

"What do we know of the sellswords?" asked Alec, tactfully changing the subject

"Not much" said Sansa "Gawan only said they supposedly arrived last week, but he hadn't met them. Presumably they've sailed into Eastwatch or Karhold"

"I've heard of them" added Arya "The Tattered Prince was supposedly part of the Iron Shields before joining another sellsword group. After he left them I think they lost respect"

"The Golden Company and the Second Sons were the most prominent in Essos, but the destruction of the Golden Company has probably caused other groups to gain members who might not have previously joined them" said Tyrion "It's equally likely the Iron Shields was the best Robin could afford. I've no doubt they're dangerous, but they'll also be unused to the North and its conditions"

"Aye, it'll be a nasty surprise" said Alec "I'd like to know more about them all the same. If it comes to combat I need to prepare the guards"

Maester Wolkan's chain clinked as he shuffled in his seat "I can make enquiries on your behalf. The Citadel is certain to have some record of them"

Sansa nodded her acceptance, but the frown on her face didn't lessen. Interrogating Gawan had been as easy as expected - he told them everything relatively quickly when the pain started. Satisfaction curled through Arya recalling the justice that had been delivered. While she and Sansa had planned it together, Arya had doubted her sister's conviction to see it through to the end. Yet the Queen's gaze hadn't faltered for a moment as they tore Gawan to pieces. Part of Arya was surprised - the sister she'd known in childhood had recoiled from the sight of blood. The larger part of Arya knew she shouldn't be surprised; none of them were who they used to be after all. Sansa's cold indifference to Gawan's torture had been an unexpected development - particularly when she delivered the final blow.

Watching her sister as the council discussed the latest development Arya saw some of last night's coldness lingering in Sansa's eyes. The biggest question was why. It was possible Sansa had some regret over how they'd killed Gawan - not that the bastard deserved it. That didn't quite seem to fit though.

Sansa smiled as Tyrion laid his hand over hers, promising the situation was far from dire and they would deal with it together. Throughout the council Sansa had looked at them all as if in mourning, which was a complete overreaction as far as Arya was concerned. Robin Flint wasn't as clever as he thought - he was nothing more than a boy pretending to be King.

Tyrion was smiling at Sansa, his eyes bright and determined as he told her not to worry. For her part Sansa seemed to appreciate the reassurance but the tightness in her face told Arya she didn't quite believe it.

Arya narrowed her eyes at the scene. Gawan was dead - her sister should be happy that they'd finally delivered justice to one of Tyrion's attackers. Yet part of Sansa was hiding. There was something off about her behaviour; Arya just couldn't figure out what.


"Ugh..." groaned Lyle, sprawled across the bed with his eyes closed

Tyrion's throat tightened at the sight of his friend. He glanced to Cayn stood in the doorway beside him. His mouth was pressed into a tight line, as if to keep his emotions in check. Lyle and Cayn had often visited his bedside as he recovered, and Tyrion had no intention of doing anything less for his friend. It had been two days since Lyle returned injured from Widows Watch and Alec had assured him the young man was fine for a visit.

The boys lived with their mother in a cramped house in the village. Both had separate rooms though they were little more than cupboards. Their mother wasn't in when Tyrion arrived and Cayn informed him she'd gone out to get food; a word that seemed to excite Lyon who decided to hover by the front door - as if hoping he might charm a snack from the woman when she returned.

"Are you sure?" whispered Tyrion

Cayn nodded, his eyes glistening "I think he'd like to see you"

Tyrion forced himself to move closer to the bed, his heart sinking with every step. Lyle was usually so cheerful and full of life - seeing him like this felt like a terrible crime. Lyle's long brown hair was splayed messily around him as he lay beneath the worn-out covers.

"Lyle" he called softly

"Ugh...Tyrion, is that you?"

"It is" he said, laying his hand on the bed "I'm right here"

"Thought I'd...I'd never see you again"

Tyrion's heart lurched at the sight of his friend. He glanced back at Cayn, but he wouldn't meet his gaze.

"What can I do?" asked Tyrion "Tell me - anything"

Gods, why had no-one told him Lyle was this badly hurt? Perhaps Lyle would be better off in Winterfell where it was warmer. Did he need the Maester? Wolkan hadn't mentioned any life threatening injuries among the guards after he treated them, but Lyle looked awful.

"Come closer" said Lyle, his voice barely a whisper

Immediately Tyrion moved closer, grateful the bed was lower than the ones in the castle and allowed him to lean closer to Lyle's face.

"Please, just tell me what you need" said Tyrion

"I just need...to see your face"

The request caused Tyrion's heart to twist, until he noticed the slightest twitch of Lyle's mouth.

"You bastard!" he said, pushing back from the bed

Lyle laughed, his face creased in amusement "Oh Gods, you should have seen your face"

Tyrion whipped his head to Cayn and it became immediately obvious why he wouldn't meet his gaze before - the boy's face was bright red from trying to contain his laughter.

"I thought you were dying" complained Tyrion

"Don't sound so disappointed" called Cayn

Lyle straightened up in the bed, a familiar grin taking over his face "Your concern was so touching Tyrion - I actually thought you might shed a tear for me"

"Wait until Brice hears this one!" laughed Cayn

"I should have told you I needed a foot rub" mused Lyle, leaning back against the wall as he shifted upright

Tyrion's face burned even as relief flooded him. He turned back to Lyle, narrowing his eyes at the boy "You missed that opportunity, though I can always ask Lyon to take a look at your toes"

Lyle paled slightly "No need to trouble him"

Cayn bounced from the doorway to the other side of the bed "Lyle was getting bored on bed rest"

"I'm glad I could entertain you" said Tyrion, poking at the sheets covering Lyle's side

"What are you doing?" asked Lyle

"Searching for this war wound of yours" said Tyrion "I heard you took a sword in your side"

Lyle needed no more encouragement as he pulled the sheets down to reveal the bandages wrapped around his midsection. His hand drifted over the left side of his body; drawing a line just below his ribs.

"That's where it got me" he said "I was fighting this Locke soldier and this other bastard appears out of nowhere swinging at me. I tried to get out the way, but the sword ripped through my side"

Lyle painted it as if it had been a great adventure, but he so easily could have lost his life. It was easy to get swept up in battle when it was happening but that wasn't to say it didn't stay with you; how many nights had Tyrion relived his face being cut in half in the battle of Blackwater?

"No long term damage?" asked Tyrion

"Maester Wolkan said I got lucky" shrugged Lyle "I lost a load of blood but it didn't hit anything vital"

"At least you'll have a scar to impress the ladies" said Tyrion "Cayn tells me Northern girls appreciate that sort of thing"

"They do!" said Lyle, his eyes lighting up "Come on Tyrion, you mean the Queen hasn't complimented your scars?"

He snorted "She's little choice, they're hardly going anywhere"

Cayn leaned closer to his brother, a sly grin taking over his face "You'd be surprised what the Queen admires"

"What are you getting at?" asked Tyrion, his brow furrowing

"Don't pretend Tyrion" said Cayn, rolling his eyes "I remember the tunnel we crawled through, and the Queen rather liking her view of your rear end"

Tyrion's face flushed "As long as you didn't enjoy your view of my wife"

Lyle glanced between them in wonder "Wait, what've I missed? I need details!"

Cayn had just opened his mouth to answer when a shriek rang through the house, jolting both Tyrion and Cayn to life. They lurched to the doorway of the room, stopping when they saw a thin lady with greying brown hair panting in the entrance - the food she'd been carrying spread across the floor.

