Chapter 4

Nearly as soon as the door closed Lord Tyrion burst out laughing. Sansa startled and looked at him curiously. As soon as he calmed down to mere chuckling he tried to explain himself.

"I haven't seen him that cross with anyone who wasn't family for a very long time. That was priceless, my dear lady." He said breathlessly.

"Lord Tywin certainly has an affinity for doing things properly, doesn't he?" Sansa asked, referring to the extent he went to to arrange the marriage.

"Not particularly. His idea of 'beseeching' the queen for your hand was ordering her to do as he told. And this luncheon wouldn't have been arranged at all if he hadn't suspected that you knew of the plans already." Tyrion answered.

"That sounds much more like what I've come to expect of Lannisters." Sansa replied. Her husband-to-be sobered a bit at that.

"Ah, but clearly you'll fit in quite well. You held your own against him right til the end, and then when you knew you were beaten you left your opponent with a jab he's not likely to forget soon. Not only that, but you never did give away who told you of our plans. You catch on very quickly, for one who hasn't been playing this game very long." Tyrion said.

It was meant to be a compliment, but the nature of it was somewhat distressing. She didn't want to fit in with Lannisters, they were horrible. Then again, being a Stark had gotten her father killed, and she knew she wouldn't be far behind if she kept his values.

Lord Tyrion reached into a pocket in his doublet and pulled out a velvet pouch.

"I've been instructed to give you this." He said. "It's a very traditional betrothal gift in my family." He hopped off of his chair and walked around the table to her. He pulled a piece of jewelry out of the velvet pouch and held it up to her.

It was a pendant on a short gold chain. The pendant was gold with a red field, in the middle was a raised golden lion. The Lannister sigil.

"It's beautiful." Sansa said honestly, though lacking enthusiasm. Tyrion smiled knowingly at her. He raised his arms to put it on her, but fell just a bit short. Sansa got out of her chair and sat on her knees on the floor so that he might be just a little higher than her. He came close behind her, to accommodate his short arms, and put the chain over her head. She pulled her hair in front of her so that he might see the back of her neck to fix the clasp.

The situation struck Sansa very intimate. A sudden shiver went through her as his hands brushed against the base of her neck. Joffrey had done this with the gold chain he'd gotten her, she remembered. Somehow this felt different. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she supposed it had to do with the fact that she was on her knees. She had needed to willfully put herself in a position to have her neck exposed to him. She wouldn't do that for Joffrey now, not for the whole world. She marveled at herself for trusting the dwarf far enough to do this.

The chain fell against her neck and she knew he'd finished. She felt the pendent where it sat just under her collarbone. The more cynical part of her likened it to a slave collar. But it was a very lovely one, and she suspected the Lannister colors suited her well. Tyrion pulled her hair back, running his hands through it, and she stood up again.

"It suits you quite well." Tyrion said. He didn't seem quite himself somehow. She looked at him and was startled to see desire in his eyes. She blushed. What had she done to inspire it? Perhaps he really was the 'lusty little Imp' that the tales implied.

"Thank you, my lord." Sansa said, before she could get caught up in her thoughts. She rose to her feet and dusted her knees off gingerly.

"Shall we take a walk through the gardens?" Tyrion suggested. He held his arm up a bit, so she might take it. She laced her hand somewhat awkwardly around his elbow.

The gardens themselves were quite pleasant, the people who were also in the gardens were less so. She and Tyrion had started their stroll peacefully enough, but very soon a titter started following them. She'd seen a few surprised looks at her new pendent as well. She didn't often get laughter following her, harsh whispers were her ghost. She could only assume that the laughter belonged to Lord Tyrion. She supposed that when whispering and laughter bred that's when gossip was born. No doubt they would be the talk of the Keep by nightfall.

After a while she sat down on a low stone bench near the pond. She had expected Tyrion to sit as well but he didn't. Now that she was sitting on something low they were of height. She rather liked that. His face was quite ugly, and still quite raw looking from his wounds, but there was something to be said about being able to look someone in the eye.

"Do they often laugh at you?" Sansa questioned boldly.

"Only when I haven't any power over them. I've learned to ignore it when it suits me, and to get very quiet revenge when it doesn't." Tyrion answered. "Their laughter follows you as well, doesn't it?"

"Laughter? Not usually." Sansa answered. "Sometimes, but more often it's whispers and cruel smiles. I haven't bothered to hear anything they've said, but it couldn't be hard to guess."

"We'll make quite a pair, to be sure." Tyrion commented somewhat wryly.

After a while they continued walking and the conversation turned to things more pleasant than the other people in the Keep. Tyrion already knew quite a lot about her and quite a bit about Winterfell, but he regaled her of a few stories of his childhood at Casterly Rock.

"It sounds quite lovely, my lord." Sansa said after the conversation had lulled.

"It had it's moments." He agreed.

A young man came running up to Tyrion quickly.

"My lord, a message. Your father, Lord Tywin, he said it's nearly time to be in the throne room, for court." He said. He looked up at her and then quickly down to his shoes.

"Ah, Podrick. Have you met my betrothed, the Lady Sansa?" Tyrion asked the boy.

"N-No m'lord." The boy mumbled. "Hello, my lady." He said. He seemed to be addressing her feet, but he managed to look her in the eye for perhaps a split second.

"This is my squire, Podrick Payne." Tyrion explained.

"Payne?" Sansa asked warily. "A relation to Ser Ilyne Payne?"

"He's my cousin, my lady. Distant. I don't know him very well, we don't talk." Podrick answered.

"Never have two relations been so different." Tyrion assured her.

At a glance Sansa couldn't agree more. She wondered on how he came to be Lord Tyrion's squire in the first place.

"Shall we adjourn to the throne room, my lady?" Tyrion asked. "You get to stand in a new place now, being affiliated with the western families. That might provide some sort of pleasant distraction for you at least." He sounded as though he really didn't care to go, but knew that his position wouldn't let him out of it.

Sansa didn't really care to go either, knowing that she had to publicly align herself with the Lannisters. But she knew she'd have to face the reality of it sooner or later, and it might as well be today. She wondered how disappointed Margaery would be when she saw her on the other side of the room, or if she'd be disappointed at all.

A/N: I cut out a scene where Tyrion and Sansa kiss because it really didn't fit either of the characters. So this chapter is shorter than the other ones. If it seems a little choppy in the garden scene, that's why.

Also, dear "Guest". You knew that this was a Tyrion/Sansa fanfic, what did you expect? I respectfully disagree with your assessment, I don't think Sansa would have went with Little Finger if she'd known all the crap he'd pulled..