I have mostly tried to stay as close to the books as I can, but one of the joys of writing fan fiction is taking liberties, and in this Chapter I take a small one. In the books, Queen Margeary and her ladies were released to Lord Randyll Tarly to await trial in his custody, but here they are still being held by the High Sparrow. Lord Tyrell and Lord Tarly did abandon their war efforts – as seen in earlier chapters – and are in King's Landing, but they've been unable to convince the High Sparrow to release the girls, no matter how weak the evidence against them.
Chapter 5
It was after dinner before Sansa had a chance to sit and think. She'd sent Alinor off on an errand, and although Ser Tomas and Ser Milton were guarding her door, her rooms were quiet for the moment. Reaching to pour herself a glass of lemoned water, she heard the crinkle of paper in her pocket, and remembered Lord Manderly's note. Returning to her seat by the window, she pulled it out.
My dear Lady Sansa –
I pray that this note will find you well and unharmed. Now that this war is over it's time to look towards the future. Your future, and the future of Winterfell. While your future is a matter that I hope you will allow me to guide, I must tell you that the future of Winterfell is secure. Your youngest brother Ricken and his nurse are here in my home at White Harbor. The nurse has told me that she and the Maester and a few other servants were able to smuggle the boys out without Greyjoy's knowledge. Your brother Bran has gone northeast with the Reed children, towards the Neck. As soon as things have settled a bit, I will send men to find him and return him home as well, gods willing.
I have asked the King to allow me to serve as your protector once your marriage has been set aside. My son will escort you home to White Harbor where I await you, with your brother. I hope that you will allow my home to become your home, Lady Sansa. I know that I am no replacement for your father, but he was my dear friend and I promise to care for you and your brothers as if you were my own children. Once you have returned, we will see about finding you a proper and suitable husband. While I know the horrors you've endured during this war will haunt you for a long while, if not a lifetime, the comforts of a family of your own will do much to ease your mind and soothe your heart.
Your protector and friend,
Wyman Manderly
Sansa read the note three times. Ricken was alive? And possibly Bran, as well? She hugged the note to her chest, her tears dripping down onto the back of the paper. Her brothers were alive. Her baby brothers were alive.
She was so overwhelmed that she didn't hear the door open and close, or even notice the man coming towards her. He stopped at the sight of her tears. "I pray no great disaster has befallen us, my lady?" he said quietly.
She turned her head, startled, then stared. His hair was longer, and the lower portion of his face was covered by a thick, deep blonde beard. But the eyes were the same, the mismatched eyes under a heavy brow, that had always looked at her with kindness and care, just as they were now. She didn't realize she was smiling until he began to smile as well.
"Tyrion," she said excitedly, through her tears. "Tyrion, look!" She held out the letter. He crossed the room to stand beside her chair, one hand resting on her knee, the other taking the paper. His smile widened.
"Your brothers are alive," he said, grinning up at her.
Just hearing the words made her tears flow harder and she unthinkingly reached for him, pulling him close and burying her face against his neck, laughing and crying and then just crying, sobbing in relief and joy and sadness and more that she couldn't even name.
Tyrion wrapped his arms around her, some small part of his mind wondering how she could still smell like soap and flowers at the end of the day. "Ah, it's alright love," he said soothingly, rubbing her back. "There it is, let it all out. You're overdue for a good cry. It's alright now."
They stayed that way for a long time. Eventually Sansa's tears eased to a trickle. And still she lay on his shoulder, enjoying his calming presence. Tyrion was happy to stand there, his arms around his wife, his cheek against her hair, feeling for the first time that everything might actually be alright.
Finally, she sat up. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've ruined your doublet."
"Nonsense," he said lightly. "Besides, what use is a wife if she doesn't occasionally ruin your clothes?" Sansa mopped at her face with the handkerchief he handed her while he quickly unbuttoned and removed his doublet, tossing it to a nearby chair, then returning to stand next to her, his hands resting lightly on her knee. "Do you feel better now?"
Sansa smiled, then laughed a little. "I do, actually," she said.
"A good cry is cathartic, I'm told. Perhaps I should try it," he smiled.
Sansa laughed in earnest. "I can't imagine you crying."