Lyon was the picture of direwolf innocence as he sat by the door; as if he hadn't startled the woman half to death.

"Cayn, what's-" the woman trailed off as her eyes fell on Tyrion, and she quickly attempted a curtsy "Oh, lord Tyrion..."

"You didn't tell your mother I was coming to visit?" asked Tyrion, glancing sideways at Cayn

"Um, I thought it would be a surprise"

While Tyrion had never met Lyle and Cayn's mother he'd just assumed Cayn had told her he was coming to see Lyle. Apparently the brothers had been too busy plotting their joke on him to have informed their poor mother of his visit. Lyon was no bigger than an average dog, but he supposed the sight of the golden direwolf waiting in your house could be startling if you weren't acquainted with him.

"I'm so sorry" started Tyrion, moving to help her pick up the bread and other pieces of food strewn across the floor

The woman held her hand out to stop him "Please, let me. It's an honour to meet you lord Tyrion"

"I should go. I'm sorry, I never meant to intrude" he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly "and for Lyon too - he means you no harm"

It was a small mercy Cayn's mother looked just as awkward as he felt "Not at all m'lord, I was just startled - please won't you join me for lunch?"

"I don't wish to bother you"

"It would be my honour m'lord, and no trouble to me" she said, before turning her head sharply to her son "Cayn will be cooking it anyway"


"What do you think of Meera?" asked Bran as the wheelhouse trundled further away from the North

"A strong fighter from what I've seen, though her choice of weapon is somewhat unusual"

"She prefers a spear" agreed Bran

The lady Knight shifted awkwardly in her seat "As long as you're comfortable your Grace"

Bran offered a small smile "You know there was never anything wrong with Ser Podrick serving me, it just isn't where he's meant to be"

"I trust your judgement my King"

Brienne was trying to hide it but the prospect of leaving Pod at Casterly Rock was clearly weighing on her. The closer they got to the Westerlands the more she withdrew. Bran understood - he would miss Podrick too - but there needed to be a new lord of Casterly Rock and no-one was better suited than Podrick Payne.

"Pod will be a great lord and Westeros is in need of great lords" said Bran

"I don't doubt that your Grace. Pod will be a fair ruler - I believe lord Tyrion taught him well"

"He learned much from Tyrion, but just as much from you" said Bran, glancing out the window at the countryside they were passing through "People have a habit of being more than you expect. Podrick was sent to squire for Tyrion as a punishment for them both. Tyrion gained a clumsy squire from a minor branch of a house in the Westerlands who no-one else would take. Serving Tywin Lannister's son would be an honour for most but not when the son he was serving was Tyrion - a dwarf who drank and whored his days away"

Brienne swallowed uncomfortably "I fear you may be missing their more positive points your Grace. Lord Tyrion was far kinder to Pod than most lords are to their servants, while Podrick always respected Tyrion"

"That's exactly my point Ser Brienne" said Bran, turning back to her "No-one expected anything great from either of them - and look at them now"

"Tyrion is a great lord, and Podrick will be too"

Bran didn't doubt that. Both were where they were supposed to be, but as the wheelhouse trundled south his thoughts remained in the North. Sansa had made a choice last night, but it was merely the first in a series of difficult decisions she would face. While Sansa would ultimately set the conditions for what was to come, Tyrion's choices were no less vital - and there was nothing the three-eyed raven could do to warn them.

Whatever unfolded in the North was out of his hands.


Despite the many months he'd now been at Winterfell Tyrion still stuck to the same few locations with little variety. If he wasn't with Sansa, holding court, in the practice yard or village he was in the library. Arya had learned long ago routine could be dangerous, but in this case it made it far easier to find her brother. At least Tyrion moved around Winterfell - Sansa only strayed from her chambers if necessary.

True to form the lord of Winterfell was sat at a desk in the back corner of the library with piles of books and documents spread around him. Nessa was sat beside him, listening attentively as Tyrion pointed to something in a book.

"You see this word here? It says 'philosophy' do you know what that is?"

Nessa shook her head, testing the word "Phil-os-ophy?"

"Yes, it refers to an attitude in a way. You could say someone's sense of honour is their philosophy - what they judge as right or wrong and how that guides their decisions" explained Tyrion "In this sense it refers to Maesters and the codes of practice they follow at the Citadel"

"Like Maester Wolkan?"

"Exactly. He will be well-versed in such things - many Maesters study philosophy in detail though to others it is seen as a waste of time"

Both Tyrion and Nessa were completely absorbed in whatever they were doing, and Arya was half-tempted to leave them be. Ultimately she moved further into the library, her footsteps drawing Tyrion's attention. She needed to talk to him, and the sooner the better.

"Hello Arya" he called, sitting back in his chair

"Lady Arya" chirped Nessa, smiling up at her

"What are you two doing?" she asked, stopping just in front of the desk

Tyrion winked at Nessa "I'm afraid it's a secret project. Only my squire is allowed to know for now"

The little girl straightened up at his words, puffing her chest out "I'm helping!"

"You most certainly are" agreed Tyrion, smiling at the girl's enthusiasm before turning to Arya "What brings you to the library dear sister?"

"I was looking for you dear brother" she replied, sinking into the chair opposite him

Tyrion immediately picked up her meaning, nodding his understanding as he returned his focus to Nessa "I think we've done enough work today my dear. Would you mind taking Lyon out to hunt for me?"

"Ok Tyrion" she said, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes at the end of her day

"Thank you Nessa" he said, smiling broadly at the girl "When you go home I want you to explain what a philosophy is to your mother and Ethan. Tomorrow I expect to hear your own philosophy, understood?"

Her brown eyes brightened considerably at her task, bobbing her head up and down "Ok! I'll do it Tyrion - promise!"

It eased a little of Arya's guilt to see Nessa skip from the library, but what she wanted to discuss with Tyrion wasn't for a child's ears.

"So, what can I do for you?" asked Tyrion, studying her face "I'll assume it has something to do with Sansa"

"What makes you say that?"

"You've made sure to corner me alone. If you wanted her to hear you'd have barged into our chambers as you usually do"

"Maybe I thought the library was safer - barging into your chambers is a dangerous thing these days. Gods know what I'd be walking into"

"Your sister's a Queen" he said, smiling wryly "Should you be thinking such unladylike things about her?"

"I think Sansa has plenty of unladylike thoughts, she just won't admit them. I assume she enjoyed riding you last night?"

Tyrion was far harder to embarrass than Sansa when it came to bedding "I won't dignify that with an answer, though I must admit this chair is rather uncomfortable in certain areas"

"Good to know"

"Is that why you wanted my personal attention - to find out the details of our activity in the marriage bed?"

"No, but it is about Sansa"

His smile faded "You noticed her behavior earlier on?"

"You did too, apparently"

"Sansa told me nothing of last night. When I returned from dinner she told me only that Gawan was dead before...thoroughly distracting me"

Arya rolled her eyes; she needed no more explanation than that.

Tyrion leaned forwards in his chair, lacing his hands in front of him on the desk "I was actually hoping you might shed some light on the situation. I understand Gawan confirmed the worst case scenario but it's hardly disastrous"

"I don't get it either" said Arya

Tyrion sighed "Arya, what happened last night?"

"Ask Sansa"

"You know she won't tell me"

Arya wavered in the face of Tyrion's pleading eyes. While Sansa hadn't exactly been cold this morning it was obvious enough she'd retreated into herself under the weight of the news Gawan brought.

