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Chapter Text

The moment she got out of the car, flashes erupted even though it was not even an event. She tried not to sigh. She had the life she wanted, didn’t she? Sure, it came with some inconveniences, such as the fact that she couldn’t buy a sandwich without people pondering whether she was on a diet or not, or maybe anorexic, and come to think of it, when was the last time anyone saw her eat a sandwich type of crap. However, she was grateful. She had it all.

Well, perhaps, she didn’t have it all….

“Shut up Sansa,” she muttered to herself. “People are dying, you’re a queen, just shut up you silly twat.”

She only hoped no one heard her monologue as she entered the Greyjoys building and was immediately escorted to Theon’s office.

There was someone else there, and he felt really out of place. Tyrion Lannister. Several times Oscar nominee, and Hollywood’s resident bad boy. He was nursing a drink, and she could tell it was not kosher. She bit her tongue, of course he knew it was only 11AM. Surely he would answer something along the lines of “it’s probably 5PM somewhere”.

Men. Ugh. They were just men.

He was watching her, though he did not appear to be as surprised as she was by the fact that they were in the same room. Since Sansa had gotten her first part and had gotten her big break, she had walked the same red carpets he had, and while they had never interacted, she had no opinion or prejudice as far as he was concerned. It would have been easy, given the fact that he was a serial womanizer, a terrible monogamist, a lover of spirits, and perhaps harder substances. However, when it came down to it, she really did not have any prejudice for him, even though she could list the ones others had.

She knew better. Some men… Some men were one thing, and then they were another, and all the glory in the world meant nothing.

Theon interrupted her train of thoughts as he appeared, alongside Varys Sky, the man she knew to be Tyrion’s agent.

Theon kissed her cheek, and took her coat. He was trying to keep things light, but she knew him too well. Her mother had taken him in after he was orphaned. She had played his mother in a movie they had done together, and they had bonded, prompting her to bring the boy into the Stark family.

“Let’s get started,” he said. “Please sit Sansa.”

She went to a chair, leaving the couch for Tyrion.

“You called?” She said finally to her friend and agent.

“Yes. I did. Oh Hell, this is not a convo I want to be having…”

“Then let’s not have it,” she offered. Unless Mister Lannister and I are to play in the same movie?” She asked, racking her brain to figure out if she could have missed the presence of a smaller man in the main male roles.

“Maybe you will one day, but that’s not it.”

“O-kay,” she said, drawing out each syllable in a way which clashed with her British accent.

“The thing is…. Oh God, Varys, help me here.”

“She’s your client.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not interested”, the man answered.

“I have lines to rehearse. Lots and lots. Can we get to whatever you have to make?” Sansa asked.

“I guess the simplest way to say it is just sto say it…”

“So say it, whatever it is,” she said.

“The lady is impatient,” Tyrion said, speaking up for the first time.

“Wouldn’t you like to be drinking somewhere else? Surely you must have a busy schedule….,” she started.

“We want you guys to date.”

“WHAT?”

To which Tyrion nodded his head to her, and finished his drink in one gulp.

Chapter Text

“Alright, since I’m probably the most patient person you will meet on both sides of whichever ocean you want to name, break it down for me,” Sansa finally said.

“Did you just praise yourself?” Tyrion asked, squinting his eyes as if amazed.

“It’s something she does, when she’s annoyed,” Theon said before she could. “This way, she gives you an opportunity to walk back whatever crappy idea you just brought up while reminding you that she’s got the upper hand, that she gets to love or hate you forever.”

“That is some weird knowledge for her agent to have…” The actor went on.

“This is the brother speaking here,” Theon explained quickly, “I’ll revert to agent-mode in a jiffy. However, if you guys agree, you should be aware of it, ‘cause I got a feeling you would end up on the other end of that technique.”

“Does it always work?” Tyrion asked, with an eyebrow raised.

“While I’m not being treated as if I’m not in the room, it usually does,” Sansa said curtly.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not the girl I’ve seen in passing?”

“Probably because we have never interacted. Ever. Theon, you have three seconds, otherwise I’m taking my business and my sisterhood elsewhere.”

“San’, my darling," her adopted brother immediately started talking. “I can see how this must seem, so shocking. I know you, and I know your heart, and your patience. Thank you for giving me a chance to explain before walking out.”

“Someone’s quite the doormat,” the actor fake whispered to his own agent.

“The thing is, you’re this incredible actress, and I’m not saying this because we have shared Christmases and birthdays together,” the young man went on, ignoring the jibe. “You really are fantastic. You’ve done a wonderful job with every part that has been offered to you or that you won through casting. You’re amazing at what you do.”

“I feel a but coming….” The drinking actor said.

“However,” Theon countered, while looking daggers at Tyrion, “I feel like you’re not being considered for many parts you’d nail perfectly because of your image.”

“What’s wrong with my image?” The actress asked, mustering all her haughtiness in order to remind this man she loved as a brother that he could be fired as an agent.

“It’s… Well, it’s boring, my darling sister. Utterly and painfully boring.”

“How dare you?” She exclaimed.

“Yes, indeed, how dare you,” Tyrion mocked. “I mean, when Varys approached me with this idea, I had to look the chit up on the internet and found absolutely no porn or nudes or whatever. You should apologize to her. Boring… You’re boring! Even your name is…. Where is my wine? Oh, thanks,” he told the assistant in the room who refilled his glass.

 Sansa was purposefully ignoring the actor and his agent. She wanted Theon to own up to what he had just said. Someone was getting a crappy gift when Christmas would roll around.

“Someone’s getting a shit present when you guys exchange gifts at Christmas this year,” Tyrion said, almost echoing word for word her thoughts.

“Baby sister, I know you hate me right now, and I know I’m being meek, because I don’t want to lose my biggest client, but more significantly, I don’t want to lose my sister. But let me explain as an agent, pretending we have not shared so many great memories with Papa.”

“Stop buttering me up and get on with it.”

“If there is not a porn movie named exactly thus, then people have no imagination whatsoever,” Tyrion said.

Out of nowhere, she felt like she wanted to laugh at that remark, but it was not the right time, she was making a point.

“As your agent, I have agreed to all your terms. I have always negotiated things the way you wanted them to be. I never asked you to step out of your comfort zone. Perhaps it was the big brother in me talking, or perhaps I’m just a really respectful agent… That is not the point. San’, when people look you up on the internet, on Wikipedia, they get a page where it says you were born in the castle of Wolf's Den in Oxfordshire, that you are 19, daughter to Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Then it’s just a compilation of trivia gathered from interviews about how you came to be where you are, and the movies you did, the credit you got, the nominations…. You get the drill. The only ‘personal’ section is the bit that says you dated Ramsay Bolton for almost a year. Then it says you guys broke up and that’s it. It’s so dry!”

“So I’m dry, is that, what you’re saying?”

“As your agent, that’s what I’m saying. I respected every wish you mentioned. We could have played on so many fronts. Your mother is not Catelyn Stark as it says, she was Cat Tully, the greatest actress of her generation!”

“Wait, what?” Tyrion asked.

“I would not pair you up with someone who had no potential,” Varys said snidely.

“You’re Cat Tully’s kid? Well kids?”

“Our – I mean your, since I’m speaking as your agent - your brother Branden is on his way to becoming the next Stephen Hawking. The scientific community loves him already and can’t hardly wait to hand him over every Nobel prize there is, even the literature one, let alone the peace one. Your sister is crushing it internationally in fencing and equitation, and she’s going to get in whichever college she chooses, if she decides to go, which ain’t certain because we both know she is self-taught. Your half-brother you consider a brother, Jon, just came back from a tour in Africa, where he was injured on the field but also managed to save his unit.”

He stopped to take a breath in and went back to his demonstration:

“You asked me to tell the journalists and interviewers to never ask you anything about your love life, even when you were with Ramsay. Your father was the bloody mayor of Oxford and a MP, but as he ran as Ned Stark, no one put two and two together. You are so interesting! No one knows we used to live mostly in Scotland in Winterfell, in Aberdeenshire, until our father decided to run for mayor of Oxford. And that's just your family! You graduated three years in advance, you have a bachelor's degree, you speak fucking Latin and Hebrew and can read hieroglyphs. But all of this has been declared off limits."

“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Cat Tully and the Oxford mayor? What's next, you're royalty too?”

She was, actually. Duchess of Winterfell and Marquess of the Wolf’s Den.

“You are!” Theon exclaimed. “I know you and I know that there is so much more than this perfect façade that you present. It is lovely, it’s great for parents who want a role model for their children, but you’re not a barbie doll and you need to have asperities and quirks, a personal background that is really personal, for you to become really relatable. You are lucky, as in you have a following, a sane one, not the kind of people who suffer from hysteria…”

“Like my followers….” Tyrion said gloomily.

“We need to rock up your image if you will. It will bring you more visibility and provide you with opportunities to reach those parts you already should be considered for.”

“And what does he get from it?” She asked, pointing to her fellow actor.

“He needs to “rock down” his own image,” Varys intervened before his client could speak. “His eccentricities were charming when he was in his 20’s, now, they’re less so. He’s lucky enough to be talented, but a lesser actor would have been tossed to the curb after some of the stints he pulled.”

“I’m in the room,” Tyrion said, firmly.

“So am I,” she said.

She went to the window.

Sure, nothing Theon had said was wrong, however, it did not have to feel nice. She was a polished and polite person. She liked to hold herself to a high standard, because if you did not, then what leg did you have to stand on when you demanded it from other people? However she could see that he had a point, a painful one too. She was an actress, constantly praised for her work, but more often than not, she felt like she could bring something else to the table, if the writers were more daring, or willing to hear her thoughts. Being too polite had deprived her of this opportunity to speak up.

However, pretending to date Tyrion Lannister, Hollywood’s bad boy? She had nothing for or against him, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was taking things to an extreme.

“You know, the fact that I’m a dwarf won’t impact your street cred,” he said, as if sensing she was thinking about him. “I have lovers who can attest that you would be fake-getting some first-class fuck… uh lovemaking. Your image would not suffer.”

“But yours would…. It never occurred to me that my hesitation could be understood as fear of what people might think. I don’t care for your ….”

“Dwarfism?” He offered.

“I know there’s another way to express that…”

“The PC term is “vertically challenged”. I’m only vertically challenged when I’ve had too much to drink and I can’t stand up. I’m a dwarf. I have the congenial defect. Let’s call things by their name.”

“My point was that I never considered optics, if you will. All I’m thinking, if I’m being honest, is that no one will buy it. We’re too dissimilar. You say outrageous things, you drink during the day, and I respect that, to each their own. What on Earth would prompt you to fake date a…. barbie doll like me, as my brother puts it?”

“Love is a mysterious thing,” Varys said. “Can I tell you more about what Theon and I discussed?”

“Please do.”

“You are indeed two different personas. However, the Met gala is coming in two days, and we could start setting up this relationship. I would leak to the tabloids that you guys spent the night talking and were both smiling, or something equally asinine. The press would be so shocked by Tyrion not ending the night in his birthday suit, they’d print it.”

“Wait, I can’t get naked at the end of the gala?” Tyrion exclaimed, but she could tell he was just trying to diffuse the unease in the room.

She just could not tell if it was hers or his.

“Then, if you are willing to take it a step further, perhaps you guys could have lunch, and accidentally get papp’ed. I have an assistant at my firm who is terrible at his job but great at selling such secrets, as you two meeting for lunch. After this would have happened, we would regroup and think about what comes next. In my mind, if you can tolerate each other and are willing to remain chaste, you could agree to walk down the streets, say in LA or in London together, not necessarily kissing or anything, but perhaps holding hands.”

“I’d look like a toddler holding his ma’s hand,” Tyrion said.

“Or something of the sort,” Varys went on, ignoring his client. “Of course, as I said, we would be analyzing the trends, gossips, chictchats, and how this perhaps relationship would be perceived by the rest of the world. There’s no point forcing you to go through all this trouble if no one cares. However, I truly believe that there would be an interest, and that you would do my client’s image a lot of good. Even if you stopped fake dating after a month, people would have to think about Tyrion in a new light. He would have held your interest, such a pristine princess.”

“What is this, the lady and the tramp?” His client asked.

“You, on the other hand,” Theon spoke, “would look funkier if you will. People would be amazed that you would have gone from Hollywood’s rising star to a man who is older than you are and shares a different lifestyle. It would really give substance to this image of you the media like to share, as if it appeases them to have you as a perfect lady. People would wonder. Furthermore, if you agreed to some paparazzing in the streets, people would be shocked that you’re so into your new relationship, you’d forget about your usual shyness and politic of being away from prying eyes. They’d feel victorious having those pictures, and they’d conjecture so much… From being tabloid trash, it would have to permeate the Hollywood sphere, and it could open doors for you. People who would think of Mister Lannister for edgy roles would now know your name if they don’t already, and perhaps, they’d remember it next time they're casting something Oscar-worthy…”

“This will never work,” she said. “No one will believe that Mister Lannister had any interest in me. As you said, I’m bland. They’d smell the trick…”

“You’re so not bland, from all I learned today,” her would be fake boyfriend said.

“It would work. And if it didn’t, you’d just go back to your life, pretending that Tyrion was helping you with a part, or something, and that the paps read too much into innocent things,” Vary offered.

“As the Met gala is so close, I guess I don’t have any time to think it through?”

“Trust me, San’, not as your agent, but as your brother. I would never ask you to do something that would be damaging to your image or to you. This is actually pretty smart and there is no downside, except for the fact that you’d be living a charade for however long you two decide to keep it going. I honestly believe it’s perfect.”

“Alright,” She finally agreed after remaining silent for several minutes. “But you explain to Jon why all of this is happening.”

“I will,” Theon promised.

Since Robb’s tragic death, followed by Rickon passing from leukemia, the Starks siblings had grown closer and tighter, feeling like they only had each other. Catelyn had died on set, after a crazy fan had entered the studio and targeted her. Ned had been shot when mayor by a crazy constituent who had a grudge with some of his policies for the town. They only had themselves to rely on. This was partly why Sansa had decided early on to keep her personal history close to the vest.

“Thank you, miss Stark,” Varys said.

“I can’t believe I’ll be dating Ramsay’s ex… Hollywood is going to lose its mind. To top it all, dating Sansa Stark, the princess who would be queen of the land….”

Tyrion was rambling while the agents arranged things in hushed tones. Sansa was looking through the window.

“Wait, what was it about being chaste?” Tyrion suddenly exclaimed.

She sighed. What had she agreed to?  

Chapter Text

”Have you ever done something you knew you shouldn’t have?” Sansa asked Brienne.

Her friend let out a chuckle before answering:

“Of course, darling, I’ve done so many things I never should have… What are you considering doing you shouldn’t?”

“I… I can’t talk about it. It pains me truly to tell you that, you know I adore you.”

“Right back at you. I guess we’re all entitled to some secrets, but if it gets too much or out of control, ring my bell, you know? I’ve promised your mother I would always help you if I could…. You know that’s not all that ties me to you, but just for her sake, I would do anything, m’kay?”

Sansa took a good look at this wonderful woman she got to call her friend. They had met when Sansa was playing in her first movie. They were cast along, in different parts of course, and Catelyn did not want to show up at the studio, in order to keep secret the fact that the young actress was her daughter, so she had confided in Brienne whom she knew from before, and an odd friendship had been struck. When Catelyn had been killed, just over five years ago, the blonde had become a rock and a guide for the young girl Sansa had been. From what she knew, Brienne had never been too sure when younger about her acting chops, her father being less than supportive of her career, and when Catelyn had sort of embraced her, it had created a bond, between the women then and between the two friends.

They had met earlier that night to arrive together at the event they would both be attending, the Metropolitan Gala, a must-be-seen-at event if there ever was one. Sansa loved fashion though she never let herself completely embrace it, trying to keep it as a guilty pleasure, something to indulge in whenever.

The Met Gala theme this year was “This ain’t me”, and Sansa had chosen to wear some haute couture punk and goth-like clothes. Her nails were black, her make up a mess, and she had fake tattoos all across the skin she was showing. Fishnets stockings and army boots completed her outfit. For her part, Brienne had come, dressed as a lady, a debutante that would be about to be introduced into the high society, the perfect depiction of the perfect southern Belle, something she so was not.

Sansa had laughed when Brienne had told her about the outfit she had chosen, but truth be told, it did fit the theme. Her friend was and always would be a woman, a good one, a strong one, one with so many qualities she could not remember them all, but she was known for being an androgynous actress who embraced this side of her, and the fact that it allowed some people to call her manly.

Sansa wished she could tell her friend about what was starting that night. Tyrion was supposed to be seen with her, at some point, and she had honestly no idea how anything would work. She trusted Theon. The person she really didn’t trust was in fact, herself. She was not worried she would sell the charade away at the first occasion, but she wondered if when she had agreed to do this thing, whatever it was, she had taken a good hard look at herself, in order to see how she could make this believable, this … blossoming romance they were supposed to be starting.

She had her doubts, of course, as any 19 years old woman did, about what she could and could not do, about where she wanted to go, what she wanted to do, what she was willing to do or give up in order to get there. She knew she was a bloody good actress. She was good-looking, beautiful even. She was not overconfident, just abhorred fake modesty, for it was just about blackmail in the end.

“Don’t you think I am a catch?” She remembered Ramsay saying, and she immediately wanted to barf. There was hell to pay when you did not say exactly what he wanted to hear, no matter if you were close to the script, or just using synonyms.

Thankfully, the actor was on set somewhere in Finland, shooting a movie about Vikings, and she allowed herself the pettiness to wish some of his cherished features would freeze off.

“Do you want to go back to my place when this is done?” Brienne asked her, bringing her back to the present. “I can’t wait to get rid of all this bullshit… I’m so glad I refused to partake into any Country Club business of the sort.”

Brienne was an expat from UK in the US, had been for years. Her father had moved the family when the would-be actress had been a toddler. At times, the US Brienne would overcome her British counterpart.

“I know you mean no harm to me, but I did partake in this ritual, though not at the country club…” Sansa reminded her.

When she had been 16, and both her parents had passed, she had been invited to introduce herself at court, given her royal blood, inherited from her mother. Robb should have been the one who would have gotten everything, but he had been murdered by a jealous ex-girlfriend as he was getting ready to propose to his pregnant would-be bride. He did not know, back then, that he would be a father, he had only wanted to link his life to his girlfriend, his love. Talisa was living in Australia, with the son she had had after Robb had been put into the ground. Sansa wished she could see her nephew more, but alas, it was not presently in the cards. Talisa had been afraid to step back in the UK since Robb’s death, feared for little Robb’s life, and Sansa would never begrudge her. She just knew pain too well.

“So, my place?” Brienne asked again. “By the way, I heard some paps talking. Apparently, I convinced you with my magic vagina to join the lesbian side of the force. Theon will probably laugh his arse off when he reads it….”

Except he wouldn’t, if Varys did his part well.

“I’d love to, I just think I need to mingle a little longer. You know I’m currently chasing good scripts, and I would like to be seen, perhaps reminding someone interesting that I exist.”

“Let’s go outside then…”

They went to the private garden, where waiters passed drinks around, and hors d’oeuvres. They sat under a tree, not too far from the crowd but making sure they did not have to whisper in order to have any privacy.

“I need to start working on my Scottish accent,” Brienne said. “I’m starting training next week for my part in ‘Culloden’. Why the hell we have to do that in Greenland, I can't tell. ”

“I hate that you’ll be so far away,” Sansa hald whimpered. “I’m sorry, I meant to harm, it’s an amazing opportunity for you. I’m just going to miss you a lot.”

“Same goes there. I’ll need you to be available to hear me rant against that bloody Lannister piece of candy“ the actress said.

“I dare hope you don’t mean me…” a male voice said, surprising them both.

When Sansa spotted Tyrion, her eyes widened in surprise. He was wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo, and he was looking a little hot under the collar.

“Tyrion!” Brienne exclaimed. “I meant your dick of a brother. Though you can be a true arsehole too…”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”, he said with his usual cocky smile.

“Have you met Sansa Stark?”

“Very briefly, in passing,” he answered, and Sansa could have kissed her friend for setting up unknowingly a perfect start for their charade. “My Lady,” he said half-mockingly.

“Don’t mind him, he’s a prick,” Brienne told her friend. “When we were shooting “Time has come”, he was always an arse on set. But he’s got a good heart, somewhere. It’s just lost under too many cheap thrills and pints of alcohol.”

“If I ever get the Cecil. B DeMille award,” the actor said, “I’ll insist upon you presenting it and giving it to me.”

“Sans’? You ok? Or you’re just pretending we’re not here?” Brienne asked, and the young actress realized she had been silent for too long.

“I apologize, I was not tuning you guys out. Mister Lannister and I met recently at a random event, and from one thought to another, I found myself miles away. Do you want to join us?” She offered him, patting down the space next to her.

“Don’t mind if I do. And call me Tyrion. Mister Lannister is either my brother of my father, and both are… how do you Brits put it? ‘utter arses’, right?”

“We have so many words to chose from for this particular slang,” Brienne said, and Sansa nodded along, as the actor took a seat next to her.

He was careful not to go too aggressively, not intruding into what would be considered her personal bubble, but he was there.

“Jesus, I’m sorry guys, I need to go get rid of these shoes,” the blond actress, getting up. “I thought that by sitting I would alleviate the pain, but hell no. Why do women have to be put through so much pain?” She rhetorically asked.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Tyrion joked, and Sansa did not hide her smile, prompting a new one from him.

“My Lady, hum?” She asked, when her friend had disappeared, and it was just the two of them.

“I told you, I did my research beforehand,” he answered, looking on the verge of a blush. “I saw that you had been a main character on the Lady Jane Grey movie people told me about. It felt like it was suitable. I may have been wrong…”

“I liked it,” she answered.

“For Fu… Gosh, we need alcohol,” he said after they were briefly silent.

“You can swear, I don’t mind.”

“I will. I just do not want to make your ears bleed. It didn’t feel like a good way to start … what we’re starting,” he said, looking around for unwelcome ears.

“I have tough skin, sticks and stones may break my bones…” She started saying.

“Please let the next phrase be ‘but chains and whips excite me’,” he fake-prayed.

“Tyrion Lannister, an activist for women’s right,” she joked.

“I am!” He exclaimed. “I support women, their right to have fun, in whichever fashion they chose to. Your kink may not be mine, though let’s be frank, I’m kinkier than you are, ten folds at least, but yeah, I support the women’s agenda. Equal pay, equal responsabilities, equal right to have fun.”

“Don’t be fooled by this persona I spent years crafting,” she said, not hoping to catch him off guard, though perhaps a little. “I am not the girl you read about online.”

“And from what we know, I will get the pleasure of finding out more about you, and the difference between what you say and what you think…”

“You don’t mind getting to know each other?” she asked. “I don’t, for the record, but I must admit I wondered if you would have any interests in my sad tales of woes.”

“A ‘Jane Eyre’ reference, if I’m not wrong,” he said, looking like he was not sure he knew what to say, or if he could say it.

“I do love Mr Rochester,” she said.

“You’re not a Darcy fan?”

“I guess we should keep some info close to our vests, before we end up having every conversation we would be interested in in just one night…”

“True. And to get back to your point, I believe that we must get to know each other. I don’t need to know everything, and neither do you, but if we make it past the first week, we should be able to tell where the other is coming from. Plus, I believe we should understand each other’s reason for embarking in this adventure. There’s what our agents said, and then there’s what went through our minds. So yeah, some chit chat, getting to know each other is fine by me.”

“Then I guess I must disappoint you right away, my Lord,” she said, making him smirk. ‘I don’t drink. I’m not of legal age.”

He pretended to have a heart attack before saying:

“I guess I’ll be drinking for two then….”

She looked at him and pondered who he really was. There obviously was so much more to him than met the eye, and she just felt interested, and not just because of the journey they were supposed to be taking.

He looked dashing in his tuxedo, his hair running wild. She knew this meant that this was not who he was, except for his mane, but she just thought it was a good look for him. She had seen the style he favored at events, and it suited him too, no pun intended. However, he might be onto something with this “not me” outfit.

“So, tell me how you met Brienne,” he said.

She noticed he had slid just a little closer to where she was sitting, and she pondered if it was intentional or had just happened. Nevertheless, she complied and answered his question. She kept the connection to her mother on the down low, feeling like she was deceiving him by doing so, but hey, if they were supposed to spend time together, she had to keep some secrets for a later revelation, right?

When he reciprocated and told her about when he had work with their common friend, she hung onto his lips, his every word, and laughed harder than she had planned to. This evening was a good surpsie, not going the way she had thought.

Then again, there was no manual for what they were doing. Expectations were meant to not be met, or something like that.

She chased those thoughts away and laughed some more as Tyrion went on with his history with Brienne.

He was such a good storyteller… She could not wait to hear more.

She barely saw the night went by, as they talked, made snide comments about some outfits, and just hanged out.

What a pleasant surprise.

Chapter Text

When he woke up, Tyrion had a headache of unparalleled dimension, and he groaned.

His cellphone buzzing was what had pulled him out of his slumber, and right then, he did not feel very inclined to answer it, or if he did, he would be in a roguish mood, at best.

He rolled on his back, naked under the covers and tried to remember the previous night. It was not often that he woke up in his bed alone, but at this precise moment, it felt like a good thing for he would have been prickly to any girl who would have enjoyed his company.

Taking in a deep breath, he was happy to find out that his maid had changed his sheets, for he did not smell any hints of Shae’s perfume in his bed.

He remembered feeling like a cheat in the tuxedo Varys had picked for him to wear, since Tyrion couldn’t be bothered with fashion. It had felt the opposite of a second skin. However, when he thought back to the look of surprise on Sansa’s face when she had spotted him, it had not felt such a terrible choice. He had remained uncomfortable, sure, but it had softened his unease.

Thank whatever deity there was if any for Brienne Tarth. He had been racking his brain all day long pondering how he would approach the younger actress, and her being friendly with the blonde had provided a perfect segue, the opportunity to join their conversation and not have it be weird. He had dreaded looking predatory. Though it had been barely mentioned when this whole scheme had been thought out, he was older than Sansa, almost double her age, and when you added this to his less than stellar reputation as a womanizer, it had been a tricky line to walk.

Once Brienne had departed, being her usual gruffy self, something that made her very compelling to him in a friendly fashion, the two had been left alone, and he had had to think quickly, make decisions and put them in action. When he had told her he believed they should get to know each other a little, he had meant it. He believed he had made a compelling case to explain why, but if he was being honest with himself, something he rarely do, he wanted her to know what she might be signing up for. He did not need someone to be attached to him while hating his guts. Their world knew very well that his less than pleasant sister Cersei had called Sansa names in the press before, when it had been suggested she could be the one actress on the rise who would match her career.

Sansa had communicated in the media on this incident by saying she was honored to be compared to such a great actress, making his sister look like the cunt she was. Their father had not been pleased.

Changing agents and going with Varys had been the smartest move in his life.

They had spent most of the night talking, Sansa and him, that was, not Varys. They had kept the conversation light and had just… gone with the flow, or so he believed. She was an actress, and a good one too, but he prided himself in his ability to see through people who were trying to bullshit him. She had not attempted anything of the sort, keeping some answers perhaps a little shorter, not giving him the whole story, but he had done the same.

It was almost unbelievable to consider she was only 19. Even though their conversation had been mostly on the light side, he had done more research online, with the information he had learnt from their meeting with their agents. Her family history was heavy, to say the least. All her siblings were famous in one world or another, but no one had connected the dots between them, which made Tyrion question just how stupid the world was.

She had been delightful, ladylike, polite, everything he usually considered to be a turn-off when meeting a woman. She had not played the family card to make him go “you poor little thing”. When he had teased, she had fought back on the same tone, and a couple of times, she had been the one to jibe in the first place.

It had felt… He wanted to say great, but there was this part of him, the cynical one, that needed to see where things went before labelling things in a positive light.

When his phone buzzed again, he sighed and reached for the device.

Boy was he popular… From Varys: “Great job, never doubt me again.”

Sure, technically Tyrion had not be the one coming up with the scheme, but his doubts should not have been held against him like a treason of some sort. The agent did love his drama.

Then, there were less pleasant messages, if Varys’ one could be qualified as such.

From his brother, Jaime: “You’re into kids now? Shame on you.”

“Shame on you too,”, Tyrion replied to no one.

Sure, he was older than Sansa, but they were not related. There had always been a huge part of him that had suspected that his sister’s children had been too blonde for being the fruit of her marriage to the producer Robert Baratheon. People did say twins had a special bond, but this would have been…

He felt like puking, and remembered coming home alone, to drink. He had not been trying to forget anything, it was just his default occupation when he was not working. He had tried to bury the less than chaste thoughts he had had about his partner in crime with alcohol. He couldn’t remember if he had started having such thoughts before or after he had started drinking. It would have been nice to be able to blame those on spirits…

From his sister: “I want dirt on the tart. Since you killed mom, you owe me that much.”

“Yeah, sure, call me a murderer then tell me to give you private info. You and Jaime must have been rocked too close to the wall when kids…”

Then, there was an unexpected number:

From Joffrey: “don’t be a perv and give me her number. You know you can’t give her what she needs.”

He deleted the message, wishing he could delete his nephew out of existence too.

From Shae finally: “Should I be jealous?”

Which was hilarious. His relationship with the foreign actress had never been about love. From day one, they had agreed that they would be fucking, and that was it. She saw other men, he saw other women. They just enjoyed each other’s body. That had been until the moment when she had come to him and asked him to take her to a public event as his date. As he was no fool and knew that she had not been cast in any movie in over three months, he knew love was not what had prompted the request. He had broken things off with her, and she had reacting badly, no matter how tactful he had tried to be. Varys had then come up with the scheme, in order to prevent Shae from spreading a false narrative in the press.

What a terrible way to end a relationship. Yet, he did not feel betrayed or annoyed. Part of him had known what he was signing up for when he had started fucking the chit. Anonymous women were a safer choice, never expecting more than a one-night-stand. Some actresses were good screwing partners too, when you had an itch to scratch. Embarking in this non monogamous but sort of committed relationship with Shae had not been a good idea from the start.

He looked at the text message the woman had sent him, and after discarding countless rude answers, he just wrote:

“Let’s not pretend. Have a good life.”

It felt a little harsh to wish her this, but he did not want to leave any windows or door opened she could crawl back in through.

He saw that he had a message from his father, and pondered listening to it. Instead he sent it to Varys who sent back some time later a summary. His father wanted to know why he was showing his face with that “Tully” girl. Tyrion should have known Tywin would know about that. When he had researched Sansa, he had found mentions of the fact that Tywin Lannister had courted Cat Tully, to no avail. Yeah for his family he guessed? But his father was not the sort of man you said no to who then just went “sure, no big deal”.

He felt like he should be getting up, but he did not want to. For now, he wished to remain in his bed, away from the people he always had to avoid, and just nurse his hangover.

When his phone buzzed again, he was just about ready to scream, when he saw the new number he had recorded there:

From Sansa: “Thank you for a lovely evening, it was a delight.”

He felt himself smile for the first time since waking up. He typed back about it being his pleasure, which it was. Nevertheless, he felt oddly humbled by the praises from that one text message.

“Fuck this shit, I’m turning into a pansy.”

A strong declaration, said in a shaky voice, which did not change the fact that he spent the rest of his morning with his phone in hand, just in case she got back to him. When she didn’t, he never blamed her, they were still strangers, and she couldn’t know what he was thinking. Despite all that, it was the one message he did not regret receiving.

Chapter Text

Sansa took a deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, then released it. She was doing her daily relaxation routine. She had never expected it to work, as she had a temper, even if she hid it from the public eye, but when she had been introduced to those techniques, she had found something that helped her deal with everything from terrible anger to anxiety.

She was dressed, ready to go out with Tyrion. It felt extremely strange. They were going to a restaurant where a couple of paparazzi would have been tipped in order to catch them. She didn’t like the secretive aspect of all this, feeling like she was lying to the public.

Her older brother, Jon, had been pretty pissed about this scheme, and she couldn’t blame him. He had inherited their father’s moral compass, and she had too. She could see how it fell short of their father’s standards. However, she had managed to convince herself that it was okay. Sure, she was pretending to be spending Tyrion, but was she really pretending? They were spending time together, they were just counting on people drawing the wrong conclusions about what prompted their appearances.

Theon and Varys had arranged their next encounter, as she refused to think of it as a date, for it felt too intimate. She liked the actor, enjoyed his company, but she did not want to put too much stock into something that could backfire if he was caught sleeping with a girl of his choosing. It was his prerogative of course, but it hit a little too close to home for her.

Her parents had always fought about Jon, for he was not Cat’s son. Ned had met two women at the same time, one turning into a one-night-stand, and the other being Cat. However, both women got pregnant at the same time. He had chosen Catelyn, but he had made sure to be part of his son’s life. When Lyly, Jon’s mother had passed, he had brought the boy in their household.

She had struggled with Jon for a long time, for they were perhaps too similar. They shared their father’s values and wanted to make their family proud. It had sadly taken Ned passing away from them to realize that they were actually completely capable of being brother and sister, that the past had been filled with misunderstandings. They had wiped the record clean, and she loved her brother beyond words. When Robb had been alive, she had felt blessed to have five wonderful brothers, him, Jon, Bran, Rickon and Theon. When their numbers had dwindled, they had clutched to each other.

She could not picture herself doing anything that her family would disapprove of, therefore making Jon see things her way had been very important. He was not pleased, no sir, but he had asked to be kept in the loop if the stratagem went further, in order to be able to protect his sister.

She got up from her relaxation posture and adjusted her outfit. It was posh, as they were supposed to hit a great restaurant. From her mother, she had gotten a metabolism which allowed her to eat whatever she wanted, but she did not feel like gorging on food tonight. Theon and Varys had picked for their protégés, and she was grateful for this. If Tyrion and she had had to choose, it would have felt a little too much like an actual date. She was certain they would have reached a compromise; this had never been her issue. The thing was, she did not want to invest too much of herself in this charade. Perhaps she was not as okay as she pretended with this whole thing…

Pushing those thoughts aside, considering that the four of them were supposed to have a meeting in the following days to see if this thing was working, she tried to focus on her company.

Tyrion Lannister was a lovely man, words she was sure very few women and men alike would utter, but he was. Like many actors, he had his persona, his brand, the thing that made him Tyrion Lannister, Oscar nominee and all that, but there was also this equally important side of his, which allowed him to be Tyrion, period. From the little time they had spent together, she surely was not pretending to be an expert on his personalities, public and private, but she had gotten glimpses, and those had led her to see that he could be lovely. She did not mean this is a seductive fashion, though she could tell he had some moves, but he talked to her like an equal, he never made her feel like she was not a star like he was because of their age difference or the recognition he got and she lacked.

He was pretty much down to earth, even though he tended to be on the cynical side at times. She could not blame him. They were in an industry where someone smiling widely could be calling you a cheat and worse, making sure journalists could not hear them while they dragged your name in the mud. She had taken the brunt of such behaviors at times, rarely knowing what prompted such aggressivity, but in their world it was considered normal, a work hazard, if you willed. It was so far from, well, Oxfordshire, where she been born, or Aberdeenshire where the castle of Winterfell was located, in Scotland, where she had spent so much time before her father had engaged in politics.

It had been their heaven. Far from civilization yet in the middle of it, it was not a sunny place by any mean, but there was something precious. She had attended school in Oxford, then London, but every weekend and vacations had been spent in this familial castle, and it was just… perfect. How she wished she would still be an actress and never leave Winterfell…

Her phone buzzed, letting her know that the car was pulling up in front of her residence.

She adjusted her hair and made sure her make up was spotless. She did not like to overdo it, she only used little tricks her mother had taught her, to make her eyes seem like they would have been green at times, or just the right way to have her cheek be rosy and pink, without overdoing anything. She kissed her fingers and pressed them against a picture of her family. She grabbed her coat then, and made her way outside, headlights flashing letting her know which car to jump in.

She climbed in and smiled at the actor who was sitting looking a little awkward as if he did not know what to say. She did not either, so she went with platitudes:

“Good evening, Tyrion, how are you?”

“Evening Sansa. I’m great, now that you’re here.”

“Charmer,” she muttered like it was intended to be an insult but there was a tinkle in her eyes she could not hold back.

“Well, you’re quite charming…”

They fell silent, each lost in their head. She noticed he was dressed in his usual style, but he still looked really nice. He had a clean shirt on, and tights pants. She noticed that he had tried to tame his mane.

“Where are we going?” She asked, breaking the silent.

“Varys got us a reservation at this sushi shop midtown Manhattan. It’s supposed to be great… Was that a grimace?” He asked, looking absolutely surprised.

She had not realized she was reacting in any way. She tried to compose herself and said:

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to ruin you fun.”

“My fun? Lady, if we were meant to eat raw fish, we’d be bears in my book!” he exclaimed, and she snorted.

“I completely agree with you on this actually. I mean, I do love fish, how I could I not, growing up where I did? However, I like it cooked.”

They found themselves sharing a laugh, and she wondered how they were going to make it through. The pictures would be horrible, and she’d be called anorexic yet again.

“So basically we’re going to a place where we’ll both pretend to enjoy our meal while praying for it to end? I have to warn you, if we go through with this, I’ll drink sake. Tons of it…. Where would you want to go if you were the one picking the restaurant?”

She gave it a thought, then another.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, and immediately regretted it.

Why would he? They barely knew each other.

“Sure,” his reply fused right away, and the way he was looking at her let her know he was not being polite but truthful.

She gave it another thought, then whispered an address in their driver’s ear.

GOTGOTGOTGOTGOT

“Holy mother of… That’s amazing,” Tyrion was saying, while fighting with his chopsticks.

They were sitting on the beach, a short way from Coney Island, at a food truck which was specialized in Thaï food.

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” she said with a mile.

She had not been sure he would feel seduced by the scenery or anything, but she had taken a chance. She had discovered this food truck ages ago, and whenever she was in New York, she would look it up online to see where it was parked. It reminded her of holidays spent with her family, when she was young, and everything was good.

“Will you judge me If I ask for a refill?” he answered.

“Go ahead! I’m just glad you’re liking this place!”

He made a sign to the truck owner, and soon enough, the pot where the Tom Yum was being prepared was brought their way and he got a second helping.

“I was worried you might be unamenable to spices.”

“Truth be told, I’m pretty sure I could breathe fire if I tried after eating this, but I cannot stop myself.”

She noticed he was struggling once again with the chopsticks and removed the hairband in her hair and put her hand forward. He gave the offending instruments, and she tied a knot at the end to make it more practical.

“Sorry, I was never that great with those,” he said, pointing to the chopsticks.

“Don’t, it’s perfectly okay.”

“How did you come to know this place?”

 She thought about the answer she ought to give him, that she had found it randomly and the one she knew to be truer. She went with the second one.

“We vacationed once in Thailand when I was really young, and my mother upon discovering how much I enjoyed the food found a place where we could have some when in England. I learnt they had moved to New York and sort of tracked them down.”

“A smart move, if you ask me.”

“You must have a special place you go back to, don’t you?” She asked.

“When we’re in Los Angeles, I’ll take you. Changing gears, what did your family said when they heard about out Met stunt?”

He seemed really curious to know.

“I would say not much, but that would be a lie. Bran was in his world and probably never noticed. Arya, my sister sent me a text saying I needed to stop stealing her looks. Jon, my elder brother just asked me to tell you that he knew ten ways to kill you using only his thumb.”

Tyrion gulped down what he was chewing and said:

“Can’t blame him for that I suppose, given my reputation.”

“You could have been the Pope and he would have been as menacing.”

“I’m pretty sure the Pope is not supposed to be dating, anyone really…”

“You know what I mean…”

“Yes, but I like annoying you.”

“You don’t… You just want to test how far I will let you go before saying you’ve crossed a line… I’ve seen the way you’ve been fishing for this piece of info since the Gala. You always make a comment, an interesting one, mind you, then say something outrageous, then turn to me as if to catch me trying to hide my disgust or something… As my reaction to learning we were supposed to be getting sushi shows, I can suck at hiding my emotions.”

“It’s a good thing, you know… I won’t lie, I’ve been browsing online to learn more about where you’re from and all, and you’re always so posh and calm, and unmovable, like a rock in interviews. Being able to catch you off guard makes me feel special.”

“Right back at you,” she simply answered.

“While we’re on the sort of outrageous subject, my nephew Joffrey wants your number,” he said, and she could hear in his voice hesitation or something very close.

“Joffrey Baratheon?” She asked. “Please do not give in to his request. I do not mean to badmouth your nephew, but he really is not someone I want in my phonebook. I’ve been fighting his advances for ages now, even though he’s supposed to be in a relationship. I hate men who cheat.”

“Not to mention, he’s a prick with the ego of a man who has a small dick.”

“Tyrion!” She exclaimed, genuinely shocked to hear him describe his nephew thus.

“See?” He said. “Yes, even though it’s true I’m not supposed to say it and my doing so made you quit your polite persona. I feel so special right now…”

She laughed and shook her head.

They went back to eating, chitchatting, having completely forgotten about the two paparazzis waiting for their appearance in Manhattan. Oops?

Chapter Text

Tyrion finished the sweets he had ordered for dessert, while listening to Sansa talk about something a tad mundane, but he did not mind. They were doing their best in this weird situation they had ended up signing up for, and it was not a line they were used to walk.

“That’s it,” he said, pushing his plate away from him. “You’ll need to get the driver to make me roll to get me back in the car.”

“I’ll go pay”, she said, matter-of-factly.

He put his hand on hers before she could get up and said:

“How dare you emasculate me in such a way? Really, Sansa, I thought we were getting some place nice, that when time would pass, we might be friends, like good friends, that you’d let me braid your hair, and now, you want to pay for the food I gorged on? Just tell me to fuck off, seriously!”

Her mouth fell open until she realized he was playing her, and he found himself laughing, while trying to fight off her hands as she pretended to want to slap him.

“Jesus, what did I sign up for?” she finally said, and he decide that it was not meant to be personal, or if it was, it was a nice comment in a roguish way, something he knew by heart.

“Got you!” He said, before gesturing for the waiter to come their way. He did not even look at the bill and left what he felt was worthy of this excellent meal.

She hid a smile, but he saw it.

“Something funny?” He asked.

“Something pleasing, actually. My latest dates have been with jerks who screwed the waiters and staff of their tips. You don’t do that. Or you did not realize you were giving too much, but hey, I caught you, if you ever hope to braid my hair, you will leave this money on the table!”

He pretended to think twice, but of course left the money on the table.

He looked at her, hoping to be discrete, but knowing he was probably failing. He was used to staring women, never hiding interest or curiosity. There was something in her demeanor that interpellated him. She looked a tad disappointed, and he wanted to know if he could help.

“Are you alright, my Lady?”

He never realized until he heard his choice of words that he had used. At first it had been a “cute” way to refer to her, to break the ice. He had not expected it to stick.

“You must be tired…”

“I’m old, but I’m not geriatric yet,” he joked.

“I was thinking, I would gladly take a walk on the beachside.”

“I’ll join you,” he offered, and she smiled.

Next would come the biggest challenge, not looking like a dachshund trailing after her.

She actually made it really easy, picking up what had to be a slow pace for her, but she removed the pins and needles or whatever they were called from her hair. She wrapped herself in her coat and enjoyed their excursion.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked. “If I am not being too bold,” he added.

“Winterfell,” she said, with a nostalgic smile.

“That’s the place your father was from, right?”

“Yes,” she replied looking surprised he knew. “I don’t mean to brag, so please don’t see anything conceited in what I’m about to say, but I got my aristocratic titles from Mama, except for Winterfell. The Scots had decided long ago that if the crown did not acknowledge it as part of the nobility landmarks, they would act as if it were, anyway. When my parents got married, the royalty finally complied with the people’s demands.”

“You sound like you miss it so much…”

“I do,” she said with a laugh that was supposed to hide the ache in her eyes. “I cannot explain it. Or maybe I can… All my memories from Winterfell, from before my parents passed away, they’re wonderful. I remember playing in the snow with my brothers, riding in the country. We had dogs, so many of them. My father was never a hunter, but he loved those beasts. So we had hounds, and some may consider it a fault in the education I was given, but I was never told to be afraid of a big barking dog. Sure, I’ll be on my guards if I feel threaten, but it’s not my default reaction. When I see big dogs in the streets, I always need to force myself not to run to them. That must sound so silly, to say the least…”

“Ok, let me make something clear. I know silly, I know stupid, and I know struck by lightning dumb. What you just described fit none of these categories. You’re just recalling agreeable memories from a time sadly long gone.”

“I do miss my parents,” she said after a short pause. “And my brothers. I miss my family constantly. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not.”

He would have sworn she was trying to hide a tear from him, but he did not comment, not wanting to put her on the spot.

“When Varys told me that I would be fake dating a rising star, I thought, whatever, no offense. I have been going down a not so great path lately, and I can’t blame my agent for wanting to change my image. I think I got bitter, because I’m Tyrion Lannister, multiple Oscar nominee, but never winner. What are they waiting for to acknowledge fully my work? Are they afraid they’ll need to prepare a ladder if I ever win, so that I don’t look like an idiot behind the podium? Sorry, that was not the point… What I wanted to say was that I learned things when we officially met and made some research. I asked Varys to enquire with Theon on certain topics where no info was available, in order to avoid a terrible misstep, and casually hurting you. I know you lost family members, most than your usual Hollywood star.”

“I cannot pretend you’re wrong about this, but sill…”

“Tell me about your family,” he asked, and for a moment he worried she might deny him.

“Where to start?” She finally said. “As you must know, my parents were quite productive in the children department, something they blamed on my father being Scottish. I remember being a little girl, surrounded by my big brothers and younger ones, alongside my sister. I remember Mum bringing back Theon home and telling me I had a new brother. It was a house full of love.”

He would never say it out loud, for he was not that much of a dick, but he actually felt envious of what she was describing.

“We’d navigate between Oxford and Winterfell, until Father became a MP, a member of Parliament, and we moved to London. I attended a private school and would eagerly wait till it was time for my parents to pick me up for the weekend or the holidays. Perhaps we were just so happy and needed to pay our pound of flesh.”

She looked at the horizon, and he knew she was trying to compose herself.

“I think, and this will sound harsh, that perhaps, my parents were lucky in departing this word when they did. They never had to deal with Rickon’s leukemia, or Robb’s murder. My mother had such a big heart, I don’t think she could have survived any of these things happening.”

“You have as great a heart as she did, and you did…”

“I never had a choice, I guess. When Rickon would cry for Mum, of course I would keep him in my arms and say that it would be okay, even thought we sort of knew there was a high chance it would not. I used my acting skills and projected a façade, to make him feel like everything would work out.”

“How old was he when he passed?”

“Seven. He would have been eight the following month.”

He did not know what to say.

“I was never alone, of course, I had my family with me. I guess though that since I was the eldest daughter or sister, they sort of expected me to try and fill my mother’s shoes. Robb and Jon shared the duties which should have been Dad’s. However, I was turning fifteen. I had buried our mom two years prior, and my brother Bran who had been on set when she had been attacked had been left paralyzed.”

“Such a burden for the young girl you were…”

“Not a burden… Just… life I guess. But it was indeed heavy on my shoulders. I had to work on my career, take care of my siblings, be there for everybody. I hate saying this, but perhaps some good came out of my misery. I never had a chance to go through a rebellious phase where I would have slept with anyone and everyone while flipping the bird to the paparazzi.”

“I’d consider this a valiant attempt at finding a brighter side to what you went through,” Tyrion said, for it was what it was.

“You can cry and moan, or you can be there for the people who need you. I chose my camp.”

“Your brother, Bran… He’s paraplegic or quadraplegic?”

“He’s got no sensation from the waist down, ish.”

“Ish?” He picked up with a slight smile.

She made a sound, that let him know this was not something she enjoyed discussing, but she said:

“He can have kids. He can have sex. He lost his virginity shortly after Rickon’s death. Knocked up the girl he was losing it to. They both decided that they were in no place to have a kid, and she got an abortion, but boy was it a shock. I guess it’s amazing for Bran, to be able to perpetuate his name, but yeah, no sister wants to know her younger brother lost his virginity before she did.”

 “On the brighter side, he lost something but not everything…”

“Sure, there’s always that.”

“He’s a physician of some sort, is that right?”

“Physician, chemist, researcher, philosopher, historian, archeologist, you name it. At Oxford where he studies, they just don’t know what label to apply to him, and since he likes living in his world, where science and faith, and philosophy and everything just collide, he doesn’t try to help them. He never complained, after losing his legs. However, I’ve heard him complain about uni. He misses Winterfell so much. He has a horse back home, something that doesn’t keep him strap to his wheelchair, and I can understand why and how he would miss this liberty.”

She stopped and sat on a rock. He came close to her.

“I want to ask you about your family, but I’ve done some light research too, and I don’t want to make you talk about something that would be painful.”

 “When you let me braid your hair, I’ll tell you about them. Besides, from what I can tell, there’s still a sister and a bunch of brothers you need to tell me about and… Jesus motherfucking Christ,” he said when his pocket started buzzing.

He picked up upon seeing the name on the display screen but was in no mood to be nice or polite. He had been enjoying himself, if one could pretend such a thing when being told about a life of agonies. He liked being able to discover his possible fake girlfriend, and he really had no time for Varys.

His agent however, beat him to the punch and started yelling.

Sansa gave him a look like she was worried for him, but he let her know that this was usual Varys.

“Well, fuck you too,” he finally screamed into the phone.

“What was that about, if I may ask?”

“We forgot about the paps waiting at the sushi bar. Varys is throwing a fit. Could we ask the truck owner to take a couple of pictures of us pretending to eat to placate my agent, who will then dispatch them to whom it may absolutely not concern?”

She looked so tired, and gently, he offered his shoulder for her to put her head on. She did, carefully, the said.

“Just… give me a minute, please. We’ll do what needs to be done, but all this talk made me… nostalgic, happy, sad, thankful, ungrateful, anything you can think of.”

“No problem here.”

“My Lord,” she finally said, when she removed her head from his shoulder, “thank you for listening to me.”

“Thank you for sharing.”

“Thank you for caring.”

“Thank you for… Geeze, you’ve outsmarted me again, I don’t know what to reply. You’re welcome, and anytime, should you need to talk.”

She smiled and they went back to the truck.

There may have been an extra jump in his step on their way back. Whatever, he was fine with it.

Chapter Text

The makeup artist was chitchatting as she took care of her, but Sansa could only offer a gentle smile, for she had so much trouble focusing.

It had been one week since she had enjoyed time with Tyrion in Coney Island. She had gotten back home that day, and sent him a text message, thanking him for listening to her stories. There had been a meeting the day after, but the two actors had not attended in person, only through call conference, as their agents wanted to do a first assessment of how things were going.

Turned out, they were going good, as far as they were concerned. Their clients were in the press but there was no scandal involved. They had only mentioned the public reaction to the story of Sansa and Tyrion spending time together at the Met Gala, and then Varys had given them some sort of primary feedback about the pictures that they had leaked to the press.

Normally, they had planned this meeting in order for Tyrion and Sansa to see if they wanted to proceed further, but both had asked for a couple of extra days before answering.

Sure, she loved spending time with the man, but it still was a ruse, and she was not sure how she wanted to play it, or if she wanted to play it. When their agents had understood that no definitive decision would be taken right then and there, they had left them alone. Sansa had thought things through, and through again, even going as far as phoning Bran to ask him if deception remained called thus when you found a therapeutic use in it. Talking to Tyrion, it felt therapeutic. Nothing would heal the ache life had inflicted upon her or her siblings, but when she talked about it with him, or just talked nonsense, she did not feel as she thought she would.

When she had agreed to give this thing a try, she had been persuaded that she would end up spending time with a douche bag only obsessed with how he came across, except that douche had never showed to any of their encounters. Instead, she had met someone, someone real, someone true, a real person who hid behind a persona but was willing to let it go to make her feel at ease.

Some time had been agreed upon, for each party to consider things, and one night, unable to sleep, Sansa had found herself itching to phone Tyrion, but had instead opted for a text message, in case he was sleeping.

I don’t know what to say or what to do, what would you do?

She had hated herself the moment she had hit the button send, but what was done was done.

How she hated deception… Yet, what if it was the only way she got to interact with the man? Sure, Theon and Varys wanted to cast the story of a romance, or whatever, but she was not there, and she did not care, or it was just not what was keeping her up at night. What if Tyrion was only hanging around for the publicity stunt? Would that change how she viewed him? Would that change the way she confided in him? Would she still do that? Did she need to get a shrink (the answer being probably DUH given how late she was sending cryptic text messages)? She just… Her mother would not have let any of this happen. Brienne would have told her not to go along with it if she had known. Sansa was struggling, both with the fact that she felt like she was playing tricks on her fans, but she was tired of fighting with Jon. For someone who understood and was on board with it, he was quite prickly lately. She felt like she was disappointing him, desecrating the memory of their father too.

What she had not expected though, was for a text to arrive a few minutes later, from Tyrion, saying:

You have more to lose than I do in this. Lead the way, I will follow. Nothing you could do or say will make me think less of you. I would not want you to be seen with me if I was not a selfish bastard. So, lead the way, and be sure, that even if we never set anything up again, for paps or whatever, you will have one more number in your phonebook you can reach. Good night my Lady.

So, she had cried.

He was not hurting her in any way, giving her complete feedom, letting her know that she could choose and that he trusted her judgment, and she could not remember the las time a man she was not related to had said anything of the sort. Oh wait, the answer was: never.

This had brought a whole new set of questions, and ponderings… She had talked with Theon, alternating between him playing her brother and her agent, and she had tried to decide on what happened next. Tyrion was waiting on the other side of New York for her to decide, and she did not want to lead him around.

Theon, as she should have known, had been extremely understanding of her quandary. Brother and sister they were, but they shared secrets their siblings did not know about, and that they never wished for them to discover. Theon had not decided to be an agent instead of an actor on a whim, and Sansa was the only one privy to this story, having prompted her to trust him with her career.

“Whatever you do, sis, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. If you want to call it off, it’s off. If you want to give it another week to mess with the paps’ head, we will. Whenever you say the word, it’s done. You call the shots.”

Perhaps, and unbeknownst to him, one person had been decisive in her thought process. One night, she was watching late night tv when her ex, Ramsay Bolton, had been featured. He had been so smooth, and nice, and nauseating. She remembered how he used to treat her. And from out of nowhere, she had remembered how Tyrion had joked around with her and listened.

So she had taken a decision.

She had texted the actor, who had been prompt to respond once again, and she had asked him if he would be willing to play the game a couple more weeks, to see where it got them. Both were in New York for promotion tours, and then were supposed to start shooting in studios in the Big Apple. He had sent her a message saying he was game if she was. They did not know yet when or what they would do next, but she was not ready to call it off. She was being selfish probably, but she needed a man in her life who called her a “lady”.

The makeup artist gave her a look, and she realized she had forgotten to smile for a while.

“I beg your pardon, I was lost in my thoughts, some heavy thoughts too,” she apologized.

The woman did not take it badly, saying she had been treated far worse by people she did not like as much as her.

Sansa took a good look in the mirror and tried to think of what she was about to do. Theon had called her boring, and she was, she was fine with that. However, after her talks with Tyrion, she was realizing that she could have used her platform to do so much more than what she was doing.

She adjusted the orange ribbon on her black top, making sure her hair did not fall on it, needing it to be visible.

She got up from her chair and listened to the various assistant producers who led her to where she was supposed to make her grand entrance. They reminded her of a few jokes Seth would be throwing her way, so that she could prepare a comeback, and told her to simply tap her foot three times on the floor if she did not feel comfortable at whatever point.

She felt like a china doll. Then again, this was how she presented herself, didn’t she?

Someone gave a cue, and she heard her name being announced and she walked onto the set, waving at the cheering audience. Seth Meyers came to meet her, and she let him lead her by the hand to the gigantic armchairs.

 They exchanged pleasantries, making the audience laugh with their banter. She liked him, he was always nice even if he liked to play tricks on guests who were willing to let him.

His eyes though kept on going to her top and the ribbon there, and she took advantage of a seemingly natural switch of subject to say, as she saw the producer gesture that they would be going to commercials in two minutes or so.

“What will your wife say? Stop looking at my bosom!” She exclaimed at the host who was genuinely caught off guard. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” She said, raising her hand as if begging for no retaliation.

“Can we talk about it?” He asked.

She nodded and let him lead that convo:

“You’re sporting a ribbon….”

“Yes, I am. It’s the leukemia awareness ribbon.”

She showed it to the camera, as the audience held its breath, perhaps guessing this was beyond unscripted.

“I don’t mean to put a damper on your show,” she continued, “but less that a week ago, I was talking with a friend, and he told me he never knew certain things about me. I figured that if someone I trusted did not know that, the others probably did not, and I felt like I was being a terrible person.”

“You’re too nice to be terrible…”

“But you don’t know what it’s about, do you?” She smiled even though there were tears begging to escape her eyelids. “Can I hijack the 90 seconds we have left? And then we can go on to having a normal interview?”

“Sure, it’s your show… Wait a minute…” He pretended to jest, but let her go on.

“I don’t talk about my family, and I sure won’t start spilling beans left and right. However, had he not passed from leukemia four years ago, my younger brother Rickon would have been twelve today. I cannot bring him back, but I can say his name, say that I love him, and remind people that leukemia is not just a clever plotline to make award winning movies.”

“I… I…”

“Yeah, I know,” she answered to the speechless host. “I never use my platform, the fact that I get to go on TV to spread a good message. This is me honoring my brother by saying that I love him and he’ll always be my brother wherever he is. We were so lucky, growing up in the UK, we had the NHS, if we hadn’t had money, but he was taken care of. The disease was just too strong. In the US, you currently have this sort of fake debate, where people pretend to want health care but argue about how to get there. If we had been raised in the US, my brother would still have been a countless victim of this terrible plague, but he would perhaps not even have been offered treatment or maybe we would not have gotten a diagnosis in time to get ready to say goodbye. I am not saying people need to vote on way or another, but if one person think of my brother before crossing something off or on a ballot vote, then I’ll have done my job and finally found a good use for my platform.”

Seth didn’t say anything, only looked at her with solemnity. The band started playing a sad tune, and they went to commercials.

“I’m really sorry for hijacking your show,” she told the host, as they were getting a quick make over.

“Don’t. You made a perfectly sound point and reminded people that people may look live they have it all but you don’t know what trauma they carry. I’m sorry about your brother.”

“So am I.”

On the other side of town, sitting on his couch, Tyrion dropped his potatoe chips bag, and almost hugged the bag of food since he could not hug Sansa.

“Well played my Lady. Rickon would be proud.”

And then he called the number they flashed when she reappeared on screen after the commercials and made a donation of subsequent size. He could not be there for her, but he had liked being referred as a friend. He had liked that she had thought about their discussions. He had loved that she had reached out to him instead of going through Varys. Sure, tomorrow, something would be planned, whatever it was, but for now, he would watch his lady on screen, showing people how it was done.

Chapter Text

”Are you out of your fucking mind?” Varys yelled.

“Probably”, Tyrion answered, unphased, “but some context would help me figure out what’s got your panties in a bunch…”

“You gave 100k dollars to charity last night? What kind of dimwit does that?”

“Hum, a rich dimwit?” the actor answered. “Oh, a caring rich dimwit?”

“You do know it’s not going to reduce your taxes by that much?”

“Last thing on my mind.”

“Jesus! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I promised to donate money?” Tyrion answered, feeling like they were getting nowhere fast.

“I told you to pretend to date a saint, I never said to become a fucking saint yourself!”

“Hey hey hey, don’t bring Sansa into this!”

“Too late,” Varys, gesturing to the glass window of his office, showing Theon and his client getting off the elevator, with a stranger.

“What is she doing here? You don’t get to yell at her, no sir, you don’t,” Tyrion exclaimed, while jumping off the couch and hoping he had put on something classier, or that he hadn’t worn three days in a row.

“We have to deal with your stupidity. Just be thankful that stupid intern who leaks everything is out of the office today,” Varys said, before getting out to meet his fellow agent and his protégée.

She looked so good, so perfect, as always. He wondered if she ever wore jeans, she would be amazing in a pair, but he could not begrudge the little black dress she was wearing with its long sleeves that gave her a classy yet witchy appearance.

He checked for pizza sauce on his hoodie and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. There might be some on the t-shirt underneath, but he just had to keep his clothes on, and she would never know. Quickly, he ran for Varys’ desk, knowing the man kept some deodorant in there just in case. He would have preferred a fragrance or something, to make him look posh, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he definitely qualified as a beggar.

“Please enter my office,” his agent was saying. “Let me introduce everybody. This is of course my client, Tyrion Lannister. I’m sure you must have recognized the wonderful Sansa Stark,” the man went on, talking to the stranger woman. “The young man with her is her agent, Theon Greyjoy. Please, all, let me introduce Debra Fulron, the coordinator of donations for the Leukemia Research Foundation.”

“It’s such an honor to make your acquaintances, and that you were able to make yourself available for me,” the woman said.

Sansa smiled at him, and he forgot what was happening.

“Miss Stark, I know you did what you did out of the goodness of your heart, but you sharing your story about your brother was really powerful, and it helped our organization.”

“If I can do anything to help, let me know,” she answered.

Oh shit. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“You already did plenty, trust me. Ever since your appearance last night, we’ve been receiving donation promises at a rate we rarely experience.”

“I have to admit I never thought about this when I did what I did, but I’m glad it’s helping you.”

She gave Tyrion a look over the woman’s shoulder, as if asking what was happening and why they were there.

“As for you, Mister Lannister, I really wanted to talk to you. I truly believe you made a mistake last night when you announced your donation.”

The actress looked at him, gaping, and he figured that if he was going to get wet, he might as well go swimming.

“I’m certain you’re right,” he told the woman who was shaking his hand. “I’m terrible at maths, what can I say?”

“This is what I thought, and I brought back the check you had a messenger deliver us.”

She handed him the check and he looked at it, thinking about how much he had meant it, how much he had wanted to do it, and how he did not regret a single thing.

“That’s what I thought,” he finally said. “It’s missing a zero. What a tool I am!”

Varys almost fainted on the spot but had to refrain as Debra had the same reaction.

“My Lord, how much did you donate?” Sansa asked softly.

“Not enough. Varys, call my bank and have them wire the money to the good association.”

Sansa managed to steal the check from him and had to sat down when she saw the amount.

“You forgot a zero?” She repeated, looking bewildered as she remembered his comment.

“Mister Lannister, I obviously have no business saying any of this, but if you’re trying to impress miss Stark,” Debra said, “ as the media seem to suggest you may be courting her, I’m sure a smaller donation would make the same effect.”

“But what about the children, miss Fulron?” Tyrion fought back.

He had forgotten to say it was not about impressing Sansa. He hoped she knew better. Then again, how could she?

“I’m sorry, I’m sure I don’t understand…”

“Come to think of it, I think you may be onto something. I will make a donation, the amount I just promised, if you make me a promise in exchange.”

“For a donation this size, you can have my first born, or both my kidneys…”

“I would like to split the sum. One half should go for research, and one half should go as a fund for families who are struggling and can’t afford to get treatment for their loved ones. Our system is grotesque, and you’re only allowed to have leukemia if you have two wealthy parents, and a ton of money. We all know that is not how fate works. So call hospitals, find people in need of a secret donation, to help them cope.”

Theon had gotten close to Sansa, and was all but holding her in his arms. There were tears on her face.

“Please, my lady, don’t cry. This is not meant to be bring you unhappiness.”

“We’ll split the money,” Debra said, “but we’ll need a name for the fund. Do you want it named after yourself?”

“Dear God, no, absolutely not. Call it, ‘the Rickon fund’.”

At which point he found himself surrounded by red hair and warm arms around him. She was holding him so tight, yet he couldn’t bring himself to complain. What he had not anticipated was for Theon to start hugging him too, and that was unsettling, until he remembered they had both lost their siblings to the disease.

“You don’t need to do this,” Sansa said, as if wanting to give him one last chance to pretend it was all a joke and sweep it under the rug. “You already gave me the courage to bring forth this issue, you don’t need to do more.”

“It may surprise you, lady Sansa, but sometimes, I do things even when I don’t have to.”

“Are you sure you can afford such a massive donation?” Debra asked.

“I won’t pretend I know how much money is on my bank account, but I know how much I was paid for my last three movies. I have a house in LA, an apartment in NY, I have a house in Italy, another one on the French Riviera…”

“You also have that ranch in Australia…” Varys offered.

“That’s right, I keep forgetting about it. Why do I never go there?”

“You saw a spider that made you fly back to LA quicker than humanly possible. You told me to sell the ranch, but I thought you might change your mind at a later date.”

“See, Miss Fulron, I’m settled. I have money. I also have a rich father who one day will bite the dust and he can’t write me off his will. So don’t worry about my finances, and just take the money freely given to you. There are too many children suffering out there, whether because their parents can’t afford to pay for the chemo they should be receiving, or the other treatments available. This is not about impressing miss Stark and her agent. I was not loved as a child, and I had no disease apart from being a dwarf. I can’t fathom what people with serious diseases such as this must be going through.”

Sansa hugged him again, and this time Theon took a step back, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“Rickon should have been twelve, and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. However, I can do something trying to help other innocent children get to that age, and all the awkwardness that comes with being a teen,” he whispered in Sansa’s hair, and she laughed through her tears at this adept depiction of that age.

“I’ll have the money wired to you this afternoon if you will leave your bank info at the main desk,” Varys told the spokesperson.

“And please, not a pip about me in the press. I’m a bad boy. Bad boys don’t give to charity,” Tyrion said.

They all laughed, and the woman thanked them all before saying her goodbyes.

“You were never supposed to find out,” he told Sansa.

“I’m very glad I did.”

He could see Varys would be yelling at him later on for upping his donation, but he did not care, not when there was such a lovely lady in his arm, who had trusted him with some serious topics.

She wiped her tears, and he was suddenly hyper aware that she had been burying his face in his questionable clothes.

“You, miss,” Varys told Sansa, “are a very bad influence. Or the best one. I can’t tell.”

“Time will help you decide.”

“Speaking of which, what are we doing next? And this time, stick to the script, will you, you crazy kids?”

“I was thinking,” Theon said, “how about coffee in Central Park? There’s that place you love there, Sans’, and there’s also that little park you like, with the swings and all that.”

“So you really want me to look like a child holding on to his momma’s hand?” Tyrion said.

“If you push me while I’m on the swing, no one will ever make that mistake,” Sansa offered.

He hated swings. He hated Central Park. He hated so many things.

“And, if it makes you feel more amenable, next activity will be something you choose because it fits you,” she offered.

“You will never fit in at a strip club,” he said solemnly, and she fell back laughing.

“And here I was looking for an opportunity to see if my pole dance lessons were paying off…”

“Didn’t you need someone to go with you to pick furniture for this room you’re redecorating in your apartment?” Varys said, before Theon could get mad.

“I do indeed.”

“That should be two good outings, don’t you think?”

“I guess it will. Paps, be ready to be dazzled.”

“And stick to the plan!” Varys urged once again.

“What was it about pole dancing? I’m sorry, I blacked out after that…” Tyrion said.

“Why do I bother with you?” Varys sighed.

“Because I pay your fees.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.”

“Let’s plan things right this time, shouldn’t we?” Theon asked.

And that’s what they did. If Tyrion stayed a little close to Sansa, she never moved away. And as they were departing, she kissed his cheek, saying:

“You would have loved Rickon.”

He only smiled, pretending like the touch of her lips on his skin had not lit his being on fire.

Chapter Text

« So, what is so special about this place?” Tyrion asked as the car led them up until the point where they would have to walk.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Sansa answered. “I just love it. It reminds me of home.”

“I know I was a terrible student, but I don’t remember the UK being the birth land of coffee,” he said with a wondering smile.

“Theon said coffee because it’s easier than to go in details, but it’s a different kind of shop.”

They both got out of the car and he gestured for her to lead the way.

He had come and picked her up that morning, ready for their date that was not a date except if you were a pap, and truth be told, he had not expected to be filled with such delight in being in her presence again. She was dangerously addictive, and he knew he was a sucker for addiction.

She was wearing black trousers and a green blouse, behind her coat. He had made an effort and found some clothes which had been in the laundry machine at some point.

Sansa was humming lightly, and he did not want to stop her from doing so. Though the weather was cold, the sun was out, and it felt nice to be outside.

They walked for a couple of minutes in silence, as he looked for something to start a conversation, but suddenly, they were there.

“Sov… Sv… Yeah, no, there’s no way I can say that name,” he finally told her after checking the sign.

She laughed and gestured for him to follow her.

“I know the Scots are not renowned for their coffee, but I just loved it when I found it. Just don’t let the owner frighten you…”

“I’ll try to keep my inner ninny in,” he promised.

Except he let his ninny out when a redhaired tornado all but stormed the shop to come and pick Sansa in its arms. Luckily, the two friends were too busy talking fast in a language he did not understand to notice his yelp.

“Hey, hey, she’s fragile!” He found himself saying, wanting to protect the woman but unsure how to do so. “I know you barbarians are used to throwing trees trunks, but you cannot toss Sansa the same way!”

“How about I do some dwarf tossing then, hum?” The man asked, and it took all Tyrion’s willpower not to run away.

“Tormund!” Sansa yelled. “Be nice to my friend,” she added as she put her hand on top of his shoulder, and Tyrion wanted nothing more than to grab her hand, or kiss it, or do both.

“He thinks you’re fragile. She’s not fragile. She’s a Norsewoman,” the man countered.

“I apologize for Tormund’s…” she started.

“You don’t apologize for me. I apologize when I think it’s necessary.”

It didn’t take a PHD and three scientists to understand that he believed he had nothing to apologize for.

“Alright, please let me start things again then?” Sansa said. “Tyrion, please meet Tormund, the owner of this marvelous coffee shop.”

“You’re trying to butter me up so that I won’t toss your friend. Do go on, it’s working,” the giant said.

“Tormund, this is my good friend Tyrion, and we’ve both come to enjoy your art. Please be nice to him.”

“I could bite his ankles if he’s not…” Tyrion muttered, hoping to draw a laugh from her.

Except it was her friend who reacted and he ended up hiding behind Sansa who looked ready to fight.

“Have you never heard of humor?” the actor asked the man.

“Can you see me laugh?”

“I can only picture laughing after you’ve removed every bone from one’s body and you’re contemplating your handiwork.”

Tormund gave him a look and Tyrion was sure he was done for.

“Ah!” The giant started laughing. “I like him, he’s got spirit. Too bad he’s not from home.”

“Thank you?” He answered sounding as puzzled as he felt.

Then the big man started speaking in the same tongue as before, a tongue that had no place on Earth but apparently did. Sansa answered quickly before motioning to him, and she said.

“I apologize, we have been extremely rude.”

“That’s Gaelic you were speaking, right?”

“A version of it, yes. Tormund comes from the Shetland islands.”

“I’m impressed… Not that he speaks Gaelic, I don’t know him well enough to have formed an opinion, but I have been told my whole life that speaking Gaelic was like swallowing urchins.”

Both Norse people looked at each other, and Sansa conceded:

“An apt comparison, especially when it comes to certain dialects. Have you ever spoken Manx Gaelic?” She asked Tormund who answered:

“Even I am not that much of a barbarian.”

“We will refrain from keeping you out of the loop and will stick to English.”

“Unless we have bad things to say about you,” Tormund taunted.

“Nonsense. If you had anything you wanted to say about me that was unflattering, you’d make sure you’d say it in English just so I could enjoy your deep disdain of my character.”

“Smart too,” the man said. “Do you want your usual?”

“I would, thank you very much. I’m having coffee, my Lord,” she told Tyrion, and he liked the way it rolled of her tongue effortlessly. “I can’t explain why but it tastes better when Tormund makes it. I know you’ve been very careful about not drinking when around me, but I would suggest letting Tormund give you an upgraded version of his signature drink. According to my brothers, it is to die for.”

“I’m pretty sure they said they knew someone who had died from drinking it,” the Scot said.

“I though that was a joke. Surely your whiskey can’t be that lethal?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, don’t ask questions, Sansa, if you cannot handle the answers.”

“Oh my, why did I just do?”

“Don’t worry, your little friend won’t die.”

He should have taken offense at the words used to describe him, but he focused on the “friend” part. He had been called far worse than little in the past.

“Just… Just don’t over do it, please? We have stuff to do later on…” Sansa went on, and he adored the way she wanted to protect him.

For Tormund would squish him under his thumb, no doubt about it.

“Spoilsport,” the man muttered under his breath. “Fine, I will be nice and make sure that even his spiked coffee can’t knock him off.”

“We’ll go sit at the terrace. Do you still have that heater out there?” Sansa asked.

“Not for people I don’t like. I’ll have a waiter set it up for you.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

The giant said nothing, but Tyrion could see how much the two meant to one another.

“That’s quite a colorful character you have there,” he said, as they made their way outside to enjoy their drinks and give the couple of paps an opportunity to get a shot at them.

“What can I say? He reminds me from home.”

“You don’t need to justify your friendship to this man to me, I get that in our business, sometimes you don’t have the luxury of choosing who you want to get to know better. I’m just happy you found someone in New York who can speak Gaelic with you.”

She smiled and he melted. Be a fucking man Tyrion, you ain’t pudding, he told himself.

“For some reason, I can totally picture Tormund sailing on a boat, Viking like, and deciding to settle here.”

She laughed and he just relished in the sound.

“He won’t say how he came to leave home to get there, but I suspect he may have been looking for a Selkie,” she started. “You know, those witchy sort of siren like women who live under the sea? I can totally picture this big softie embarking for the journey of a lifetime hoping to find the Selkie he couldn’t find at home. Plus he’d love to kill her Selkie husband, if she had one.”

“Damn right I would,” the giant said before setting their drinks before them. “Where the fuck is Pod? Pod, why are you setting the heater over there? How many customers do we have? We’re you dropped a lot as a baby?”

“Sorry boss”, the brown haired teenagers said before coming to set up the heater near them.

“Enjoy,” Tormund said.

The smell coming from those mugs was positively intoxicating. He watched how Sansa proceeded, but when he saw that there was no secret ritual involved, Tyrion brought his cup to his nose, breathed it in, and took a sip.

The alcohol was there but the Scot had been true to his word, though it did provide an excellent aftertaste.

He almost did not realize that Sansa was watching for his reaction, almost dreading he would not like it.

“It’s good, it’s great even!” He assured her.

She nodded smiling, before taking a sip of her own beverage.

“I still like tea much better, but I think Tormund found a way to make it delicious, even for Scots like us…”

“You’ll have to introduce me to some good teas then. I’ve only ever had the crap they serve at random events, from teabags.”

“Blasphemy,”, Sansa said, and he was almost certain she was serious. “Tea does not belong in bags of any sorts. I’ll introduce you to the good kind, the real kind.”

He liked that once again, they were planning for the future. A million things could happen one way or another, but making those plans, well, it made him feel warmer than the heater, especially in his chest area, where regular people had their heart.

From the corner of their eyes, they both spotted the two photographs Varys had sent on their trail, and they pretended to talk while enjoying their coffee even though they were only talking gibberish. When the men disappeared, after Tormund ran outside and threaten to have their head, the two actors were able to relax.

“So, that was… not fun, but doable,” Tyrion said.

“It was. I just sort of wished things were simpler.”

To this he had no answer.

“Do you want to go to the swings?” He offered, “I’m sure Tormund will have travel cups for us….”

“I’m done with my drink, so we can go if you’d like.”

There was a distance between them, and he did not like it one bit. He could not tell what had prompted it but it felt like Sansa was not “his” Sansa, but the one the public loved. He wondered where the real Sansa went when she was not with him.

He took the few last gulps of his drinks and made to go inside to pay.

She stopped him by putting her hand on his arm:

“He will kill you if you try to pay. We have an arrangement.”

“And what’s that?”

“He makes me all the coffee in the world, never lets me pay for it, if I will speak Gaelic with him when I’m around.”

He said nothing, just happy to be let in on a semi secret of some sort once again. It felt like the distance was closing, and he liked it better that way.

“Maybe I’ll try to learn Gaelic if it means free coffee...” He joked.

“I think he likes you already. I don’t mean to put words in his mouth, but try coming back later, and see if he lets you pay. You may be surprised…”

So many bad jokes he could have said, about the man needing some business classes or whatever, but he felt like this was not a stupid thing or a loss of revenue the man was suffering from. Lost as he must feel, so far away from home, and since he was scary as fuck, perhaps friends didn’t come in too many shapes to him. He could relate to that.

They got up and made their way to the park. He spotted the swings, and prepared himself to feel awkward in so many ways, but Sansa said:

“They added a roundabout!” before walking fast to the merry-go-round. ‘I loved these when I was a child… Do you mind if…”

“Not at all…”

“Then jump on!” She offered.

He did not think twice and just did what she said. She grabbed a metal bar and started running lightly, activating the spinning before jumping right next to him.

Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked delighted by the wind in her air. The whole apparatus was not going at great speed, but a light breeze kept it moving.

“Did you have one of those at Winterfell?” He asked.

“Nope. But there was one in Oxford. When all was good and we just did not know what was in store for us, I remember riding those things with all my siblings. The boys would fight at trying to push it faster than the others… I’d sat in the middle with Rickon on my side, to prevent him from falling. Arya would join the boys, and we’d cheer them on.”

“You must miss your sister.”

“I do actually. For the longest time, I thought we had nothing in common. She shaved my hair one night while I was 8. I would make fun of her for being a tomboy. Truth is… Arya just doesn’t care what people think of her. You can yell in her face all day long that she needs to act like a lady, she will flip you the bird, and then knee you where it hurts. It took me a long time to overcome my own insecurities I think to see that while she seemed to be at ease about who she was and what she was, there was a part of her, a small part of her, who did not mind hearing her older sister say that she should do whatever she wanted and screw what people think.”

“Why did you never apply this rule of living to yourself?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready. It did not feel lady like, and I wanted to honor our family. I realized with time that the only thing I could do that would dishonor my family would be to pretend to be someone I’m not.”

“You’re only 19, you have plenty of time to discover who you want to be.”

He did not mean to be patronizing and was ready to apologize but she laughed:

“I think I know who I want to be. Now, the real quest is about getting there… Do you mind if we skip talking about my family, just for today?”

“Sure, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“And you’re not. You’re a great listener, but I feel like it’s always me talking and you listening and I get more out of this friendship than you do.”

“I’ve never had anyone trust me with their secrets before, not even my own kin. I had to dig up my own mother’s death certificate to understand why she died while giving me birth.”

“Oh Tyrion!” She exclaimed, putting her hand on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well, life is a witch, except with a B and all that…”

“Yeah, I cannot argue with that,” she agreed.

“I seem to remember Theon saying you would be starting a new movie soon?” He asked, wanting to change the subject.

He did not feel pitied, not one bit, but he was not sure where this road would lead them, and he wanted her to know that he was there for everything she wished to discuss. Her hand stayed on top of his, and he liked it.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen. The paperwork is signed, all is ready, but I expect a settlement when the producers back away from this movie. The director is going through one messy divorce and has been sleeping with everyone on his staff, male or female. The tabloids are loving it. What they don’t know is that he found a new home at the bottom of a bottle. It’s sad, the script was good. A little generic perhaps, but you know, that’s what they offer me anyway.”

“I’m not sure I would feel to comfortable letting that guy direct me if I were you, knowing that,” Tyrion said as he realized that what he meant that he would not like Sansa to be anywhere this guy self-destructing, whomever he was.

“I don’t want to pile on his misery but that thought has crossed my mind. You’re shooting too, right? That may make the charade a tad harder, as I will probably need to go back to LA to go through auditions again.”

“Or you could just come at my place later. I’ll lend you the script for the movie I’m supposed to start shooting in three weeks. The cast is good, solid, except for this one part. I don’t know the girl personally, but I just know that she has no chemistry on set with anybody. I think Tony cast her in this part because he could not find what he was searching for. But you would fit the description. The part is that of a wide-eyed girl who is forced to grow up when…..”

He told her about the part, and the more he did, the more he felt like Sansa should get the part. It would not be a leading part, but the character was really important to the growth of his own, a bit like Anna Kendrick’s one to Georges Clooney’s in “Up in the Air” and the actress who had the part just did not feel right to him.

Sansa listened to him, biting her lip as he explained basically the whole plot of his next gig, and she hung unto his every word.

“You’re a wonderful storyteller,” she finally said, and if that had been something he did, he would have blushed. “I’d love to read the script.  But do you really think that the director would be open to recasting that part?”

“No idea,” he lied.

Hell yes, Tony knew him, and he was more than ready to say he was backing down from this project if Sansa did not at least get an audition.

“But if you don’t try, you don’t succeed… You now what? When we part ways, today, I’ll have my driver bring the script to you. I’ll talk to Tony if you decide you want a chance.”

“You found the only good reason for me to actually be happy we’ll go our separate ways…”

She had to stop that, he was not a blusher, goddamnit.

“By the way, I know that we’re furniture shopping in two days. You just forgot to mention which room we were shopping for.”

“The bedroom”, he blurted out.

What the fuck? He was supposed to be refurbishing his laundry room.

“I mean, the guest bedroom. I am using as an office, but I’d like it to be cozier, for friends who need to spend the night.”

“Do you have any ideas about what you want?”

“I’ll send you pictures of the room so that you can have an idea of what we’re talking about.”

“Unless….”

“Unless?”

“Forget it, that was silly.”

“Please, my Lady…”

And now he was begging.

“I was thinking and it’s probably a terrible idea, but since we have that manuscript to exchange, perhaps I could drop by, say later tonight, so that I could take in the room and its vibe, take some measurements?”

“I won’t be there, I have to go for some interviews but you’re more than welcome to drop by. I’ll send you my chauffeur.”

“We have a deal”, she said with a smile that could have provided New York City with electricity for ten years at least.

What had he just offered her to do? And why the hell did he not give a damn?

Chapter Text

When the concierge called to let Sansa know that Tyrion’s driver had arrived, she took a last look in the mirror.

She made sure her cheeks were rosy, and her lips were glossy. She wasn’t positive why it felt so important or why she had donned that unnecessary bit of makeup, but yet, it was. She made sur she had her meter in her purse as well as a notebook to document her expedition.

She had called Theon earlier, when Tyrion and she had parted, to ask him to enquire about the status of her next commitment. She had confided that she may want to audition for a movie that would start at the same time, and her brother had promised to look into things, see where they were at, and if she were to want to drop out, what it would mean for them.

She was wearing a dress she liked but which was not promotion-worthy. It was a little thing, red as blood which showcased her figure. She loved it but never wore it for actress business as she found it a bit too revealing and comfortable, two words that should be antithetical but really described the garment well.

She had knee high boots on, and a light jacket. She put on her coat and closed the apartment door behind her as she made for the lift. She quickly found the car and was delighted to see that there was no one in sight, no paparazzi to bugger her.

She climbed and the man welcomed her. They made chitchat as he drove her to their destination, and she liked his humor. There was a decent man in Bronn it seemed, when he was not under his boss’ scrutiny and thus did not feel like he needed to act like a complete ass.

He took them to the underground parking, and went with her to the lift, telling her Tyrion occupied the penthouse on the very top and that he would badge her in as the elevator required access clearance for people to be able to go to the last floor.

She was not sure what to expect, truth be told, but Bronn used his sesame, and soon after, they were standing in a corridor with only one door. The man gave her a set of keys and told her he would be waiting in the car when she’d be ready to leave. She thanked him, giving him a broad smile, and he seemed almost surprised, as if he was not used to Tyrion’s visitor treating him like a human being.

She went in front of the door, the keys firmly in her hand, and wondered for the umpteenth time how things had evolved from a couple of fake dates to coming to his place to pick up a script and planning some redecorating. As she got no answer, as always, she all but gave up on trying to understand, and let herself in.

During the day, the penthouse had to be very luminous, as it had ample windows everywhere, though she could tell they were some sort of tinted glass, to prevent annoying parasites to try and have a look in. There was a table near the entrance and a bowl with various set of keys. She figured she should do as the Romans when in Rome, or as Tyrion when in his house, and thus left the set of keys in the bowl.

It was warm inside but not overly so. She was able to get rid of her coat and hang it in the entrance, before she went on. She felt like she was entering the lion’s den, but felt no fear. The living room was lovely, she thought, with a couple of big couches, and a huge tv set. He played video games she noticed when she spotted the PS handle. She was kind of itching to go see what he had in his gaming library, but she did not want to snoop. She would simply ask him at a later date, she figured. She was not an avid gamer, but back at Winterfell, not to mention when she’d go to Theon’s she was known to have good eye-hand coordination and had played several games herself.

The kitchen was open onto the living room, behind a huge bar, with high stools. She noticed there was no special layout. Here and there, she could see on the contrary a few small stepladders. She thought about Tyrion’s family, about his tall brother and sister. She wished she could believe they had told him from an early age that his condition was no handicap, since it could be solved with a few stools here and there, but from what she had gathered and researched on Internet, she had the distinct feeling he must have spent his childhood and then teenage years trying to fit in their world, as they probably never did wonder what they could do for him.

She did not know what he thought about that, and also had no idea how to work it into a conversation… Perhaps if they ended up pretending to sort of date for a decade or so, she would come up with a good way to ask him about that she thought, then chastised herself. What they had was temporary, and she should not plan for him to be there, always. There would be a time when this charade would have served its purpose, and he would be able to go back to his womanizing ways. She’d go back to her chosen celibacy, probably missing his companionship.

“That is pitiful, Sansa, get yourself together.” She told herself.