His smile was a little sad. "Oh, I've cried many times over the years. But I always hid it behind a few cups of wine, so that no one would notice. Speaking of." He moved away to pull the cord and one of her serving girls came, curtseying slight when she saw Tyrion.
"Please bring my lady and I wine. And tell my lady's handmaiden that she may find her bed, she won't be needed this evening."
Sansa was surprised by that, and dropped her eyes to the soggy mess that she'd made of his handkerchief. He returned to stand next to her again, his hands rested not far from hers. For the first time, she noticed the dark hairs on the back of his hands, disappearing into the sleeves of his shirt. His shoulders were broad for his size and his arms, beneath the fabric of his shirt, seemed heavily muscled.
Tyrion took advantage of the silence to study her, as well. She'd grown from a beautiful child to a stunning young woman. Her breasts and hips had filled out, and although her hair was shorter, barely grazing her shoulders now, it drew more attention to her high cheekbones and softly bowed lips.
"I'm very happy you're not dead," she blurted out.
Tyrion laughed softly. "As am I," he said wryly. "Personally, I think I am much more presentable with my head firmly attached to my shoulders."
Sansa nodded, and peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "I like your beard," she said shyly.
"Do you?" he said, surprised. "Well then, I suppose I'll keep it. Since it pleases my lady wife."
Sansa smiled, her eyes still in her lap, and Tyrion reached out and lifted her face. "I've missed you," he said quietly, running his thumb along her cheek. "I was terribly worried. Where did you go?"
"Lord Baelish took me to the Vale, to my Aunt Lysa," she said nervously.
"Littlefinger?" he asked surprised, then nodded. "Hmmm. It makes sense, I suppose. He was a friend to your mother."
Obsessed with my mother, you mean. "Aunt Lysa died, and then Lord Petyr died, but some of his knights agreed to escort me to where ever I wanted to go. My only choices were Lord Manderly and the King, and I decided to try the King. Ser Lothor said, and I agreed, that the Northern Lords would support him if they knew he were keeping me safe, and the Lords of the Vale agreed to support him, as well. So I went to the King and offered him thirty thousand fighting men in return for protection."
Tyrion whistled appreciatively. "Lord Connington is right," he smiled. "History will show that it was Lady Sansa who turned the tides."
Sansa blushed. "I am blessed to have good advisors."
Tyrion waved her words away. "A fool can have good advisors and he will still be a fool. Don't discount yourself, Sansa, you're wiser than you know. And I've a feeling there is much more to this story that you're not telling me."
"Oh, much, much more," she agreed fervently. "It was all so horrible, and I was always so afraid. But I don't want to talk about that," she said in a rush. "Tell me about Pentos. Was it everything you'd dreamed?"
They sat talking for hours, drinking wine and nibbling from the tray of cakes that had been brought with the wine. He told her of his travels, although he omitted some of the more harrowing parts, making it all sound exciting. Then he asked her about where she'd been, and although she tried to omit the more harrowing parts, he pressed gently until she told him all of it.
"We have fantastic tales to tell our children of our adventures," he said softly.
Sansa smiled sadly. "It didn't feel like an adventure at the time," she admitted. "It was terrifying. I just wanted to go home, but I don't have a home to go to anymore."
"You'll always have a home, Sansa," Tyrion said quietly. "I know that I'm not the tall, handsome knight of your dreams, nor a dashing king asking you to be my queen. But I am your husband, and you are dear to me. As long as I have a home, you do as well."
Sansa's eyes searched his face for a moment. "I'm not the Lady of Winterfell, Warden of the North anymore," she said quietly. "Bran is Lord, or Ricken. My children won't inherit the title or the lands."
"I'm rather inclined to believe that works in our favor," Tyrion said lightly. "Wardens of the West and the North? That would be hard to manage."
"And the East," she added. "Until Lord Robert comes of age."
Tyrion chuckled. "Good heavens. I know that you'll want to go to White Harbor to see Ricken, and even up to Winterfell. But perhaps we'll allow Manderly or Umber to act as Warden of the North and East?" he asked kindly. "Perhaps we could just focus our attention on the West."
"I don't have lands, or a title," she said uncertainly. "I'm just….an impoverished orphan."
"Perhaps you are an orphan," Tyrion smiled. "But you're a Lannister. You'll never be impoverished."
Still she stared at him, her thoughts swirling in her head.
