DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR WORLD. I'm just taking a spin on what I would have liked and thought should happen 😉

Author Notes: This story starts on Sansa and Tyrion's wedding night, and how one small encounter changed everything afterwards. This story follows the TV Series, but I will also be borrowing some things from the books that help the story along. I've moved some scenes from later episodes to earlier in the timeline, because they are important to the character developments.

There will be lines to separate character's point of view.

Rated M for mature content and spicy scenes.

"Please…..he's my son…"

Tyrion gave an awkward smile, trying to mask the pain her words had obviously caused him. He raised his drink towards her, as if to toast to her. "And so my watch begins."

Sansa watched as her new husband staggered away from her, pushing off the table as he set his goblet down, and falling onto his back on the chaise with his leg hanging off. He was instantly asleep it seemed.

With her arms still wrapped about herself, Sansa looked around the room. Was this her life now? 'A different kind of prison,' she recalled Tyrion saying this morning about their marriage. Was he talking about for her, or for both of them? He had said this wasn't what he wanted, either. But he promised he wouldn't hurt her, and so far he had kept that promise. Even before they were betrothed, he was always trying to keep her safe from harm.

But Joffrey's earlier threat echoed in her mind, and she feared Tyrion wouldn't wake if their tyrant king and his brutes barged in to take her against her will. Her mind flashed back to the day of Myrcella's departure from King's Landing. The angry men who had chased her, pinned her down… She shuddered at the memory. If The Hound hadn't saved her…

She prayed that Tywin Lannister could redirect Joffrey's attention like he had about the bedding ceremony. Although Tyrion threatening to castrate the king had really been what changed his focus from her to him.

Was that really a drunken joke, though? He had been acting quite foolish before that, emptying several cups worth of wine in succession and acting very unlordly. She had never seen him act as such. But Tyrion looked like an angry animal, ready to attack with the grip he had on his dinner knife. Sansa had watched as his demeaner changed to a laugh and jests about his manhood.

Sansa looked toward the table and saw that there was a knife laid among the fruit that had spilled out of the bowl when Tyrion bumped it. She walked over and picked it up, clutching it to her. If Joffrey did come in, she would not let him take her easily.

Looking down at Tyrion, she noticed her dressing gown had been laid on the chaise, and it was now under his head. She wondered if he was going to wake up uncomfortable from sleeping in such a position. Setting the knife down for a moment, she carefully pulled her gown out from under him, and folded it. Slowly, she lifted his head and put it under his neck. Then she took the red blanket at the foot of the chaise and covered him with it.

It was the least she could do since he had given her control of their consummation.

'I will make you a match with someone who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong.'

Her father's voice was becoming a distant memory, but that conversation seemed stronger now. She doubted her father had meant someone like Tyrion. But she could not deny he had been brave and gentle with her.

'Trust him.'

Sansa felt like the words were a breath across her ears, and she turned quickly, finding no one there. The curtains of the balcony fluttered gently in the night breeze. It had sounded so much like her father; was his ghost watching over her?

Picking the knife back up, she walked over to the vanity set, sitting before the mirror. She would have to take her hair down herself, since she dared not open the door to call for any of her servants. She didn't want anyone to know she was technically alone, her husband now snoring lightly.

It took a while to get all the braids in her hair out, with so many beaded ribbons and pins in there. As she put them away in the box left on the little table, she looked down at her wedding ring. It was a gawdy thing, large and gold and covered in circles of rubies. Very Lannister. Sansa wondered if it had been Tyrion's choice, or his father's. She felt it was the latter, since Tywin was so keen to make sure people knew what he owned. And now they owned her.

Sansa shuddered at that thought. She went from being future queen, to a political prisoner of war, to a wife of her enemies. But Margery was right; Tyrion was far from the worst Lannister to be married to. He was kind to her, even in his extreme drunken state. He had every right to take her tonight, but he chose to let her feelings decide.

