A/N - Warning, this gets dark.

Chapter 4

Tyrion found he was grateful for the darkness of the cell as he shivered against the cold. The darkness meant he didn't have to look at it - that thing his sister had ordered be done to him. How she'd learnt of the practice he didn't know, but Tyrion had seen it across the narrow sea. It was occasionally done to slaves but more often fools. He supposed he was both now anyway. A fool for believing Daenerys ever cared for him and a slave to the suffering that now ruled his life.

He wanted nothing more than to curl up, sleep and never wake. That wasn't to be. Cersei was taking care to not let him die. After his humiliating walk through Kings Landing he'd been strapped down to that damned table while Cersei watched in glee as Qyburn carried out her orders.

Cersei waved the Hand of the Queen pin in front of his face as the prickling ache across his chest grew worse. He'd tried desperately to free himself but Qyburn had merely tightened the straps holding him in place and continued.

"I had several ideas for this, but this seemed the least likely to kill you. Branding was my first thought but it would be over too quickly and cutting with a knife was too likely to get infected" she mused "its fortunate Qyburn is an intelligent man. He learned this particular practice quickly"

"I practiced on some corpses" said the Maester, a smile on his mouth at the Queen's appreciation

"This was an excellent suggestion by my hand" said Cersei, emphasising the title "it's long and painful and now you'll never forget your greatest accomplishment little brother"

He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of Cersei's mocking smile watching over him. It was a game to her. To see how much she could hurt him before killing him. She'd promised to take everything from him and she was off to a good start. His dignity had been stripped away in the Dragon Pit, along with his clothes and hair. She'd left him nothing to hide behind as he was forced to walk back to the Red Keep. Hours later the mocking laughs of the people still rang in his ears - but that was nothing to all the hands that had touched him. Several times on his walk he'd been pulled into the crowd. Tyrion shuddered violently at the memory of their grinning faces as they molested him like some sort of novelty.

'Look at the dwarf!'

'Ugly little freak'

With his hands trapped behind him he'd been utterly helpless as he was groped, hit and spat on. Some wanted to beat him, other wanted to see what a dwarf's cock was like - they'd all wanted to hurt him one way or another. Tyrion was alone in the cell but he could still feel their hands on him, see the spite in their eyes as they degraded him.

It had been several hours since Cersei had him brought back to his cell, this time chaining his hands high above him as he slumped on the ground. He'd been given nothing to cover himself with and he doubted he would - Cersei would spare him no mercy. Not now Jamie was gone.

Tyrion would have cried again at the thought of his brother if he hadn't already cried himself dry. Why would Daenerys kill Jamie? He was a valuable hostage - she knew how much his brother meant to him.

'She left you to die here. Do you think she cared about your brother?'

Daenerys betrayal cut through him like a knife, scraping over every raw piece of his soul. What had he done wrong? He knew there'd been mistakes but Daenerys had been his friend; he believed in her.

'You're afraid of her'

Sansa's accusation flitted through his mind as he let his head drop forwards. She was right. As much as he'd cared for Daenerys, part of him had feared her. There had always been a piece of her that was volatile; that used force when there was room for mercy. Why hadn't he listened to Sansa? She saw Daenerys for what she was straight away.

Sansa must think him an idiot for trusting the dragon Queen. He hoped she never heard that he'd readily agreed to this exchange – or what followed. His heart twisted unexpectedly at the thought. They'd worked closely together over the months at Winterfell, falling into an easy friendship. Sansa was clever, beautiful and he admired her greatly – the idea of her knowing what had become of him was shameful.

Sansa curled her hands into fists beneath the table; hoping no-one had seen the shaking.

"You're certain?" she asked

Arya nodded, her face grim "Varys has heard the same"

"Why did no-one tell me?" she snapped "I assume Daenerys knows?"

