A Holiday by Decree
~~ Day 3 ~~
Indeed, a lot had happened to and for him, but he had been exceedingly lucky in more recent years.
However, what remained, excluding Daenerys, was his still very patchy track-record with women; even though he counted Missandei as a woman with whom he worked well, he knew he still taxed her calm, polite patience and had resigned himself to be never sure if she liked him. At least, he rested in the thought that he did not regularly threaten her life, as he had with other women throughout his life.
He lowered his sight from the heavens to rake his hands over his eyes and scar. The scar had healed, but he still got the odd impression of phantom sensations across it at times. Idly, he wondered if another with such a scar had ever experienced such a sensation, when unbidden, his sometimes too-agile mind had conjured up the dark, morose image of Jon Snow.
Tyrion knew, quite regrettably, from hard-to-forget comments from his Queen (they had once shared a bit too much wine in her solar) that their King was also in possession of scars that should have put him permanently in the ground.
Instantly, Tyrion had the preposterous thought of asking Jon whether he ever had phantom sensations from the worst of his scars. Perhaps I can ask him right after I finish apologizing for traipsing into the hard-earned holiday time of the woman he must still see as a little sister, surely spreading memories of the worst parts of her life as I go, he thought.
And so, he began to laugh, ignoring the wetness of the sand soaking straight through his trousers; apparently, the tide had been where he sat. Indeed, he had never really been a natural in nature.
Still, Tyrion was now completely sure of it: meeting Sansa here in this way was yet another sign of the obvious.
When do the gods find time not to laugh at me?
Eventually, his bout of sleep-deprived, tearful laughter subsided; mad thoughts of Jon Snow deciding to wring his neck over Sansa's honor, like Tyrion had feared he would do a couple years ago on Dragonstone at the reference to their ill-fated marriage, had not helped. The first signs of dawn had already appeared, as he carefully dried his eyes on his shirt cuffs.
After facing dragons and slavery, his sister and White Walkers - and perhaps worst of all - the deaths of his brother and innocent niece and nephew - Tyrion was again relieved to find it in himself to laugh in spite of it all. After all, it was his ability to see past impossible situations that had allowed him to survive so far. Nevermind, that it probably also amounted to a very maladjusted sense of humor…
So there on the beach, Tyrion Lannister resolved to manage a vacation with Sansa Stark, or at least a week of it - until it was polite to leave or she otherwise changed her mind and ordered him to go.
::
Note: It's been tough not to resurrect Jaime for this story, but for thematic reasons, I decided to stay strong. Still, I also really hated that Missandei died in the show, so I had to save her in the first fic in this series.
I enjoyed kind of going a bit free-form here on the potential relationship between Missandei and Tyrion, if they had more time counseling the throne together. However, Tyrion's been going through a bit of a dark time, so not sure we can fully trust his perception though.
Also, a bit of brooding Jon Snow related humor was hard to resist.