Fic: {ASoIaF/GoT} Leave all this to yesterday (1/1)
Title: Leave all this to yesterday
Author:
novindalf
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones
Characters/Pairings: Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister; Sansa/Tyrion; mentions of Cersei, Joffrey, Catelyn, Robb, Bran and Rickon
Rating/Warnings: T/PG-13, hints of suicide
Summary: After the wedding night, Tyrion wakes uneasy. Written for
gameofships' Valentine's event, Day 2 (see link for prompts)
He wakes suddenly, as if from a nightmare, and jerks his head against the headboard in his hurry to sit up. For once his legs do not cramp painfully – although his head pounds enough to make up for it – and he had no ill dreams, so the sense of uneasiness that surrounds both unsettles and perturbs him.
He casts his mind to the evening’s festivities, to his farce of a wedding and mockery of a wedding night, and it suddenly strikes him what is wrong; there is no second person in his bed, no child bride huddling in the covers as far away from his as possible. He scans the rooms as he gets out of bed and throws on a robe, but there is no crumpled figure in a corner, and nowhere else for her to go.
His eyes fall on the doorways to the balcony, and his heart drops. He crosses the room quickly.
Silhouetted against the moonlight, sitting perched on the stone balustrade is Sansa Stark. Lannister, he corrects himself. She clings to her seat with white-knuckled grip but he does no doubt that startling her would be an ill move indeed.
He steps carefully, anxious to make as little sounds as possible, until he is beside her and can reach out. Somewhere in his mind he can see her dragging him over the ledge with her, but he takes hold of her arm anyway. She jumps, but they do not fall.
“My lady,” he murmurs stiffly, trying not to notice the flicker of disappointment that crosses her face. “My lady, come away.”
She stares at him for a moment, then looks to where his hand is locked around her arm, and back down to the distant ground.
“Why?” she whispers, so quiet he can barely hear her. “What is there left for me?”
The moon casts an eerie glow over her face, and he can see the tears that glisten on her cheeks. Tyrion cannot help but soften.
“Your family,” he replies.
“My mother and brothers are traitors – I have no family.”
She says it so automatically and so vacantly that it is Cersei’s voice he hears, not Sansa’s.
“We both know you do not believe that,” he says.
She turns to face him, frowning. “I- I don’t know what you me-”
“Sansa.” Whether it is his use of her name that stops her, or the sharp tone of his voice, neither knows. “Sansa,” he continues, “you need not pretend with me.”
“My lord, I-”
“I know that you miss your family, as much as I know that, were you given the choice, you’d run to them and never set eyes on another Lannister again.”
She makes as if to protest, catches his sharp expression, and stops herself, eyes downcast.
“Come away from the edge,” he says again. “I won’t hurt you.”
“But what about the Queen?” she murmurs. “And Joffrey?”
Tyrion can feel her trembling and silently he curses his sister and her spawn. “I won’t let them hurt you either.”
He sees her lip tremble, sees the flicker of hope in her eyes before it is washes away by tears.
“He’s the king,” she whispers fearfully. “He can do as he likes.”
“Not to you,” Tyrion says firmly. He moves his hand from her arm, and takes her hand in his. “I know you do not want me as a husband, but you have my protection now.”
He feels her grip on his hand tighten, however slightly. “You won’t be able to stop him.”
“Just watch me.” He tries to tug her gently onto the balcony. She resists, so he tries again. “Have I never told you of the time I destroyed his set of toy soldiers?”
The smile Sansa gives him is faint and fleeting, but he counts it as a victory nonetheless. “Will you come away from the edge, my lady,” he asks again, holding out his other hand.
This time she takes it.
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones
Characters/Pairings: Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister; Sansa/Tyrion; mentions of Cersei, Joffrey, Catelyn, Robb, Bran and Rickon
Rating/Warnings: T/PG-13, hints of suicide
Summary: After the wedding night, Tyrion wakes uneasy. Written for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
He wakes suddenly, as if from a nightmare, and jerks his head against the headboard in his hurry to sit up. For once his legs do not cramp painfully – although his head pounds enough to make up for it – and he had no ill dreams, so the sense of uneasiness that surrounds both unsettles and perturbs him.
He casts his mind to the evening’s festivities, to his farce of a wedding and mockery of a wedding night, and it suddenly strikes him what is wrong; there is no second person in his bed, no child bride huddling in the covers as far away from his as possible. He scans the rooms as he gets out of bed and throws on a robe, but there is no crumpled figure in a corner, and nowhere else for her to go.
His eyes fall on the doorways to the balcony, and his heart drops. He crosses the room quickly.
Silhouetted against the moonlight, sitting perched on the stone balustrade is Sansa Stark. Lannister, he corrects himself. She clings to her seat with white-knuckled grip but he does no doubt that startling her would be an ill move indeed.
He steps carefully, anxious to make as little sounds as possible, until he is beside her and can reach out. Somewhere in his mind he can see her dragging him over the ledge with her, but he takes hold of her arm anyway. She jumps, but they do not fall.
“My lady,” he murmurs stiffly, trying not to notice the flicker of disappointment that crosses her face. “My lady, come away.”
She stares at him for a moment, then looks to where his hand is locked around her arm, and back down to the distant ground.
“Why?” she whispers, so quiet he can barely hear her. “What is there left for me?”
The moon casts an eerie glow over her face, and he can see the tears that glisten on her cheeks. Tyrion cannot help but soften.
“Your family,” he replies.
“My mother and brothers are traitors – I have no family.”
She says it so automatically and so vacantly that it is Cersei’s voice he hears, not Sansa’s.
“We both know you do not believe that,” he says.
She turns to face him, frowning. “I- I don’t know what you me-”
“Sansa.” Whether it is his use of her name that stops her, or the sharp tone of his voice, neither knows. “Sansa,” he continues, “you need not pretend with me.”
“My lord, I-”
“I know that you miss your family, as much as I know that, were you given the choice, you’d run to them and never set eyes on another Lannister again.”
She makes as if to protest, catches his sharp expression, and stops herself, eyes downcast.
“Come away from the edge,” he says again. “I won’t hurt you.”
“But what about the Queen?” she murmurs. “And Joffrey?”
Tyrion can feel her trembling and silently he curses his sister and her spawn. “I won’t let them hurt you either.”
He sees her lip tremble, sees the flicker of hope in her eyes before it is washes away by tears.
“He’s the king,” she whispers fearfully. “He can do as he likes.”
“Not to you,” Tyrion says firmly. He moves his hand from her arm, and takes her hand in his. “I know you do not want me as a husband, but you have my protection now.”
He feels her grip on his hand tighten, however slightly. “You won’t be able to stop him.”
“Just watch me.” He tries to tug her gently onto the balcony. She resists, so he tries again. “Have I never told you of the time I destroyed his set of toy soldiers?”
The smile Sansa gives him is faint and fleeting, but he counts it as a victory nonetheless. “Will you come away from the edge, my lady,” he asks again, holding out his other hand.
This time she takes it.
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