A/N: They spend like half this chapter apart, yet I think it might be the most domestic one yet? Fascinating, really.

The very next morning at breakfast, Maester Wolkan handed Tyrion a scroll bearing Bran's seal. Sansa watched him as he opened it and read it. She didn't like the crease forming between his eyebrows.

"What is it?" she asked once he set the scroll down. He sighed.

"Daario Naharis and a contingent are arriving from Meereen. Bran wants me back as soon as possible. I'm afraid I'll have to leave for White Harbor on the morrow. The maesters may say it's spring, but I'm not ready to trek across Westeros quite yet."

He had an odd look on his face, not quite confusion or trying to put things together in his head. It was similar, but it also looked like guilt.

"Do you know him? From when you were in Meereen?"

"Quite well. He was a sellsword who became her lover. She left him in charge when we sailed to Westeros."

"She left a sellsword in charge?" Truly, it was the much more interesting bit of information.

"I know. He always struck me as a fighter over a leader. I assumed he only stayed for her, and with her gone he would leave." He took a sip from his goblet, but she knew him well enough to know he was stalling. "Do you think he knows? I never wrote to him. I didn't think to. For all I know Grey Worm went back there to serve him and told him then."

"I don't know," she said. The thought of more people loyal to Daenerys not only returning to Westeros but being around her family scared her more than she cared to admit. She trusted Bran and Tyrion, but she couldn't deny the grip of fear on her heart. "I'll write to Wylis Manderly first thing. If there aren't any ships, he'll need to host you."

"Wasn't he captured by my family during the war? I doubt it will make him a welcoming host."

"The Manderlys are loyal to House Stark. In their eyes, that is who you are now."

Her message in her coronation gown had been well-received by her lords and ladies. All the comments and the questions had stopped, and she thanked the gods that Jonelle had the foresight to make sure the dress was kept in good condition. She hadn't gotten apologies, which frankly she didn't expect, but she felt reasonably confident that her people had not wavered too much in their trust and loyalty in her. She resolved to tread much less carefully now than she had been this past year.

Besides petitions, there wasn't much to do. Lord Glover and Lord Magnar had both returned home for a spell, so even if there had been a small council meeting, there wouldn't be much to discuss. After sending off a letter to Ser Wylis and speaking with Maester Wolkan about the state of their medicinal stores, she resolved to keep her mind busy by spending time with her husband. They didn't speak of Meereen, though. They read together in the library, and then spent the night much like the previous.

After they'd finished, she held him tightly against her. She'd long grown used to the fact that lying with Tyrion's small frame sometimes felt like lying with a child, and holding him so close to her felt a bit like it. But she wasn't ready to let him go. He had so quickly become so important to her in ways she still wasn't sure of. And if she was pregnant, she didn't want to face it alone. It had barely been a month, this time. How long would he be away? Would he return a father?

"I'm not ready to let you go," she finally whispered. He reached out to run a hand through her hair, resting it on her hip.

"Sansa. If you ask me to stay, I'll stay."

"I know." She felt him startle, a little, against her. She wondered if he was just as surprised by the fact as she was. She certainly hadn't know it until he said it, but it wouldn't matter. "We have our duties to our realms. This is the price."

"Love is the death of duty, so I've heard."

"It doesn't have to be. It'll be hard, but would it be worth it if it wasn't?"

She didn't say anything about loving him, and neither did he. Her own words from Storm's End ran through her head, though, unprompted. Could she be in love with him? Could he be in love with her? Was this what that felt like?

"Well, a Lannister always pays his debts. And I fear I am indebted to you as much as I am the realm."

She pushed herself up on her elbow, scooting back from him so she could study his face. He'd become easy to read, truly.

"Just promise me that there will come a day when you can come home. When the only debt you are in is mine."

Oh, could she picture that so clearly. Standing in the courtyard of Winterfell, children running around, and her leaning down to kiss him. No one staring at them, because this was just what the Queen in the North and her prince did. Loved fiercely.

He shifted slightly in order to hold her face in his hands, and said, "I swear it."