The manuscript was waiting for her on the bar and she saw that he had left a note.

Hello Sansa. I hope you had a nice trip over. This is the infamous script. I wrote down a few things in the margin, I hope it won’t be a bother when you read it. Otherwise, the bedroom you want to see is the one on the left in the next corridor. If you’re hungry, do help yourself to whatever you want. Mi case es su casa. I tried googling it to see how it would be said in Gaelic but decided against writing it down as I’m sure it would not have been accurate. Tara, or Cheers, as you Brits say!

She smiled to herself as she grabbed the script. She could hardly wait to read it, already liking the way it looked, used but not abused, as if it had been read time and time again. Later on she would blame her curiosity for the fact that she went right when using the next corridor.

“Wow, that is not the guest bedroom slash office,” she whispered, as she entered.

It obviously was Tyrion’s very own bedroom, and she was intruding terribly. However, she could not help herself, and walked in the room, taking in the scent, which was unmistakenly Tyrion’s. It was huge, with several cupboards, more than she had at her place, making her slightly jealous. When she saw that he also had a laundry room, she could not help but picture how she would redecorate it and had a dressing room there, to free some space in the main bedroom, or simply to make more room for clothes. She knew it was obviously not needed, but if he ever got in a relationship and shared his place with someone, that person would need some cupboard space too, and having a dressing room would be a fine compromise. Perhaps she would suggest it to him when they’d see each other again, after apologizing profusely for the fact that she had entered his den.

She walked in the room, trailing her hand on the high-quality furniture. There was another TV there, but there was also a massive bookcase, and for some reason, it did not shock her at all. She remembered when he had tried implying she was a Darcy girl and she had countered about being more of a Rochester adept. The man knew his classics. He also had a very eclectic collection, on several subject, fiction and non-fiction, and she found herself caressing the back of a couple of books she wanted to read but had not found the time to buy.

Then, there was the bed. It was king size, of course, but it did not look like it was eating the whole room’s space as those often did if placed in quarters which did not have the good dimensions to hold them. She barely remembered letting go of the script and setting it on the bed as she grabbed his pillow, bringing it to her nose.

“What am I doing?” She asked herself, her face still half-buried in the furniture.

It smelled good. She could not pinpoint exactly what she liked about it, but she remembered being with Ramsay and how she hated the smell of his bedding.

“Better not go there…”

Still holding the pillow, she found herself walking to the adjoining bathroom, and she liked the huge bathtub.

She went back in the room, ready to leave it and stop intruding when a thought crossed her mind.

How did Tyrion like his mattress? Soft, hard, in between? Sure, the guest room was not meant for him, but there would be no point in buying furniture he would hate just for the sake of making the room pretty, right?

Carefully, almost religiously, she sat on the bed and smiled.

Firm. That was what the mattress was. It was better for your back even if the first few nights sometimes felt a bit painful. She looked and could not help but notice only one side looked slept in. Sure, the other one was tugged upon, as if someone had hogged the covers, but he was keeping that part of their deal, and was not having tarts in his bed.

Why did she care?

“Enquiring minds need to know,” she whispered, as if trying to provide herself a reason for what she was about to do.

She put the pillow back in its place and lied down.

This was a great bed. She put her hands on her stomach, making sure her feet were off the bed, and thought it was lovely. From the corner of her eye, she saw the script she had come to pick up and grabbed it.

The best way to avoid temptation was to give in to it, Oscar Wilde would say, and who was she to doubt a literary genius? She bit her lower lips as she felt like she was pushing her luck and started reading just the first page. And then the second one.

She would have been completely unable to say at which point she had removed her boots, but before she knew it, she was deep into the manuscript. The writing was excellent, totally pulled you in, but what she adored was what Tyrion had warned her about. He had annotated the script with thoughts about how to play certain things, invented background for his characters and others, in order to get a precise idea of how he really pictured it. She understood most of his notes, except for one “Like Shae”, which came back every time his character was interacting with a chick who was desperate to get into his bed and he pushed her away, or his character did anyway.

The part he had told her about had seduced her before she had read about it, but now that she had the material in her hands, it felt even more interesting. The story was that of a brooding writer, who had been keeping fans waiting for the release of the next installment in his saga, and the writer hired her character, a woman fresh from uni who wanted to make it in the edition world. She thought she was supposed to help him organize his worktable but discovered pretty soon that she would be his ghost writer as he seemed to have lost his edge. The woman then tried to involve the writer in what was becoming their work, for he was supposed to read everything she came up with, but she had trouble getting through to him.

It went perfectly with the main intrigue of the plot, which had the writer dealing with his demons, the ghost of his past and those he had created for himself by letting people put him on a pedestal and suddenly having vertigo and feeling like a fraud, like the few first successes were a fluke. It all came down to how his father used to treat him and degrade him any chance he got.

She was so caught up in the script, she never heard the front door open.

“Well, well, well,” Someone said from the entry of the room. “Behold my eyes!”

She almost jumped in the air and said:

“I’m so sorry!” as she sat down.

Tyrion laughed and gestured for her to get herself out of this tizzy.

“Just what every man hopes to find when he gets home, a beautiful woman in his bed…”

“I really am sorry… I did not mean to intrude, but I made the mistake of taking a peak at the script and…”

“Sansa, stop apologizing, it’s okay,” he said, coming to sit next to her on the bed. “Though I must tell you something. You apparently don’t know where is right and where is left…” He whispered as if revealing the key elements to a secret plan.

She felt most of the tension leave her body and mocked taking his pillow to beat him with it.

“This,” she said instead, holding the script, “it is amazing. I’m halfway done, but Tyrion, my Lord, can you speak to the director to see if he would let me audition for the part of Ismelda?”

“I knew you would like it!” He exclaimed.

She fell back on the bed with her hand on her face and said, looking him in the eyes.

“It is positively mind-blowing. There is not a single word in there that should not be. Everything is so thought through… There so much to unpack, I know I have yet to read it a thousand more time to see all the layers. This is amazing! I do not want to sound bitter, but God, I wish I had been asked to audition, it would have been an honor. It is so good!”

“I should have known you would be a bed hogger,” he joked. “But for all your hogging, you are absolutely right. When Varys gave it to me, I think I told him to call Tony to have my trial audition even though I was only a quarter in. When something is great, you just know it, don’t you? And you have to jump on it.”

She sat back, and realized her hair was a complete mess. She tried to hide it, but nodded along, as she completely agreed with his analysis.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asked. “I’m famished. I need to become a diva, food in the interview rooms was disgusting…”

“I’m so sorry for being so rude, how was your evening?”

“Do you want food?” He asked again. She declined, and he went on “It was okay. You know how these things are. You need to be seen before the movie is made, while it’s being made, and when it’s done. Since I was doing press interviews, I did not have to care for my image, I only had to be witty, but that was becoming more and more difficult the umpteenth time I was asked a question.”

“I know your frustration. They’re only doing their job, but sometimes you do think that when they prepared their questions, they must have realized that this item or this one would be something everyone and their cousins would ask….”

‘To be fair, I’d rather have a repetitive evening like this one and not one where everybody is trying to uncover my darkest deepest secret.”

“That is your white male privilege talking, I’m afraid,” she told him. “ When you’re an actress, every question is coated in layers you never think about. Like if you say ‘the sky is blue’, there will be a section in the interview where the journalist ponders if you’re being optimistic of if you’re knocked up and it’s the pregnancy hormones talking, or something along those lines.”

“I have to say, I have yet to meet one journalist who asked me for my due date.”

She laughed as they both got up.

“Are you sure about the food?” He asked again.

“Yes, thank you so much, but Tormund came around earlier with some Scottish dishes. That man will make one woman very happy one day, or he’ll be miserable ending up with some woman who does not eat because she’s watching her figure. He likes you, by the way,” she added.

“Good thing for him I don’t watch my calories then…”

She laughed again, and she could see the spark in his eyes as he used his wits with her.

“I will go in the bedroom to make the measurements, while you eat, if it’s alright with you.”

“Sure. And if you see anything that needs to be replaced, just add it to the list.”

“I have one awkward question for you…”

“My favorite kind, shoot,” he said as he started moving around in his kitchen, grabbing what he would need.

“In your bedroom, I noticed the stools and the ladder-ish devices to navigate your cupboards. Will you be needing some too for the guest bedroom?”

“I guess so. I mean, we never know, I may need to reach something I’m not tall enough for.”

She nodded.

“I call it the anti mirror effect,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“When I was a kid, growing up, I had to deal with getting things, and that was that. When I moved in my first apartment, it was tailored for ‘small people’, he said using quotes. “I hated it. I’d much rather climb on a ladder to grab a t-shirt than have my friends feel like their entering a smurf house when they visit. When everything is your size, it acts like a mirror. You may stop noticing it I guess, but everything is reminding all the time of that thing that makes you different. I want none of that here.

“As long as it is your choice and not something forced upon you, it makes sense to me.”

He nodded, and she went for the guest bedroom after getting her boots from the main one. It was much more Spartan than his own. She took some measurements, saw that a king size bed would fit too, if used with assorted furniture, and that she could probably make the office part of the bedroom still an office, by rearranging the layup. She wrote it all down in her notebook and went back to the main living space.

Tyrion was on the phone and she heard him say her name. She did not ask, though she made a small gesture to let him know she was there. She left and went back to the bathroom to freshen up. One look at her watch let her know it was close to 2AM.

When she came out, the actor was hanging up and said:

“If that’s good for you, Tony will meet you tomorrow at 11AM for a reading.”

She wanted to jump up and down but went for the next best thing, kissing his cheek while saying:

“Thank you so much!”

“Damn, I need to be nice more often,” he joked, looking on the verge of blushing. “Varys was right, you’re a very dangerous woman, or a very good one.”

“Who says I can’t be both?” She asked.

“Good point, as always my Lady. I will be attending the second part of your audition, because Tony wants to see how we work in front of a camera, given the importance of the relationship between Ismelda and Richard for his growth.”

“I’m game if you are,” she replied.

“You know I’m game.”

“I was leaving you an open door to say you wanted to distance yourself in case I was not a good fit.”

“You’re a great fit, Tony will see that.”

“I found your annotations extremely interesting… May I ask though, what does “like Shae” means?”

He sighed and she regretted her curiosity.

“Shae is a former lover. She is a model from Europe, nice I guess. We had a relationship except it was a ‘with benefit’ thing without the word ‘friends’ before. I stopped seeing her what feels like a million years ago, but when I was reading the script, well this felt like an appropriate note.”

“Thank you for explaining. If you don’t mind, I will go now, and try to get some beauty sleep.”

“Nonsense, you’re beautiful already. Plain old sleep will be enough,” he said, and she squinted her eyes before saying;

“Careful my Lord, one might think you speak in earnest and are being very flirty.”

“One could think that, couldn’t they, hum?” He said and he was not denying anything nor apologizing.

“Do you mind if I keep the manuscript? I would like to finish reading it before tomorrow…”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m quite certain that you’ll have your very own by the end of the day.”

She said nothing, not wanting to jinx herself, but prayed he was right.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“You know you will. I’ll be a dick and you’ll be the woman who attempt to be my salvation. Wait, that does seem fitting already, doesn’t it?”

She smiled, before going to the door, gesturing for him to have his dinner.

She opened the door, and thought about it twice before turning, and saying:

“Thank you, no matter what happens.”

“When you get the part, let’s make it an argument for you to let me braid your hair,” he said, and she laughed again, before saying her goodbyes.

Later on, when Tyrion got ready for bed, he could not help but notice the new smell on his sheets. Plus, there was a smudge of what must have been glossy lipstick on his pillow. He did not care. He slept like a bear entering hibernation.

Chapter Text

When she woke up, she fixed herself some light tea and checked everything was ready for today.

When she had gotten home so late the night before, she had been unable to think about sleeping, and had agonized over what to wear for the reading. She had ended up choosing the cheapest clothes in her cupboards, not that their prices really mattered, but because they were the closest to what she figured someone fresh out of uni with student loans could afford. In the so-called real world, there was this saying, if you want a job, act like you have it, and she figured she would give it a try. She wanted that part and would dress as if she had it.

She had spent till the wee hours of morning reading the script and getting in touch with the character, its emotional journey, and had tried to figure out how she would convey it. In that sense, Tyrion’s side notes about his own character had been a great help, because it had given her a sense of where he felt like his needed to go, and she thought really hard about what her own path should be. She had not planned things following the roadmap he had set for himself, but she had used his tricks and unwilling tips to find a course to set for her character, if she ever got to actually call it hers.

She had gotten perhaps three hours of sleep, and that was a best case scenario estimate. In a way, it was fine, it fitted with her vision of Ismelda and what she would be looking like at certain points of the script. She had texted Theon the night before with the details for the reading, and he had insisted on coming with her.

Speak of the devil…

“Hello sissy,” the man said, as he let himself in her flat.

“Brother,” she greeted him a tad sternly.

He knew she hated being called “sissy”, yet, as the big brother he was, he just did not care about how she felt about that.

“I brought you some reading before we go,” he said, before pressing a kiss to the cheek she offered royally.

He dropped several magazines on the table next to her, and she saw that they were all tabloids.

“Are you okay?” He asked her as she sort of froze.

“Hum yes, I guess I am, I’m sorry for giving you a wrong impression,” she told him. “I was just taken aback, as I usually try to avoid all of these… things.”

“Do trust your brother a little…”

“You know I trust you with my life.”

“And I trust you with mine. That’s why you’re my medical proxy. Why aren’t I yours?”

“I asked Arya,” she told her sibling. “I love you all, Jon, Bran, you… but let’s be honest. If I’m brain dead and will never get up again, I don’t trust you loving fools to be able to pull the plug on me. Bran, maybe, if he really considered things from a science perspective, but I fear it would send him back to all our previous traumas. Arya, she would unplug me. Hell, you guys may have to make sure I’m really brain dead before she pulls the chord, but yeah, she has that quality I guess. She will do what is necessary for one’s dignity.”

“I guess you’re right. There’s a part of me that wants to go “you silly women for not trusting your brothers,” but we’re wolves, aren’t we, and no one’s tougher or fairer than a she-wolf. You and Arya would be the only one with the courage to do what’s good for us and not what’s good for you.”

She took his hand, feeling sad about the many trials they had suffered that had brought them to know all of this for a fact. He pressed her hand back, then put his head on her shoulder. She put one hand on the side of his face, to let him know she was there, and she was reeling to, feeling the same pain he did.

“Let’s read some trashy magazines, shall we?” She offered as a distraction.

He took a deep breath and nodded before leaving her shoulder.

“The first one is supposed to be from the night after the Met gala, and the rest in chronological order.”

Thankfully, his assistant had put stickers to let her know where to read, otherwise her brain would have started leaking out from her ears after a few pages.

“Tyrion Lannister and…. Sansa Stark??? Geeze, why did they feel the need to put three question marks?” She asked.

She went back to reading:

“Though no photograph was able to provide proof of this, the rumor on the streets is that Tyrion Lannister, dressed in a suit by blablabla was spotted spending all evening in Sansa Stark’s company. The youngster had chosen to go as a Goth diva blablabla… ‘They were very into one another’, a source says, ‘they laughed all night long and had a great time’. Could this be the start of something unexpected?”

She rolled her eyes but grabbed the following magazine. In it was a very similar piece, which added something about Tyrion having only eyes for her and her for him. They felt the need to mention Ramsay by quoting him, allegedly saying “poor girl doesn’t know what to do since she lost me”. This made Sansa want to punch a wall.

She went through a few more articles, then reached the first one with pictures, of them fake eating at Coney Island. The article was entitled “Could this be love?”

“Sansa Stark, 19, and Tyrion Lannister, 37, were spotted last night sharing a meal at Coney Island. The actors spent the evening laughing and talking, and a witness said that Tyrion fed Sansa her dessert with a spoon, much to the actress’s delight.”

She stopped as she felt anger rise.

“Is it me or are they intent on making me look like a toddler? And witness? My arse. There were none. That’s why Varys was so pissed. But let’s finish this piece of trash.”

She cleared her throat and went on:

“As spotted on the pictures, one can see a bracelet on Sansa’s arm, which Tyrion apparently gave her at the beginning of their date. Who knew the actor could be such a gentleman? Whatever is happening here, we’re rooting for them though. Tyrion has been alone for too long and his lifestyle has not been healthy. Perhaps finding love in the arms of a girl he can mold into his dream woman will bring him the happiness he has been lacking. The Oscar nominee deserves a fairy tale love story.”

“Hey, I brought you that bracelet for your birthday two years ago!” Theon exclaimed.

“Well this girl would love to flip the bird to whatever trashbag who wrote this piece. What am I, Galatea, and he is Pygmalion?” She asked, speaking of the legend of the sculptor who fell in love with his statue and was rewarded by the Gods when they gave it life. “Plus, if they care so much about Tyrion, how come they only have terrible things to say about him? They trash the way he leads his life and only applaud when he does something that they consider proper. Fudge them. He can do whatever he wants.”

“They believe he wants to do you,” Theon said.

“And then they go like he’s a princess looking for his what, prince charming, fairytale ending? What’s this BS all about?”

“I’m so glad I pay someone to go through these articles for me.”

There were more piece about their dates at Coney Island, and each made her want to roll her eyes so much she feared they might get stuck in the back of her head.

The general consensus was, “who would have thought?” Until it became “we totally saw it coming”, with a healthy dose of “we have no idea what’s going on but we’re loving it!”. Some articles were telling things from her perspective, others from his, and a few were just so clueless they barely seemed like they knew who they were writing about. All quoted unnamed sources and witnesses that had not been there, except for the Met perhaps, and it was plain ridiculous.

“Oh well, this one is already pissing me off big time,” she said when she reached for the next one.

The title was “the beauty and the beast”.

“I hope they get sued.”

“Sans’… To some people, you guys having a genuine interest in one another is pretty much a fairytale come true.”

“It does not mean that they can call him names! He’s no beast! He has feelings, and he’s deeply intelligent, and empathetic. I’m sorry they never saw it, but I’m thankful I get to. He is a great actor, and such a great person. Think about what he did for Rickon….”

“You don’t need to convince me. I’ll admit, at first I was trusting Varys with this plot, because I wanted what was best for you and he was damn convincing, but when I learnt about what he had done, I knew that no one could have been a better match, even a fake one.”

“He really is a good man, bràthair,” she told him, using the Gaelic word for brother.

“Let’s get on with what seems to be a very insulting and partisan piece…”

She agreed and started reading:

“Yesterday, the beautiful Sansa Stark was spotted with vertically challenged Tyrion Lannister in Central Park, enjoying coffee. The two have been rumored to be spending more and more time together lately, and the exclusive pictures we managed to acquire seem to confirm this fact. Though they look to only be having coffee, witnesses said they were spotted later on in a children’s park, having fun. This does bring the question about Tyrion’s age, and some are puzzled by what Sansa could be seeing in the alcoholic, womanizing man. An intervention may be needed, unless he proves himself to be worthy of the princess of Hollywood.”

They stayed silent for a few seconds, then she muttered

“Arseholes.”

The rest of the articles had been released that very morning, such as this insulting one, and once again, you had people seeing things in one of three ways, “great for her”, “great for him” and “what the fudge is happening?”.

“This was not a pleasant exercise,” she finally said, “but it was enlightening. The scheme is working. I just wished they would stop being so goddamn critical and bringing Ramsay into the mix.”

“I’ll have my staff go through the rest of the articles. I know there are a lot more online, but I did not feel like carrying a dead tree in paper to your place.”

“Thank you. Please only bring to my attention the ones who are really relevant, or a sample from what’s being written that is representative enough…”

“Sure. You should go get dressed, Varys and Tyrion are coming to pick us up in less than 15 minutes in a car.”

“Jesus-Christ, you should have opened with that!” She exclaimed, before rushing to the bedroom.

She grabbed her clothes and jumped into a shower. When the concierge rang, she was still wet and felt like she needed a ton more preparation.

Theon handed her a Styrofoam cup with some fresh tea in it, and she grabbed it, alongside with her bad, containing the precious script. Truth be told, she had not expected for Tyrion to be there from the very start, but after all the trash they had read, it felt like a good thing. She wanted to see him.

They rushed down, and got into a bigger car than usual, so that no one would have to sit one anyone else’s knees.

“Hello My Lady,” Tyrion said, and she found herself less angry, and worried, and smiled.

“My Lord… Varys. Hey Bronn!”

“Miss Stark,” Varys said. “Always a pleasure. Mister Greyjoy.”

“It should be a quick ride,” Bronn said, before Varys looked daggers at him.

“Thanks Bronn!” Sansa said.

“Which reminds me, thank you so much for using your connections for this reading, audition, whatever, but since I had no chance to look at the script, is there any nudity involved?” Theon asked.

“On my part, there is, but not on Sansa’s,” Tyrion answered, blushing perhaps just a tad.

“We’re no prudes, I’m sorry if it sounded this way, but since Sans’ is actually a royal, she’s not allowed to be naked in a movie.”

“Wait, what? You mean, when I used the word royalty instead of nobility, I was right?” Tyrion asked the actress.

“Well, this can’t leave this car, but it’s true. My mother was a descendant from the actual royal family, but like, 700 people would have to die before I became a contender for the throne.”

“Yet, Queen Olenna is your Godmother.”

Varys and Tyrion said nothing, but their shocked expressions spoke volumes.

“She is… You never wondered how come I was the one who was Duchess and Marquess?” She asked Tyrion.

“It may have crossed my mind, but then again, we tend to always have a zillion things to talk about.”

“Well, when my parents died, I inherited my marquess title from my mother. It’s an old tradition in the Tully family, the title goes to the elder female heir. The male heir also gets a title, but a different one. When Winterfell was turned into a duchy, and when our parents passed away, it should have gone to my next male kin, but my Godmother, Queen Olenna, listened to the Scots, who were pretty vocal about me getting the title, after Robb passed away. Jon was considered a bastard, and Theon was adopted, so only a blood Stark could inherit, and well… It was me. Queen Olenna had a decree made in Scottish Parliament. I think it suits everybody, but me, at times….” She concluded, trying to bring some humor into her story.

Being 19 and being nobility was not fun when it meant having seen so many of your relatives die.

“Wow, that’s…. wow…” Tyrion said, seeming to have a hard time catching his breathe. “Have you met the royal kids?”

“I know princess Maergery and Prince Loras, yes…”

“Between you and I, Loras is…”

“As gay as they come. I think he needs to find the right man before making his official come out, but it’s a non-secret for many.”

“You never cease to impress me.”

“Well, here is to hoping I will do just that when we meet Mister Thompson,” she said.

They felt the car stopped, and Sansa froze. This was it. The big test. The big “am I a decent actress or am I just fodder for future generations?”.

“Is that real tea in your cup?” Tyrion suddenly asked and it made her forget about what was to come.

“Do you want a sip?”

“You did promise to introduce me to real tea…”

As the exited the car, and walked inside, Tyrion slowly sipped on her cup. When she seemed to have trouble getting her legs to work, he offered his arms, and she took it, smiling at him.

“You’ll do fine,” Tyrion whispered.

 Bronn was in charge of their security but given how numerous they were, no one could have blamed him for missing the one person taking pictures on the side.

Sansa had never felt more thankful for her brother and Tyrion’s arm, as she prepared for what felt like the test of a lifetime.

Chapter Text

"Mister Lannister!" Tony’s assistant exclaimed as they all walked in. “Such a pleasure to see you again!”

He wished he could reciprocate, but alas, no. What was her name again? The woman had been coming onto him for a long time, and with Sansa’s hand on his arms, the last thing he wanted was for the chick to keep trying.

Sure, he was irresistible, but he hoped the woman would have the decency to see that he was in the company of a charming lady, his Lady.

“Or should I call you Tyrion?” She went on.

He felt Sansa’s hand stiffen before she removed it and he wanted to bang his head against the wall. Damn tart. Damn him. Why did he have to flirt with anything with a skirt? At least, that was what his previous self used to do, and he wanted to go back in time to punch the fucker.  

“Can you please let Tony know that Sansa Stark and her agent Theon Greyjoy, along with Varys and I have arrived?”

The girl laughed and he honestly wished he could turn back time. She let her boss know they were there, then went on, completely ignoring everybody but him as she said:

“Do you want me to get your more coffee? No sugar but a whirl of milk, right?”

He realized she was talking about the cup in his hand, and he resisted the urge to cling to it and hold it against his chest as she approached.

“No thank you. I drink tea now.”

To which she laughed.

He wished a dragon would appear in the sky and snatch the chit. Had she always been this annoying? Lord… And she was making Sansa so uncomfortable. That was a huge no-no in his book.

“My Lady,” he told her, “Tony will see you in a few minutes I’m sure. Do you want your tea back?”

She shook her head no, and her silence cut deeper than a sword.

“For the record, you were absolutely right. Real tea is nothing compared to the shit you drink everywhere in the US.”

“I can make more of that,” the chit offered when she realized he was being serious about what was in his -err - Sansa’s cup.

“Unless Mister Greyjoy has tealeaves in his pockets, I’m afraid you can’t,” he said. “I don’t care for teabags. They’re a blasphemy if you ask me.”

He caught the smallest hint of a smile on Sansa’s face, as he used the words she had chosen to describe the beverage the same way previously. Maybe there was still hope…. But hope for what?

“I can top it off, if you really enjoyed it,” the actress finally said. “Since our discussion, I’ve taken to carrying a small amount of real tea around, for when I would get the opportunity to show you the difference.”

YES! You go, Tyrion, don’t fuck this up!

“I’d love more. Maura, we’re going to pop in the kitchen for a refill,” he told the girl.

“It’s Maureen,” she spat, but had no choice but to let them through.

Once there, he heard a chuckle.

“Pop,” Sansa repeated, with a laugh.

“What, did I use it wrong?” he asked, worried as he watched her set the kettle on and get the cup from him so that she could properly rinse it.

“No, you did not. Careful, you may end up sounding way more British that you want to if you keep this up,” Sansa said, with a smile.

“Well, I can be posh. I mean, I’ve rarely tried, but this could be one thing you teach me.”

“You want me to “posh you up”?" She summarized while biting her lower lip.

“I’m a peasant anyway, sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

She pretended to roll her eyes, but he felt victorious in noticing that some of the distance the chit Maura had created has been erased.

“I’m afraid it won’t be the exact same taste, as I had planned to make you start with something lighter, and perhaps more familiar,” she explained, as she got a plastic bag containing a full tea ball from her purse. “It’s closer to what you call ‘tea’, but it is more aromatic.”

Teach me, I’m a clean sheet for you to write on whatever you please.

“I did really enjoy the first brew I had,” he said. “Sure, it was stronger than what I’m used to, but it was lovely.”

“It’s my morning flavor. I alternate between Yerba Mate, which you had in your first cup, and this is some Taylor Scottish tea, which I drink when I’ve had a rough night.”

He watched as she carefully put everything in place, made sure the water was very hot but not boiling, and admired the way she made it look so effortless when she was apparently following some strict rules. She poured the water over the teaball and waited for three minutes or so, before offering him the cup.

“You should try to get a sip, even though it’s hot, to know if you want milk or sugar.”

He did just that and though it was scalding hot, he liked the perfume and said:

“This is perfectly fine as it is.”

“Good,” was all she answered before closing the lid on the cup.

“You Brits really don’t joke about your tea….”

“We don’t mess with it when we’re abroad, I’d say more accurately. For example, I love some Earl Grey, which is such a common name and blend, but when I buy it in the US, I need at least two teabags if you not three to get the same flavor I would be getting from a teabag brought in the UK. Plus we have more choices there… Between the teashops and the fact that we just have more flavours in any given supermarket, well, I guess that’s what may make some of us, and I’m guilty of this, such snobs when it comes to tea in America.”

He liked the way she talked. That was stupid, he knew it, but even when explaining something anyone would consider mundane, she bewitched him. Move over JK Rowling, the real mistress of magic is not a character from your books. She just made him feel like every little thing was a secret, that he was getting a treat by learning this tidbit about her, and he loved that feeling. She made him feel special.

“Have you ever been to India?” She asked him.

“I have, briefly, and remember very little details…”

“Well, I have too, and I remember their tea markets. It’s cultural perhaps, part of the country’s identity, but the smell of the leaves… It was Heaven.”

“Note to myself,” He pretended to talk into an imaginary Dictaphone, “take Sansa to India and spend the day at the tea market.”

She laughed again, and there was this urge, this need, this desire, to kiss the side of her mouth. Jesus Christ Tyrion, get a hold of yourself, and read the fucking signs. She's not into you like that.

He sipped on some of the tea she had so delicately put together for him, preventing him from doing anything he might regret later.

“Tyrion?” Tony asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Sansa straightened up right away, and the director said when spotting her:

“Miss Stark! What a pleasure to meet you. Tyrion told me about the fact that he had found the perfect Ismelda, and I had to see you.”

“Mister Thompson,” She said, and Tyrion would have sworn she bowed lightly, before handing her hand to his friend. “Thank you so much for taking the time to give me a chance.”

“Nonsense. We’ll see how it goes, but I must admit to having high hopes. I cast an actress already for that part, but I can tell she is likely to quit if this guy,” he said, pointing to Tyrion who wanted to kill his old friend, “gets in one of his moods. If you come recommended by him, it must mean you are familiar with those and you’ll know how to deal.”

“Oh that’s easy, really. I’ve got a tall friend who can bone him like a chicken if he gets in a tiff,” she said.

“Careful, Sans’,” Tyrion said. You know ‘bone’ has another meaning when used as a verb."

“Well, if you’re into that, Tormund might be into it too, who knows?” She said, with laughter in her eyes.

“But what about his Selkie wife?”

“They can only stay on dry land for seven years, unless you find their seal pelt, so don’t close that door just yet…”

“Ismelda needs to be British,” Tony exclaimed, interrupting their fun banter. “I’m sorry, did not mean to be rude, but the more I hear you, the more it feels like Ismelda needs to have a British accent, such as yours. It will create an even bigger gap between the person she is when she meets American Richard, and it will show how different they are from one another… I must check it with the writer, but I’m sure she’ll agree.”

Good! One point for Sansa! Yes, make Ismelda Brit, my Lady will be an even better fit!

“I have to agree with you,” Tyrion said, looking as professional as he could. “It was one of the reasons I wanted you to hear Sansa read for the part. I think she can give the character layers we never thought about.”

“I think you might be right…. Well, miss Stark, if you will follow me, we’ll do the reading in my office. Tyrion will join us later when it’s time to see if you guys can work together.”

She threw him a panicked look but he mouther the words “be yourself, you’ve got it”, and she nodded silently, closing her eyes for a second or less before she opened them again, seeming ready to face the world and solve all its problem in the next hour.

He walked out of the kitchen with them and watched them go into the office.

He could not believe how fast his heart was beating. From all the abuse he had put it through, his ticker should have gone off right here and there.

“Mister Thompson,” Theon whispered to him as they were seated, “he’s a fair director, right?” He asked him.

It seemed like for all his talk of only acting as her agent at times, and her brother at others, the young man had real trouble trusting anybody with his sister.

“He will not yell at Sansa, or make her demean herself as some would,” Tyrion answered. “Sure, the part is more adult than what she is used to, but she can totally handle it, and I never would have pushed for her to be seen and heard if I thought he would be a dick to her.”

“Good… Good,” The man answered, looking half-convinced. “Did she tell you about her experience, working on ‘Lovely Day’?”

“No, she did not… Why?”

“I’m sure she will, in due time. You’ll get my turmoil.”

“You’re picking my curiosity…”

“And picked it should stay, until Sansa decides to share with you what shooting that movie was like.”

There was a part of Tyrion who found himself longing for this kind of brotherly devotion. He sure got none of this from his own siblings, let alone his father. He wondered if they had always been close, or if tragedy had brought them together in such a binding way. To him, it was almost alien to think that someone could be worried about their younger siblings just out of fraternal love.

Minutes went by, feeling like hours, and he knew they were all on edge, except for Maura -err Maureen – who had tried picking up a flirty conversation with him before realizing this just was not happening.

Finally, her phone rang, and she turned to them:

“Mister Lannister, if you will, Mister Thompson is ready for you to read a scene with the young girl.”

Girl? GIRL? I hope a piano fall on your head during your lunch break.

He simply nodded, not trusting his sharp tongue and made his way inside the office.

He saw that Tony had gotten some water out for the young actress, and he was currently printing a few pages. She smiled when she spotted him, and he felt like things had to be going ok, right? Surely she was a great actress, but if things were being messy, she would let him know, so that he could help her fix a bad first impression, nay?

She handed him his copy of the script, and there were once again those weird feelings in him, making him think he was happy she had had his copy when reading on her own, as if he had been there for her in a weird way.

“Thank you My Lady,” he said in a low tone, before getting the tome.

He saw Tony raise an eyebrow at his addressing Sansa this way but could not bring himself to give two fucks. This was their thing. Plus, she really was a lady.

“Ok,” Tony finally said, before handing Sansa the papers he had been printing. “I would like you guys to do a reading of the first time Ismelda try to pick Richard’s brain for the next book he is supposed to be writing. You’ll notice that I’ll be filming the scene, but don’t be worried or anything. It’s a way of course to test how the camera catches you, but mostly, it will allow me to show your scene to my writer and see what she believes. I have the last word on most things, but I would hate to act against her wishes. This script is her baby, and I respect that.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Sansa said.

Tony blushed slightly, and Tyrion could not help but smirk, for he knew his friend was shagging said writer. During one night out when the two men had drunk more than anyone should ever drink, Tony had confessed his undying love for this young woman who had knocked on his door with scripts in her bag, and who had ended up moving in with him several days after they had met. This would be their second collaboration.

“Well, you’ll meet Laora, or I hope you will if things go through, and I think you’ll understand why it’s so important to respect her vision.”

“Any writer deserves respect, no matter what,” she said.

“True, true, but I try to be especially attentive to the people who trust me with their work. I know not everybody will do that, but yeah, that’s how I work.”

Sansa looked at Tyrion from the corner of her eyes, and he would have sworn she was reading his every thought.

“Ty, you’re being awfully quiet for someone with such a big mouth,” Tony said.

“Just getting into the character, but I can act like a dick if you miss it too much…”

“Richard is a dick, so no need to give me a preview,” the director said, before going for the old fashion camera near his desk.

As he knew the script from top to bottom, Tyrion knew just which pages to turn to get to the scene he would be reading.

“Should we get up?” Sansa asked, as she shuffled the papers she had been given.

“It would be ideal, but since it’s a dry read if you will, where I just try and see if I can spot potential or whatever, you will remain seated behind the desk. Tyrion will take my place, and if things do go through, we’ll discuss later on the specifics of this scene when shooting it.”

Quickly, Tyrion went to sit on the other side of the desk, and hated it. It felt like there was an ocean between him and Sansa, and he knew she was worried. Then again, given the undertone of the scene, them playing it while holding hand would have caused anyone watching a serious headache.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tony said from the side.

Tyrion exchanged a look with Sansa, and she nodded. She took in a deep breath, then cleared her throat, before starting:

“So tell me where you’re at with your writing, so that I can see how I can help.”

“Nowhere.”

“What?”

“That’s where I’m at.”

“What?”

“Is there a fucking echo in here?” he replied, channeling his character’s rudeness.

“I’m sorry, I just figured that…”

“What? What did you figure? I’m very curious to discover what a girl who was a student ten minutes or so ago figured about my writing and where I’m at…”

This was not a pretty scene, his character taking on his frustration on his new hire. Sansa had slipped into the character of Ismelda and gave as good as he did, answering his rudeness with a brutal awakening about the writer whose work had prompted her to enter the editing world, yet holding on to a shred of hope this was just a bad day.  

The tense exchange went on for a few minutes, and he lost himself in the part. When Tony gestured for them to stop, he almost did not see him.

It had been so easy. People often joked that actors were just wankers paid to do nothing of substance, but there was real work involved, and one of the difficulties he was often faced with was finding his footing with his scene partner. Everyone had a vision of their character and sometimes they clashed with the one of the person opposite to you. Not with Sansa, though…. He could have read the script from beginning to end, for how effortless it had been to just slip into character and interact with someone who was one the same wavelength as he was about how the scene should proceed. When he had read the script, he had been worried about the girl cast, finding it difficult to connect with her, but trusting Tony with his choice. However, after reading a bunch of pages with Sansa, there was no doubt in his mind that no one could play Ismelda the way she could.

“I have to say, Miss Stark, if you keep on impressing me this way and pulling your A-game all the time, you may end up being nominated for a leading role when Ismelda is supposed to be a supporting one…” Tony said, and Sansa blushed, yet beamed at the compliment.

“I’m just trying to impress you,” She said.

“Well, it’s working. I cannot give you an answer right now, I need feedback from my writer, but thank you so much for coming in. One quick question, but would you be averse to some light dye in your hair? As you were reading, I thought Ismelda could sport a few pink streaks in her mane….” When she nodded, he smiled and then said: “Good, good, I’ll let the writer know. Would you mind letting me have a minute alone with my old friend?”

“You’re old,” Tyrion interjected. “I’m not.”

“Of course. Thank you again for this opportunity,” she told the director.

As she made her exit, she smiled at Tyrion, and he forgot how to breathe until his brain kicked in.

“So… What did you think?” He finally asked his friend.

“She’s something, that’s for sure. How did you meet her?”

“The Met Gala, we met through Brienne Tarth.”

This was not a lie, but not the truth either.

“I wish she had auditioned for the part when you did.”

“You never really issued a casting call, did you?” Tyrion said. “You relied on the pool of actors you were comfortable working with. That’s why I’m getting to shoot with Doran Martell as my father.”

“I guess you’re right, maybe I should sometime try getting out of my comfort zone…”

“Truth be told, even if you had issued such a call, I’m not certain Sansa would have auditioned. Her agent, Theon Greyjoy is her adoptive brother. I mean no disrespect or am not implying anything nasty, but I think that sometimes he sees a casting call and think that his sister is not suited for that part, except he’s thinking as a brother and not an agent, and he doesn’t realize it. He wants her to get more challenging parts, because she’s been stuck in an interesting career, I guess for a girl her age, but she can do more, as I’m sure you agree…”

“Oh, I agree.”

The two friends then started talking about what Tony would need to do about the girl who would lose her job if Laora agreed with his assessment, and Tyrion offered to get her a part in his next movie. Tony declined, saying they could always write a minor part for her, that would placate her, but it was but a small hurdle to Tyrion. If they were speaking about replacing the chick, it meant Sansa had the part.

He kept his mouth shut of course, not wanting to jinx her chances. They went on chatting.

When he exited the office, Varys was waiting alone, looking bored as he often did.

“Where did they go?” Tyrion asked him.

“Since you guys were taking forever, and she has an interview scheduled for later this afternoon, they took a cab. She left the cup, for you.”

Thank God he was an actor, or he would have a giggled like a teenage girl with a crush upon spotting said cup, with a napkin next to it which read: “whatever happens next, thank you!” and there was a stain made by her lips as she must have kissed the thing. He put it in his pocket and sipped on the still warm tea.

“Maureen is a sure thing, if you want to have a quick tryst,” his agent said.

“Pish posh!” Tyrion answered before laughing when he saw Varys’ face at his choice of words. “I said I would be chaste, didn’t I?”

“You did. I guess I never expected you to follow through on that promise.”

“How you wound me!” He told the bigger man.

“Tyrion…. You do know that at one point, she’s going to decide to stop this… thing?” Varys said, careful not to be heard by the assistant.

“I know. Let me enjoy it while it last.”

“And who will pick up the pieces of your broken heart?”

“You will. That’s what I’m paying you for, aren’t I?”

“You’re not paying me enough…”

“Pish posh!” He repeated, not wanting to give this any more thoughts.

Much later that day, he received a photo of Sansa, holding her very own copy of the script. She looked so fucking happy. He felt deliriously happy too.

“I may need to give Varys a raise, for there will be million of pieces of my broken heart,” he said to himself, before typing congratulations for the young actress.

Chapter Text

“You ready for this ?” Tyrion asked her, and she looked outside the window of the car.

“I don’t know, to be honest. Are you really the type of person who shops at Ikea?” She asked him.

“Today I am I guess…”

“Who decorated your place?”

“It was furnished when I moved in. I added a few things here and there, but most were orders online. For all I know, I may have some Swedish cabinets in my kitchen…”

He looked honestly clueless, and she fought against laughter, not wanting to put him on the spot.

“Why, don’t you like it at all?” He suddenly asked. “My place, I mean, not just the kitchen.”

“It’s lovely, Tyrion, don’t you dare fret! You found me in your bed with my shoes off, reading like I was at home…”

“Yeah, but just because the bed is nice-ish doesn’t have to mean you’re in favor of everything.”

“Careful, My Lord, or next thing you’ll know, I’ll end up with your credit card in my hand, and you’ll seriously wish we had never been introduced as you discover a brand new decoration at your bachelor’s pad.”

“Nonsense. I would never wish such a thing. I just… want to make sure my place does not make you want to pull your hair out.”

“Alright, here is what we’re going to do. I’m going to pull the woman prerogative, if you will, and drag you through this shop, and show you all the items I have thought about for your guest bedroom. You’ll be forced to give me your opinion or at least let me know if you don’t agree with any of the choices I made. Then, maybe tomorrow, or the day after that, you’ll get to tour my place, and see how impersonal it is. Then, you’ll feel so much better because your place is worth living at, while mine still looks like a weekly rental.”

“You need a place, especially now that you’ve got the part. You need a good place to come home to, where you can relax after having to deal with me err I mean Tony all day long!”

“My place is not so bad… It’s just… I guess I never moved in fully. I have clothes, and some possessions, but the thing I care about are back at Winterfell.”

“You need to pick stuff up to spruce your place then, to make it feel more, Winterfelly.”

“I don’t think they sell horses or dogs in this shop…”

“How much do you miss riding?”

She kept her mouth shut, not because she did not miss it, but because she did, ferociously, and she was afraid of shedding a tear or two, thinking about her mare back home, not to mention the hounds. Her people took care of them, she knew it without a doubt, but it did not mean that she never wished she would get more updates, no matter how silly the idea may sound.

“Why do you think I favored period pieces more often than not when I first arrived in the US?” she finally told him, as a way to answer while keeping herself in check.

“We should go riding. For our next outing or whatever you want to call it.”

“Are you serious? I thought Theon said something about you not liking horses so much…”

“Maybe I’ve just not met the right horse yet…”

A hint of a smile graced her lips, and she was about to reply, when Bronn cleared his throat and said:

“I’ll pretend that I never heard any of your double entendre, but you two need to figure out ASAP if you want to go into the shop. The paps will be allowed in for about twenty minutes, then they’ll be tossed out and you’ll need to dodge pictures taken by nosy customers. I’ll do my best to distract them, but yeah, it’s time to make a choice.”

“I’m ready if you are,” he said, “but there’s no pressure.”

“Tell that to Varys… Boy can he be scary. Alright Bronn, thank you for your patience, I guess we are going in!”

“Sometimes I wonder if you don’t like Bronn more than you like me,” Tyrion muttered as the driver went around the car to open the door for her.

She laughed until she realized he was serious.

“Tyrion!”

He said nothing as he got out of the car after her.

“My Lord! I appreciate Bronn because he has always been nice to me and he has been taking care of our security fervently. My appreciation is not the same as our friendship!”

“Sure, that’s what they all say…” He muttered again, though holding his arm for her.

“Don’t mind him,” Bronn said before assuming his bodyguard position. “He knows that most of his squeezes were girls who did not make it to my bed…”

“What the heck is happening here?” She whispered, shaking her head, completely baffled.

She grabbed Tyrion’s hand and squeezed it, saying:

“I’m going to pretend I never heard any of that. Remember, I will show you some furniture, you get to say no. I planned for some alternates.”

“How much time did you spend on this project?” He asked, finally stopping pouting.

“I may have spent part of this afternoon on their website, checking measurements and trying to see how things would fit,” she answered, trying to look elsewhere so that he would not spot the blush she could feel on her cheeks.

The truth was that she had woke up at 4AM after a nightmare where their outing had turned out to be a disaster because she had missed the vibe he was going for. Therefore, she had spent ore than a couple of hours on the Ikea site.

He did not let go of her hand until they were almost at the entry of the shop and looked pained to let it go. Once again, he offered his arm, which she took gracefully.

They went in and started playing their part. It was much easier than she had anticipated, as they started with small accessories, and every time she explained she had thought about this or that for a certain purpose, he would agree almost on the spot. The rare times he fought bac were because he liked a different color better, but there was never an argument on the substance of her choice.

They could see the paparazzi, this time much more numerous than the previous times they had gone out, and she was pleased to see that Bronn had already briefed the security on the moment when they were to be thrown out.

“Would you have any use for this?” Tyrion suddenly asked, making her focus on him again.

It was a frame, and was lovely for sure, but it felt a bit too frilly for his place.

“I don’t think it would suit the overall tone we’re going for in the spare bedroom,” she answered tactfully.

“What about your place? I meant about your place, would you have any use for this? You mentioned you barely had decorations there, and I’m positive you would be the kind of person who would enjoy having pictures of their loved one on their walls…”

He looked like a teenage boy, desperately trying to look tough and strong, but he was such a sweetheart. She never told him that of course, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Indeed, this would be a good frame for my living room. I have a picture of my parents’ wedding which would have a perfect place in there, but we’re shopping for you today…”

“Bronn, can you put this in our cart?” He asked his bodyguard.

“Tyrion…” She started.

“What?” He asked with innocent eyes, but she knew him too well.

“You’re not fooling me.”

“Good, because I was not trying too. I just figured you would have a use for it, you do, so let’s add it to our cart.”

She pondered about fighting him on this, but figured it was only a frame, and she could let him gift it to her.

What she had not expected was for their cart to actually become “theirs”, as in every time he spotted something she did like, he would grab it and add it to their purchases. He would claim that she’d pay him back later, but there was this light in his eyes that she had come to know, which meant he was only trying to placate her while he all but buttered her up.

“I’ll be paying for lunch every day on set!” She taunted him.

“Not if I order it first…”

“Jesus…”

He let out a puerile laugh, and she found herself chuckling along.

“You’re such a silly man!”

“Takes one to know one…”

“Are you calling me a man?” She asked, pretending to be offended.

“Of course not, Lady of my heart,” he exclaimed, before pressing a kiss on her hand.

She needed to be careful, for he was prone it seemed to stumble across her heart and smashing it into a thousand pieces when they would part.

At some point, they were arguing about beddings, when Bronn told them that the last paparazzi had been kicked out of the store.

“Oh. I must admit I had forgotten about them. Thank you Bronn.”

“Yeah, thanks, Bronn,” Tyrion answered.”

“Will you stop with this pretend jealousy? I know it can’t be real and you are just pulling my leg, because you are way too smart to actually believe what you are saying!” she exclaimed.

“Maybe I just like it when you have to only think about me because I’m being prissy.”

“You do realize I have younger brothers er a younger brother and a sister, and none of them give me as much trouble as you do right now when I force them to go out shopping?”

“Good. It must mean I am not one of your brother, or thank heavens, your sister.”

“I can knock him out and stash him in the car while you finish shopping,” Bronn offered.

“Remember who signs your checks!” The actor exclaimed.

“Ah yeah, there’s that… Sorry miss Stark…”

“The beds!” She exclaimed upon spotting they had reached the ample stand. “I was not sure which one you would like best, so you are totally free to pick whatever you want. I mean, you’re always free to say no, it’s just that this time, I only made some quick maths to make sure whichever model you chose would fit and…”

“Sans’, I know what you meant. Chillax. Look at those mattresses… Don’t you want to jump on them?” Tyrion asked, after grabbing her hand to make her stop rambling.

It was awfully tempting but she was a lady and…

And she was not immune at all, she would later conclude, as she saw him jump on a bed, then another, and another, and found herself doing the same. For a moment, she forgot she was an adult, and just had fun bouncing here and there.

It was when she could not see him that she panicked.

“My Lord?” She asked.

“Here, my Lady,” she heard, and she went toward that direction.

He was lying on one of the beds, and she noticed it was one she had marked to perhaps purchase if she decided to make her own place more home-like.

“Come on, lay down,” he said, patting the space next to him.

“We really should not, there are people around with phones…”

“And you never thought about them when you were jumping on mattresses. Just lay down.”

In for a penny, in for a pound… She threw herself on the bed, and he pretended to be injured but she knew better.

She whimpered in delight.

“Ah ah!” He exclaimed.  “This is why you should always listen to me,” he said. “I found the best bed ever….”

She felt a little sleepy, for the bed was too comfy, and she was in such good company…

Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it. She read the text and squealed with glee.

He gave her a look and she explained:

“This other movie I was supposed to be doing… Theon was testing the waters to get me released from my commitment, but the director just cancelled the shooting. I will be getting a settlement, and I don’t have to worry about any legal problems when I show up on set for “The maneless lion!”

“That’s wonderful,” he said, and he looked sleepy as well.

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it lightly. He kept it in his hand and pressed it against his chest as he said:

“I guess that means you’re stuck with me… Err Tony.”

“I guess so.”

“You make me want to puke,” Bronn said from the side.

Tyrion flipped him the bird, and Sansa gave him the British version.

“You know what,” the actor finally said, “I want this bed in my bedroom. We’ll exchange the two sets. What do you think?”

“I can’t blame you. It is really nice, and the mattress is a delight…”

“I just need to hire someone to do the building of everything we bought…”

“Already taken care of,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Really?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner.”

Prompted by Bronn, they left the bed, and went to get a salesman who ordered for a unit to be put in their cart. They walked in the shop, her hand still in his, over his shoulder, and he kept on stealing things that she knew he meant for her to have.

She should have hated it, who was he to invade her space? Yet, she loved it. He never picked anything she would throw in the garbage when he was not looking, and he looked so happy, so carefree… How could she deny him?

She wondered if he would be open to keeping this charade up for a few more weeks, like ten or twenty, or even fifty of them. She kept her mouth shut, and just watched him wip out his credit card when they got to the check out stall.

“Men,” she said, pretending to roll her eyes.

“Women,” he replied, doing just the same.

She would have sworn she heard Bronn whisper:

“Fools in love.”

Chapter Text

They had to have someone follow them with a truck they had rented back at the shop to carry back all their purchases. They should have seen it coming, truth be told, considering the amount of stuff they were bringing back, and that most of it was actual furniture. Thankfully, Varys was able to provide them with an intern from his office to take of that part of the job. Tyrion could not help but wonder if this was the “leaking” intern who had been so instrumental to his agent’s plan so far.

They made their way back to his place, and as they entered, he felt once again extremely self-conscious about what he had done with the place. He was a man, for Pete’s sake, home decoration was not his forte and probably never would be. Bronn put down the bags that contained some of the minor purchases, but they needed the big ones to be brought in and built before they could really start on using the simplest ones.

“You said you had something planned for the actual building?” he asked his companion who was busy in his kitchen, fixing up some tea.

She looked so at ease there, opening a few cupboards to find what she needed before getting the kettle to boil the water.

He liked it, if he was honest, and that was one of his worst qualities, or best faults, or whatever, he tried to always be as honest as possible. It got him a reputation for being a jerk, but truth was basic human politeness in his book.

“Which flavor are you brewing?” He asked, forgetting his previous question.

“I thought we could have some Lapsan Souchong, or Jasmine tea. It may be sound a little feminine, but if you let it brew, it develops a strong taste. “

“Did you get your Bachelor’s degree in tea?” He joked.

“I studied history and politics, with a minor in psychology, but in England, we call it an undergraduate degree.”

“I would have thought you would have gone with something literature related…”

“I thought so too, but when I arrived to enroll, I encountered an old friend of my father who convinced me to take that course. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. The bonus part was the fact that most of the work could be done online and my teachers were very understanding about my inability to sit in at every class…”

“Do you want to pursue it further?”

“I do not know, quite frankly. I mean, education is amazing, and I feel like I should take advantage of the fact that it is something I can access, but right now, or for the next couple of years, I think I’ll focus on my acting career. Besides, I can always go back to literature, if I chose to.”

“I went to Julliard, and got a Masters in Fine Arts. It was a good time to be a student. I also did learn some things that ended up being useful, but I will admit I kept going till getting a Masters mostly because of the opportunities it provided I knew I would never get elsewhere, or I would perhaps get, but based on name recognition as my brother and sister were already in the business.”

“It is good that you got to do things on your own, on your own terms and more. Did you live on campus?”

“I did not, but spent as much time there as I could.”

“Tea is ready, and I believe our help has arrived,” she said as someone rang his doorbell.

He had forgotten he had such a device, given that his apartment was the only one on the floor, but it seemed she had told Bronn or someone else to let whoever was ringing through to his floor.

He went for the door, and opened it, not certain was to expect.

“Hey little man,” Tormund said when they were face to face.

“Hey, big scary dude from my nightmares.”

The giant punched him on the shoulder, and Tyrion was mighty proud he managed to remain on his feet and not end up rolling across the apartment as the man laughed.

“Sansiona!” He yelled, completely at ease. “I brought you a present!”

“Well, do come in,” Tyrion muttered.

He saw the tall red-haired man get out a magazine and all but laugh his ass off as he showed it to his Lady.

“Oh Tormund!” the woman said, before switching quickly to Gaelic.

Tyrion approached and saw the cover of the tabloid. It showed two pictures. One was of them, Sansa and he, along with their agents the morning before as they went in to Tony’s office, and the second one was of Sansa laughing with a black-haired man, with her hand on his shoulder as he had his own on her hip.

“What the fuck?”

Trouble in paradise already? Was the title of the shitty thing.

Tyrion grabbed it and read the subtitle, which said: “even though her new squeeze got her a new part in a Thompson movie, Sansa Stark came back to Earth and went for a stroll with this major hottie, a nice break from her hunchback.”

“Tyrion,” Sansa started.

“I’m reading,” he said in his most neutral voice.

He could almost taste the venom on his tongue and had to swallow it to make sure he did not attack her. Why the fuck was he being chaste if she was not?”

He turned the pages, unable to stop himself until he got to the article. He was seething fury and his vision was blurry, making it impossible for him to read the text, but the pictures… Oh they spoke volume alright. He had never seen Sansa so relaxed, so young, carefree… On some pictures, she was messing with her “companion”’s hair, and he wanted to find the closest razor and just shave the whole goddamn mane. On other pictures, the asshole was tickling her. Who the fuck was he? Where had he been raised? ‘Cause sure, Tyrion from the crappiest family of them all, but he had been taught that you never went for another man’s woman unless she gave signs. Had Sansa given him signs? He was not even that handsome, just borderline pretty, and for Fuck’s sake, smaller than she was!

“He doesn’t know?” Tormund asked his friend.

“What do you think?” Sansa snapped. “You know how I said I would bring your crush around at your place? You just jeopardized that big time buddy…”

“Who the fuck is this asshole?” Tyrion finally roared.

“Have some tea first,” she tried to say.

“Sansa….”

“Drink your bloody tea, you stupid man, or you will regret it. The intern who can’t keep his mouth shut is finishing delivering the packages in the spare bedroom, let him leave before you keep this ridiculous scene up.”

“Sansa…” He started again.

“I said, drink your freaking tea! Both of you, or you will regret it more than you already will,” she said in the softest voice, yet it sent chills down his spine and made him wonder if he had overstepped.

Tormund joined him at the bar and they both sat on stools, the giant looking like a sad puppy, and she poured them each a cup.

He was beyond seething. He was all but foaming at the mouth, and when Bronn made his was through the apartment, showing the intern the door, he tried t give him a sign. Tyrion was too mad to interpret it.   

When the door closed, Sansa gestured for them to stay silent until she could hear the elevator coming to pick up the intern. Bronn apparently decided to stay outside for a while.

“As I am the most levelheaded person in this room at this particular moment,” she then started, “I’m going to give you one opportunity, just one though, to rephrase your question.”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Tyrion remembered Theon warning him about this attitude Sansa sometimes used to allow people to walk back their comments, but boy was he not in the mood.

“Who the fuck is this…. Dipshit?” He asked, thrusting the tabloid her way.

She did not even lower her eyes to see the piece of paper, and said, while looking him in the eyes:

“Tormund, go fetch Bronn from the corridor. You guys need to figure out how to possibly just exchange mattresses in the two bedrooms, or maybe have a plan on how to move the bedframes too. You’ll do that with the door closed.”

The redhaired man looked relieved he got a job that allowed him to leave the room. He went to look for the driver slash bodyguard, and the two of them all but ran into the master bedroom.

“Tyrion, you will never, ever speak to me this way again, you hear me?” She asked calmly.

“You’re not answering!”

“And I won’t if we don’t have a simple agreement on the fact that I, like everybody else, deserve the benefit of the doubt, that we are both in a very messy business where our private lives get distorted to fit whatever narrative anybody deems interesting. You can say you understand, or we can call this charade off right now. I will not stand in the presence of someone who has no respect for me. Once was enough.”

“Sansa…”

“I gave you all the benefit of the doubts when that tart kept throwing herself at you at Mr Thompson’s office, making sure you could see her bosom and the fact that she was not wearing a bra. I’m quite certain astronauts on Mars got a spectacle from all her pumping her chest and pressing it so tight against her top you’d think she was waiting for a farmer to come and bloody milk her.”

Oh, so she caught on Maura’s little games…. Of course she did, the chit had been as discrete as… well she hadn’t been discrete at all.

 “You deserve the benefit of the doubt,” he said through gritted teeth, because the thought of her calling off their arrangement here and there made him want to go pick a fight with Tormund, and he did not need a psychology degree to know that was his self-destructive side taking over.

“Thank you.”

“But who the…. Hell is he?” He asked again, unsure how much more of this he could stand.

“Tyrion, how many men are there in my life?”

“Well, according to this magazine, at least one too many…”

“What about according to me? I’m listening.”

Geeze, the woman would be one fearsome mother one day, frightening her teenage sons into submission. But he was no teenager and she sure as hell was not his late mother.

“According to you, there’s Theon, your brother slash agent, Tormund, Ramsay fucking Bolton, your brother Bran.

“Wrong about Ramsay, but you’re missing people.”

He almost made a very despicable remark, about needing to name her dead relatives, but he had the brains to keep it in.

“Prince Loras too.”

“And?”

“Fucking Bronn.”

She took a sip of her own tea, and he wondered what she was waiting for. Turned out, she was waiting for him to get his intellect back, he realized, as he said:

“Your brother Jon too.”

“I do realize that we never talked about how my family looks like. You know who my mother is, and you probably imagine that we’re all red haired, with blue eyes. That would be the signature Tully look.  However, my father had grey brownish eyes, and dark hair. I wish I could explain, but of his brood, I am the only one who looks like a Tully, and not a Stark.”

Oh God, was this dread he felt in the pit of his stomach? Was it how it felt to know you were wrong, and expect a scolding and get none? He wished she would yell. He knew how to handle people yelling, not people baring their soul to him.

“I must admit one of my biggest wonder about Rickon was how his hair would have turned out. He was always a bit of a mix, blonde as a kid, but when he turned six, his hair started changing, and I know my parents would joke about him becoming a mix between both their hair color.”

“The man they’re saying you cheated on me with is actually your brother Jon.”

“That he is. That he is,” she said again, looking far in the distance, as if unsure how to go on.

“How come you did not tell me you had been papped with him yesterday?”

“Probably because I did not know. I also was in complete ignorance of anyone catching our party of four going for my audition. We can expect those pictures to pop elsewhere with people saying I am using you for your connections. I was terrified yesterday afternoon, waiting for an answer about how my reading had gone through. Theon told Jon, as he is staying at his place right now, and Jon showed up announced, and took me out. He forced me to go feed ducks in Central Park. It was as close as being back to Winterfell he could muster in such a short amount of time. As we were in a private part of the Park, near where Brienne lives, I forgot about the paparazzi.”

They kept silent, and he wished he could drink his tea, as she was doing, but his stomach felt queasy. He was almost positive he was this close to throwing up.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry Sansa…” He blurted out.

“I told you, you would be,” she said, but there was no malice, and even thought she was saying “told you so”, it felt like a sad realization.

He felt like he had disappointed her in some major way and had no idea how to fix it.

“I really am sorry. I don’t know how to say it more eloquently. My friends often joke that I don’t have a jealous bone in my body, and it seemed they were wrong. In fairness to them, even I didn’t know it….”

“And we’re not even dating.”

Why don’t you rip out my heart and step all over it? No wait, please do that, maybe it will make me feel less like an ass and it will make you feel vindicated.

“Sure, we’re not dating, but Sansa, you really are something, you know? You and I, we’re Persephone and Hades. You’re the beautiful daughter of Summer, and I’m the ugly bastard who covets what is not his, at least in the media’s eyes. They assume you ate the pomegranates seeds, but we’re still running in circles, trying to see if you deem it worthy of your precious time… I don’t know any of your Scotsmen, except for the one who brought this ignominy in my house, but I can certainly understand why they would have insisted on you being their duchess. I would want you to be mine too.”

He was perfectly aware of the several meanings one could find there and had no intention of clearing things up. Let her read what she wanted in it, he knew what he meant.

“Please, don’t ever accuse me of doing so hurtful as deceiving you without giving me a chance to explain things. I am not perfect, far from it,” she went on. “I can screw things up, but please, trust for a fact that I would never do anything that could hurt you knowingly. You matter too much, to me that is.”

“I really am sorry, Sansa…”

“So am I.  Now, if you don’t want to drink the tea, it’s perfectly fine, but I think we should go check on Tormund and Bronn.”

He nodded, and took a gulp of his cup, feeling desperate by the fact that he had been missing on some great tea, but it was cold now, and he did not want to make her care for him, especially when he had acted like such a dick.

When they opened the door to the master bedroom, the two men were in a show and tell demo it seemed, showing their tattoos and scars to the others in a way that reminded Tyrion of Lethal Weapon 3, with Mel Gibson and Renee Russo.

“If you guys end up having babies, they will be ugly as fuck,” he said.

He heard Sansa chuckle, and it was like it had ripped open the sky, allowing the sun to shine on them once again.

He could see that Tormund wanted to say something, but he was too busy checking on Sansa in Gaelic. Tyrion wondered if there was an app to help him learn it. Otherwise, he could always ask Sansa… But that would not be a good idea, giving his fantasies about a hot student teacher relationship too much fodder….

“Ah ah ah,” Bronn answered. “This coming from the guy who has the ‘Lovely Days’ DVD in his bedroom? Sticks and stones, Tyrion, sticks and stones….”

“Wait, what?” Sansa asked.

He was not blushing, no sir, he was not. Except he probably was. Dammit. When Theon had mentioned the movie and said that he needed to be ready if Sansa ever decided to open up to him about her experience shooting that movie, well he just had to buy it and see it, didn’t he? Sure, the four or five or fifteenth extra-viewings had been for research only, and perhaps because Sansa was so amazing as a genius nerd, but he know felt like he would be ready, should she choose to open up.

“So you’ll be swapping the bedframes too,” Tyrion told the men. Mattresses and all. I like my new bed so much I want it to be my new bed. Chop chop!”

Their two helps started groaning before going to the second bedroom to prepare whatever, and he found himself unable to ignore Sansa’s scrutiny.

“Why do you have this movie in your bedroom?” She asked him.

“I just… You’ll be the death of me. Theon said something about you maybe sharing something that happened while shooting this movie and I thought I would do research, and may I say, Ramsay Bolton, such a crappy actor…”

She said nothing, did not start sharing, but he figured it would come in due time. However, she smiled lightly, the way she did when she was especially pleased with him, like she was worried that a full-blown smile would blind him. And it probably would. For Fuck’s sake I’m so whipped, and not getting any.

It took them all four all afternoon and part of the night, but when they were done, he had a brand new second bedroom which was lovely and everything he had never dreamt it could be. His own bedroom had changed with his new bed. He could not voice out why he had chose to change the whole bed, but part of him was mature enough to know that he was turning a new leaf. The previous bed had been the one which had seen several women in it, some he cared about and other he couldn’t remember, but this new bed, well… He did not want to jinx himself or get his hopes up. All he knew was that he really felt like his philandering days were over.

Tormund crashed on his couch as he took a tour of his place, as if rediscovering it. He just loved it. Some of the things that had been meant for the guest bedroom had ended up in his own, and he had no regrets.

“Do you like it, My Lord?” Sansa asked.

All afternoon, they had been joined at the hip, and he had loved it. However, if he had any doubt abut whether or not he was forgiven about his crazy outburst, her using her pet name for him made him feel like he had won her forgiveness, and man, it felt like being reborn.

“More than that. It’s perfect. I may have to ask you to redo my bedroom next,” he said.

“Shouldn’t your next girlfriend do that?”

“You’re my current girlfriend who’s not my girlfriend and I decide. All in favor of the girlfriend who is not technically my girlfriend getting a say in how I arrange my place, say “yay.” Yay. Motion passed with a unanimous consensus.”

Another chick would have said something along the lines of ‘you’re weird’, or similar, but she just laughed and made a joke about him needing to get some more parts to be able to pay for all the money she would be spending on his place. He loved it. If he had been tweeting about it, he would have put it in all caps too. He LOVED it.

“We never discussed it before, and of course we would need to run it by Varys and Theon, but my sister Arya, she just turned sixteen,” Sansa started.

“Happy birthday to her! Do you want to send her a gift?”

“That would have been lovely, but she turned before we started this thing.”

Strange to think three weeks ago, she had not been in his life.

“However, she is now considered an adult when it comes to the fencing competition world, and she will be attending the World Fencing Championship for the first time alongside the regular players. I will be going to cheer her on. Would you like to come? It is of course not a requirement or an obligation, but I was thinking, since you don’t know what my siblings look like…”

“I’d be delighted,” he cut her off, feeling blessed she was offering to spend more time with him.

“I’ll talk to Theon about it then…”

“Tony may want to start shooting a smidge earlier than planned,” he said, remembering he had told his friend he would see how the actress reacted to that bit of news. “Instead of starting in three weeks, he’s asking everybody to get back at him with a date when they can start.”

“I’m available almost right away, at least right after my sister kicks everybody’s arse at the championship.”

“You are not afraid for her?”

“Nope. Arya will finally meet opponents who can match but not rival her mastery and her craft, and she’ll slay them, figuratively speaking of course.”

“Don’t put too much pressure on her…”

“You clearly have not met my sister yet, but you will soon!”

“Speaking of sisters,” he heard himself say. “Mine is having her birthday on Sunday evening. Would you… be my plus one?”

He had never considered attending Cersei’s and Jamie’s celebration, but there was this new part of him, this part he had never known or experienced, who just wanted to show off his precious girlfriend everywhere. Nobody needed to know she was not his actual girlfriend.

“I’ll need to run it by Theon, but if it were just up to me, I’d say yes. Theon needs to have a say, considering the comments your sister made about me all that time ago. He’ll know if I should show up or not.”

“You definitely should show up, and rub how young and perfect, how talented and humble, and everything she’s not in her face. That is just my humble opinion. But of course, run it by your brother.”

They sat in silence, on his new bed in the master bedroom, and he was trying to think of ways to invite her to relax, and perhaps, take a nap when she sat straight up and said:

“I’m about to fall asleep, I need to get back home, you should be the one christening your new bed….”

We could christen the bed alright… Shut up, Tyrion, you’re being a dick. You’re always a dick, mind you, but rein it in, unless you want to be tossed to the curb!

He smiled as if understanding, and walked her back to the living room, where Bronn was waiting to take her home alongside all the trinkets Tyirion had bought for her place.

She kissed his cheek on her way out, and he kissed her hand, before thanking her from the bottom of his heart for her help. Watching her go was both a delight, as her hips swayed as she walked, and a torture, wondering when they would see each other next.

“Tormund,” he found himself exclaiming. “I need your help.”

“What’s up Little man?”

“I need your help.”

What felt like hours later, they stood in front of a very big dog who was pregnant and about to give birth.

“Are you sure you want to give Sansa a dog?” Tormund asked him.

I want to give her the world. Where did that come from?

“I really believe I do. Are you sure this is her favorite race of dogs?”

“It’s a Northern dog. A Huski will remind her of home. When she was young, her father used to have half a dozen of those.”

“How will I know which dog to claim?” The actor asked. “I don’t want to fuck up…”

“When the pups are born, you’ll come back and meet them after they’ve opened their eyes. You should know right away which one Sansa will want. If you don’t, call me and I’ll come and help you pick. Anyway, it will be a couple of months before you can actually gift the puppy to her.”

“What are you implying?”

“After the scene I caused today, are you sure you guys will still be together in two months?”

The dreaded question. He had no answer for it, except he had.

“Absolutely.”

Sure, it was his hopeful side talking, but come Hell or high water, either he would be giving his Lady a dog worthy of her in two months, or he would end up with a dog of his own too big for his size. The gambler in him was willing to take that bet, and so was the seducer.

“Whatever you say, man. I’ll go tell the owner you’ve decided you want to claim one of the puppies when they’re born. You will be asked for a deposit when the mother gives birth.”

I could give the deposit now. Shut up Tyrion. No, seriously, shut up.

His heart and he needed to have a discussion, about keeping his crush hidden, otherwise Sansa would dump him faster than something nasty. She was not ready. He could wait. All he had to do, was make her fall in love with him.

Jesus-Christ, why couldn’t this be an infatuation? Making her fall in love with imperfect him would be his own world fencing championship.

Chapter Text

Excerpts from different newspapers :

« Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark, a modern fairytale?”

No one was willing to put much stock into the initial reports abut Tyrion Lannister, the multiple Oscar nominee and the young debutante Sansa Stark, but this seem to be heating up faster than anyone had anticipated. We acquired pictures showing the two actors going to meet with Anthony Thompson, the movie director, with whom Tyrion is supposed to start shooting “The Maneless Lion” in the coming weeks if not days. On the pictures, one can spot without a doubt Sansa’s hand on Tyrion’s arms, and insiders told us that the mug the actor seemed to be drinking from actually belongs to Sansa. Could he have grabbed it that morning after leaving her bed, before making their way to the director’s office? Also, News broke that Sansa signed a deal to be part of the movie in question, could their visit be related to this sudden decision?

“They totally came begging for the chick to get a part on the new movie,’ An insider said to us privately. ‘She is unknown and will soon be forgotten but they both acted like her being part of the movie would be the most important thing ever. And I’m like, whatevs’, I’ve been in several Thompson movies and no one knows my name… Then again, this is a typical older actor move. When they find a chick who is into them and is young enough to not see how flawed they are, they tend to try to get them on their movies ASAP, hoping the chick will not come to her senses before the end of the promo tour. It’s sad, really, super sad when you think about it. Shouldn’t you trust the person you’re with to stay with you even if you end up being super busy on set? Whatever floats their boat I guess, just don’t expect me to toss out a buoy if things get hairy, and they always do.”

Later that day, pictures emerges showing Sansa Stark with a hunk her age or so but when asked about this, her agent, Theon Greyjoy refused to give us an answer about the state of the Sansa and Tyrion love story, preferring to laugh us out of his office upon seeing the pictures.

This morning, we were gifted with pictures of the infamous couple going our on a shopping spree in a well-known store in Manhattan. Though no PDA was caught on camera, the pair seemed as strong as ever, taking pleasure in each other’s company, bickering. An employee tells us:

“They were shopping for a bed. A bed! They laid on the model they ended up buying, and it was so intimate, I felt bad for watching them but I couldn’t look away! They were just too cute for words. I’d never thought I’d say this about Tyrion Lannister but when he was with Sansa Stark, he was so tender! This is not the man I’m used to seeing on my TV, you know?”

So what’s next? We don’t know. All we know is that we like the Sansa and Tyrion pairing much more than we initially thought. However, what about this hunk? Did Tyrion inadvertently convert Sansa to polyamory? We’ll keep you posted!

“Tyrion and Sansa, or how Hollywood got crazier than it already was”

Yes, you read that right, and no your eyes aren’t deceiving you. In the last couple of weeks, the two most unlikely people have been caught on camera spending time together, and while nothing incriminating was caught on film, it’s in the small things, the small gestures, the little details that you will come to the same realization than us, meaning that Hollywood became the place where the “Suicide Squad” could have emerged.

Vertically challenged Tyrion Lannister, 37, American artist who needs no introduction has been spotted hanging out with uptight and taller than him Sansa Stark, 19. At first, it made no sense to us, probably made no sense to them either, but since pictures emerged showing the two going to meet with a director, and announcing Sansa’s engagement on a big project, perhaps this story is starting to make sense. We did say maybe.

Stark will be playing a secondary part in the next big Lannister-Thompson movie, which could explain why the two have been joined at the hip since the Metropolitan Gala. They were spotted going for coffee, for dinner. If you put this all in the grand scheme of the two of them working on their future collaboration, it does make sense, right? Except pictures emerged yesterday showing the two at Ikea of all places. That is not a professional date, we’ve asked around the office just to make sure we were not missing something but all our collaborators agreed: this outing does not fit the narrative of the two actors getting together to work on their movie. Which prompts us to say that Hollywood has finally lost its mind, and even we, fine observers of this word, can’t make sense of this.

People will tell you about Tyrion using Sansa’s signature travel mug, or the fact they have been spotted holding hands several times in the past. One of our sources even managed to let us know that Lannister had made a donation after Sansa’s appearance on TV, talking about the sad demise of her younger brother who lost a fight to leukemia.

So, who’s got the good pills, and can we get some?

“The Scottish Princess and the Rogue American”

Beloved actress Sansa Stark, born in England and raised in England seems to be enjoying a new romance, with Tyrion Lannister, of all people. The people’s darling apparently encountered the American while at a gala where she lit the whole ballroom with her style and has been spotted several times in his company. Lately, she was even seen buying furniture with him at a shop of poor taste, but beggars can’t ben choosers, and our lovely princess, lost in the Big Apple, probably saw no other option than to go to this particular store.

Sansa Stark was previously linked for almost a year to another Brit sweetheart, Ramsay Bolton, but the two called it quits almost two years ago. Some fans still hold a candle for the couple to reunite, but more and more seem to be letting themselves be seduced by this new romance the lovely redhaired may be pursuing. “The heart wants what it wants,” one devoted fan said, “and if Sansa wants Tyrion, well, I want her to have him. As long as he remembers that Great-Britain will have him extradited should he hurt our beloved princess.”

While this pairing may not seem an obvious one, the more pictures come up, the more it feels like obvious or not, the two have decided to travel the path of life and love for a while together. Time will tell, of course, the two of them starring in the same movie possibly providing the first big test the unlikely couple will have to go through, if they make it through promo without hating each other, we will whole-heartedly give them our blessing.

Several real estate specialists are rumored to be sending Tyrion Lannister’s offers for flats in both London and Aberdeen. Bets are being made in every shop about how long the couple will last, and if indeed, the two are a couple. Sure, life goes on, but the Brits are thirsty for a  love story, given the fact that poor Princess Maergery has not encountered much success in her pursuit of love so far, and her royal brother, Prince Loras, has been really discrete on the dating scene.

We’re not above begging or threatening. Tyrion, treat Sansa good or you will have to deal with all of us. Sansa, if you feel like you’ve met your match, please have the ceremony in your birthplace. Plus, our school system is so much better than the American one… With love, the Brits.

Disclaimer: while the authors of this piece are sincere, they of course don’t speak for the whole British nation

Chapter Text

“So, are you getting adjusted to your new apartment?” Varys asked in way of saying hello when Tyrion arrived.

“I don’t have a new apartment, just a few different items here and there…”

“Sure… May I remind you that I have the ability to see your bank account and know just hos much you spent yesterday on your little trip? Unless you bought diamonds and sapphires, I’m expecting your place to sport a completely different look next time I visit.”

Tyrion flipped his agent the bird and was surprised to hear him laugh, until he realized he was holding two fingers up, as the Brits did, with his palm facing away from him. Funny how the US often mistook it for the victory sign but to Sansa, it was the bird.

“I can see you’re learning much from Miss Stark. Please, let her teach you some manners…” Varys pretended to pray.

This time Tyrion only showed one finger but his meaning was still clear as day.

“I need to talk to you, when you’re done being a dick,” his agent said.

“I’m all ears. But apparently I can’t control my hands.”

“You control them perfectly fine, which is why you flip birds like you’re part of a flock. I got off the phone with Theon, and he told me that you had agreed to go with Sansa to her sister’s fencing something?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t perfectly what you’re talking about. World fencing championship. Arya is competing. Sansa sent me a text yesterday letting me know that her sister had passed the qualification stage and that on the day after tomorrow, she’ll be fencing with the best of them.”

“Meeting the family… Are things getting more serious than anticipated?” Varys asked, ignoring all his talk about knowing that his agent knew better.

Tyrion thought about it for a moment. The more this thing happened or just took place, the more he felt like Varys had an ulterior motive that went beyond redeeming his poor reputation. This did not sit particularly well with him, for the man knew nothing of Sansa and what her life had been like. Who was he to decide that he would trap her with his client, Tyrion bloody Lannister?

“Your point being?”

“Did you look Arya online, to know who to cheer for? I never took you for a big fencing fan.”

“No, I didn’t. I promised Sansa. She wants to see if I can spot which of the fencer is her beloved and cherished baby sister.”

“And you did not cheat?”

“I haven’t cheated on any part of anything ever since we gave this thing a try, and you know it.”

“Just know that….”

“I shouldn’t look for a redhead. Don’t be a prick and make me cheat by proxy. Sansa already mentioned her sister did not have her mane.”

“I saw the pictures with her brother by the way. Do you want us to make a statement?”

Tyrion should not have felt any surprise upon realizing Varys already knew who Jon was, but he did, anyway, because he was still a bit stupid at times.

“There will be no need. Jon will be attending the championship. I don’t know if you need to send a paparazzi our way, I expect the other attendees to take pictures of the Stark family, with me by their side, squelching all rumors that have spread on the internet.”

“Did you research those articles?”

“I did not, but you know that my phone sometimes offers me link to articles which are poplar, and I saw that there were more than one article claiming that Sansa and I have called it quit, despite our going out for furniture.”

Varys looked at him, and as always, Tyrion felt like he could read him like an open book.

“You did not like the articles that pretended that Sansa cheated on you, did you?”

“Of course not. I’m not a dick. Well, yes, I’m a dick, but when it comes to Sansa, she’s nothing of the sort, and all those bastards implying that she could be duplicitous… Fucking asses. She’s not my sister… Which reminds me, she’s meeting my folks, or seeing them again, for Cersei and Jamie’s birthday,” he finally said.

“Which is precisely why I need to talk to you. As I said, I got off the phone with Theon, Sansa signed her contract for your common project by the way… My point though is not this. She is willing to go this celebration as your plus one but confided in her brother that she harbors some fears.”

“I’ll kill Cersei if she says anything….”

“That is one worry, indeed. On the other hand, she’s happy that Brienne Tarth will be attending too. She feels like Brienne could bitch slap your sister.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

“Of course not, but the two women have a bound, which brings us to the point I’ve been trying to make.”

“You haven’t been trying to make anything, you’ve been meandering just for shits and giggles. Just go ahead and say what you have to say.”

“She’s afraid the Tully bombshell will be dropped at the party.”

“I don’t think Cersei knows about this…”

“But Robert Baratheon does,” Varys said, looking like the cat who had gorged on canaries.

“Wait, what?”

“Apparently, he was a close friend to her father, even the godfather to her late elder brother. She does not know how he will react to seeing her.”

“Oh.”

This was a bombshell, alright.

“Furthermore, even if this bit is not revealed, our young actress is afraid your sister will start a rumor of some sort, something nasty…”

“Something Cersei-esque, you mean.”

“Indeed.”

They kept silent for a few seconds.

Tyrion thought about what he could do, but there was only thing in his power. If it had been any other girl, he would never have considered it, but this was Sansa. He grabbed his cell and dialed a number he never used.

“Cecily, tell my father I need to talk to him. Yes of course its Tyrion, you stupid chit. How many sons does my father have?”

Varys gave him a look that expressed pride, which felt weird and absurd, but he had other things to worry about. His father’s secretary was as dumb as he remembered.

Finally, he was put through.

“Tyrion, I thought you had forgotten this number altogether,” Tywin said, and Tyrion mimicked shooting himself in the mouth, before putting his cellphone on the table and putting it on speaker.

Since Varys was listening, there was no reason to not let him in on the conversation which was sure to be a pain in his ass.

“Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your family at whatever distance you can stand them,” he told his dear old dad.

The man had a humorless laugh, and replied:

“How are things going with the Tully girl?”

“That’s why I’m calling actually. Jamie invited me to his birthday celebration at Cersei’s, and I want to come with Sansa.”

“How lovely… Meeting the in-laws…”

“One more comment like that and I’m taking her to fucking Argentina rather than bringing her to meet you all vultures.”

“Don’t… I’ll…. Refrain from making such comments. I would like to meet… Sansa.”

“Don’t say her name like you would say chlamydia.”

“There’s no pleasing you, is there?”

His father seemed perhaps honest in his comment.

“There is, but I need you to be Tywin Lannister. Cersei has been heinous to Sansa in the past, and I don’t want my ….girlfriend….”

How stange it felt to claim her as his anything when he knew he was on borrowed time. The scene from the day before had proved that she would be willing to drop him like a hot potatoe if he did things she could not get behind. Could he blame her though? Not really…

“… to risk being attacked by my sister, because I will not side with my blood if it comes to picking a side.”

“It is true that Cersei can be…”

“A bitch, let’s not dance around words. Does she know Sansa is Cat Tully’s daughter?”

“No, otherwise she would have broadcasted it so much, using it to destroy the girl before she had a chance to make it on the big screen.”

“Well, Sansa is getting a shot at showing the public what she’s capable of. She signed to star in Anthony Thompson’s movie, and it would be very ill timing for this info to get out right now.”

“I heard about that casting news. I also saw pictures. Did you get her hired?”

“Fuck no. I don’t need to explain myself to you, but I’ll do it, just this once, because it’s not me who would suffer from your misconception. I informed Sansa that there was an open part, she auditioned and nailed it. Don’t spread another narrative, or I’ll know it’s you.”

“I’ll make sure your sister keeps her mouth shut.”

“You need to make sure Robert does too.”

“It is true he was godfather to one of her brother’s.”

His father was an octopus, hoarding information, probably hoping for a chance to use to blackmail people later on. Of course, he would know about the Stark-Baratheon connection before he did.

“Well, let’s be honest. Robert has been relying on your money to make his half assed movie a lot lately. You need to let him know that if a pip escapes him, he’ll pay it in kind.”

“And why should I do that? You’re acting like you’ve got the upper hand, but you don’t.”

“Fuck you.”

He took a deep breathe in and then took a page from the Sansa’s playbook.

“Let’s be reasonable. You want to make me believe something we both know is wrong. I have all the cards. I have the upper hand. You know how I know it? I’ve got the girl, or woman, to be more accurate. You admitted you wanted to meet Sansa. I know you once had hoped to seduce her mother, and I’m happy you failed, as it means I was born. The thing is, you never forgot Cat Tully. I won’t hazard a guess or pretend I know she was your first love or something so outrageous. What I know is what you told me. You want to meet her. I’m willing to let it happen, but I need you to meet me halfway, otherwise, whatever the capital of Argentina is, we’re coming.”

“That would be Buenos Aires, and I’ll have a word with Robert. I would like Sansa to feel if not welcome, at least not in hostile territory when tagging along with you. Who knows, one day, she may end up giving me grandchildren….”

Wow wow wow… Trust his father to go overboard right away.

“I want to believe you, but you must understand that we’ll be leaving the moment I feel like she’s not getting the respect she deserves.”

“To have gotten you to be so serious about a relationship in such a short amount of time, I really look forward to meeting her.”

“Please don’t scare her into leaving me.”

“Nonsense, I’d never do that.”

“By being your intense self, you would. Be chill. Or as chill as you can. But I guess, drumrolls for what I’m about to say, thank you father, for understanding.”

“Thank you, son, for trusting me with your secrets even though I already knew them. I know we’ve never…”

“Oops, Thompson calling, need to go, see you on Sunday…”

Tyrion ended the phone call as fast as he could. He was not there and was pretty sure he would never be. So now that he was dating not dating yet dating Sansa, his father suddenly had regrets about their crappy relationship? Fuck him.

“Fuck him.” He said.

“You did a good thing. I’ll be able to phone Theon and tell him not to worry about his sister in the lion’s den.”

“So many things can go wrong…”

“Still, you were good,” Varys said. “I have to admit I did not know if you would go through with this, but I’m glad you did.”

“I need a drink.”

“Alcohol or tea?”

“Only Sansa knows how I like my tea.”

“Then Brandy it is.”

Tyrion felt like he deserved this, and accepted the drink, before asking his agent:

“Don’t be a dick, but do you have any idea what I’m supposed to wear when attending a world fencing championship?”

The look on Varys’ face, the way he smiled was creepy as fuck. What had he asked?

Chapter Text

“I have missed you so much! I’m so glad you’re back!” Sansa exclaimed, as she hung onto Brienne’s arm.

 “Oh Kiddo, I’ve missed you too…”

They were in Central Park, Brienne having arrived that morning. Apparently, Jamie Lannister had managed to slip in his contract that he would get a free week in order to prepare his birthday, and since Brienne was very much his only partner on the movie they were shooting together, this meant she had been able to come back  from Greenland.

“I need to learn to Skype, or Facetime, or whatever, ‘cause I’ve missed your sweet little face!” the blonde said, grabbing her friend’s chin.

“And I have missed yours, like crazy.”

“From what I heard, you have been pretty busy lately though… No judgement, just saying…”

“You’re never ‘just saying’, and you do love to judge.”

