Author's Notes: And here we are, the last chapter and Sansa and Tyrion's wedding night. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and comment! Your support and encouragement are truly appreciated! And again, thank you to VickSaturn and KatMorgan, who gave me the idea in the first place.

If anyone is interested in what happened between Arya and Gendry after he followed her out of Sansa's solar, I will be posting a rather lengthy one-shot sometime this week that will answer that question. I don't have a title yet, but it should be up before the next episode airs. Please feel free to follow me if you want to know when it posts or just keep checking back here. Although Arya is determined never to fall in love, Gendry just might change her mind.

Chapter Five: One Flesh

Sansa's heart raced beneath her breast as she and Tyrion reached her chamber, their hands still clasped between them. She was giddy with excitement even though they had spent the past fortnight making love to each other every time they'd had the chance. But tonight was different. Tonight was their wedding night, the night Sansa had dreamed of since she was a little girl. Of course, as a little girl, she had imagined her future husband very differently, but she had no regrets. She loved Tyrion, and she found him irresistibly handsome. Had the most dashing knight in all of Westeros arrived at the gate that very evening, she would have turned him away without a second thought. She had already found her prince, and she wanted no other.

Tyrion opened the chamber door, finally releasing Sansa's hand so that she could enter the room. Once they were both inside, he closed the door behind them and turned to look up at her.

For a moment, they just stood there staring at each other across the silent room. The desire in Tyrion's eyes was unmistakable, so deep and dark that it took Sansa's breath away. All she wanted was to fall to her knees and kiss him senseless, but she could barely move. She was simply too overcome with emotion.

It took a great deal of effort for Sansa to finally speak. "I suppose you'd like some wine to toast our union."

Tyrion shook his head. "No, my lady. Wine isn't what I crave tonight, and I think you know it."

Sansa didn't even try to fight the smile that tugged at her lips. She knew what Tyrion wanted. It was the same thing she wanted. "Do I?" she asked, playing coy.

"Oh, yes, my lady wife. I think you do."

Tyrion moved forward, closing the distance between them and reaching up to take her hand. His eyes steady with hers, he ran his thumb across the back of her hand in small, tantalizing circles, causing a familiar warmth to spiral down Sansa's spine. Then, without a word, he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently, and Sansa's breath caught in her throat.

When Tyrion finally lowered her hand, he said, "Do you know what I regret?"

Sansa was surprised by the question. Everything was so perfect between them that she couldn't imagine what Tyrion could possibly regret. "What is it?" she asked, curious to know what he was thinking.

He took a step closer, covering her hand with both of his. "I regret that you and I didn't get to declare ourselves tonight with the words used in the Faith of the Seven. Although the northern tradition is quite moving in its own right, it's not the same as being able to declare that we belong to each other the way they do in the south."

"How very sentimental of you, my lord husband," she said with a half smile.

"Well, I can't help it. I've always been a hopeless romantic myself."

Sansa laughed, and Tyrion grinned up at her. The first time they had been wed, in the Great Sept of Baelor, the ceremony had meant nothing to either one of them. It had been an ordeal, an obligation. Nothing more. The words they had spoken before the High Septon had seemed meaningless then, but now, everything had changed. Now, Sansa wished she could take those vows again and mean them this time. She wished it as much as Tyrion did.

"Would you like to take those vows here?" Sansa asked, not the least bit fearful that he might think her foolish.

"Here?"

"Yes, here."

"But we have no septon."

Sansa fought back a laugh. "We've already been married twice. I don't think we need a septon."

Tyrion broke her gaze, his eyes settling on the hands clasped between them, his brow furrowed with concern. "We'll need some kind of cloth to bind our hands."

"Don't worry," Sansa said. "I have just what we need."

Gently, she removed her hand from Tyrion's and reached up to untie one of the ribbons in her hair. She pulled it loose, a few crimson locks escaping her elaborate coiffure and cascading down her back. Then, she fell to her knees, wanting to be closer to her husband as they said their vows.

Sansa reached out to Tyrion again, offering him her right hand. He held out his left, allowing her to place her hand on top of his. Then, she draped the white ribbon lightly across both.

"I suppose," Tyrion said, "this is the part where the septon says something like, In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

"Yes, I believe that's exactly what he says."

