The sea was rough, the waves battering against the ship like the pulsing in his head. It was a familiar sensation, one Tyrion had after a night of heavy drinking. He hoped the salt air would help ease it, but the coming storm was negating it. In the distance, he could see the sky glow dimly from the lightning, and after a short time, the thunder rolled through the air. The sailors were preparing for the storm, rolling up the sails in a hurried but experienced way, and tying down any loose items on the deck that could not be stored below.

As Tyrion looked around, fighting the pain in his head, he tried to recall how he came to be on this ship. Had he followed Shae in his drunken state? He was tormented by how he had to send her away, but hadn't he vowed to protect Sansa? Even if she was already embarrassed to be married to the perverted imp, he wouldn't shame her by running off with a whore. Would he? And he was angry with Shae, her jealousy endangering Sansa's well-being.

A louder rumble filled the air, but it was different from the periodical thunder. Even the sailors stopped dead in their tasks, their eyes diverted skyward. Tyrion turned back around as well, searching the skies for the odd sound. The dark clouds were all they could see, but everyone on the deck was dead silent.

Then, as a lightning strike lit the air, the silhouette of a great beast appeared in the clouds, and its large mouth opened, a sound so strange drowning out all the others. Tyrion knew the men around him were shouting and screaming, scrambling for shelter, but he heard none of it. He was too awestruck by the sight of a dragon, something he'd been obsessed with when he was a child.

As it descended from the clouds, Tyrion stood frozen, overcome by both fear and curiosity. As it came closer, Tyrion noticed the dragon glimmered, much like when fire light fell on the coins in his purse.

A golden dragon.

"Tyrion?"

The voice calling to him was soft, as if far away from him. He wanted to turn, but his eyes were now locked on the emerald ones of the dragon, descending closer to the ship. He held his hand out, as if to let the legendary beast know he was friend, not foe.

"Tyrion!" the voice called again, firmer this time.

A touch to his shoulder jolted him, and suddenly he was looking up into the blue eyes of his new wife, not the green of a dragon's. Sansa was standing over him, dressed in the purple gown she favored. The sunlight filled the room, and Tyrion was puzzled as to what day it was.

"I do not recall coming to bed," he grumbled, more to himself than to Sansa.

"It was rather late when you did. I let you sleep as long as possible, but you've received a summons from your father. He wants to see you after your midday meal."

Tyrion sat up, his head pounding. The dream was still swirling in his mind, and he was slightly disappointed to have it abruptly broken. Although, it would have turned into a nightmare if the dragon had decided he was a foe and had eaten him.

"I believe I've seen my father more this week than I have in the past five years," he jested.

"Once we leave, you won't have to worry about him interfering with our marriage," Sansa replied. She was still standing by the bedside, her hands clasped together in a trained manner.

Tyrion scoffed. "If you think eight hundred miles will stop him, you still have much to learn of the power of his reach." He started to slide out of the bed, stumbling slightly. Sansa reached out to help him, an action that surprised him. He didn't expect her to help him, knowing that his inebriated state scared and agitated her.

"At least he won't be able to summon you daily. I remember the stairs in the Tower of the Hand seemed endless some days."

Tyrion nodded in reply, noting how he was still mostly dressed. He felt relieved at this; he would hate to think he had accosted Sansa in his drunken state. But he doubted she would be so attentive right now if he had. "Yes, I felt the same in my short tenure as Hand. But the exercise helped keep my physique in solid form." He meant it as a joke, but when he looked up at Sansa, he saw her cheeks pinken. What was she thinking about?

She started to walk towards their dining table, and Tyrion followed. He could smell a familiar scent and his stomach growled in response. "Bacon burnt black?"

Sansa nodded in reply. "Your squire, Podrick, said you prefer it that way."

Tyrion smiled. "Yes, it tends to help the stomach after a night of wine. I've become accustomed to the taste." As he sat down, he noted only one plate set. "Have you eaten already?"

"Yes, and I've been invited to join Lady Margery in the gardens. Podrick said he'll escort me to her." She looked at the door, then back at him, a worried expression on her face.

"Does Pod trouble you, my lady?"