Feeling a little calmer, she slid her ring off, took her necklace off, and put them in the box on the table. Still taking the knife with her, she approached the bed. Her first night as a married woman was not going as how she thought it would. Although she didn't really know what she had expected. She pulled the covers back, slipping into the clean sheets. She lay awake for a while, fearful of any footsteps that may sound in the hallway. But it was quiet, and she eventually drifted off to sleep.

'The half man is going to owe me big.'

Bronn leaned against the wall near Tyrion's door, his senses on high alert. Someone had to be since the little lord made a complete drunken fool of himself at his own wedding. And then to threaten the king's own cock….

Bronn chuckled to himself. That had been a spectacular sight. The little lion may have been deep in his cups, but he was ready to maim. As much fun as that would have been to watch, he was relieved it didn't happen. He'd never get paid if the fool died.

So, he had passed on the buxom serving woman he'd been flirting with at the party, knowing that the Stark girl would need protection tonight. He'd seen the way the king looked while talking to her on the platform above. He may not have heard it, but he could recognize the body language, the glares, the haughtiness that leaked out from the young prick as he called for a bedding ceremony.

Yes, Bronn would make sure he was paid handsomely for protecting her virtue tonight. Especially since all was too quiet in the newlyweds' room. Had the little fucker passed out before he could break her in?

Before he could think more on the subject and how he could poke fun at Tyrion in the morning, he heard heavy footsteps down the corridor. His hand ready on his hilt, he pushed off the wall, turning to face the visitor. There was no mistaking the cloak and helm of Ser Meryn. They locked eyes for a moment, and Bronn nodded towards him. "Lovely night for a stroll, isn't it?"

Ser Meryn said nothing, turning back from where he came, his footsteps fading in the distance.

Yes, the drunken lion owed him quite a debt.

Sansa stirred as she heard the door open, and as a loud thud hit the table, she sat up in bed.

"You really ought to knock," Tyrion grumbled from across the room as Sansa opened her eyes and sat up.

Shae had noisily set the breakfast tray down on the table. "I brought your breakfast," she answered. She went over and pulled Sansa's dressing gown out from under his head. Sansa stood up as Shae approached, donning the gown, and walked over to the table. She picked up a fresh slice of fruit, nervously looking over at Tyrion.

He was watching Shae gather the bedsheets, and after she left, he turned to face her. "Forgive my behavior last night, Sansa. I let the Dornish wine get the best of me, I fear."

Sansa looked back down at the food tray, pretending to decide what to take next. But she was still worried about Joffrey's threat. "My lord—"

"Tyrion, please." He said it softly, no doubt his head hurt from his indulgences.

"Tyrion. Now that we are married, may I ask you a favor?"

He slowly stood up and walked the few steps to the table. "As my wife, I will do anything to ensure your happiness."

Sansa was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. Although he had always spoken kindly to her, she was still not used to hearing it from a Lannister. "Please do not drink like that again. It scares me."

Tyrion's eyes widened, then scrunched as if confused. "Did I do or say something to hurt you last night during my stupor?"

She shook her head. "No. It wasn't you." She bit into a grape, hesitating. Tyrion had already threatened to harm the king in front of the crowd last night, and that was over a bedding ceremony. What would he do while sober when he learned Joffrey threatened to rape her? "I…I just don't like seeing you like that. It's very unbecoming."

Tyrion nodded in understanding. "It's been quite some time since I overindulged like that. But I promise, Sansa, I will strive to not do that again."

Sansa gave him a small smile in return before turning her attention back to the breakfast tray. She selected a few fruits and some cheese, a slice of bread and sat down at the table.

Tyrion eyed the food and made a sour face, seeming to decide against eating for now. "Well, I'm sure I will be summoned by my lord father within the hour, so I shall be away for most of the day. What are your plans?"

She hadn't thought about that much. Now as a Lannister, she was free to do things she couldn't as a prisoner of war. "Perhaps I'll search out Lady Margery. Or work on my stitching. As your wife, I should be responsible for mending your clothes. Is there anything you need repaired?"