Sansa took one end of the ribbon, and Tyrion took the other. Together, they wrapped it over their hands, mimicking the movements of the absent septon.

"And then," Sansa continued, "he would say, Look upon one another and say the words."

Tyrion's hand tensed beneath hers as if he was longing to take her hand in his own, and Sansa offered him a secret smile. As one, they began to recite the vows of the Faith of the Seven, Tyrion's warm voice resonating deep inside Sansa's heart as he spoke the words, "Father, Smith, Warrior. Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days."

Once the vows were spoken, they stared at each other across the silence, savoring the beauty of the moment. The love in Tyrion's eyes made Sansa's heart ache. She loved him so much, wanted him so much. They belonged to each other, just as they always had, just as they always would, from this day until the end of their days.

"I believe," Tyrion said, his voice thick with emotion, "that this is the part where we seal our vows with a kiss."

"Not yet," Sansa replied, reluctant to deny him anything but wanting to conduct the ceremony properly.

Tyrion raised a brow in question. "Not yet?"

"First, the septon would unbind our hands." Sansa took one end of the ribbon, and Tyrion instinctively reached for the other. As they removed the long strip of silk, she began to speak the words, "Let it be known that Sansa of House Stark and Tyrion of House Lannister are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

The ribbon slipped from their hands, pooling against Sansa's upturned palm. She stared at Tyrion, suddenly unable to speak, her own words echoing through her mind with startling clarity. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. The High Septon had spoken those same words at their first wedding, but at the time, they had seemed meaningless. Now, she wondered if the gods had indeed heeded the High Septon's prayer. Everyone who had ever plotted to tear them apart, everyone who had ever come between them, had already met a dire fate. Joffrey, Cersei, Littlefinger, Ramsay. Everyone. They were all gone now, but Tyrion and Sansa had survived as if the gods themselves had orchestrated their union from the very beginning.

Tyrion must have sensed the change in her because he suddenly asked, "Are you all right?"

Sansa nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "I am now."

"Well, then, does that mean that we get to kiss now?" Tyrion asked, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Sansa exhaled a relieved sigh, almost laughing at Tyrion's earnest enthusiasm. "Once you say the words, yes."

"The words?"

Now, Sansa did laugh. "Don't you know how this ceremony goes?"

"I may be a hopeless romantic, but I'm not an adolescent girl. I haven't had the entire wedding ceremony memorized since I was in my crib."

Sansa fought back a knowing smirk. The truth was, she'd had the entire ceremony memorized since earliest childhood, and she knew it word for word, just like a lovesick little girl. "The words, my lord, are, With this kiss, I pledge my love."

Tyrion's lips curled into a smile. "Is that all?"

"Yes. Now, hurry up and say them so we can be properly wed."

Tyrion's grin widened. "With this kiss, I pledge my love."

Sansa didn't wait for Tyrion to kiss her. The instant the words passed his lips, she leaned into him, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and drawing him closer. She kissed him softly, sweetly, and Tyrion sighed in contentment, just as happy to be her husband as she was to be his wife.

When she finally pulled back, she gazed into his eyes, once again finding them dark with desire.

"Please tell me that the ceremony is over," Tyrion said, his voice painfully tight. "I don't think I can wait another moment to take you to bed."

Sansa smiled at him lovingly. "The ceremony is over, my lord. Now, there is nothing left to do but consummate our union."

The relief in Tyrion's eyes was unmistakable. "Oh, thank the gods!" He reached up, entwining his fingers in her hair and pulling her even closer. He kissed her deeply, his tongue parting her lips and delving into her warmth.

Sansa sighed into his mouth, the ribbon slipping from her fingers as she began pulling at his clothing with both her hands. Tyrion's own fingers fumbled at the ties that held her gown together, and for the first time that evening, Sansa was sorry that she'd worn such an elaborate dress. She knew it was going to take forever to get out of it, and all she really wanted was to be naked already.

Sansa could feel Tyrion's frustration just as acutely as she felt her own. Determined to move things along as quickly as possible, she reluctantly broke the kiss. When her eyes met Tyrion's again, she found him staring back at her in silent desperation. She took a moment to catch her breath, then, her eyes locked with his, she moved her hands to his doublet and began working the fasteners that held it closed.

