Rise & Fall

by rhaellion

Post Season 8 - Sansa Stark is set to be crowned Queen in the North, following Bran's election as King. As Queen she has big plans for the North and those plans change the fate of Tyrion Lannister - a broken man following the deaths of his family and Queen.

41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

It was everything he'd wanted these past two weeks. Being in Sansa's arms again should have made things better. She seemed pleased to see him at least, and hadn't sent him away yet. Tyrion wanted to relax in her grip; enjoy the comfort he'd thought was lost to him.

There was something holding him back.

Getting back to Winterfell in time had taken everything he had, and to do that he'd picked up the pieces of his shattered heart and locked them away where they couldn't be hurt. Sansa's warmth enveloped him, prodding at his newly made walls but gaining no entry to his heart. Still, it was nice to be held and the Queen in the North was treating him with such softness. It was a change from the frantic clash of steel and thud of boots that seemed to have lasted hours.

It was over now. For two weeks he'd fought to get here, and now his goal had been achieved Tyrion was faced with the unpleasant question of what came next.

Sansa pulled back from the embrace, her blue eyes sweeping over him with a mixture of tenderness and worry "You're hurt my love, let's get you home"

Home.

Was it really as simple as that?

'Are you sure?' he thought

The question danced through his mind, tempting him to ask. No - it was better to say nothing. He'd asked Sansa if she wanted him to leave and she'd told him they were going home. There was no reason to tempt fate and ask her again. If he asked there was a chance she'd give him an answer he didn't want.

Tyrion's thoughts were unusually muddled as Sansa looped her arms around him and led him over to the carts that had arrived to deal with the injured and the dead. She was talking to him, whispering soothing words filled with promises of rest and care but the words barely registered to Tyrion. Someone had arranged for healers to come here - lady Tallhart perhaps? She wouldn't have joined the battle herself and was likely waiting at Winterfell. Lyon was covered in blood and limping heavily at his side, not that Tyrion was faring much better. His left ankle throbbed with every step and there was barely a part of him that wasn't aching or bleeding.

Sansa led him to the nearest cart and the smell of blood caused his stomach to churn as they approached it. The cart was already half-full with healers assessing the wounded and directing them onto the carts. There were four men already in this one. To the left was a man missing half his left arm with a tourniquet around the stump, and another man was sat in a growing pool of blood. The other two occupants looked in no better shape as they lolled together. Tyrion was surprised how quiet they were. None of them seemed to be paying any attention to the others, though the man with half an arm was staring at him as if he'd never seen a dwarf before.

"Lord of Winterfell?" he asked, blood dribbling from his mouth with the question

Tyrion thought for a moment before nodding. He was still the lord of Winterfell - he'd taken the pretenders head, and Sansa hadn't banished him yet.

"Sweetheart, let me help you" said Sansa, winding her arms around his waist and directing him onto the edge of the cart so he was facing away from the other men.

Her hand brushed through his hair and concerned blue eyes bore into him. Tyrion dropped his gaze, focusing instead on the sword still clutched in his right hand. Gods his hand ached - gripping his sword to take Robin's head had been horrendously difficult. It was better he kept hold of his sword; enemies could be anywhere.

Sansa was talking, but not to him. Her voice was full of panic as she spoke with an older woman. The woman's gown was plain aside from the splatters of blood, and her dark brown hair was tied loosely behind her.

"Lord Tyrion" said the woman, turning to face him. Her sharp eyes were studying him intently but her voice was soft "You can put down your sword m'lord, the danger has passed"

"Your hand is hurt" said Sansa, brushing her fingers over his arm "I'll keep the sword safe for you. This woman is a healer, she just wants to check you're alright"

Tyrion wasn't convinced. Danger was never far; someone would always want to kill him. A whine caught his attention and all thoughts of danger fled his mind at the sight of Lyon. The little wolf was covered in blood and swaying on the spot below him.

"Lyon!" he said, fear gripping his heart. Lyon was his best friend; he couldn't lose him.

He lurched forwards relinquishing his sword in his hurry to reach Lyon. Instantly Sansa's arms latched onto him, keeping him tethered to the cart.

"No Tyrion! Please stay still. I'll get Lyon for you" she said

The healer took Sansa's place, her hands prodding and poking him as she easily thwarted his attempts to reach Lyon.

"Easy m'lord. Your direwolf is here. The Queen is getting him" said the woman, cupping his face and holding him still as she examined his eyes

He heard Lyon growl and a moment later a furry bundle was placed in his lap, instantly stealing his focus. Tyrion brushed his fingers through Lyon's sticky fur, hating how lethargic the wolf was against him.

Distantly he heard the healer talking to Sansa.

"It's shock your Grace. Keep him warm and get him seen to by the Maester"

Tyrion didn't remember the cart moving. One minute the field was littered by the dead and dying, with carts and healers everywhere - the next it was fading into the distance as the cart bounced over the uneven ground. Sansa had wrapped her cloak around him, and was pressing him to her side as they travelled. She was talking to him - dripping reassurances into his ear that thudded against the walls surrounding his heart.

So many things were clawing for attention in Tyrion's mind; questions he should be asking about the men and the prisoners and Arya. Tyrion didn't focus on the questions, or the sticky blood coating him, or Sansa who was right beside him for the first time in weeks. Instead he focused on Lyon in his lap, whimpering softly as the cart carried them away from the battle field.

"Please be ok" he whispered, stroking his friends head "please don't leave me"

"We're nearly home" promised Sansa, tightening her grip on him "Lyon will be fine. Everything will be ok now"

Would it?

Tyrion wasn't sure, but he decided not to think about that. He barely noticed when the cart passed through the gates of Winterfell, or the cheers of the people as they saw the Queen. All he could focus on was Lyon lying unusually still in his arms and the direwolf's green eyes lacking their familiar brightness.

---

Sansa's heart thumped against her chest as she peeled the blood soaked cloth from the gash on Tyrion's right shoulder and quickly changed it for a fresh one.

"I missed you" said Tyrion "Lyon did too"

If only those words were meant for her.

Nessa's face brightened as she carefully leaned against him "I missed you too. So did Mother and Ethan"

It was shock, Sansa reminded herself. Her joy at being reunited with Tyrion had quickly turned to panic when she realised the poor state he was in. He wasn't exactly confused, but he was hardly himself either. Sansa bit the inside of her cheek, ignoring the hurt bubbling through her. This was her fault. She'd chosen to send Tyrion from their home, and while he had returned to her there would surely be consequences for her actions. Tyrion's distance since they'd reunited was the first indication that things between them would take time to return to normal.

That was fine. Tyrion was home and that was all that mattered - everything else could be dealt with in time. Her eyes trailed over her husband, eagerly drinking in the sight of him. Just seeing Tyrion filled her with joy, and if he would let them treat his injuries she'd be even happier.

"How's Lyon doing?" she asked, pulling her attention from Tyrion's injuries to the little wolf.

"Almost finished" said the Maester, pushing a needle back and forth through Lyon's front right paw.

"You'll be the envy of all the direwolves" said Tyrion, scratching the wolf's ear "I've been told Northerners like scars"

"They do" confirmed Nessa, carefully cleaning some of the blood and grime from the direwolf "Father always said scars meant you'd been really brave"

Sansa stayed quiet as they spoke, turning her attention back to Tyrion's injuries and seeing what she could do for them until he allowed the Maester to treat him. Upon arriving at Winterfell Sansa had brought Tyrion straight to Maester Wolkan, with her husband refusing to let anyone else carry Lyon. Tyrion hadn't said a word to her on the way back to the castle, and hadn't seemed to notice the cheers of the smallfolk that followed his arrival. All of his focus had been on his direwolf, and Sansa more than understood that - she'd worried for Lyon too. Yet the golden wolf was more tired than injured and despite his lethargy he'd still had the energy to growl at her when she picked him up to give to Tyrion.

As soon as they'd arrived at the Maester's room Tyrion had flatly refused to be treated until Lyon had been seen to. Wolkan had reluctantly obliged him and to Sansa's relief some of the distance clinging to Tyrion had melted the longer they were in the Maester's room, though he still wouldn't look at her.

Sansa tugged at the rip in Tyrion's tunic, carefully changing the cloth she'd pressed to the long gash that cut from his left ribs to his back. It was long but fairly shallow, unlike the wound in his shoulder which was narrow and deep. The cut above his eye had mostly stopped bleeding and she could see no more wounds on him, other than the split knuckles on his right hand. He didn't seem to be overly aware of his own injuries, though he'd winced when she'd helped him sit on the examination table. Sansa suspected he'd only agreed to that to be closer to Lyon as the wolf was treated. His right hand was a mess but she was reluctant to touch that before the Maester had assessed the damaged - even to her untrained eyes something was broken.

Lyle peered over at the wolf from the other side of the examination table, a grin stretching across his face as he turned back to his brother.

"Ha! Even Lyon's got a bigger scar than you Cayn"

"I was in battle too!" protested Cayn, squirming uncomfortably in a chair across the room

"Real men have the scars to prove it" said Lyle

Tyrion lifted his head, gazing at Lyle as if just realising he was there "It's good to see you"

"You too" grinned Lyle, patting his arm

"How's Cayn?"

"I hurt my knee!" called the younger man

Lyle rolled his eyes "He twisted it. A couple of cuts and aching feet - no manly scars for him"

"Nothing some bed rest won't fix" said the Maester, pushing his stool back from the examination and patting Lyon's head "I'd say the same for Lyon as well. Some rest, nothing too strenuous and he'll be fine lord Tyrion"

Tyrion breathed out a sigh of relief, scratching the wolf's ear affectionately "Good"

"Are you ready for treatment now my lord?" he asked

Tyrion bit his lip "The men first, and the free folk"

"They're all well cared for my lord. Not long after the Queen left lady Tallhart arrived with an army of healers and Maesters. No one will lack for care, I can assure you"

Tyrion hummed, not moving his gaze from Lyon. The Maester caught her eye, silently asking her to intervene.

Sansa moved her position so she was in Tyrion's line of sight, brushing her fingers through the side of his hair to catch his attention "You need treatment as well sweetheart. Everyone else is fine, I promise"

Tyrion still wouldn't look at her as he answered "What about Arya?"

"I'm fine big brother" came the voice of the final occupant in the room.

Lyle, Cayn and Nessa had already been with the Maester when Sansa arrived with Tyrion, but Arya had arrived shortly after them. Her sister had greeted Nessa, Lyle and Cayn warmly. She'd checked on Lyon, and then pulled Tyrion into a brief hug, murmuring in his ear that she was proud of him before retreating to a shadowy corner by the Maester's desk, where she'd sat in silence since. Arya had ignored her completely, and Sansa had only heard what she said to Tyrion by virtue of holding a cloth to his injured shoulder.

The younger Stark was sat in the Maester's chair, pulling a needle slowly and carefully through a jagged slash near her right elbow.

"I prefer to do the stitches myself" said Arya, softening her tone as she addressed Tyrion "let the Maester help you"

"Yes, well, I've asked lady Arya to remain so I can be certain she has no head injury" said Wolkan, wrinkling his nose

There were several patches of blood coating Arya, including a cut on her chin and dried blood tangled in the left side of her hair. The wolf-like look in her sister's grey eyes had quickly persuaded Sansa that approaching Arya to check if she was alright wouldn't be a good idea.

Whether it was the stress of battle or some insecurity with the eyes of the room on him, Tyrion dropped his gaze to Lyon, refusing to look at any of them or consent to being treated.

"You're hurt Tyrion" said Nessa, her childish voice cutting through the impasse

"I'm fine" he said, forcing a smile "Most of this blood isn't mine"

Letting Nessa witness the state of Tyrion and the other wounded wasn't Sansa's first choice, but the child had been here when they arrived and immediately latched on to Tyrion, peppering him with questions and joining him in fussing over Lyon. Far from getting in the way, Nessa's presence seemed to have pulled Tyrion from wherever his mind had wandered to and the after effects of battle had gradually lessened to the point where he seemed far more himself, if somewhat distant.

'Distant to you' taunted her mind

Nessa was gazing at Tyrion with open concern as he continued to stroke Lyon's head, but Tyrion made no move to let Wolkan treat him or gave any indication of what he wanted to do.

When the realization hit Sansa she'd never felt more stupid. To treat his injuries they needed to remove his ruined tunic and shift - something he wouldn't want to do in front of others.

'Oh my love, everyone here loves you' she thought 'you've no need to hide in your home'

Tyrion had been so sure of himself in battle, but without his lordly mask Sansa could see how vulnerable Tyrion was right now. He'd been sent away at her order. She'd done so with the best intentions, but nevertheless the act had shattered the confidence she'd spent weeks instilling in him, paving the way for doubt and insecurity to once again claim him.

'I'm so sorry Tyrion. I knew sending you away would hurt you, but I did it to protect you. I'll make this up to you somehow' she thought.

Now wasn't the time to have such a conversation with Tyrion - she wasn't even sure where to begin. Instead she moved closer to her husband, peering over his shoulder to see Lyon as a plan formed in her mind.

"Maybe Lyon would be more comfortable resting in our chambers" she suggested

Tyrion didn't reply, but tensed as she brushed her fingers over the back of his hand that was still stroking the direwolf. A wave of guilt rushed through Sansa at the action and she forced herself to move forwards with her plan.

"Perhaps Nessa could settle him in while you're getting treated?"

To Sansa's satisfaction the girl instantly latched on to the idea.

"I can do it!" she said eagerly, her eyes filling with determination "Don't worry Tyrion, I'll look after Lyon"

It took a few moments, but Tyrion's head finally nodded forwards in defeat "Very well"

He turned his attention back to Lyon, giving the wolf's ear a final scratch "No, you're right Lyon - I don't think you can walk on that paw either. It's not a problem, Lyle will be happy to carry you upstairs"

"I will?" questioned Lyle, his head jerking up at the sound of his name

"You will" called Arya, her tone brokering no argument "best get started, there are a lot of stairs and Cayn will need your help getting home"

Fortunately Arya's pointed words and the Maester's glare were enough for Lyle to get the message. A few minutes later Cayn was hobbling out the door while Lyle followed with an overly dramatic Lyon in his arms. Nessa trotted after them but not before asking if Tyrion had any further need of her.

"I'm quite alright my dear" he assured her "say hello to your mother and Ethan for me"

When the door finally shut Tyrion's nerves seemed to intensify rather than lessen. His injuries must be paining him, and the tiredness was evident on his face but Sansa knew her husband well enough to know his discomfort wasn't merely physical.

She swallowed thickly, bringing her hands up to cup Tyrion's face "I missed you so much"

Tyrion wouldn't meet her gaze and didn't seem to know how to respond. That was ok. Sansa knew she'd caused this; she'd do everything possible to fix it.

"Do you want Arya to leave too?" she asked softly, though not softly enough for Arya's sharp hearing

"You're the one making him uncomfortable"

The words cut through Sansa like a knife, but she could hardly deny them either. Her presence was clearly making Tyrion unsettled but there wasn't a chance in the seven hells she'd leave his side. Never again.

"You can both stay" said Tyrion quietly

Removing Tyrion's tunic and shift was far from simple. The material was sticky with blood and clung to Tyrion as they removed it. Sansa drew in a sharp breath as she got her first glimpse of the damage that lay beneath. She'd glimpsed the wounds through the cuts in his clothing but now the gashes stood out clearly - as did the deep purple bruising that covered his chest and ribs.

Sansa throat tightened, guilt wrapping tightly around her heart. It shouldn't have been left for Tyrion to fix her mistakes. This wasn't the time for guilt though. Tyrion was hurt and treating him was the priority.

The lord of Winterfell was silent and compliant as they tended to him. Maester Wolkan focused on assessing his wounds and Sansa sent for fresh water and cloths to clean some of the filth from him.

"Your scar looks really irritated" said Sansa, running her fingers through the growing beard that now seemed oddly out of place on Tyrion. While she found him just as handsome with or without his beard there was no denying it irritated his old scar since Gawan cut it open "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I don't think you can keep your beard. Let me get a blade, it'll only take a few minutes-"

"No" he said suddenly, turning his head away from her

"Tyrion..."

"No...just...not now" he said, adding quietly "please"

Sansa's throat tightened "Of course. There's plenty of time"

'You've ruined everything' sang a voice through her mind 'look at him. He can't even look at you'

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut, struggling against the tide of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. It couldn't be true. She'd do whatever it took to heal the rift between them; it was her fault there was distance between them in the first place.

She reached for Tyrion's left hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as the Maester began stitching the gash on his shoulder. No matter what she'd fix this. Tyrion was home and the danger had passed. There would be time to make her apologies but for now Sansa focused on comforting her husband, and tried to ignore how limp his hand was in hers.

---

Nothing had changed in their chambers. It was mid-afternoon when they made it there and the sunlight drifting through the window illuminated a scene Tyrion feared he'd never see again. His few belongings and books were as he'd left them on top of his drawer, and Jamie's trunk was still sat beside it. The only difference was the pillow on Sansa's preferred armchair and his lion blanket draped over the side of it. His brow furrowed at the sight; surely Sansa hadn't been sleeping in the chair?

His eyes moved to the bed that looked as if it hadn't been touched in a fortnight. It was rather difficult to judge however, given that Nessa had taken her task to make Lyon comfortable very seriously. The direwolf was wrapped in a thick blanket and drooling away on Tyrion's pillow as he slept.

Tyrion flinched as something clicked behind him, but it was only Sansa closing the door. He should be happy. All he'd wanted since waking on the Kings Road was to be back at home with his wife, yet nothing was the same. The room hadn't changed but things between him and Sansa had.

"Are you alright Tyrion?" asked Sansa, taking hold of his left hand and rubbing her thumb in circles along the back of it. The gesture was familiar, and usually comforting, but it took all of his willpower to not wrench his hand away from her.