“What can I say? I’m British! And I’ve got French blood! It’s like my whole body and mind have been engineered in order to judge!”

 Sansa did not answer, simply enjoyed the feeling of her friend next to her, of their arms linked together. This was not a conversation she looked forward to having, so she tried to soak everything in before she made her best friend mad.

“Sans’? Why aren’t you getting on my judgmental patterns?”

“I just do not have it in me, not today I think.”

“I also heard you had been freed from this horrible commitment and have been cast in a Thompson movie, I’m so proud of you darling!”

She wanted to kiss Brienne, jump in her arms, jump on her back, do all those things she would never allow herself to do, especially in public. Trust her friend to be happy and proud of her when she had so much on her own plate. She silently thanked her mother, wherever she was, for bringing Brienne into her life.

“Thank you, I must admit I have trouble believing it myself. I keep reading the script over and over again, and I have trouble believing I will actually be part of this amazing adventure.”

“You’re going to shine so bright, people will be talk about the great Stark reveal for ages to come…”

“No pressure of course…”

“So, keep me up to date, sweet girl… I have alluded to your being in the spotlight for non movie related reasons and you’ve been hiding and pretending you never heard me mentioned this. Don’t shut me out!”

“You did and I did, but it is only because I’m so scared of what you’ll think of me…”

“Ok, Sans’, blood of my blood, except not really, but you get my meaning, you know I’m shooting a movie with a guy I hate even though I could have spared myself the agony. But no, I thought, ‘why not put yourself through hell for at least eight weeks with this guy’s who makes you want to punch him in the face until he loses all his teeth?’ Of course I judge, but it is only a way to protect myself because I’m so tired of people thinking they can shoot straight arrows at me for no reasons whatsoever…”

Brienne took the young woman face in her gloved palms and said:

“Talk to me, babe.”

“I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing, I want to state that for the record before I go any further, but I don’t want you to think for a second your opinion is not valued. As you mentioned, I have been in the news lately for pseudo sentimental reasons, one could say. The truth is, I’m not really dating Tyrion Lannister. I spend time with him, and he’s a wonderful being, but I did not know that before agreeing to embark on this folly…”

“Tyrion is the shizzle. Don’t tell people I said that. Don’t tell Tyrion I said that. He can also be quite narcissistic. But what do you mean…”?

“About three weeks ago, and a couple of days on top of that I guess, Theon called me in and told me that to make my profile more noticeable in the business, he had come up with a plan. I would pretend to see Tyrion Lannister for a few dates and we would part ways, both having taking advantage of our arrangement. He needed to fix his image, as he apparently has been featured in the news cycle for the wrong reasons a little too much lately and people seeing me in his company would think about me in a different context than the bland one I seem to carry.”

“Wait…Was that what you were asking abut at the Met Gala?” Brienne asked, as she seemed to be putting the puzzle together extremely quickly.

“Yes…. We were supposed to have our first outing, and I was not sure…”

“And are you sure now?”

“I guess so… I mean, it’s been more than a couple of dates, and I’ve formed a bond with him. He was the one to push for me to audition for the Thompson movie. He gave money to the Leukemia research center anonymously, and set up a fond for kids…”

In a low voice, but feeling extremely protective of the man, Sansa shared with her friend the events of the past weeks.

“And now you’ll be shooting a movie with him. You can drop the charade anytime you want, and still reap the benefits…”

“Except I do not want to drop the game. I can’t explain it. He makes me feel… Important.”

“You are important.”

“You must know what I mean…”

“Sort of, sure, but OK. I just feel the need to say, I like Tyrion, I really do, but be careful Sansa, he’s a thief of the worst kind, runs off with your heart without a second thought… I’ve seen him do it on a couple of movies we were in together. He never really cared about the chicks, only wanted access to their knickers, and once the novelty had passed, he just would not even try to see if there was more to them…”

“That’s your Tyrion, and I respect your experience, but my Tyrion is not like that…”

“Your Tyrion, hum?”

“You know what I mean. When we went back to his place after shopping, we had a huge argument, and I honestly cannot believe a man who’s in it just to get into my knickers would have acted like he did. He got extremely jealous about some pictures of me and Jon, as he did not know that was Jon, and I don’t think a man who is untrustworthy or whatever would have reacted that way. He was genuinely distressed and angry about the thought that I could have fake cheated on him.”

“I guess I can get behind that, if you say so. Between you and I, I have always suspected he must have fallen in love when a young adult and been utterly crushed. When you add his family to the mix, you get a very interesting but sort of dangerous character. Though I must ask, he did not hurt you or made you feel in any way, you know, like Ramsay did?”

“When he had his jealous outburst, he was mad alright, no point in denying it, but even though I was devastated he could think I would play such a dirty trick on him, I never feared him. I was terrified he would not be able to let it go, or that he would turn into a passive aggressive person, and I told him that I was ready to call everything off in the next five minutes if he did not listen. He listened, and calmed down, and he was genuinely distraught that he would have lost my… friendship.”

“From what you shared, you guys hit it off right away. You have inside jokes pet names, you remodeled part of his apartment and he bought stuff for yours. I don’t think he’s ever had any of that…”

“Are you saying it’s a different sort of novelty?” Sansa asked, feeling heartbroken at the thought of being just a shiny new toy.

“Absolutely not. Or maybe. I cannot read his mind. However, having someone who trusts him, that must mean something to him. He is used to being the black sheep, the one who can do no good. You’re showing him otherwise…”

“He called us Persephone and Hades. I think he may be thinking things through, just not going with the flow…. I don’t know. But I did love the flowers he sent the next day to thank me for my work in his flat and my staying with him when I should have gone.”

“Persephone and Hades…. Who knew that he could be such a poet? I’m not judging you, darling, I understand what you explained, and as long as you’re fine with it, I’m fine with it. Oh, does that mean you’re coming to the Lannisters’ extravaganza?”

“I am. And he is coming to see Arya fence tomorrow.”

“I’m coming too. I must see him interact with your brothers and your sister after this fight you guys had. He will feel so … I can’t describe it. Plus, I will get to piss him off and he’ll have to be a doll…”

“Well, not on my account. I don’t want to change him. Just remember while you’re trading barbs that my sister will be the one fighting for what she dreamt of for eons.”

“Tyrion Lannister at a Fencing tournament… It’s sounds like the beginning of a joke.”

“Let’s just hope it does not turn into one.”

Sansa felt relieved beyond words about the way her friend was acting, and remembered a promise she had made, then implied she would not keep.

“Since we’re here, I think there’s someone you should meet…”

“Why did a chill run down my spine?”

“Because you have great instinct? The guy I’m taking you to meet is not dangerous in any way, but he is… intense. Don’t let it scare you. He’s really a good friend.”

“Alright, I’ll trust you on that, but I claim the right to be scared. Just in case.”

“That I can live with.”

They huddled together and made their way to Tormund’s establishment.

“Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll bring my friend and drinks over in a jiffy,” the redhaired told her friend.

“Sansiona!” The man exclaimed when he spotted her.

“You weird Scot,” she just said, before going to hug him. “Tormund, I’d like you to meet my friend Brienne Tarth.”

“Wait, what?”

“I know, you really don’t deserve it, but I’ve brought your crush to you, as promised.”

“How do I look? Fuck, my apron is full of stains? And I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes… Why am I such a slob?”

“It’s too late, just… Put yourself together. I’ll get you some time. Bring us some drinks when you’re ready, alright?” Sansa asked, amused by her friend’s distress and feeling terrible about it.

“Sure, sure, I’ll do that.”

“Tormund… Tormund!” She half yelled before he looked at her. “You can do this, alright? Just take off the apron and put on a new shirt. No one needs to know.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with terror.

She went back outside to sit with her friend, who asked about their drink.

“He needed more time to brew them.”

“Oh, cool. Man, you will not believe how much of a pain in the ass Lannister has been since we left…”

“Why did you agree to shoot a movie with him if you hate him so much?”

“We’ve got great onscreen chemistry. Talk about destiny being a bitch….”

“I think you like him…”

“Are you kidding me? I’d break my vegetarian pledge and eat his brains if he had any.”

“That was one image I really did not need in my head…”

“Well it’s one that won’t leave me alone, so you’ll keep it, and try to get rid of it for me.”

Pod was the one to bring them their drinks, and Sansa felt annoyed beyond words.

“Was that your friend?” Brienne asked. “’Cause he could have been serving anyone, it would have made no difference to him.”

“Why, my day must have been blessed for me to run into my two favorite women on this whole earth,” they heard, and Sansa had to hide a smile when she saw Tyrion approach.

“What about your sister?” Brienne asked.

“She can die for all I care. Plus, I said women, not dragon, so she does not qualify.”

“What are you doing here My Lord?” Sansa asked, as he took a seat next to her.

She could feel Brienne’s eyes on them, especially when he kissed her hand, and she wanted to kick the woman underneath the table, except Brienne would have kicked back, and boy was she strong.

“I was coming back from Varys, and I asked Bronn to take me here, because I wanted some of Tormund’s miracle mixture. What a wonderful idea I had…”

“How are you Tyrion? Is your hand feeling weak from having to wank every time you want to get some?” the blonde asked.

Sansa could barely contain herself from introducing her hand to her face.

“Brienne!” She exclaimed.

“What? I could never pretend I did not know. I would have gaffed. You know me.”

“You told her?” Tyrion asked her, and he looked almost hurt.

“She’s my best friend… I could never lie to her. I’m sorry if I have offended you.”

“You have not. I just… She’s so crude, you know?”

“I’m right here!” Brienne said, clearly annoyed she was being ignored, but Sansa felt like she deserved it, just a tad.

“You have a foul mouth yourself, but I’ve noticed you try to rein it in when around me.”

“Why of course. You’re my Lady.”

“I’m going to bitch slap you, both of you if you keep this up.”

“Brienne!” Tyrion exclaimed. “Such a delight to meet you here! And thank you for caring about my hand, but it’s doing perfectly fine, you needn’t worry.”

“Practice made it perfect? Oh come on don’t start ignoring me again just because I'm being myself. You two are the cheats. I’ve never seen you acting so… proper.”

“What can I say, I needed to meet my match to realize that there were things more important in this world than ….”

“Dude, if you keep on bullshitting me, I’m cutting off your family jewels.”

“Brienne!” Sansa exclaimed again. “Tyrion, I am quite sorry to ask that, but Tormund would not come and get us our drink, Pod brought them. Do you think you can convince him to come with you when you bring back yours?”

“Mission accepted. I will be back with the giant,” the man said before going inside the shop.

For a little while, Brienne did not comment, and it made Sansa extremely uneasy.

“I guess you’re right… There’s my Tyrion, and there’s yours. I think I quite like yours. I just hope he doesn’t disappoint you.”

“He won’t. He sent flowers. He never sends any flower. I asked.”

“You asked him?”

“No, Theon.”

“And Theon knew how?”

“Because Tyrion called him to ask him about the flowers I liked and let it slip that he barely knew how to order for a delivery or a bouquet, period.”

“Aww, that is so sweet!” Brienne exclaimed.

“Shush, they’re back!”

She patted herself on the back silently for having entrusted the man with this important mission. Tormund was walking with him, apron free, in a new shirt, looking like he was about to meet the devil in order to make a deal.

“Brienne, I don’t think you’ve met Tormund yet?”

“Miss Tarth, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” The giant said, before bowing in front of her.

The blonde threw her friends a worried look, but Sansa gestured for her to respond.

“Right back at you. Sansa tells me you’re the owner of this shop?”

“Indeed, I am.”

It was so awkward. Was it how it normally went for people? Sansa wondered. She could not hep but compare this first meeting with hers and Tyrion. Sure, they had been united because of their common cause, but even the night at the gala, she had never felt like she did not know what to say to him.

“You’ve got an accent I can’t quite place,” Brienne went on.

“I’m from Ollaberry, in the Shetland Islands.”

As the two exchanged their first words, Sansa felt Tyrion tug her hand.

“I called my father, earlier today. My family won’t cause you any problem, and Robert the oaf Baratheon will keep his mouth shut about your mother.”

Sansa smiled, unsure what to say. Obviously, Theon had tattled on her, but the fact that the actor had been willing to call the man he often called Beelzebub for her made her want to kiss him on each cheek. So, she did the closest thing she could think of, and took his hand in hers, grabbing it under the table.

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Anything for you princess err I mean Duchess.”

“No, really, thank you. I always believe you will do what is right, and you always surprise me by doing not only what is right, but what is perfect. I could kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” He asked, in a raspy voice.

“Look who’s here, my brother from the same father and mother!” Someone said.

Trust Jaime Lannister to have a flair for the absolute worst timing ever.

“How the fuck did you find me?” Tyrion asked, and Sansa hugged his hand tighter under the table.

“You have not disabled the locate my iPhone feature on your phone.”

“Jesus Christ… San’, do you know how?” Tyrion asked.

He did not need to say the words, and she nodded. He got his cell out, unlocked it and gave it to the actress, who went straight to business. She handed the phone back to the man when she needed his imprint to approve the change. He offered his thumb, looking at his brother in a way she could not completely read. He looked like he could have killed him, but at the same time, like he had hopes for the man. How he must hurt, not being close to his family…

“Arya can’t wait to meet you tomorrow,” she whispered to heir fake boyfriend.

“Won’t she try to skewer me?”

“She won’t. But Jon might… Oh, and Brienne is coming too.”

“Coming where?” The blonde asked, doing her best to ignore her co-star.

“To the championship.”

“Oh yes, I’ll be there. Are you coming too Tormund?”

“I don’t have tickets,” the giant admitted, looking almost ashamed.

“Pish posh, you don’t need one. Just join the Stark party, and we’ll get you in!” Sansa exclaimed.

“Please do come, I’m afraid this one,” Tyrion said, motioning to Brienne, “might try to get me in trouble and have me killed.”

“You know I will try to get you in trouble and killed,” the actress answered.

“What championship?” Jaime asked.

“Sorry, you’re not invited,” Brienne said, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Should we get our drinks and go for a walk?” Sansa asked.

Both Brienne and Tyrion jumped on their feet to follow her. She did not enjoy being unkind to Jaime, but she did not know him, and she did not like how tense he made Tyrion feel.

“Tormund, come to my place tomorrow morning, around 8AM, and we’ll go to the championship.”

“I can’t wait to see Arya. I saw a picture of her in the paper yesterday. I can’t believe she’s the same girl who used to pretend she was a knight.”

“I can. What? Don’t look at me like that,” Sansa exclaimed upon spotting the look on Tyrion’s and Brienne’s faces, for completely different reasons. “She’s my sister, and I trust her to achieve whatever she sets her mind to.”

“Tyrion, I really need to talk to you,” Jaime said.

“I’m sorry, brother, but my girlfriend needs me to walk with her. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

As they walked away, Sansa would have sworn she caught a glimpse of despair and hurt on Jaime’s face but he hid it quickly, talking to Tormund and making of his accent.

“What did he want?” She asked her so-called boyfriend.

“I don’t know, and right now, I don’t care. I’m in the company of two lovely ladies and…”

“I’m not down for a threesome, sorry to burst your bubble,” the blonde actress said.

“Brienne!” exclaimed Sansa and Tyrion at the same time.

They exchanged a look, and while she knew she was blushing, Sansa could not help but join in the laughter.

Chapter Text

Tyrion was nervous as hell, but also calm as a storm brewing. He had woken up hours before his alarm went off, and he was now being led up to Sansa’s place, where they would soon depart and go to the championship.

He would meet her brother and sister, and charm the pants off them.

Or they’d kill him. You know, which ever happened first.

The concierge led him in front of a door, and offered to ring the doorbell for him.

How he hated when people underestimated him because of his achondroplasia. He knocked on the door instead, and the man left him.

He was worried she may not have heard him and was just about to knock again when she opened the door, her hair flying all over her face, and she exclaimed:

“Tyrion! Do come in! I am so sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Nonsense,” He said, as he finally discovered her den.

It was … Well, it was tastefully decorated, but it really did not scream “Sansa” at all. He saw the bag full of trinkets he had brought for her to personalize her place and notice that they were still packed.

“Please don’t be offended by this display,” she said almost immediately, when she followed his glance. “I love all these, but I need to get pictures to use them. I have asked Osha, a woman who is in Winterfell, to send me as many pictures as she could. It should take a couple of days, as I did not want her to pillage the castle but have copies made. When they arrive, I’ll hand them in frames everywhere.”

“I understand, don’t worry. Which reminds me, I have a shelf still wrapped in its box at my place. I figured you forgot to let the boys know what they were supposed to do with it?”

She blushed, and he wanted to bite her peach like cheeks.

Slow your roll, Hannibal Lecter, For fuck’s sake…

“I took it for the next time you get nominated for an Oscar. You’ll have a special shelf you will be able to set wherever you want to display your statue.”

What the hell? You’re not ice cream left in the sun, Lannister, stop fucking melting like a school boy.

“You’re certain the next time will be the right one?”

“Of course. They’ve been robbing you blind for years already. If they don’t hand you a statue next time you’re in the race, they’re just playing a very dirty game with you.”

She gestured for him to explore at his will, and he stayed in the living room taking in the view.

“I’m sorry, I need to finish getting ready. Plus, we need to wait for Tormund. I made some tea if you want in the kitchen, otherwise I took out some coffee if you want to fix yourself a cup.”

“Shouldn’t you say a ‘cuppa’?” He asked.

“Nay. That’s for a strong cup of tea.”

“What if I want a cuppa?” he asked, then felt like a dick, knowing she would offer to fix him some when she was already busy.

“You’ve seen me do it in the past, I’m sure you can manage to strengthen the flavor if the tea I’ve made doesn’t fit your wish,” she said, with a smile on her face.

She knew he would love her brew anyway, but she was giving him free reins in her kitchen. Bold words from a woman who never had seen him cook anything.

He went to the room and found the teapot alongside with the mug. He smelled the fragrance coming from the cup she had fixed herself and decided he would not need to play apprentice wizard. He poured himself some tea, and climbed on a stool, looking at the multiple letters she had put there in a careful order, alongside other packages which had to be scripts. He spotted her version of their movie and felt a smile on his lips.

She came out of the bathroom, or so he figured, fixing her hair in a high ponytail, showing her lovely neck.

She was dressed extremely casually some would have said, but to him she was still a bloody princess. She was wearing black jeans and a shirt with long sleeves, alongside a V-neck. She had a couple of pieces of jewelry, very discreet, but he could not remember one instance when she had not worn them.

She sat next to him, and he loved the silence, because of how comfortable it felt.

“May I ask a very personal question?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to answer, but what did you brother wanted yesterday?”

Tough question indeed. Jaime had texted him twice more the day before, and once this morning, wishing him good luck at the championship. Tyrion could tell he was trying, but why? He had no clue and given how close they were to the twins’ birthday, he could not help but feel very wary of any move his brother pulled.

“Truth be told, I have no idea. I have never been close to my siblings, so his appearing just hours after I had talked to my father, it felt weird. It still does.”

“Do you think he could be genuine in his interest?”

“Maybe? I really don’t know. Maybe he’s just worried about turning 39. I just can’t guess…”

“He looked disappointed when we left.”

“I know what you mean, but I cannot tell you if it had anything to do with me, or if he was mad we were taking Brienne with us. By the way, where are we picking her up?”

“I’ll text her when Tormund arrives. She’s probably ready already, with the time difference and all that.”

“You really enjoy her company, don’t you?”

“Of course. She’s my best friend. Or at least I think she should be. I don’t know how she sees me.”

“She worships you, just like you worship her.”

Sansa blushed again and took a sip of her mug.

“When I was shooting my first movie, Brienne was one of the main characters. Mama asked her to take care of me. She never stopped, even after the movie was done, or Mama was gone.”

“Brienne is amazing. Don’t tell her I said that, she can be quite narcissistic.”

Sansa had a strange smile, and he had a feeling she had heard something along the same lines about him.

“But yeah, she’s a tremendous actress, and I completely understand how you two can have clicked.”

“I love her. She lost her own mother when she was really young, and my mother took her under her wing. She would have adopted her, I’m sure, if Brienne’s father had passed.”

“Making the Stark family even more fearsome….”

“We’re not that bad,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his.

“No, I guess you’re not. I just… never had what you seem to have. Tormund told me about your brother Bran feeling so bad he was not here for Arya’s big day. I have had plenty of big and small days, and no one ever felt bad about not caring.”

“Things can turn around… Maybe 39 is the right age to become mature and realize how lucky your brother is to have you as his own.”

“I wish it was true, but I doubt it. Can I tell you a secret? A terrible one too? I don’t believe my sister ever carried a Baratheon babe to term. I can’t help but wonder if my siblings crossed the ultimate taboo and had children together.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have… It would have been public by now…”

“Well, my father can pull many strings, perhaps too many strings, and if it was the case, he could be responsible for several dead journalists who would have dared try to break that scoop.”

“I hope you’re wrong, but I understand your worries.”

They remained silent longer. He sort of wanted to go explore the rest of her apartment but he did not want to intrude.

“It’s very spartan, as you said it would be,” he finally said. “Your flat, I mean.”

“It is indeed. Once I get the pictures though, it will have a Stark Snow vibe to it.”

“Snow?”

“Jon, my brother, or half-brother… His mother wanted him to have her last name. Therefore he is Jon Snow, and not Jon Stark.”

“Oh.”

Think, Tyrion, think. With your actual brain, you dimwit! He admonished himself as he felt his body respond.

“I won’t let them skewer you.”

He looked at Sansa, half surprised, and half not. Of course she would make sure he was alright. It was in her nature. She cared. So much. He did not know there were room in a human’s heart for so much care. Sure, there were saints and stuff like that, but he always figured, they were one in a million.

Maybe she was one in a million. His one in a million.

He had to fight the urge to bang his head repeatedly on the counter. Almost as if answering his prayers, the doorbell rung, and Sansa went to open.

Tyrion was not jealous, no Sir, no Mam, but when he saw the giant lift the girl in his arms, well the infamous jealous monster seemed to make an appearance.

“Show off,” he whispered in his mug.

It was not Tormund’s fault he was a dwarf, or little person as the Brits would say. Tormund was a giant, and he could lift Sansa and carry her over his head any day of the week. It was just the way it was. And it was very dickish, if you asked Tyrion.

“Sup lil man?” The Scot asked upon spotting him.

“Sup scary dude?” He answered.

Tormund barked out laughing. Tyrion noticed he was wearing a casual attire, but he had put thoughts into it. Oh, the man had it bad for Brienne.

“Ty, do you want the rest of your tea to go?” Sansa asked, while she texted the woman.

Tormund winked at Tyrion, and he could not help but wonder how much the man knew, or how much he had figured out. If he genuinely believed they were dating, Sansa having a name for him would not have raised an eyebrow surely…

“Do you have a spare cup? I forgot to bring mine.”

“No worries, I have a spare one. Tormund?”

“I’m good. I’ve got my flask in my pocket.”

“You’re such a Scot….” Sansa said, like it was a bad thing, but Tyrion knew better.

He felt his phone buzz and saw that he had another message from his brother, listing all the championship taking place in the city that day. He wished he knew what Jaime was playing at, so he could respond in kind, but alas, he was totally clueless. Feeling slightly guilty, he left the text unanswered, and watched as Sansa prepared an extra cup for him to have. She handed it to him and he thanked her profusely before taking.

He so could get used to it, this whole “make your family” vibe. Except one day she would call it off, and he would be left with a “I lost my shiny family” vibe.

Only idiots never enjoyed life’s gifts, and he was no idiot. He watched as the actress got a jacket, looking so badass he half expected her to ride a bike to the event, and the three of them made their way downstairs. A car flashed its lights and the made their way to the vehicle.

He might end up impaled on a sword, or épée, as Arya favored, but he would take the good times that came with it.

Chapter Text

As Brienne climbed on board to join them, the wagon was already in a pretty good mood.

“Sansa!”, the blonde exclaimed. “Looking wonderful my darling!”

“Right back at you!”

“What are we,” Tyrion asked Tormund, “chopped liver?”

“Gentlemen, looking fetching, as always,” the actress went on, pretending she had not heard him.

“Why thank you Brienne. It was not easy finding out what you’re supposed to wear for a sports event where you will also be introduced to most of your lady’s family.”

“Don’t think to too much about it. You could be wearing a tux, Jon will hate you,” Tormund whispered.

“Thank you, that’s the opposite of comforting.”

“Jon will not hate him!” Sansa exclaimed. “He might be a little cold at first, but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you soon enough!”

As she said the words, she prayed she was not lying. Jon had always been a moody brother, one she loved of course, but ever since he had been back from his tour in Africa, Darfur more exactly, he was not the same. She did not blame him one second for this. He had saved his platoon and, in the process, had almost died himself. He had needed to be transported back in the UK to get the surgeries he needed, and his recovery had not been a walk in the park, nor was it done. She was just happy he was moving forward, had accepted to go to a veteran group to talk about his PTSD, and that was all she cared about, that he took care of himself. Would he like Tyrion? That was a tricky question, and she just did not know. She could only hope Jon would think of her first and see how much she was invested in all of this.

“The more Arya advances in the championship, the looser he’ll feel, and he’ll be more amenable then,” Tormund offered, as if to make up for his previous comment.

“It’s true. Plus, Theon will be there, and Bran is facetiming to be with us.”

“How early is it for him?”

“I think it will be 3AM-ish,” Sansa said. “I told him that Arya was sure to be crushing her first opponents so he could join us later but he insisted, saying he was not getting any sleep anyway. I worry about him. I need to ask Osha to make a trip to Oxford to see how he is doing.”

“You’re a mother hen,” Tyrion joked.

In some ways, plenty of ways, she surely was, but she liked to believe she was just doing her duty.

“I’m a sister hen, mind you. I’ll take it as a compliment though. No one gets to take a shot at any of my family, even if it’s my brother’s own brain keeping him from sleeping. I will send someone to make sure the problem gets addressed, even if I have to go there myself.”

“You guys remind me of wolves… You’re a pack, and you’re the alpha.”

“They are, wolves, that is,” Brienne agreed. “It is on their family sigil, their seal if you will.”

“Theon calls Arya and I the she-wolves of our family,” Sansa said, blushing slightly as she remembered the last time her brother had said it, as they were perusing trashy tabloids. “I think we’re both alphas.”

“No, you’re not,” Brienne and Tormund said at the same time, before exchanging a knowing smile. “Arya can kill, but she would never do anything you forbade her to. You’re the alpha, like it or not.”

She knew that they meant it in a good way, but she could not help but feel anguished at that thought. After all they had been through, she had shouldered on all the responsibilities she could, trying to be there for her siblings, but she never expected it to become a permanent thing. She loved that they valued her, but if they put all the trust in her, it just meant they were giving her that may more chances to disappoint them and let them down.

She felt someone squeeze her hand, and she met Tyrion’s eyes.

“Don’t be afraid of the word. It only describes a reality you’ve painted for me with a clear brush. You’re the younger or big sister, depending which sibling we're talking about, but their relying on you does not mean they could love you less, only that they never found anybody more worthy of their love and trust like you are.”

“What if I mess up? Once I forgot to pay Bran’s tuition fees and got a nasty phone call from the dean…”

“Your brother is a genius, from what I’ve gathered. If it had been a real issue, you’d have heard about it before hand, they would not have let you catch up on a misstep. Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Lord knows our business will take care of that part.”

She nodded, but still felt a little queasy.

Finally, the car stopped, and she felt terrified.

“Guys, why don’t you go ahead and find the rest of the Stark-Snow brood?” She heard Tyrion say. “I forgot to discuss something huge with Sansa…”

“Just so you know, knocking her up in the car while her brothers and sister are upstairs would be both very badass but also very suicidal,” Brienne said, and Tormund burst out laughing before opening the door for her.

“Brie, you know…”

“Yeah yeah, you’re pretending, whatever. You fixed him tea. I got none. I can see where your true loyalty lies…”

“She’s playing with you,” Tyrion said as the young actress was about to jump out of the car to catch her friend and apologize for not being considerate enough. “She was attempting a joke, and missed her target, but what else can you expect from a Brit?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know we invented humor, ok? Ricky Gervais, Eddie Izzard, Rowan Atkinson, Jimmy Carr, Russel Howard, Simon Amstell, oh you’re playing with me too,” she exclaimed when she saw the glint in his eyes.

“Yep. But we do have some great funnymen in the US.”

“You can count them on one hand or so, and one of the best ones was caught in the ‘me too’ moment, and has played his cards so wrong to get out of it…”

“I cannot argue with that. Sure, you guys have more funny people than we do, but come on, Sansa, take a deep breathe and tell me why you’re freaking out all of the sudden.”

She was freaking out, he was completely right. She thought she was terrified, but it went even deeper. She was not sure she could move her legs and get out of the car.

She looked outside the window, which proved to be a waste a time, considering she was facing a wall, but at least she did not have to meet his all-too-knowing eyes. She clung onto her empty teacup and felt tears pool in her eyes.

“Are you afraid your family will hate me?”

“Yes, partly, but I know I can turn them around. Bran won’t have that much of an opinion, Theon loves you for what you did for Rickon, and if he mentioned it to Jon, then you’ve already got one foot in the door.”

“What about Arya?” He picked up on her not mentioning her baby sister.

That was when she felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

“Oh Sans’…” He said, before very carefully and very gently coming to wipe it off. “Just talk to me, alright? I will not judge, I will not get angry, I just want to know.”

“It is not about Arya not liking you or liking you. It is this whole nebula of things. I have been putting on this brave face for so long, I got her the best trainers, even though I’m sure she taught them more than the other way around, and I cheered for her everytime I could. I never lied, my sister is brilliant. But what if I am just deluding myself because she is my sister? What if her level is not as great as we always pretend it is, and she does not do as well as we told her she would.”

“Don’t you trust her?”

“With my life. With your life. With the whole Earth’s life. I’m not worried I’ve hyped up her skills, or that I have been lying to myself about how great she is, I’m worried I have been blind to actually checking out her competition and her world, in order to be more certain of my assessment each time I said and truly believed she could kill any one of her opponents if they were not wearing those padded suits. What if she does not do as well as I promised her, and she hates me for it?”

“She could never hate you.”

“You hate Cersei.”

“That would have been an excellent counterpoint if we were talking about this while agreeing on what family means. Family is a burden to me, people who hated me, belittled me, never cared for me, or maybe they did, but their love for their normal selves was too prevalent for me to get some of that cake. You would actually die for your family. I’m sure that if someone had popped down and asked you if you would die to keep either of your brothers alive, you would have gone with a smile on your face.”

“You should see Lil’ Robb, as we call Robb Junior. He’s my brother’s spitting image. I have no idea how Talisa manages to raise him up and not cry every time he does something Robb would do.”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You could have been a witch with a B, and make Talisa stay near your family so that you could all enjoy watching your nephew grow up, but you decided to trust the woman your brother had loved so much, and you trust her to raise the kid the right way. Cersei would never have done that if Jaime had knocked up some girl and then got killed. She would have locked the chick in a cell and strangled her after she gave birth.”

“I feel like we’ve lost our train of thoughts…”

“Maybe, or maybe we did not. The thing is, you’re worried about your sister hating you. She will never do that. You guys have been through too much. You consider her your fellow alpha when others clearly see you as the Alpha, capital A. You just cannot see how much the others love you, because you don’t feel worthy of their love and trust.”

She wanted to be strong but felt herself all but deflate for lack of a better word.

“It’s easier to fool them when they’re with me separately, when I do not have to worry about proving to them how wrong they are to have any trust in me,” she whispered.

“You are not fooling them, because you are not playing them. Just think of Tormund and Brienne. They’re not technically your family, yet they will enter as part of your family, and yes I’ve said that word twice, but my point is, you are loving and kind, and when you decide someone is worthy of your love or just love, period, you take them in. You let them in, even if it gives them the power to crush your heart.”

“There is no living if you are not risking something, my father used to say. Love is the greatest gift and the greatest reward you will ever receive; my mother would say. How can I hope to get some if I close myself off to everyone?”

“You are talking to a guy who had maybe two serious girlfriends back in his twenties and has never committed himself to another person ever since because he decided that the pain was too much for too little results. When I see you with your people, blood relatives or spirit animals, I am in awe. You have such a big heart and you always find room for people. You even found some little room for me, no pun intended, when you decided to buy a shelf in prediction of my future Oscar. No one has ever bet on me like that, in such a selfless way. Sure, Varys did bet on me, but he got as good as he risked. You just thought ‘here’s a shelf, I’ll get it for this womanizer slash weird guy I’m fake dating because I decided I believed in him’.”

“You are making me look a bit daft.”

“I’m the daft one. That’s not the point. My point is, your sister will never hate you. If she bites off more than she can chew, she will just train harder and come back next year with your support and prove that she is 16 as of today and she just needed to acclimate to the new championships. Your lives, all of you, Starks, Snow, Greyjoy, even Tarth and… what’s Tormund’s last name?”

“Giantsbane,” she prompted without a thought.

“You have got to be pulling my leg!”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Wow, I’m just glad he has no sister. That would be a very bad last name for a girl. Except if she took after her brother, beard included.”

Sansa chuckled at the thought but said nothing.

“You’ve all been through hell and managed to find your way back in your companionship, and your love for one another. I cannot understand what you are feeling right now, I cannot lie to you and pretend I know, but what I do know is that today is not the day you will be losing your sister, whether she wins one match or the whole thing.”

She said nothing for a while, digesting his thoughts on her experience, trying to make sense of what he had seen or thought he had seen.

“Truth is, it gets lonely sometimes, being the Alpha.” She heard herself say.

“I’m sure it does. That’s why the Alpha choses a mate. But don’t leave me yet to go looking for your perfect wolf.”

“I will always be there for them, come hell or high water, or whatever comes next. I just… I think that sometimes I just shoulder on everything and not give myself a few second to ponder if I can.”

“You can. That’s your love allowing you to take everything on. However, you should never feel guilty for asking for a hug, or a touch, or anything that makes you feel better. They know you’re strong. They know they can rely on you. Just, give them a chance to be there for you too. You do not have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

She could feel tears again, stupid tears. It sadly felt like he was spot on in his analysis. She had become the head of their family, taking care of everything, making sure no one ever needed anything, and in the whole process, she had declared herself a second-class citizen, unworthy of asking for a time out.

“I do not know I can let go,” she whispered.

“No one said you had to. Just, accept help when it’s offered to you, and if you need a time out, say it. They will understand. They will offer their shoulder. You won’t know where to lay your head, with all those people piling up on top of on another in order to give you a chance to let them be there for you.”

She laughed, and very carefully, though she would not realize it until much later on, she put her head on his shoulder, forcing herself to breath.

“It’s okay, love, everything will be okay,” Tyrion said, sliding his arm behind her to pull her closer.

She said nothing, just breathing him in. She closed her eyes and told herself that she could not lose Arya’s love on today’s results. She went further and tried to convince herself that her family would not quit on her, whatever happened. Those were not so easy words to think, but she figured she had to start somewhere, if she wanted to believe it at some point.

“Is she pregnant yet?” They heard Tormund say, making them jump apart.

“I’m sure he gave it his best shot, pun intended, but we won’t know until she pees on a stick,” Brienne said.

Inside the car, Sansa wanted to say something smart, something witty, but she had no words, for Tyrion had gotten all the good ones. He pressed her hand against his lips, and she felt some of her burden lift up, as it usually did when he would do that. He opened the door, and offered her his arm, which she gladly took.

“What are you guys doing here?” Sansa finally asked.

“They would not let us in without tickets.”

She lifter her chin, feeling anger like rarely in her life, and with Tyrion by her side, they all walked to the entry point for the VIP guests.

“Hey, arsehole,” She called to the one guard who had pushed back her friends.”

“Miss Stark!” He exclaimed as if everything was alright and peachy. “Let me…”

“No, let me make one thing clear. You see these people? All three with them? They are my people. They are Stark people. You don’t get to ask them for tickets, unless you want me to get you fired. I do not care if you were being cautious or anything, but just Brienne’s status should have granted entry. Furthermore, I know for a fact that my younger sister left a list of people who could get in to witness her whip the floor with her opponents. So do not smile at me like you have been waiting for me all along. They are Winterfell people. They are Starks, if not by name, because I said so. If you cannot deal with that, take it upstairs. We’re going in.”

With her head held up high, she pushed him away, and got them in the arena.

“Sansiona…” Tormund started.

“Shush, don’t say anything, you’ll ruin the moment,” Brienne told the tall man.

The actress noticed the way Tyrion seemed half dumbstruck, yet absolutely proud, of her, of all people.

“An Alpha indeed,” he said, before whistling in admiration.

She should have said something like ‘do not make me regret what I did’, but she liked his reaction too much.

They walked to the benches, and she saw her brothers. She held back from running to them, wanting them to swallow her in their arms, and tell her that Arya would do fine. If a tiger could not change his stripes, a wolf certainly could not shed his or her fur and become a whole different person.

Jon was sitting on the far side, next to Theon who had kept empty places for them. Sansa advanced toward them, and kissed both her brothers on the cheek, before saying:

“Theon you already know him, but Jon, meet Tyrion.”

Jon grunted. Typical Jon, but Sansa squeezed Tyrion’s hand to let him know that there was nothing to read into this. However, when her brother used his thumb to pretend he was slicing the man’s throat, she had to let go of her…friend? Boyfriend? In order to slap Jon’s hand away and tell him very sternly.

“Is this how you want to start this? Because I sure as hell am in no mood for your stupid demonstration of ‘watch me, I’m a soldier’. We are here for Arya. Get on with the program or get lost.”

To an outsider, it probably looked harsh, and she wondered what Tyrion would think of her, given the pep talk he had given her in the car, but she stood her ground, until Jon whispered:

“Sorry Sans’.”

“And?” She asked, treating him like the kid he was pretending to be.

“I’m glad to meet you Tyrion.”

“Next time, try not to look like you’re spitting glass shards while saying the words,” she ordered. “Are you ready to be a grown-up man again, or do I need to ask Brienne and Tormund to sit in between us guys?”

He sighed, and you would have thought she had asked him to cut his private parts In front of everybody they had ever met.

“I’ll be good. I missed you Sansa.”

“Than act like it.”

She sat down next to Theon, who was pretending to be extremely interested in some prospectus lying around. She invited Tyrion to sit next to her. Brienne was next and Tormund closed their party. The redhaired man rose up soon enough to start speaking quick Gaelic with his friends.

“I really missed you, Sansa,” Jon whispered.

“I missed you too, big brother,” she told him before grabbing his hand.

Sure, he was acting like a child, but that did not mean she did not love him.

“I know nothing about fencing,” Tyrion said, as he gestured for her to give him her coat.

“Well, as I told you, épée is Arya’s favorite weapon, but she’s great will all three. She had to chose between foil, or fleuret, épée, and sabre. I think she had to give up sabre and foil. Her trainer thought she would be invited to play with the British women team, but she was not. Had they known; Arya would have signed up for the three weapons.”

“And it’s all taking place in one day?”

“Once you’re qualified, yes. All your matches take place the same day.”

“And why did Arya chose épée then?”

Jon turned toward the man, and Sansa felt ready to intervene.

“Epée is ruthless. With Fleuret and Sabre, there are conventions, only certain body parts where a touche, a blow if you will, can be counted as right, and if the two fencers hit and achieve at the same time, the referee decides who gets the point. With épée, you can make a touche anywhere on the opponent’s body, including their face, the tip of their shoes, anywhere. You can also get points by reaching your opponent’s face with sabre, but you need to have ‘priorité’, meaning you have to be the first one to reach the other or deflect their blow and make your own. That’s why most of the time, when the two lights signaling touche light up, the referee will decide that it does not count. With épée, it’s do or die.”

“As you can hear, French terminology is used heavily,” Sansa said.

“I studied it in high school. French I mean. I have no recollection of it.”

“You were learning French before your girlfriend was walking this Earth, weren’t you? Given that you are 37, when you were 17, Sansa was not even born yet,” Jon said, as if putting two and two together.

“And you had the exact same amount of maturity as you do now,” Sansa fought back.

This made the man realize he was grating on his sister’s nerves.

“Does he know we’re not really dating?” Tyrion whispered in her hear.

Why did that cause her pain?

“He does. I think he’s in one of his moods. Don’t take it personally, and if he does anything that’s taking things too far, just bump into my shoulder if I don’t notice it, and I’ll remind me of who’s the Alpha.”

“They just announced the first encounters!” Brienne exclaimed as the electronical screen lit up, announcing the order in which the fights would take place.

“You can do this Arya,” Sansa whispered.

“So can you,” Tyrion said, grabbing her hand, as she started biting her nails, something she was supposed to have outgrown ages ago.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. Tell me about the crazy looking red haired woman looking at us from the other side of the room.”

“Oh, that’s Melisandre of Asshai, she’s Arya’s trainer, alongside Syrio Forel. Syrio was sadly attacked a couple of years again and has needed time for his own recovery. Melisandre appeared, and well, she and Arya rarely see eye to eye, but they get results.”

“I know I said I knew nothing about fencing, but she looks like the last person I would ask advice about it to.”

“She was never a fencer. I know it makes very little sense, but after receiving all the technical instruction Arya needed, there was no one more qualified to teach her about things Syrio would have forgotten. She needed to learn about biding her time. Jaqen, Melisandre’s brother was the one who introduced them. It’s working. So I’m signing Melisandre’s checks, but she knows that if she ever does anything I don’t approve, the door will hit her on her way out, because I will be there to make sure it does.”

“Meow…” Tyrion joked.

“She’s my baby sister… What can I say?”

“Nothing I would understand, I’m afraid. I just hope she knows how lucky she is to have you in her life, someone who cares so much about her…”

“She’s my sister, Tyrion,” Sansa repeated, only then realizing that it was what he meant.

He had never experienced anything of the sort. He could not relate. Oh, how she hated Cersei…

She was about to tell him how sorry she was, but decided against it, not wanting to put him on the spot. Instead, she started explaining to him the many rituals of “escrime” or fencing, enjoying the fact that even though they were surrounded, it was just the two of them in their little bubble, for a little amount of time.

Her hand never left his, and she never would have it any other way.

Chapter Text

“That’s Arya!” Tyrion exclaimed, interrupting Sansa’s explanation of the championship.

“Where?” She asked.

He pointed her head in the right direction, and she followed his lead. She tried not to let anything show but he was right, it was her baby killer sister.

“What makes you believe it’s Arya?” She asked him.

The young woman was far away from them, preparing for an upcoming face off. She was not wearing her helmet yet, and Sansa could not help but want to scream how much she had missed the rascal. However, she knew better than to interrupt her sister’s warming up session.

“Oh come on!” Tyrion exclaimed. “I just can tell, and no, I did not cheat and look her up online, though the temptation was hard to resist. Look at her, she looks nothing like you yet only a fool would fail to see that you’re related. You have the same air, the same determination. You both come across as she-wolves alright, but there is something else, kinship or something. I’d bet my life this brunette pretending to be fighting for her life is your darling sister.”

Sansa squeezed his hand as she said:

“Nicely spotted. That would indeed be the great Arya Stark. I wonder if she spotted us.”

“She hasn’t”, came a voice on the side. She’s been on my screen ever since she got in the range, and she’s been focused on doing what she needs to do.”

“Bran!” the young actress exclaimed upon spotting her brother’s sweet face on her other brother’s phone.

Delicately, she got a hold of the device and said:

“How are you, bràthair?”

“I’m going to hazard a hard guess and say that I feel as anxious as you do.”

“Alright, the moment we’ve been all waiting for…  Bran Stark, meet Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion, let me introduce you to my younger brother, Branden.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, from my brothers but I’ll give you a chance to show me what you’re really made of,” the boy who looked like he had seen the war and more said. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Same here, except I’ve only heard amazing things about you. I’ll give you a pass to not live up to that reputation…” Tyrion answered, sliding closer to Sansa to be in front of the phone.

“I appreciate that,” the boy wonder said.

Sansa handed the phone back to Theon who looked like the cat who had swallowed the canary.

“It’s Arya’s turn to step in!” Brienne exclaimed, and they all watched the part of the stadium where this encounter would be taking place.

The girl was now wearing her helmet, and she was being wired to the control board. Quickly, the two fencers each touched the other’s uniform to make sure the whole thing was set up properly, and Arya’s opponent had the audacity to put her épée beneath the girl’s chin.

“Oh Arya will kill her, this championship is going to be done so fast…” Tormund said.

Sansa was of course too far to see, and could not get a peak at what was happening underneath the helmet, but she was certain that Melisandre and Jaqen had to have worked wonders, for her sister, or the sister she remembered, would have jumped the other lass and pummeled her face into the ground for such an impertinent move. The actress hoped Arya let it fuel her anger but remained in control. She had 15 touches to make, or three times three minutes to make as much as possible.

“Do you think she will wait for the other one to come at her, or will Kill Bill down there just run her over time and time again?” Theon asked.

“She’ll wait for the other to get cocky,” Bran said on the phone, “until she’s bored and then it will be done before the lass can say poppycock.”

From the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Tyrion drink in their accents, and how he seemed to make note of the word he had probably heard before but forgotten.

“Patience is not Arya’s forte,” Theon commented.

“It can be if it means showing that fencer who’s the boss,” Jon said, with both his hands under his chin, almost in prayer, as if he was trying to telekinetically speak to their sibling.

“She’s so small compared to the other fighter…” Tyrion whispered, and they all looked at him like he had said the worst slur imaginable. “What? It’s true. I’m sure it’s a situation of “size don’t matter”, except we all know of times when girls say that and don’t mean it… Ouch!”

Tormund laughed upon seeing that Sansa had smacked Tyrion on the arm.

“Sorry, my Lady. My point was just that it would be so easy to feel impressed.”

There was a moment of silence, as no other match was taking place. Sansa felt the urge to scream something to let her sister know they were here for her but she did not want to create unnecessary pressure to perform either, so she reined it in.

“Arya may only be close to 5.1 feet tall, but she should have been the one called ‘Giantsbane’, no offense Tormund!” Sansa whispered.

“Do you remember that time she kicked my ass in the stairs? If last names were to be given as presents, I would have offered her mine there and then,” the giant said.

The referee made the calls, and the two fencers saluted, the way they were supposed to. Sansa felt Tyrion’s hand look for hers and she offered it without a second thought, quite happy, truth be told, to have someone holding her steady.

She thought back about their moment in the car, and how he said she should let people in. She grabbed Theon’s hand, and he seemed to beam as she did so.

“Come on girl…”

They all held their breath, as the fencer got in position. How could the prospect of three minutes feel like eternity and then some? Sansa felt like her heart might just give out at any time, for that was how stressed she felt.

Arya however, was, not. She stood on her feet, not moving an inch toward her opponent, not even pretending to flash her épée around as the other fighter did to try and impress her. Sansa would have sworn her sister was smiling beneath the helmet.

Fifteen seconds went by, and then the other lass decided to throw all caution to the wind, or perhaps it was just her fencing style, but she took a couple of quick sidesteps or pas chassés as they were called, and try to touch Arya in the same exact spot she had reached her when they had tried their gear. The Stark girl just throw her head back and they heard the noise meaning a touche had been made.

Sansa did not need to look to know the color on the screen would be green, meaning Arya had landed the blow, for she could see her sister’s épée on the tip of her opponent’s foot. The whole Stark group erupted in screams before sitting right back down, not wanting to disrupt the game. The opponent, Doreah Xhao, screamed in anger, removing her helmet to express her fury. Arya simply went back to her spot on the mat, while the lass kept on acting like a banshee.

“I’d bet your sister is giving the chit her best “but I’m so small” smile,” Tyrion said.

“You know she is.”

From then, Xhao only got even more aggressive, and in doing so, exposed herself more and more. When the first time period was over, Arya had landed 5 touches, and the other, none.

The younger Stark girl got off the mat and removed her helmet before accepting a bottle of water someone was handing her. She turned to her family, and gave them a wide toothy smile, waving her hand at them, before winking.

Jon whistled, and Theon waved back like a maniac. Tormund could not stop laughing, slapping his hand on his thigh, and Brienne was just clapping like a madwoman.

“See, told you your sister would be fine…” Tyrion said.

“It’s just one round. Let’s not count our chicken before our eggs have hatched.”

“You’re smiling and making heart gesture at your sis’ as we speak, and since our hands are still linked, you’re having me do something very un-Lannistery.”

She noticed he was right, and just said:

“Welcome in the family then?”

He pretended to roll his eyes but he never fought back for complete control of his body.

The next round was even faster, if possible, with Xhao doing everything wrong and making it way too easy for Arya to counter every attack she tried. When they were done, Arya only needed two more strikes, or to let the clock run out, which was precisely what she did, in order to piss off her adversary, until the very last 20 seconds of the round. Then, she attacked, and both times, got an extra touche, winning the match with one second spare on the clock, while her opponent all but had to be dragged off the mat by her team.

“For Christ’s sake, forget about Jon. The one that scares me the most is definitely Arya,” Tyrion muttered.

“First smart words I’ve heard you say all day,” Jon said.

Sansa did her best to hide her smile but failed miserably, before jumping in her older brother’s arms, saying:

“That’s Arya, that’s bloody Arya!”

“And Bloody Arya should be her nickname from now on, if the journalists don’t have shit for brains,” Brienne said. “She was savage. I’m so proud of her.”

“Okay, hold your chicks, or horses or whatever,” Tyrion intervened, “let her shine through before she gets a nickname she may hate.”

“I’m going to micro nap, waiting for her next encounter. Theon, buzz me when she’s about to reenter the competition.”

“Will do, Brains.”

Sansa did not need to see the phone to know her darling baby brother had rolled his eyes.

She felt like she could breathe again. It was so stupid, indeed, but Arya was just as good as she always thought she was. Wherever she got to in the competition would never be a bad memory, and there was no way her younger sister would hate her.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she whispered to Tyrion.

The rest of the morning competition was very much yet the same yet each time a discovery for Tyrion. Arya kicked three more opponents to the ground, without breaking a sweat, so to speak. He really needed to make sure he made a good impression on her. That girl was a fatal as a heart attack. Plus, the way Sansa cherished her… There was no way he was making a fool of himself. He would win her over.

At some point, while other fencers were doing what they were there for, he noticed that Jon kept on staring at his phone, and through years and years of acting, he managed to pretend to yawn in such a way that he got a glimpse of what was on the screen.

“Dude, that chick is hot…” He heard himself say.

Okay Arya, please come and kill me….

“Show me!” Sansa exclaimed, not seeming to mind that he had put her elder brother on the spot, but Jon was not that forgiving.

“Mind your own business!” Jon exclaimed.

“You’re my business!”

“What if I don’t want to be?”

Silence fell over them, like a blanket made of lead.

Tyrion could feel Sansa’s rigid body next to his, and he wanted to tell her that Jon was just being a dick, that she was perfect as she was, that he just did not know how lucky he was to be her business, but he kept it in, partly because it was not his place to get Jon out of trouble, and mostly because he would have made a fool of himself saying this, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“I don’t think you meant that,” Brienne said, firmly, and Tyrion was shocked by how much a tall blond woman could turn into a Stark in the blink of an eye.

“We’re going to get sandwiches,” Sansa said, before rising and going away, looking so hurt Tyrion was fighting the urge to jump on Jon’s back and pull his long hair until he begged for forgiveness.

“I’ll join you,” the older actress said, and they both went away.

Tyrion noticed the way Brienne all but tucked Sansa under her arm almost as soon as she could grab her.

“That was cold, man,” Tyrion finally said, very sternly.

“Do I need to remind you you’re fake dating my sister?” Jon shot back.

“Do I need to remind you that I am fake dating your sister?” The actor replied.

“You made that abundantly clear when you called another woman hot,” Jon spat.

“I don’t get you. I really don’t. Do you want me to date or fake date your sister? For fuck’s sake, do you have any idea what it means to Sansa that you all look at her like she’s the matriarch of this family, when she’s 19? She should be enjoying life, not be stuck with a bum like me. Instead, she’s being a perfect model for all of you even though you’ve all made up your mind about who you want to be, and all she can think about is how to make your life better, at any given time. She doesn’t deserve your sass, Son. So make a choice, and stick to it. If you want to be a dick, be a dick, but be consistent. This way it will be easier to help Sansa move past you.”

“Wait, I’m lost…” Tormund said.

“Oh, you think that you have so much power over my sister, do you, you US asshole?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, and I hate it, because I’m not a good person. You all are. I did not expect one of you to literally stab her in the heart.”

“Do you think I enjoy putting that much pressure on my younger sister’s shoulders?” Jon almost shouted back, but managed to keep it relatively under wrap. “I wish she could have it all, and not care about me. I want her happy, and she seems to be happy with you, and I hate it, ‘cause when did I become such a pain in her ass? That’s what I meant about not wanting to be her business.”

“Hey, arsehole, you’ll always be her business, you’re her brother!”

“Dude, you’re already not standing too tall from the floor, don’t make me hit you into becoming part of the mat.”

“Guys!” Theon exclaimed. “This is not you, Jon, and this ain’t you either, Tyrion.”

“What do you know?”

“I just know that I’ve seen you change so much since you started hanging out with Sansa, and I won’t go into this fake or not fake debate. I’ve discovered a man who gave money to a charity, because my brother died from the nasty disease that it helps fight. You never gave it a second thought. I don’t know if you were always like that, but that made an impression on me. I know you’re only attacking Jon because you think he’s being unfair to Sansa, and he is, ‘cause you are, Jon, bloody big time, but Tyrion, don’t disappoint me and make me think that you’re playing a part when she’s around. It would crush her, and Jon already did that enough for the both of you.”

“What’s this about the charity?” Theon’s phone asked.

And there went his selfless donation.

 Brienne knew Sansa wanted to run to the bathroom and cry. She just knew it in her bones. She may not be a Stark, but there would always be a part of her that would be attuned to her friend’s feelings and moods.

The red-hair did not speak as she made her way to the food stand. She started ordering food for everyone, and for a second the older actress was almost worried she would take nothing for herself. Almost out of habit, Sansa ordered some lame salad, but Brienne knew it would be just for show. Her stomach had to be in knots.

“Can you add more salmon to the Norwegian sandwich?” The girl asked.

“Hum, no?”

“Oh spare me those idiots. I’ll pay for an extra sandwich. Just stuff this sandwich with much more salmon unless you want me to get back there and do it myself!” Sansa ordered, in her calmest therefore scarier voice.

Brienne held back a smile when she realized this was meant to be for Tormund, who would indeed want more salmon. She had not expected to click with the guy, but he was so different from all the men she was used to hanging out with, such as… ugh Jamie Lannister. He texted her three times yesterday, asking weird stuff about Sansa, and about Tyrion. Brienne told him to get off her dick, verbatim, and that had shut the man up.

He was not all that bad, she knew, but could he be trusted? Meanwhile Tormund was… Tormund. What you saw was what you got. It was refreshing, so un-Hollywood-like.

“Brienne, do you want something else?” Sansa asked.

“At this stand? No. But I would like to get you and Jon together again. Three days ago you were laughing in front of cameras you did not know were there, and you enjoyed each other’s company, and right now, I feel like this is a make or break situation, where if we don’t fix things, you’ll never talk to your brother again.”

“Can you pay for me?” The younger woman asked, handing her her purse full of cash, “I need to powder my nose.”

“Sans’…”

She paid as fast as she could, before paying a guy to bring food to their benches. She then went into the bathroom and looked for the shoes she knew Sansa was wearing. When she found her, she noticed the small movements, indicating that her baby fake sister was crying, and she had to wait for one of the booths next to that one to be free, earning several dark stares from fencing enthusiast, but she flipped them the bird. Finally, she was able to enter one of the booths, and kept herself from shouting about how disgusting the previous tenant had left the place. She closed the lid of the toilet and sat there, once she was sure it was clean, or as clean as she could hope.

“Sansa… I know you don’t want to talk, so I’ll talk. I’m good at that. Maybe not as good as Tyrion, he seems to always know what to say to make you smile, and if he didn’t make you so happy, I would have bashed his head in, because I am so bloody jealous of his skills. I’m supposed to be the one you can say anything to.”

“You are,” she heard Sansa croak from the next-door booth.

“My darling, my precious pearl of the North, your brother is moody. We’ve always know that. Perhaps he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and there’s something he should be dealing with, but since he is a man, and therefore an oaf, he just lashed out at the one person he knew would forgive him even if he were to cut both your arms and legs…”

“I’m no doormat…”

“No, but you’re an amazing sister. I wish you were mine. I’ll remind Jon that he is so lucky, he should be kissing the ground you walk upon.”

“Tormund would do that for you…”

“He’s something else, isn’t he? That’s not my point. My whole argument is, don’t let Jon spoil this day. How often do you get to see all your siblings, and your friends? He’s being a prick? Let him be. You don’t need his negativity in your life. Don’t think I have not noticed. For a year and some, you pretended to everyone you were over what happened because you never wanted anyone to know, but for the first time, you’re actually making progress, allowing you to be yourself. You’re finding who you want to be, and who you want to be with. Keep on doing that. Jon won’t be able to deal with the fact that his baby sister could actually go on living without him, he’ll be begging for mercy before the day is over. Just be your bright new self. I adore all sort of you, but this one I’m seeing some of lately, I would have to say she’s one of my two favorite Sansas, the other one being the girl I met all this time ago and who made me want to be there for her.”

“It just... hurts so much. I try to respect his boundaries so much. When he wants to be silly, I’m silly. If he wants to watch a movie with his head on my lap, I’ll sit through any crappy movie. I’m not doing it to be able to hold something over him, it just kills me that he doesn’t seem to see how hard it is for us all to know how much he hurts, and the fact that despite our deepest wishes, we can’t heal him.”

“Sounds like someone discussed this at length with Bran…”

“You know I did.”

“Come on, Baby Girl, show your alpha. You know a wolf can’t say that sort of things to his alpha.”

“But what if he needs to? What if it’s part of his healing process?”

“How could hurting you help him heal? If it really is part of his process, then I don’t want him in my life. He wants to play lonely wolf? Have at it, hoss, as Jamie Lannister would say. Why am I quoting this airhead?”

“I need to get myself together. This is not me…”

“Yes, this is you, and never apologize, okay my darling? You’re this person, who gets hurt, and still forgives. Just make him sweat a little, please? I noticed you picked his favorite filling for his sandwich. If It was me, I would have made sure everything designed for him would have so pickles and anchovies in it.”

She heard Sansa chuckle, then the soft noise of someone blowing their nose in a tissue. She saw a small hand she knew too well creep from under the booth, and she grabbed Sansa’s fingers in hers, holding her this way as long as she needed.

“Come on, babe, we have food to eat.”

She was almost certain Sansa was nodding, and they both exited their booths, before preparing to rejoin the group.

“The Rickon fund… I like it,” Bran was saying as they made their way back.

“You told them?” Sansa asked, as she took her seat next to Tyrion.

“Theon big-mouth spilled the beans,” the man answered, as if he looked embarrassed for being generous.

“Which reminds me, I’ll be chipping in,” Brienne said.

“Thanks Brie…”

They all focused on their food, Tormund exclaiming that his sandwich had just enough salmon and it was so rare. Sansa forbade herself to smile, but the glint in Brienne’s eyes let her know she was failing.

“Sans’…” Jon started, and she straightened up.

She felt Tyrion delicately put his hand on her arm, as if to offer her comfort.

“This… This is Ygritte…” Her brother said, before handing her his phone.

The picture was of the two of them, cheek to cheek, seemingly having the time of their lives.

“It’s her birthday today.”

“She’s lovely, and you look so happy.”

“We were… Except she stayed in Darfur and enrolled for another tour, and I have been unable to hear from her for weeks now… I’m afraid this is as happy as I will ever be.”

He would have hated to see her cry, so she kept stoic, only offering her hand to him, which he took, and held against his cheek.

The more she looked at the picture on his phone, she could feel something wanting to emerge in her brain.

“Ygritte Reid,” she whispered...

“How do you know her last name?”

“When you were injured, she’s the one who got in touch with me, breaking all protocols. She told me that if I did not want my brother to die, I needed to send surgeons and make sure you would see another day. The army would not let me do just that for all soldiers, so I had to make the cruel decision of coming to pick you up on a private plane with a medical team…. She held your hand as long as she could, until we both had no choice but to go through with this plan…”

“You came to pick me in Darfur?” Jon asked.

“Of course. Who did you think did that? You thought I would just send a plane, and risk losing another brother without being able to hold him in my arms? I wanted to bring a whole surgical army, but your superior, he would not let me… I felt like such a villain flying you out of there while some stayed behind…”

“You can never take her to Darfur,” Jon told Tyrion, “or she’ll adopt every orphan and take under her wing all those who suffered from the conflict. My sister, she’s got a heart of epic proportions…”

They said nothing else, just ate their lunch, and felt Tyrion give her a shoulder bump. She returned the gesture.

“See? Alpha…” He whispered.

“Wanna talk about your big heart, mister Rickon fund?” Brienne exclaimed, bringing back laughter in their party.

“Hell no, I’ve got a reputation to save…”

Jokes started flying around, and while Theon and Bran were chewing her ear off, she was pretty sure she heard Tyrion thank Brienne for taking of her.

Who was thanking him for all he did for her?

Chapter Text

Nico was just about ready to kiss her career goodbye, and she was not sure she cared. To think she had come so far, been a fencing champion in all three weapons, and have helped her female team win several medals, only to end it all as she was being asked to comment the fencing world championship with a misogynistic asshole seemed a little dramatic yet very likely. It was not her fault his boss had not deemed him worthy of commenting the male sabre competition. For Christ’s sake, the guy just had no sports credential, except if you considered eating your weight in junk food several time a day as a skill. Todd was just a tool like she had rarely seen, and she had seen a lot.

She tried to calm herself down, telling herself that she needed to make it through this day. She had had the producers on the phone earlier, and they had promised to try and pair her off with another journalist for the women’s foil day tomorrow. She wished that could be done.

Furthermore, she only needed to stay strong for a short while. They were into the last round, determining who would get gold and who would get silver. The match would have Arya Stark facing off Ros Landing, the current champion. However, the challenger was impressive. For a fencer who was playing her first championship as an adult, she had been a delight to discover. At times she was teasing, annoying, pissing off her opponent on purpose, and at other times, it seemed like she had just decided that she did not have time for whoever she was fencing, and she would be so aggressive, she should have entered the competition under the label “pissed off she-bear”.

“The last encounter, are you ready Nico?” Todd asked, forcing her to acknowledge his being there.

He had been chatting his head off for the last fifteen minutes or so, never noticing she was only humming non-committedly.

“You know I am.”

“Care to make a bet?”

“Let me guess, you want to bet on Ros, don’t you?”

“Well of course,” the tool said. “I have learned many things in many days, and one is never to bet again one sure thing!”

Thank the Lord, they were in a cabin, away from the audience, and especially, away from the cameras.

“You did not know about Ros when this day began…”

“I’ve learnt.”

The wrong lesson, she finished in her head.

“Alright, I’ll bet on the Stark girl.”

“That’s just your crush on Sansa Stark talking…”

Wait what? How stupid was he? Sure, she had noticed earlier that the woman was in the audience, but she had not said anything about having a crush or whatever on her. She liked the actress, what was there not to like? However, she was not her type, she was way more into her friend, Brienne Tarth; Why did Todd have to bring up her sexual preferences on TV, getting it wrong too?

“We don’t know how they’re related, and no, it’s my fencing background talking. You’ve witnessed the same fights as I have. Ros is an amazing fencer, don’t get me wrong. She is in her prime, she is winning almost all the time, she came back swinging from an injury, but what I’ve witnessed today from Arya Stark makes me believe she is the underdog, and who doesn’t like the underdog?”

“I’m more of a cat person myself, and Ros is my kind of kitten.”

Do not kill. Do not kill. Do not kill. Wait for the microphones to have been shut before you kill.

“Whatever, you’re on.”

There was no way she was losing to this asshole. Arya had better bring on her a-game.

They made fake chit-chat, as the two fencers entered the fighting arena and climbed on the mat. They were both in their bubbles, but Ros took the time to smile at her fans, and wave at the audience.

Nico was very superstitious, came with the territory. No matter how thankful you were for the people who supported you, you kept your head in the game until the referee made the last call. Furthermore, it reminded Nico of Xhao, who had tried to assert dominance over her young challenger and had ended up in tears.

Stark was not in the same mind frame, only keeping to herself, not even trying to get a final piece of advice from her trainer, a weird and intense woman Nico had been sent to interview a few hours ago. The young girl, or woman, was just keeping to herself, bending her épée several times, seeming to be telling herself things in a low voice.

The referee called for the women to get in place and Nico felt her level of anxiety rise up. She did not know the girl, but who could hate on an underdog?

Both women let the staff wire them up, and they were asked to touch the other to prove things were working. They both went soberly for the other fencer’s wrist, something that looked non-aggressive. They pulled on their helmet, and Nico had noticed the way Arya had spared one last look for the weird party that seemed to be there for her, composed of three actors and a couple of man she did not know. One of them was waving a phone, which looked pretty weird but whatever.

The referee whistled and the game started.

It lasted thee rounds, but Nico would have sworn it ad lasted ten days. She was sweating like a prostitute at church, and she had to remind herself that she could not kill he co-host. Next year, she was staying at home, or witnessing from te benches, but she could not let money lure her and let her make such a bad decision as trusting a guy named Todd.

Ros got the first three touches during the second period, which had Nico’s heart beating lie drums at a tikki party. Arya got one touche in before the second period was done. Todd was already acting like she had promised to give him her first born about their bet, and it was becoming harder to remember how to be zen.

The third period though? No one had prepared her for that. When the referee whistled it’s start, Arya got a touché in the next five seconds. They were head to head, toe to toe, whatever you wanted to say. Ros did her best for the next forty-five seconds to get another blow in, then seemed to decide to wait it out, and force a “mort subite” on her opponent. That sounded like a good plan, except she would have needed to have Arya be on the same boat, which was not the case, by far. When the first minute rolled past, the younger fencer managed to gain the advantage, forcing Ros to rethink her strategy. She tried to attack, and both fencers landed a touch at the same time, shortly before the second minute was over. Todd was spewing nonsense about his kitten being about to teach the bitch (his words, definitely not hers) a lesson. The next sixty seconds were the hardest, and whatever her link to Sansa Stark was, the actress seemed on the verge of exploding, Tyrion Lannister of all people managing to keep her quiet.

Forty seconds to go. Arya had the advantage, except she lost it when Ros managed to get a touché in. They were back to square one and may seasoned warriors were known to start making mistakes upon losing their precious advantage. Arya did no such thing. She seemed to look to the sky and waited for the referee to start the timer again. This time, she got one touche in, a real prowess considering she had left her flank open for Ros to strike her. The older fencer would hate herself for missing tis opportunity, especially when five seconds before the game was called, Arya managed to pull another miracle, another Hail Mary, and stab her in the thigh.

Nico was not aware she was yelling, but Goddamn it, she was! Todd was all but screaming for her to shut up, but when the final bell rug, Arya Stark took off her helmet and pumped her fist several times, shouting at the top of her lungs.

Almost like they were a blog and glued to each other’s hips, the Stark group climbed down the benches and went straight for the young fencer, grabbing her, kissing, before throwing her in the air, time and time again.

“Marianne is going to try an interview,” Nico repeated after she heard it in her earbud.

“Thank you Nico, I’m trying to get the new champion’s attention, but I’m not getting much success,” the journalist pretended to laugh.

Who could blame her? Getting close to the girls was impossible.

“Sansa Stark, could you spare us a moment?”

“Nope! I’m just Sansa, you want to talk to the girl I’m so proud to have as my sister! Guys, put down Arya!”

“Not sure they’ll listen…” Tyrion Lannister said.

“What about you, Tyrion, can you spare us some time?”

“Absolutely not. You don’t speak in lieu of the Queen.”

“Good man,” Arya Stark said, as her crowd finally let her down.

Marianne managed to get a few words with the new champion, but her crowd kept on saying their name, and “I’m a Stark, Worship my sister!”

It made Nico laugh, but she knew it was not good TV.

Finally, the referee asked the crows to walk further away, as they repaired the medal giving ceremony. The two fencers who had lost to Ros and Arya had managed to squeeze in their match and the podium was complete.

Nico felt enthusiastic, and even euphoric, for it felt like it had been such a wonderful day. To think that the player o one had heard about was about to receive the highest medal in her category….

Nico was always a bit hypnotized by the Stark crowd, how proud they seemed of their sibling, how they could barely hold themselves in order to let their youngster have her prize. Sansa Stark was seating down next to Tyrion Lannister who was holding both her hands and whispering in her ear. If there were any paparazzi around, there was their money, for sure…

Finally, the podium was set up, and the three winners each took place on their steps. The judges started with bronze medal, then the silver one. Nico wanted to ask Rodd for his firstborn but was too afraid of the disaster this man’s loins were bound to produce.

He was commenting on everything, being so fucking misogynistic, but you had to pick your battles. It was not every day you got to see a new champion get the recognition they deserved.

The judge passed the medal around Arya’s neck, who pretended to bite it to make sure it was not a fake.

Such a cheeky girl.

Then she screamed:

“For Rickon!”

“For Rickon,” her crows repeated with her.

“For Robb!”

Once again, they all chimed the same phrase, looking overwhelmed with emotion.

“For Mama and Papa!”

Which was repeated with even more feeling.

Though she had no idea why, Nico wanted to cry, but she could not.

As if to break her for her emotional spell, the two Stark girls exchanged a glance, and though they were nothing alike, oh yeah, you could tell they were sisters…. Arya started barking. No, not barking, howling, like a wolf.

Which her family and newly acquired fans started doing in earnest altogether, even though only a handful knew what it had to mean for them. Nico wished she was part of the cool crowd, but let it slide.

The boys barked the loudest, and Sansa seems to forget about her stature as a Hollywood actress as she joined in, in a lovely voice. Tyrion Lannister looked at her, and she tucked on his hands. He rolled his eyes, then howled with the rest of them.

“What did we unleash on this world?” Todd asked.

“Not we, they. We did not do anything, they’re the one doing it and being amazing at it.”

“You look seduced… Sansa Stark looks mighty fine, I’ll grant you.”

“So does Brienne, what wouldn’t I do to be her new squeeze…”

"Alas, you're not tall and male and redhaired..."

Chaos ensued, not in the commenting room, but downstairs when the family decided to reclaim their champion.

Oh boy, what a wonderful day to be part of.

Chapter Text

 They ended up retreating to Theon’s place, where they prepared to party. Arya had stayed behind, being needed for interviews and more, so her family and friends had decided to make good use of that time in order to prepare how they would celebrate her victory.

They had bought alcohol, snacks, they would be ordering sushi, pizzas, whatever the girl wanted. It would be a real extravaganza.

In the middle of all of this, Tyrion had trouble finding his footing.  He was loving the fact that Sansa seemed so at ease around her people, and how she would include him every time she felt like he was being left on the outside, but this was nothing he was used to. Family in his book meant long dreadful dinners where you wished you were not seen, and if seen, you drank until you forgot the verbal flogging that would surely ensue. He was used to having to tuned out what people were saying since there was no pleasing them, not matter what he did. He was used to not being the golden child, or even a good enough child, only the black sheep with his deformity.

However, the Starks-Snow-Greyjoy-Giantsbane-Tarth family was not like that. There was no one would get to arbitrate everything, to say what was right, what was wrong, and what everybody’s value was. They were just… Together. They drank together, they celebrated together, they joked together. There was an intimacy even in the smallest things they did, that he had never experienced, and he just was not sure how to react, as he felt like he was infringing on something he was not supposed to be privy to. Sansa did not feel that way, she had no trouble opening the door to her kingdom to him, to let him in on what had to be the one place she felt safe.

He felt so terrible about having asked her to come to his sibling’s birthdays.

And he was terrified of Arya.

She arrived later, being dropped off by her trainer, Melisandre, and she immediately immersed herself in the celebration. She started by having a Facetime chat with her brother on the other side of the ocean, so that he could go to sleep, and then she was back with them.

The apartment was cozy enough, and much more personalized than Sansa’s. Theon obviously had no problem picturing himself staying in this place, and there were pictures on the walls, movie posters of their mother’s work, and some of his sister. There were pictures of them all, alongside more people, probably when they were back in England. Tyrion did not allow himself to look at those, as he felt like he would be spying.

“So, you’re my sister quote fake unquote boyfriend,” a voice said behind him.

“I am, though most importantly if you ask me, I have the honor of calling her my friend,” he told the brunette who had addressed him.

It did not matter that she was smaller than her sister, most of her siblings seem to be, some by a large margin, and other nots, but she exuded a presence, an air, that made him want to stand on the tip of his toe, take of his hat, and bow while saluting her.

“We’ve ordered pizzas, in addition to sushi. Tormund wanted his fish, but I know Sansa hates them, and she told us you were not an aficionado either. She chose several toppings she believes you may like.”

He was not sure what she was expecting him to reply.

“Thank you, it is very kind of you.”

“It is very kind of Sansa. I would have let you eat raw fish.”

“I have no trouble believing you would have.”

“Do I scare you?”

“I saw you all but kill, what, six or eight people today? Yes, you scare me, very much so.”

“Yet, my épée skills are not what are keeping you on your toes.”

Of course, apparently in this family, there was not an average kid, they all had maturity beyond their years, and a third eye it seemed, attuned to his weaknesses and fears.

“Your sister loves you so much, I think I would feel more at ease meeting Queen Olenna than I am meeting you.”

“Olenna, hum? I have decided to take this admission as a compliment.”

“It is. You are one of your sister’s most cherished thing or person on Earth. She would do anything for you. She would really do. You should have seen how she twisted herself in knots and whatsnot this morning when she was terrified that you may harbor any bad feeling toward her.”

The girl said nothing, only took him in, as if weighing him in her mind, and trying to decide what he was worth.

“Hey! Are you guys okay?” Sansa asked, as she popped up by their side.

“I’m meeting your new beau,” Arya said.

“I’m trying not to get skewered by your sister,” Tyrion replied.

Sansa took her younger sister in her arms and squeezed her tight against her heart, as if she was afraid she might disappear.

“You were so good. I knew it, we all knew it, but you were so amazing!”

“Having you there, all of you, it made things easier. I mean, each opponent was worth her grain of salt and all that but knowing that you guys had all come to see me, it really meant a lot.”

“As if we would have let you be in the same continent as us, and not be there!”

“Still,” Arya answered, before squeezing her sister back with controlled strength, but certain love. “Thanks, Sans’…”

“Don’t you even go there…”

“Ok, I won’t, but we both know what I was about to say.”

Tyrion felt like he was intruding big time, until Sansa grabbed his hand, almost out of habit, and led them all to the couch.

“Arya, I know it’s your night, and I hate to be asking you this, but, Bran mentioned he was not sleeping. Do you know what could be keeping him up?” the actress asked her sibling.

“I do actually. And it’s tied in part to me. I will be competing in equitation a lot in the upcoming month, and I was thinking of moving to the US, as many contests will be taking place here.”

“Of course. Where do you want to settle?”

“I was thinking New York, but after speaking with Brienne, I’m beginning to think perhaps the Hamptons? They have more stables than in the city.”

“Pish-posh. We will either find a place with a stable, or we’ll have one built if you fall in love with a place.”

“Sans’…”

“Furthermore, I think we should buy a few more horses. I don’t mean to replace the one you love and have been competing with for so long, but some have been with you since you were this high, and Melisandre complained that some were getting too old…”

“How dare she!” Arya exclaimed.

“I was thinking, but then again, I don’t know anything, but perhaps we could shop for a couple of horses you could start training with. They would not need to replace the ones you have right now, but they would be a good investment, since you’re not stopping, not if I know you.”

“That would be a good compromise,” Arya said, looking touched, “but I don’t want to cost you…”

“Poppycock! You’re not costing anything. In fact, it’s when you fight me that you cost me something, and that would be my patience.”

“Back to Bran, he knows about my projects, which you will be turning into reality and he’s worried you may not feel as amenable to his next venture.”

“Does he want to change major again? To be truthful, I would not be able to tell someone what he currently is studying, even under torture….” Sansa said, looking like she was hating herself for this one thing she could not do.

“No, he received several invitations to study in the US. I think he wants to do a tour of some sort.”

“Oh. Well, this should not be a problem, why would he lose sleep over it?”

“He just worries, you know? He knows it is hard to keep up with how fast his brain is going, and he does not want you to feel stressed or pressured into letting him do something you may deem not necessary.”

“My dear sister, if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that Bran knows better. Where was he invited?”

“Hum, let me think… I think it was Notre-Dame, Brown, Harvard, Columbia, Cornall…”

“Several invitations indeed!” Sansa exclaimed, and Tyrion felt her tense for a microsecond.

He knew Arya had seen it too, but he preferred to squeeze his lady hand, and say:

“The last two are in New York or NY-ish. You would be able to see your brother more often… The first one is Indiana I think, that may be trickier, but from what we just heard, all those colleges are on the East Coast.”

“Those are good news, indeed. But for Bran to lose sleep over it?”

“He just cares very much about what his darling sister will think. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll think he’s gallivanting and not taking his work seriously, maybe he is worried about the fees… You can ask him.”

“And I shall.”

Tyrion did not miss the look of approval in Arya’s eyes as he helped Sansa not feel guilt at the idea that her brother loved her.

“Good. I’ll tell him to get his panties untwisted and just be a man and talk to you,” the fencer said.

“My poor Bran… Am I too harsh on him?”

“No, of course not, you’re perfect, and understanding, and you never play the big sister card. He may be a genius, but at times, he’s just a seventeen years old boy who wants his sister to be proud of him.”

“I’m always proud of him. He could be winning his life on the streets abusing tourists, I would still be proud…”

“He knows…. Just as you know that your pack runs with you. It does not stop you from fearing at time that you are leading them in the wrong direction.”

“Which, even if you did, we would not care!” Arya said forcefully.

Sansa looked touched, perhaps a little emotional and pretended to look on the side.

“Oh, We may need to order the sushi ASAP, or Tormund might just start eating Brienne right here and right now,” she said absent-mindedly, absolutely unaware of the dirty double entendre she had expressed.

“Ew, Sans’…. I’m beginning to wonder if your seeing this guy is a good thing!” Arya said, wrinkling her nose in fake disgust.

“It is a good thing, sis’,” Sansa simply said.

And there was that. He had the Arya seal of approval.

“If you hurt my sister, there will be no padding strong enough to protect you”, the girl whispered in his ear as Sansa made her way to order the sushi, since Tormund and Brienne were making out like they had had too much to drink.

Ok, maybe not just like that.

“I would impale myself on your épée rather than hurt your sister,” he promised, and found that he meant it.

“Ygritte? Ygritte? Can you hear me?” Jon suddenly spoke up, holding his phone in front of his face. “I thought you were dead!”

“You know nothing Jon Snow,” came a hoarse reply.

Tyrion had to smile, unable to comprehend how happy the man who was a boy when it came to that woman had to feel, and he exchanged a glance with Sansa, who was pretending to be perusing the menu very hard, as she was on the verge of crying. Theon came to her and gave her a hug from behind. Tyrion wished he could do that.

“Whoever that is is right, my brother knows nothing, but care to catch a lady up on the latest gossip?” Arya asked.

So he obliged, hoping it would earn him brownie point in the Arya currency.

They partied all night long, drinking even though most where not legal, and both Sansa and Tyrion only had a beer, and they danced, played twister, told tales of when they were kids, carefree and just free.

Tormund stopped eating Brienne’s face to interject, and Tyrion could say, with no irony whatsoever, that this night had to rank among the top 3 of his life, especially when Sansa fell asleep for a while on his shoulder.

Who knew life could be so nice. Who knew family did not have to mean headache and despair? Who would he be by the end of this experiment? Did this experiment ever have to end?

“Your turn…” Someone said, interrupting his thoughts, and after spinning a wheel, he found himself in a weird position on the twister mat, with Sansa on top of him, almost touching him. Definitely one of his top 3 moments ever, even if he could have done without Theon’s butt near his face.

Chapter Text

  She would die before showing any sign of fear or whatsoever, but as they were making their way to the main door of the huge mansion, Sansa could not help but make sure her dress was falling the right way, that there was no skin exposed that should not be, and that what could be seen was tasteful and in no way vulgar.

“You could attend a royal wedding dressed the way you are,” Tyrion said. “You’d probably outshine the bride and have to make a thousand apologies to that part of your family we will never refer to again, or not tonight, but do not worry.”

“Thank you, for keeping all my secrets, my Lord,” she said.”

“It is my pleasure to be in on them. Though I have to admit, this last one, that would be in my book the toughest to keep. The look on Cersei’s face if you were to name-drop Queen Olenna or princess Maergery and let her know you have connections she has dreamt about since she was a little girl, that would be my birthday present, from you, to me.”

“When is your birthday?” She asked with a smile.

“November.”

“Scorpio?”

“Why yes, if you’re referring to my astrological sign. If it’s a dig at my cologne, duly noted…”

“If I were to make a dig, as you say, you would never have any doubt about whether it is indeed, such a thing.”

“I do appreciate the fact that so far you have used your wolfish paw with your claws tucked in when dealing with me, except when I was a stupid arsehole about Jon….”

She smiled.

“What?” He asked, as if surprised by her delight.

“Careful, your family will wonder why you used the British spelling of this slur.”

“Which means they will use their brain at least once tonight, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps, we’re too good for them, giving them too many opportunities when they should be left to rot in their ignorance…”

“Don’t make me shush you…”

“Is there a Brit slang for that?”

“Oh God, we’re so polite when we’re not using the words all English people would use. I can only think of asking you not to be a ‘gunkin’. It’s a derogative term to mean an old lady who has lost her marbles and who generally come and ask you to keep the volume down in her bathrobe.”

“Cersei, gunkin, check. Also in my English to British dictionary, having lost one’s marbles.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn more if you keep seeing me with my family.”

“Alright, things to look forward to. This party, however, not on the list…”

“We’ll make it through.”

“I like when you refer to us as a unit.”

“A unit? As a commando?” Sansa asked, slightly taken aback.

“When you’ve faced the Lannisters, you’ll see how fitting it is. Are you ready for us to go in?”

“Well, since they saw us on the camera entering the property, I guess it would be tough to make a run for it, wouldn’t it?”

They both breathed in deeply before ringing the bell. A maître d’ came to greet them and take their coat.

Making judgements was something she tried not to do, or not too much, but as they entered the hall, her hand on Tyrion’s arm, she could not help but think that she could never live there. Sure, the decoration was tasteful, the music soft and appropriate and more, but it felt so…. Cold.

“Did you grow up here?” She asked her date politely.

“Sadly, I did.”

She was taken aback for a split second when she took in how well his tux suited him.

“It’s the family house. When Cersei got married, I don’t think she ever considered moving elsewhere to be with her husband. They just stayed. She would probably pretend she had to stay because she was the lady of the house, the mistress of the household, our mother having died when giving birth to pathetic old me, but I tend to believe she liked being the top woman if you will in the house, forever.”

“What if your brother had brought back a wife, or you had?”

“Well, we both know that it I had, I would never have subjected the poor woman who would have fallen for me to my family. However, if Jaime had brought back a wife, it would have been worse than those shows about the so-called real housewives of everywhere…”

“I know they’re twins, and I do remember that conversation we had which I won’t repeat here because of intruding people, but it perhaps makes me a tad sad for your brother, for apparently he would have liked to bring back his love if he had found it.”

“I often feel like Jaime should have been named Narcissus. Then again, having a twin, perhaps seeing himself in his counterpart was always good enough.”

Sansa wanted to say something meaningful but knew better. Tyrion had suffered most of his life if not all his life of the way his family operated, and there was no point in trying to make him see that things happened for a reason, that perhaps they had made him a gift by excluding him of their wonky dynamics since, though he was by no mean a textbook model of normalcy, he had been able to choose his path and model his personality through experience and not what had been dictated to him.

Sometimes you could have the best argument in the world up your sleeves, if the person you were telling them to was not in the mood to hear them, you were both losing your time, and risking drifting apart. She did not want to drift apart from him, and tightened her grip on his arm.

Her dress was green, she had been unable to stop herself. She knew it was Cersei’s favorite’s color but as an extreme blonde, she could not pull it off unless it was a very specific shade of the spectrum, for it clashed with her hair. Her leaves were long, as she liked the medieval, or witch-like effect it produced. Having grown up with a full mop of really red hair, she had been called a witch in boarding school among English students. She had decided to embrace it. The trim of her dress reached her knees and black boots came to complete the outfit, the latter being embroidered delicately. Her hair was styled to appear free, but make up kept it from flying everywhere. Tyrion, upon seeing her, had made a joke about needing to steal the crown he knew his sister would wear like she did at every birthday she had celebrated to give it to the true queen.

“Shite, my fuc…. Stupid nephew is coming right at us,” he suddenly said.

She never let out the groan she wanted to express, preferring to stay close to her date, ready to protect him if need be.

“Sansa, looking gorgeous, as always!” Joffrey said.

She immediately hated one, the fact that he was not greeting his uncle first and foremost, and secondly, the fact that he was pretending they knew each other. They knew of each other. Big difference.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” She asked the young actor who looked so disgruntled, she could feel Tyrion laughing against her arm. “Do you know my boyfriend? Tyrion Lannister! He actually grew up in this house, can you believe it? I know you must have heard of him unless you were trekking the Himalaya for the last ten years. I’m sorry love,” she said, turning to Tyrion, biting her bottom lip and looking at him with doe eyes. “I know you don’t like it when I brag about you. I’m just so amazed I get to be your girl, I want to shout it on the top of every rooftop from here to the bloody Himalaya!”