"I see my wife is eager to see me naked," Tyrion said hoarsely.

Sansa blushed even though she knew it was absurd. She had seen him naked a dozen times before, and she knew she had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about now. But she blushed just the same, suddenly feeling very much like a maid.

Sansa didn't answer him. She just continued to stare into his eyes as she worked on his clothing. Once the last fastener gave way, she pushed his doublet down over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then, she sat back on her heels and worked on pulling off his boots.

Tyrion placed one hand on her shoulder and leaned against her for support as she removed them, one at a time. As soon as she was done, she sat up again and began untying his breeches.

"You know," he said, as she concentrated all her attention on the cord at his waist, "you're getting very good at this."

"That's because I had a very good teacher," she replied as she slowly pushed his breeches over his hips and down his legs.

Tyrion stepped out of his breeches and kicked them aside. The instant he was free of them, Sansa reached for the hem of his tunic and quickly pulled it up and over his head. She discarded it on the floor beside the rest of his clothing, her eyes focused on his.

Tyrion reached up, snaking his hand behind her head and pulling her close. He kissed her hard, and Sansa moaned as a rush of warmth pooled between her legs. She was more than ready for him now, but she was still hindered by her gown.

Desperate to be free of her clothing, Sansa pulled away, ending the kiss. She tore her eyes from Tyrion's and concentrated on the ties that bound her dress together. She would have waited for Tyrion to help her, but her fingers were more nimble than his and she knew she could free herself a lot faster than he ever could.

Sansa felt Tyrion watching her as she worked to rid herself of her gown. Her skin flushed warmly, and her fingers fumbled as her desire for him intensified. She wanted to look at him again but knew it would only make things more difficult. So instead, she concentrated even harder on the task at hand, finally undoing the ties and slipping the gown from her shoulders.

Knowing that she couldn't fully undress kneeling on the floor, Sansa finally stood, shedding her smallclothes as quickly as she could. It was only when she was finally naked that she looked down at Tyrion again. He was staring up at her in silent wonder, and her heart surged with love for him.

Sansa leaned down, taking his head between her hands and kissing him softly. When she finally let him go, she walked to the bed and sat above the covers, waiting for him to join her.

Without a word, Tyrion crossed the room and climbed up onto the bed. He sat beside her atop the furs, looking up at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.

The love and admiration in his eyes nearly brought Sansa to tears.

"What's wrong?" Tyrion asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. I've just never been happier."

A shy smile pulled at Tyrion's lips. "Neither have I."

Sansa leaned forward and kissed him again, but this time, she refused to let him go. She drew Tyrion down onto the bed, encouraging him to lie on his back as she began to explore his body with her hands and her mouth. Although Tyrion had been in her bed many times before, she still found each new encounter more thrilling than the last. She loved Tyrion Lannister more than she had ever imagined she could love another person, and everything about him excited her. He was the most desirable man she had ever known, and she would spend the rest of her life wanting him just as much as she wanted him now.

Sansa kissed his neck, his chest, his stomach, forging a bold path southward. She was no longer an untried virgin. Tyrion had taught her a great many things during their time together, including how to please him.

She moved even lower, repositioning herself on the bed so that she could lie down and take her time enjoying him. She lay flat on her stomach, her legs bent upward, her ankles casually crossed in the air above her, as she reached out and skimmed her fingers down the length of his shaft.

Tyrion inhaled a startled breath, and Sansa looked up to find him watching her intently.

"Do you like that?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded. "Very much."

"Would you like more?"

"Yes, please." The words were barely a whisper.

Sansa turned her attention back to his manhood, gliding her fingers over his silken flesh with practiced ease. Every time she touched him, he made a new and wondrous sound, and Sansa enjoyed every moment of it. But soon, it wasn't enough.

When she could no longer resist the temptation, Sansa dipped her head forward and kissed the tip of his shaft.

Tyrion swore violently, and Sansa couldn't help but smile. She knew what he liked. He had taught her very well.

Sansa lowered her head even farther, taking more of him into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around his heated flesh, then gently sucked as she slowly pulled back. Before she released him, she flicked her tongue across the tip of his manhood, knowing it would drive him mad.

