Chapter 6

Sansa was exhausted. Bronn had been training her now for over four weeks and yesterday had been the worst yet. He had been lying when he'd said that the leathers would keep her from bruising. Her ribs felt as though they'd been hammered into a new shape, but he told her that a little pain would be worth the end result.

For a sellsword, he was surprisingly adaptable and quick on his feet.

'And strong,' she thought to herself as she pressed a hand to her side, trying not to wince as she sat down at the table. Tyrion wasn't back, but she was becoming accustomed to eating alone in the evenings, and actually looked forward to it. However, with how Bronn had been training her, it had been hurting to sit down more and more often. They had started focusing very heavily on hand to hand, and he kept on knocking her to the ground rather soundly on a regular basis.

She resented it, but she was grateful for it, as well. Sansa could tell that she was becoming stronger.

At first, she had been reluctant to use too much force, but after another near brush with Joffrey a week after she'd started training with the sellsword, she had found a new found determination inside of her to press on in her training. Bronn almost seemed pleased when he saw her anger come out in their sessions.

He had started alternating days so that she wasn't too tired when they did train, but the Stark girl found herself looking forward to the days that they trained with a renewed vigor that surprised even her.

It had taken her longer than she'd liked to gain enough strength to even try and get Bronn to the ground, but she had now done it several times successfully and it made her smile just thinking about it.

She started to eat, taking her time, savoring the food even more now that she needed the energy. In fact, she had been eating more than ever in order to keep of her reserves for training with the man who had sold his services to her husband. Her eating habits had not gone unnoticed by the queen mother, however, and Cersei had made a few barbed comments in her direction just the other morning about possibly being pregnant, forcing her into an uncomfortable silence. If she'd said anything, she knew that she would have most likely accidentally implied that her and husband had never consummated their marriage. And no one could know that.

Well, Bronn knew, of course, but that was different. The sellsword had made it clear when they'd started training that he was going to need to know intimate details about her in order to properly train her. Sansa had been mortified at first, but had given in, knowing that the man was only trying to help her.

And he had. Helped her, that was.

Just as she'd started on her second course, the door swung open and in walked her husband, looking weary and, she couldn't deny it, annoyed.

"Tyrion?" she said, much more comfortable in using his name now. "I am surprised to see you here so early. You usually eat…"

"Away from our chambers, I know," he said, almost icily, interrupting her and brushing her off with a wave of his hand. "But tonight I simply had to escape. Another evening with Lord Baelish has drained me of nearly all of my sanity and I have no desire to be in his company, for he only diminishes my will to eat."

He proceeded to place several rolls on his plate, along with a generous helping of meat and large goblet of wine. Sansa cast her eyes downward towards her own food, unsure of how to respond to his almost dismissive attitude. It wasn't like him to be so…well, so much more like the other Lannisters in his family. He usually went out of his way to be polite to his wife, and she was hesitant to say anything in response, so she simply nodded and took another bite of her meal, chewing and swallowing nervously.

After a moment, he seemed to calm down, and he put down his goblet and said, "So, Sansa…Bronn tells me that you have been improving."

Surprised that he would bring it up, she nodded.

"Yes, I have. Bronn is a very skilled teacher and is very patient with me." She took a swallow of her water and then added, "I only hope that I can live up to his expectations."

At that, Tyrion grinned and let out a low chuckle. He then looked her in the eye, his own eyes twinkling with mischief, and said, "I hear that you knocked him square on his ass more than a few times, my dear wife." She blushed, slightly surprised that Bronn had mentioned it, unsure of how to respond. "Must you be so modest?" he prodded. "That is not an easy task, fighting a sellsword. You should be proud, Sansa…"

She simply nodded again and replied, "Yes, well, he's knocked me down more often, my lord. I'm sore in places I didn't know I had."

As soon as she said it, she blushed a second time, feeling horribly embarrassed, but Tyrion only chuckled, taking another sip of his wine.

"Well, that is to be expected," he said, still smiling at her embarrassment. "After all, that's how you know that you're improving, is it not?"

She faintly nodded, picking at her food, and then, against her better judgment, she asked, "Has…has he said anything else about me, Tyrion? Anything besides how I've been, uhm, improving?"

