Fellowship & Fairydust

Everlong – Foo Fighters

And I wonder
when I sing along with you
if everything could ever feel this real forever–
if everything could ever be this good again.
The only thing I’ll ever ask of you:
You gotta promise not to stop when I say when

 

February 13, 300

Tyrion woke up to the feel of something warm on his chest. He opened an eye and found that Sansa had nestled there, her ear against his bare skin, hair fanning out across him. He smiled, reaching up to draw circles in her pale skin with the tips of his fingers. It was his name day. He was twenty-eight years old. He was happily married, and the acting lord of Casterly Rock – maybe forever, now that Jaime was determined to remain King’s Guard. Never before had he felt like everything, he’d dreamed of might come true. Now it had. And despite everything–despite their war-ravaged country and the tales from the north – Tyrion was happy.

He felt Sansa stir. She rolled over so that she was facing him and then smiled. “Happy name day.”

“Thank you.” Tyrion propped himself up a bit so that he could reach to press a kiss to her forehead. “So, do I finally get to see what you’ve been working on for the past month?”

Sansa laughed. “They say patience is a virtue.”

“I’ve been patient for a month!” Tyrion said. “Present, please.”

Sansa kissed Tyrion’s chest. “Tonight, at your name-day feast.”

Tyrion gave a dramatic sigh, draping his arm over his forehead. “I can’t wait that long. I’ll wither away and die!”

“Oh, you will not.” Sansa swatted at his arm. “Besides, I’ve a different present for you to enjoy today.”

“You do?” Tyrion’s eyes brightened.

“Well, you did give me two presents on my name day,” Sansa said. “It seemed right to offer you the same.”

“You don’t have to make everything even,” Tyrion said.

“Do you not want it, then?” Sansa sat up.

“No, no,” Tyrion pushed himself up as well. He held his hands out. “Gimme.”

Sansa chuckled at his childish antics. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him act so like a boy. She leaned forward until her mouth was just beside his ear, and she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re…”

Sansa grinned, leaning away from him to gauge his reaction. Wonderment shone in Tyrion’s eyes. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her lips. “You’re sure, right?”

“Very,” Sansa said. “It’s why I’ve been off food the past few weeks, and so tired.”

“Wow.” Tyrion stared at her, seemingly at a loss for words.

“You’re happy, right?” Sansa asked.

“Happy?” Tyrion shook his head. “My lady, I am overjoyed. We’re going to have a baby. I want to scream it from the battlements.”

Sansa laughed. “That’s a little dramatic… I thought you might want to announce it at dinner.”

Tyrion nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Today, we can just enjoy the news ourselves.” Sansa leaned forward, cupping his cheek in her hand. She pressed her nose against his, staring fondly into his mismatched eyes.

“This is the best name day present you could have given me,” Tyrion said. “I’m sorry to say it, for I know you’ve been working on the other present for a while, but it will not compare.”

Sansa laughed and carded a hand through his golden locks. In the smallest of voices, she whispered, “I love you, Tyrion Lannister.”

He touched her chin. “I love you, Sansa.”

***

“I feel ridiculous.” Arya held her arms out to the side as she turned in a circle. Her nose was wrinkled in irritation. To Adelaide, the handmaiden who had been sent to assist her, she said, “They don’t make Brienne dress up like this.”

“Brienne is a knight.” Adelaide pinned Arya’s dress carefully.

“I’m not a knight.” The words came from Arya’s doorway.

Arya and Adelaide both looked up to see Brienne’s hulking frame filling the door. It was one of the few times Arya had seen the woman without armor or breeches on. She wore colorful pants that flowed together, so they almost looked like a shirt when she was still, though when she stepped into the room, Arya saw they were breeches.

“I dress up for occasions as well,” Brienne told Arya. “It’s your brother-in-law’s name day.”

“I wouldn’t mind wearing clothes like that,” Arya said, pointing at Brienne’s breeches.

“And if I were half so pretty as you, you’d never get me out of a dress,” Brienne said. “You’re lucky enough to be both strong and attractive. There are very few women in this world with that particular set of blessings. If I were you, I would complain less about it.”

Chastened, Arya looked down at her feet.

Brienne sat on Arya’s bed, her long feet stretching out in front of her. “Have I ever told you why I entered Renly’s service?”

