Chapter 11

"Why are you in such a hurry?" asked Arya, watching her sister bustle about her chambers "You know Tyrion isn't going anywhere. He'll still be in the next room even if you slow down for a minute"

Sansa pursed her lips "There's a lot to do today Arya"

"Like what? You've already won the North's independence, is that not enough for one week?"

"It's not that simple. There are arrangements to be made to return North, Bran wants to go through the evidence for Cersei's trial with me, I need to get a token for Tyrion and the High Septon has said he wants to visit us both before we leave for spiritual enlightenment or something like that"

"Ok, I see your point-"

"That's not to mention arranging temporary trade agreements between the Kingdoms before we leave, and Maester Henly wants to rebreak Tyrion's shoulder today or tomorrow depending on how he is. Obviously I want to spend time with Tyrion too - he was so upset yesterday when I couldn't see him. Those ridiculous lords demanding he go to the Westerlands-"

"Alright" said Arya, holding up her hands in defeat "You're a very busy Queen, I accept that"

Sansa was quickly running a brush through her hair, but turned to glare at her "I'm not a Queen yet"

"You will be. There's no point denying it"

Sansa merely sighed and went back to hurrying around the room. Arya lounged in the chair at the desk, noticing the piles of documents spread all over it.

"Jon said he's going to sit with Tyrion later" said Arya

"Tyrion recognised him yesterday and Maester Henly thinks it's a good idea to introduce him to more familiar faces - and it will give Missandei a break. She's guilt-ridden for what happened to him, but she needs a break too. She's going to bring Grey Worm with her to visit later and I've asked Podrick to sit with him soon. Depending on how Tyrion reacts to all this of course"

"Sounds like a plan"

"It's not much, but it's the best we can do in the circumstances. We don't want to push Tyrion too much but it's the only way he'll heal"

Arya nodded "So when is it my turn?"

Sansa paused "For what?"

"To sit with Tyrion"

Her sister's eyes narrowed suspiciously "Why would you sit with Tyrion?"

"You claimed him as your husband" said Arya, as if it was obvious "which means he's my brother by law"

"And? You know as well as I do the marriage is a temporary arrangement. Besides, have you ever actually spoken to Tyrion?"

"Not in so many words"

"You glared at him constantly while he was at Winterfell. He even asked me once if you were going to kill him!"

Arya rolled her eyes "Oh come on, he wasn't being serious"

"No, but you were"

Annoyance flickered through Arya - she thought Sansa might bring this up, but she'd only been protecting her family. If Tyrion had bothered Sansa there'd have been an unmarked, dwarf-sized grave somewhere in the woods. But Sansa had seemed to like him bothering her and somehow fallen in love with him. That she'd claimed him as her husband yesterday was a clear signal to Arya that the imp would be a regular feature of their family. Her surveillance of him at Winterfell hadn't caused her any concerns over him either, so the next logical step was acceptance.

"That was then, this is now" said Arya

Sansa set her brush aside and straightened up "I appreciate your offer, but no thank you"

"Seven hells Sansa I'm not going to glare at him now. I saw what was in those jars as well as you did"

"Thank you, but no" said Sansa, in that annoyingly calm voice that grated on Arya's nerves "For now it's better we stick with people Tyrion is actually friends with"

"What do you think I'm going to do to him?"

"I don't know, but it's better we don't find out"

Arya bit her tongue, forcing herself to keep calm "If you're bringing him to Winterfell he'll have to get used to me sooner or later"

"You're right, but for now later is better"

Arya sank back into her seat, determined to not snap at her sister. She couldn't deny Sansa's accusations but she didn't need to like them either. It had been obvious enough at Winterfell Sansa cared for Tyrion, but Arya had woefully underestimated how much and that was Sansa's fault. Why couldn't her sister have just been honest about it? Even now she was trying to convince herself she was doing all this for her 'friend' and not for the man she'd fallen in love with.

Patience was key to winning this game. Sooner or later she'd wear her sister down and could take her turn with Tyrion. If he was important enough to Sansa for her to march across the country and take down Cersei then Arya would give him a chance too.

"I'd like to delay Cersei's trial a day if you're amenable?" asked Bran

His sister's brow furrowed "Why?"

"A witness is coming who won't arrive until then"

Bran could see the question in Sansa's eyes, but she decided not to give voice to it "Alright. It's not like Cersei's going anywhere"

They were in Bran's chambers with statements and evidence spread around them. The trial of Cersei Lannister would lay bare all of her sins and they needed every piece of evidence to back it up. There was more than enough evidence to take her head, but this was about justice too. If Westeros was to move forwards in recovery its recent past needed to be publically dealt with. Sansa was just as keen to see justice carried, and as she had once been a hostage in Kings Landing her own knowledge of events was invaluable.

The King tilted his head to one side, considering his sister. They'd worked steadily for the past hour, mostly going through the notes Varys had already compiled. Sansa had spoken here and there about different points in the notes, but she had yet to voice what was really on her mind. The thought was plaguing her, no matter how much she was trying to ignore it.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked

Sansa lifted her head "For what?"

