Fellowship & Fairydust

Human – Christina Perri

I can hold my breath
I can bite my tongue
I can stay awake for days
if that’s what you want…
I can fake a smile.
I can force a laugh.
I can dance and play the part
if that’s what you ask.
Give you all I am…
But I’m only human
and I bleed when I fall down.

January 29, 300

Sansa finally abandoned her work for the night, settling the tapestry and her needle in a corner to wait for the morrow. She was making good progress, but it needed to be done in little over a fortnight, and part of her wondered if she would get it done in time. Tyrion’s brother was due any day now, and she was sure that it wouldn’t be polite to disappear for hours at a time once he’d arrived. Already, she wasn’t seeing near enough of her sister. Arya came to visit her occasionally, but she was too restless to really enjoy chatting with Sansa while Sansa engaged in her needlework, and her visits were always far too short.

Sansa was exhausted. She had been so, it felt, for a week or two now. It had to be the needlework. So much time spent staring at one thing made her eyes hurt, and her body drag. It would be worth it, she knew, when she was able to present the tapestry to Tyrion on his name day, but in the meantime, she was finding it hard to drag herself through each day.

She pushed herself to her feet and dragged herself down the hall towards her room, eager to simply get into bed and go to sleep. She was surprised to see light coming from beneath their door: It was late, and she’d thought Tyrion would be abed already. She nudged the door open and stepped into their room.

Sansa’s breath caught in her chest. Their room had been transformed. Tyrion watched from the bed as she crossed over, her fingertips brushing the new green drapes. Green and white – their whole room had been done over in green and white.

“It’s beautiful,” She whispered, feeling tears at the back of her eyes. She shook her head, feeling like a silly little girl.

Tyrion smiled. “I thought you’d never come up to bed.”

“I was…” Sansa shook her head, not sure what to say. “What made you do this, Tyrion?”

“I want you happy, Sansa,” he said. “You deserve to be happy. Truly happy. This room… this should be your sanctuary.”

Sansa slipped to her knees in front of him. She cupped his face in both of her hands and pressed her lips to his. “You’re the single most glorious person I’ve ever met.”

Tyrion laughed, looking embarrassed. “Come to bed.”

Sansa snuffed the lantern before crawling into bed beside him. She rested her head against his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart, and fell asleep almost at once.

***

January 30, 300

There was a knock on their bedroom door in the earliest hours of the morning. Sansa groaned, scrubbing at her eyes, and pushed herself upwards. She felt Tyrion stirring beside her, equally sluggish.

Adelaide’s voice came from outside the door. “Lord Jaime is here, m’lord. M’lady.”

“Jaime?” Tyrion’s eyes lit, and a boyish gleam shone in his eyes. He slid from his bed, reaching for a pair of trousers. “We’ll be right down, Adelaide.”

Sansa frowned. Her stomach twisted, and for a moment, she felt she might be sick. Tyrion was excited to see Jaime, but though she would never say as much to Tyrion, she was not. She had no fond memories of Jaime Lannister. He had fought against her brother in the war – had been his prisoner. And if the rumors regarding him and Cersei were true, he had fathered a monster. What kind of man could he possibly be?

“Sansa?” Tyrion’s voice was thick with concern. He touched her wrist. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, of course.” Sansa took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Sorry. I’m a little tired.”

“You were back quite late last night,” Tyrion agreed.

“Yes.” Sansa smiled. She collected a dress and pulled it on hastily, turning so Tyrion could do up the back of it for her. Dressed like a true Lady of Casterly Rock, she reached down and clasped her husband’s hand, a united front against the world outside their room.

Tyrion gave her a shy smile. “I’m anxious to see Jaime.”

“I know you are.” Sansa squeezed his hand gently, and together they walked for the door.

***

Tyrion had never been so eager to see his brother, whole and healthy. For once he, Tyrion, had something to be proud of: A new wife, beautiful and healthy and willingly holding his hand as he led her down the stairs to the great hall where his brother waited. Tyrion was happy – truly happy – for perhaps the first time in his life, and if anyone in his family was going to be happy for him, it was going to be Jaime.

He pushed open the door to the great hall. There were two people waiting for him. The first was a woman, as tall and ugly as Tyrion was short and hideous. Beside her stood his brother, cleanly shaven and smiling his charming smile, but darker, somehow, with the war. Tyrion spotted the golden hand almost immediately, and his spit turned to dust in his mouth. Jaime had lost a hand. Tyrion’s hand dropped away from Sansa’s, and finally, he understood – a bit, at least – her aversion to him when she’d heard about her family’s death.