“Actually, my princess, this is my nephew, Joffrey Baratheon, so he knows me.”

“Which is why I don’t gush like a fangirl over someone who’s not worthy,” the blonde said.

“I guess talent and its adjacent skills must not run into the family then, or perhaps you’re the exception proving the rule,” Sansa said, with a fake grin.

Tyrion gave her a half smile, which almost felt like an I love you, though probably more an I.O.U.

“Don’t be too hard on the kid, he was raised to believe he could be everything when my sister should have put him out of his misery when he was born.”

“Hello uncle,” Joffrey finally said when he got his wires uncrossed. “You always had great taste when it came to arm candy.”

“Geez, so early in the night?” Sansa asked her date. “I fear you may need to hold my purse while I give a bunch of fives.”

“I don’t need money,” said the Lannister kid, and she wanted to bang her head against the wall.

Tyrion was looking on the verge of laughing out loud.

“Hey, stupid. A bunch of fives doesn’t mean making it rain, it means doing what I did the last time you tried to explain to me you were a better actor than I am, and time would prove it.”

Sansa felt absurdly proud of her man err friend, for getting right away the meaning of the idiom.

“Time will tell, old man, your time is almost up anyway,” Joffrey said, with a sadistic glint in his eyes, and Sansa wanted to hide behind Tyrion, being reminded of memories she had worked so hard to suppress.

“Move along, punk. You’re making my date uncomfortable,” the actor said, and Joffrey seemed about to start a fight, but a gesture from an elder man who Sansa knew to be Tywin Lannister made him retreat.

Sansa had to calm herself down, which was easier said than done.

“You slapped him?” She asked, finally.

“Yes. I only wish he had been slapped daily, maybe it would have put back his brain in the right position. “

“I think only surgery would have done it,” she said.

“Should we mingle down there, or do you want to get down to the nitty gritty?”

“I don’t feel like there is a right answer to this question.”

“Quite true. “

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Someone said from the side.

This was a blast from the past she was not ready for.

“Tyrion, I know you have made his acquaintance, but your brother-in-law, Robert Baratheon…

“Call me uncle Rob!”

“I am afraid I cannot do that. It reminds me too much of my brother and it makes me a tad sad, so sorry… As I was saying, Robert was one of my father’s best friend back in the days.”

“We would have been brothers-in-law too if Lyanna had not died before I could make her mine…”

“I can’t tell if it’s my sister’s luck or loss,” Tyrion said.

Someone rang a bell, and the maître d’ spoke:

“Dinner is served, if you will come in the dining room. Your seats have been chosen and you are required to sit where you’ve been assigned.”

“Ugh,” Tyrion said. “I was hoping they could let us have a buffet or something…”

“You really don’t know your sister that well, do you?” Robert said. “She’s been agonizing over the seating arrangements for weeks now…. It threw her off a loop when you started dating this little treasure!” Robert said, before pulling Sansa into a hug.

She could not fight him, for he was inebriated, and much larger than she was, but she would have done anything to escape far away. As if sensing her discomfort, Tyrion pulled on her arm, and said:

“Don’t go hogging my date, bro!”

“Treat her nice and good, Tyyrion, she is a gem among women, one of the few who graced our lives with their presence. She looks so much like her aunt…”

“Most people tend to say I look like my mother…”

“You do, but I can see some Lyanna in you…”

The maître d’ cleared his throat, and holding each other, Tyrion and Sansa started walking toward what they knew would be a terrible time for both of them.

At least they had one another, right?  

Chapter Text

As they entered the dining room, Tyrion felt like he was 15 again, forced to attend whatever function his father was throwing, except this time he had a beautiful lass at his arm, letting him lead her to where they were supposed to be. He wanted to groan when he realized that they would be sandwiched between his family, Cersei on Sansa’s side, Tywin next to the witch, and then Jaime next to his brother. This really felt like a rerun of some of the worst times of his life.

He had half expected Cersei and Jaime to be sitting at the head of the table, in lookalike thrones, just in case anybody forgot it was their bloody celebration. Robert was seated far from his wife, on purpose he was sure, but he did not seem to mind since he was in female company. How he had hated the way the man had touched Sansa like he did not need permission. She was a young woman, and not the girl he may have known once. He had spoken about a aunt he was supposed to marry, but given the fact that Joffrey was Sansa’s age, said aunt had had to have died before he had met Cersei, or at the very least, before he knocked her up. That was, of course, if he had knocked her up. Lord knew there were several Baratheon bastards running around Hollywood, Tywin complained enough about that and the fact that he had to arrange things so that the mother and child would stay silent.

The contrast between his family and Sansa’s could not be more obvious even if they tried. Where her family could not help but express its love for one another, all the time, through any mean possible, and some that were not, his was only worried about how they looked to an outsider. Where her brothers would happily die for her and her sister or follow their orders and die knowing they had done them proud, in the Lannister household, you were on your own and there was no back-up plan. He would have been jealous, if he had any hope left that his family could rise up to his expectations, but he had given up on that a very long time ago.

“This is beautiful,” Sansa said.

So polite… Her manners were exquisite.

“We may not be British, but we do know how to throw a party,” Cersei said in a gentle voice, except you could hear the venom dripping from her every word.

Why take a dig at Sansa’s homeland? This dinner was a bad idea on more levels than he could count, getting worse by the minute.

He took his companion’s hand and brought it to his mouth, planting a soft kiss there, and saying:

“Sure, the décor is lovely, but what makes a party a success is the public attending. The moment you walked through that door, my love, you made this gathering the poshest birthday celebration it could ever hope to be.”

He hoped no one had caught on his struggle to find an adequate pet name for her. So many things he could have called her and they would have perceived in a wrong way, or turned wrong…. He had decided at the last minute to take a page from her book, as she earlier had called him her love too.

He could see Cersei’s face distorting, struggling to keep the façade in place yet wanting to punch him or emasculate him.

Sansa laughed and put her head close to his, playing along he supposed, and said:

“Sometimes, you manage to make corny sound so bloody sexy, I’m just gobsmacked at your smoothness.”

“With a muse like you, all I need is to look at the goddess on my arm.”

She kissed his cheek, laughing, and he felt her earings brush against his stubble. There was an intimacy there, and he had to remind themselves she was acting. How he wished she was not putting on a show for his family.

“By the way, Sister dearest, your wanker of a son tried to hit on Sansa when we arrived.”

“They’re the same age, can you blame him?”

“Absolutely. She was on my arm.”

“Perhaps he though she was a charitable woman helping you with your weak legs.”

“I do not have weak legs. I’ve got achondroplasia, we all know it. The moment I start feeling weaknesses in new places, I’ll let you know, but in the meantime, don’t order my coffin just yet.”

“Let’s not get catty, and let me have a talk with this… child,” Cersei said, looking at Sansa like she was five.

“I never got a chance to wish you a happy birthday, nor you, Jaime,” the Stark woman said, looking over at his brother to include him.

“Thank you so much.”

Tyrion was honestly wondering at what moment Cersei’s head would start spinning like in the exorcist. Maybe she was a good actress and he did not give her enough credit.

“It feels strange for me to throw a party for my eldest’s fortieth birthday, I must admit,” Tywin said.

He was almost nice… It felt like Tyrion was a guest on some weird show.

“I must ask you, Sir, I can see that your eldest as you call them take after you, complexion and hair wise. What about Tyrion?”

Cersei said something about him being the devil’s son but as she had a glass of wine against her lips, it went almost unnoticed. Sansa’s hold on his arm let him know she heard though.

“He takes after my Joanna. He has her eyes, her nose, her unruly hair.”

“Is that why you would always have him almost shave his head when he was a child?” Jaime asked, “because he reminded you too much of Mother?”

There was a glint in Tywin’s eyes, and for the first time, the actor felt like his brother had put his finger on something he should have figured out himself years before.

“I have her mouth, her figure!” Cersei exclaimed.

“It’s not a contest…” Sansa said.

“Sweet child… When you kill a woman, you don’t get to claim that you looked like her.”

“It has absolutely nothing to do with the subject,” Sansa tried to argue.

“What would you know? You’re a baby.”

“Silence!” Tywin said in a low voice, and his sister pinched her lips together, obviously wanting to say much more.

The other guests had enough wine in their system not to pay them too much intention.

The waiters brought them plates with an assortment of appetizers.

“Ugh… Trust you to go overboard…” Tyrion said gesturing to the caviar on the toasts.

“I must apologize, but I will be passing too on this dish,” Sansa said. “We’re not bears,” she whispered to him, and he had to laugh thinking back about their first date and the sushi they never ate.

“For the next dish, do I ask the waiters to cut your meat for you, or will Tyrion doing it?” Cersei asked.

“The fuck?” the actor exclaimed. “You don’t get to stay something like that to her.”

“Was that rude? I’m sorry, I’ve never dated someone who was not even half my age,” Cersei said, pretending to not see what she had implied.

“It’s okay, love, it really is. Sticks and stones… We, Scots, are cut from a different cloth, called plaid. Sticks and stones won't break our bones, we'll use them to break yours…”

“I must apologize for my daughter…” Tywin started.

“Nonsense. We all remember how she described me in the papers when I was 16.”

“Father, I will not let a little miss know-it-all disrespect me in my own house!”

“It is my house, and not yours!” Tywin said.

“I’m not feeling so fine, may I be excused?” Sansa asked.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Tyrion asked, as he sensed her whole demeanor change in the blink of an eye.

She smiled at him, but he was not fooled.

“I just need to go spend a penny.”

“What?” Cersei asked.

“It just means she needs to use the loo.”

“What?”

“She needs to use the toilet, don’t be dafter than you are,” Tywin finally said, putting them all out of their misery.

“Even I got it,” Jaime said, and Tyrion noticed his brother was keeping uncharacteristically silent, drinking more than usual. "Brienne says that sometimes..."

“I can show you the way….”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure someone will show me the right way,” Sansa asked.

She got up and he did the same, his father doing the same, while she disappeared to go use the ladies’ room.

“You guys are unbelievable!” Tyrion exclaimed once she was out of sight. “I did say that I would not have my girlfriend feeling like shit because of your prejudices! If she come back and I can see she has cried, we’re out of there, and we won’t go fast, I’ll leak to the paparazzi how much my fucking sister is a cunt.”

“I told her to be nice, but she does not seem able to listen,” Tywin said, looking at his daughter sternly. “You just lost that part in that movie where you were supposed to be a "MILF" in your own words, as I said I would deprive you of this opportunity if you did anything to make Sansa feel bad.”

“You’ve got one more chance, but then we’re out of here.”

The actress made her way back to her chair, and grabbed his hand.

“Father, you can’t do that…” Cersei was arguing in a low voice. “What’s that smile, hum, child?”

“It’s not meant to be offensive; I assure you; I just am not used to people calling their parents in such a formal manner.”

“We’re not peasants, we don’t call our parents Papa or Mama or anything so demeaning.”

This was such a low blow; Tyrion could barely breathe. Obviously, his sister had seen Arya’s victory speech on TV, and she was throwing shade on the Stark family, alongside their traumas.

“Alright, that is it for me. I have kept my mouth shut, even when I noticed that your tosser of a son had spiked my drink, but you are insulting my dead parents, that is taking it way too far,” Sansa said in her coldest voice.

“I must apologize once again for my daughter’s behavior,” Tywin said. “There will be hell to pay, however, what do you mean about your drink having been messed with?”

Sansa simply dipped one finger in her drink, and the color of her nail polish changed below their very eyes.

“I don’t know if Jon or Theon is to thank for that, but I need to take them out for drinks,” Tyrion said. "How long have you known?”

“Since we left him earlier. He had a waiter bring me a glass without alcohol, but it smelled too fruity, I had an inkling.”

“I’m going to kill that little arsehole.”

“Don’t, Tyrion. As you said, blessed be my brothers for their foresight and love. However, between the constant insults, and the drug attempt, I don’t feel safe here.”

“Of course you don’t. We’re going.”

“I wished I could convince you to stay, but after the pitiful behavior some of my blood has decided to exhibit,” Tywin said. “Please, don’t hold it against me and Jaime. He was looking forward to meeting you, even though something made him act so depressed all evening long…”

“Yeah yeah yeah… Don’t try to Lannister your way out of this terrible evening,” Tyrion said as he helped Sansa get up and leave the table.

They got their coats from the vestiaries and left, without saying another word.

Once they were out, waiting for the car, Tyrion felt rage overtake him, but he reined it in.

“Sansa, I’m so sorry…”

“You did nothing wrong, my Lord, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Hearing her use their trademark pet names felt like balm on his furious heart, but he was still feeling so many things, too many things.

“I wish you had told me about what Joffrey did when he did it. I am in no way blaming you, but my family is awful, and I would always side with you.”

“I did not want you to have to pick a side. I know you will never have a Stark family à la Lannister, but I did not want to have you burn bridges you may want to cross again at a later time.”

“Baby girl, and I don’t mean this in a patronizing way, your heart is just too big and too full. I love that you wanted to save some bridges for me, but most were set on fire or blown up with dynamite over the years. I don’t think there’s anything we can still save.”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she said, and for the first time in the night, she looked on the verge of crying.

“I’m not alone, I have you.”

“You do, but what if I’m not enough? What if I’m too much of a baby?”

“Then I’ll ask Brienne to adopt me. In the past three weeks, since we embarked in this, whatever it is… You keep on giving and giving to me, and I don’t deserve it. You’re almost depriving yourself to make sure I always have something I did not have before. Please, just, think of yourself for once. I can’t believe Cersei made that terrible comment about your parents.”

“It was terrible.”

“Yet, you’re crying over me?”

“What can I say? Apparently, according to your sister, I’m a brainless child.”

He took her hand, and kissed several times, until he managed to make her laugh because it started tickling her, with his stubble.

“God, what a disaster,” she said, when the car was there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I am, though, you deserved none of the shit they dished your way.”

“Neither did you.”

“Which in a weird way reminds me… Are you still ok to go on the set tomorrow? I texted Tony a couple of days back when you said you would be able to start shooting or rehearsing early, but I keep forgetting to ask you… I think there’s a part of me that is terribly afraid you will decide that the movie is not worth staying in my orbit.”

“I like your orbit. You’re a good planet in my book.”

“A planet, hum? No one ever called me that.”

“But yeah, I received a message through Theon and confirmed I would be on set tomorrow morning, for rehearsals and more. Do you want to go together?”

“I hate what I’m about to say, but you’ll see me all day long or so… Maybe we should meet on the set?”

“I did promise you lunch for the duration of the shoot.”

“I had forgotten about that…”

“I did not. Tormund will have coffee delivered on the set too. I asked Tony if he would accept a sample and agreed to give Tormund a contract so that we can have our beloved Giantsbane and maybe make a him a few more pennies.”

“I love the idea, even though he will probably make me look like a doofus.”

“He likes you. A lot.”

“Do you like me?” He asked, like a petulant child, and he wished he could kick his own ass.

“A lot,” she said, before putting her head on his chest, as the car started rolling.

He took her hand in his and watched the nail which had changed color after her discovery.

“It was ecstasy…” She said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s a nail polish that helps you detect most substances, but Bran worked on a more precise version. I can tell if it was crack, or whatever. Given the color, it was ecstasy.”

“Does Tormund do hit jobs? ‘Cause I’m considering sending him after that wanker.”

“Don’t bother. What’s done is done,” she said, sleepily.

Sure, she was right, he thought, as he ran his hand in her hair, gently, marveling at how beautiful she was, whether naturally or in this dress.

He might still tell Jon though. Who knew, maybe having the ex-soldier kick his nephew’s ass would get him some brownie points? Not to mention, the braindead fucker would not be ble to fight back or complain.

Furthermore, he was not ready to let Sansa go. He thought about the next months, the nine weeks they were scheduled to be on this movie together, and for once, felt at ease. They were not going anywhere. Not for the next nine weeks, and the post prod, and the promo tour.

Please, don’t let Sansa meet a guy she likes and dump my ass…  He found himself praying, then sort of forgot everything, as he fell asleep, with his nose in her hair.

Chapter Text

When the concierge called to let her know she had a visitor, Sansa thought it was a joke, some sort of hazing perhaps. After all, it was 6.30AM.

When they said the name of the person visiting, she was almost certain she had to be still dreaming.

Nevertheless, she said:

“Let him go up.”

She looked around her place, which was spotless, as it always was, and wondered what her visitor would think. Then again, did she care what said visitor had to say? She would be working on a new movie in less than a couple of hours, she could not let that person get to her.

Easier said than done, she knew, when the doorbell rang. She checked her appearance and figured there was no delaying what was to come. She opened the door and waited for the person to speak.

“I’m sorry, Sansa, Miss Stark, I know you’re starting your new movie today, Brienne told me so, but I needed to see you.”

“Hello, mister Lannister.”

“Please, call me Jaime. After all, we are to be brother and sister in law for all intents and purposes,” the man said.

He looked so out of place, and so much like a little boy, Sansa felt very much like a schoolmistress in a nineteenth century novel. How she loved Jane Eyre! This was not the subject of course.

She opened her door for him to come in, and he did. He looked like hell. Good.

“I usually drink tea, and I would like you to not make any joke about my origins when it comes to my choice of beverage, but I can offer you some instant coffee if you want some. It will be disgusting, but that’s the closest to good coffee available,” she said, walking back to the kitchen and the bar.

“That will be amazing, and I wouldn’t mock you about your being a foreigner…”

“Your sister did not have such scruples,” was all she answered before going behind the bar and searching for the insta coffee she knew she had somewhere around.

She found it after opening three cupboards and put on the kettle.

“She… was a bitch, there’s no other way to describe how she behave. I wish I could apologize in her name, but I don’t have enough contrition in me to cover all her free aggressivity.”

“At least, you’re acknowledging it. It does not make it disappear, but you’re not blind to her ways, I guess. What can I do for you?”

“I… I… Jesus, I thought it would be easier.”

“I do not have all day,” she said, pouring him a cup when the water was boiling. “Cream? Sugar?”

“No thank you.”

“Good, as I had only sugar. Now, get on with it.”

“I need your help with my brother.”

“Oh.”

She should have seen it coming, shouldn’t she? Yet she did not know how to react at all.

“What do you mean?”

“I would like to find a way to connect with him.”

“I am not sure what you expect me to do.”

“I have no expectations. I just thought… Tyrion seems to be different since you’ve been in his life, and perhaps you can help us mend some parts of our relationship.”

“Whatever made you think that?”

“I saw you, that time, on TV, when you opened up about your younger brother dying of leukemia. My condolences by the way. The thing is, I watched out of curiosity, wanting to see more from the woman who was being linked to my little brother, and I got more than I bargained for. Your story made me realize that I was lucky to have what you had lost.”

“Hey, buddy, if you are going to talk about my dead brother, you are going to do me the curtesy of looking me in the eyes.”

She did not mean to make him feel insecure or anything, but there was a part of her that could not shake the pain she had felt only hours before when Cersei had mocked her family. She needed to know Jaime was serious.

He raised his eyes, and she could tell he was not jerking her around. Still, it all felt so foreign and alien.

“You are a very lucky man indeed, you did not lose your baby brother. I am glad that, if nothing else, you took this lesson away from my sharing.”

“I did. And it made me think more, about all those times I was not there for him, or I sided with Cersei because she was scarier than he was, and I knew he would take me back if I was nice, until he stopped and went on living as if he was not my blood.”

“Can you blame him?”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I don’t know; I just know that I would like to be able to text my brother, and not get a response along the lines of ‘new phone, who dis?’, you know?”

“I actually do not know. My family, as corny as it is, never ignore each other.”

“You’re lucky. I’m sorry,” he said, as if realizing that what he had said could be understood as him diminishing the pain they all went through to get there.

“What do you expect me to do? I may be British, but I’m no fairy godmother of anything of the sort.”

“You’re my brother’s girlfriend, and he is sooooo into you, I seriously expect him to pop the question in a couple of weeks.”

She did not let anything show, but there were two parts in her, the one that felt flattered and mushy and gushy about being told Tyrion was so into her, in his brother’s words, and the other part, the one that knew they were playing a game, and every good thing had to end.

“I would not know where to start, to be honest,” she finally told Jaime. “I hate what I am about to say, as I am breaking your brother’s confidence, but I think you need to know this tidbit and fix it before you can think of fixing everything else. Tyrion confided in me that he was afraid you and Cersei may have committed the ultimate sin, resulting in her three children.”

The look of disgust on the actor’s face was both weirdly comforting and welcome.

“I…. I can’t say I blame him, but we did not. We never did. She once initiated something that would have gotten us there when we were fourteen, but even as immature as I was back then, I knew it was wrong. However, he’s not wrong.”

Her blood froze in her veins as she waited for him to go on.

“She’s been fucking our cousin Lancel, and he was the one to get here pregnant each and every time. I know, because every time she ends up pregnant, I have to take Robert out, get him drink and bring him back home, so that Cersei can make him believe that they fucked and that she’s pregnant with his kid. He has never been suspicious of the fact that all their kids were apparently born prematurely yet were as normal as babies come.”

“That is very gross.”

“I think so too.”

“But you still play along….”

“What wouldn’t you do for your family?”

“Touché…”

“I need to let Tyrion know….”

“Oh god, what are you getting me into?” she found herself exclaiming, when she realized how he could do that.

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“Pretend to be texting your sister, talking about this not openly but in a fashion that your brother will have to understand, and then send a second text, apologizing and saying that even though he owes you nothing, you’d be grateful if he kept this secret for himself.”

“That would be perfect…”

“I’ve been raising four siblings on my own, I know how to diffuse a family bomb,” she felt the need to say when he looked at her like she had come up with the next best thing since sliced bread.

“I meant no disrespect. It’s just so simple, yet so effective…”

“It won’t mean you’ll be on brotherly terms when this is done. You just really need to get it out of the way before you start anything more to gain back your brother’s trust.”

“Of course. Then, what would you advise?”

“Jaime, I do realize you are at a loss, and I can see how much pain this whole situation is inflicting on you, but by asking me to devise a plan, you are asking me to deceive your brother, and I’d rather die than do anything that may backfire and cause him any pain. He is such a great man, no one deserves to be hurt, but him, he is on the shortlist of people who really don’t deserve it in my book, ok?”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“Yes you did, when you decided to show up at 6.30 on my doorstep. I gave you a clue and a tip, now, act on it.”

He did not answer right away, as if acknowledging the truth in her words.

“Do you think I have a shot?”

“At getting back your brother? I hope so, but I will not be part of this masterplan.”

“I understand.”

He finished drinking his cup then got up. She was walking him to the door when he turned and said:

“How did you meet Brienne?”

She was taken aback but answered:

“Four years. We were in a movie together. We’ve been friends ever since. Why?”

“I don’t know… I just… she’s dating a guy, right?”

“Yes, she is. A good guy too.”

“I guess it’s my bad, I should have realized what I wanted earlier. Maybe she would not hate me so much if I had gotten my head out of my ass…”

“I cannot believe I am about to say this, but she does not hate you. She does not like you, most days, but there is a reason why she keeps signing on to star in movies with you.”

“I think you’re being too optimistic there….”

“Did you never wonder why she kept on accepting those parts? You’ve starred in five movies together, haven’t you?”

“I must say I never wondered….”

“You’re the only person Brienne can play with who will make her feel like a woman. She will never say it and if you repeat it, I’ll have her man kill you, but it is true. She was used to being considered this androgynous woman, even being called ‘sir’ more often than not. Then she was in a movie with you, and suddenly, people were calling her ‘miss’ and she realized she did not have to settle for what was being offered, being this mutant-like actress.”

“How can anyone look at Brienne and call her ‘sir’?” Jaime asked, looking sincerely confused.

“All I know is that they used to. It changed when you guys appeared on-screen together, and well, she keeps agreeing to play with you, even though you never played a romcom, or not one where you were love interests, but you guys work on-screen, and you bring her something. Let her bring you something back, ask her how to get your brother back in your life. She will help, she knows you both, and she will know you are in earnest.”

“Okay, I will do that. Thank you, Sansa, for helping me. You really are a fine lady.”

“I try my best.”

“I know my brother calls you his lady, and I would not infringe on his pet name, but you earn it every time you open your mouth and are yourself.”

She almost blushed, but instead walked him back to the door, knowing she had to get ready.

“Thank you for what you offered. It will help me try and hopefully succeed. Also, good luck on the set today!”

She just nodded, and smiled, as she closed the door behind him.

She rested her back against the door for a second, thinking of what had just happened. What in the world?

Then she realized she needed to get moving or she’d be late.

“My lord, here I come…” She found herself saying.

Chapter Text

Tyrion had an extra spring in his step, he knew it, but he would not hide it.

He had chosen the pup he would give Sansa this morning. The mother had given birth almost ten days before, prematurely. He had been on pins and needles, asking himself time and time again if he should go forth with his plan to give his lady a puppy, but when he had gone that morning to see the litter, and he had found the perfect match for the woman he wanted to impress. There had been a puppy which had caught his eye, and after three seconds in its presence, he had known for sure it was meant for Sansa. It was a little lady, obviously the leader of its litter slash pack. She was adorable too.

So yeah, Tyrion was on cloud nine. He had spent his morning trying out some outfits for his character and had let the hair stylist and the make-up artist in order to try and find what style would best suit Richard’s different stages of evolution through the movie. That afternoon, they were supposed to be doing a reading of the script and see how people interacted with each other.

He was on his way to his lady’s trailer. He had asked for directions and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” He heard her answer.

He did not need another invitation and pushed the door open. She was shuffling around some bags of food, trying to see what was inside.

“I hope you like Italian, because that is what I ordered for today!” she said happily.

“Love it!”

She gave him a smile over her shoulder and gestured for him to help himself to the first bag on the table. He grabbed the cutlery provided by the restaurant then set up the table.

“We’re the picture of domesticity, aren’t we?” She asked with a smirk on her lips.

“I guess we are,” he replied with a smile.

“Oh, before I forget, thank you for the flowers!” She said.

“I’m glad you liked them.”

Before leaving this morning, and after having seen her would-be dog, he had ordered a bouquet of gardenias and camelias, after having received advice from the shop owner. The former meant secret love while the latter meant “my destiny is in your hand”. He did not know to be completely honest if he wished she would look up the language of flowers, but he had not wanted to go with a classic arrangement. Then again, if she looked, or knew, maybe she would know where he stood, and she would be able to chose where she wanted this thing to go… Decisions decisions… This was not one he was supposed to be taking thankfully, or perhaps, cowardly.

“I received a text message from my brother earlier,” he told her, not wanting to forget about that important piece of info.

“Oh, what did he want?”

“He wrote to the wrong recipient. Turns out, there’s one sin my family has not committed, or he has not. Apparently, my cousin Lancel is also my nephews' and niece’s father.”

“Really? I honestly do not know what to say to that… I can’t cheer for cousin incest, but I’m happy it was not twin incest…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, it’s a tough line to walk. However, I decided to see it as good news. I’m glad my brother was still sleepy when he thought he was writing this to Cersei, otherwise I would still be wondering.”

She smiled lightly then frowned, and he was worried right away, which she saw, and gestured for him to quiet down.

“I do not mean to be rude or imply anything insulting, but do you think that your father knows too? Given the fact that Cersei and Robert live under his roof with their supposedly shared brood.”

“Great question. I would not put it past the silver fox, or whatever you want to call him. I guess he figured that there was nothing he could do, once the first child was born, even though it’s an arsehole of epic proportion.”

“I think I saw a notification on my phone earlier saying your nephew had been spotted going to the ER this morning or late last night… Something about a bleeding nose I think?”

“I did not hear,” was all he said, making sure he was not lying to her about that, which he was not.

He did not know that the paps had spotted his bloody daft as rock nephew going to the hospital, but he knew of at least two men named Greyjoy and Snow who would have wanted to kick his ass. Furthermore, Arya was still in town… How he hoped her brother had warned her about what he had himself told them. The thought of the fencer kicking his nephew to the curb made him want to pump his fist in victory up and down.

“Then again, given how he acted with you, he was practically begging for a beating. I do wonder who gave him one. If he went to the ER because he fell down the stairs, I will be so disappointed,” he said, taking out the antipasti from the bags.

“You are being cruel, and that is not in your nature.”

“I would agree, but when it comes to that rat and what he did to you, or attempted to you, well I will embrace cruelty and give it whatever it needs,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and while he would have thought she was talking about the meal being set up, he knew what she was referring to.

He grabbed her hand, almost out of habit, something that seemed so stupid given how little time they had really spent together, and said:

“Anything for my Lady. I wish I could be the knight in shining armor you deserve.”

“I already have my knight,” she said, and he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. “That would be my sister. I only need someone who will respect me and help me navigate my life, without telling me what to do, something you are extremely good at.”

He knew he had to be sporting a goofy grin, but he did not care for a second.

“Arya really could have been a knight… Did you guys start looking for a house in the Hamptons?”

“We were thinking of going this weekend if I don’t have to work. Would you like to come with us?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on sisterly time.”

“Pish posh. I would not invite you if I did not mean it.”

“Let’s see how our schedules work, and I’ll give you an answer then.”

He saw that she was smiling and had to wonder for a few seconds what he had done to please her so. He heard the words he had used and realized he had used the British pronunciation of “schedule”.

“At this rate, I may need to ask my godmother to grant you double citizenship,” she joked.

“I like it. I mean, I like your words. I know they’re not yours, but the way you speak, it sort of rolls of my tongue without me taking notice. Plus, it makes me feel… I don’t know, different, in a good way? Like I belong to a secret society of posh people.”

“You’ll be glad to know that your application was reviewed and accepted in record time,” she joked.

“I have very few lovely memories from meeting your family, but the look on Joffrey’s face every time I used an idiom, or you did, it was priceless. I may have overdone it too, but my nerves were doing the talking.”

“I noticed I became pretty fluent at Brit English, if I may tut my own horn.”

“You have. You have more to learn still, but you already are on the right path. Which reminds me… Bran told me you asked him about the quickest way to learn Gaelic….”

Damn, he should have thought that through. Of course, the brother would let his sister know, since they had not exchanged phone numbers.

He felt himself blush and tried to explain:

“It’s just so intriguing, and I like the fact that you guys can cut people out of a convo without having to resort to some weird code…”

“He asked me for your phone number. If you receive a text from Great Britain, it will probably be Bran. If the language is academic and philosophical and make you scratch your head, then it is definitely Bran.  We keep trying to be more relaxed when it comes to writing texts, but he writes them like emails. We have only gotten him to stop signing them ‘Branden Stark, blab bla bla PHD.’. It took us months, if not a full year!” Sansa said, coming to take a seat.

He laughed as she filled his plate, then hers.

They ate in comfortable silence, both thinking about what was to come and more.

“What did you do this morning?” He finally asked. “I did not see you in the makeup and dressing trailer.”

“I will be doing that tonight, after the meeting. Anthony wanted me to interact with our co-stars, as I was cast so late, I only had time to do one screen test with you.”

“Are you still on for coloring your hair?” He asked.

“Sure, if it is done tastefully. I will see with the artists of course. I also need to meet Laora. I keep hearing about her, but she is a mystery woman to me!”

“You’ll love her. She’s older than you are by six years I think; I may be wrong. However, if you liked her screenplay, you will like her. What you see is what you get. Or what you read is part of what you will be getting. She’s really down to Earth, and I have absolutely no idea how she can come up with such carefully crafted plots. Be prepared to adapt though. If you have suggestions, she will hear them out, and may decide you are right, but she can also wake up in the middle of the night and decide that your character should be sporting a bat on its shoulder for a scene when it was not something you had planned to do before….”

“A bat?”

“I’m being extreme, but her screenplays are her babies. That is, until Tony puts one into her, and then again she will keep on writing, she will probably just have a deeper understanding of some thematic she knows from afar. She really cares for her babies, those of papers, those made of flesh too such as her favorite actors, or her besotted director.”

“How did they meet?”

Tyrion was happy to relay the anecdote, as they had their lunch. Sansa seemed to deem the story worthy of a movie itself.

When they were finished, he almost did not want to go back, but then again was completely ready. He would be interacting with most actors but mostly, he would be interacting with Sansa, in character. He could not wait to read his part and let her read hers and make everyone see why she was so perfect for this job, why only she could be the Ismelda to his Richard. She would be his true match, and they would make sense. He was not sure who he wanted to convince, the other or her, but that was where his head was at.

And if anybody had a problem with that, they could come and say it to his face, if they dared.

Chapter Text

The hairdresser worked her magic, putting some streaks of pink in her hair, having therefore to bleach the wisps she had selected in order to then be able to apply the dye. Her hair was naturally too dark to sport some forelocks without some preparation. It was not something Sansa got to say often, but she had complete confidence in the woman’s ability. She had taken the time to explain the process and let her know in advance how much upkeeping this new hairdo would require.

The young actress was feeling drained emotionally truthfully. The reading had not required deep acting, but she had felt enormous pressure, that she had inflicted on herself truth be told. She had wanted to prove to the other actors that she had earned her part and not gotten it because of Tyrion.

Furthermore, it had been an opportunity to prove to herself that she belonged among this crowd of talented actors and actresses, and while she knew her casting could be legitimately justified, when it came to herself, she always needed a little extra, a little something else that pushed the convincing further. She had earned her place at the table, or so she kept repeating herself. Now if her own psyche would follow suit and agree, that would be perfect.

She had received to top it all a note from Ramsay, who in the card did not content himself with implication but plain and simple enunciated she had successfully slept her way to the top. She could have ignored that accusation, if it had not been the prelude to him writing: “when I’ll greet you back by my side, you will have earned your place there like the bitch you are, and I will make sure you never forget that you’re just that, a bitch.” Both the threats of having to deal with him and having to deal with his abuse were weighing down heavily on her soul.

The past was supposed to be past, and done with, dealt with, buried in a box and forgotten about, except when it was not, and she was painfully aware this was what was happening in this instance.

“You’re awfully quiet”, Molly, the hairdresser said.

“I apologize. I am having one of this moment when you find yourself stuck in your heads, a slave to the thoughts your brain decides to conjure I’m afraid.”’

“I’ve been there, darling, I sadly know what that means, perhaps a little too well. Just remember, it’s not your brain deciding to bring up this or that, it’s so much more complicated. You have thoughts which were brought up by something that happened during the day, and then you have those lurking thoughts which are always there, waiting for an opening, a moment to go all “tadah, you thought we were gone, didn’t you?” and then you have those weird thoughts that rally seem to come out of nowhere but can be rationally explain if you have three hours, a good shrink, and biscuits to help you navigate the meanders of your mind.

“Quite precisely,” Sansa answered with a small laugh. “I know you are perfectly right, but when the storm is happening, all you can do is hang on to whatever sane thread there still might be in your brain and hope to God that you will make it through.”

“Amen. The party tonight should be a good way to get rid of all those thoughts though…”

“I’ll only be making a brief appearance, to be honest. I need to deal with certain things for my siblings and while I’ll try to do most through emails, I may have a few phone calls to place, and those will take time.”

“Then you’re taking this problem backwards. Deal with those issues first, then show up for the party. You will be free of all that, and you’ll be able to see people really drunk, which you will want to remember, especially those prissy actresses who believe you are only here because you’re dating Tyrion.”

Wow talk about a tangent she had not expected…. Molly seemed to feel she had touched something special.

“I’m sorry, is that supposed to be a secret? Because it would be a very badly kept one.”

“No, I guess not, I just never really thought about showing up to the party to assert my actress statute if you will. I thought about it in a fun way and felt badly I had to skip it but I forgot about the fact that some people had prejudices; I had hoped to have squashed them when I did the reading.”

“To some, you may do a thousand readings and still be the girl Tyrion is banging. I mean, I had an affair with him for like, two weeks, something extremely casual that meant nothing, and some of the witches with a B came to me all day long, pretending to be minding their own business, then by a twist of situation, would ask me how it felt to be working on set with a girl he had chosen over me. Stupid women…”

“You… were with Tyrion?” Sansa found herself asking, looking at the woman in the mirror.

She was lovely of course; the actor was known to have good taste. However, they had nothing in common. While the girl had raven hair and brown eyes, with olive skin making her look exotic, Sansa was just this weird red hair from across the sea, as white as a drop of milk. When you spotted Molly, you could tell she was from the good old U.S of A., meanwhile Sansa looked like she had come out from Braveheart, at best. Molly was probably in her early thirties, and Sansa had not hit twenty yet.

“Yeah, but as I said, it meant nothing. It was just two people who were lonely and looking for companionship who got together until they realized that even when together they were alone. It was good while it lasted, and girl, you certainly hit the jackpot with Tyrion when it comes to lovers, but truthfully, I have no regrets, no moments where I ask myself if a third week would have made a difference. Sometimes things work. Sometimes, they don’t. You can only pony up and deal with them, you know?”

Except she did not know. She was a baby when it came to relationships.

“I hope I did not put my foot in my mouth…” Molly said.

“I guess one could say you did, but I’m glad you did, inasmuch as I’d rather hear it from you, straight from the person involved, rather than from someone else.”

“I thought Tyrion would have told you.”

“The way a man’s brain works is just as unexplainable as quantum physics to me.”

Molly laughed then said:

“You really need to make an appearance tonight, then, and have a drink with me and Tyrion. Of course, people will assume we have reached an agreement regarding a threesome, but at least, it will get them of our backs for a while.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Ans look, ta-dah!” The hairdresser announced, as she finished arranging her hair. “What do you think?”

“I love it. You did a wonderful job!”

“I can tell I put you off with my big mouth…”

The girl seemed really distressed at the thought.

“You did not, do not worry. Thank you. And we’ll have that drink later, which will get some witches of your back!” Sansa said, trying to cheer up the artist.

“If you say so…”

Sansa smiled, then left the trailer.

At times, she felt really selfish and petty. She was jealous of a girl who had been with her fake boyfriend, and had no right to exhibit such an emotion, yet there it was… She was bloody jealous of Molly. She would swallow down that pill and not let it sit one second more on her stomach; what was past was past, that was what she kept on repeating herself after all, whether it came to Ramsay or Tyrion’s previous lovers. She would have to deal. He had had women in his life before her, he would have others after her. She was not that special, and all those who told her otherwise were trying to sell her something. She should know, that was what her business was all about.

Nevertheless, she did not like this woman she found herself to be. She wished to be above all of this. Or perhaps she wished that Tyrion was not her fake anything, that anything he was happened to be genuine. She was such a child. A spoiled brat. Naughty Sansa, naughty.

Then again, she thought of his flowers and she wondered if he had asked for the arrangement at random or if there was something to be read there. She had looked up the meaning of the flowers upon receiving them, feeling like such a chick, as in a girl whose life revolved around a man, but yes, she had done that. She had found two conflicting meanings for the gardenias. One spoke about putting one life in the other’s hands, the other meant that you wished good for the other’s family. The first meaning made more sense when put together with the meaning of the other flowers.

However, she still felt unsecure as hell. She had not expected to be faced with Tyrion’s past. How selfish once again of her.

She decided to go to her trailer, and phoned her sister, trying to figure how they would deal with Hampton purchase, what they were looking for and what they were expecting to find. Theon had gracefully agreed to get somebody on the subject in order to start gathering intel. Sansa had asked that the financial aspect be kept from her younger sister, as she did not want her to have to worry and have both what she wanted and needed. Time flew by and when they were done, it was past 10PM. No point in emailing people here and there in order to try and get something done for Bran’s itinerant year abroad, there would be no responses in the foreseeable time. She checked her appearance in a mirror, and admired Molly’s handiwork. The pink in her hair really suited her and went well with the character of Ismelda. It enhanced her youth, but it also gave her an aura for being hip and groovy. This was not who she was, but she liked it. She hoped she could live up to what it represented.

She took a deep breath and went out, looking for the part of the set where the reception was supposed to take place. She followed the people smoking, with cups of beer in their hands, greeting them all as she went. It felt strange as always to consider that they would be her fellow companions for the weeks to come.

She hoped she had changed clothes, but it was too late. She went to the heart of the reception and was greeted by the woman she had seen from afore but not yet interacted with: the infamous Laora.

“Sansa!” She exclaimed upon spotting her and invited her to join her. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Something alcohol-free, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course!”

A cup was handed to her and she was pleased to discover that it was a mix of fruit juice. The woman next to her was just plain lovely. She was a brunette, with clear grey eyes, and she looked wise beyond her years. However, the first thing anyone would probably have noticed about her where how sweet looking she seemed. She was a beautiful woman, from Vietnamese descent, with all the right shapes in all the right places. Sansa surely could see how on a purely physical level, Anthony may have been attracted to the woman. However, the actress was also privy to how close they were and how they always seemed to be reading each other’s mind. She had noticed it during their big event that afternoon. Each time a word or phrase had been corrected, both the director and the writer were on the same wavelength and did not need to ask the other how they felt.

“You’re okay?” The writer asked.

“Yes, thank you for asking. How about you?”

“I’m excited and terrified, but as Tony tells me, it’s normal. The first time we shot together, it felt the same, and we made a great movie, so I’m taking this as a good sign.”

“You should. Everybody wants to make you proud. You should have heard how Mr. Thompson talked about you when we first met.”

“And you should hear what Tyrion had to say about you before we met! He was terrified I would not find you worthy of Ismelda, but you are, just in case you were wondering.”

“Am I wrong to assume that Ismelda in several ways is perhaps a younger version of you, or perhaps another you, who you were a few years back?”

“I think there’s some truth in this. Before coming to Hollywood, I had all those theories of what was supposed to happen and how it would happen etc, and when I got there, well… They do say that if you want to make God laugh you just need to tell Him about your plans, you know?”

“I know…”

“There’s my Lady!” Tyrion exclaimed, coming out of nowhere or so it felt to Sansa.

“Is that you?” Laora asked the actress. “Aww that’s so cute, I wish Tony had a fancy nickname for me. I mean, ‘babe’ is nice and all, but come on, I’ve been giving him movie slash baby masterpieces for Heaven’s sake!”

“That’s me, alright. Something tells me you had more than one drink…”

“He was so sure you would not show up, something about your brothers and sister needing you too much, he was devastated.”

“Hey, don’t go around spilling my secrets!” Tyrion told the writer.

“”Hey, don’t go around giving me incentive to write you a few additional extremely embarrassing scenes!”

“Point taken… Speaking of which, did you not have plans to talk to deans or something?” The man asked Sansa.

“I did. I talked to Arya first and got carried away. I figured the rest could wait another day.”

Laora excused herself and went to be with her man, aka their director.

“They’re so cute together,” Sansa commented.

“They are.”

“Tyrion…”

“Oooh that must be serious, you almost never use my name…” The man said.

“I don’t want it to be but I guess it made it so… That is not my point. I met Molly.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh”. He repeated.

There was a moment of silence, and she really had no idea about what she wanted or hoped he would say.

“She is really nice and fun, but what we have… It just wasn’t. That’s not what I meant. I mean that what we had was casual and we made no promises and we both moved on, and really, she’s no threat to you…”

“A threat to me? What a charming way to consider things. She would be a threat if she could persuade to stop fake dating me, you are right about that though… I just… I guess I just wanted you to know that I knew, whatever it was and all, I was made aware it had happened, and I am okay with it.”

“Are you really?” Tyrion asked, and she knew it was probably the alcohol playing with the glint in his eyes, but she felt like he wished she had been jealous.

“I am. She’s lovely, you’re lovely, you had a lovely time and if someone brings it up in front of me, I’ll just say ‘but he’s with me now’. How does that sound?”

“Good, really good,” he answered, stressing out the word ‘really”. “I’m sorry I’m drunk.”

“Don’t be, I am not your mother…”

“I know you are wary of people who partake in alcohol.”

“I’m only wary of some people who partake in alcohol, and I’ve also learned in time that sometimes the worst of them are the one who don’t partake. Don’t feel bad, just have a good time. Just… Just keep our arrangement under wraps, I guess. Don’t spill it…”

“I would never, especially since I like to pretend it’s real.”

He never got a chance to elaborate as a bunch of actors made kissing noises at them and gestured for him to join them. They would be playing beer pong.

Sansa smiled, and kissed his cheek, before sending him their way. He deserved to have some fun. She never wanted to be a ball and chain to him. So she sipped on her juice, while he played beer pong, and won, despite several jokes made on his particularity which should have gotten him riled up. He drank a little more, and then a whole lot more. She stayed away from the games and interacted with both the staff and the cast. When she was called again, Tyrion was on the verge of falling asleep. As everybody believed them to be dating, they assumed she would take him home. So she did.

She found Bronn who carried the actor in his car. She went with and made sure he got the actor on the bed. There, she removed only a few items of clothing, and put some aspirin and water on his bedtable. She made sure his alarm was set and went to leave the room. She only turned one last time and spotted the room next to Tyrion.

“Maybe next time”, she thought.

And then Bronn brought her back home.

Chapter Text

The next few couple of weeks flew by as the work on the movie started in a big way. Tyrion was used to such movies, but from speaking to Sansa every day for lunch, he realized that to her, this was a different experience. The young woman seemed to be enjoying the new pace and was adapting quickly. They had had a few scenes together so far, but he had been shooting with Doran Martell, as the actor was scheduled to start another movie in ten days. Their interactions on camera were exhausting me, as he sometimes found himself comparing his character Richard’s relationship with Doran’s who played his father made him think about his own patriarch. Tywin had called a week or so before asking if Sansa and Tyrion were still irate at what Joffrey and Cersei had d been done.

That had been so weird, and Tyrion could not help but wonder what his father’s ulterior motives, for he had no delusion about the fact that the man had something up his sleeves. He pushed those thoughts aside, as he made his way to Sansa’s trailer. He was but too aware that his fellow costars had nicknamed their lunching habit the “lovers time”. He would be hard pressed to say that he found this offensive. He actually liked it. There were not bad intentions between this little bickering, just people acknowledging that he was Sansa’s, or that was how he had chosen to perceive it. He really enjoyed their daily break, when it was just the two of us, and they could talk about everything and nothing, good and bad…

He knocked and was surprised to find out he was the first there. She must have been held back on the set. He knew that she was shooting a scene with Elissa Forrester who was playing her best friend and the person Ismelda talked to about her relationship and the difficulties she encountered working for Richard, or more accurately attempting to ghost write for him. Elissa was a sweet girl who could show teeth when needed, and Tyrion sort of hoped that she and Sansa could pursue their friendship offscreen, especially if this happened to be Sansa’s big break in the “serious” movie business, as Theon referred to it.

Tyrion let himself in and saw that there was a note that the young actress had left for herself, saying that she needed to order Fish and Chips from a certain place. He almost jumped in joy. For once, he would be buying his lady lunch. He called the place, to make sure that no order had been placed by the actress, then he placed one of his own, according to what he knew of the woman’s taste.

That afternoon, they would be shooting together, and he could not wait. Yeah, stupid him, whatever. He wanted to be the one working with the precious redhaired who had entered his life. She kept on letting him in, and each time he felt blessed, hoping he could bring her as much joy and feeling of belonging as she did, but sadly, the more time he spent with her, the more like many of his past years had been spent dilly dallying around, waiting for something to happen, and thus drinking and working, without an objective or a goal to pursue.

He knew that she had spent the past weekend in the Hamptons with her sister, looking for a place. The weekend before that, they had gone horse shopping, or something along those lines. Arya had gone and met with several breeders, trying to find a new steed to start training, in order to prepare for the replacement of her current steed, a mighty beast who was getting perhaps a little too old for competing. Arya had no intention of putting the beast down though, or at least not until she had no choice but to do that. She wanted space in her next place for her former steeds to grow old happily.

It was all nice and neat when you thought about it, but it also meant that he had not seen Sansa off-set since that atrocious dinner at his father’s. His brother had gone back to his one shooting site, but from time to time, Tyrion and Jaime would exchange text messages, enquiring about how the other was doing, sort of waging war to be able to say they were the one working the most. It was childish and petulant, but it felt nice to be back in touch, even if superficially with his big brother.

“Oh, My Lord,” Sansa said when she entered the trailer. “I’m glad you let yourself in, I’m sorry I was not there to greet you.”

“Do not start fretting over things I know you had no control over.”

“I need to order our lunch…”

“Already did,” Tyrion said somewhat smugly. “I found the prospectus you had planned for today and placed an order. We should get a delivery soon.”

“That was not our deal,” she said, alluding to the engagement she had taken back when they had gone shopping.

“Deals are meant to be amended.”

He took in how she looked and smiled. The pink streaks in her hair really enhanced her natural beauty. He wanted to run his hand in her mane.

There was a knock on the door of the trailer, cutting his thoughts short. The two of them exchanged a glance, but neither knew who it could be. She went to the entrance of the trailer and opened the door.

“Laora! Mr. Thompson!  We did not expect you!” She exclaimed upon spotting the visitors, showing them in.

The couple waved at Tyrion and said:

“Please excuse our intrusion, but since this is the lovers’ nest and we felt like joining you, if you would have us,” Laora said. “Hey Tyrion!”

“How are you guys?” he asked.

“Well, you probably heard all I had to say so I won’t repeat it.”

“We were planning to have fish and chips, want to join us?”

“We’d love to!” Tony said.

Tyrion went to place an extra order and found something to munch on in the meantime.

“So you guys have this break every day?” Laora said.

“We try,” Sansa replied, as she gestured for them to take place around the table.

She poured some water for everyone as Tony explained:

“You’re quite lucky to be able to do that. Honestly, since we started, this is the first time we have had a chance to sit down together for lunch.”

“I guess, we are indeed pretty lucky,” Sansa said, as if she was realizing that they were blessed to be doing this every day.

“Have you guys started debriefing this afternoon big scene’s?” Tony asked.

“Not so much, yet….”

“Do you want to go over it before we actually go through the process?”

The scene they were supposed to shoot later on was a tricky one. As Ismelda was becoming jaded by what she was discovering about her hero and what was expecting of her, she had to face the fact that he considered himself a fraud. Ismelda would be walking him on him watching himself in the mirror, stark naked, no pun intended, hoping to not be seen, but their gazes would meet, and Tyrion would have to be defiant, as if to say ‘you know the truth, you know what I really am, now what?’. This was a huge scene as far as Ismelda’s character was concerned, as well as Richard’s. Ismelda would be faced with the humanity of her hero, and he would be faced with baring himself to the one person who held his future in her hands.

“I was thinking of winging it, to be honest,” Tyrion said.

“You’ll be naked. When you say something like that, it makes me worry,” Richard joked.

“Hardy har,” the actor said.

“While I have you Laora, I have questions about that scene, and the grand scheme of things,” Sansa interjected.

“Ooh! That sounds very serious!” The writer said.

“I guess it is. I play Ismelda, I know that you know, but I don’t just play her, I am her, when I am on the set,” Sansa started. “Therefore, when something happens to her, her journey, it affects me and I think about it a lot. I was wondering, how did you come up to the point where you thought that Ismelda’s journey needed to have a stop if you will, a turning point moment, when she catches her boss naked, and try to get away without being caught, and how did you come to the conclusion that she needed to have this episode in her journey, to have her see that she could take things into  her own hands, instead of having her whipping him into work or something?”

“You really thought about the subject a lot,” Laora laughed.

“Well, I’m Ismelda most of the days… I’m not battling you for custody of her character, but I guess you know what I mean.”

“It’s a very good question. I guess I felt like Richard is always wearing this armor, his sarcasm, his ability to be hurtful at the drop of the hat, and the only moment when he could not exhibit it and use it against the people he’s talking to would be if he ended up being well, bare-ass naked. Plus, when you look at it from Richard’s perspective, he has never been that vulnerable in his whole life. He has a choice to make if you will. He can stand up and stand up for what he is, or he can try to grab some clothes and salvage what’s left of his dignity and thus his upper hand. I am not sure he realizes it the moment he just stands before Ismelda’s eyes, but he does make a choice, and it’s a powerful, you know?”

Tyrion listened to the explanation and found out that it sort of matched what he had figured out on his own, but it was always good to have confirmation from the one who had designed your character. As if to prevent them from diving deeper into the subject, there was a knock on the door, and Sansa got up, to fetch and pay for the food that was being delivered. Tyrion had a smug smile when he heard the delivery man say everything had already been paid when the order had been placed the first time. She gave him a look, as if he was not playing by their rules, but he was a real bad player and he loved to win.

The young actress went to the table and start checking what he had ordered. He had chosen four different types of fish, and she started handing it to each and every one. He found himself with what he considered a regular fish, and said:

“I ordered a special kind, what was its name again?”

“I have it, I will it, if you don’t mind…”

“Unless you love it, I do mind!”

“Beware,” Tony fake whispered to Laora, “I believe we’re about to witness a lover’s quarrel!”

“I meant no offense my lord, but this fish, as you mentioned, is special. It is very strong, and I have found across the years that non-Brit people could not stomach it at first.”

“Maybe I can…”

“How about this? I eat some of yours, you eat some of mine. This way, you will not feel deprived, and you will have to concede that indeed, a whole fish of this sort would have been a tough sell on a first try.”

“She’s buttering you up, man!” Tony exclaimed.

“I know, and I love it. Okay, my Lady, we will do as you say. But I may surprise you.”

“You surprise me every day,” Sansa said softly.

“You’ve got to stop this lovey-dovey stuff, or the next movie I’ll write will a romcom, and Tony would rather hand me a hammer and put his balls on a table, for me to smash them, rather than produce such a movie!” Laora exclaimed.

They all laughed and ate. The actress had been right, the strong fish he had ordered would have been a little too strong for him to finish on his own, its taste too particular, but he loved the way Sansa would grab bites from his plates, like they had done this all their lives. They had a blast. Sansa was full of insightful questions for the writer, and Tyrion and Tony did not need a particular topic to have a discussion.

When time came for them to go back to their next assignment, they had decided to try and have meals at least once a week, the four of them. Tyrion liked it and felt flabbergasted by that. He had never been the type to date, let alone double date, yet he looked forward to the next time they would all sit down and have sit down together.

Sansa and Tyrion parted, both needing to go to get prepared, or get naked in his case. He was not looking too much to that. He was fine with his body, had no problem with who he was, but the thought of showing it to perfect Sansa made him feel acutely aware that he was not Apollo. He hoped that scene would not create any tension or malaise or whatever between them. Then again, it was up to them to treat it as just part of the job, and they had been great at it so far. He had had to ell on the lovely Brit as his character, and she had never begrudged him for it once they had broken out of character. He had try apologizing once, and she had given him her infamous “pish posh”. Dating an actress was something he could get used to.

Those where the thoughts running in his head as the wardrobe people prepared him for his nude scene. His male attributes would be covered by some sort of sock, as he would be shot from behind, and he was in a wardrobe when he arrived on set. Sansa was there, deep in thoughts, as no words were meant to be exchanged during that scene. It would be all about intent and non verbal communication. He liked to think they aced that kind of things, but he sat down and worked himself into the right headspace too.

Tony gave them instructions before the scene would be shot, and soon enough, Tyrion ended up naked in front of the mirror. HE was in full Richard mode as far as the yes could see, but there was a minuscule part of him which wondered “what would Sansa think of him?”.

As planned, she walked in the corridor and peeked through the door, silently gasping as Ismelda discovered her boss in his birthday suit. She tried to close the door but failed, attracting his attention. Their eyes met, and Richard was broadcasting “so this is me, watcha gonna do about it, little girl?”.

Ismelda was looking like she did not know where she belonged and how to react, but just underneath, and fleetingly, Tyrion could have sworn Sansa was reacting too, and what he thought he was perceiving was a blessing. She was looking at him like the man he was, notwithstanding his deformity. There was no room for that in her eyes. She only accepted the gift he made of baring himself to her. Of course, that moment was just a second long, and soon enough, she was running out and off the set, as her character was meant to do.

“And cut!” Tony yelled.

The set started buzzing with people offering Tyrion a bathrobe, and people adjusting lights and microphones etc.

“It was perfect. We won’t need a second shot!” The director exclaimed. “We can move up more scenes to start working on.”

He started telling people to work on what, and Tyrion noticed that his afternoon would be freed. Sansa was supposed to be shooting with Elissa to debrief what she had witnessed. The set was all but a mess.

Tyrion got up and left. On his way out, he met eyes with the actress, and she smiled at him, sweetly. No judgement, no nothing. She was just happy to see him. And he was glad to see her.

He winked and walked out to get some clothes on. He needed to go see that litter of puppies, and spend some time making sure his choice was the right one, which he was sure of, and he also needed the pup to start knowing him. He phoned Tormund while in his trailer and left for the day.

There was a lightness in his being, like a weigh he did not know had been there had been lifted. He considered them Persephone and Hades, the beautiful daughter of Zeus and Demeter, and him, the celestial brother of the king Gods, not so lovely, not so attractive, sort of wrong for different reasons. In the myth, Persephone chose her captor to be her husband, despite his scheme. Could Sansa make a similar decision of her own?

How he wished!

Chapter Text

Extract from Celebrities daily doing the ugly: Tyrion and Sansa, showing the true meaning of a happy life is a secret life?

This celebrity couple is having scratch our head ten ways to Sunday and then twice as many till the next week. Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister, who have been linked since the Met Gala seem to be taking this old piece of advice as a rule on how to live their relationship. While frequently spotted in the first two weeks or so of their entanglement, and we’re not even certain if they were involved then or just on their way to getting there, the pair has been on the down low after one extremely visible episode in their relationship, when they went to encourage Sansa’s younger sister (we know! It came as a shock to us too!) Arya Stark at the world fencing championship. The pair have been shooting their latest movie, “The maneless lion” ever since and have not been spotted outside or anywhere else. Certain photographers managed to get pictures of them with other people going from one place to another on the set, but as they were already surrounded by more people, no PDA were spotted. However, as part of the crew, including the lovebirds is preparing to go away on location in Sansa’s home country to shoot several scenes, could this be the occasion that allows us to give you all the pictures we are dreaming of as well as you are?

Sansa could barely stand still as they passed customs. She was so happy to be in the United Kingdom; she had missed it so much. Sure, she wished they had gone to Scotland, but Cambridge was as good as it got. They had avoided landing in any of the London airports in order to avoid the press that would be waiting for them there. They were at the Cambridge international airport, and there was not a journalist in sight according to the info they had gotten. Tyrion had been seated next to her during the flight. There had been sadly no chit-chat as they had been in first class, and the plane they were flying on had seats separated. However, in between winks of sleep, they had exchanged looks, which had felt to her like conversations. He had managed to convey comfort and let her know that everything would be okay. They would only be staying in England for six days, which was way too short for her taste. She would not have time to go to any of her homes, nor to see her family, which really bummed her down. However, she hoped to go back for her birthday which would be in less than two months.

“Okay”, the production manager told them before they exited the airport security area, “We will get everybody’s luggage, and cars should be waiting for us outside. They’ll take most of the crew straight to the hotel. Any questions?”

They had none. Sansa found herself getting closer to Tyrion. She wanted to tell him about …. She did not even know, she just wanted to talk to him. Being next to him and not being able to talk to him was torture.

They waited for some details to be checked then walked out the door of the security area. This was when she heard Tyrion gasped, and she watched the crowd waiting for the passengers.

“That’s my… That’s my!” She started saying, squeezing his hand.

“I know!”

“That’s my baby brother!” she finally let out, completely floored and overwhelmed by this surprise.

Bran was there, in his wheelchair, with his help staying behind him. The actress tried to fight the urge to do something rash then felt Tyrion squeeze her hand and decided to throw caution to the wind. She ran to her brother, kneeling before his wheelchair and throwing her arms around his neck.

“Bran! I can’t believe you’re there! And Hodor! It’s so great to see you there!”

“Of course, I’m here. When Tyrion texted me you would be coming to Cambridge, we made arrangements!” Bran said.

She looked over at the actor and smiled brightly before hugging her brother once again.

“What are you waiting for, baby sister, just hop on!” Bran said.

“Are you crazy?” she asked him, though tempted at the thought.

“I’m not twelve anymore, you can do it. Arya does it all the time. You know you want to….”

“Damn, you really are a genius of psychology and all that,” she replied to her brother. “Also, ‘baby sister’? Where is that coming from?”

“I’m just trying this whole laid-back style, as a social experiment. Furthermore, I believe this would deepen our fraternal bond.”

“Such a dork…” She said.

“That’s actually a whale’s penis. I’m just a Brainiac.”

“Shut up, nerd,” she replied, before getting up and sitting on his lap for the first time ever.

She pulled her arms tighter around him and smelled in his hair. This was her baby brother. This was her perfect brother. All her brothers were perfect, but she just wanted to melt into his embrace.

“I missed you so much,” she said in his ear.

“I missed you too, sister,” he said, pulling his arms around her.

They heard the sound of a picture being taken and both turned to see Tyrion with his phone aimed at them.

“Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish. “Also, nice to meet you, Branden.”

“Right back at you,” her brother said with a smile, holding out his hand for the man to shake, which he did.

“I cannot believe that you’re there!”

“Well, Tyrion said it was the only day I would be able to see you, since you would be stuck on set the next days. I booked a place where we can have a mix of lunch and supper as it is too late for one and too early for the other.”

“Why isn’t the big man speaking?” Tyrion asked Sansa as she untangled herself from her brother.

“Hodor, meet Tyrion,” she said. “Tyrion, this Hodor. He only speaks Gaelic, so you’ll probably will not be able to interact much.”

The big man took out his phone and said something in Gaelic, then turned it toward Tyrion. An electronical voice said out loud:

“Hello, you Sansa husband.”

She held the laughter in, appreciating the fact that Hodor had downloaded an app to translate and say out loud in English what he said in Gaelic.

“Hello big man, nice to meet you.”

Bran quickly translated it to his help, and the man nodded.

“We’ll get you back at your hotel tonight, are you ready to go?”

“We’ll carry your stuff to the hotel,” the production manager said. “You guys can go.”

****

They spent a wonderful afternoon slash evening. Bran had chosen a good place, and Hodor was a class A cook. She could not stop smiling.

“Aren’t you being missed at Oxford?” she asked her brother.

“When the Dean gave you lip about being a couple of days late about my tuition fees, he lost most of my respect. I only have the minimum required for our relationship to be a working one, but as far as the rest go, no one messes with my sister and gets away with it.”

She blushed and blew him a kiss, before taking a drink from her sparkling water.

“You guys really are wolves,” Tyrion said.

Bran gave him a look, and the actor started explaining the alpha and wolf pack theory he believed in. She watched the two men interact and loved it. Bran was being very friendly with Tyrion, and she suspected that they had exchanged messages more than just about her arrival. She liked the idea that they could be friends so much.

They spent the evening talking, exchanging stories about the championship, about times they had hung out with Brienne and Tormund. They also told him about that terrible evening at the Lannisters. Bran held his tongue, but she could see that he disapproved terribly of what had gone down and he wished he had been around so that he could take her defense. They talked about the first time they had met in theon’s office, and she was baffled by how long it felt it had taken place. She would have sworn she had known Tyrion all her life so far. Bran had weird questions to ask them about their trip furniture shopping, more interested in the furniture they had picked and which wood they had gone with over which one. Her brother was such a dork. However it felt so nice. She introduced Tyrion to real tea, and he loved it.

She loved her brother so much, and she adored Tyrion just as much. She had never expected for them to be able to spend an evening together. The actor was next to her, and she felt warmth near her hand.

It was his. She tried to keep things casual, and not let anything show, but she had so many things going through her head. She could just ignore it and not give it another thought. Or she could…

She grabbed his hand in hers. She saw the tip of his lips lift up in a smile. He squeezed her hand, and pulled it onto his knee. She did not fight it, and just enjoyed the feeling of his thumb rubbing her fingers.

She saw Bran sort of wink, and she guessed that he had figured what had happened. She did not mind. She loved it too much.

When Hodor brought them back to the hotel, their hands were still linked together, and her head was on his shoulder. She kissed his cheek and said:

“Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“For making this happening. I thought I would not get a chance to go back home, but you brought home to me when you warned my brother.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m just glad you had a good moment.”

“You did too, didn’t you?”

“I did. Bran is a very interesting character once you accept the fact that he is so much smarter than you are. Plus, he really is fun, when he lets his hair down. I have to admit I loved the fact tha he called you baby sister all night long and you let him get away with it.”

“It’s Bran. I would do anything for him. Plus, I liked it. I was really surprised because it was not patronizing at all, when he said it, it just felt like an embrace. Which forces me to make a very tough Segway, but how are things between you and Jaime?”

“We’re good. We’re in a good place. Sure, he’ll never call me pet names, and I won’t do the same for him, because that’s just not who we are. But we speak, sometimes, or text, more accurately. I have no expectations, but I appreciate it while it last.”

“He may surprise you…” Was all she said.

He kissed her hair, and then remained silent for the rest of the ride.

Chapter Text

Their British vacation ended just as it was supposed to, and they managed to get all the scenes in the box in time. Leaving the UK broke part of Sansa’s heart. She was unable to stop watching out the plane window as they flew away. Tyrion tried to persuade her to ask for something to help her sleep, but while she appreciated the thought, she answered that she did not want anything. She needed to be aware, so that she could enjoy getting back there when the time would come. It left the man with a bittersweet impression, as if there was something she was not telling him. Sure, he could completely understand her reasoning, for the UK was her home and she was bound to have deep feelings whether about going there or leaving, but still he wished he could do something. While he would have usually tried to make her laugh and take her mind off things, he just stayed seated next to her, petting her hand from time to time, and holding it when the plane started to land in NY. How he wished he could take away her pain and how homesick she felt.

Two more weeks went by and all they did was work and work some more. They spent both days and nights on the set, whatever the script required. He was working his ass off, pardon his French. Richard was a complicated character, and when Laora had all but fallen in love with Sansa as Ismselda had started rewriting scenes, more and more, both about Sansa’s character, his own interacting with her, and other scenes where he was interacting with whomever but something was said about Ismelda. For all his jokes about Sansa stealing the lead from him, he could tell that in Laora’s heart, she was his co-lead, and was by no means a supporting role. When they had lunch or dinner, which they kept on doing, they would often go over the new scenes and try to have them fit in the great scheme of the movie. It meant having their perspective on their characters evolve time after time, and it was sometimes a tad difficult to keep up. However, he would be lying if he pretended he did not like having more scenes with the actress, no matter how intense and draining they were.

“You’re always so …. Richard.” Sansa told him once.

“I do not know what to make of this,” he answered. “Do you mean I’m a fraud or…?”

He was just kidding of course, but she took it very seriously, holding his hand as she said:

“Please don’t darken the way you see me with such thoughts. I just… It’s my first time working on a movie where things are written for cohesion and reason purposes, meanwhile I used to do movies where everything was written to get the oohs and aahs the producers wanted to have it be a success at the box office. I am experiencing a whole new world. I feel like I’m getting in touch with my mother at time, because I feel like this is me really following in her footsteps, and I dread tanking this part and having to go back to scripted romcom where nothing is thought through. When I make that comment about you and Richard, it is meant as a compliment. I am in awe by the way you manage to tap in his fears, hopes, whatever when you need too, and then go back to being yourself when the director screams ‘cut.”

“My Lady, I thank you for this heartwarming compliment. I will admit that it was not easy when I started getting serious riles to dissociate myself from the character I was playing, but your words make me believe that I have finally reached a balance between how much the character should get from me and the fact that me still gets to exist.”

They had not pursued this conversation further as Tony and Laora had come to join them for their weekly lunch. Instead, they had talked about how the movie was going, and how time seemed to flew by, even though both were sporting pockets under their eyes and were always stealing time away from their obligations to meet with them. It was also the one time when they got to be with each other, making it even more important.

Tyrion often looked at them and wondered if he would get that kind of relationship. Sansa… She was on his mind pretty much all the time, and there was no one’s opinion he cared about more. She may be younger, but she was his equal in so many ways. When she was not, she was willing to learn or admit it, and he felt blessed to have her trust. The Stark brothers |—and sister — threatening him made all the sense in the world when he considered what a precious gem he had been paired with. He wondered what she thought of him. He supposed logically that if she wanted to be free again she would wait till after they were done with the promotion so that it could seem natural, people drifting apart after they stopped working together, but he wished this was not to pass.

Later that afternoon, they were on set, Sansa, him and the rest of the crew. Ismelda was confronting Richard about being a coward who hid behind being a fraud and about not being willing to do anything to redeem himself, when Laora called for the scene to stop.

There were a few seconds when Sansa needed to shake her character off, as always, and he smiled at her, which she returned.

“What’s happening?” Tony asked to his writer.”

“I think they need to kiss.”

Wai what? He and Sansa had never kissed and doing so on a set was not his idea of a good first kiss.

“I think I get your reasoning, but care to explain?” Tony went on.

“Richard needs a way to reassert his dominance over his ghost writer who is basically threatening to not be just that anymore. Sadly, in our society, men usually do that through violence. However, Richard is too educated and posh to do that. I think they should keep on having this argument till this line, when Ismelda says that there’s nothing he can do to prove her wrong, and Richard slash Tyrion should kiss her, not in a romantic way, but in a punishing way, short of bruising. Does that make any sense?”

“It does to me, but I guess we have to see with the scene being done if it matches your vision. Guys, did you listen to everything? Would you be ready to start again, from the top, and have that forking moment?” Tony asked.

Of course they both nodded, trusting their director and the writer with such decisions, but he could see that Sansa was retreating into herself. Laora pulled them apart and said:

“I know I’m throwing you guys a huge curveball, but here is what I pictured. Tyrion, you will go over to Sansa, and smash your lips against hers. With your hand you will force her kips open and inflict a kiss if you will on her. Once it’s done, and it shouldn’t be more than 5 seconds I think, Sansa, you will rise up, take a few steps back, and give him the finger, before calmly walking out of the scene. Do you guys have it?”

Once again, they both nodded, but he hated everything about that scene.

“Thank God it won’t be your first kiss!” Laora said, clearly intending it to be a joke, and he almost choked.

“Yeah, thank God,” Sansa replied in a voice he had never heard her used, as if she was outside her body, and was just going through the motions.

They went back to their place, and asked for a few extra minutes to get in that particular mindset. He wished he could talk to his partner, but as they had both assured that they were okay with this significant change in the script, he could not ask for time to run it by Sansa. Furthermore, in the writer’s mind, this would not be their first kiss and therefore would not have any impact on their relationship, except he could see the ramifications looming over them. There would be no other first kiss. This would be it, and it would be despicable.

As the professional he was, he cleared his head, and slipped into his Richard suit, as he liked to think of it. Sansa in the opposite corner was doing the same, but her face was closed, even to him and he really hated it.

Once they both signaled they were ready, tony started the scene. The two argued, following their lines, letting anger they had in them fuel their exchange, until the moment came for the scene Laora had sprung on them. Sansa said her line, and he made his way to her. As she was seated, there was logistics to work out about their differences in height. He gave her a look, knowing the camera was behind him and could not catch it, but Sansa kept her stare right ahead, as if she was looking at him, but she was not. He crushed his lips to hers, hating every second of it, and put his hand on her chin. She helped him by opening her mouth slightly while he pretended to pry it open, and he kissed her.

This was by far the most terrible kiss he had ever given in his life, and he was no newcomer to this game. When the five seconds were done, Sansa pushed him away, stood up, and put some distance between them. While the scene was pretend, it felt like the space was insurmountable. She flipped him the bird, then slowly walked off the set.

When tony yelled ‘cut’, Tyrion was still feeling like the lowliest piece of shit this Earth had ever borne, and he wanted nothing more than to see Sansa and debrief it with her, tell her how much he meant nothing of it, that their first kiss, should it ever occur, would be the opposite of that, but he was told by a crew member that she had retreated to her trailer when Tony had called it a wrap.

He wanted to follow her there, but he still had work to do, a follow-up scene with no dialogue where he took in what had happened. So, he went to work, but the lady was on his mind, and it probably had a positive impact on his performance, for Laora said he had brought something to the table she had not planned but fitted this new narrative she was creating. There would be more new scenes sent to their apartments that night, to deal with the aftermath of this major scene, and he just wanted to find his lady and tell her all he had on his heart. Hell, he was even ready to ask her to stop being his fake girlfriend and give him a shot. What they had done on set felt too much like the death of a relationship, and he could not bear it.

When he was granted 15 minutes off, he all but ran to Sansa’s trailer. The door was unlocked, and he walked in when she did not answer. On the kitchen table, there was a note, and he read it after noticing her purse was gone and so was her coat.

“Don’t look for me, I warned the stage manager I needed the afternoon off.”

There was no pet names, hell not even his name on the note. She had not signed it. It was colder than the iceberg which had taken down the Titanic, and he felt the ice in his veins.

She was gone.

Chapter Text

Sansa walked for a long time, a very, very long time. She was not sure where she went, which itinerary she followed. All she knew was that at some point, she found herself walking down in Central Park, hidden underneath a wig, big sunglasses, and a coat so colorful it took the attention away from her figure.

She had so many thoughts… Too many thoughts. She remembered writing that note when she had fled her trailer, and she had the lasting impression that she had not taken the appropriate time to think her message through. However, there were so many thoughts in her head. So many memories were coming back, which she had believed she had dealt with, and she was faced with the terrifying revelation that she was nowhere done healing.

She could sometimes feel her cellphone in her pocket, but she could not bring herself to check the called ID, for she was afraid it would be Tyrion, or worse, one of her brothers. They could not know.

That scene Laora had sprung on them… She had thought she could handle it. However, when it had taken place, it had taken all her will power to remain in the scene and in character and to not just crawl on the ground and beg for mercy.

She sat on a bench and watched as the sun went down and night came. Her phone started buzzing more and more, and it brought her out of the daze she had slipped into. She finally took the device out and saw that Theon had started calling, along with Tyrion. She felt like such a jerk for not having gotten back at them. She texted Theon, saying she would be calling in the morning in order to let him now where she was at.  She pondered about calling her fake boyfriend but figured she owed him more.

She walked out of the park and hailed a cab. She felt bad about showing up at his place without calling him first, but this discussion they needed to have, she could not start it on the phone. She needed to see him, to explain to him in person what had happened. He needed to see the truth in her eyes. He was a complicated man who hid behind a jaded mask but she had come to see that he only wore it because he did not trust people around him to not take advantage of him or make fun of him for being different. He was used to having his feelings stomped over by member of his family like he was just the dog they had taken in out of pity, and she wanted him to know that she was not like that.

Thankfully, it was not raining or she would have been a walking cliché. She exited the cab and passed the concierge who had gotten so used to seeing her around, he did not even ask and just called the lift, given her access to Tyrion’s private floor. The ride up felt like ages and more, but she knew what she had to do. He had bared himself to her. She had to do the same.

She rang the bell, and waited, feeling anxiety start creeping up as she waited for him to open the door. What if he was not home? She was almost positive he had the night off unless there had been more last minutes changes in the script…

“My Lady!” He exclaimed when he opened the door.

“My Lord,” she replied, bowing her head, and slightly curtsying.

She was aware how silly it was, but they needed balance, common ground, and he also needed to know she had all the respect in the world for him.

“Come in,” He offered, opening the door larger so that she could get past him.

She did so, but went no further. She had intruded his space before, she would not do it again.

“Are you alright Sansa?” He asked upon seeing that she was waiting in the vestibule.

“We need to have a talk, but I don’t want to presume about where you want to have it. I’m following you, my Lord.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” He asked, then seemed to hate himself for having said that.

“On the contrary my Lord. Please lead the way and I will explain.”

He looked taken aback, but did as she asked, leading them into the living room. He offered her a spot on the couch, and she sat there. He went for a chair, but she gestured for him to stay next to her.

Things were awkward but it was her own fault. Both did not know what to say or how to start the conversation. She removed her coat, feeling too hot, and turned toward him.

“I apologize for barging in unannounced.”

“You need not.”

“Yes, I do. I…. Lord, there are so many things I have to say, but so few words to express them! What happened earlier, it was not nothing, and I know that I did not leave a nice note behind when I decided to play hooky.”

“You were not playing hooky, you were running for dear life,” he said, and she felt tears in her eyes.

She pushed them back. He just knew her too well.

“You are right. I was running. However, and I want to emphasize this a million time, I was not running from you. I would never do that. You’re…. my Lord.”

“And you are My Lady.”

“After today, I am not certain I still deserve to be.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

She noticed that he made a move to take her hands in his but held back. She wished she could have ended the move he had wanted to initiate, but she needed to start talking, otherwise it would be just too damn easy to ask for his forgiveness, get it and move on like he did not deserve a real explanation. He would let her get away with being elusive too, for he had a grand heart which he gave fully to the people he allowed in his life.

“That scene we did earlier… Laora, when she talked about it, she threw me a curve ball. I think she did for the both of us.,” she started, and he nodded. “I could see her logic, and I could hear it, and even intellectualize it in the grand scheme of the movie, but it was something, you know? I mean nothing as bad as say, the movie Irreversible with Vincent Cassel and Monica Bellucci. I hear about the plot and the particular scenes, but I could never watch it. Have you?”

He nodded.

“It was… Well, you cannot really say it was a good movie, for it was so somber and dark and disturbing, but technically and creatively, it was very well done.”

The movie was about a woman being raped in every way possible and her man going after the killer, except he would end killing the wrong one.

“The thing was… You know I used to date Ramsay Bolton.”

“I do.” He agreed, seeming to have trouble to follow her logic but she could hardly blame him.

“When Laora mentioned a forced kiss, I thought I could do it. I did it, we did it, and it worked. However, it also elicited memories I thought I had buried, of the time when I was dating Ramsay.”

He said nothing but she knew he was listening.

Only then did she take his hands in hers, for she needed his strength to go on.

“I actually never dated Ramsay. I went on a date or two with him, but then he showed his true nature and he made sure I could not escape. He was violent and sadistic, and everything you never want a man to be. He would call me a bitch, a doll, a brainless barbie. He called me arm candy and forbade me to be in movies where he was not my love interest. I had to be his, all the time. He made me move in with him even though all I wanted was to run away. However his family is connected to the mob, and he made several threats toward my family, and I thought I had no choice but to obey. I never suffered Stockholm Syndrome, and I do not know if it means I had it worse or equal. That’s not the point. Those forced kisses, he inflicted thousand on me.”

“I’m so sorry….” Tyrion started.”

“And that was just the beginning,” she went on, looking straight ahead, afraid to meet his eyes. “When we had sex, he made me believe I wanted it, using drugs. I only have horrible memories of that happening. It was … Well I guess you can guess. However, he would go further. I had to go back to his place every evening. He had me on a GPS. He knew where I was at all time. Some nights I would go back to his place, and he would have a romantic evening planned out, except he had this script in his head of how things where supposed to proceed and he would hit me if I did not guess said script and answered the wrong thing. He never hit my face, but the rest of my body was covered in bruises.”

“I’ll kill that beast.”

“You will not. He will get himself killed one way or another. But I am sadly not done. When we shot that scene three weeks or so ago, where Richard offered his naked body to Ismelda, you did the same. I want to reciprocate and given what happened today, I think you need to see my bared soul for things to make sense.”

“You really don’t have to…”

“But I do. I… It’s too soon to say this, but you asked earlier if I was coming to end our arrangement, and it’s really not the case. However I want you to have every element in your hands before you reach a conclusion.”

He squeezed her hands, as if accepting her rules.

“Some nights, he would have women over. He would not share me, praise be the Heavens, but he would force me to watch as he… laid with them. He treated me like I was his and his alone, and like there was no escape for a girl like me.”

“How did he keep you next to him?”

“He said he would kill the remainder of my brothers then have my sister raped and raped again before she was killed too.”

“Fucking bastard….”

“Fucking bastard indeed. I was young, barely seventeen… I believed him when he said those things. Except one day on set, I met one of the girls who had been in my place in the past, and she told me that if I left and made arrangements, he would not chase after me. It took me two full months to ponder whether he had sent her to say this or if she meant it, but when he brought home a very young girl who looked so much like my sister, along with a girl who looked like me, I was ready to risk it all. Jon and Theon, they could take care of themselves, especially since Jon was in Africa. I hired a man to look after Theon, but he spotted him soon enough. Hodor was charged with taking care of Bran at all time. He still is. Arya… Jaq’en, Melisandre’s brother, he was paid to look over Arya even though I knew she probably could take care of herself. When everything was in place, I left. I left behind almost a year of being raped daily, and beaten twice as often if not more. I left a place where what I thought and who I was never mattered. I left a man who only wanted the shiny new toy everyone was talking about. I hurt his pride by making it public that I was leaving him. However, I did not want him to have the final word, even though he still tries. He truly believes we were making love, you see?”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t force words you don’t mean out. My point is, when Laora had us forced kiss, it reminded me of this period of my life, and of memories I really thought I had dealt with.”

“You said Theon had noticed the man you had hired…” Tyrion said softly.

“Yes. He is the only one who knows, and I wish for things to remain so. He understood. I hate and hated that he did, but he did. He told me, after I was done crying and leaving snot all over his jacket, that the reason he left acting and he became an agent was because he had been abused when on set. He never wanted to be a victim and wanted to help me become a survivor.”

“Let him be blessed.”

“Indeed. I do not know how I would have made it the following months without his support. When Ramsay would track me or try to, he would save me. When he’d call, he would answer. When he’d manage to get me on the phone, Theon always knew how to tell me what to say to have him leave me. I had the words, but I never realized then was a good time to use them, I was too paralyzed by fear. Theon made me speak and killed the barbie.”

“I should send him flowers. Or buy him a pony.”

“Or just have me…” She said softly, so low he almost did not hear.

“I’m sorry?”

“I know I’m springing this up on you, after delivering tales and tales of horror, and I still have more in my horror bag sadly, but when I was walking, I thought about us. I thought about you. You are so kind even though you pretend to be a philanderer who only does things for his own selfish benefit. You gave money in my brother’s name, even though you never met him. You are friends with my friends. You keep taking my defense, but you always look for signs that I’m willing to let you do it, and that you are not being all Neanderthal and not letting me kick butt on my own. You let Tormund call you “little man” because he has no idea how inappropriate it is. You went to cheer for my sister whom you had never met. You faced your family for me.”

“Sansa… Don’t…”

“What, speak the truth? You may not like this positive and heroic portrait I’m painting, but I’m not using my imagination. My time with Ramsay told me how to deromanticize things very quickly. You are kind, and you are loving.”

She bit her lower lips, then dropped off the couch to sit on the floor in front of him.

“Would you consider the thought of perhaps… not fake dating me?”

“What?”

“I know I’m just a baby, and your usual companions must know way more than I do in most departments, but I have come to cherish this man I have discovered by my side, always ready to be there for me, never intruding, always respectful. I came to like that man, and I think that if we were to date, well maybe I could very well end up loving him. So I ask again, Tyrion Lannister, would you do me the honor of dating me?”

“You silly goose! Of course I would!” He exclaimed, dropping to the floor next to her, their hands still linked.

“You’ll be my male friend?”

“Boyfriend, companion, soulmate, whatever you want… Sansa… You have no idea how you’ve grown on me, and I do not mean like fungus. Being with you, it reconciled me with parts of who I am and had locked away. I know for a fact that you have something to do with my brother saying what he needed to say for me to forgive him, that stupid man let it slip.”

“I never meant to go behind your back…” She wanted to explain, terrified he’d thought she had deceived him.

“I know, otherwise I would have confronted you about it before. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m 19 again. Scratch that, like I’m 25 again. 19 was not a good age, too much time partying and searching for myself, I am afraid I would have not seen you, even if you were standing in front of me. For weeks, I’ve been wondering if you would consider… eating some pomegranates…” He said.

Persephone and Hades, here they were again. Persephone had eaten the pomegranates seeds, sealing her fate and accepting to be Hades’ wife even though he had captured her.

She wanted to say something, anything, but settled for action. Carefully, she bent down to meet his eyes, and her hand went on his cheek, rubbing it lightly. She tilted her head, and carefully, oh so carefully, edged closer to him. Soon they were so close, their breathes were mixed. She licked her lips and brushed them against his, once. When he did not push her back, and trying not to take offense of the surprise in his eyes, she brushed her lips against his again.

“What are you doing?” He asked. “Not that I mind but…”

“I’m collecting my seven pomegranates seeds, and then we will have our first non acting kiss. Have a problem with that?” She asked, sounding much more confident that she felt.

He shook his head no, and five times more, she brushed her lips against his. The anticipation was building, and they were both breathing more heavily, with each brush. She wanted to bite her lips, and make sure she looked alright, but the expression he sported let her know she was very much to his liking as she was. When she made that eight brush, their lips finally met, and he put his hand on her cheek. She leaned into it, and willingly open her mouth. He slid his tongue in, almost shyly, and her own met his. They shared a kiss, a kiss that would have been featured on a romance book, or so she believed, given her past history. It felt wonderful and several part of her body were tingling with happiness and more. When they finally broke apart, they rested their foreheads against one another.

“Sansa?” He said after a while.

“Yes Tyrion?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied, and they shared a laugh.

Suddenly she was overcome with fatigue. It had been a long and exhausting day.

“Come on,” he offered, “let’s get back on the couch.”

She did as he told her, very much on autopilot, and some part of her wanted to go in alert mode, for he could have done what he wanted with her, she was just so exhausted.

He turned on the telly, and she put her head on his shoulder. When she opened her eyes, what seemed like three seconds later but had to be longer, her head was on his lap, and he was adjusting the pillows, in order to let her sleep while he watched.

This was what being with someone should always be, she thought, then promptly fell asleep, with his hand in her hair.

Chapter Text

He woke up when he felt drool start running from his lips. He wiped the offensive bit with his hand and tried to straighten up but his neck was all cranked up. He rubbed the wounded appendage and tried to piece back where he was and why.