Arya stared at her, and then she shook her head.

“When I was a little girl,” Brienne said, “not much older than you are now, my father threw a ball. I’m his only living child, so he wanted to make a good match for me. He invited dozens of young lords to Tarth. I didn’t want to go but he dragged me to the ballroom.”

Arya smiled a little at the thought. It felt familiar, like something her family might do for her.

“And it was wonderful,” Brienne whispered.

Arya blinked in surprise.

“None of the boys noticed how mulish and tall I was,” Brienne said. “They shoved each other and threatened to duel when they thought it was their turn to dance. They whispered in my ear how they wanted to marry me and take me back to their castles. My father smiled at me, and I smiled at him. I’d never been so happy.”

Arya felt a chill go over her. Staring at the older woman, she felt suddenly very sad.

“And then I saw a few of the boys snickering,” Brienne continued. “And then they all started to laugh – they couldn’t keep the game going any longer.”

Arya’s fist clenched at the thought. Stupid, terrible boys.

“They were toying with me,” Brienne said. “Brienne the Beauty, they called me. Great joke. And I realized I was the ugliest girl alive. A great, lumbering beast.”

Arya stared at the woman’s scarred face and crooked nose. She didn’t know what to say.

“I tried to run away,” Brienne said, “but Renly Baratheon took me in his arms. ‘Don’t let them see your tears,’ he told me. ‘They’re nasty little shits, and nasty little shits aren’t worth crying over.’ He danced with me, and none of the other boys could say a word. Renly was the king’s brother, after all.”

Arya bit down on her lower lip. She couldn’t imagine something like that happening. Her chest hurt, and she wanted to say that she’d have pummeled any boys that did that to her, but she knew that wasn’t the point. Pummeling them wouldn’t make the hurt go away – not really.

Adelaide spoke up. “But wasn’t he… I mean, I’d heard rumors that he…”

Brienne scowled. “Yes, girl, he liked men. I’m not an idiot.”

Adelaide flinched away at her tone.

“He didn’t love me,” Brienne said. “He didn’t want me. He danced with me because he was kind and didn’t want to see me hurt. He saved me from being a joke from that day until his last day. And I couldn’t save him in return.”

Arya twisted her hands.

“Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love,” Brienne said. “You love your sister?”

Arya inclined her head.

“Wear the damn dress,” Brienne said. “You’ll hurt her enough when you go to the wall. No need to start now.”

***

The feast was held on the beach. Tables and chairs had been brought out there so that they could listen to the waves against the shore as they ate. Sansa knew that it was Tyrion’s favorite spot in all of Casterly Rock. She sat beside him at the head table, her hand in his. For once the nausea had left her alone, and she found that she was able to enjoy the meal that had been prepared for them.

As they were drawing towards the end of their supper, Tyrion stood, cracking his knife on the edge of his goblet to get everyone’s attention. The chatter died. Sansa stared out at all of the faces looking eagerly at him – Arya, with Podrick beside her; Jaime with Brienne of Tarth; Bronn and Carla; Adelaide… they had really built a home for themselves here. She felt her chest swelling with pride and affection for every one of them.

“My lady wife and I have an announcement to make.” Tyrion reached for Sansa, and she stood beside him, her hand in his. Tyrion continued, “Sansa told me this morning that she is with child!”

There was silence in the moment following Tyrion’s announcement, and then a hearty round of applause. Arya leapt from her seat, her small hands covering her mouth. Tyrion squeezed Sansa’s hand gently.

Sansa said, “I’d like to present a gift to my lord on his name day – that our children may ever remember his bravery and strength!”

Taking the cue, Adelaide pulled the tapestry out, unraveled it, and held it up for Tyrion to see. It showed Tyrion at the head of an army of men, his sword raised.

Tears glistened in Tyrion’s eyes. “You’ve made me look so tall…”

Sansa smiled. “At Blackwater, you were the tallest man on the battlefield.”

It was a perfect moment.

And then they heard the snarling sound. Something leapt over the walls closing this part of the beach off from the smallfolk and landed at the edge of their party. It was a dire wolf, snarling and snapping its jaw, and hanging from its back was…

“Rickon!” Sansa and Arya leapt forward together.

The child hanging from the dire wolf looked at them. And then, to their surprise, Rickon bared his teeth at them and growled.

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