Author's Notes: So apparently, I don't know how to count. I originally thought this story had 34 chapters (including the prologue and epilogue), but it actually has 35. This is the last full-length chapter. The next chapter will be the epilogue.
Chapter Thirty-three
A week later, Tyrion stood in the yard beside his beloved wife as they bid farewell to Jaime and Brienne. Tyrion was sorry to see them go, but he was eager to begin his new life with Sansa. Spring was in the air, the snow was already melting, and life at Winterfell hadn't been happier since Ned Stark himself had been lord of the keep. Tyrion was looking forward to settling into domestic life with his own little family and enjoying the rest of his days in peace.
Although a week had passed since Sansa had confessed her love, Tyrion was still reeling from her declaration. After everything he had been through in his life, it was hard for him to believe that a woman like Sansa could ever love a man like him. But he knew that she did. He saw it every time their eyes met, felt it every time she touched him. She loved him with all her heart, and Tyrion – undeserving mortal that he was – would never doubt her again.
"Take care of him for me," Jaime said to Sansa as he nodded in Tyrion's direction. "I know he can be difficult. If he gives you any more trouble, just send me a raven, and I'll head straight back to Winterfell."
"I appreciate the offer," Sansa answered, "but I'm sure I can handle him. He's not quite as clever as he thinks he is, and I know his weaknesses now."
Jaime's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Yes, I'm sure you do." He took Sansa's hand and bowed over it, kissing it with the gallantry of a true knight. "Take care, my lady, until we meet again."
"And you as well, my lord. Safe journey."
Jaime let go of Sansa's hand and finally turned his attention to Tyrion. "Well, brother, I guess this is goodbye. Hopefully, this goodbye won't be as long as the last one."
Jaime bent down and pulled Tyrion into his arms, clutching him against his chest as if he couldn't quite bear to leave him. Tyrion hugged Jaime just as fiercely, knowing that it might be years before they saw each other again.
When Jaime finally pulled away, there were tears glistening in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He stood and took a step back, allowing Sansa and Brienne to say their goodbyes.
The two women hugged like sisters, and when they broke apart, Tyrion could see that Jaime wasn't the only one who was struggling to hold back the tears.
"I wish you all the happiness in the world," Sansa said, her voice thick with emotion. "And that your baby shall be born happy and healthy."
"And I wish the same for you," Brienne replied, smiling brightly. "You must send us a raven as soon as the baby arrives."
When Sansa had first told Tyrion that she was pregnant, they had intended to keep her condition a secret until she was further along and they were certain there would be no complications. But there were no secrets at Winterfell, and within a couple of days, word of Sansa's condition had spread like wildfire throughout the keep. The only person who didn't know about the baby was Eddard. Tyrion and Sansa had just been waiting for the right time to tell him. They both knew that Eddard was going to be inconsolable after Jaime and Brienne left, and they were hoping that news of a new baby would help cheer him up once his aunt and uncle were gone.
As if on cue, Eddard came running into the yard at that very moment, followed by Arya. She looked as cold and indifferent as ever, not a hint of emotion in her eyes. She hadn't said anything about the baby yet, or the sudden change in Sansa and Tyrion's relationship, but Tyrion was sure she had her opinions and had just chosen to keep them to herself. Even after two months in her company, Tyrion was still wary of Arya Stark, but she was family, and he was slowly coming around to liking her even more than he feared her. He knew it was going to take time for things to get better between them, but now that he would be staying at Winterfell, they had all the time in the world.
"Uncle Jaime!" Eddard exclaimed as he raced headlong at his uncle.
Jaime bent down just in time to catch Eddard. He hoisted the boy up into the air and whirled him around in a circle, Eddard's little legs swinging out around them as if he were flying. Eddard laughed with delight, and Jaime smiled with pure joy. When they finally stopped spinning, Jaime lifted Eddard a little higher and settled him against his hip, holding him close.
"Did you really think we were going to leave without saying goodbye?" Jaime asked Eddard.
"Can't you take us with you?" Eddard almost whined.
"Not this time. But you'll visit someday. I'm sure we'll all meet again sooner than you think."
Eddard wrapped his arms around Jaime's neck and rested his head on his shoulder. "But I want to go now."
"I know, dear boy, I know. But you have responsibilities here at Winterfell. And I think, a very special reason to stay."
Tyrion cast a warning glance at Jaime. Jaime knew they hadn't told Eddard about the baby yet, and he was treading dangerous ground.