"Everyone knows. Jon hoped telling Daenerys would prompt her to act, but she didn't seem to care. It was easier to tell you in person"

Sansa breathed in, fighting to control the anger rolling through her. Hearing that Tyrion had been forced to do a walk of atonement through the streets of Kings Landing had hurt Sansa far more than she'd ever expected. Apparently Varys and Arya had known for a couple of days and not bothered to put it in a letter. Bran had surely known as well. She ground her teeth together; how was she supposed to plan when she didn't know what was happening?

"Anything else?" she asked sharply

Arya bit her lip "We don't know the details but Cersei is hurting him"

Sansa nodded, trying and failing to ignore the tightness in her chest. A forbidden image of warm green eyes flashed through her mind.

"What do you think?" asked Tyrion, pushing the maps towards her

"You're hand of the Queen – you hardly need my advice"

"You're a fiercely clever woman" he said, smiling at her "I'd value your opinion"

Many times over the weeks at Winterfell Tyrion had sought her advice. Space was tight in the castle with so many people and they often found each other in the library, working on their own projects. Tyrion was a clever man; he had no need of advice but Sansa couldn't deny her pleasure at being asked for it. There were few people who respected her intelligence or opinion.

Daenerys words that Tyrion had suggested a form of Northern independence whispered through her mind, threatening to unlock all that she had carefully sealed away. The dragon Queen was unstable – she could have been hearing things that weren't true...but she'd seemed convinced Tyrion's loyalty was divided. That it was to Sansa rather than her.

"Sansa, why are you really doing this?" asked Arya, drawing Sansa from her increasingly uncomfortable thoughts

"You know why" she said, glancing around the walls of her room in Dragonstone as if they had ears

"I do know why, but you're the one denying it"

Sansa swallowed, avoiding her sisters grey eyed stare "She can't win this war"

"Agreed"

"What about Jon?"

"Like you. He knows a truth he won't accept"

Frustration wound through Sansa. They were wasting time, but patience was necessary. Daenerys was clearly unstable, but she commanded a large army and a dragon – they had to move carefully.

"You have the better claim" insisted Varys

Jon shook his head, denying it once again "I don't want it – I never have"

"If it's a choice between you and our Queen, who would be better for Westeros?"

Jon honestly didn't know anymore. The wind whipped around his face as he overlooked the sea that stretched from Dragonstone. Daenerys had wanted to attack Kings Landing as soon as Sansa arrived but his sister had persuaded her to delay for a week. Long enough for her men to rest and finalise the plan. The mother of Dragons was growing more impatient the longer they stayed here – and increasingly paranoid.

"The bulk of this army is sworn to Daenerys" said Jon, turning to face the spider "they won't fight for anyone else"

"I wouldn't be so sure. Betraying Tyrion has cast doubts through the ranks" confided Varys, folding his hands into his sleeves "Our Queen has tried to frame it as if it were a noble sacrifice, when everyone knows she promised to free him. Grey Worm and a few lower ranking unsullied captains were involved in planning the rescue and spread the plan throughout their ranks. The unsullied are soldiers; a brotherhood in their own way – the Queen's change of heart doesn't sit well with them"

Jon sighed, his hand curling around Longclaw "What would you have me do? Daenerys is Queen – I...she wasn't always like this"

The spider's eyes flashed with disappointment for the briefest moment "I'd have you protect the realm. You saw how easily she burned Jamie Lannister. If she takes Kings Landing what happens next?"

"She gets what she's always wanted and rules justly"

"It's possible" said Varys "It's also possible she goes as mad as her father. I served the mad King; the signs are there"

Ice crept down Jon's spine at his words. It was far too similar to Jamie Lannister's warning.

No matter how Jon had tried to reason with her she'd been adamant on delivering justice and killing the Lannister knight. He could still smell the burning flesh days later.

"I Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen sentence you to die' she'd said, her silver hair glinting in the fading light 'Any last words?"

"I don't regret killing your father. It saved thousands of lives' he said, a smirk on his face 'it was worth the title Kingslayer"

"You have no honour, and any false notions you have of being a hero won't save you"

Ser Jamie hadn't seemed the least bit surprised at his sentence as Drogon reared up behind Daenerys. The Lannister knight hadn't flinched from his impending death, but his eyes found Jon's in the last few moments – as if charging him to carry the burden.