"There's nothing to tell big brother" she said eventually "I took some answers from Gawan and when we were done Sansa stuck a knife in his chest"

His face twisted in despair "No...I should have been there - neither of you should have had to do that"

"No lone wolves Tyrion" she said sternly "I know death very well and Sansa isn't a stranger to it either. She's not the soft girl she once was"

"I understand, but Sansa-"

"Fed her last husband to the hounds"

"The bastard deserved it" said Tyrion, anger sparking in his usually warm eyes at the thought of Ramsay "He deserves an eternity in each of the seven hells"

"So does Gawan"

Tyrion deflated "I worry about Sansa when she gets like this. While she's gotten much better at sharing her troubles, she often hides them away in a place I can't reach"

"Sansa didn't seem to have any problem with what happened to Gawan last night and she wanted to swing the sword at the end. You might not like the idea of Sansa killing, but I'm pretty sure that's not what's bothering her"

"What do you think it is then?"

"I don't know, that's why I came to ask you"

Tyrion rubbed his face, sinking back in his chair "Sansa's been a little off since Alec returned. The betrayal of house Locke came as a nasty surprise, particularly when we finally had Gawan Glover. I can only assume she's worried about what you learned last night"

"Why would she be? There are enough houses in the North to defeat Robin and lord Locke. Those sellswords he hired will struggle in the unfamiliar terrain and using them against the crown won't endear him to any other houses - Northerners don't tend to like outsiders"

"I agree with you, but Sansa doesn't want a war" said Tyrion, a sad smile tugging at his mouth "She doesn't want any more Northern blood to be spilled in conflict - it's what makes her a true Queen. The people may see her as cold but Sansa would do anything to protect them"

Arya let out a sigh, slumping in her seat. Tyrion had merely confirmed her own suspicions that Sansa was worrying over things that may not happen. There was no guarantee it would come to war after all. She'd noticed the way her sister froze when Alec and the guards returned, and it appeared she was doing the same again. Hopefully when a plan was properly put in place Sansa would relax a little more. Ruling was a heavy burden but Sansa wasn't bearing it alone.


Unease stirred within Sansa as the snow crunched underfoot; it was only Tyrion's hand in hers that kept her from bolting back to the castle.

When she and Jon had reclaimed Winterfell Sansa had never wanted to set foot outside the castle again; it was her home and where she felt safest - despite Ramsay's ghost lingering in the darkness of the corridors. She'd gone to Kings Landing to decide the new King and get Northern independence, but even when she returned home she had little desire to leave the castle. Ever since she was crowned Queen in the North she'd left Winterfell three times; riding with Gawan, the surprise dinner with Tyrion and when they went riding the other day.

"Are you alright Sansa?" asked Tyrion, rubbing his thumb over her hand

"I'm fine" she told him

He smiled reassuringly, tightening his grip "Don't worry - the small folk will love to see their Queen"

Sansa wasn't so sure. In the early days of her reign she'd ignored the small folk in favour of the major lords and ladies. While the decision had made perfect sense at the time it had developed into avoidance of the small folk completely. It wasn't their fault - but the riots in Kings Landing when she was no more than a child seemed to have left an ugly impression. Joffrey had been a cruel and callous King, and he'd deserved the small folk to turn on him; but it had planted a particular fear in Sansa nonetheless.

'They'll turn on anybody' whispered her mind

The North remembers after all - and Sansa had forgotten the people she was sworn to protect. It wasn't malicious; she wanted to help the small folk, but trauma was difficult to overcome. Helping from a distance was the best she could offer, but it was an arrangement Tyrion was trying to change.

Lyon trotted cheerfully at Tyrion's other side, nudging his left hand as if to say 'I'm better company than her' while Brice and Alec wandered some distance behind them.

'If we're attacked will two guards and a haughty direwolf be enough?' she wondered, her stomach churning 'Tyrion has his sword too, I suppose'

Sansa forced herself to inhale and exhale as the village drew nearer. It was rare Tyrion asked anything of her, but she'd woken this morning to find him already dressed and breakfast waiting on the table.

"I thought you might join me in the village today" he'd said cheerfully

"Oh...any particular reason?"

"Nothing beyond desiring the pleasure of your company dear wife"

It was only the other week Tyrion had accidentally pointed out her fear of leaving the castle, and at the time Sansa had been determined to change it. Unfortunately her resolve had left her as quickly as it came and she'd retreated even deeper into Winterfell. The information Gawan had provided hung over her like an axe, threatening her family and every hope she held for the independent North. The little girl in Sansa wanted nothing more than to hide away in Winterfell, but the Queen didn't have that luxury.

At least going into village had the benefit of spending time with Tyrion; no matter what he was her priority.

'Family. Duty. Honour'

The Tully words were a sharp contrast to the more foreboding Stark words, but to Sansa they were far more practical.

"Is there anywhere particular you'd like to go?" asked Tyrion, shooting her a smile

"Wherever you want sweetheart" she told him. This was Tyrion's idea, and she'd go anywhere with him - she just hoped he didn't let go of her hand.

Almost as soon as they entered the village Sansa was noticed. A group of three women were making their way along the path with four children in tow. At the sight of the Queen they halted their steps, surprise sweeping across their faces before a frantic bobbing of heads began.

"Your Grace" they chorused

Sansa tried to smile "Good morning"

This was awkward when it really shouldn't be. Her father had been respected and admired by the small folk - from what she'd heard Robb had been the same. There was no real reason for Sansa to be so nervous; she was the Queen.

"Lord Tyrion" greeted the women, some of the awkwardness leaving their faces as they turned to the more familiar lord of Winterfell

"Hello" he said, before waving at the children "Are you children being good?"

A couple of the children were no more than toddlers, but the oldest looked at least four as she nodded her mop of wild hair "Yes, we good m-"

She trailed off, a look of puzzlement crossing her face as she struggled with Tyrion's title. The girl recognized him enough to know he had a title, but the correct words were just beyond her childish grasp.

Tyrion didn't seem at all bothered as he tugged Sansa closer to the group "Hmm, I'll believe you. What do you think my Queen?"

"Oh, yes - very good" nodded Sansa

"I think we should let Lyon decide. He only lets well-behaved children pet him"

The children gasped in delight as the golden wolf trotted over to them; with the women bending down to supervise.

A squeeze of her hand pulled Sansa from the scene to Tyrion beside her "Are you sure you're alright? I thought you might like a break from the castle but if you're uncomfortable we can go back"

"I'm fine" she promised, ignoring the worry gnawing at her heart "So, does Lyon not let me pet him because I'm poorly behaved?"

A grin spread across Tyrion's face "He knows you're willing to sheep shift people's beds"


The old Maester lifted his eyes from the document in front of him, discreetly studying the Queen's face. It was no secret Queen Sansa was concerned about what they'd learned of Robin's rebellion attempt, but something had changed since they started going through correspondence today. At first things had proceeded as normal. The Queen would read each letter and divide them into priority groups with him answering a number on her behalf - usually regarding logistics or updates on supplies in other castles.

Maester Wolkan was half-way through a letter when he'd noticed something shift in the atmosphere. To most it would be barely noticeable but the Queen tended to be reserved in her emotions - learning to read the subtle signs in her body language was a vital skill to working with her.