"What reason?" Eddard asked.
"Well, I can't tell you that. It's going to be a surprise." Jaime hugged Eddard tightly and placed a light kiss on the top of his head. "Now, it's time for us to say our farewells."
Eddard clung even more desperately to Jaime. There were tears in his eyes, but he didn't cry. He was Sansa Stark's son, after all, and the future Lord of Winterfell. Even at four-and-a-half years old, he knew how to control his emotions in public, or at least, how not to crumble under the weight of them.
Eddard kissed Jaime on the cheek and then grudgingly allowed himself to be lowered to the ground.
Once he was firmly on his feet, Brienne knelt in front of him and said, "May I have a kiss goodbye as well?"
Eddard threw his arms around her neck and buried his head against her shoulder, clearly fighting back the tears. Brienne held him close, kissing his temple and stroking his hair.
"It's all right," she said. "Your uncle's right. We'll all see each other again very soon."
Eddard pulled back and placed a quick kiss on Brienne's cheek before retreating from her embrace. Brienne stood, and Sansa stepped forward, taking Eddard's little hand in her own and drawing him away.
It was hard for Tyrion to watch Eddard suffer, but there was nothing he could do for him at that moment. Tyrion couldn't stop Jaime and Brienne from leaving, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Be careful," Tyrion said to Jaime. "And send me a raven as soon as you arrive at the Rock. I want to know that you're safe the instant you get there."
"I will. And you keep them safe," Jaime said with a nod toward Tyrion's little family. "And rest assured, if you do anything to hurt your dear wife again, I shall have no choice but to return to Winterfell and put an end to you myself."
Tyrion laughed. "I think I've more than learned my lesson. You have nothing to worry about. I swear it."
Jaime's lips curved in a crooked half smile, and Tyrion knew his brother only half believe him.
There was another round of goodbyes before Jaime and Brienne finally mounted their horses and set off on their journey. As soon as they passed through the East Gate, Eddard let go of Sansa's hand and rushed to the edge of the yard so that he could watch them ride off into the distance.
"Do you think we should tell him now?" Sansa asked.
Tyrion turned to look up at her, finding her gaze still focused on Eddard.
"I think," Tyrion replied, "if you don't want him to cry himself to sleep tonight, and every night for the next moonturn, that might be a good idea."
Sansa reached down and slipped her hand into Tyrion's, squeezing it gently. "I'll ask him to come inside," she said, finally turning to look down at Tyrion. "Wait for us in the library, all right?"
"Of course, my lady." And then, because he simply couldn't help himself, Tyrion lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
A soft blush tinted Sansa's cheeks, and she offered Tyrion a secret smile before heading off to fetch their son. Tyrion turned back toward the keep, intent on heading straight to the library, but found Arya blocking his path.
"Lady Arya," he said with a slight bow of his head.
"Lord Tyrion."
"My lady wife has commanded me to wait for her in the library. Would you care to accompany me?"
But Arya didn't answer. She simply turned on her heel and waited for Tyrion to move up beside her. Once he was in position, they began walking back to the keep, side by side.
Arya remained deathly quiet as they crossed the yard. She didn't speak again until they were inside the castle walls, alone in a deserted corridor. "I hope you intend to heed Jaime's warning," Arya said.
"And what warning was that?"
"That he'd kill you if you did anything to hurt my sister."
Tyrion almost laughed, but he fought back the urge, afraid to do anything that might offend Arya. Instead, he answered in a calm, steady voice, "I would never take the warning of a sworn knight lightly. I will never do anything to hurt her. Never again."
"Good. Because although Lord Jaime will be hundreds of miles away, on the other side of Westeros, I will be right here. And I will not hesitate to mete out a fitting punishment if you should ever hurt her again."
Tyrion knew he should be terrified by Arya's words, but he wasn't. He had no intention of ever hurting Sansa again, and he was certain, no matter what happened between them in the future, Sansa would never allow any harm to come to him either.
"Understood," Tyrion said. "You needn't worry. I have no desire to cross you, my lady. You are far more adept with a sword than I will ever be. You could best me in every kind of combat, and I have no desire to find myself on the pointy end of your needle."
Tyrion glanced up at Arya and caught the hint of a smile on her lips. It was fleeting, but it was there. And suddenly, Tyrion had the distinct feeling that Arya liked him just a little bit more than she was willing to admit.