"No, it's not that," she responded. "I was just wondering what happened to Ser Bronn? I have not seen him all night or this morning."

He took a bite of the bacon, hoping to hide his emotional pain as he answered her. "I had him escort your handmaiden to a ship last night. I was able to procure a cabin for her."

"That was rather fast," Sansa said, surprised.

"We are leaving in a few days, I did not want to leave her at the mercy of others, nor for rumors to spread as to why she was dismissed."

Sansa nodded in agreement. "What shall we do about Mya and Bernadette? Last night you said we should dismiss them as well."

Tyrion picked up the glass of water, begrudgingly sipping it. Wine was always a better cure for a hangover, but he promised himself he would do better now that he was married. "Yes, not only because I sense they may be my sister's spies, but because it will be better to assign you handmaids who are familiar with Casterly Rock."

"Mya is more likely your father's spy," Sansa added. "She started attending to me when our marriage arrangement was made."

Tyrion smiled admiringly, "Very astute, my lady."

"Sansa. If you want me to use your name, you should use mine, too." She smiled softly and he felt it was sincere.

A knock at the door caused them both to look away from each other. "Enter," Sansa called, and Podrick came in, bowing to them both.

"Forgive me, my lady, but The Hand of the King is impatient to see you, Lord Tyrion."

Tyrion made a low growl and bit into another piece of bacon. "Then my lord father will continue to wait, as I have not finished eating and need to change still." He saw Pod turn to the door, noticing a page boy standing in the hall, no doubt waiting for a response. "Tell the lad I will see my father within the hour."

Margery always seemed to be at home in the gardens, Sansa thought as she approached. She certainly was like the rose of her family house's sigil. Still, she would pray that Joffrey would not cause her to wilt, and that she had the thorns to defend herself.

"Sansa, thank you for joining me today!" Margery took her hands, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "My grandmother tells me you visited her yesterday."

Sansa felt her face warm at the memory. "Yes, I had a lovely and informative time with her."

Margery smiled and leaned in closer. "See, I told you that Lord Tyrion would surprise you."

Sansa didn't know whether to be shocked or laugh. But the girlish side of her let a short giggle escape. She felt safe with Margery. "Yes, indeed."

Margery linked her arm through hers and started to lead her away from the gathering of her cousins, all who seemed to be busy with their embroidery. "Come, we'll walk alone for a bit, without the gossiping ears to hear us."

Sansa nodded in agreement, and let Margery lead her down the walkway to the beach wall. The fresh salt air was a welcome change from the stench that lingered from the city below on the other side of the castle.

"My grandmother tells me you won't be able to attend the royal wedding," Margery started, her voice tinted with sadness. "But I'm glad you will be safe with your new husband." She squeezed Sansa's arm and stopped to turn towards her. "Be sure to write to me. We might be far away from each other, but you are still my friend."

"Of course," Sansa confirmed, smiling back at her. "You must write to me, too. But beware, I'm sure Joffrey and Cersei will try to read anything you send or receive."

There was a glimmer of mischief in Margery's eyes. "Then we shall have to develop a secret code for you and me to use."

Tyrion could see his father was annoyed at his tardiness, but he didn't care. After their last few discussions, he knew there was nothing much he could do to improve his standing with the old man until he fathered a healthy son, cementing the family's legacy.

"It's about time you arrived," Tywin growled, waving at the seat to his right. To his left sat another man, one who seemed familiar to Tyrion. As he walked over to the table, Tyrion took in the man's garments, searching for a sigil to identify his house.

"My apologies, I was doing my duty and spent the morning abed with my wife." It was half true, but by the way his father and his guest shifted uncomfortably, he knew his implication got across.

"I've invited Lord Lydden here to discuss your travel plans," Tywin went on, "since he will be escorting you to Deep Den."

Tyrion politely nodded at the gentleman, who returned the gesture. "I assume my wife and I will be allowed to continue on to Casterly Rock afterwards?" he asked as he climbed into the seat.

"Of course, after we ensure that Robb Stark's forces have not advanced. Lord Lydden has been tasked with gathering reinforcements to prepare a defense."