"Something amiss my Queen?" he'd asked

Her face tightened as she stared at the letter, though her voice betrayed nothing as she answered "No, nothing at all"


"What do you think?" asked Tyrion

Esther's mouth stretched into a wide smile "I like your idea little lion - just what the North needs"

"You don't think it's too…different?"

The old woman shook her head "No! You're a clever lord and this is a time for clever ideas"

Tyrion relaxed somewhat, smiling gratefully at the older woman. There were still several points of his idea he wanted to refine before bringing it to Sansa but Esther's approval gave him a little more confidence.

"Awooo!" cried Lyon, facing the small window in Esther's cramped house

"Sorry" said Tyrion "Ever since he failed to intimidate a horse he'd been working on his bark"

"Aww, the little wolf's trying to find his howl" said Esther

"Awooo!" cried Lyon again, before shaking his head in dismay

"Don't feel bad Lyon, these things take practice" said Tyrion

"Aye" agreed Esther "It'll happen when you're ready little wolf"

Tyrion had come to rely on his visits to Esther. She was easy to talk to and he'd found her a good ear for any issues he had as lord of Winterfell. When doubts plagued him about his decisions Esther's opinion as an old-fashioned Northerner could quickly reassure him.

"Now Esther, I have a serious question for you" he said

The old woman smiled "Very well little lion. What's your serious question?"

"Have you been making my tunics bigger? I tried to wear an old one the other week and it wouldn't fit!"

She laughed, her brown eyes lighting up "You not so skinny anymore"

"I knew I was getting plump"

"Not plump m'lord - strong. You look more like a Northman now; not a soft southerner"

Tyrion laughed, warmth filling him at the compliment "Hmm, I suppose that's a good thing"


Sansa smiled tightly, trying to ignore the growing ache in her chest as she watched Tyrion and Arya play cyvasse.

"You'll need to do better than that little sister" said Tyrion, grinning across at Arya

"How do you know you're not where I want you?" she replied

Arya had joined them for dinner and the evening had progressed in a comfortably familiar way. When dinner had been cleared the table had turned into a war zone of cyvasse playing. Sansa had lost quickly to both Arya and Tyrion, who were now playing a far more intense match between them. They were both much more practiced at the game than Sansa was but she usually put up more of a fight before losing. Tonight she just couldn't focus.

Sansa watched as Tyrion and Arya bantered back and forth, observing the scene as if through a strangers eyes. More than anything she wanted to join in with them - to enjoy the warmth she'd come to depend on.

"You're going to lose Lannister" taunted Arya, making her move in the game

"I can't lose" he said, turning to smile at Sansa "I'm fighting for the honour of my Queen"

"I have to win then" said Arya "nothing satisfies me more than beating Sansa"

They were both watching her, waiting for her to join in.

Sansa forced her mouth upwards, dragging her mind from the darkness and into the present. She stood from her chair, pulling it around to sit closer to Tyrion.

Winding her arm around him she kissed the side of his head, letting his warmth chase the cold from her "We can't lose now love. I hate seeing Arya satisfied"

"You're teaming up against me? Fine I get Lyon"

"Lyon's loyal to me, he'll be on my side" said Tyrion, turning to the golden wolf "Lyon!"

The direwolf padded over, bouncing his paws into his master's lap. Tyrion grinned smugly as he scratched the wolf's ears.

"I have an offer he can't refuse" said Arya, a wicked grin covering her face as she turned to the wolf "Lyon do you want to help me beat Sansa?"

The wolf glanced between them before leaping off Tyrion and moving to sit next to Arya's chair, lifting his nose in Sansa's direction.

"Aww Lyon" said Sansa, unease filling her at the way the wolf looked at her. It was as if he could see through the thin mask she was wearing to the truth she so desperately wanted to deny.

Tyrion grasped her hand, drawing her attention to his smiling face "Don't worry - we'll just have to beat both of them"


It was three days after Gawan's execution when Arya made her way into her sister's chambers. The Queen was sat in her usual chair by the hearth - piles of correspondence spread around her. Rather than reading them, Sansa was tossing them onto the hearth.

"Bad news?" asked Arya, dropping onto the chaise without invitation

"I'm just clearing out some old letters. You're right - it's pointless keeping every letter I've ever received"

Sansa continued her work, not bothering to lift her head. The air was thick with a melancholy that seemed out of place around Sansa. Her sister was often anxious and sometimes cold - but rarely was she sad.

"Heard you've been going the village with Tyrion" said Arya

"We've been twice"

Arya nodded "Good. You should get out the castle more often"

"Tyrion seems to think the same"

"The people support you Sansa; they don't support Robin Flint"

Her sister sighed, finally lifting her head "What do you want Arya?"

"You've not made a plan to deal with Robin yet"

"There's no point going to him, the best solution is to wait for him to come to us. As you and Tyrion pointed out his sellswords won't be used to the Northern conditions"

"So we're doing nothing?"

"We're waiting"

"Why haven't you called the banners to Winterfell?"

The Queen rubbed tiredly at her face "There's no point until Robin makes a move. Do you really want Winterfell full again?"

"You should tell them to be ready at the very least - even lord Glover and lord Manderly"

"I'm not involving either of them, and I am going to write to our closest allies" said Sansa, hardening her tone "I don't sit up here and do nothing all day"

"Fine" said Arya, crossing her arms "If everything's under control why are you acting so strangely?"

"I'm not-"

"Even Tyrion's noticed. He thinks you're just worried about Robin, but I'm not sure I agree"

Sansa's blue eyes sparked with annoyance "Go on then. If you're so clever, why am I acting strangely?"

Arya studied her older sister's face, searching for any hint of what was truly bothering Sansa. On the surface her behavior hadn't changed - unless you were as familiar with her as she and Tyrion were. She performed all her Queenly duties as usual and there was no coldness in her expression. If anything Sansa had increased her affections, particularly towards Tyrion. Even at dinner last night Arya had noticed the way her sister acted around her husband - something more than love was in her eyes whenever she was around him.

The problem was finding out what. Sansa was acting as her usual self, but Arya was increasingly convinced that's all it was; acting.

"I don't know" admitted Arya, sinking back on the chaise "but I will find out"


Sansa curled in on herself, her hands clenching in anguish as she slept.

"The lady Sansa has asked mercy for her father, and my mother believes lord Eddard should be allowed to join the Nights Watch" said Joffrey, his face twisting into a grin "but they have the soft hearts of women - as long as I am King treason shall never go unpunished!"

Sansa's heart slammed against her ribs as horror flooded through her.

"Ser Ilyn - bring me his head" ordered Joffrey, as her father was forced to his knees

No. Not this - not again.

More than anything Sansa wanted to intervene. She wasn't a helpless girl anymore; she was a Queen - she could save her father.

Sansa tried to force herself forwards but her legs refused to move "No! Stop, please…"

Joffrey turned to her, his eyes glinting with cruelty "You don't like this my lady? Perhaps you'd prefer to watch the other execution"

The boy King pointed behind her, and against her will Sansa found herself turning to look. Her heart crawled into her mouth as she took in the scene.

Tyrion was on his knees with his hands bound behind his back - as Robin held a sword to his neck.

"No!" she cried, fighting to move forwards but finding her feet simply wouldn't obey. She was trapped; just as helpless as she'd been as a child "Tyrion!"

Joffrey wrapped his arm around her "So many traitors to kill today. Who shall we watch first, your father or my uncle?"

