"We are man and wife, after all..."
Ice settled in her stomach as her blood pounded in her ears. Her hand was still frozen in spot on the door, her whole body refusing to move. Had she heard him right? Her mind spun and she felt her tongue grow heavy. Maybe she had imagined it...her worst fears coming to fruition. She turned slowly, adrenaline rushing through her veins.
"P-pardon, my lord?" she choked, hoping beyond hope that he had not said what she thought he had. She finally met his gaze and her heart sunk.
How many times had she seen that smug look in King's Landing. How often her husband had used his quick wit to trap unsuspecting victims. He had always been so pleased with himself afterwards and now she saw that same look here-trapping her.
She half turned back to the door, her brain searching for some way to escape this. But no...running would do nothing. She would have to face him. Him and the truth and the future. She pulled from the courage she had built over the years and straightened her back, turning back to him and stepping closer.
"How did you know?" she whispered once she had gotten close enough. She silently lowered herself back into the chair and stared into the fire.
She heard him chuckle slightly and could feel his gaze. "We were married, Sansa. Maybe not for long and maybe not happily, but I know you."
Sansa's eyes shot to meet his. The smugness was still apparent in his expression, but Sansa searched it for something else. Vindictiveness? Like a lion cornering its prey? Littlefinger had taught her how to observe-how to guess someone's motives and she pulled from those lessons now.
Assume the worst. What's the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say and doing what they do?
The worst. He would want to punish her, wouldn't he? Punish her for abandoning him to his fate in King's Landing... Or he could believe that she had actually murdered Joffrey. She knew there was no love lost between the bastard king and his dwarf uncle, but perhaps he would still wish to charge her with regicide. Joffrey was his nephew, after all. Had he already told the dragon queen of her lies?
"You knew from the beginning?" she croaked, finding it harder to breath as she imagined what would happen now. "Did you know when you came that I was here?"
Tyrion thought for a moment before he responded. "Well I certainly did not know when I came. Had I known you were hidden away in the Vale I would have come sooner." Sansa held her breath. "But no...I did not recognize you at first. You looked familiar, to be sure. But it took a while for me to recognize you in truth. Hells, you are no longer the meek little girl that I knew. The Sansa who had been my bride would never have dared to chastise the queen like you did Daenerys." He chuckled at the memory and Sansa felt her cheeks grow hot. It had not been a good moment for her. "I had suspected before that, but I thought 'No...prim and proper Sansa would never...'" he laughed again before growing thoughtful. "But then...here tonight I could see that girl again. So formal and yet so quietly fierce. Using her courtesies as an armor. A true wolf of winter. I always knew if you had a chance to grow away from Joffrey and my bitch of sister you would flourish. They thought you a fool...it was them who failed to see your true potential."
Silence fell over them. Tyrion seemed lost in his memories and Sansa sat like a rock, fearing what was to come. She didn't understand this praise. He had to hate her. They had never been close. She had rejected him coldly always keeping him at a distance when they were married and then at the first chance she had abandoned him. Leaving him to die. She observed him silently and again found herself cursing her younger self. For being so naive and for not trusting this person. Years later she had realized how kind he had really been to her. And yet she had been a frightened child-lumping him in with his family who she hated.
Finally he seemed to jolt himself out of his reveries and grinned wickedly at her again. "So Littlefinger, hm? Should have known he would have spirited you away. He was always good at sniffing out prospective assets. He knew your worth even if Cersei didn't..." he chattered for a moment about the Whore Queen's ineptitude. But Sansa barely heard it. Ever since he had first called out to her, her blood had been pounding in her ears. She kept waiting for this calm, amused facade of his to break. For the hammer to fall.
"My lord..Tyrion!" she finally interrupted him, anxiety getting the best of her. "What..." she searched for a way to frame it delicately, but could not. "What are you going to do?" She finally said bluntly.
He stared at her, his features blank. All of Littlefinger's teachings were useless against this empty gaze as he pondered. Sansa's was still, not even able to breath as she waited for judgement.