"Ah, yes, I heard that the Young Wolf is marrying his uncle off to a Frey to gain more men." Tyrion looked between the men but neither faulted at this information. "Surely he plans to attack Casterly Rock with the Frey army beside him?"

"That is the assumption," Tywin replied, but he didn't seem worried. "So you will understand I do not want Sansa falling back into her brother's grasp, now that she is assuredly a Lannister."

Tyrion frowned, now understanding why he had pushed Sansa to consummate before sending her to the safety of Casterly Rock. "So Lord Lydden serves double duty as army commander and guard. You think Sansa will try to run to her mother and brother."

"She'd be a fool to run off on her own, she's too soft to survive on her own in lands she does not know. But I will take all precautions not to lose the North nor the future of my house." Tywin's tone was firm, and he looked most assured of himself.

Sansa stood under the oak Heart Tree, the light breeze blowing her loose hair across her back. She thought over the last three days, how they passed so quickly yet thankfully uneventful. She had dismissed her remaining handmaids last night. She packed garments that were easy enough for her to dress on her own, or with minimal assistance from her husband. Tyrion had helped her this morning, brushing her hair as she watched his reflection in her looking glass.

The simple act left her feeling flushed and anxious, and Sansa wondered how she could let him know that she wanted more. The last few nights they had continued to share the bed, but Tyrion simply said, "Good night, Sansa," and fell asleep. He still seemed to be distressed about something, and she assumed it was leaving King's Landing. He must have really enjoyed all the court intrigue. But she found that odd, since Joffrey detested his uncle, and Tyrion always seemed to argue with his sister and father.

So when she had received an invitation to meet Cersei in the Godswood this afternoon, he had been clearly concerned. They were to leave the Keep a few hours before dawn, the shroud of darkness helping them hide from any of Cersei or Joffrey's spies. Lord Tywin had insisted it would be better this way. They would travel through the city on horseback, cloaked for protection. The wheelhouse awaited them outside the Lion Gate to the Gold Road, as well as a company of three hundred Lannister soldiers, led by Lord Lydden of Deep Den. Apparently, these men had traveled with Lord Tywin from Harrenhal to King's Landing and had been recovering from their injuries received during the Battle of the Blackwater. They were being sent home as a reward for their courage, or so she had been told.

Sansa wondered if they were more for her, to ensure she would not escape and run to her brother who was encamped somewhere in the Riverlands. Sansa laughed at the idea. Yes, she would love to see Rob. She pined for her mother, especially now that she was a married woman. But she knew that it was foolish for her to try to find them. She didn't know the land, and admitted to herself she would never survive alone. She had been taught to be a highborn lady, not a soldier.

Arya had a higher chance of surviving in the wild alone, and she silently prayed she had. Perhaps Arya was on her way to the Stark army now, or even had been reunited with their mother.

"Hello, Little Dove."

Sansa turned at the queen's pet name for her. Cersei was alone, looking rather smug. Sansa curtsied. "Your Grace."

"Come now, we're family after all," Cersei stated, though Sansa could detect a mocking tone. "And now you will be leaving to live in my ancestral home."

Sansa knew better than to be surprised that Cersei had learned about their departure. At the least, perhaps her father had informed her of their upcoming departure.

"Lord Tywin wants his future heir to be born and raised at the Rock," Sansa replied.

"Hmm. I'm sure you're glad to escape my son's reach, as well."

Sansa frowned. Was Cersei looking for a battle of words? "In truth, yes. He did threaten to rape me on my wedding night."

Cersei shook her head. "You know how Joffrey likes to make empty threats. I'm sure it was for his own amusement."

"It was hardly a joke when your father found the king accosting me while his gold cloaks held my handmaid back."

Apparently, Cersei had not heard about this, because Sansa saw a rare moment of sincere concern on her face. They stood in silence for a long time before the queen spoke.

"Remember, Little Dove, what I told you. Love only your children. Tyrion may be different from Joffrey, but he is still a man. A lustful, little beast." She looked towards the tree, a sad smile appearing on her face. "Pray that you get with child quickly. Then you will not have to suffer my horrid brother's attentions longer than necessary."

The way she spoke about her brother made Sansa angry. Did she really dislike him that much? "Is that what you did while King Robert was alive?"