Tyrion shook his head sympathetically. "You don't have to worry yourself about that—"

"But I like sewing. It's soothing to me," she cut him off, answering honestly. "I don't mind."

There was a knock at the door, and Tyrion turned to call out, "You may enter."

Sansa recognized Tyrion's sellsword, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. He had been with him for some time now, and though his speech was quite vulgar at times, he was always polite towards her.

"Good morning, Lady Lannister. I need to borrow your little husband for the morning. His father is roaring for him to come at once."

Sansa's smile faded at the man's teasing words. No doubt Tyrion was glaring at him, but she could only see the back of his head. He turned around and bowed slightly to Sansa. If he had given the man a death look, he wore none now as he reached out for her hand. She held it out, and he kissed her knuckles. "As I suspected. Forgive me for leaving, wife?"

"Yes. Shall I expect to see you for midday meal?"

Tyrion looked doubtful. "It depends on my father. But don't starve yourself waiting for me."

Still wearing his wedding clothes, and his hair a mess from sleeping, Tyrion followed Bronn out of the room, leaving Sansa alone to eat.

Tyrion's head pounded as he walked the steps of the tower to his father's quarters. Bronn wasn't much help, either, babbling on about the night's festivities. He'd only been paying partial attention to his words until he mentioned Joffrey.

"The look on that prat's face when you threatened to chop his cock off," he whistled. "Oh, I would work for free to see that. Although, I would be out of a job, really, if you did it. No doubt they'd kill you on the spot."

Tyrion stopped, his mind playing over all that had happened last night. "Did I really threaten Joffrey's cock in front of everyone?"

Bronn gave him a credulous look. "I've seen you drunk enough to know you still had some of your wits about you. But aye, you said, 'you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock,' if I remember correctly."

Tyrion growled low. "Yes, the prick loves to torture Sansa, but she's not his prisoner anymore. She's my wife, and I'll have no disrespect towards her." He continued walking, and Bronn followed alongside.

"Aye, I figured as much. That's why I knew you'd pay me for standing guard last night."

Tyrion stopped again, a puzzled look on his face. "I don't recall that. When did I—"

"Oh, you didn't say it," Bronn cut in. "I took the initiative. You were in no condition to protect your young wife. And after such a threat towards the king, I figured you'd need guarded as well. Especially after how I saw the twat threatening her beforehand."

Tyrion's hands clenched in anger. Anger at Joffrey. And anger at himself. No wonder Sansa asked him not to overdrink again. She had been scared last night. "Indeed, friend, I owe you quite a lot for last night."

Margery quickly stood from the bench she favored on the terrace, smiling as she greeted Sansa.

"My dear girl, how are you this morning?" She hooked her arm around Sansa's, leading her away from the group of ladies who were sitting with her. "Come, let's take a turn in the gardens so we can talk privately."

Sansa fell in step with Margery easily, glad to talk with her away from the others who would no doubt giggle and gossip about her marriage. She had learned to shut out the whispers about her for a while now, but she would not give them more cannon fodder.

"You looked so lovely in your wedding gown, Sansa, I dare say gold suits you."

"Better than red, I would have looked like I was on fire from head to toe," Sansa lightly jested.

Margery turned her head, as if checking if anyone was about. "Tell me, how are you after last night? Was he gentle?"

Sansa felt her face heat up. "Yes, gentle indeed. He did not touch me."

Margery stopped suddenly, forcing Sansa to turn to face her. "He did not? That seems rather odd, given his reputation. Perhaps it was the wine."

"No, he said he could, but that he wouldn't," Sansa replied, shaking her head. She couldn't meet Margery's eyes. "He said he wouldn't until I wanted to."

There was silence for a moment, and then Margery gave an airy laugh. "You certainly have married the best Lannister." She took Sansa's arm again and continued leading her down the lane. "In fact, I believe you have been blessed with an honorable man. It's rare to find one who would wait for his bride to be ready, especially a beautiful girl like yourself."

