There wasn't enough wine in the world to make this wedding feast a happy one, but that didn't stop Tyrion from trying. The evening wouldn't be half as terrible if Sansa would at least look at him, let alone speak to him. But Sansa sat by his side dutifully and silently, barely picking at her food. He had to fix this, he knew that, but he couldn't do it right now. She had made it clear that she did not believe him and didn't want to hear any explanations. He would be resilient though and wait until the time was right. And until she did listen to him, he would be patient and protect her. It was the least he could do.
He had originally thought to offer a different Lannister cousin in his place. Lancel was young and handsome and newly knighted, maybe Sansa would enjoy married life to him more. He was sure his father thought them all interchangeable and that he would not object to someone more suited for her. Perhaps it was his own selfish desires that kept him from making the offer, but he told himself it was just so he could help her. Lancel would probably allow his king to do whatever he liked to his helpless bride, thinking that it would advance his own interests. That thought had kept his mouth shut and allowed his father to plan this farce of a wedding.
When he had first seen her in the Sept, he had been speechless. She had looked glorious, framed in the soft light coming from the open doors behind her, dressed in gold like the queen she should be. The only thing he would have changed would be her hair. Her long copper locks had been tied up like the other silly women at court. She should have it thrown over her shoulders, dressed in an icy grey like the Stark bride she was. But Cersei had made her look like a miniature, copper copy of herself, and although she was stunning, Tyrion could tell that she was uncomfortable. Her expression was disdainful, but resolute. Then the king had approached her. Tyrion had watched powerless on the steps of the Sept as Joffrey had put his hands on her- wrapping his fingers around her throat. He was furious at the thought that he had to inspect his wife's body at the alter for bruises. Luckily there were none, but her face had been pale with fear and ire had engulfed him. He swore right then that he would never allow Joffrey to touch her again. He would do everything in his power to keep him from her.
The rest of the ceremony had gone on without a hitch, despite Joffrey's best efforts. Sansa had been kind enough to smooth over what would have been an embarrassing moment with the cloaks. Other than that, the vows he spoke flowed past his lips with ease. He stressed the parts where he vowed to protect and cherish her, but Sansa seemed to go through the whole ceremony in a daze. It was only when he had to kiss her did his own nerves rear their head. He wanted to place a hand on her delicate cheek and cradle her face as he touched her, but he forced himself to be satisfied with a modest peck.
Even after everything, his beautiful wife ignored him as they had made their way into the great hall for their feast. She did have a red mark on her neck and for that, Tyrion took a large gulp of his drink. He glared out at the boy king now as he prattled on to Margaery Tyrell. The Rose of Highgarden had done a beautiful job of drawing Joffrey in, praising him and seducing him with her clever words and plunging necklines. Hopefully she could keep him occupied tonight so he'd leave Sansa alone. His eyes slid to his beloved bride who finally made eye contact with him. He tried to smile at her, but she turned her face away quickly.
"Will you pardon me, my lord." It was more of a statement and she was rising before he answered. Still, he responded as kindly as he could.
"Of course, Sansa." She met his eyes at the familiarity and for a moment he thought she would reprimand him, but she just turned away quickly and headed towards the balcony. Probably looking for a little peace and quiet. He let her go, but gave a subtle nod towards Pod to follow her and make sure she was alright. Unfortunately his father took the opportunity to take Sansa's empty chair.
"You seem rather drunk." He declared.
"Rather less than I planned to be." Tyrion declared. There was no way his father was going to take away the only thing getting him through this evening. "Isn't it a man's duty to be drunk at his own wedding?"
"This isn't about your wedding." Tywin growled shortly, as if Tyrion was an idiot. "Renly Baratheon had a wedding. Your wife needs a child, a Lannister child, as soon as possible." Gods, this again. He was not in the mood for another lecture.
"And?"
Tywin glowered at him. "If you're going to give her one, you need to perform."
"What did you once call me? 'A drunken little lust-fulled beast.'?"
"More than once..."
"Well there you have it!" Tyrion declared sarcastically. "Nothing to worry about. Drinking and lust. No man can match me in these things. I am the god of tits and wine! I shall build a shrine to myself at the next brothel I visit." He went to take another sip, but Tywin snatched the cup out of his hand. Wiping the spilled wine from his tunic he glared up at his father.
"You can drink. You can joke. You can engage in juvenile attempts to make your father uncomfortable. But you will do your duty."
Tyrion was about to give his father a scathing retort, when over his shoulder he met Pod's eyes. His squire was frantically trying to get his attention without causing too much of a scene and he could only want one thing. Tyrion felt instantly sober and he stood abruptly, almost knocking over his chair in the process. He ignored Tywin's efforts to keep him and plowed his way over the Pod. It seemed as if the entire room fell quiet as his squire confirmed his fears. "Th-the king!" he panted and pointed out to the balcony. Tyrion rushed up the stairs and came upon his bride and his shit nephew at what he hoped was the tail end of their conversation.
"...It doesn't really matter which Lannister puts the baby in you. Maybe I'll pay you a visit tonight after my uncle passes out." He watched as Joffrey slid his hands over his wife's arms and saw red. "How'd you like that? You wouldn't?" He could see Sansa's face from where he was standing and was almost happy to see anger there instead of fear. "That's all right... Ser Meryn will hold you down."
That was just about enough. "My Lady?" He called out as loudly as he could, surprising the both of them. Sansa looked at him with equal parts of relief and guilt and Joffrey was clearly angry.
"Ah, uncle! Just in time! I believe it's time for the bedding!" He grabbed Sansa's arm roughly and tugged her towards the steps leading back into the hall.
"There will be no bedding!" Tyrion declared heatedly while following them, just about ready to geld the boy. But Joffrey just laughed maniacally.
"Oh uncle, where's your respect for tradition?!" Joffrey dragged the now struggling Sansa towards the steps, but was halted by Lord Tywin who had followed his errant son.
Tywin quickly took in the expressions on their faces before his eyes narrowed on Joffrey.
"I believe we can dispense with the bedding, Your Grace." Joffrey opened his mouth to retort, but Tywin stepped forward and offered his arm to Sansa and the king was forced to relinquish his hold on her.
Tyrion was fuming in anger, but was grateful to see Sansa moving away from the stewing Joffrey. His father led her over to him and bowed shortly to the lady before turning to him. "Consumate the marriage tonight. I know you don't want this, but find a way to get over it and do your duty." he growled low enough for her not to hear. He then placed a strong hand on the kings shoulder, forcing him back into the hall to rejoin the festivities, leaving the couple alone.
A/N: Wow that was a quick couple of chapters! Lots of creative juices flowing, so hopefully it made up for my absence before!
They are officially married, but there's still the wedding night to be dreaded, so we'll see how it plays out. I'll probably go dark until after the New Year (but who knows, we'll see how my mind works), so I wish all my readers a happy 2017! Please read and review as it always fuels my inspiration.