Tyrion frowned a bit, reaching for her hands. "Sansa, where is all of this coming from?"
"I know that you only married me for my claim to Winterfell, because Lord Tywin wouldn't name you his heir," she blurted. "And now that you have Casterly Rock, and I don't have a title or lands to give you….."
Tyrion smiled. "Your title and lands never mattered to me."
Her heart was racing. She wanted to drop the subject, to go back to the very pleasant evening they'd been having. But if she'd learned nothing else in the last three years, she'd learned that it was better to face things head on. She couldn't pretend like the King's words didn't exist.
"I haven't decided yet what I'll do," she said softly, uncertainly, her eyes intent on his face. "Lord Manderly wants me to come to White Harbor, but of course, the King has asked me to stay here…."
And become his queen. The words remained unsaid, but Tyrion heard them as clearly as if she'd yelled. His stomach turned as he remembered the conversation he'd had with the King.
"She was forced to marry you, and you weren't given much choice in the matter either, from what I've heard," he'd said with his usual careless arrogance. "After all of the help you've both given me, the least I can do for you is to set it aside."
"While I thank you for the consideration, Your Majesty, I have no wish to set aside my marriage." Tyrion had felt dread creeping through him. He'd been hearing whispers that the King was obviously in love with Lady Stark. But Lord Connington had kept him so busy the last few days, overseeing the dismantling of Qyburn's laboratory and finding people who'd conveniently disappeared, he hadn't even had time to find her.
"But the lady may wish it," the King had said. "And you couldn't have been too interested, as you never bothered to consummate it." Lord Connington had looked up sharply from his papers then, pinning the king with a sharp stare, and Tyrion had realized that he may have an ally in this, in John Connington.
"She was a child of ten and three," Tyrion had replied, struggling to keep his anger – and fear – in check. "Her entire family had been butchered, her father beheaded before her very eyes, and then her mother and oldest brother murdered. Her sister disappeared to only the gods know where, her youngest brothers killed by a boy she'd grown up with. And then she was forced to marry me. No, Your Majesty, I did not force her to my bed. Fool that I am, I thought to give her time to grieve, and to get to know me."
"Well, that may not have worked in your favor," the King laughed.
Tyrion had leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table before him. His heart was pounding, and his mouth had gone suddenly dry. "Do you mean to tell me, Your Majesty, that after all I've done to assist you, you will repay me by stealing my wife? You, who can have any woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms, and yet the one you've decided you must have is my wife?" The King's smiled died in the face of Tyrion's seriousness.
"When you were rotting in prison, I saved your life," the King began hotly, but Tyrion interrupted him.
"No, Your Majesty, you did not. Varys saved my life, and then sent me to you as a gift. But since I've been with you, I've served – by your own admission – most excellently. Not only in matters of strategy and tactics, but in convincing Dany not only to give up her quest for the Iron Throne, but to support yours. And in return for all of this, you will take my wife?"
The King glared at him furiously. "It is for the lady to decide," he'd said tightly. "She and I have already had numerous discussions about it."
"Numerous?" Tyrion had said with a small smile. "And yet, she had not given you an answer." Perhaps there was hope after all.
"She wishes to personally thank you for the kindness you have shown her. That is all."
"Are you so certain, Your Majesty?" Tyrion asked. "Apparently, neither my lady wife nor I wish our marriage to be set aside. Tell me, if she decides that she wishes to remain Lady Lannister, should I fear an assassin? Will you remove the small obstacle that stands between you and what you want?"
The King only glared at him.
"It is a legitimate question, Your Majesty, and I would have an answer. If my only choices are to set aside my marriage and live, or remain married and die, I need to know."
"Enough," Lord Connington had said from his place across the room. The King turned to look at him, fury all over him. "You have said the lady can decide. Give her time to do so. But be prepared, my King. She may not choose as you would like."
Now, sitting next to Sansa, holding her hand, talking to her, he'd allowed himself to forget everything. Of course she wouldn't want to remain married to him, especially not when the newly crowned King had made it plain to everyone that he wanted her as his queen. And well intentioned fool that he was, he'd never consummated their marriage. She'd been so excited to see him, he'd thought that perhaps she'd missed him as well. But she'd only been excited that her brothers were alive.