Sansa wanted to fully confide in her, but she couldn't bring herself to discuss Joffrey's threat. Even if she was already queen, she could do nothing to stop Joffrey, just as Cersei could not control him. No, the only one who could still hold any power over him was her new good-father, Tywin Lannister.

"Yes, I am lucky. But I don't know how long he'll be patient for."

Margery rubbed her arm, gently smiling. "Lord Tyrion doesn't seem the type to force himself on a woman. Besides, knowing his reputation, perhaps he'll continue to visit the brothels until you're ready."

"He said, 'and so my watch begins.'"

This time Margery laughed more heartily. "Now I'm jealous! You certainly have been given an honorable and tender husband, despite your marriage being politically arranged." Before she could reply, Margery led Sansa to a nearby bench, pulling her down with her to sit. "Sweet girl, I know we talked before about how women like different types of men. Appearances are just the beginning of attraction. But as we grow old, that fades away. What will really matter is how we treat our spouses. Take comfort that your new husband is clearly a good man, despite his family name."

"You are a disgrace to our family name."

Tyrion rolled his eyes, sitting down roughly in the chair opposite his father. "This speech never gets tiresome. What have I done this time?"

Tywin's fist clenched around his goblet before he took a sip from it and placed it firmly down. "Besides threatening the king, you are still in your wedding attire. No doubt I'll receive a report that your bridal bed sheets are spotless?"

"So, I'm a disgrace for not raping a girl?" Tyrion replied.

"She is your wife, and it is her duty."

"Well forgive me for wanting my wife to at least like me before I bed her," Tyrion growled.

"You can pay whores to like you, a wife is obligated to bear children for her husband." Tywin growled back, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tyrion.

"Is that how you felt about my mother? An obligation?" Tyrion bit his lower lip in anger, knowing his words would sting his father.

Tywin swung his arm, knocking his drink off the table. "Do not speak of your mother!"

Tyrion watched the goblet roll across the floor, stopping when it hit a pillar. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound their angry breathing. Tywin finally stood up, walking over to his desk. His back stayed turned to Tyrion, and he stood up, following his father.

"One way or another, you will get that girl pregnant."

"I will NOT rape her," Tyrion stated firmly.

Tywin turned and stared him down, leaning against his desk with his hands grasping the edge behind him. "Shall I explain to you in one easy lesson how the world works?"

Tyrion sneered back at his father. "Use small words, I'm not as bright as you," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"The house that puts family first will always defeat the house that puts the whims and wishes of its sons and daughters first. A good man does everything in his power to better his family's position… regardless of his own selfish desires."

Tyrion smirked, subtly shaking his head.

"Does that amuse you?" Tywin asked.

"No, it's a very good lesson. Only it's easy for you to preach utter devotion to family when you're making all the decisions."

Tywin's brows furrowed. "Easy for me, is it?"

"When have you ever done something that wasn't in your interest but solely for the benefit of the family?" Tyrion asked, anger starting to rise in his voice.

"The day that you were born!"

A stunned silence overcame Tyrion at that moment.

Tywin had a bit of decency to sound regretful for saying it, but it was out there now. "I wanted to carry you into the sea and let the waves wash you away. Instead, I let you live. And I brought you up as my son." His jaw twitched, probably grinding at his teeth. "Because you're a Lannister." And with that, he walked past Tyrion, leaving the room.

Tyrion stood there, balancing on the edge between anger and devastation. He always knew his father resented him for his mother's death. But to have him admit he wanted to kill him, and only kept him alive to save the family name…

Sansa walked the halls back towards Tyrion quarters, Shae and one of her new handmaidens, Mya, following behind her. She had no doubt this new girl was a spy for Cersei, or possibly Tywin. Even though Shae had told her not to trust anybody, she still felt Shae was the only one she could trust, aside from Margery and maybe Tyrion.

