Tyrion stormed into his chambers, slamming the door behind him. He wasn't sure whether he ought to be grateful or more irritated that his wife wasn't here, where he wanted her. He needed to speak with her, urgently, but, in this state, perhaps it was for the best that he stayed away from her.
Pacing angrily, Tyrion began to feel cramps starting in his legs, as though the day had not already been emotionally difficult enough. He clambered up onto the bed that he shared with his wife and lay down against the pillow, smelling the rose oil that Sansa used in her hair. He exhaled.
Two days ago, he had left for a trip out of King's Landing, to visit a town where Queen Daenerys had heard of issues. Tyrion had been happy to leave, but the queen had demanded that he leave quickly and he had not even been able to speak with his wife, much less Jon. He had gone to the town, which was presided over by a family whose merchant wealth had brought them power, and who had notoriously been the first Crownlanders to oppose the Mad King.
And, now, the town was rebelling against Daenerys. Tyrion had not fully understood what had happened until he had arrived. When Jon had written to him about Daenerys taking retribution from the families, he had not explained the situation fully. Jon had focussed on Missandei's death and his wife's grief, understandably. He had mentioned Grey Worm's all-consuming, and completely comprehendible, anger. He had not mentioned the slaughter of the oldest son of five anti-Targaryen families and the taking of their family homes, leaving them homeless and mainly without money.
If the whole family had certainly betrayed Daenerys in a tangible way, then Tyrion would have believed that the punishment was well warranted. One person from the family died, rather than all of them, and they had their power stripped away, a completely reasonable punishment for traitors and far less than they would have received under Robert.
But Robert had always conducted a trial. Always. It had been part of what had kept the continent in a good sense of justice for so long, even with an evil bitch and a lazy whoremonger at its head.
Daenerys was led by emotion. This action was led by emotion and, if word of it got out across the kingdom, there would be uproar, because there was no tangible evidence that these anti-Targaryenist families had anything to do with Missandei's death, although it was possible.
"Tyrion!" he heard from the door and Tyrion had to smile at the pure joy that he heard in his wife's voice. "You're back," she cried as she jumped onto the bed. Tyrion raised his brows at her, though he did not lift his head from the pillow.
"I'm sorry I left so swiftly. The Queen needed me to go and sort some things out."
Sansa lay down next to him, close, her body pressing against his. Tyrion was reminded that he had not fucked his wife in days. "What sort of things?"
Tyrion sighed. "Retribution was taken after Missandei's death." Sansa furrowed her brow. "One dead from five anti-Targaryenist families and properties confiscated. The town that belonged to one of these families is not happy."
"I suppose she had a right to respond," Sansa said with uncertainty. Tyrion groaned.
"They had a right to a trial."
"Like Samwell Tarly's brother and father," his wife said quietly.
"I know, Sansa," Tyrion snapped and he felt Sansa's warmth leave his side. Sighing, he extended his hand to her again and pulled her back close. "I'm sorry, my dear, my body is protesting the riding and my mind is protesting the challenges."
Sansa nodded, her chin hitting his shoulder softly. "It's okay. What are you going to do?"
Tyrion sighed. "I don't know, Sansa. I'm not her Hand anymore and her new Hand hasn't been announced. Daenerys has sent Varys over to Essos on a diplomatic mission, so I can't ask his advice."
"I could speak to Jon," Sansa said quietly. Tyrion turned his head to meet her eyes.
"Not now, though." Sansa shook her head, snuggling into his body. Tyrion caressed her as yet flat stomach.
"Not now."
XXX
When Sansa did finally arrive at Jon's solar, she steeled herself before knocking. There was no possible way that this conversation could go well, but she needed to do this, if not for herself, then for Tyrion. While her husband was not the Hand of the Queen any longer, he still had a vested interest in her success and the stories of what she had done in response to Missandei's death were horrifying.
Missandei's death itself was horrifying. Sansa was ashamed of her response when she had heard. Rather than focus on Missandei, she had thought of how the Queen would respond and the likelihood of getting independence for the North, for her people. While she would never apologise for wanting the North to be ruled by Winterfell and not King's Landing, who no more understood the ways of the North as they did those of Dorne, she had reacted poorly. When had she become so cold and calculating? She hadn't told Tyrion. She did not need to see the disgust in his eyes.
Jon answered the door quickly. Sansa saw Davos sitting behind him and decided that she didn't necessarily mind that. From the looks on their faces, they were debating something fiercely and perhaps Davos would be on Sansa's side and help Jon to see reason. The Seven knew that Jon was likely to just accuse Sansa of being biased because of her dislike of his wife. But Sansa knew that it wasn't just that, not when Tyrion could see it too.
Not waiting for Jon to suggest she return at a later time, Sansa walked into the chambers, pushing past Jon's arm. She took a seat beside Davos at the table and Jon, sighing, joined them on the other side. "I need to talk to you," Sansa said quietly but intensely. She did not want to shout, nor argue, but she knew it was likely. The least she could do was start calmly.
Jon scowled. "I suppose you're here to tell me that my wife is going mad."
Sansa blinked and then glanced towards Davos who looked rather abashed. Sighing, Sansa said, "Jon, you must see that her response was irrational and based in anger rather than justice."