Sansa twisted in his grasp, finding her father awaiting execution on one side of her and Tyrion at the other. Both were trapped; both had swords to their necks. The crowd was baying for blood and they didn't care whose it was.

"Winter is coming" warned her father, drawing her attention in time to see Ser Ilyn bring the sword down and separate his head

"No…no…" she sobbed

"That's one down" said Joffrey, turning her around to face Tyrion

"Please…not Tyrion…please no…" she moaned, tears spilling from her eyes

"I'll always love you Sansa" said Tyrion, his soft green eyes meeting hers for a final time before his head was jerked downwards

"Aww isn't that sweet?" sneered Robin, kicking Tyrion in the side as he lined up his sword "It's a shame no-one loves an imp"

"Stop!" she screamed, as Joffrey tightened his hold on her

It was no use; Sansa was helpless as Robin brought his sword through Tyrion's neck unleashing a torrent of blood across the platform. Sansa sagged in Joffrey's grip, all the fight draining out of her as she cried.

Robin smirked at her, kicking Tyrion's severed head along the platform. Nausea rolled violently through Sansa at the sight of her dead husband.

Joffrey squeezed her painfully against him "Come now, there are still traitors to deal with - I think we'll do your sister next and then your crippled brother. It shouldn't take long to get through everyone you've ever cared about"

Sansa drew in ragged breaths as Joffrey turned her to look at the row of prisoners waiting to be executed; all of them were those she loved the most - from Arya and Bran to Brienne and Podrick. No, this couldn't be real. This couldn't happen. Sansa opened her mouth, a scream tearing from her throat.

The Queen jerked awake in bed, finding her pillow damp with tears. Her heart pounded unevenly in her chest as the violent imagery of her nightmare clung to her mind. She turned carefully in the bed finding Tyrion fast asleep beside her. At least she hadn't woken him up; there was no way she could talk to him about her dream.

A shudder went through Sansa as the full horror of her dream hit her. She'd relived her father's death so many times over the years…seeing Tyrion suffer the same fate was unthinkable. She inched closer to her husband, laying her hand on his chest and letting the steady rise and fall soothe her nerves.

Night after night her dreams got worse, playing out her worst fears in increasingly violent ways. No matter what she couldn't let that happen.

'Winter is coming'

The Stark words were a warning, and Sansa thought winter had many faces.


The sword missed Tyrion's head by less than an inch as it whistled past him. He brought his own sword up just in time to block the follow-up strike, but the clash of steel sent a painful jolt through his arms. Tyrion gritted his teeth; Brice wasn't going easy on him.

"Come on Lannister" taunted Brice "Don't lose your head just cause the Queen's watching ya"

It had been something of a surprise when Sansa asked if she could watch him practice, but he was hardly going to refuse her. It had been four days since Gawan's death and Alec had ramped up the intensity in the practice yard - as Tyrion trained with the guards he wasn't spared the increased workload. Knowing Sansa was watching made Tyrion desperate to not make a fool of himself, but the intensity of the training left him drained and struggling to keep pace.

The other problem was Brice. Tyrion usually sparred with Cayn and Lyle, or Alec on occasion - fighting Brice was an entirely different experience. The man was older than the others and much larger. Where he lacked in speed he made up in power, and blocking such hard blows was quickly wearing Tyrion out.

Brice grinned down at him, raising his sword once more "Does the little lord need a rest?"

"I could go all day" said Tyrion, wearily lifting his own weapon

The sword Sansa had gifted him was beautiful, and after weeks of training with it Tyrion had grown used to its balance and length. He'd hardly call it an extension of his arm yet, but some of his initial clumsiness had receded.

Tyrion struck first this time, stepping to Brice's side and aiming a jab at the man's stomach. Brice brought his sword around to block, but Tyrion changed direction at the last second and swung the sword upwards instead. It was sheer luck that Brice managed to lean away from the sword tip. A moment later a thud cracked against his ribs as Brice batted him with the flat of his sword, sending him staggering across the yard.

"Good work Brice, but stop waiting for him to be ready" called Alec from the side "Tyrion you won't overpower him, use your head!"

Tyrion's side throbbed as Brice lumbered towards him. Alec had insisted they train with real weapons rather than the blunter practice swords, and while it made training more like actual battle it also meant they had to be more careful. Brice was well-practiced enough to easily use the flat of his blade rather than the edge when he struck, while half of Tyrion's focus was on not using the deadly sharp edges of his Valyrian steel blade. A normal sword could do horrific damage, but Tyrion's blade would cut through a man like a leaf.

"I'm getting tired" announced Brice "Sorry to do this to ya Lannister but it's time to end this"

Brice approached slowly and his face looked just as weary as Tyrion felt. As soon as Tyrion lifted his sword to strike the older man pounced with surprising speed. Brice brought his sword downwards at Tyrion's head, causing the lord of Winterfell to launch himself out of the way. He stumbled in the sludgy snow that covered the ground, leaving him unbalanced as Brice followed up with a slice at his chest. Tyrion narrowly deflected the strike but the force of the blow cost him his sword that went clattering across the yard.

Instantly Tyrion's left hand went to Bronn's dagger hanging on his belt but as soon as his fingers closed around the hilt a spasm went through the hand. It passed within seconds, but the delay in withdrawing his dagger cost him as the edge of Brice's sword rested against his neck.

"Dead?" asked Brice

Tyrion's shoulders slumped "Dead"

The large man clapped him on the back and Tyrion quickly congratulated him on his victory; even so his eyes wandered to the covered bridge where Sansa stood watching. She smiled brightly at him, waving before pointing at the castle. Tyrion returned her wave, nodding his understanding. As much as he tried Tyrion had no natural talent in fighting - he could only hope Sansa wasn't too embarrassed.

Alec grasped his shoulder, drawing his attention "Don't beat yourself up Tyrion; your form was very good. Brice is a difficult opponent and you held him off for a good while"

"Aye, reckon tomorrow I might find a tiny bruise and think of you Lannister" said Brice

Tyrion forced a smile "I'm sure I'll have many large bruises from you, and the Queen will know exactly who gave them to me"

Tyrion stayed long enough for Alec to go through what they'd both done well and what needed work before bidding goodbye to his friends and trudging back into the castle. Losing in the practice yard was a fairly common occurrence and it was one he usually didn't mind; only today Sansa had seen it and that fact had stirred the insecurity he tried to bury.

Pushing the thought from his mind Tyrion wandered through the castle and up to his chambers. The exertion of the practice combined with the sludge he'd twice been knocked into had left him damp and cold. Sansa had signaled she was returning here, and part of him hoped she wouldn't mention his poor performance. She'd undoubtedly watched her brothers train as children - surely he looked ridiculous in comparison?

He pushed the door open wearily, his eyes immediately finding Sansa stood waiting for him next to a large tub.

The Queen was wearing only a shift as she gestured to the steaming tub "I thought maybe you'd like to take a bath with me"


Sansa had never shared a bath before. What she and Tyrion did in the marriage bed was one thing but sharing a bath with her husband was a different kind of intimate. It was a small mercy Tyrion had looked equally nervous as he removed his clothes and stood at the opposite end of the tub.

As soon as she left the practice yard she'd asked the servants to find the biggest tub possible and fill it for a bath. As far as she was concerned Tyrion had been very impressive in the practice yard - far better than she'd expected. Yet Sansa knew that wasn't how he'd see it. Aside from that he'd been knocked to the ground twice while sparring with Brice and taken several hard hits. With or without her Tyrion needed a nice hot bath.