"I'm fine" he said flatly, refusing to meet her eyes

"Ok sweetheart" she said, her voice faltering "I'll get your bed clothes out and then you can rest. You look exhausted"

It was tempting to end this charade. No longer did he feel like he was home with his wife, but more like he was playing a role with a stranger. Sansa was guilt-ridden. It was written all over her face when he'd first seen her, but this time it wasn't enough. She'd been guilty before, she'd been apologetic before - and it didn't change her behaviour. As soon as the threat of Robin became too much for her Sansa had shut down, pushing away those she should have trusted. He understood Sansa had trust issues - he just didn't understand why it extended to him.

'I'm your husband, and for better or worse you know all of me' he thought, watching Sansa search for his bed clothes 'I barely know you though. You plotted to send me south and surrender your crown, all without giving me any idea of what you were planning'

The truth stung far worse than any blade could. Sansa had made her plans for him without any consideration of what he wanted. He'd known something was weighing on her the week before she sent him south but never could he have imagined what she would ultimately do.

A moment later Sansa returned to him, smiling softly as she tugged him towards the bed "You need to rest love. Maester Wolkan said you need to keep your ankle up too"

Ah, yes. His injuries. It was funny - Tyrion could feel the stitches pulling as he moved and the ache in his ribs where Wolkan said he'd cracked at least two of them. His left ankle was swollen to twice its usual size and throbbed with each step, and his right hand was a mess of split knuckles and two broken fingers. He hadn't slept since sometime yesterday. Despite all of that Tyrion's overwhelming feeling was one of numbness.

Still, he couldn't bear to see any sadness on Sansa's face. He endured her fussing as she helped him out of his filthy breeches and the baggy shift he'd worn for the journey from Wolkan's room to here. He didn't resist as she helped him into bed next to Lyon, making sure the wolf was on the outside and he was in the middle.

'Are you sure you want me here?'

The question was on the tip of his tongue and it was only fear of the answer that stopped him voicing it. Sansa was behaving as if he'd returned from a planned two week journey, when in reality she hadn't expected to ever see him again. The letter he'd carried with him for two weeks had made that very clear. His heart twisted at the thought of the letter. Sansa had tossed his ruined tunic aside in the Maester's room and he hadn't had chance to get the letter from his pocket. Asking Sansa to retrieve it wasn't an option - she'd know what it was immediately. It was fortunate Arya was there. She must have noticed his panic as Sansa told the Maester to dispose of the ruined clothing and she retrieved the letter without anyone realising. At least it was safe with Arya and he could retrieve it later. As ridiculous as it was he couldn't let go of the letter.

"Can I get you anything?" asked Sansa, sitting on her side of the bed and adjusting the blankets over him

"No, thank you"

An awkward silence fell between them that hadn't been there in a long time. Sansa was trying to pretend everything was normal, when that couldn't be further from the truth. His head was far clearer than it had been on the return to Winterfell, but the clarity did nothing for the storm of hurt brewing deep within him.

"You saved the North" she said eventually "without you-"

"It's fine" he said, cutting her off "it was duty"

"Tyrion..."

"As long as I'm lord of Winterfell I have a duty to the North"

"You'll always be the lord of Winterfell" she said, reaching out to cup his face.

He tilted away from her touch, hurt rippling across her face as he did. Immediately guilt began to eat away at him - he hated seeing Sansa upset. The urge to be anywhere else reared up inside him, and it was only the heavy tiredness in his body that kept him in the bed.

"I shouldn't be here" he said, adding quickly "there's too much work to be done. So many dead and injured, the Unsullied, the prisoners and the free folk..."

"You don't need to worry about any of that. It will all be taken care of"

"I brought them all here, you shouldn't need to deal with the fallout" he said, forcing himself to look Sansa in the eye "I know you never wanted it to come to a battle. If you're going to punish anyone for disobeying your orders, punish me. Alec and Brice and Cayn did their best. The other lords and ladies answered my call, and acted on my orders"

Sansa's blue eyes glistened, a deep hurt hiding in their depths "I'm not going to punish you Tyrion, or our allies. Without you the North would have fallen to Robin"

He nodded, dropping his gaze back to the bed. Alec and the guards had all disobeyed Sansa's orders. Tyrion didn't think she would punish them, but he thought it was better to make it clear any blame was his to shoulder.

"I won't be dealing with the fallout anyway, I'm staying here with you" said Sansa

"You don't need to do that. You're the Queen - I understand you have responsibilities"

"You're my priority. Lady Tallhart has been organising the Maesters and healers, and Maester Wolkan is going to assist her in organising the prisoners and such. There are plenty of lords in the castle now to help us, and when you've rested we can deal with things together"

It all sounded so simple. Why hadn't Sansa thought defeating Robin could be this simple? They couldn't deal with the threat of Robin together, but now they could handle the fallout together?

"Do you want something for the pain? I can send for some nightshade to help you sleep" said Sansa, worry lacing her tone

Tyrion realised his face was betraying him, but the pain he felt was nothing that could be healed by nightshade.

"No thank you. I've had rather enough of nightshade"

Sansa winced at the bitter words "Tyrion, I-"

"It doesn't matter" he said, turning his head away from her "I know why you did what you did. There's no reason to go through it again; the past can't be changed"

Guilt tore at Tyrion for his blunt words and the obvious hurt Sansa was trying to hide. It wasn't his place to speak to Sansa like this, she was his Queen. If she wanted to pretend nothing had happened between them he should go along with it.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" she asked quietly

"I'm fine" he said, his throat tightening "just tired"

Sansa leaned tentatively towards him and Tyrion forced himself to stay still as she kissed his forehead "Alright sweetheart. I'll be right here if you need anything. I love you so very much"

She hesitated a moment, but Tyrion couldn't respond. Nothing in his heart had changed, but a storm of hurt and confusion blocked him from saying anything. It had taken many years, but Tyrion knew now that sometimes it was better to say nothing at all.

---

It was already dark when Arya pulled her aching body from the comfort of her bed. It had been a frantic dash to reach Winterfell in the end, and the timing had given the allied forces no respite before being thrust into battle. She grit her teeth as the stitches in her arm strained and itched as she pulled on some fresh clothes. The Maester had insisted she rest for a while and Arya had reluctantly agreed, but after several hours in bed it was more than time to get back on her feet.

Winterfell was busy, but not frantic as it had been earlier on. Arya crept through the castle, staying in the shadows and learning what she could about what had been going on as she slept.

The Queen and the lord of Winterfell hadn't been seen for hours but Arya hadn't expected anything less.

Gods, she hoped they weren't fucking.

Tyrion had been utterly heart-broken since he woke up on the Kings Road. He'd carried that letter Sansa wrote to him in his pocket for nearly two weeks and she'd often seen him reading it when he thought no one was looking. As far as she was concerned Tyrion needed to stand his ground against Sansa and not let his fear of rejection cloud over his hurt. However Sansa dressed her actions up she had hurt Tyrion deeply and it was damned well time he told her.

Arya had seen her sister fussing over Tyrion in the Maester's room, smothering him with affection as she usually did. Tyrion hadn't seemed particularly receptive to it, but he'd barely said anything either. It was obvious how much he loved Sansa, Arya just hoped he loved himself enough to not lock his hurt away. If he gave into Sansa's affections without telling her the hard truth of how he felt then nothing would change. Tyrion would be more insecure than ever, and Sansa would continue smothering him with affection to try and fix it.

She carried on through the corridors of Winterfell, forcing her weary legs to keep moving. How Tyrion dealt with Sansa was ultimately up to him, but there wasn't a chance in the seven hells Arya would let her actions go unchallenged. Tyrion might have a weakness for forgiving Sansa, but Arya did not. No soft words or tender touches would quell her anger.

All of the lords had survived, though some were injured. Cley had taken a few nasty wounds and the captain of lady Tallhart's guard had been killed in battle. Lord Glover and lord Hornwood both had minor injuries and lord Manderly had survived unscathed. He wasn't well-suited to battle and Arya had seen him hanging back with his personal guards, but at least he had been there. Lyle had taken Cayn home to rest, and Brice was also resting with minor injuries.

It was on the battlements overlooking the courtyard that Arya found Alec. The Winterfell captain had a deep bruise across the side of his face and was standing stiffly but he didn't seem to be carrying any major injuries.

"We survived" he said, not looking up from the courtyard below. Servants and healers were still bustling around bringing supplies to the barracks and the great hall where the injured had spilled over to.

Carts of the dead were still being brought into the castle, illuminated by torches along the walls of the castle now that night had fallen. The small folk had been escorted back into the village by the Winterfell guards to free up space now that the threat of Robin had gone.

"More would have survived if Sansa had called the banners" said Arya

Alec grunted in agreement, but made no comment. If Sansa had called the banners they could have prepared, they could have been well rested and organised. Instead the Northern army had charged into battle only a few steps above a rabble. Tyrion had done his best to organise them, and Cley had carried out Tyrion's plan to the letter - there just wasn't enough time. Robin's army had been a vicious rabble, with no thought at all for strategy or tactics.

"More would have died if they hadn't turned on Robin" said Alec, nodding towards a field to the left of Winterfell. A few torches in the distance illuminated a makeshift prison camp - guarded by the Unsullied.

"We're trusting them to guard the prisoners after what happened in Kings Landing?" asked Arya, narrowing her eyes

Alec shrugged "There aren't enough of our men well enough to do it. Iggo and lord Locke are in the dungeon with Winterfell guards, but the rest of the prisoners are a mix of small folk, sellswords, and Locke men. No one really knows what to do with Grey Worm and the Unsullied. He's a wanted man for what he did to Tyrion, but he helped us against Robin too"

"Is he in the dungeon?"

"No, he's with the rest of the Unsullied. I went with lady Tallhart, lord Manderly and Maester Wolkan to meet with him. He came alone and said he was willing to face justice, but wanted the rest of the Unsullied to remain free. He's our only link to the Unsullied and we made a deal with him that he and the Unsullied could remain outside the castle until Queen Sansa assessed the situation. They brought most of the prisoners back here and Grey Worm said they could guard them until justice was done"

"You believe him?"

"We didn't have much choice. Lord Manderly sent some of his men back with Grey Worm as part of the deal and it seemed the best solution for now. Until the Queen sorts all this out there's nothing more to do"

Arya nodded stiffly, reluctantly accepting the arrangement. It was tempting to borrow a face and end Grey Worm for what he did to Tyrion - only hours ago she'd seen the scar on her brother's chest from Grey Worm's spear thrust. But for the sake of peace she let the thought go. Arya would watch from the shadows for now, and if there was a threat to her family she would remove it.

"How are you doing?" asked Arya, leaning on the railing with a sigh

"I've been worse" he said "If the Queen doesn't take my head I'd like to go home to my wife"

"If Sansa takes your head she'll have to take all of ours - we all disobeyed her"

"It was the right thing to do" said Alec, frowning "Just the thought of Robin being King..."

"He deluded himself into thinking he deserved it. Coward even tried to run"

Alec shook his head in disgust "I can't believe he convinced lord Locke to join him. That sellsword is a vicious bastard too"

"The sooner their heads roll the better" said Arya, straightening up "I wouldn't expect Sansa to do anything for a day or so. She didn't bother to ask how the whole bloody North arrived in time to save her - all her focus was on Tyrion"

"As it should be. Poor sod's looked lost for days"

"If Sansa's got any sense she'll be on her knees begging him to forgive her"

"I hope they can work it out. Tyrion was happier than I'd ever seen him before all this"

Arya hoped they did too, but not as much as she wanted Tyrion to be honest with Sansa. He'd been fearless in battle, he needed to be the same in his marriage.

---

"Make sure it's burnt black" said Sansa

"Not to worry your Grace" said the chef, bowing her head "we know how lord Tyrion takes his bacon"

The smell of the greasy bacon made Sansa's stomach lurch, but she forced herself to endure it. Tyrion had refused any food yesterday and slept soundly since they returned to their chambers yesterday afternoon - he needed a good breakfast. She'd watched over Tyrion as he slept through the early evening but as night fell she'd decided to join him in the bed. The last thing she wanted was the sudden distance to grow between them, and returning to bed with him was the first step in returning to normal. Besides, her back ached after falling from her horse, and the day had been utterly draining. After a fortnight of poor sleep and nightmares she couldn't resist the temptation of sleeping next to her husband. The North was safe and so were they.

Leaving Tyrion this morning had been a difficult decision but he'd been sound asleep and she thought bringing him breakfast might be a good way to start a conversation. The chef was adding the finishing touches to the breakfast plate, and unease swept through Sansa, causing her stomach to twist yet again. Tyrion had been so distant yesterday. She knew he'd be upset at what she did, but surely he understood it was to try and protect him. After he'd returned beaten and bloody from the Wolfswood Sansa had sworn to never let anyone hurt him again. Sending him south had broken her heart, but it was to keep that promise.

Sansa pushed the thought aside as she took the plate from the chef and hurried back through Winterfell. Tyrion would understand when they spoke about it, and she'd make sure he knew how wanted he was. His distance yesterday was probably caused by a lot of things. He'd fought at the centre of a bloody battle, killing who knows how many men. He'd taken Robin's head, and he'd been hurt. She hated seeing Tyrion in pain, but at least it would give her an opportunity to fuss over him and remind him how loved he was. The doubt hiding in his eyes yesterday wasn't something she ever wanted to see again.

Sansa slowed her steps as the door of their chambers came into view. She'd been fortunate to wake early and avoid all of the lords currently in Winterfell. It wouldn't last much longer - as Queen she would need to return to her duties and clean up the mess from yesterday, but she'd take as much time with Tyrion as she could get before then. Easing open the door, Sansa's eyes quickly found her husband lying as she'd left him.

A pang went through her seeing him still curled against Lyon. Despite joining Tyrion in the bed last night she hadn't pushed getting close to him and Tyrion had clung to Lyon on his right side rather than her on his left. She forced a smile, pushing aside the hurt. Things would be better when they had a chance to talk.

Setting the plate on the small table beside the bed, Sansa gently grasped Tyrion's arm and shook him.

"Tyrion" she called "wake up love, it's time for breakfast"

It was tempting to leave him when he was sleeping so peacefully, but he needed to eat and she wanted to check his injuries. Lyon stirred to life first, growling grumpily at her.

"Morning Lyon" she said "are you feeling better?"

The wolf lifted his nose as if insulted and turned to nudge at Tyrion instead.

"Hmm" said Tyrion, his eyes blinking open "Lyon?"

"Good morning sweetheart" said Sansa, seizing upon his sleepiness to lean over and quickly kiss his head

"Sansa..." he said, as if confused. It always took him a few minutes to wake up properly; a trait Sansa found endearingly sweet.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

Tyrion might be slow to wake but it took only moments for his early morning obliviousness to be replaced by the shield he'd used yesterday. His usually warm eyes were clouded by something Sansa wouldn't dare try and name.

"I'm fine" he said, looking anywhere but her "Are you well?"

"I am. It was nice to get some proper sleep"

"You weren't injured yesterday?" he asked, furrowing his brow as if trying to recall what had happened.

"No, I'm fine"

Sansa's mouth turned downwards. This shouldn't be awkward. Tyrion was home where he belonged and the threat was gone. They should both be happy.

"I brought you breakfast" she said, gesturing towards the plate "let me help you sit up"

"I can manage" he said quickly, scrambling to sit up before she could help him.

"It's your favourite" she said, ignoring the way her chest tightened at his action. She handed him the plate of pre-cut food and a fork, her eyes drifting to his damaged hand "Do you need any help?"

Tyrion was staring at the plate of food as if he'd never seen anything like it before "I'm alright. Thank you Sansa"

It was an awkward breakfast. Awkward enough that Lyon left the bed in search of his water bowl. Tyrion kept his eyes firmly on the food as he ate and Sansa sat on the edge of the bed searching for a way to start a conversation between them. For a moment she allowed herself to savour the sight of her husband. The sight of his messy curls and bright green eyes breathed long lost hope into her heart. She'd prepared herself to never see him again; she'd spent two weeks living in a hellish reality where Tyrion wasn't with her. The frown on his face and his quietness tempered her optimism with guilt, but he was home - everything else could be dealt with in time. As Tyrion finished his breakfast Sansa quickly put his plate to one side and caught hold of his left hand, squeezing it gently in her own.

"I missed you" she told him "Winterfell wasn't home without you"

"I missed you too" he said quietly

Tyrion wouldn't meet her eyes but he hadn't pulled his hand from hers either. His right hand was heavily bandaged with his first two fingers strapped together to heal, though his thumb was free to move and fiddle with the edge of his lion blanket. After using it herself for the last fortnight she'd been thrilled to tuck it around her husband as he slept.

"I owe you an apology" she started, brushing her finger over the back of his hand "I sent you south because I believed it was the best way to keep you and Arya and Lyon safe. Robin sent letters to me - he said the Unsullied were on his side. I didn't think we could win and I didn't want you to suffer the consequences of my mistakes"

Tyrion said nothing and Sansa forced herself to carry on.

"I know it hurt you my love, and for that I am sorrier than you could ever know. Sending you south was the hardest thing I've ever done, but it was the only way I could protect you"

"You promised" he said softly "You told me so many times that I would never be sent away - no matter what"

"I did and I always meant it. But when the choice was between keeping you here and in danger or sending you to safety I made the only choice I could"

"There wasn't another choice?"

"No my love. I looked at everything a thousand times, and I chose the only scenario I could accept. You and Arya would be safe and I would face Robin - there would be a smooth transition of power"

"And how did that work out for you?" asked Tyrion, continuing to fiddle with his blanket.

His tone hadn't changed but Sansa was left with the impression she'd said something wrong, though she wasn't sure what. It must be hard for him to hear, but she wanted Tyrion to understand why she'd made the choices she had.

