"This is not good," Sansa says twisting the raven scroll in her worried hands.

"What is it, my lady?" Brienne asks, instantly on guard.

"I've received word from Tyr— Lord Tyrion. Lord Varys has been arrested by the Dragon Queen and sentenced to death."

"The Spider? Whatever for?"

"I think it's my fault," Sansa admits.

She reads the scroll again:

Sansa,

The Dragon has imprisoned the Spider and is planning a funeral fire. Be careful with whom you share your secrets.

Tyrion

"How could it be your fault?" Brienne questions.

Sansa doesn't reply.

She needs more information, and she knows exactly where to go to get it.

Brienne follows Sansa, and she almost tells the woman not to but changes her mind a heartbeat later.

I can trust Brienne.

"Bran, I need to know what you see," Sansa demands as soon as she enters his room. "Is this scroll correct?"

She holds the parchment out to him but he doesn't take it.

"It is," he answers.

"Does it... does it have anything to do with what I told Tyrion?"

Sansa knows he'll understand exactly what she's talking about.

"It does."

"Are Jon and Tyrion in danger?"

"They are at war. Yes, they are in danger," Bran responds.

Sansa sighs and kneels beside Bran's chair.

"That's not what I meant. Are they in trouble with the Dragon Queen?"

Brienne steps up closer on the other side of Bran. She still doesn't understand what exactly is going on, but Sansa knows she's waiting for the word to jump in and help in whatever way she can.

"Jon is safe," Bran answers. "She loves him. However, her faith in Tyrion is waning… she is starting to distrust him. She doesn't see his loyalty is true."

Gritting her teeth, Sansa nods.

Her mind is racing… he is in danger because of a secret I shared with him.

It would be much simpler if Jon were in danger too. It would be so much easier to justify going to assist.

With it being Tyrion however, Sansa has no logical reason to want to rush to his aid. He allied himself with the Dragon Queen. He's not Sansa's responsibility, not her family.

Isn't he? You were joined under the eyes of Gods and men.

There's another reason to go help him, but she isn't ready to admit it to herself, let alone to anyone else.

As she kneels beside Bran, running through a number of scenarios that would justify her interference, Bran saves her the trouble.

"You should go," he says, looking at her in that way he often does, as if he sees through her and into the very essence of existence. "He will need you."

Sansa looks up at Brienne, and the woman already looks set to go. Her face is determined and she gives Sansa a curt nod.

How much of her readiness is duty, and how much is the prospect of finding Ser Jaime? Sansa wonders briefly.

"Daenerys and her forces are positioned around the capital, holding siege," Bran informs them.

"Just you and I will go Brienne. Tonight, after dark. Bran, try to distract people from our absence, and if anyone does ask, tell them we are checking how our bannermen are faring."

Eager to be on the road, even if it does lead to King's Landing, Sansa begins thinking of a travel plan.

"My lady," Brienne says, "are you sure we shouldn't take any men with us? You are the Lady of Winterfell."

"It would only draw more attention. We'll ride for White Harbor and book passage to Maidenpool. I'd rather travel the King's Road from there than sail near Dragonstone."

Brienne leaves her then, off to make her own preparations.

"Will you be alright? Here… on your own?" Sansa asks Bran.

"There must always be a Stark at Winterfell, and I would be of little assistance in the capital."

Sansa wraps her arms around Bran, giving him a crushing hug.

"Sansa?" he calls just as she's about to leave his room. "Trust your heart."

X

Once darkness falls, Sansa and Brienne set out.

They make good time, and fall into a comfortable silence for most of the way. At least until Brienne's curiosity gets the best of her.

"My lady?" she asks, letting her horse fall back to ride beside Sansa.

"You know you may call me Sansa, Brienne."

Brienne ignores her and continues.

"You said that something you told Lord Tyrion is what put the Spider in danger? And possibly your brother and Lord Tyrion as well? May I… may I ask what you told them?"

Sansa sighs.

She'd been hoping Brienne's sense of honor and decorum would keep her from probing. She's not sure she can lie to Brienne. Sansa trusts Brienne with her life.

"I told him something I was asked not to tell anyone," Sansa admits.

She can feel Brienne's curiosity burning and Sansa makes a split decision.

"I trust you as if you were family," Sansa admits, "so, I am going to tell you a very dangerous secret. If we were not heading into a situation where this knowledge was necessary, I would refrain, but you deserve to know what we are walking into."

