Tyrion was alive.
It was a fact that only fully occurred to her as she sunk her weary bones into a hot bath that night. Of course she recognized that when she read his raven scroll, (and Gods there was a certain amount of shame that it was Jon who confirmed his identity. They had been married for pity's sake!) but the ramifications were just now surfacing and popping in her brain like the soap bubbles in her bath.
They had just started to become friends, a tenuous trust before she left. A trust that was no doubt long gone. While she knew he hadn't murdered Joffrey, he had still murdered his father and if some rumors were to be believed, his lover, in his flight from King's Landing. It was hard to believe the kind, gentle, man that cloaked her was capable of such things. But then again, she fed her second husband to his hounds. People changed and perhaps the people they had become could no longer be friends.
The thought troubled her more than she liked.
There was no question in her mind that Jon would go to Dragonstone. Daenerys's combined army and her dragons, were the exact miracle they needed to battle the dead. However, the price was very high. It would be smarter to send an emissary, most likely herself, to represent the Northern interests. Tyrion wouldn't harm her, of that she was sure, so she did not fear for her safety but she'd be lying to herself if she said there wasn't some fear in seeing him again. Tyrion was likely devoted to his Queen, and if she sensed some advantage in him reclaiming his wayward bride, she was afraid of what may happen. (Not that he would want to claim her for more than her name, she thought as she scrubbed her body thoroughly, never quite feeling clean anymore. The scars that littered her body were proof of her ruination at Ramsey's hand. No man would want her, which was fortunate as she wanted no man to touch her again.)
It mattered not though. Jon would declare his intention to go to Dragonstone soon. She wasn't blind to the way he rubbed his soulmark all day. Defying a Queen's summons was one thing, but when his soulmark was also telling him to go, it was clearly destiny. Sansa wondered what it said to him, Dragonstone? Daenerys? Dragon?
She didn't ask and he didn't volunteer. In the end it didn't matter, the effect was the same. Jon left her alone with Littlefinger but he also left her in charge. To Lead as her soulmark told her.
So she did.
Bran returned to her first, not long after Jon departed with Arya not too far behind. They were both strange creatures to her, a preternatural being and an assassin. But they were Starks and a pack so she ultimately knew where to place her trust. Littlefinger was a fool to think otherwise. Trying to pit her against Arya as he did her mother and Aunt was his downfall.
But she had Learned all his misdeeds with the help of Bran's sight, once she figured out his true motivations. She was a slow learner but she had learned in the end. Littlefinger had too. She had seen the realization in his eyes at how badly he had underestimated her in the moments before Arya slit his throat.
(LIAR her soulmark declared for the final time as his blood seeped into the stones of the Great Hall. She had a feeling the stain of his words and actions on her soul would take much longer to remove than the blood stain spreading at her feet.)
The ride to Winterfell was cold and miserable with Tyrion now having a greater understanding of what true Winter was like in the North. He hated riding in the wagon even with Varys's company. Preferring to ride when he could (On horseback he was as tall as any man. He knew how important that could be and is why he painstakingly designed that saddle for Bran Stark.) especially in the cold when the heat of the mount under him provided warmth. Alas, he had no saddle fit to accommodate him so he was forced in the wagon, making him feel small in a different way then his body normally did.
There were many things making him feel small and useless these days. Ever since Jon had arrived, he had fallen by the wayside as the two soulmates bonded and planned for the wars to come. He didn't resent Jon so much as himself. All his plans had failed, the siege on Casterly Rock, the Ironborn attack. Jaime had brilliantly outwitted him and Tyrion chastised himself for thinking he could fool him in the field of battle. Although, how he stayed with their sister after all the atrocities she had committed was still beyond him even if she did claim to be with his child.
It was easy to spot Sansa in the courtyard of Winterfell, tall and regal, her hair a river of fire in stark contrast to Daenerys's silver locks. He was just exiting the wagon, when the introductions were brought to an abrupt halt with a sharp rebuke from a young man in a wheelchair that could only be Bran Stark.
Taking heed they all swiftly headed into the great hall. In the shuffle, Tyrion observed Sansa reach for her wrist (one advantage to being small is that sometimes people thought they were subtly doing things out of sight when in truth they were in plain view for someone of his height). She removed a leather bracelet that looked suspiciously like the one he gave her, causing his heart to leap in his chest. His own had been taken from him by the guards before he escaped King's Landing. Whatever it said must have startled her, because she faltered half a step before continuing, her eyes sweeping the people in the courtyard. He averted his eyes quickly, not wanting her to know he had seen her reaction with so many eyes upon them.