Cersei turned back to her sharply, amused at Sansa's boldness. "Yes. At first, I hated that he preferred whores to my company. That he would call your aunt Lyanna's name out while mounting me." She stepped closer to her, reaching out to brush Sansa's hair behind her ear. It was a motherly motion, but coming from Cersei, it seemed more threatening. "Tyrion will bed you until you swell with his child, and then he will go back to fucking his whores."

Lady Olena's words rang in her ears. "Don't let anyone know they've made you feel uncomfortable. They'll use it against you." But Cersei's words were causing her blood to boil. "At least my husband can be sure they are his children."

Cersei's hand suddenly grasped her hair near the roots, pulling it painfully. "Careful now. You don't want to share your father's fate."

Sansa gasped in pain, reaching out to grab her arm. But Cersei quickly released her hold, moving to smooth her hair back again. "We are family now, remember. I wish you safe travels." Without waiting for a response, Cersei turned and walked away.

Sansa rubbed her scalp, hoping to ease the pain. She could see Ser Bronn approaching, most likely checking on her after Cersei passed him leaving the Godswood. "You all right, m'lady?"

"A few more hours, and I will be," she responded. But Cersei's words had struck a nerve. "What have you heard about my father's treason?"

Bronn seemed taken aback by her question. "I wasn't here for any of it."

"But I'm sure you've heard whispers and rumors."

"I'm not a bald, cockless spider. You're asking the wrong man."

Sansa still felt awkward when Ser Bronn spoke so crudely, but she was learning to expect it. "Lord Varys only ever offers sympathy about it, though I'm certain he knows more."

Bronn gestured to her to begin walking, and she obliged. "Perhaps you should ask your husband about it. It was his family, after all, that charged him."

"I don't think he'll want to talk about it with me."

Bronn nodded. "Aye, probably. But get some wine in him, and he'll talk."

She sighed. "I'd rather not have him drink to excess again."

"He doesn't need that much in him to get him talking," he replied, and Sansa realized he was speaking from experience. Bronn chuckled. "No worries, the little lord loves to talk about himself when he's drinking."

"Well, it would be best to wait until we're on the road. He needs to be alert tonight." Sansa was nervous enough, thinking on how they would be moving through the city in the dark of night. Except for their wedding day, Sansa had not left the Red Keep since the day Myrcella left, and the mob had attacked their entourage.

"The streets won't be busy when we leave. Most will be in bed, in a whore's bed, or too drunk to notice us passing through." Bronn must have sensed her unease. "But you're right, best to wait 'til we're on the Gold Road to question him."

It had been a few months since Tyrion had ridden horseback. His custom saddle had been prepared, and he wore a hooded cloak. Sansa rode beside him, also cloaked, her gloved hands gripping the reigns tightly. He could sense her unease as they moved through the dark city street and understood. Bronn was in front of them, and Pod on Sansa's other side, so he hoped that gave her some ease.

Tyrion had insisted she slept before they left, and she had easily agreed. During those hours, Tyrion and Podrick had finished preparing their saddle bags. The majority of their belongings had already been sent down to the Lion's Gate over the last two days, to not draw attention to it. Of course Varys knew, but it seemed he was not spreading that news. Their departure was hardly beneficial news to anyone except Joffrey, and Tyrion sensed Varys sympathized with Sansa, and wanted to see her safe as well.

As they passed the Sept of Baelor, Tyrion thought about how much their lives had changed in less than a week. After he had sent Shae away, he'd been longing to drown himself in wine, but Sansa's words had kept him from the edge. He was honest when he said he would honor his vows. But his heart had been broken, first by Shae's actions towards Sansa and then watching her leave in tears after his hateful words to her.

He couldn't recall much from that night, but he did remember Sansa's tender kiss on his scarred cheek. Although he did wonder if it had been a dream, she kept insisting that he share the bed to sleep the last few nights. Perhaps she wasn't put off by his appearances as he thought she would be. If he hadn't been silently mourning his heartbreak, he might have been tempted to test the waters with his young wife.

"Looks like we have company," Bronn spoke, breaking Tyrion's train of thought.