Dear Tyrion,

I hope your journey has gone well. Give my brother my regards, and I wish you luck with Naharis and the Meereenese delegation. Do inform them that if their trip south proves unsuccessful, we would be happy to host them at Winterfell to discuss… whatever it is they have come to discuss.

Lady Meera and I finalized the proposal today for the Dreadfort. Maester Wolkan is currently copying it out to send to the major lords. Those on the small council approved it, but it is up to all of the others to weigh in as well. Even Lord Glover was complimentary of it, though, so I have hope.

I have reason to believe that Jonelle has become involved in some regard with Ser Erock. He has taken to guarding her door more often than mine, and I often see them laughing in the main hall. I asked Ser Alran about it, but he stammered and blushed when I asked. I am not sure if it is out of embarrassment at the question or embarrassment over knowing something, but he refused to answer me regardless. Did you notice anything before you left?

Ser Wylis sent me a raven saying you were a wonderful guest. I of course have no reason to doubt you weren't, but it was a rather brief letter and I need to know if there's anything I should be discussing with Lord Manderly?

I wish you much luck.

Your wife,

Sansa

PS. I almost forgot. I do not appear to be with child.

Dear Sansa,

I hope you truly did forget. Bronn followed me to my solar the second I entered the keep, asking me questions about Daario, and when I discovered I had a letter from you I was shaking so badly he thought something bad had happened. He felt the need to then provide some tips on how to best get pregnant, which concerns me for how many bastards might be out there that he hasn't told me about. He has yet to make any progress on finding a wife, and is becoming quite annoying about it. I have sworn him to secrecy on our news in exchange for arranging a betrothal myself, which I know I should have done a long time ago. It's too bad Cersei married off Lollys Stokeworth; he did seem to like her well enough, but marrying him outside the Reach now would be disastrous. It's a miracle no one's revolted against him yet, truly.

Having Daario and the Meereenese delegation is certainly distracting, though. I don't know the other emissaries he brought with him. They arrived the day after I did, and they basically just want trade deals. Daario cornered me the second night and asked for everything about Daenerys. Apparently, since no one had ever contacted him, he'd assumed she had no thought for him. The rumors from the Six Kingdoms clearly either didn't circulate to Meereen, or where so destroyed by translation and exaggeration that he didn't bother to believe them.

He knew, though, that Daenerys died because he's seen Drogon flying over Meereen. He hasn't been too much of a danger, but he's taken some livestock. The city has continued to thrive otherwise, and it remains free of slaves. Much of Slaver's Bay still refuses to treat with him, but I don't know why he seeks us out in particular. Now that he knows the North is independent, he might come to you as well, but I thought it would be rude to my king if I offered in your name. It is a delicate dance, this marriage and this role as your brother's hand, but I am glad for both.

I feel much more content with myself than I have in a long time. I do not know why, but I know you are an important piece of it all, and for that I thank you. I know you feel quite the same. It's strange, isn't it, after all this time?

Congratulations to you and Lady Meera. I am very proud of both of you. Did you make the decision on the new name as well?

Ser Erock and Jonelle? I'm afraid I have no gossip to aid you with. I'm not sure I've ever seen them together outside of the Main Hall at meal times. What would that mean for you, though? Is he sworn to celibacy, and a Queensguard for life? And would Jonelle even get married? She struck me as independent like your sister, though I suppose she herself is married.

You seem to be fishing for information, wife, and I know you were trained better than that. What did Ser Wylis say about me that has you so concerned? I swear I was a charming guest. I even kept my drinking to a minimum for your sake.

Your luck is appreciated. Daario has surrounded himself with competent men and women who are quite difficult to negotiate with. We have another few tense days ahead of us, though your brother seems unconcerned. Naturally.

Yours,

Tyrion

Her plan for the Dreadfort went through. They renamed it Castle Stone. If anyone wondered why it shared its name with bastards from the Vale, they didn't ask her, not even Meera. They replace the old Bolton banners with gray ones bearing a single blue rose on them. In the eyes of most of Westeros, Lyanna Stark is still a symbol of cruelty towards women, no matter their beliefs or knowledge of what truly happened. Jon and Bran may have insisted that she married Rhaegar for love, but neither of them lived with Robert Baratheon. Sansa was not as easily convinced. She herself knew the rumors surrounding Loras Tyrell, but that hadn't stopped her from dreaming of being his wife because anything sounded better than Joffrey. She hadn't let herself believe them, and she could picture her aunt doing much the same with Rhaegar, seeing it as her only way out.

