TYRION
He'd been pacing the hall outside the Queen's chambers when Varys came to greet him. "Lord Tyrion, I trust you are having a pleasant evening" he said teasingly. Rolling his eyes, Tyrion sighed, exasperated. "You didn't think to warn me that Sansa was coming?"
"I expected you would enjoy the surprise." He answered lightly. "Besides, what would you have done differently upon her arrival? Kiss her hand and shower her with gifts? Welcome her home?" Tyrion rolled his eyes again. He knew his friend was right, of course. Still, some warning would have been nice. "Did you know about her marriage to Ramsay Bolton?" Lord Varys looked at his feet for a moment before looking Tyrion in the eye. "I had heard rumours. It takes much longer for me to receive my messages from Westeros here, you see. And by the time the birds reached my ears, no doubt the damage had been done." What a choice of words, Spider. You don't know how right you are.
He almost left the room when Sansa started to describe the horrors to which she had been subjected at the hand of Ramsay Bolton. She went into great detail about his many beatings and how he tortured an old serving lady for information and showed her the body. She did not say whether or not he raped her, but it hardly seemed like that would be on his short list of things too despicable to do. No, he was certain that he hurt her in every possible way he could. Joffrey, me, Ramsay… The poor girl cannot catch a break. "What do you think they're talking about?" Varys asked to change the subject. Tyrion gave a short laugh. "I suppose they're trying to come up with an excuse to annul our marriage. I don't blame her. The poor girl has been through enough without having to –" Just then, the door opened behind him. Both women stood staring at Tyrion for a short moment before the Queen addressed him. "Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa has requested a private conversation with you, free of any ears" she looked pointedly at Lord Varys "is this alright with you?" Tyrion stared at them, mouth wide open, not knowing what to say. "Uh… I… Umm…" he coughed and shook his head roughly. "Of course, my lady, we can speak in my chambers. Or if you would feel more comfortable, we could go outside for a walk". Sansa looked at him for a moment, then to Daenerys, and finally smiled politely to Tyrion. "I am comfortable speaking with you in your chambers, my Lord. Please, lead the way."
The walk to his chambers was met with an awkward silence. He led the way to his room, Sansa following respectfully behind him. As luck would have it, he had a whole portion of the palace all to himself, yet another benefit of being Hand of the Queen. He had to admit, it was much more enjoyable than being Hand of the King to his bastard nephew. When they finally reached the door to his private quarters, he hesitated and looked up at his estranged wife. She seemed surprised when he didn't just open the door for her, and she looked at him expectantly. She looks nervous. Just what happened in that room when I left? "My Lady, you know it is not proper for a woman to be alone in a man's chambers without a chaperone" he ventured. Without warning, Sansa erupted into a fit of hysterical giggles. She could not stop laughing, and every time she looked at Tyrion it just made it worse. Her laugh was contagious and he finally found himself laughing along with her. When she'd finally calmed down, he wiped away a tear and asked her what on earth was so funny. "My Lord," she answered between stray titters, "did you forget that we are married? There are few things more proper than being in the same room alone together." With that, Tyrion cleared his throat awkwardly. Where is this conversation going? What is she saying? Surely not... Shaking his head again, he finally opened the door to his chamber.
He led the way to his sitting room, where a large chaise sat in the middle of the room, and a chair on either side. The table in the center had been freshly stocked with wine, bread and cheese. He motioned for Sansa to pick a seat. She chose the chaise lounge in the middle, and waited for Tyrion to join her. He sat on the chair to Sansa's left, poured them each a glass of wine and handed one to Sansa. "Pardon my bluntness, my Lady, but may I ask why you wished to speak to me in private?" Clearly she's going to ask for my help in annulling the marriage, he thought sadly. Why am I sad? I don't even know this girl, not really. She looked at him nervously, and took a deep breath. "My Lord, I do not know where to begin" she started, obviously at a loss for words. "You don't need to say anything, Sansa." She looked up at him, confused. "My Lord?" He put his glass on the table and went to his desk by the wall on the left. He took out a piece of paper and a quill and began to write. "My Lord" Sansa began again, louder this time. He continued his work. "TYRION LANNISTER!" Who is this girl? He looked up at her from his desk, eyes wide and cautious. She was standing over him, obviously angry. "You will let me speak. Sit on the lounge, now." Stifling a laugh, Tyrion obeyed. So this is northern rage, I don't hate it. He waited patiently for Sansa to take a breath and resume her seat next to him on the lounge. She sat closer to him than she ever had before. Maybe I was wrong.
She started and stopped speaking six, no, seven times before slapping her hands on her lap in frustration. Clearly she was struggling with words. Tyrion was just about to say something when his mouth was forced shut with a soft, but insistent and clumsy kiss.