"I married you because Lord Tywin ordered me to," he said slowly, releasing her hands. "It's true that Lord Tywin had said that he'd never name me his heir, but I wasn't so sure that my father was willing to give my inheritance away. I hadn't given up hope of one day being the Lord of Casterly Rock, so I certainly didn't marry you with the intention of becoming Lord of Winterfell. But I knew that if I disobeyed Lord Tywin, any hope of becoming his heir would be lost. Besides, you were – are – a sweet girl, and I'd become fond of you. I wanted to protect you from Jeoffery, and help you to heal from everything that had happened. Once we were married, I'd hoped that…." He stopped, not willing to bare his heart so that it could be trampled on again. When will it end, he wondered, fighting the wave of despair that seemed to engulf him. His every hope and dream were continuously crushed. When would it end? When would he have his chance to be happy? Shaking his head and composing himself, he forced a smile to his face. "You will be a beautiful queen, my lady. And I wish you and King Aegon every happiness." He scooted away from her and rose, turning to get his doublet from the chair.
Sansa stared at him, stunned. They'd been having such a lovely evening, everything had been so wonderful. "Is that what you want? To set our marriage aside?" she whispered.
Tyrion smiled sadly. "All I wanted was for you to have a chance to be happy," he said softly. "Happiness is a dream I've pursued most of my life it seems, and it is ever slipping from my grasp. I'd hoped that one of us could have it." He turned to leave.
"You didn't answer the question," she said, rising from her seat. "Do you want to set our marriage aside?"
Tyrion stopped, sighing a bit, wishing desperately for a cup of wine. Or a bottle. He took a deep breath, then turned to face her. Why was she so beautiful, he wondered desperately? Why couldn't she be ugly and horrid and mean? It would make it all so much easier. "Yes," he choked out. "Yes, I want our marriage to be set aside, so that I can move on with my life, so that we can move on. Now that I know you are well…it's for the best." The lie burned on his tongue.
She took a shuddering breath, her eyes filling with tears.
"Sansa, please," Tyrion said roughly. "Please don't do this. For once in my miserable, wretched life, I just want to be happy." After everything he'd been through, all of the betrayals and the hate, he wouldn't have thought her rejection would hurt this much. But it did. It sliced him to his core. "I just want…..to give you what you want, so that we both can finally be happy. Haven't we earned that, at least?"
"If ending our marriage will make you happy, then by all means, do so," she said through her tears. "But please do not deceive yourself, my lord. You are not giving me what I want. You don't know what I want, you haven't asked. Like everyone else, you assume."
Forget the cup, and the jug. He wanted the entire vineyard. His shoulders slumped a bit, but he walked back towards her, dropping his doublet back onto the chair. "Tell me, Lady Sansa. What is it that you want?"
"I want a home, and a family. Children. I want a husband who loves me," she whispered.
"The King will give you all of those things, my lady." Tyrion forced the words out.
"But…..I don't want to be his queen," she said haltingly, realizing the truth of the words as soon as she spoke them. "I don't want to be queen any more than I really want to be Warden of the North."
Tyrion looked away, just wanting to be done, to go drown himself in a vat of wine and forget this night ever existed. If he drank enough, perhaps he could forget that she ever existed. She and Shae and Tysha….. "Then what do you want?" he asked, suddenly tired.
She paused for a moment as her swirling thoughts finally settled into place. "The husband of my dreams," she said slowly, "is not tall and handsome. He isn't a prince, or even a knight. But he's kind," she smiled softly. "He's so very kind, even though he says he doesn't know how to be. He's wise, one of the most intelligent men in the Seven Kingdoms. Smart enough to advise the King, smart enough to run the Seven Kingdoms himself. He's strong. Not the physical strength of a warrior, but strength of character. He would never hurt me, and he would die protecting me. He loves me more than anything." She sank back to her seat on the sofa as she realized for the first time that their marriage hadn't only been forced on her but on him as well. He may not want to be married to her. Perhaps there was someone else he wanted, perhaps that was why he hadn't bothered consummating their marriage. There was so much she didn't know, but she'd come this far and she wasn't going to run back to the North, to Lord Manderly, without at least trying. "I don't want to marry a boy who is infatuated with me, I want a man who loves me. Tyrion, I want you."
