Rated: K

Characters: Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister, GM Pycelle, OC

Please see author notes at the end of this story.

"Tyrion, come here."

"I'm fine right where I am, my lady. You need your—"

"I said come here," she snapped, her eyes narrowing at her husband who sheepishly obeyed and joined her at her bedside.

Sansa was propped up in the middle of the bed, pillows upon pillows sticking out around her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her usually tame tresses were frizzy, the stray ones sticking to her forehead. She wore a smile nonetheless, even with the apparent exhaustion that was working its way through her body.

"You look beautiful, Sansa."

"You're lying, but I'll take the compliment anyway." She closed her eyes briefly and smiled as Tyrion pressed a kiss to her temple. Grand Maester Pycelle poked his head into their bedchambers from the washroom and cleared his throat. Sansa excitedly waved him in, pushing herself up into a little more of a sitting position with a slight wince.

"Sansa are you—?"

"I'm fine, Tyrion. Just sore. Relax." She patted the top of his hand as the grand maester entered their bedchambers. He paused at a small bassinet that was near the end of the bed, an addition that Tyrion had missed as he hurried to his lady wife's bedside. Carefully, the man bent down and picked up a tiny, round, and freshly cleaned bundle wrapped in Lannister crimson who was immediately snuggled warmly in his arms. Without saying a word, the old man seamlessly deposited the sleeping newborn into Sansa's arms without waking the child.

"Lady Sansa, how is your pain?" the man asked quietly.

"I'm doing alright for the moment, thank you," she replied as she beamed at the babe in her arms.

"I'll leave a few pain relieving herbs and elixirs with your handmaiden then. If you get to feeling poorly, take them. I'll be back in a few hours to check on you both. Congratulations again, my lady."

Sansa nodded, the smile not dissipating from her face. Once the man was gone, she turned her gaze from the baby to her husband who had gone rather pale. His expression caused her to laugh.

"Since you two haven't officially met, I figured I'd introduce you before the rest of the castle comes in, hoping for a peek or two at the newest little Lannister." She paused and adjusted the blankets around the babe. "Baby, meet your Daddy. Daddy—," she looked up at Tyrion, grinning, "—Daddy, meet your daughter."

Tyrion looked as if he might faint. Daughter. She said daughter.

"Daughter?" was the only thing he managed to croak out, causing Sansa to giggle once more.

"Yes silly, your daughter—the newest Lannister lady. I had Pod fetch you, of course. But I threatened him with a nasty ending if he slipped you the news—not that I really meant it; I like Pod—I just wanted to be the one to tell you."

Some of the color had come back into Tyrion's cheeks, but the fear and nervousness of being a new father was still written all over his face. In the beginning, after Sansa had told him she was in fact, with child, things seemed to be easy—a lifetime away. But that lifetime had come and gone, and now Tyrion had been thrust into this new life, full of new responsibilities and titles that he had never had before. He was a father. It seemed so weird, the word foreign on his tongue in reference to himself. He cleared his throat and looked at his lady wife, shaking his head with a slight musing.

"No wonder the poor boy looked scared to death. At first, I thought something bad had happened. I couldn't get the poor boy to even utter three words to me in the beginning. I was about to run off to come and check on you and the baby both—afraid something had happened to either one of you. I did finally get Pod to speak. He simply told me that you were asking for me—well, demanding that I be brought to our chambers."

"I was a little demanding, I won't lie to you about that," she chuckled. "I just wanted you up here as soon as possible to meet our little one. Like I said, I wanted to be the one to do the introductions between you two. By now, I'm sure the castle walls are bursting with the news that Sansa Stark has given birth to the next little Lannister who is a girl, or so the sources say," she rolled her eyes and looked back down at their daughter, completely smitten with her.

"Why was Pycelle lurking about in our washroom?" Tyrion wrinkled his nose and leaned over his lady wife's shoulder to get a better look at his daughter, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. She was perfect. His daughter was absolutely perfect.