A look at his lap reminded him as fast as a heart attack. Sansa was still sleeping, with her hands under her face, and there was no way she was actually comfortable, as she was still seated. Her back would yell bloody murder in the morning.

He looked around and saw that the TV turning itself off had woken him, and he saw that it was almost three in the morning. He wondered what he should do.

As he woke more and more, he found himself reeling from the revelations and confessions that had been offered to him a few hours before. What he wouldn’t do to be able to wring Ramsay’s neck… Nay, he deserved worse… He should have been fed to rats or sharks or a mix of both. What enraged me further was the fact that Sansa had made no secrets that what she was saying was only the tip of the iceberg, there were more atrocities to learn, and he was itching to start enquiring about the number of a good hitman.

But then, there was the rest. Sansa had asked him to be part of her life, to be more than her friend, and there was a part of him, probably the part that still craved for his father’s approval and thus was the idiotic part of him, that could not compute how lucky he felt. He had thought that he would need to drink it all in, to keep all the memories of the time they spent together and stored it for when she would move on. He still wanted to do that, but she was offering him more, had offered herself even. He surely did not know what he had done in his life to get this lucky turn of event, but he was a lucky son of a bitch.

He shook his head, worried that if he kept thinking he would not go back to sleep, and he would stop enjoying, that his anxieties might come creeping in. With gentleness, he said:

“Sansa…. Please wake up, love…”

Oops. Love? Was that a Freudian sleep? Praised be the heavens, she was still sleeping.

“Sansa,” he started again, pushing the hair from her face, and caressing her cheek, “you need to wake up darling.”

“But I’m sleeping…” she muttered in his lap, and he wished he could see her face.

“Your back will be a wreck tomorrow…”

“It already is,” she said.

Sighing loudly, she lifted her head, and heard vertebras crack left and right.

“I will get out of your hair and get back at…” She started.

“At which point did you hear me say anything along the lines of wanting you out of my apartment?” Tyrion asked, using his hand to turn her face toward his.

There was sleep in her eyes, and so much innocence, he felt undeserving. He could not help himself and quickly kissed her lips.

“What do you suggest then, my Lord?” she asked, with a smile on her cherry mouth.

“I’m suggesting moving this into the bedroom. You can have my bed; I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom.”

He felt the need to say this right away because he did not want her to think that he was expecting anything. He remembered when she had mentioned being inexperienced compared to the women he usually hung out with, and he wanted to make it clear that what they had was not to be compared with his past.

“As I am your guess, shouldn’t I be the one using the guest bedroom? I would hate to kick you out of your own bed…” She said.

“The new mattress which you helped me picked is excellent, and since your vertebras seem to have a mind of their own, you should take it.”

“I know you’re not Ramsay,” she said, taking him by surprise. “I really appreciate your offer, but we’ve decided to trust each other and bare our souls to one another. How about we shared that perfect new mattress? I know you will not force me into anything, and I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I… I… I guess you are spot-on. I just wanted to make sure you had no doubt about my intentions.”

“Do I not please you?” She asked, blushing against her will.

“Of course you please me. You are by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’m not even talking about your body. You are wonderful outside and inside. You are perfect.”

“So are you…”

He could not help himself but steal another quick kiss on the side of her lip, and she smiled at him.

“You’re just so tired, My Lady, I think we need to stop arguing and ask about what we should do and just do it. You need to get in bed and keep on sleeping. You look like you could do with any sleep you may get, and I really am not trying to imply anything rude.”

“I guess you’re right. I will not sleep in your bed if you are not there with me. I will only sleep in the guest bedroom if you wish to keep this idea up.”

“Then we are sleeping in my bed. Come on, babe.”

She winked at the new pet name he had given her, and he wrote it down on his list of things to say more.

They both got up and stretched, leading to a festival of bones cracking. He led the way to his bedroom, trying not to over think this. He went to his cupboard and got her a shirt for her to sleep in.

“This should fit you, they were very big for me…”

“Thank you My Lord,” She said, and he turned when he realized that she was too sleepy to realize that she was undressing in front of him.

He grabbed his own nightwear attire and went into the bathroom, changing as fast as he could.

Still trying not to overthink anything, he went back inside and saw that she was already buried under the covers, and on the verge of falling asleep.

“Did you ever bring a woman here?” She asked him in a little voice and he thought he had dreamt it.

“Never. When we agreed to fake date, I said I would not fool around, and the more I got to to know you, the less it felt like a constraint. I did not want to spend any company with anyone who was not you for things I used to do.”

He came to the bed, and sat, and said:

“Sansa, we will discuss it at another time, but I want you to know, what my life was before, the companions you mentioned, they never mattered. I was once in love except it was puppy love and it only introduced me to heartbreak. I did not know then that it was just a taste of the real thing, but that is not the point. Please, do not ever compare yourself to the girls who may have entertained me and I them. I have respect for them, but they were girls and you’re a woman. You are so much more already than they were, ok?”

“Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

He smiled at her, before slipping under the covers too. He did not know whether to reach for her or something. Once again, she saved him by just placing her hand on his chest.

He certainly could get used to this, he thought as he followed her into slumber.

Chapter Text

She was back at Winterfell. She was cold, but she loved it, she could see Arya training in the yard, Theon and Jon were discussing archery techniques, and Bran was on the back of his horse, Summer, having a good time as he spoke with Osha, the woman who had worked for their family for a long time. She felt… happy. And then, she felt someone look for her hand and grab it, and she recognized the person right away, letting Tyrion have her hand, and watch the scenes in front of them with her, as her match. They did not have to speak, they understood each other just by the glint in one another’s eye, and she wished her parents and late brothers were there too.

She was about to turn to him when she noticed a ring on her finger, and she wanted to ask him about what it meant but an earthquake took place, or this was very much what it felt like.

“Sansa,” Tyrion said in a low voice. “We have to go to work in less than an hour, babe, you need to get up. The alarm just rang but you slept through it.”

She opened one eye and took in her surroundings. She was in his bedroom. She was in his clothes. She felt at peace, she felt good, she felt safe.

She closed her eye back and said:

“Sleep…”

“I know, darling, you need more sleep, but sadly, we are expected on set. I’ll come back in ten minutes, but when I do come back, you will need to get up, understood?”

She pretended to nod yes when she really was in a complete fog.

She was warm and she did not want to leave the bed. She had dreamed before that she would sleep in it, and she had gotten her wish.

She found herself smiling, hugging the pillow tighter to her chest. She must have fallen asleep again, for Tyrion was gently shaking her awake when she opened her eyes.

“Do we need to get up?” She asked him.

“I’m afraid so. I made some tea in kitchen for you. I’m sure it’s shit, but I tried. Do you want me to fix you an omelet or something?”

He was just too cute, but she knew better than to say it out loud. Instead she carefully put her hand on his t-shirt, and pulled him toward her, so that she could kiss him.

His hands went into her hair and she rubbed his chest. They broke apart regretfully, and he said:

“Are you a selkie? Because you’ve bewitched me, and according to Tormund, your kind likes to hide in plain sight,” he asked.

She giggled before planting another kiss on his lips.

“I’m no selkie, I’m afraid, just a plain Scottish girl.”

“There’s nothing plain about you.”

“Charmer…”

“Just stating the truth. You must rise my Lady, or we’ll be late.”

“But I don’t want to….”

“You’re shooting with Elissa today, aren’t you? You like her, it’ll be fun.”

“I’d rather spend the day in bed with you.”

If there was a double entendre, neither heard it.

“I wish I could oblige, but if we both skip work, Tony and Laora will know we’re faking.”

“I like the way you are not saying that the idea does not appeal to you at all.”

“That is because it does, but alas, one of us must be the reasonable one, and for once, I believe, I think it is my place.”

“I do not have spare clothes for the day… I would be doing a walk of shame, except shameless…” She said.

“I’ve laid out some clothes you can borrow in the bathroom.”

She then noticed that he was already dressed. He must have gotten up earlier than the alarm he had planned and gotten ready, trying to buy her all the sleep he could. She wanted to kiss him till he forgot all about going to work; Sadly, he seemed to have caught up on her plan, and got up from the bed, placing himself out of her reach. She pouted but got up and stretched.

“Lord, my body feels all wrong…”

“We should not have stayed on the couch so long…”

“But it was a good time. You said something about tea?”

He nodded, and she got out of bed, wearing only his t-shirt. She followed him into the kitchen, where he proceeded to pour her a cup of tea. She noticed that he had bought some of her favorite blends. She adjusted her mug and started sipping it slowly.

“I like this,” he said.

“What, me only wearing your t-shirt? Oops, it’s slipping,” she joked, making the shoulder drop slightly.

“You are such a temptress… If you are not a selkie, you must be a siren….”

“I wished. I love the sea. When I was younger, my father would take us on the seaside, and even though it was freezing, we would all bath. We would play on the beach all day long; Mum would put sunscreen on my skin, and I remember how she used to grumble, saying that my skin was too white and pale, that it was begging for a sunburn. Thankfully, Scotland protected me from such an affliction.”

“Do you have many memories of your parents?” He asked, looking like he was not certain he had the right to ask.

“Plenty. Sure, Mum was often gone on set, thought she took a break after Rickon was born. When Papa became a MP, we would only see him in the evenings, and sometimes he would not come home. However, he would plan for trips whenever we could, for us to catch up and have some family time. He would tell us about our ancestors, about some people who had to be legends, explaining that Arya was named for said person, or I for this one.”

Her heart felt heavy as it often did when she talked about her family, but there was also joy and happiness. Those memories were priceless. She remembered her mother chastising her father for keeping his hair long when sitting in Parliament, tying his hair in a knot. She also had so many lovely memories of her mother brushing her father’s hair after he had taken a shower, making sure there were no knots. Catelyn did the same with Sansa, and she would share knowing looks with her father. Arya would never still sit long enough for her mother to get a chance at tidying up her hair. She was always nonconformist in that way. While Sansa loved being treated like a doll by her brothers and parents, Arya wanted to be one of her brothers. Robb would joke about having an extra brother. However, he would always enquire about the boys at school hanging around Sansa, threatening to whip their bottoms if they dared touch his baby sister.

“I was a princess, truly. I was their princess. Mum would teach me how to be one. Even though we’re related only by a thread to the monarchy, she would take me to see my godmother whenever we were invited, and I was taught protocol. I know how to bow, how to curtsy, how to address properly people according to their ranks. According to my mother, I was the only six years old who understood everything about royal protocol at such an early age. Aunt Olenna was always so proud to show me to her court.”

“You are a princess.”

“I was only playing I think...”

“Well, play or not, you are a princess to me, a princess I don’t deserve.”

“That’s my privilege as a princess, I get to decide who is good enough for me and who is not,” she said with a playful expression, as she took another sip from her tea.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“I am not hungry, or at least, not right now. I usually eat something on the set.”

“I hate to rush you, but you should think about getting dressed, not that I don’t enjoy the view…” Tyrion said with a wink.

The bell rang at the door, and he checked his watch, cursing. He went to fetch her a blanket, which made no sense as he put it on her legs, though he did let one finger trail near her knee, making her giggle. Then he went to open the door and Bronn appeared.

Oh, her man was possessive, he did not like it when other men got to see his lady undressed.

“Wait, what?” Bronn exclaimed when he spotted her. “You’re not pretending anymore? Thank fucking God! You guys were so oblivious to the fact that you were pining for one another, it was becoming fucking painful.”

“Bronn, language!” Tyrion exclaimed.

“You’re not denying it!” the driver said, looking like Christmas had come early.

“I am going to get dressed,” Sansa said, wrapping the blanket around her legs as she made her way to the bedroom and the bathroom adjacent.

It still smelled of Tyrion, and she loved it. He was not a cologne man, and she just enjoyed the scent of his soap. It was who he was, a man who took care of himself but did not care much for manscaping or things like that, unlike someone she did not want to think about. She went to the mirror and wiped away the steam which lingered there. She took in her reflection. She looked… happy. She looked like a woman and not like a girl. She felt like a woman. She had a man in her life, a good man, and she was relishing in the fact that she was in his bathroom, where he had showered before, where his products were hers to use, where his clothes were laid out for her. He was too good for her. But then again, she felt like she deserved a little happiness, and she hoped to bring him as much if not more as he brought her.

She grabbed the shirts he had picked, and brought them to her nose, breathing in his scent. They should bottle this fragrance, she thought. Men would not wear it, but women would spray it on their pillow to hug them at night, for sure. She noticed he had put out a pair of boxers and found herself laughing. He really had thought of everything. Her pants were there, as well as her shoes. There were socks for her to use, and he had salvaged her bra, which she did not remember having shed. She must have been so tired the night before, and he was such a good man for not having advantage of her exhaustion.

She let the blanket fall to the floor, then removed the t-shirt he had lent her. She went under the spray and tried to wake up, and perhaps wipe that stupid grin of her face. She got out and decided against using the new towels he had laid out for her, preferring to use the same he had dried himself with, feeling as if his scent was marking her. She made a messy bun with her wet hair and put on the clothes so carefully prepared for her.

As she went out, she heard:

“You are going to be late.”

“Just so you know, I’ll blame it on you and traffic,” Tyrion told his driver.

“Your lady won’t let you; she likes me way too much.”

“Damn it, you’re right… My Lady has such a tender heart despite everything she’s been through….”

“Boys, are you talking about me?” She asked, as she entered the kitchen, kissing Tyrion’s cheek.

“Just talking about how late we’re going to be,” her man said.

“I’m ready if you want to go.”

Bronn put on his cap, and the three of us prepared to exit the apartment. She grabbed her coat and Tyrion put on a sweater. They took the elevators to the car, and they got in. Though restricted by the safety belt, she cuddled as close to Tyrion as she could, hoping he would not mind. He did not or he had a very funny way to show it, as he played with her hair, and put his hand in hers.

“Are you ready for the avalanche of new scenes Laora will have written for us?” He asked.

“Sure. I mean, I suppose. I don’t think she can spring something on us that would be as surprising as yesterday’s…. Lord, was it only yesterday?”

“I believe so.”

“It’s strange how time can fly by at time or roll so slowly you feel every second like pins being stung in your skin…”

He nodded, kissing her hand.

They remained in silent for a while, when a thought crossed her head.

“Do you want to see Varys’ head explode?” She suddenly asked.

“Always,” Tyrion answered, looking taken aback by the change of subject. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do not tell him about our decision to give up our charade and be true to our feelings. I will not be able to keep it from my brother, as I hope you will understand, but imagine this… When we have time, perhaps in a couple of days or whenever we can… We would find a place where we are sure that there are no paparazzi around. Bronn then would take a picture of us sharing a kiss. Theon will tell him where to send it. Imagine Varys’ face when he sees the picture?”

“If you let me take the picture, I will work for you for free for a year!” Bronn exclaimed.

“How would you pay your rent?” Sansa asked.

“Your lady is right. If you let me take the picture, I will work for just the price of my rent monthly for three years!” The driver said again.

“Nonsense, I will give you full wages,” the actress said again. “You would be doing us a favor. There is not rule written anywhere that says you cannot have a good moment while doing us a favor!”

“Man, am I glad you chose me and not him, because you are way too fond of this rascal!” Tyrion exclaimed, and his driver flipped him the bird.

“I’m on board if you guys are,” Tyrion said. “I’d love to catch Varys unaware for once…”

“You guys can never break up,” the man said.

“We don’t intend to, but care to elaborate?” Sansa asked.

“If you’re his lady, I’ve got job safety for years to come, thanks to your kind heart!” Bronn said.

“I guess we must stay together then,” Tyrion said. “For Bronn’s sake.”

“For Bronn’s sake,” she repeated, before kissing him, and they smiled against one another’s mouth as Bronn pretended to be overcome with nausea.

Chapter Text

Life was fair, life was sweet. Life was just a little something short of perfect, but that was his thirst for his father’s approval holding him back.

One week. It had been one week since Sansa had shown up at his place after the terrible scene they had played together, and one week since they had decided to throw all caution to the wind and just enter a relationship for the first time in well… almost fifteen years. He bore his ex-lover no harsh feelings. Tysha, she had been called, a literature major who could have really loved him if he had let her in. He had been 24, a brat, thirsty still to be part of the Lannister clan. His nephew had been born a couple of years before, and he was naïve enough to believe that the reason he was never invited over to fawn over the wonder was because he lived too far and smoked too much. He had tried telling his sister that he was done with tobacco, though he shushed the part about never having learned to turn down a blunt. However, no envelope ever arrived, no email, no phone call, no nothing. Once in the street, standing next to perfect Tysha, he had gotten beaten up by frat boys, who had accused him of being a monster and of doing the world a favor by killing him. They had almost achieved, but what they had murdered had been his love story with Tysha. He never wanted to put himself in a place again where he was not sure he belonged. He never wanted to put himself in danger by standing too close to a beautiful woman if he was not sure he wanted to be in her life for years to come.

They could have had a good thing, even though she was planning to go work for one of his uncle in the publishing word, but that attack had been the last stroke. No one liked the odd guy out. At best, they tolerated him. For him to stand proudly next to somebody would have to mean he was ready to pledge his life to that somebody, for every blow to be suffered and to never be tempted to blame it on his companion for being too pretty for him.

Perhaps he was growing up, or maybe he just had found a good woman, one woman he would take a beating for any day of the week. Sometimes, he felt so happy, so high on joy, he had to really work to get back into Richard’s dark headspace but then again, who could blame him? They had started going home together every night, even if it meant waiting for the other to be done with his or her scenes. They would eat whatever they wanted at his place more often than not, they would watch some tv, or talk about their past. In the morning he would pick her up, as she insisted on going back to her place at night, and he understood her reasoning. When she had been with Bastard err Ramsay, things had gone so fast and so far that she had found herself being robbed of her control over what she wanted to do and what she wanted to wait. She knew and had told him so several times in the nights before, that he would never force her hand, yet she needed that time when it was just her, and to be honest, he needed that time when it was just him. Falling for someone was just too damn easy when you were living together, when they were no time when you could ask yourself about where you were at, and he wanted as much as her to be sure that what they had was what he wanted.

He wanted it. Every night he would go to bed, remembering how the bed had felt with the slight inclination created by her body. The first few nights he had used her pillow to breathe in her scent, but it had faded. He wanted her there, all the time, but he was still glad for those moments apart. Sure, they usually ended up texting a lot, or phoning, but yeah, it was important. He knew that what he felt was real and not the result of being trapped so to speak with her by his agent. He genuinely adored the actress, and he liked to believe she genuinely liked him.

“Dude, you’re not listening to me,” Laora said, and he had to focus.

Today was one of those lunches they shared the four of them, except Sansa and Tony were being held up on set. Laora had come and asked if it was okay for her to wait with him in Sansa’s trailer, and he had opened the door gladly.

He looked around and could not help but notice that the small compartment was way more personalized than her place. He did not need to go back to school and take some psychology classes to know that it had something to do with the fact that her flat was the shelter she had found after her bad relationship and that she had never settled in because there had been a part of her at first which was worried she would have to go back, and the rest of her which knew she was safe but could not bring herself to turn this shelter into a home.

“Dude!” Laora exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just….”

“So bloody in love you make me want to gauge my eyes out. Do Tony and I make people feel like this too?”

“Probably, maybe, I don’t know. I’ve always known you as the girl who Tony loved, I never had a moment where I asked myself if I cared.”

“I’ve always known Sansa as being your girlfriend too…”

He said nothing and she went on:

“Though to be honest, I feel like lately, you guys have gotten closer. You used to brush hands and stuff like that, but know when you’re sitting next to one another, you’re holding hands or pressed against one another, or whatever.”

“So we’re sickening, that’s what you mean?” He asked her as he arranged the table.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I just… I know Tony is your guy and I’m just his girl, and your boss when on the set, but I like this Tyrion I’m getting to know. I like this guy who is not afraid to touch his girlfriend just because he wants to. It makes me believe you’re finally feeling like you’re accepted or something… But what changed, if that’s not too indiscrete?”

He pondered whether he could answer without betraying Sansa, then figured that if he kept things vague, she would not mind. Plus, he really wanted to brag to Laora about this wonderful woman he was dating.

“Remember that kissing scene you came up with on the spot?”

“How could I forget it? It worked wonderfully but I had so much rewrites to do after that…”

“The thing is, we kissed, as actors and professionals, but it brought Sansa and I closer together. I don’t mean that we played it like it was us, but it forced us to think about what a healthy relationship was.”

“What is a healthy relationship? Cause I’d really like to know, I’m sure Tony and I are its antithesis.”

“We agreed that it was whatever two people were comfortable with. We talked and realized that while we entered this thing feeling like we could leave at any minute, we did not want to.”

“Awwww!”

“Shush woman!”

His phone buzzed and he read the message on the spot, before exclaiming something along the lines of “Fuck yes” and having to refrain himself from running everywhere.

“What’s happening?” The writer asked.

“I bought Sansa a puppy, ages ago, well not ages ago or it would not be a puppy, but yeah, I did that, and the owner said I could come and pick it up tonight if I wanted. I think I’ll go fetch it while Sansa is wrapping her scenes for the day and I’ll bring it back on set. She’ll love it!” He exclaimed, feeling like a schoolgirl but unable to give a fuck in the world.

“Damn… Tony is going to have to propose to me if you keep that up!” Laora said, looking almost disgruntled.

“Wait, what?”

“I said what I said… We’ve been together longer than you guys are, and Tony, he’s older but I’m his first real relationship. He’ll probably feel pressure into proposing! Stop being so goddamn romantic!”

“I cannot follow you. Don’t you want to marry him?”

“Hell no!”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Don’t you want to bring a little Tony or Toni in this world? Cause we both know whatever you give birth too, he’ll pull a “Junior” on the kid…”

“I don’t have to be married to him to pop a babe!”

“There is a part of me that understands absolutely nothing, and the rest of me that is understanding weirdly why you captured Tony’s heart and dick.”

“You’re being gross because you’re uncomfortable about your feelings!”

“I never said I wasn’t!”

“Back to my point, I don’t want to get married. I hate marriages. I feel like the more you give humans rules, the more they want to break them. Being married is being forbidden to kiss someone else, and I don’t want him to feel the urge to go deep his pen in a pot that does not contain my ink!”

“You’re being gross now,” he told her, feeling completely giddy.

“Maybe. Never said I was a lady. Gosh!”

“How about you offered him an alternative?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“We are supposed to stop shooting in less than three weeks, right? What if we all went to the Poconos, or the Hamptons or wherever, and you jumped over a broomstick? You’d be married in each other’s eyes, but not according to the law, therefore making it less a temptation for him, though I don’t believe for a second he would cheat on you…”

“You and Sansa could be our witnesses!” Laora exclaimed. “Plus, we all know I’m from African American descent and that I am a descendant of slaves, Tony would understand why I would want to pay homage to my origins with this tradition…”

“Damn, I’m a genius, I’m on fire today!”

“But you need to drop the hint! When you go to Tony later to shoot your scene, tell him about your insane romantic gesture, and suggest the jumping over a broomstick thing when he exclaims that now he has to marry me!”

“It’s not insanely romantic…”

“Puh-lease”, the writer said, rolling her eyes. “They don’t let you take cubs home before they’re two months old or more. You had no idea two months ago if things would work with your girlfriend and you went and ordered her a puppy!”

“Call me romantic once again, and I will have Varys renegotiate my contract.”

“Is he still in shock? I mean, he knows you guys are dating, how come seeing that tabloid on the table almost gave him a heart attack?” Laora asked.

Tyrion had to fight the urge to laugh evilly. For all Laora knew, it was a real tabloid from England, but truly it was something Theon had engineered, when the lovebirds had decided that they wanted to shock Varys but did not want to expose their private lives. The look on his agent’s face... Priceless, as went the commercial.

“I can’t believe you’re giving Sansa a puppy! You guys will be telling us you’re moving together next week by this rate, that she is pregnant the following one, and that you’re getting hitched by the end of the month!”

“Don’t jinx us!”

“What is there to jinx? Don’t you want babies with Sansa? She is super maternal… Just the way she cares for Ismelda, or even me…”

“She is maternal, but that’s part of her history. She needs to be maternal since she’s an orphan. It’s the only way to have motherly love in her life.”

“You’re deflecting my question about babies with Sansa!”

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the trailer, and Tony alongside the actress came in. She went to sit by his side, kissing his cheek, and he tickled her side before whispering something so sweet he would need to schedule a dentist appointment soon if he kept this up. She blushed and linked their hands together.

He saw Laora winked at him.

Oh yeah, he was whipped, and loving it.

Later that evening, when he found himself back in the trailer, having run his errand, he started pondering what the writer had said, and started wondering if perhaps he had fallen in love or like way before his brain had realized it. He felt so anxious. The pup was perfect, a true beauty, and she liked him! That was a good omen in his book.

But was he a romantic?

Sansa came in and said:

“My Lord, I did not expect you to wait for me!”

She rushed over to give him a kiss behind closed door when she spotted the small animal. He found himself holding his breath. Would she…?

“Did you get a new friend?” She asked, as the pup sized her up and she did the same.

“You did,” he said, feeling so awkward he truly felt like he was sixteen again.

The scream that escaped Sansa’s lips should have made him deaf, but he did not care. She was happy and so was he.

Later that night, as they were back at his place, and he had poured himself a glass of wine to shake off the anxiety that lingered, he took a picture of Sansa playing with her new would be wolf, and sent it to each of her siblings. Then, thinking about it twice or three times more, he sent it to Tormund, Brienne, and against his better judgement, Jaime.

The picture even wound up on his Instagram account.

Somewhere across the globe, a tall blonde told another tall blonde:

“My bro gave your fake sister a baby dog, smooth move, sleek dog that man, he is!”

“Wait, what?” Brienne answered before checking her phone.

Meanwhile, back at his place, where Sansa was cooing at the beast and jumping in his arms whenever she could, Tyrion sipped his wine and smiled as he thought of the conniption Varys had to be having.

Chapter Text

“Did you receive Tyrion’s text early this morning?” Jaime asked Brienne, as they sat next to one another in the make up trailer.

“I did. I’m surprised you did to be honest,” the actress answered sincerely, bluntly even, as she always did.

If there was one thing he could always rely on with her, it was to be honest even if it hurt him. Sometimes he wished she would put on kiddy gloves, but then again, it was better than being lied to all day long.

“I was surprised too, but I decided not to kick a horse gift in the mouth. It means that Tyrion is thinking about me at times.”

“I did not know you guys were talking again,” Brienne said. “It’s good news.”

“I guess it is.”

Then silence.

He was not used to this.

Brienne and he were always fighting, trading barbs, even when they were not mad at one another. The rare times they were not fighting, they were talking about their characters in the movie they played. They were always talking or arguing to be more accurate.

He pinched her, and she slapped his hand away with force. He noticed she had dark circles around her eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

“Nothing.”

“I thought you had met the love of your life and everything was all pink and rosy…”

“Ugh, say that again and I’ll have to punch you in the face. Even on my best days, nothing is ever pink and rosy as you say,” Brienne said with a disgusted look on her face.

“So, what’s happening with your Viking?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, just tell me…”

“No.”

“Bri-enne,” he said in a song-sing-y voice. “You know I have a Nobel prize in annoying you. Do you really want to spend our last week on the set with me harassing you?”

“You’re always harassing me. Just the fact that you exist means I’m being harassed,” she muttered, but he could tell that her heart was not fully into it.

Sure, she was giving back as good as he did, but there was a lack of light, as if her spark was a little dimmer than it should be. Plus those dark circles.. This was not the Brienne he had come to know. Come to think of it, she had been on almost every one of his last movies, and she had never looked as down as she did today.

If you don’t have hope, you don’t build expectations and you don’t leave room for disappointment, he repeated himself.

“Come on, don’t make me call you a dude or something, dude.”

“Piss off, Lannister.”

“That’s so weak, you must be on the verge of ending your own life to come up with such weak answers….”

“Everything is perfect with my Viking.,” she finally said. “Tormund is wonderful, he’s kind, he’s lovely, he’s a devil in the sack, he makes me feel things that no romance novel or romcom ever prepared me for, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my Viking,” She spat after turning to face him, and he would not lie, it hurt to hear how great her boyfriend was.

“Then why the long face?”

“Shut your stupid face for a change, why don’t you?”

Therefore, that was what he did. He kept his mouth shut until they were both in make up and had their hair made.

He waited for the artists to leave, then forced her to turn her chair to him, preventing her from running away.

“Come on, Tarth, spill it out. Contrary to what you like to believe, I do have other things to do all week than to annoy you.”

She wanted to punch him, and he was ready to duck.

They locked stares, and it was a battle of will. She usually won those, but for once, he was not ready to let things go.

“Fine,” she spat out.

“That’s your cue for going on and telling me what’s keeping you up,” he prompted when she kept silent after her concession.

She flipped him the bird, then sighed. She looked on the verge of crying, and he was not sure he wanted to push her more. However, he could not let her retreat back into herself after having threatened to make her life hell. Furthermore, if she was giving in, it had to mean she sort of wanted to tell him about what was troubling her, right?

“Do you think two people can be made for each other yet things will not work out?”

He found himself gaping, and she slapped him, before leaving her chair and calling him names.

Oh boy; What was happening?

“How are my girls?” Tyrion asked as he entered the trailer, knowing he would find Sansa and Cub.

Cub did not have a name yet. She was also named Dog, or Wolf, or Pup, or Sweetie, or whatever, but the young actress seemed to have the toughest time deciding what to call her present.

He remembered the night he had given said pup to his girlfriend, and how she had lavished him with kisses, in between coos for the beast.

“I need to find a name for Cub,” Sansa said, as if sensing his thoughts.

She was on the floor, playing with said pup, and when he passed by, looking for the takeaway menus, she offered her cheek instinctively. He gave her a kiss, knowing full well what was to come. She grabbed his collar and smashed their lips together. Turned out, his lady had a little aggression in her at times when it came to her kisses. He liked it. A lot. Like a lot lot. He had figured out that it was a mix of things, a struggle between her education as a lady, who should not seek carnal loving, and the impulses she felt, the lust perhaps she felt for him. Whatever it was, he was on board.

He pressed his lips against hers when she released him, stealing a kiss for the road, because two could play that game. He felt the corner of her mouth lift up and he wanted to kiss her ‘till that smile became a permanent feature on her face.

“How do you say “Wolf” in Gaelic again?” He asked.

“There are at least six ways to say it, but the more used are ‘mac tíre’, ‘badhbh badhbh’ or ‘búraló’.”

“Yeah, I remember why we ruled against those…”

“I cannot believe it’s taking me three days to come up with a name for her. It should be so simple!”

“Then close your eyes, and tell me what is the first thing that pops into your head when you think about her.”

“You know I’m incapable of thinking of only one thing, I always have at least five conversations going on at all time with myself, so to find just one word…”

“I do love that there is always a storm cooking under that hair of yours. Okay, then I’m playing the distraction card. Did you order any food yet?”

“Nope. You can pick whatever you want.”

“You know that is a very risky choice for you.”

“I trust you,” she said, looking over her shoulder to make her point, and Lord did he want to just have her for lunch, supper and whatever else.

“Korean it is then.”

She smiled, as if he had proved her that she had been right in trusting his judgement.

“You’ll need to tell me how much I owe you for food when this movie is done,” he started saying grabbing his phone to dial the number.

“Pish posh!” She exclaimed, raising up, with Pup in her arms. “We’ve already discussed it! Besides, you’ve been a kind host for us both almost every night, either letting me use your kitchen or offering us food.”

“Then let me take you out for dinner!”

“Are we ready for that?” She asked, and he heard what she was really saying.

Are you sure you want to trsk being seen and having the world know you’re dating pathetic Sansa Stark?

She was far from pathetic, but a certain boy-man whatever he would not name had really done a number on his lady, and had convinced her that she was not worthy. He was not worthy. He kept telling her so. However, Starks were stubborn, if nothing else. He had discussed it with Theon, though not in details, wanting to preserve their enchanted parenthesis, and the man had just told him to hang on, that he had done his best to put her back together when she had left the unnamed dirtbag, and that he had a role to play in helping her see her self-worth. His patience was imperative. Theon had asked him, looking slightly sick on Facetime, if he could wait, but Tyrion had assured him that he could. Sansa was not getting rid of him so easily. She would have to dump him, properly and loudly before he even considered letting her go. She was just too perfect. Or perfect for him. Who cared? They were good. Now he just had to make her see it.

“You know I am. If it was up to me, we would be going out every night, wherever you wanted, new places, lame places, fast foods, whatever. I am in, lady, and you will not scare me off so easily! But back to my wonderful romantic gesture, how about texting Bran then?” Tyrion said, hoping she would hear the self-deprecation in his fake boast.

“That was incredibly romantic of you indeed,” she said, before bending over and kissing him once again. They had to break apart when Pup decided to join in on the smooch fest, and he pretended to look for a bio hazard suit or something, which made Sansa laugh.

Ever since he had gifted her with the pet, they could not be parted. People on set would call it “their daughter”, or “their bundle of joy”, and they would pretend to be offended or not find it funny, but the truth was, Pup was on set with him when she was shooting, and they were on set backstage when he was. If the two had scenes together, it would stay on Laora’s lap but it would always give them mournful looks. Sansa had started referring to it as a “she”, and pretending it was just an “it” was becoming incredibly difficult for him too.

“But why Bran?” Sansa finally asked.

“I don’t know. I was thinking you would call her Omega, as in you’re the Alpha and she’s the Omega but it sort of makes no room for me. Perhaps he can think of something you love and tell you about it, and you will be so happy with your brother and with me, you’ll thank the former and smooch the latter.”

“I have never turned down any offer of canoodling,” she said, and he loved the way she would use those old fashioned words, not because it made her look older, Lord no, but because it was just who she was. She had received a great education, and she was a Lady. Luckily, she had chosen him as her Tramp.

“But I guess you’re ight”, she went on, and quickly sent a text.

Almost right away, her phone started ringing and they saw that it was her brother calling her back.

“He’s still not sleeping,” she muttered after checking the hour. “Hello Bran!” She said as she picked up.

“Are you decent, can we video chat?” Her younger brother said.

“I like the way he thinks,” Tyrion said.

“Hey Tyrion!” Bran exclaimed. “So, decent or not?”

Sansa replied by sending the video feed.

“Did you get my email?” Bran asked his sister.

“I must admit I haven’t. Why?”

“Oh. I think you should read my email.”

“It will be all academic and unbrotherly like. Talk to me, bráthair. ”

“I just wanted to ask you if it would be okay if I started my tour in US universities during the summer rather than in September. I know that it is a lot to ask and…”

“Poppycock!” She exclaimed, and Tyrion hid a smile. “Why would it be a lot to ask?”

“Sans’… Well, since you guys have realized that what you were faking was not being in a relationship when you clearly were, I guess I won’t ask your paramour to leave the room.”

“Paramour… I like this,” Tyrion said, before kissing his lady’s cheek.

“Do not make me regret this video chat guys!” Bran said. “The thing is, I checked my bank account and my trust fund, Sans’.”

He felt the actress stiffen next to him, but she gave it her best shot and showed her acting skills when it came to disguising her reaction.

“I do not see what you mean…”

“It is still the same amount. You made a ton of arrangements for me to tour the US uni and I still have all my pounds and pennies. I also noticed that my balance has not changed ever since Papa and Mama left us.”

“Your point being?”

“Clearly, Sans’, you’ve been paying for my studies, and Jon’s medical bills and whatever else out of your own pocket. I would bet you’re doing the same with Arya’s training.”

“Once again, your point being?”

“Sans’, our parents left us money… You should not be footing all the bills.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Sue me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Wait, what are you fighting about?” Tyrion asked, having trouble following their thoughts.

“My sister has been using the money she’s making working to pay for all our expenses so that we will all have our inheritance money in full when we decide to start in life.”

“What I do with my money is my business. I want to pay for your education, for Arya’s training and more. It’s my money.”

“But Sans’…”

“Son, I don’t think you will get your sister to change her mind here, but I’ll try and talk to her about it. I can foot some of the expanses if she needs, so that you guys keep your capital.”

“That’s not what… Lord, you both are so annoying. What did you want?”

“I can’t find a good name for Puppy.”

“Rory.”

Sansa seemed at a loss for words as she took it in.

“How did you…?” She started asking, and Tyrion had to admit it felt like a perfect fit.

“You love northern lights. They’re called aurora borealis in the science field. Since Aurora would be too princess, I figured… Rory.”

“And that is why I will keep on paying your tuition,” Sansa said before picking up her dog. “Rory?” She asked it.

It started wiggling its – her – tail.

“It’s settled then. I love you. I’ll read your mail and make the arrangement. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you!”

She hung up before her brother could argue further and they both looked at the door.

“Rory…” Tyrion whispered, and the dog started kicking his hand.

“It’s perfect. I had a name in mind, but it would be better suited for a child.”

“What is it? Or do I need to impregnate you to get that inside info?” He asked, winking naughtily.

“Poppy.”

“Oh, I love it!”

“I do too. I had a great great aunt named that way on the Tully side, but it never seemed to fit Pup, or Rory, I should say.”

“I have to agree. But back to Bran’s concern, can you afford…”

“Do not worry my Lord.”

“I do worry. All the time, especially when you’re not with me.”

“I’m here. What are you going to do about it?” she asked, and there was a light in her eyes that made his blood feel like fire in his veins.

He kissed her again, and she delved her fingers into his hair. For once, Rory decided to go for a nap. The lovers found themselves edging closer and closer to another, though both aware that this could not be it, their first time, during lunch break.

Thankfully, though his erection would disagree, the delivery man knocked on the trailer’s door and they had to break apart. Both their stares seem to be promising the other’s “later, lover”.

He could barely wait.

“Brienne, wait,” Jaime almost yelled as she made her way to her trailer.

She did not stop but invited him in.

“I’m sorry I did not react the way you wanted me to this morning, I was caught off guard…” He started.

“Don’t you think I am?” She fought back, and he was dazzled by the light in her eyes. “Tormund… He’s wonderful. I love him. It’s been what, six weeks? He wants us to marry. I want to marry him. But he cannot bear the fact that my job will ask him to quit his shop or deal with my being always away. How can two people who have such a wonderful relationship otherwise not be made for one another?” She asked, and he would have sworn he saw her wipe a tear.

“Maybe he’ll come around…” He started.

“He won’t. You clearly have never hanged out with Scots in your life.”

“I’m sorry Brienne, I don’t know what to say to make things better.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can say to make things better. When the week is over, I’ll fly back to New York, and enjoy his company for the little allotted to me. Then, I guess we’ll have to have a talk, which will probably fail miserably. For fuck’s sake, why did I fall in love with him?”

Because I was an ass.

“I’m so sorry Brienne,” he said again.

After what? Seven movies together? She broke down and he took her into his arms as she cried.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in her hair.

This went on for a few minutes, until she shoved him aside, and wiped her tears.

He looked around the trailer, not wanting to leave her alone with her thoughts, but not knowing what to say.

“Rory,” he finally blurted out.

“What?” She asked.

“You probably did not have time to check your phone. Rory, that’s the dog’s name.”

“Rory,” Brienne said, as if trying it out for a run. “I kind of like it, plus the dog looks like a Rory.”

“I thought so too. Apparently, they’re already in agreement on how to name their first female child.”

“Such dufus…” Brienne said, finally smiling as she shook her head. “They should exchange certain three words first. And maybe, I need to remind Sansa on how to get said child.”

“Good idea, I’ll give Tyrion a crash course too if I can.”

“Rory…” Brienne said again. “Your brother really is a big softy. You should try and let him contaminate you, just a bit. The ladies would love it.”

“I think it’s about finding the one lady that makes you want to be lame and lovey dovey,” Jaime said.

Brienne never noticed how hard he was looking at her, and he guessed it was for the best.

Good things came to those who waited.

Chapter Text

Tyrion followed the woman who was leading him into a fancy office. There was his beauty, his lady. Scratch that. There was Ismelda.

“Richard,” Sansa said, looking up from her desk, and he took a second to admire the pink streaks still in her hair.

“Ismelda,” he answered.

“Do you want to take a seat?”

“I’d rather not. To be frank, I thought you would just refuse to see me.”

“Not gonna lie, that was my first impulse too, but then again,” she said, looking very much like the ice princess he had met that first day in Theon’s office.

Wait. ISmelda and Richard. Don’t fuck this up.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“What can I do for you Richard? I’m very busy.”

“Congrats on the new job. I’m glad you found a publishing house that saw your talent.”

“What will you be trying to sell me?” She replied, haughtily.

He looked contrived.

“Can’t blame you for thinking that, especially since you’re right. But I mean it. And yes, I’m going to try and sell you something.”

“Then get it over with. It may have been six months since I fled from your house, but old habits die hard and I can’t help but wonder what you want from me.”

“I was a jerk, but let’s not discuss that here or now. I need to finish dissecting it with my shrink before I can apologize to you.”

She looked surprised, by his vulnerability in admitting he needed help, and the fact that he was not playing games.

“The thing is… When you left, I figured I was done, you would tell the world what a fraud I am, and you didn’t. I waited a full month and you didn’t.”

“You are not a fraud Richard…”

“Yes I am, but the fact that you still believe otherwise is the reason I’m here. My publisher dropped me like a hot potato after I admitted I could not write anymore.”

He looked awawy from her face and pretended to count to five in his head.

“When you kept mum about my secret, I wondered. And I drank, a lot. One night, I even ended up in front of my computer.”

“Please don’t tell me you watched porn…”

“I did, but I won’t tell you. I fell asleep. When I woke up that morning, I found myself typing and for once, it were not just search word in google. I tried to write. It was bullshit.”

“Writing is a muscle…”

“I know, you kept telling me that and I kept making you feel like you were such an idealist. The thing is, I tried again, and again. I took the first hundred pages you wrote in my name, and I changed some things to start. It was terrifying, like I was cutting your work. Then, your words were all written and there was nothing left to disfigure. So I started writing. It was painful. It still is. I hate it but I can’t stop. I brought you the first 300 pages, your first 100 included in the lot. I know I have no right to ask you this, but could you read it please?” He asked, looking pained as he said the word. “I just would like to have your thoughts. You were always a wonderful editor, even though you were given the worst writer to deal with…”

She looked at him solemnly, and he fidgeted, feeling just like Richard, pondering if Ismelda would take his offered hand.

“I’ll read it,” she finally said. “I need to know what you ended up making of my words. After all.”

“Thank you. I’ll just leave it here,” he said, putting the manuscript on her desk. “I’ll leave right away, before you realize what a fraud I am and have always been.”

He made his way to the door, and turned one last time, saying:

“Ismelda, you really look good behind that publisher desk.”

And he left the set. Sansa remained behind the desk and pretended to open the manuscript he had left, reading a word here and there, before opening it from the very start. The, she grabbed the phone on her desk and said:

“Monica, tell Nadiya that I need to talk to her about signing Richard Smelton.”

“Sure thing boss.”

The line went dead, and Sansa/Ismelda absorbed herself in her reading.

“And cut!” Tony yelled.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Laora exclaimed from the side, giving Rory to Tyrion as she rushed to Sansa to kiss and dance with her.

His beautiful girlfriend sent a smile at him, and he could not help but laugh. Tony high fived him and everyone on the set was kissing and hugging. This was their last scene. So much work would still need to be done with all the editing, and there probably would be some reshoot needed for scenes they may need to stitch everything together nicely but yes, it was a joyful day indeed.

Rory licked his ear, and he scratched her head. All were talking, this was euphoria, his favorite moment when on a movie set. He loved everything, the whole process, but the first day and the last scene had a certain taste, something you could not describe no matter how skilled you were.

“I’m so glad you fell for this girl and forced me to make her read for me,” Tony told him.

“I’m so glad I fell for her, period,” Tyrion answered.

More words were exchanged, a few fake bars, some tease, more nonsense, a whole lot of nonsense to be honest, and he felt Rory pull to be freed as Sansa approached. He put the puppy on the ground and she ran to her mistress, who swept her in her arms. Damn, how he loved all of this. He did not mind being the guy who was looking for his girlfriend’s dog, he did not mind being the guy who stood on the sideline watching his girlfriend work magic, for Sansa was nothing if not magical. If only her mother had been allowed more time on Earth, she would have pulled her daughter on her trail, and Sansa would have been cast in more serious movies sooner, and been seen as the gem that she was.

She kissed him, not caring about people surrounding them and she said with a wide smile:

“You were wonderful.”

“No, you were.”

She kissed him again, playing with his hair before putting her forehead against his.

“I feel… I feel… Gosh, I have no words…”

“I’m so happy you’re experiencing it. When you care about the plot, about the character, when you’ve got that feeling of being part of something bigger than you are, those scenes, especially the last scene, it feels so special…”

“Indeed. Thank you my Lord.”

“Don’t thank me, darling, I just can help but be selfishly glad I was part of your first thrill.”

Rory was wiggling between them, and Sansa had to pull away, but she was beaming. This was where she belonged, on sets where plots where convoluted and complicated, not on some standardized romcom set. She had the skill, and he had no doubt that more roles would follow. He was only sad that he could not be with her on every movie.

“She’s grown so much,” she said, talking about the dog and he had to agree.

Tormund had told him that huskies were the closest things to wolves, but Rory was gaining weight and height by the second. He scratched her ear, and Sansa did the same.

“You’ve given me so much!”

“Please, let me take you out tonight,” he found himself saying.

“Tyrion….”

“I know, we both hate the paparazzi, but we can do what we can to avoid them… I just want…. I don’t know. Tomorrow, there’ll be the wrap party and I will have to share you with everybody, but I wish to treat you like the lady you truly are.”

“You never treated me as anything less than a lady,” she said.

“Still… I just… I don’t know how it’s done. I don’t date, but now I do, and I just really would love it if you allowed to take you out tonight. We could have outrageously expensive food in plates so small we would need to have burgers to quench our hunger after we’re done savoring the fancy dinner…”

“We could simply go for burgers, if you want…” She offered. “Or I could cook.”

“You have no idea how much I want it, both the burgers and dinner you would cook, but I also want to treat you right. I don’t want to hide you. I would respect it if you wanted to stay in the shadow, but there is this stupid voice in me, this bloody singing voice that is telling me that I should treat you to dinner. I would love to see you in a beautiful dress, and I would even dress up…”

“Would you wear a tie?” She asked, and he noticed that she was biting her bottom lip.

“Would it impact on your answer?”

“It’s just that… You were wearing a tie at the met Gala. I would love to go on a date with you, and when we’d be out of sight, I’d grab you by the tie and kiss you until you would need medical attention,” she said.

“I’ll wear a tie,” he said quickly, feeling like a near-death experience should worry him, but he did not care, as long as it came at her hand.

“Alright then. I would love to go out with you tonight.”

He kissed her and kissed her again. Then she kissed him. Or he kissed her again? Who cared?

When the time came to come and meet her, he felt awkward like hell in his tux, but he was wearing a tie, he had managed to tame his hair, and he had even asked Jaime for advice about cologne, only to discard it as soon as he hung up the phone, because his brother had scared the bejeesus out of him by being too knowledgeable on that topic.

He would have liked to pick her up, but she had needed to go leave Rory with Theon for the night, and they had agreed to meet at the restaurant. God, he hoped she approved his choice… “L’aubergine”, a French restaurant was supposed to be really good, and added bonus, they served real plate and not just inkling of a dish on a plate.

He entered and looked for her at the bar. She took his breath away. She was wearing a grey dress, with long sleeves, and there was a corset, which endowed a feature of hers that already drove him crazy without trying to put it on the spot. Her waist was so tiny… Her legs were just so long, and he could help but dream about the day he would feel them around his won not so slim waist.

She was drinking a club soda and smiled when she saw him. He made his way to her, and she curtsied. He kissed her hand, saying:

“There is nothing the chief can cook tonight that could be as appetizing or enticing as you are, my Lady.”

“I want to kiss you, damn that tie,” she replied, and he found himself happily blushing.

It felt like pheromones were flying around them. He was enthralled and could not believe his luck to have her as his date.

“Your table is ready,” the maître d’ said.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, linking their fingers together.

He was almost certain there were paparazzi outside, but he did not care. He hoped the glasses were not see-through, and even of they were not, he could not give a rat’s ass.

They were placed in a lovely corner, away from the other customers, but not so far that they would be forgotten by the waitresses. There were red blue and white tablecloths on the table, so French, he wanted to comment on it, but every time he looked her way, he had to remind himself how breathing worked.

“Thank you for inviting me here,” she said.

“Thank you for agreeing to come with me,” he replied.

“We are not going to play this little game all night, are we,” she asked, with a smile and a glint in her eyes that made it really hard not to climb on the table to ravish her.

“Tell me about Theon and his latest conquest,” Tyrion said.

“I did not mean to…”

“You are you and I am me. We flirt. But we know each other. I could hear in your brother’s voice that he wanted to tell you about someone he’s met. So tell me. I want to know everything.”

She started telling him about the man that had caught Theon’s eye, and he listened with a smile. A waiter came by to take their order, and they just went with whatever the chef had in store for the night. They talked, and flirted, and talked some more.

At one point during the night, he thought he had changed position and was hitting something. Then she smiled, and he felt her foot against his calf. Bless be those tablecloths and bless be little minxes which made him forget how to breathe.

He knew they were not there, though they would probably soon enough, but after her terrible first relationship, he wanted her to have the perfect love story she deserved to have had the first time around.

His hand went around her calf, and gently caressed her skin. Her cheeks got pinker and pinker, and he tried not to think about the lack of space in his pants. It was all for her.

He loved her smile, he loved her stories. He loves the way she loved Rory, the way she protected everyone.

Hell. He loved her.

Fuck, he loved her.

Hell yes, he loved her!

He felt elation and happiness and so much more….

But of course, he had done some very bad things in his past and had to pay for them, that was how he interpreted what happened next.

As they were sharing an “ile flottante”, a decadent dessert, Ramsay Bolton appeared, just like a demon in a box.

“Sansa… So nice to see you here!”

Tyrion felt her stiffen, and he thought she was afraid, which would have made sense.

“Go away Bolton, this is for lovers only,” she told him.

“What, your little boyfriend can’t speak for himself? Is that why you chose him? You knew that no man could rival so why not go with an imp?”

“Bolton, this imp is this close to kicking your ass,” he roared, ready to take him on.

“There’s no need, my love,” Sansa said, putting her hand on top of his. “Nuisances go away once you ignore them. You were telling me about that trick Jaime played….”

She gave him a look, and he realized that she had grabbed a knife and was holding it underneath the table, ready to defend him, never thinking of herself. Therefore he did what she asked, pretended to not give a shit even though he wanted nothing more than to just kick the guy’s ass, and he started telling the story.

Unable to start a scene, and realizing that he was being ignored, Ramsay went away, and Tyrion put his hand underneath the table to get back the knife Sansa was still holding.

“It’s okay my Love,” he told her, “I will never let him hurt you.”

“And I will never let him hurt you. You must know, right, that you’re a million time the man he’ll never be,” she asked, as if worried about his feelings.

Brave, selfless Sansa. He fucking loved her.

“I love you,” he heard himself say.

She gasped and he started speaking before she had a chance to say anything.

“No pressure of course. I just wanted you to know. I can wait. If you never love me, it’s okay. If you find some room for me in your heart one day, I’ll wait. My point is, I will never let anything happen to you, even if you toss me on my tush. I just needed to say it, probably because I never felt it, and it felt like something I could not keep to myself.”

“I… I am not ready to say it back, but not because I do not mean it, but because I do not want to have that very special moment be prompted by that dirtbag. However, my Lord, would you let me sleep at yours tonight? Just sleep, I won’t take advantage of you. I would prefer to be back at your place tonight if you did not mind.”

He knew there was a part of her who probably did not want to acknowledge it, but that was dreading a Ramsay visit later on. However, he would wait and he would be there, come hell or high water.

“Of course, my Lady. Do you want to go pick up Rory from Theon’s before we head back to my place?”

“I would love that.”

They left the place after he paid for the meal, and Bronn drove them to get back the dog, who was waiting for them. Then, they went back to his place. Sansa looked dead on her feet, so he took her straight to his bedroom, and took out a t-shirt for her to wear.

The dog was on the bed. He should probably have  said something.

“Wait my Lord,” she said, and he turned to face her.

She grabbed his tie and said:”

“I’ve been fantasizing about doing this all night,” she said.

And she pulled him in for a kiss.

Perhaps not so dead on her feet, he thought, then coherent thinking went out the window, as he ended up on the bed, with his two ladies, one sleeping while the other devoured his mouth and he returned the favor. Take that Ramsay Bolton! He thought. And then Sansa pulled tighter and he focused on her delicious lips, rubbing her arms, her shoulder, her hair, trailing the side of her chest.

The dog could stay on the bed, he had other business to attend, and those business did not like to be kept waiting. A lady after his own heart.

Chapter Text

When the phone rung, Sansa was just about ready to toss it out the window or flush it down the toilet, whatever was the easiest. She opened her eyes and noticed that she was not in her bedroom, and the man groaning against her hair was one she very much liked having there.

After making out for a long time, they had finally gone to bed, like an old couple, without having sex, just snuggled against one another. Her height made her a big spoon, but somehow he managed to make it work so that she would be the little spoon no matter what, protected in his arms.

“Who is it?” Tyrion groaned. “I know a guy who breaks fingers, with a sliding price scale.”

“It’s… Brienne!” She exclaimed when she finally saw the caller ID.

She made to get out of the bed and take the call, but he held her back, and moved around so that she could hang up and he would not be seen. He turned on a light behind her and motioned for her to go on.

She absolutely loved the way he was not insecure, did not care about intruding or trusted her to leave the bed if she wanted to speak without him hearing.

“Hey Bri-Bri!” she exclaimed as she turned on the video call.

“Don’t you ‘hey Bri-Bri’ me!” The actress exclaimed, her face appearing on the phone. “I thought you were supposed to tell me before you guys went public!”

“I will let you know when we go public…”

“Newsflash, babydoll, you’re public. Watch this,” Brienne said as she turned her phone toward her tablet. “Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark French dining, a prelude to Frenching?” The blonde read.

Sansa had trouble discerning what pictures had been put online, but she was sure that they had not … Frenched when at the restaurant. They had flirted like crazy, had held hands… She had played footsie, because apparently, she was 15 and the heroine of a bad remake of Grease, but all their interactions that could have been seen had been PG, PG-13 at best. What had happened underneath the long tablecloths… Well, perhaps someone would up the rating a little but that was not the point.

“Brienne, this was not our ‘we’re dating, deal with it and kiss our asses’ party,” she started saying, and she remarked that Tyrion seemed to be more awake, and following the conversation.

She did not mind, he was part of their couple. Without him, she was single. God, her brain was mush.

“Oh God, did I just fall in one of those paparazzi operations you guys had planned for this thing?”

“No!”

She sat up, wanting to gain some seriousness and not look like a floozy lounging in bed.

“We only had a couple of those at the very beginning when we were giving the fake dating a try. Then we started shooting, and we did not need to call for paps, they were always around the set. You know exactly when we went to fake dating to dating. Since we are in a relationship, we would never ever call the bloody photographers on us! We want our privacy, we were just having a wonderful dinner, to celebrate finishing shooting.”

“Wait, where are you?” Brienne asked, as she seemed to inspect every detail around the redhaired woman.

“Hey Brienne,” Tyrion said from the other side of the bed. “Do you often call people at 4AM, or is Sansa special?”

“I only call my friends at 4AM, mind you, and you’ll notice I never phoned as such an hour,” she answered even though she could not see him.

Sansa had to hide a smile. She knew these two were friends, and she just loved the way they never wondered if any of them should bow out or step back while the other two enjoyed getting closer. They were all grown ups and understood that you could love many people in a thousand different ways, having room for all of them in your heart. Tyrion was for sure her best friend, but Brienne was her best female friend, and furthermore, her surrogate sister.

“Boy am I glad to not be on that precious list of yours!” He replied.

“Sansa, I need you to be honest with me. Are you guys… God… Did you guys take your relationship to the next level already?”

“Already?” Tyrion repeated, on the verge of outrage. “How long did it take you and Tormund to jump in bed?”

“Less than 24 hours but I was not a virgin! Also, mind your own business!”

“Wait, Brienne, you know I’m not a virgin..” Sansa cut them.

“Babe, I think you should take me to the bathroom or wherever, we need to have a talk.”

And while she trusted Tyrion with her heart and her soul and all her secrets, there was something in Brienne’s tone that made her think that she should listen to her.

“Just give me a minute. I’ll call you back,” she said.

She hung up and turned toward Tyrion, fighting for the words she wanted to say and those she thought he would rather hear.

“Go, it’s okay, Sans’, I understand. You need a girl moment with Brienne, even if she has more balls than I do. You can go in the living room, I won’t listen. Have your talk. And then come back to me,” he said before she could utter a word.

“But…. I don’t want you to…”

“You don’t need to worry about it. It’s… girl talk. I don’t men it in a reductive way. When your parents passed away, when your brothers followed them, Brienne was always there for you. She must have seen you with Ramsay, and while I don’t know what she knows or not on the subject, she must have some sort of inklings or impressions or whatever about what was happening. You are close. When Theon got you up after what the bastard did to you, she offered you her shoulder, so that you could walk and keep on living. You guys are close. So go talk to her, and tell her never to call you again in the dead of the night, especially if you are at my place, which I’m hoping will be an increasing occurrence, no dirty thoughts or plans implied. Just… Go be a girl with your best girl.”

There was so much she could have said, to let him know certain details, to enlighten him about others, etc, but she simply brushed her lips against his, before leaving reluctantly the bed (their bed?) and going in the living room where she wrapped herself in one of the blankets he kept for her when they watched telly, and she called back her best friend.

“Was it time difference or did those five minutes turn out to be longer than clock-checked five minutes?” The blonde started right away.

Her friend was in pain, she could tell, and she did not know why.

“What’s wrong Brienne?” She asked her.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do know what I mean.”

“No I don’t.”

“Don’t make me phone Jaime Lannister and tell him some of your deepest secrets…”

“You would not dare!”

“Try me,” Sansa simply said, knowing full well she would never do anything of the sort but had to give as good as she got.

Her friend or surrogate sister seemed to deflate like a party balloon, and Sansa cursed the thousand of miles between them.

“Aren’t you happy?” She asked. “Tormund told me he was going to join you in Scotland in two weeks for some romantic time, and he was so sappy about it…”

The blonde seemed to be struggling with pain, which made no sense…

“Tormund is a wonderful man,” Brienne finally said.

“Preaching to the choir here…”

“I know I am, but let me say it again. He is one of the most wonderful men on this Earth. I’m not saying he’s the best because you would try to fight me to have your man be in the top 3, not to mention your brothers in the top 5. What we have… God, it’s so good. We jumped in bed, as your paramour mentioned crassly, and I loved it. He was shy, did not want to push me. Except I wanted him, and I still want him. Three days in, we were exchanging I love you’s. four days in, we were talking about how many children we wanted. And then, this set happened.”

“Talk to me, love,” Sansa urged her friend when she seemed on the verge of tears.

“We still talk as much as we can, and we spend time together. I hid from you the fact that I came back twice for less than 72 hours just to be with him. When I’m with him, I feel alive. I feel complete. I feel loved and I love him. However, because there’s always a bloody however, the more we talk, the more we disagree. We don’t fight, which is horrible. If we fought, we could hash it out, have it all out and just maybe say out loud what’s troubling us.”

“What’s troubling you?”

“My lifestyle. I mentioned the fact that my next movie might take me back to Australia, and he tried to be supportive, but I could see it all in his eyes. Australia is too far for a shag, or a week end together. Australia means not seeing one another for maybe three months. He loves me, he told me and I know he does, but my lifestyle, my work imperative are not compatible with his lifestyle. He went in thinking this was one movie I shot outside of New York. He was baffled to learn that my pied-à-terre is in Los Angeles, but he was willing to make it work. However, what is there to make work when one of us is constantly halfway across the globe, either shooting a movie or promoting one?”

“Oh Brienne…”

“It’s okay. I mean, it obviously is not, but I think we both know. When he comes to Scotland, we will have ten days of pure good time, enjoying each other’s company, having sex, making love, sharing stories, but when the eleventh day rolls in, we’ll be saying goodbye possibly forever. Definitely forever. I cannot be a NY based actress and have the recognition I crave. I love him, but I need something else to define me, something that is just me and not who I sleep with.”

“I’m so sorry my love…”

“So am I.”

They remained silent, as Brienne tried her hardest to keep herself from crying. Sansa could see how hurt she was and how much she hated the situation, but truth be told, she could understand the fact that Brienne never gave the thought of being Tormund’s wife first and foremost before being Brienne Tarth, actress extraordinaire. It was in their veins, in their souls. It was something they craved and wanted to experiment. For some reason, they had been blessed with the power to entertain people, by making them laugh, cry, think. They ust could not negate that part of who they were.

She never said it out loud, but Sansa was so happy Tyrion was a man of her trade. She dreaded being on a set where he was not, or being apart from him for long period of times. The thought of him kissing another women gave her homicidal thoughts, but in the end, if they made it to the end, they would deal. They would find ways, to keep in touch, to sneak around, to let the other know that a professional kiss was nothing but two people’s mouth meeting and that it did not have to mean anything else. If they made it there, they shared this gift, and would be able to understand why the other could not let it go.

“But back to you, and it’s really important, Sansa, especially when I see how smitten you two look on the photographs. Did you and Tyrion… consummate your relationship?”

This could possibly the number one topic she never wanted to discuss with anyone who was not Tyrion.

However, because there was always a however, as Brienne often said, she knew that her friend was worried. When Sansa had been dating, or more accurately, all but jailed by Ramsay, Brienne had been kept away by the man because he knew that she could and would make Sansa see that he was full of air. When they had parted, while they had never discussed exactly what had happened, what she had liked or disliked, her friend had seen how scarred she was and how much men suddenly scared her.

“We did not.”

“Praise be baby Jesus.”

“But we exchanged ILY.”

“Dear Lord… You’re doing things backwards!”

“Are we talking about sex or…?”

“You dirty little minx!” Brienne exclaimed. “I know you’re playing me like a guitar or whatever the saying says, but damn, Sans’, I did not know you had a naughty bone in you.”

Hearing her friend, and seeing her face, it felt like a bridge was breaking, or rupturing inside Sansa, and she was glad she had left the main bedroom.

“I told Tyrion about my past, and about the fact that my sexual life so far has been less than encouraging, and he is extremely understanding. He always checks to see if he goes too far. He is never afraid, per se, he’s not handling me like a porcelain doll, but when we cross certain thresholds, he gives me this look, and I know it means that if I am not ready, we can press backwards and try again later on.”

“That is fantastic babe. Are you happy with what you’ve done so far, those thresholds I am not certain I want to hear about?”

“I am. I really am. Most of the time, I am the one initiating things, and when he does, I’ve given him plenty of signals to let him know that now is good, you know?”

“That is good!”

“The thing though, because there is always a bloody however, is that I love what we’re doing. However, what if it’s all I like?”

 “Please explain…”

“We’ve… kissed. He’s brushed my breasts through clothing. We’ve necked. Last night, I played with my sole against his calf…”

“Please get to the point…”

“What if it is all I like? I mean, sure, sometimes I feel like my blood is boiling in my veins, and I want more, but what if the more I get, is not what I want?”

“Sansa…”

“What if I’m incapable of having a normal relationship? What if I can’t have sex? What if I can’t enjoy sex? Oh God, I don’t want him to leave me for some two pennies slut.”

“Ok, babe, listen to me, and open your ears wide. You will love sex. You will love sex with Tyrion. I’m not speaking from experience, but you love him, you said it. I saw it in your eyes before you uttered the words. The man bought you a dog, pure bred too! I mean, why doesn’t he go and adopt a Somalian baby while he’s at it? He’s clearly probably unconsciously preparing the path for a real family one day. You, him and dog make three for now, but one day, Baby may make four, you know?”

Sansa froze. Ramsay had tried, to get her pregnant. She never told him about the contraceptive implant she had in her arms. It had been put there when her period had been too painful and she needed hormones to regulate things until she was better. She had gotten rid of it almost as soon as she had left the man, but she was thankful for the fact that it had saved her from….

“Sansa?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. One day, you’ll tell me all Ramsay did to you, and the next day he’ll be found in a ditch. I know he did a number on you, that’s why I’m asking about sex. And that is also why I understand your fear. You did not like sex with Ramsay, and you wonder if it’s your fault. Babe, some women … Ok, more accurately, all women are different. Never believe what you see in movies or in shows. Some women only achieve orgasm through clitoridean stimulation for years before they can have vaginal orgasm. Some scientists say the two kind of orgasms are actually the same, it’s about stimulation. That’s not my point. Some women will need a year before feeling like they can trust their partner. Other will know in thirty seconds. Some will have orgasm sometimes, but not always, and never know why. We’re complicated. Don’t overcomplicate things by asking yourself if you can do it. You’ve… I can’t believe I’m asking this, but, have you ever climaxed, on your own?”

“Before Ramsay…” Sansa whispered, blushing like mad.

“Then you can. And If Tyrion knows what he’s doing and most of all, knows how to read your clues and know what you want, you’ll have a perfectly normal sex life. Hell, you may even have a super extraordinary sex life if his reputation is to be believed. I think I may be jealous of you, to be honest.”

Sansa laughed, glad for the joke, for the break in tension and thankful for her friend.

“Just do whatever you’re comfortable with doing. Don’t think about his past or yours. You are building a new story. It may last six months, it may last a year, ten years, a lifetime. Don’t cloud your head with too many questions that will prevent you from enjoying what you have. I have never seen you as happy as you are today. You’re wearing his shirt, and your dog was sleeping on his bed, and you guys are so fucking happy. Just take it in, my love, ok? Take it in. You can never have too much love. You can never be unworthy of being on the receiving end of too much love. Just take it in and bathe in it. And then send me chocolate because I intend to drown my post-Tormund depression in liquor and chocolate.”

“I so wish you guys could make it work….”

“Me too, babe, me too. Let’s see. We will have our ten days. Perhaps in between rounds of sex, we’ll manage to talk things through and have a breakthrough.”

“I hope you do.”

“I do too. But just in case, you know my favorite chocolate, right?”

“I even know your poison of choice when it comes to liquor.”

“Good. Good. I think I should let you get back to bed, with your lover who is not yet your lover,” Brienne said in a teenagey voice.

They both laughed until the blonde asked:

“Don’t hate me for asking, but he does make you happy, right?”

“I never knew you could be this happy,” Sansa said, on the verge of tears.

“And to think you’re not having sex yet….”

“I’m hanging up now. Bye Bri-Bri!”

“Night San-San, give a big smooch for Ty-Ty for me…”

Sansa shook her head as she ended the conversation. She took a few minutes to compose herself, then went back in the bedroom.

Rory had stolen her place in Tyrion’s arms. That would not do. She loved the pup to death, but wolves were territorial creatures after all.

Chapter Text

Tyrion stayed in bed way longer than he should have, but he was just happy. He had been woken up by his sweet Lady, Sansa, kissing his lips sweetly, as she tried to explain that she needed to get back at her place to get ready for the wrap party that night. He had done his best to convince her to stay in bed with him and Rory, but she had been more stubborn than he, if you could believe that, and after many stolen kisses, and many promises to call him later on, she had left. To please him, she had kept on his t-shirt, and he had felt very much like King Kong, wanting to bang his chest with male pride.

They were in love. He had been about to think that they were fucking in love, but the expletive had felt too much, even in his own head, because he was stricken by how pure and sincere things were. When he had said the words, almost like a drunk who had no filter, he had not expected to hear anything back from her, and yet, she had made his day, week, month, hell, possibly year and some by saying it back. He had never doubted she meant it, and just wanted to bask in this feeling. He was loved, not because genetics dictated it, nor because he had money and fame. In some way, he was loved in spite of that. She knew that he had been no monk, and she was this precious flower that should only be handled delicately, with pure hands and pure heart, and yet, she still could find it in her to put his past behind and let him risk darkening her with his dirty soul. She knew all about his bad ways, and she had been on the receiving end on in one in a blue moon jealousy tantrum, and she had stayed, had given him a chance.

He had to be the luckiest man in the world.

His phone buzzed and he almost fell out of bed trying to reach it, hoping it was his lady sending whatever message she felt like. Instead, he felt grossed out when he read:

“Fucked her yet? You don’t have the stamina, move over old boy.”

He was going to kill Joffrey for killing his superlative mood. Fucked be his nephew, and his dirty mind. Did he really expect an answer? How could he dare to say anything of the sort? Tyrion really felt an inch to call those contacts he had in the Serbian mob, to have the boy beaten up. Then again, how could he look Sansa in the eye after he had ordered for his blood to be beaten down? She would understand but he would never feel worthy of her if he let his inner demon speak out.

He breathed in and out, several times, purposefully, to bring his temper down. Sometimes, when Sansa felt overwhelm because of her past, he would breathe with her, to let her know she was not alone, and as importantly, that he was going nowhere. He loved her too much for that. Hence, he breathed.

He would be lying if he said he was not looking forward to sharing her bed, but given her history, he needed her to let him know that it was okay. He did not want to start something, something she might feel comfortable with at first, and then suddenly realize she had turned stone cold because her memories would be replaying on her mind and affecting what was supposed to be an intimate experience. He could not promise her the sun and the moon, though he wanted too, but he never wanted to lie to her, and while he wished that their first time be wonderful, he had to consider the possibility that it might not live up to its promise. He wanted to bring her pleasure and completion, but he had no idea where she was at, in her own progression in their relationship. Therefore, it was so important for her to be absolutely on board.

Truth be told, he also did not mind not having been with her. He wanted it, more than life itself, but he could live with waiting if it meant allowing her to erase her terrible memories or give him the chance to give her new ones that would over shine those that plagued her.

He had never considered himself to be a considerate man. He was a careful lover, attentive to his partner’s needs and how they were faring, but he had never been so close to somebody that he would put their needs first. He was used to friends with benefits. Now that he had Sansa in his life, and even if she was only there for a spell, he could not picture himself starting another relationship of that sort. Sure, if she left him, he probably would go back to his old ways, but he would be plagued by the memories of what he would have lost.

The smile on her face when he had given her Rory, the way she would giggle when he tickled her on the couch… The way she would kiss his crooked nose and kiss his neck, and caress his skin… The way she talked to him like he was more than genitalia ready to be used, cared for his advice, wanted it, needed it, listened to it but was not afraid to stand her ground…. He wanted to make fun of himself, say something about being trapped in a bloody romcom, but they were not. Those movies only focused on clichés and certain meet cutes or topos. They never really explored the relationship between the protagonist, the way one would trust another and why, the way the other would wonder what he or she had done to deserve that. They would just be about people being cute and happy, but nowhere near real. What he had was real. What they had, was real, and thus was messy and complicated.

He wanted more.

He thought about their trips in the Key Islands soon for Laora and Tony’s fake wedding, and he could not wait to see his beautiful wonderful queen under the sun. She would surely need lots of sunscreen as he suspected she would burn like a crisp under the sunrays, but he could not help but look forward to this mini vacation, to this time far away from places where she could have been with he who could not be named for he was a dick, and Tyrion did not like him. They could just… have an escapade. Do nothing, sightsee, whatever. They could be together.

He felt so mushy, and wanted to call Brienne, for he knew she would make fun of him and put him back on the right trail but what if being mushy was the right path? Furthermore, she just had a long conversation with his girlfriend and he did not want to put her in an awkward situation where she ended up stuck between the two of them. He wanted Sansa to never doubt she could trust her friends and her family. He quickly sent a text message to Theon saying that there might be paparazzi when they were at their friends’ wedding, and he did not care, he was ready to come out of his closet and acknowledge how whipped he was, but he wanted to make sure it would not hurt Sansa’s image. He also sent Jon a message asking about Ygritte, then asking if he had spoken with his sister lately. He knew she was not ready to open up about her trauma to her brothers, but she needed to know they were there so that one day she could break her silence and get their support. Jon responded almost immediately asking if something was wrong with Sansa and promising to flay Tyrion if he had messed up. The actor answered by saying that she had been through a difficult but rewarding shoot, and that she would love to have news from her brother whom she loved, especially since she was too shy to ask about whether he was making progress with his soldier lady. Jon replied in a few words, not thanking him but the will was there, saying he would try and open up to his sister because he wanted her to know he was working on his PTSD.

He felt like he had done the right thing, just hoped that Jon would be gentle with his sister. The man was a good one, man that was, but at times, it felt like he forgot that they had all suffered the same trauma he had, and he was a little too into his own pain to take notice of his siblings. For example, he barely seemed to realize that Araya worshipped at his altar, had even commented on the fact that he looked the most like their father’s, and that she seemed to be expecting some sort of higher praises from him, that she needed to know that by making him proud, she had done their father proud.

Of course, Tyrion was no fool and knew how easy it was to stand by and back and observe what everyone else was missing. He wondered what Sansa thought of his family, then figured he probably was better off not knowing. Then again, she had gone through the trouble of sitting down with Jaime, a man she owed nothing to, not to mention a man she must have been scared to be alone with, given her history. He remembered that there had always been someone around when they had started fake dating, even though he had not really noticed. There had been Brienne, and then Tormund, and then the whole shop staff, Bronn, Theon… He had earned the right to be left alone with her because she had granted him that privilege, for which he was very glad. It meant she trusted him, and to be honest, it was a reward worthy of an Oscar or the Cecil B Delille award.

He grabbed his phone, deleted Joffrey’s offensive message, and wrote something asinine to his brother. He got up and went to shower, after breathing in one last time Sansa’s smell on her pillow. When he came back, having dealt with his urges, he noticed that his brother had texted back right away, asking if he could phone him. With a slight delay, Tyrion replied that he could and soon the phone was ringing.

“Hey my brother from the same mother and father,” Jaime said.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. He knew that even though he played that card a lot, Jaime was far from stupid, but his father had stuck him in this position, with his brilliant daughter surrogate wife and his impish genius son. All that was left for him to be was the prince charming but dumb-as-rock son, and he played that game.

“Hey dufus. Shouldn’t you be on set or something?”

“Brienne is shooting several pivotal scenes, I have the day off and I was bored, so I thought I would check in on my baby brother.”

Tyrion couldn’t help but chuckle, which prompted a:

“What?”

“I was asking about you and you answered about Brienne. Do we need to resuscitate Doctor Freud?”

“I…. I… I was just giving you an explanation.”

“Which should have started by ‘I have the day off as it’s a big day for scenes featuring Brienne’…”

“Please, don’t tease me, okay?”

“Tease?” Tyrion parroted, taken back.

He had not been about to tease him, but to ride his ass and make fun of him until he changed his name to Brienne’s man Tarth Lannister.

“I know, I know, I’m a dick and I sleep with too many women. Did it ever occurred to you that perhaps I was whoring myself around to not think about the one woman I was not sleeping with?”

“I’m sor…”

“Do you have any idea how frustrating to have been in seven movies with her, and to have never been her love interest, to have always been cast as her brother, cousin, friend, boss, who cares, but never as someone with whom she would have scenes that could make her think ‘hey, maybe that Lannister whore is more than meet the eye?’ ‘Cause it’s frustrating, and I’m not talking just blue-balls like.”

“Jaime, breathe in and breathe out. I’m sorry. Sure I was going to make fun of you, but once you said stop, I would have stopped. I’ve been getting growingly conscious of how much of a dick I could be at times, when I did not want the focus to be on me, and I learnt that I could hurt people by not giving them a thought, ok?”

“Should I thank my future sister-in-law for that?”

“I don’t know, are you and my lady in touch? Cause even though I trust you not to try anything, especially considering the fact that she would push you back so hard you would end up with your ass in Antarctica, I would like to know.”

“We’re not in touch, though I’d like to be sometimes, but I don’t want to step in until you guys have come out to the public and to Father as being serious.”

“Please, I’m sure Father already has wedding invitations made for that day…”

“He does. I saw them in his office. You would hate them.”

“That’s it, we’re eloping. Father won’t be able to touch us or try to impose anything on us then…”

“Eloping, hum? Already there?”

“Shut up, dufus.”

There was a lengthy silence, then Tyrion said:

“I don’t know why I blurted that out. We’ve been together for too short a time period…”

“Dude, you’re going strong, it’s your longest relationship, how long as it been, three months, almost four?”

And while everything in him yelled that he could end up regretting it, knowing that Brienne knew the truth and it had to bother her to lie to her co-star, no matter how much consideration she may or may not have for him, Tyrion knew it was time to come clean.

“Jaime, can you keep a secret? And I’m not kidding, if I see something in the press tomorrow, I’ll know it’s you and I’ll have you killed.”

“Serious much? But yeah, I can. Your intensity will prevent me from gaffing. Besides, I’ve been waiting for so long for you to be able to trust me, I would not disappoint…”

At times, his brother was like a puppy, even more so that Rory who was more like a cub.

“At first, when Sansa and I started being seen together, we were not… together.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I know, I’m a douche. The thing was… Varys wanted to redeem my image as I had pulled one too many stunts, and her agent wanted to put her on the radar, outside of the teenagey scene. So we made a pact, not written obviously because it would have leaked. We agreed to be seen together twice a week for a couple of weeks, and see where we went from there. When we came to your birthday, we were on week 3 of our deal, and I don’t know… I mean, I do know. I already wanted her to say fuck this shit to this illusion and just be with me, but it too us longer, another month. We shot a very difficult scene on this movie, and we talked and decided that there would be no arrangements, no amount of time we should be spotted per weeks or whatever, that we just wanted to go on being together, for real.”

“How long ago was it?”

“Three weeks and four days.”

“Oh God, I would so make fun of you for being so pathetically in love if I did not feel so proud of the fact that you don’t find it girly to be counting the days ands weeks. You really are in love.”

“We are. We really are. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and I only know what I hope for our future, but please, don’t betray our secret. I let you know because Brienne is on it, and because you just gave me this great speech which made me realize that you understand what I was feeling before Sansa did say “fuck it”, or “darn it”, to be more accurate, cause my lover does not curse, and I did not want you to learn it in twenty five years, ready an unauthorized biography of me and discovering this.”

“I sort of get it, I think. Not all of it, but parts. I guess I can only thank you for bringing me into this secret. For the record though, she was already in love when she came to my birthday, and so were you. You were fools.”

“Can’t deny that,” Tyrion muttered, feeling himself blush.

“But your secret is safe with me. And I’m sorry for unloading about all my Brienne related feelings.”

“Jaime, I know I have like, less than a month being in a real meaningful relationship to tell you this, but, you can talk to me. I won’t always understand, but I’ll try. Brienne is my lady’s best friend, more like a sister, really. I can try to slip in a good word, but right now she’s with Tormund.”

“And it’s killing me. I even stopped sleeping around. She told me that she was wondering if they might need to break up for being too perfect for one another, and it broke my heart, because, you know who is perfect for her? No one, but I could learn to be.”

“Damn, if she ever gives you the time of the day, she will have you whipped like a pony…”

“And I’ll be asking for more. I can’t tell who I am anymore.”

“Then take this time when you’re not having sex, and try to find out who you are. Try to leave behind who Father wants you to be, who Cersei wants you to be, even who journalists want you to be. I can speak from experience there. When I was not with Sansa but with Sansa, I could feel pressure from everywhere, from old squeezes, from paparazzi, from my whole entourage waiting for me to go all ‘Sansa who?’ and go back to my old ways. Except I did not want to, and while it would have been easy to give in, not to mention, it would have spared me headaches, I held on. I’m currently sitting on the bed where I can still see the indentation of my lady. This feeling, I never had it before, I am not sure how to call it… Pride? Worthiness? Unworthiness? Love? All I know, it’s great and I want to keep feeling it. I’m getting sappy, I know but my point is, whatever happens with Brienne and Tormund, you have no control over events. I had to wait for Sansa to tell me she was on the same boat as I was and it was excruciating. I know she could have decided to stop everything period. I don’t know how I would have handled it. All I know is that working on myself, doing a little work to find out who I was and most importantly, who I wanted to be, it was important. You can’t expect a good woman to choose you if you’re a hobo with money.”

“I think I see your point, thought your so sappy your vagina is showing, but yeah, I get it. Discover who I want to be, so that if I have an opportunity, I can say ‘here is what I have to offer’, and if I don’t, I’ll know what I want in the unlikely even someone manages to take Brienne’s place.”

“Sansa would have hated previous me. When we met, I was drinking and swearing, and just going with the flow. She forced me to get myself together at first, and then I realized I needed to do it period, cause I am not getting younger, and while I have spent years having good sex with good partners, I’ll soon be attracting gold-diggers waiting for my ticker to give out. Find out who you are, and maybe when she sees it, Brienne will discover another Jaime, a Jaime she never knew and she would like to know.”

“Look at us, making wishy-washy plans for the future. Next we’ll start exchanging tip on how to knit…”

“I can’t knit for shit, but I can tell you how to house-train a dog.”

“Rory… You must have been so in love to get her a dog even though you never knew if your contract would be reconducted the following week.”

“I took a leap of faith, and for once, I did not crash.”

“Good for you, brother, good for you….”

“Why were you calling by the way?”

“I was bored and … don’t start making things up about me calling you to pass time. I was thinking that perhaps when I get back in New York, the three of us, you, your gal and I, could have a drink or dinner or something. Just do anything really where we don’t worry about Father or Cersei. Sort of getting to know each other in person and not through emails and texts, to make sure we’re not playing the other.”

“Sansa would not let you play me.”

“That’s right. She can be scary, if you don’t mind me saying. She’s a little….”

“Wolf-like?”

“At times, yes, how did you know?”

Tyrion laughed, and deviated the conversation to talk about when his brother would be back.

That evening, when he got on set for the wrap party, he kissed his beautiful girlfriend who had spent part of the day with her sister, and told her that if she was okay with it, Jaime wanted to invite them for drinks or food.

“I’m glad you’re building a relationship with your brother,” she told him, kissing his ear, her arms wrapping around his waist.

“I never knew I wanted one, relationship or brother, to be honest, but now that I am working on it, well, I guess it’s another thing I have to thank you for.”

“I was just the buffer you guys needed at a likely moment for things to develop.”

“Still, you’re my Lady and you’re precious, and by the way, Jaime doesn’t know the terminology, but if he did, he would call you Alpha.”

She laughed, and he kissed her hair. They had to turn back their attention to the party, but one thing was for sure, he was not the same man she had met all those weeks ago, and they both liked it.

Chapter Text

Sansa was trying to figure out how the next week would work out. Next week-end, they were invited to the celebration of Laora and Tony’s wedding of a sort, but until then, and since the movie was not done being edited, she had to remain available in case of any sudden need for reshoot. According to her Lord (she did blush thinking of her fantastic boyfriend), there would be almost no need for new scenes, unless there happened to be a real error in continuity. From his past experience, Tony would not have let them walk off the set if he was not happy with how the scene had turned out, and Laora always thought things through, always ten moves ahead like a chess champion, and thus, if they had wrapped the movie, there were a basically only a slightest chance possible for them to be called back. However, according to the contract they had signed, they had to be at the ready.

She did not mind. It meant a week where she was all but in vacation while at her place. Though, as she looked around, she was stricken by how much it felt like a show flat rather than her own. She could not bring herself to invest herself in this place. It was the reminder of when she was free again, but it could not become her future. She wanted to call Tyrion and ask him about helping her find a new flat.

Almost as if on cue, there was a call on the landline and she saw that it was the concierge. She picked up and answered:

“Hello?”

“Miss Stark, it’s Leon from the conciergerie, I have not been here long, only a couple of days, so I apologize if I should not phone but I wanted to do things right. Mister Lannister is here and asking to be sent up, do you allow it?”

“Yes, of course! Thank you for checking though, it is lovely to see that you are taking your job seriously.”

“You’re very welcome miss, and I’ll send your visitor up right away.”

They hung up, and she started checking her profile in the mirror. He seemed to know just when she wanted to see him, she thought, unable to stop herself from smiling as wide as she could. She wished she had put on a nicer gown, and she went to put the kettle on the fire.

The doorbell rung, and she went to the door. She opened it, without looking through the peephole to make sure who it was, even though she should have in hindsight: Tyrion always made sure she was okay with him coming over if he did, and she loved him for his thoughtfulness. Therefore, when she found herself face to face with Tywin, she could not utter a word, feeling like she was frozen in place.

Why was he here? Oh God! Mister Lannister meant Tywin and not her man! She would have to let Leon know that only Tyrion was allowed up without calling first. But what the heck was this Lannister doing here? There was only one person she could think of that would as terrible a surprise and a complete shock, Cersei Lannister bloody Baratheon.

Then again, let’s not forget about Joffrey… She did not wat him darkening her doorstep.

“Miss Stark?” Tywin finally said as she stayed mute. “I seem to have caught you off guard. Were you waiting for my son?”

Like he did not know it…

She kept her mouth shut and gestured for him to come in. She guided him to the living room, and took a seat, gesturing for him to do the same opposite to her.

“Thank you,” he said, and while she hated his guts, his manners were perfect. “I am sorry to surprise you so, I thought the concierge would bring up the fact that it was not your usual ‘Mister Lannister’ coming up, if you will.”

“My usual ‘Mister Lannister’ does not need to be announced, he knows every concierge and they know him. Though I would like it if you did not refer to him as “mister Lannister”, as it makes me sound like a high-end prostitute with high-end clients.”

“At least, you’re not selling yourself cheap,” Tywin said and looked almost regretful when he spoke it.

“I beg your pardon?” She cut him, not liking what was implied. ”Surely there must be something wrong with my ears, because I would have a hard time believing you just congratulated me for being a geisha.”