"I overestimated Robin and his army" she admitted "I never should have considered surrendering the crown to him, but I didn't trust the other houses to not turn their cloaks if I called the banners. I made so many mistakes and the North would have bled for them whether there was a battle or not - I can see that now"

"Oh. It's good you can see that"

Sansa let go of Tyrion's hand, cupping his face and bringing his gaze to meet hers "You were wonderful yesterday. The way you led the North into battle and beat Robin was nothing short of heroic. I'm so proud of you, my brave husband. You saved the North and fought with all the courage of a lion"

"In a battle you never wanted to happen"

"I didn't want a battle, and watching you fight was terrifying, but it's finally over my love. The threat is gone, the North is safe and most importantly you're home" she said, staring into his eyes and hoping he understood "I didn't send you away because I stopped loving you Tyrion, I did it because I loved you too much to risk losing you. There wasn't a moment I didn't wish you were here"

Tyrion stared at her for a moment, tilting his head to one side "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"I'd quite like to hear how you managed to call the banners and bring the whole of the North to Winterfell. I'm sure it's quite the story"

Tyrion's face fell "It's rather a long tale"

Sansa's chest tightened. She didn't know how but she was certain she was failing some kind of test. This talk was supposed to clear the air between them. It would take time to heal over the cracks she'd caused in their relationship, Sansa fully accepted that - but rather than starting on the path to recovery she could feel Tyrion slipping further away from her. The thought was like a shard of ice to her heart and Sansa suddenly wasn't sure what else to say. She was desperate for something that would thaw the ice between them, but was equally terrified of saying something that would push him further away.

"You don't have to tell me now" she said quickly, offering him a smile "we've got all the time in the world to talk about it. How are you feeling? I can get you something for the pain"

"I'm alright" he said, slumping back against the headboard and tugging his face from her hands

"Do you want anything else to eat?"

"No, thank you"

"Are you tired? I can hold you while you rest. You always sleep better like that"

Tyrion shook his head "Thank you, but I'm fine"

Sansa nodded her acceptance even as fear began to take over her mind. Tyrion was here, he was home - yet the distance between them had never been greater.

---

It was nearly midday when a knock sounded on Arya's door. She lifted her head from Jamie Lannister's book and narrowed her eyes at the door. Arya knew exactly who it would be and was sorely tempted to ignore her sister. The book Tyrion had once gifted her was far more interesting than anything Sansa could possibly say. Jamie had seen many great knights in battle and his notes on their styles was a fascinating read - even if his hand writing and spelling was poor.

Another knock echoed around the room, this time accompanied by Sansa's voice "Arya, I know you're in there"

"I am. Now go away" she called back

"Please. I just want to talk"

Arya sighed, setting the book on the table. Sansa sounded thoroughly miserable and that could only mean things weren't going as planned with Tyrion. Good. It was high time Sansa learned the consequences of her actions couldn't be so easily set aside. She hadn't planned on confronting her sister today but since she was here there was no time like the present.

"Fine" called Arya "you can come in"

The Queen had taken only a few steps into the room before Arya let the blade fly from her hand. It spun through the air, landing in the wall between Sansa and the door.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Sansa, staring at the quivering blade

"Yes"

Arya didn't move from her seat at the desk and after a few moments Sansa seemed to decide it was safe to approach. A risky proposition given Arya had another knife hidden on her. For now Arya decided to hear whatever lame excuses her sister had come to offer.

"How are your injuries?" asked Sansa, perching on the seat opposite her - always a proper lady

"I'll survive" said Arya

"Can I get you anything?"

"Get to the point Sansa"

The Queen dropped her gaze letting out a sigh "I know you're angry with me"

"That's an understatement"

"I owe you an apology, and an explanation"

"Do you think I'm stupid? As soon as I woke up in the cart I knew what you'd done" said Arya, narrowing her eyes "Tyrion was the one who figured out what you were planning to do. I never imagined you'd be stupid enough to consider surrendering to Robin, but apparently I was wrong. I thought you tried to send us south to keep us out of the battle, not so you could sacrifice yourself like a martyr"

"It was the only solution" said Sansa "it kept my family safe, it protected the North from war. If my death was the price it was worth it"

"And you were wrong weren't you? Robin didn't want your surrender, he wanted the glory of winning your throne and if it wasn't for Tyrion he would have"

"I know. I made so many mistakes-"

"Mistakes is putting it mildly" cut in Arya "You nearly killed Tyrion you know? Your desperate desire to protect him would have killed him before Robin had the chance"

The colour fell from Sansa's face, and it evoked a grim satisfaction in Arya. The truth was always hard but it was past time Sansa heard it.

"What happened?" demanded Sansa "Were you attacked-"

"No, it would have been your fault" said Arya, emphasising each word "Your plot to keep us asleep with nightshade didn't work because none of the guards are Maesters. They did their best but too much for one of us, not enough for the other, not timing the doses quite right - it all adds up eventually. I woke up in that damnable cart and so did Lyon, who instantly knew something was wrong with Tyrion"

"No..." said Sansa, her blue eyes bright with worry

"His breathing was shallow and I couldn't wake him up. Alec ceded to my command when he realised what was going on and I was able to purge the poison from Tyrion. He threw up a lot and looked rough as hell but he survived, no thanks to you"

A tiny voice niggled at the back of Arya's mind, warning her she may be going too far. Sansa's eyes were glistening with tears and she was glancing at the door as if she might run back to her chambers and check on Tyrion. Drawing in a breath Arya forced herself to control her anger. There was a reason she'd chose to read in her chambers rather than confront her sister, and it was for both of their safety. For nearly two weeks Arya's anger had grown, increasing as the full extent of Sansa's stupidity became apparent.

"I wrote you both letters" said Sansa quietly, staring at her hands "I knew it would hurt you both, but as long as you were safe I could take your anger"

Arya flexed her fingers, struggling to keep her anger at bay "You don't get it do you? We're a pack, and there are no lone wolves in the pack"

"It was to protect the pack Arya, you have to believe that. After everything Tyrion suffered I didn't want him to suffer anymore. I didn't want either of you to be victims of my mistakes"

"Tyrion hasn't accepted your excuses has he?" bit back Arya

The flash of pain on her sister's face told Arya everything she needed to know.

"Good" said Arya "it's about time he stood up for himself. You can't carry on treating him like shit"

Sansa jerked back as if she'd been slapped "I love Tyrion with all my heart, I'd do anything for him"

"It's not enough" said Arya "You came here hoping I'd tell you how to fix things didn't you? I can't tell you that. If you can't figure out what the problem is you don't deserve Tyrion. He forgave you after all the shit you put him through when he first came North. He was willing to die in the Wolfswood for a duty you forced on him, and when you exiled him south to 'protect' him he raised an army and marched back here to save you"

Sansa turned her head away, her voice barely a whisper "You're right - I don't deserve Tyrion"

"You broke his heart Sansa. Every time I woke him up from a nightmare or his hand cramped he looked for you, and you weren't there"

"I thought I was protecting him"

"You don't get it - we don't need your protection Sansa. How many years did I survive on my own? Look at all the shit Tyrion lived through without your protection"

Sansa's chair scraped against the floor as she lurched to her feet, hiding her face behind her long hair "Thank you for letting me in, I know you didn't want to talk to me. Whatever you think I am glad you're home Arya"

The Queen didn't wait for a reply as she hurried from the room and Arya had nothing more to say. If Sansa thought they could all move past this with a simple apology she was badly mistaken. While Arya hadn't spoken to Tyrion since yesterday she'd seen first-hand how hurt he was over Sansa's actions, and she more than suspected the reasons why.

Sansa just couldn't understand - they never needed her protection, they needed her. It wasn't something Sansa could be told, and Arya was too angry with her sister to help her understand. It was a good and bad sign that Tyrion hadn't immediately forgiven Sansa. On the one hand Arya was pleased her brother was standing his ground, but the pressure was now on Sansa to make things right with him. It was more than time - Sansa alone had caused this mess and it was hers alone to fix.

---

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, struggling to control the worry rolling through her as she walked around the grounds of Winterfell. Her footsteps crunched in the frosty snow and a cool breeze batted gently at her face. If Sansa wasn't so lost in her mind she might have found it refreshing.

She'd been reluctant to face Tyrion after the confrontation with Arya, and somehow found herself seeking refuge in the Sept. It was only small; tucked away in the main part of the castle. Most Northerners only recognized the old Gods but lady Catelyn had been a southerner and her husband had built a Sept for her to honour the Gods her family followed. There was only house Manderly that followed the faith of the seven in the North, so her chances of being disturbed were extremely low. The Sept was a strange place for Sansa to find herself. She prayed to neither the old Gods nor the new anymore - none of them had ever answered her prayers as a child. Still the Sept reminded her of her mother, and that was whose advice she wanted the most. Hiding away from the busyness of Winterfell Sansa had turned over everything Arya had said and sought for anything that would help her fix things.

Arya was furious. Tyrion was distant. Lyon was vindicated in his distrust of her.

Sansa had spent hours analysing everything, searching for the words that would win Tyrion back only to find none suitable for the task. She knew Tyrion would be upset over what she'd done - she hadn't expected him to withdraw from her so completely. Explaining her actions had done nothing to close the gap between them, and even before she endured Arya's brand of blunt honesty she'd known there was something she'd done wrong when speaking to Tyrion - she just couldn't figure out what. He'd looked so lost propped up in bed and the disappointment lurking in his eyes had been impossible to ignore.

Eventually she'd left the disused Sept and the judgmental eyes of the seven Gods behind and returned to her chambers to try again with Tyrion. Arya's words had been cutting but they were laced with the truth - she didn't deserve Tyrion. That didn't mean she would give up however.

'We don't need your protection'

Wasn't it natural to want to protect those she loved the most? The memory of how lost and broken Tyrion was after the Wolfswood always haunted her. Never again did she want to see him like that. Her actions might have been extreme but she'd put her family first this time. The crown was nothing compared to losing them.

"You needn't worry your Grace, I promise you lord Tyrion is quite safe" said lady Tallhart, patting her arm as they ambled around the outskirts of Winterfell

It took every inch of control Sansa possessed to not demand Tyrion's location from the older woman. Upon returning to her chambers Sansa had been confronted with an empty bed. Tyrion's bed clothes were lying discarded on the sheets, his sword was gone, Lyon was gone and Tyrion was nowhere to be seen. Sansa's heart had surely been beating visibly through her gown as she stumbled back out of the room. She'd been nearly hysterical when she reached the end of the corridor and came face to face with lady Tallhart.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?" she'd asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise at the state of the Queen

"It's Tyrion..." she'd choked out "he's gone. He was in bed, and I came back...he's gone. I drove him away..."

Sansa might have been embarrassed about her outburst if worry for her husband wasn't consuming her every thought. Lady Tallhart's face had immediately relaxed upon learning the cause of her distress and she'd insisted Tyrion was fine and she knew where he was. Rather than simply tell her where he was, lady Tallhart had asked Sansa to join her for a walk and promised to lead her to Tyrion.

"Are you well my Queen?" asked lady Tallhart, her breath frosting in the cold air "I dare say you look rather pale"

"I'm fine...just worried about Tyrion"

"Is he so badly injured?"

Objectively the answer was no - Tyrion had fared better than many of those who'd fought beside him. As long as he took things easy there was no real reason he had to stay in bed. Yet Sansa wasn't objective. Tyrion was hurt; he'd fought in a bloody battle and picked up several injuries. According to Arya the nightshade meant to keep him asleep on the journey south had nearly killed him. He shouldn't be out of bed - he should be resting and she should be there taking care of him.

"I'm just worried about him" said Sansa quietly

"Perfectly understandable" said lady Tallhart, adding "though when I met you upstairs you seemed rather distraught that lord Tyrion wasn't in your chambers"

It was an invitation, she realised. Sansa was Queen - and the crown was a lonely burden, but lady Tallhart was offering her an ear, and not for the sake of politics. Sansa swallowed thickly, studying the old woman's kind face. She'd spent hours trying to make sense of the distance between her and Tyrion and came up with nothing. Arya was too angry to be helpful, and marriage wasn't something her sister had experience of - but lady Tallhart did.

"I was worried he'd left me" admitted Sansa

"And why would he do that?"

The story poured from Sansa before the untrusting voices of her old mentors could warn her against it. She told lady Tallhart everything; from how she'd arranged for Tyrion to be banished to the North, to forcing him into marriage and then sending him south to protect him. The only part she left out was the rape, saying only that Tyrion had been reluctant in the marriage. The guilt for raping Tyion would never leave her, but it wasn't something anyone else needed to know - the rest of her crimes against him were condemning enough without that particular sin.

"I see" said the lady when Sansa had finished "Your Grace, you already know my thoughts on your marriage to lord Tyrion. You made a very sensible choice in choosing a man with a wealth of experience over the young Northern lords. I will confess when you were first married I believed it was solely political. You both acted the role of husband and wife but there was a lack of warmth there too"

"It was so obvious?" asked Sansa, old guilt stirring for her early treatment of Tyrion

"Not to most, but when you've sat through as many formal dinners as I have you learn to read people and their relationships" said lady Tallhart "When I returned to Winterfell for King Bran's visit the difference in your relationship with your husband was easy to see"

"After the Wolfswood I apologised to Tyrion for everything" said Sansa, softly "and I was lucky enough that he gave me a second chance"

"You fear your actions have lost that chance? I've seen the way lord Tyrion looks at you my Queen, it's clear he loves you dearly"

A lump formed in Sansa's throat "He did"

Sympathy swept through the old woman's eyes as she shook her head "You haven't lost his love your Grace, I can promise you that"

"How?" asked Sansa, tears filling her eyes "He's pulling away from me, he's-"

"He's here, isn't he?" cut in the lady "That should tell you everything you need to know. You plotted to send him south to protect him - why would lord Tyrion raise an army and march back to Winterfell if not out of love for you? He would not have returned if your marriage was beyond saving. He is a dutiful lord, but there are few men who would choose duty over love and lord Tyrion isn't one of them. His return saved the North, but don't let yourself believe that was his sole motivation"

Sansa wanted more than anything to believe it was true, that she hadn't lost Tyrion in her desperate desire to protect him. Sending him south had clearly hurt him, but as lady Tallhart said Tyrion had chosen to return despite that.

"We spoke earlier" started Sansa as their path led them around the outer walls of the castle "I tried to explain why I made that choice...I tried to apologise. I don't know - it was like there was something I was getting wrong...and Tyrion looked so sad..."

There was something Tyrion had needed from her earlier, and somehow she'd failed to give it to him. What it was Sansa had no idea - but she'd give anything to know. It was like a mystery key, and Sansa thought if she could find it she might unlock the defences keeping Tyrion beyond her reach.

Lady Tallhart hummed thoughtfully beside her "Your Grace, might I speak freely?"

"Please do"

"Is lord Tyrion quite open with you about his thoughts? I often noticed him turning to you when I was last at Winterfell, and you were always quick to respond - whether it be a look or a touch"

"It took a while, but yes, he does confide in me" said Sansa, adding sadly "or at least he did"

"So he often shares his fears, hopes and worries with you?"

"He can tell me anything - I made sure he knows that"

"I understand" nodded the lady "When lord Tyrion needs support or help he turns to you"

"I am his wife" said Sansa, her mouth pulling down "I love him more than anything in the world - I'll always support him"

The lady nodded quickly "Of course. May I ask you your Grace; who do you turn to?"

Sansa froze at the question and lady Tallhart quickly pressed on.

"Do you confide in your husband as he does in you? When worry and doubt clouds your mind do you turn to lord Tyrion for support?"

A hollow ache rose in Sansa's chest at the questions she didn't want to answer. When lady Tallhart spoke again the words broke through Sansa like the first rays of sun after the long night.

"You have a husband who adores you. Who trusts you enough to be vulnerable with you - and I can tell you how rare that is in marriages between great houses. If lord Tyrion turns to you in his need, and you turn inward in yours, how can he not feel the sting of rejection? Two souls become one in marriage, but that can't happen unless both are open to it"

---

"I hope father is watching from whichever of the seven hells he ended up in. Can you imagine the look on his face at seeing his son talking to a tree?" said Tyrion, morphing his face into a mocking resemblance of his father's sour expression "What do you think you're doing? Lannister's do not act like fools"

If Tyrion really tried he could almost imagine Jamie was sat in the Godswood with him. It wasn't as easy to picture his brother's smirking face as it had once been, but it had been so very long since he last saw it.

"I don't suppose you're listening anyway" said Tyrion, addressing the heart tree "you always hated the North - I doubt you're listening to my ramblings through a tree in Winterfell. Unless that's your punishment. Gods, I hope you didn't end up in the seven hells. Just the thought of spending eternity with father, Cersei and Joffrey makes me shudder"

Jon Snow had died and came back, saying there was nothing after death. That was comforting in some regards but there was a tiny slither of sentimentality in Tyrion that wanted to imagine he might one day see his brother and Tommen and Myrcella again - and perhaps meet his mother. That was foolish of course. He was a kinslayer and an imp; there would be a small place in one of the seven hells for him.

"Who am I to judge? Perhaps spending eternity with Cersei is what you wanted" continued Tyrion "You threw away what you were building with Brienne to die with our sister after all"

The tree was silent and still; utterly unmoved by his bitter words. Tyrion sighed, pulling his cloak around him as he slumped against the base of the tree. Lyon had been sat with him for a while but the little wolf had clearly grown bored of his rambling and limped off to sniff around the trees he wasn't talking to.

Staying in bed hadn't lasted long. An hour after Sansa had left him he'd dragged himself from the warmth of his and Sansa's chambers to the Godswood. He hadn't meant to come here specifically, but for all he'd longed to be back in Winterfell with Sansa the reality was quite different. He thought being reunited with his wife would soothe the ache in his heart, only this time it hadn't. Sansa hadn't hesitated to smother him with the love and reassurances he'd come to rely on - she'd been as open in her affections as ever, and Tyrion didn't doubt she was happy to see him. Except it wasn't enough.