Up ahead, there were three men on their own horses, turned in their direction. With the hour still early, it was not just a chance passing. They must be waiting for them. Tyrion saw Bronn's hand grip his sword pommel, ever prepared. Glancing at Sansa, he caught her looking at him questioningly. Podrick was also gripping his sword at the hilt, watching Bronn for any signs of trouble.

As their horses drew nearer, Tyrion recognized his family's sigil on the center rider's cloak and raised his brow in question. "Uncle?"

The man pushed his hood back, revealing the aged face of his Uncle Kevan Lannister. "Nephew, I've come to join you on your journey home." He turned and bowed his head with a smile at Sansa. "My good niece, we have not been formally introduced. I am Ser Kevan Lannister, younger brother to Tywin."

Tyrion turned to see Sansa give a polite smile and nod. She still seemed tense, and he knew it was because they had stopped in the streets. No doubt she still feared for their safety. Turning back to face his uncle, he nudged his horse forward once more. "I'm surprised my father agreed to let you go," he said, smirking.

Kevan turned his horse, as did his companions, so that they fell in step with theirs. Kevan was now beside him, Bron taking the lead ahead of them. "He did not favor the idea, but it has been a long time since I've seen my wife, and I can assist Lord Lydden in battle arrangements."

"I'm sure he also sees you as another guard for my wife and I," Tyrion mockingly replied. "For a man who has long since wished to see me dead, he certainly has taken an interest in keeping me alive now that I'm married."

He could sense Sansa looking at him, and he slightly turned, confirming that she indeed was. She seemed puzzled at his statement. But Kevan drew his attention back. "If that was my brother's intention, it was not said to me. But I swear, my intent is to return home and rest. This war has taken its toll on me and my wife."

Tyrion felt somber, recalling the news of Lord Karstark killing his cousins, twin boys, in revenge for Jaime killing the Karstark's sons. "My apologies, Uncle. I am glad to hear that my cousin, Lancel, has recovered well from his injuries."

Kevan simply nodded in reply, and the group continued on in silence.

Sansa started to feel a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in almost two years. As the sun started rising behind them, the open fields started to glow in front of her. Despite being in the company of Lannister and Lydden soldiers, Sansa felt relief. The Red Keep was growing smaller behind them, but she didn't dare look back. The air was starting to smell fresh, the stink of the city escaping her. She had almost forgotten what it was like, having grown accustomed to the city. She breathed deeply and smiled.

"That's a sight I hope to see more of."

Sansa turned to Tyrion, who had been riding beside her the entire time. "The open land?" she asked.

"Your happiness."

She felt herself blushing and heard him chuckle.

"It has been some time since I've felt some ease, I admit." She turned away from him, looking ahead once more. "The further we go, the less I feel that Joffrey will send his Gold Cloaks after us."

"Fortunately he'll be too distracted with the royal wedding plans and anything my father will have for him," Tyrion replied.

The morning passed easily, Sansa listening to the men chatter and sing as they marched down the Golden Road. When they stopped at midday to eat and relieve themselves, they found themselves sitting alone, out of ear shot of the others.

"Are you unhappy your uncle has joined us?"

Tyrion shook his head, drinking from his water pouch before answering. "No, I don't mind my uncle being here. I was just surprised my father let him go."

She watched him for a moment, assessing him for any signs of deceit. It was something she had become accustomed to in Joffrey and Cersei's presence. But she sensed none of that from Tyrion. "Do you think he wasn't honest with his excuse?"

"Oh no, my uncle was telling the truth. The poor man lost two of his sons, and almost lost his oldest in the Battle of the Blackwater. You may know him, Lancel, he was King Robert's squire."

Sansa nodded, recalling the young man who came to Cersei during the battle, begging for the king to return to encourage his men. Cersei had hit him in his wound, and Sansa was disgusted at the queen's actions. But she dared not speak of it now, at least not in the open, where the soldiers might hear.

"So you believe your father may have another agenda for Ser Kevan?"

Tyrion smiled at her like he did a few days ago. "You are a clever girl, aren't you?"

"I'm not a girl anymore," she replied, flushing.

She noticed Tyrion also turned red as well. "Ah, yes, my apologies, dear wife. But you are clever." He stood up, dusting his trousers and then offering her his hand to help her up. "I always thought so, ever since I first saw you again at Joffrey's name day."

