Sansa wasn't expecting a visitor when the knock came on the door of her chambers in the Red Keep, but she wasn't surprised when the doors opened to let Tyrion through when she invited him in.

In fact, she hoped he would come to see her.

Since her escape from Winterfell (before that, even), she had realized that she had more feelings for him than she thought.

The devastation of the Red Keep had only confirmed and strengthened that impression.

The kiss she had given him in the heat of the moment, just after they had managed to get out of there, had certainly been given with the euphoria of the moment, but Sansa could not deny that she had wanted it, and that she had appreciated it, very much.

Besides, Tyrion had always been kind and considerate to her.

She wasn't kidding when, at Winterfell, she had told him that he had been the best man she had ever really met, apart from her father and brothers.

She knew they should talk about that kiss again, that they couldn't leave things the way they were, especially with their respective recent appointments, but she hadn't yet found the courage to take the first step towards him to start the conversation.

It was almost silly, she often thought, after all she'd been through, to be afraid of a simple talk, and yet she knew that the turn her life would take after this would depend on it.

Tyrion stepped forward, almost shyly, towards her, followed by Stelsa, obviously not knowing how to broach the subject:

''So just like that, you're Queen in the North...''

''So it seems. And you, you are Lord of Casterly Rock, Governor of the West, and Hand of the Queen.''

Tyrion chuckled:

''If someone had ever told me this future, I would have laughed in the face of the person who told me.''

Sansa looked at him:

''Like people change their minds...''

Tyrion nodded.

Sansa looked down at her hands, suddenly not daring to look him in the face for fear of what he would say:

''Look... I need to talk to you about something...''

''I'm listening...''

"It's about the kiss.'' The word struggled to come out. ''The one I gave you when we made it out of the castle.''

Tyrion crossed his fingers, hoping, deep down, that she wouldn't reject him. Seeing that he didn't add anything, listening carefully, she continued:

''I would understand if you didn't think it meant anything... But I don't, and I...''

Tyrion interrupted her gently:

''You don't need to justify yourself. That kiss didn't mean nothing to me either.''

It was his turn to lower his eyes:

''I was hoping it would mean the same to you.''

He raised his head, the emeralds meeting the sapphires again.

''I love you, Sansa. Very much, in fact. Certainly more than I realize.''

Sansa felt herself blush at this statement, as if she were still a child.

She had dreamed so much that someone would say that to her one day, even though when she was a little girl, she had hoped it would be a strong, tall, and handsome knight.

But, in the end, she preferred it to be Tyrion.

Few handsome men, or strong and tall men she had known, had lived up to his kindness, friendliness, and politeness to her.

But, nevertheless, the wave of happiness that had surged through her was soon overtaken by reality.

''But this is impossible. How can we do this? You're going to go back to Casterly Rock or stay here, and I'll have to go back to Winterfell.''

Tyrion shook his head:

''Nothing is impossible. I will go to Cersei, and I will tell her that, while I was very touched by her offer, I cannot accept it. She will understand.''

Sansa smiled.

It was the most beautiful of devotions. Tyrion was willing to give up his titles and lands so he could be with her.

She never thought a man would do that for her.

But Tyrion wasn't just any man.

He was unique.

And he was the man she had fallen in love with.

oOo

The door to Cersei's study was already open when Tyrion arrived at the front of the room.

He was about to knock, but his sister's voice inviting him in rang out before his fingers touched the wood.

He approached her desk, and she motioned for him to sit down.

Signing the letter she had just finished writing, she pushed back the paper, put down her quill, and looked into his eyes.

Tyrion was surprised to think back to an extremely similar scene, months and months before, but which could just as well have been years, so much they seemed distant, so many things had happened, had evolved since.

He was pulled out of his reverie by Cersei's voice:

''To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?''

Tyrion swallowed. He hoped that Cersei would accept his refusal, that it would not spoil all the new ground they had started on:

''I have come to tell you that I decline your proposal. I cannot accept Casterly Rock, nor to be your Hand, although I was very touched that you offered it to me.''

To his great surprise, while he had expected a rejection, a shouting, an argument, Cersei simply smiled:

''I knew you would come to tell me that.''

Tyrion frowned. He and Sansa had just talked about it. Was it really that obvious?

''How could you know that?''

''I did see the way you and Sansa were looking at each other. In fact, I think you're the only ones who took so long to realize it.''

''The things we do for love.''

Cersei raised an eyebrow, but added nothing as to this statement.

''Still, Casterly Rock is yours.''

Tyrion was about to protest, but Cersei raised her hand, so that he would let her speak:

''I know, I know, you are going to Winterfell with Sansa. But Father was Lord of the Rock at the same time he served Aerys as Hand of the King here. For years and years, he ruled the Westerlands from King's Landing.''

Tyrion said nothing. After all, what Cersei was saying was true, her reasoning held up.

Nodding, he stood up.

But, when he was at the doors, he heard Cersei behind him:

''And I sure hope I have enough nieces and nephews to inherit Winterfell and Casterly Rock.''

Shaking his head and sighing, he left the room.

oOo

Cersei was awakened in the middle of the night by an unpleasant feeling of wetness between her legs.

For a brief moment, she feared that it would be like the last time, that the light would only bring her the vision of a large scarlet stain, the vision of death.

But a familiar pain in her abdomen proved her wrong.

The contraction lasted only a few seconds, before fading away.

She shook Jaime, trying to wake him up, calling out softly:

"Jaime... Jaime...''

He grumbled something about being disturbed in the middle of sleep, until she said:

''Jaime, the baby is coming...''