Well, maybe anything hadn't sounded better than Joffrey. She'd certainly been afraid of Tyrion at first, and even when that went away, she'd still been a young girl with no say trapped by a collection of people who were abusers in their own way. At the time, life in the Eyrie had felt like agency, but she knew now that it wasn't anywhere close. She hadn't known true agency until her coronation. Even under Jon, she'd been stifled by bent knees and terrible horrors waiting to attack.

A month after she and Meera decreed it open, Meera wrote to her to say they already had five women inside, and that she was sending a rapist to Winterfell for sentencing, and three names to investigate as well.

Her next goal, then, was to find a Master of Whispers.

Dear my skeptical wife,

Before I respond to your previous letter, I have to say this, because I don't know if your brother will: He was very appreciative of the tunic you sent him. He said it looks like one your father used to wear, I believe, and it was by far his favorite nameday present. Much more than the book I got him, and don't roll your eyes at me, he asked for the book, something about the Kings in the North. And yes, I managed to find it without your help, which made me quite proud.

Arya and Gendry sent him a knife, though, and my book went over better than that. I think your sister was trying to make a joke, but he didn't find it overly funny; he just kind of looked grimly at it.

But enough about Bran. Yes, the weather here is treating me quite well. Most of the snow has melted, because yes, it does snow here in winter-you don't have to believe me but it's true. It's quite muddy now, though, which makes it difficult to take out the wheelhouse or litter, so we've mostly been stuck in the keep. Despite the mud, the roads and temperatures are much better, so most of the small council is currently heading home. Since I left most recently, I have been appointed to stay behind. The second one of them returns, I will be heading North. I have a feeling Bran is going to send me up the Kingsroad to check in on people, though, which I am not looking forward to, especially since it's going to be harder for you to get letters to me. I haven't ridden a horse in a while, you see, and I have a feeling that'll get me to Winterfell faster than a wheelhouse, so I won't complaint that much.

Would it be so bad for Lord Manderly to change positions? I agree that he makes the most sense. Didn't you tell me he's how the Umbers wound up with Rickon in the first place? It sounds like he already has good connections. You could even send him permanently back to White Harbor, if you wanted. I suppose I shouldn't know too much about Jonelle and Ser Alran's spy networks, but I know they have them, and I know you speak with Talya quite often when I'm not there about what goes on within Winterfell's walls. Conflict of interest and all, which I understand. I just mean that you would be well protected in Winterfell and the nearby town, and that would allow him to focus on larger whispers, like those passed by sailors.

I think my only question would be who would become your Master of Ships? Alysanne Mormont? I'm not sure who else has a significant naval presence. One of the things I've neglected in my study of our people, I will admit. With the pirates on the loose, I'm not sure taking her away from Bear Island would be wise, though I'm sure you've already thought of that.

Do keep me informed on Jonelle and Ser Erock. Did they fall for your trap? I think Jonelle will be able to see right through you, my dear. I'd be willing to put money on it.

Brienne and Podrick send their love. I told Podrick you wouldn't mind writing to him as well, but he blushed at the prospect. I think that boy only has two options: Pale or scarlet. Though he's not a boy anymore, I suppose. He's four and twenty now. His nameday is just after Bran's; did you know that? I got him a new pair of boots and told him they were from both of us, so don't fret over sending him something.

I miss you.

Yours,

Tyrion

He was right, of course, he almost always was. She sat on everything for a bit. Sent a letter to Pod wishing him a happy nameday, and asked if he wanted something other than boots, and got a short reply saying basically thanks, but no thanks. Sentenced a rapist to death for raping three girls, yes, girls, not women. One of them had flowered, but Meera said she looked no more than one and ten, and Sansa refused to consider that a woman. Co-negotiated a new trade deal over fruit from Dorne. She did not manage to get Jonelle to fall for her rather clever trap, but Jonelle admitted to having kissed Erock anyway, so she felt victorious enough. Heard petitions. Coordinated the capture and death of pirates. Finally started a true spy network, after years of telling herself that Petyr was wrong, and she could rely on her people's love alone.