"The hearing yesterday. It was hard for you - and for Tyrion - but it had to be that way"

"I understood why you were doing it, as much as I didn't like it" said Sansa, adding as an afterthought "I'm not angry with you"

"I knew you would win if you used everything at your disposal. No one cares for Tyrion more than you"

Her cheeks flushed "That's not..."

"It is true. Even Tysha didn't love him as you do"

Bran could almost see the divide in his sister's eyes; the part of her that wanted to refute his claim, and the part of her frozen by the name Tysha. Perhaps he could have brought it up more delicately, but it was what Sansa was thinking about.

"You have questions about her" said Bran

Sansa opened and closed her mouth before pressing it into a tight line. There was no point denying it, Bran had known what was on Sansa's mind since she went to see Cersei Lannister.

"I shouldn't be surprised you know" said Sansa, slumping in her seat "Did Varys tell you or did you see it?"

"I saw you speak to Cersei. I knew you'd have questions" said Bran "What Varys told you is all true, if that's what you want to know"

Sansa tapped her long fingers against the table, biting her lip as if she wasn't sure whether to voice her thoughts or not. Bran waited. As the three-eyed raven time held little meaning for him anymore.

"I want Tyrion to be happy" she said softly "Varys said Tyrion...he said he loved Tysha...I was wondering..."

She trailed off, struggling to get her thoughts in order.

"What happened to her after that?" said Sansa, her words tumbling forwards in a rush "Maybe, he'd prefer it if she was here? He married her willingly after all. It wasn't forced like our wedding. If he really loved her-"

Bran shook his head, stopping his sister's rambling "She's dead. After Tywin let his guards have her she was thrown out of the Rock, and died a couple of days later. Tysha was a young whore, and quite new to it. When she realised Tyrion was falling in love with her she saw a way to a better life. She did care for him - he treated her like a Queen - but she never loved him"

"Oh" said Sansa, ducking her head from his gaze "that's..."

"Tysha didn't deserve what happened to her" said Bran "nor did Tyrion"

"No one deserves to be abused like that" agreed Sansa "Tywin Lannister was a monster"

"He was" said Bran "it might be better you don't tell Tyrion what happened to Tysha. I spoke to him at length at Winterfell and he never asked me, despite knowing what the three-eyed raven could do. He carries a lot of guilt for what happened"

"I won't mention it" said Sansa "I just...just needed to know. In case he'd rather she was with him"

Bran's mouth turned upwards "It was a long time ago, and Tyrion is no more the man he was then than you are the girl who wanted to marry Joffrey"

Sansa's face darkened at the mention of Joffrey, but Bran thought he saw relief there too. She might have enquired about Tysha's fate with good intentions, but it was tinged with fear that someone else might already hold Tyrion's heart.

Tyrion bit his lip, considering whether it was worth the risk. The thought had plagued him since yesterday, and more than anything he wanted to know the answer. He rubbed his thumb into the thick blue blanket considering his options. He couldn't ask Sansa this; she was so kind to him and if she hadn't realised he didn't want to point it out to her. He'd nearly asked Missandei when she was here earlier, but she had a strange man with her and Tyrion wasn't entirely sure she'd tell him the truth.

"Do you need anything Tyrion?"

The question pulled his mind back to the present and Jon sat beside the bed. It was the strangest thing - he knew Jon, he was certain of it - he just didn't know how he knew Jon. The same thing had happened with Missandei's friend earlier, but it was much stronger with Jon.

The man was sat in Sansa's seat beside the bed and looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know how. That was ok. There were lots of things Tyrion wanted to say but couldn't.

"Are you actually comfortable like that?" asked Jon, his eyes moving over the tight sheets pinning him to the bed. It wasn't comfortable really; he felt trapped - but Sansa said it was for his own good, and she tucked the sheets around him every day.

Should he ask his question to Jon? Questions were dangerous for imps, but maybe Jon wouldn't mind.

Tyrion turned his attention to the man sat beside him, gripping his blanket for comfort "Jon…"

Brown eyes met his, and Tyrion forced himself to carry on.

"am I…a monster?"

Jon's eyes turned sad "Is this because of Jeyne Lydden yesterday?"

Tyrion nodded. The girl had looked at him with such disgust, but he didn't think he'd ever met her before. As soon as she pulled the sheets back she'd recoiled as if looking at a scary creature.

"You're not a monster" said Jon, laying a hand over his arm

"Sure?" asked Tyrion. He didn't think Jon would lie but he had to be certain.

"There are plenty of monsters in the world Tyrion, and you're not one of them" said Jon "That girl had no right to see you and she won't come near you again, I'll make sure of it"

Jon seemed sure and Tyrion let himself relax a little bit. Monsters were dangerous, and if he was one he'd need to leave. The last thing he wanted was for Sansa to be hurt by a monster.

