« t's time, » the king said.

"I beg your pardon, sire," Tyrion asked, rubbing his eyes from sleepiness.

"You've turned my council into a place where people can be trusted. I know you have been secretly sort of grooming Brienne to see things the way you would, at times when you both mourn your brother's death. She has come to be able to stand up for you when you're not around, which is never," Bran went on.

"I… I have not so secretly been trying to teach Brienne some of my knowledge, that I acquired from painful experiences. I cannot soothe her pain, but I can give her some information she would not get otherwise."

"I also know you married my sister again, the Northeners' way before you departed Winterfell."

To this, Tyrion kept his mouth shut. With the North now being independent, he did not know how things could work. It kept him awake at night, how to serve his king, but also how to get back to the woman everything fiber of his being told him that he would love like he had never loved before, if they gave each other a chance to follow through on that promise they made each other, almost a year ago.

"I have no business giving my approval on your union, as she his now queen in her own right, but as her brother, I do admit to feeling happy to call you my brother-in-law. You forced me to live in the future when you made me king, and this is not a reproach. I believe my sister needs to move toward the future too, to be able to let go of the ghosts of the past. She deserves happiness."

Tyrion knew that Bran believed everyone deserved second chances and happiness, but him acknowledging that Sansa deserved it not more than others, but at least as much as others made Tyrion want to hug his King.

"Tyrion Lannister, I know name you our ambassador to the Kingdom of the North. Your role will be to make sure that our two kingdoms coordinate and that nothing ever happen that could spark a war between us. I believe you are the only suitable choice for this position, and therefore order you to leave for Winterfell at your earliest convenience, in order to be operative. I will be using warging to talk to you at least once a month, and you'll have raven you can send if you need my intention, and my warging to join you. Just write the name of the body I should inhabit and please make sure the person knows what they're agreeing too. I still have so many regrets about Hodor and the way I used him."

"I know his death plagues you, milord, but I truly believe that you were the one person he was ready to die for. As for my new position, I thank you, my king."

He tried to think about what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, what fashion to say it, when Bran chuckled.

"Do not fret, brother. I know what you mean, and nothing you could say when we interact as brothers could have you beheaded, unless you hurt my sister, of course."

"I was told, by the new master of whispers that a woman named Meera was trying to make her way to King's Landing."

"I have seen her, not in the flesh, but in my raven-dazed state."

"I believe she will be good to you."

"I know she will. I don't need to search the omens to come to that conclusion, but I thank you, brother, for caring about my happiness."

"We all deserve some, don't we?" Tyrion asked.

"We do. You do. My sister too. Please tell her how much she is missed, and that I watch on her whenever I can, something I will refrain from doing from now on if you do go through with acting as husband and wife."

Tyrion felt himself blush but thought it best indeed. No brother ever wanted to see his sister sharing the pleasure of the flesh.

"You will have children. I won't say how many, but if I can ease one worry that could plague you otherwise, your condition is not something you can give them. You'll be surrounded by tall children, like Sansa, and you'll love every minute of it. You love them to bits, and you'll love her like our parents loved each other."

"Children…" Tyrion muttered.

Indeed, he had been thinking about this. He had always hated being the Imp, and dreaded forcing this condition upon any heir he may ever get.

"Go pack your bags, ambassador," Bran said.

Tyrion jumped of his chair and bowed as he presented his king with the Hand's ensign.

"Thank you…. Brother," he said, barely daring to look at his kings, a man of only seventeen namesdays yet wiser than anyone he could ever think of.

Bran nodded and went back to working.

Gotgogotgotgotgot

When he arrived at Winterfell, Tyrion was on pins and needles. He had changed since he had made his promise to the Queen of the North, and surely she had too. Bran had painted a perfect and rosy picture, but what if they had changed too much? He was slower now when it came to making jokes that could offend someone. After what he had seen in King's Landing, after Daenerys had done, and especially after discovering his siblings, he had learnt or internalized that a quick word, as witty as it was, did not need to be said if it meant reminding people of the things that pained the most.

Oh, he was still witty, and careless, and everything you wanted to call him, but his own ordeal had taught him that they all suffered, and that no man became bigger or greater by belittling everyone's sad tales.

The gates were taking forever to open, and when they did, he firmly expected to be greeted by soldiers.

He was, to some extent, but most importantly, Sansa was there, all dressed in green, wearing her crown, and looking at him like she was expecting something, but what?

"Friend or foe?" She asked when he bowed in front of her.

"Husband," he responded, "if I may not be too forward."

"Good. I've been waiting for you, my Lord," she smiled softly, looking relieved.

She then turned to her people and said:

"My Consort had returned. I trust you'll welcome him, if not warmly at least with open hearts, for I would never choose anyone who would not respect our ways to sit by my side on the throne."

They looked wary, and worried, but upon hearing this woman this trusted more than anybody else, most of them seemed to agree on giving him the benefit of the doubt. However, he had no doubt that the first wrong move would mean he'd end up with a thousand daggers in his back.

Sansa offered her arm to him, and he took it happily.

When the soldiers started kneeling in front of him, he had no idea how to react, so he followed Sansa's lead, and nodded his head at them.

"Do you want to get married again?" She finally asked him. "We did pull a Lyanna-one as you said back then.

"How about we give it a year? If in a year we are still convinced that we are made for each other, which I am, by the way, made for you and also persuaded that you are meant to be mine, then we'll have a celebration."

"I do like the idea."

The following year, when they stood in front of all their bannermen, celebrating their one year together, Tyrion and Sansa could not help but exchange secret glances. Custom in the North was to wait for the woman to be with child for four months at least before telling anyone. In a couple of weeks, they would have a joyful announcement for their people.

Tyrion thought back to Bran's words, and silently thanked the King. He was Tyrion, Consort of the North, ambassador to the realm. Most importanly, he was just Tyrion to his belioved wife. He was home, at last.

A/N : I never thoguht I would write more than just one part, but I guess I did. Please R&R