She thought back to what Margery had told her in the gardens. While Tyrion was no Ser Loras in his appearance, the future queen was right in that he was kind and always treated her well. He was the only one to offer condolences for her father's death. He was the one who stopped the Kings guard from beating her in the throne room as Joffrey watched with a cold smile. Tyrion was the one to show concern for her after the Hound saved her from being raped by the angry mob. Her father's words echoed again in her mind: "brave, gentle, and strong."

She felt bad about asking him what he would do if she never wanted him, having spoken from her nervousness in the moment. But it seemed Tyrion was also hesitant to make their marriage real.

The sound of armor moving behind her interrupted her thoughts, sending a chill up her spine. She didn't dare turn around, intent on making it to her new rooms and hoping that Tyrion would be there. But the footsteps behind them grew louder, and then that familiar, terrorizing voice called out.

"Good-aunt, I'm surprised you're able to walk about after last night."

Sansa took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to keep her nerves calm. She stopped and turned to face Joffrey, who was shadowed by Ser Maryn and Ser Boros. Sansa and her ladies gave the customary curtsy. "Good day, your grace. Forgive me, but I should not delay, I'm to meet my lord husband in our rooms for the mid-day meal."

"Ah, but it is my wish that you join me, instead, dear aunt." Joffrey moved closer, and Sansa avoided meeting his eyes. "And as your king, it is I you should be dutiful to first, is it not?"

When she wouldn't reply, Joffrey took a step closer. Shae boldly stepped between them, and Sansa held her breath. "My lady was not feeling well after the gardens and needs to rest in her rooms."

Joffrey growled at Shae. "Who are you to speak to the king, you foreign cunt? Know your place, or Ser Maryn will teach you how servants are supposed to act in front of your king." He waved a hand toward his guard, whose fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"You will not touch the Lady Sansa," Shae responded firmly, and Sansa gasped. Before anything else could be said, Joffrey smacked Shae across the face, or at least tried. To his shock, Shae blocked his hand, grabbing his wrist.

"Bitch, you dare to touch me?!"

Ser Maryn and Ser Boros moved quickly, grabbing Shae on either side, pulling her back from Sansa and Joffrey. Mya screamed and ran down the hall and around the corner, disappearing from their sight.

Joffrey angrily moved towards Shae and punched her in the stomach. To her credit, she did not cry out, but glared at him as if her eyes were daggers. "Stupid whore, I'll teach you a lesson in respect!" Joffrey hit her again, Ser Maryn and Ser Boros holding her arms tightly.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Sansa cried out.

Joffrey turned towards her; his face twisted in a cruel expression. "And what would you have me do instead?" He moved towards her, and Sansa stood frozen in fear. "Are you ready to have a real man between your legs, hmm?"

Again, Sansa couldn't meet his eyes. She kept her gaze on Shae, who was obviously in pain but would not let the men fully see it. Perhaps her anger was stronger than the pain.

Joffrey's hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Tell me, did my uncle introduce you to his many perversions? Hopefully he's saved something for me…" His other hand slipped under the fabric of her dress, grasping her breast hard, and Sansa bit her lip from crying out.

"What is going on here?"

Joffrey and Sansa both turned towards the voice that boomed down the hallway. Mya was walking behind Tywin Lannister. Had she gone to find him, or had she run across him? They were too far from the Hand's Tower, so it must have been the latter.

"Grandfather, I was just showing my aunt's maid that she should respect the king." His voice was cool, and he released his hold on Sansa as Tywin moved closer to them. From the displeased look in his eyes, he must have seen the king groping at her. She clasped the top of her dress close to her, making sure she was not exposed.

"Surely you should save your attentions for your future bride," Tywin warned, his gaze strong as he stared down Joffrey.

Joffrey shuffled on his feet, his jaw moving back and forth as he thought of what to say. After an awkward silence, he finally turned away from his grandfather's eyes and waved at his guards. "That's enough, for now."