"Lord Tyrion is making good progress" said Henly, as Sansa smoothed the covers over Tyrion

"He didn't seem to mind his new visitors" she said

"Yes, it is most promising. Particularly that he knew Jon's name without hearing it from someone else"

Sansa took a moment to observe her husband as he slept. The thought still sent a thrill through her, though she was quick to temper it with the reality of the situation. She'd spent the last few hours with Tyrion, first helping him eat some soup and later moving his limbs to keep him active. After the stress of the hearing and the story about Tysha, Sansa was determined to make sure Tyrion felt safe and cared for. She'd talked to him for a while, telling him tales of Winterfell until he drifted to sleep, leaving just her and the Maester who'd been observing from the corner.

"I think he's strong enough now to fix his shoulder" said Henly "It was important to wait until he regained some strength, but the longer we leave it the more difficult it will be"

Sansa had been moving from her chair, but stilled at the Maester's words "When?"

"Tomorrow I think. I'll need another Maester to assist me and lord Tyrion will be in considerable pain afterward I'm afraid"

"Do we have to?" asked Sansa, brushing her fingers along Tyrion's cheek. He looked peaceful - well, more peaceful than when they'd rescued him in any case.

"I daresay you know the answer to that my lady" said Henly, lifting an eyebrow as he busied himself around the room "It's the only way Tyrion will recover any use in that arm, and the way his shoulder is currently setting has the potential to cause back and mobility problems when he's well enough to move"

"You're right…I know that. I just wish it didn't have to hurt him"

"It's perfectly understandable that you wish to protect your husband"

Sansa's head snapped up the word to meet the Maester's steady gaze.

"Tyrion isn't to know that" she warned "not until he's well enough to understand"

Henly held his hands up placatingly "Certainly my lady, I will not mention it to lord Tyrion though I must say I was surprised to learn of your relationship"

"No one outside of my family knew before yesterday" she said "Tyrion doesn't even know about the certificate. I only brought it up at all to make sure he wouldn't be taken to the Westerlands"

"Quite rightly, dare I say. Maester Gallard is not at all happy at being snubbed firstly by you and then by King Bran. It quickly became apparent who I needed to side with yesterday"

"You say that as if you might have gone against me" said Sansa, a hint of warning in her voice

The Maester was unperturbed "I do not care for the politics of lords and ladies, I care only for healing. Lord Tyrion is under my care as a Maester and if I thought your plan to bring him North went against his best interests I would have said so"

Sansa positioned herself between the Maester and the bed instinctively, protectiveness rearing inside her "Is that a warning?"

Henly stared at her a moment, before a smile broke across his face "Certainly not my lady. I've seen first-hand how deeply you care for lord Tyrion and the hearing yesterday only reinforced that. I may not care for politics but I do recognize when they're being played - lord Lydden and his daughter wanted only to use lord Tyrion. There is no doubt in my mind that it's in his best interests to be with you, and if that means he travels North then so be it. I merely found it interesting that you used your marriage certificate to secure lord Tyrion and not his titles"

"I don't care about his titles"

"No, but lord Lydden did" said Henly "Forgive me my lady, I can see I've unsettled you. It merely fascinated me that a woman in your position would so openly claim lord Tyrion and forsake the political benefits. I quite admire it actually"

Sansa felt her defensiveness ebb away. Surely it seemed strange for the soon-to-be Queen in the North to publically commit to the lord of Casterly Rock while turning away the power she would gain as his wife. Did her bannermen think the same? There was so much to do there hadn't been time to consider how the Northerners would react to her claiming Tyrion. Would they not want her as Queen if he was her husband? Their marriage wasn't real. It was a temporary façade that would allow her to bring Tyrion North and care for him until he was well enough to make his own decisions. It couldn't be real; not when she didn't know how Tyrion felt.

She turned back to Tyrion, her eyes drifting over his sleeping face before settling on his left hand that clutched the blue blanket she'd given him. There was no denying the sense of satisfaction that filled her at the sight. Tyrion had turned away from the filthy rag he'd clung to in favour of her gift, and when faced with Jeyne Lydden he'd asked for her instead.

"I don't care about the politics between the North and the Westerlands" she said softly "I just want Tyrion to get better"

"I believe there is a very good chance of that my lady" said Henly, offering her a smile "You agree to the procedure going ahead tomorrow?"

"I do"

"Excellent. I will make the necessary arrangements"

Sansa nodded, though she kept her eyes on Tyrion. Navigating the political fallout from the hearing would be difficult and keeping whispers of their marriage status from reaching Tyrion would be even harder.

Yet all she could think about as she watched him sleep was finding a token that let the world know he was hers.

Another day. Left to rot for another day before she was put on trial.

Cersei prowled back and forth in her small cell, only able to take a few steps in any direction. It hadn't been Malcolm who came to give her the news, but the old grizzled soldier who clearly disliked her. He'd given her no reason for the delay only that the King and the lady of Winterfell were in agreement.

