Sansa sighed heavily as she took her place before her vanity. She allowed her handmaidens to scurry about, releasing her auburn tresses from their tight braids and combing out the knots that had formed throughout the day. She took the offered bowl of warm water with a word of thanks and splashed the stress of the day off her face. Once they had finished, she dismissed her ladies with a wave and curled up on the chaise with her embroidery while she waited for her husband. The past few nights had all ended the same- a private dinner with just Jaime as company, full of laughs and ease before Sansa retired and allowed the brothers some time alone to finish the flagons of wine. She knew Tyrion would not wait too long to join her in their chambers where they would spend a few moments of peace between them before they both climbed into bed.
Her cheeks warmed slightly at the thought of how eager she had been to snuggle into her husband's arms over the past few weeks. She had always dreamed of sharing that kind of intimacy with her husband, but she was pleasantly surprised with how natural it felt to be in his arms. It made her think that perhaps one day soon they could take that additional step to become husband and wife in truth. She was terrified of the expectation of the marriage bed, but she knew Tyrion cared for her and she trusted him to help open herself up to him. She made a mental note to request an afternoon with the widowed rose, Margaery before she left the capitol to discuss what she could do to take that step with Tyrion. She may not quite trust the Tyrell's display after the horrid affair they were calling the Purple Wedding, but she still considered Margaery a friend and knew that she could trust her to answer her many questions of this matter.
The relief at being able to leave this dreadful place filled her with joy. She was curious about The Rock and, while she was nervous about taking her place as lady of such a grand castle, she was also excited at the prospect of creating a home with her husband there- far away from all the horrors of King's Landing.
She pulled the white thread through the sleeve of the grey gown her husband had ordered for her. It was the first gown in her house colors that she had received in so long and she was more than ready to be able to wear it without fear. She had begun embroidering running, white wolves along the hem and was working on an elaborate wolf head at the shoulders. Running her fingers along the white stitching made her think of Ghost- her brother's great wolf. Perhaps she'd embroider some red eyes and carry that piece of her family with her when she wore this.
The clicking of the door interrupted her thoughts and she turned with a smile to see her husband sauntering in. He grinned happily and came towards her. "My beautiful bride," he took her hand in his and kissed her fingers dramatically. She giggled, amused by his tipsy behavior.
"My handsome husband," she murmured. While he rolled his eyes, she found that she truly meant her words. He was handsome, Margaery was right.
He flopped down on the chaise beside her and lay back, letting one arm drape over his face. "Ah, my lady, why do you leave me to drain a flagon with Jaime? Is it not a wife's duty to forbid her husband to indulge in such gluttony?" She grinned and pinched his arm slightly.
"There," she proclaimed. "Consider yourself properly chastised by your nagging wife." He chuckled and sat up again, smiling down at her work that lay forgotten in her lap.
He gently ran a finger down the silvery thread. "It will be good to see you in grey again, my dear. You were dazzling at our wedding, but I would have much preferred to see you in your winter hues." She smiled, feeling her heart fill at his words, knowing that the wine ensure it was only truth that passed his lips.
"But a proper lady of Lannister should be draped in gold. Don't you think, my lord?"
"Bah!" he exclaimed dramatically. "The Lannisters are too proud of their gold. It's common knowledge that my dear lord father shits it, did you know?" she swatted him for his language, but laughed all the same.
"Well when you are Lord of Casterly Rock, may you be known for being a miserly old man," she teased.
"When I am Lord of Casterly Rock, I intend to make quite a different name for myself than my father," she hesitated slightly at the sharpness of his tone, but then he continued on, adopting the teasing lilt from before. "And my first act as Lord will be to drape my beloved wife in as many grey gowns as the seamstresses of Lannisport can create!"
"You'll make a fine Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion." she smiled at him and he gazed up at her as if in wonder.
"You truly believe that, don't you? You must be the only one. I know my father expects me to make a mockery of the title. You know Cersei wishes for me to basically burn our legacy to the ground. And as much as Jaime loves me, there is no doubt that he also believes I will fill The Rock with whores and drink myself to death." He caught her sharp intake of breath and quickly took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "I meant what I said, my dear. My whoring days are done. I will honor my vow to you. What other woman can compare to the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms?"
She flushed with pleasure at his words and kissed his knuckles where they held her hand. After a beat of comfortable silence, she looked at him sideways. "Do you..." she hesitated, not wanting to seem like a lost little girl. But a part of her was desperate for validation. Desperate to hear Tyrion's thoughts. He waited patiently, the lighthearted mirth had evaporated in his eyes and, despite his intoxication, his attention was rapt. It gave her the courage to press on. "Do you think I'll be a good lady of The Rock?" she finally choked out. "I just mean...it's such a grand castle and I am just not sure if my training as a child will have prepared me. Not only is it so large, but you have Lannisport to factor in and all the Lannister family that you have to lead, and I just-" she knew she was babbling, but she just couldn't stop herself. But her words were abruptly cut off when Tyrion gently took her face in his palms and pressed his lips to hers, silencing her steam of uneasy consciousness. His kiss was tender but passionate, and Sansa felt herself melt into his embrace. She leaned towards him, letting her arms wrap around his neck as he kissed her, tasting the sweet Arbor gold on his tongue as it tentatively pushed past her lips.
When he finally pulled away, Sansa felt herself following him, and he chuckled huskily, giving her one more quick peck before holding her back, gazing into her eyes.
"Sansa. You are kind, gentle, and a perfect lady. But you are also strong, and fierce, and intelligent, and just. You are both your mother's and your father's true daughter. You would make them both so proud of you. I am not saying there will be times where we both make mistakes, but you will be a lovely, respectable, wise Lady Lannister. I thank the gods for sending me such a flawless lady to call my wife."
Again, she melted into him as he gave her the exact words she needed to hear. She allowed him to pull her into his embrace, nestling her head on his shoulder and breathing in his comforting scent.
She could not wait to begin their lives together in the West.
A/N: A little fluff to round out the day of many posts!