"What am I going to do?" he repeated back and she gave a trace nod. "Well...nothing, Sansa." he spoke as if he couldn't understand her confusion. As if it was the simplest matter in the world. "Nothing in regards to you. I will travel North with the queen. Help advise her during this Great War. I will work with the Lords and the troops to finish this thing and then I will go back to King's Landing with her grace and serve as her hand. You can stay here, living as Alayne Stone, or perhaps Harding some day, for the rest of your life if you wish. I will not force your hand, Sansa."
She blinked in surprise, but stayed mute. What?
"But...like I said before. You would also be welcome to join us. Come North. Serve as Alayne and help lead the forces of the Vale. Provide supplies and financial advice" he pressed a hand to the ledger still by his side. "Whatever your name is, your talents speak for themselves."
Sansa gulped, a little bit of indignation rising in her. How dare he act as if this was not complicated for her. As if it mattered little to have this secret between them.
"Or..." he continued. "Go to Daenerys. Tell her who you are. Come North as the last trueborn Stark. Take your home back. Believe me, one of our stops will be eradicating the traitorous Bolton family. Come and take your rightful place. Claim your birthright. I'm sure the North would rejoice having a Stark warden back in Wintefell."
There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.
Sansa beat away the pride and hope that had risen in her chest by his words. "It's not that simple," she snapped. "Even if the queen does not have me executed on the spot, it would not be as easy as you say. What reason would she had to give me the North? And you are a fool if you think it would be easy to rally the North for a woman, no matter my last name. They will not follow me! I was Joffrey's betrothed! Married into the Lannister family! Then disappeared and presumed dead for years! They would not care that I am Eddard Stark's daughter. I have done nothing...nothing to earn their respect. Warden?! I'm not fit to ever show my face back there..." She snorted, before bringing a hand to her face, finding her cheeks wet. Tears were flowing unbidden down her face as she voiced all the fears that had welled up in the years since she had left her home.
Warden of the North...she did not deserve to bear such a title. Not after betraying her father. Not after throwing away her honor on the promise of a life as Joffrey's queen. Not even after living so many years under Petyr's influence. Not after everything that had happened.
Tyrion remained silent as she wept. She was grateful, such a show of emotion was embarrassing. She did not want him to try to console her, but she was also glad he was witness to it. For so long she had been forced to keep her identity a secret. She could not voice any of these fears to anyone. The only one who had known everything was the last person she would ever go to with insecurities or remorse. Despite all that Tyrion was, he had never betrayed her confidences. It was a sad thing that the husband she had never warmed to, the man she had left to die, was the closest thing she had to a friend she could trust right now. Why was he talking to her like this, anyway? Didn't he hate her? Want her dead for leaving him to such a fate? Why was he being so...kind?
When her sobs had finally quieted and her tears dried, he glanced back at her, sympathy in his gaze. "Go and get some rest, Sansa. Think about what I said. Think about your choices. No matter what you choose, I will keep faith. You can have a quiet, peaceful life as a nobody or you can be who you were born to be." He stood and waddled over to her chair. She flinched when his hand came to cup her cheek, but forced herself to meet his gaze. His fingers brushed a leftover tear from her cheek before he gave her a soft smile, reaching down to pat her hand. "I think though, that you'd be surprised by how happy all would be if it was discovered that Sansa Stark was alive and well-ready to take back what is hers."
She looked in his eyes one last time, using every trick Littlefinger had taught her to try to catch any lie or ulterior motive. But she saw no falsehood in his encouraging smile and felt her own lips tugging up just so slightly.
"Good night, My Lord"
"Good night, sweet wife," he winked before pulling the door open. "Lady Stone," he bowed, dismissing her courteously as she passed him and suddenly the intimacy they had found evaporated.
The walk back to her own chambers was cold.
A/N: I know I know...wayyyy to long since I posted anything. Hope you enjoyed this update-I'll try to get the next one out quicker.