They released Shae, who was still glaring at the knights. Sansa prayed that she wouldn't do anything rash. As Joffrey walked away with his boorish men, Tywin moved closer to Sansa. "Is this the first time the king has accosted you?"

Sansa couldn't meet his eyes. But if anyone could help her, it was this man. He seemed to be the only one to be able to slightly tame the wild lion cub. "No, my lord."

Tywin made a disgruntled sound. "I will not tolerate another king who rapes wives," he grumbled. "You will follow me to your rooms. I have a proposition for you, Lady Lannister."

They walked the rest of the way through the corridors in silence, Sansa following a few paces behind him and Shae just behind her. She half hoped Tyrion was in their room, waiting to share the midday meal with her, but they found the room empty. Tywin walked in, taking a seat at the table. "Go fetch your mistress' meal," he commanded, not even glancing at her handmaids. Shae nodded towards Mya, and the girl left to do as ordered.

"Come, sit, good-daughter," Tywin said, waving at the chair across from him at the round table. His calling her 'good-daughter' sounded like foreign words to her ears, and Sansa noted that his tone held no emotion. She quietly approached, taking her seat.

"You said that this was not the first time the king has troubled you. What else has Joffrey done?"

His cold eyes were studying her, and Sansa dropped her gaze. She felt herself slip into the demure armor she had worn for so long to survive King's Landing. "The King has been fair and just—"

"He ordered her stripped and beaten in the throne room," Shae interrupted.

Tywin and Sansa both jerked their heads towards Shae.

"Normally I'd remind a servant that they do not speak unless asked to," Tywin gave Shae a warning look before returning his gaze to Sansa. "But this is an important matter. I will not have the Lannister name tarnished. Now, will you tell me the truth, or shall your handmaid inform me further?"

Sansa sighed. "Last night, the king said he would visit me after my husband passed out. His guards would hold me down, and that it didn't matter which Lannister put a baby in me."

She met his eyes, and she thought she saw a flash of rage cross his face. Tywin cleared his throat and waved towards Shae. "Wine," he simply said. Shae moved towards the table, taking two empty goblets, and filling them for Tywin and Sansa. He took a sip, then another before setting it down. "Now, leave us."

Shae looked at Sansa, and she knew she didn't want to leave her alone. But Sansa was far safer with the Lannister patriarch than with Joffrey. She nodded and Shae moved towards the door. She seemed to hesitate for a second but closed the door behind her.

"What's happened before yesterday is not important," he said dismissively, and Sansa tried to hide her anger. "But now you are a Lannister. I have my family name to protect. I cannot prevent the king from finding you alone here. It seems he's obsessed with you, despite finding him a more appealing betrothed."

Sansa would have been insulted if anyone else had said such a thing to her, but she was glad to not be married to Joffrey, and Margery was kind to her.

"However, I cannot risk my future heir to have his legitimacy in question, king's bastard or not."

"Your heir, my lord?"

Tywin's eyebrow arced slightly at Sansa's question. "I am no fool; my son Jaime is sworn to celibacy as a Kings guard. Cersei's children are Baratheon. If I'm to have a Lannister heir, it will be from Tyrion and you, his wife."

"But is not Tyrion then your heir?"

There was that flash of anger again. Sansa had been told the rumors that Tyrion was not favored by his father. But how could a parent not love their child? Even Cersei loved Joffrey, despite the monster he had become.

Tywin took a deep breath, as if to keep calm in front of her. "Tyrion is not fit to be Lord of Casterly Rock."

"Because he is a dwarf?"

His eyes narrowed, as if scrutinizing her. "I will not go into details of his ill behaviors in front of a high-born lady such as yourself."

"But you still chose to marry me to him despite those behaviors." Sansa was starting to feel a little more confident in speaking her mind. "I know it is because you hope to have a claim to the North through my children."

