Margaery lifted the curtained side of the palanquin she was riding in with her husband and sniffed the air theatrically.

"Ah! The scent of home."

Tyrion smirked at her and shook his head slightly.

"King's Landing will never be 'home' to you, Margaery."

She threw him a loving smile,

"How well you know your wife. What you say is true, Highgarden will always be my home and I look forward to the day when the same is true for you."

Tyrion returned her smile but remained silent. For most of his life he had assumed he would end his days in Casterly Rock; whether he became its lord or not. Outside of Dorne, heiresses were not common and he had certainly never expected to find himself wed to one. It felt strange to imagine himself as lord of keep he had never set eyes on. From what Margaery had told him of Highgarden it was a beautiful and elegant place and he could not envisage ever feeling he belonged somewhere like that. There had been a time when he felt he belonged in King's Landing; that he had found his place in the world, but then he'd awoken following the battle of Blackwater and that place had been ripped from him. However, fortune's wheel had turned since then and Tyrion was returning to the capital with purpose. He loved Tommen and would do all he could to help his nephew navigate the peril of being a boy king. He would protect Jaime's son, where Jaime could not and show his elder brother that he, Tyrion, was worthy of the love Jaime had always given him. They came to stop and Margaery moved to pull back the curtain once more.

"We have arrived."

He watched her step out into the courtyard and be greeted by King Tommen with Loras at his side. Margaery greeted the boy king formally before pulling her brother into an embrace.

"Loras! It is good to see you!"

"Likewise, sister, you look well, married life clearly suits you."

"And that white cloak suits you."

Tyrion glanced at his good brother. Loras' kingsguard uniform made him appear more of a storybook knight than ever. He was not the lighthearted youth he had been before Renly died but he seemed more purposeful and at peace since taking the white. Tyrion's nephew turned to him with a beaming smile.

"Uncle Tyrion! I missed you so much."

Tyrion bowed before his nephew, a grin on his face.

"It is good to see you, my king. It seems you have grown whilst I was in Braavos. At this rate you will soon be taller than your Uncle Jaime."

Tommen's face clouded for a moment but soon his grin returned.

"I also had my name day whilst you were gone."

"I did not forget, your grace. Here is a small gift from myself and your Aunt Margaery."

Tyrion reached into the leather bag at his side and handed Tommen an ornately carved wooden box. The boy king examined it with interest. Margaery smiled.

"It is a Tyroshi puzzle box, you grace. You see it appears to have a normal lid but actually it opens like this-"

She gestured for the gift which Tommen handed to her and gently pressed the sides revealing a secret compartment.

Tyrion leant towards his nephew.

"You can use it to hide things from people who have no business seeing them."

"It's wonderful! Thank you both. I cannot wait to hear all about your time in Braavos, it must have been so exciting!"

Tyrion laughed at the boy's eagerness.

"I spent most of my time stuck in the Iron Bank, your Aunt was the one having adventures."

Tommen smiled shyly at Margaery.

"Will you come and tell me all about it, Aunt?"

"It would be my pleasure, you grace."

Tommen frowned.

"It will have to be tomorrow, grandfather will get cross if I miss my lessons. Ser Loras should be taking me to the maester now but we slipped off to see you both first."

"Well, before you slip back I have something else to give you; here is a letter from your uncle Jaime which he gave to me before I left Casterly Rock do not show it to your mother or grandfather: its a secret."

Tommen took the letter with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Tyrion was puzzled by his nephew's reaction; until now the boy's hero worship of Jaime had called to Tyrion's mind the way he had viewed his older brother as a child. He and Margaery accompanied the king and his sworn shield to the tower where Tommen had his lessons. Tyrion was impressed to see that rather than the doddering old fool who had previously been in charge of his nephew's education a younger, more vital looking fellow awaited the boy king. Having left Tommen in the tower, he voiced these thoughts to Loras who smiled.

"Yes, your father demanded the Citadel send a more capable maester, the king also practices swordplay with myself and certain other members of the kingsgaurd on a daily basis now."