Suddenly, he sat up, wide awake.

''What do you mean, the baby is coming?''

Cersei pointed to the wet spot on their sheets, and Jaime understood.

Her water had just broken. There wasn't much time left before their little cub was here.

He got up hastily, looking for his clothes:

''Don't go anywhere, I'm going to look for Qyburn.''

The old man had told them that they could come and get him any time of the day or night, as soon as the birth started.

Cersei nodded, it wasn't as if she really had the option of doing anything else.

Jaime left their chambers, and she leaned back against the pillows, as a new wave of pain contracted her womb, much stronger than she remembered.

She placed both hands on her stomach:

''Wait a little longer, my little love... Just a little longer...''

oOo

After minutes that seemed interminable to Cersei, Jaime returned with Qyburn, followed by several midwives.

The contractions were getting stronger and stronger, and soon they would have to push to get the baby out.

Jaime came and stood right next to Cersei, letting her lean against him and squeeze his hands.

A rather old midwife approached them, and tried to chase Jaime out of the room:

''You have no business here, mylord. The only man allowed to be in a birthing room is the maester.''

Jaime replied:

''This is my son or daughter, who will soon be born. No one here belongs more than I do.''

The midwife was about to answer, but was interrupted by Cersei who, despite the pain, said in a tone that could not be disputed:

''He's not going anywhere. He belongs here.''

Not daring to say anything about a direct order from the queen, the midwife let go.

Jaime turned his attention back to Cersei, just as her face twisted into a grimace again from the pain of childbirth.

Kissing her on the cheek, he whispered in her ear:

''Breathe... Breathe, everything will be fine...''

He didn't know anything about it, no one could know, but Cersei was surrounded by a real battalion of midwives and Qyburn, and he wanted to believe that everything was going to be normal, and that in the end, there would be only Cersei, him, and their baby.

oOo

When dawn finally broke, the baby was still unborn.

Hours had passed since Cersei's water broke, and yet, still nothing.

Jaime was worried. Cersei was getting seriously tired from the pain and the effort it was taking her to overcome it.

But when a new contraction came, stronger and longer than any of the previous ones, Qyburn took off the sheets, and gently spread Cersei's legs.

He declared:

''This is it, I can see the head. At the next contraction, you'll have to push.''

Cersei did as she was told, putting all her strength into pushing the baby out, clasping both Jaime's hands, the golden one and the flesh one, before letting herself fall back against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He encouraged her gently:

''It's okay, it's okay, it's almost over... You're doing great, it's all good...''

She grumbled, her voice rocky from fatigue and pain:

''That's not the impression I have, from where I am...''

He held back a laugh, thinking that it would not necessarily be taken very well, and contented himself with kissing her again on the cheek.

oOo

As the first rays of sunlight flooded the room, a baby's cry could be heard.

Cersei leaned back on Jaime, allowing herself to close her eyes, completely exhausted after the effort she had made during most of the night, while Qyburn took care of cutting the umbilical cord, and cleaning the baby.

But the rest was interrupted when he placed the baby, swaddled in white swaddling clothes embroidered with golden lions, in his mother's arms, declaring:

''A pretty and healthy baby girl, Your Grace. My congratulations...''

Cersei smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Their daughter. Their little girl, hers and Jaime's.

She turned her eyes to him.

He was smiling in a way she couldn't remember seeing her smile before.

He was happy, she could tell.

The fingers of his good hand came to join hers where her hand held their little cub, kissing her on the temple:

''Thank you... Thank you so much...''

Leaning her forehead against his, she joked:

''So like that, you had seen right... A little girl... Are you happy?''

A tear rolled down his cheek, too.

What he was experiencing was like a dream, a dream that was far too beautiful, one that he could never stop thinking about, even though he thought it would never be possible.

And yet, life had proven to him that it was not.

''Yes... Yes, I'm happy... She is absolutely perfect...''

Cersei looked at the little one in her arms, with her fluffy golden hair, a true Lannister, still smiling, not remembering when she had been so happy :

''Yes... Yes, she is...''

oOo

As the morning wore on, there was a knock at the door of Jaime and Cersei's chambers.

Jaime, who had decided to stay longer with Cersei and their daughter, opened the door.

Sansa and Tyrion slipped as quietly as possible into the room.

The little girl was sleeping against her mother's chest, who was watching over her, sitting on her bed.

Tyrion approached his sister to be able to see the baby better.

Careful not to wake her, Cersei turned her towards him, so that he could see her.

''So, I have a niece...''

Gently, he raised his hand, and stroked the slightly chubby cheek of the little girl :

''Hello, my darling...''

Sansa looked at the baby too, smiling:

''She is adorable. Does she have a name?''

Jaime exchanged a look with Cersei before stating:

''Joanna. Joanna Lannister.''

Tyrion smiled.

Yes, Joanna fit her very well.

Cersei looked at him:

''You want to take her?''

Tyrion wondered:

''Me?''

''Yes, you. You are her uncle, after all.''

Nodding his head, Tyrion held out his arms.

Little Joanna stirred a little, disturbed by the change of arms, but soon found a position that suited her in her uncle's arms.

Tyrion smiled.

Once again, he had never had the chance to hold his niece and nephew when they were just newborns. It had taken until they were old enough and Cersei had her back turned long enough for them to spend some time with them, Myrcella and Tommen, at least.

But this time, everything was different.

And he was going to enjoy it.

He smiled at Sansa.

Maybe in a few years, it would be their children, whom he would cradle against him, their own children.

And no thought filled him with greater joy than this one.

Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a little review, it's always a great pleasure ^^