A/N: Not quite on time for the weekend goal, but much sooner than the last chapter! Enjoy and review!

As soon as Tyrion had left her, Sansa had slipped on a heavier robe and sent a handmaid for tea. While the morning and afternoon had been lovely, now that the sun was setting a certain chill was in the air. As she sipped on the hot brew, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

Winter is coming...

And winter had come, in a sense. For the Lannisters at least; for Joffrey and Cersei. If the Gods were good, Joffrey would never wake. His reign of terror would be over and perhaps her nightmares may begin to fade and the realm may begin to heal. The boy was a mad dog and Sansa was glad that someone had put him down. But whoever it was had also tried to steal her away as well. The thought had her smile dying on her lips. But she had not been spirited away from her home. Tyrion had saved her.

As she settled onto a chaise, her robe wrapped around her to keep her warm, she glanced around the room and was struck by the thought that she views the space she shared with Tyrion as indeed her home. She would never consider King's Landing in rivalry with Winterfell, but this space...these chambers were home to her now. And it was all because of the security and happiness she shared with her husband. Warmth flooded her at the memory of their kiss. Kisses. She had been bold both times, but she couldn't find it in her to be ashamed of her actions. She had realized how desperately she wanted a happy marriage and being the icy, dutiful woman her septa had raised her to be would not achieve that. Tyrion had already told her that he would not push her and that they would go at her speed. So she needed to be the one to set the pace.

But she was also overwhelmingly thankful that Tyrion did not seem to see these handful of kisses to be invitation to anything more. He had responded to her, oh yes, but he did not seem to be pushing her any further than she was comfortable with. And although her heart had finally opened itself to him, she was still nervous and woefully inexperienced. She wanted to consummate their marriage but in her own time. When no more of these threats loomed overhead. When Joffrey was in the ground...when Cersei was contained...when Kings Landing and all the pain that had occurred here was behind them...Then she would begin to build the life that they would share. Until then, she would continue to open up to him and trust him.

As if on cue with her thoughts, the door swung open and her little lord husband waddled in. She couldn't help the smile that brightened her face as she moved to rise, but he raised a hand to stop her.

"Please, My Lady, no. You look so lovely just now. And so comfortable! Stay, please." He grinned at her and she couldn't help her own smile as well as a blush rising to her cheeks. She settled back on the chaise, wrapped in her soft robe and watched over her tea as he kicked off his own boots and grabbed a cup of his own. As he approached to take the empty space beside her he shivered exaggeratedly. "So cold!" he cried, causing her to chuckle.

"Barely chilly, My Lord. It will get much worse than this now that winter is coming." she winked at him.

"You Starks...you warned us for years, but now here you are prepared and ready for the snow while us Southroners freeze!" She giggled at his japes before they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed their tea.

"What did your father say?" she asked timidly, causing him to sigh.

"Joffrey is likely to die any moment. He has taken Tommen out of Cersei's grasp, thank the Gods. She's absolutely lost control of her senses. She's accusing everyone in reach of treason. She's out for blood."

"Not you, surely!" Sansa gasped, knowing how little love there was between the siblings and worried of the golden queen's influence.

Tyrion only sent her a wry smile. "That arrow has already been fired and shot down by my loving father." Despite the sarcasm, Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. If Tyrion was protected by Tywin, they would be safe.

"And me? She knows I have more reason than most to want..." she trailed off, cursing her stupidity. The walls had ears, even now. Especially now.

"I think your potential kidnapping has cleared you of any suspicion. You clearly were not trying to flee of your own free will," he murmured, gently brushing a palm over the swollen bruise blooming on her cheek. She placed her own hand over his, holding in to her face and closed her eyes, breathing softly and savoring the safety she felt with him before opening them and nodding.

"So who is she accusing?"

"The sweet Lady Margaery, of course. She was jealous of the girl before and now it's blossomed into full hatred."

Sansa's brow furrowed. "Lady Margaery? But how? She was sharing a chalice with Joffrey...they were eating off each others plates when we left. What chance did she had that would not have put herself in danger?" She thought about Margaery's kind smile and was convinced that the girl did not have it in her to commit such an atrocity...And yet...

"A fact my sweet sister has chosen to ignore. My father has had her sequestered in her rooms for the time being so that she does not interfere with the investigation."

"But your father is investigating Margaery?" The cogs in Sansa's mind turned.

Now a look of annoyance crossed Tyrion's face. "I don't think he has a choice. But... Sansa,you must forgive me. I'm afraid my father plans to use you and your friendship with the roses to his advantage. I couldn't refuse..."

"What does he want from me?" She asked, surprised.

"He is under the impression that Lady Margaery might be more willing to open up to a friend rather than to Lannister guards. You don't have to question her necessarily. Just talk. Be there for her."

"Spy on her, you mean." Tyrion looked discomfited, but Sansa just nodded, reaching out to grasp his hand comfortingly. "I understand, Tyrion. This are not your orders. If spying for the Lord Hand will help us leave this godsforsaken place all the sooner, I will do it." He looked instantly relieved.

As their conversation shifted to other things, Sansa couldn't help her mind from racing. She remembered the conversations she had had with Margaery and with Lady Olenna. Remembered the calculating gleam in both of their eyes. Margaery had always been sweet to her, but Sansa couldn't help the feeling that there was more to the Rose of Highgarden than what met the eye. While the excitement of the afternoon had blinded her before, she had not completely forgotten the odd behaviour of Olenna during the wedding feast. Or the hushed, frantic conversation she had witnessed in the gardens between the old lady and the Viper of Dorne. Perhaps the roses had sharp thorns after all.