A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating. Also, because of certain content in this chapter, I have raised the story rating to M. I want everyone to be forewarned about that.

"That was ill done this morning."

"What was?" Sansa asked, suspecting that she already knew what he would say.

"Lord Bolton's having that singer's tongue out. As I had occasion to tell my sister, when you tear out a man's tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you're only telling the world that you fear what he might say."

"We do fear what he might say. That song about a great wolf breaking free from his chains, eating the sun, and plunging the world into eternal winter and darkness? Any fool could see what that was really about."

"It's an old tale. There's a version of it that goes back before the Andal invasion. They tell that story in the Free Cities and in Ibben."

"House Stark didn't just conquer the Free Cities and Ibben," Sansa said drily. "Robb may have won the war, but House Stark and House Tully can't rule the entire South alone. We need to get the other Great Houses on our side."

"Why tell me this?" Tyrion asked. "I'm hardly a natural ally to House Stark. Not that I am not grateful to you for interceding with your brother."

The two of them were meeting in one of the smaller septs within Maegor's Holdfast. It had been difficult for Sansa to arrange a secret meeting with Tyrion before he had to leave for Oldtown. Her first thought had been to arrange a meeting in the godswood, but she had just as quickly discarded that idea. With all the Northmen who had come to the city, it was never empty now, and there was no way Tyrion could simply ask to be allowed to go there anyway. But there were any number of small septs throughout the Red Keep that various members of the royal family had dedicated over the centuries, in addition to the Royal Sept next to the Maidenvault, so Sansa had simply inverted the idea.

Tyrion was being lodged in one of the tower cells, but Sansa had managed to slip a message to him, and he had convinced his guards to let him go pray the night before his journey. Sansa had been waiting for him, hiding behind a tapestry depicting the Mother, one of seven tapestries, each depicting one of the seven, hanging from the seven walls of the chapel. The guards were still just outside the door, so Tyrion and Sansa had had to whisper.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you Casterly Rock. That was my plan. Once I got Robb to agree to spare you, I was going to convince him to confirm you as lord of the West."

"Again, why? And why would you have trusted me? And why did you want to meet me now?"

I need to meet you now before you leave for Oldtown, Sansa thought to herself, because I can't let you leave festering with anger at me or my brother. I need to get my hooks into you before you go, so that, while you study at the Citadel, you are constantly longing for me.

"Do you think Lannisters are the only ones who pay their debts? I owe you my life at least twice over, and more besides, for all you did for me. As for how I would have trusted you, I had that all planned. Your wife would have been a Stark, and she would have loved you so much, and made you so happy, that you would have died before letting anything bad happen to her or her family. We cannot always get what we want, but I at least had to say goodbye."

Tyrion, for once, was at a loss for words, at least for a moment. "Why would you have wanted to marry me? Why would—"

"Why not someone taller? More handsome? I was betrothed to a 'handsome' man. You showed me what real beauty was." Sansa leaned over and kissed Tyrion's cheek. She let her hand rest on his knee. The two sat silently for a moment.

"Sansa, I—" This time, it was Tyrion who leaned forward to kiss her, on the mouth this time. Without having planned to, he found himself slipping his tongue between her lips.

I must not shudder or flinch, Sansa thought. He must be completely convinced. She imagined herself with another man, the one she really wanted, and the rest was easy. She slid her hand up from his knee along his thigh and began, tentatively, as though nervous but eager, to suck on his tongue. She felt his hands on her hips. Then her breasts. She thrust her chest toward him. Then she pulled back.

"Tyrion, I want to, believe me. If it were up to me, I would give you my maidenhood, and gladly…." She blinked back tears, but made sure to let a drop or two run down her cheeks. Tyrion's visage twisted into an ecstasy of grief and longing, and she knew she had him. "Please, just hold me," she said, putting her arms around him.

They embraced silently for several moments, and Sansa exulted in victory as she cried on his shoulder and felt his excitement as their bodies pressed against each other.

My victory is not yet complete, she told herself. I have him, but he may yet slip away. He has had many women, and there will be no shortage of brothels in Oldtown. I must make sure that he thinks only of me when he goes whoring. Cersei used her body this way. I must as well.

She leaned in to kiss him again, sending her tongue darting between his lips while sending her hand sliding up his inner thigh, then said "I cannot give you my maidenhood, but let me at least do something." It did not take very long, such was Tyrion's ardor, and afterwards Tyrion laced his breeches back up while Sansa wiped his seed off of her hand.

"Was that right? Did I, that is, was it good—"

Tyrion cut her off with another kiss. "It was wonderful. I am sorry we could not do more, but I understand. But let me at least return the kindness." He reached his hand under the skirt of her gown. She shut her eyes tightly and imagined another man touching her, and she finished even faster than he had, biting her bottom lip to keep from moaning.

After, she planted kisses all over his face. "My darling lion. If I can find a way to get letters to you while you are in Oldtown, will you write back to me?"

"Of course I will. How could you doubt it?"

"You know, a maester can leave the order by the king's command. I promise to keep trying. You could yet have Casterly Rock."

"It is possible, barely, that your brother might let me leave the order of maesters, but dispossess the Karstarks to give Casterly Rock back to the Lannisters? Sweetling, it will never be."

"Maybe, but I won't stop trying. I just need to talk to him away from Lord Bolton. He always counsels harshness. He frightens me."

"Sansa, let me help you again, then. I meant what I said before. This business with Lord Bolton putting out tongues, it will remind people too much of Joffrey, of Aerys even. Bolton's frightening enough as it is too most people. Your brother should have left someone else in charge."

"I certainly agree about Bolton, but I think that made him a good choice, actually. Roose Bolton will do the dirty work of silencing those who would speak against us, and then Robb will return to be a kinder, more lenient ruler. The people will love him all the more."

Tyrion was impressed, he had to admit. "That's not a bad strategy, but it usually works best when the bad Hand dies when the good King comes back."

"I don't want that," she lied, "but I do think my brother reposes too much trust in the man." I cannot see anyway to manipulate or control him. He must go, when the time is right.

"On that I agree. I shall give further thought to the matter and write to you when I can. I fear we are out of time now though." Sansa hid behind the tapestry again while Tyrion left to rejoin the guards.

To be continued….