She takes a deep shaky breath.

"My aunt, Lyanna Stark, was not kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen. She went willingly. They were married in secret by a high septon. Lyanna died shortly after giving birth… after making her brother, my father, promise to protect her child. Her son. Aegon Targaryen."

Brienne gasps.

"Jon… Jon is—?"

"The rightful king of the seven kingdoms," Sansa finishes.

They ride in silence for a while longer, the full moon illuminating the war-torn countryside.

"She knows this? The Dragon Queen?" Brienne asks.

"Yes. And anyone who knows the truth is in danger. She's unstable."

When they reach White Harbor, Sansa is careful to keep her hood drawn, hiding her hair, while Brienne books their passage to Maidenpool.

Sansa spends her time on the boat trying to figure out what exactly she can do to help Tyrion.

I'm not a warrior, I don't have dragons… I'm not even sure I'll have Jon's support.

The only thing she's sure about is that she has to protect him.

I abandoned him in King's Landing once before, I can't do it again.

Her stomach twists uncomfortably every time she thinks about something happening to Tyrion and though she tries to blame it on the wave tossed ship, Sansa knows there is more to it.

X

In Maidenpool, Brienne secures them a pair of horses, and they begin their journey towards King's Landing.

From the chatter they hear at inns along the way, Daenerys is holding siege of the city. Her armies and the North men are all stationed around the walls of King's Landing.

The Dragon Queen herself has taken up residence in Hayford Castle, just a short distance from the capital.

"Your brother— I mean… Jon, will be at the front lines of the siege. What do you wish to do?" Brienne asks Sansa as they ride down the King's Road. "We can try to get a message to him."

"I need to speak to Lord Tyrion. He'll be at the Hayford Castle with the Dragon Queen."

"Are you sure walking right in there is a good idea?"

"I don't intend to just walk in," Sansa replies. "We're going to sneak in. I know a way."

"How do you know? Have you been there before?"

"When I first travelled to King's Landing we stopped at the Hayford's castle to rest. That was shortly after Cersei ordered my direwolf, Lady, to be killed. I was still very upset and Jory, one of my father's men was guarding my room and heard me crying. He wanted to make me feel better and so he snuck me out of the castle and up the hill behind it," Sansa says, smiling softly at the memory. "From the hill you could see King's Landing in the distance. All the candles and braziers burning brightly in the darkness. It was beautiful."

"That was very kind of him," Brienne says.

"He was kind. And he's dead now. This world doesn't treat kind men as it should."

"Nor kind women."

"All that matters now, is that I know how to get into the castle thanks to Jory. We should be able to reach Lord Tyrion without being seen."

X

The hole in the wall is right where she remembers, hidden behind a tangle of bramble bushes, invisible unless you know it's there.

"Why didn't your father's man just take you… through… the front gate?" Brienne asks, hacking away at the brambles.

Sansa glances around nervously, wondering if the sound of Brienne's sword catching stone will summon a guard.

It's dark now, but the light of the moon shows her the area is still clear.

"My father wouldn't have approved of me being out after dark. He was very protective."

A few more swings and the path is cleared.

"Stay close behind me, my lady," Brienne instructs, ducking through the hole in the wall.

Sansa follows, casting one more quick look around before she goes.

"This way," Sansa whispers. "There's an old door that leads through the servant's quarters."

Brienne allows Sansa to take the lead.

The servant's quarters are empty and covered in dust, but as they approach the kitchen they hear voices.

"He would not eat."

Sansa looks at Brienne and mouths, "unsullied."

"Let him starve then," a woman replies. "How much could he need, anyway? A man of his size?"

Tensing, Sansa holds her breath, listening intently.

"Are you hungry?" the woman asks. "I could make you something?"

"This one is on guard duty."

"He's locked in tight, he can't get out of that cell."

Stay, stay, stay, Sansa pleads silently.

"Very well, thank you."

Brienne grabs Sansa's arm and pulls her in the opposite direction of the voices.

"I saw a staircase," she whispers. "The dungeons will be downstairs."

They retrace their steps, and find the stairs. Brienne leads, worried there may be more guards than the unsullied soldier had said.

The door at the bottom of the stairs is barred closed, and once the wooden plank removed it's stuck with disuse.

Brienne takes a deep breath and hits the door with her shoulder, wincing, though from pain or the amount of noise she makes Sansa isn't sure.

