The sun was shining in the sky.

Sansa looked out the window and smiled.

Yes, the weather was perfect for the event that was supposed to take place that day.

Standing in the middle of her chambers, chambermaids and seamstresses bustled around her like bees around a flower bed.

The excitement had been growing in the Red Keep since the early hours of the day, which had been devoted to the final preparations for the wedding that day.

Sansa's smile widened at the thought.

When she had managed to escape Ramsay Bolton's grip with the help of Theon Greyjoy, who had subsequently become as close as a brother to her, she had sworn to herself that she would never marry again.

She was free. She had no one to force her to do anything against her will, she would never again be forced to marry someone she did not choose.

After learning that she would not be marrying Joffrey, she was thrilled.

She would have the opportunity to marry a handsome knight, a true knight, a man of valor, gallantry, and handsomeness, like those in the songs, and not a vile and cruel being, like the previous King of the Seven Kingdoms had been.

She had grown up again after that, and when her illusions had been shattered, when she had realized that this man existed only in her dreams, she had come to give up the idea of marriage.

But that was before she found Tyrion.

And now she was going to realize her dream. It wasn't the same dream as when she was a little girl, that was undeniable, but she was going to marry (again) the man she had fallen in love with, despite the fact that he was neither tall, nor handsome, nor a knight.

She winced as one of the chambermaids tightened the ties of the corset that held her breasts.

There were, in all, a dozen women in the room, all busy either tying up loose ends on the dress or preparing Sansa herself, washing, scrubbing, smearing perfume, polishing her nails.

She had to be perfect.

Once she had put on the dress, Sansa admired herself in the mirror.

Cersei had provided her with her own personal seamstress, and the work she had done, despite the deplorable conditions, given the state of the city, the lack of resources, due to the destruction of the capital and a good part of the castle, and the lack of time, due to the speed at which things had been organized, for Sansa to return to Winterfell, where they needed her, was simply remarkable.

She was gorgeous.

The dress was quite simple, made of white and silver silks, but was still very elegant, emphasizing her feminine curves and highlighting her chest.

All that remained was to take care of her fiery hair.

Three of the older maids sat her down at her dressing table, which also had a mirror on it, and began to argue about how to style it.

Nevertheless, if the agitation had been felt in the room and the tension had not ceased to weigh on the atmosphere for a few hours, the servants talking quickly, sometimes even shouting at each other or arguing over trifles, silence was achieved when the door opened to let Cersei pass, followed by another servant.

In an almost uniform movement, the servants bowed respectfully as the queen entered the apartments.

The maid who followed Cersei went to put something on the bed, something Sansa could not identify, having only had time to see a simple silver reflection.

Most of the maids, who had finished their work with Sansa, took their leave, while the other three, who had to do the hair, resumed their quarrel.

Cersei approached them, interrupting them:

"What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

The three old women began to try to explain, each one making her point, denigrating the other two, which had the effect of restarting the argument.

After several minutes, Cersei cut them off again:

''Get out.''

Instantly, the three women fell silent before they began to protest.

Cersei ended the discussion by simply telling them:

"I'll take care of Sansa personally. Go see if you are needed elsewhere."

Sansa smiled again.

Since giving birth, Cersei had not stopped, alternating between taking care of her daughter and taking care of the kingdom's business. Thus, they had not been able to have a moment together since their discussion before the battle against Daenerys Targaryen, which seemed like a lifetime ago to Sansa.

Cersei sighed, referring to the chambermaids:

"They are unbearable, when they start bickering like that, like children. They did exactly the same thing for my wedding."

Sansa allowed herself a joke:

''Not that there was much to do with your hair, anyway.''

Cersei laughed, and grabbed a brush from the dressing table, beginning to gently detangle her long red hair:

''Not my marriage to Euron. The one with Robert."

Sansa widened her eyes:

''They've been here all this time?''

Cersei looked falsely indignant:

"Do I look that old?"

Sansa felt her cheeks turn red as she realized the clumsiness she may have shown, and apologized:

"No, no, that's not what I meant at all...''

Cersei laughed again:

"Don't worry, I understood you correctly. For all I know, these women might as well have been here since this castle was built. They were here when I first came to the Red Keep, when the Targaryen dynasty still held the Iron Throne, and they were here when I married Robert. That was a long time ago: I was barely younger than you, it seems.''

''How old were you?''

''Nineteen.''

Sansa didn't answer, just looked at Cersei in the mirror, busy with her hair.

When her red locks were perfectly brushed, Cersei put the brush down, and with her slender, nimble fingers, began to braid them in intricate patterns.

Sansa didn't speak, and neither did Cersei, until she had finished.