Tyrion stared at her for a moment, stunned speechless. He frowned, wondering if he'd misheard her. Perhaps his heart had been so desperate to hear her say…..but she was right in front of him, her heart in her eyes, tears on her cheeks. He backed away, determined not to make a fool of himself. Her eyes widened, and she started to reach for him. Then she stopped, pulling her hand back into her lap, pressing her lips tightly together, and closing her eyes as her shoulders slumped, and she dropped her head.
By the gods. She wanted him.
He came forward to take her face in his hands, staring at her in stunned wonder. Then he kissed her. He moved from her lips to her eyes, then her nose and cheeks, her chin and ears, then back to her mouth. He forced himself to pull away before he took her there on the floor. "Oh, the King is going to be angry," he said with a chuckle, resting his head against hers.
Sansa grinned. "Yes, he will," she said, wrapping her arm around him and pulling him close. He climbed back onto the sofa, on his knees beside her. "Now may be a good time for us to return to Casterly Rock for a bit. He'll be bitterly angry at both of us, until some other pretty girl crosses his path and smiles at him. Then he'll forget all about me." She ran her fingers lightly through his beard, and he closed his eyes briefly on a sigh.
"I don't know about that," Tyrion breathed, his lips so close to hers that she could feel the hair of his beard on her face. "You are rather unforgettable."
The next morning Alinor came into Sansa's room with her tray, calling out a cheerful 'good morning,' and almost dropped the tray in shock as she saw Tyrion putting on his doublet. "Good morning, Alinor," he said with a smile, taking a piece of bacon from Sansa's tray. "I'll see you this evening." He grinned to her as Sansa blushed furiously from her place in the bed.
"Of course, my lord," Alinor said with a wide grin and a small curtsey. "Please let me know if there's anything you'll need."
"I'll send my squire Podrick around," he said cheerfully. He'd been relieved to have the boy return to him with Jamie, although if what he'd said was true…..Tyrion pushed the thought away to deal with another time. "Between the two of you, I'm sure you'll get the two of us squared away," he continued. "These rooms are larger, so we'll stay here until we return to Casterly Rock." He looked to the bed, where Sansa had practically buried herself beneath the blankets. "Have a good day, my lady."
"And you, my lord," came the muffled reply. Tyrion laughed softly as he left the room.
Alinor squealed in delight as soon as he'd closed the door. "Come from under there!" she laughed, rushing over to the bed and pulling the blankets away from Sansa who snatched them back to cover her nakedness. "Oh stop it, I bathe you, it's not like I haven't seen you undressed before!" She found Sansa's robe and gave it to her. "Here you are, Lady Lannister," she teased.
Sansa smiled ruefully. "You do know that I've been Lady Lannister for as long as you've known me." She eagerly approached her tray, suddenly ravenous.
"Of course I know," Alinor said as she started gathering the sheets. "But I supposed now you're –" she stopped, staring at the smear of blood on the sheet before her.
Sansa blushed but said nothing. Alinor didn't either, just finished gathering the sheets and left the room, returning with fresh ones. After she finished making the bed, she helped Sansa to dress, bringing extra water unbidden, but smiling the entire time.
As she left her rooms to go meet with the castle steward, she received a note from Lord Connington.
My Lady –
Margeary Tyrell and her cousins are being released today. The ladies are returning immediately to their homes, escorts await them. However, the King would like you to escort Lady Margeary back to the keep. I have assigned her a room that is on the third floor, and easily guarded. Ensure that she is aware that she is still a prisoner. She will not be allowed to leave her room, except under guard. Her father will visit with her later this evening.
J. Connington
Twelve guards followed her carriage to The Great Sept to meet the freed ladies. The escorts were already waiting – five guards per girl, charged with seeing each girl safely to her nearest kin. Sansa hugged them all fiercely, and they all waited together for Margeary to appear. But the High Sparrow told them that they would not be allowed to wait, and that they needed to be on their way. Sansa tried to ask him to reconsider, but he refused to budge. Margeary would not be released until all of the girls had departed. Finally, Margeary appeared, wearing a thin wool dress and plain wool cloak. Sansa bundled her into the carriage, thanking the High Sparrow for his assistance.
"Sansa," Margeary said tiredly. "Could your girl ride with the driver? I'd like to talk to you alone."