“Of course, I would never. I think I meant to pay you a compliment, used to the fact that in my family, every comment of the sort is always a back-handed one, and missed the fact that your mother must not have raised you the way I raised my children.”

“Why in the world would you raise your children by praising them and backslapping them at the same time? Children need to know they are loved. Boundaries must be set, but love must be free, and open, otherwise how do you expect your children to know when they are being praised, when they have made you proud?” She could not help but ask, barely controlling her voice and her anger.

To think Tyrion came from the loins of such a vile man who freely admitted that he had taught his children tough love, love being sometimes optional.

“I can really see Catelyn in you. When she had her first child with your father, she almost dropped her acting career, it took some serious directors asking for her back on set, and for your father to push her to keep going, otherwise she would have been a stay-at-home mom.”

And she probably would have stayed alive then… But to see her youngest first get destroyed by cancer, then her eldest being ripped away by a mad man… She would never have survived the heartache, or if she did, she would not have been her Mum anymore.

“You keep mentioning my mother. Tyrion mentioned the fact that you knew who my mother was despite it being on the downlow in the business.”

“I must admit to having had a terrible fondness for your mother, when we were younger.”

Were his eyes getting misty? Catelyn had been a crush for him, an obsession. She had been her mom. If one of them was to get misty eyes, it should have been her.

“I know. I read my mother’s diaries, a few years after her passing, and she mentioned your attempts at courting her.”

Sansa knew she was sort of taunting a bull with a red cape, but she could not help herself. When she had been to his house for his twin’s birthday, he had been gallant and over-the-top nice, but she could not forget all the thing she knew about him from talking to her man. She could not help but want to scratch his eyes out for having deprived his younger son from his love for whatever silly reason, like the fact that he resembled too much his late mother. She was the spitting image of her mother, and she knew for a fact that if her father had not been torn from her family when he had, he never would have resented her for looking like his late wife.

“Good things I hope?” Tywin asked, fishing for more details about the entries in Cat’s diaries.

He had not come to the right person to have his ego flattered.

“I would say the opposite, you really had trouble understanding the word ‘no’ from what she wrote.”

“And I still do. A ‘no’ is just a ‘yes’ waiting to be coaxed out of the speaker.”

Uh. She wanted to scream “no means no, asshat! Are you related to the Boltons or is it just a bad bug running though the business?”

“It does not when I say it, and it did not when my mother did.”

“Potato, potahto…”

Such a mundane expression in a way too posh mouth. However, she could see his pride was hurt, and she hid her satisfaction. He had been a thorn in her mother’s side, never wanting to leave her alone. He even had tried to convince her to run away with him when he had learnt that she was marrying Ned Stark, a man who had another ex-girlfriend pregnant on the side.

The difference between father and son could not be clearer. How she wished Tyrion was there, she missed him. She did not want to go too far and mess things up with his father, but she could not help the rage she felt at the man’s behavior.

“Cat was a superb actress, one of a kind. I guess one can say she was the first of a kind, and you’re the next generation.”

“Thank you,” she said, not wanting to commit further.

“It’s a shame truly that the media does not know about the identity of your mother.”

“I don’t see why it should be. She’s passed. Let her rest in peace. Don’t make people say her name and trouble her slumber by bringing her up just to highlight our parentage.”

“You must think very little of your mother to say something this offensive,” he said, and she had to restrain herself from slapping him.

“It is precisely because she did not want people to know she was my mother, because she wanted me to become an actress or not become one on my own that I have always respected her wish. Do you have a point, or do you just want to see if you can make me bleed or cry by insulting my mother?”

“I would never try anything of the sort.”

Like heck, slick bastard.

“Then get to it. I highly doubt you came over here to tell me if I were a whore, I would be an escort worth every penny, and that my mother would be ashamed of me.”

“I never said anything of the sort.”

“I guess it is not about what one said but about what the listener hears.”

“Perhaps you are right. I was coming to see you… Well, I wanted to get to know better my soon-to-be daughter in law.”

“Please do not be hasty!”

“Don’t tell me you believe in things such as hexing oneself or such?”

“I do not need to believe in hexes to know that you are…”

‘Talking out of your arse because there is no way in hell my love told you about me, I would know,’ was what she wanted to say.

“Going faster than the rest of us,” she said instead.

“Surely a lovely and smart lady like you should see the benefits she would encounter if her life were to become permanently linked to my son’s… The alliances of our families, especially once your parentage becomes common knowledge would be the equivalent of a royal wedding.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“There is no need to beg, we’re above that, we’re family…”

“There you go again. Mister Lannister, I would like you to leave. I do not get why you wanted to come over, and what is your point, but I can tell I do not like it.”

“I appreciate your diction, so eloquent. It oozes smoothness.”

“That is neither here nor there.”

“I was just pointing out that at one time, a Lannister Baratheon alliance made all the sense in the world, and I would doubt Robert would disagree, but now that the next generation is under the spotlight, a Lannister-Tully alliance would make all the sense in the world.”

“Stark,” she corrected bitterly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Stark. That is my last name. My mother was a Tully. I have Tully blood in my veins but I bleed like a Stark.”

“When one blood is stronger than the other, it can be dismissed.”

“Are you insulting my late father?”

The kettle started blowing smoke, and she quickly got up to put it away from the fire, placing herself behind the bar, as if to put an obstacle between the two of them.

“You won’t offer me a drink?”

“No. And for the record, I do mean no. There is no coaxing a yes out of my answer.”

“My, we must have gotten on the wrong foot, I assure you our interests collide. I do not understand this distrust.”

“She distrusts you because you’re an old man always up to new tricks,” a voice came from behind them, and she almost ran to Tyrion when she saw him open the door.

She then left the safety of the bar to come by his side, not daring to hold his hand or kiss his cheek, not wanting to give fodder to whatever Tywin was devising.

“Tyrion, I told you time and time again that you do not get to speak to me like that just because you made it out without my connections.”

“You’re right. I get to speak to you like that because I don’t love you. You renounced being my father ages ago when I would not let you be my agent. Why are you pissing off Sansa?”

“I think he wants the world to know I’m Cat Tully’s daughter and for us to have kids, a royal dynasty.”

“What we do is none of his business. Do I need to show you the door,” the actor asked, outraged, trying to keep himself in check even though he seemed to want to sick Bronn on the man.

“I will leave you two lovebirds alone. You think of my ideas as schemes, I only see the future, one way or another…”

And on these ominous words, the old man left.

When the door was closed, she pushed the locks before embracing her boyfriend, kissing him with all her love, needing him to know that she had not invited this terrible man over. He reciprocated, as if to assure her he had not sent her his father.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, between two kisses.

“I am now that you are here.”

“I do not mean to push you, but may I enquire what he wanted?”

“What I said. He tried to tell me that I needed to think of our relationship in terms of alliances. He was so weird… And he kept mentioning my mother, letting me know he knew who I was. I cannot help but wonder if he was threatening me with revealing the truth if I did not see eye to eye with him…”

“I would not put it past him… Maybe we should consider the idea of making it public knowledge, since you will have proven your acting chops with this movie, and it will have the added bonus of depriving him of his one threat…”

“He called my father “weak blood”. I cannot believe he would utter those words to my face, I thought him more polished than that.”

“I’m so sorry my love…”

“You’re not him, and he needs to own up to his own mistakes. Of which he did plenty when talking to me. Can we neck in front of the telly for a while, to help me forget he was ever there?”

“We should burn the place…”

“And where would I live?”

“I have an answer on the tip of my tongue, but I’m afraid saying it out loud will make you scared.”

So she got them both on the couch, and searched for his answer with her tongue. They fit so unbelievably well… Words she had never thought she would utter, but she could not wait till they took their relationship to the next level.

And thus, Tywin was forgotten.

Chapter Text

When they flew to Florida for the weekend, Tyrion was still fuming over his father showing up at Sansa’s and making insinuations or not making them, being vague on purpose just so that he would mess with both their heads. He tried not to let it show too much to his girlfriend, but she knew how to read him too well.

“Relax, love, he cannot hurt us,” she would tell him, while squeezing his hand or playing with his hair, and her proximity would almost make him forget about what had gotten him into a tizzy.

“I just don’t like the fact that he came to you, like he was entitled to have an audience with you, when protocol dictates, he should have invited the two of us for lunch or something. I hate that he cornered you. Obviously, he has no clue about your personal past, praise be whoever is out there, but yeah, what he did, that doesn’t sit well with me,” he would try to explain.

“I am a big girl. Well, a tall one at least, and an actress. I have a great poker face. Sadly, my past is proof of that, as so many of the people who love me cannot tell something ever happened to me that I still am keeping away from them. I hate what your father did, too, but then again, maybe he was just… trying to avoid the protocol, not in a tricky way, but to be informal and make things less awkward. However, he greatly misestimated how much I don’t trust him. Sure it was Joffrey who spiked my drink and Cersei who called me names, but those apples did not fall far from the three.”

“What about this apple?” He asked, pointing to himself.

“You’re no apple. You’re pomegranate. Did you know that in the bible, it speaks of apple, but people believe it to be a mistranslation of a word actually meaning pomegranate?”

“Are you saying I got lost in translation?” He enquired, a little baffled.

“I guess, but in a good way. You look like an apple and I guess to most you’re an apple but people who know better can see the pomegranate behind the obvious apple.”

“Such a weird conversation to be having!” He commented.

She laughed and kissed him, and he forgot for a little while about his anger.

When they landed, they were all but kidnapped in a whirlwind, as Laora and Tony had invited several famous actors, and while they did not believe they themselves were worthy of paparazzi attention, they knew that the gathering of too many big names in the same place would attract the photographers like moths to several burning flames. They were taken to a secret location, not that they were not trusted with their whereabouts, but they did not know the place well enough to be able for details to make sense to them. Soon enough, they were in a very big house, buzzing with activity. They met their friends, separately. For a fake wedding, they sure respected certain traditions. Tony had not seen Laora all day, and Sansa went to, while Tyrion went to his old buddy. He felt a tugging in his heart as he watched his lady disappear.

When he joined Tony, the man was in a strange mood, both Zen and worried. Tyrion had a feeling Tony may have warned up to the idea of making his girlfriend his wife in the eye of the law too. However the woman would need some serious convincing. Tyrion could totally picture himself standing as Tony’s man of honor in thirty years, with one or two sons Laora would have given the man, their mother finally convinced their father would not go kiss other people just because they would say “I do”.

“You okay man?” He asked him.

“Tyrion! It’s good to see you!”

“Well, you invited me. Unless I read things really wrong, I was expected, was I not?”

“Don’t be a dick…”

“Bad habits and all that shit.”

“Laora and I decided to make things a little fancier. We’ll have a ceremony performed by Laora’s brother. You’ll see… It’s quite original, or so I thought.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But truly, are you okay, man?”

“Absolutely. I just… I want this, I am on board ten thousand percent, but there’s a part of me who is afraid Laora will decide to not go through with it.”

“Dude, she will. I hate being a tattletale, but she was the one who told me about jumping over a broom and charged with convincing you to propose that to her.”

“I figured. You did not strike me as an expert in old slave traditions.”

“Damn, I guess that means I can kiss that Oscar goodbye for the umpteenth year running…” Tyrion said.

“I never said that. We’re not done editing, but what happened on the film, I can’t explain it. I discovered a whole new you…”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause my cock-sock slipped at one point during the nude scene…” the actor joked.

“Yeah, that too. However, you were so intense. Maybe it was Laora who was wonderful and you just were given something easy to do with her words, but it’s really good. Like you will be surprised when we’ll screen it. I know you avoided rushed everyday on set, and I did not mind. Things were going great and I did not need to point at things you were doing wrong. The end result is definitely my best piece.”

“I can’t wait to see for myself then. Now come on, old boy, you need to put on your tux or whatever, and I need to put on my whatever too.”

The two friends exchanged a few more jibes then did just that. Tony was in a light tux, which suited him nicely. Sadly, Laora had vetoed Tyrion’s proposition to wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, so he was dressed like a penguin too. He could not wait to see what Sansa would be wearing. Thus, when they got the signaled, they left the groom’s suite, and went to the place where the ceremony would be taking place.

The whole thing turned out to be a blur, not becauss things were happening to fast or anything, but there was so much emotions and feelings, it was another whirlwind, a tornado almost. First, They stood and waited for the bride to be and her maid of honor. Sansa was breathtaking, dressed in a light and breezy gown, a pink one, which stopped just above her knees. She was a sight for sore eyes, and eyes, period. She smiled at him and mouthed word of appreciation for the tux so he figured he could not keep on being a dick about it.

They came to join the men, and Laora’s brother made a speech. Then, they retrieved two jars of sands tainted one purple and the other red. They were given a bigger urn, and they said they vow while pouring the sand they had chosen to represent their commitment, purple being Laora’s, in the urn.

“As the sands cannot be parted, neither can our newlyweds,” Marco, Laora’s brother said, when they were done. “The only way to undo what they have done would be for one of them to get back his or her sand, and I say, good luck with that! Now, please follow me on the side.”

While the attendees were still laughing about his comment on the sand separation, the four friends moved and followed him to the side where a broom was put on the ground. Hand in hand, Laora and Tony jumped over it, and when they kissed, the crowd exploded in applause. Tyrion went through the motions, not that he was not genuinely happy for his friends, but the way Sansa was looking at him lit a fire in his belly and in his veins. He remembered his convo weeks ago with the new bride, about having babies with Sansa, and he wondered if he would be lucky to have those, and perhaps to even get the chance to put a ring on her perfect finger.

Marco had to remind the newlyweds that one was his sibling, and they all went to celebrate.

Several hours later, Sansa had found her way back to Tyrion, and was huddled up against his side, as they say with their friends and other people who were more acquaintances, but who cared? Yeah, alcohol had been served, and the atmosphere had turned much friendlier.

“That punch was packing,” she said in his ear, and he could see in her eyes that she was buzzed but still on control, though he would not wager there was much room left before she had to give it up.

“It was a bloody good celebration, eh?” He said, kissing her hand.

“You looked awesome in your tux…”

He had parted with the vest and the shoes, and somewhere or at some point, his tie had gotten lost. He had opened the top button of his shirt and was enjoying the light breeze on his skin.

One of his hands had found its way to Sansa’s knee and all the Queen’s men would not have been able to pry it away, only over his dead body.

“I loved the sand ceremony; it was so romantic!”

“I thought so too. Now they have a jar they can put in their house to remind them of their commitment.”

“Don’t tell Tony, but Laora bought them rings, cheap ones, but still rings. She wants to give it to him tonight when they retire.”

“He’ll love it.”

They talked with some fellow actors they knew and laughed some more, until the bride and groom announced they would be retiring for their wedding night, and everybody was welcome to join them for a late brunch the next day. All howled and made lewd comments, but nothing could tarnish the happiness the two felt. They went to their suite under their friends’ encouragements.

The night went on, until couple started retreating, to get some nookie of their own. As Sansa was just about to fall asleep on his shoulder, Tyrion said their goodbyes, and led her to the room she had been given. He realized he had forgotten to ask where his was but when he spotted his luggage next to hers, it doomed on him that no one knew about where in their relationship they were, so they had been put together. He led his lady to the big bed, thinking that they had slept together before, and it would make no difference. She was so tired, she was unable to remove her dress, and he figured she would wake up in the night and deal with it. So, they went to sleep.

He did not have a clock under his eyes, but it had to be at least a couple of hours since they had laid down. Sansa was not in the bed. He quickly searched for her in the room and found her standing at the window, the wind in her hair, and he urged himself to not do something he would regret later and cost him the best thing he had.

“My Lady?” He asked.

She turned toward him and smiled. He noticed that she still had her bridesmaid dress on, and her silhouette would be forever etched in his eyes. He also noticed that she was way less intoxicated than she had been before.

Without a word, she started reaching for the ribbons behind her back, and the dress fell to the ground.

He had to be dreaming. It took all his self-control not to slap himself in the face to stop the hallucination. She was standing there in a bra and some lingerie panties, and he wanted to tell her that if she came to bed like that, it would be agony for him.

She climbed on the bed, and said:

“Do I please you, My Lord?”

“More than words can say…”

“Then kiss me.”

When she saw him hesitating, she gently put her hand on his face, giving him time to say no or move away, but he did not. Their lips touched, and soon, their tongues were fighting for dominance. He loved the taste of her. He could kiss her for hours. However, the feeling of her lingerie clad chest against his made it difficult to stop just there.

Searching for her eyes, he carefully went to put a hand on her breast, and she gave him a look, almost an invitation to do so. He gently caressed the skin, biting his bottom lip, then pushed away the lace to reach the nipple. She moaned in a way that made his cock even harder if possible.

“My lady, if you do not wish to go further, just say the word…”

“I’ll say the word if I want to. I don’t want to. Please go on.”

“Are you sure?”

She gently pushed her hand against his groin, and said “yes” against his ear.

They rolled oved, and he took a few seconds to make a mental memory of the picture she made, stretched on the band, her skin blushing from want, her eyes burning with desire. It felt so right to touch her like that… To think she was his!

She grunted, as if disappointed, and he put his lips around her nipple. Her hands went to his head as he played with the bud, pushing the lace further away, granting him full access. The way she undulated below him, it made it hard to remember that she came from a different experience with those things that he did. He played with her other nipple with her hand, playfully biting the on in his mouth, and she arched against him.

Lord, he wanted her so much.

Once again carefully, he let his hand trail down her stomach, making her giggle, until he reached her panties. Once there, he looked in her eyes as he pushed them away and they both groaned when his fingers met her heat. One of his fingers slipped into her while his thumb looked for the bundle of nerves that would make her see stars. He wanted her to come, and come again. Her hand went to grab the headboard, and he played with the button he knew would make her wild. She was so wet, wet for him…

He made to go put his mouth where his hand was, but she begged:

“Please, Tyrion, I don’t think I can’t wait much more. I want you in me.”

While he wished for more times and more foreplay, he was on the verge of creaming his boxers, so he agreed. There would be plenty of times to do this again and again, in as many fashions as they wished.

Thanking the kinky gods who had put condoms in the bedside table and rolled one on his hard shaft. He gave her another look, wanting to be sure, but she just nodded wildly, encouraging him to pursue. When he entered her for the first time, where his fingers had been a short while before, she let out a short gasp and he stilled. She rolled her lips, pulling him deeper in her, and he felt himself lose control. He started a slow movement, but was not able to keep up the timid pace, and hastened it, burying himself deeper into her with each thrust.

How could they fit so good, when they were not even the same height?

Who the fuck cared? He thought as he kept on pushing more and more. He was about to look for her clit and bring her deliverance, but she beat him to the point and started playing with herself. The picture… Porn could not have made him as hard as he felt watching play with herself, feeling free to please herself while she welcomed him in her body. He would have felt honored, but he had other business at hand, so to speak.

“Yes, baby girl, play with yourself,” he said as he kept thrusting.

He was about to lose control when he felt her twitch and squeeze his cock as she reached her climax. This was all he needed to follow her there. He tried not to crash on her, but she kept him close to her, her long legs around his hips.

He wanted to say something meaningful, something that would let her know what it meant to have her trust, but he was so sleepy and he cursed silently his male instinct to roll over and drift to sleep.

He took care of the condom, and came back to bed, where she welcomed him against her heavenly body. To think they had never gotten to the point where he had properly remover her lingerie… Next time, he promised himself, as she played with his hair and his head led against her breast.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I should be thanking you…”

“Then we’re both grateful, let’s not argue…”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

And thus he fell asleep.

A few hours later, as the sun was just starting its rise, he woke up and once again found the bed empty.

Oh Lord, did she regret having given him the sweet pleasure of her delicious body?

He put on his boxers, and went to the balcony to look for her. He spotted her, next to where the ceremony had taken place earlier. Grabbing the spare key to the room, he made his way down, and went to look for her.

What to say? What to say? When he arrived in the so-called church, he was still searching for anything that would make sense, and let her know that he understood if she believed they should have waited longer. He was fine with going back to pleasuring himself when she was not there, until she felt ready. Of course, he would not be saying that, but he could do it, if it meant keeping her in his life…

She was looking at the broomstick, and he could not read her thoughts, which made him worry atrociously.

“I would hate for you to think that I gave myself away to tie you to me,” she finally whispered.

“Nonsense!” He exclaimed, coming to take her hand, and kissing it what felt like a million times.

“I just…”

“You’re just wondering if you made the right call…”

“No, I’m not. I made the right call. I wanted you, I have wanted you for so long, and when I woke up and saw us and thought of the day we had had, it felt right. I did not have to fight with my inner demons. I never thought of he-whose-name-I-will-not-say, it was just heavenly…”

“I’m so glad you thought so. You rocked my world Sansa, you really did, and I mean it. Nothing I experienced before could have prepared me for making love instead of fucking…”

“It was good, right?” She asked, looking over her shoulder.

“If I only had the words, but English does not have enough superlatives. It was more than good, Sans’, it was everything… But if you want to go back to our previous relationship…”

“Why on Earth would I want that? Unless you want to… I would hate to deprive myself of this sexual and loving awakening you’ve taken me on…”

She was blushing and he knew he had to make her understand. She would always be shy, and worried, unless he found the words, so he tried.

“If it was up to me, we would never spend another night apart. I want to worship your body as often as you’ll let me. I want to bring you pleasure, and prove you my love by only caring for you, and your wellbeing, and your pleasure. I would… jump over that broomstick, if you wanted me too.”

“I don’t want to get married, or at least not now…” She said.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to push…”

“You did not let me finish,” she said, shushing him with a finger on his lips. “You’re always the one making grand gestures, like getting me a dog, and I feel so selfish… Let me be the one doing the gesture…”

He wanted to tell her that he had done no such thing, just followed his heart, and if anybody wanted to call it a gesture or whatever, it was their business, but he was perfectly happy with what he had done and what she had given him.

She gave him a look, and he could tell she was torn. He wished he could ask her what about, but she surprised him, by jumping over the broomstick.

It was then he understood what she had been torn about. He had said he would be willing to jump over the broomstick, but one could interpret it as him saying he would do it for her, to prove his loyalty to her. In doing so, she was proving her loyalty to him.

And so, with no one but the Gods for witness, he jumped too, and he grabbed her hair to make her bow down so that he could kiss her.

“It only has to mean whatever you want. We’re not married,” he said, “but this is me saying that I would not mind. I will wait the time you need, but I’m right there with you, darling. This sensual and love awakening you mentioned, I’m going through it too, thanks to you.”

He gently kissed her, and he felt her smile against his mouth. Praise the Heavens, his words had not failed him.

And so, though they knew it only meant something between the two of them, they went back hand in hand to their room.

“I just hope the next time I wake up, you won’t be gone,” he said, as she slipped back under the sheet.

“I may be away, but never gone, not unless you chase me away,” she said.

He kissed her lips and she spooned him that way that made him feel like the great spoon and the manly man his height made it look impossible to be.

He kissed her cheek, her hair, whatever, he could touch, until she fell asleep, in his arms, and he followed her, unable to wait for what would come next for them.

Chapter Text

Excerpt from an online popular gossip website featuring pictures.

Sansa and Tyrion, going strong. Who would have bet a penny on this weird pairing?

This weekend, Anthony Thompson and his pet screenwriter, Laora Washington organized a shindig where they invited their friends, in order to celebrate their love story, which has been going strong for over three years and a half now. To put things in perspective, Thompson’s longest relationship before that we could document lasted 2 months, 3 weeks and 2 days. All of our wishes for this pairing we’ve come to know and love. Despite the fact that Washington is Thompson’s Junior by close to twenty-two years, she has proved to be a force to be reckoned with, his equal in many ways. The fact that the two of them are desperately cute when they grace us with a candid is just the cherry on top of a very lovely cake.

However, weeks after weeks, them turning into months, we have been keeping tabs of the romance developing between two other celebrities, Sansa Stark, and Tyrion Lannister. They made it clear very early that they were is this for real, but in our line of business, who could blame them for wanting to see more before we decided if we would root for them or if we would just watch them part, as most celebrities couples tend to do, not factoring in the fact that of those, none are as volatile as Tyrion Lannister?

Several guests to the Thompson-Washington shared pictures on their social accounts and in doing so, offered us glimpses of this formidable pairing. Tyrion in tux was already a treat in itself, and we thought it could only be topped off by more pictures of him doing away with his suit, which we got. What we did not expect were pictures of him and Sansa being together, laughing, talking, feeding each other from one another’s plate, sharing drinks (even though the gal is not legal in the US, but shush, we won’t tell if you don’t…) and just having fun at the gathering. She wore a pink dress, which made us wish we could pull it off as well as she did. The two of them were dandy as hell, and we would have given everything to be mice hanging around, to hear what they were saying, what made them laugh, what had Sansa hide her face against her boyfriend’s chest. And, another cherry we did not expect, and which the perpetrator did not expect either, as they have since taken down the picture, we were graced with a still of the two kissing.

My oh my, our bleeding hearts! What a picture! Such feelings it elicited! Our editor in chief is claiming she did not press pause with her long-time partner because of this image, but some of us believe she was justifiably disgruntled that there were no pictures depicting such intimacy of her man and herself. (We ‘re basically kidding, the man ponied up and is trying to win back our boss)

Forget the Beauty and the Best. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and from what we saw, Sansa and Tyrion cannot picture someone more handsome than the other, and it shows.

Please, please, please, let it last! To think the movie they just shot is only in post-production stage, it means we will have to wait at least three months for interviews of them together, with the rest of the cast. To see that movie and see first-hand their chemistry on screen! (‘Cause just look at our pictures, and tell us you don’t feel a little hot under the collar). Well, here we are now. Sansa, Tyrion, we promise not to come up with a portmanteau for your pairing, if it means you will make it and bless us with adorable interviews. What will they be like, we wonder? Will they be flaunting their romance, or will they be playing it on the down low? Whatever, unless they break up, we are more than ready and equipped thanks to many delusions to read things in between lines they never said.

Long Hail The King Tyrion and his Queen, Sansa!

“Yes, yes!”

She could tell she was not being especially verbose, but damn, sometimes, the simplest words were the most eloquent.

She grabbed Tyrion’s head and pressed it between the apex of her thighs. This was decadent in so many ways, she could almost understand why it was outlawed in certain countries. However, she would gladly do some time than renounce any of this.

He was lapping at her sex, and she felt like she might burst out, explode in bloody butterflies or whatever.

They had come back less than ten days before from their adventure in Florida, where they had taken their relationship to the next level. To think they had waited so long before giving in… Then again…

Her head was getting lighter and lighter as she reached her peak. She bit his shoulder, and he groaned against her throat, before spilling himself on her belly.

“Shit,” he exclaimed when he realized they had not had actual intercourse and he had come like a teenager.

She loved it. To think she held such power over him, that pleasuring her could bring him to completion. She truly felt like Aphrodite at times like that.

She felt him wiped his seed but when he was done, she grabbed him and got him back in bed, kissing him like there would be no tomorrow.

There would be a tomorrow, probably as intense as the current day was being, but she liked this thing they had. This… love. They had the words, and had said them again, several times, however, it still felt like a brand-new discovery.

“I’m sorr..” He started to whisper.

“Do not even go there! I love it, I love that you find pleasure in giving me some. And you did, my Lord, you did…”

“I have no idea how you can come back from a climax and still not use any contractions in your speech. If it was up to me, I’d go straight to the matter at hand, meaning I’d grunt “was good, please let me sleep. Love ya.”

“Love ya too”, she said, with a smile, imitating his voice.

He laid his head against her breast and kissed a nipple. Her hand went to his hair, and she heard herself say:

“I hope you never have to cut your hair. I like holding on to it when I kiss you, or you… kiss me… there…”

“We’ll need to work on your dirty talk, my Lady”, he said with a wink.

“Do you want me to say something crass, like I’m about to make you come so hard you’ll walk with bowed legs for a week?”

“I think guys usually brag this way to their conquests… But I like the fact that you’re willing to put yourself out there to please me.”

“I’m sorry I’ve never been able to…”

“All in good time,” he said, flicking his hand, pushing that thought away.

She had touched him but she had not reciprocated with her mouth, some after-effect of being with someone who had no place between them.

“I feel a tad guilty, to be honest. I talked to Brienne yesterday, and to Tormund later on, and they’ve decided to part ways. He needs a wife who will help him or who will at least be there every night in the afternoon, and no matter how much he loves her, even if he says he’s willing to sell the coffee, we all know he would not be able to make it six months as a kept man. I wish there could be an happy ending for them.”

“Life is a female dog. Which reminds me, where is our pup?”

“I asked Bronn to take her out for a long walk. He looked like he wanted to tell me to piss off, but I gave him a couple of bills which made it much more manageable. I did not want a repeat of that time when Rory jumped on the bed and thought you were harming me.”

“I still have the shape of her teeth on my butt cheek.”

“Do you want me to kiss it better?

“Always...”

She laughed.

And laughed some more. He had gotten used to it. He knew she was not making fun of him, in the least, she was simply laughing because she wanted to, because she felt like she had good reasons to do so. He would give her this look, like he was proud of her, for overcoming her demons.

She was proud of herself too. She did not voice it out often, but there was a part of her that had been certain men were a thing of the past for her, that she would never be able to overcome what she had been through, and that she would have to adopt to have a baby, because she could not even fathom the thought of using male material to get pregnant. They were nowhere near this for now, but she was happily welcoming his body in hers, and she had hope, that she had a future, a love life.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“So many things, as always... When are you starting your next project?”

“It’s not set in stone, but I have been approached for a good script. They’re having trouble casting a love interest for me. Have anything to do for the next three months or so?” He asked with humor.

“I’d love to, you know that. I asked Theon to get me a casting call, just to get some recognition, and be considered for those parts, but I’ll be so busy with my family, before we start promo... I need to help Arya find a house. Bran told her that I’ve been using my hard-earned money, and she has only been looking at small estates, so poorly suited for what she wants to do.... I’m willing to let her pay half of the estate with her trust fund, but I do not understand why they’re making such a fuss about this...”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but when it comes to you, I feel like you’re giving away your money to your family, part because you feel like it’s your duty, but also because some of that money came from the three movies you shot with Jerkface, which made so much money. You want something good to come out of what you went through. However, since they don’t know what happened, they just feel like you’re being over maternal, like you’re depriving yourself for them.”

“I just want my siblings happy…”

“I know you do,” he said, before kissing her nipple once more. “And I know you’re nowhere there, but at one point, you’ll nee to tell them about what that asshole did to you, so that they can understand things better, have the whole picture and not just glimpses which they don’t always know how to interpret because they lack context…”

“Furthermore,” she went on, not wanting to address what he had said because it rang too true, “I need to make arrangements for Bran. I know Hodor would follow him to the States for his whole university tour, but I also know he would be so unhappy so far away from his gran and from people who speak his tongue. I need to come up with a solution. Which brings us to another subject we’ve never discussed, or I don’t remember we did.”

“What is that?”

“I will be turning 20 in three weeks. I would like to go back to Winterfell to have my cake and eat it too. I know my siblings will be making the trip back, for those who are away, but I never got to ask you, is it compatible with your schedule? Would you want to come to Winterfell?”

“You’re a may baby, I knew it.”

“Barely… I was born during the night from May to June. Mama suffered a great deal to have me. She had miscarriages before, I was a very troublesome bairn for her…”

“Bairn?”

“Hum, Baby. Sorry, I may not use contractions of speech, but the Gaelic comes up in me.”

“I think it’s lovely, that you have such a tight sense of belonging to your family and to your land. I know the circumstances helped fashion things so, sadly, but yeah, I wish I felt anything for my family house, or my family period….”

“You are on better terms with Jaime now, aren’t you not?”

“Yes, I am, thanks to you. I just wish I could trust them all. But I can’t. When I think back about my father at your place… It makes my blood erupt in my veins.”

“Volcano Tyrion…” She joked.

“What else do you have to do before we start promo?”

“I do not know. I guess, I need to find another part, a serious part like this one. I would like to get more serious, or for people to see more seriously, but I’m worried I may have to wait for the movie to come out in theaters for people to give me the time of the day.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. When Tony hired you, he put you on the map, and yes, people are saying he did that because of me….”

“Which he did…”

“He did not! You won your part fair and square! I was just lucky enough to have a part for you to read which fitted your skills and profile!”

“Still, thank you…”

“No, thank you. Though we did not do what we were supposed to do. You were supposed to come over to help me read over my lines for the umpteenth casting call for this part, and we ended up shagging.”

“That we did… And I loved it.”

“Good. ‘Cause I loved it and I love you too.”

“To think I used to believe you were a jaded man…”

“I was jaded until you came into my life…”

“As I was before you came into mine.”

They exchanged a sweet kiss, and regretfully, Tyrion started gathering his clothes, as he had a reading to attend. The love interest he was reading with today, Sansa just could not see on screen, but she shut her mouth, thinking that it was not her place, that she was no casting agent.

Once completely dressed, Tyrion turned back to her, and said:

“Seeing you in this sheet makes me want to sleep back under it and do some naughty things to you.”

She laughed again, and grabbed his collar, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that about?” He asked, breathlessly.

“I have heard about the actress, and she’s really pretty, Daenerys Targyaren. I wanted to make sure you knew what was waiting for you at home when you were done, so that you would not feel inclined to exchange lovers…”

“Pish posh, I would never… And by the way, I would love to come to Winterfell, it would work in my schedule. Plus, I’d like to spend some more time with your family. I plan to become a permanent fixture at the family home, so they better get used to me…”

“Such a charmer,” she said.

“I know it’s extremely early to consider it, but babe, lover, light of my life, whatever you want to call yourself, I was thinking… You’re spending so much time over here… And your place is still not your place. Meanwhile, you brought some plants and flowers over, and we both know that you’re the only one who knows how to take care of them. We’re at the very beginning of May… Perhaps, you should consider moving in with me. You would always have the second bedroom or the main one for when you cannot stand me.”

“I can always stand you!” She exclaimed.

“Thank you. However, don’t take a decision yet. Just think it through. When I’m gone, tour the place, and think about what matters to you and what you could see here. We could move too if you wanted.. The thing is… We’re stuck at the hip. You’ll be doing things for your family, and later on you’ll be shooting movies all the time, because people will see what a gem you are, but I would like to think that when you would think of coming home, you would think of me.”

She wanted to say something, anything. Always with the grand gestures… How come he had the reputation of being so jaded when he wore his heart on his sleeve? Or perhaps he only did with her?

“I have to go, Bronn will let Rory in the flat before we leave. Just… think of it, but not too much, give yourself time. I have lived longer than you have and I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to shackle you to me, like someone did to you. I just am at a point in my life where… Where I can picture myself living with a certain woman and not consider it torture… So, when I’m gone, call Brienne, and have some girl talk. Do praise my manhood, it will make me feel better. Make her feel better too. I will go visit Tormund before coming back to the flat. If you’re not there anymore, just send me a text if you want to do something tonight, ok? I really do love you, Sansa Stark.”

“And I really do love you, Tyrion Lannister.”

They exchanged another sweet but meaningful kiss, and she slipped back under the sheets as he went to work. She heard the door open ten minutes after he had gone, an Rory rushed in, jumping on the bed, feeling completely at home.

Could it be a sign?

Chapter Text

As he went on his merry way in the studio, Tyrion thought back to the reading he had just done.

He could work with Daenerys Targyaren, no doubt. She was good, convincing. However, did he want to work with her? It was nothing personal, but he was just coming back from a work experience which was hard to rival. Sure, every new movie, new set, new director meant as many chances to be pleasantly surprised, to learn new things, but his head was still very much in the “Maneless Lion” frame, and it entailed working with Sansa.

Usually, his projects were all lined up, but shortly before Varys had come up with his distraction, Tyrion had felt the need to press pause, to not chain himself to a series of commitment. If anything, his relationship with Sansa proved he was good with commitment, but he had found himself getting more tired than usual, and more drained. He did not shoot shit. It was a blessing and a curse, a blessing, because, who wanted to be known for having made seventeen crap movies in a row? And a curse because he would give himself one hundred percent in addition to the three hundred he already brought to the table, and when his movies were planned back to back, it exhausted him to shake one character off in order to become someone else, just in time to be done shooting when the previous movie would start its promo tour.

Therefore, much to Varys’ chagrin, as it meant less money for him, Tyrion had taken his foot of the gas pedal, so to speak, and they were taking movies one at a time. Furthermore, he had been so disappointed and jaded, quite frankly. So many times he had been praised by his peers, only to be snubbed at awards ceremonies. It felt petty, but those statues, they were the only language many of his peers understood. Some were drowning under them and would look at you funny if you did not have a couple under your belt, and the rest of them were left chasing and chasing some more, which did not make for a happy actor.

He had become an actor because he liked it, he liked making people feel things, think and more. He had considered being a scenarist, and at times, the urge could pop up in him, but when he had passed his 35^th birthday with no accolades, he had began working for work, instead of for his own pleasure. It sounded ungrateful, but in the past couple of years, some of the roles that had gotten him most praises were movies he had not really wanted to do. He had done them, promoted them etc, but if it had been just up to him, he would have skipped them and waited for the next script which would have made him go “when do we start shooting?”

So there he was, auditioning for this part, which was in the bag for him, until they found a love interest, and he found himself pondering: did he want to do the movie?

If Sansa was his lead, he would have jumped on it. Hell, he could barely refrain himself from jumping her bones period whenever they were in public or private, but that would have been an incentive that would have made the whole questioning process go away. However, she was too young for the part, and it involved lots of nudity, which she was not comfortable with, nor was her Godmother the Queen. It just did not feel like a part Sansa could slip into easily. Which made him wonder. If the love interest was meant to be for his character, and Sansa was not material for the love interest, then did he really fit the job description to begin with? It was tough to explain, it was a good movie. However….

Well he had changed. Perhaps it was just that simple. Maybe when he had done his first readings alone, he had been someone who would not mind playing that part, but as of recently, he wondered and pondered.

But then, what would there be for him? He could not have his girlfriend on every movie. They were not Humphrey Boggart and Lauren Bacall though he sort of wished they were. The famous couple had only appeared in four movies together, and those were great. At the same time, he wanted a private garden, a private life that really was private, where he could be himself, where Sansa could be herself, where not everybody thought they knew everything about their relationship because they were always costars. He felt like this had to be a treat and not the rule, in order for them both to enjoy it.

He thought back about the goddess in his bed. He could not help but think of her. Fuck, being in love was very much like being a stalker, wasn’t it? Or maybe he was creepy… However, he could not get enough of her, and he knew it was not about novelty or whatever. Even when they would have been together thirty years and she’d complain about the fact that he still made the same terrible jokes, he would still be besotted with her and thanking whoever was out there if there was someone for having brought her into his life.

He had jumped over a broomstick for her. He had offered her to move in. It felt so natural. If they were to go on being actors and more, they would need to meet, and well, now that they had been passed this whole “let’s spend the night together” thing, he wanted more. More nights, more days, more of it all. Even more of Jon. He had thought things through, and if she were to hang pictures of her family in what would be their flat, he would be fine staring at the brooding face of the soldier.

Damn he was whipped.

Not wanting to bother Sansa, he texted his brother:

“Know of any casting calls or opportunities in the biz right now? Sansa is on the look for her next part, in about two to three months’ time, and I can’t help her because people are already implying, she doesn’t deserve the part she got. They’ll eat their words when they see her act like the queen she is.”

“Did you hear Brienne and Tormund broke up?” Was the response he got.

Apparently, both Lannisters men were super whipped. Except one was getting some, and the other was not sure he ever would. Tyrion felt like it was too soon and too unfair to Tormund to wish his brother to get his wish, but in a couple of months, he would be able to say it.

“How did you know?” He texted back.

“She drunk dialed yesterday, and I came over. She wept all over me, and I’ve never been so happy to be covered in snot, no offense to our nephews and niece, though one of them is such a dick…”

At that, Tyrion had to let an audible laugh. They had never discussed Joffrey but apparently, they were on the same line there. That boy was a little shit.

He texted something along those lines back, and Jaime went on.

“Mister Lannister,” He heard on the side.

He needed a minute to get off whatever planet he was on and said:

“Hello, Miss Targyaren. Or should I say Mrs?”

He had heard the director during the reading allude to the fact that she was a widow, even though she was just slightly older than his beloved.

“You can call me Dany.”

“What can I do for you?” He asked.

“I just… I don’t mean to overstep, but as we were reading, I felt like I wanted the part way more than you seem to desire it. I really felt like I was auditioning for my life, and you seemed out of it, not in a preoccupied fashion, but perhaps in a jaded way?”

“I think you may be spot on. I should have a talk with the director, but yes, this was a commitment I made before my previous movie, and well, the part seems to have lost some its appeal for me… I think the other project was so eye-opening on so many subjects, I may not be the best person for that part, if I ever were.”

“Thank you for being honest. I was wondering if I was acting horribly and should get checked or something. It’s easy to get paranoid in this business…”

“Yes, indeed. My … paramour, she’s younger than you are, and she’s I think in a similar place than you are: she deserves a shot at the big league, but she has trouble getting inside the club.”

“Can’t you… push her along?”

“Only if I want us to break up right away. She would kill me if she thought I was helping her, and then she’d kill herself out of humility. No, I love her too much, so, I guess I will need to just.. be supportive even if it kills me knowing I have the right numbers in my phone and wait for the world to see what I see.”

“I hope she breaks through soon enough. Though, as I believe we are talking about Sansa Stark, she’s not stranger in the land, she just should shine more. She might let it drop that she is Cat Tully’s daughter, it could help.”

“Wait, what? How do you know?”

“My first agent was my brother, Viserys. He was a slave driver, with all respects due to the sufferings of actual slaves. I lost a couple of parts to her, and he did opposition research and found out about that tidbit. I urged him to keep it quiet, and only managed to have him do just that by stressing out how petty I would end up looking if I revealed her secret…,” The woman said, looking ashamed of that episode.

He said nothing, but knew he would need to tell his lover that more and more people knew, and that it should be revealed, just in case the public ended up turning against her, feeling betrayed for having hidden her connection. His father’s threats only factored secondarily in his belief that the news should be announced, which was fun, as it would have pissed off Tywin so much.

“Well, I am going to think on it, but I may end up dropping out of this project However, I think you made a great impression on the director, so you may get the part.”

“I’d like that. Oops, my phone is ringing, maybe I’ll catch you later?”

“Goodbye Dany.”

And she went.

Well, if only for this, his coming to read with her would not have been a waste of time.

He really wanted to drop out, but he wanted to discuss things with her. She had a lot of things planned, and he could help. He could also do a short movie or something of the sort. A political friend of his had asked if he would be willing to appear in a few PSA for discrimination prevention. There could be that… Not to mention, if in three weeks, they were in Winterfell, he would need all that time to get her a perfect gift. A ring was too soon, and he did not like the clichés that had made give women jewels time and time again.

Out of curiosity, he googled Winterfell, and found some geocoordinates in order to use the service to get a glimpse at the family house.

He tried the street view, but was only met with walls. And more walls. It took an aerial view for him to understand that it was a real bloody castle, like the ones you imagined from the middle Ages. He felt anxiety, and texted Bran.

It was only after they had exchanged a couple of messages that he thought how much his life had changed in such a short amount of time. Instead of having two thousand meaningless contacts in his phones, he had a few meaningful one he could hit. He had a girl in his life, and he wished… What did he wish? Just for more, he supposed. More of her, more of them. More of it all.

He had mended fences with his brother. He had new friends. He sort of had a dog.

God, how he loved her…. Not Rory, though he did, but his Lady.

“Did Sansa ask you to be her plus one to our fourth cousin wedding?” Bran texted him.

“She did not, when is it?”

“She’ll be in Winterfell for her birthday, it’s the following weekend in London. But she may just be biding her time, or have decided not to force you to play along. I have to go, and I wish I did not. However, since it’s the royal side of the family, I cannot skip. Arya will, but then again, the person who will force Arya to do something is not in our world yet.”

“We’ll see. And I’m coming to Winterfell.”

“You’ll pretend to sleep apart and every night, we’ll all hear your feet in the corridor going to my sister’s room,” Bran texted back.

“Just like teenagers. I like it.”

They went back and forth some more, Bran sharing about his plans for his grand tour. He also started talking about Kant and Hegel, and an article he was writing, and Tyrion was thoroughly lost.

“Yo, your girl is at Brienne’s”, Jaime texted.

“So?”

“Just saying….”

“Where are you?”

“At Brienne’s…”

“Don’t be an ox in a China shop.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

And so forth.

When he wound up exiting the building, Bronn waiting for him, he asked his driver to get him to Tormund’s, where Theon was according to Bran.

He really needed to find his next project.

For now, he thought that being part of Sansa’s life was exactly what he was looking for, and being a friend too fitted his agenda.

He saw Bronn smirk in the rearview mirror.

“What are you being coy about?” He asked.

“Just thinking about how much your life has changed, and thus mine, now that you’ve got a good lady in your life.”

“You like that she fights for you all the time even though you can handle me plenty.”

“You can never have too many friends,” was all Bronn said, and Tyrion had to agree.

Chapter Text

Being back in Winterfell felt amazing.

There was just something… It was not about being back home, it was being where she felt like she belonged. At times, she wished she had never become an actress and had chosen any other line of work that would have allowed her to stay in this special place.

Then again, she was 19, bound to be 20 the following day, so she had all the time in the world to decide what was to happen next for her. Tyrion did want to live with her. He meant in his flat in New York or a flat of their own, and it could do for a while, but if they got really serious, as in Ned and Cat serious, then perhaps he could be convinced to move to her ancestral home and well, be her man. She would have his babies, work on movies, he would do the same, except for the part about popping babies out, as it was not something he could ever do, and they could have a nice life.

She chuckled as she considered the line of thinking she had adopted. She had an inkling she should be feeling weird, but she was not the girl she had been upon embarking on this career path, she was not the woman she had been when she had met Tyrion. She was always changing, and it was nice. She did not care as much about what strangers thought, try to only care about what the people she loved believed. For years, she had been plagued by the over consciousness of being watched. It would be wrong to say she did not care anymore, but she had done immense progress towards feeling free of the public eye.

She left the window, where she had been watching the castle lives its life and went to the bed. When her parents had passed, for a long time, the master bedroom had been left empty. Robb did not want it, and Jon did not feel comfortable sleeping in a bed where his father had laid with the woman he had chosen over his own mother. Sansa had never thought it would ever be her bedroom. Then, time had passed, and they had lost darling Rickon then Robb and everything had felt so gloomy and beyond depressing… They had packed her parents belonging and kept it in one of the many rooms of the castle, and they had put her bed in the master bedroom. She had not wanted it, but since her brothers had all declined to claim the titles their family held, and since it seemed to give them purpose, she had gone with it.

The bedroom had some furniture which were her parent’s, but the rest was hers. Looking back, she realized that at a moment when they had to chose between going up for air or letting themselves drown, the Stark siblings had decided to reconfigure the mistress bedroom, as they started calling it, as a way to reflect the fact that their family was still alive and would stay so, and also as a way to assert the dynamics they were putting in place. She was the alpha. It always came back to that. Her siblings had wanted their alpha in the bedroom which had such a significance, and they had wanted her to be happy to be there and to be able to live in it.

Perhaps, it had also been a consequence of the major role she had shouldered on.

She shook her head, losing those depressing thoughts, and jumped on the bed. It was her mattress. Using her parents’ old one would have been too glaucous, and they did say that you should change mattress every five to ten years.  She looked around and wondered what Tyrion would think of it. She hoped he would see and like what she had done with it.

He should be arriving soon, she figured, with a look at her watch. Arya was on the same flight as he would be, with Theon and Jon. Bran was in his bedroom, working on whatever thesis he had picked that day.

These past three weeks had been both exhausting and reviving. She had done all she could for her siblings. She had talked to Arya about finding a good house and stop worrying about the price. She had even gone horse shopping with her. Melisandre often had snippy comments, but the woman knew who paid her salary, so she never crossed the line. She came close but made sure to stay on its good side. She had put a bid on a house that Arya had loved and had hired a contractor to build a stable. This had taken time, more than she would have liked, but, as she said to the girl, she would do anything for her sister. She had several contractors over, had studied their bids, their offers and more, until she had decided which one to go with.

She had arranged as best as she could everything for Bran’s year in the US. She had travelled often, being away from Tyrion, and while she missed him terribly, she felt proud of them when she saw how well they handled being apart. She had not been aware of it at the time, but she had been afraid they would discover they were like Brienne and Tormund. It turned out, as long as they could interact, they would make do, and trust the other, support them and just wait till they were reunited.

She had gotten a call to do a reading, and she had gone, as the director was one from the big league, which she hoped to fit in. She had gotten the part. That was not the craziest thing, by far, nor was the fact that they would be shooting in Australia. She would be playing none other than Brienne’s sister, supporting her as she navigated her through a complicated relationship with… Jaime Lannister.

When she had learnt who her costars were, she had been delighted but had had to ask Tyrion if he had had anything to do with it. He told her about asking Jaime for castings calls he knew were happening, but that he had never asked him to pimp her out or anything, as he had said. She had been worried, had wondered if she should embrace the part or if it meant people would think she was a Lannister pet. Brienne had smacked her up the head when she had said it out loud.

“You’re my pet, we’ll make it clear during promotion.”

It would be a period piece, set in the 19^th century in Australia. It had the poetry of “The Piano” and the intensity of “Jane Eyre”. The director, a woman, had worked on every detail. She had a PhD in Australian history and had written the script herself. It was really promising.

Tyrion had reminded Sansa about the fact that he owned a house in the land down under, and because fate was working in their favor, she would be able to stay there while shooting. She dreaded being apart from him for 7 weeks at least but being in his place would help.

She laid on her bed, looked at the ceiling. When she was younger and her parents were alive, she had her own bedroom, and it had been slightly painful to kiss it goodbye, but she was glad she had done so. This was her place. She was the mistress of Winterfell. I’m a she-wolf, she thought, hear me howl. Then she heard Rory snore, and thought that she should get a dog bed for her pet. Thanks to her connection to a certain royal personage, she had been able to bring her to the UK without any veterinary control except for the basics one. It was good to be distant royalty, she thought.

There was a knock on the door, and she called for whoever it was to come in. She sat on the bed and smiled when she saw Osha. The woman had been a domestic in the household for as long as she could remember. She had entered the Starks’ services when she was 14, running away from an abusive father and a mother who did not care. This, of course, Sansa only learnt when was mature enough to deal with information.

“Osha! It is so good to see you again!”

“You too, miss, you too!” the woman said.

She was not traditionally beautiful, but to Sansa, she was very much one of the three graces. She however had a very thick Scottish accent, which felt like home to Sansa but could bring chaos in a conversation with say, Tyrion.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you, before our guests arrive…” The woman went on.

“Of course!”

She seemed insecure, unsure about what she should do, or say, and Sansa knew it was not a random matter such as which cutlery to use she wanted to ask her about.

She patted the bed next to her, and Osha went to sit there, not daring to touch her. She looked terribly serious, as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“It’s just… Miss… Do you need help at your place in New York?” the brunette finally blurted out, looking her in the eyes.

“I don’t but that is not the point... What is happening Osha? You know you can talk to me. You never changed my diapers, but you did so for some of my siblings…”

Which seemed to be the breaking point for the woman as she started crying, trying to hide it, but unable to stop.

“I’m so sorry Miss, I love Winterfell, I love it with my life, but I was Rickon’s nurse. I was in charge of him, and everyday that I spend in this castle can be the happiest day ever but still feel like a reminder of the fact that I failed him, that he’s gone. I see him everywhere.”

“Oh Osha, I’m so sorry. I thought you were happy. I know of course than none of us have overcome our grief, it’s a lifetime’s work, but I thought that being in Winterfell alleviated your pain slightly, with all your new responsibilities.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want those responsibilities. I take care of them, but I want my Rickon back. I want my baby. I wiped his arse when he was a bairn. I adored him like he was my own. You are all family to me. I cannot quit your family’s employ, I just can’t. However, I cannot stay in here when he’s not there. Maybe in a couple of years I would be able to come back and take care of the house, maybe I only need a few months away, but as terrified as it makes me, and ashamed to be asking to leave, I feel like to move on, I need to be elsewhere for a while.”

Sansa wrapped tenderly her arms around the tall woman’s shoulders, and she cried her tears for Rickon, as well as his caretaker and her pain.

“Maybe you do not have to quit our employ. Bran will be living in the US for a while, and Hodor will be there, but I have a feeling my brother will create havoc on his path. Perhaps you could come and stay with them, be the feminine figure in their household. I have made arrangements for them, places to stay, but we all know nothing ever goes according to the plan. You could be the one I rely on to make sure my genius brother does not end up who knows where. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Miss, it would be quite fine, very fine.”

“You could leave by the end of the month. I know a place where you can stay, my place, there’s room, and get acquainted with those weird North Americans. It could help you to have some knowledge of the place where Bran would arrive later.”

What she meant but did not say was “I know you’re suffering, let’s get you out of this place we both love so that you can start healing”. They both knew it.

“That would be great, but won’t I be in your way?”

“I must confess that I spend most my nights at my boyfriend’s flat. We would not be on top of each other, but you could have someone you know while you start getting your bearings.”

“It sounds perfect. Thank you so much, Miss.”

“Please Osha, call me Sansa.”

The woman squeezed her hand, seemingly relieved but still chocked up by the constant pain she suffered.

Before they could exchange another word, there was a ruckus which could be heard through the widow. From his room in the castle, they heard Bran exclaim:

“They’re here!”

“You’ll meet my man!” Sansa said. “Don’t be too harsh on him. He’s trying to learn Gaelic for me.”

“This could be my job, while waiting for Bran in New York, if he has time. I could teach him our tongue.”

Sans found herself smiling even wider and said:

“I’ll offer Tyrion this opportunity, he’d be a fool to say no.”

“He would not have to pay me. I heard from Bran about the Rickon fund he started…”

“That he did… But he would. Come on, I want to see my man!”

With the women on her heels, she ran down the stairs and out the door, where her siblings were getting their luggage from the cab. Tyrion was looking around, looking impressed, and looked surprised when Arya elbowed him and gestured for his bag. He grabbed it and saw her. Osha went to greet her siblings, and she went to her man.

She went to stand in front of him and felt awkward. Sure, the settings were impressing, but what if he felt he was in over his head? It was one thing to be told grand things, but another one to understand what they meant… Just to think that shortly before, she was hoping he would move in, when they’d choose to…

“You know, I always call you My Lady, but standing here, I fell like I should be calling you My Queen,” he finally said, kissing her hand.

She laughed.

“Not my Princess?” She asked.

“You’re a Queen. You’re my Queen.”

“Oh, they’re so mushy mushy,” Jon said, before making kissy noises.

She flipped him the bird. Out of nowhere, Rory jumped toward the newcomer, going straight for Tyrion.

“Oi, Girl, it’s good to see you too, but don’t push me to the ground! How did you manage to get her here without having to go through quarantine?”

“My Godmother…”

“I should have known. But it’s great. She should be here to see you turn 20.”

“Come on, I’ll show you your room!” She said, and he followed her.

When they were past the door and he was up a few stairs in front of her, she all but nailed him to the wall, and kissed him fervently, tongues fighting for dominance, caresses being exchanged, love being celebrated.

“Not that I’m complaining but why?” He asked, when she let him go.

“We’ll be the butt of every joke from now on, unless Ygritte shows up, as I invited her. I wanted to tell you I missed you, and I loved you without catcalls.”

“Well, I don’t think I got your message right. What was it, you missed Brienne, and you love Rory?”

“You silly man,” she said, before kissing him again, until her siblings entered and catcalled. Some things were to be expected. Birds were flipped, and she gestured for Tyrion to follow her as she showed him the way to what used to be her room when a girl, and let him settle in.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Jon asked when she got out of the room and they met in the hallway.

“Of course she does. You’re such a twat,” Arya said, rolling her eyes.

“Please, Jon, he’s… my Ygritte,” she said, wanting to make a longer speech but knowing that her point would get across efficiently with less words, but some carefully chosen.

“Okay. Okay. Just… Don’t spring on us that you’re pregnant tomorrow evening. We’re celebrating your birthday. Is Brienne coming?”

Sansa took her brother’s arm and and told him about the woman’s desperation at missing the celebration.

Her phone buzzed and she read a text:

By the way, I love you too. Always and forever.

She reined in a sigh but bit her lower lip.

Jon made fun of her for behaving like a teen, but until 12 or so hours from then, she was one, so she would not apologize.

Chapter Text

“Don’t make fun of me, you twat,” Tyrion said into the phone. “This place… Jesus Christ. It makes our family home look like a humble abode peasant would live in. I mean, I keep having to pinch myself to make sure I’m not asleep on the plane, in full crazy dream mode. Then I need to remind myself that it is a real place, that it is not the set of a period movie, and that my goddamn wife err lover used to live here! My flat must seem so small and just like a broom closet to her!”

“Do you think I did not hear that slip about your wife?” Jaime asked, and Tyrion wished they were together so he could kick him in the shin. “Also, twat, flat? Are you going full brit on me?”

“I was locked in a plane with her siblings, some I like and they are all from here. So yeah, I’m calling you a twat, and a cunt, and a bloody bugger.”

“You do realize you’ve been speaking like a subject of Queen Olenna’s for weeks now? But before you yell I do know your queen is younger and more beautiful and not royalty.”

“Technically, she is of royal blood, but that’s not the point.”

“Wait, what?”

“My point is… You would not believe your eyes. Just google any English Castle, or Scottish on Wikipedia, and you’ll get a picture of the sort of place I’m staying at. It’s positively medieval, and everywhere you go, everyone I talk to, they call me “The Lady’s man”, because to them, who the hell care about the movies I was in, the work I did or anything? I only factor in to them in the way I relate to their Lady.”

“Can we go back to the royal blood part?” Jaime asked.

“Do grow up. She’s a Duchess and a Marquess, and you would just drop dead if I told you who her godmother is. This castle, Winterfell, it’s the main castle of the Winterfell lands or duchy. You’re not helping me calm down.”

“That’s because I’m too busy freaking out!”

“You’re useless…”

“Yet, you called me.”

“I must have dialed the wrong number. I’m pretty sure I was looking to talk to Jack… Nicholson or something.”

“Bitch, please. You called me because you needed your big bro to tell everything will be okay and you’ll have a great time at your wifey’s place. The siblings will make fun, I don’t have to know them to know. I would make fun of you guys so much; she would have me ditched in a moat if they have one.”

“They have a great forest where wolves roam at night, surrounding the estate…” Tyrion said, matter-of-factly, as if it was irrelevant.

“Jesus Motherfucking Christ… You do realize I will be working with your gal, right? You’re scaring me half to death. I feel like if I get pissy on set, she’ll get me killed…”

“Well, if she hears about it first, Brienne will be the one doing the beheading, otherwise her brother who is a trained soldier would murder you. If not, I would hire someone to end you, because no one speaks in a pissy mood to my girl.”

“You’re making it so hard to be reassuring right now. I want to, I like that you turned to me in your time of insecurity, but man, you have been spewing shit on me I feel like I should have known before. There’s a list of people who can end me. I mean, hello? But back to the topic at hand, and I’m trying really hard not to let fear get the best of me, you’ll do just fine. You know them, you’ve spent time with them. You’ve spent time with Sansa, all the time in the world. You know what she means to you. And you know what you mean to her. So you’ll both pretend to be mad at the other, but you’ll take the flack, because you’ll be secretly delighted because you’re so in love, you have no room in your heart for holding a grudge or something…”

“Or something,” Tyrion repeated, thinking of at least one person he had a grudge toward. “But yes, I guess, you’re right.”

“Where are you know?”

“In a guest bedroom.”

“That’s so cute, you’re not staying in her bedroom?”

“If you make mushy noises, I will add a fourth and fifth and more persons that can end you to that list. We’re sleeping apart.”

“Are you really though?” Jaime asked.

For once, he was not mocking him, he was genuinely asking, and Tyrion thanked silently Sansa for bringing them closer.

“I don’t think so. I mean, we joked about me joining her in her bedroom when everybody would go to sleep. I’ve gotten used to having someone in my bed.”

“Not just someone, your lady…”

“Yeah, my Lady.”

There was a knock on the door and he quickly ended his call.  A tall woman came in and introduced herself as Osha, the head of the household for the time being. She had the thickest accent he had ever heard, and considering he had Tormund on speed dial, that said a lot. She told him that when Sansa would be flying back to the US, she would be joining her, in preparation of a gig taking care of Bran. She then offered to teach him Gaelic. Only a fool would have declined such an offer, so he accepted of course. He offered to pay her, but she said she wanted no money.

That was … weird. Who did not want money for their hard work? ‘Cause teaching him that blasted tongue would be hard work. She only dodged the question, saying something about having taken care of the family forever, and wanting to make sure he was right for her Lady. She gave him a look, and he knew for certain she could probably kill him even quicker than Jon could.

The Starks were a dangerous bunch of people to be around, that was for sure.

When he asked for her last name, she replied “of Winterfell”.

Pushing would have been rude, and furthermore, it already spoke volume of how she saw herself. He wondered how many people on the staff and on the estate had a last name but considered themselves “of Winterfell”.

She then went away, and someone else knocked. This time it was Bran, who welcomed him before giving him some woolen tops.

“Yes, it’s May, but Winterfell… It’s just another world. We are used to it, even though some tease Sansa and I for being Children of Summer, but it does get extremely cold. You will probably see me wearing a wolf pelt later tonight. I don’t like taking advantage or wearing fur, but it’s been in the family for decade, my grandfather Branden used it before I did, and it has sentimental value. My point is, Winterfell defies weather expectations. We have long summers but even longer winters, and before we shift from one to another, well, it’s just frosty.”

“Thank you, Bran, I will indeed pull on of those, as I already feel a bit chilly…”

“I’m glad I could help,” the man-boy said.

He went to go out then turned his wheelchair around to say:

“When you decide it’s time, avoid walking on the plank near the statue of the knight. It makes a loud noise, and everybody will know you’re going to be with Sans’.”

There were a few seconds when Tyrion’s mind was blank, until he asked:

“Does that annoy you, the idea that I could join your sister in her chambers?”

“As long as she wants you there, I have nothing to say. She’s the alpha, she decides who is worthy of sharing her bed.”

“You do know that your sister and I, we’re more than shagging, right?” Tyrion, worried Bran could be pragmatically dismissing their commitment.

“I knew it when you did not. I knew it when you were trying to fake date for a week, then another one, then another one. I think I knew it even before we were introduced at the fencing championship. I simply have faith in her ability to choose the best mate for her. If she wants you, and she does, I will always stand by her choice because she’s been through too much, she deserves some happy times.”

“Too much?” Tyrion whispered, wondering if perhaps, Theon was not the only sibling to know about the damage a bastard slash actor had done to their precious sister.

“Our family has suffered, period, but shouldering it on, like she was an adult, and like she knew just what she was doing… I can only thank Sansa for taking care of me. I thank her for putting me in the best hospital, for making sure our brother knew he was loved when he passed. I thank her for helping Meera get an abortion when we made a mistake and thought I was infertile. I thank her for never judging me and just doing what needed to be done for our lives to go on, even if it meant putting hers on hold. I also believe she has not had it easy, in her business, but I guess I can only wait for her to come forward and say it. It’s about showing her the respect she always showed me, in addition to all the sacrifices she made for us.”

“You really got a girl pregnant when you were 13?”

“Yes. A great girl. A wonderful girl. A grieving girl. She was everything to me when Rickon passed, and she helped me make it through as we mourned our losses, as she had put her brother in the ground shortly after mine. I wonder what kind of woman she is now.”

“Well, there is this thing called the internet…”

“And what would I say?” Bran asked, almost defiantly.

“I have no idea. I only know that you Starks are so similar in so many ways. When you fall, you do fall, in love for example. I witnessed Jon speaking to Ygritte on the webcam, and I saw his face. I see my woman’s eyes when she looks at me, and I’m being humble here, not bragging, but I truly feel that only something terrible could make her regret choosing me. That does not stop me from worrying about doing that wrong and terrible thing. You just described the girl you lost your virginity with as a wonderful girl, and there was a glint in your eyes… I’m just saying, you’ll never know until you reach out…”

“We’ll go horse riding later on, if you want to come, we can show you our family home and regal you with tales of our golden childhood, and shaming tales of Sansa’s one,” Bran finally said, as if pondering of perhaps the man was on to something.

“I would love that. Arya will have a blast.”

When Bran left, Tyrion lied on the bed, just thinking he would close his eyes for a minute, but another knock on the door woke him up hours later, and he realized he had missed lunch, as he had fallen asleep.

“My Lord?” Sansa asked as she pushed the door open slowly.

It felt so weird to be called so in such a setting, but he would not have traded it for the world.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep,” he started explaining.

“Don’t apologize. I’ve asked one of the girls to bring you a sandwich in a few minutes. If you feel like it, we’re going horse riding, like we used to do when we were kids. I seem to remember that your father forced you to take riding lessons, so you may not want to try that again, but let it be known that I would be delighted to have you there.”

“Then let it be known that I would be delighted to be there,” he said, before kissing her cheek.

A servant entered the room after knocking and brought him what he would have called a full buffet for his lunch. He went to eat at the table, wondering in which land you had a table and chair to have your supper in your bedroom, but hey, that was Winterfell.

“Do you like your room?” Sansa asked, as he ate.

“Very much so. It has a familiar vibe to it…”

Which was true. He felt at home, even though he had a feeling he would feel so everywhere she was.

“It was my room, as a girl. When our parents passed, I moved into the master bedroom.”

“That must be why this room feels so homey, it reminds me of you.”

They kept on flirting, and then she helped him chose what to wear for their tour. She was apparently worried he would catch a cold, and while it could have been seen as infantilizing, to him it was just another way she showed her love.

They went down together and went for the stables.

As they entered, they could hear two voices, one being Arya’s.

“You have taken good care of our horses,” she said.

Tyrion and Sansa hung back, not wanting to interrupt.

“I’ve done my best, milady, I wanted you to be proud to see your steeds.”

“It’s Gendry,” Sansa whispered for her lover. “He’s a stable boy, should be stable master truly, but we cannot kick the one we have out, it would be ungrateful of the many years he spent taking care of our family’s horses.”

“Don’t call me Milady.”

“I’m sorry, but what am I supposed to call you then?”

“Our Lady is Sansa. I’m the tomboy, haven’t you heard?”

“Then what do I call you?" the Boyish man asked again.

They heard the sound of Arya taking a bite of an apple for it was so characteristic, and she said:

“The name is Arya. Remember it, and you might get a chance to scream later.”

Tyrion had to put his hand over his mouth to shut down the giggles he felt coming on. Sansa looked surprised, but not entirely shocked. Arya was growing up at her own pace, and she was 16 after all.

His lady made sure to move around making noise, and when they came next to Gendry who was red as a tomato, and Arya, they could pretend they had not heard the woman/girl outrageous promise to the boy/man.

The girls climbed on their horses, and of course, Sansa had a beautiful mare waiting for her, who looked imperial, and perfect. They made a beautiful pair. They went out, and Gendry helped him to climb on a horse, bringing him a stool, which was thoughtful. Just as he was getting reacquainted with being on a horse, the boys came in. Hodor hissed Bran on a very special horse with a saddle made to compensate his disability.

They all went out, and while Arya was busy riding as fast as she could, racing with her brothers, Sansa and Tyrion took their time, as she told him all about growing up in Winterfell. He wanted to etch this in his memory forever, for he had never felt so precious. The fact that she deemed him worthy of her memories was just as enormous as being allowed to touch her.

He just loved her so fucking much, he was afraid he would burst into butterflies or glittery confetti.

When they arrived back to the stables, it was getting dark, and Tyrion knew he probably had overexerted himself.

There was a hooded figure waiting near, in the courtyard of the castle, and most people ran past it, except for Sansa who stopped and say:

“Good eve to you, stranger.”

“And to you too, Sansa,” the woman answered.

When she lifted slightly her hood, Tyrion held back a gasp. He recognized her from that picture he had first seen at the Fencing championship.

“Ygritte!” Sansa exclaimed, almost incredulous at her presence.

“You invited me, remember?”

“Of course, I just was not sure if you would still be on tour…”

“Hey Sansa, will you move your lazy butt, we’re all freezing here waiting for you and Lover boy!” Jon exclaimed from a short distance.

“Is that how you talk to the lady of Winterfell?” Ygritte asked, making her voice much lower than it was.

“I will talk to my sister the way I please. Who are you to teach me manners?” He asked.

“Well, someone has to. After all, you know nothing, Jon Snow.”

Tyrion was not a bleeding heart and grand gesture usually did nothing to him, but when Jon fell to his knees in front of Ygritte, burying his head in her midsection, wanting to believe it was her but so scared it was not, well, that would have had him shed a tear, but he did not.

He was sure both soldiers would have killed him for doing so.

“Great job, love,” he told Sansa, kissing her hand.

“Thank you, Love.” She answered, before leading away from the couple finally reuniting.

When they did not show up for dinner, no one was too surprised.

The attendees had a lovely time and he felt like he had known them all his life, like he could be himself around them, as much as he already could around Sansa. Those Starks were goddamn attaching, you could not help but care for them.

When night came and they all parted, he waited, and waited some more, until all he coud hear were what he supposed to be creaks a castle made. He got up, and made his way, using the candle that had been in his bedroom for decoration, to make his way to Sansa.

He jumped over the plank before the knight, and almost did a victory dance when there was no betraying sound. He knocked softly on the door and opened the door carefully.

“I’ve been waiting for you, My Lord,” Sansa said, from the bed, where she was waiting for him, looking like Aphrodite herself.

The best way to deal with temptation was to give in, Oscar Wilde used to say. So that’s what Tyrion did as he rushed to be in his lover’s arms.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, just sometimes, you got a break, and life was good. It was rare and it was to be cherished, but damn did it feel good.

Those were the thoughts running through Ygritte’s head as she watched the Stark-Snow-Greyjoy brood celebrate Sansa’s birthday. She would be forever grateful the woman had invited her over, to see Jon. Being with him felt right, and good, and something she had believed she would never be allowed to experience ever again, but it seemed the gods had other plans.

She smiled and looked at them all. She had always thought men were tools. Well, this crowd, composed of her lover, his younger half-brother, his brother from another mother and father, and his half-sister’s man, well, she was proved right or so it felt. Men were absolutely useless. Heaven helped all women for wanting to be with them. Bran for example would cause endless migraines to the woman who would see past the wheelchair and agree to deal with his genius mind, meaning that he would wake her up at night, not for sex but because he would need someone to listen to him while he proved that Nietzsche or Kant or whomever was a doofus and he had the receipts to prove it. Tyrion was a less obvious tool, but still one, nonetheless. She had only known him for two days if she was being generous, and she could tell he would stop knowing how to live and how to deal with himself if Sansa cast him away. Theon was an odd one. She was not sure he would ever settle down and have children, and that was alright. She had a feeling he might be batting for the other side, or not batting at all, but when push came to shove, he was still as useless as his brothers.

And then came Jon, the biggest tool of them all. She thought so with all the love in her heart, but boy did that guy need attention. From positive reinforcement to just telling him he was loved, he was deeply insecure, and she felt like cursing at the thought that she seemed to have chosen to be the one to be there for him.

She remembered earlier, when they had been in bed, just before they had to come down for the big celebration, and he had told her:

“It’s not that I don’t like Tyrion, it’s just that…”

“What?”

“I don’t know…”

“That’s what I keep saying…”

He had looked daggers at her before saying:

“The thing is, I feel like he’s Sansa’s first boyfriend, or real boyfriend, and he seems to be in it for the long haul.”

“Why is it a bad thing?” She had asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, as I said, he seems to be her first. First love, first man she loves, I mean, and well, she should be free to be able to go dip her toe in the dating pool to see if she finds someone who suits her better.”

“What if he suits her, period?”

“What if he doesn’t? And why are you arguing with me?”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she had said, with all the love in her heart, and some from of a higher place. “Your sister, she was with another man before, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, for a while, she dated another actor, Ramsay Bolton, and they moved in super quick, and it fizzled out like a wet rocket or something…”

“Or something,” she had pointed out.

“Whatever do you mean?”

It had been a struggle, knowing what to say and what to keep to herself, but Sansa was a good person, who cared deeply about her family and those they loved, and Ygritte had felt afraid she could end a good relationship to appease her brother, thinking it would help him on his path to recovery.

“I don’t know anything about the man she was with, I’ll say that. What I do know though, is that when I reached out to her and she flew over to bring you back home and make sure you lived, she was scared of her own shadow. She would act, and pretend she was fine, but I could see.”

“What… What do you mean?” He had asked again, and she had rolled her eyes.

“You need to buy a thesaurus. I’m just saying that, well, when she came, she was terrified for you of course, and she wanted to take care of the whole platoon, but I saw the way she side-eyed some of the men, and I wonder if something happened to make her wary of your gender. I am only bringing this up because you’re complaining about her current boyfriend. He loves her, that I can see, and she loves him too. She does not have the same fear in her eyes she had back then. He’s good to her, or perhaps she got better before him, but the thing is, don’t just judge the guy thinking about yourself. There’s a part of you who thinks that you’re only thinking about what’s best for Sansa. I think there’s a huge chunk of you who is thinking that if Tyrion is in her life, then you lose your place, and you want your sister to be there for you always. You need her on your own way to recovery.”

“Do you…. Do you think…. Fuck I hate those words and the though, but are you saying something bad happened to my sister and I never saw it?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I am only saying this because she made an impression, your sister. She’s worthy of your affection, and you are worthy of hers, but when nobody was looking, back in Africa, well, I saw things I don’t know how to explain, and when I see her now, those things seem to have taken a step back, which is a great thing.”

“I… I have no words. Do you think that in my attempt to overcome PTSD, I allowed myself to be blinded by the façade she put forth when she’s sad or feeling bad? Do you think I was selfish?”

“I actually think you were. I don’t mean to shame you, luv, you are recovering. It’s more than ok. Why do you think I signed up for another tour? I could tell PTSD was there, just on the verge, begging to come out, and I was not ready to take it on and struggle with it. But to get back to your question, I do believe you may have missed something. However, I also believe your sister is a wonderful actress, and I don’t mean just when it comes to movie. I believe that to spare you, she would have showed you the side of her you wanted to see, no matter how much pain it could bring her.”

“Well, fuck…” Jon had said, looking so desperate.

They had kept silent, and she knew he was nowhere done dealing with what she had said, but once the words had been spoken, well you couldn’t take them back and truth be told, she thought she had been right. Jon was a wonderful man, but he was in pain, rightfully so, and he sometimes acted in ways that made no sense, partly because there was a part of him which was always worried his family would kick him out, deciding to be a just Stark family instead of their joyous Stark Snow Greyjoy one. In order to remain a Stark, or to protect his identity as one, she felt like he would have been capable to kick a good man out, just to make sure his spot was safe. That man would have been Tyrion, and Sansa was not smitten with the man, she was plainly in love with him. Ygritte had only hoped and still did that Jon understood that there was room in his sister's life and in her heart, for him and for the man she loved.

It felt great to be back at Winterfell, with her family, and several trophies to put in her bedroom.

Arya had spent the day flirting with the stable boy, Gendry, and she knew she was playing a dangerous game, that at any point he could call out her bluff and she would have to deal with the fact that she was a virgin, contrary to what she had inferred previously, and she was not bullet proof.

She watched her family, and their loved ones and thought that if push came to shove, she could at least count on them, all of them.

She had enjoyed her flight in, sitting close to Tyrion. The man was too funny at times, and so shy at others. This was not the Tyrion Lannister she had read about when Theon had mentioned her sister would be fake dating that man to raise up her profile. Arya had read about a manwhore, great at his craft and gifted at breaking hearts. She had hated the thought of him being in contact with her sister. Then Brienne had called, and said things, and well, when she had met him so to speak, at the fencing championship, she had witnessed how much the woman had been right. There was a Tyrion Lannister who had existed and had been depicted in journals and tabloids, and then there was the man. Even that man was not just one thing. He had started by being a good friend and a good influence, and now he was a wonderful boyfriend who made her sister laugh and her eyes sparkle, and Arya wanted to thank him for that.

He was self-deprecating, but she had no doubt he would kill for her sis. That was just fine, as she would do the same.

She thought back about the discussion she had had, long before she had met him, with Brienne.

“Just give him a chance,” the woman had said, “your sister seems to like him quite a bit, and I do believe he’s good for her, almost as good as she is excellent to him.”

“If he hurts my sister…” she had started.

“Oh love, it’s not my place to tell, but look at your sister. Doesn’t she seem different? Doesn’t she look like she’s finally able to form new friendships and think of the future?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re worried he might hurt her. What if it was done before, what if he could fix her or help her get there?”

“Are you saying that Ramsay did something to my sis? I will cut off his dick and force him to eat it.”

“I have no idea what Ramsay did to your sister, my darling, but I do know that she was not the same when she left him, and for a long time I felt like she was sad and hurt. I don’t know where this thing with Tyrion will go. They could be parting ways in two weeks. However, I’ve seen them together, and even if all they do is strike a friendship, I do believe it would be a good thing. Your sister, she’s so lonely, my baby killer, you cannot see it, but I can. Give Tyrion a chance.”

Arya had trusted the tall woman who had always been so nice to her, and had never treated her like she was a little girl in need of babying. Tyrion… Well, he had struck more than just a friendship with her sister, and she fucking loved it. He could be a nice fit, and when or if he stopped being, she could just end him. Jon would help her hide the body.

Osha looked at the family gathered, wearing silly hats, and making fun of their sister. Winterfell felt alive, and it was one of the rare occasions when she was not overcome with grief. Rickon should have been there, by God, fitting rightfully next to his siblings, but if nothing else, Osha knew he was watching them from above, and smiling upon them, sharing in their happiness.  

She made a few comments, for the help to bring forward the big birthday cake, and she sang along, almost to herself, with the Starks, while Sansa blushed, and squeezed the hand of her man.

For a little guy, he sure was a big fellow. She had seen it in his eyes when she had gone to him, and she knew without a doubt that he loved the lady of Winterfell at least as much as she loved him, but then again love was not about who felt it more, but about what you did about it.

Sansa laughed, and blushed, with her crown on her head, as her siblings pushed her to make a wish before she blew her candles. She looked at her man, and he winked, which made her blush even more. Then she finally took a big breath and blew her candles, all in one respiration. Everybody clapped and someone came forward to cut the cake.

Tyrion said something to Sansa then kissed her cheek, and she laughed.

This felt good, it was like a soothing balm on Osha’s soul. Nothing or no one could ever fill the void left by Rickon, but this, well, it was good. There was life after death. Osha had stopped believing it was possible, but there was the proof, with Sansa and her man, with Jon and his woman, with Arya who was making Gendry from the stables blush like mad yet wait for her.

They looked happy, and while she knew that the scars would always be there, she felt like if they could heal, or build themselves back together after such trauma, perhaps she could do the same.

If only she could meet a good Scottish man who would understand her and give her the babies she wanted... What a curious thought, she found herself considering once she had had it. She was not sure she wanted babies. They would not replace her Rickon. Yet, it felt like… They could be younger brothers to a boy they had never met and who had been so important for Osha when she had started looking for herself and building herself as a person. The man was disposable, but he would have a purpose to serve. That was probably very jaded, but loss… It put things in perspective. She wished her trip to the US would help her heal. She wanted to keep being part of this wonderful clan she had come to love more than her own family. Theon and his goofy way of saying he loved them, Jon who only knew to show love by promising to kill people, Arya who did not know how to express her feelings but still managed to convey them perfectly. Bran, and his big brain, which was only rivalled by his great heart, and Sansa of course, the Lady of the house, the she-wolf who would do anything and everything for her family…. Osha felt blessed to be considered part of their household, and perhaps, part of their extended family, she thought, as she was being asked by Sansa to take a piece of cake and join them.

“By the way Bran,” the red-haired said when she agreed to sat down, “Osha will be travelling with you while you’re abroad.”

He gave her look, smiled, then said:

“Whatever you say, sister, I trust your decision.”

They truly were a pack, and Sansa led them. Osha only wanted to be part of it, to be allowed to be guided. She felt like she was, partly, since she could speak to her lady freely.

“Wow, the lack of argument coming from the man who is being told a woman will be on charge of watching over him,” Ygritte said to Bran, false mocking him.

“As I said, I trust my sister. We all do.”

“It’s no wonder you became a soldier,” the woman said to her lover. “You were already a soldier for your sister at home.”

“No one rules me,” Jon said.

“Oh Gosh, you really know nothing, Jon Snow, do you?”

This made Osha laugh.

“By the way,” Sansa said, between two bites of her cake, her man by her side, each sort of feeding the other playfully, “I will be moving in with Tyrion by the end of next month. Ygritte, I know you’re on active duty, but should you decide to, I am renting a place in New York, and I still have it for close to a year. I could sublet it, or let you use it should you chose to come and join us in the Big Apple.”

“I love how you’re dunking the news of your moving in with your boyfriend by inviting me to stay,” Ygritte said, and Osha agreed silently. Well played, lady Sansa, well played indeed.

“You know what will happen to you if you hurt my sister,” Jon told Tyrion, who nodded but did not seem scared.

“And who will take care of me if she hurts me?”

“I could never hurt you My Lord!” Sansa exclaimed.

“And if she did, just ask, and I would end your suffering,” Arya said like it was no big deal

“Such a kind offer,” he told her.

“Well you know me; I am nothing if not amenable and helping…”

This quick banter, the easiness and the comfort they felt joking around… The man may not know it yet, but he would soon do: he had a new family, or as they were called usually, “in-laws”. Unless Sansa kicked him out, he was there to stay, and Osha found she did not mind the thought. They were a good fit.

“I can always lend a hand,” she found herself saying to Arya, “if you need any help to end his suffering.”

“Wow, way to make a man feel special.”

“I think you’re special,” Sansa whispered to her man, and soon the siblings were making disgusted noises at the lovey couple.

This was what life ought to be, family, good friends, and someone to share it with.

Osha took a sip of the wine she was being poured, and stayed silent as they celebrated Sansa turning twenty, and her moving in with a man they all seemed to like, some begrudgingly though. New York would be a new start… She hoped she could find a new life, find what her purpose was, maybe becomes somebody’s Ygriite, or someone’s Tyrion. Even if she did not, she looked forward being around them and being able to help. She would do anything for the people who had taken her in after she had escaped her father’s violence.

“I’m sorry for springing this on you,” Sansa told Tyrion between two bites and two jibes. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I hope you really meant it.”

“I did. I love you, my Lady.”

“And I love you, my Lord.”

Not minding the catcall, they shared a kiss and looked forward to their lives together.

Winterfell was magical, Sansa thought before thinking of how happy her parents had been, and how she hoped they were following their footsteps. She could almost feel them smiling on them. She hoped it was true. One thing she knew for sure was that she had taken the right decision.

Chapter Text

He should have been happy.

He had everything going for him, a good acting career, a wonderful and amazing girlfriend, a place to live, an unbearable yet sort of likable brother, and friends.

Yet, he felt angsty. It was like something was happening and he did not understand what it was, and it made him mad.

Sansa and he were on their way to a charity event made by the Leukaemia Research Foundation. They were all dressed up, and he had put on the tux Sansa loved so much. He was considering having spares made of it, so that he would always have new ones with this cut. However, she looked… Well, she looked like she loved him in a tux, but like it was the last thing on her mind, and the prominent things in that precious place were all dark. He could not blame her. They had been invited to a place where she was being reminded of her beloved late baby brother.

When they had been back at Winterfell, she had gone to pay her respects to her brothers, and he had followed her there. She had tried to tell him that he did not have to, that she did not want him to be in a sad place where he felt uncomfortable, but he only felt that way when he was not with her, or when he thought he was intruding.

She had shown him her parents’ graves, noting that the staff was taking great care of the monuments to the late Starks. Then, she had shown him Robb’s tombstone, and he had felt overcome with sadness, perhaps through empathy, but mostly because he remembered saying that Sansa made him feel like he was 25 again, free and in love. The man never lived to have that birthday, and it crushed his heart. Tyrion had seen pictures in the castle and knew what he looked like, a man who could be too serious for his age, as well as a boy who wore a goofy grin and just enjoyed life, trying to make do with the blows fate had dealt him and his family. Tyrion hoped they would have been good friends, but they would never know.

Then, they had gone to Rickon’s grave, and while he had always understood what it meant for Sansa to have lost her sibling to such an atrocious disease, while he had been candid and sincere in his support, seeing the dates of birth and death, so close together, only a few years apart, it had felt like he had been shot with an arrow straight into his heart. He had always felt the death had been cruel and unwarranted, and nothing would ever make him say otherwise, but by God, he remembered how he had been around the age Rickon had been when he had passed. He had been awkward, trying to fit in next to his perfect siblings, he had longed for his father’s approval and love, he had longed to be recognized as part of his family. He had also been happy, playing with friends, going to school, not being yet too hindered by his condition, and not looking too different from the boys his age. He had felt utter pain at the thought that Rickon had been deprived of that.

When they had gotten there, Sansa had spent a long time still, just praying silently.

“I wonder what he would have been like today,” she finally said.

“I wish you had gotten a chance to know,” he had responded.

Soon after, Osha had appeared and spoken in Gaelic to her Lady, after apologizing for intruding.

Sansa had nodded, put her hand on the tall woman’s arm, and without a word, they had left.

“Osha needs to say goodbye to Rickon. She feels terrible about leaving him behind while she goes to the US,” his lover had explained.

She had told him about the part the woman had played in the boy’s life, and he knew for a fact that women were the stronger gender, for he would have crumbled and gone completely useless, drowning in alcohol, absolutely unable to start grieving for such a loss.