Sansa may love him, but she didn't trust him.

Their talk this morning had made it quite clear how Sansa's thought process worked. She'd seen only two solutions to the problem of Robin Flint. One was calling the banners and the other was surrendering the crown. She'd chosen the latter, but not once had she thought about turning to him for help. Sansa had been utterly truthful this morning, and the truth hurt more than anything. She'd made every decision alone; deciding not just her fate but his and Arya's as well, without ever thinking of what they wanted. The biggest problem was that Sansa saw nothing wrong with it; she didn't realise it was an issue.

It had been tempting to call upon Arya to seek her advice and retrieve his letter but he was fairly certain that was where Sansa had gone. Waiting for her to return had been impossible. He simply couldn't face her until he cleared his head, and somehow Tyrion had found himself in the Godswood, talking to a tree and pretending it was his brother. If nothing else the sight would infuriate his father and that alone encouraged Tyrion to continue.

"I want too much, don't I?" pondered Tyrion "It must be Lannister blood; always wanting more. I have a beautiful wife who loves me - I should be content with that. She listens to me ramble about petty grievances and old wounds. She's always there when I have nightmares, or when I'm being pathetically sensitive about something ridiculous. I'm glad you didn't see that time my tunic wouldn't fit. You would have never let me live it down, but Sansa was so kind to me"

There had been so many instances like that; where his vulnerability had come to the surface and Sansa had embraced him rather than mocked him. It had taken time but gradually he'd learned he didn't have to hide with Sansa - she wouldn't hurt him. Tyrion had thought it was working both ways. There had been a couple of instances where Sansa had confided in him, but her response to the threat of Robin had torn that illusion to shreds. He'd known something was troubling Sansa and done everything possible to let her know she could lean on him. Naively he'd thought it was just a matter of time; that Sansa would open up to him when she was ready. Never had he expected such a betrayal.

Tyrion's throat tightened as he leaned his head against the tree "I do miss you Jamie. Not because you had great wisdom on relationships - we both know your taste in women - but being the last of one's house is rather lonely"

He brushed his fingers over the pommel of his sword. The weapon lay across his lap with the lion side of the pommel facing upwards and the direwolf down. The Starks had welcomed him into their family, and accepted his many flaws and insecurities. Was it wrong to want his wife to be as comfortable with him as he was with her? Perhaps it was too much. Sansa might love him and value his opinion as lord of Winterfell, but when the stress became too much for her she would shut down and push him away. Nothing he did made any difference - it would be easier to accept it. He could live a nice life sitting at Sansa's side whilst she soothed away any of his problems and hid her own.

'The Queen's pet lion'

Gawan had often called him that, and if he accepted Sansa wouldn't change that was effectively what he would be. A well-cared for, much loved pet that happily accepted affection and comfort without any true intimacy in the relationship. It couldn't be an intimate, trusting relationship with Sansa when it only went one way.

Tyrion lifted his sword in his undamaged hand, angling the pommel for the tree to see.

"This is what remains of your sword - well Ned Stark's sword really. I killed a lot of people with it yesterday, including one of the bastards that tortured me in the Wolfswood. I didn't torture him, but I did take his head. Surely that counts as paying the debt?" said Tyrion "You would have cut through him in a second, unlike me. Bastard kicked the shit out of me before I stabbed him in the knee. I might have a sword now, but my mind will always have to be my first weapon I'm afraid. A sword is only as good as the hand using it after all - meaning no offence. Your left hand was surely better than either of mine"

Silence was the only response and Tyrion's heart dropped. What did he really expect? Neither he nor Jamie had ever cared much for any Gods, and the heart tree was hardly going to answer him. As much as he loved his Stark family he couldn't deny there were occasions he wished Jamie was here.

His ribs ached as he adjusted his position under the tree, and he shook his legs to get some warmth back into them. Leaving his bed hadn't been the best idea. His left ankle was still swollen and difficult to walk on, and he'd felt the stitches that trailed along his side and back pulling as he moved. The gash on his shoulder ached and his right hand was covered in bandages with his first two fingers strapped together. Gods, why did Robin have to have such a hard face? His hand had barely recovered from punching Gawan's stupid face to then damage it hitting Robin.

"I'm a mess" groaned Tyrion, squeezing his eyes shut "and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do next. I wish you were here. I wish you hadn't died with Cersei-"

"Tyrion?"

He jerked his head around at the sound of his name, his eyes flying open to find Sansa stood across from him. Heat flooded his face, followed quickly by shame. He really hoped Sansa hadn't heard him talking to a tree.

She stepped forwards, her hands fidgeting in front of her "Can I join you?"

"Of course" he said, scrambling to grasp his sword and bracing himself against the tree "I'm the stranger here. I'll leave you to your prayer"

"No, please stay" she said, panic building in her eyes "I didn't mean to disturb you. This is your home Tyrion - you're no stranger"

It was awkward. Only a few short weeks ago he and Sansa had seemed so in sync with each other, now their every interaction was plagued by the uncertainty that had coloured their early days of marriage. He glanced at his wife's face before slumping against the tree once more. A twinge of guilt ran through Tyrion as Sansa moved to join him. It had been hours since she left him in bed. Returning to their chambers and finding it empty had surely worried her.

Sansa left a sizeable gap between them when she sat down, confusing and worrying him in equal measure. He'd spent the last couple of hours coming to terms with what his marriage to Sansa would be like going forwards. He'd half expected her to immediately start fussing over him and lead him back inside, gently chiding him for leaving his sick bed.

Instead the Queen sat across from him, smoothing out her skirts as she settled onto the snow covered ground. Her red hair fell softly around her face, and it eased some of Tyrion's nerves to see the uncertainty in Sansa's eyes.

"I never cared for the Godswood much as a girl" said Sansa, her gaze moving to the tree behind him "I was obsessed with the south and their traditions - everything in the North seemed solemn and boring in comparison"

Tyrion said nothing as Sansa continued.

"I married a monster here. Littlefinger knew what Ramsay was when he sold me to the Boltons, and he sacrificed me anyway. Theon was Ramsay's plaything then - they made him give me away. I hated the sight of this tree for a long time. It reminded me of being given to Ramsay and everything that followed" she said, before a small smile tugged at her mouth "I don't hate it anymore. The last time I wed under this tree it was to a very different man. Marrying you meant so many things to me Tyrion. I was in control this time. I chose you. I made the decision to marry you, and then to consummate the marriage"

Coldness crept through Tyrion at the reminder of their wedding night. Sansa had been in control, and he'd been hers to use.

"The power to decide your own fate is sweeter than any wine" continued Sansa, the smile falling from her face "but no less intoxicating"

"I suppose it would be"

"I gave you no choice in our marriage; I forced the consummation and bound us together"

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably against the tree "We've been through this before. You apologised and I forgave you"

"And I was determined to change. What happened to you in the Wolfswood opened my eyes to what I was becoming. I went from paying you no attention to smothering you with it. When they brought you back from the Wolfswood I was holding you in the Maester's room while he tended to your injuries. You probably don't remember but you woke up in my arms"

Tyrion shook his head. He remembered nothing after Arya rescued him until he woke up in their chambers a few days later.

"You were confused and kept apologising. I tried to comfort you but nothing I did worked" said Sansa, her blue eyes glistening "You begged to go home; you pleaded for Jamie to take you there. I realised then how badly I'd failed. My dutiful, brave husband who'd been so badly hurt for a duty he never wanted didn't believe Winterfell was his home, or that his family loved him"

"I don't remember that" said Tyrion, his throat tightening

"No, but I do" said Sansa "I promised then you'd never feel like that again. I didn't think you'd ever forgive me for the way I treated you but that didn't matter - I would happily give you all my love even if you never returned it"

"I do love you Sansa" he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers "Do you really doubt that?"

"How could I ever doubt that? You're a master of words but your actions speak just as loudly. Most men wouldn't have given me a second chance. No other man would have called the banners and gone to war after being betrayed as I betrayed you"

"You did betray me" said Tyrion, letting some long withheld anger seep into his tone "I'm your husband, I'm the lord of Winterfell - and none of that mattered to you. You decided I could go south and start a new life without you. As if that was even a possibility. I'm clearly the one who failed here Sansa"

"You've never failed me"

Tyrion shook his head "I thought you knew. Everything I had to offer was yours; my love, my support - whatever broken pieces of my heart are left. You could have leaned on me. I did everything I could think of to make sure you knew that and it wasn't enough. You banished me south, not caring what I wanted!"

"Tyrion, I-"

"I'd have died for you!" he cut in, anger giving way to hurt in his voice "Do you really think I'd have left you to save myself? Or turned my back on the Northerners who trusted me as their lord?"

"You're right" said Sansa, tears slipping from her eyes "When I sent you south I did it because I knew you and Arya would never willingly go. I convinced myself it was to protect you and that I was surrendering to Robin to protect the North, but I was wrong - it was selfish. I've been a poor Queen and I didn't want to call the banners to fix my mistakes. I sent you south because I was afraid. I could face my death but never yours. I'm so sorry Tyrion. There's no excuse for what I did, but I can see now it was driven by fear. I was powerless to stop the destruction of my family as a girl, but I had the power this time; I could protect those I loved"

Tyrion's heart twisted at the genuine remorse spread over Sansa's face. He'd never doubted why Sansa had made her decisions, but he couldn't deny how badly it had hurt him all the same.

"That you want to protect me means more than you could ever know" said Tyrion "I only wish you'd let me do the same. We're supposed to be partners in this marriage, but you hide from me. I'm your husband and you couldn't share your fear with me. I'm the lord of Winterfell and you didn't seek my help to make a plan - we could have faced Robin together"

They lulled into a silence amplified by the stillness of the Godswood. It hadn't been a pleasant conversation, but to Tyrion it had been far more honest than the one they'd shared this morning. It occurred to Tyrion just how much Sansa was struggling with this. She had no problem expressing affection to him, or coaxing him to be open about his own troubles, but she was visibly struggling to be honest about herself. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line, and her eyes were filled with a vulnerability he'd only ever glimpsed.

'I can be there for you' he thought 'you're safe with me Sansa. Surely you know whatever you share with me is our secret to keep'

"I couldn't share my fears with you" she admitted "mostly because I denied it was fear. As soon as you were gone the reality of the situation got through to me. I was terrified Tyrion. I realised too late that every decision I'd made was guided by fear pretending to be logic. By then it was too late. I would have died, and the North would have fallen to Robin if you hadn't loved me enough to return. Even when I hurt you, mistreated you and undermined you as lord of Winterfell you came back to me. I owe you so much Tyrion, no apology will ever be enough"

Tyrion swallowed thickly "I understand you have difficulty trusting people, I just wish you'd give me a chance to help you. After everything you've done for me I only want to give you the same support"

Sansa was still crying, and something wet was sliding down Tyrion's face too, but Sansa's eyes were brimming with hope when she looked at him.

"I want that too" she said "I don't...I don't think it will be easy for me, but I want to try - I need to. I've lived in the past too long. Even in the castle there are rooms I won't go in because I'm afraid of Ramsay's ghost. I-I don't want to hide anymore - from you, or the North or anyone. Every piece of me is yours Tyrion, if you still want me?"

Tyrion took a moment to study Sansa. Her eyes were watery, and tears were still making tracks down her face. Sansa's icy walls had broken after the Wolfswood, but there had still been a shield in place of some sort. Tyrion could understand that. Queens couldn't share their fears and worries with everyone. All he'd wanted was for Sansa to let him inside her shield so that he might shoulder her burden too.

Now Sansa sat before him, lowering her shield and letting him see the real Sansa Stark hiding beneath it. Not an unbreakable Queen made of ice, but a young woman full of hopes and dreams who'd suffered great tragedy in her short life.

Tyrion pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the tree for support. He saw the hurt rippling across Sansa's face, but in three hobbling steps forwards he put an end to it.

"Of course I want you" he said, cupping her damp face as tears spilled down his own "I missed you so much Sansa, please don't do that to me again. I'd rather die with you than be alone and safe"

Sansa's arms wrapped around his waist pulling him into her as a sob broke from her throat "Never again, I promise. I love you so much Tyrion. Where you go I go, now and forever"

---

Bran watched from the side of the hall as another lord of the Westerlands bent their knee to the lord of Casterly Rock.

Pod still looked out of place in the lord's high seat, but Bran was confident that in time it would come to suit him. Brienne stood along from him with her hand resting on the pommel of her sword, though the position closest to lord Payne was taken by the newly appointed captain of Pod's guard. Bran's mouth twitched upwards. Ser Loren Brax was a staunch, well-seasoned soldier and more than capable of commanding Podrick's guard - but that hadn't stopped Brienne thoroughly vetting him before Pod appointed him to the position. While Brienne had tried to contain her sadness at the prospect of leaving Podrick here it was obvious to anyone who knew her. That didn't stop the hint of pride in her face as Pod accepted vows of fealty from the lords he now ruled. Bran knew Pod had asked her to be here today, and while Bran was certain Podrick needed no support the gesture clearly meant a lot to her.

Preparing Casterly Rock for today had taken a lot of work, but the sigil and colours of house Payne had now replaced the red and gold of house Lannister. Certain traces of the Lannisters couldn't be changed, and that was for the best - history should never be forgotten. The lion's mouth was one example, being a natural cavern and the main entrance to Casterly Rock - it was steeped in history much like the castle, and would serve as a reminder of the lords who had ruled before lord Podrick Payne.

"That almost looks like a smile" said Meera, glancing sideways at him

"Almost" he agreed "Pod is where he's supposed to be"

"And where are we supposed to be?"

"Kings Landing"

"I would have thought the three-eyed raven needed to stay in the North"

"My power is stronger there" he said "but the North is in good hands and my place is in Kings Landing now"

Meera raised an eyebrow "Weren't you making plans to ride back North a few days ago?"

"Only if the crown fell to Robin Flint" said Bran, his mouth turning downwards "Sansa's plan was doomed to fail. If Tyrion hadn't arrived in time the North would have fallen into war and more lives would have been lost"

Contingency plans had become necessary. The three-eyed raven couldn't see the future as such, but could see enough to know Robin couldn't be allowed to take the throne. Every choice Sansa had made against Robin was guided by fear and would have cost the North dearly, but she had also saved it. What happened to Tyrion in the Wolfswood was brutal but necessary. If Sansa's walls of ice hadn't shattered and shown her the truth of what she was becoming the North would have fallen to Robin. The Queen of ice was a formidable mask, but it was Sansa Stark who'd taken the broken pieces of Tyrion Lannister and built him up again. If not for her care Tyrion wouldn't have been able to fulfil his role. The old Gods may have chosen him as their champion, but it was Sansa who'd rebuilt his confidence enough to take charge when the time came. The Tyrion who'd left Kings Landing all those months ago wouldn't have been able to do so.

"You've never been to Kings Landing" said Bran

"This is the furthest south I've been" said Meera "are all the castles as grand as this one? I thought Winterfell was impressive, but Casterly Rock is completely different"

"You'll see soon enough. They're still rebuilding Kings Landing but in time I think it will be great again" said Bran "we'll spend a few more days here before we carry on. Lord Podrick will do quite well without us"

Meera nodded "Are you ever going to reply to that letter from Sansa?"

"She wanted me to shelter Tyrion and Arya in the south but that's no longer necessary"

"Father always taught me it's polite to reply"

Bran let himself smile "I will reply, but not until it's time"

---

Arya crossed her arms, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as lord Manderly explained in depth how he'd arranged for the ships to bring them to White Harbour in time. This meeting was completely unnecessary as far as Arya was concerned, but when she'd received Sansa's official invitation this morning she'd known it was unavoidable. After talking to Sansa yesterday she hadn't seen her or Tyrion at all until the meeting today. She didn't know what had gone on between them but the fact Tyrion was smiling reassuringly at Sansa was enough for Arya to know they'd made some progress moving past what had happened.

Of course she wanted Sansa and Tyrion to be happy; she just didn't want her brother to let Sansa's behaviour go unchallenged.

Arya sighed, slumping against the back of the chair. This meeting was going on forever. While it was damned obvious Tyrion had saved the North he'd also gone against the Queen's wishes and so this meeting was set up with Sansa and Tyrion at opposite ends of the long table in the great hall with the rest of the lords and ladies sitting along either side, as well as Alec, Errol and Maester Wolkan. It wasn't a trial, but Sansa had formally asked Tyrion to explain what had happened and why he'd called the banners. It was all for show - there wasn't a chance in the seven hells Sansa would punish Tyrion or any of them for thwarting her ridiculous plan of surrender. Her sister actually looked pained at the distance between her and Tyrion at the table.

"Are you alright?" whispered Tyrion, as lord Manderly blathered on to the delight of no one

"I'm fine" said Arya "What about you?"

"I've been worse" he said, lifting his bandaged right hand "though this is rather annoying"

She swept her eyes over Tyrion, taking in his tired face and the stiff way he was sitting. It was obvious Tyrion wasn't well suited to battle. No matter how willing he was his size would always limit his physical strength and he'd taken a lot of punishment in the fight against Robin. Nevertheless she was proud of her brother. He'd fought with all his heart, and delivered justice to one of the beasts that had hurt him.

Talking with Sansa yesterday had done nothing to melt Arya's anger at her sister, but Tyrion seemed somewhat more relaxed than he had been when they first returned - though his beard was still in place and to Arya that meant he hadn't instantly forgiven Sansa. The edge of his scar was bright red where it disappeared into his beard and the skin around it looked raw. While they were in White Harbour she'd asked Tyrion why didn't he see the castle barber about it, and after some pushing he'd admitted it was something Sansa usually did for him. Arya didn't understand why it mattered who shaved his beard but it clearly held some significance for Tyrion, and she hadn't missed the flash of hurt on Sansa's face when he'd refused to let her do it in Wolkan's room.