Tywin leaned back in his chair slightly. "I see you aren't the soft, simple girl that my daughter seems to think you are." He took another drink of the wine, straightening back up in his chair. "Yes, your son with Tyrion would be a potential heir to Winterfell and the North, as well as Casterly Rock and the West. That is why I am willing to send you and Tyrion to our ancestorial home."

Sansa felt a surge of hope that she hadn't felt since Margery mentioned marriage to Loras. To leave King's Landing after all this time, free of Cersei and Joffrey…

"However," Tywin continued, "I cannot have you leave while you are still a maid."

Sansa's face went white. How did he know? Had Tyrion told him this morning?

"My foolish son has told me he will not bed you until you want him. So, I leave you with this agreement; once you have performed your wifely duty, I will arrange for you and Tyrion to move to Casterly Rock as soon as possible." He took a long sip from his cup, his eyes never leaving Sansa's. "I imagine your desire to be free of Joffrey's reach outweighs your feelings on your husband bedding you." Sansa could feel her cheeks burning. "Do we have an agreement?"

Tyrion had spent the day away from his room, afraid to face Sansa. After his unfortunate meeting this morning with his father, he had quickly returned to change into fresh clothes and spent the day in a spare workspace, filling his mind with the upcoming royal wedding expenditures. Although his father's hurtful confession would not leave him alone.

But as the sun began to set, his stomach growled at him, and he could no longer ignore his hunger. He briefly thought about calling for supper to be served to him where he had spent the day, but being a newlywed, he would be expected to eat with his new wife. So, he had closed the ledgers he had brought with him and walked the halls to his room.

He was surprised to see Bronn lingering outside his door. "Taking initiative again? Has knighthood made you valiant?"

Bronn snickered. "No, I'm being paid a handsome amount to guard your young bride."

Tyrion's eyebrow arced as he finished approaching the door. "And what is this amount I am to pay you?"

"I won't object to being paid twice for the same job, but you should know, your lord father asked first."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Your wife can tell you more, but it seems like a sellsword turned knight is more trustworthy than the other cloaks around here." He turned to open the door for him, and smirked as Tyrion walked in, still looking baffled.

Sansa was sitting at the table, poking at the food on her plate with her fork. She didn't turn to look at him as he walked in, and Tyrion wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. "Good evening, Sansa," he said as he approached the table. He noticed her cheeks reddened as he spoke. "Is everything all right?"

She set her fork down, but still wouldn't look up from the plate. "I had a discussion with your father earlier today."

Tyrion groaned, taking a step closer to her. "I'm sorry, he can be quite harsh-"

"He saved me," Sansa interrupted.

Tyrion blinked hard in shock, not expecting to hear that. He looked around the room, noticing her handmaids, including Shae, were not in the room. "What happened?"

Sansa's face darkened, and she pushed her plate away from her. "Joffrey."

His stomach churned, anger building up inside him. "What did the bastard do to you?"

Sansa met his gaze then, seeming surprised by his tone. "It doesn't matter, your father stopped him."

Tyrion took a step closer, this time reaching out to cover her right hand with his. "Sansa, you don't have to be afraid to talk to me. Even if I was not your husband, I would not let anyone hurt you."

"I'm not afraid to talk to you," she replied, "I'm just worried about what you would do." She looked down at his hand on hers, and he felt relief she did not pull away from him. "You threatened to cut his…cock…off for wanting a bedding ceremony."

Tyrion forced a laugh, patting her hand. "It was merely a drunken joke."

"No," Sansa looked back into his eyes, "I've never known of you to be angry like that. I think you would have done it if the room wasn't full of people."

Tyrion sighed. She was right. Yes, he had been deep in his cups, but he remembered growling at his nephew, a dinner knife stabbed into the table. If Joffrey had tried to strip Sansa again in front of the crowd, Tyrion would've lost his head after jumping over the table to bury the utensil in his nephew's black heart.

Sansa stood up, slipping her hand out from under his. She moved over to the chaise, sitting down. Tyrion noted that since the seat was lower than the dining chairs, they were more face to face. Had she meant to do that?