Tyrion was impressed; he had always thought Cersei had been deeply foolish to forbid her sons from martial training. It seemed that his father was taking a genuine interest in helping Tommen develop into a good king. Margaery spoke:

"What does the king's mother have to say about all this?"

"She was enraged at first, until Lord Tywin returned from the Rock she did all she could to dissuade King Tommen from his training. Now she does not say much, but I can tell it displeases her. Anyway, enough of that, how was your time in Braavos? Were the sea crossings rough?"

"Not particularly. I was terribly sick on the way home though."

Loras glanced at his sister in confusion; no doubt wondering why Margaery would be so smug about a bout of sea sickness. Tyrion himself remained convinced that it had been sea sickness, however when he had voiced this to Margaery she had simply smiled and reminded him that she was sure her courses were late. He stayed silent as the Tyrell siblings' talk turned to Margery's time in Braavos and soon they reach the apartments which now belonged to Tyrion and his wife.

They entered the rooms and Tyrion saw that most of his possessions had already been unpacked. He was about to make his way to the bedchamber and discard his travelling clothes when he realised that his good brother was still standing by the door to the chambers, looking somewhat awkward. Margaery clearly sensed something was wrong as she had approached Loras with a frown.

"What troubles you, brother?"

The young knight pressed his lips together for a moment.

"A number of the lords of the Reach are in the capital, to swear fealty to the king. Amongst them are Randyl Tarly and his son Dickon. Yesterday as I was leaving the training ground, Dickon took me to one side. He told me that House Tarly would have sided with us had we chosen to stand up to the lions."

"How indiscreet of him, he never was a particularly bright boy."

Margaery sounded amused, but Tyrion could see the grim set of her eye. Loras smirked humourlessly.

"I asked him what in hells he meant, I think he must have overheard Lord Tarly in conversation. It would seem there are those within the Reach who think your marriage was forced upon you, sister."

Tyrion's good brother glanced at him apologetically, then the younger man's face hardened.

"I left Dickon in no doubt that this was not the case. I told him you were an honourable man and reminded him that we fought together against Stannis Baratheon while he remained amongst his mother's skirts at Horn Hill."

While Tyrion was not entirely clear how military experience would improve a man as a spouse, he was surprised and pleased that Loras had so readily spoken in support of him. He smiled warmly at the young kingsgaurd.

"I thank you for defending me, Loras."

"Of course, you are family now, Tyrion."

Loras gave a small bow of his head, patted his sister's shoulder and took his leave. Margaery closed the door behind him and turned to Tyrion with a scowl.

"Fuck Randyl Tarly!"

"I'd rather not, sweetling, he is really not my type."

"This is not funny, Tyrion!"

"I know, but it is hardly unexpected either. Do not forget I myself came to the same conclusion when my father informed me of our betrothal."

His wife eyed him sharply, Tyrion knew that she found the bitter defensiveness he often resorted to enraging. However, despite his jape reading taking Lord Tarly to bed, he was not particularly cut by the assumptions the man had made regarding his marriage. Margaery had been betrothed to Joffrey and set to be queen. Now she was married to a second son and her brother sworn to the Kingsguard. The only conclusions one could draw were either that she had been coerced or that she loved him and Randyl Tarly did not strike Tyrion as a romantic soul.

He met his wife's gaze and watched as her hazel eyes softened and a coy smile replaced the grim set of her lips.

"Yes you did and I was able to soften your heart towards our marriage, I shall simply have to do the same with the lords of the Reach."

Tyrion felt an exhilarated delight as he caught the calm certainty in her tone. He had scant enough experience of any around him not assuming the worst of him; even those who did had rarely taken it upon themselves to speak up for him. He would have pointed out the monumental task Margaery set herself if she sought to improve his reputation, but he believed that if anyone could do it she could. After all, she had the people cheer for Joff, where before they flung shit at him.

