Chapter Ten

The next morning when Sansa entered her solar to join Eddard and Arya for the morning meal, she was surprised to find Arya sitting all alone. Ordinarily, Eddard was the first one at breakfast each morning. He took considerable pride in dressing himself and sitting at the head of the table, waiting for his family to join him, always eager to behave like a proper Lord of Winterfell.

Sansa sat down beside Arya and waited for Eddard. When the food arrived and Eddard didn't, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of Sansa's stomach and she immediately went in search of her son.

Sansa headed straight for Eddard's bedchamber. As soon as she reached it, she threw open the door and rushed inside. The room was empty, the bed was in disarray, and the clothes that had been laid out for Eddard the night before were still lying on the chest at the foot of the bed.

Sansa's heart pounded against her ribs, and she raced from the room, practically running back to her solar. Although Eddard was a spirited child, he took his responsibilities as lord of the keep very seriously. Sansa knew he would never go anywhere without her approval, knew he would never disappear without a word.

"Did you find him?" Arya asked as Sansa skidded into the room. Arya didn't even bother to look up from the table. She was too busy eating her breakfast.

"He's not in his room," Sansa said, the panic rising in her voice. "His bed hasn't been made, and his clothes are still there."

Arya seemed wholly undaunted by this information. "Have you checked with Tyrion?"

"Tyrion?" Sansa had completely forgotten about Tyrion. She'd been too worried about Eddard's disappearance to think about anything else.

"Yes, Tyrion. You might want to check with him before you go alerting the guards."

Had Sansa not spent the past year living with Arya, she might have been put off by her sister's seeming indifference, but she wasn't. It was obvious that Arya knew something that Sansa didn't. But then, Arya seemed to know everything that went on at Winterfell even before it happened.

Sansa inhaled a steadying breath, willing herself to remain calm. Without a word, she turned around and left her solar, heading straight for Tyrion's chamber.

Sansa traversed the hallways with hurried steps, fighting the urge to run. When she finally reached Tyrion's door, she stopped for a moment, trying to get her bearings. This was the second time in two days she had started the morning by going to his room, and she didn't want him to misconstrue her intentions. She wasn't there because she wanted to see him. She was there because she was looking for Eddard, and for no other reason.

Sansa didn't bother to knock. She was simply too anxious, and she didn't have the patience to wait for Tyrion to answer. She needed to know if Eddard was in Tyrion's chamber before another moment passed.

Slowly, quietly, Sansa pushed the door open, peeking around the edge just far enough to see inside. The room was much as it had been the previous morning, though this time, there were two bodies in the bed, not one.

Sansa exhaled a sigh of relief as her eyes settled on little Eddard snuggled beneath the covers. "Oh, thank the gods," she whispered. She leaned her head against the door, suddenly needing it for support.

Sansa knew she should go, leave Eddard and Tyrion to their rest, but she was utterly entranced by the sight of them. They were both sound asleep, little Eddard beneath the furs, Tyrion above, Eddard's beloved book of dragon tales at the foot of the bed. Sansa didn't know how they had ended up in that position, but she was sure she could imagine. Her heart surged with emotion, and she had to fight back the tears as she quietly watched her son and her husband lying fast asleep on the bed. It was something Sansa had thought she would never see, and it affected her profoundly. Tyrion had denied Eddard in every way he could, but when it had come down to it, he'd done the right thing. He hadn't sent the boy away, he'd welcomed him to spend the night, and it gave Sansa the tiniest sliver of hope that, perhaps, they could have a happy future together after all.

As enchanting as the scene before her was, Sansa knew she couldn't stand there all morning just staring at the bed. She decided she would let Tyrion and Eddard sleep for as long as they liked. She was sure they were both exhausted, and they simply looked too serene to disturb.

As Sansa began to pull the door closed, it creaked on its hinges, and she cringed inwardly, hoping the sound hadn't woken them. But before she could make her escape, Tyrion's voice broke the silence.

"Sansa?"

Sansa's heart beat a little faster, and she stopped her retreat. She was tempted to ignore him, but that was the coward's way out. Instead, she inched the door open again and stepped into the room. Tyrion was on his feet by the time she closed the door behind her. He rounded the bed and crossed the floor, stopping directly in front of her but leaving a considerable distance between them.