The image of the flames engulfing Ser Jamie often drifted into his mind, but it was the way Daenerys had smiled that haunted him. Her lilac eyes had danced with madness in the light of the dragon fire.

Fire and blood.

That was how Daenerys wanted to win the throne.

"There's still a chance to reason with Daenerys" said Jon "you've saw how her people respect her. She wants to make things better and it cost her a lot to help us fight the dead while Cersei sat safely in Kings Landing. She deserves the throne more than her; deserves our help"

Varys shook his head, turning to leave "Will your sisters be happy with that? Sansa is on the warpath and we both know why"

"When we attack Kings Landing I'll make sure we rescue Tyrion"

"So Daenerys can burn him alive in front of Sansa? You know she would"

"We don't know that" said Jon, rubbing tiredly at his face

"I'm glad I'm a eunuch sometimes" mused Varys "I've done all I can to convince you Jon Snow"

"You serve Daenerys" he reminded him

"I serve the realm"

The strain on his shoulders was terrible as Tyrion twisted his hands to angle the prized keys into the chains above his head. If he could free one hand, the other would be much easier. Escape had seemed all but impossible until he noticed the keys hanging from Qyburn's robes as the man 'studied' him. Time had lost all meaning to Tyrion. He suspected it had been a few days since he was forced to walk through the city and life after that had been a constant cycle of pain and humiliation.

His skin crawled at the thought of Qyburn and the hours he'd spent strapped to that damned table while he examined him. There wasn't a piece of him the man hadn't studied, prodded and probed.

"Unlike your Queen, I reward loyalty little brother" Cersei had explained as Qyburn forced his jaws open, inserting some sort of clamp to hold them apart "I intend for you to suffer as much as possible over a long period of time. Qyburn has promised to help me achieve this and in return I've agreed to let him study you"

"I've tried to gain as much knowledge on the human body as possible, but I've not been able to study a dwarf. Comparing the differences between your kind and regular humans will be fascinating"

Tyrion's tongue went to the hole in the back of the gums where a tooth had been wrenched out for closer analysis. His sister made certain she was there for any pain or humiliation but had grown bored with Qyburn's academic enquiries. The man had spent hours measuring and taking samples from him. Vials of his blood had been taken, along with the tooth, some tissue from his leg and much to his shame his seed. His cheeks burned at that memory - Cersei had made sure she was present for that particular humiliation. Taunting and mocking him as Qyburn manipulated his cock until he spilled his seed into a vial.

Desperation surged through him, giving him a boost of energy as he continued fiddling with the keys in his fingers. He had to escape. He'd rather throw himself from the Red Keep than spend another moment here. No-one was coming to rescue him; no-one wanted him.

He bit his tongue to stifle the hurt that threatened to drown him. Daenerys betrayal hurt more than anything Cersei could do to him. She'd held the last piece of hope he had to give and tossed it aside as if it was worthless – as if he was worthless. He pushed back against the dark thoughts. There would be time to deal with them when he was free from Cersei; that had to be his priority.

Tyrion had noticed the keys a couple of times over the past few days; dangling from Qyburn's black robes. The man had three sets of keys on his belt and Tyrion deduced they were for his chambers, lab and his prison. Studying the keys had given him something to focus on while he was degraded. Today he'd felt certain enough which of the three sets of keys was for his chains and cell to lift them from his belt as Qyburn leaned over him. Concealing them was the bigger problem given his now constant nakedness, but he'd gotten lucky. When Qyburn had the guards unstrap him from the table he'd handed a thin blanket to him, saying the coldness of the cell was too much and the Queen didn't wish him to die yet. Clutching the keys in his fist beneath the blanket as he was dragged back to his cell and chained up again, Tyrion was relieved his prize wasn't discovered.

