She had just turned the corner in her frenzy and was immediately caught off balance as she ran headfirst into the man she was rushing towards. Knocked off balance, she swayed on her feet and would have fallen if not for his warm hand clutching onto hers, pulling her upright.
"Careful, Sansa!" he chuckled once she was steady. "I don't think my father would believe me if I told him we'd have to skip the wedding ceremony because you fell, regardless to the truth of it!" Sansa opened her mouth to respond, but could think of absolutely nothing to say. She found herself at a complete loss for words despite practically running towards him. Now that he was before her, her mind was blank. How on earth was she to speak with him about what had just happened? How was she to ask him about Shae? Or speak of his brother's daring offer? No, she couldn't quite find the words she needed to say and so she just stared blankly at the man who had come to mean so much to her.
If she brought up his relationship with Shae, or any other woman, she risked him telling her that it was true. That he loved another and that their sham of a marriage was even more hollow that she had thought. Or if she told him about Sir Jaime's promise of freedom. What if he recommended that she do it? That she flee the capitol to what would certainly be her demise. She didn't know how she could take that. So she remained silent.
"Sansa, are you alright?" he was not stupid. He could clearly see that she was upset about something. Still, she couldn't find it within her to tell him the truth. She couldn't risk it. The look of concern that was etched into his face looked so genuine. She couldn't take seeing it fade away. His hand which had reached out so quickly to steady her now gently caressed her fingers, imploring her to calm.
For the first time in a long time, Sansa felt her old mask slipping into place. "I am quite well, my lord." she spoke in an empty tone and forced a feigned smile to her lips. "The ceremony will be starting soon. Shall we?" she offered him her arm and he took it cautiously. He was better at reading her than most, but seemed at least unwilling to force her to speak when she was not ready. Even in the haze she was fighting through, she was grateful for that small mercy.
He led her gently through the keep, leaving her mind to work. They made their way down to the courtyard and were loaded into the carriage that was to take them to the sept of Baelor. The streets had been lined with guards, yet Sansa's pulse quickened at the memory of the last time she had been traveling through King's Landing and the chaos that had almost taken her life. Still, she gazed out the narrow slats that opened up to reveal the same, dirty, poverty stricken city. Gods, she was ready to leave this whole world behind. But did she want to leave smuggled out of the city by Shae's friends? With the king slayers protection? Or with the lord sat across from her. Her life would forever be tied to the Lannisters if she left with Tyrion, but it would be secure. She knew he would never let his family truly hurt her if it was within his power. But how much could he really protect her from Tywin's threats?
Her gaze swept to Tyrion, who had yet to push her to reveal her troubles. He was also looking out over the city and Sansa wondered what he was thinking. His deep, mismatched eyes held a certain longing as he gazed out of the window and Sansa couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. There was so much compassion and strength in her little husband. He caught her looking at him and sent her an encouraging smile. Heat flooded through her cheeks at being caught, but his smile was infectious and she couldn't help but return it.
In a short time they were unloaded at the sept and Sansa made her way with Tyrion into the audience. Joffrey and Cersei had deemed them unimportant enough to shove into the middle of the crowd, denied their place up front with the family, but neither Sansa nor Tyrion were complaining. They settled into their places and watched dispassionately as Joffrey made his way to the pulpit.
The king was dressed richly in reds and golds and it struck Sansa as odd to see a Baratheon king decked out as a Lannister. But then Joffrey had always been more Lannister than Baratheon. Hells, as she gazed at him now, surrounded by the roaring lions that decorated the sept, she couldn't see even the slightest semblance of the man who had been her father's friend. He looked just like Cersei.
The ceremony went off without incident as the beautiful Margaery was brought forward by her father. Margaery's gown was a lovely creation, flowing with roses constructed in silk and golden metalwork. It was a much finer gown than Sansa's own wedding dress and for a moment, Sansa envisioned herself dressed as the winter maid she should have been meeting her betrothed beneath the heart tree in Winterfell's godswood.
It was a daydream she was used to having. It would have just snowed, her footsteps would have broken the freshly fallen snow as she made her way to her husband. Her red hair would have been wild behind her and her gown would have been adorned with pure-white furs to protect her against the cold. She felt her lips curve into a smile as Joffrey and Margaery proclaimed their love, but it was only for the image in her head. Of her beloved father reluctantly letting her go, her mother smiling indulgently front the front row. As Joffrey leaned to kiss his new bride, dream Sansa also turned to her husband and she was surprised that her mind did not give her the faceless lord the daydream usually did. It was Tyrion, dressed heavily in furs, smiling at her like she was an angel brought to earth. Sansa stood, frozen in shock as the daydream advanced, her and Tyrion clasped hands and recited their vows. Their words were spoken much more passionately than during their real wedding and when she bent down to press her lips to his...
"Sansa?" Tyrion whispered worriedly, breaking her out of her vision. The whole sept had burst into applause as the King presented his new wife and queen, yet she had stood, lost in her dreams. A blush flooded her cheeks and she quickly joined the crowd in congratulating the couple.
"We have a new queen" she said, more to ease his concern for her than anything else. He chuckled darkly before squeezing her fingers.
"Better her than you."
As the crowd made their way back to the keep for the wedding feast, Sansa couldn't help but picture her dream wedding and the husband her mind had chosen for her again and again. She hardly noticed when Tyrion was called away by his brother until he had squeezed her hand again. "I'll be right back, Sansa" he whispered comfortingly before leaving her alone.
Sansa took the moment to take herself away from the crowds and into the garden. She looked out over Blackwater Bay and gathered her thoughts. She had been in a haze since Shae had revealed the truth to her, but things were shifting into clarity for her now.
She realized something. She needed Tyrion. She wanted him. Wanted him to love her just as she wanted to love him. Just how she might already love him. She didn't care about his history or his name, didn't care about his stature. He was kind and gentle to her. Brave and strong like men twice his size were not. He never failed to bring a smile to her face even in this hell she was living in. She had prayed for a handsome king, yet the gods had seen fit to give her exactly what she needed in Tyrion. She was not a child anymore. She knew that a pretty face would not give her what she needed.
She turned at the sound of footsteps coming near her and found Tyrion approaching her with a curious look on his face. Her mind which had been spinning since this afternoon slammed to a halt at the sight of him. Her revelation coursed through every fiber of her being.
She didn't want to go with Shae.
She didn't want Jaime Lannister to take her home.
She wanted him. Only him.
She quickly knelt down to his level, startling him.
"Sansa, are you alright?" he reached for her hands, his eyes filled with concern and her own hands reached for him as well. They tangled in his shortly cropped, soft blonde curls, pulling his face closer to her and his surprised gasp was cut off by her lips sealing themselves onto his.