Tyrion groaned, the sound low and guttural, almost animalistic, and Sansa knew she was doing everything right.

She forged a trail of wet, hot kisses from the tip of his shaft to the base, and then kissed her way back up the other side. She flicked her tongue out again, tasting the little bead of moisture that always accompanied his arousal, the taste so familiar to her now that it felt like home. Then, she lowered her head once more, taking him all the way in, and Tyrion swore again.

Sansa fought the urge to laugh. It wasn't often that Tyrion Lannister lost control, but when he did, it was quite gratifying. He was one of the most powerful men in all of Westeros, and certainly the cleverest, and yet, when they were alone like this, she had complete command of his heart, mind, and body. She took great pride in being able to please him. He was her husband, and there was nothing that she loved more than making him happy.

Sansa took her time pleasuring him, worshipping his manhood as if it were a gift from the gods. She teased him with her mouth, doing all the things she knew he loved, until he was squirming beneath her. She could have stayed that way forever, enjoying the taste of him on her lips, making him blissfully happy, but Tyrion had other ideas. Far too soon, he was begging her to stop, and Sansa had no choice but to relent.

Finally, she pulled back, kissing a path northward along his stomach and up his chest until she reached his mouth. Then, she straddled him, took his face between her hands, and kissed him passionately.

Tyrion entwined his fingers in her hair, pulling her even closer as his tongue swept into her mouth. With expert grace, he maneuvered her down onto her back so that he could take control. He broke away from her for one breathless moment and said, "Did you really think I was going to let you have all the fun?"

Sansa giggled. "And I thought you were the one having all the fun, my lord. If I'm wrong, perhaps I wasn't doing it right and I should try again." She shoved lightly at his shoulders, as if she intended to push him onto his back again, but it was a halfhearted effort, just meant to tease.

"Oh, no," Tyrion said. "You've had your chance. Now, it's my turn." The mischievous glint in his eyes promised glorious things to come.

He kissed her lips one more time before moving to her neck, sucking and kissing and nipping at her flesh. Sansa was certain there would be a mark there in the morning, and she'd have to hide it with a high-necked gown, but she didn't care. She was Tyrion's, and he was hers, and he could mark her all he wanted.

Sansa threaded her fingers through his hair as he moved lower, his hands caressing her body as his mouth scorched her flesh. When he reached her breasts, he took one eager bud into his mouth while his fingers toyed with the other one, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper with need. She wasn't the only one who had learned a thing or two in the past fortnight. Tyrion had learned what she liked as well, and he knew exactly how to touch her.

A rush of warmth pulsed between Sansa's legs, and she arched her hips upward, desperate for contact. But Tyrion stayed just beyond her reach, refusing to give her what she wanted. They had both waited a long time for this night, their whole lives, in fact, and she knew Tyrion was determined to make it last as long as possible.

Tyrion chuckled softly, clearly amused by her attempt to take what she wanted without his permission. "Eager, aren't you?" he mumbled as he kissed a path to her other breast.

"I want you," Sansa said, the words so low and deep they sounded as if they were spoken by a stranger. "Soon, Tyrion. Please."

"Soon enough," he said, looking up just long enough to catch her eye before turning back to his work. He pulled her nipple into his mouth and began to suck on it gently, while his fingers tweaked its match.

Sansa threw her head back and moaned wantonly, knowing that there was no arguing with him. He would give her what she wanted when he was good and ready, and not a moment sooner.

Tyrion took his time lavishing her breasts with attention. When he was finally prepared to move on, he broke away, trailing kisses across her ribs and down her stomach. Then, he moved lower still, taking a meandering path toward her sex, kissing down the length of one thigh and up the other, until Sansa was begging for mercy.

Finally, Tyrion put his hands on her knees and urged her legs farther apart. He settled himself between them, lowering his head just enough to dip his tongue between her folds.

Sansa cried out in the most exquisite agony, her hands gripping the furs as her body tensed with anticipation.

Tyrion took his time playing with her, and she knew he was enjoying every minute of it. He kissed her between her legs the way he had kissed her mouth, with great care and tenderness. He ran his tongue along the length of her, then flicked it against the little nub at the apex of her sex, making her buck her hips upward.