"Thank you lord Manderly for your detailed account" said Sansa, finally growing bored of the man. She turned her gaze back to Tyrion, struggling to maintain a neutral face "Anything further to add my lord?"

"Only that I accept full responsibility for organising the allied forces and instructing the Winterfell household to obscure information from you. They answered my call and did so to protect the North and you my Queen, but it was I that led them to disobey your wishes and the consequences of that are mine to bear"

"Your Grace, lord Tyrion might have acted without your consent but he did save the North" said lord Glover "my house stood with him and I'll take my share of the guilt"

"As will I" said Cley "House Cerwyn would never kneel to Robin Flint, and I gladly joined lord Tyrion's rebellion"

Gods, the Northerners were predictable. One by one they gladly threw their support behind Tyrion, much to his surprise.

'Do you still not understand big brother?' thought Arya 'In the south they might let you fall on your sword and bear the blame for disobeying the Queen alone, but not in the North. These lords followed you because they believed in what you were doing'

Sansa didn't seem at all surprised, and was struggling to not smile as she watched Tyrion's expression change. The lord of Winterfell was glancing around the table in complete confusion as the other lords and ladies readily confessed to joining his rebellion. Effectively that's what they'd done. Robin might have rebelled against the Queen in the North, but in refusing Sansa's orders Tyrion had become a rebel too, even if he had fought to defend the Queen.

'You are not a servant'

The few words Bran had bothered to put in a letter to Tyrion. The vague message had infuriated Arya at the time, but maybe the message hadn't been as obscure as she originally thought. To save Sansa and the North Tyrion had needed to be a rebel rather than a servant.

When the lords and lady Tallhart had all confessed to their roles, the Winterfell household did the same. Alec admitted to disregarding the Queen's orders, while Errol confessed to obscuring information on allied movements to Winterfell and the Maester admitted to destroying correspondence. That was a surprise to her and Tyrion. She knew Tyrion had given instructions to Lyle and Nessa on what to do, but they hadn't expected the Maester to help as he clearly had. The old man was taking the blame for the correspondence and it could only be to shield Nessa and Lyle from any repercussions. Errol hadn't mentioned any interference from Lyle either, and was also shouldering the blame for acting behind the Queen's back.

"I understand" said Sansa, when all the confessions were finished. Arya had no need to say anything. She'd taken the seat to Tyrion's right when she arrived at the meeting, making it perfectly clear whose side she was on "I am grateful to all of you for your honesty, but lord Tyrion was the leader of this rebellion and he used the power of his title and position to act against my wishes"

The rest of the table fell silent as Sansa appraised her husband. Tyrion met her gaze without remorse, but Arya could see a glimmer of sadness hiding in his face - he'd apparently resigned himself to his fate.

"I Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North do hereby pardon the allied forces of all charges and proclaim lord Tyrion Lannister the saviour of the North"

Applause quickly followed the statement, though Arya doubted Tyrion heard it as he stared at Sansa. The atmosphere at the table lightened instantly, though the older lords and lady Tallhart didn't seem at all surprised at Sansa's ruling. Cley was sat on Tyrion's other side and quickly congratulated him, as did lord Mazin further along.

The one who seemed the most surprised was Tyrion. He'd frozen at Sansa's words and it occurred to Arya he'd been expecting a different outcome.

"What did he think the Queen would do?" mumbled Alec beside her

"She was never going to punish him" agreed Arya, watching on as Tyrion dazedly shook hands with the other lords

Sansa had clearly picked up on it too. Her eyes were full of tenderness as she watched from the other end of the table. If anything the sight stirred anger within Arya. None of this should have happened. If Sansa had trusted her family from the beginning there'd have been no need for them to call the banners behind her back, or for any of them to be pardoned.

With the awkward part of the meeting over, conversation turned to the future and how to deal with the prisoners. Tyrion still seemed to be in shock as the conversation moved on around him.

"Are you ok Tyrion?" whispered Arya

His head jerked up as if pulled from his thoughts "Oh, yes. I'm fine"

"You seem surprised"

"What we did was treason"

Arya shrugged "It was necessary, and Sansa knows it"

Dealing with the prisoners was a problem, eclipsed only by the issue of the Unsullied. Sansa didn't particularly want to execute every man who'd fought against them, but with the Nights Watch no longer an option there were limited ways to deal with prisoners of war.

"Lord Locke must surely die" said lord Mazin "He turned his cloak and ambushed your men!"

"Agreed" said Alec, narrowing his eyes "I lost good men to his treason"

"Lord Locke will lose his head, as will the sellsword captain Iggo" said Sansa "The question is really what to do with the rest of them"

There were no good solutions, but eventually decisions were made. The sellswords would all be executed - no one was willing to trust they would sail back to Essos without attacking the North again and no one wanted to see them go unpunished. Lord Locke's men and the small folk would be asked to swear fealty to Sansa in exchange for their lives. There was a vengeful part of Arya that saw it as too merciful - any who'd taken up arms against the Queen deserved to die. Yet she was forced to acknowledge it was politically a smart move. The forces fighting for Sansa had been victorious and the Queen was willing to show mercy on her enemies.

"What about Grey Worm?" asked Cley "He nearly killed lord Tyrion in the Wolfswood"

"A tricky situation" said lord Manderly "His crimes against lord Tyrion cannot be forgotten but without the Unsullied switching sides we may well have lost the battle"

"It was a great victory for us" insisted lord Mazin, daring anyone to disagree. The young lord was as hot blooded in politics as he was in battle - which was something he appeared to enjoy. Cley was of a similar age but the two had completely different temperaments. Where Cley was thoughtful and cautious, Karlon Mazin would act long before any thought came to him.

"Be that as it may, the Unsullied's betrayal of Robin ended the battle far more decisively than we would have alone" said lord Hornwood

"And undoubtedly spared many Northern lives" added lady Tallhart

"What do you think Tyrion?" asked Arya, loud enough to draw the table's attention to the lord of Winterfell who'd sat in near silence since Sansa proclaimed him the saviour of the North

"Oh. Yes, it is a difficult situation..." said Tyrion

"You'd be within your rights to take Grey Worm's head" grunted lord Glover

"If he died what would the rest of the Unsullied do?" cautioned the Maester "I am curious where the Unsullied have come from. The North may be huge but I find it hard to believe they've lived in the wild for months, particularly given the unfamiliar terrain"

It had bothered Arya since the Unsullied appeared on the battle field. Where in the seven hells had they been hiding, presumably for months without anyone noticing?

"You all raise good points" said Sansa, bowing her head in acknowledgement "but I will defer this decision to lord Tyrion. He knows the Unsullied better than anyone here, and he is the one who Grey Worm sought to kill"

Tyrion looked decidedly uncomfortable with the sudden attention, and drummed his fingers against the table as he considered "Grey Worm nearly killed me, but he also helped us save the North. I would suggest we hear what he has to say before we take any action. Aside from Grey Worm the rest of the Unsullied appear to be blameless of any crimes"

"Other than being in the North" said Alec "King Bran ordered them to leave, yet here they are"

"That is true, and I for one would like to know why they're here" said Tyrion "Is this acceptable your Grace?"

"A wise decision my lord" said Sansa "I propose that a court session is convened in five days' time. That should give everyone adequate time to rest and for us to dispense with the prisoners. Lord Locke and Iggo will remain in the dungeon until then, and will be given a chance to speak before they are executed. Grey Worm will be asked to attend and answer for his actions as well"

A chorus of nods and agreement followed the decision and Arya braced herself to spend the next five days in an overly packed Winterfell.

"Are there any other issues?" asked Sansa

"What of the wildlings?" asked lord Dormund, his nose wrinkling at the word

"The free folk fought with us" said lord Mazin, turning imploringly to Sansa "They have made camp outside the Winterfell walls and are causing no problems. They acted as allies and should be treated as such"

"I quite agree" said Tyrion, also turning to Sansa "The free folk did not join us because they were obliged by oath to do so, they fought because they wanted to when they could have simply done nothing"

"They have no Queen-" started lord Dormund

"No, but they acted as allies. Better allies than lord Locke who I'm sure has sworn many oaths of fealty" cut in Sansa "they are free to remain so long as they maintain the Queen's peace, and will be treated no differently than the rest of the allied force who answered lord Tyrion's call"

Both Tyrion and lord Mazin looked relieved at the ruling, though some of the older lords looked put out at the thought of them remaining near Winterfell. To Arya it was hard luck. Rose and the free folk had fought with them, and were more than deserving of a safe place to rest. Besides, having Rose near Winterfell had the added benefit of keeping Sansa on edge. The wolf like stare Sansa had given the woman when she visited Tyrion all those weeks ago still amused her.

Arya felt as if she'd been at the meeting for several years by the time it ended. Several of the lords began conversing amongst themselves, while a few of the more injured lords including Cley and lord Hornwood drifted off to rest. Sansa was perfectly poised at the other end of the table, listening politely to lord Manderly as he rattled on about something or other. Annoyance flared in Arya at the sight. How could Sansa carry on as if nothing had happened, when two days ago she'd ridden to meet her death at Robin's hands?

"Are you going to speak with her?" asked Tyrion, slumping tiredly in his chair. He winced as he adjusted his position, pressing a hand against his damaged ribs.

"We already spoke"

"Hmm. Sansa believed it was more a voicing of anger than a discussion"

"I'm not in the mood for her" said Arya "I suppose you forgave her"

"Not exactly. Sansa apologised a few times but it wasn't enough. We spoke in the Godswood yesterday and it was a far more honest conversation. We've agreed to work on moving past what happened, but I'm hardly going to forget it instantly either" said Tyrion, adding quietly "Things are awkward between us, in a way they weren't before"

"When I spoke to Sansa she didn't seem to understand what she'd done wrong"

"I think she does now. Overcoming the past can be difficult, and you know Sansa hides her true feelings better than anyone. Perhaps a conversation might go differently this time"

Arya studied her sister's face across the table, searching for the sister she'd once read so easily "We'll see about that"

---

Sansa's stomach twisted as she pushed the food around her plate, finding she had little appetite for lunch. Lifting her eyes to Tyrion across from her, she noted he was having the same problem.

"Not hungry my love?" asked Sansa

Tyrion's head jerked up at her question "Oh. Lunch - no, I'm not particularly hungry"

"Would you prefer something else? We can get something different sent up"

"No, it's quite alright" said Tyrion, returning his gaze to the plate

Sansa bit her tongue, deciding to not press the issue for now. Their talk yesterday had closed some of the distance between them but Sansa knew it would take longer than a day to move past what had happened. Tyrion had been distracted since the meeting this morning and she was desperate to ask him for his thoughts, but reluctantly she restrained herself and changed tactics. Yesterday had made it clear that her inability to be open with Tyrion was a major problem in them moving forwards and she was determined to change the behaviour. She'd tried before, occasionally offering Tyrion tiny glimpses into her nightmares or some other small issue but with hindsight she could see it wasn't enough for either of them. Tyrion wanted to know and support her fully, and she needed help to move past her own issues. There was no denying the latter any longer, no matter how much she wanted to believe the ghosts of her past didn't haunt her.

"I was quite jealous today" started Sansa, quickly drawing her husband's attention

"You were?"

She nodded, twirling her fork through her fingers "It sounds ridiculous, but everyone at that meeting respected you enough to follow your orders and fight with you against Robin"

"They'd have followed your orders just as quickly. If you'd called the banners they would have come Sansa"

"I can see that now" she said "but at the time all I could think about was the possibility of them betraying me. When my father was arrested in Kings Landing our entire household was slaughtered, including my Septa. It terrified me. One day everything was fine, and the next everyone around me became an enemy"

Sympathy swept through Tyrion's eyes "The game was dangerous in Kings Landing, and your father was too honest to see it. You have many of your father's admirable qualities, but you are far wiser to the game than he ever was. The houses of the North had nothing to gain by crowning Robin Flint, but they would quickly lose respect for such a move, as well as damage relations with the south. Lord Royce, your cousin Robin Arryn, your uncle Edmure - they would not deal with Robin Flint as King in the North"

"It all seems so obvious now" said Sansa, shaking her head "I let my fear control me"

"You shouldn't doubt yourself Sansa. The lords may grumble from time to time but you are an excellent Queen, and the welfare of the North guides your choices. That could never be said for Robin"

"Trusting people is difficult for me, but I will get better at it"

Tyrion smiled slightly "That is good to hear"

A weight lifted off Sansa having shared some of her worry. In her mind every action anyone made no matter how insignificant could quickly become a huge problem, but hearing it aloud and letting Tyrion offer her another perspective of it soon shrank the problem down to size.

"Does it bother you that I called the banners?" asked Tyrion, fidgeting with the bandages around his damaged hand.

"Of course not" she reassured him "You were well within your rights to do so, and it was what I should have done in the first place"

"I undermined your authority as Queen - you should have punished me"

"Is that why you looked so surprised when I pardoned you?" she asked softly "Sweetheart I was never going to punish you. I thought you knew that?"

Tyrion's cheeks flushed red and he dropped his eyes to the table "I thought you'd pardon the lords, but since I was the one responsible..."

"You thought I'd punish you instead? The North is safe because of what you did. If you hadn't arrived in time there would have been a slaughter"

"I know that" he said "I just thought..."

He trailed off as Sansa quickly sought to find the missing words.

"What did you think I was going to do?" she asked, offering him a smile "I love you Tyrion. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you, or change your place as my husband. Is that what you were worried about?"

While she might have been jealous that the lords had answered Tyrion's call it was completely irrational on her part when she'd given the North no call to answer. Hearing how the Winterfell household had worked behind her back was far from pleasant and stirred a lot of deeply rooted trust issues, but the rational part of Sansa accepted their actions had been in the best interests of the North and for her. Tyrion's actions had been no different, and she was hardly going to pardon everyone but her husband.

"I thought I might lose my title" he said eventually "I used the power of my position to act against your wishes. It would have been a fair punishment"

Sansa shook her head "You'll always be the lord of Winterfell"

Tyrion studied her for a moment before nodding his acceptance. The depths of Tyrion's insecurities had often amazed Sansa, but this time it saddened her. Sending Tyrion south had surely stirred this. Breaking the promise to never send him away had shaken the confidence she'd spent weeks carefully helping him rebuild.

The Queen drew in a breath, forcing herself to smile despite the guilt churning in her stomach. The distance between them was her doing and she would fix it somehow. At least they were talking. As much as Sansa was desperate to pull Tyrion into her arms and never let go, she was overly aware of forcing physical closeness on him before he was ready. As soon as he'd returned to Winterfell she'd tried to do just that and the sting of his rejection was enough to make her eyes water.

Her gaze fell on his thick beard, and the edge of his scar that stood out an angry red. Tyrion had adamantly refused to let her remove his beard in the Maester's room and she was wary of asking him again when things were still so delicate between them. It couldn't wait much longer. The scar looked raw and sore from where she sat, and an overly worried part of her hoped Tyrion's lack of appetite wasn't because it was infected. While it was something she usually did for him, she'd much rather he allow anyone to do it than become sick.

---

Arya was quite familiar with the God of death, and the sight of dozens of sellswords being sacrificed to him evoked nothing more than a grim satisfaction in her. The same couldn't be said for Sansa who looked as if she might lose her breakfast at any moment.

Hanging was the method chosen for the sellswords. A simple gallows wouldn't suffice for the number of men to die and beheading would take too long, not to mention the mess. Aside from that the deaths served two purposes. The sellswords would no longer pose a threat to the North and the sight of the bodies hanging over the walls of Winterfell was motivation for the rest of the prisoners to bend the knee when Sansa gave them the chance.

"Aargh-" started one man, before the rope went taunt around his neck and brought his scream to an end

The guards moved along the ramparts of Winterfell high above, and one by one the sellswords were tossed over the side. All of them flailing and shouting until the rope reached an end. Moving her eyes from the morbid scene Arya found Sansa and Tyrion stood off to the side, observing the sentences being carried out. Even Lyon looked solemn. The remainder of the prisoners included lord Locke's men and the small folk who had joined Robin. All had been taken from the Unsullied guarding them and gathered beneath the walls of Winterfell to see the sentence being carried out.

Alec had gone with as many able bodied guards as available to get the prisoners from Grey Worm and the Unsullied, and to everyone's surprise there had been no problems.

"I told him a court would be convened in four days' time and he was to attend and answer for his actions" Alec had told her "He just nodded, and asked if he could bring two Unsullied as witnesses"

"What did you tell him?"

"I said that was acceptable" he'd shrugged "I told the Queen and she agreed with me, but we're to take their weapons when they enter the great hall and she wants extra guards near Tyrion"

"Of course she does"

Grey Worm's behaviour was more than peculiar but Sansa had made it clear no one was to approach the Unsullied until the court session, unless they had her express permission. Arya rolled her eyes; she'd never needed Sansa's permission for anything. Yet there was little reason to risk approaching the Unsullied. Arya had observed them from a distance several times over the last couple of days and they appeared to be doing nothing but waiting.

Pulling her attention from Tyrion and Sansa, Arya's gaze flicked over the lords and ladies of the North gathered behind them and then back to the prisoners. With so many of the allied forces injured from battle the prisoners hands had been bound behind their backs before being led to the walls where they were penned in by an assortment of guards from various houses. Much like the Queen, many of them looked sickened at the display.

As the last few men were hung, Arya moved from her position on the outskirts of the activity to take her place near Tyrion and Sansa. The Queen looked worse up close. Her face was devoid of colour, though she was trying to maintain a neutral expression. Tyrion was stood beside her, though the distance between them was still noticeable to Arya. Where they'd normally be brushing against each other or holding hands they were stood in a comfortable if not intimate silence. The lord of Winterfell wasn't as adept at hiding his emotions as Sansa, and his discomfort with the deaths of the sellswords was written all over his face.