Thankfully he'd quickly agreed to share a bath and they'd awkwardly clambered into the tub together. There was no real reason for either of them to feel awkward - they'd seen each other naked plenty of times.

"This is a good idea" he said, leaning back against the tub

"I thought you might like a relaxing bath"

"Very much. I never realised you could sweat in the North"

Since Gawan's execution Tyrion had taken her into the village twice and Sansa knew it was to distract her from the problem of Robin. As nervous as it made her she'd loved spending time with her husband and had eventually worked up the courage to ask if she could watch him practice with a sword. It was something Tyrion clearly cared about and worked at every day - it was a part of her husband Sansa had wanted to see. Nevertheless, it hadn't been easy to watch him fight, even if it was training. The bruises rapidly developing along his left side and in various patches around his body weren't a pleasant sight either.

Tyrion groaned softly, sinking deeper into the opposite end of the tub. Her legs took up the length of the bath with Tyrion's coming no further than her knees.

"Is that sore?" she asked, indicating his bruised side

"Oh...I hardly felt it" he said, smiling slightly

She nodded, accepting the lie "Thank you for letting me watch you today"

He shifted opposite her "I'm only sorry I'm not better at it"

"You were very impressive"

Tyrion's face turned downwards as he ran his finger through the top of the water "I didn't embarrass you?"

"Of course not" she promised "I never realised how hard you worked at it"

"Alec's increased the training. With Robin still lurking further North it's better to be prepared"

Sansa's heart lurched at the mention of Robin, sending an avalanche of worry washing through her. The threat was real; far too real. Arya and Tyrion kept telling her not to worry - that Robin's army could be defeated. Only, they didn't know what Sansa knew.

If they did know, what would they say?

'Call the banners - call every Northern house to fight'

That's what they'd say, but would it be enough? Not every house could be relied upon after all.

A storm of conflicting thoughts swirled within Sansa; each urging her to different actions. It wasn't too late to change course.

Automatically her eyes moved to find Tyrion. Tiredness hung heavily in his face, but his eyes were bright with life as he met her gaze. Her beautiful lion. Tyrion could find a thousand flaws in himself but Sansa never saw a single one. Heat prickled at the back of her eyes as she looked at him but she refused to let the tears fall. She'd made the only decision she could and no amount of hoping could change it. There was still time and she wouldn't waste a single moment with Tyrion.

Sansa forced herself to smile, reaching forward to grasp his ankles, mindful of the one he'd broken.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she tugged him forwards

"Pulling you closer"

"Sharing a bath isn't close enough?"

"It's hardly a bath if you're just sat there love"

Tyrion's face flushed "I'm letting the water clean me"

"Come here" she said "You simply can't be trusted to do this"

He gave only a half-hearted protest as she turned him around to sit between her legs with his back against her breasts. Tyrion was far more lethargic than he let on, and the hot bath was only making him sleepier.

"Relax sweetheart" she said, taking a cloth to wipe over him "I'll take care of you"

He stifled a yawn as his head lolled against her shoulder, running his fingers teasingly along her thighs as she cleaned him. Sansa was careful to avoid his bruises as she worked; in no hurry for the bath to end.

"I never get to clean you" he mumbled after a while, his fingers tiredly tracing her legs "Next time it's my turn, ok?"

Sansa's throat constricted as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head "Next time, my love"


"Have you ever actually been here?" asked Bronn

Pod shook his head as the sight of Casterly Rock appeared in the distance. He might have been from the Westerlands but he'd never been to Lannisport or seen the magnificence of Casterly Rock. A pit of doubt opened inside Pod - how was he supposed to be lord of all this? Lannisport and Casterly Rock were only a small part of the Westerlands, and Pod was now Warden of the West. The responsibility wrapped around his throat, threatening to strangle him. Talk of lordship and actually ruling was not the same thing.

"You might wanna close your mouth Pod. Don't want the people's first impression of their new lord to be you gawping at the distance" said Bronn, his horse trotting alongside Pod's as they travelled towards the castle that was now his

Bran's wheelhouse trundled further ahead of them with Ser Davos keeping the King company today, while Brienne was riding somewhere further up in the procession. It would take another day at least to actually reach Casterly Rock, but the castle loomed in the distance nonetheless. They'd made quick progress towards the Westerlands, with Bran forgoing any stops along the way - he hadn't even stopped to see his Uncle Edmure.

When Pod left Winterfell he'd felt confident about what he was going to do, but much of his enthusiasm had given way to fear on the journey. Bran was in a hurry to reach Casterly Rock and install him as lord, but it was something Pod was increasingly unsure of.

"Oi Pod, what's your sigil?"

Bronn's blunt question pulled Pod from his thoughts "What?"

"Your sigil. I'm guessing house Payne has one"

"Oh...it's gold coins on purple and white check"

Bronn nodded "Not bad. Tear down the lion banners and hang that on your walls. Might take a while to get rid of all the red and gold around here"

Pod's stomach twisted uncomfortably. It didn't seem right to take down lord Tyrion's sigil; it would make everything far too real.

"What's your sigil?" asked Pod, shifting the conversation. They'd crossed at the Twins but hadn't bothered stopping - though Bran had offered Bronn the opportunity.

"Not decided yet" said Bronn

"What's your family name going to be?"

"An excellent question that Podrick" said Bronn "Never had much use for one but since I'm a lord and all that I probably need one"

Perhaps lordship wouldn't be too difficult. Bronn was lord of the Twins and he was a former sellsword with no family name or sigil. Surely if he could do it Pod could do it too. He'd learned a lot from Brienne and Tyrion about honour and ruling - putting it into practice would be more difficult.


"Can I rely on you?" asked Sansa

Alec shifted awkwardly across from her, and Maester Wolkan appeared no more comfortable.

"I am yours to command your Grace" said Wolkan, inclining his head "though I would advise you to reconsider this action - there are other options"

"I've considered every option" said Sansa "and this is the only way to guarantee the outcome I want"

She turned her gaze to Alec, studying the face of the Winterfell captain "What of you?"

"I serve you, your Grace. If this is your order I'll carry it out to the best of my ability"

"You don't approve?"

"I don't have to approve to follow orders"

Nerves wound through Sansa at the answer. For this to work she needed to trust those involved. Alec's involvement was the most critical.

"What are your concerns?" she asked

"Your Grace - this might be for nothing. Gawan Glover lied repeatedly to your face while he was at Winterfell and to his father. His information could be wrong"

"A distinct possibility" agreed Wolkan "the fact he was found alone and not with Robin does nothing for his credibility either. It's entirely possible Robin sent him on some errand to get rid of him"

Sansa so desperately wanted to latch onto the hope they were offering. Doing so would mean taking a gamble however; and the cost of losing was a price she wouldn't pay.

"No, my decision stands" she said, forcing her voice to be certain "I need your word you will do as I've asked - both of you"

"You have my word your Grace" said Wolkan, though sadness flickered through his eyes

She locked eyes with Alec until the man bowed his head "You have my word"

Sansa let out a breath even as her chest tightened. It was done; everything was in place. The only thing left to do was prepare.


Tyrion adjusted the book in his hand, mindful of Sansa's head in his lap as he carried on reading to her.

They were positioned on the chaise, opposite the roaring hearth that cast an orange glow around the room. It had been almost a week since Gawan's execution but Sansa still hadn't returned to herself.