When they finally reached the library, Tyrion stopped just outside the door and turned to look up at Arya. "Well, here we are," he said. "Would you like to wait with me? You can be here when Sansa and I tell Eddard the good news."
"I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to tend to," Arya replied. "Besides, this is something that you and Sansa should do alone. I will see you both at luncheon."
Arya turned away then, and Tyrion just stood there watching her go. She was such an odd creature, and he still didn't have her completely figured out. She always projected an air of cold indifference, and yet, deep down, Tyrion knew that she loved her family more than anything and would do everything she could to protect them. He had a great deal of respect for Arya Stark, and he hoped that, someday, she would be able to respect him too.
As soon as Arya disappeared around the corner, Tyrion pushed the library door open, the familiar squeak of the hinges a balm to his soul. He loved the library more than any other room in the keep – well, except for the bedchamber he now permanently shared with Sansa. It was warm and cozy and felt like home.
Tyrion stepped into the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. He discarded his cloak and settled into one of the two chairs in the center of the room to wait for Sansa and Eddard. A fire had already been lit in the hearth by unseen hands, and Tyrion allowed himself to enjoy its warmth. He was going to miss Jaime more than words could ever express, but he knew he'd see his brother again someday. He knew it deep in his bones. Once the baby was born, once it was old enough and strong enough to travel, they would all go to Casterly Rock as a family, and Tyrion would finally be able to show Eddard his ancestral home.
A few minutes later, Tyrion was roused from his musings by the familiar patter of tiny feet running down the corridor. He turned toward the open door just in time to see Eddard racing through it. Eddard headed straight for Tyrion, climbing up into his lap without an invitation, but Tyrion didn't mind. He liked having Eddard close. He liked holding him and being near him. It was a precious gift that he still wasn't quite sure he deserved.
Eddard leaned his head against Tyrion's chest, clutching his doublet plaintively. His whole body was trembling, and Tyrion could tell that he was trying to fight back the tears. Although Eddard wanted to be a strong little lordling, the loss of his uncle was nearly too much for him to bear.
Tyrion wrapped his arms around his son and looked up at Sansa. She closed the door behind her and moved farther into the room, perching herself on the edge of the chair beside them so that she could lean forward and take Eddard's hand. But the moment she touched him, he pulled away, burying his head in Tyrion's chest and bursting into tears.
"It's all right," Sansa cooed softly. "It will be all right."
Tyrion gently stroked Eddard's hair, offering him what little comfort he could. He knew the boy needed to work through his grief, and he didn't want to rush him, not when he himself was feeling the same deep-seated loss.
Eddard sniffled feebly. "I . . . I didn't want them to go."
"I know," Tyrion said, "neither did I. But your Uncle Jaime and Aunt Brienne have their own castle to keep watch over and their own duties to tend to. They couldn't stay here forever. But it's going to be all right. You'll see them again someday."
"But when?"
Tyrion glanced up at Sansa, his eyes imploring her to finally let him tell Eddard about the baby. She offered Tyrion a small nod and a reassuring smile, and he knew it was safe to continue.
Tyrion kissed the top of Eddard's head in an affectionate gesture. When he pulled back, he said, "You'll see them again when things are more settled here. After your little brother or sister is born and he or she is old enough to make the journey."
Eddard stilled in Tyrion's arms, and for a moment, Tyrion wasn't sure that Eddard had understood his meaning. But then, Eddard looked up at Tyrion, his eyes wide and full of hope. "Do you mean it?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Yes. Come spring, there will be a new baby at Winterfell, a little brother or a little sister just for you. And you'll need to be here to help take care of it. We can't have you running off to Casterly Rock to chase after your Uncle Jaime," Tyrion said with mock sternness. "You must stay here and do your duty as the future Lord of Winterfell. Is that understood?"
Eddard nodded his head vigorously, as if he feared that Tyrion might doubt his conviction.
"Good. Then no more tears, all right? There's nothing to cry about. You're going to have what you've always wanted, so enough of that now."
Eddard swiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand and blinked the tears from his eyes. In an instant, he was a different child. The tears were gone, and there was a distinct sense of pride and determination in his eyes that hadn't been there just a moment before.
"Is it going to be a dwarf?" Eddard asked, his eyes lighting up at the possibility.
Tyrion dreaded the thought, but he couldn't admit that to Eddard. "That I don't know," he replied. "That is for the gods to decide. We'll just have to wait and see."
