Chapter 15: I Will Never Hurt You

Tyrion could not stand to remember the look on Sansa's face as she told him to leave her bedchamber. For a moment, he had thought they were becoming close. But he ruined it. Why, oh why did he have to mention other suitors to her? He could see her begin to build walls around her emotions. He could feel her closing herself off from him. It felt like the early days of their marriage all over again. Sansa protected her heart. She protected herself fiercely. Tyrion walked along the corridor silently, replaying his interaction with Sansa over and over again. She didn't give him a chance to explain himself. "It was hopeless," he thought. As he walked he could not shake from his memory the way that Sansa had responded to his kiss. Did Sansa want him? It was hard for him to believe that any woman wanted him. As he grew into a man, he experienced nothing but disappointment and ridicule from highborn ladies like her. This was why he preferred the company of whores. They had no choice but to accept him, as he was, he thought bitterly. Something inside him was telling him that he should not give up on the Lady of Winterfell so easily. He needed to go back to her. He needed to go back to Sansa and talk to her. He needed to speak with her honestly.

Tyrion walked purposefully through the corridors. When he reached Sansa's bedchamber, he knocked firmly. He heard her small voice through the heavy wooden door.

"Yes," she said.

"Lady Sansa," he continued, "I must speak with you."

He stood there, silently, waiting for her. For a moment, he thought that she might not come to the door. But after a few moments, the door slid open a crack, and he made his way inside.

The bedclothes were strewn about. The fire was burning in the hearth, casting their shadows against the walls. Sansa towered over him. Her eyes were red, and puffy. Had she been crying? Surely, he thought, Sansa Stark would not waste her tears on him.

She was wearing a thin linen nightshirt. She walked over to her featherbed, and took a seat on the edge of it. Tyrion pulled the chair that sat in front of her writing desk over towards the featherbed and positioned it to face her.

"Sansa, you must know that I did not intend to hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you."

"Yes, my lord," she said, but she avoided his eyes.

He reached out a hand to her. He clasped her hands in his, and her hands seemed to be trembling slightly. He clasped his hands over hers, and her hands felt soft, and smooth, and warm. He caressed her slender wrists gently with his thumbs and it seemed to him that he could feel her pulse quicken beneath his touch. She looked up at him.

"Sansa," he began, "I care for you. I have always been fond of you. You must know that."

Her vivid blue eyes looked questioningly at his face. Yes. She looked as if she had been crying. Tyrion stood up now, to face her. Though she sat, he stood at eye level with her. Her eyes looked soft, and sad. He could feel the warmth emanating from her, and he longed to reach out and caress her. But he was not sure how this would be received.

Untangling one of his hands from hers, he reached up to fix her hair. He felt her tremble slightly as he tucked a stray tendril of her auburn hair behind her left ear. As he grazed her skin, he felt a charge of electricity. Did Sansa Stark, the lady of Winterfell...want him? No. He pushed the thought away.

She looked into his eyes and she looked like a scared doe. He cleared his throat. "What is it that you want from our union Sansa?"

She seemed unsure what to say. "Love." She looked at him directly. It felt as if she were looking through him.

"Love?" He repeated. "I think that I can give you that."

Her eyes softened, but she said nothing more.

Tyrion was not sure how to tell her how he felt for her. When they were forced together, he found himself becoming more and more entranced by his lovely young wife. But he knew that she detested him, and his wretched family. He knew that he disappointed her. She had grown up with the hopes of marrying a handsome Lord. He knew that he was not the husband of her dreams. For a while, he wondered what became of his wife, but he heard nothing of her movements or whereabouts. When they reconnected, he found himself impressed with her poise and strength. Throughout all of her hardships, she persevered and she came out on the other side stronger. He admired her. He sat for a long time, just looking at her. Gods she was beautiful. She had matured in the space of time since they had been apart. She was confident. She was strong. He felt as if he would be a hindrance to her.

She was watching him now. He was acutely aware of her eyes as they took him in.

"Lord Tyrion," she began, "I feel...as if I have embarrassed myself."

"How so my lady?" he regarded her curiously.

"You have seen my...nakedness." she lowered her gaze from his, her face reddened.

"And it was glorious," he smiled mischievously. "Sansa, we are both grown. You have been my wife. You have no reason to be embarrassed in front of me."

"But don't I, my lord? I have behaved in a way unbecoming of a lady."

"Sansa, look at me." He cupped her face in his hands. "You have no need to ever feel embarrassed in front of me."

She seemed unconvinced.

"Do you still want to be my wife?"

"I don't see how it can work my lord." she began.

"Call me Tyrion Sansa."

"I don't see how it can work, Tyrion." She looked into his eyes then, her expression a riddle.

"I don't want to live without you Sansa. I can hardly go a day without thinking about you." He stepped closer to her. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin chemise. He longed to slip it off of her. But he knew that was too much too soon. Especially in light of her present condition of embarrassment.

"I...feel...quite the same," she stammered.

He embraced her then. She felt warm, and soft in his arms. He felt the soft, roundness of her breasts against his chest, and smelled the sweet fragrance of her hair as he pulled her close to him. She wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his neck.

He pulled away from their embrace, "I promise you Sansa, I will never hurt you. Do you trust me?"

She nodded, what felt like a "Yes," and buried her face in his neck.