Later, after some long and argumentative meetings from a parapet overlooking the fields housing the armies gathered, she found him. He had been watching Jon and Daenerys touring the camps. They were a vision of perfect symmetry, fire and ice. Being with Jon had calmed her more impulsive urges in a way her advisors including himself couldn't making her a more thoughtful leader. Her influence on Jon was more subtle, more of a sharpening of a finely crafted blade. Plus Jon smiled a lot more he chuckled to himself, although the noises that came from their tent at night probably had a lot to do with that. He was happy for them, truly he was, it was just...
"My Lord." a familiar feminine voice said beside him, a bit deeper and more confident than he remembered.
"My Lady." he said in reply, still not looking directly at her. He was nervous enough at this meeting, he didn't also need to be blinded by her beauty to keep his wits about him.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see her cock her head studying the couple below before issuing a giant sigh. "Jon told me in a raven scroll that he bent the knee. That he gave up his crown for the greater good, to save the North, to save mankind." He could feel her eyes on him now as she shifted her body to stare down at him. "I see he failed to tell me the whole story." she said gesturing down below. "My foolish brother had gone and fallen in love with your Dragon Queen." she said a little bitterly. "She is quite beautiful, I can see that but we elected him King and he bent the knee without consulting his bannermen or his family." Her voice broke on the last word.
"Sansa," he said gently. "Jon is probably waiting to speak with you and your siblings in private but rest assured this is more than an infatuation." Turning to face her at last, she arched an eyebrow in question. It was no secret that the two were soulmates among Daenerys's people and the way gossip worked it would soon be common knowledge among the Northerners as well. This information should have come from Jon but casting his eyes down on both his Queen and the soldiers below, the man was a bit distracted. Deciding it was best she heard it from him, a quasi-friend, rather than a random bit of gossip he said "They are soulmates. They knew the moment they lay eyes on each other." He paused in memory smiling as he heard laughter from below. Jon was in the enthusiastic embrace of a husky wildling with ginger hair and Daenerys was giggling at the sight. "It was like the stories you used to love so much. I wish you could have seen it."
For a full minute, Sansa said nothing as a series of emotions crossed her face, too subtle for most to notice, but then again he had spent many an hour surreptitiously studying her face during their marriage. She relaxed her spine somewhat. "This changes things."
"Yes." Tyrion agreed. Daenerys was no longer a conquering Queen in Sansa's mind, but a future goodsister. If they took the iron throne from Cersei, they would rule together and the North would be in safe hands.
She gave a small bark of laughter, covering her lush pink mouth with her soft gray gloves in astonishment. She shook her head in amazement, "To think.." she laughed again fiddling with her bracelet and rubbing her soulmark below.
"What is it my Lady?" he asked, eyeing the bracelet and confirming it was in fact the one he had given her to cover her scar all those years ago, just altered so the wolf was on the outside where it belonged.
"Years ago when King Robert came to Winterfell, my soulmark told me a word as the party entered the keep. The same word appeared after the Queen's party arrived." Sansa explained.
"Love" Tyrion said in a quiet voice remembering their first conversation.
Sansa looked at him, shock all over her exquisite face. "Yes, back then I thought it meant Joffrey and today I was fool enough…" she paused with a sigh. Tyrion remembered the way she cast her eyes about looking. Looking for her soulmate he surmised, pleased to see that perhaps the Lady of Winterfell still had some Sansa Stark left in her yet. "Anyway, now I know it was telling me about these two lovebirds."
"Perhaps." Tyrion replied. "Or perhaps not. A whole army of men just encamped on your front door and only half of them are eunuchs." he joked. "I wouldn't give up on your soulmate just yet." She gave him a disapproving glance, but smiled nevertheless.
"And how about you? Any progress on your part?" Sansa asked.
"My soulmark guided me into her Grace's service and has been quiet since. I think I am serving my soul's purpose and I am at peace with that." He lied in the practiced manner of one that wanted to believe what he was saying while also neglecting to say anything about the priestesses strange comments. The truth was the quiet disturbed him now that he was back in Westeros. There was a small part of him that wanted to believe what the witch had said and every day that past in his home country without a word out of his soulmark confirmed that the words were a llie.
They stood in companionable silence for several minutes. Snow started falling heavily and a shivering Tyrion excused himself looking for warmth in a flask of wine next to a fire. Just as he was about to step through the doorway, she called after him. "You remembered that?"
"Remembered what?" he inquired, closing the door and walking back to her.
"What my soulmark said?" she asked quietly.
"Of course," he said gently, taking her hand to admire the bracelet he had given her so long ago. "I remember everything." he said his voice husky and full of more emotion than he wanted to show.