Sansa took his hand and stood up, brushing her own skirt off of the grass and dirt. "How do you mean?"

"You played the ever-loyal maiden in love, despite hating my nephew. You knew how to stay alive."

She knew he was praising her but recalling it all left her with a sour feeling. "My father was honest, and it cost him his life."

She could feel Tyrion watching her, this time trying to read her emotions. "Yes, yes it did."

Sansa wanted to ask him what and how much he knew, but now was not the time. Perhaps Ser Bronn was right. Perhaps she would ask him tonight, while they were alone in their wheelhouse.

They walked back to their horses in silence, side by side. Podrick had been tending to them, bringing a bucket of water from the supply cart that accompanied them. He offered his arm to her as she reached to climb up the saddle. As she settled in and soothed her skirts out, she noted that some of the soldiers were looking in their direction and snickering.

'Let them laugh from afar,' she told herself. 'Their laughter is nothing.'

The afternoon was spent at a faster speed now that the land ahead was flatter and open. Even though she knew she wasn't free to race ahead alone, Sansa enjoyed the breeze as it danced through her loose hair. As the hours passed, she thought about what she would ask Tyrion, what she should ask first to open the conversation.

Lord Lydden called for the men to stop, stating they would start to make camp. Sansa realized she had ridden far ahead of Tyrion, and wondered if he would retire quickly to the wheelhouse or talk with his uncle beforehand.

"Lady Lannister."

It took Sansa a moment to realize she was being addressed. The new title was still foreign to her. "My apologies, Lord Lydden." She turned her horse so she could face the approaching man.

"That's all right, my lady. You have only been a Lannister for less than a week, it will take some getting used to." The older man smiled, and Sansa felt an ease around him. He didn't put on airs like those at court. He was probably a lord who enjoyed being home, away from the intrigue. "The wheelhouse and supply carts will take a bit to catch up with us. Would you like me to escort you back to your husband?"

Sansa looked back at the trail of horsemen who were slowing down as the command to make camp made its way down. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stretch my legs while the men set up camp. My lord husband knows I am safe with you until they arrive."

Lydden nodded and got down from his horse, approaching Sansa's to steady it as she followed suit. "I'll have my squire take your horse while you walk."

"Thank you, Lord Lydden." She gave a curt nod, and he returned it, walking the horses towards a young man who came rushing up with his own steed in tow.

Sansa slowly walked down the road, watching the Lannister soldiers start to gather the horses and unpack their saddlebags. Some of them bowed politely at her, some of them smiled, and a few seemed to ignore her. It was no surprise, since her brother was in open rebellion, fighting with their families for over a year now. But, like it or not, she was a Lannister now, and they would have to show her respect.

The evening passed uneventfully as the Lannister and Lydden soldiers made camp. A small group had been sent off to hunt for rabbits and any other small game that lived on the open fields. It would be a few days before they would come to the waters of the Blackwater Rush, and then they would stock up on fresh fish to cook.

Uncle Kevan had invited him and Sansa to share the evening meal with him in his tent, and after glancing at Sansa for any sign of displeasure, Tyrion accepted. Perhaps the open air had helped her relax more, as she seemed to enjoy the meal with his uncle. They talked about Lannisport, and surprisingly, she asked Kevan about Tyrion's childhood. He gladly told anecdotal tales about Tyrion and his siblings, to which Sansa even giggled at a few.

Seeing Sansa open up and not be guarded with her emotions was heartwarming. He was glad that although he was not who she dreamed of marrying, he was able to help free her from Joffrey and Cersei. Perhaps she would feel at home in Casterly Rock. With him.

"Forgive me, Ser Kevan," Sansa said, standing from the stool she sat on, "but the sun has long set, and I should like to retire to the wheelhouse."

Kevan stood up, Tyrion following suit. "Yes, my lady, it has been a long day, and we shall begin breaking camp down at first sunrise." He reached out for her hand, and she obliged, letting him kiss it. "Good night, good niece. It has been a pleasure."