"Don't you mean the lady of Casterly Rock?" asked Cersei "If you take my treacherous brother as your lord, surely his whore of a wife is your lady?"

The old guard's eyebrows shot up in surprise "How do you know about that?"

"All whispers reach the Black Cells eventually" said Cersei "I suppose the Stark bitch is the one giving you orders now. My little brother is merely a puppet..."

"Enough woman" snarled the guard "Sansa Stark is a finer lady than you'll ever be, and it is lord Tyrion alone that we serve"

It had taken more restraint than Cersei thought she possessed to not claw at the guard's smug face. How quickly the guards forgot it was she that had kept the Lannister's in power - not her father, or her brothers or anyone else. As soon as the tide turned they abandoned her like rats fleeing a sinking ship, and now happily claimed to serve the imp.

The corner of Cersei's mouth quirked upwards. The conversation had given her some knowledge at least. It was beyond mortal understanding why Sansa hadn't annulled the marriage to the little beast, but she didn't seem to be positioning herself as lady Lannister either. Perhaps it was timing. Wait a few weeks so her intentions weren't too obvious before seizing power in Tyrion's name. That had to be her game. Why else would anyone willingly marry the imp other than his name?

At least the delay of the trial gave Malcolm longer to do what needed to be done. If all went well she would step into the trial as the last of her house, and the loyalty of the Westerlands and the Lannister guards would return to her as quickly as it left. She'd never trust such traitorous bastards again, but she could use them. None would testify in her favour while their imp lord lived, but when Tyrion died they would surely sing a different tune.

"I should have a chance to sit with him too" said Arya, twirling her knife between her fingers "What does Sansa think will happen?"

Silence met her question but that was hardly unusual when talking to Bran. It had taken time but she was slowly getting used to her brother and his strange abilities - though he was hardly the Bran she'd known in childhood.

"I don't care that he's a Lannister" continued Arya "not anymore at least. I can't say I understand the attraction either; he's almost the opposite of what Sansa liked as a girl. Brienne's just as bad. Since Daenerys killed Jamie I keep finding her crying around the castle"

"That's what happens when you spend your days in the shadows, you see the things people would rather hide"

Arya lifted her head at the answer, seeing Bran was staring out the window. He was there in body but Arya suspected it was the three-eyed raven speaking. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether it was Bran, the three-eyed raven or a combination of both. Sansa found it creepy, as did Jon - but Arya was more understanding. A girl has many faces after all.

"Lannister charm must be lost on me" said Arya

"But not Baratheon" said Bran, folding his hands in his lap "You should visit Tyrion tonight"

Arya lifted an eyebrow "He's getting his shoulder fixed today. I think Sansa was planning to fuss over him for several hours after"

"She will" said Bran "and you should visit them"

"What have you seen Bran?"

"I can't see the future"

"No, but you do know something"

"I know you carry only needle and the dagger I gave you unless you leave the Red Keep"

Unease trickled through Arya as she took in her brother's grim expression. There was rarely any point asking Bran questions but his vague words were often laced with double meaning, and delivered in the same monotone voice that made it impossible to decipher statements from warnings. Bran could deliver both good news and bad with the same tone.

"Do I need to carry another dagger?" asked Arya

"That depends"

"On what?"

"Whether Sansa and Brienne are the only ones who can be charmed by a Lannister"

"It's ok Tyrion, I promise you'll be fine"

He carried on trembling as Sansa eased him upright and wrapped her arms around him. His left hand was clutching his blue blanket while his right dangled uselessly at his side. Sansa brushed her hands over his back, carefully drawing his shaking body against hers.

"Lady Sansa is right my lord. The procedure won't be pleasant but it's necessary for you to recover"

A whimper fell from Tyrion and she could feel him tentatively dropping his head against her shoulder seeking her comfort. Why had the Maester insisted on telling him they were going to put him to sleep and rebreak his shoulder? To Sansa it seemed kinder to just do it, but Henly had argued it would break trust with Tyrion and if there was any hope of rebuilding his confidence then Tyrion needed to be given power over himself again. Sansa understood that. Tyrion had been badly abused and given no choice in what was done to his body - restoring healthy boundaries was essential and so was letting Tyrion choose who touched him and when. But that wasn't the same as this. The procedure to fix his shoulder was in Tyrion's best interests and would go ahead whether he agreed or not. Explaining what was going to happen had done nothing but terrify him and leave Sansa with the unpleasant task of convincing Tyrion it was for the best.

"Please no" he begged, shaking like a leaf "I'll be good...promise..."

Sansa's heart thudded painfully at his words "You're very good. This isn't to punish you Tyrion, it's to help you"

She moved her hand to rub his right arm.

"You'll be able to use this arm again. Won't that be better?"

She was careful to not mention using his hand again - that was damaged beyond repair.