"Last night, before he called for the bedding ceremony, Joffrey cornered me." Sansa hesitated, likely deciding if she would fully confide in him. Tyrion slightly nodded, encouraging her to continue. "He threatened to come here last night, after you were asleep, and his guards would hold me down."

Tyrion felt his hands clenching in anger. Bronn had been right; Joffrey had threatened her. And he'd been too drunk to notice her anxiety last night was not just from being married to him. No doubt she lay awake in fear while he was passed out on the very lounger she sat on now.

"That's why you asked me this morning not to drink like that again," he said, more as a statement than a question.

Sansa nodded. "Today, Joffrey and his men followed me in the halls, and Shae tried to help, but they attacked her."

Tyrion's heart dropped. Shae had been hurt. Is that why she was not here?

"My new maid, Mya, ran off, and Joffrey…he grabbed at me…" She made a motion towards her chest, and she closed her eyes, breathing in deep.

Tyrion growled, turning toward the table and angrily throwing the plate of food Sansa had left uneaten. It crashed against the nearby pillar, and the clang it made as it hit the floor was the only thing filling the silence. He'd quickly realized that Sansa was right-his anger towards Joffrey was why she didn't want to tell him.

"Your father came around the corner with Mya only moments later," she continued, her voice slightly wary. "It was his presence that stopped Joffrey from touching me further."

Tyrion closed his eyes, his back still towards Sansa. He willed his anger to calm, before turning to face her again. "I'm sorry I could not protect you from him," he finally replied. He took a few steps towards her, their eyes on the same level. "I will find a way to keep him from hurting you again."

Sansa shifted in her seat, seeming uncomfortable. "Your father has agreed to send us to Casterly Rock."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That can't be possible," he retorted. "My father does not want me there."

"He told me that he would not have a king endanger his future heir's parentage."

"Ah, there's the real motive," Tyrion laughed darkly. "Anything to protect the family legacy." He reached for her hand again, and she accepted them, letting him gently hold hers. "Is this what you want? To go to the lion's den?"

Sansa nodded, her eyes filling with determination. "Better there than living in fear of being in the hands of a dangerous king."

He squeezed her hands, bringing them to his lips to give them a chaste kiss. "Then I will talk to my father tomorrow to make the arrangements." Her gaze dropped from his, and he sensed there was something wrong. "What's wrong?"

"Your father only agreed to let us go as long as…."

She seemed to be struggling to finish her words. Tyrion watched her for a moment, and he noticed how her pale cheeks were turning pink, and she avoided his eyes. "He wants us to consummate the marriage first, doesn't he?"

She finally nodded and turned her gaze back to his. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"And I don't want you forced to share your bed with me," Tyrion said softly, rubbing his thumbs against the top of her hands he still held. "I'll talk with him and find another way-"

"No."

He hadn't expected her to refuse so forcefully.

"I don't want to spend my days in fear of the king trapping me and having his way," she said slowly. "You have always been kind to me, and I believe you will be good to me, whereas Joffrey will not. So, my lord husband, I am ready for you to share my bed."

Tyrion didn't know which emotion to focus on. Bronn was right; the lusty, impish part of him wanted to fuck her. But he would not allow those dark thoughts to control him. That would make him as bad as Joffrey. Then, the fact that she only wanted him to save herself and leave King's Landing…was she truly willing to let him touch her?

"While I am honored, my lady, I think we should take a day to fully think about this. I also want to make sure my father is honest in his words, not just scheming to control our private lives." He kissed her knuckles, noticing her cheeks blushing once again. "Until then, I will do the utmost to make sure you are not alone, and that Joffrey is kept at bay."

"Your father did say that the sooner we consummated, the sooner we could leave."

"One day is all I ask, then," Tyrion replied, letting go of her hands gently and walking towards the table. "But for now, will you not have dinner with me, Sansa?"