At first Tyrion had thought it was stress over Robin and what he was doing further North. Gawan hadn't been able to give an exact location as Robin and his men were moving between the empty castles which made attacking him near impossible. Sansa had told them all they would wait for Robin to strike first and that she'd written to their closest allies urging them to prepare for battle. Given what they knew it was a sound plan, though Sansa still refused to involve the Glovers and Manderlys. Groups of guards still went out searching for Robin in towns and villages using the reclaimed Dreadfort as a strategic point - but it was largely pointless. Undoubtedly Robin had heard of Gawan's capture and death; he wouldn't leave himself in a position to suffer the same fate.

Despite having a plan in place and putting the North on alert for any sign of Robin the Queen was still acting unusually. All week Tyrion had done his best to distract her, hoping she might share whatever was burdening her. They'd gone into the village a few times, shared a bath, played cyvasse and made love every night. Initially Tyrion had feared he was somehow the cause of the melancholy clinging to his wife, but Sansa had been more affectionate to him than ever. Going anywhere without her this week had been near impossible.

Tonight she'd seemed more despondent than ever, and Tyrion was sure he'd seen redness in her eyes when he returned to their chambers. He'd made several attempts to open a conversation with Sansa, but his gentle questions had given him no information to work with; Sansa insisted she was fine. Whatever it was Tyrion could only hope she'd open up to him when she was ready. He'd coaxed her into laying on the chaise with him while he read to her and the Queen had been his quiet company ever since. The only sign she was still awake was her fingers tracing circles on his knee.

Tyrion carried on reading until his voice grew hoarse and he reached the end of the book. Still Sansa hadn't stirred in his lap. Placing the book to one side he rubbed her arm soothingly.

"Thank you Tyrion" she said quietly "I love hearing you tell stories"

"Anytime" he said

Sansa made no move to leave her position and Tyrion was perfectly happy for her to stay there. They sat in silence as the hearth crackled; both enjoying the other's presence.

It was only when Tyrion felt a tremor go through Sansa he realised she was upset.

"What's troubling you so my lovely wife?" he asked softly, bending forwards to kiss the back of her head. He couldn't quite see her face, but the shaking in her shoulders and hitching breath made it clear her emotions were sneaking past her defences.

"I'm...I'm fine"

"We both know that's not true" he said gently "You can tell me anything Sansa. My ear is always open for you - no matter what it is"

Sansa didn't answer, but a small sob escaped her.

A hollow ache rose in Tyrion's chest at his failure to comfort his wife "Please Sansa, something is obviously troubling you. If you don't want to tell me, perhaps Arya could help you?"

"No, not Arya" she sniffed "I just can't talk about it. Please..."

"Of course" he quickly agreed "Whenever you're ready Sansa. I'll always be here for you"

Tyrion was completely baffled by Sansa's behaviour but he knew more than enough about not wanting to share until you were ready. If Sansa needed more time he wouldn't pry - he just wanted her to know he was here.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked

Sansa was still trembling "Will you stay close to me tonight...I don't want to be alone"

Instantly he draped his arm around her, brushing his thumb against her damp cheek "I'm right here Sansa; you're never alone my sweet wife"

"I love you" she whispered "More than anything in the world, I love you"

Warmth spread through Tyrion at the words that meant so much to him. He dropped his head near to her ear, hoping his voice could somehow convey the depth of feeling he had for the woman in his arms.

"I love you too Sansa. Whatever's troubling you I promise you'll never face it alone - we're one flesh, one heart, one soul remember?"

"Now and forever" she whispered


Arya was at a loss.

All week she'd employed her skills to observe Sansa, and all week she'd seen nothing unusual.

It was impossible to monitor Sansa every hour of the day but from what Arya had seen the Queen spent her days as she usually did. She held court, had meetings with Wolkan and Alec, answered correspondence and spent time with Tyrion. While Sansa had spent more time with Tyrion than usual it was hardly cause for concern. Likewise Tyrion hadn't discovered whatever was bothering Sansa. There was some sort of sadness clinging to the Queen but it had no obvious cause. The only unusual thing Sansa had started doing was burning correspondence.

"This is the third time I've seen you doing this" Arya had commented, leaning over the back of the chaise

"Weren't you the one that told me how pointless it was to keep all of this as records?"

"I was and it is - didn't expect you to start burning it though"

Sansa had merely waved to the pile on the table "You're welcome to help, there's plenty to get through"

Arya had helped, taking the opportunity to look at what Sansa was burning. The faint hope it might shed light on her sister's behaviour was soon crushed - it was old letters and nothing more.

Taking one last glance at the sunrise from her window Arya returned to the letter she'd been trying to write for most of the night. It shouldn't be this difficult, but Bran had hardly made things easy. Arya swallowed her pride, focusing on the task at hand. There was no other choice.

Bran,

I won't forgive what you did at Winterfell; you put our family in danger by freeing Grey Worm. I'm willing to forgive you for showing Sansa the Wolfswood, but only because it helped Sansa prove Gawan's guilt.

Our sister is the reason I'm writing this letter. Since Gawan died she's been acting strangely and I have no idea why. At first I thought she was hiding something but I've found nothing to prove that.

Maybe you can help this time.

Arya

She sighed heavily re-reading the letter. Bran was the last person she wanted to ask for help right now but he was the only one who might have some idea what was wrong with Sansa. The fact he was travelling made it difficult to even get the letter to him. Bran's party were heading to Casterly Rock so sending it there was the best option but there was no telling when he'd receive it.

Why couldn't her family be simple? They were Starks - their father had been straightforward and honest, yet Bran and Sansa were two of the most complicated people she'd ever met.


"I keep getting the same problems in my court session, and I know Cley is experiencing the same. The North has lost so many men in recent wars there are very few left to pass on trade skills to the younger generation" explained Tyrion, a hint of nervousness in his face "The Citadel teaches academic study, but that's hardly a solution for the independent North. I thought, perhaps, the North needed its own Citadel?"

"Oh?"

Tyrion ploughed ahead, as if desperate to get everything out in the open "Well not a Citadel as such - the needs of the North are quite different to the six Kingdoms after all. My proposal is to create a place of learning in the North that can teach trade skills to the small folk, thereby filling the gap left by deceased relatives"

Pride swelled in Sansa for her husband "I like that idea"

A smile pulled at Tyrion's mouth "I thought it could be based at the Dreadfort perhaps? Turn the Bolton's ancestral home into a place of learning and erase all memory of them. The education should be free for all, but those who study there could be asked to pay back a small tax if they establish themselves as a trader. The money could help fund the education as we'd need to pay the teachers. If it was successful we could maybe allow small folk from the Six Kingdoms to study there too - though they could be charged for the education perhaps..."

Sansa's eyes grew damp as Tyrion carried on explaining his proposal and the different possibilities for it. He'd put a lot of work into; Tyrion knew every detail and fact of what he spoke about - from what trades had the biggest skill shortages to the possibility of bringing in experts from across Westeros and Essos to diversify the traditional Northern trades. In Sansa's vision for an independent North what Tyrion proposed was everything she could hope for - a way to help the North prosper and become self-sufficient.

In an ideal world it was perfect.

Their chambers were warm and comfortable, though Sansa barely noticed. As dinner moved along with talk of various ideas and plans for the future Sansa grew even colder - as if winter had returned just for her. She refilled their drinks near the end of the meal; a glass of wine for her and water for Tyrion. He hadn't touched wine since he came North and Sansa respected that, nor did he mind that she liked the occasional glass. Tonight she needed it.