He grasped her hand in his and brought her palm to his lips, he moved slightly higher, sucking at the pulse point on her wrist, taking pride in the soft shiver which passed through her. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrion noticed the door opening and Pod entered, turning red as he took in the contact between the couple.

"um…Lord Tyrion, your Lord father wishes to see you promptly after luncheon. Lady Margaery, your three new handmaidens arrived yesterday, shall I send them to you?….um your handmaidens I mean, my lady?"

"Thank you, Podrick, you may send them after luncheon."

Tyrion kept his wife's hand in his as his squire bowed and departed. As the door closed he looked up at Margaery expectantly.

"I notice the bedchamber to the right is to be ours, may I enquire which of your family members had possession of it before?"

His wife's eyes danced.

"I decided you should join me in what was my bedchamber. It seemed appropriate since I spent so much time thinking of you in there."

Tyrion felt himself harden at her words. He raised her hand to his lips once more, punctuating his speech with less than chaste kisses.

"I see, as it seems we are not required until after luncheon, I think we should discuss those thoughts further, in the chamber concerned of course."

He turned a walked rapidly towards the room, his wife's delighted laughter chiming behind him.

Several hours later, Tyrion sat in his father's study, watching as Tywin Lannister wrote. In the past Tyrion would have broken the silence in the room long before now; made some jape he knew was bound to irritate his sire into acknowledging his presence. However, today the younger Lannister felt no desire to engage in such behaviour. Since he had realised that his father had killed Joffrey, Tyrion had wondered how he would feel when they next met. Back at Greenfork, when Tywin had asked him to deputise as Hand, Tyrion had felt something like pride, he had tried to prove himself worthy of the responsibility and felt that he had. But Tywin had disagreed and Tyrion was given a bitter reminder of the complete disregard his father held him in. Feeding him poison to make the death of the King look less suspicious was simply a further manifestation of this, and in other circumstances Tyrion could have imagined a drunken confrontation with his father and the thought made him cringe. Having had the opportunity to ponder what had happened far away from King's Landing, he and Margaery had both agreed that no good could come of confronting Tywin, even if there had been some way to prove his guilt. Although he knew this was not the intent, Tyrion felt that his father had given him another chance to prove himself and he hated the tiny spring of hope that feeling caused to well up within him. At last his father faced him with a grim expression.

"You took your time in Braavos."

"The negotiations took time. Trant's death added further complications."

"Did you ascertain a culprit?"

"It seemed to be a robbery gone wrong."

This was the story Tyrion had decided upon, for all the knight's full coin purse had remained on his body. No one in Braavos had been keen to talk about what had happened and Tyrion was sure Trant would not be mourned. Tywin nodded without interest.

"So you managed to negotiate a reduction in the repayments on our debt?"

"I managed to negotiate a lower rate of interest and and longer intervals between payments. As we have no leverage against them it was the best I could do."

"So sending you there was a waste of time, all you achieved was the loss of a kingsgaurd. How is Lady Margaery?"

"She is well."

Tyrion felt his father's eyes boring into him but he refused to say more. He knew what Tywin was asking. He could have told him that his wife believed herself to be with child but he did not. Margaery could easily be wrong and making the news public would make it seem more real; would mean that he would have to face up to what the outcome of her carrying his child might be. His father's lips curled.

"Jaime's wife has borne a healthy son. Jaime himself has determined a way to reopen the mines of House Reyne for the profit of House Lannister."

Tyrion met his father's challenging gaze and swallowed the words which had risen in his throat. He wanted to point out how he had helped Jaime with the mines but he stopped himself. Tyrion's brother had fallen further in their sire's estimations than had ever seemed possible, if Tywin was pleased with Jaime then Tyrion should let his brother have the victory in full; it may help soften their father towards allowing Jaime contact with Tommen. He smiled at his sire.

"I am pleased to hear I have gained another nephew."

