Tyrion made his way back to his chambers expecting to find his lady wife within. He knew he would have to break the news to her. It would be better coming from him than anyone else, especially his deprived nephew. After climbing all of the bloody stairs that caused his legs to ache; he entered their chambers and was stunned to find that they were empty with the exception of Podrick Payne.

"Pod, did Lady Sansa return from her walks in the garden?" It was unusual for Sansa to stay out of their chambers longer than absolutely necessary.

"N-no S-s-sir." Podrick stammered out.

"Fetch Bronn, I want Lady Sansa found immediately," Tyrion barked at his young squire.

Tyrion began to conscript any and every household guard he could find to help search for his wife. His stunted legs ached as he paced their chambers, this was unlike his wife. She hated the capital, what on earth would make her decide to stay out. Perhaps she ran into Lady Margery and the queen of thorns in the gardens. Sansa did enjoy the company of the women of Highgarden.

Bronn walked the halls leading to the Hands tower, for what seemed to be the uptenth time. Of course the imp had to marry a child that requires a search party, though he knew the Stark girl was quickly outpacing the status of child and turning into a young woman. As he wandered along, taking a sharp turn down a corridor, hand on his sword, he wondered if Tyrion would ever man up and actually fuck his wife. Though young, she was a pretty thing, and it'd be better for all their sakes if he did. His eyes scanned the corridor, it was getting dark faster these days, and damned if he didn't feel the chill of winter's breath slowly creeping in on the city. Making a sharp turn around a blind corner, he jerked to a halt, a small flash of red hidden along an alcove a few feet away caught his eye. Slowly, he made his way towards the increasingly obvious form of Sansa Stark-Lannister. She hadn't seemed to notice him, so caught up in herself. She wasn't crying to his surprise, her body seemed still and as he got closer, her Tully blue eyes seemed-vacant. It was then that he noticed something very wrong, she was pale, far too pale, even for a Northerner. His eyes flicked to the ground and narrowed, a pool of blood was puddled alongside her. Something was definitely wrong.

Placing a hand on her shoulder Bronn worried she was dead, she was so cold. Sansa startled at the rough hand on her shoulder. Her face turned towards the knight but her eyes didn't focus on him. Bronn looked past the girls face noticing the pool of blood she was sitting in, fucking hells, that was a lot of blood.

"Can you stand, girl?" The knight did not wait for her answer instead he lifted her and started up the stairs to her chambers.

"Where did you find her?" Tyrion asked as Bronn pushed his way into the chambers. "Why are her skirts covered in blood?"

"She was the down the hall in an alcove. I don't know, I found her like this."

"Sansa…"Tyrion tried to catch his wives attention, but her focus was a million leagues away. "Pod, go find me a maester! Now! Quickly!"

"Why did you leave her alone?" Shae snapped as she began to try and tend to her Lady. "You were supposed to keep her safe."

"Thank you for your input Shae, why don't you go and help Pod find a maester if you are so concerned about Lady Sansa." Tyrion spat through a clenched jaw. The camp follower had gone too far. She had overstepped for the last time. He looked after Sansa the best he could in this pit of lions.

Sensing the tension, Bronn began to usher out everyone with the exception of himself and one other Lannister guard who he posted at the door; with strict instructions to only allow Podrick and Maesters into the chambers.

Frantically, Pod ran to the Maester's chambers. He had known something was wrong when he had returned to the chambers and Lady Sansa wasn't there. He looked for her briefly in the rooms closest to their chambers, but was unable to find her. He quickly became worried, Sansa was kind and sweet, and very unable to protect herself.

"Maester come quickly, it's Lady Sansa," for once Pod did not stutter. This was too important to be awkward, Sansa needed him to be brave.

Why must the maesters chambers be so far from the Tower of the Hand, the newly arrived to King's Landing maester thought as he followed the squire. Thankfully Marwyn was not as old as Pycelle, and so he moved with some urgency. Pod walked behind trying to herd the man faster towards the Tower of the Hand.

Never in his life had Tyrion felt more helpless; not when his father made him watch an entire barracks worth of soldiers rape Tysha, not whenever he was forced to play the game on behalf of his sister, not even on Blackwater Bay when Stannis' fleet was engulfed in wildfire. However seeing Sansa Stark, skirts covered in blood and her skin so pale, scared him to the core. Eventually the pain of pacing became too much, he sat next to his wife holding her hand silently begging her to just hold on until the maester arrived.

Usually her eyes were as blue as sapphires, but right now they were grey. The same grey that had filled Ned Stark's eyes. She truly was a Stark. It was the strength she had grown up with in North that was keeping her safe here in the horror that was King's Landings. Reaching out Tyrion brushed a piece of hair out of Sansa's face.

The door swung in and Marwyn entered with Pod following closely behind. The first rushing into the bedchamber to attend to the injured.

"My lord, I think it best you leave the chambers while I examine the lady," Marwyn carefully suggested to Tyrion.

"No, she is my wife. I can't leave her like this." Tyrion had no desire to leave Sansa's side.

"Come on, you fuck," Bronn grabbed Tyrion's shoulder trying to urge him to walk under his own accord. "Look here, you either walk out of here on your own or I pick you up and carry you out of here like a sack of potatoes."

Begrudgingly Tyrion climbed off the bed and placed a kiss on Sansa's hand giving it one last squeeze. Unsure if the gods were playing a cruel joke on him or if it actually happened, he felt her squeeze his hand in return.

The maester put Podrick to work, sending him to fetch clean linens and hot water. The young man was in and out of the bedchambers, while Tyrion paced the outer chambers, Bronn managed his worry by drinking vessel after vessel of Dornish Red.

Finally after what seemed to be hours Marwyn emerged closing the chamber doors behind look on his face caused Tyrion's heart to fall into the pit of his stomach.

"She will survive her wounds, but I am deeply concerned that the lady inflicted these wounds to herself. It is no secret that Lady Sansa has been deeply troubled as of late." Marwyn wiped his hands on his robes, awkwardly waiting to be dismissed by Tyrion.

"How did this happen? This is the Red Keep, there are guards are everywhere. How in the name of the seven was a highborn lady attacked?!" Tyrion's anger had turned his voice into a roar like the lion on his houses banners.

"Well like I said they seem to be self inflicted wounds…" Marwyn let his voice trail, eyes darting between Bronn and Pod pleading for help.

"Hey you chained prick, how could she have done that to herself? There was no fuckin knife. Ain't no one going to be able to handle losing that amount of blood. You damn fool," Bronn stepped between Tyrion and Marwyn, grabbing the latter by his robes.

"Maester please leave before Bronn here does something you will regret."

"Very well, then I gave the Lady milk of the poppy, she should sleep through the night. If she wakes give her a glass of dreamwine. Come morning she will be in a great deal of pain and will need her wounds cleaned and rebandaged. Please send for myself or any of the other measters." Marwyn bowed and left the room.

"How could this have happened? I know she is unhappy but could she have possibly done this to herself? I've heard stories of maidens hurting themselves but Lady Sansa is of the North. She is much too strong to do such a thing." Tyrion's words started slurring, all of the wine and the stress from the last hours events finally taking its toll on him.

"Pod go get the former Hand some supper. He is going to need to maintain himself and bread will help." Bronn sent Podrick away to get the two men enough food, wine, and ale for the rest of the evening; knowing neither would be sleeping anytime soon.