They both freeze when the door slams open, waiting to be rushed by unsullied or Dothraki guards, but no one comes.

Sansa lets out a sigh and presses past Brienne into the dark room.

It's clearly a dungeon. There are several cells lining the damp stone walls on her left.

There is a single brazier lit, far at the other side of the room.

Chest tight with worry, Sansa runs towards the light, looking in every cell along the way.

It's in the last one she finally sees him, curled up on a small cot in the back corner.

"Tyrion!" she gasps, grabbing hold of the bars.

Relief floods her so suddenly, Sansa thinks she will collapse if not for the bars she holds onto.

His eyes pop open and he sits up, staring at her intensely, unblinkingly.

"Sansa?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Thank the gods you're alright."

Her eyes are burning and she tries to blink back the tears threatening to spill.

Finally accepting that she must be real, Tyrion jumps off his cot and rushes across the cell. With a shaking hand, he clasps the bars, his fingers grazing hers.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"I received your raven… I—I thought you might be in trouble."

"And you rode south in the middle of a war to check on me?"

Sansa blushes, but ignores his question.

"What are you doing down here?" she asks.

"I… betrayed my queen, I suppose."

She shakes her head.

"I doubt that very much."

"The Unsullied captured Jaime trying sneak past the siege forces. Daenerys imprisoned him for trying to betray her. She… she was going to execute him. I went to speak with him, and he told me he was on his way to Cersei."

Brienne sucks in a sharp breath from behind them, and Sansa glances back and sees the betrayal in her eyes.

"He told me he was going to kill her," Tyrion continues. "That it was the only way to end this without the loss of more innocent lives. I believed him. Believe him. I let him go. When Daenerys found out she had me locked up. I suspect my hours are numbered now. Unless my foolish brother pulls off his impossible task. Though, if anyone can get close enough to end Cersei, it's Jaime."

"We need to get you out of here," Sansa tells him. "Now. The guard will be back before long."

"Sansa, you can't," he argues. "If they catch you, or ever find out you freed me, she'll come for you next."

"Then let her come. I am not leaving you. Not again."

Tyrion stares up at her in exasperation and wonder, eyes so unguarded Sansa has to avoid looking at them lest she lose herself.

"Brienne, we need to get him—"

As she turns back to talk to Brienne, the other woman is already approaching with a large ring of brass keys.

Sansa takes them and begins trying each one on the lock to Tyrion's cell.

As she does so, he returns to his cot and begins stuffing hay under the blanket, grabbing fistfuls from the floor and creating a vaguely human shape on the bed.

Tyrion is just finishing up when Sansa finally locates the correct key.

"Got it! Let's go!"

Sansa offers him her hand, and Tyrion hesitantly takes it.

The warmth of his skin against hers sends a smile to her lips and Sansa tries to look reassuring as they follow Brienne back out the way they came.

They replace the bar on the door at the stairs, and exit from the same door in the servants quarters they entered through.

Sansa keeps waiting to hear a guard shout after them, but by some miracle they make it back through the whole in the wall and into the little grove of trees they left their horses tethered.

"We need to keep moving," Brienne insists. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Sansa replies simply. "We're returning to Winterfell."

She looks down at Tyrion, still holding his hand.

"And you're coming with me."

"Sansa… I don't think that's a good idea. If she finds out the North is harboring me—"

"Let her find out. I don't care. You are coming home with me."

She glares at him fiercely, refusing to back down.

He must realize she isn't going to give up.

"As my wife commands," he says softly.

With only two horses, Sansa and Tyrion end up sharing, with him riding in front of her.

Sansa's arms wrap around him to grasp the reigns and she bites her lip trying to concentrate on the path in front of them, rather than the warmth of him pressed against her chest.

They aren't sure how long it takes the guards to notice their prisoner is missing, but they are gone well before any search party comes looking.

They travel to Maidenpool and catch a ship to White Harbor. All along their journey on the ship, Sansa can tell Tyrion wishes to speak with her, but he resists while Brienne is present… and she is always present.

In White Harbor they hear the news.

Cersei is dead.

Daenerys is now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Sansa can't decide if she is relieved or not.

It's not until they reach Winterfell that Sansa and Tyrion have a chance to speak alone.

They arrive late in the night, as the castle sleeps, and Brienne excuses herself once she escorts Sansa safely inside the walls of Winterfell.

Sansa wonders how Brienne is doing with news of Jaime's mission. The woman had been very quiet on their return journey.