Sansa hesitated – it was bitterly cold outside – but ultimately nodded. Alinor smiled at her and tightened her cloak as she stepped out.
Margeary was silent as the coach began to move. "Why did he send so many guards?" she asked. "He had to know that I won't try to run away."
"I don't know," Sansa answered honestly. "He only asked me to escort you back to the keep, and to make sure that you understand that you are still a prisoner. You won't be allowed to leave your room, except under guard."
Margeary nodded, her pretty face twisted into a bitter frown. "What of my father?" she asked. "Is he alright?'
Sansa nodded. "I saw him yesterday, he looked tired but well. He'll visit with you tonight. I've heard," she hesitated. "I've heard that he's lost Highgarden. The King plans to leave it under the care of the Prince of Dorne until he chooses a new Warden."
Margeary stared at her. "But our family has been rulers of Highgarden and Warden of the South for generations," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
Sansa could only hold her hand tightly. "I know," she said.
It took Margeary a few moments to visibly compose herself. "Do you know if I'll be allowed to attend the wedding and feast, at least? Since we are friends," she asked, trying to smile.
"What wedding?" Sansa asked, confused.
"Yours, silly girl," Margeary laughed. "All of the septa's are talking about it, the High Sparrow agreed immediately to put aside your marriage to Lord Tyrion."
Sansa blushed. "I won't be marrying the King," she said firmly. "I'm already married."
Margeary was surprised. "Why not? I know Lord Tyrion is a powerful man, but not more so than the King. And the septa's have all said that the King is obviously smitten with you."
"That may well be, but I will remain married to Tyrion. It was my choice," she said when Margeary tried to speak. "I don't want to be queen. I want to stay with Tyrion."
Margeary look at her as if she were crazed. "But, why?"
"Because he's good to me, and kind. Because he cares for me. I love him, and I want to be with him more than I want to be queen, or even Warden of the North," Sansa said stubbornly.
Margeary gasped in horror. "Sansa, how can you possibly be in love with that deformed Imp? You know that he killed his own father? And Jeoffery as well!"
Sansa raised a brow. "I will thank you to watch your tongue when you speak of my husband," she said icily, releasing Margeary's hand. "Tyrion has been pardoned of any crimes he may have committed, and there is no firm evidence that he killed anyone, and I know for fact that he did not kill Jeoffery. There is more to a man than his face, I would have thought Jeoffery would have taught you that. But perhaps you weren't married to him long enough to know." Margeary was shaking her head, a look of mild panic on her face. "He didn't order your father beheaded before your eyes, and then force you to face his head on a pike," Sansa continued hotly. "Your father was there to protect you, so Jeoffery never convened a mock court to convict you of your family's alleged crimes. He didn't order his Kingsguard to rip your dress from your body and beat you while a crowd looked on. He didn't threaten to rape you at every turn, even after you were married to someone else. No," she said when Margeary tried to speak. "I would rather have my 'deformed Imp' than any of your kings, all of whom I might add, are dead. And your life is in a rather precarious position, isn't it? I suppose being queen isn't all you thought it'd be."
The carriage stopped, and Ser Tomas opened the door, extending a hand to assist Sansa, then Margeary. "Please escort Lady Margeary to her room," Sansa said coolly to the guards.
"Sansa, wait, please," Margeary said desperately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, I was surprised, that's all. Please, don't be angry with me," she begged. "You're the only friend I have."
Sansa regarded her for a long moment, and then nodded once. Her eyes flickered to the guard and they took Margeary by each arm and led her away. Sansa and Alinor followed behind slowly. As they turned the corner to the stairs, she saw the King, Tyrion, and Lord Connington, watching them. Margeary tried to bow as she passed them but the guards kept moving. The King called out to Sansa as she passed them. "Whatever did she say to you?" he asked curiously.
Sansa paused. "Something of a personal nature, that I would rather not discuss, Your Majesty," she finally replied.
He smiled, a bit wickedly. "It's just that Tyrion and I have a small wager," he grinned. "I think she said something about me, but he says it was something about your family."
Sansa raised a brow, glancing to Tyrion, who simply raised a brow in return. She swallowed a smile. "My lord husband knows me well," she said, unaware of how her gaze softened when she looked at him. "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, Lady Margeary needs a hot meal and a bath. I also need to ensure that her clothes have been taken to her room, what the septa's have dressed her in is woefully inadequate for this weather." She curtseyed and turned away, not understanding why the King suddenly looked so angry.