Tyrion chuckled as he put one hand against her hip and gently eased her back onto the bed. He continued to pleasure her, sucking at the little nub and nearly pushing her over the edge.

"Please, Tyrion. Please." The words were strangled from her throat.

Tyrion lifted his head, and Sansa looked down at him again. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable, and she knew even he could not hold out forever.

"What do you want, my lady wife?" he asked, his voice warm and husky.

"You, my lord husband. You."

A slow smile spread across Tyrion's lips, and Sansa knew he was finally going to give her what she wanted.

He raised himself up onto his knees and crawled forward, repositioning himself between her legs. He leaned closer, clearly desperate to kiss her, and Sansa sat up, meeting him halfway. She wrapped her hands behind his neck, pulling him close and kissing him deeply, tasting her own sweetness on his lips. Tyrion groaned, leaning into her, kissing her with a passion that took her breath away.

It was difficult for Sansa to remember a time when she hadn't wanted Tyrion Lannister. It seemed as if she'd loved him and wanted him her entire life. She couldn't imagine ever having been so foolish as to want anyone else. He was her entire world, and she loved him more than she could ever have loved any charming knight or handsome prince.

When Tyrion finally broke the kiss, he pulled back just far enough to stare into her eyes, his breath fluttering against her lips. Sansa felt as if she could drown in his eyes, they were so dark with desire, so deep and fathomless.

Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against his lips. Tyrion sighed into her mouth, and it was nearly her undoing.

A moment later, Tyrion pulled away, moving far beyond her reach this time. But even as he retreated, he kept his eyes locked with hers, no more able to break away from her than she was able to break away from him.

He repositioned himself between her legs, his manhood hot and hard at her entrance. Sansa raised her hips just enough to coax the tip of his shaft between her folds, moaning at the contact. Tyrion leaned over her, steadying himself on the bed, before he pushed his hips forward, thrusting inside.

Sansa gasped as Tyrion drove into her. It was exactly what she had asked for, exactly what she had wanted, and it felt glorious! She kept her gaze steady with his as he began to move above her, raising her hips to meet his with each thrust, driving him deeper and deeper.

Tyrion growled like a wild animal, and Sansa was certain she sounded much the same to him. She couldn't stop the noises pouring from her throat, nor did she want to. She wanted Tyrion Lannister more than anything, and she didn't care who knew it.

Sansa raised her legs, putting her feet flat on the mattress, allowing him to fill her even more deeply. Tyrion quickened the pace, his movements becoming more frantic, less refined. She could tell he was close, but then, so was she. She didn't know how much longer she could last.

With a mournful sob, Sansa broke Tyrion's gaze, closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip as all the muscles in her body tensed in anticipation of the ecstasy to come. She gripped the furs even tighter as Tyrion continued to move within her. A few more thrusts and—

Sansa suddenly crashed over the edge, her body shuddering with pleasure, her walls pulsing around him. A delicious warmth spread through her limbs as she sank deeper into the mattress. Although Tyrion had made love to her just the night before, this time was different. Whether it was the blessings of the old gods or just the romance of their wedding, something had intensified the connection between them, and Sansa had never felt closer to him. Even as Tyrion continued to move within her, she felt, not like a separate person, but like a part of him.

I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days.

It wasn't long before Tyrion found his own release. Her name tore from his throat as he spilled his seed deep inside her. Every time they were together like this, Sansa couldn't help but wonder if this time his seed would take root. And every time, she prayed and hoped that it would. There was nothing she wanted more than to bear Tyrion's children, to fill the yard with little wolves and lions and bring Winterfell back to life again.

Tyrion withdrew from her warmth before collapsing on top of her, his breathing ragged, his body covered in sweat. Sansa wrapped her arms around him and held him close, one hand cradling his back, the other playing with the damp curls at the nape of his neck. She was just as spent as he was, and she was perfectly content to simply hold him close and feel his breath caressing her bare skin.

They lay there for the longest time, both barely able to breathe, much less speak. Sansa's heart was so full of love that she knew if she were to die right then and there, she would die happy. Everything felt so right. Tyrion felt so right. He was everything she had always hoped for, and her only regret was that she hadn't realized it sooner.