Despite her appearance, Sansa's voice carried clearly across the area "These men were paid to sail to Westeros and slaughter our fellow Northerners. They were sellswords and their allegiance was to the gold that paid them - I find the rest of you lack that excuse. You are Northerners, some highborn some not - all of you were bound to serve the North, your liege lords and to serve me. Instead you took up arms against the crown and threatened the peace and safety of the North in doing so. Why should your fates be any different?"

"Mercy, your Grace!" cried one man, dropping to his knees near the front of the huddle. His clothes were little more than rags and to Arya he seemed more a boy than a man grown.

"Did you show mercy to the allied forces you fought against?" questioned Sansa "No. I think not. I won't pretend to understand the reasons you all sought to rebel against the crown; whether it was old grievances or you simply wanted a taste of war-"

"Cause you're a southerner" spat one man. Square shouldered and brutish, he pushed to the front of the crowd. The guards lifted their swords in warning but the man made no attempt to move forwards - with his hands bound he was hardly a threat.

"I am a Stark of Winterfell, and the Queen in the North" said Sansa, lifting her chin

"You're a bloody southerner with no business up here, just like Robin Flint said. You Starks cost me my whole family fighting your wars" barked the man, his eyes narrowing on Tyrion "and then you marry him - as if I'd ever bow to a fucking Lannister"

"Then don't" said Sansa, nodding to her guards "this man has decided his fate"

Three guards pulled the man from the crowd and dragged him to one side. A guard on either side held him still while the third slit the man's throat. Tyrion watched the death before developing a sudden interest in the grass at his feet, while Sansa winced slightly at the cascade of blood turning the snow crimson.

"In case it's not clear, you all now face a choice. My father valued justice, but he also taught me the value of mercy where there is room for it. Some of you may have followed Robin because of false promises he made, some may have followed because their lord commanded them to, or perhaps you just don't like me. Whatever the reason, I offer you mercy today. Bend the knee and renew your fealty to me and whichever lord rules your home, or face justice as you've just witnessed"

Several men dropped to their knees instantly which started a chain reaction of men bending the knee. The small folk were the first to drop, keenly aware their lives held little political advantage to any of the highborn lords and they wouldn't get a second chance to leave with their lives. A number of Locke men dropped quickly too, with several others following after seeing their fellow guards do the same.

Of the two hundred men given the choice, only thirty chose the sword. Some were senior guards who'd served lord Locke and others were small folk drunk on whatever lies Robin had told them. Sansa was a dutiful Queen, and watched each of the executions as they were carried out - never rising to the last minute insults directed at her or Tyrion.

It was during the executions Arya noticed Tyrion's attention had moved to the kneeling prisoners, a frown on his face as he studied them. Whatever Tyrion had seen Lyon had noticed too - the golden wolf was snarling as his green eyes locked onto one kneeling man.

"You!" called Tyrion, pointing at the man just as the guards finished the executions "Stand up!"

All eyes turned to the man Tyrion had pointed out who slowly rose to his feet, though he kept his head turned towards the ground.

Arya moved beside her brother, resting her hand on needle "What's wrong?"

"He's one of Robin's men"

"Weren't we all m'lord?" muttered the man, keeping his head low

Arya's instincts flared to life instantly, warning her against this man. He looked no more than thirty and his clothes were ragged and blood-stained - though a patch was torn from his tunic that caught Arya's attention. It was too deliberate to have happened in battle, and only a small number of Robin's forces had worn his colours and sigil.

"I've bent the knee m'lord" said the man, an undercurrent of mocking in his tone that irritated her and Lyon in equal measure "Our Queen is merciful"

"Not to you" snarled Tyrion his left hand curling around the hilt of his sword

"Lord Tyrion, do you know him?" asked lady Tallhart from behind

"He was in the Wolfswood" said Tyrion, swallowing thickly "he helped Robin and Gawan kidnap the girls... he helped them torture me"

The man lifted his head, twisting his face into a mockery of remorse "I was just following orders, m'lord. I only held you on the bench"

Sansa stiffened along from them, her voice full of ice as she spoke "Thank you for your honesty. Guards, seize him"

"You promised mercy" said the man, widening his eyes as if surprised

"To those who fought against me. Not to those responsible for the horrors of the Wolfswood"

The man dropped all pretense of remorse as he was seized, a smirk curving over his face instead "How's your shoulder lord Tyrion? Do you think of Robin and Gawan every time the mark aches, or does the Queen think of them when she's forced to see your twisted body? Lord Gawan was so happy with the way it came out"

Arya only needed one look at the shame building in Tyrion's face before needle was in her hand. She'd taken two steps towards the man when lord Glover reached him first. The old lord brought his sword through the man's throat with enough fury that he might as well have beheaded him.

"Apologies" said lord Glover, turning to where she and Sansa stood with Tyrion "I couldn't listen to anymore"

---

Sinking onto the worn, lumpy chair in Esther's house Tyrion thought the horrors of the morning seemed more like a distant nightmare than a reality where countless men had been executed. He'd seen death so many times - he'd killed many by his own hand or actions - but executions always stirred a particular horror in him. Death in battle was one thing, but to be sentenced to die was quite another, and it was a feeling Tyrion had far too much experience of.

If Jamie hadn't freed him in Kings Landing he'd have taken the long walk to the executioners block. Daenerys had locked him away in Kings Landing to await death, and then when she fell Tyrion had expected death to come all the same.

So many times he'd narrowly escaped losing his head, and it was a fate none of the sellswords had escaped today. A number of the remaining prisoners had also chosen the sword over bending the knee, but at least they had been given a choice.

Rationally he knew there'd been no other solution. The Unsullied had been give gold and ships to leave Kings Landing yet here they were - they couldn't risk the Iron Shields returning for revenge when their leader lost his head in two days' time.

"I'm glad to see you again little lion" said Esther, smiling warmly as she took the seat opposite him "I missed your visits, though Nessa has often come"

"I rather missed visiting you" said Tyrion, forcing himself to smile

"I've heard many tales of how you led the battle against Robin Flint and ended his ridiculous rebellion"

"Mostly exaggerated I fear. All I recall of the battle was swinging my sword around and trying to not get crushed underfoot"

He remembered the chaos of battle all too well.

And the blood.

And the sheer hatred in the enemy's eyes as they tried to kill him and his family.

Tyrion didn't need to say any of that. Esther was an old Northerner who'd lived through countless conflicts, and the pity in her eyes was enough to know she understood the things he couldn't say.

"I owe much of our victory to you" said Tyrion "Nessa and Lyle too. If you'd ignored my letter or told the Queen I fear things might have gone differently"

"You are our lord"

"Sansa is Queen"

"Yes, but you are our friend" said Esther "and we all knew whatever you asked of us would be for the good of the North"

It was so strange to not have his motivations questioned. As Joffrey's hand he'd tried to improve Kings Landing and was hated by the small folk. Nothing he did gained their trust. That the Northerners had fought with him was astonishing enough, but even in the meeting yesterday they'd readily owned up to the parts they'd played. There had been no political plays to scapegoat him at all.

"I hear you're the savior of the North now, eh?"

Tyrion groaned, tilting his head back as Esther laughed "How did you hear that?"

"Everyone knows it. Word moves quickly in the village"

Talking to Esther was always relaxing, and after the horror of the morning Tyrion was more than ready to take a break from Winterfell. They spoke of the latest developments in the village, and somehow Tyrion found himself telling Esther all that had happened in his absence from Winterfell - from waking on the Kings Road to sailing back up the White Knife river. He never meant to speak of it, but as soon as he started it was impossible to stop.

"You've had a long journey little lord" said Esther when he'd finished

"It was two weeks" he said quietly, heat burning at the back of his eyes "but it seemed so much longer"

Esther patted his arm "You're home now. Queen was foolish but had good intentions"

"Sansa apologised - we're trying to move past it" he said, swallowing thickly "I don't know how to let her in again"

"All marriage is like this, trust me. You and the Queen were both caught in the bliss that follows marriage and sending you south ended that. That phase never lasts forever - it always comes and goes, but the love never changes"

Tyrion was desperate to latch onto the faint hope. He loved Sansa with everything he had, and was utterly sincere in wanting to move on from what happened. The reality was different. Her discomfort at the executions today had been obvious to him but no matter how much he wanted to reach out to her and offer comfort as he'd once done the distance was too great to close.

He'd given Sansa his heart, and no matter her intentions she'd damaged it. Trusting her again wasn't as simple as accepting her apology and the promise she would change her behaviours.

"You think there's hope?" asked Tyrion

"Of course there is" said Esther, offering him a smile "Talk to your wife. I may be old but I hear many things, and I heard how lonely she was without you. The Queen barely left her chambers when you were gone"

The thought of Sansa being lonely caused his heart to twist. He might have been the one sent away, but Sansa had stayed here to face what she believed was to be her death alone. After the executions had finished and the prisoners were released she'd tried to reach out to him; asking if he wanted to rest, and offering to check his injuries. He'd turned down all her offers and hobbled into the village instead, pretending he didn't notice the hurt in her eyes as he left.

Tyrion rubbed his eyes, allowing the hurt he'd carried with him for two weeks to fully wash over him. Ignoring his anger was no better than holding onto it, and the only way to move past it was by allowing himself a moment to be hurt and insecure and angry for all that had happened. Esther was already refiling his cup of water and Tyrion resolved to not carry his pain back to Winterfell with him when he left here. There was no way to rid himself of it - that would take time. But there was no reason for him to use it as a shield against Sansa either.

If his wife was making efforts to move forwards he should too…even if he still needed a little time and distance. Not for long. Just enough time for the wounds to start to heal.

---

Sansa fiddled with the pendant of her necklace, overly aware of saying or doing anything that might threaten her privileged position.

"I'm not going to bite you if you breathe Sansa"

"Are you sure? Last time I was here you threw a knife at me"

She glanced up to see Arya rolling her eyes as she lounged in the armchair with her legs thrown carelessly over the arm of it.

"I invited you this time" said Arya, as if that explained everything

"Yes. Thank you, by the way - it can't have been easy"

"Well it was that or leave you standing by the walls looking like a white walker"

"Please don't mention them"

Arya's grey eyes seemed to stare right through her "Are you sick?"

"No"

"You look awful"

"Thank you Arya, I feel so much better now"

In truth Sansa didn't feel well. The executions had sickened her to her stomach though she'd tried to keep her face from revealing the truth. When it was done she'd hoped to spend some time with Tyrion, but he'd made several excuses before limping towards the village with Lyon hobbling along beside him. Fear closed around her heart at the memory of him walking away from her. The consequences of her decisions wouldn't disappear overnight, she accepted that, but it still hurt to see Tyrion withdrawing from her. Overcoming the problems that had blighted their early days of marriage had seemed impossible at the time, but they'd finally reached a happy, comfortable point when the threat of Robin had forced Sansa to take action - and it was an action she regretted more than ever.

"I'm sorry Arya" started Sansa, lowering her eyes "the thought of Robin winning terrified me. I should have turned to you and Tyrion for help rather than push you away"

"You have to be in control"

"I do" admitted Sansa "I was always under someone else's control after we left Winterfell. First Cersei, then Littlefinger and Ramsay. I survived by playing the part, but I couldn't protect anyone else. I watched as Joffrey ordered them to take father's head and I couldn't do anything"

"Neither of us could have stopped that then" said Arya, lifting her gaze to meet hers "but we're not those girls anymore"

"We're not" agreed Sansa, swallowing down the guilt that always returned at the memory of their father's death "I thought being Queen in the North would be easier than this. I understand politics, and I have the power to protect those I love - it's not easy Arya. Every choice I make has a hundred possible outcomes"

"That's why you don't decide alone" said Arya, hardening her tone "that's why you have a sister, and a husband, and a council of occasionally useful lords"

"I understand that now" said Sansa "if I could change what happened I would"

"You might be the Queen, but you don't get to decide how everyone else lives their life or how they die"

Sansa nodded, easily picking up her sister's veiled message; you don't make decisions for me. It was a hard lesson to learn, and while Sansa had acted with the intent to protect her family she'd stripped them of their freedom in the process. They were her family, not her wards.

"You're right" said Sansa, inclining her head "I am sorry Arya - I'll do better from now on. I promise"

Sansa felt her sister's stare for what felt like an eternity before she spoke.

"Fine" said Arya, ending the tension with a single word "I can't believe lord Glover beat me to slitting that bastard's throat"

"I think it was the mention of Gawan that did it" said Sansa "Lord Glover restored a lot of his reputation by fighting with Tyrion - the reminder of what Gawan did was a sore point"

"I was about to do it" grumbled Arya "I can't believe he nearly got away with a pardon"

A chill ran through Sansa "Me neither. It's lucky Tyrion recognised him"

"Lyon was growling too" said Arya, a grimace covering her face "I guess-"

"Yes" said Sansa "That man held Tyrion on the bench while the branding was done"

"He should have died slowly"

Sansa had vaguely recognised him after Tyrion pointed him out, and the fact he'd so nearly escaped justice flooded her with guilt for not paying more attention when Bran showed her the Wolfswood. She'd only glanced at many of Robin and Gawan's men, while most of her focus had gone to Tyrion and the hell he'd suffered through.

"Tyrion just needs time" said Arya "as soon as we woke up on the Kings Road he threw himself into planning our return and calling the banners. He didn't get a lot of chance to process things"

"He can have all the time he needs - I'm here for him, no matter what"

Arya's mouth twitched upwards "Good"

Sansa adjusted her position the chaise, trying to find a position more comfortable for her aching back.

"Are you sure you're ok?" asked Arya

"I'm fine, my back just aches where I fell off my horse" she said "I'm more worried about Tyrion getting sick"

"His scar?"

"It's getting redder every day, and he's not eating much"

"Why doesn't he shave his beard off? It's not like we've never seen him without it. Seeing him with a beard is kind of weird now"

"I usually do it for him" said Sansa, a wave of sadness washing through her "but he's so distant at the moment and I don't want to push him"

"You need to push him on that" said Arya, shaking her head in disbelief "If he gets sick again because he won't get rid of his beard I'll make him take public ice baths in the great hall every day until he's better. If he gives you any trouble use that as a threat and tell him it's from me - he'll understand I mean it"

Sansa nodded, a smile pulling at her mouth "I hope it won't come to that"

---

Dinner was a quiet affair, despite the multitude of lords in the castle. The remaining prisoners who'd bent the knee to Sansa had been ordered to return to their villages and most of the wounded had been moved from the castle to a camp just outside the castle walls where healers were regularly checking on them. There would be no formal dinners until after court was convened in a few days, though Tyrion didn't doubt some of the lords were taking their dinner in the great hall.

Sansa seemed nervous.

It was just the two of them, sharing dinner in their chambers as they often did. Tyrion had returned from the village just in time for dinner and Sansa had already been waiting in their chambers for him. The relief on her face stirred more than a little guilt - he hadn't meant to leave her for so long or worry her, but he'd been determined to return to the castle with a lighter heart. Talking with Esther had helped immensely, and he'd called upon Lyle and Cayn as well as Nessa and her family before finally making his way back to the castle. He'd considered visiting Rose and the free folk in their makeshift camp but some of the women's enthusiasm towards him had warned him off from the idea. Lord Mazin was on good terms with Rose and had assured him they were all recovering well from the battle. In the end Tyrion had been forced to accept he was stalling; despite his resolve to let go of his hurt.

Sansa hadn't commented on how long he'd been gone, merely asking him if he'd had a nice day as they sat down for dinner. Conversation had been somewhat forced during the meal and as the servants cleared away the plates he was more convinced than ever that Sansa was nervous about something.

"How's your paw Lyon?" asked Sansa, spotting the direwolf moving towards his water bowl

The wolf's ear flattened as he turned to look at her, before lifting his nose and carrying on to his bowl. Lyon and Sansa had never really bonded, but the Queen seemed more deflated than usual at his reaction.

"He's much better" offered Tyrion "Nessa and Ethan fussed over him for some time, and he napped in front of Esther's fire. I think Cayn was quite jealous that Lyon has a bigger scar than him"

Sansa smiled weakly "He's had a busy day"

"Ah - yes, well. How's your day been?"

"I spoke with Arya"

"How did that go?"

"Better than my last attempt" said Sansa "We talked for a while and then I came here to do some needlework"

Alone. Sansa didn't need to say it for Tyrion to know it was true, and guilt weighed heavier on him than ever. He'd noticed long ago that Sansa rarely left the castle and a few times she'd mentioned making efforts to change that, but it had never really occurred to him how lonely she might be within the castle. Sansa usually spent most of her time with him or Arya - with both of them in varying stages of hurt over what she'd done there were few options for Sansa to turn to for companionship.

"I'm sorry" he said "I should have asked you to join me"

Sansa looked panicked "Oh no! I was fine here Tyrion. After this morning I didn't feel like doing much"

He nodded, accepting the flimsy excuse and vowing to do better next time. It might have been weeks ago but Sansa had asked him to help her build confidence leaving the castle and he wouldn't forget that promise. Taking a break from Winterfell was one thing, but he should have made sure Sansa was alright, particularly after this morning. If Arya hadn't spoken with her would she have spent the day alone?

"Um, Tyrion" she started, clearly uncomfortable "I spoke to the Maester today and he gave me some medicine for your scar. I was wondering if you, maybe, were ready to use it?"

Understanding dawned on Tyrion at why Sansa was so nervous. He'd refused to let her remove his beard upon his return to Winterfell, and neither of them had brought it up since. Even now Sansa was watching him as if fearing some kind of rejection, and the sight was enough for him to nod his head. Tyrion had feared rejection his whole life, and seeing that fear reflected on Sansa's face wasn't something he ever wanted to see again. Since his return Sansa had made several attempts to give him the affection and closeness he usually loved, but his hurt had been enough that he'd pulled away from her attempts.