She stepped back slightly to observe her work, and with a satisfied look, walked away from Sansa, saying:

''Close your eyes.''

Sansa complied, without question, and heard Cersei move closer.

She felt something being placed on her head, and when she opened her eyes again, she discovered a silver crown with two wolves entwined on it.

She didn't know what to say.

Cersei smiled:

"A true queen."

Sansa smiled back at her.

oOo

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Tyrion turned his head towards the entrance of the Red Keep, hoping to see Sansa coming.

But, once again, he was forced to realize that she had not yet arrived.

He looked at Cersei, who was standing next to him, with Joanna squirming in her arms.

She did not return his glance, occupied to rock her baby in the hope of calming her.

He whispered to her:

"Are you sure you're not mad at me? For refusing to be your Hand?''

She finally laid her eyes on him:

"If I was mad at you, you'd know it."

There was a brief silence between them, before she asked him:

"You love her very much, don't you?"

He nodded.

''More than my own life.''

''Then that's all that matters.''

Tyrion smiled. Cersei was right.

He hadn't lied to her. He loved Sansa, more than he had ever loved anyone.

And they were going to be married, again, except she had had a choice, and she had accepted it.

The ceremony was held outside, so that most of King's Landing could attend the wedding.

The crowd was in an uproar, most of them having never seen a royal wedding.

Tyrion and Cersei had agreed that this would help bring them closer to the people, and ensure their sympathy.

But there was silence when Sansa appeared on the castle steps, on the arm of Jaime, who, as the future king, had been chosen to lead her to the altar.

She looked absolutely gorgeous, with her dress and the crown on her head, her smile radiant, her cheeks turning slightly pink when she saw Tyrion.

Once she was at his level, he approached her, hooking his arm around her, holding the scarlet cloak he was supposed to cover her with in the other, and walked up to Qyburn who had been chosen to officiate the wedding.

Sansa turned her head briefly to Cersei, who smiled at her.

If the first time she had married Tyrion, she had felt that the ceremony was absolutely endless, this time, she found it almost too short, so much it seemed to her to pass quickly.

When it was time for him to cover her shoulders with the cloak of House Lannister, she willingly knelt down to get to his level, when the first time she had refused to stoop to do so, so much she had felt hurt by this union.

When Qyburn declared that they could kiss at the end of the ceremony, Sansa savored the feel of Tyrion's lips on hers, knowing that her greatest dream had come true.

oOo

While much of what was left of the population had gathered for Sansa Stark's wedding, it was nothing compared to the throngs of people who gathered at the gates of the Red Keep for the royal wedding.

It seemed as if the entire city had gathered to witness the wedding of the Queen and her twin brother.

If many people, especially among the nobility, had at first decried this union, remembering only too well what this kind of marriage had brought about the last time it had happened, with the madness of the Targaryens, they had finally accepted it, tolerating the fact that the queen was marrying her brother.

In any case, their opinion on the matter or their approval would probably not have changed anything about this marriage.

The Lannisters had already shown them time and again that they didn't care what the little people thought.

After all, the lions didn't concern themselves with the opinion of the sheep.

So it was not the fact that the few hundred people who had survived the massacre in the capital did not agree with them that would change anything.

So they had decided to say nothing, rather than gossip into nothingness.

They felt that if they let the queen do what she wanted and live her life quietly, they would be much better off.

The harmony was far from perfect, but it was better.

Much better.

The war was behind them.

The queen looked absolutely stunning as she appeared on the arm of her brother Tyrion.

Draped in scarlet and gold silk, her silver crown resting on her golden locks that shone in the sunlight, she was resplendent.

And above all, she was smiling.

Most people couldn't remember the last time they'd seen her smile the way she did then.

The Cersei Lannister they saw before them was even more beautiful than the nineteen year old girl who had married Robert Baratheon in the Great Sept of Baelor.

She was happy, you could tell.

Cersei genuinely smiled all the way to the altar, where her twin brother was waiting for her, and where Sansa was holding Joanna in her arms, having temporarily taken over.

And, if that were possible, her smile widened as Jaime passed his arm under hers, to join Qyburn, who was once again officiating the ceremony.

Cersei could feel her heart racing.

She was finally going to marry her brother, something she never thought was possible.

She was finally marrying her brother. She was finally going to marry the man of her life.

And that was all that mattered.

End

So this is where this fic ends. I hope you enjoyed reading it, at least half as much as I did writing it ^^
I thank everyone who took the time to read it, and even more those who gave me their opinion ^^
There will most likely be some bonuses coming, so don't hesitate if there is a scene I didn't write that you would like to see.

Thanks again, really 3