"She executed people who didn't support her. She didn't murder mothers or children!" Jon responded.
Sansa swallowed her immediate response. "She executed people who didn't support her, without a trial. Jon, without a trial, it cannot be a righteous execution. When the Mad King killed our grandfather and uncle without a trial for not supporting him, was that right too?" Davos cleared his throat.
Jon scoffed. "That was different."
Sansa shook her head. "Why? Because he did it in an awful, painful way? Yes, it was different in terms of his bloodthirst but the morals remain the same."
Jon shook his head. "Sansa, you are saying this out of a bias. You don't like her and you hate that your husband prefers her to you."
Sansa flinched. She hated that Jon could read her so well, could see how she felt about Tyrion's support of Daenerys. But that was not why she was here now. "Tyrion was the one who asked me to come, Jon," Sansa said as softly as she could. "I know that you think I hate Daenerys. I think she has done lots of good things but there are some worryingly bad things interspersed with those. I'm not saying we should throw her off the throne. I'm asking that you reign alongside her, rather than from behind her."
Jon met her eyes. "I am reigning, Sansa. I am doing lots of things behind the scenes. I can't control her every action! Her actions don't need controlling! She is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and what you are saying is treason."
Sansa nodded. "And I trust you as my brother to protect me by not sharing that. Jon, it is unfair to place this burden upon you but you must ensure the safety of the realms."
"Queen Daenerys is ensuring the safety of the realms. If there were families that opposed you as Lady of Winterfell, you would have done no different. You wanted to take the houses away from those who had fought against us!"
Sansa's eyes widened. "Jon, I wanted to take houses away from those who had fought against us, yes. I wanted to take their estates and their power, not their lives, and I wanted to do that because they had taken up arms against us. The Queen did not wait for proof. She had them executed!"
Jon's face was hard. "I don't know if it was Daenerys' order or if it was Grey Worm's vengeance that had them killed, but it is not for you to question, Sansa. She is your queen and I am your king. I will forgive your treason this once because you are my sister but not again, Sansa."
His jaw was set and Sansa wanted to speak again, to change his mind, to make him see. Instead, she closed her mouth and stood up. Davos stood beside her. "Jon, I always want what is best for you, and what is best for the Seven Kingdoms. I am loyal to the realm above all."
With one last look at her straight-faced brother, Sansa left the room, Davos hot on her heels.
XXX
Daenerys left the Grand Maester's office with shaky steps. Her handmaidens had been right. She hardly kept track of her cycles herself, when her ladies did it. They kept track of everything, including how sick she was, how much she flinched when they put on her corsets and how little she was eating of her favourite foods.
Dany had dismissed them when they had told her, telling them that it was because of the stress of being a new monarch, of the grief of Missandei's death, a loss that still burned in her chest like wildfire. But she had accepted their wisdom and gone to the Grand Maester, who had proceeded to confirm her pregnancy.
It did not make any sense. The witch had said she would never bear a child and she had believed that, so firmly. She had never conceived with Daario, had been with Jon for months without conceiving. Was it possible that the witch had been wrong, though? Or would she help this child grow and live, only for it to wither and die inside her?
Her mind froze with fear, her body halting immediately and backing up against the wall of the Red Keep. "Meesa?" one of her handmaidens said, reaching out for her hand. Daenerys grasped it tightly, looking deep into her swirling brown eyes.
"I can't lose this baby," she said desperately. Her handmaidens all gasped at the terrible utterance.
"Meesa, you must never talk of that. You curse your baby," another of them said. Daenerys' eyes widened and she nodded hurriedly.
"You will all tell me how to protect it," she stated and her voice broke as she did. "I will do everything I can to protect this baby."
XXX
Sansa paused outside of her chambers, pressing the palms of her hands to her forehead. The last thing she needed was to shout at Tyrion but it was what she wanted to do. She had spoken with Davos and, rather than alleviate her fears, it had only riled her up more, to hear how Jon refused to hear a bad word against Daenerys.
She didn't know what to do. It was a terrible situation to be in. If Daenerys was becoming her father, then it wasn't necessarily her fault. Sansa was sure she was not an evil person, though she was ambitious, like Sansa herself. Daenerys had made some poor choices in her ambition but everyone made mistakes. King Robert had made mistakes, not to mention Joffrey and Cersei.
But the signs had been there earlier and Tyrion had carried on supporting her. Sansa blinked away tears. She had to stop concentrating on Tyrion and their future and think about the actual situation that they currently faced. She was so caught up in anger at Tyrion and desperate to know that, if it came down to it, he would choose her.
Perhaps it was wrong that she didn't know for certain. Perhaps it was her own insecurities. But she loved him. She loved him and his loyalties to Daenerys always seemed so resolute. The last thing she wanted was to ask him to choose her and anger him enough to leave her. And their baby.
Inhaling deeply, Sansa reminded herself that Tyrion would never leave her. She was pregnant with his child. His loyalties would surely be to his child, above all.
And she didn't want to shout at him, so she would go to the Godswood. Nodding, Sansa turned. The Godswood would bring her peace. She would pray and be alone.