That had been three weeks ago. Now, they were back in the U.S, and Sansa had left her apartment to move in with him. It had been the quickest move ever, since she only had clothes, and the stuff he had brought for her at Ikea. She had brought back pictures from Winterfell, and when she had moved in, she had asked for permission to hang them here and there.

“Don’t you dare ask, love, this is your home.”

“It was yours first, and I do not want you to feel uncomfortable staring at my father’s face….”

“Just… Don’t put him on the roof of our bedroom, that would really awkward to stare at him while we… frolic.”

She had laughed and put her pictures in frames, hanging them in the living room. She had made him look for pictures of his childhood, and his mother’s photograph had joined their collection. He had found an old picture of him and Jaime, which they had hung.

This only had made him feel very strongly that while that place was good for now, they would need to move to a place where no one could say It had been their place first. Sansa seemed to have trouble moving in, as it reminded her of when Ramsay had forced her to move in with him. She had told him so, in order to let him know what was going through her head, and he had promised that he would never hurt her, not even if his life depended on it. She had smiled and kissed him.

He had discovered something, upon their first week of officially being flatmates: she sang in the shower, songs that no one had written before her.

His favourite had been:

We jumped over a broom, even though it was not ours and no one allowed us to

We jumped over a broom, under the all-knowing moon, just because we wanted to

It meant nothing at all, it meant everything to me.

Please Powerful Selene, don’t take my darling from me.

It was etched into his memory, and he hoped he could bring it up at some point, perhaps convince her to put it down on paper, and perhaps hang it in their bedroom, some sort of pledge to their love. His heart had doubled in size in his chest upon hearing her sing, unprompted, happily. For this was what she was, happy, in his arms, in his life, being who she was, and being with him.

He had bought a ring in the following hours after hearing that song. He kept it hidden in his socks drawer, where she never went, since he had freed space for her own belongings. The spare bedroom for now was mostly used to keep her ballgowns and other superstar attire. He had also gotten a glimpse of her royal getup. Those dresses were something unlike other gowns. He could not wait to have an occasion to see her in them.

And then they had gotten the invitation and decided to go.

“It’s going to be okay, my love,” he told her, squeezing her hand as they walked down the red carpet.

This should have been a private event, but ever since Sansa had endorsed the fight against Leukemia, things had changed. Paparazzi had been waiting outside the venue. Other celebrities were attending.

He could tell she hated it. She thought that Brienne had every right in the world to be there, and she was, and she did not seem to mind too much the fact that his brother had shown up, but the rest of them, she did not care for them. Hell, if she had been less soft-spoken, she probably would have called them vultures, eager for a good photo-op. She had told him in the car that she was sure some were genuine in their attendance, and would donate money because they believed in the cause, but others were just trying to gain brownie points, regrow their virginity so to speak, like born again Christian. The association needed every penny – err – every cent they wanted to give, so Sansa would keep her mouth shut in public, but she was internally side-eyeing all those who were there for their benefits, like the charity was for their cause.

Riding with Brienne and Jaime had been fun though, as they had heard Sansa speak, and had tried to diffuse the atmosphere with light banter and picking on them for being a “power couple” in their own words.

He was not a religious man and never would be but praised be Catelyn Cat Tully-Stark for bringing Brienne Tarth in his beloved’s life. The woman was a rock, even though he could see she was still in pain from having said goodbye to Tormund. She was a good influence on his brother, forcing him to grow up and not rely on his name. The man was slowly changing, and while he still made fun of his multiple time co-star, now that he had admitted to himself that he “liked her” liked her, well he seemed to be growing up at an amazing speed to ever be worthy of her or her friendship.

That had been then, and now was now. They had walked the red carpet, they had gone into the building. Sansa had deposited a check in the box for donation, and he had too, surprising her as she seemed to believe she was giving for the both of them.

He had been amazed when his brother had come forward after Brienne had done so, talking about Rickon and how she missed him. The man had donated too, saying that he had never gotten the chance to know Rickon Stark, but since he had been lucky enough to get to know his sister, and after educating himself on the subject, he wanted to help find a cure to this terrible disease who had taken a terrible toll on the two women he had the most admiration for in the world.

Wait until Cersei read that in the papers, Tyrion had thought. She was not in their brother’s top two, and Tyrion had started doubting she was part of his top three.

Every time someone had gone to the donation box, everyone watched. To some, it was like a competition, some even going as far as showing the amount of their contribution. This was distasteful to say the least.

Tyrion had grabbed a cup of Champagne, and Sansa was drinking a Virgin mojito. Brienne and Jaime had gone to mingle in the crowd, strangely sticking together.

He could tell his Lady was sad, but like a spider sense, he could feel her tense even though her hand was not in his. He looked around for the source of her discomfort and saw Ramsay. Fucking. Bolton.

The bloody bastard was making his way to the donation box, grinning at the crowd, but his gaze was secured on Sansa who looked just about ready to run away. Tyrion came closer to her, partly in order to make sure he would not run to the guy and pummel his ass to the ground, and she looked at him with a thankful look, which he felt was not warranted: of course she could count on him, of course he would be there for her. She was his lady. In her words, they had jumped over a bloody broom. It was his duty and his privilege to be there for her.

He noticed Brienne trying to come closer to them once she spotted the bloody nefarious man.

He dropped his check, and said, looking Sansa straight in the eyes:

“I do remember how you loved your brother Richard. Pity he died, but hey, that’s life.”

Jaime was actually holding back Brienne, and some in the crowd were gasping. Sansa was a statue.

“The people in the foundation should not be surprised when that check bounces back,” Tyrion said loudly.

“What the fuck did you say, little man?” Ramsay asked, coming straight for them.

He could feel Sansa’s hand on his arm but he could not stop himself.

“Show some fucking respect. The name is Rickon, and it isn’t life. It was death, stupid death, terrible, undeserved death. Don’t you dare talk to my girlfriend like her pain is just for show. One of us is pretending to care, and it sure ain’t us.”

“So, someone had a taste of the Sansa honeypot,” Ramsay sneered.

“What the fuck you said?”

“She does give great head, doesn’t she?” The bastard went on. “That mouth of hers, I do miss it. Could take my cock in with no issue, no matter how thick I am.“

“More like dumb as a rock.”

“Hard as a rock you mean. I guess with you, it must be less of a problem, little man.”

“Do you want me to shove my dick in your mouth so you can compare?” Tyrion roared

“Please, love, don’t…”

“I’m sorry Sans’, but I cannot stand by and have you be disrespected, nor Rickon for that matter.”

“Then in Rickon’s name, let’s just move on, and not indulge this idiot with a confrontation,” she begged, and he wished he had her self-control.

“Boy, you’re whipped,” Ramsay said when he nodded in agreement with his lady. “She must have gotten better at taking a dick up the…”

He never finished that sentence as Brienne headbutted him so hard, he fell backward.

“Say that again, little man,” she told him. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”

“Why even pretend to be a woman, you bitch?”

“Who you’re calling a bitch, dickhead?” Jaime asked.

“Don’t fight this battle for me!” Brienne exclaimed as he restrained her, since she seemed intent to take Ramsay on.

“I’m protecting you, not because you need it, but because I’m the only one who gets to call you names.”

“Tell that to the press!” Brienne yelled.

“I will!” Jaime yelled back.

Sansa went to Ramsay and helped him get up, and though he wished he never felt it, in that instant, Tyrion almost hated her for her kindness. The monster deserved none of it.

“Ready for a real man again?” Bolton taunted.

“I already have a real man. I will keep you in mind if I am looking for a jester.”

And she left him to join Tyrion.

“Take us home,” she said, “we are already causing too big a scene, and I cannot bear the thought of tarnishing Rickon’s memory.”

He nodded, and sent a look to his brother who nodded too. They all went out and into the car.

No words were exchanged in the car, at least not between Sansa and Tyrion. Brienne was almost screaming bloody murder, threatening Ramsay and his family, and Jaime too while she was at it. The Lannister man let her rant for a while until they started fighting.

Luckily, they were dropped off soon enough, and Brienne made Sansa promise to call her in the morning.

They got back home, and Tyrion felt helpless when he saw Sansa make a beeline for the bedroom, still silent as a statue.

“Are you mad at me,” he asked, entering the room, and removing his tie, “for the things I said? I won’t apologize for it, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad,” she said hoarsely.

“I can sense how bad you feel. I can sense how tormented you are. Talk to me, love, my Lady. If you don’t talk, we can’t fix this, and we can overcome anything. I’m sorry love. I’m so sorry.”

So much for not apologizing… He thought

He kissed her hand time and time again, but she pushed him aside, looking pained, before removing her dress, dropping it to the floor and going to the bed.

He felt helpless. Was it the end of them? Had he killed what they had by running his mouth? This just could not be…

“My Lady, I beg you, talk to me. Yell at me. Call me names. If you’re pissed, then at least we’re talking and we can fix this. Silence is killing me.”

It took a very long time, but a muffled voice came from underneath the comforter.

“I don’t begrudge you for fighting Ramsay. I don’t begrudge Brienne either, though I hate the spectacle we made, and cannot help but think about how we would not have made Rickon proud.”

“He would have understood. I’m sure he does understand, wherever he is. He’s looking over you, love, with your parents and your brother, and he knows I was a dick, but I only wanted what was best for you and to take care of you.”

“Are you with me because I give great head?” She finally asked, changing subject.

It was true that since a month or so ago, they had come to a place where she was able to overcome what had been inflicted to her prior to being with him, and she had started reciprocating oral favors. She was damn good at it, but he was biased. As long as she didn’t bite his dick off, he would always consider her the best he ever had.

“Where is this coming from? I thought you knew how deep our connection is… Don’t make me think it’s only on my part…”

“Do you have a British fetish?” She asked again.

“If I had, I would not be in luck, you’re Scottish my love.”

She kicked of the comforter enough to look him in the eyes and said:

“You know what I mean. Does my appeal reside in the fact that I was not born in the U.S? Do you have a foreign fetish?”

Fetish… There was that word again.

“I don’t have a fetish. Fetishes are purely sexual. Our bond goes deeper. Where the fuck is this coming from?”

“I met Shae.”

Well… Fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck

Chapter Text

Earlier that day,

Sansa looked at her reflection in the mirror. The dress fitted her well, but she was not sure it would be appropriate for a charity event. She had been to some of those prior to this one, and each time had tried to stay sober and proper, in order to not still the light away from the cause they were gathered to help, not that she could have outshined a disease on her own, but as it was Leukemia, and about Rickon… The stakes were high, perhaps higher than they had ever been.

“I like it, “ she finally told the stylist, “and I would love to wear at it at another event, for example when promoting “The Maneless Lion”, but it feels too cheerful for this event tonight. I wish to stay away from black, as it symbolizes grieving, and this even is in part to prevent people from having to go through that process, but I feel like something more… Protocolary perhaps? Would do the trick.”

She had chosen her words well, and the stylist seemed to understand and take no offense. He said:

“You’re thinking about something more along the lines of what a First Lady would wear at an official event, something elegant, but also mindful of what they’re standing for.”

“Yes, that is exactly it,” she exclaimed. “I’m no First Lady, but I am thinking more Jacky Kennedy and less Marylin Monroe, if you will.”

“I’ll go back to my cupboards and get you a selection. Priya here will help you remove this dress. Do not hesitate to ask for something to eat or drink. We have tea, coffee, all beverages really.”

This brought a smile to Sansa’s face. Ever since she had moved in with Tyrion, he kept his cupboard full of her favorite teas, and even ordered new blends he had heard great reviews about for them to try and see if they liked it. She had realized that he had been doing that prior to her formal moving in, but then, she had thought it had been something about making feel her welcome, and perhaps not home. How terribly she had underestimated her man.

Living with him was just so easy and great, she thought, as the help untied the corset in her back and helped her out of the gown. She was offered a robe of some sort, so that she would not need to get dressed and undressed again, and she sat. She politely declined all offer for refreshment but had to say yes to a shortbread biscuit, because, which British subject could say no to such a treat?

She had never thought she could feel so happy, and, dare she say it, carefree. She woke up in the morning in a bed which was her own. She had helped chose it, hoping one day she would get to share it, and she did. She was getting used to Tyrion kissing her hair before slipping out of the bed in the morning, as he always had a thousand emails and calls to make, even though he was on a semi-sabbatical.

He had started writing too. He was not hiding it from her, but it seemed that his role as Richard had sparked a memory, or an aspiration he used to entertain, that he would, one day, have things to tell. She did not know what he was working on, she believed it had started as a diary of some sort, and then it had become more. She felt like, when he would be ready, he would perhaps come up with a script of his own. When they had come back from their honeymoon and had visited them at the flat, Laora and Tony had regaled them with tales of the way they had swam with dolphins and done all those dorky things they never thought they wanted to do, and at one point, Laora had mentioned that this had brought up a new idea for her next script, and instead of focusing on the plot, Tyrion had been really interested in grilling the woman to hear about how she went at things, in order to make them come alive.

Sansa was fine respecting his privacy, not for lack of interest, but because coming from a once numerous family, she knew that pushing people only made you wait longer to be privy of their secrets.

But life, overall, was what she had always thought it should be: she felt loved, she felt cherished. She cherished those around her, she loved her lover. She took care of those who relied on her, and she spared a thought several time a day to those who had departed this world too soon, never wanting them to feel as though they had no room in her new life. It was one of the reasons she had felt so blessed when Tyrion had not minded that she had peppered his – err – their place, with pictures of her family. He had only joke about not wanting any picture of Olenna on the walls, for it would feel too much pressure at any given time. She had kept that one picture she had of herself as a bridesmaid at one royal wedding, back when she was six, with her Godmother feeding her biscuits.

Tyrion… Oh Lord, he was the whole deal. He cared for her, lover her, respected her. He loved her family. He had helped with the various decisions she had to make for the property in the Hamptons. He had helped her run some lines for her upcoming movie, even though it had been weird but oh so funny to have him play Brienne’s part. He had shown a bit of jealousy by saying he was glad she did not have a love interest. She knew if it had been the case, he would have dealt, the same way she knew she would have to deal with the fact that when he chose his next movie, a love plotline could be attached, and she would know he would be acting, and not taking pleasure with his partner.

They were such a good match. He laughed at her jokes, knew how to make her confess her deepest shames, but also her deepest desires. She had no words for their private life in the bed, or against the wall, or any surface really, but did it feel good to be a woman, and a lover, to be able to start something, to handle rejection or to go through with what she had offered to start and relish in the feelings.

For their love shone through their… couplings. He had waited for her, sometimes still did, and never took things too far too fast. He let her set the pace, and his careful behavior was something to praise the heavens for. He sure had not learned that from his father, if her mother’s diaries were any indications of how brutal in his attempts at seduction Tywin had been, which meant he was naturally good.

“What can I say?” He would joke. “When you’re good, you’re… goooood.”

Jaime had come around for supper, as had Arya. The meeting of the two had been brutal, but wildly entertaining.

Later that evening, when the two sisters had been left at the table while the men went to fetch dessert, Arya had casually let it slip that she thought Gendry could be a good stable boy for her racing horses, and Sansa had agreed. When alone with Tyrion, they had laughed and cherished the thought of tough as nails Arya being infatuated with a boy slash man.

Jaime kept on calling Sansa “his sis from when his bro would man up”. Arya had raised an eyebrow at this, and then had whispered something in Gaelic about ancient customs which sort of meant that Tyrion and Sansa were pretty much married in the eyes of the old Gods. This bit had not gotten translated, for Sansa was not sure how she felt about this. She knew how she felt about Tyrion, and nothing would make her regret jumping over that broom with him, but she wanted them to have a life where not everything was dissected and examined. It was hard being in their business and not being harassed, she did not need their families to start doing the same thing.

She had also helped Osha settle in her own place. There was a little shrine to Rickon there, and Sansa sometimes went there to pray. Osha had completely turned the place around, and it now felt like it was inhabited and not just somewhere where someone slept.

She wondered what was taking the stylist so long, until she heard the doorbell, signaling the arrival of another guest. If they were not there for the special on measure collection, Sansa would not need to meet them and be careful about pictures being taken of her. She hoped it was the case. Instead, a woman, who seemed to be of Mediterranean ascent, appeared and sat down in front of her. She was handed the catalogue, and looked through it, but Sansa could feel her eyes on her, making her wish the stylist would come back and they would move this session somewhere else for her privacy.

“You’re Sansa Stark, aren’t you?’ the woman said finally, stopping pretending like she was not watching her, and in her voice there was an accent the Scot could not place.

“I am.” She said, not wishing to engage in any sort of conversation.

It was nothing personal. That very night, she would be honoring her late brother, and she did not feel like socializing.

“Tyrion loves to go down, doesn’t he?” The woman went on.

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?”

When did this sort of thing become an acceptable topic to start any kind of conversation? Even with Brienne and Arya, she would play coy and just say she was satisfied, not giving them all details.

“I’m Shae. You took my place in his bed.”

“I have it under good authority that the spot you refer to belonged to nobody before I “took” it, as you say,” She answered, making sure the robe was tightly wrapped around her figure.

“It’s okay, girl, chill. It’s just that I was there more often than in my own bed.”

Shae. The name rang a bell, and suddenly she remembered the annotation made by Tyrion in his version of the “Maneless Lion”.

So this was the woman who had been in his life before her. According to Tyrion, she had been but a passenger in the night, a companion for short while, someone barely worth remembering. She had also been scheming, and Sansa felt suspicious of her, while at the same time feeling extremely anti-feminist by thinking the worst about the woman who had been with Tyrion before her.

She decided not to grace her with an answer, partly because she did not really trust her brain to not go in full wolf mode over her mate.

“He doesn’t go down on you? Weird, he loves that.”

There was that present tense again. What they did was not of the woman’s business, and even if she as bringing up habits, she should know what was appropriate and what was not.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“I’m simply not dignifying questions who should not be asked with answers,” she said, regally.

“So he does go down on you. Don’t you love those locks, to hold onto while….”

“Will you stop this?”

“Jesus, I did not think Tyrion would exchange me for a prude model. A younger one, I could understand, but prude? Or perhaps you’re a freak in the sheets, behind that façade.”

“That is something for him to know, and for you to ponder.”

Exchange? What were they, barbie dolls? Though this one seemed to have as many brain cells as Barbie Roadkill.

“You can’t blame me for being curious. When he cast me out of his bed, I wondered who had caught his eyes. But now that I hear you, I guess I understand.”

“What, that he wanted someone who knew something about propriety?” Sansa asked with fake smile.

“No, you silly gilrl.”

Girl… I will show you what this girl can do to you and no surgeon will be able to piece you back together…

“I mean, you fit his type.”

And the trollop left it at that.

Of course Sansa wanted to know what she meant by “type”. Did her mate had a type? Was she fitting this “type”? Did she care about this “type”? Did that mean she could be replaced if another model came along, in the same “type”.

Cursed be her head and her insecurities.

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“We both have heavy accent. He has a foreign fetish. Before me, he was with a girl from Turkey. Before that, there was a girl from Texas, who spoke the way cowboys do in Western movies. Before that…”

“I do not need the history of my man’s conquests.”

“Your man…” Shae said, laughing. “You’re too cute. He’s no one’s man. At least, he won’t be, until someone comes around and whips his ass into being monogamous. I thought I was doing progress on that front, he only cheated on me like twice, and to be fair, those were hot Austrian twins.”

Were they talking about the same man?

“But hey, when he tosses you out of his bed, I’ll regain my place and finish the work I started.”

“Not if I have a say about it…”

“You won’t, darling.”

“I am pretty sure I will.”

“Come on, girlie, watch me, and then take a good look at yourself. You’ve got breasts, for sure, but when it comes to ass, you are lacking. You are a prude. Your only appeal is his foreign Fetish. When he fucks you, he must feel like he’s screwing Maergery or someone like that.”

“I do get your point, but then again, I have something you are cruelly missing.”

And she left it at that.

Just for fun and revenge and because she did not feel like kissing ass.

“And what would that be, your majesty,” Shae finally asked, seeming pissed that she got tricked into asking that question.

“A brain. Along with a deeper appreciation of what makes Tyrion Tyrion.”

“The only things that goes deep is his…”

Thankfully, Priya came back and Shae had to shut her filthy mouth before Sansa did it for her.

She was offered to move to another private room, where she went, but not until Shae yelled:

“Your time is running out, little mis prudie. Enjoy it while it last. You’ve only got seconds left before he sees that you’re just as plain boring as those biscuits you were eating.”

Sansa did not turn around, did not grace her with a final look, and just went where she was told.

However, gown, after gown, after gown… The wheels in her mind were spinning. Was this dress too prudish? Should she show more flesh? What would Rickon think? Would Tyrion be proud to be seen by her side? Who the hell did that girl think she was to claim her side of the bed? She had bought the damn bed.

And then she chose a dress, and accessories, and went on with her day. However, there was only one question in the back of her head: was her accent the only thing that turned Tyrion on?

She felt terrible for doubting him, but then again, the woman had enumerated a long list of lovers, and transgressions, such as cheating. Tyrion had to know that the moment he was not faithful would be the moment Jon was coming for his balls. However, as he probably knew it, was it the only thing keeping him from straying?

Cursed be Shae.

Cursed be that tart.

Curse be she, Sansa Stark, and her goddamn insecurities.

Later that night

“I met Shae.”

The words seemed to resonate in the air like the bells at Westminster.

“What did that bitch say?”

“Do not call her a bitch. You used to have her in your bed. Or does that mean I will be a bitch too once the appeal wears off?”

She could not believe the words she was saying, but at the same time, it felt like a wound, needing to expunge itself of everything bad and ugly in it.

“How… How… How can you say that?” Tyrion asked, his hand going to his hair, and she was reminded of the woman’s comment about his locks.

“I do not know. I cannot say. However, I am saying it, and it pains me, and kills me, but what else am I supposed to say?”

“Was she the one to drill in this idea that I have some sort of fetish?”

“Yes. She mentioned a long list of lovers. She also mentioned the fact that she gave you a pass for cheating on her with Austrian Twins.”

“Damn that …. I won’t say bitch because you don’t want to, but you need to give me another word to use….”

“Trollop,” Sansa offered, as she had been caliing the woman such all day long.

“Then damn that trollop. She made it sound like we were monogamous when that happened. She also conveniently forgot to mention the dozens of men who went in her bed when I was not available. But that is not the point.”

“She says that when your interest in my Scottishness fades, you will go back to her.”

“She wishes. I would not go a meter near her even if I was offered a thousand million dollars. Only the promise of a cure for cancer could get me into her vicinity.”

This made Sansa feel terrible. She had almost forgotten Rickon when it had been his night. What kind of sister was she?”

“You’re the perfect kind of sister ever,” he said, and she wondered if she had spoken out loud. “No, I don’t need you to speak to know what is going on inside that beautiful, deep, incredible, mind of yours. I can tell when you are worried you are not being the perfect sister for your siblings.”

“She… I guess, she hurt me.”

“As was her intent, I’m certain. Shae is a witch with a B, and she only wants me because she thinks I will get her career started. We should pair her up with Ramsay fucking Bolton, and have their honeymoon plane fall off the bloody sky.”

Sansa removed her bare legs from underneath the comforter and said:

“She knew… She knew things, about our private life.”

“She knew nothing. At best, she inferred from what she knew from back in the days. I am sorry to say, there aren’t twenty thousand ways to please one’s lover. She knows I have a fondness for taking care of the woman who is offering herself to me, giving me this precious gift of allowing me to touch her, and she ran with the theme.”

“I am not giving you a precious gift.”

“What?” He asked, bedazzled.

“When we are together,”, she said, getting up, coming closer to him, “I am not offering a gift. I am being greedy. I know you will take good care of me, and I know that our love will expresses itself through our… embraces. I am selfish, and I will not say sorry.”

“Nor would I want you to. I enjoy your being greedy. I’m yours, my Lady, for now and for the rest of time. We jumped over a broom, remember? You sang about it the other time in the shower…”

“You heard it,” she whispered, blushing.

“Damn right I did, and I want it tattooed on my chest.”

She had to laugh and said:

“You are being ridiculous.”

“Fools in love.”

“What?”

“Back when we were fake dating, and things were going great, I would have sworn I heard Bronn call us fools in love, and that is what we are. You are it, for me, my Lady. Just say the word, and I’m getting a tattoo on my ass that says “property of Sansa Stark, if lost, please return to the aforementioned artist.” I would.”

“That would be an awfully long tattoo to get done. Also, I worry there may not be enough room, or people would need to read it with a spectacle.”

“Then you know,” he finally said, putting his hand on her knee.

She put her own over his.

“I know.”

And she did. He loved her. He had a past. She had always thought she was fine with that, but being faced with it was another story, especially when said past was so despicable.

“I love you my Lord.”

“And I you, my Lady.”

They stayed silent, and she fought the urge to cry, feeling so much relief after the pain of the day.

She noticed he started petting her knee, and she could not help but feel hot and bothered.

“My Lady likes make-up embraces,” he said, with this naughty tone in his voice she loved so much.

“You know what your lady would like?”

“Tell me.”

“We’re donating the bed in the other room. We’ll order another one online.”

“I like the way you’re thinking,” he said, “though I would have gone with setting it on fire. But I understand you are always mindful of the needy.”

And then he kissed her knee and started his way up, his lips hot against her flesh.

Oh yeah, she thought between two deep breathes as she tried to pace herself, make up sex was the best.

Chapter Text

Sansa checked the time, and then looked at her phone.

She was in Australia, working on “Bonny Sally”, the movie where she costarred with Brienne and Jaime. To say it was intense would have been an understatement of epic proportions.

She felt anxious, missing Tyrion so much… After they had had their fight when Shae had tried to pitch in, they had grown even more attached to the hip, to the point where it had seemed almost unhealthy, but they needed it. When Sansa had needed to jump on a plane next to Brienne to start the production, she had felt like she had left a part of her behind. Not to mention, there was a 14 hours’ time difference between New York and New South Wales, where they were shooting. It meant that it was incredibly hard to find times when they could interact. So far, they had gone with the late option, meaning they would call when it was around 9PM for her and thus 7AM for him, earlier that day. Sometimes she would wait till it was 10PM or even 11PM to let him sleep more, but Tyrion would have none of it. He wanted their 9PM call, so that he could start his day with Sansa in his head, and she could go to sleep having seen his face last before turning in.

As her part was not as important as that of the shining stars, she had been planned to stay for 4 weeks. It was week 3, and she was having withdrawal symptoms.

It was June and thus late spring. She wished she was in New York, for she would have loved nothing more than to see the sun, to walk holding Tyrion’s hand, to go to the park, and go to the Hamptons to do some horse riding with her sister. In Sydney, however, it was slowly turning to winter. It did not mean the weather was terribly cold, just that it could get a bit chilly in the morning. She often hugger her coat around herself wishing Tyrion was there, even if he was doing nothing. His gaze always made her feel like someone had turned up the thermostat. The great news though was that when she’d be back in the US, it would almost be promotion time for the Maneless Lion. They had decided to wait till September to get it in full swing, as people would be on vacation, but there would be some interviews online and stuff like that. TV apparition would come later and then there would be the grand premiere, on Tyrion’s birthday. She had so many plans for that day… There would be the red carpet, where she would proudly stand up by her mand, and stand up for her work. And then there would the private moments, the quiet celebration he wanted no part of and more. The crew was already planning a party for him after the premiere, but she had a few tricks up her bag for when she’d be able to have him all for herself.

She missed him so darn much.

Then her phone biped, indicating it was 9PM, and she happily speed dialed her (husband? Mate? Man?) lover.

“Good evening My Lady,” was his greeting and she could feel herself smile.

“And a Good morn to you My Lord.”

“And a good… What do I say?” She heard Tormund say somewhere.

“You’re at Tormund’s?” She asked Tyrion, who nodded, and she waved on the telephone for her beloved fellow Scot.

“I have a class today with my fearless Gaelic teacher, she wanted to do it early in the morning because it seems she has some things to take care of for your genius brother.”

“Oh I see!”

Since she had been gone, he had been taking twice or even three times the amount of Gaelic lesson as when she had been in their home. He seemed determined to be fluent or close by the time they were reunited. He had once told her, and had looked boyish saying it but lovely nonetheless, that he could not wait for them to have a secret language they could talk to each other in when in interviews or on the red carpet, anywhere around people, without fear of being overheard and their privacy destroyed.

“Which reminds me, Luv, Light of my Life and….”

“Someone’s got something to ask me and they’re worried I might not be super happy about it…” He said in a sing-songy voice.

“One of Maergery’s and Loras’ cousin is getting married. Technically, she is my family too. The Starks were all invited. I hate that they left Jon off the invitation. The thing is, they want to know if I’ll bring a plus one.”

“And you need to ask?”

“You will have to wear a tailcoat and a top hat, according to protocol.”

“Which means I’ll get to live my fantasy of cosplaying Jack the Ripper’s times!” He said chipperly, and Lord, did she want to kiss him.

“I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, babe, it’s like someone took half my soul and ran away with it.”

“Are you calling me a thief?” She asked, trying to keep thing light, because she felt dangerously close to crying.

“Damn right I am. You stole my heart, no matter how cheesy it sounds…”

“It’s so cheesy I could make cake with it,” she heard Tormund reply from wherever he was.

Tyrion said something extremely rude in Gaelic, and Tormund laughed, not offended in the least, saying:

“You’ve got a good teacher, I’ll grant you that. I’ll bring you one my special coffees, on the house, even though you’re a tea man now.”

“I am feeling weirdly proud of your progress in Gaelic, even though I hope you never direct those words toward me.”

“I would never! I had to ask Osha to write down the love register of the tongue down because it felt too awkward having her teach me how to say “your body was created for mine” in Gaelic.”

Which prompted Sansa to snort and laugh, feeling so loved, and bloody free.

“I love you.”

“And I love ….”

“Yeah yeah yeah, everybody loves Tyrion,” Brienne cut in, entering Sansa’s bedroom without knocking. “I’ll get you back your Lady soon enough, but in the meantime, I need some girl on girl time with my gal.”

“Girl on girl… Should I be jealous?” He asked.

“Damn those Lannister men!” Brienne cursed.

Sansa mouthed to him that they would text later, and tried to turn off the call, as Brienne jumped on the bed, making her jump too, and asked:

“Did Jaime had a personality transplant or was the guy nice all this time but chose to hide it from me?”

Sansa saw the startled look on her lover’s face as he heard Brienne’s interrogation, and she winked at him before cutting down the call, a large chunk of her heart feeling like it was being deprived of blood, for their conversation should have lasted so much longer, and she did not want Jaime Lannister to be the man on her thought as she went to bed.

“Whatever do you mean?” She asked her friend, while helping her under the covers.

“I don’t know. Well, I guess I do know, but sill, is it me, or is the guy, like, extremely decent when on set with us?”

Sansa did have noticed that Jaime was turning sort of a new leaf, being charming and funny and delightful, but she had no reason to believe he was not being his usual self. Apart from a couple of occasions before she had started dating his brother for real, he had always been like an eager puppy.

Which reminded her of Rory. She had forgotten to ask how her darling baby was doing, in Tyrion’s care, what sort of terrible mother did that make her? The huski, or wolf, as they referred to her, was growing so fast… She would need to ask Tyrion to send her pictures. He had a strict mission assignment to take at least three pictures a day of their pup. She had no been able to bring her Australia for the dog would have gone to quarantine for some time, and she was not staying long enough for her to put her baby through this miserable time. Even Rory’s British passport could not allow her to skip the quarantine rule.

“Maybe that’s how he has been with you, but with me… It’s different. We don’t talk, we fight.”

“How lovely.”

“Except we don’t.”

“Much lovelier.”

“You’re being a smartass. Do I need to remind you that three days after telling a guy you wanted to be his girlfriend, you both agreed on what your first daughter would be named, even though you had not hit the sack yet?”

Sansa blushed. She had not forgotten that, it was just another thing that made them perfect for each other. They understood what their work entailed, they understood each other on a level no words could or should describe or it would make things less special. And yes, Tyrion had liked her suggestion for a name for a child. However, they were not there, not yet.

She did remember though that her birth control implant would need to be removed and replaced with a new one soon. It had almost run its course, she would need to check when she had gotten put in.

“When we met, Jaime and I, we were like cat and dog. We… I don’t know. It’s complicated. When I did my first movie with him, people realized behind my androgynous features, I was a chick. Jaime sort of always saw it. Sometimes he would call me dude, to piss me off, but he knew that what annoyed me the most would be when he’d call me dudette,” Brienne started explaining.

Sansa knew all of this, but she had a feeling her friend needed to say it for her to process everything.

“Then we did more movies. And then this movie came along, where we’re love interests, and suddenly, he’s charming and more…”

“Are you sure it’s so sudden? I do not doubt that you guys have had a rocky relationship, where you had this way of communicating. Sure, in this movie, you are love interests, but perhaps, his being charming as you say is not a case of a personality transplant, but maybe you’re more aware of how charming he can be, because in part of this movie, where you see this different side of him. You know it is part of his acting range, but when the camera is not rolling, when you would have dismissed his being nice or charming as being a prick for it did not suit the way you usually interacted, now you are aware that, he had it in him, not just when the camera is rolling?”

“If you knew how angry it makes me when you gets things right on the first try. I always have to think and rethink and think again, and then I blow up perfectly wonderful things, such as my life with Tormund, because when I entered this relationship, I never thought about the kind of man he was and his values, and I never realized that to free myself of upcoming pain, I should not let myself get seduced.”

“Nonsense. You learn through pain. You also experienced great love. Are you really telling me that you would exchange one minute you spent with Tormund against being alone, just because it did not work out in the end?”

“I guess not. It’s just…”

“You are conflicted. Jaime is being charming, it is not unusual of him, but it is new to you, and there is a part of you that still thinks about Tormund, not in a “let’s get back together” way, but in a “is it appropriate for me to be noticing that someone is being nice or charming when we have parted ways only three months ago?”

“Damn you for being right.”

“You interrupted my nightly call with my perfect boyfriend, I get to be prickly and on the nose about things.”

Brienne grabbed a pillow, and smashed her with it. Of course, Sansa had no choice but to retaliate. Sure, in the meantime, Brienne could avoid thinking about how charming she thought Jaime was being, but Sansa would not let her forget about it, especially since the two would be staying 6 more weeks than her here.

So they played at being girls, and had a good olf fashioned pillow fight.

“Was that Brienne I heard?” Tormund asked back in New York.

“Yes, she stole my Lady from me. She’ll pay for it,” Tyrion said.

Then he remembered the story and the pain and all that went with it between the blonde actress and his friend.

“Does it… Am I being a dick?” He asked the Scot.

“Nay, you’re not. No more than usual. Bri and I… I was lucky, I will always cherish what we had. I wish I had been man enough to take it, this job of yours, but it just wasn’t me.”

“If it makes any difference in the world, I’m miserable without Sansa.”

“I’m glad you guys found each other… Sans’… Well, she had a story and you know it better than I do, but I used to see a look in her eyes I also saw in the eyes of some women in my willage whose men did not deserve to be called men. I’m glad you have each other, little man.”

“You’re a zen master, me thinks, for being able to let go…”

“It’s not like I have a choice. Also, I want to be able to be there for Brienne, if she ever needs someone to listen to her or to celebrate her achievement with her. Sometimes she needs a shoulder to cry on, and she only let like two people be that shoulder. I really loved her. I thought she was a Selkie, but she was a Morrigan, a battle goddess, who cannot be tamed. I have learnt that women are not horses that ought to be tamed.”

“You’re turning into a philosopher…”

“Well, you gotta find a way to grow up, and to be able to hold up your head high, otherwise you just end your life.”

Tormund went back to his kitchen, preparing for the day. Tyrion supped on his coffee, and thought about his darling. He found himself humming the tune “bring back my bonny to me”, and called himself a fool, but, hey, he was proud to be her fool.

Rory was sleeping next to him, and he petted her absent mindedly. When she whimpered, he said:

“I know, I miss your mistress too. I don’t know what to do with myself without her.”

This seemed to appease the dog who gave him a sympathetic look and went back to sleeping.

Soon enough, he saw Osha appear. She had never been to the coffee shop but he felt like it should be a place she should know, in case she ever wanted to speak Gaelic. Tormund was teaching him some lingo here and there, but he could tell the big man was longing for someone who would understand his native tongue.

“Hello Osha.”

“Master,” she said and he wanted to roll his eyes.

“Tyrion, please. We have had this discussion a thousand times. I am not your master. Sansa is your mistress, and I love that you love her. When we’re together, you’re my teacher and I’m a student, you’ve got the upper hand.”

“If you say so. What is good here?” She asked, wanting to change subject.

She would always argue something about him becoming her master once he married Sansa, and they had reached some sort of unspoken agreement where she did not make that point, for she had spotted the ring once after he had bought it. She knew he wanted to marry her mistress. He just did not know if he would be her master, or if he’d rather remain her student, for she had done some incredible work, according to Tormund and to Bran, who was not one for giving free compliments.

He had been seeing the Stark Snow Greyjoy pack a lot in the absence of his lady, and though they all had a purpose and things to achieve, he knew that when he said “I miss her”, they would never make fun of him, but take care of him. In a weird way, they had coopted him in their pack, and they were there for him, as he was there for them.

“Osha,” he suddenly asked, “what do you think about Selkies?”

“So, you’ve finally discovered I am one?” She joked.

“There’s a Selkie in my shop and you never warned me, little man?” Tormund exclaimed upon coming back to the main room.

He stopped dead in his tracks upon spotting Osha. If Scotland had been personified, she would be it, even more than his lady, and the tall giant knew he was among one of his kind.

What surprised Tyrion was Osha keeping silent. She was not one to be easily impressed, and she hid her shyness with talent.

“So, there’s a Selkie in your shop,” she finally said in Gaelic and Tyrion wanted to sing an Hallelujah when he realized he understood them through their thick accents. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do you have a sea-husband?” Tormund asked, looking hypnotized, and Tyrion clearly felt like the fifth wheel here.

“If I did, what would you do?”

“Kill him, of course.”

“Get me some coffee first, we’ll discuss killing my Selkie-husband when my pupil is not at risk of being considered an accessory to murder by hearing us talk,” Osha said.

And Tormund, gigantic Tormund, indomitable Tormund, Formidable Tormund Giantsbane, bowed his head, kissed her hand and said:

“Right away, my sea-Queen.”

Chapter Text

He watched her cry in the arms of the love of her life’s arms.

Earlier

“I can’t believe it’s your last day on set!” Brienne said, hugging Sansa close to her.

“I cannot believe it either, but alas, while I am filled with joy at the thought of being reunited with my true love, I cannot help but feel sadden by the sheer act of kissing you goodbye.”

Someone had gotten into the 19the century Australian Spirit… Or perhaps it was just about being a Brit…

“I’m so sad, I don’t have it in me to make fun of you and your man. I’m just… envious, I guess. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Nothing Love, you are perfectly normal, from head to toe, and every part in between, your heart and head included.”

“Damn you for being so levelheaded, and bless you for being so… Sansa. I still am making notes that I need to make fun of you about calling Tyrion your true love.”

“But he is!”

Damn right he is… The fuck Brienne?

“I just worry, babe, that you’re in this way too early. You should be having fun, having sex, having whatever…”

“You are projecting. You are feeling guilty about the fact that you can feel your feelings for Tormund firmly move into friend territory, and you know everyone who loves you believe you should be acting out by being crazy and lose, and it scares you because there is that part of you who cannot help but wonder: ‘what if there was more to him than meet the eyes?’”

“I could scratch my eyes out and be done with it.”

“Scratch and make that a double dose of good old-fashioned Victorian Guilt…

“You’re right, I don’t want want you to forego Tyrion for a second if you know he’s the one. Just… I don’t know, secure him in a way?”

“Secure him? He is not an investment or a good move for me to make in my life… And what do you want more? I moved in with him. I took him to Winterfell. I tried to leave a few feel-outs to see how he would consider the idea of moving back there at some point.

So he was a man and had not connected the dots but that was good to know…

“I don’t know. Like, love is too precious. I thought I had it all with Tormund, and then I realized he was one of the loves of my life, but that sometimes you don’t just have one.”

Osha could attest to that…

“Do you intend for me to lock Tyrion down in some ways? Get pregnant and pretend it was an accident?”

“Why do you only look oppose to the ethical side of this thing? You don’t look like you’re feeling too young to be a mom.”

“I have been a mum, for almost a decade now. Never my own, but still mine. However, that is not the point…”

“I’d love to know the point..” Tyrion finally said as he walked into the trailer where the two girls were talking.

“My lord!” Sansa exclaimed upon seeing him.

“Are you kidding me?” Was Brienne’s response to his apparition.

He could not blame her. He was so cheesy, you could make cheesecake out of him. He had actually flew over to greet Sansa on her very last day before she left the set, because he had a few surprise in store for her.

Sansa all but flew to him, and he moaned in her arms, then against her mouth. Home was not where the heart was, home was where She was.

“My Lady,” he whispered against her lips, when they parted and rested their foreheads against one another.

“What the fuck?” Jaime exclaimed, popping out out of nowhere. “Bro, I thought you were joking about needing to see my sissy in law asap.”

Tyrion reluctantly let go of his lover’s embrace to shake his brother’s hand. He did not expect to be pull in for a quick but intense hug, but went with it.

“What can I say? I’m a sap. Sup Brienne?”

The woman was weirdly silent and Tyrion was reminded of the short piece of convo he had overheard the week before between Sansa and the blonde. He noticed the way she seemed to be appraising his brother, as if trying to decide if he was being genuine toward him, if he was someone worth her interest.

From what Sansa had told him, Brienne had been surprised but had been surprising ly gracious upon learning about Tormund and Osha’s … coupling, for lack of a better word. One day the Scot was joining him for coffee at Tormund’s, the next he was getting his lesson while some construction workers were doing some reconstruction work in said coffee to accommodate for a bigger kitchen, as Osha was moving in every aspect’s of Tormund’s life, and they needed a bigger kitchen to accommodate the two cooks who would be running the show, in addition to living together. They were getting married in two weeks, and Tyrion and Bran were already making bet about when the first Osha-Giantsbane baby would be born. Whatever was Osha’s last name by the way?

Tyrion was just kidding of course, for he knew. He had seen it in his own eyes, and it had reminded him not of what had happened that first time he had been introduced to Sansa amongst their agents, but their first night at the Met Gala. Right then, he should have gotten down on one knee, and not give her a ring, but proclaim that he would be making her fall for him by any mean necessary, for he had known then she was it for him. Okay, that was a lie, he had not known it, but he knew it now, and in hindsight, the connection he had felt back then, it was foreshadowing. Tormund had been much smarter than he had been and had just surrendered to Osha, to the love she elicited in him, never questioning if he was allowed or entitled to any such feeling. He had jumped in like you would in a pool, except Tormund was signing up for an eternity of bickering with a woman who could outcurse him in Gaelic, probably kill him ten ways after getting out of bed, and who did not care about who was around when she felt like jumping his bones.

To say the Tormund-Osha love story was going well was clearly the understatement of the bloody year. Even Brienne seemed to see it, which caused her endless issues since she did not seem to keen on looking at his brother as an eligible bachelor. However, she had been gracious enough to call her ex-lover and congratulate him. She would not be attending the wedding but as Tormund would say, it was just a piece of paper. The two Scots intended to get married in Winterfell as soon as they got an opportunity to go back there, and do one of their pagan rituals.

“How are Tormund and Osha?” The blonde actress asked.

“They’re… oh boy. Did I do something bad when I made it happen?” He asked, voicing out a question that had been apparently plaguing him even though he had not been able to say it out loud.

“Of course not. I love Osha. I love Tormund. I am not the one for him anymore, but I can see that Osha is. She deserves love in her life, and Tormund is just an endless pit of love, where she can dig and receive more than one deserves for a lifetime or two. They’re a match made in heaven. I will attend the Winterfell ceremony, and I will have fun then. Which reminds me, Sansa said you’re going to Desmera’s daughter’s, Elinor, wedding? I would pay good money to see that!”

He pretended to be offended but did not care. When Jaime threw him a look, he explained:

“I did tell you that Sansa has some royal blood…”

“Wait… Desmera… As in Desmera Redwyne, the daughter of Queen Olenna? Meaning you’re going to Elinor Rediwyne’s wedding?” Jaime asked.

“How come you know her? I had to google her after I told my lover I would be her plus one…”

“Let’s just say about ten years ago or so, Elinor dated one Hollywood guy, and then another, and another. She went through them like Kleenex.”

 “Were you one of those Hollywood guys?” Brienne asked, looking jealous as hell.

“No! I was not. But wait, we’re talking about the same Desmera and Elinor?”

“Also, can we keep a lid on this aspect of my life? Elinor is Maergery’s and Loras’ cousin from their father’s, but to me, she is a four-times removed cousin. I do not need the world to know about those connections,” Sansa asked.

“Come on, Sissy, you need to be straight with me,” Jaime went on, in hushed tone. “How royal are you?”

She seemed to wonder and gave him a look, but Tyrion just knew she could trust his brother.

“I am a several degrees removed cousin from the British royal family. I just… also happen to be Queen Olenna’s granddaughter.”

You could have knocked Jaime over with a feather.

“I come from a house who could have ended on the throne if things had turned out differently, but we never wanted it for ourselves,” she said, as if it would lessen the shock for the actor.

“Deal with it, brother dearest, my lady is a Queen un more ways than one.”

“A Queen who would like it very much if we did not mention the raunchy past of her far-removed cousin.”

“Of course, my Lady.”

“Dude, you look like you just got sunstroke, follow me,” Brienne told the actor before pulling him aside to force him to have some water.

“Not that I am complaining, My Lord, but what are you doing here?” Sansa asked, before peppering his face with kisses.

“I wanted to surprise you, and surprise you again. You were supposed to be coming back later on today, right?”

“Yes, I shot my parts and the director cleared me to go back home, to you.”

“Then, how about you trust me?”

He was gambling here, but they did say that the winner took it all. They sadly said nothing about losers.

“Then I’m yours to surprise!” She exclaimed, before whispering on his ear: “however, if your surprise can wait let’s say a couple of hours, I think you should definitely come back to my place and erm…. See the decoration of my bedroom.”

“You’re just using me for my sexy bod’,” he joked, and when she gave him that look, he forgot about. EVERY. THING

--

Their reunion was celebrated as it deserved, and boy had it been a hardship to leave her bed. She was a she-wolf, and he would always serve her every need, thus it had been counterintuitive to have to curb her enthusiasm to let her let him surprise her. She packed her few belongings and agreed to put on a cask with music along with some tainted sunglasses as he drove them to an airport.

She never questioned where they were going, but he was glad they were flying on a private line, for someone briefly visually impaired as well as when it came to be able to listen, she did manage to undo his zipper on the plane at a moment where she seemed to know they were alone and bring him to climax twice, without asking for reward. It was all but something that would take place later, to be continued, as they said, for he had so many plans for her.

They stopped at a small airport, and he guided her toward a place. When they had entered, he removed her apparel, and she all but molested him.

“Someone is very happy to see me,” he joked, “almost as happy as I am to see you. But please, my love, before we go back to that conversation about you having a mum for along time though not of your children, tell me what you think of my surprise?”

She smiled, and blushed, and that would be a conversation he looked forward to having, but there were things he had put in motions. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep look, before entering the property. They had left New South Wales and were now in Queensland, some distance away from Brisbane, in the house he had bought on a whim and that Varys had kept for him even when he had thought that those goddamn Australian spiders were just too big for a guy like him.

“Is this… The place you mentioned when I discovered about the Rickon fund?” She asked, looking around.

“It is…. I figured… We deserve some vacation time where we don’t have to worry about our families, our jobs, the paps and all that. We can also do without having to deal with Arya or Bran, no matter how much we love them. There is a huge pool in the back and I got you a bathing suit… I also got lots and lots of sunscreen for your perfect complexion, my love,” he said kissing her bared shoulder.

She laughed and kissed him, before asking him to give her a tour of the property. Phase one of the surprise, achieved.

He took his time and showed her the pool, impatient to see her swim in it. She would be so lovely, and carefree, and he would be a dutiful sunscreen applier. He might even join her, granted spiders stayed away. He showed her the bedroom and his lady had a way of saying the dirtiest thing in the most polite way, he had to remind himself of his second surprise in order to keep his arousal in check.

He shower her everything, and even though she had to be dead on her feet, she followed, ooed and aaed and was just genuinely happy about his idea to escape, to reconnect.

Finally, he lef her to the living room and said:

“I’ve got another surprise for you, baby girl.”

“I’m ready for it,” she promised with a smile.

Lord, he hoped he had not messed up, he thought, before pushing the door open and revealing his “surprise”.

She froze next to him, and he was sure had fucked up.

Until she said:

“Talisa? Lil’ Robb?”

“Hey Auntie Sansa.”

She ran to her sister in law, before crying with happiness against her beloved nephew’s soft brown curls.

Damn, he was good at surprise, he thought, before he was invited to join them. He had a thought for a man he never knew, Robb Stark, and thought that even if he had to die to make sure it happened, he would make it his life duty to make sure that the women he had loved and the son he had never knew would always be taken care of.

“Don’t cry, auntie,” the little boy said, wiping her tears.

“Yeah, don’t cry, Auntie,” Talisa chimed in.

“I’m just… so happy!” She said, before giving such a wide smile he thought his heart would explode.

Damn, he needed to get that ring on her finger, stat. She was it for him, she just was.

Chapter Text

She tossed the toddler in the air and relished in his giggles before catching him in her arms.

“Again!” Lil’ Robb said, and she obliged.

He could have asked her for the moon, and she would have found a way to deliver it to him, in a neat package.

How she had missed him and his mother. Those weekly-ish chats did not hold a candle newt to the real thing. She had watched him grow through the lens of a camera, but she had never actually see it or him. She had never witnessed hos his skin was kissed by the sun, and how dark his curls were.

She looked over the pool and exchanged a smile with Tyrion, who was chatting with Talisa. She mouthed the words “I love you”, and he replied the same way. IT was such a pity those words where all she had to convey how she felt about him. He deserved a poem or a song, or a three thousand verses long ode.

This man was just full of surprise, and she did not know why she still was taken aback by his ability to surprise her. He had flown over to the land down under to be with her quicker when he was sure she would be free of her commitment. In the meantime, he had managed to gather her sister-in-law and her precious nephew, even though they lived in Alice Springs, and had gotten them to be there to meet her in Queensland.

Talisa looked well, though she still sported this sad expression that had never left her face since the funeral. There was a selfish part in Sansa which sort of enjoyed knowing it meant the woman was still mourning her brother, but she was entitled to having a life of her own, and the actress hated herself for those kinds of considerations.

“Mama,” the boy said, as if to echo her thoughts, and Sansa agreed, holding him tight in her arms as she got them out of the pool.

Once she put him on the ground, he ran to his mother who was waiting with a towel to dry him off. Of course, her Lord had set out one for her as well, which she took and wrapped herself in.

Talisa and Robb had arrived the day before, as they had, and they would be staying until the next day, leaving early morning. They had barely gotten any time to talk as they had arrived so late last night. They had hugged and greeted each other, had swallowed a quick supper of … whatever, and then had headed up to bed.

There, Sansa had kissed her man, and thanked him, again and again, for those precious gifts. She had missed him so much, and seeing that it was reciprocal only made it sweeter to be reunited. She had fallen asleep in his arms, with so much to say, but so little energy to go on, she had trusted he would know how to read her. Furthermore, he had to be exhausted, with the fourteen hours-time difference and jet lag, so she had sort of assumed he had followed her into slumber soon enough.

That morning, when she had woken up and had realized she had not dreamed it all, it had brought her to tears once again, which he had wiped away, saying that he would never gift her with anything again if she reciprocated in sadness. She knew he was only jesting and trying to lift the mood, but what he had done, he was seeing what it meant, but he probably did not understand how big a deal it really was. She remembered, back at the championship, when they had discussed the fact that she was “letting Talisa” live her life, in his own words, and how extraordinary that was. It really was not, if you asked her, but the pain and the joy, all mixed together, well it was something else. He had given her something priceless: some precious time with people she had missed so direly.

“Are you married?” Lil Robb asked, and she loved his posh accent.

He rolled his R’s and had a definite British accent. It was almost like interacting with her brother when he had been alive and younger.

“Do you think we are married?” She asked the boy.

“Well, you keep on kissing, and mommy says kissing make babies happen, but you have to be married. My momma was not married to my father but then she was… I do not understand how they had me.”

When Robb had passed, the Starks had offered Talisa to back her in a claim with a church and the state to be recognized as Robb’s wife, married posthumously as it were, for he had shown clear signs this was what he had wanted. This had allowed Lil’ Robb to be considered legitimate, not that the family really cared about that. They had only wanted to protect Talisa by giving her the protection of their names, and her share of whatever Robb had in his name.

“You were a miracle,” Talisa whispered loudly in her son’s ear.

“Do you have babies?” The boy went on asking.

“Believe me, if we had them, we would have brought them along.”

“I cannot believe you left your dog with Bran,” Talisa said, mentioning the arrangement Tyrion had reached with the younger boy in order to be able to come here.

“I am terribly afraid that when we’ll come back, our precious pup will be too well versed in Kant versus Hegel versus whoever,” Tyrion joked, and Sansa just cuddled up closed to him.

He checked to make sure the sunscreen he had applied in their bedroom, away from innocent eyes, was still on her skin, and she pecked his lips.

“See? Always kissing!” The toddler exclaimed.

They all laughed but the boy was full of questions and not ready to let the subject go.

“When you have babies, will they be like you?” He asked them, but his eyes were on the actor.

“Truth be told,” Sansa said, “I never thought about it. I have thought about many things but not that. We do not know what made Tyrion a little different, but I do not think I care or fear it. If our children were to be like you, love, it would not change a thing for me.

“For me either. I’ve learned to live with my “specialness”, and well, if you don’t mind it, then I don’t mind it.”

They had never discussed it, but then again they had never sat down and had a real chat about having children, so it was normal for the subject to be something they had not breached.

He whispered in her ear:

“If we were, at some point, to have kids, we would need to revisit the topic. As an achondroplasia bearer, I have a 50% chance to pass it on to each child.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but to me, as long as our baby is healthy, then I’m okay with everything.”

Talisa was keeping Robb busy by putting some sunscreen on his pale skin, making him so obviously a Stark child.

He went to play with some of his toys, and the adults were left alone for a little while.

“You guys, you make me happy,” Talisa finally said.

“Thank you so much for having agreed to come to see us!” Tyrion said.

“Thank you for inviting us.”

“How are you, Tal’?” Sansa asked.

“I am okay. I am good. I… I don’t want to say something I may end up having to rescind, but Robb is turning four soon, and he has a great kindergarten here, but I was thinking that perhaps, we could go back to England before he starts grammar school.”

Sansa held her breath, not wanting to pressure the woman in any way, but feeling incredibly hopeful at the thought that she could be able to see both her sister-in-law and her nephew more often.  

“Anyway, that’s where I’m at. I’ll obviously let you know if I decide to go through with this or not. But I really wanted to say, you guys make me dream.”

“Whatever do you mean?” The actress finally asked.

“I’ve been buying every tabloid with your names on it for months now. Sure, I get my info from you, on the rare occasions where you allowed me to ask how you were instead of having you focus on we are doing, but yeah, I’m watching you in the magazines, I’m trolling on some forums when people call you a bad couple. I’m rooting for you. I cannot wait to be asked to come back to England to witness your union…”

Sansa wanted to say something along the lines of “hold your horses, he has not proposed”, but he beat her to the punch and asked:

“I have no problem with that, but how come you are certain we’ll get married in England?”

“Pu-lease,” Talisa said mockingly,” you’ll tie the knot in Winterfell. If you don’t, you have one godmother who will switch the fairy epithet for pissed off, and you’ll have a mess on your hands…. Unless you want to ask permission to get married in Westminster or Saint Paul…”

Sansa had to laugh at the thought. Then realized he had not said anything about holding her horses. Was… Had he… Sure, they had jumped over a broom, but…

“Will I be meeting said godmother at your cousin’s wedding?” He asked her.

“I think so, unless she decides to punish Elinor for some reason and does not attend.”

“I know it’s petty, but when you are at the ceremony, manage to say something to Elinor about the fact that I got married before she did,” Talisa asked.

“I will, but why?” Tyrion asked, with a suspicious expression.

“Oh, Sansa, did you forget to mention it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I was Queen Olenna’s lady in waiting when I met Robb. I have met Elinor several time in the past, she would always call me a commoner and other things, would rub in my face that no man would want a woman like me in their life. But hey, I did and I had.”

“Why would she say that?”

“We’re cousins.”

“Jesus Effin’ Christ… Another royal? We can’t tell Jaime, or Brienne will have to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation”, he told his lover, before adding “wait a minute, if it helps my brother, maybe we should tell him…”

“They are going to be kissing this week anyway, that is one of the many reasons why Brienne did not want me to leave. She dreads crossing that line, even if it is just for the cameras.”

“Oh, Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth? These two are hooking up? That is a dream come true!”

“It would be my brother’s dream coming true. I’m not too sure where Brienne is at, on this particular front.”

“She’s tempted, very tempted, and feel awful about moving on from Tormund so quickly. Then again, you did her a favor by introducing Tormund and Osha, it alleviates her guilt.”

“Wait, Tormund, Gigantic Tormund, and badarse Osha are hooking up too? Is there something in the air around you? It has to be your fault, all the pheromones you must be dropping everywhere you go.”

“You caught us, we’re love gods and we’re intent on making everyone fully happy and in love.”

“To think this Theon’s plot worked so well…”

“How did you…” Sansa started asking.

“When news broke of the two of you at the Met, I figured it was Theon being an agent, and having convinced you. I have no idea why you agreed, though, Tyrion, but you were right to do so, if you have any common sense. Look at this lovely lady on your arm.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I have to pinch myself several times a day when I realize she’s mine.”

“Which means I have to kiss the ache away just as often…” Sansa joked.

Talisa laughed, pretending to be disgusted, and Tyrion and Sansa exchanged another quick peck.

This went on for a while, then she got up, saying she needed to put Robb down for a nap, as the jet lag was not good for him.

“Can I come and help?”

“Want to get some lessons before you get one of your own?” Talisa joked. “Of course, you’re always welcome.”

Sansa was about to follow her when Tyrion grabbed her hand and said:

“I think we really need to get married, if only to get your whole family to see your precious nephew.”

“Of course. If we were to exchange vows, it would be for the sake of my family.”

“What can I say, your selflessness has left traces on me,” he joked, before adding: “ though in all fairness, if you don’t see this going forth much longer, tell me know, because I am shipping us too, and I can’t wait till I get to ask the question.”

“Pop away, my Lord, pop away. I would never dare turn you down,” she answered, feeling like a thousand butterflies had burst into her stomach at the thought.

“I’ll catch you unaware, if I can wait this long.”

“Consider me unaware. What were we talking about again?”

He grabbed her neck and kissed her, in a way that told her all she needed to know and more.

She went to join Talisa, biting her bottom lip, wondering if it had been lovely banter or if he was being serious. How she hoped he was…

But now was time for “lessons” as Talisa called them, on how to take care of their future children.

Chapter Text

Tyrion watched as Sansa swam in the pool. If he did not know better, he would think she was a Selkie, happy to be reunited with her element.

Maybe she was a Selkie… And he would be her Selkie husband. Curse be the human man who would try to take his wife from him.

“What are you thinking about my Lord?” She interrupted his train of thoughts, coming out of the pool.

He readied the towels and wrapped them around her. Sure it was hot as hell here, and she really needed sunscreen every two hours tops, but still, he wanted to protect her, anyway he could, anyway she’d let him.

“Are you a Selkie?” He playfully asked.

“Alas, I am not. I have too many brothers. Selkie women usually are single children or have a sister but that is it. Why, am I growing gills?” She asked with a glint in her eyes.

“Let me check,” he said, before planting kisses behind her ears. “Nope, you’re good. You’re perfect, really.”

“Right back at you.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“I am not being nice!” She exclaimed, pretending to be outraged, punching his knee, though her touch was much lighter than the impression it would have given someone watching. “I believe you to be perfect, or at the very least, perfect for me.”

“What a glorious coincidence, I happen to think that you are perfect for me too. And you’re perfect period.”

“You silly man…”

Her tone was contradicted by the kiss she planted on his lips, and he put his hand in her wet hair, grabbing on to her.

“I’ve missed you so much when we were apart,” he told her between two kisses.

They had said their goodbyes that very morning to Talisa and Robb and were now enjoying their private time on his estate.

“I missed you too, more than I ever thought one could miss someone who was still breathing.”

They rested their forehead against one another, and he ran his fingers in her hair.

Pretending to readjust the towel around her shoulders, he managed to make one of her bikini top strap slid down her arm. She made to put it back in place, but he surprised her with another kiss, and while she was distracted, responding to his unspoken declaration, he removed the other one.

“Oi, My Lady, it seems your top is only holding by the tip of your previous bosoms. Let me remedy to that,” he said when they parted.

Except that he did not help her put anything back on. Instead, he pushed the bra down and praised whatever deity was up there or not for allowing him to have the right to touch such a beautiful woman.

Her nipples were hard, and her breathing heavy. There was a light in her eyes, though her lids were partially closed, and he put his mouth on top of her chest. Very carefully, and as slowly as he could, he moved down until his lips closed around one of the engorged tips.

She moaned, and he felt his swim pants tighten around him.

She started playing with his hair, and he sucked, licked, bit, one nipple then the other. His hand would caress the one he was not focusing on, making sure none felt deprived of his attention.

“Tyrion,” she moaned, and he wanted her, here and there.

However, he did not get a chance as she forcefully but gently pushed him back on the long chair and started trailing her mouth along his chest. She inflicted the same torture on his nipples, and he just felt himself melt under her gaze, in her embrace, in her arms. There were no other places he’d rather be.

She kissed his belly button, and her eyes searched for his. They met and he let her know that he was hers, always and forever. She licked her lips and started peppering kisses along the trail of hair that led to his groin, before pushing his pants away, and swiftly taking the tip of his dick in her perfect mouth.

He could have died then and there, but he didn’t, because he wanted it all.

She ran her hands along his length as her perfect lips stayed wrapped around the tip of his cock. She hummed lightly, and the vibrations made his grab onto the summer chair.

She shrugged off the towel and removed quickly her bra, without letting go of him. When she knew hew as ready for more, she started taking him into her mouth a little more, and more at a time. Her eyes would often search for his, but he was in Heaven and his had rolled in the back of his head.

She played with her breast, making sure her nipples brushed against his stomach and then his cock, before taking him as far as she could in her mouth. What she could not take, she wrapped her hands around and played him like an instrument.

It was his turn to moan her name, and he saw a Cheshire cat grin grace her feature. God how he loved how free she felt, and how proud she was of her own sensuality when she took charge.

His hand searched for her bottom, and slipped under the bathing suit, rubbing her folds and looking for her clit.

She all but howled, and he had to bite back a “she-wolf” comment. She climbed on his long chair, and pushed her pants away, before impaling herself on his shaft.

They both groaned in unison, and his mouth went to her breasts, torturing them as she imprinted the rhythm of their coupling, alternating between quick moves and deliciously slow ones. Her hands were behind his back, as if gripping for dear life, afraid someone would come and stole him from her.

She started moving with more haste, and he stopped thinking, lost in the maelstrom of sensations. She rode him and when she felt he was about to let go, she pinched her nipple, prompting him to take it in his mouth, and that was when she brought them to climax.

Out of breath, but pink with contentment, she rolled on the side, cuddling next to him.

He tried to come up with words, but he was speechless, and wanted to sleep to be honest. It was her voice which kept him from doing so.

“I need to see an OBGYN, to have my contraceptive implant removed.”

“Not the kind of pillow talk I was expecting, but I can read between the lines. Do you want to get another one?”

“Do you?”

“Not my body, love, hence not my decision.”

“You would be the one having to put on condoms if I forewent contraception.”

“Unless….”

“Unless…” She repeated.

And that was it. The talk. The big talk. The “Should we have children talk”.

“Nature knows best,” she said as if to justify her decision, which he did not need her to in the least.

“Besides, we already have one pup, and Rory deserves someone to play with.”

Sansa laughed against his chest.

He managed to grab the towel, and put it back on her shoulders, too tired to reapply sunscreen, but not wanting her to burn in this heat.

“I still want to play with the media though. Perhaps play is not the right word, but on the 25^th of July, when we have the “Maneless Lion” Premiere, I would like not to give the press what they want.

“I think I can get behind that. Besides, they would only pepper us about questions about things that are none of their business….”

“Furthermore, during promotion, I would like to claim my inheritance, if you will, and say I am Cat Tully’s daughter, as well as Eddard Stark’s.”

“Totally fine by me. Though I feel the need to say that since on the 1^st of august we are attending your cousin so many times removed’s wedding, the press will have pictures of us.”

“Let them have it. They can write whatever they want. We know what is true.”

“Agreed.”

“You do know that you can tell me to stop being so self-centered, right?”

“I’ll say it when it’s warranted.”

She kissed his lips, and he never wanted for things to end.

They had a wonderful half week, just the two of them, shagging, making love, cooking, laughing, chasing spiders and more. They went to see koalas, and those buggers stank like mad, but if Sansa had wanted one, they would have brought one back in their baggages.

When they regained their place, after getting back ap perhaps traumatized Rory from Bran, they crashed on the couch, tired, but happy. The following week, they would be doing some written interviews, and those were the last moments of their vacation time.

One evening, Tyrion felt like this was the moment, the right time, and he made them dinner. They dressed up and played Lord and Lady, had wine and just were happy. He had the ring in his pocket, and no idea how to present it to his lover, but he knew what he wanted to say, or convey at the very least. They flirted, and implied wishes for their future. They ate their food but also fed the other. It was cheesy. It was perfect. It was everything he knew a lifetime with Sansa would be, not the cheesy part, but the perfect bit. She made him feel like he was seven feet tall and did not have to worry about anybody. He wanted to tell her about the script he had started writing, describing the story of a Scottish maiden in the 18th century, losely inspired from taled he had hear in Winterfell, and stories she had told him about her family. He longed for her approval over his use of this subject, and he wanted to know what she thought of it. It was far from perfect, but in a near future, he hoped to make it into a script, perhaps with Laora's help, and then he was considering directing it, with is love of course, as the lead.

People said it was unealthy to have no life but the one you shared with the person you loved, but he happened to think they had lives outside of each other, which was why finding ways to make their life intersect were opportunities to be treated as gifts. He loved her. He cherished her. And If she would let him, he would be her husband, the father of her children, and would support her whenever she needed, knowing full well she would do the same.

And since life was a bitch, it was not surprise when their landline rang, just as he was about to pull out the box. It was Theon calling as they were not answering their cells. He was urging them to turn on the TV and they did.

What they saw killed the mood. Sansa was still as ice, and scared as hell.

“You see,” Ramsay was saying on TV, “Sansa and I have an arrangement. She can indulge in her dwarf fetish, but when she’s done with the Imp, we’re getting married and she will retire from the public scene to take care of our children.”

“Son of a bitch.” Tyrion roared.

In that instant, he thought only about the proposal which was being butchered by the prick. He had no idea what was going to happen next.

Chapter Text

Sansa and Tyrion, wait what?

Article by Random person 1 and Random person 2

Everybody loves Sansa and Tyrion. They never came out as a couple, but we still love them, and believe they love each other. No, we’re not romantics, we’re jaded, as jaded as they come, we write in an industry where we feed off people falling in love or lust and breaking up. We get paid when we write the most sensational trash one can read, when we come up with the most effective headline, the one that will get even people who have only disgust for our paper to buy one issue, praying non one they know will spot them doing so. We are aware of how sordid our business is and we do it anyway.

Therefore, when we say, we love Sansa and Tyrion, we mean it. We have the receipts to back it. When we say we believe they are in love or will be if we let them explore their feelings. Imagine our surprise when Sansa’s notorious ex, Ramsay Bolton, made some serious claims last night about the girl being with the actor just to see if what people said about Tyrion Lannister being a riot in the sack was true. Our first thought was: “how dare he?” and, much to our disgust and disdain, the next one was “what if he is right?”.

So here were are. Befuddled. Bewildered. And Confused. What are we supposed to think? Is Sansa such a bitch? Are we suck dicks to believe she could be such? We need help, a stolen picture emerging showing us the two lovebirds we believe in happy and in love. We need something. We need them to come out, strong and together, denouncing the man.

Bolton is a charmer, for sure, but he is also a cad, changes girlfriend more often than he changes shirt, and we’re being nice talking about girlfriends, we could be a lot crasser. Our point is, what do we make of this?

 In the unlikely event that either Sansa or Tyrion are reading, we need you to keep us calm, babes, or we won’t be able to do it on our own.

Faithfully, your unwilling yet fully engaged shippers.

We knew it!

Article by Whocares12 and Tyrionfan#one

Ramsay Bolton said it, and made something clear we had figured out ages ago: Sansa and Tyrion are not the love story people are feeding you.

It was such a nice gift, too nice to be true. We could tell we were being lied to.

Sansa has fetishes, like we all do, except she’s been taking advantage of poor darling Tyrion Lannister. As if the man didn’t have to deal with enough discrimination in his everyday life. That maneater had the nerve to play with our beloved genius, making him believe she saw past his dwarfism when it was the thing that attracted her to him in the first place. Shame on you, Sansa, Shame on you. we will not be going to any of your movies anymore except for the one you’re featured in with Tyrion, but our money goes to him, in full, and not a cent to you.

“What a pitiful job at an article that is,” Tyrion said, in Varys’ office, pushing the tabloid aside. “Do these twats even read the whole thing again themselves before pressing “publish” or however those blogs are made? In their pitiful attempt at rescuing my injured heart or something, they managed to mention my achondroplasia more than I would if I was doing an interview about it to raise awareness about it. Hell, they are the one with a fetish. You do get the sense that I could be a dancing monkey, as long as I’m doing it and still am an achond, they’d pay to cheer and be there. Besides, people who have a clue know that achonds have the more fun….”

“Please spare me the details of you and Lady Stark’s sex life,” his agent said, sounding bored as hell, as he always did.

“I like the way you refer to her as Lady Stark. You should have seen her at Winterfell. Then again, I don’t think I would want you at Winterfell… Though, if we move there permanently, I will have to get used to the picture.”

“What is this nonsense about you moving wherever?”

“You’ll see when it happens, if it happens. I just happen to believe part of my life may be waiting to happen in Great Britain.”

“Lord, had I known what I had signed up for when I matched you with the Stark girl…” his agent muttered.

“You don’t get to complain, you brought it upon yourself when you had the amazing instinct to pair us up for a photo op, though I do wonder now if we would have found our way to one another without you….”

“You are so bored, aren’t you,” hi agent finally said.

He was. Oh, he so was. Sansa was staying at Brienne’s place, waiting to weather this storm. What Ramsay had said… Tyrion had paid it no heed, for it warranted none. However, it had ignited something in his lady, and she had insisted on them needing to be apart for a time. It had seemed a bit redundant, as they had been parted when she had been in Australia, but boy, he was a sucker for that broad. She could ask him for the moon and the stars, and he would spend the rest of his nights trying to gather every little fuckers out there in space.

He hated what Ramsay had said, and if it had been the 19^th century, he would have challenged the man to a duel, mano a mano, to clean his lady’s reputation. She wanted none of that. Ramsay was a thorn in her side, a big one, and it seemed like she needed time to ponder whether or not she would tackle it or him on now.

Tyrion would facetime and skype with Sansa as often as possible, hating the thought that they could not be seen anywhere near one another, while she pondered her options, for she did not want the media to spin what they had in a worse light than they already were. Tyrion had a feeling Ramsay was paying several tabloids to publish several pieces a day to make sure it remained fresh and on the front of anyone considering his relationship with Sansa.

To think the bastard had declared on national television that Sansa would carry his evil spawn and give up her career for him… He so did not know the woman he had held hostage at a point in his life. It made Tyrion mad, or madder.

Sansa was staying in Brienne’s empty flat, because she knew that if she stayed at Theon’s, who would have been a great help though, she would risk seeing her siblings, all of whom were quite pissed off about this whole business. They wanted to protect their alpha, but she was not letting them have a role. Tyrion knew it too well, for he was on speed dial it seemed, on her every brothers’ or sister’s phone. None of them understood why their sister was hiding from them, and Tyrion was not divulging where she was. He knew too well why she felt like she needed to protect them when truth be told, she needed to let them in so that they could show their teeth and take a bite of Ramsay, each of them, then some more.

“Jon, no need to threaten bodily harm on poor lil’ old me. You want me to be faithful to your sister, and to respect her choices, don’t you?”

The man of course had said nothing, because agreeing with Tyrion would have been taking it a step too far.

“You can text your sister and she will answer. Just give her time.”

Then Jon had hung up. Tyrion could have been annoyed or pissed at his manners, but truth be told, he understood him. He was nowhere near as broody and dark, but he felt it, this urge to help her, this frustration at being denied to help, this need to be there, this feeling that even when she said that he was being perfect, he felt like he was doing a less than stellar job. He got their frustrations. He could even relate to Bran’s particular brand of self-doubts. The boy who was a man yet was also a boy could not help but also wonder if his handicap impacted the way his sister trusted him or if she felt like she still needed to protect him more, or if she thought he was not up to avenging her because of his disadvantage, compared to the other people in her life.

Tyrion was basically running a hotline called “have you seen Sansa? I’m worried. Why aren’t you telling where she is? You dickhead! – Ring – Tyrion, it’s me again, any news from Sansa?”. This was honestly basically the script of every discussion he had every time one of her siblings called him. He liked that they came to him, he disliked the fact that he could not let them know, help them understand, but no matter how tall or small he was, the one thing he could do was to abide his mistress’ wishes to a t. She needed time? Granted. She needed space? See previous answer.

Still….

He felt his face lit up when he saw her face appear on his phone. She was requesting some video chat time, and that was just what the doctor had ordered.

“My lady!” He exclaimed, upon picking up and aiming the camera at his face.

(No, he had not checked his allure in the camera beforehand, no sir, surely not, that would not have been manly)

“My Lord,” she said, and she both sounded and looked exhausted. He wanted to hold out his arms so that she could just burrow in the crook, where she never failed to fall asleep when they were watching telly.

“I wished you got some sleep,” he said, finding herself caressing her cheek on his phone, as if she was in front of him.

“I cannot sleep when we are parted,” she said and there was that ache in his bones again, to run to where she was and just lull her to sleep, look over his mate while she recuperated. “I think our trial may be coming to an end, but in doing so, I may just be starting a new one.”

“Whatever you think is necessary will feel necessary to me. Just tell me.”

“I found a paper, well, Theon did. It’s national, and they agreed to print an op-ed I wrote, but I would like your okay before I send it. Would you read it? I know it is absolutely not perfect, but still, it is my best on this topic.”

“Of course my lady.”

And thus, way too early to his taste, they hung up, and he went looking for a computer so that he could read the email she told him she had sent on their private email address for their private convos.

He opened the document and read:

They said you needed to kiss many frogs to find a prince. They forgot to mention some frogs are poisonous.

An op-ed written by Sansa Stark.

Once upon a time… Nay, scratch that, this is not a fairy tale I am about to tell, if I get over my nerves. Let’s start again.

Once, when I was a girl, my godmother told me that any frog could hid a prince, and thus, as many girls would have done given such information, I pondered whether to start kissing every batrachian coming my way, or if I should wait for my prince to come when he was ready. I wondered if it mattered that someone may have kissed him first, turning him into the monarch he was. In hindsight, it should have been a foretelling sign: do not look for a prince, dear girl, look for the batrachian, or at least, the man who will treat you right.

When I was seventeen and a few weeks old, I had encountered my fair share of drama and trauma, but that is a story for another time, though I cannot begin to express how emotional it makes me to see people donate to the Rickon fund. I only hope that what I am about to tell will not impact your generosity.

At that young age, I met a boy, who shall remain nameless. He was charming, funny, lovable. When I felt blue, he had just the words, the perfect words, to make me smile through my tears and face the world. Perfectly romantic, wouldn’t you say?

That is what I said back then anyway. Little did I know, we were only in week one. Little did I know, the fifty something next weeks would be Hell on Earth.

Let me preface this sad tale of woe by addressing a word to the woman who kissed this frog. I do not begrudge you in the least for this. No one said all princes would be charming, some were bound to be rotten and everything that is horrible on this Earth. I consider you a sister, in pain but also in survival. I do hope you survived. Please know you are in my thoughts.

As I alluded to, my prince was charming for about seven days, then took advantage of my frailty, from my previous traumas. As you know, I have lost my younger brother to leukemia. I have also lost my older brother, not to disease, but to crime. He was murdered. It happened a few years after both my parents were laid to rest in the ground of our family home. Sad tale of woe, I di d warn you, reader.

My prince was in fact a frog playing at being a prince, and he was never mine. He made me move in with him, not of my own volition. I came home one day to my flat and found it empty, and when I got to his to ask what he was doing, he exclaimed “surprise!” and managed to make me think I was an ungrateful female dog for not seeing the romance in his gesture.

Miscommunication happens, we all know it, and I figured it was such a case. I thought so for all of forty five minutes, when he started yelling about my “crap” being in his way. He tossed most of my belongings in the trash. So much for moving in on a romantic whim.

We had not consummated our union. We did that night, but come Hell or high Water, I will never say it was consensual. Later on, when he got so cocky as to believe he could do everything in front of me, I witnessed him dosing a would-be victim of his “charm” with rohypnols. I cannot prove but I figure this is what he dosed me with when he called me for dinner, and I ended up going from being so annoyed at these manners, alongside slightly afraid, to waking up in his bed, aching everywhere. I do mean everywhere, as if a caterpillar had run me over. I had bruises, but he said they were the price to pay to being loved right, and he gloated about having loved me right over and over again. At one point, I remember him saying, with his piercing clear eyes “aren’t you gonna say thank you?”

The dread I felt in my bones, I do not have the words to explain it. I can alas confirm that my following words were “Thank you.”

And on we went. Violence was a common occurrence. I was always the victim, never the perpetrator. I once tried, to be perfectly honest, but he beat me so badly, he forgot his rule about not hitting me where it could be seen and I had to miss work for ten days, claiming I had varicella. I do pray, Frog kisser, that this was not the fate you met and did not escape.

Sex with me was boring, he told me, and I hoped it was. I laid still, pretended I was not there. I know that some victims think of a happy place from their past to hide in when in trouble but for me, it was an unknow lake where I could swim with mermaids. Childish, I know, but it allowed me to escape and not taint any of my precious childhood memory. I would lay still under his ministrations, out of my body, not even watching what he was doing. I was a log. He got bored and brought other women in our bed.

I say “our”, because it took me a very long time to realize that I was a victim and not compliant. There is a part of me, and I suspect that part of me will always exist, that believes I had something to do with the way I was being treated. It is what abusers do, or so I am told.

I hope to see the day when there is no doubt in my mind that what happened was nothing due to my own behavior. Opening about it here is actually painful and scary, as I know that the people who want to see me fall will tell me it was my fault and that it takes two to tango. He used to say it a lot, and I expect to hear it again in the future.

He would bring girls home, or in his flat, and would make me watch as he had his way with them. He called it instructive for me to become and I quote “a real woman for the real man he was”. He was but a frog, a poisonous one, but a frog nonetheless.

When I tried to leave the first time, he threatened to kill my remaining siblings. I knew he had ties with the mob, and being too young, too naïve, I believed him. I still think he could have hurt them, but when I left, I managed to protect those I loved, a miracle for sure.

It went on for months. He was not only abusive at “home”, he was abusive at work, as he insisted on us working on every movie together. I could not escape him, he was everywhere. Sometimes he would put girls on my road, enjoining me to leave him, or at least try, but it was only to better chastise me for thinking I could escape.

I know every shade a bruise can turn before disappearing. I know the taste of blood, I know the taste of hate, I know the taste of self-loathing. I would have done everything for my family.

Then one day, I escaped. The details are irrelevant, except when they are not, but I got away. I found someone to help me understand that I did not have to be a victim, I could be a survivor.

Then the Me-Too movement came around. You will remember that I made no denunciations. I wanted to, Lord did I want to, but I needed someone to go first. I was persuaded that what he had done to me could not be compared to what the other women had experienced. Their lives were ruined, for some, in tatters, and I was on my road to recovery. I needed someone to speak up first, to say his name before me, so that I would not have to bear the burden of being the first one to say it out loud.

Such a shameful reaction and actions, I know. While I was waiting for things to feel comfortable for me, he was probably inflicting the same treatment on some girl who had no one to help her. Yet I could not help but wonder, did we belong in the Me-Too movement?

The time came and went, and I said nothing. I will never have the words to express my shame at my behavior.

Then came someone, who people thought was a frog, but I saw the prince, and there was no poison… That is not the story I want to tell now, no matter how much this prince makes me happy.

What is my story, my point then, you ask?

I shall endeavor to answer. I was not ready then to say his name nor what he did to me. When I started writing, I was only willing to say what he did and nothing else. However, he took aim at someone close to me I will defend with my dying breath. He could not touch my family, so he tried the next best thing in his mind.

My rapist and captor’s name is Ramsay Bolton.

You got it, Ramsay, You got Me-Too’ed, and I cannot wait for the women who will come to join me in my tales. Sad tales of woe they may be, but you cannot escape the truth.

Frogs can be poisonous, Ramsay, and I hope your venom did not kill the one who freed you from your frog shape. But here is a piece of knowledge for you: some princesses know Kung-Fu. Some are well versed in the art of chemistry, of alchemy, and dare I say it? Poisons. Those witches you called female dogs will be your undoing. I will be leading the onslaught, until my sisters in suffering join me.

A frog you were, a frog you should have stayed. Come close to anyone I love or know, and try to harm them, and this frog will have a short life. I will not be silenced anymore. My guilt has not worn off, but there is one thing I know. I survived. You could not bring me down. Your dirty tricks such as the one you played a few days ago are nothing. You are nothing.

So what are you going to do, Ramsay Bolton, hum? Come at me? This girl sleeps with one eye open, and a knife under her pillow. Your time has come, the reckoning is near.

You will pay, Bolton, if only by the fact that everyone will know what kind of man, if you can even be called such, you are.

It took me years, and some will say I am only trying to get vengeance, but they are wrong. I am accepting that I ma a flawed human being who was wrong at some point but who is willing to make amends, to make sure you never get to do to someone else what you did to me.

Checkmate, Ramsay. I have paid my pound of flesh, it is high time you paid yours.

Sincerely not yours,

Sansa Stark.

Tyrion took a deep breath, and sent his lover a reply, after forwarding it to her siblings.

“Print it”.

Chapter Text

Following the allegations made by the actress Sansa Stark, 20, against Ramsay Bolton, 23, Hollywood is at war, between those supporting the young woman and those supporting the youn man. The latest are known to refer to the supposed victim as “Saint Sansa”, in order to mock the way the actress has never strayed from the lines and has kept her reputation clean so far, until she chose to write an op-ed in a national paper, denouncing the sexual and moral abuse she allegedly suffered at the end of her former boyfriend.

Public reactions:

- As the journalists ran after Ramsay, he did not hasten his pace, just kept on speaking on the phone, his latest conquest holding his hand. The girl, Andrea Merchant, a red-hair with blue eyes, looking more than slightly to Sansa Stark, said nothing and just followed his lead. When one journalist managed to get to his level and ask what he had to say, Ramsay laughed:

“That’s my girl, my Sansa, this is just foreplay for us. Andrea will be free soon for someone who wants someone bendy in bed and who has no taboos.”

- The journalist who trailed after Tyrion Lannister was threatened by his bodyguard, a somber man, and there was no comment to report.

- Shae Marsyanan, former companion of Tyrion Lannister according to her, brought up the topic of Sansa’s accusations with a journalist when at an event:

“The chick is totally lying. She can tell Tyrion is forgetting her, and she’s playing on his knight in shining armor complex by telling him that he saved her from an abusive ex. He will see through her eyes, once the pheromones have worn off.”

- When Brienne Tarth landed in JFK Airport, coming back from her latest movie, she was accompanied by her co-star, Jamie Lannister. Journalists managed to come close to them, though both looked exhausted. As he was picking up Brienne’s luggage, Lannister was the first asked about Sansa Stark’s allegations, and whether he put some stock into them:

“Of course I do. Sansa is no liar, and she would never hurt a soul. She knows that fake accusations would cause people hurt. Therefore I have no doubt in my mind that what she denounce happened.”

“Do you think you may be biased because she is linked to your brother romantically?”

“Hell no. I just know her. Mind you, I don’t know her perfectly, but I know her character. Furthermore, what would she have to gain from lying? She’s bringing unwanted attention to herself; She’s discrete, and you all know it. For her to come out and say something negative about anybody means that she speaks the truth. Her link to my brother, fake or real, does not affect my opinion. Sansa is a good person, and she would never lie. Ramsay Bolton better hopes he does not run into me anytime soon or I’ll exact my pound of flesh.”

Journalists were denied a follow-through when Brienne Tarth appeared and hugged the actor from behind.

One foolhardy youngster in the business showed a microphone in her face and asked her if she believed her long-time friend, Sansa Stark. Jamie Lannister saved the foolish reporter’s life by grabbing the actress before she could make minced meat out of him.

“Brienne of course believes the woman she considers to be her younger sister. I am not mansplaning or talking in her place,” the actor said,” but never ask such a stupid question, Brienne has no patience for people who don’t recognize the love she has for Sansa. It’s not about believing her, She knows, like I do, that Sansa is speaking up, telling the truth. It’s not about believing her, it’s about knowing in your bones that she is telling the truth.”