Eddard leaned up and kissed Tyrion on the cheek. Then, he turned and reached out to Sansa, silently entreating her to take him on her lap. She pulled Eddard into her arms, and once he was settled, he laid his head against her breast and put his hand on her belly. "Is this where the baby is?" he asked, clearly knowing far more about where babies came from than Tyrion had expected.
Sansa placed her hand over Eddard's, her eyes focused on his inquisitive little face. "Yes, it is. Though it's going to take a long time for it to grow. Many, many moonturns. And we'll have to pray that the baby is born healthy and without issue. Not all babies make it out of the womb alive and well, so we have to pray that this one does."
"I'll do everything I can to protect him," Eddard said, ever the valiant would-be knight.
"Or her," Tyrion corrected, leaning forward so that he could be closer to his beautiful little family.
Eddard wrinkled up his nose in distaste. "It doesn't have to be a girl, does it?"
"It might be a girl," Tyrion answered. "A girl who isn't even a dwarf. You must be prepared for any eventuality. And you must be prepared to love her, even if she isn't a boy."
Eddard was thoughtful for a moment. Tyrion could tell that he hated the idea of having a little sister but was trying to work his way round to it. "Would she be like Aunt Arya?" Eddard finally asked.
"Oh, good gods," Sansa exclaimed, "I hope not!"
Tyrion laughed. "She just might be."
"I think I would like that very much then," Eddard said.
Eddard snuggled closer to his mother and placed a small kiss against her belly. It was the sweetest thing Tyrion had ever seen, and his heart suddenly swelled with love for his wife and children.
Tyrion quickly pulled his eyes away from Eddard, afraid that his emotions would get the better of him. When he looked up at Sansa, he was surprised to find her watching him, her gaze filled with a tenderness that he knew was reserved for him alone.
Sansa offered Tyrion a shy smile, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her. But Eddard was still on her lap, and the effort would have been far too awkward to be worthwhile. So instead, Tyrion contented himself with staring into her eyes, silently conveying his love for her from afar.
When Sansa finally broke his gaze, she turned her attention back to Eddard, who was idly tracing small patterns against her stomach, no doubt imagining the trouble he and his brother – or sister – would get into as soon as the child arrived.
"Eddard," Sansa said gently, stroking his hair and gazing down at him with unabashed affection, "why don't you go find your Aunt Arya and tell her the good news?"
Eddard instantly sat up, lifting his head so he could look up at his mother. "Can I?"
"Yes, of course you can."
Eddard was out of her lap and on the floor before Sansa could even finish answering him. He raced to the door in search of his favorite aunt, eager to tell her the news. He was so eager, in fact, that he forgot to close the door behind him as he raced out into the hallway.
As soon as they were alone together, Sansa slipped from her chair and knelt in front of Tyrion so that they were nearly at an even height. She took both his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. "I don't think I've ever seen him so happy."
"I don't think I've ever been so happy."
Sansa leaned forward, kissing him softly, and Tyrion's entire body responded – his heart and other, less romantic parts. He wanted her again, even though he had made love to her just that morning. He always wanted her, every hour of every day.
When Sansa finally pulled away, she glanced over her shoulder at the open door behind her, and it was then that Tyrion realized that he wasn't the only one who wanted more than just a kiss.
Sansa let go of Tyrion's hands and rose from the floor. She crossed the room and closed the door, returning to him without a single word. By the time she reached him, his cock was painfully hard, and he wondered what she intended to do about it. So far, they had only been intimate while alone together in their bedchamber. This was new territory, and Tyrion was more than a little curious to see exactly where they were headed.
Sansa knelt on the floor again, her eyes never leaving Tyrion's. With practiced dexterity, she began untying his breeches, and he leaned back in his chair, giving her more room to work. When his cock was finally free, she ran her fingers over it with a softness that made his whole body quiver.
A knowing smile quirked Sansa's lips, and Tyrion could tell that she was enjoying herself immensely. In the past few weeks, she'd become something of an expert at pleasuring him, and he knew that whatever she had planned now would be quite worth his time and patience.
Sansa leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss against Tyrion's lips before pulling back and lowering her head to his cock. He inhaled a sharp breath the instant she made contact, his fingers threading through her hair.
Sansa moved her mouth over him with exquisite grace. She kissed and licked and teased until he was squirming beneath her, begging for mercy. Finally, she trailed a line of hungry wet kisses up one side of his shaft and down the other, swirling her tongue against the tip, before finally taking his full length deep into her mouth.