Based on Tyrion's letters, in the same amount of time, Bran had appointed a new high septon, attended Bronn's wedding, and finalized trade deals with Meereen. It wasn't a competition, of course, but she couldn't help but think she was winning.

Dear my restless husband,

Thank the gods. I was about to send a letter to Bronn and tell him that if he wasn't back in the capitol within the next moonturn, I would find a way to make his life ridiculously unpleasant. I hope Bran knows I'm going to fight to keep you for more than a month this time. Three, at least. And if you do stop at any keeps, send me ravens, please. We've cleaned up our part of the kingsroad, and we're not at war anymore, but I worry. I'm telling Pod, too, so hopefully between the two of you you'll remember.

Lady Alysanne arrived in Winterfell yesterday and we had our first small council meeting with her. She wants to expand ports in the North, which Lord Manderly admitted was a good idea, though it clearly was hard for him to say. He'd done the bare minimum for ports that weren't White Harbor and then called it a day. She challenges him, in a good way. Lord Magnar is absolutely in awe of her, I think. Sadly for him, I think any pursuing will go about as well for him as it did for Tormund when he went after Ser Brienne. Alysanne already has children, after all; she doesn't need anyone.

Speaking of pursuing, Jonelle asked for Ser Erock to come with her when she goes home in a fortnight. Not forever, of course; did I mention to you that Lord Cley and his wife were expecting their first child? Well, they are, and the babe will arrive any day now, so she will be going home for at least a sennight. It's all escalated rather quickly, but Erock is a good man. I made no rules of celibacy for my Queensguard, and Ser Alran has not noticed a slip in Erock's behavior or commitment. And Jonelle is quite happy.

It only makes me jealous when I think of how far away you are, and no amount of daytime activity has proven distracting enough when I go to sleep. Come home.

Your equally restless wife,

Sansa

Just a few weeks shy of a month since her husband rode out of Winterfell, he returned. This time, she greeted him in the courtyard, dropping to her knees to pull him close to her. He kissed her forehead, and even though she never left, it felt almost like coming home had all those years ago.

The first few weeks were much like last year- Tyrion ran about, trying to learn everything he could about Winterfell's state before everyone arrived for the conference; Sansa did the same but was much less obvious about it. She poured over notes with her small council from the last session, spent hours with Lord Manderly and Jonelle and Ser Alran and Talya discussing spy reports, wrote dizzying amounts of proposals and rebuttals and defenses. Most of her people were already on their way, so the rookery stood almost eerily quiet, except for the few lone letters family and friends were sending from across Westeros. Jon went beyond the wall again. Gendry forged Arya a new weapon. Bran wrote her some cryptic note about trust that made her hackles rise as she tried, desperately, to figure out who she was or wasn't supposed to trust, and with what.

Tyrion let her take out her stress on him, in the form of angry tirades and in fast, hard coupling that you could only call fucking and him picking up the slack as Lord of Winterfell. It was him who made all the room and feast preparations with Evin and the cooks. He even organized a hunt in the Wolfswood to celebrate spring, which was such a hit with her lords and even some of her ladies that she didn't feel the need to remind them all that she was still a Stark and her judgement should be trusted on that alone. Now they trusted her judgement because she proved it was right to be trusted.

The gods were cruel to her, and to him, and she could never forget that, but other times, she kneeled before the heart tree and thanked every single one of them for giving them each other.

It was during one such trip, surrounded by a few other lords and even Tyrion, in the back, kneeling but she could tell he didn't pray, that she finally understood what Bran's letter meant. It meant trust him, with it all, and let him trust her, too, and while they won't fix each other, they'll come out far stronger in the end.

She did that night. After the final feast, after making love slowly, savoring every inch of his skin that she could reach, she opened her heart fully and without fear. He'd told her she didn't need to, that he didn't need to know everything, but she told him regardless, starting all the way back to that day on the kingsroad when Nymeria bit Joffrey. Her throat was sore by the end of it all and she shook just a little, but she felt like a weight had been taken off her shoulders, weight she was never meant to bear alone.