"Not again. Please, Sansa please..." he whispered

"I'm so sorry" said Sansa, squeezing him as tightly as she dared "but you need to get your shoulder fixed. You've been so brave. Please do this for me. When it's done you'll need a few days' rest, but we can go home then, ok? We can't go home until your shoulder is better"

Sansa hated this. She hated talking to Tyrion like a frightened child, she hated the feel of him shaking in her arms - she hated that Cersei was still drawing breath.

"Here my lord, just drink this and you'll fall into a deep sleep. It will spare you the worst of the pain" said Henly, appearing at the other side of the bed with a cup in hand

Sansa shot the Maester a look, but the man's face was immovable. They had to be honest with Tyrion, so he said, and that meant not giving him the false promise this procedure wouldn't hurt. The truth wasn't making things easier. If anything it was making Tyrion more fearful, and Sansa was increasingly reluctant to leave him. She adjusted her grip on Tyrion, mindful of his broken leg and ribs as she settled him against her chest to see his face. Wide green eyes darted to her face and then back to the bed again. It was too late, Sansa couldn't miss the tears glistening on his face.

"Oh Tyrion, I'm so sorry. You don't deserve to suffer any of this, but you're so strong - I know you can do this" she said, kissing the top of his head "I'll hold you until you go to sleep, ok? I'll come and see you later too"

She leaned her head against his as fear got the better of him. It was as he trembled against her that her eyes caught sight of the tattoo on the back of his right shoulder. The bandages around his chest and ribs hid two of the tattoos from sight, and the one by his hip was usually covered by the blankets. While they took care to move Tyrion around in the bed to stop him from getting sore Sansa rarely looked at his back. Now the mark was in full view.

'Little Monster'

A lie. A cruel taunt. Words that were permanently written on him.

Jon had told her what Tyrion asked him yesterday, and the thought made her sick. How could anyone think Tyrion was a monster? Especially if they saw him now; stripped of his identity, and scared, and so small in her arms.

"Are you ready lord Tyrion?" asked the Maester, holding the cup out towards him

Tyrion didn't want to do this, and that made Sansa not want to either. She pulled in a breath to steady her nerves before reaching to take hold of the cup. Tyrion didn't resist as she gave him the drink, but the fear on his face tore strips from her defences. She'd read Qyburn's notes and seen the jars - it wasn't hard to imagine what Tyrion thought was going to happen.

"I'm so proud of you" whispered Sansa, when he'd had the last of the drink "You don't need to worry about anything, I'll protect you"

"Very good lord Tyrion" said Henly, smiling reassuringly "this shouldn't take long"

The Maester moved off to make his preparations, leaving them alone on the bed.

"Sansa...scared" murmured Tyrion, his head lolling against her

"I know you are" she said, her throat tightening "Don't think about that, think about something that makes you happy"

Tyrion said nothing but the drink was quickly taking hold of him as his trembling lessened. Sansa's heart lurched as he drifted to sleep, and she sought any way to distract him.

"Are you excited to go to Winterfell?" she asked

He didn't answer for a moment before his voice drifted to her ear "With you?"

"Of course" she said, kissing the side of his head "I'm not going anywhere without you"

The fear emanating from Tyrion as he fell asleep was almost painful and Sansa knew all too well what had caused it. Qyburn was a monster, but at first appearances he seemed little different from a Maester. Sansa knew Henly didn't mean Tyrion any harm, but he didn't know that - to him, everyone was a threat. Everyone was a monster in disguise.

"I won't let anyone hurt you" she whispered "I'll keep all the monsters away"

Tyrion didn't answer and Sansa realized he'd stopped shaking and was lying still against her.

"He's asleep?" asked the Maester, peering over "Good. I should get started right away my lady, when the potion is strongest in his system. Grand Maester Tarly has offered to help me, so I'll send for him immediately - he knows to be ready. I don't anticipate any major problems but it will be thoroughly unpleasant I'm afraid..."

Henly carried on talking about what he was going to do and any possible complications, but Sansa could barely stomach it. At first, she'd wanted to remain with Tyrion while it was done but when Henly had explained the details she knew she couldn't do it. To set his shoulder they would have to break it again, and Qyburn had mentioned two breaks in his notes. Watching it would be unbearable so Sansa would have to leave Tyrion in the Maester's hands, with only a promise of returning as soon as possible to see him.

Reluctantly she moved to lay Tyrion back on the bed but froze when she felt a tug on her gown. She followed the tug to find Tyrion's left hand had surrendered its death grip on his new blanket in favour of clinging to her.

"Oh Tyrion..." she said, her own tears finding their way to freedom "I...I..."

No, it wasn't right. The words couldn't come out. Not here, in this horrible place. Not with this Tyrion, who was so scared and vulnerable. Sansa lay him back against the pillows, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll be back soon husband" she said softly.

There was so much to say to Tyrion, but not when he was like this. Even so, Sansa couldn't resist reminding herself this man was hers - however temporary.