Perhaps it wasn't just him that needed that connection - Sansa's eyes brightened considerably at his nod and she quickly moved from the table to prepare.

A few minutes later Tyrion found himself sat in his breeches and shift on the stool by Sansa's dresser, as she tentatively brushed his cheek.

"Are you alright like this?" she asked

"I'm fine" he said, adjusting his position to lessen the strain on his ribs

"If you're sure" she said, lifting the blade "I'll be as careful as I can"

Sansa's long hair brushed against him as she gently tilted his face and started scraping. Sat on the stool they were of a more similar height and her breath tickled the top of his head as she worked.

It was all too much, and something wet slid down his cheeks before he could hope to stop himself.

"Tyrion?" asked Sansa, her voice full of concern "Did I hurt you?"

The scraping stopped when it was only a quarter done and Sansa's delicate hands cupped his face instead, turning him to meet her worried expression.

"Are you alright?" she asked, checking for any visible injuries "Would you rather the Maester do this? I don't mind what you prefer sweetheart, but I don't want you to get sick"

Tyrion's throat tightened as he struggled to control the traitorous tears leaking from his eyes.

"You're just as handsome with or without your beard" she promised "The skins still too delicate right now, but maybe the Maester can find something that'll help your scar heal properly if you want to grow your beard again. I'll-"

"I missed this" he whispered, stopping Sansa in her panic

Understanding bloomed in her eyes and a moment later he found her arms tentatively wrapping around him and drawing him into her embrace.

"I missed this too" she whispered

The last of Tyrion's restraint broke as he buried his face in Sansa's neck, allowing her familiar warmth to wrap around him like a blanket. In their two weeks apart there were many things Tyrion had missed about Sansa, and near the top of his list was the domestic intimacy they often shared. Whether it was the peaceful companionship of reading together, or letting Sansa shave his beard every few days - he valued all of it as highly as joining in the marriage bed, if not more so. To Sansa and Arya his reluctance to shave surely seemed ridiculous given how irritated his scar was, but to him it meant much more than just part of their routine.

"You grew a beard when you fled Kings Landing, right?"

"Better to hide myself from Cersei's assassins"

"You're home now" she said gently "you don't need to hide anymore"

Every time Sansa cut away the beginnings of his beard he remembered the conversation they'd shared the first time she'd done it. There was no way to explain it to Sansa - she'd known love and care since she was born - but to him it was all so different. That conversation had been one of the many ways Sansa had broken through the darkness clinging to him after the Wolfswood and offered him a way into the light.

He hadn't needed to hide from Sansa then, and there was no need for him to hide now either.

---

Arya wasn't surprised to find Tyrion outside her door - she was only surprised it had taken him so long to come. Her eyes swept over him, landing on his bare face.

"Did Sansa give you my threat, or were you a good boy?" she asked, pulling the door open wider to let him in and pausing in surprise when no golden wolf followed him "Where's Lyon?"

"Sansa asked if she could borrow him for a couple of hours" said Tyrion "And I heard all about your threat, though it was after Sansa removed my beard"

Arya nodded approvingly "Good. That threat still stands by the way. If you let your scar get infected because you won't shave-"

"You'll what? As terrifying as you are I rather doubt you'd actually force me into an ice bath in the great hall"

"Is that a challenge?"

"Merely an observation little sister" said Tyrion dropping onto the armchair beside the hearth and wincing as he found a comfortable position

Arya moved towards the chaise, pausing at the armchair to grab a handful of Tyrion's hair.

"You may be right, but if I'd had to intervene your beard would have gone and there's an excellent chance my blade might have slipped into those golden curls Sansa's so fond of"

"You shouldn't threaten your liege lord"

"I'm not threatening my lord, I'm making a promise to my brother"

"Thank you for clarifying that"

Arya ruffled his hair until he squirmed before moving to her drawers, a grin pulling at her face. Returning to Winterfell and confronting Sansa hadn't been easy for any of them, not least for Tyrion. After days of seeing him so withdrawn it was nice to banter with him again.

She retrieved the item, tossing it at Tyrion before lounging on the chaise across from him "I was beginning to think you didn't want it"

"Of course I do" he said quickly, brushing his thumb over the now tattered letter before hiding it in a pocket of his tunic "Thank you for keeping it for me"

"No problem" she said "though I'm not sure why you still want that thing now we're back"

"I just…I'd like to keep it"

Arya shrugged - she'd destroyed the letter Sansa wrote to her, but she'd lost count of how many times she'd seen Tyrion reading his while they were away. It had been tempting to read it but she wouldn't invade her brother's privacy like that. The folded letter had remained as it was when she pulled it from his ruined tunic, though it was certainly worse for wear - dampness and splatters of blood had gotten on to it turning Tyrion's name blotchy on the front.

"How are things with Sansa?" she asked

"Much better. I can see Sansa is trying to be more open and that makes all the difference" he said, furrowing his brow "I do wonder if it was right to pressure her into doing so. I've no right to demand Sansa confide in me, particularly if she's not comfortable doing so"

"Someone had to push her Tyrion - it's for her own good. However apologetic Sansa is we both know she'll eventually retreat behind her Queenly mask again unless she makes changes. Believe me, it's well past time Sansa started to heal from what she went through"

"I'm hardly in a position to comment on unhealthy behaviours, but I never realised quite how isolated Sansa was"

"All her own doing. You would think a Queen would be surrounded day and night by friends and allies, but not Sansa - she can't trust anyone. There's you and me that she trusts. Maester Wolkan is probably the closest thing she's got to a friend outside the family - or at least he understands what it was like living with Ramsay"

Tyrion sighed "You're quite right. Sansa has a lady's manners and is courteous enough with all the lords and ladies that you wouldn't know how distrustful she was of most of them. I think lady Tallhart might be an exception, and perhaps lord Cerwyn. If nothing else she's more at ease around them"

There was no question that it would take time for Sansa to change her behaviours, but Arya was satisfied that her sister was committed to doing so and it was long past time. When she'd first reunited with Sansa after years apart the coldness in her sister had been a shocking change, though Arya had changed enough herself to understand adapting to circumstances. It had taken awhile for Arya to move out of survival mode and Tyrion had struggled similarly when he was first brought North, but where they'd both moved forwards and changed their more damaging behaviours Sansa had made only small improvements - with the most noticeable change happening after the Wolfswood.

Arya hoped Sansa wouldn't forget this time - she was part of the pack, and there were no lone wolves.

"How are your injuries?" asked Arya

"Sore" grimaced Tyrion, lifting his bandaged hand "and annoying"

"You do have a talent for damaging your hands"

"The kitchen staff are pre-cutting all my food again"

"You should give up with cutlery - eat like Lyon instead"

"What, like a bottomless pit? No thank you. He eats enough for me and Sansa, and makes enough mess for several direwolves"

"Has he recovered from his first taste of battle?"

"I think so. He's soaked up as much sympathy as possible around the castle and in the village" said Tyrion, his forehead creasing "It's rather strange - he didn't join me in bed last night"

"Direwolves grow up Tyrion. They all stop drooling on you in bed eventually" said Arya "Besides he never slept with you every night anyway, did he?"

"Well no, but when we were travelling he did" said Tyrion his face falling

Arya shifted awkwardly. It really wasn't her place to say anything but Sansa had looked completely lost yesterday, and was clearly hurting at the distance between her and Tyrion. In the two weeks they were away Arya had seen Tyrion curled up with Lyon every night and she knew the wolf occasionally joined Sansa and Tyrion in bed - most notably when his master was distressed. In Sansa's absence Tyrion had clung to his wolf for comfort, and despite being home the pattern had apparently continued.

That Lyon hadn't joined Tyrion in bed last night could be taken as many things. Perhaps he wanted his own space, or disliked his master's morning breath. Or it could be a sign for Tyrion to seek comfort elsewhere.

"Have you ever had a wolf dream?" asked Arya, studying her brother carefully

"Oh, yes" he said, nodding sagely "This one time Lyon and I were-"

"No, I mean where you were Lyon?"

"Why would I be Lyon?"

"You've never seen through his eyes?"

"Gods no! Do you have any idea how much time spends looking at his crotch?"

Arya rolled her eyes, dismissing the thought. The bond between Lyon and Tyrion was incredibly strange, but Tyrion had no Northern blood and he certainly wasn't a warg. The lord of Winterfell still looked rather forlorn than Lyon had jilted him last night, and Arya decided a nudge in the right direction wouldn't hurt.

"You know, if Lyon won't join you in bed I think Sansa would be happy to drool on you" she ventured

Tyrion slumped in his seat "Perhaps"

"You missed her comfort when we were away" continued Arya, determined to get through the awkward conversation "Are you still having nightmares?"

"Once or twice" he admitted

Arya drummed her fingers against the edge of the chaise, searching for the right words. This really wasn't something she wanted to get involved in, but Tyrion deserved the facts.

"The Maester told me Sansa had awful nightmares while we were gone - bad enough that she threw up a few times"

"Really?" he asked, his green eyes instantly filling with concern

Arya nodded "I just thought you should know in case Sansa hadn't mentioned it"

Relief swept through Arya having said her piece. It was clear enough Tyrion and Sansa had both suffered without the other, but the only way for them to move on was together. Lyon wouldn't leave Tyrion if he was distressed, but perhaps the wolf thought it was Sansa's comfort he needed the most.

Either that or Lyon had grown bored of irritating Sansa by sleeping in the bed. If that was the case he would surely find another way to make his presence known.

---

Of all the apologies Sansa had made this was by far the most difficult, not least because of the language barrier.

"I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but I want you to know I thought I was doing the right thing" she started

Lyon's green eyes were piercing as he stared at her, and he'd made no move towards the lump of meat set on a plate in front of it. Gods, she hoped none of the servants walked in. Having apologised to Tyrion and Arya, and made efforts to start healing those relationships it only seemed right to make the same effort with Lyon, though there had never been much of a relationship there to begin with. She'd asked Tyrion if she could spend the morning with Lyon and he'd whispered into the wolf's ear until an agreement was apparently reached. The set-up was even more ridiculous but for some reason Lyon had climbed into Tyrion's usual seat at the table in their chambers and Sansa had found herself sat opposite him.

A servant had delivered a large lump of meat as requested, and Sansa had taken it at the door and presented it to Lyon as a peace offering. The direwolf had sniffed at it before turning his gaze to her.

"I'm sorry Lyon. I never should have sent you south, or dosed your meat with nightshade" she said, her cheeks burning "I was trying to protect our family, and you're part of that"

This had seemed like a good idea when she began, but it grew more awkward with every word - Lyon was hardly going to answer her. As clever as the wolf was she had no idea how much he actually understood and if anyone caught her speaking to Lyon like this the shame alone would send her North of the wall. Sansa swallowed her pride, focusing on the task in front of her. Tyrion chatted constantly with Lyon, not caring who heard him - surely she could get through a conversation, however one-sided.

"You were very brave in the battle" she said "I saw you save Tyrion's life, and your howl was terrifying"

The wolf tilted his head to one side, his green eyes never leaving her.

Sansa sighed "I know you don't like me, but can we please try and get along? I know you love Tyrion and I do too. I sent him south to try and protect him and I knew you'd look after him"

Silence was her only response.

"You can join us in the bed as much as you like" she said, swallowing thickly "Tyrion likes cuddling you"

Tears blurred her vision but she refused to let them fall. Whatever progress she and Tyrion made during the day it did nothing to thaw the distance between them at night. They didn't have to join in the bed or anything like that - she only wanted to hold him, and feel his comforting presence. Lyon had unexpectedly not joined them last night and Sansa had rashly hoped Tyrion might move closer to her instead, but he'd merely wished her a good night before curling up on the edge of the bed.

Sansa swiped at her eyes, annoyed with her loss of control. This was her fault and no one else's. Healing would take time - there was no need for her to be so emotional because her husband wouldn't go near her at night. Tyrion had let her hold him yesterday when she shaved his beard, and afterwards his mood had brightened considerably. It was good progress; she should be thankful for that.

Lyon barked, catching her attention.

"You forgive me?" she asked tentatively

Lyon rolled his head as if considering, before placing his paws on the table and tearing into the meat.

Sansa didn't speak direwolf and it could be wishful thinking, but she chose to take it as a positive sign there was a truce between her and Lyon.

---

When Sansa began squirming next to him in the night Tyrion knew what he had to do. Rolling from his place at the edge of the bed he propped himself up to see Sansa. Faint moonlight was drifting through the window and it was enough to illuminate the tears rolling down Sansa's face as she mumbled and squirmed in the grip of some nightmare.

The sight of Sansa's distress filled him with a horrible guilt. The distance between them in the bed was entirely his doing. Each night he'd seen the hope in Sansa's eyes and stubbornly placed a barrier between them. Following his return to Winterfell Sansa had made several offers to hold him while he rested and he'd turned her down each time, only now did he realise her offers of comfort might not have been solely for his benefit.

"Sansa, wake up" he said, running a finger across her cheek "I'm here - you're safe"

'Selifish man' he cursed himself 'your wife sought your comfort and you didn't even realise it'

"Shh" he soothed "I'm with you. It's alright, everything's alright"

It was several moments until Sansa woke, drawing in ragged breaths as tears continued to fall down her face.

"Tyrion?" she whispered, as if fearing someone else

"That's right" he said "I'm here. Will you turn around for me?"

His stature limited him enough but his injuries made it impossible to turn Sansa towards him as he really wanted. The Queen hesitated only a moment before turning to face him, her blue eyes rimmed in red and full of fear.

"There now" he said, settling next to her and resting his damaged hand on her side "What's troubling you so?"

"It was just a nightmare" she said, swallowing visibly

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sansa was trembling as she answered "Winterfell was empty...I was alone...and Ramsay - he came back for me"

A lump formed in Tyrion's throat at the description. No other details were needed for him to know the nightmare was a blend of Sansa's past and future fears.

"You're not alone" he promised "never alone"

"I was" she said "and I don't want to be anymore"

Tyrion squirmed closer to Sansa, ignoring the pull of his stitches and the ache in his ribs. None of that hurt as badly as the fear in Sansa's eyes.

"Can I hold you?" he asked, lifting his arm for her

"You don't have to..." she sniffed

"I want to" he said "Please"

It took only moments for Sansa to accept and soon they were entwined with each other as they'd been so many times before. He could feel Sansa's distress before the first heart-breaking sob left her.

"I'm sorry Tyrion" she sobbed "Please don't leave me"

"Shh, I'm not going anywhere" he promised, kissing the side of her head as she buried her face in his neck "I am yours, remember?"

"And I'm yours Tyrion - always yours"

---

As Sansa took her place on the throne in the great hall a thousand thoughts were vying for her attention.

The two days following her nightmare and subsequent break-down had seen a return to some normalcy around Winterfell. The memory of that night still embarrassed her - she hadn't meant to sob on Tyrion's shoulder for hours - but it had closed the remaining gap between them. She'd told Tyrion of her nightmares while he was away and confessed the painful loneliness of life without him. They'd talked for hours and hours before finally drifting to sleep, only to be wakened by Arya who'd barged into their room near midday fearing them missing.

The last two days had been filled with the domestic normalcy Sansa had dearly missed. There was still a little hesitation here and there, but neither of them was pushing the other away this time and it made all the difference. They'd played cyvasse, visited the wounded guards in the barracks and spent time reorienting themselves around each other. Politics had stayed firmly out of their conversations, though the court session today would signal an end to that. Duty couldn't be put on hold indefinitely.

As the lords and ladies filled the hall Sansa struggled to maintain her regal posture. When she'd gone to see the Maester this morning things had taken an unexpected turn.

"You've been sick for some weeks now your Grace" he noted

"I thought it was the stress of Robin" she said "but I was sick after breakfast and Tyrion was worrying. I told him it was probably something I'd eaten"

"Your appetite has been unusual as of late"

"I've been sticking to bland foods like you suggested"

"That doesn't seem to have made any difference..."

Sansa's stomach fluttered as she glanced at Tyrion, stood off to the left of the throne with Arya and Lyon. Maester Wolkan was stood just at the edge of the raised platform, ready to direct the court session as he usually did. The long tables had been set out and were filled with the lords and ladies of the North and a number of their senior men. Her eyes narrowed as they swept over the free folk sat near lord Mazin. They'd come in at the last minute, though the guards had initially stopped them at the door. Sansa had no idea why they were here, but they'd fought alongside them and she would allow them to witness the court session. Perhaps they wanted to see justice being done to their enemies? Whatever the case Sansa had ordered the guards to let them in and Rose had led them to sit with Lord Mazin and the men from Ramsgate.

An aisle had been left down the centre and guards lined the edges of the room, with Alec and Brice stood not far from Tyrion. Grey Worm would be here soon and the extra protection near Tyrion settled her worries a little.

The Queen tried to clear her mind, focusing on the task at hand. She couldn't afford to lose her concentration now, even if her heart couldn't be further from politics.

"Your Grace, might I ask you a personal question?" Wolkan said, his old eyes studying her

"Of course"

"When was the last time..."

There hadn't been any time after she saw the Maester. The lords and ladies had already been taking position in the Great Hall and Tyrion was waiting for her there.

"Is everything alright?" he'd asked as soon as he saw her "You were gone far longer than I thought. What did the Maester say?"

"There's nothing wrong my love" she'd said, struggling to contain herself "You've no need to worry"

It had been difficult, but the time and place was wrong. The court session needed both of them to be focused.

That was easier said than done. Sansa was so distracted she'd missed the Maester's opening introduction, and lifted her eyes in time to see lord Locke and Iggo were already being led in.