After Sansa left the tent, Tyrion turned back to the table to finish his cup of wine. But Kevan reached it first, pulling it away. "Nephew, do not be a fool. You should follow your wife."

Tyrion scoffed, looking up at him. "So that is why my father let you come-to take his place in reminding me of my duty to the family."

Kevan frowned, placing the cup down on the opposite side of the makeshift table. "No, Tyrion." He sat back on the stool, now eye level with him. "Your wife is quite taken with you. It's a rare thing in arranged marriages, especially with houses at war with each other."

Tyrion laughed at this. "Surely you jest, uncle. She's just happy to be free of the Red Keep."

His uncle never broke eye contact with him, his expression solid. "I know you are used to having women pay to enjoy your … attentions. But Lady Sansa seems comfortable around you. She wouldn't have asked to hear stories about you if she was not interested in learning. And that is promising for your marriage." He took Tyrion's wine cup and poured it onto the dirt floor. "Don't ruin it."

Tyrion almost audibly groaned as he watched the red wine fall to the ground. But his uncle was right. He had promised Sansa he would not overindulge again.

The walk back to the wheelhouse wasn't long, but Tyrion took his time, taking in the surroundings. Bronn and Podd had built a fire nearby, their mats rolled out and their horses grazing not too far with his and Sansa's. They had brought tents for the men, but those were meant for longer stays in one place, when the weather inhibited their travels. Otherwise, it was not worth the time to put them up to take them down at dawn.

"I think I'm jealous of the little lord," Bronn said aloud as Tyrion passed, looking at Podd. "He's the only one with a woman in camp."

"She's my wife, not a camp follower," Tyrion said, his tone issuing a warning.

"Still," Bronn replied, leaning back on his mat leisurely, "I'll have to wait nearly a month before I can have a beautiful woman to fuck."

Tyrion looked at the wheelhouse and back at Bronn, hoping their conversation wasn't overheard. "I assure you, once we reach Casterly Rock, you'll have your fill of the finest brothels. A Lannister pays his debts."

Bronn gave a cocky grin before putting his head back and closing his eyes. Podd simply bowed to Tyrion before settling down himself.

Opening the door to the wheelhouse, Tyrion tried to calm his nerves. All the men around him expected him to bed his wife, but he knew that's not what she wanted. She only complied the once to escape Joffrey and King's Landing. But he admittedly was quite pleased with how she responded to his touch.

Climbing up the few steps, he found the inside was dimly lit. The wheelhouse was not too large, especially compared to the monstrosity Cersei traveled in when they went to Winterfell. Thankfully this one had shuttered windows, so that they could have fresh air when not moving. There was space for a small table and benches, cushioned to double as sleeping space if needed. But toward the back, there was a feather bed for two, and there he found Sansa, sitting on the edge, wearing only her shift.

"It seems my father thought of your comfort at least," Tyrion said awkwardly, waving towards the bed and then turning towards the sitting area. "I shall sleep on the bench, thankfully it is cush—"

"Tyrion."

He stopped at her stern interruption. "Sansa, you don't have to keep sharing your bed with me. I know it is not what you desire, and now that we have left the city, I will-"

"Tyrion, come have a drink with me."

He turned back towards her, and he could see her holding out a wine flask. What was she planning? "I thought you only drank when you have to, my lady."

In the candlelight he could see her smile softly, yet she seemed nervous. "It's only a little, nothing to excess. It's the first night of our journey, and I would like to celebrate our freedom."

Tyrion watched her silently for a moment, still extending the flask towards him. Normally when faced with a nearly naked beauty and a flask of wine, he wouldn't hesitate. But Sansa was a noble-born lady; surely, she had a different agenda?

"I would not refuse a toast to our freedom, my dear," he finally replied, slowly approaching her. Taking the drink from her, he lifted it, his eyes catching hers. "To your happiness, Sansa." He brought it back down, taking a long drink.

"Are you not pleased that we are going to Casterly Rock?"

He handed the flask back to Sansa, and she took a small sip from it. "What makes you think I am not?"

She looked down at her feet, both hands wrapped around the leather flask. "You've seemed put off these last few days. I thought perhaps you were displeased to be leaving King's Landing."