Jon shifted awkwardly as Sansa spoke to the merchant. It had taken an hour or so but she'd finally found what she was looking for. When Sansa had knocked on his chamber door and asked him to accompany her into the city he was never going to refuse, least of all when he knew she needed the distraction. Samwell had told him earlier what they were going to do to Tyrion and he could barely stomach the thought of it - he could hardly imagine how Sansa felt about it.

They'd wandered through the streets with Sansa going from merchant to merchant before finally settling on something she liked.

"It's done" said Sansa, moving back to join him "It should be ready the day after next"

"Are you happy with it?"

Sansa hesitated "I think so. You don't really give tokens to men so it's not the easiest thing to think of"

They set off down the street, winding back towards the Red Keep.

"I don't understand the token thing" admitted Jon

"It's to signal your intentions" said Sansa "you often see ladies who are betrothed start wearing the colours or sigils of the house they're marrying into. When I first came to Kings Landing Joffrey gave me a lion necklace so everyone at court knew I was his"

Bitterness tinged her last words. The Sansa he'd known in childhood had wanted nothing more than to marry her handsome Prince, only to learn he was a monster. After her brutal marriage to Ramsay Bolton there was nothing Jon wanted more for Sansa than for her to find happiness. The Sansa who'd arrived at Castle Black had been as cold as ice; it was only when Tyrion arrived at Winterfell he'd seen Sansa smile again.

Finding them together became a regular occurrence and Jon thought things might have continued to build between them - if it wasn't for Daenerys and her quest for the throne. Whatever connection had developed between Sansa and Tyrion remained unspoken when he left Winterfell, and everything that followed had nearly stolen the chance from them. Jon couldn't imagine being Sansa. After years of pain and misery and betrayal, she finally let someone into her heart and they're tortured beyond all recognition.

"Do you think he'll mind wearing something with the Stark sigil?"

Sansa's question pulled Jon from his musings to her uncertain face.

"Why would he mind?"

Sansa bit her lip "I-I do care about Tyrion, but I don't know how he feels and I don't want him to think he owes me anything or I'm taking advantage of him"

"He won't think that Sansa"

"This is just temporary" said Sansa, as if she was trying to convince herself "I didn't annul the marriage so Tyrion could come North with us, but he still has the option when he's well enough. The token is only small, and I can take it off him before he realises it's there. Bran said Tyrion only needs to wear it until he's coherent enough to understand what's going on. When we reach Winterfell should be fine"

Jon shook his head "You're overthinking this..."

"Do you think so? I don't know, maybe I am. I just don't know how Tyrion will feel about any of this..."

It was then Jon saw it. The fear of rejection lurking in his sister's eyes. To protect Tyrion she'd publically announced their marriage was still valid and openly claimed him as her husband. Sansa was far more guarded with her heart than she'd been as a child; even within their family she wouldn't admit her feelings, yet the hearing had forced her to openly admit there was something between her and Tyrion. The unfairness of the situation hit Jon like an arrow, exposing the painful reality Sansa was living in. Everything she was doing was guided by good intentions, but the prospect that Tyrion wouldn't return her feelings surely lurked as a dark possibility.

"I think Tyrion will be grateful for whatever you do for him. You know how much he likes clever plans - what you did at the hearing will probably thrill him" said Jon, relieved to see a hint of a smile on Sansa's face "And I think he'll be happy with any token you give him"

"Thank you Jon. You're right, I'm just overthinking things. When he's better I'll explain everything to him - I'm sure he'll understand"

"He will" said Jon, adding "We'll help you too. I shouldn't have waited so long to see him, and you shouldn't have needed to do everything alone. The lone wolf dies..."

"The pack survives" finished Sansa "I wish father was here"

"I miss him too" said Jon, the corners of his mouth turning upwards "it might be better he's not here to see this"

"See what?"

"I fell in love with a Targaryen, you love a Lannister..."

"Jon" warned Sansa

"The only one he'd be happy with is Arya" continued Jon "he'd have married us all to Gendry"

"Gendry?"

"You've not seen them lurking around the castle together?"

"I've been occupied with my Lannister" said Sansa "tell me more about Gendry. I need to get revenge on Arya somehow; all she seemed to do at Winterfell was spy on me"

The tone lightened as they made their way back towards the Red Keep. What happened with Daenerys would always haunt him, but seeing what had befallen Tyrion had given him some perspective. If Daenerys could betray one of her closest advisors and leave them suffering, there was no telling what she could have done to Sansa or Arya or Bran. Love was the death of duty, but love for family outweighed everything.

When the world returned to Tyrion it was lost in a haze of pain.

Everything hurt.

His left leg ached, as did his chest and ribs. There was barely a part of him that wasn't sore or aching. Yet all of that faded to nothing when compared to the throbbing agony of his right shoulder. The pain radiated down his arm and across his back, furthered only by the pulsing ache in his mutilated hand. A hiss of pain escaped him as he tried to move, and instantly a man dressed in the grey robes of a Maester leaned over him.

"You must stay still my lord" said the man

There was no need to tell him that, Tyrion couldn't have moved if he wanted to. He gritted his teeth, trying to force his mind to move past the pain and make sense of what was happening. There was another man in grey robes in the room, but he had his back to him and appeared to be mixing something.

