A Holiday by Decree
~~ Day 9 ~~
Suddenly, a clash of lightning shocked through the darkness. Thunder boomed through their chests, sending Tyrion to attention. "Just a moment please, " he squeezed Sansa's hand reflexively before parting from her.
Their surroundings had cooled substantially, and howling wind filled the room as Tyrion rose. Even on his short legs, Tyrion was already to the opened doors just as a gust pushed rain noisily in. While he managed to catch the left door, the right door swung back on its hinges with a crack. By then, Sansa was out of her bed though and was able to catch the door's edge, as it bounced back.
Raindrops sprinkling their hands and faces, together, they forced the doors shut and latched.
"Whew!" Tyrion shook the water from his hands and sighed loudly with a look up at Sansa, who was drying her own hands on her white nightgown, also speckled with rain. Rain then pounded against the closed doors. As they both reached up to wipe their damp faces, a small smile started on Tyrion's face before Sansa found her own lips curving.
Now both slightly wet and with hearts pounding not just from emotion but from the abrupt action, they shared a look that turned into breathy, ironic chuckles. "Did you know?" she asked, gesturing for how he had known to close the doors then.
"A lot of time traveling in different climates," he laughed lightly, as he swiped water from his eyebrow. "The sudden cooling of the air with nearby lightning and thunder can mean a gust front and the rain are close behind."
Sansa nodded, before sobering with a sniffle.
Where they stood beside the doors, drumming with rain and the roar of the crashing tide down below, Tyrion picked up where he left off. "Sansa, I really believe what I said. It's because of those close to me like Daenerys, Jon, Pod, and, even dare I admit it, Bronn - and now, you - that I can say, please don't lose hope.
"I have believed that I had lost it all, including my humanity, more times than I can count. But things miraculously, if slowly, actually do recover - even yourself," Tyrion said, before glancing her way a little more bravely.
Sansa's expression was a bit distant and worried-seeming. At the way she crossed her arms, with her long fingers clenching into the fabric of her nightgown sleeves, he recognized that she was tense and sincerely hoped it was because she was thinking over his words.
Now or never, Tyrion, a small voice inside him urged him to gather his courage. "Sansa," he intoned, pausing long enough to draw her eyes to his. "It doesn't matter what we do or how we do it, because please know two things: I only want what makes you happy, and as long as you want or need me in some way, I'll always be yours."