Her husband gave her an odd look, and she knew why. The question was ridiculous, of course, and as soon as it had left her lips, Sansa knew exactly how it sounded and she immediately felt embarrassed by it. It sounded like she was a little girl harboring a crush, which she most certainly wasn't. The man was a sellsword, after all, and she was a married woman!

However, Tyrion mysteriously smiled after a moment and gave her a look.

"He mentions you on occasion," he said, being purposely enigmatic, she could tell. "He complains, mostly," he clarified, and she felt immediate disappointment, but then he added, "Being sore more often will do that to a person; especially when training a young woman who is apparently much stronger than she looks…" Again, she found herself flushing a bright red, but Tyrion continued, saying, "And it hasn't slipped my attention that he is no longer a purveyor of…well, of other forms of entertainment any more. He seems to be more content then I have ever seen him, actually."

He then paused, taking a long sip of his wine, and then pointedly said, "As are you, Sansa."

She ducked her eyes and stammered out, "Well, I…I'm not as, as afraid as I once was. I feel more…"

"In control?" he supplied, stepping down from his chair, walking over to where she sat wringing her hands in her lap, her food on the table all but forgotten. She gave a faint nod of her head, unable to look at him directly, and so she was surprised when she felt his hand over top of hers.

"That is to be expected. You are feeling stronger and more capable, and, I have no doubt that you are channeling your fears and your anger into your fighting, if what Bronn has told me has any merit."

She gave a hesitant nod, and replied, "I've…I've been trying to. I don't want to feel…helpless."

Sansa finally looked back up at Tyrion, who was giving her a warm smile, but she could also see a faint gleam in his eye, like he knew something that she didn't, and she couldn't help but wonder what it was, but she brushed it off when he gently squeezed her hand and said, "And you won't be. I'm certain Bronn will make sure of that."

At that, she smiled.

"Yes, well, he still hasn't let me near any weapons. Not even a knife," she added, trying not to sound too put out. "I mean, I understand why, but I wish I could start learning it."

At that, he chuckled and dropped his hands from hers and said, "Well, I think you will find that you will be more than enough of a weapon for my nephew to handle." She looked away when he said that, more than embarrassed that he knew who she was picturing in her training sessions, but he just shook it off and added, "The boy needs to be taken down a few notches, and I would be incredibly pleased if it was you who did the taking down."

She finally laughed, unable to keep it from slipping out at his incredibly kind words, but was then surprised when a knock came at the door.

"Well, I wonder who that could be?" Tyrion said, not actually sounded surprised in the least, causing Sansa to wonder what was going on.

She quickly stood up when he opened the door as she saw who it was. It was Bronn. He wasn't as disordered as usual, and almost seemed to be cleaned up, taking her a bit off guard as he breezed in, almost casually, and then gave her a faint smile as Tyrion closed the door behind him.

Realizing that she had almost forgotten her manners, Sansa folded her hands and said, "Ser Bronn, so pleased to see you this evening. What brings you here?"

At her words, both of the men laughed, leaving Sansa feeling more than a bit confused. Bronn never visited in the evenings. In fact, now that Sansa thought about it, the only other time that she'd been in the same room with the two of them had been when Joffrey had tried to punish her for her brother's so-called crimes. It was a bit unnerving for her, as she spoke about Bronn to Tyrion, and about Tyrion to Bronn, but did not know who to address first with her worries.

Logically, it should be her husband, but at the same time, she wanted to speak to Bronn first, as they had become almost, well, friends, over the past few weeks, and she had come to realize that he was much smarter than he appeared to be and so she valued his opinion, but it seemed rude to do so in Tyrion's presence.

Tongue-tied, she simply stood at the end of the table, trying to find something to say, but her husband broke the silence.

"Bronn requested that he come by this evening to give you something, Sansa. I thought it was a good idea, so I told him to come by…"

He let it linger for a moment, but she was only more confused than before. Bronn had come by to…give her something? What on earth could he have to give her? They purposely didn't let others see them interacting too much, lest someone discover their secret, so this was more than a bit odd that he'd dropped by just for her, but she decided to simply nod and let them continue. The two of them had obviously planned this behind her back.

