A.N. Yes, hello! My name is Chesty's Superbest Friend, and I love ASoIaF. Although I don't usually do this (write fics for works that aren't complete yet) I figured I can make an exception for this series.
Because these books are literally breaking my heart into a million and one pieces. I can't take it. I can't! I'm so depressed right now, I thought the best way for me to feel better was to write FF for it, but it didn't work! It made me feel worse!
But I digress. I'm actually a pretty heavy shipper of Sansa and The Hound, so when I first read this ship I thought no. Just...no. But I'm surprised at how much I like it! And how mad at Sansa I am for treating Tyrion the way she did! I would gladly marry Tyrion, ¾ths of a nose and all!
Disclaimer: If I owned A Song of Ice and Fire, it probably wouldn't tear your heart out as much as it does now. Or maybe it will. Either way, I don't own it.
Tyrion just wanted to see her smile.
He wasn't sure when his feelings for his forced lady wife became so strong that the sole purpose of his day was to make her smile, but at some point he found that before he made a decision that concerned even the slightest bit of her, he wondered if it would make her smile.
But it never did.
Nothing made her smile.
Nothing made her happy.
He gave her space. He made sure to not even accidentally brush her while they were sleeping side by side. He waited—albeit not very mirthfully—for her to be ready to accept him enough to bed him.
He would've given her anything she asked for, if she ever asked for anything.
But all Sansa Stark did was hide behind her lies and her grief, her masked dread at being his wife, and Tyrion just wanted to make her smile.
He just wanted her to smile.
His ache became so strong that he was almost reduced to having to ask Bronn how he might make the girl smile, but Bronn was in an awful mood that evening.
Apparently there was a new merchant in King's Landing, one that was selling song birds.
"Annoying little things. I had half a mind to kill them all right then just to stop their blasted chirping," the former sellsword complained, chugging back a great deal of wine while he said it.
Tyrion had a amiable retort right on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short, an idea occurring to him.
"Pod," he called his squire. "I require your assistance with something."
Tyrion grinned down at the bird. It was tiny, even for his own hands. Tiny and frail and yellow, with chirps trying to mimic the sounds that it heard and turn them into a song.
"Pod, bring the cage," Tyrion ordered as they walked down the hall to his quarters. His lady wife didn't leave there much, and he hoped today wouldn't be a day where she was feeling adventurous or lonely enough to leave.
"Think she'll like it?" the lord asked his squire.
"Who, my lord?"
"Why, my sweet sister, for all the love and devotion she has shown me throughout our years."
"For Her Grace? I—I—"
"Pod, it's for my lady wife. For Sansa." Like I would buy a bird for Cersei.
"Oh, right, yes, of course—"
"Oh, never mind. We're here." He knocked first, for some inexplicable reason, suddenly nervous. One of her handmaids answered the door, looking down in confusion.
"Yes, your lord. May I come in?" he asked, still too nervous to care that he didn't have to knock on his own door.
"I—yes, of course." The maid, after quickly adverting her gaze from Tyrion's face, spotted the bird in his hand.
"Is my lady Sansa here?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord. Sitting by the window."
He gestured for her to leave them then, and Pod also after he placed the bird's cage and food on the table.
Sansa looked up at all the noise, standing quickly when she saw who was greeting her.
"My lord husband," she curtsied.
"My lady wife," he responded, not bothering to smother his mocking. "I have a gift for you, Sansa. Would you like a gift?"
"If it please my lord," she said at once, and for a split second he thought he saw some emotion or other cross her face. Whether it was happiness or dread, he could not say.
Tyrion's hand clenched into a fist at her words. How I hate that phrase.
"Yes, although I think that sometime down the road I may come to regret my decision."
Tyrion grinned up on her, knowing that his smile wasn't the most pleasant to her but couldn't help it nonetheless. "Yes, my sweetling. I'm not sure how much of this noise I'll be able to handle before long." And with that, he held the bird up as high as he could.
"For you," he said as Sansa took the bird into her hands, her expressionless facade dropping for one of wonder.
And just as he thought he succeeded, that she was going to smile, Sansa's face contorted with such sorrow that Tyrion felt it bludgeon him in the chest.
"Little bird," she whispered softly. Handing it back to Tyrion, she asked of him, "My lord...I wonder if you wouldn't mind...letting it go?"
"Letting it go?" he asked, surprised. He had thought...
"Yes," Sansa said, her voice still terribly soft.
For a moment, Tyrion was furious. He got this for her. For her to care for. To make her happy. And she wanted him to just...let it go?
But if she wanted him to...
Biting back a grunt, Tyrion waddled to the balcony that was attached to their bedroom. He wanted to look back to see if Sansa was following him, but he was afraid his anger would frighten her.
Heaving a great sigh, Tyrion muttered to the bird, "Great lot of good you did me," before tossing the bird into the air. He wondered if he looked graceful while doing it. He smirked. Probably not.
Tyrion watched the bird flee for a long while before turning back to see if his wife was near.
She was standing as close to him as she ever had (willingly) with tears streaming down her face.
But she was smiling. Sansa Stark was smiling, and she was smiling for him.
And it was in that moment of seeing his wife's smile that Tyrion felt his heart break.