He forced his trembling fingers to switch the key to the other one again. Surely this was the right set? It had to be; one key for the chains pinning him to the wall and one for the cell door. His heartbeat picked up pace as the key refused to go in. He had to escape.

Hopelessness had just begun to spread through his chest when a click sounded above him and his right arm dropped free. Pins and needles shot down the limb as he released it from its position. Shaking his arm out Tyrion quickly turned his attention to freeing his other hand.

It had been well over a week since Daenerys betrayed him, and Tyrion found his legs would barely hold his weight as he moved shakily from the ground. The darkness of the cell was absolute but the small space allowed him to follow the wall to the door. He picked up the thin blanket, wrapping it around him to both cover and disguise himself. Clothes would be better but he daren't risk trying to find any. There had been no guards outside since Jamie died, and why would there be – it was obvious now no-one was coming from him.

Tyrion drew in a shaking breath, gathering up the fragments of his shattered soul as he squeezed his hand between the bars of the cell and fought to get the key in the lock. Anything was better than dying here.

He struggled in the dark until he was at last rewarded with the lock clicking open. The door creaked open as he staggered out into the equally dark corridor. Tyrion forced himself forwards, creeping down the corridor until he came to another section with torches burning down one side.

The faint light was enough for Tyrion to work out where he was and how to get out of the Red Keep. He kept to the shadows as he crept through the corridors, forcing himself to focus on escape and not that thing on his chest. If he looked at it now whatever strands were holding him together would completely snap.

In planning his rescue with Daenerys he'd looked at every known and hidden entry of the Red Keep and Varys had offered further insight on the many secret passageways. He hadn't been out of his cell long and already his weakened body was protesting the exertion. Finally, he found the door he needed. It would open to a set of stairs but if you knew what to look for a concealed door in the staircase would lead down and out of the Red Keep.

As he moved off towards the concealed staircase, a dark thought drifted through his mind.

His sister was upstairs somewhere. He could go and kill her.

Anger flooded him at the thought of Cersei, urging him to complete the deed. Somewhere inside him survival instincts took over and he turned back to the concealed door. Leaving his cell had taken most of his strength; attacking Cersei would end in death if he was lucky and imprisonment if he wasn't.

Easing open the stiff door which was more like a hatch in the brickwork, Tyrion stumbled towards freedom. It was so close he could almost taste it. When he was free he would find a way to kill Cersei – and Daenerys. The mere thought of her caused a hollow ache deep within him. She did this to him as much as Cersei.

It was at the end of the corridor when Tyrion found the panel that would bring him to freedom. He eased it open as the fresh air swept in to greet him. It was daylight outside; the sun bright and warm as he took the first step.

"Going somewhere little brother?"

No.

Icy terror wrapped around him as he turned to his left, only to find Cersei, Qyburn and a group of guards waiting for him.

His mind screamed at him to move as he turned to run, but it was pointless. Two guards hurried forwards to seize him, stripping the blanket from him and dragging him to his sister. Cersei's eyes were bright with amusement as he was forced to his knees before her.

"Where were you going I wonder? Back to the dragon whore?"

"No, no..." he mumbled, sucking in rapid breaths. He'd been caught. They were going to take him back there; he couldn't go back there.

"You always thought you were so clever" said Cersei, scorn lacing her words "Did you really think I'd leave you a chance to escape? Or that Qyburn would be so easily fooled?"

Tyrion's heart dropped to his feet as the realisation set in. His whole escape had been manipulated by Cersei.

"No wonder your Queen sought to rid herself of you. You did exactly as we knew you would" she said, her eyes moving to that thing on his chest as her lip curled up in satisfaction "I'd expect more from a Queen's hand"

"You're a monster" he said, trembling in the guards iron grip

"The only monster here is you little brother. Your former wife has joined up with the Targaryen girl now. Perhaps when I crush them I'll let her join you. The murderous little bitch deserves to suffer"

'No. Not Sansa. That couldn't be right' he thought; panic bubbling through him 'Why was she with Daenerys? She didn't trust her. Daenerys betrayed him, she'd betray anyone'

"I wasn't sure you'd even bother trying to escape" mused Cersei "If it's not clear now that no-one wants you it never will be. Nevertheless, you will be appropriately punished for your disobedience. Qyburn played his part well so I've given him permission to carry out the punishment"

"You won't be disappointed, your Grace" said the man, bowing his head

All the fight drained out of Tyrion as the guards dragged him back to his prison and whatever hell awaited him. This was Cersei's game and she'd won.