The actress led the man away, her hand in his, and journalists on the site were left pondering if they had something else to report.

- Cersei Lannister, who always refused to take her husband’s name was heard saying at a charity event:

“Big deal, the chick had to pay the price for fame. I won’t cry for her. I’m not even convinced she’s truthful. Just saying.”

Private reactions (that the journalists obviously had no way to know about)

“Why did you hide this from me?” Jon asked. “From us?”

“Snow, calm down”, Tormund said.

“Tormund, I love you man, but this is between…”

“What, you’re going to say I’m not family?” The giant asked, and Sansa had to intervene, before her brother made a fool of himself and an enemy out of a dear friend.

“Jon, your problem is with me.”

“Actually, it is not,” Ygritte said from the side of the room.

The redhaired had arrived a few days earlier. She was done with her last tour and had flown to New York where her lover was. She had war in her eyes, and sudden noises made her jumpy, reaching for a gun that was not at her belt anymore, and Sansa could only hope that Jon’s road to recovery from PTSD would help him help the woman overcome her own ordeal.

She felt terrible she had come out to her family this way, about what she had gone through, but when she had been parted from Tyrion after Ramsay’s bold declarations, Theon and she had brainstormed what to do. He had suggested saying nothing and going on with her life, as the man would look like a fool soon enough, but to Sansa, it had been the last stroke, breaking the camel’s back. Ramsay could shoot whatever he wanted at her, she did not care. Hell, much like the song, she was titanium as far as he was concerned, but the fact that he had dared make fun of her man…. It had ignited something in her. She had stayed dormant, for lack of a better word for too long, letting him get away with what he had done to her, and as Theon would often remind her, she had nothing to feel ashamed for needing time to come to terms with what she had gone through, but this… It was the light that sparked the fire in her. Her ire knew no limits. No one got to say anything or infer anything bad about the man she loved. He was the worthiest of man, along with her brothers and close friends.

Ramsay had crossed a line he should have known to stay away from. Sansa had been assaulted by rage, and shame, when she thought about the women who had taken her place, willingly probably until he had shown his true face. She felt responsible for their martyrdom. She wished she had been strong enough before to do what needed to be done, but once again, Theon had been the voice of reason:

“You were not ready. It does not matter what you should do, or must do, if you are not ready to it. You needed months to be able to say that you did not love Ramsay and that he was holding you hostage. It was already a big step for you to be able to admit it to yourself, so don’t beat yourself up too much. Sure, some will slight you for being late to the party, but at least, you showed up, and you will make that bastard pay.”

“What do you mean, Ygritte?” Jon asked, still pacing angrily, running his hands in his hair, as if about to tear it off his head.

“Look at your sister. She never decided to hide what had happened to her from you. When something terrible happens to you, you need to deal with it. You feel shame, you feel inadequacy, like it’s your fault. How can you tell your loved ones something terrible happened to you if you cannot speak about it without going in full hysteria mode?”

Sansa was so grateful for the woman, as she had worded perfectly some things she wanted to say but did not know how.

“It is only on telly that a rape victim is found and opens up about it to her loved one, or that a girl is a victim and becomes a survivor overnight, coming to the next family dinner as if nothing happened, and tells her truth between fruit and dessert.”

“I hear you, but Sans’….”

“Sansa is humane. Cut your sister some slack. You are a control freak, and you want everything to go your way, like you’ve planned. It doesn’t happen that way.”

“I apologize,” Sansa said, looking at her family gathered at Theon’s, and she felt Tyrion’s hand in hers. “I do not apologize for keeping you in the dark, I apologize for the abrupt way I let you know about what had happened. I have no words to explain it. I still do not have words. I just knew that it was time for me to come out and share my story. I know my beloved sent you my draft before I had it printed, and I know it does not make up for keeping you in the dark, but I just was not ready.”

“You knew?” Arya asked Theon, looking at him like he had betrayed them.

“I did. I will not apologize. Do you know how hard it was to get Sansa to overcome her demons? I hate that an article was the way you learnt about this terrible tragedy, but please be sure that there was no malicious intent in keeping you in the dark, it was all about making sure Sansa had the tools she needed for recovery.”

“I still don’t understand. I mean, I do, but at the same time, I don’t” Jon said.

“If I may, Master,” Osha said, coming out of her silence, “let me share my sad tale of woe, in hope you will understand that any decision taken by Mistress Sansa is not offense directed at you. You all know that I serve your family like I was part of it. I may be living with Tormund, but if you were to say that you needed me back in Winterfell, well, Tormund and I discussed it already, and we would move back to the castle.”

Sansa could not help but look at Brienne and Jaime who were there too. They were holding hands, not firmly, more like the tips of their fingers were always in contact, and she felt relief upon seeing her friend was not being hurt by the fact that Tormund had moved on.

“You know I came to work for you when aged short of 14. What happened was, I was abused, daily, by my father. I almost killed myself giving myself an abortion. I then wrote to your father, asking him if he had any room on his staff for a girl my age. I never expected him to come and get me. I was so afraid of my father, he almost did not let me leave, but your father bluffed and pretended we were living on Winterfell land, and that my father could pay years and years of taxes unpaid so far, or that he could let me go work off his debt at the estate. When I arrived at the castle, I was deadly afraid of your father, no matter how nice he was being to me on the travel back. However, he waited. He knew I believe, what had happened to me. He would stay in the main room when you had all gone to bed. I would do my chores, and he would just stay silent, until one day, I felt bold enough, and I felt rage in my belly against my father, and I spoke to Milord about what he had saved me from. It was not about making him a grand man, it was about telling my story, and having someone listen to it and understand it. We would talk about it at times, when I was on overload, when I needed to vent out my frustrations. It was thanks to your father that I became a survivor. My point is, in my example, I could not trust my flesh and blood. Perhaps I could have told my uncles or aunts, but I did not trust them. It took a stranger coming along for me to come to terms with what had happened, and to be able to deal with it. I believe Milord Tyrion is doing the same job as your father did for me, for your sister. Does that make any sense?”

Tormund hugged his all but wife, and the others remained silent, some feeling enlightened by her experience, and other needing more time to digest it.

“Did you know?” Arya asked Brienne suddenly.

“I did not know the specifics, but I could tell something had happened.”

“Why did you never tell me anything?” She then asked her sister.

“I wanted to be strong for you, but if I came to you and told you my story, I would have broken down, and I did not want to be a burden to you, or any of you really.”

“Bollocks,” Arya said. “You could never be a burden. Sure, you’re a pain in my arse who still rides me about cleaning my room, but you are my bloody sister. I would kill for you.”

“Except you cannot. I will not have you go to prison for me. I am dealing with things my way, but please, do not make me become the reason you must forsake your future.”

“I believe, and I know no one asked me,” Tyrion said, “that you all went through so much, and love each other so much, you are afraid to let the others down by expressing out loud that you feel doubt about anything. However, from what I’ve seen, you could each confess to having killed kitten in your spare time, and the others would not be horrified at your sociopathic deed, they’d ask what the fucking kittens had done to you. They would side with you. I know I’m not part of your family, but you all need to learn or accept that you love each other almost too much.”

“Bollocks,” Arya said.

Sansa felt a tug on her heart, while she felt her lover tense next to her, but Arya started again right away:

“You are family, you bloody arsehole.”

“Damn right,” Theon said.

“In every family, you need two brothers who rarely see eye to eye on everyday matter, but who stick together in the end. I have had no one to fill that void since Robb, may he rest in peace, passed,” Jon said. “You’re it, now.”

Sansa saw Ygritte kiss Jon’s shoulder.

“Besides, I already get along too well with Tormund, he could not be that particular brother. So you’ve got your work cut out for you. Just remember…”

“That you know ten ways to kill me before I end this sentence?” Tyrion offered, relaxing, and obviously flattered, mellowed out by the acceptation he was being granted into a family tightly knit together. “And that Arya will help you make my body disappear?”

“Exactly,” the two siblings he had mentioned said together.

It was a nice moment, but two phones started buzzing. Both Tyrion and Jaime looked at their cells and sighed before the latter explained:

“We’re being summoned by our father.”

Sansa kissed her man, and again, before letting him go, as he explained he could not ignore it.

As she watched him go, she felt a knot in her stomach. She had a bad feeling about this.

When they arrived at their father’s residence, both brothers were at the same time exhausted, irritated, and jaded. They had no interest in what Tywin had considered worthy of summoning them for.

“Boys,” the man said, upon spotting his sons. “You must answer for your actions.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Jaime asked.

“This Bolton/Stark thing. Neither of you thought to consult me before taking a stance. You do know that Bolton’s father is my good friend.”

“The answer to why we did not consult you is in your answer. The guy is your friend, not ours.”

“I am his partner in several affairs… You’ve caused me some trouble.”

“Bollocks,” Tyrion said, proud to use the word he had just learned. “You just wanted to bring us here so that you could convince us to include you in our narrative, so that it looks like all Lannisters are aligned. I know how much you want Sansa as a daughter-in-law….”

“To think he almost got her as a step-daughter,” Cersei said, appearing out of nowhere, sipping on a tall glass of red wine.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Tyrion felt pity for his sister.

“What do you mean?” He asked her.

“You men make me sick to my stomach,” the drunk woman went on. “Sansa was violated, dear God, let’s castrate every man who is not Tyrion or Jaime coming into her vicinity.”

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Tywin said with disgust.

“After all, that’s what you raised me to be. Remember when you would send me to auditions, and would tell me that if the guy touched me or wanted to be touched, I had to oblige, because this was how the game was played? And now we’re making a fuss about one guy touching one stupid bitch…”

“Cersei, I had no idea you were molested, but don’t insult my girlfriend,” Tyrion said firmly.

“You should be worshipping at my altar. If I had not done what I did, she would not have been so broken, that Ramsay Bolton would have had a go at her, making her prime for you….”

He had to remind himself that his sister was drunk, and apparently with good reasons, if what she had told their father telling her to bear abuse in exchange of her career, otherwise he would have started yelling.

“Speak plainly, Cersei, we’ve got other things to do.”

“Oh yeah, I saw your little stunt with the Tarth She-Boy. You never told me you were into kinky things, twin. Who knows, maybe I’m your brand of woman…”

“Cersei…” Tywin intimated.

“You, Imp, should be worshipping at my altar,” she went on, her steps uncertain and her gait in jeopardy. “My initial plan would have you be her elder stepbrother, but in my failure, I brought you your girl.”

“Stop blabbering about…”

“For fuck’s sake, what aren’t you getting? It’s thanks to me her father is out of the picture, asshole.”

“What?”

“When we were younger, and Father relied on me to be an actress and the lady of the house, I found his old diaries about his love for Cat Tully. I figured she could be the Lady he wanted, and he could be so happy fucking the woman he had wet dreams about years later, he would stop pimping me out to people like my filthy husband. She was supposed to be our new mother. Her older son would have gone wherever, and the young ones would have been distractions, cousins for my kids to play with. But no, of course, things went FUBAR, or perhaps somewhat FUBAR, since repairs were possible, as you now are fucking the stupid girl. All I needed was for Father to finally get his girl. So I had her husband killed. I started the destruction of Sansa Stark, of which you are now reaping the benefit. I’ll be waiting for your thanks, in writing or in person, whenever you fell comfortable.”

As their sister swayed away, the two brothers stared at their Father, and immediately, both knew that what had transpired was not surprise to him.

How to face Sansa knowing that bombshell?

Chapter Text

The two men were outside Tyrion’s apartment, in a closeby park, trying to deal with what they had learned, and the day they had had.

« What are you gonna do ?” Jaime asked his brother.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you have any inkling about this?”

“How could I?”

“You’re right, of course, I’m just…. Processing.”

“Yeah, same here.”

Tyrion felt like someone had stolen all his brain cells and ran away with them. This revelation was just… It really felt like there was no processing it. His sister had killed his would-be fiancée’s father. Everything was in the past, but the ramifications were in the present. He would need to ask Sansa about it, about who had killed her father. He knew very little about it, apart from what he had read in the papers archive online. Asking her to relive the first step of her descent to Hell had never felt like something he felt intent on doing. He had always figured that a time would come, for example after he had proposed and she was looking for someone to give her away, and she would share some memories about her father, the man who should have filled that job. He was willing to wait as long as she needed, for he had come to realize she was strong, he would never deny her that, but her road to recovery was not meant for someone strong. It was meant for someone with a good support system, alongside certain personal qualities.

“Jesus Fucking Christ man, can you believe Cersei said I should be fucking her?”

“I did think you guys were …. Shagging. But it brings an interesting point. I saw you and Brienne earlier, and you guys were awfully cozy…”

“We were, weren’t we?” Jaime answered with a broad smile on his face.

“Care to explain further?”

“We’re not in the romantic zone, but we’re edging towards it, when she lets me hold her hand, and I don’t put my foot in my mouth and make her mad about my stupidity.”

“It is my understanding that when Sansa left the set, you guys would be starting to shoot the most romantic scene of the courtship and its hardship…”

“I kissed Brienne except it was just in front of a camera, and I hated it.”

“I know the feeling. My first kiss with Sansa was technically in front of a camera, and it reminded her so much of Ramsay Bolton, she ran away from me.”

“Seems like there is a story to be told there, but I’ll be selfish and go on. We kissed, and it was flat. I mean, people who saw the rushs were like ‘oh the chemistry’! and it made me want to punch them in the face because when we did it, kissed, it was nothing short of surgical. She told me that she would be going for my bottom lip and to react accordingly. I did. It was procedural. And to think according to those tabloids every time you have a love scene with someone you ignite a flame that torches your life down alongside those of everyone you love… Bunch of fuckers who know nothin’…”

“It would make sense for Brienne to go at it from a professional standpoint. I won’t be betraying any secret here, but you must have known she was worried, concerned even about the fact that you would not be playing with your usual dynamics onscreen.”

“You know, as a brainless dick, I actually thought this movie, and those scenes could be a window into what we could have.”

“You should have known better.”

“I’m in love. Logic doesn’t register with me. All I can respond to are the butterflies in my stomach, the stupid voices in my head telling me this might be my shot, and more silly and girly things.”

“Hey, don’t knock out the butterflies, ok? It’s plain rude. Besides, I have them all the time around Sansa, and even far away from her. It’s distracting and it feels like you’re less of a man to be feeling so, but they are there, and I love them.”

“You weirdo….”

“You’re the one who went and fell for Brienne Tarth. You do realize she has more balls than the two of us combined?”

“And I love it. She will keep me on my toes, and it won’t even be a chore for her. I will be so worried about fucking up, I’ll end up fucking up, and you and Sansa will have to make us better again. That is, if she gives me a chance.”

“Give her time. She felt real love for Tormund. He has moved on, and so has she, but she still needs time to make sure that all the love she once felt has turned to platonic friendly love. It would be unfair of her to start something with you if there was a nanometer in her who was pining for Tormund.”

“I know you’re right… I’m just not used to…”

“Pining. I get it. I was not used to it either. I hated every second of it, but looking back, I cherish those memories. I didn’t know it then, but those moment were just prelude to the best thing that could happen to me.”

“Just marry her already.”

“I would," Tyrion said, looking in his jacket pocket to get the box with the ring out, dropping it on his brother’s lap, “but I feel like Cersei may have achieved her lifelong dream of destroying me, even if it means going to jail.”

Jamie grabbed the box and opened it, never bothering to hold back a gasp.

“It’s beautiful, and so Sansa…” He said, before handing it back to his brother.

Tyrion took a good look at the ring he had purchased. It was not a diamond ring, for he did not believe his lady needed some carbon compressed in her life. Instead, he had chosen a design made of emeralds and rubies, to represent her hair as well as pomegranate seeds, and how beautiful she looked in green. There was a black iridescent pearl sealed in the middle, as she loved the sea so much…

Would he ever get the chance to give it to her?

“I hate our sister.”

“After what she said about Bri, I’m starting to not like her as much either.”

“Big words, coming from her twin.”

“Not to mention, if she ruined this perfect relationship you’re in, she can kiss me goodbye, I’ll never talk to her again.”

“Did you notice how unsurprised Father was about the whole thing?”

“I did not know he had the hots for Cat Tully. I … I don’t want to add insult to injury or something, but Cersei, she must have been really desperate if she thought killing the husband of a woman would mean she would fall in our father’s arms and it would change her life.”

“That’s one of the many things she got wrong. Cat hated our father. He scared her to death. Even when a widow, she never ever would have considered giving him the time of the day. He could have dropped dead of a heart attack in front of her, and she would have only pretended to give him a cardiac massage, too close to being rid of the one creeper who kept coming back in her life. Now I find myself wondering if he had anything to do with Cat’s death, and Bran’s subsequent injury….”

“Would it change anything?”

“I guess not. Let’s just face it, me and Sansa, it was a beautiful dream, a beautiful story, but thanks to our sister, it is now done.”

“Don’t say that,” Jaime tried to argue, fighting to find words to say, to give him reasons to believe.

“Dude, Our family killed her father. I am pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, except in a few movies.”

They remained silent for a while, but Tyrion felt himself just sort of give in to misery. He would need to tell Sansa so that she could properly dump him, and then his life would begin, a sad life where she was not in it, where her scent and her shadow would be everywhere, and where only hate would be in her heart for him. Lord, he hoped Jon killed him. He wouldn’t fight it.

“I think, I want to be alone, if you will.”

His brother nodded sadly in understanding, and got up, before leaving. Tyrion was alone. Well, time to get used tot hat, he figured…

He had no idea how much time passed by, but when he woke up from his trance, the sun had gone down and it seemed it had happened hours before.

Someone was shaking him awake, and he hated that person. Why couldn’t he stay in his dazed state where Sansa was his, just for a little time longer?

Except it was Sansa shaking him awake, and she looked so worried…

Guilt-free Tyrion would have kissed her, but he could not bear to taint her perfect skin with his lips.

“My Lord!” She said, “please answer me.”

“Oh Sansa…”

“Yes, it’s me, Tyrion. My love. My mate. You are scaring me to death. Please tell me what happened, and we will find a way to fight off your father together.”

“How I wish you were true, but when you know the truth…”

He had not meant to say that part aloud, but perhaps it was for the best.

Sansa got down on her knees in front of him, having to look up to meet his eyes, and putting him in the higher position, as if he had all the power in their relationship. She was taming him, the way one would a lion… How far she would run…

“There’s nothing we can do. What has been done is years old, and its consequences are the death of us.”

She looked on the verge of tears and he wanted to ask if she would cry for him, in between two rounds of hating him, when he was done telling his secret.

He loved her too much to keep the truth from her.

She deserved so much better than what life had handed her, himself included.

“I went to my father’s place, but it was my sister who made a show,” he started saying.

“What did the witch say?”

Would she call Cersei a bitch when she learned the truth, or would her manners keep her from saying what was plainly the truth?

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“Then use words,” she said. “Whatever she said, it cannot have been that bad…”

“It was that bad, and even more.”

“Oh, well, even if it was that bad, we will just adjust and move along. You are my Lord, I am your Lady. There’s nothing we cannot do. The world is our oyster.”

He could not restrain himself and kissed her lips with despair, wanting one last kiss. One kiss to last him the rest of his life, so that he could take it to the grave.

“Ramsay Bolton is not the only one with shady connections,” he said, finally.

“Alright.”

“My family has them too.”

“I sort of figure, but do go on.”

How to say it, how to confess this terrible secret? Bluntly turned out to be the way he decided to go, if it was even his decision.

“I learned today that my sister hired the man who killed a MP from Oxforshire married to Cat Tully.”

“Wait, what?”

How he had hoped never to have to say it again…

“My sister had your father killed. She admitted to it today.”

“Oh.”

Oh? That was her reaction? He felt her pull away from him slightly and heard her put her hands on her knees. He could not hear sobbing, so he figured she was still in shock, but he was ready for the slap that would come.

Then she kept on saying nothing, and he opened his eyes fully, daring to look at her face.

She looked… puzzled? Surprised? But there was no shock… Whatever could it mean?

As if sensing his eyes on her face, she looked up to him and said:

“I’m sorry, we had detectives link my father’s murder to the Lannister house, but we always figured your father was the one who had gotten the job done.”

Wait, what?

“Sansa, please, love, don’t play with me… I can’t stand it, it will kill me. I just told you that my sister had your father killed, and your answer is that you believed my father was responsible… what the fuck are you doing with me?”

“I am in love. Maybe I am also stupid. Nevertheless, I am not shocked. I hated needing to be nice to your father, when I wanted to spit in his face and rip ourt his heart until I held it in my hands, but it seems that it is your sister who should have been the recipient of my hate.”

“How? How can you say you love me when you know what my family has done?”

“Because they are not your family. Jaime is, but the others, they are just blood relatives.  You cannot begrudge someone for things they did not chose but life imposed on them. You are innocent of their crimes and their transgressions. You are the one good man born from this crazy family, well second if we count Jaime. The thing is, you are not them and they are not you. Their actions do not define you.”

He had no words.

“I am sorry, I seem to be keeping you mute… I hope I did not overstep any boundaries…”

I just don’t understand how you can overlook…”

“I am not overlooking anything. There will be Hell to pay, but in the events that followed my father’s death, then my mother’s, I learnt that sometimes life is too important, that you have to be in the moment, otherwise if you spend time ruminating and plotting revenge which will never happen without mutual destruction, you just miss on life. I would have missed on my brothers’ last days… I must be sounding crazy to you right now…”

“You are sounding like the angel that you are, an and angel of misericord and mercy. Whatever did I do to deserve you?” He asked, slipping to the floor next to her.

“Maybe we are two unworthy fools in love…”

Her smile, amongst this crazy piece of information was a trigger one could have said, and he reached into his pocket.

Getting on one knee, Sansa watching him but not quite understanding, he took out the box, opened it, and forgot all about the great speech he had written about how he would cherish her and make her happy, or that the Gods strike him dead.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, showing her the ring.

She looked at it for just a second, then at his face, as if needing to see that it was not a joke, that it was not the Lannister in him playing some dirty tricks.

Tears started pooling in her eyes, and the most wonderful thing happened in their lives:

She said yes.

Chapter Text

When they got back to their flat, Sansa felt giddy, kept looking at her ring, and kissing her soon-to-be husband for being so thoughtful and having found the most perfect ring ever. She had always looked at her mother’s engagement ring, and thought that it was not for her, but it did fit her mother like no other ring could. She had longed for a man who, when the time would be right, would be able to spot the right ring in the middle of a million wrong ones. If the ring on her finger was any indication, she had been touched by grace and had found that man.

Tyrion would blush when she’d kiss him then respond, sometimes asking about the big news he had thought would tear them apart. She was being as candid as possible with him, while trying not to hurt his feelings. She offered to let him read the journals of Catelyn Tully-Stark, so that he could see why her family would have thought that his father could have been responsible for killing her father. It was a weird start for their would-be wedding, but if she had learned one thing since she had been of age, it was that fairy tale only existed to give you hope in a good future, even when everything screamed at you that you would not get it. She had suspected for ages now that Tywin had been responsible in part for getting her father killed, perhaps in rpviding a aweapon to the man who had gunned down the MP for his influence next to Queen Olenna’s and the way it impacted the instructions she gave to her government.

It had been less easy than she had said it when they had first discussed it, the letting go part. However, when tragedies had started piling up, who had killed who, and who was killing, or what was killing who, to be more accurate, when it came to Rickon, had mattered a great deal less than being with people she loved. She had never thought that there would come a day where she would get confirmation or denial of her gut feeling, and she had learned to live with that uncertainty mostly because she did not have time to think about it, not when her family seemed to be under attack, from every perspective.

They entered the flat, and he went to order some Italian food, as she had said she craved some al’arrabiata pasta. In the meantime, she took a selfie, showing her ring, and send it to their circle of family and friends.

“I’ll kill him” was Jon’s text response, followed by another one “no he won’t, love, Ygritte”.

“Varys is going to owe me some serious money. He betted that nothing pure and true could come out of our arrangement when we first started, so much for his flair and instinct. I’m gonna enjoy making him pay, cent by cent. Also, congrats!” Was Theon’s answer.

“I do enjoy the Persephone and Hades theme of your ring, with the pomegranate seeds on it, congratulations on something you absolutely deserve, Alpha,” was Bran’s answer, and perhaps more than the previous ones, it brought tears to her eyes. It was not about being called Alpha or anything, it was about Bran seeing through so many things he shouldn’t. She hoped he managed to track down Meera, if only to close that chapter for good, or to see if he could get some happiness, either temporary or permanent in his own life. Sure, Hodor was always there, and Osha was still overseeing things from afar, now that she had shacked up with Tormund, but Sansa was always worried the man who was still her boy to her was too alone.

“Dayum! The Boy has taste!” Was Arya’s response, along with an animation of her making kissy faces.

“Did you alert our pack of our engagement?” Tyrion yelled from under the shower where he had gone after he had placed the delivery order.

“Yes,” she said, coming to the bathroom to answer him.

She could have yelled back, but she did not feel like it. Plus, if she had yelled, she would have deprived herself of the sight, and their engagement really needed some kind of intimate, lustful, indecent celebration.

“I just received a text from Jaime asking me if I was crazy and had not tell you the truth about what we had learned…” He said.

She stole a kiss, not caring about the water coming onto her clothes, and went back to their bedroom, where she changed into casual wear.

Tyrion had brought her some silk pajamas, and she absolutely loved them, but she did not like to wear them when they were not in “night mode”. Therefore she put on some yoga pants and a t-shirt from his time in uni. It was all worn done, and had some holes in it, but she loved what it stood for, that moment when he had escaped his family, allowing him to become… him.

She went back into the living room and got a phone call from Brienne, saying:

“Congratulations babe, I know he’ll treat you good. If he doesn’t, he knows I will break him into pieces and toss him in the ocean….”

“Bri…”

“San…” Replied the woman. “I’m sort of kidding but not completely. But I love that ring, it’s gorgeous. Just… Do me a favor, will you?”

“Sure, whatever you want…”

“Make Arya wear a dress, as a maid of honor.”

This made Sansa laugh out loud, and snort as she did, loving the idea so much, but also relishing in the way their pack, as Tyrion had called them, knew each other so well. Arya would hate a maid of honor dress, but she would have to don one.

“As long as you are aware that you will be wearing the same dress,” She finally told her friend.

“Really?”

“Well, of course… What did you think?”

“I just… I…” Brienne stuttered.

“Oh My Heavens. Here comes the second proposal of the day. Brienne Tarth, I have loved you like a sister since the day we were introduced and you broke a man’s hand for trying to touch my tush. Will you do me the honor of being my maid of honor?”

“Yes, a thousand times yes!” Brienne exclaimed, and it was not lost on either of them that this was how a would-be bride usually responded to their proposal.

“You will need to be the voice of reason. I love my sister to the stars and back, but if she is in charge of my bachelorette party, well, let’s just say I will not want to have one…”

“Of course. We’ll keep things simple. Ish. We are movie stars after all.”

“Oh Gosh, what did I think” Sansa exclaimed. “You are just a slightly more mature Arya!”

“And I’m proud of it!” The actress said.

“I know I am eluding the subject and going in a different direction, but how are things between you and Jaime? The man is sort of bound to be the man of honor…”

“We’re…. good? I don’t know. It’s weird. With Tormund, it was passionate, it was like catching fire, and having this fire burn me in a loving way. It was all encompassing, there was no second thought, there was no moment when we asked ourselves if we wanted it, if we were ready for it. Truth be told, by the end of the Fencing tournament, we had managed to have had our first shag in the bathroom. It was… fire. Fuel. Whatever. I was a match and he was the spark, or something along those lines.”

“I sort of see what you mean, even though I only rarely experience it.”

It was the only bit she had confided to Brienne about her sex life with Tyrion: sometimes, very much like a she-wolf, she would get very pressed for physical interactions, Brienne, being crass, called it being horny and in heat, but when it came down to it, it was not the most inaccurate description of it.

“Jaime… I have dreams, where I jump his bones. I sort of know that he really likes me… God, we’re sounding like high school girls…”

“I would never know, I never attended High School…”

“You rich girl…”

“Pot, meet Kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. He had made his feelings known in a very sensible way. There is no pressure. I choose to hold his hand or not. I choose to see him or not. I just think, and you may want me to slap me when I’ve confessed it, there is a part of me who can see that it is my move, that I am the one who will bring his head in for a kiss that means something, but it doesn’t change the fact that there is a part of me that is wishing he would make the decision, and I could go along. This slow burn stuff, it’s a pain in the ass…”

Sansa had to laugh. Brienne had to have so many thoughts on her mind to wish to have choice been taken from her so that she would not have to shoulder the responsibility to start a new relationship.

“Perhaps the reason you wish he would act and not you is because you know that you are from the same world, that you work well together, that you are likely to continue working together… How many movies do you have lined up where you share the screen? I believe it’s at least 3 out of the next 4 you will be featured in? Anyway, you know that when he kisses you finally, you will endure agony at his being a fool sometimes, and at the fact that he never was in a relationship, but you will also know, that this kiss will in way be as binding as saying “I do” before a priest. If it happens, it happens.”

“I hate it when you are right.”

“You must hate it a lot then, for I am always right.”

“Look at you, little braggart!”

They laughed, then Brienne asked:

“When is the wedding anyway?”

“Give us a second to pause and think about it. I do not even know what he wants or, what I want. I always thought my father would walk me down the aisle, but it is not an option anymore. I do not know if I want a big wedding, or a small one. A few months ago, though it feels like yesterday, we went to Tony and Laora’s wedding. Legally, it is not binding, they jumped over a broom, the way slaves would in the past. It was more symbolic that my cousin Elinor’s huge wedding, or at least I am sure it will turn out to be so.”

“Then why don’t you simply jump over a broom?” Brienne asked. “then sign some papers, otherwise your godmother will have him killed.”

“Actually…” Sansa started.

And then she told Brienne about that moment, which meant so much to her as it did to him, about the wow they had taken, away from the world, with the moon as a witness, and Brienne could not keep in the sighs and genuine exclamations of surprise. It felt good to let her know. It was not a hassle to hide from her, but well, Brienne was her best mate…. She wondered…. But no, that would be crazy… Jon would lead her down the aisle, if they went for a big wedding, it would be right, right? Yet, she could not help but wonder if there was perhaps some better suited for that job…

Then Tyrion came out of the shower, in loose pants and a hoodie, and Sansa had to hang up sort of abruptly as he dived in and went for her mouth.

They kissed for hours it felt, she was almost certain he wanted to devour her. When they parted, she was seated between his legs, and he took her left hand, kissing the palm, then the back of it, before kissing the finger which sported his ring.

“I am yours,” she said.

“As I am, yours that is,” he answered. “Part of me believes I’m in a parallel universe, feels like it’s my brain trying to hide from the pain you would have caused me by actually rejecting me after having learnt the ugly part my family played in your family’s tragedy.”

“They may be your family, but you are part of my pack, and our clan. The Scot in me feels very strongly about it. Clans… I miss those days even though I never knew them, however it was not about blood, it was about mutual recognition. Of course, some were related but if all clans were just made of cousins, they would have been extinct in three generations.”

“I just feel lucky to be part of your pack and or clan.”

“I love you so much,” she said, kissing his crooked nose.

He was about to reciprocate when the doorbell rang.

"It must be the food, I’ll go get it,” she said.

She got up, kissed him again, and went to look for her purse before going for the door.

She was expecting their doorman to be here, and he was, but there was someone with him, and they did not carry any food.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Sansa Stark?” The stranger asked.

“Yes?”

He handed her something, and without thinking, she took it.

“You’ve been served. The Boltons send their regards.”

So much for being able to enjoy their celebration.

Chapter Text

Sansa and Tyrion looked at the subpoena she had set on their coffee table. She had her hands on her knees, very lady like, and he was clenching his fits so hard he was leaving nail marks in the flesh of his hands.

“I’m gonna kill him the slimey bastard,” Tyrion said, clenching his fists.

Sansa put her hand on top of his and gently tried to get him to loosen his grip. With much patience, and as many soothing words, she managed to get him to let her put some antiseptics on his wounds.

“I do not like you hurting yourself over him.”

“I do not like the fact that he hurt you,” he said impetuously, and she knew better than to take it personally.

“Theon will be there soon,” she said.

“I hate that we have to be thinking about the media and your image first.”

“I hate it too. However, we must.”

“I cannot believe he has the gulls to sue you for telling the truth.”

“Well, we both know he is not, suing me, as you say, for telling the truth. He has filed a complaint and is saying that I am actively pursuing defamation towards him.”

“You’re not as rattled as I expected you to be,” he said. “Please, don’t keep a strong front because I’m a mess. I want to take care of you if you need it, and stay by you if you don’t.”

“I know that, my lovely Lord,” she said cracking her first smile since she had gone back inside, and she pushed his wavy hair behind his ear, before kissing him gently.

Of course, since they could not catch a break, the doorbell rang, and Tyrion insisted on going this time, “just in case”.

She hardly believed another subpoena would be delivered, but she let him do that. She sighed when she saw her brother appear, holding their food.

“I met the delivery guy downstairs, he was being hold up, so I got your food,” Theon said. “Hey Sansiona, my lovely sister.”

“Hey Theon-Neon, my amazing brother…” She joked.

She knew he would soon change his demeanor to being her agent and dealing with what was happening, but she wanted him to know that she loved him for who he was, and for what he had done for her and with her over the years, before he put on his agent cap.

“I lied to Jon, if he asks you, I went to see a play as I am scouting for a new recruit for my agency,” the man said, after kissing her cheek.

Tyrion invited him to take a seat in the living room, and Theon did just that.

“I know we have nasty business to deal with, but please, first, indulge me, show me the ring, sissy.”

Tyrion snorted, and Sansa offered her hand proudly.

“It is even more beautiful on you than it was on the picture. You have great taste Tyrion. I really believe, if you’re amenable to the idea, and of course my precious sister is too, that you should help us find the best accessories to suit her. She’s a new Sansa with you, and I’m not sure our old theme, revert to the classics, play the sort of Tully card without being to overt about it is her style anymore.”

“Anytime mate, and soon-to-be-wifey!” Tyrion said.

“When this is done, we need to start thinking about a date. I do not want to press you but people are pressing,” Sansa said to her lover. “Oh, Theon, I will not insult you and ask you to be a ‘man of honor,’ though I know you would do it without blinking because you love me so, but I need you to do something for me: you will have to be in charge of the bachelorette. I asked Brienne, and I really got the distinct impression an adult will need to be in the room when she and Sansa are planning it.”

“Will do. Do you want to talk about wedding dressed before we dive into this dreadful business?”

Theon had always had an eye for fashion. Some people called him slurs for that, but they would never be half the man he was.

“I think we should save that part for later. I do not want to taint it with any Ramsay thoughts that could pop up at a later date when trying on gowns.”

“Sounds sensible. Let me see the bloody document then.”

The newly engaged lovers pointed to the several sheets of paper, and Theon grabbed them, searching in his coat for his reading glasses he needed at night, and started perusing it.

They sat in silence for a long time. A very long time, really. Theon read it more than once.

“My brother had an undergraduate in law,” she whispered to her lover.

“In British law, but still, I can decipher most of what’s at stake here. Let’s be blunt. He’s suing you for  37.566.666 millions, quite an odd number if you ask me, not odd in the algebraic sense but odd still. He says that you defamed his good name and that even if nobody has come forward – Did you notice it was carefully worded not to say that no one could ever come forward? Anyway, back to my analysis. He’s claiming that you hurt his public image and should pay for it, that you can settle it by paying him an 37 and blab la bla millions, or that you will go to court.”

“I do not want to give him any money. However, I think, Gosh, you will hate me, but maybe I should?” Sansa said, looking she was disgusted with herself.

“Are you insane?” Both men asked in various tones of surprise.

“I… When you guys fought him at the charity event, he had time to say something, about how he knew that Tyrion and I were just a photo op. I do not want that to be out. I am not ashamed of what we did. It was a good thing, and it got us to where we are now, but I do not want to be plagued our whole life by people calling us an arranged marriage or something of the sort. I do not want terrible comments to be made about you, my Lord.”

“What about you?” Tyrion asked, half amazed.

“I have always known he was not singing my praises behind closed doors.”

“Sans’, be true….”

“I hate you brother. Truly. I am sorry my Lord, I just dread the idea that in out line of work, being constantly in the public’s eyes, being seen as fakes could make our union self-destruct when I have absolute conviction you are the man the gods had intended for me.”

“Oh Lady, it could never happen…”

“I want to believe you so badly,” Sansa said, with tears in her eyes, but I just cannot afford to risk it. I have fought so hard to get my life back on track, to have a life of my own period. Theon can attest to that. I have come to far, and you have made my life a fairytale. I cannot have it turned down overnight into a debased transaction of some sort…”

“Sansa…”

But she had spoken her piece, and she was adamant. She would rather pay the money then have the details of their love story be turned into a grotesque circle.

Tyruion was infinitely thankful for Theon who then said:

“You are not paying a penny. In fact, if things happen the way I want to, you’ll be getting money that you will donate to whatever charity you like, as I know you will never want to keep a cent this man could give you. Just… trust me. We have a preliminary hearing with a judge where you will say if you want to pay and make it go away, or if we have a trial starting. Give me until then. You will not be disappointed. And if by then I have not kept my end of the bargain, then I will pay him money and have him sign a NDA so that you can put it behind you. Just trust me, sis. You did so, once, and I think I lived up to the job’s expectations…”

How could she deny him anything?

So she agreed.

---

The week that went by was a terrible one. Three goods things came out of it though. The first one was the fact that her clan seemed to count more and more people. Her family and Jamie were the first to close ranks around her, and she loved them for it, but she received more support: friends came as soon as they heard the news on telly or wherever, for Ramsay had made it public already, and they offered support, never doubting her word. Laora and Tony came by, and the woman seemed so torn. She asked:

“When I asked you guys to kiss in a non-con way, was I being a dick, unknowingly?”

“It does not matter, Laora, we would have told you ‘no’ if we could not handle it,” Sansa said, not saying no, but also not saying yes.

“I hope you can forgive me… I mean, I was going to ask you to be the monster’s godparents, but now if I do, I look like I’m buying myself a conscience….” The writer said.

“The monster?” Tyrion and Sansa picked up at the same time.

And that turned out to be the second good thing: Laora was pregnant. Tony was both proud, and terrified about the birth which would only happen five to six months later… The two couples shared a lovely time.

The third good thing was an idea by Theon. Sansa did not want to hide her ring, but she not wear it while they were playing coppers and thieves with the paparazzi. So he called on a great creator, who was having a fashion show, and he asked him to put Sansa on the podium, with the ring displayed on one of his pieces of art. Therefore, the next time she was papped with the ring on her finger, while some wondered if it meant more, others just thought she had taken a liking for the piece of jewelry, and did not question what it meant. It was extremely important to Sansa, as she felt like Superwoman with the ring on her finger, as she once told Tyrion in bed. He had made jokes about shagging a superhero, but she knew he was just touched, and bad at hiding it.

However, the week was still long, and painful. When the preliminary hearing came by, they all marched together to the courthouse, being chased by paparazzi. As a sort of disguise for why Tyrion was there, most of their co-stars on the movie alongside Tony and Laora walked with them, showing t-shirts saying “we believe in Sansa”.

The trial was sort of a blur, some parts going so fast, but other slowly. She remembered watching Ramsay and his dirty smile, wanting to punch it in and break his teeth. She wondered if her brother had anything up his sleeves. Sadly, she did not, and she could only count on his words of reassurance.

The judge asked questions about whether she contested the charges, and before she could speak out, Theon did, saying:

“We do, your honor. I may not be an attorney or lawyer, but I am a barrister back in England, if you will allow me to be miss Stark’s representative.”

The judge agreed, then said that since contestations were being voiced out, he needed to hear both accounts. Ramsay made a tirade, and you could really see the actor in him, as he talked about how poorly his life had turned since Sansa has ‘unfairly’ decided to sex a tale of deceit and revenge which had nothing to do with the end of their relationship. It had come, according to him, because he was not in love and she could not bear the fact. Sansa and her crew all wanted to cheer when the judge asked the actor why he had gone on telly and bragged about Sansa being his girl and it all being foreplay to them. Ramsay blushed then said he had agreed the night before to pretend to help Sansa as her career was going downhill.

All in all, and much to her displeasure, he put up a good performance. The whole time thought, Sansa felt eyes on her back, and when she turned, she saw a woman, who had to be her age, and she could not help but wonder if she was a Ramsay admirer wanting to avenge her idol. There was something disturbing in her eyes… But she had no time to pursue that line of thoughts further.

She swore on the Bible and Theon took a long time pulling something out of a bag, and laying it before her.

“Miss Stark, do you recognize this?”

She was flabbergasted…

“This… But… I thought you destroyed it?” She asked.

“Whatever is this and what do you mean?”

“You fucking whore!” Ramsay roared upon taking a good look at the item.

It was a laptop, rough around the edges, and which had seen better days.

“This, your honor, is the computer Miss Stark stole from Mr. Bolton before she escaped. She knew it contained all the videos he had made of her and of the times he had raped her, and she did ask me to dispose of it, as she was afraid those videos may find their way online, as retaliation. I would like to register Mr. Bolton’s reaction to the sight of the item as evidence.”

“I don’t believe we can do that.”

“You filthy whore!” Ramsay screamed again, ad Sansa winced, unable to stop herself from shying away from him. ‘I’ve lost all the videos of my sexual prowess because you thought you were worth anything in bed? Even when drugged, you were just a log dry as fuck, and sexy as a tree. Yet, you kept asking for it. Even when you said no, I could her the ‘yes please master’ in your voice!”

The whole court gasped, and the judge had to hit his gavel several time, calling for order.

Ramsay tried to put his hands on the computer, but the court officers held him back.

“Miss Stark, is this the computer where Mr. Bolton used to record the several ways he would rape you?” Theon asked.

“I believe so, yes but I cannot be certain…”

“It is, and you cannot admit it in court, it’s mine!” Ramsay roared.

“Actually,” Theon said, coming almost nose to nose with Ramsay, “It’s mine. I did destroy you r computer, all those years ago, I just found one which looked like the old one and asked Sans’ if she could identify it. She could not, but you could. And boy, you talked.”

Then, regally, Theon turned around, and face the judge:

“Your honor, the words uttered by Mr. Bolton are the evidence we would like to enter into this case and get a dismissal regarding Bolton’s claim. We would also like to lodge a formal complaint against him.”

There were oohs and aahs, and Theon looked like he was having the time of his life. Sansa could not believe it. Ramsay had been tricked into admitting he was lying about his complaint.

“I can only grant you the first part, the rest you’ll need to make a declaration to the authorities, but the minutes of this hearing will be at your disposal to prove your point.”

And then… It was over? Sansa could hardly believe it… As they walked down the steps of the justice court, Theon told the journalists they would pressing charges, and that a dismissal had been granted. Ramsay was trying to weather the storm his way but not much could be done. At one point though, time seemed to stand still, as the woman Sansa had noticed earlier ripped her top and showed deep scars on arms and top of her chest.

“My name is Lucy Winters, and I was a victim of this man. I do not know Sansa Stark, but I believe her when she says what happened to her, as it happened to me. I hope you’ll get justice for the both of us,” she said, looking at the actress who nodded.

“You liked it, you whore!” He screamed.

No one saw the knife, but they witnessed Lucy jumping the man and ramming the blade down his throat. Policemen grabbed her and restrained her, while others protected the Stark clan, but not much could be down.

Ramsay was pronounced dead at the scene.

It was over.

And no matter how inappropriate it was, Sansa squeezed Tyrion’s hands, and said:

“I’ll pay her legal fees for representation if there is a trial. I wish I had done it myself.”

“I would have beaten you to the punch,” Jon said.

“Pu-hlease. I would have killed him before either of you could do anything,” Arya argued.

And so, as Ramsay’s corpse was lifted into an ambulance, the Starks siblings continued bickering.

It was finally over.

Chapter Text

Two months later

Tyrion could not believe how beautiful Sansa looked. She was… regal. Sure, it seemed cheesy, but truth be told, she would make a wonderful queen.

Meanwhile him in the tailcoat… He felt silly.

“You look dashing my love,” she whispered in his ear. “I can’t wait to take this coat off of you.”

And then, he did not feel as silly. He did not feel sexy in general but if it worked for his lady, then it worked for him.

They were attending her cousin’s so many times removed wedding. They had flown to England two days before, and it had been a frenzy. They had spent the first day having interviews for press and had taped a few segments to be aired at later dates when the “Maneless Lion’ would be out. They were scheduled to attend the premiere for critics and special fans when they would get back in the States, then it would be time for world promotion. They had done some work ahead of time, separately. They could not wait to be on tour together. They had some appearances planned where the two of them would be the guests of some cool hosts.

They would have the time of their life on the red carpet… It was childish, but at the same time, he looked forward to making the paparazzi go crazy with speculations.

Though, they had been papped on their way to the Church. He had seen it, and had felt proud as a peacock. Sansa was wearing a gorgeous summer royal gown. It showed her wonderful arms and hands, she had some jewelry on, including his ring. She had a hat which showcased her face and hair. The latter she wore down for once in public, and he loved it. He loved her.

He felt happy. Stupidly dressed, but damn, so happy. To think about what they had been through... The girl who had shot Ramsay was named Lucy Winters, and she had been a captive of the bastard after Sansa had left him. She had been arrested, and Tyrion and Sansa had paid for her legal fees. She had gotten a deal with the prosecutor, especially when more victims had started coming forward and telling their own tale. Sansa had gotten in touch with all of them, and they had started a group, where they got together when they could, and tried to help one another get over the issues they still faced. They formed a sad sisterhood, made of Ramsay’s victims.

The thing was… He was so proud of his lady. It was a sad thing to be proud about, but he was seeing her thrive and overcome her demons. She was free, and the way she was dressed today was just one subtle way people who knew her could tell she was moving on and getting over things now in the past. Prior to those events, she would never have exposed skin, even in summer, she would have had some sort of lace to cover her skin, too afraid some scars might be visible. Today, she was sleeveless and never cared for what people could see. There was, truth be told, nothing to see, for Theon had taken great care of her after her ordeal, but it felt like she was ready to show her spiritual scars, because she was over them and what they meant.

Two months… Two months since Ramsay had bitten the dust, first in court and then in life… There was huge part of Tyrion which felt immense relief. He had wanted to kill the man so badly, he had started discussing with Bronn possible hitmen that could be reached out to. He had always known it could be traced back to him, but the thing was, he was over it, over being nice and comprehensive, and ready to go into full protective mode of his mate, even if it meant going to jail and her leaving him. She was just too important to live her whole life in fear.

“Pay attention, my love,” she whispered to him.

“I’m only looking at you…”

“I know, and I love it, but Demesra is throwing daggers at us.”

“You hate your somewhat aunt.”

“I do, but I hate it even more when people do not look at you the way you deserve to be looked at, with respect and consideration.”

He kissed her hand and forced himself to watch the ceremony.

Elinor was beautiful, wearing a traditional wedding dress, but she did not hold a candle next to Sansa. He could hear the whispers in the crowd, people talking about his Lady and how precious she looked.

He had also gotten his first glimpse of her Godmother. Queen Olenna was at the front row, dozens of rows before them, but he could have sworn she had zeroed in on them several times during the ceremony.

The Queen was majestic, and even though she had to be as old as the world, she looked like she had the energy of a young woman. She was also looking a little bored, like she wished she could be somewhere else. She would sometimes look in the direction of her grandchildren, Loras and Maergery, who were both breathtaking in their official dresses.

The bride and groom exchanged consents and vows. The priest was supposed to be wrapping up the ceremony. Sansa was using a fan to hide the fact that she was bored to tears. That was his lady alright, even when some people were openly sleeping or close to, she was trying to save face and not insult the newlyweds.

Finally, they kissed, and walked the long length of the church together, as husband and wife. People applauded after Queen Olenna initiated it and stopped when she did.

The hat on his head was starting to make him a bit sweaty, but he was doing his best to rein it in.

Finally, they were allowed to leave the Church, and he offered his arm to Sansa, who took it gladly. She was just… angelic and hypnotic.

She pretended to remove a piece of whatever from his shoulder and said in his ear:

“You were so great during the ceremony, I know you were bored to death. I hope to please by letting you know that good boys get rewarded….”

  Yesh, definitely feeling a little hot under the collar there….

They climbed into a limo, to make their way to the palace which name he had forgotten, where the wedding party would be taking place. It would probably have been a weird experience, having people in the street cheering as they passed them by, even though the windows were tainted, but he was too busy kissing Sansa like there would be no tomorrow and making sure she knew how beautiful and perfect she looked.

Before getting off the car, she got herself back together, putting back on every item of clothing he had removed, and he did the same, adjusting his tailcoat and hat. Her cheeks were flushed, which made him want to nibble on them, kiss them until he got to kiss all of her.

He was not sure if the newlyweds would be getting any that very night, but he knew he would. He could not wait.

When at the reception, he chatted with the distant relatives Sansa introduced him to, being on his best behavior as he hoped they would soon be distant relatives in-law.

“Darling,” someone said, interrupting the conversation going on, and he noticed everybody, his fiancée included curtsying. “I am so delighted to see you here! It has been so long!”

Tyrion held his breath upon recognizing Princess Maergery. She kissed his woman on the cheek, and commented her on looking good.

“I am so glad to see you are able to put all this past business behind you, the Ramsay thing and all.”

To which he had to cringe, for it was not a business or a thing.

“And you must be Tyrion Lannister!” Maergery said, turning to him.

He did his best to show his respect and kissed her offered hand.

“I am so delighted my cousin has found a man who treats her right. You will have to introduce me to your brother, if he is cut from the same clothe you are!”

“Sadly, cousin Maergery,” Sansa said, “Jaime is in love and dating my good friend Brienne Tarth. I am afraid your request will not be able to be met!”

It was true. Brienne and Jaime were getting it on, big time. Apparently, one night, while Jaime was being considerate and listening to Brienne explain to him for the umpteenth time why she could not be with him just yet when she had decided to throw caution to the wind and had kissed him, in a way that left no doubt about what she meant. They were living apart but were always staying at one another’s place. Jaime was both on cloud nine, and terrified. He was happy like he had never been, hence he was terrified he would screw it up. According to Sansa, Brienne was in a similar conundrum, happy because she had made her choice and believed it was the right one, but terrified because she was afraid she might end up being just an obsession, fleeting and ephemeral. Tyrion had let his brother know, in not so many words, so that he could assure Brienne he was in it for the long haul, or at least until one of them killed the other one. They had to be objective, it was a definite possibility, considering the way they were used to interacting.

“So sad, but I am happy for you friend. Please join me later for a glass of bubbles, where we’ll catch up and you’ll tell me if what they say about people with a difference such as your man are true.”

Yeah, dwarves were sex machines, he wanted to say, but he held it back in. Maergery was nice enough he supposed but she had lived a life of privilege and had no idea how to address people who did not know such privileges. He bowed and said he would be back with a drink for his lady, and Sansa gave him a look that made him count the seconds he was away from her. He went to the buffet and grabbed some champagne, knowing Sansa liked it even though she was not legal to drink in the States.

He was about to leave the space when someone put a hand on his shoulder. His first instinct was to be rude to the person telling them that he had a growth disorder but was in no way a child one could touch freely when he came face to face with Queen Bloody Olenna.

“Don’t curtsy,” she told him when he tried but could not juggle the two cups of champagne with the maneuver. “I hope you will not mind my stopping you, but I wanted to get to know the man who will marry my Goddaughter.”

Tyrion was a man of many words, but right then, he had none. He was not aware of how close Olenna and Sansa were, but they were apparently no strangers for her to know about the proposal.

“Why must all young people think they invented love?” Olenna complained, rolling her eyes. “No, Sansa did not tell me about an engagement, but apart from some jewelry she inherited from her mother, she never added anything to her parure before, until a certain ring made its way onto the fourth finger of her left hand. She brought you to this official event. Me, an old bird, can tell that you gave her the ring and it has a meaning.”

“I apologize, I never meant to…”

“I know. Still, it is mighty annoying the way the young generation seems to believe they came up with sex and love and subterfuge. The old generation did it before you, and we were good at it.”

“I must say I do not know how to answer this,” he said honestly.

“Then just say that you will take good care of my Goddaughter. If I had my way, she would be on the international stage as much as my beloved grandchildren, and she could even pretend to become queen when I will pass but alas, I cannot bend the rules. It does not change the fact that Sansa is a wonder. I knew it from the moment her mother presented her to me, when she was just a babe. She grew up into this beautiful woman, and I need to know that she is in good hands.”

“She is, Your Highness, I would rather die than hurt Sansa.”

“Then we are ‘good’, if you will, for dead is what you would also be if you broke her heart. Now carry on, before the champagne becomes flat and you end up sipping on lukewarm sort of bubbly grape juice.”

He did not need to be told twice. He bowed the best way he could, then made a beeline for his lover.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Sansa said, grabbing the glass he offered her.

She looked so lovely, but he was torn, for it was sunny and he was worried she needed more sunscreen….

He was turning into a mother hen. He just wanted her to be alright, all the time. He hopes he could make her happy, every day.

And if he failed, he would welcome death, gladly.

Such considerations were quickly put aside when Sansa told him about a break in the ceremony for people to go change into their evening wear, and her plans to ravish him.

Life was more than good. It was almost perfect. All it lacked were two little words, “I do”.

Funny, he thought as they interacted with more people. Before he would have given everything for an award, the recognition from his peers. Nowadays, a smile by Sansa felt like a million Oscar statues.

“What are you thinking?” She asked him whispering.

“Just pondering where I’ll start when I’ll peel your clothes off your body with my teeth,” he answered in the same tone.

Oh yeah, he thought proudly, he was not the only one feeling a little hot under the collar, if the blush on her cheeks was any indication. He smiled like the Cheshire Cat and went on with their conversation. Time would come and he could not wait.

Chapter Text

Before she knew it, she was walking the red carpet with her co-stars, a positively glowing Laora, a director who was too busy making sure his writer was comfortable to answer the journalists’ questions, and of course, him.

They had decided to stay apart while in the eye of the public, but Sansa kept exchanging glance with her fiancé, and she felt like her ring was almost giving her super power. It went by both extremely fast, and extremely slow, as they had to keep the charade up, and she would mention working with “Mr Tyrion Lannister” to the journalists yelling questions. When they were in the dark , sitting side by side, Sansa could barely keep herself from jumping on her man’s knees. The fear of being caught helped her reined it in but she wanted to, oh yes, she did. Instead, she held his hand, and watched their performance on screen. It was heartbreaking. At times, she could see him, the way his own personality would juxtapose with what his character was feeling, and at other times, she was just in awe, once again, at his talent. She saw herself, and asked him in a whisper if he missed her pink hair. He replied that he liked it but he loved all of her, so what she did with her hair was alright with him. She laughed, earning some dirty looks, and just went back to curling up in her chair, her head toward her man who looked mesmerized not by himself but by her.

As he would later say, they had spent the movie in mutual adoration.

Then, the promo tour started, in the US at first. She did some interviews on her own, and he did some. It was actually pretty fun to be sitting on the couch every night and watch the other one on telly, either because they had taped it earlier and were there for the show, or alone, tossing pop corn at the screens if the others’ response called for such violence.

However, her favorites were by far the couple of appearances they got to do together. Tonight was to be one of them.

“Are you nervous, my lady?” Tyrion asked while the technicians were putting their microphones on them.

“Maybe. I do not know. I have not been back to see Seth since that time I was there and talked about….”

“Rickon….”

“Yes.”

He squeezed her hand, and the producers told them to go forth, that they had been introduced.

The audience cheered, applauded as if they were royalty, and Tyrion pretended to bow in front of her, to which she replied with a perfect curtsy, even though she was wearing trousers. They were both sporting smiles on their face, and she felt happy to see Seth again, after so long.

“Welcome! You’ve both been here before,” He said, after they sat down, Tyrion on the chair the closest to their host, and she next to him.

“We were discussing it backstage, saying it was sort of our summer house,” Tyrion joked.

“And as Winter is coming, we should make the best of this house,” she continued.

There was some laughter and Seth went back to the topic at end.

“I am so delighted to welcome you both, you both star in this movie I was lucky to see, “The Maneless Lion”, and boy was it good. The critics agree!” The host said when they both tried to be humble about it.

Though it was true, the reviews were shining, and mostly positive.

“Sansa, we’ve know each other for….”

“What am I,” Tyrion asked, keeping in character with the sort of behavior his public was used to, “chopped liver?”

“I am afraid you are,” Sansa said with a fake contrite smile.

“Jesus, what did I agree to orchestrate?” Seth asked the camera. “I did not know when I agreed to do an extra long show with the two of you, I would be fighting with toddlers. I've got those at home, I don’t need them at my workplace!”

“Sorry,” they both said, but they knew he was jesting.

“What I wanted to say, was that I have known Sansa for many years know, as I have you, Tyrion. I was just putting Sansa first out of gallantry.”

“Heard that? I’m his favorite,” Tyrion bickered.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night…”

“You guys have this energy… When I saw the movie, I was struck by how well you worked together, but you are quite the duet even when the cameras aren’t rolling, are you?”

“I just like to push her buttons,” her fiancé said.

“And I am too polite to bring his attention to the fact that I am buttonless.”

Seth laughed, and with a glance, the two actors agreed to keep it down a notch, in order for the interview to take place.

“This movie,” he said, showing the poster for it, “is a wonder. Anthony Thompson had won multiple awards, but I truly believe that with this one, he will add more on his mantle.”

“The guys is no doofus, he knew how to surround himself with the best people…”

“Always humble, aren’t you, Tyrion?”

“I only meant that he knew when he met Sansa that she was a great actress, and when he discovered she was Cat Tully’s daughter, he was even more certain he had made the right call by casting her,” the actor said.

They had decided to let who she was come through. Before, they had thought it would be necessary in order to prevent his father or Ramsay from leaking the information to the press, but as time had gone by, she had decided that she would not hide who her parents were anymore, that she was her own person, but that she wanted to give them credit for shaping the woman she had become.

“Wait, the Cat Tully?” Seth asked.

“Yes, the one and only. I have kept it close to the vest for a long time, but now that I am lucky enough to be considered for parts that were previously out of my reach, partially because of this wonderful movie, I do not need to hide who my mother was anymore. My father, Ned Stark was the Mayor of Oxford, and a MP, back home. They were very much in love, I think about them every day.”

“If your mother was still alive, may she rest in peace, I am certain after having seen this movie, that she would be so proud of the daughter you keep on being to her,” Seth said.

“Thank you so much, it means a lot.”

She could see he wanted to talk about her sad demise, but they were here on promo business, and she did not want to attract all the attention on her.

“I was very lucky to be considered for this part by Mr. Thompson,” she said.

“And you play it well… Let’s show the trailer.”

The on-air sign went off as the trailer was aired on television, and Seth prepared them for the rest of the interview in the 90 seconds they had off. When the sign came back on, the audience clapped, and they went along.

“Tyrion, I must say that you’ve astonished me once again. Was it hard, putting yourself into the shoes of this character who is, let’s say to not spoil people, so not you?”

“It was a challenge of course, otherwise it would have been boring, but I do believe that some of his plights were some I share. He lives in the shadow of his name, and I do too, for example.”

“Did you need those aspect in common to find the voice for this character?”

“Partly I guess, and the other, well, it’s ust sheer talent,” he joked, and she pretended to roll her eyes. “This one though, she made an impression on the writer and director, and they almost tailored the role to who she was.”

“Did it make slipping into character easier for you, Sansa?”

“I do not think it did, to be honest. Sure, many aspects were drawn from who I was and how I behaved during my audition, but even though he says it was tailored for me, it was not me, it was tailored to a person I could be. While I was walking in Ismelda’s shoes, I would often wonder if I did her justice, or if I should adopt her mannerism, permanently.”

“The movie is amazing, with so many great actors, but the critics seem to have realized how great an actress you are since they saw it…”

“They were blinded by some choices I made and was comfortable with at a time in my life. But now they see…”

“Want to take a pass at me again about being humble?” Tyrion asked, and they laughed.

“I must bring it up, but since the movie has been out there has been a following for your characters and their relationship. When you were playing those scenes, did you have any idea it could be so?”

“Absolutely none.”

“Then again, perhaps some fans are transferring what they see in tabloids onto your characters,” Seth said.

To which they both replied:

“No comment.”

“Come on guys, be fun! You were spotted at a wedding, of the royal kind in England!”

“It was a pure coincidence. We both happened to know the spouses to be….”

“So you decided to take the same car?”

“Exactly, we’re all about saving the planet,” Tyrion said and Seth rolled his eyes playfully.

“Whatever, I won’t press further. However, how do you deal with the Rismelda fans?”

“Rismelda?” Sansa asked, surprised.

“It’s the portmanteau name for the pairing of Richard and Ismelda,” Tyrion explained.

“Oh, alright. Then I guess, all I can say, and I guess I am only speaking for myself, is that people take away from a movie whatever they want. For some, it will be the struggle of the writer, for others, the fall from grace and loss of naivety of the ingenue. For others, it will be something that is sort of hinted at but not fully developed. However in the end, it is what makes a movie a good movie, don’t you think?” She asked her loved, fighting the urge to take his hand.

He was so close and yet so far.

“I agree. It means the movie resonated for people. It keeps on living every time they think about a scene and how it relates to them, or every time they make theories about things unseen. Some movies are seen and forgotten. Therefore, it would be outrageous to berate the fans for having liked the movie for whatever reason.”

“Even if the reason is you guys? Don’t answer that, you will just BS me further. What’s next for you guys?”

“I am currently writing on a manuscript,” Tyrion announced. “It will probably go nowhere, but I decided to take some time off to get it out of my system.”

“I will be taking care of my family, and we also of course will be taking care of our portion tour,” she said.

“That’s right, I forgot to say I loved your sister! She’s competing right now, but not in fencing, is that right?”

“That is right. My sister, the glorious Arya Stark is going through the trials for some riding tournaments.”

“You’re full of surprise…”

“And you don’t know half of it!” Tyrion said.

“Which reminds me, whose dog is that?” Seth asked, before showing a paparazzi pictures of the couple holding coffee cups as they walked Rory.

“That would be my cub. Except she is not a cub anymore. My precious Rory was given to me by this very thoughtful gentleman to welcome me in the club of actors who have to get out of their comfort zone,” she said.

“She’s magnificent,” their host replied.

“That she is,” the actor said. “Therefore you understand why I hang around this one, just to be next to her lovely beast…”

They laughed and joked some more, playfully but skillfully dancing around the questions which would have inferred they were an item.

When the light went off again, and they all went backstage, Seth hang around with them and finally asked:

“Off the record, guys, are you just sharing custody of a dog because it did not work out or should I expect an invitation in the mail?”

“The latter,” Tyrion answered. “What can I say? I listened to Queen Bey. Since I liked it, then I put a ring on it,” he explained, grabbing her hand and showing their engagement ring as they liked to call it.

And while it was terrifying, telling the truth to someone outside of their inner circle, Sansa felt exhilaration and wanted to kiss her man.

“Just wait till I get to put a ring on it,” she said, laughing, blushing, but happy.

“I’m so happy for the both of you. You both deserve the happiness you’re showing. And Tyrion, I really hope you get that elusive Oscar…”

“Thanks man,”.

They parted ways, and went back to take off their formal clothes. In the car, Tyrion asked:

“Are you okay, my love?”

“I just cannot wait till we really put a ring on it.”

“Patience, my Lady. Next month, we’re attending Tormund and Osha’s commitment ceremony in Winterfell, and then we can plan our own celebration.”

“You are the most charming man I have ever met.”

He gave her his roguish smile, and she kissed him. Soon enough, they were snogging like teenagers. Sweet dreams could not match their perfect reality.

Chapter Text

« We look like we are in a cult,” Brienne whispered to her neighbor.

“Shush, woman,” replied Jamie.

Yet, they did.

They were all in Winterfell, for Osha and Tormund’s nuptials. They had all flown in and Brienne could say without lying that she looked forward to seeing her ex-lover tie the knot with the woman who would make him happy in ways she could not have.

The preparations had been quite quick, as Osha had been, after all, the governess of the castle and still held authority over the people working there.

Brienne had done what she could to help, thankful to be included. Sansa had let Osha be the lady of Winterfell for her big day, and it was such a typical thing for the woman to do…. Always putting others first….

The priest had arrived, and the clerk from the local townhall had to. The ceremony was to take place at dawn.

Everything was going according to Osha’s plan when Tormund had blurted out during the rehearsal dinner:

“Sansiona, my darling, why don’t you get married with us? Not with us, but you know, alongside us…. We all know you and the little fellow are in it for the long run. Since people it’s me and Osha tying the knot, you won’t have any problems with noisy journalists…”

Brienne had been baffled and amazed when Osha had nodded along, saying:

“If you wanted to, my Lady, it would be our honor to give you this opportunity to be able to be joined in holy or unholy matrimony next to us. Besides, we all know, at least us of Winterfell, that your parents got married where Tormund and I will tomorrow, at the same time.”

“That is so nice of you, I would never want to steal anything from you, my dear Osha,” Sansa had started, quickly exchanging glances with Tyrion.

“It is so nice of you,” Tyrion said too, “but we really would not want to steal your thunder…”

“You are not saying you do not want to get married, is what I’m hearing,” said Tormund.

“I hear it to,” said Bran.

“Can we… Can we leave you for a second and talk it among ourselves?” Sansa had asked, after exchanging another glance with her fiancé.

“Take your time, my Lady, and my Lord. Just know that what we offer, we offer from the bottom of our heart.”

And they had left.

“I hate to ask this,” Jon started saying.

“Dearest Lord Jon, you would be quite welcome to wed your beloved by our sides,” said Osha, always so reverential when talking to one of the Stark-Greyjoy-Snow family members.

“How about asking me first?” Ygritte had asked.

“Oi, you’re in trouble,” Tormund had said.

“Ygritte, you know I am crap at big speeches. I don’t talk. Yet you hear me. Marry me.”

Brienne had felt herself swoon, and even Arya had held in her breathe.

“I guess I could live with that… Or live with you, I suppose.”

“Oi, it’s a good thing I came back for this,” said Talisa, Lil’ Robb in her arms. “You were always so nice to me, Osha, I could not stay away, I needed to be there for you when something good happened to you. It looks like I may be witnessing more than one union…”

Bran seemed in his own mind, as he often did, and whispered something along the lines of more lives being joined than what people were thinking.

Brienne, for her part, felt torn. There was no way she could….

“Brienne, if you were to decide that your young man is worth it, we would welcome you in our celebration,” said Osha.

Jesus, the woman had to be a saint, Brienne had thought. She was the complete opposite of a bridezilla, but then again, when you knew you were making the right choice, that you could never regret anything you were about to do, and that the person next to you was the one who mattered the most, Brienne supposed it did not really matter if there was someone else sharing some of your spotlight.

Jaime and her had never discussed getting hitched, and she turned to look at him. He had seemed extremely zen about it. Was he thinking that there was no way in hell she would take Osha on her offer?

Then again, he did not know everything. Sansa did. Hell, when Brienne had peed on the stick, she had needed someone to hold her other hand and whisper in her ear that everything would be okay, no matter what.

“What do you say, Jaime?” Brienne asked. “I don’t expect a commitment or anything, I just want your genuine thoughts.”

“I have turned 40. It’s not a good reason to get married, but well, I have finally started getting more mature. Whether you would d have me as your husband would be your problem I guess.”

“It is true you are an old man,” Brienne joked, as she was 8 years his junior.

She then whispered in his ear:

“Do you want kids?”

“I never gave it much thought, why?” Jaime asked, looking caught off guard.

Boy, had he been in for a shock.

“Because whether we get married with Osha and Tormund will decide whether or not our child is born in or out of wedlock. You cannot run away if you decide you want to go through with this.”

“Wait… Are you saying that…?”

Before she could say anything, Tormund had lifted her from her chair and had spun her around saying:

“I can’t believe my little Brie is with child! How far along are you? Osha is 10 weeks in.”

“Wait, what?”

“Wait what?”

“Wait what?”

Oh yeah, that bombshell had been topped by that other bombshell.

It did make sense. Osha was glowing even more than when she had started seeing Tormund. There was something about her, like she was healing or learning to cope wit the big losses from her past, and a baby to be would help explain why that process could have started…

“Brienne, you are pregnant?” Jaime asked, not caring about the rest of the peanut gallery.

“I have to be, doofus, otherwise if we get married tomorrow, then there’s no child to be born in wedlock, don’t you think”? She said, when Tormund put her down, realizing that Jaime was not in the know.

“It’s mine?”

There was a collective gasp and she had needed to remind herself that he was just learning about it.

“Yes.”

“And you’d marry me? Have me be the child’s father?”

“You are his or her father, you stupid man!”

“Then… Then… Please marry me.”

“Oh God, I thought you’d never ask!”

Sansa and Tyrion had come back from the room next door and had taken in the sight.

“Will you join us?” Tormund had asked.

“Yes, thank you so much for that…”

“We will have another public sort of wedding so that Queen Olenna can attend, but as we are already sort of married in many cultures….”

Her siblings started buzzing and asking, but Tormund came back closer to Brienne and asked again how far along she was. To which, Tyrion blurted out:

“Wait, what?”

And that was how they had ended up like this, the eight of them, each with its intended, in front of a priest who looked like this was no big deal to him, and a municipal clerk who looked like he was about to blow his top.

They bloody looked like a cult. She could not blame the guy.

However, when the time came and the priest asked her to recite her vows, she lost herself in Jaime’s eyes.

Tyrion, who was just next to his brother, watching him get hitched, gestured for his lover to bend over slightly:

“Got any big news you’d like to share before we go through with this?”

“I’m afraid I’m not pregnant, my Lord. Not Yet.”

“We’ll get there, babe….”

Sansa was contraceptive implant free and they had decided against another one. They were taking a chance.

And then, it was their turn.

“If you will allow us, Father,” Sansa told the priest, “I would like to make my own vows.

He gestured for her to go ahead. She took Tyrion’s hand, and slipped her father’s ring on his finger.

“This ring, my Lord, has no beginning, and it has no end, and such is my love. I take thee to be my mate, the better half to my alpha, and my beloved spouse. I love you.”

Tyrion fought back tears, and got her mother’s wedding ring from his jacket.

As they were getting married on a whim, they had found the first pair of wedding bands they could, with the blessing from her siblings.

“I can only thank you my lady, and praise you, for letting me be there for you, be your mate, run with your pack, and be the shoulder you rest your head on. Thank you for making me the luckiest man on Earth, and please accept this ring as a token of my undying commitment.”

They kissed, and the priest said his prayers. Then it was finally Osha’s and Tormund’s turn. The priest started their celebration by blessing Osha’s womb, and then did it all in Gaelic. All newlyweds stopped their own celebrating to witness the union of the man and woman wo had allowed them to be part of this cultish like celebration. When they kissed, they all applauded, and the rest of the family and friends cheered.

“In the name of our Lord, I name you husband, and wife, husband and wife, husband and wife, and finally husband, and wife.”

Tormund planted the most ginormous kiss on Osha’s mouth, and when he was done almost eating her in front of them all, he said:

“To the feast!”

And they all ran there.

The night was long, but perfect.

When all couples retired to their nuptial rooms, Sansa and Tyrion went to hers. He kissed her slowly, brushing her hair off her face, then pressing soft kisses on her eyelashes, her cheeks, her lips, the tip of her nose, her ears.

“My wife,” he whispered.

“My husband,” she replied, with tears in her eyes.

“Remind me to thank Varys.”

“Please never speak his name again in our bedroom.”

“Granted.”

As he helped her get rid of her dress, a simple dress, the fancy one would come for their fancy union where her godmother would attend, he kissed every speck of skin he could find.

“I feel like I waited my whole life for you.”

“I am younger, my Lord, I am sorry I kept you waiting…”

“I am not. The wait was worth it. You are worth it.”

“Then I can admit I am not sorry I am younger. I have the privilege of having you in my life right away, and not have to wait around.”

“You little minx,” he joked, pinching her side.

He kissed her nipple, and she put her fingers in his unruly locks.

“I do not know what I did to deserve you.”

“I could say the same.”

Theirs lips met, and then more.

When they were lying side by side, he took her left hand in his, and put his next to it. Their rings meant they were married. For some reason, he did not mind that they were not the first to wear them. Perhaps they could start a tradition. Then again, it would mean their children would have for them to be dead before they could get married….

“When we have this fake wedding for your godmother, we’ll exchange new rings,” he said, “but I think we should keep wearing those. All of them, really. Just as many reminders of how blessed we are.”

“I would marry you every day of the week, and twice on Sundays, if you felt like it,” she told him.

“Funny,” he said, “ I was thinking the same thing.”

“Kiss me.”

“Glady.”

When they got back to the US of A, they hang the shelf she had bought for his future Oscars, and put pictures of their weddings on it. He didn’t mind. In fact, he loved it.

THE END

Chapter Text

They had flown in from Wintefell.

They had been married for 4 months now, and tonight was the Oscar ceremony.

Tyrion was nominated for Best Actor in “The Maneless Lion”, and Sansa was nominated for best performance in a Supporting Role in the same movie. It had been a surprise, but he truly believed she deserved it, 300%.

The more they were married, the more time they spent in Winterfell. First they had been back to have a lovely winter wedding on Christmas Day, with Queen Olenna’s in attendance. If she knew about her Goddaughter having tied the knot before, she kept mum, and it provided them with the opportunity to invite their friends, such as Tony and Laora. Varys had bragged about his part in all of it, but they had learned to tune him off. He was a great man, but humble, he was not.

Talisa had gotten back to the UK for the occasion, and the more time she spent in the big castle, the closer she seemed to be getting to Theon. Sansa and Tyrion had discussed, and thought the two of them would never enter a sensual relationship, but that they could quite possibly get married, and remain a platonic couple, being what the other needed, respecting the other’s past, and their wishes. It was unconventional, but if it worked for them, they had nothing to say against it.

Back in the US, they had started the night by walking the red carpet. People kept asking them if they were an item, they kept on playing coy. Tyrion looked at his left hand. He had two wedding bands. If inquiring minds wanted to know, inquiring minds only needed to open their eyes.

The movie’s crew was seated in the same area, and he was sitting next to Sansa. He was gutted when a very pregnant Brienne announced that the statue for the winner for a supporting female role in a drama went to someone who was not his wife, but she did not mind, only happy to have been considered.

He felt on edge. He could not explain it. There was something in the air, something he would usually try to analyze, but right then, he felt too… on edge. Yep, he had lost his wits. The thing was, he was changing. Sure he was still an actor, and had signed to star in a new movie, but he was also working on his scenario. He was currently polishing it, but the next stage would be to show it to some producers.

“You’ll win when I direct you”, he told Sansa when the Oscar went to someone else.

“I am quite certain I will. However, we may need to rethink our schedule….” She said, looking like the queen she was.

She whispered something in his ear, and suddenly the whole night made sense.

Categories went by and then it was his.

On stage, Jaime alongside Daenerys Targyaren was calling out the names of the nominess, making jokes about being impartial but having stuffed the urns still the same.

“And the winner is…” Jaime started, opening the envelope.

“Tyrion Lannister for “The Maneless Lion”! Daenerys announced with a big smile upon reading the name.

The room burst in applause, and the voice over read a summary of his career. He could feel everyone around him, congratulating him, patting him on the back, shaking his hand. He took advantage of the wall from prying eyes his castmates offered to give his wife a kiss, then he made his way to the stage, where he hugged his brother close to his heart, and kissed Daenerys’ cheek.

Both took a step back to let him give a speech.

“Boy”, Tyrion said, holding the statue, “I never thought I would get one of those. I figured it was like rides at Disneyland, you needed to be a certain height to be able to have one.”

The cheering crows had quiet down and laughed at his joke.

“The thing is….” He started, then stopped.

The crowd was hanging on his every word.

“The thing is I forgot my speech. Hell, I didn’t write a speech, because I was sure I was not getting it. But I got it. I remember when Christopher Plummer told his statue he had waited a long time for it, and I longed to do the same…. I would like to thank the producers of the movie, the studio executives, everyone who has worked on it, my costars… I would like to thank Tony for trusting me, once again, and Laora, for writing such an amazing script. You are a wonder, darling, you truly are. I also would like to thank my brother. My sister and father can go fuck…. Ooops, I’m not supposed to say that word, right? Anyway, I would like to thank him, and his wife, and you know what? I would like to dedicate this Oscar to my muse, Sansa Stark-Lannister. My Lady, you have turned the frog that I was into someone worth your time, and I have no idea how you did such a feat. I also would like to say to our baby, if he or she gets to watch this in the future, in the end, I will have wanted you more than this wonderful statue. Oh yeah, that’s right, I’m about to be a dad and I’m moving to England to raise my child because this country has a gun problem and I can’t solve it on my own, but I can bring awareness to it.! Sansa, you are a Goddess, and I can’t wait to meet the fruit of our love. Thank you!”

He saluted, then laughed when Jaime lifted him in his arms and congratulated him for the biggest piece of news of the night.

He was going to be a dad!

As she watched him answer question from the press, holding his statue with other winners, Sansa could not help but smile widely, with tears in her eyes. He had his Oscar! And they would have their baby.

The difference a year could make….

And to think they would be moving to Winterfell!

“Sansa, baby, will you?” Tyrion asked loudly and all eyes turned to her.

He was gesturing for her to come and join him on the platform. They were usually so shy with their relationship, but the cat was out of the bag, and carrying kittens….

Shaking her head, she walked to the stage, the journalists parting like the Red Sea around her. She came next to her husband and in front of all the cameras in the room, kissed his lips.

The flashes would have made them blind if they had not been lost in one another.

They parted, laughing and he said:

“That’s all you get. When she gets an Oscar, you may get a second kiss, but in the meantime, you better milk this one for all its worth! Now my darling, are you ready to go back home?”

“Yes, My Lord. Take me back to England.”

With flashes following them and journalists screaming question at them, they escaped, to live happily, away from prying eyes.

Six and half months later, she held one healthy baby against her nipple. Her husband was holding its twin, cooing at the little girl.

“Hey Poppy,” he say saying, “your brother Ned is being a greedy babe, but you will be the bigger one in this relationship, won’t you? You already look like so much like your mama….”

“Someone is going to be Daddy’s Little Girl,” Sansa laughed, tiredly.

“Puh-lease,” her husband said. “Papa’s little girl.”

“How silly of me!” She said.

“I love you though. I don’t mean ‘though’, I mean I love you. Thank you for giving me a son and a daughter,” he told her, and she could see the remains of the tears he had cried when they had discovered they were getting two bairns for the price of one.”

“Thank you for giving the same gifts,” she said. “I love you too.”

They shared a kiss, which was interrupted by their pack, and their own bairns, coming to meet their cousins.

Chapter Text

“Hello Mother, Father,” Sansa said to the tombs of her parents.

She was covered from head to toe, wrapped in warm clothes, her hair free in order to cover her ears.

“I am sorry I do not come more often to visit you, especially now that I am so close. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

All she got as an answer was the wind blowing harder.

“I am truly sorry, if it means anything. I hope you know how much you are cherished though.”

She felt something in her belly and decided to stop waiting for a sign, for something they would do to tell her she is forgiven.

“Mother, Father, I am pregnant again. Well, again… The twins are almost two years old now…. I know Tyrion often brings them to you and to Rickon, as well as Robb. Have you seen how Poppy takes after you, Mother? Ned is more like Tyrion in many ways, but he reminds me so much of Rickon when he was a bairn…”

She sat in the snow, not caring about the cold, about how wet her clothes are going to get. She just felt like she needed to be close to her family.

“I hope you do not disapprove the fact that we have moved in, in Winterfell. I knew I wanted it, and I guess Tyrion wanted it too, but we never asked you what you thought. And then we came, and life was a whirlwind, not that it stopped being so… eventful, but well… I do not need to tell you all that happened, you witnessed it from your place in Heaven.”

She sighed, unsure how to continue, yet she felt this need. It had kept her awake for the past several days, and while she had been terribly busy, caring for the house as they were about to celebrate Christmas with all their family, she had been plagued by the memories of the happy celebrations her whole family used to have. She had started wondering if perhaps they were not including their parents enough. Tyrion would kiss her hand, call her hiss Lady, and tell her that no one on Earth could ever doubt she loved her parents, but she felt fear.

Something had ignited this fear, truth be told.

“I know you saw that Tywin Lannister tried to get into our home a few days ago.”

And it was true. Claiming he had a right to see his grandchildren, he had barged in the village of Winterfell, and had tried to get into the castle, but the inhabitants of the lands had not been keen on letting the rude man in. It had made Sansa’s heart swell, the faith they had displayed toward her family and her. Tywin had tried to argue that he was the father of the Lord of Winterfell, and he had been told very drily that his son had a claim to their lands, but that he, his old man, could go do ungodly things on a broom if he thought he could claim any lordship over them.

How had she been so blessed? She did not know and probably never would.

Tyrion had laughed and laughed when the scene had been recounted to them, for they had been in London for the day, having a secret but royal christening for the twins. Queen Olenna had insisted, and Tyrion had learnt not to try and dupe her Godmother. She was a force of nature, she truly was.

Maergery would be getting married that summer, that was of course if she did not change her mind before then. Loras had gotten married the summer before, and the whole kingdom had watched it happen, had participated, but had known better. It was just about … winning time. He would get married, then divorced, or get an annulment, then get married again and so forth, never producing an heir. Rumor was his butler, Renly Stormsends was getting to see him more than his wife did. Sansa was not sure who she pitied the most, Loras, forced to play farce after farce, everybody knowing full well what his game was, his wife, who would be discarded in a few years, or perhaps, Renly, who would be the subject of both whispers and smears as if he was the one who had turned the prince away from women.

They had all been present at the twins' baptism, alongside Jaime and Brienne, and of course, her own siblings. Watching Ygritte hold her bairn in her arms as she told the Queen that where she came from, while technically under her rule, she was not considered their leader had been a breathtaking moment. Thankfully, Queen Olenna was not stupid and knew her hold on the Northern regions of the Kingdom was more for show than felt in the people’s everyday life. She had smiled, had nodded, and had commented on how strong Jon and Ygritte’s daughter looked.

The ceremony had been short, and Tyrion had been knighted at the same time, something none of them had expected, but it had warmed his heart. He knew that in the actual context it did not mean much, but it was a way for her Godmother to signify her approval of her Goddaughter’s choice for a spouse.

When they had gotten back to Winterfell, with their toddlers running everywhere on wobbly legs, they had learnt about Tywin’s visit.

Tyrion had laughed but had felt flattered by the reaction of the villagers. That night, Sansa had told him about the new life growing in her belly. He had kissed her madly, then had kissed her flat stomach, had put his head against her belly button feeling humbled by the fact that they would be welcoming another member to their family at some point.

The following day, their pack was supposed to come. Tormund, Asha, Skosha their daughter and Oisin they younger son would be staying at the castle even though they had moved back in the village soon after Tyrion and Sansa had taken their would-be family back. Jon and Ygritte were living in London, where they helped veterans while tending to Lyanna. Bran had found happiness in the arms of his previous lover, Meera, and hey were sharing their time all around the world, everywhere Bran would need to go for his dozens of theses he had brewing at any given time. Jaime and Brienne were leaving in New York , but as she had become a mother, Brienne seemed to want to come back to the land where she had been born, and Jaime was still so frightened of doing something wrong that would enrage his beloved, he would not oppose the idea of moving their family there. They had a son, named Selwyn, and they were currently expecting their second child.

She was brought back from her pensive mood upon hearing someone make their way to her. She turned to see her sister, and she had to open her arm for Arya to hug her as tight as she could. Though it was a very rare occurrence, the young adult snuggled against her sister, and said:

“I am so glad to find you here. I will need you to hold my hand as I tell Father and Mother my secret.”

“Whatever you need, sister, you know I am here for you.”

“Alright, then hold my hand tight.”

Arya turned to the grave of their parents and said:

“Papa, mama, I must tell you something, and I hope you won’t be mad. I am not your little girl anymore. I decided that it was high time that I brought into the world a cousin for my several nephews. Gendry and I are expecting. Well, I’m expecting, and he’s scared to death, but you get the picture…”

Sansa could not help but laugh, and her sister gave her an amused side look. To answer, Sansa simply grabbed her sister’s hand and put it on her own belly.

It was Arya’s turn to laugh, but then she hugged her sister closer, and said:

“I guess it’s good news. I was already hoping you would help me quench my fears about my pregnancy. Knowing you’re going through the same thing at the same time as I do is good…”

“Furthermore, you will be able to ask anyone of our family… All our sisters will love to be there for you.”

Arya hugger her closer, and they looked at the graves of their parents.

“Do you think they approve?” Arya asked.

“I am sure I do. Sorry to intrude on you both, but I saw Gendry, and figured that the reason he was not with my fearless sister-in-law had to be that she was with my missing wife.”

Tyrion was covered in furs too, and he looked almost sorry to cut their moment short, but Sansa smiled wildly at him.

“Come on love,” she told him, “you will be needed to tell Gendry what to expect when you are expecting.”

A look of complete surprise crossed Tyrion’s feature, then he punched Arya on the arm, saying:

“You could never be a Lady!”

“I leave that to my sister, and her old husband,” the brunette responded quickly.

The way back to the castle was filled with laughter and more jokes, and vibes. Sansa felt at peace, watching a last time her parents’ graves as she went back to her home to make sure everything was ready to welcome back their whole pack.