When his breathing had finally settled, Tyrion pulled back, just far enough to look up at her, and Sansa opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.

He shook his head in quiet disbelief. "You are so beautiful," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "So beautiful."

"So are you," Sansa replied, raising her hand to his cheek.

A cynical half smile quirked Tyrion's lips. "You, my dear, sweet Sansa, almost make me believe it."

"You should believe it because it's true."

He laughed. "How can I argue with such a beautiful woman?"

Sansa knew he still believed he was an ugly dwarf, the demon monkey the people of King's Landing had once mocked and feared. It wasn't true though, and she wasn't going to relent until he finally started to believe the truth about himself. She'd keep telling him how beautiful and wonderful he was every day for the rest of their lives if that's what it took to make him believe it.

Tyrion lowered his head and placed a single kiss between her breasts. When he looked up at her again, he said, "Are you sure you've done the right thing here tonight? Are you sure you won't live to regret this?"

"You were already my husband," Sansa replied, her tone light, teasing. "I really had no choice in the matter."

"Well, I don't know about that. I suppose you could have asked your sister to quietly do away with me while no one was looking. Then, you could have found yourself a more suitable husband."

Sansa smiled knowingly. "I could not have found myself a more suitable husband in all the world, I promise you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I love you, Tyrion Lannister, and there is no other man I'd rather have in my heart or in my bed."

Tyrion chuckled. "Well, yes, I am quite gifted in the bedchamber, aren't I?"

Sansa couldn't help but laugh. She swatted his arm playfully with her hand. "No one likes a braggart."

"Even when he has every reason to brag?"

Sansa refused to dignify that with a response. "And what about me?" she asked.

"You are quite gifted in the bedchamber as well. But then, I taught you everything you know."

She swatted his arm again. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Oh, what did you mean?"

"Do you love me too?" Sansa already knew the answer, of course. He had told her that he loved her a hundred times in the last fortnight, but she wanted to hear him say it again before they both drifted off to sleep.

"Hmm," Tyrion said thoughtfully. He broke her gaze, looking around idly as if searching the air for an answer. "I suppose so. I mean husbands are supposed to love their wives, aren't they?"

"Would you like me to hit you again?" Sansa asked, half serious, half in jest.

Tyrion met her gaze once more. There was a sparkle in his eyes that was pure mischief. "You know, some men like that."

"What?"

He laughed again. "Nothing. A lesson for another day. Now, what was the question again?"

Had Sansa loved him any less, she might have struck him a third time. But as it was, she absolutely adored him and she thought he was being terribly endearing, even if he was purposefully trying to frustrate her. "Do you love me?"

"I suppose I must. I did marry you twice, after all."

Now, she did hit him.

"Ow!" he exclaimed in mock pain. "All right, all right, I love you, Sansa Stark. More than I have ever loved anyone or anything in all my life. Are you happy now?"

Sansa didn't even attempt to hide her joy. "Yes, Tyrion, I am."

"Then show me how happy you are."

Gently but firmly, Sansa eased Tyrion off of her so that he could lie on his side next to her. Then, she turned to face him, taking his head between her hands and kissing him tenderly.

When she finally pulled away, she said, "That is how happy I am, Tyrion Lannister. So happy that I could spend the rest of my life loving you."

He cleared his throat, struggling to speak. "Well, my lady, I certainly wouldn't object to that."

Sansa leaned in and kissed him again, taking her time showing him just how very much he meant to her. When at last she broke the kiss, she saw so much love in his eyes that her heart swelled with happiness.

Tyrion shifted onto his back, encouraging her to join him. "Come, my love, let me hold you until the gods grant me the strength to love you again."

Sansa snuggled up against Tyrion's side, resting her head on his shoulder. She knew he would make good on his promise. They would sleep for a while, but before the night was through, he would love her again and again, until dawn came creeping into their room.

Tyrion wrapped his arms around her, one hand lovingly caressing her hair, the other gently stroking her bare arm. "Thank you, Sansa," he said quietly. "Thank you for loving me so."

"I could love no other."

Tyrion's arms tightened around her. "Good night, my sweet, lady wife."

"Good night, my lord husband."

And then, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, a joyous future awaiting them.