"I know this looks rather odd," Tyrion said, his voice low and quiet. It was obvious that he didn't want to disturb Eddard any more than she did.

"No. There's nothing odd about it."

"What are you doing here?"

"Eddard didn't come to breakfast. When I went to his room, his bed was empty and his clothes were still there. I had no idea where he'd gone, then Arya suggested that I check with you."

Tyrion fidgeted on his feet. "I told him he couldn't stay. But he wouldn't listen to me. The boy's damned stubborn."

Sansa fought back a knowing smile. "Yes, I know."

"He came in here with that book and wouldn't leave until I read him a story. And then, he insisted upon reading one to me. At that point, he was so deeply ensconced in the bed that I couldn't have moved him if I'd tried."

It was hard for Sansa not to grin at Tyrion's supposed misfortune. Although he was trying to pretend that he was annoyed, his performance wasn't particularly convincing. "Well, I'm sorry if he inconvenienced you. I'll have a talk with him, and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Tyrion turned his head and looked at Eddard, still sleeping soundly on the bed. "I didn't say that. He's a child who loves to read. It would be terrible to quash that impulse just because it's inconvenient. I wouldn't want to discourage his enthusiasm for the written word."

"Of course," Sansa replied, wishing she could laugh but holding herself back. She had just offered to keep Eddard away from Tyrion, and yet, he'd given her a perfectly good reason not to. If Tyrion had really wanted nothing to do with his son, he would have seized upon the opportunity to exile Eddard from his chamber once and for all.

"Tell me something," Tyrion said, turning back to look at her. "Why haven't you told him yet?"

Sansa didn't need to ask Tyrion what he was talking about. He obviously knew that she hadn't revealed his identity to Eddard yet. She'd tried the day before – oh, how she had tried – but she hadn't been able to find the right words. Tyrion had every intention of leaving Winterfell as soon as possible, and Sansa feared what it would do to Eddard to finally have the father he had always wanted and then lose him a few days later. Sansa knew that Eddard had to be told the truth, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Well?" Tyrion prompted when Sansa didn't reply.

"I don't know how to tell him."

"You'll have to tell him soon, before the servants figure it out and he hears gossip in the hallways."

"The sooner I tell him, the happier he'll be. But I fear . . ." Sansa wasn't sure she should continue. She didn't want Tyrion to think that she was trying to manipulate him, because she wasn't. But the words had to be said. "I fear that if he knows the truth, he'll be happy for a time, happier than he's ever been in his life, but the moment you leave, it will devastate him beyond repair. I'm scared to hurt him like that. He means everything in the world to me, and I don't want to see him suffer any more than he already has."

"Then maybe we shouldn't tell him. Maybe it would be best if I left now. I know the weather is bad, but surely, I could get as far as the winter town without issue. It's just beyond the gates. I could go now, and Eddard need never know who I am."

Sansa shook her head. "No. This is his one chance to know you for who you really are. I'm not going to take that away from him. Years from now, I don't want him to hate me when he finds out that the kind man who visited Winterfell when he was a child, the one who read him bedtime stories about dragons, was really his father and he never knew it. That would just be cruel.

"I'm not kind," Tyrion said, the words so low that Sansa wasn't sure she was meant to hear them.

"You are, Tyrion. You could have barred your door against Eddard last night, but you didn't. You let him in, and you were kind to him. Just as you were always kind to me."

There was regret in Tyrion's eyes as he stared back at her, regret and something else that she just couldn't name. "But it wasn't enough, was it? It wasn't enough to save you from heartache or suffering."

Sansa knew they both had regrets. Although Tyrion had done his best to protect her and comfort her when they'd first been married, his father and Joffrey had done all they could to make her life a living hell, including murdering her mother and brother. While Sansa was certain that Tyrion had not been involved in that horrific plot, he hadn't been able to stop it either, or to make things better once the dreadful deed had been done.

"We are all in this world to suffer," Sansa said. "I didn't always believe that, but the last eight years have taught me that lesson. The best any of us can do is try to ease each other's suffering. And you did try when we were in King's Landing. You were kind to me, and patient, and understanding. I haven't forgotten that. And I won't forget the kindness you've shown Eddard either."

"What do you want, Sansa?" Tyrion asked, his eyes narrowing on her in question. "What do you really want?"