"Dinner was lovely Sansa" said Tyrion, smiling brightly at her as he put down his knife and fork

"I'm glad you liked it sweetheart"

"How could I not, when you made certain it was all my favourites?"

Sansa returned his smile, keeping a tight hold of the emotions bubbling within her. It was so difficult; the end of the meal meant it was nearly time - and Sansa didn't want it to be time. Not now, not ever.

'It's not too late' whispered her heart 'You can change this'

If only that was true.

Sansa took a moment to admire her husband. His golden hair was as unruly as ever, and there was a soft smile on his face as he finished his glass of water. Just for a moment Sansa allowed herself to savour this; to feel the loving warmth his green eyes held for her.

She'd spent all day with Tyrion and arranged a dinner between the two of them with all his favourites. Tyrion hadn't questioned it, but had spent all day making her laugh and showering her with affection.

Her sweet lion.

Poor Tyrion had quickly picked up that something was bothering her this past week despite her best efforts to keep her emotions in check. More than once she'd been tempted to tell him, but ultimately she'd held her resolve. It was her burden to bear, and the decision had been made - even if it broke her heart.

"Will you join me for a walk?" she asked, the words sticking in her throat

"Of course" said Tyrion, moving to his feet. He glanced around their chambers "Lyon's normally back by now, do you think he's alright?"

"Maybe he's still hunting" said Sansa "The bigger he gets the more food he'll need"

Tyrion's brow furrowed "I suppose. He's probably practicing his howling at some unsuspecting bird"

She took Tyrion's hand as they left their chambers, gripping it tightly in her own. It was late evening and the castle was quiet as they wound through the corridors.

"Is there anywhere in particular we're going?" asked Tyrion

"There's something I want to show you" she said

Sansa walked slowly, halting every now and then to gaze out the windows at the expanse of the North. They'd just made it to the ground floor of the castle when Tyrion stumbled slightly.

"Are you alright?" she asked, tightening her grip

"I'm fine" he said, regaining his balance "Perhaps I've overdone it in the practice yard"

With every step Sansa's heart pounded louder, to the point she was worried Tyrion may hear it beside her.

'Not much further' she thought, heat stinging the back of her eyes

They carried on walking though Tyrion's steps faltered several times the further they went.

"I loved spending today with you" she said

"As did I" he said, stifling a yawn "though it appears to have worn me out"

"Not much further" she said, the words sticking in her throat

She tightened her grip on Tyrion's hand, rubbing her thumb soothingly into the back of it.

'Turn around' whispered her heart 'it's not too late'

"Sansa, I don't feel quite right" he said, swaying into her side

She came to a stop, crouching down to steady him. His face was pale and his green eyes were swimming with confusion. He didn't understand yet, but he would soon.

"I've got you" she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek "there's a door up here, let's get some fresh air"

Tyrion stumbled along beside her, growing more unsteady with every step. Sansa pushed the door open letting the icy Northern wind greet them. The door opened to the side of the castle, with a few torches illuminating the area - and the cart waiting by the side gate.

"Sansa...what's going on?" he asked, swaying on the spot

His eyes had found the cart, and the horse pulling it. Alec and Brice stood not far from it, but they wouldn't come closer - Sansa had told them to wait. The tears burned at the back of Sansa's eyes and this time she let them fall as she knelt in the sludgy snow and pulled Tyrion into her arms.

"I love you" she said, burying her head in his neck as he squirmed against her "I love you, I love you"

"Sansa, please...what...what have you done?"

"This is the only way. I'm so sorry Tyrion. I promised to protect you and this is the only way I can do that" she said, squeezing him against her "I love you; I will always love you"

Time was running out, Tyrion was growing weaker in her arms as he pleaded with her "No...Sansa"

She pushed back to see his face, winding her arms around his back to keep him upright. Tears were running down his face as confusion shone from his eyes. The nightshade was quickly taking hold of him, any minute now he'd be sound asleep. Sansa cupped the back of his head covering his face with kisses.

"I love you" she said between each kiss

"Sansa..." he said, his voice growing quieter as he slumped against her

She carried on kissing him; giving him every last piece of her comfort she could offer. She'd looked at every possibility and this was the only outcome she could accept. When Tyrion woke up she hoped he'd understand why she had to do this, though it was just as likely he'd hate her.

The thought of losing his love broke her heart, but she could endure it as long as Tyrion would be safe. Everything that was coming was her fault - she alone would bear the cost.

"No…" he said, a sob escaping him as he struggled weakly in her arms

"Shh my love" she said, her tears dripping into his curly hair "It'll be alright"

Time ran out far too quickly.

Tyrion's pained green eyes met hers only once more before he lost his battle to sleep. She caught his weight as he fell against her, holding him tight to her chest as she cried.

"I'm so sorry" she whispered "I love you so much Tyrion"

She didn't want to let go. Louder than ever the doubt in her mind screamed at her to call this whole thing off and take Tyrion back to their chambers.

Reluctantly she lifted her head, nodding across at Brice and Alec.

The sludgy snow had soaked through her gown, chilling her legs as she held Tyrion. When Brice appeared beside her to take him reality set in and she began to shake. She didn't want to do this.

"Your Grace…maybe there's a better way" said Brice gently

'Your reign is over Queen in the North. I'm coming to take your crown and everything you love…'

A chasm opened in Sansa's chest as she shook her head "No, this is what has to happen…you understand your orders?"

"Aye, your Grace" said the older man, sadness tinging his tone as she relinquished Tyrion to him

The cold hit Sansa as soon as Tyrion was lifted from her, frosting over the warmth that had been hers only a minute before. Her legs barely held her as she moved to her feet, following shakily after Brice and towards the cart. Alec's face was grim when they reached him.

"Is everything in place?" asked Sansa as Brice placed Tyrion in the cart

"It is" said Alec "Cayn's waiting with the horses"

Sansa nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Fortunately, Alec and Brice took the hint and stepped away from the cart to ready the gate. The night was dark, illuminated only by the half-moon and a couple of torches that gave her one last look at her family.

Fresh tears spilled from her eyes as she took in the sleeping forms of Arya, Lyon and Tyrion. The cart was padded with blankets and pillows - before it left the gate a tarp would be pulled over hiding the occupants.

Sansa brushed her fingers over her sister's head, tucking the blanket securely around her "I'm sorry Arya, please try to understand"

Lyon was lying under a blanket above Tyrion's head, while her husband was now lying beside Arya. Sansa reached around Tyrion's waist carefully removing his sword and dagger and setting them next to him in the cart. Reaching into the folds of her gown she pulled out two letters, placing one beside her sister and the other with Tyrion. She rested a pillow beneath his head and covered him with a thick blanket, tucking it tightly around him.

A frown was set on his sleeping face as she brushed his hair back, bending over to press a long kiss to his forehead.

"You'll always be my husband, but you're not safe here anymore," she said, her voice breaking "I love you more than anything - and that's why I have to say goodbye"

Emptiness flooded Sansa as she stepped back from the cart and a tarp was pulled over it to hide her family from view. She was vaguely aware of Alec and Brice waiting for her to give the order she didn't want to give.

'…I have an army ready to fight for me; all are desperate to see the end of the Starks. Give lord Tyrion my regards. Tell him his old friend is coming - there's an army of Unsullied eager to see him…'

Sansa Stark nodded her head, and the Queen in the North watched as what remained of her family - and her heart, disappeared from Winterfell.