Lord Connington sighed a bit, knowing that a tantrum was on the way. He'd had an idea that the girl wanted someone else when she hadn't jumped at the offer to become queen. But it hadn't occurred to him that the 'someone' would be Tyrion Lannister, especially once he'd seen the handsome knight from the Vale who'd been pursuing her. The King stared after her for a few moments, then continued on the way they'd been headed.
"I plan to have your marriage set aside," he said abruptly, after a few minutes of walking.
"I am aware of your intention, Your Majesty," Tyrion said carefully. "However, you may find that a bit…..difficult to accomplish."
"And why is that?" the King asked.
"Because my marriage is valid," Tyrion said.
"But not consummated."
"On the contrary, it is very much consummated."
The king stopped, turning to face Tyrion angrily. "Since when?" he demanded.
Tyrion paused, carefully considering how to best answer. "I was not aware that the intimacies between my lady wife and I would be a subject of public discussion," he said quietly. "However I assure you, it is done."
The king looked murderous. "If you forced her –" he began quietly.
"I did no such thing," Tyrion ground out, furious that the boy would even insinuate such a thing. "I have already lost her once, I have no plans to do so again. And so my marriage is good and well consummated, with my lady wife's full agreement and participation. She has chosen to remain Lady Lannister."
"And why would she choose you over me?" the King sneered.
"I have no idea, and the fact was as unexpected to me as it is to you," Tyrion said honestly. "I only thank the gods that she did."
The King opened his mouth to speak but Lord Connington laid a gloved hand on his shoulder. "Enough," he said, quietly but firmly. "She is another man's wife. You have always known that."
The King stood there, glaring murderously at Tyrion, then turned and stalked away. Lord Connington nodded to the guards and they fell in behind him, leaving he and Tyrion standing alone in the hall.
"We knew he would be angry," Tyrion said quietly. "We plan to leave for Casterly Rock soon. She's never seen it, and perhaps her absence will give him room to become infatuated with someone else."
Lord Connington stared for a moment as the King rapidly distanced himself from them. "That might not be for the best," he said. "The boy has his grandfather's ability to hold a grudge. If you leave, he'll forget, yes. Until you return."
"And the feelings will return with us," Tyrion said on a sigh.
Lord Connington nodded. "It will be uncomfortable, but it would be best for you and Lady Sansa to stay," he said. "He needs to face it, so that he can move on."
Nodding, Tyrion turned to follow the King, Lord Connington falling in beside him. "Lord Lannister, I am hoping that you'll consider staying on in King's Landing, semi-permanently."
"Oh?" Tyrion asked, curiously. "May I ask why?"
Lord Connington slowed his steps. "I will not always be his Hand," he said slowly. "And I want to ensure that someone trustworthy will take my place. I hope that it will be you."
Tyrion looked at him in surprise. "Are you planning to leave, my lord?"
Lord Connington paused, then jerked his head in some semblance of a nod. "My job with the boy is done," he said gruffly. "I am thinking of returning to Pentos." It wasn't a lie. He'd thought long and hard about leaving, going somewhere and taking his own life before the grayscale could claim it.
Tyrion watched him, consideringly. "Have you spoken to him about it?" he asked.
"No," he said, with a quick shake of his head. "He will not take it well. But all of this….the political maneuvering and diplomacy and the endless meetings…it is more than I want to manage."
Tyrion nodded slowly, then turned to follow the King. "I would need some time," he said. "I have promised Sansa that I will take her North for a bit, to Winterfell. And I have business at Casterly Rock," he sighed. The Second Sons were hounding him for payment.
"I don't intent to be here that long," Lord Connington surprised him by saying. "A few months, at most."
Tyrion turned to him in surprise. "A few months? Is there a hurry, my lord? Surely you can give him another year of your time?"
"No," Lord Connington said gruffly. "I cannot. I can give him a few months. I hope you'll be prepared to step in. You are a skilled player at the political game, Lord Lannister, as was your father before you. And I have full faith that you will guide him successfully." He turned to enter the meeting room, leaving Tyrion in the hall, staring after him.