"Sansa we need to talk," Tyrion demands as soon as Brienne leaves them.

Sansa swallows nervously and nods.

"Come," she says, "we can speak in my room."

Her heart races faster with each step they take, and Sansa's no sure she's ready for the conversation he wants to have.

She leads him into her chambers, her mouth running dry as the door clicks closed behind them.

She's surprised when she sees the steaming copper tub waiting for her in the middle of the room, but smiles softly when she realizes Bran must have saw them coming and had it set up for her.

There's also a small meal set for two waiting on the table near the fireplace.

A bit presumptuous, don't you think, Bran?

"Are you hungry?" she asks Tyrion, gesturing the food. "Bran must think so."

Tyrion seems perplexed by the situation, but nods and takes a seat at the table.

"How did you know I was in trouble?" he asks, picking lightly at his meal.

"I received your raven."

"I only mentioned Varys in my letter."

"I asked Bran if you and Jon were in danger," she tells him truthfully. "He said you were."

"Even so… why did you come?"

Sansa takes a sip of wine, giving herself a moment to think.

"I felt responsible. I thought you were in danger because of what I told you."

"You are the Lady of Winterfell," Tyrion reminds her, almost angrily. "You should not have put yourself in danger like that!"

"Are you truly going to lecture me for saving your life?" she scoffs.

He gets up from his chair and rounds the table to stand in front of her.

"Sansa," he pleads, taking her hands, "why did you really come for me?"

Her lower lip trembles as she meets his gaze, and she tries so hard to think of a convincing lie, but all she can think of are Bran's words to her right before she left.

Trust your heart.

"Because I need you," she tells him, voice cracking. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

"Why? Why do you care?" he asks, shaking his head.

"For being the cleverest man alive, you really can be quite thick at times."

Sansa acts before she can question herself, leaning down to kiss him.

He sucks in a surprised breath as soon as her lips graze his.

When she pulls back to look at him, he's staring at her in wonder.

"Sansa…?"

"Tyrion, I came for you because I love you."

He steps back suddenly, pulling his hands from her grasp.

"Don't," he says, shaking his head. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't lie to me to win me over. You don't have to say or do… that. Sansa, I'm yours. My loyalty belongs to you. You don't have to pretend."

She draws back as if slapped and jumps to her feet.

"I am not pretending. How dare you… I— I finally find the courage to tell you how I feel and you… you think I'm trying to manipulate you? Why would I do that?" she asks. "Why would I pretend to love you for your loyalty? Why would my love make a difference?"

"Because if it were true, it would make all the difference to me. Because I love you, Sansa, and I have for years. So, please, don't say it. Not unless you mean it. My bitter heart can't take it if you're lying."

Her face softens and she approaches him slowly, and then kneels before him.

"Tyrion Lannister, I Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, solemnly swear on the spirits of all my ancestors that I am completely and irrevocably in love with you. You are the kindest, gentlest, bravest, man I have ever met, and my life is infinitely better for having you in it."

She can see it in his eyes the moment he believes her.

Tyrion reaches out, placing a hand on either side of her cheeks, and he kisses her. Everything he longs to say and swear to her he pours into that kiss and she swallows it all up, meeting him move for move.

"Do you remember the promise you once made me?" she asks, when they pause for breath. "On our wedding night?"

His eyes widen and he nods slowly.

"Well, husband… I want you to."

Sansa stands up and quickly divests herself of her travel clothes, and Tyrion is left dumbstruck, staring at the goddess before him.

"Astoundingly perfect," he murmurs, and she flushes, the rose tinge spreading all over her fair skin.

To his surprise, and slight disappointment, she doesn't go to the bed, and instead steps into the warm bath.

"Join me," she insists as she settles in. "It was a long journey."

He hesitates only a moment before stripping and joining her in the tub.

They take turns bathing each other, passing the soapy rag back and forth, giggling as they discover ticklish locations on each other's bodies.

Tyrion moans in pleasure as Sansa washes his hair, her nimble fingers working magic on his scalp.

He lets his head fall back and leans into her chest, feeling her pert nipples pressed to his back. Slowly, her hands drift from his hair, making their way down his torso until she finds his shaft, fully erect, hidden just below the water.

Her hand closes around him, and Tyrion hisses through his teeth at the surprise contact.

"Sansa…"

"I think I'm done with that bath," she tells him, lips grazing his ear.