Tywin's eyebrows raised a fraction as his youngest son continued:

"While I was in Braavos, I obtained copies of their records of the Crown debts. The monies we borrowed do not tally with our yearly expenditures. Lord Baelish purposely ran up more crown debt than required. Of course King Robert's lavish expenditure did not help matters but Littlefinger is the reason we are in our current predicament."

"What are you suggesting? That you ride to the Eyrie and ask him for the money back? Do you not think you caused me enough trouble the last time you went there?"

Tyrion stared at his father as Tywin bent his head to his writing once more. He had guessed his father would be unimpressed by the outcome of his negotiations with the Iron Bank; for all Tyrion himself knew that he could not have hoped for more. He had hoped this news of Littlefinger would spark some interest.

The door opened and a page entered.

"Prince Oberyn Martell is here to see you, Lord Tywin."

"Tyrion, our meeting is over, you will give details of your negotiation with the Iron Bank at small council on the morrow."

Tyrion rose and went to the door, just as the flamboyant Prince of Dorne entered. Oberyn glanced at him with a wide smile.

"Lord Tyrion! You are once again at court! The place has been dull without you, little friend! I must insist that you and your beautiful wife dine with myself and Ellaria later this week."

"It would be our pleasure, my prince."

In truth Tyrion never felt fully at ease in the intense company of the Red Viper. As for Margaery, the rivalry between the Martells and Tyrells was long standing for all things were tranquil between the two houses at the moment. His wife had a fondness for black olives and frequently joked to Tyrion that the delicacy was the only good thing to come from Dorne. But Tyrion was puzzled by Oberyn's continued presence in the capital and also keen for word of his niece. He glanced back into the room and saw that his father was making no pretence at correspondence. Tyrion wondered at the purpose of the meeting but the page at his father's door meant there was no opportunity to tarry.

Tyrion exited the tower of the hand and made his way to his own chambers, trying to shake off the frustration he always felt after an exchange with his sire. As he walked along a quiet corridor, the scent of lavender caught his nose and with a swish of silk robes, Varys was in front of him, almost seeming to appear from thin air.

"My Lord I am pleased to see you have returned to court. Were your negotiations with the Iron Bank fruitful?"

"I do not know if I am the right person to ask, Lord Varys."

"Oh dear, I hope we are not going to see a repeat of the treatment you were subjected to following the Battle of Blackwater, my Lord."

Tyrion took in the picture of concern painted on the eunuch's features and berated himself for allowing his irritation to prompt the offhand remark. Varys may have come to his aid on more than one occasion, but that did not mean he should see the other man as any kind of confidant. He smiled crookedly.

"I hope so too, I doubt my wife would want to share my bed if it meant taking up residence in the lodging I was granted back then."

Vayrs tittered.

"What was the talk in Braavos, my Lord?"

"The talk? I am sure you know more of that than I, Spider. I have no little birds and few there spoke directly to me."

"But I am sure you kept your eyes and ears open, Lord Tyrion. I wondered if there was freer discussion of…events in the free cities."

"Ah. You mean Daenerys Targaryen? It seems she now commands armies as well as dragons. The gods help us if she ever comes to Westeros."

"Indeed, although some would be worse off than others, my Lord. But forgive my callousness, you are quite recovered from the bad meat you ate with King Joffrey? Certainly your father's health seems fully restored but then, he was not so affected as you and the Queen mother was he?"

Tyrion glanced sharply at the Spider's blandly smiling face. When he had questioned Varys about the identity of Joffrey's murderer the eunuch had claimed ignorance. Why did he seem to be leading Tyrion to other conclusions now?

"Yes I remember you telling me he stopped Loras and Margaery being carried to the black cells on my sister's orders several days after we dined. If Lord Tarly and others are to be believed, that was likely the beginning of my wife's coercion into our marriage."

Varys raised his brows in a perfect picture of disbelief.

"Lord Tyrion, having watched you and Lady Margaery for quite some time at court, I find the idea there was any coercion of either party quite absurd. You are extremely fortunate, my Lord, you have won the heart of an exceptional woman and I have no doubt you will do whatever it takes to ensure that you keep her by your side."