Varys considered the woman beside him as they moved through Dragonstone. Sansa Stark was far more intelligent than he'd believed her to be when she was in Kings landing. While she'd been clever enough to survive Joffrey, the young woman was now a capable player in the game of thrones – some could say dangerous. Her demeanour was an icy calm that terrified and demanded respect in equal measure. Despite her armour of ice, he couldn't say the lady of Winterfell was cold. There was a warmth and passion she extended to her family, and the Northerners she both protected and served. Sansa Stark's heart was closely guarded and open to only a select few she considered family - and their mutual friend.

"How could anyone like it here?" she mused "This place makes the North seem warm"

"Dragonstone is an acquired taste" he agreed "though our Queen doesn't wish to linger here any longer"

The young woman's eyes darkened at the comment "Nor do I"

They continued down the corridor and Varys considered the lady of Winterfell. It had been a few days since she arrived and he'd heard whispers of how well respected she was among the Northerners and the Knights of the Vale. Many preferred her to Jon Snow.

They stopped outside a door with a dragon carved into the wood.

"This is it?" she asked softly

Varys nodded "Yes, my lady"

Sansa needed no further invitation as she pushed open the door. Varys followed her in, closing the door behind them and leaving them alone in the chambers that had belonged to the dragon Queen's hand. He stood silently as Sansa appraised the room. Piles of books and work littered the area, spreading from the desk to on top of the cupboards and even the bottom of the bed.

"Did he do nothing but work?" she asked softly, a hint of sadness creeping into her blue eyes

"He drank"

"All this work for the Queen who betrayed him"

"My lady, I want you to know that I was against the plan"

The woman said nothing, stepping over to Tyrion's cluttered desk and glancing at the papers spread across them.

"Who do you work for Varys?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the papers

"The realm"

"You serve Daenerys"

"I believed she was the best chance we had for a peaceful monarch that cared for the people"

Sansa turned to look at him, and Varys was acutely reminded of a wolf "A peaceful monarch who trades her friends to the enemy and burns people alive who won't call her Queen"

Varys folded his hands into his sleeves, stepping over to join her at the desk "You must understand she wasn't always like this"

"You sound like Jon"

"While her methods were somewhat brutal Daenerys acted with good intentions in Essos. Her campaign was to stop children being born into slavery. She was a liberator"

"I'm not saying she hasn't done good things. She aided us during the long night, and there must have been something special about her for Tyrion to believe in her"

The young woman's mouth turned downwards at her own words; as if it wasn't something she liked to think about.

"There was. I'm sure you'll agree most anyone is a better prospect than Cersei Lannister" said Varys "The Targaryen's have always had hints of madness in them. Her father wasn't always mad, but at the end it consumed him. I hoped it wasn't to be, but the signs are there"

Sansa nodded, her hand brushing over the papers Tyrion had left ready for when he returned "You no longer believe she is the right person to sit the throne"

"I don't. She grows more paranoid by the day"

"Jon has the best claim. I'm certain Tyrion told you"

"He did and Jon does – but I've spoken to him and he has no interest in pursuing it" said Varys, lifting his eyes to meet Sansa's cold stare "Which is why I've come to you"

"I don't want the Iron Throne"

"Yet you've called your banners and come all this way"

"I came for my family" said Sansa, stepping away from him and wandering towards the bed

That wasn't entirely true and they both knew it. The lady of Winterfell was the best hope they had of avoiding a disaster. Daenerys was eager to take the city and Varys knew it would be a slaughter – the common man would be the victim. Cersei was cruel and she knew it – committing unspeakable acts without losing a moment's sleep. Daenerys was perhaps more dangerous. She saw herself as a liberator and protector; blind to her own madness. Neither could be allowed to rule.