"I want you to stay. I want us to be a family. Gods know, I've already lost so much of my family. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"But your dreams—"

"I've told you I've outgrown them. They were the silly dreams of a silly little girl, and that's not what I want anymore. I want my husband and my child and Winterfell. That's what I want, and nothing else will ever make me happy."

Tyrion stared at her, his eyes glassy with disbelief. She could tell that he wanted to say something but that he just couldn't find the words. All he managed was, "Sansa . . ."

There was a sudden rustling on the bed, and Sansa turned away from Tyrion to look at Eddard.

He scrambled from beneath the furs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of one hand. "Mother?"

Sansa spared a glance at Tyrion. He was still staring at her as if her words had meant something to him, something deep and profound. She moved toward the bed, turning her attention back to her son, afraid to look at Tyrion for too long. She had said too much, and she knew it. Now, she just wanted to pretend that it had never happened.

"You gave me quite a scare," Sansa said to Eddard. "I thought someone had stolen you from your bed."

"I'm sorry. I just came for a bedtime story." Eddard strained his neck, looking all about the room for Tyrion who was half hidden by the tall footboard at the bottom of the bed. "Has he gone?"

"No, no," Tyrion answered. "I'm right here." He walked around to the opposite side of the bed, stopping directly across from Sansa.

"Oh, good," Eddard replied. "I was afraid you left without saying goodbye."

"No, I wouldn't do that. You're the Lord of Winterfell after all. You should know everything that goes on in the keep. I would never sneak out without saying a proper farewell."

Eddard turned to Sansa. "Have I missed breakfast?"

"No, it's still waiting for you. Come," she said, holding out her arms to him, intending to carry him from the room. "Let's leave Lord Tyrion alone for a while. We've bothered him enough for one morning."

Eddard's eyes widened in disbelief. "Lord Tyrion?"

Sansa's heart froze, and a cold flush swept her entire body. She hadn't realized what she'd said until Eddard had questioned it. How could she have been so foolish? She hadn't been thinking clearly, and she'd just made a terrible mistake.

Eddard's eyes darted to Tyrion, and when Sansa turned to look at her husband, she saw his head bent toward the floor, as if he was afraid to face his son.

"Tyrion Lannister?" Eddard asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Sansa didn't know how to respond, what to say or what to do. Eddard was staring at Tyrion in amazement, and Tyrion looked as if he wanted to run.

"Are you Tyrion Lannister?" Eddard asked again when no one replied.

It took Tyrion a moment, but finally, he raised his head and met Eddard's eyes. "I am."

Eddard's bottom lip began to tremble, and Sansa thought he might try to speak, but he didn't. A second later, he jumped off the bed, launching himself at Tyrion and throwing his arms around his neck. In Eddard's unbridled enthusiasm, he nearly knocked Tyrion to the floor.

"Eddard!" Sansa rounded the bed, horrified by her son's rash behavior.

By the time she reached them, Tyrion had regained his balance and was holding Eddard awkwardly in his arms. He looked highly uncomfortable, but he made no move to push the boy away.

"I knew you'd come back," Eddard mumbled against Tyrion's neck. "I just knew you would!"

Tyrion stared at Sansa over Eddard's shoulder. His expression was blank, nearly unreadable. She knew this wasn't what he wanted, but the truth was out, and there was no way to take it back.

Eddard continued to cling to Tyrion, rambling on about how happy he was to finally have his father home. It wasn't until the initial shock wore off that Tyrion finally lowered Eddard to the ground.

"I'm glad that you're so happy to see me," Tyrion said, his hands wrapped around Eddard's upper arms, holding him in place. Even from several feet away, Sansa could see that Tyrion was shaking, and she wondered if he was holding onto Eddard to reassure the boy or to keep himself from falling to the floor.

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?" Eddard asked, the pain in his voice unmistakable.

Sansa didn't wait for Tyrion to reply. She moved closer, sinking to her knees and reaching for her son. She urged him to turn toward her so that she could look in his eyes. "That was my doing," she said. "I wanted you to have a chance to get to know your father before we revealed the truth to everyone. No one in Winterfell knows Lord Tyrion's true identity. Not yet. It's a secret that only you, I, and Aunt Arya know. You like keeping secrets, don't you?"

"Yes. But why do we have to?"