Bronn, at seeing her nod, stepped towards her, an enigmatic smile just on the edge of his lips.

"Lady Sansa, if you could please put out your hands," he requested, still smirking, and she did as he'd asked, putting her hands out in front of her, as if to receive something. He then pulled out a knife and placed it across her palms and said, "This is your new weapon. You've done well enough over the past few weeks, that I think it's time to learn some new skills…"

Her eyes went wide and she looked up at him in shock. Forgetting that Tyrion was there, she dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the floor, and then reached up and flung her arms around the sellsword's neck, not quite believing that he was finally letting her learn the blade. Just a week ago, he'd said that she had at least three more weeks of training before he would even let her near a knife, let alone learn how to wield one.

"Thank you, Bronn! Thank you!" she said into his ear, not caring in the least that he was uncomfortable by her actions. Because of him, she felt that she had a chance to survive against not only the Lannisters, but against anyone who tried to threaten her life. Because of him, she was no longer afraid, so she wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

He awkwardly returned her hug, patting her sides with his sword-calloused hands; during which neither of them noticed the soft look and slight glint in Tyrion's eyes as he stared at the two of them.

Bronn finally managed to say, "Uh, milady, if you could please…"

She immediately realized just how uncomfortable he was and at hearing Tyrion clear his throat, she pulled back and dropped her hands back to her sides, her face flushed with embarrassment. She had completely forgotten that someone else was in the room, and at the realization she felt her face blush an even deeper red. Oh god, she was mortified! What had she been thinking, hugging the sellsword in such an undignified manner?

Trying to regain some composure, she gave a short curtsy and said, in an even tone, "Thank you, Ser Bronn. I am most pleased that you've chosen to continue my training," but Bronn just rolled his eyes and reached over and grabbed the knife from Tyrion, who had picked it up off of the floor where she'd dropped it, and then gave her a look, motioning with the blade in his hand.

"If you can't even hold onto the bloody blade, do you really think I'm going to help you?"

Sansa looked suitably chastised, but the fact that she couldn't stop from smiling ruined the effect. After a moment, he rolled his eyes, and said, "Day after tomorrow, we start. Just...don't expect it to be sunshine and roses. It'll be hard. Knife fighting is one of the hardest things to learn," he added, his voice going gruff, the way that she was used to hearing it. "You'll be more sore and exhausted than you have been, and you'll need to get a lot more sleep than you've been getting', milady. Nine hours a night, am I clear?"

He almost sounded fatherly in his scolding and she bit her lip to keep from smiling and nodded.

"Yes, we're perfectly clear."

"Good," he said, tucking the blade into his waistband. She was confused by the action, and said, "But…I thought that was…" but he cut her off with a raised eyebrow and the words, "Yours? Yes, it is, but I haven't yet trained you how to keep the damn thing hidden, yet, now have I?"

She dropped her eyes, but then heard him let a sigh.

"I'll see you day after tomorrow."

She nodded, and he left, letting the door swing solidly shut behind him, and Tyrion gave her a broad smile, looking the happiest that she'd ever seen him.

"Well, my lady, it seems your sellsword has more faith in your abilities than you realized," he said, his smile turning into a smirk, and she noted his implication at the words 'your sellsword'. "And you seemed inordinately pleased, as well. I am glad that he's helping you, Sansa."

She simply sat back down at the table and gave a faint nod, not quite able to meet his eye, for some inexplicable reason feeling embarrassed.

"Yes, so am I, my lord."

Yes, she was pleased that Bronn was helping her. But now…something felt different. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was good, so she decided not to dwell on it and just enjoy it for what it was. It was obvious that he was now her friend, so she would simply revel in the fact that she had broken the hard man's walls down just enough that he'd let her in.

And, if she had to put a name to her feelings…well, she liked him.

Yes.

She liked him.

And if she happened to smile at just the sound of his name, who cared. He was her friend, and she liked him, and that was all it was.

At the other end of the table, Tyrion watched his wife with a careful eye and was pleased with what he saw. A faint smile on the edge of her lips that had appeared when Bronn had, and it hadn't yet left, even after the mercenary had gone. Tyrion smirked.

Oh, she truly had no idea.

Part 6/?