Tyrion nearly lost himself in the feel of Sansa's heat surrounding him. He was so close that he didn't know how much longer he could last. But suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps heading down the corridor and his whole body flushed cold.
Before he could say a single word, someone stopped at the library door, and Tyrion looked down at Sansa, putting his hands on her shoulders and warning her to stop.
Sansa raised her head and looked up at him, finally relinquishing his cock, and Tyrion was surprised to see that there wasn't the slightest hint of fear in her eyes. It wasn't until their unwelcome visitor tried to push open the door and found it locked that Tyrion understood why she wasn't the least bit alarmed.
A momentary wave of relief washed over him, but it didn't last long. A second later, there was a knock at the door and Tyrion's heart lodged in his throat.
Sansa gave Tyrion a pointed look, and he knew she wanted him to answer whoever was at the door.
"Who . . . who is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice, sounding very much like a man who was up to no good.
"Maester Wolkan, my lord. I'm looking for Lord Eddard. It is time for his lessons. Have you seen him?"
A wicked gleam sparkled in Sansa's eyes, and suddenly, she was lowering her head again, taking Tyrion into her mouth.
Tyrion pushed himself up farther in the chair, trying to gain some semblance of control over his own body. It took every last bit of resolve he possessed to answer Maester Wolkan without sounding like his wife was sucking his cock. "I . . . I think he's with Lady Arya," Tyrion said, his voice far louder than it should have been.
"Very good, my lord."
And then, Maester Wolkan's footsteps began to fade down the corridor and Tyrion slumped back against the chair with a strangled sigh.
Sansa lifted her head and laughed, clearly quite pleased with herself.
"That wasn't fair," Tyrion snapped, his tone harsher than he'd intended.
"I think it was fair. After all, nothing terrible happened," Sansa said, resting her palms against his thighs and slowly gliding them upward. "Nothing at all."
"What if he had demanded to be let in? What if he had used a key? I'm sure that man has a key to every chamber in the keep."
Sansa shook her head, sliding her hands back down toward Tyrion's knees, sending shivers of pleasure straight to his throbbing cock.
"Well, what if it had been your sister?" he asked. "Or Eddard?"
"Have you always been such an old woman, my lord? I thought you were more adventurous than that."
"I am adventurous," Tyrion argued, his pride suddenly wounded. "I am quite adventurous. But I don't want your reputation maligned, my lady. Everyone knows that I'm a drunken, lust filled beast. But you? You're a different creature altogether, and I would never want anyone to question your character."
"Am I?" Sansa asked, lowering her head again but keeping her eyes locked with Tyrion's. She placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his shaft, looking very much like the most wanton creature he had ever seen.
"You are." Tyrion nearly choked on the words. "You are everything that is good and pure and sweet in this world. And I don't want your reputation to ever suffer because of me."
"Half the kingdom already thinks that I'm an adulteress. Surely, my reputation could not suffer much more than that."
Tyrion opened his mouth to reply, but Sansa didn't wait for an answer. She broke his gaze and kissed the tip of his cock again. Then, she lowered her head and took him full into her mouth.
Tyrion was overwhelmed by the contact. In an instant, he was once again dangerously close to coming, and he didn't try to fight it. It was obvious that Sansa knew exactly what she wanted from him and that she was more than determined to take it.
But just as Tyrion was about to lose himself inside her, Sansa suddenly pulled away, causing his whole body to tremble with unfulfilled desire.
Sansa looked up at him with determination in her eyes, then stood to her full height. Tyrion feared she was going to leave him like that – his cock throbbing, his body yearning for release – but she didn't. Much to Tyrion's surprise, she hiked up her skirts and climbed on top of him, settling her knees on either side of his thighs and slowly lowering herself down onto his cock.
Tyrion gasped as Sansa's heat enveloped him. He didn't know how he was going to last long enough to give her what she wanted. He was already on the brink, and he knew, the moment she moved her hips, he'd come whether he wanted to or not.
But Sansa stayed steady on his lap, gently leaning forward and putting her hands on either side of his face. She kissed him softly, deeply, her tongue exploring the depths of his mouth with languid strokes. Tyrion could taste his own arousal on her lips, and it stoked the fires already burning in his blood. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and drew her even closer, desperate to have his fill of her.