The lord of Oldcastle's face was thunderous as he was led before the throne - as if he couldn't believe he was being punished. Iggo was harder to read. The sellsword captain still managed to swagger despite his hands being chained behind his back, and he flashed a grin at Sansa that sent a chill though her. The man was like a shark and if he thought there was mercy for him he was badly mistaken.

"My lords and ladies" started Sansa, her voice carrying around the room "the past week has been difficult for us all. Many of our kin were killed or wounded in battle against the usurper Robin Flint, but I have never been prouder to be Queen in the North. Where I was weak the North was strong, and it was that strength that prevailed against Robin Flint and his forces"

A cheer went through the room as the Northerners banged their fists on the table in agreement.

"When battle was inevitable the North answered the call. I owe you all a debt that can never be repaid, but none more so than lord Tyrion Lannister who rallied the North and led the allied forces against those who sought to destroy us"

The cheer was deafening and Sansa couldn't help but smile at the redness in Tyrion's face as he ducked his head.

'You deserve their praise my love, it's long overdue' she thought

"Those who honoured their vows and fought for the North will not be forgotten, and in time their loyalty will be rewarded" said Sansa, turning her gaze to the prisoners before her "but for those who threatened the North justice will be done"

Lord Locke shook his head, his mouth twisting into a sneer "You speak of loyalty? Where was your loyalty to my house when we needed aid? All the times I wrote to you and not once did I get a reply!"

"I'll assume Robin Flint told you many tales about me. Did he tell you I purposely ignored your letters? He was lying. I never received your letters in the first place, because Robin destroyed them while he was at Winterfell"

"Lies" denied lord Locke "your father would be ashamed"

Sansa's hand curled around the arm of her throne "I tell you no lies. Robin wished to sow discord in the North so houses like yours would turn against me and support his ridiculous desire to be King. It wasn't just your house that was targeted; house Mazin and house Dustin were too"

"It's true!" shouted lord Mazin, glancing at lord Locke "I thought as you did, but the truth soon became clear to me"

"Gawan Glover also confessed that Robin Flint had been interfering with my correspondence while at Winterfell" said Sansa

That was almost true. Sansa had seen Robin discussing it when Bran had shown her the Wolfswood, but that was hardly an experience she could explain.

Lord Locke set his jaw, stubbornly refusing to believe it. Robin might have manipulated the man into joining him but it was becoming clear the lord hadn't needed much persuasion.

Sansa straightened on her throne, the weight of her direwolf crown resting heavier than ever "Lord Arron Locke of Oldcastle, you are accused and found guilty of treason and war crimes. The sentence is death. I will hear your final words"

"You're no Queen of mine" he snarled

Sansa turned to Alec, nodding for him to deliver the sentence. There had been some debate about who would swing the sword for the executions. Her father had always said the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, but Sansa wasn't a man. She'd killed Gawan Glover by her own hand but she doubted she had the strength to behead someone. Aside from that there were plenty of people willing to do so on her behalf, and after voicing her concerns to Tyrion he'd assured her the lords would not think poorly of her for not carrying out the sentence.

"They know you're a Queen and not a warrior" he'd told her "I do believe your father's philosophy is an excellent one, but in practice it is more about understanding the weight of taking a life than the physical act of doing so. For able-bodied men it is different perhaps, and there would be an expectation of delivering the sentence, but the lords of the North are highly unlikely to expect you to swing the sword"

Tyrion's calm logic had reassured her greatly and when Alec had formally requested to take lord Locke's head she'd easily accepted. It was more than justifiable that he would do so as the captain of the Winterfell guards. Many of his men had been slaughtered by lord Locke's ambush and Alec would take justice for them.

Sansa made sure to watch as lord Locke was forced to his knees and Alec took up position with his sword. The Winterfell captain glanced at her for permission, and with Sansa's nod the sword was brought through the lord's neck.

Lord Locke's body toppled forwards as his head fell to the ground, a pool of blood rapidly growing on the floor. Her eyes flicked to Iggo and a shudder went through her at the amusement on his face.

"He was quite the bore" said Iggo, glancing at his former ally "a most deserved death your Grace"

"As yours will be" she said

"Why my death? I and my men swore you no pledges, we are guilty of no treason"

"You are guilty of war crimes. You slaughtered my men who were there to deliver terms of a peace deal"

Iggo bowed his head "And I regret it so. Robin was in charge, it was he that we followed"

"You'll follow him in death too"

"The Iron Shields could serve you well your Grace; it could be mutually beneficial"

"I doubt that"

"Then allow us to leave with our disgrace. The North holds no interest for us - better for all we return to Essos"

"Which 'we' do you refer to?" asked Sansa, her patience running out "Your men were all hung for their crimes three days ago"

The man's dark eyes flashed with anger, breaking the pretense of remorse and showing what lay beneath "You lie"

"No, I don't" said Sansa "You may not have sworn any oaths to me but you and your men fought against me, and if I let them go would have still posed a threat to the North. They are dead, and I now sentence you to die for war crimes against the North and my men"

Sansa had little experience of sellswords but Tyrion and Arya had both told her they often switched sides in order to survive, and Iggo clearly expected her to either hire the Iron Shields or banish them. Not today.

Iggo brought his head back, smashing into the face of a guard just as more fell on him. Sansa wasted no time nodding to her sister and Arya prowled towards the man with needle in hand. The guards brought Iggo under control just in time for Arya to whip her thin blade across his throat, spilling a curtain of blood over the already blood-soaked floor. Sansa's stomach lurched at the sight but it was done. Executing sellswords needn't be as formal as executing a lord but Sansa was satisfied justice had been delivered.

Chatter broke out in the great hall as the bodies were removed and servants hurried in to clean the floor. Arya and Alec were both cleaning their weapons while Tyrion took the brief break to come to her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked, laying his hand on top of hers

"I'm fine, just glad that part is over with"

Worried green eyes stared into hers "You look a bit pale. Are you sure you're well?"

"I'm not sick my love, I promise"

"Your Grace, they have arrived" called Maester Wolkan, drawing her attention

Sansa turned her hand over, catching hold of Tyrion's and squeezing gently "Keep close to Lyon. Alec and Brice have been told to stay close to you as well"

"You think Grey Worm will try to kill me here?" he asked

"I don't know, but I'm not taking any chances"

"We should at least hear what he has to say"

"We will" she promised as the doors to the great hall opened "I love you"

"I love you too" he said, his mouth turning upwards before he left her to resume his place with Arya and Lyon

Sansa fought to focus on Grey Worm and the two Unsullied accompanying him. Not much longer and she could take Tyrion upstairs. The thought sent a nervous flutter through her as she imagined all the ways he might react.

The thought would have to wait as Grey Worm stopped before the throne. He and the other two Unsullied had surrendered their spears at the guards request but Sansa didn't relax. Grey Worm was dangerous, and he'd come far too close to taking Tyrion from her. He looked little different than the last time she'd seen him, though his hair had once again been sheared down to the more uniform look of the Unsullied. His hands were clasped behind his back and he met her gaze without fear as his two companions stood like statues a few paces behind him.

"Sansa Stark" he said

"Queen Sansa!" corrected someone from the side of the room

"Not my Queen" he said

"I'm not your Queen" she agreed "but I am the Queen in the North and you are here to answer for your actions"

"Yes" he said, his forehead creasing "I help slavers - never meant help slavers. Unsullied are free because Daenerys Stormborn made it so; we continue her fight"

"Daenerys died in Kings Landing. You were given ships and gold to leave Westeros but instead you came North. I'd like to know why"

Grey Worm's dark eyes scanned the room, before settling on Tyrion stood along the side of the platform.

"We leave Kings Landing to sail to Naath" started Grey Worm "Some Unsullied went, but not all. Justice for Queen Daenerys hadn't been done. We change course after days of travel and go North instead - where Tyrion Lannister had been sent"

Protectiveness reared in Sansa like a primal force, and she wanted nothing more than to put herself between Grey Worm and her sweet lion, but duty kept her tethered to her throne and wholly reliant on the guards and Arya to keep him safe.

"Where in the North did you go?" questioned the Maester "Before lord Tyrion encountered you in the Wolfswood there had been no indication the Unsullied were even in the North"

Grey Worm moved his gaze from Tyrion and back to her, not a hint of emotion on his face "We sail for long time - until we reach Bear Island. Jorah the andal tell me of it many times"

Sansa's heart sank. Bear Island had been abandoned since Lyanna Mormont fell. Early in her reign the remaining small folk and guards had been moved from the island and resettled in the North. Without a ruling house to arrange trade and oversee the small folk Bear Island was unsustainable. This was her fault - she should have filled the vacant seats in the North by now, but there were so few families to inherit them.

"We made camp at Bear Island and few of us travel into North, seeking way to reach Lannister"

"What did you want with lord Tyrion?" asked the Maester, for the benefit of the assembled lords. They already knew what he'd wanted.

"Revenge" answered Grey Worm "Queen was dead. Missandei was dead. Jon Snow was exiled, but Lannister not punished. He have castle, and wife and title"

"How did you meet Robin and Gawan?" asked Sansa, trying to steer the conversation away from revenge on Tyrion

"They come to us. Don't know how, but they found us at Bear Island and came with truce. They ask questions about Lannister and Essos and other things. They offer to give me revenge for gold and I accept. Unsullied not want revenge on North - only wanted Lannister to pay debt"

"They used that gold to fund their slavery business" said Sansa "because of your actions lord Tyrion was kidnapped and subject to horrific torture at their hands. Forty women were taken from their homes and would have been sold into slavery if not for lord Tyrion"

Grey Worm inclined his head "I know now. Those boys lied to me. Unsullied never help slavers"

Sansa shifted on her throne appraising the man before her. There was no question Grey Worm was guilty - he'd admitted to everything. It was what happened after the Wolfswood that changed things.

"You were stopped from killing lord Tyrion, though you left him seriously wounded" said Sansa, hardening her tone "You were arrested by Arya Stark and brought to Winterfell to face justice where you subsequently escaped. I ask you now, why did you not leave the North? No one else knew the Unsullied were on Bear Island - you'd failed to take revenge but you could have escaped justice. Instead you marched against me with Robin Flint and then turned on him in the battle? What exactly do you want?"

"Justice" he said simply "All I ever want. Justice for Missandei, and Queen Daenerys"

Sansa's throat was tight as she forced the words from her throat "Robin offered you revenge on lord Tyrion, yet you turned on him all the same"

"No serve slavers" said Grey Worm, shaking his head in disgust "They use this one to put people in chains. Unsullied get justice"

"You marched with Robin intending to turn on him?" asked Maester Wolkan

Grey Worm turned towards Tyrion then, his voice carrying through the room "Long time ago I had friend who tell me of Westeros. He tell story of how his father arrive at gates of Kings Landing as friend to mad King before turning against him"

To Sansa's surprise Tyrion's mouth twitched upwards.

"That was a long time ago" he said

"This one not forget" said Grey Worm, turning back to face Sansa "I accept punishment for crimes, only ask Unsullied allowed to leave"

The great hall was unusually quiet and Sansa wondered if they were as conflicted over what to do as she was. She could feel Tyrion's eyes on her, but she saw only one path forwards.

"You say you wanted justice against lord Tyrion" said Sansa "Is that still true?"

Grey Worm considered for a moment before shaking his head "No. Lannister make mistakes in Kings Landing. I make mistakes here and innocent women suffer slavers. Lannister fixed my mistake, and honoured Queen Daenerys' fight against slavery - debt is paid"

Sansa nodded, praying to all the Gods this was the right choice "The Unsullied were instrumental in the defeat of Robin Flint and his army. They may remain outside the castle gates until they have recovered enough to travel, and then they will leave the North and you will leave with them"

Surprise flickered across Grey Worm's face at the ruling as Sansa continued "King Bran gave you the chance to leave Westeros peacefully and you didn't. This is your final opportunity"

"Thank you" said Grey Worm, inclining his head "we will leave for Naath as soon as possible"

Sansa glanced at Tyrion, relieved to see him nodding approvingly at her decision. It had been tempting to exact revenge for what Tyrion had suffered but there would have been no real point to it. If Grey Worm had truly wanted to kill Tyrion he could have fought with Robin rather than turning against him.

Despite her ruling and Grey Worm's assurance he no longer sought revenge on Tyrion, Sansa was relieved when he and his two Unsullied companions left the great hall. A knot of tension unwound in her chest and she found herself smiling across at Tyrion. Much to her joy he was smiling too. It was almost over. The threat had ended, and for the first time in a long while Sansa was excited for what the future held. She nodded to the Maester to make the standard closing remarks.

"If anyone would ask anything of the Queen, do so now or forever hold your peace" said Wolkan

Many of the lords and ladies were readying to leave. Sansa was too, when a woman's voice rang out in the hall.

"I do!"

Muttering broke out as the speaker stood. Rose and the rest of the wildlings had taken seats with lord Mazin but she was now moving away from the group and into the aisle before the throne. Sansa's chest tightened as the woman approached, her mind running through every scenario she could imagine. What did she want? Lord Mazin had been sat with the wildlings throughout the session and looked just as confused as Sansa felt at the sudden turn of events.

Maester Wolkan turned to Sansa, a silent question in his eyes. Sansa nodded - she would hear whatever Rose wished to say.

Every eye in the room was burning into Rose but the woman seemed unfazed by the attention as she stood before the throne. Her clothes were tattered and mismatched, and her hair was scraggy enough that Sansa barely resisted the urge to find a brush, but it was her eyes that Sansa found unsettling. The free folk had been their allies in three battles; against Ramsay, during the Long Night and now against Robin - yet she still found herself untrusting of them. They were unpredictable and unlike the Northerners they held her no allegiance. Deciphering their motives was never easy.

"The free folk do not kneel and as such have no Queen" said Sansa, choosing her words carefully "but you fought alongside my husband to defeat Robin Flint. Ask of me what you will and if it's in my power I will grant it"

The corner of Rose's mouth twitched downwards "We aint ever been kneelers. You kept Jon Snow's word and let us stay on the Gift when the rest of the free folk went North. It aint enough. What's left of us are the old, the sick and the children. We like the Gift but it don't like us. First girls get taken by your lords to be sold as slaves, then we get driven down south by the same bastards running us off our land"

"I can send guards to see you all safely to the Gift" said Sansa "Robin's army has been defeated - there should be no issues"

"Until the next time. We want protection. Food. Proper shelter against the cold. We've been south of the wall too long - the old and babes can't handle the true North like they used to"

Sansa gripped the arms of her throne tightly "What you ask isn't possible. The free folk serve no one, and while I will continue to honour that choice and our arrangement I cannot afford you the protections that come with being part of the Kingdom

"I know" said Rose, turning towards Tyrion and dropping to one knee

Muttering instantly broke out in the hall and Tyrion appeared to have frozen as Rose continued kneeling. It was unheard of. Free folk did not kneel, but that was exactly what Rose was doing. Sansa pulled her gaze from the kneeling woman to the rest of the wildlings - none of whom were protesting the action. Sansa straightened in her throne, her voice instantly silencing the chatter.

"You would bend the knee and take Tyrion as your lord?" asked Sansa

Rose shook her head, her dark eyes glinting "No, we'd take him as our King"

Time stood still at the word, and Sansa had just enough time to take in Tyrion's horror struck expression before lord Mazin's voice rang out.

"I second that" he declared, drawing his sword and dropping to a kneel towards where Tyrion stood at the side of the platform "it's past time we call him what he is - a King"

Arya patted Tyrion's back before stepping away from him as more calls joined Rose and lord Mazin. Sansa's focus was split in half between the growing horror on Tyrion's face and the reaction of the rest of the North.

"I more than agree" said lady Tallhart, rising from her place at the bench and smiling at Tyrion "the King in the North"

"As do I" said Cley, lifting his sword "the King in the North!"

Lord Hornwood quickly followed suit as did lord Dormund. Many of the guards were following their lords lead and banging their fists on the long tables in support. Rose was still kneeling before the throne but the majority of the hall had now joined her call with several of the lords kneeling. Tyrion had frozen, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what was happening.

Sansa pulled her eyes from her husband seeking lord Glover and lord Manderly, only to find they were both already on their feet.

Lord Glover was the first to speak, his gruff voice rising above the noise of the room "He rules like a Northerner, he fights like a Northerner - he's one of us"

The old lord withdrew his sword, lifting it high in the air and locking eyes with Tyrion before kneeling "The King in the North!"

"We have an exceptional Queen" said lord Manderly, withdrawing his sword "but ruling the North is a huge burden for one alone. Lord Tyrion has more than proven himself as one of us - house Manderly will gladly call him King!"

Given his size lord Manderly didn't kneel, but the sentiment was clear enough. The noise of the room was thunderous as the Northerners began a chant of 'King in the North' that echoed off every wall.

Sansa turned to her left, searching for her husband. The colour had dropped from Tyrion's face and he was shaking his head in denial, his green eyes pleading with her to end this. The Northerners wanted to make him King, but the choice was ultimately hers.

"When I married I told my council there would be no royal consort. Whoever I wed would rule as the lord of Winterfell" said Sansa, the room growing quiet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tyrion let out a breath, some of the tension leaving him.

"Unless the Northerners were impressed with him, and raised him as King themselves" she continued "I have heard your calls and they will be answered. Let it be known that Tyrion Lannister is henceforth raised as King of the North, and will be crowned as such a week from now"

The room erupted in excitement, though Tyrion looked as if he'd selected for execution rather than a throne. A rush of warmth flooded her as she looked at her husband, her hand automatically going to her stomach.

'You earned this my love' she thought 'The people of the North finally see you for the man you are. You'll be a great King, but there's one more title yet to come, and I know you'll suit it just as well'

Sansa struggled to contain a smile as the Northerners swarmed around their newly chosen King. Sharing power with anyone would have terrified her once, but now it filled her with ease. There was nothing to fear when the person sharing her power was the man who already held her heart.