Sansa still had no idea about him and Shae. If anything, she thought her handmaid and friend was just more prickly on her behalf, over the situation. She hadn't seemed too pleased to be dismissed earlier, either.
But now, she was remaining in the present, actually enjoying what she was doing with Tyrion.
She ends up laughing again, " 'Jutting rock' is hardly flattering, husband!" But then catches herself, realizing what she had just said. She ducks her head slightly, cheeks going warm but not removing her hands from Tyrion's foot.
If Tyrion had his say, she would never find out. Really not one of his most brilliant ploys, employing his lover to his wife -- but then again he never thought Sansa would want to be his wife.
He never imaged he would want to be, either.
Such as, making her laugh, and making her blush, all at the same time. Even as she massaged his foot. "Hmmm, you make an excellent point. Perhaps ... glorious oak tree instead?"
Even now there is a part of her that would prefer to be Ser Loras' wife. But she knows that if Tyrion could be kind to her, loving towards her and whatever children they have, she could grow to enjoy being his wife. Especially if it meant her getting back to Winterfell.
The next suggestion makes her chuckle some before she moves to the other foot to give it attention, "A little better. But I think you can do even better than that."
Hell, Tyrion would probably prefer to be Ser Loras's wife -- and he would have a lot better chance than Sansa, from what he has heard. Still, it was these situations that made it plain ... you did not have to fall in love with your wife beforehand, to realize she can be your partner afterwards.
He wiggled his toes in pleasure. "Mmm ... sensuous willow tree, able to bend, never to break, tall and graceful and lovely -- no matter moonlight to sunshine."
She tilts her head, letting her long red hair touch the the bed, "Although you make me sound like a forest sprite." She teases him still, liking the idea.
"I have my talents." Tyrion chuckled softly, tilting his head down at her.
"You are rather like a sprite, I must say. Light, airy, with mystery in your eyes." His lips quirk up. "You must have been quite the sight, wandering through the woods of Winterfell."
Sansa can feel her cheeks blush as she shakes her head, "No, that wasn't me. That was Arya and Bran. They loved sneaking out into the woods. I stayed inside the walls or courtyards.'
Adding, softly, "Although I wish I had wandered through them now."
He hummed softly, before he sat up, looking at her intently. "That will be the first thing we do, when we return to Winterfell. You shall take me for a tour of the woods. I feel the time outside can only improve us both."
And, she should, because they were ... well. They were like Tyrion and Bronn, now. In this together, through circumstance and wit.
He ran his fingers through her hair again, kissing her back in kind, making a soft noise. Pregnancy was certainly one way to go -- but they would have to make it convincing.
He pulled back, giving her a sly smile, "Tell me, Lady Sansa, I believe I heard your mother say that warmer climates made pregnancy agony for her, did you not?"
Her smile grows wide as he mentions that, following where he's going, "You heard correctly."
She then looks down at his feet again, her fingers gently tapping on the toes like one would pluck harp strings, "You will love our children... Won't you? Be kind to them, teach them without hurting them?"
"Such a shame ... it seems as if we will have to travel someplace cooler quite soon. Just to make sure that my heir is born without any complications." He murmured, "The same complications that must have plagued my own mother."
He looks up at her then, before he sit himself up. He leans down, gritting his teeth at the stretch to his hip, but it is worth it to take those lovely hands in his own. "I have many goals in my life, my lady wife. One of them is to be the opposite of my father in as many ways as I can. Sadly we share the same tactical mind -- but we do not share the same heart."
He looks down at her hands, one corner of his mouth twisting, "Beyond that ... any woman who would bear me a child would do me an honor I never thought possible. Those children would be ... beloved, precious, to me."
She barely catches the last part when he's taking her hands into his and his words fill her heart with such tender relief and joy. Sansa can see it there, in his eyes, that he's speaking the truth.
She brings up their joined hands and kisses each of his before looking back up at him, "Good. Little lions and wolves deserve that."
He looks up at her, his own gaze softening before he nods his head in solemn agreement. "Then we are of an accord, lady wife. We are to treat all our little lions and little wolves with love. Whomever they are."
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But now, she was remaining in the present, actually enjoying what she was doing with Tyrion.
She ends up laughing again, " 'Jutting rock' is hardly flattering, husband!" But then catches herself, realizing what she had just said. She ducks her head slightly, cheeks going warm but not removing her hands from Tyrion's foot.
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He never imaged he would want to be, either.
Such as, making her laugh, and making her blush, all at the same time. Even as she massaged his foot. "Hmmm, you make an excellent point. Perhaps ... glorious oak tree instead?"
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The next suggestion makes her chuckle some before she moves to the other foot to give it attention, "A little better. But I think you can do even better than that."
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He wiggled his toes in pleasure. "Mmm ... sensuous willow tree, able to bend, never to break, tall and graceful and lovely -- no matter moonlight to sunshine."
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She tilts her head, letting her long red hair touch the the bed, "Although you make me sound like a forest sprite." She teases him still, liking the idea.
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"You are rather like a sprite, I must say. Light, airy, with mystery in your eyes." His lips quirk up. "You must have been quite the sight, wandering through the woods of Winterfell."
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Adding, softly, "Although I wish I had wandered through them now."
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She moves her hands only to brace on the bed as she leans in to kiss him again. It really was getting easier for her the more she did it.
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He ran his fingers through her hair again, kissing her back in kind, making a soft noise. Pregnancy was certainly one way to go -- but they would have to make it convincing.
He pulled back, giving her a sly smile, "Tell me, Lady Sansa, I believe I heard your mother say that warmer climates made pregnancy agony for her, did you not?"
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She then looks down at his feet again, her fingers gently tapping on the toes like one would pluck harp strings, "You will love our children... Won't you? Be kind to them, teach them without hurting them?"
Because she's seen how Tywin is.
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He looks up at her then, before he sit himself up. He leans down, gritting his teeth at the stretch to his hip, but it is worth it to take those lovely hands in his own. "I have many goals in my life, my lady wife. One of them is to be the opposite of my father in as many ways as I can. Sadly we share the same tactical mind -- but we do not share the same heart."
He looks down at her hands, one corner of his mouth twisting, "Beyond that ... any woman who would bear me a child would do me an honor I never thought possible. Those children would be ... beloved, precious, to me."
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She brings up their joined hands and kisses each of his before looking back up at him, "Good. Little lions and wolves deserve that."
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