Tyrion's cock throbbed inside her warmth, and he prayed to all the gods, old and new, that he would last just a bit longer. He had always been a master of self-control, but at that moment, he didn't feel like the master of anything. Sansa was in complete command of his body, and he was just there to serve her.
Without breaking the kiss, Sansa slowly began to move her hips, riding Tyrion with a gentle, easy rhythm that coaxed him just to the edge but not beyond. She took her time kissing him, touching him, taking her own pleasure, and Tyrion was amazed by just how much she'd learned in the short time they'd been together. Sansa knew exactly what she was doing, and Tyrion was simply in awe of her.
Sansa kissed him until they were both breathless. Then, she leaned back on her knees, just far enough to give herself better leverage, and began riding him in earnest. She moved her hips in a fevered rhythm as ancient as time itself, and Tyrion dug his fingers into her waist, holding her as steady as he could. He stared up at her in sheer wonderment, captivated by the sight of her taking her pleasure. Soft sounds of ecstasy escaped her lips as she moved above him, and every last one made his cock throb with renewed need.
Tyrion closed his eyes, his own desire suddenly overpowering him. He fought the urge to thrust his hips upward, tensing all his muscles in a desperate attempt to keep his body under control. Above him, he felt Sansa change position again, this time, gripping the back of the chair just behind his head. She rode him harder, desperately striving for release, until suddenly, her whole body shuddered with pleasure, her inner walls pulsing around his aching cock.
Tyrion couldn't hold himself back a second longer. He thrust his hips against her at a frantic pace and came hard inside her, burying his head against her shoulder to muffle his cries of pleasure.
When Tyrion was finally spent, he slumped back against the chair, his eyes closed, his body trembling. He could still feel Sansa surrounding him, and he didn't ever want to let her go. He rested his arms lightly around her waist, content to remain exactly as they were for all eternity.
Tyrion didn't know how long they stayed that way, but eventually, Sansa pulled back. She lowered her head, resting her forehead against his, and for a moment, they just sat there, both trying to catch their breath. Tyrion could feel the warm flutter of Sansa's breath against his lips, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. But he was too exhausted to move, and he didn't want to break the spell they were both under.
And then, Sansa did something thoroughly unexpected. She laughed.
Tyrion opened his eyes and stared up at Sansa in utter bewilderment. She sat back on her heels, lifting herself off his cock, and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her amusement. Her cheeks were a fetching shade of pink, and Tyrion could tell that she was slightly embarrassed.
"Dare I ask what is so funny, my lady?"
It took Sansa a moment to suppress her laughter before she was finally able to speak. "I don't know what just came over me. What if Maester Wolkan had walked in?"
"That's exactly what I said!" Tyrion exclaimed, annoyed that she was only now willing to listen to reason.
Sansa shook her head. "That was very wicked of us, wasn't it?"
"It was indeed. I doubt the spirits haunting the crypts will look kindly on this kind of behavior from the lady of the keep. After all, it's not behavior befitting a Stark, is it?"
Sansa's lips curved in a mischievous smile. "I think you're a very bad influence on me, Tyrion Lannister."
"Oh, I know I am," he replied, not an ounce of shame in his voice. "And I don't think you'd want me any other way, would you?"
Sansa shook her head again. "No. I want you just as you are." She leaned forward and kissed him with a sweetness that made Tyrion's heart ache. Then, she slid off his lap and settled onto the cushion next to him, snuggling up against his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.
Tyrion entwined his fingers with Sansa's and kissed her hair before leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent. She smelled like vanilla and lemon cakes and just a hint of sex, and it made Tyrion feel like he was finally home.
"I love you, Sansa Stark," Tyrion said, the words leaving his throat without conscious thought. "I've never loved anyone the way that I love you."
"I know," Sansa replied, her words so matter-of-fact that Tyrion was almost insulted. But then, she added, "And I've never loved anyone the way that I love you. I love you more than I ever imagined possible, more than any dashing knight or handsome prince."
Tyrion pulled away then, just far enough to look down at Sansa. She lifted her head from his shoulder and stared up at him, their eyes meeting for one long moment before he leaned down and kissed her again.
Tyrion had never been happier in all his life, and he knew he would love Sansa Stark until the day he died. He didn't deserve her, of course. Or Eddard, or Winterfell, or the new baby. But they were his now, all of them, and he would do everything in his power to protect them. After five long years of wandering, Tyrion Lannister was finally home, and he would never leave his family again.