Tyrion was torn by her response. They barely knew each other, but she could sense his mood the last few days. No doubt she had developed this particular survival tactic to survive his sister and nephew. "I quite enjoyed playing the court games, I admit. I was very good at it." He moved to her side, turning to sit beside her on the bed. It was lower than their previous one, so he easily moved on to it. "But you are my wife, and your happiness and safety are now my priority."

Sansa offered him the wine, and he took it, but didn't raise it to drink. "So you were honest about this marriage not being what either of us wanted."

Tyrion found himself smiling, amused by her statement. "I'll admit, I told my father that it was cruel of him to give you to me. I know I am not any noble lady's idea of a husband."

"I was engaged to marry a handsome prince, any girl's dream. I was going to be the envy of all. But I've learned that a handsome face can be a mask for a real monster." To his surprise, her hand met his, resting atop it. He turned to face her. "You have been nothing but kind to me since we first met. After living in King's Landing, I've learned that is a rare thing; honest kindness."

"Rarer still coming from a Lannister," he jested, finally taking another drink with his free hand.

"I'm sorry to take you away from King's Landing."

Tyrion sighed. "Do you know how I got this atrocious scar across my face?"

Sansa seemed taken aback by the question. "You were wounded during the Battle of the Blackwater, fighting Stannis' army."

Tyrion offered her the wine, and she took it, sadly removing her hand from his to do so. Gesturing at this face, he replied, "This is the work of Ser Mandon."

Sansa's eyes widened in shock. "But why would a kings guard attack you?"

"You aren't the only one trying to survive the wrath of a young king. If it weren't for Pod, he would have swung again, surely taking my head off."

Sansa frowned, her eyes seeming to observe the long scar across his face. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, not knowing what she was thinking as she looked at him.

"You said something to your uncle earlier," she finally said, not breaking her gaze. "Do you really believe your father wished you dead all your life?"

He forced a smile, hoping to divert their conversation. "I'm sure you misheard; I was simply jesting with my uncle."

Sansa's eyes narrowed, and he suddenly felt like a child being admonished by his mother. "I know it's foolish to expect a marriage like my mother and father had. But I can at least want my husband to be honest with me."

Tyrion sighed. She was right; if she was willing to make their marriage work, he needed to be honest with her. "I've known he's hated me all my life. He blames me for killing my mother when I was born. But it wasn't until the other day that he openly admitted he would have killed me if he could have proved I was not his son."

They sat in silence for an awkward moment, Sansa finally looking down from his face. He felt some relief at that; he was not used to confiding in others. Beside Jaime, only Bronn and Shae knew his true feelings and deep secrets.

"So we're both just pawns to your family, it seems." She drank deeply, at least compared to how she had been, from the pouch, surprising him. "Can you promise me something?"

"You asked me to be honest, and I will be. I will give you whatever you want if I'm capable of it, especially if it helps your happiness."

Sansa took a breath and looked back into his eyes. "Promise me, that whatever children we may have, you will not let your family treat them like they have us."

Tyrion felt his heart warm at the thought of having children, and a smile formed on his lips. "My dear lady, I would never let my sister, nor my father use our children. My father has promised our son will inherit, but he'll remain in King's Landing most likely the rest of his life. Gods willing he won't be able to influence our son." There was a flash of fear in her eyes, and he quickly realized why. "And if my idiot nephew tries, I may have to declare war myself. The Lannisters are already fighting the other houses of Westeros, why not themselves?"

"You would commit treason for our children's safety?" she finally asked, smirking slightly.

Her brazenness amused him. If this was part of her true nature, he'd have to help nurture it. Thank the gods that his reluctant wife seemed to have a sharp wit. "If it had been me and not my father to find you in the hall that day, there would have been two Kingslayers in my family."

She seemed to be studying him for any sign of falsehood, but he meant it. Sansa was his to protect, and he would not allow harm to come to this wife. His father had already destroyed his first wife, Tysha. He was too young and naïve to stand up to his family then. He would not fail this time.

Sansa seemed awestruck by his words. Setting down the wine pouch on the corner of the bed, she turned back to him, her cheeks suddenly pink in the candlelight. "May I ask another favor?"

"Yes, Sansa."

"Will you kiss me?"