Tyrion felt unnerved by the way Varys leaned closer to him and gazed at him intently as he spoke the last sentence.

"If someone means my wife harm, I wish to know of it, Spider. Keep such knowledge from me and you will find it is not so hard for you to be killed after all."

"Lord Tyrion, I assure you should any such word reach the ears of my little birds, you will be the first to know. I simply meant you have more loyalties to consider now than you once did. I must be on my way, I'm sure you are eager to return to your new chambers too."

With that, Varys slipped away as unobtrusively as he had come.

Tyrion remained where we was staring at the place the Spider had stood. Varys' words about loyalty caused him more disquiet than he would like to admit. Despite his animosity towards his father and sister, Tyrion had always been loyal to House Lannister before all else. In recent times Jaime and Sansa had shown him a level of steadfast support that only made his commitment to his house feel stronger than ever. But he loved Margaery and one day he would rule Highgarden by her side. Loras had defended him to the Tarly boy without hesitation you are family now Tyrion. The little Lannister shook his head; House Lannister and House Tyrell were allies, his marriage was a manifestation of that fact, his wife loved Sansa as if they were true sisters, he would surely face no conflict being loyal to the Westerlands and the Reach.

Tyrion's felt his heart grow lighter as soon as he entered his chambers. Margaery stood on the small balcony, tending to the flowers which lined the outer wall, humming a tune to herself. He caught the scent of jasmine and orange blossom as he moved to join her. He lightly ran a hand across her bare arm, and she started before turning; her eyes lighting up as she realised it was him.

"How was your father?"

"I think I miss Nestoris."

Margaery smirked.

"I too have spent some time in the lion's den this afternoon, well lioness to be precise."

"Did my sweet sister take kindly to her new handmaidens?"

"Naturally she was decorum itself, I may suggest to Lord Tywin that we remove her glass goblets before a nasty accident occurs."

They returned to the solar and Tyrion was startled to see a young, blonde girl standing in the middle of room. She could not have been more than four and ten and as she curtsied she gazed at the couple with guileless blue eyes.

"Ana, this is Lord Tyrion, my husband. Tyrion, this is one of my new handmaidens. Did you manage to deliver my letters, Ana?"

"Yes, m'lady. Maester Mytus also gave me this for you, from the rookery."

The girl handed Margaery a sealed scroll. Tyrion watched as her face lit up.

"It is from Sansa, I was hoping for word from her."

Tyrion was also keen to hear of his friend and goodsister.

"Father told me she had birthed a healthy son but he gave no further details, what has Sansa to say, wife?"

Margaery began to open the scroll, then paused, glancing to her handmaiden who still stood in the centre of the solar.

"Ana, please fetch our evening meal from the kitchens. You may serve us tonight, do not worry if you cannot remember everything, I am sure you will learn fast."

The girl curtsied and exited. Margaery gave her husband a smile.

"Ana was a cupbearer prior to her arrival in King's Landing, she will have to learn from the other girls who came, they have more experience."

Tyrion nodded and went to pour them both a glass of wine, when he returned Margaery looked at him with bright eyes.

"I am sure there was one detail regarding his grandson your father was not keen to share. It seems Jaime and Sansa have named their son and heir Tyrion."

Tyrion gazed at his wife, becoming aware his mouth was slightly open. When he did speak his voice was hoarse and his joy evident.

"Truly? They have named the babe, after me?"

"They both love you very much, husband, perhaps before too long we shall be able to return the favour."

She flashed him a mischievous smile and her hand ghosted across her abdomen. Tyrion smiled tentatively back, remembering how during his brief first marriage he had wondered if he and Tysha might have a son who looked like Jaime. He felt dread when he thought of Margaery bearing his child and what could happen to her in the process. She was so bright and beautiful there were times when he thought his wife invincible. But strong women had met their end on the bloody bed before now, his own mother among them. Tyrion had survived much but loosing his Margaery and knowing he was the cause of that loss - he did not think he could survive that.

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