“Little brother!” Jaime smiled broadly and strode towards him. He knelt, pulling Tyrion into a hug, and Tyrion returned it mutely. Jaime sat back, holding Tyrion at arm’s length. “No wise jape’s?”

Tyrion’s lips twitched. “I believe you single-handedly took my words away.”

Jaime laughed, his blue eyes alight with mischief. He turned, looking at Sansa. “My lady. I’m sorry for your loss. Your mother was a fine woman.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Sansa replied woodenly.

Tyrion frowned, looking at her. Her eyes were glassy, and he realized suddenly what he should have known all along: She was not friends with Jaime Lannister. Tyrion may have won her trust this past couple of months, but Jaime had not. He felt foolish, suddenly, for thinking the two would hit it off instantly. With everything between their families, how could they?

The woman Jaime had brought with him strode forward and knelt in front of Sansa. “Lady Sansa. I was your mother’s sworn hand.”

Sansa blinked at her, looking startled.

“Before your mother died, she bid me… and Jaime… ensure the safety and well-being of you and your sister,” the woman continued.

Sansa’s posture straightened. She said, “Your duty is done. My sister and I are both here perfectly safe.”

“If you’re unhappy…” the woman pressed.

Tyrion watched, uncertain of what was happening. He saw a hard look in his brother’s eyes and realized that she was not alone.

Tyrion’s brows rose into his hairline. “You’re not here to visit me. You’re here to take my wife.”

“Not take her.” Jaime winced. “She was forced into marriage, Tyrion. She was never really yours – not truly. She belongs in the north.”

Tyrion felt his stomach drop at the words. It was true: Jaime intended to take Sansa away.

Sansa interrupted. “What would there be for me in the north?”

Jaime looked at her in surprise.

“Winterfell is burned,” Sansa said. “My family is dead. I’m… content. With Tyrion.”

“My lady,” the hulking woman said. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to stay here with Tyrion.” Sansa’s voice was cold. “We’re wed. We’re trying for children. I’m happy here.”

Affection swelled within Tyrion. His eyes felt hot and stinging. He stepped towards Sansa, touching her littlest finger gently. She turned, smiling at him, her eyes warm.

“Well, I want to go north.”

Tyrion turned to see Arya Stark standing boldly in the doorway, a ruffled dress hanging over her frame, a sword hanging from her waist.

“Arya,” Sansa breathed.

“I want to go to the wall,” Arya said. “I want to help Jon.”

“Girls can’t go to the wall,” Sansa said.

“I’ll chop my hair again.” Arya shrugged.

Sansa shook her head. “Arya…”

“What good am I here?” Arya asked. “They need help on the wall. There were rumors on the road that the Whites are back. I’m never going to be a proper lady, Sansa. I should do what I’m good at.”

Jaime coughed. “I’m not sure that it would count as keeping you safe…”

“I was planning to go anyway,” Arya said. “You’d be keeping me safer than if I went there unescorted.”

Tyrion rubbed at the spot of forehead between his brows. He was beginning to develop a headache. Sansa, he was sure, would be furious if Arya went north. He couldn’t blame her: She had only just been reunited with Arya. Tyrion understood the feeling. He had only just been reunited with Jaime.

Jaime sighed. “They are taking volunteers at the wall now. They need men. The king has issued a royal decree – I’m sure the raven will reach you any day. All prisoners, men and women alike, are to be sent to the wall if it is at all practical to do so. Men and women can also volunteer, and sign a contract for a select number of years…”

“See?” Arya pressed an eager look on her face. “It’s perfect!”

Tyrion shook his head. “And what is our young king planning to do with the children born at the wall?”

“Being on the wall is the noblest of services,” Jaime quoted. “Children born there shall be fostered in homes across the seven kingdoms. They shall lead good lives.”

“They’ll be treated like bastards.” Tyrion sighed.

Jaime shrugged. “They need fighters in the north. Winter is truly coming.”

Arya turned, pleading eyes fixed on Sansa’s face.

Sansa sighed. She looked at her feet. She said, “I’m sure Tyrion and Jaime would like to spend a few days catching up before you all travel north.”

“Of course.” Jaime smiled gently at her. “Thank you, my lady. You really are… most noble.”

Tyrion searched his wife’s face, and he saw what he was sure the rest of them missed: Behind her brave facade, she was terrified, and on the verge of tears.

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Image Credit – Pixabay