He recognized what she'd done, and so he told his own story. He didn't have to say what happened to Tysha for her to understand. Both revelations about Shae- that he loved her, and that he killed her- put King's Landing and the game he played there into perspective.

Perhaps she should be afraid of a man who killed his lover, who convinced her brother to kill his own, but she wasn't. She understood. Maybe something was broken in her, but it was broken in him, too. She'd killed, too. She'd betrayed her friends and family when she knew what came next, even when they refused to see it.

After the damage was done, their faces wet, their bodies intertwined, she realized: This must be what love feels like. Acceptance.

They got five months, this time. When they arrived at Castle Cerwyn for Jonelle and Ser Erock's wedding, a letter from Bran waited for them, insisting that he needed Tyrion and he could return in a few months. The letter didn't say why. Sansa suspected it was bullshit, her brother trying to get one over on her-but then remembered that, for all she didn't fully recognize her brother anymore, he wasn't cruel.

Both Jonelle and Ser Erock were planning on staying mostly at Winterfell. He was still a member of her Queensguard, after all. But Jonelle had never been given a choice over where she would be married before, and Erock was not from a landed family; his mother worked in Winterfell's kitchens before being killed by the Boltons, and Erock worked with whatever Master-At-Arms was appointed at the time, knowing no other way to protect his family. Sansa knighted everyone who had fought in and survived the War for the Dawn, and while she perhaps shouldn't have trusted him, Ser Alran did, and he was the one to organize her Queensguard. Now, Erock was perhaps her most loyal member.

So they decided to marry in the godswood at Castle Cerwyn. Arya and Gendry were invited, and Sansa hadn't seen her sister since her wedding, and spent much of the ride to the keep nearly vibrating with excitement.

The reunion with her sister was much better than their first one, years ago in the crypts. Arya fully hugged her back this time, for one, and there was no discussion of Joffrey or lists. They walked to the main hall for the welcoming feast and Arya complained about some of the Stormlords. Sansa glanced back at her husband and Gendry and found them talking, which made her smile as she turned back to listen to Arya's rant. She'd clearly been saving it just for her.

Sansa was yawning by the time the last course was served, and she and Tyrion walked back to their assigned chambers shortly after. They changed quickly and all but collapsed into bed, both worn out by the hard ride. Castle Cerwyn wasn't that far from Winterfell, but there'd been a summer snow last night and their party had to really pick up the pace at the end to make it in time.

He kissed her hand and was snoring before she knew it. Despite her own exhaustion, she couldn't help but smile and curl up against him. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but they didn't come out, and she closed her eyes and fell asleep to his heartbeat.

The dress she brought for the wedding was one gifted to her for her nameday by her sister. Or, well, the fabric had been gifted to her by her sister, some Lysene silk that she treasured.

"Your tits look fantastic," Tyrion said after the assigned handmaid had left, and she rolled her eyes. The dress' waist was high, sitting just underneath her breasts in a way that Tyrion had never seen from her.

"It's not about me today."

"That may be true, but I do remember the last wedding we attended together ended remarkably well."

"Oh really?" she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He understood exactly what she was doing and came to stand in front of her. She spread her legs just enough for him to stand between them, his hands on her waist, pulling her as flush against him as he could.

"At Bronn's wedding, all I could think about was how your fingers trailed up my arm," he said, mimicking the action against her own arm. She shivered. "How your lips felt. The noises you made. Watching you come for the first time. The way you felt around me." He pressed a kiss to her between every sentence-her collarbone, her neck, her lips. She was dangerously close to never leaving their rooms.

"Well, maybe tonight we'll do it all again," she replied.

And they did. She passed out, absolutely exhausted, afterwards, and didn't even wake until after he'd left, a note on the vanity table telling her he loved her. She wondered what gave him the courage to do so, but maybe it was that he didn't have to say it to her face.

It took her three weeks to realize she was pregnant.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. They're such great motivators. I hope to have the next chapter up at the same time next week!