They climb from the tub and towel off before moving to the large fur covered bed.

Tyrion lays across her, kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck… trailing his mouth down across her breasts and taut stomach.

He climbs between her legs and encourages her to open them for him.

Sansa hesitates a moment before she meets his gaze, and then spreads herself for him, exposing her center.

"Tell me if you wish for me to stop," he says, before dipping his face towards her nest of curls.

"I wil—oh!"

His tongue finds her entrance and Sansa gasps at the sudden new sensation.

"Gods!"

She's not sure what exactly he's doing, but he seems to know quite well. His tongue is swirling and teasing and— his fingers are…

Coherent thought slips away from her. All that is left is the feeling of pleasure and the want for more.

There is a pressure building in the pit of her stomach, and it's reaching a boiling point when—

"Tyrion!" she gasps his name, her hips bucking beneath his ministrations.

A soft wave of pleasure crashes over her, and Sansa feels like she's floating.

After a moment her mind seems to come back to itself and she finds herself thinking of how right Margaery was when she once told her Tyrion's experience was a good thing.

When Sansa opens her eyes, she sees Tyrion watching her. His face is pure awe, except for the lust burning in his eyes.

"Please, Tyrion," she says, urging him on,

He positions his member at her entrance, and meets her gaze once more.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, please."

He plunges into her with a triumphant groan, and Sansa gasps at the sensation. She feels so… complete.

Tyrion begins to move inside her, and as he switches angles he hits something and she gasps.

He repeats the motion, at the same angle, and Sansa can feel the pressure begin to build within her once more.

He tries to restrain himself, taking it slow, but she keeps murmuring words of encouragement, egging him on, and he can't help himself from taking her harder and faster.

Tyrion tries to hold back, but she feels too good, and it's been so long. He spends himself inside of her and as she feels his warm seed, Sansa topples over the edge once more, crying out beneath him.

They fall asleep wrapped in one another's arms.

X

It takes two more weeks for Jon and the Northern army to return.

When he enters the great hall and finds Tyrion seated at Sansa's side, he doesn't seem the least bit surprised.

"She said it was you," he sighs.

"Pardon me?" Sansa asks, keeping her head high.

"Dany said you were the one to free him, but I told her she was wrong. Guess I was."

"And what do you intend to do with this information?" she presses, holding tightly to Tyrion's hand beneath the table.

"Nothing," Jon answers. "He's been pardoned."

"Really?" Tyrion asks, incredulous.

"Really."

It's a new voice that answers. And when they follow the sound of the voice, they see Jaime Lannister standing a bit behind Jon.

"Ser Jaime did exactly as he said," Jon tells them. "He killed Cersei and saved thousands of lives. He couldn't have done that unless a certain someone had released him."

"Jaime? Is it true?"

This time it is Brienne who speaks, stepping up from where she stood at the side of the room.

Instead of answering, Jaime rushes to her and sweeps her into his arms, standing on tiptoes to give her fierce kiss.

Jon clears his throat uncomfortably and turns his attention back to Tyrion and Sansa.

"Queen Daenerys would like to offer you your position as hand back," he says.

Sansa sucks in a breath, shocked.

"I'm enjoying retirement quite well, I think," Tyrion says without hesitation. "I decline."

Jon nods as if expecting that.

"And as for you, Lady of Winterfell, for your interference, freeing a prisoner… and saving the life of an innocent man, for aiding a foreign queen when she needed it, Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, would like to grant the North it's independence. From henceforth, Lady Sansa of House Stark, will reside as Queen in the North."

She doesn't believe him. It can't be true.

It can't…

Slowly, everyone in the great hall rises from their seats, and kneels before her, bowing their heads in reverence.

"Queen in the North! Queen in the North!" they chant.

X

They decide to renew their vows. To reclaim them.

This marriage isn't a sham. It isn't an arrangement. It isn't something being forced on them.

It is something they are choosing.

They marry in the Godswood, another place Sansa wishes to reclaim. She wears a gown so white it practically glows in the moonlight.

The snow starts to fall as she walks down the aisle towards Tyrion, and Sansa recalls something Bran once told her.

"Snow was falling, just like now… and you were so beautiful in your white wedding dress."

She smiles, a few happy tears finding their way down her cheek.

It's all led here, she thinks, looking at Tyrion's love filled expression, and it's all been worth it.

Author's Note: Only two episodes left... I'm FREAKING OUT!