"Where?" croaked Tyrion, even his voice sounded pitiful

The first Maester was staring at him, and raised an eyebrow at his question "Where what my lord?"

"Where…am I?"

"You're in the Red Keep my lord, in the room you've spent the last week in"

Tyrion screwed his eyes shut as nausea rolled through him.

The Red Keep.

Cersei. Qyburn.

So much pain.

Instantly the memories clawed at him, threatening to tear his mind to pieces. He began to shake as his mind fought against itself.

He had to be good. If he was good maybe they wouldn't hurt him. Maybe Cersei would forget about him and he could die peacefully. Where was he though? He was missing something. This man wasn't Qyburn, and this room wasn't his cell.

"Calm yourself my lord, you're quite safe here" said the man, his sharp eyes studying him "Do you remember me?"

Tyrion drew in a ragged breath as his mind struggled to understand what was going on.

"I'm Maester Henly" supplied the man "I've been treating you all week, since lady Sansa rescued you from the Black Cells"

Lady Sansa.

No. Why would Sansa be here?

Soft blue eyes swept through his mind, followed by the image of the lady of Winterfell leaning over him. That couldn't be true; it was his mind playing tricks on him. Or was it? He didn't know. So many thoughts swirled around him, and none of them made sense.

"It won't make sense to you, you're not strong enough"

Tyrion turned his head to find the source of the voice, and his heart nearly stopped when he did.

Daenerys stepped forwards from the corner of the room, her purple eyes smoldering like fire.

"You once told me the great game was terrifying, but that was a lie" she said "You were too weak to play the game. Only fire and blood will win"

"No…no, no" repeated Tyrion as she stepped closer to the bed.

The betrayal. Jamie's death. Endless agony at his sister's hand.

"My lord?" asked the Maester, glancing between him and where Daenerys stood "What do you see?"

"You shouldn't have betrayed me Tyrion" said Daenerys "As if I'd allow Sansa Stark to be Queen in the North. You'll die soon, but not before she does"

"Get milk of the poppy, quickly" ordered Henly "he's far too agitated"

Tyrion trembled, all the thoughts and memories that had been fighting for attention before were quickly fading in the face of his terror. Daenerys was here; she was going to kill him - she was going to kill Sansa.

"Please…" he begged, as the Maester leaned over him with a cup "Not Sansa…save Sansa…please"

"She's quite safe my lord" promised the Maester "now I need you to drink this"

Tyrion was far too weak to resist as the liquid was poured down his throat. Daenerys was stood at the bottom of his bed now as the Maester leaned over him.

"She's here…" said Tyrion, hoping this man might understand "Please…she's dangerous…save Sansa"

"Lady Sansa is safe, I promise you" said the man "she'll be here to see you later"

The other man appeared in his vision as tiredness spread through him, and a tiny piece of Tyrion's mind recognized him. There was no time to focus on that though - not when the dragon Queen was here.

"Sweet dreams" said Daenerys, her eyes bright with madness as Tyrion's world went dark

"You seem distracted tonight your Grace"

Bran pulled his gaze from the window to the curious face of Varys "I fear you may be right"

"Is there any way I can be of assistance?"

"Not yet, the hour of the lion isn't yet upon us"

Varys was a clever man; his face shifted instantly at his words "Pardon your Grace, but do you mean the hour of the wolf?"

"That is what it's usually called" agreed Bran "but whether the hour belongs to the wolf or the lion remains to be seen"

Bran could see through the neutral face of Varys with little difficulty. Every possible meaning of the words was being turned over and analysed until Varys arrived at the most likely situation.

"You are not going to act?"

"I see the past, not the future"

"But something will happen tonight"

"Perhaps"

"Your Grace, if there's an opportunity to prevent a situation..."

Bran shook his head "You can't prevent what may or may not happen. Individual choices can change nothing or change everything. Daenerys decided to trade Tyrion for Missandei, and the effects of that decision altered many things"

Varys folded his hands into his sleeves "You didn't ask me here tonight to go through trial preparation"

"Yes and no. We are where we're supposed to be lord Varys, and until the hour is upon us we might as well prepare for tomorrow. It's time Cersei Lannister paid for her crimes"

Sansa chewed the inside of her cheek, struggling to keep back the tears that threatened to fall. She dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water and gently brushed it around Tyrion's face again.

"Does that feel better?" she asked

Nothing.

Tyrion's eyes were open but he was lost inside his own mind. When Sansa had first entered the room the sense of death hanging over Tyrion had terrified her. She'd known he would be in pain from fixing his shoulder but she hadn't expected him to look so sickly.

"What happened?" demanded Sansa, dropping into the seat next to her unconscious husband

"The procedure went well my lady, though I believe the pain roused him from his sleep sooner than expected. He woke not long after we'd finished securing the splint around him and was quite confused"

"Like he was before?"