"I remember too." she said. Removing the bracelet to reveal the scar it covered to be long gone. "This bracelet reminds me of the friend that gave it to me." She paused. "At least, I hope he's still my friend. I'm afraid my absence may have hurt him." she said meaningfully as his eyes dared to drift up and meet her own.
"Always," Tyrion said gazing in her eyes. "He will always be your friend."
The next few days found Tyrion and Sansa working closely together. Sometimes in large council meetings, and sometimes pouring over ledgers. At night they shared stories by the fire, sometimes with their friends and family, but often alone catching up on their years apart.
Jaime and his big mouth were the first to notice it. (His brother was not a stupid man, in fact he was annoying astute and despite their years of separation knew him better than anyone. Tyrion had never been more surprised when his brother had appeared broken-hearted at Winterfell's gate without the Lannister Army. And he had never been more relieved when Jaime was granted pardon due in part to Lady Brienne's staunch defense and thus Sansa's. A small part of him wondered if their friendship also influenced Sansa's decision to spare his beloved brother.)
"You've got a thing for Lady Stark." Jaime said that last fateful evening, as they sat by the fire waiting for the dead to arrive. If there was any night for the airing of truths, it was the night that death was at your doorstep Tyrion pondered to himself. Tyrion didn't bother to reply, Jaime wasn't done yet. People who accused Tyrion of the inability to shut up had never spent time with his brother. "I thought in the dragon pit, maybe you had a thing for Daenerys, a powerful Queen of legendary beauty that rides dragons and frees the oppressed. But when I got here I find you spend all your time with your former bride, and when she's not around, like tonight, you get all mooney and quiet. Where is she anyway?" he asked.
"With Theon." he said evenly. Sansa had been overjoyed at her foster brother's return to the point that Tyrion wondered if their relationship was more than familial. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous. He was, but Jaime didn't need to know that. "Where's your Warrior Woman brother? Being courted by that loud wildling fellow?" Two could play at that game if that's how Jaime wanted to do it.
Jaime flushed bright red and was about to retort when Brienne and Podrick joined them by the fire. They were soon joined by Ser Davos and Tormund who immediately eyed Brienne with a mixture of lust and admiration.
Drinking more than he should have, but not as much as he wanted, Tyrion accidentally called Lady Brienne 'Ser.' The ultimate effect of this little slip of the tongue was watching Jaime balk against tradition and knight Lady Brienne himself. Ser Brienne of Tarth, first woman knight of the Seven Kingdoms, arose from the floor and beamed happily at the small audience gathered applauding her. Still smiling, she pulled back her sleeve in a gesture well known to those checking their soulmark.
"Knight, it says knight." whispered Jaime horsley as he staggered back a step in shock, his eyes riveted to the "K" on Brienne's wrist.
Brienne's lovely smile faded as she turned to stare at Jaime in shock, who was desperately pulling at the straps of his golden hand dropping it to the floor with a clang in an effort to reveal his own somewhat mangled soulmark. Almost frantic he thrust his stump out to her, "Brienne, please...please tell me what it says." in a choked voice that was more a sob.
"Wench," she said, sounding almost annoyed "really Jaime.." Her head snapped up as the realization came crashing down upon her and a tidal wave of different emotions washed over her face. "Jaime" she said again softly in awe staring into his eyes.
"We need to go." whispered Ser Davos as he grabbed Tyrion's shoulder snapping him out of his reverie. They grabbed a dumbstruck Pod, and the three of them managed to usher a forlorn Tormund to the nearest exit.
"My Lady Knight is soul bonded to that one-handed fucker?" he wailed mournfully as Tyrion closed the door behind him, but not before seeing his brother gather his long awaited Warrior Woman in his arms, kissing her tenderly.
"You should be with your woman half-man." Tormund advised Tyrion as they walked towards the courtyard. Podrick and Davos had gone looking for another warm fire while Tormund had appeared to recover quickly from his broken heart and was looking for some food. Tyrion decided to join him as a flimsy excuse to look for Sansa. "Death is coming for us all."
"My Queen is with Jon. I don't think they are looking for a threesome." Tyrion joked.
Tormund chortled. "No, your woman." he repeated "The little crow's sister. The one kissed by fire."
"She's not my woman."
Tormund eyed him skeptically. "Heard she was your wife."
"Was being the correct word." Tyrion replied. "Not anymore." he said softly, finally spotting Sansa eating with Theon. Their heads were bent close together and it all looked extremely intimate and Tyrion's foolish heart crumbled at the sight.
"Huh." Tormund grunted. "They told me you were a clever one. Can't be too clever if you let a woman like that go."
The wildling was right. But none of that mattered now. A horn started to blow. The horn would blow three times, but Tyrion already knew the message as the word "Wights" appeared along his wrist.
The dead were here.