Sansa glanced at Tyrion. His face was flushed, his hair was disheveled, and he was dressed in a nightshirt that was two sizes too big for him. "Does he look like a proper lord to you?"

Eddard turned and examined Tyrion thoughtfully. "No, of course not."

"Well, until he does, who would believe that he is the rightful Lord of Winterfell? Your father has traveled a great distance to return to us, and he has endured many hardships. He needed some time to recover before assuming his duties as lord of the keep. Once everyone knows the truth, things will change, and I wanted us to have this private time together as a family before that happened."

Nothing that Sansa had told Eddard was inherently false. It all made perfect sense to her, and she prayed that it would make perfect sense to him. She didn't want there to be any awkwardness between Eddard and Tyrion, or any mistrust. She wanted Eddard to forget all about their deception so that he could start enjoying having his father in his life before Tyrion walked away again.

"Does this mean that I'm not the Lord of Winterfell anymore?" Eddard asked.

Of course, that was exactly what it meant, but Sansa was reluctant to admit it. She hated disappointing Eddard. He'd had such a hard life already – living in exile in the Vale, surviving the Great War – she hated doing anything that might hurt him. But now, she had no choice but to tell him that, while he had gained a father, he had lost the right to call himself the Lord of Winterfell.

"You're still Lord Eddard Lannister," Sansa said. "And that's never going to change. And someday – hopefully, a very long time from now – you'll be the Lord of Winterfell again."

Eddard moved his eyes from Sansa to Tyrion, and Sansa followed his gaze. Tyrion still looked stunned, and Sansa wished he would say something more, but he seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I don't mind," Eddard said to Tyrion, "because it means I have a father now, just like I've always wanted."

Tyrion's eyes softened as he looked down at his son, and Sansa's heart swelled with unspoken joy. If they could have stayed that way forever, just the three of them, Sansa would have died happy. She had imagined this moment so many times, and two nights earlier, she'd thought it would never happen. But it had happened, and Sansa would be eternally grateful for it. It was obvious that Tyrion cared for Eddard, even if he refused to believe that the boy was his. There was simply no denying that.

"I'm glad that I could make you happy," Tyrion said. "I'm glad that you're not disappointed."

Eddard shook his head adamantly. "Oh, no. I've never been so happy!" He looked like he was about to burst, and Sansa was sure he wanted nothing more than to run through the halls of Winterfell telling everyone that his father had returned. She was happy for him, even though she knew his joy would be short-lived.

"Good," Tyrion said softly. "I'm glad."

Without warning, Eddard threw his arms around Tyrion's waist and hugged him again. Tyrion reached up with both hands and tentatively patted Eddard on the back.

"You're a good boy," Tyrion said. "A good little lord. And any man would be proud to call you his son."

"Are you proud of me?" Eddard asked, pulling back so he could look up into his father's eyes.

"Yes, very proud," Tyrion replied, his voice catching in his throat. "And your mother is proud of you too. Isn't that right, Lady Lannister?"

"It is."

Eddard hugged Tyrion again, then finally let him go. He turned toward Sansa. His eyes bright with expectation, he asked, "Can I tell Maester Wolkan?"

"Yes, you can." Sansa knew that the rest of the keep would have to learn the truth eventually. And Winterfell's new maester was a very shrewd man. She was sure he already suspected that their mysterious visitor was the rightful Lord of Winterfell.

"Can I send a raven to cousin Jon and Uncle Jaime?"

"It's already been done, but if you want to write to them and tell them how happy you are, you can do that. Ask Maester Wolkan to help you."

"All right," Eddard agreed.

He turned away then, obviously intent on racing to Maester Wolkan's chamber, but he traveled no more than two feet before he spun around and threw himself into Tyrion's arms again. He squeezed his father tightly. "I love you," Eddard said. "You're the best father in the world." Then, he turned and ran off on his mission, determined to tell all of Winterfell that his long-lost father was finally home.

The silence that followed was painfully awkward, and Sansa didn't want to be the first to speak. She hazarded a glance at Tyrion, afraid of what she might find. He was staring at the floor again, his brow furrowed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

When Tyrion just continued to stare at the floorboards, Sansa was forced to break the silence. "I should leave you," she said softly. "I'm sorry for all the intrusions."

Sansa stood and walked to the door, hoping that Tyrion would call her back, but he didn't. She left the room without another word spoken between them.