"No, my lady. I think lord Tyrion was himself when he woke - more himself than he has been these past days. He asked where he was and didn't seem to recognize me"

She brushed the back of her hand against Tyrion's cheek. That should be a good thing. He shouldn't look so pale and sickly and still.

"His moment of clarity did not last long" continued the Maester "He became very agitated, insisting 'she' was here and to protect you"

Sansa struggled to speak past the lump in her throat "She?"

"I do not know who he was referring to, but his attention was focused on the corner of the room as if he could see someone. I gave him milk of the poppy so he would sleep and give his body time to recover"

That had been hours ago, and Tyrion had once again woken up - only this time he was unresponsive. He lay lifelessly in the bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Sansa was terrified. She'd kissed his forehead, stroked his face and sat talking to him - all with no reaction. The blue blanket was still clutched in his left hand and his face was tight with pain but other than that it was like Tyrion had disappeared.

She lay the damp cloth against Tyrion's forehead, hoping it might ease some of his discomfort, or at the very least let him know she was there. Reluctantly Sansa pulled her gaze from Tyrion's face to the thick bandages that now covered his right shoulder. Strips of wood had been wrapped in cloth and secured around the front and back of his shoulder, running from the edge of his arm to the end of his collarbone. Tight bandages held the crude splint in place, and more bandages covered that, winding around Tyrion's upper arm and then wrapping diagonally around his shoulder and chest.

The blankets lay at his waist exposing his damaged upper body, and Sansa took a moment to check the blood flow in his right arm as the Maester had shown her. Fixing the breaks in his shoulder was a skill beyond many Maesters - most would have left it as Gallard wanted to and Tyrion would have been crippled. The procedure had been delicate work and the healing process would be even more so. A single bandage had been tied around Tyrion's right wrist and wrapped around his waist to stop him from moving his arm. Over the next few days the Maester would assess his arm and hand to see what damage was permanent and what could be fixed, but for now his arm had to remain still.

Part of Sansa hated this. Tyrion didn't look better now his shoulder was set, he looked even worse than before. There was hardly a piece of his upper body not swathed in bandages and his broken leg meant his lower half hadn't fared much better.

Heat pricked at the back of her eyes; it just wasn't fair. None of this was fair. A single choice to trust Daenerys shouldn't have led to this.

She drew in a breath, swallowing down her bitterness. Daenerys was dead; she couldn't hurt Tyrion anymore. There was no point dwelling on the unfairness of the situation either, Sansa had learned long ago the gods didn't care for fairness.

Letting Henly fix Tyrion's shoulder had been the right thing to do, she just wished it hadn't cost her Tyrion. He wasn't himself before, but he was still responsive. It only occurred to Sansa now just how much she'd come to enjoy the way Tyrion's eyes brightened whenever he saw her. No one had ever looked at her like that, with pure, innocent excitement - devoid of the cruelty and manipulation she'd come to expect from men.

Sansa leaned onto the edge of the bed, gently cupping Tyrion's cheek and turning his head towards her "Please, give me some sign you're still in there"

Silence met her words. Silence and empty green eyes.

Her throat constricted painfully at the sight "Tyrion, I know you're scared but you're not alone. Please come back - I'll help you through this, I promise"

Still nothing.

Sansa forced herself to smile, moving the damp cloth from his head and running her fingers over his prickly hair "It's ok if you're not ready yet. I'll be here when you are"

The sound of the door opening caught Sansa's attention. She turned towards the visitor, expecting it to be Maester Henly, only for her blood to run cold as she saw the Lannister guard stood in the doorway with his sword in hand.

"You're not allowed in here" said Sansa; the words sticking in her throat

The man was young and wide-eyed, glancing between her and Tyrion "You shouldn't be here"

Tyrion had stiffened at the sight of the guard, his face twisting in horror "No, no, no..."

It took Sansa only a few moments to put together the pieces of what was happening, but by that time she was already moving. She saw two more Lannister guards stood in the doorway; she saw Tyrion's terrified green eyes as the guard raised his sword over his head. It was like the world around Sansa slowed down as she threw herself from her chair and onto the bed to shield Tyrion.

Her head dropped beside his and the three words she'd spent weeks denying escaped her in a whisper. The sight of the Lannister guard had broken Tyrion from whatever paralysis held him, and he trembled beneath her as Sansa waited for the sword to fall on them.

If this was their end, at least they were together.

Imminent death heightened her senses. She heard a thud in the distance, followed swiftly by another. She heard the sound of her executioner's boot against the floor as death took its final step.

"Aargh"

The gurgling sound was followed by a clunk, and it was enough for Sansa to tear her gaze from Tyrion and chance a look over her shoulder.

The guard had dropped his sword to the ground beside the bed - most likely because of the blade protruding from his throat. The thin blade disappeared back through the wound and the guard slumped sideways, falling to the ground with a thump.

Arya stood behind him, her thin, blood-soaked sword in hand "Now will you let me sit with Tyrion?"