"Lady Stark, I wish to offer my services"

Sansa turned to him then, her eyes narrowing as her hand rested on Tyrion's pillow "Why would I be in need of your services? I'm here to kill a tyrant and protect my family"

A smile tugged at the spider's mouth "I understand"

"Do you?"

"We share the same goals; a stable ruler on the throne, and to help our mutual friend. The songs from my little birds are haunting my sleep"

Sansa's face tightened, worry flashing through her eyes "How long?"

"Cersei is keeping him alive" he confided "though I fear if we delay much longer there will be nothing left to rescue"

The lady of Winterfell's face fell at the news, but before his eyes she straightened her back – a fire dancing in her blue eyes "Then we've much to do"

Daenerys didn't like whispers.

There were too many at Dragonstone.

The spider had been whispering a lot lately; whispering to Sansa Stark. The unsullied had taken to whispering too – though it soon stopped when she walked past them. Even now, in the corner of the throne room she could see Grey Worm and Missandei whispering. They hadn't noticed her, but they clearly didn't want to be found.

Her brow furrowed at them. They'd both been acting strangely since the exchange. At first she'd thought Missandei was just traumatised, but the girl seemed guilt-ridden over Tyrion's fate. Daenerys had told her time and time again it wasn't her fault – that he was destined to die and this way he had served his Queen. Even stranger was Grey Worm. The captain of the unsullied had asked her this morning if they could rescue Tyrion.

"I could go with few unsullied" he said "sneak in castle and rescue Tyrion"

"No" said Daenerys "That's not necessary – we don't need him"

"He saved Missandei" said Grey Worm, shifting uneasily under her gaze "Lannister always say about pay debts. I could pay him this one"

Daenerys wrinkled her nose "I saved Missandei. I say we don't need Tyrion anymore"

Grey Worm had nodded his acceptance, but the conversation continued to bother Daenerys. He'd always been her most loyal supporter. Surely he agreed saving Missandei was more important than Tyrion? She watched her two closest friends conversing in a corner, oblivious to her presence.

'They're plotting against you' whispered that voice in her mind. It sounded like Viserys sometimes 'Wake the dragon – show them who you really are'

No. They were her friends.

They were her friends...but she couldn't trust them anymore.

It was with a morbid fascination Cersei watched Qyburn cut into Tyrion's hand. The first of many cries escaping the pathetic creature she'd been forced to call brother. His escape attempt had played out exactly as predicted, and the image of his face when he realised it was a trap had been everything she hoped for.

The Queen drew her eyes from Qyburn's work to Tyrion's agonised face as the knife dug into him. Qyburn had insisted they give him some form of sedative for this; lest his heart give out from the pain. Whatever concoction he'd been given it made her brother's body as limp as rag doll while doing nothing to ease the agony. He was strapped down as usual but there was no chance he could move. Even now his mouth was hanging open as whimpers of pain escaped him.

Pain was good – it was what he deserved.

Qyburn's little birds had warned the dragon Queen would attack in a few days time. Cersei had every intention of winning this war, but the next few days she would focus on the little monster. She'd planned to break him over as many weeks as possible, but with the dragon Queen and the wolves at her door she'd need to accelerate her plans. When the ashes settled and she had her throne she would continue her work on Tyrion. The next few days would break every last piece of him and then she could turn whatever remained into something else.

A smile tugged at her mouth as a whimper fell from his mouth. He deserved this – every last piece of it. Their family was dead because of him; Jamie was dead because of him.

"I've been thinking about your future little brother" she said, running a finger over the few tufts of hair he had left "I've decided not to kill you – not entirely anyway"

He didn't answer; not that he could. Whatever Qyburn had given him had turned his speech sluggish -only his agony was enough to break through and even that was more muted than it would have been.