"To get cleaned up. Birth is a messy business, and I don't say that lightly. Here, would you like to hold her?"

The color drained from Tyrion's face once again and he straightened. "I don't think that's the wisest idea."

"What? You're being ridiculous. It's a perfectly fine idea. She's your daughter; hold her."

"But…"

Tyrion's weak protests were quickly put to an end before they even really began as Sansa made it a point to turn just enough to slide the babe from her arms into Tyrion's own. The slight jostle and change in position was just enough to cause the little one to fuss, her cries shrill and pitiful. It made Sansa's heart melt, but it caused Tyrion's to beat rapidly and he turned even paler.

"It's alright, just gently sway with her and simultaneously pat her back with the hand you're using to support her. She'll settle down," she advised calmly. Tyrion immediately took the advice, thankful that it worked almost instantaneously.

"You know quite a bit about babies for someone who's never had one before," he chuckled, still swaying with his daughter.

"By the time Bran, and especially Rickon, came around, I was old enough to help Mum with them. I learned a lot from her," she gave him a small smile as he cautiously continued holding their daughter. "Relax… You're doing great with her so far."

"What if I drop her?"

"You're not going to drop her, Tyrion."

"Yes, but… what if I do?"

"Well, you won't. You don't drop books or papers or plates or decanters of wine, do you? No. So you won't drop her. And, if you ended up dropping her in a freak accident—which you won't—she'll be fine. She'll probably cry a lot, but she'll be fine."

"She's so fragile… it's like I could break her right now just by breathing too hard near her."

Sansa smiled and reached out, cupping her husband's face lovingly, her thumb grazing along his cheekbone. "She's part Lannister, part Stark. She's anything but fragile. This one is going to be feisty, I can already tell. She is our daughter after all."

Tyrion turned his head in Sansa's hand and pulled away, but not before kissing her palm. He nudged the small step-stool to the side of the bed with his foot and joined his lady wife in bed with their daughter. Immediately, Sansa slid out of her sitting position and leaned her head on Tyrion's shoulder with a soft sigh.

"She has your nose… and your chin," she murmured, lightly trailing the pad of her index finger down her daughter's tiny nose.

"Your eyes, I hope?"

"I think they might be bluer than mine. I'm a little jealous."

Tyrion chuckled at that and kissed the top of Sansa's head before carefully adjusting his daughter so she could lie against his chest. She wrinkled her nose and curled up into herself, her tiny, plump lips opened partially as her cheek rested against Tyrion's doublet.

"She seems rather comfortable," he laughed. "Does she have a name?"

"Baby Lannister as of right now. I have an idea, but I want your input, of course."

"What's your idea? I'd love to hear it. I really don't have anything specific picked out."

"What about Joanna? After your mother."

Tyrion looked down at her and was silent for a moment, causing Sansa to look up at him. She spoke quickly as if to correct something she may have said wrong. "If… if you'd prefer something else, that's fine. I was just thinking—," she was cut off by Tyrion's lips pressing against hers. She calmed substantially and relaxed against him, her eyes fluttering shut.

After a few moments, Tyrion broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to Sansa's gently, a smile creeping along his face.

"That is absolutely perfect, my love. A perfect name for our perfect daughter. Joanna it is then."

She smiled and nuzzled him with her nose, murmuring, "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. And I love you. Now, get some rest."

Sansa returned her head to her husband's shoulder and closed her eyes tiredly. "I love you too… and so does Joanna. She's absolutely smitten with you already."

I hope you all enjoyed this cute little ficlet that I wrote. The idea came to me after a conversation I had with one of my friends about Sansa and Tyrion having children in a slightly AU world, where the Purple Wedding didn't end in death and destruction and the separation of these two lovely characters.

Please rate and review! (Negative and hateful comments WILL be deleted. Constructive criticism, tactfully written, will be kept posted, will be responded to in a kind fashion, and any recommendations will be taken into account.)

Thank you!