XXX
Arya and Gendry arrived at Brienne and Jaime's chambers. Grinning at her husband, Arya knocked with a jaunty tune. Jaime answered the door, an amused look on his face and a beautiful baby in his arms. "Joanna," Arya cooed, taking the girl from Jaime's arms before she even stepped in. Jaime blinked and leaned over to shake Gendry's hand and invite him in.
Arya found Brienne sitting on the couch, with Sansa next to her, looking rather upset. She glanced at Joanna as though the baby girl had the answers to why Sansa was there and not with her own husband.
"Hello," Brienne said, looking up from Sansa. Arya beamed and took Joanna's pudgy hand in her own, distracting by the little girl. "What are you doing here?"
Arya scowled. "Not seen me in months and this is how you respond," she said with raised eyebrows. Brienne pursed her lips but Arya thought she wanted to smile. "I hadn't even met this gorgeous girl yet."
"I'm sorry, Arya," Brienne said seriously. "I am very pleased to see that you are well." Arya smiled.
"You too. I like your baby."
Gendry snorted behind her. He came up and wrapped an arm around her waist, using his other hand to stroke Joanna's hand. "We should get ourselves one of these," Arya suggested to her husband seriously, shaking Joanna's hand at him. Gendry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped.
Jaime laughed, approaching too. "Can I get you both some wine?" They both agreed and finally took their seats, opposite Brienne and Sansa, who had yet to say anything about why her face was pale and her countenance drawn. Arya accepted the wine from Jaime and watched as he perched on the end of the sofa, stroking the back of his wife's neck with his one hand.
"I'm pregnant," came from Sansa's mouth, hoarsely, a few moments later. Arya's eyes widened and her mouth dropped, a twinge of jealousy prickling in her stomach. She ignored it, reminding herself of her vow to enjoy a few years of marriage with Gendry.
"Congratulations," Brienne told her, stroking her hand, but Arya noticed that Brienne's whole heart was not in her congratulations and she wondered, again, what Brienne and Sansa had been talking about before Arya and Gendry arrived.
Sansa began to sob. Arya shoved her goblet of wine into her husband's hand, placing Joanna on the seat, and fell to her knees in front of her sister, stroking her knee. "What's going on, Sansa?" she asked, her eyes severe.
Sansa bit her lip. "What if Tyrion cares more about his loyalty to Daenerys than to us?"
Arya had heard that women got stupid when they were pregnant but here was the proof. She snorted, earning herself a glare from Sansa and a shocked look from Brienne. "Don't be ridiculous, Sansa."
"This is why I came to Brienne," Sansa said, shoving Arya's hand from her knee. Rolling her eyes, Arya put her hand back.
"Tyrion loves you," Arya said earnestly.
Sansa scoffed. "Then why won't he tell me that?"
"Have you told him?" Arya countered. Sansa's eyes fell to her lap.
Jaime sighed from his position. "Sansa, he will be afraid that you aren't going to say it back. His fear when he married you was that he would fall in love with you but you wouldn't love him back." Arya's eyebrows shot up her face. Sansa met Jaime's eyes and Jaime nodded. "You know about Tysha and Shae. Don't expect him to open up to you if you've not opened up to him."
Arya didn't know what those names meant but she didn't need to. She watched her sister's eyes clear. "I didn't think about that," Sansa said quietly. Jaime gave her a grim smile. "I was so caught up in how I was feeling that I didn't think about his insecurities."
Jaime shrugged. "I'm sure he'll be fine. He's a big boy." Sansa gave him a withering look. "How pregnant are you?" Jaime asked, nodding at her stomach. Arya turned her eyes back to Sansa.
"I'm not sure. Two or three months, the midwife thought."
Arya grinned. "Awesome."
There was something knowing behind Jaime's smirk. "Awesome indeed."
XXX
"I'm worried about Sansa," Brienne said when she was sitting in between Jaime's legs, receiving a one-handed massage. Jaime hummed behind her, working a knot in between her shoulder blades.
"I'm more worried about what she said about Daenerys." Brienne sighed heavily and Jaime wondered whether she would try and involve herself to help Sansa. Jaime hoped not.
"Do you think she is becoming her father?" Brienne asked quietly.
Jaime expelled air from his mouth, bending to press a kiss to his wife's shoulder. "I don't know, Brienne. Her father was- he was worse than this." Brienne nodded. "But it started gradually with him and, if we'd noticed then, perhaps so many people wouldn't have had to die."
Jaime could see the Mad King's eyes flashing as fire burned, could hear Daenerys' mother's screams as he raped her. "Maybe you should go back to Casterly Rock," Jaime suggested, curling his hand around to her stomach. Brienne leaned back against him, her head falling back onto his shoulder. She covered his hand with her own. "You could take Joanna with you."
"And leave you here, Jaime? Never," she swore.
"I have to stay to help Sansa and Tyrion. We can't all leave."
Brienne nodded resolutely. "You're right. None of us can leave," she stated, emphasising the none. Jaime tightened his hand against Brienne's as-yet flat stomach. He would bow to her desires for now. If the situation deteriorated, she would have to leave, to protect their growing family.