"I'm going to break you down to nothing, and turn you into something else" she said, her fingers moving down his face to prod his chest. Her lip curled upwards at the sight; it was a clever idea of Qyburn's – and it sat exactly where that stupid pin had on his tunic "When I'm victorious I think a fool will brighten the mood in court. Motley will suit you little brother. We'll make it permanent, and if nothing else it might improve your face"

Tears were streaming down his face as moans of pain broke from his throat. Cersei looked to Qyburn, finding the man had clamps holding the hand open as he prodded inside it, scribbling notes in a black book.

"Anything interesting?" she asked, transfixed by the gory mess

"Very, your Grace" he said, moving his stool aside so she could get a closer look

"Are you ready to proceed?"

"I believe so" he said, lifting a small knife to the hand "You wish to watch?"

Cersei raised her eyes to her brother's agonised face, a smirk tugging at her mouth "I wouldn't miss it"

If Dragonstone had one redeeming quality it would be the beach. The sand was soft under Sansa's bare feet as she idled her way along the stretch of beach; her eyes wandering to the sea that stretched endlessly onwards.

The papers in her hand were dangerous.

Varys had brought them to her earlier today and Sansa instantly recognised Tyrion's writing. When she went with Varys to see Tyrion's chambers, Sansa wasn't sure what she expected to find. His work and books were spread everywhere; how he found anything in the mess she had no idea.

As much as she didn't trust Varys he'd seemed genuine enough in his desire to save Kings Landing from a tyrant. It had taken another day for him to find what she requested but now the evidence was in her hands.

"Why is the North's independence so important to you? I understand wanting it while Cersei sits the throne, but surely there would be no need under a different ruler" said Tyrion, the light of the hearth dancing across his face

Sansa sighed "The North doesn't fit with the rest of Westeros. My father exemplified everything about the North, and look what happened when he went south. Look what happened to all my family"

"No two parts of Westeros are the same"

"They're not, but the North is the most misunderstood. I didn't understand until I left" said Sansa "The North needs independence because it needs someone who understands it. Someone who priorities the needs of Northerners above all else"

"You would rule it?"

"Whoever rules it will be chosen by the Northerners. Don't you see Tyrion? The Northerners won't kneel to anyone they don't choose" she said, her heart twisting "I know you want me to trust Daenerys but I can't. Not that it matters. Jon was our King and he already bent the knee"

A soft smile pulled at Tyrion's mouth "I understand. For what it's worth you would rule the North well"

Heat pricked at the back of her eyes remembering that night and the many others they'd spent working together with the hearth burning brightly between them. She wasn't sure why she'd bothered telling Tyrion that - he was pledged to serve Daenerys after all. Whether it was the genuine curiosity in his questions or the safeness she felt in his presence; Sansa was always more honest with Tyrion than anyone else.

Daenerys words had echoed through her mind for days - to the point where she'd asked Varys for clarification. Now the evidence was in her hands; a plan for Northern independence and proposed agreements between the Iron Throne and an independent North. Sansa had read the document in disbelief, believing this proposal would be a token gesture - how wrong she was. The agreements were fair to both Kingdoms, favouring neither and respecting the independence of both while acknowledging the need for partnership.

According to Varys, Tyrion had brought this proposal to Daenerys, suggesting they use it in case the North still wants independence after she takes the throne. He'd argued Sansa would make a valuable ally - that this proposal could ensure a peaceful reign across Westeros and break the wheel once and for all.

Varys said the dragon Queen was furious. That she'd refused the idea of giving up part of her kingdom - especially to Sansa.

As the breeze whipped her hair around her face, Sansa realised she held everything she wanted in her hands. An independent North; safety for her family.

It still wasn't enough.

The path to what she wanted was blocked by two Queens, and the game was rapidly shifting around her. Allies and enemies changed faces as quickly as Arya.

Gazing across the waters that framed the beach, Sansa knew Kings Landing was close - and so was Tyrion.

"I'm coming for you" she said, her voice drifting away on the wind "No matter what, I'll find you - I promise"