This has been a joy to write. Thank you for the kind words and encouragement. Enjoy.

Tyrion is woken up by the cell door being thrown open. He looked up just in time to see his wife being thrown in and falling to the floor.

"Sansa," he whisper, barely believing his eyes.

Tyrion rushes to her and helps sit her up in the darkness. She looks him in the eye and begins to cry. "Shhh, shhh, it is alright." His hands are still on her shoulders and she falls forward onto him, burying her face into his chest and her arms holding him tight.

"They told me...they told me you were dead. Tyrion, they told me..." She was in hysterics, crying harder now and shaking. Of course they would tell her such a lie. Just one more way to frighten his wife.

"Well, I am here, alive. It is alright, dear." He holds her as close to himself as he can and rubs her back to try and calm her. Her tears begin to slow down but her shaking remains. "What has happen to you, Sansa? I was told that you had left..." He hadn't wanted to believe it, his foolish heart thought his wife would stay loyal at his side. But why would any woman do that, you silly dwarf. he had thought bitterly at the time. Yet, here she is. Crying in his arms because they had told her he was dead.

"After Joffery fell to the ground, Dontos told me that I had to leave if I wanted to live. He grabbed my arm and dragged me away but I tried to turn back, I told him that I had to get you first; that you had to come with me. I tried, Tyrion, I pulled so hard." Her sobs shake her body with every breath and she grabs the front of his jacket. There's a sudden tight pain in his chest. "He wouldn't let me go and I heard Cersei yelling for the guards to arrest you. We didn't get far before a guard spotted us, me, and grabbed me before I could run. I don't know what they did to him. They...they took me back and locked me away for so long and they, they started questioning me, demanding me to tell them what I knew of Joffery's murder. But I know nothing, Tyrion! And I tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen...that's when they came and told me you had been killed." It all came pouring out of her like a flood.

Tyrion's heart was breaking to see her in such a state. She has never been like this. No doubt, they told her that lie to get her to speak, in hopes that she would tell in fear of them taking her life as well. He will kill whoever told her that lie. She seems to have run out of words and slumps down against him in exhaustion. He holds her and whispers to her that he was there now and that she would be alright.

Oh, what a mess they are in. With Sansa there with him now, one less thing to worry about, he can really think upon what had happened that day.

Joffery was dead. The prick had been killed.

Tyrion knew nothing of it and knew for certain that his wife had no knowledge of it as well. She would not keep something like that from him. And yet, they are the ones with the biggest targets on their backs and now the ones standing accused. Sansa in revenge for his cruel, evil behavior towards her, and Tyrion for downright hating the bastard, which was not a secret to anyone. He knew deep down that they will get no justice. Cersei will want blood for her sons death and Tyrion knew it would be his that she demands to see spilled.

But I will not let them take my wife. She will not be punished for this, I won't allow it. I will do all I can to get her name cleared.

Gently, he got Sansa to her feet and brought her to the back of the cell where he had been dozing before she was put here. His sits back down against the wall and brings her with him. "Try to get some rest, Sansa, we will need it to face the day."

She brings her hand to his cheek and he holds it there with one of his own as she leans her forehead to his. They share a few breaths before she leans back and then curls beside him with her head on his thigh and one hand gripping his knee. Tyrion runs his fingers through her hair, trying to keep her calm so she could rest. He could cry himself with how unfair this all was. Haven't we both suffered enough?

"I wanted to die," she said, in the darkness of their prison. It was a shocking statement that he wasn't prepared for.

"Sansa, why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it is true. When they told me...I couldn't bear it, Tyrion." It was just like when her family were murdered, so much pain, so much sadness lacing her voice. Yet this time he can take some of that away.

"But I am here, my dear Sansa. You can let the pain you felt go. Please, do not mourn for me now." He could feel warm wetness on his pant leg and knew she was crying again.

I will kill them. I will kill them all for doing this to her. May the gods be good to us come morning.

Tyrion woke when the light from the small window came to rest on his face. Sansa was still asleep in his lap and he left her be.

Just days ago they were both warm and safe in their own bed, curled under the covers. Sansa had begun to sleep by his side and no longer on the far end of the bed. They had gotten in the habit of laying there before sleep, talking quietly to one another; Sansa of her childhood in the North and Tyrion of his time in Casterly Rock. He tried to paint a beautiful picture for her of that place, in hopes that he might some day take her there, and call it their home. He had come to love their nights in bed together. Sansa always had a sleepy smile on her face, and she would kiss him on the cheek before wishing him a good night.

Those times have come to an end and this waking nightmare has begun.

Still drowsy from sleep Tyrion takes in the sight of his wife. There was blood on her skirt and it made panic shoot through him to see it. What have they done to her? Without thought he reached down and touch where the blood lay, halfway up her right leg on the back, where her dress had been sliced through. He pulls up her skirt to the knee to see what damage had been done to Sansa.

There was a gash there on her calf, clotted now but there was still dried blood running the length of her leg to her shoe. Tyrion had thought that his anger on behalf of his wife last night could get no worse but he was wrong. He began checking the rest of what he can see of her and found no more wounds, but as she wakes and turns to face him he finally sees her in the light of day. And he does not like what he sees. The right side of Sansa's face...they struck her, more than once it would seem. From temple to jaw, she was bruised a moulten purple and with a cut to her lip as well. Tyrion had not seen any of this in the darkness last night.

"Oh, dear Sansa, what have they done?" He can't keep the anger from my voice.

Her face is sad as she sits up in front of him, and he keeps one hand on her arm. "One of the king's guard took his sword to my leg to make me kneel," she tells him. His jaw clenches. "I wasn't giving them the answers they wanted." She was calm as she told him, like it was to be expected. He's sick at the realization that she is use to such treatment.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to break the door down and find the scum who dared strike his wife. Their grievance is not with her, it is with me! And it kills him to see this punishment duled out on her instead. Sansa could see the frustration building in him and his glances toward the cell door. She tries to calm him, "Stop it, Tyrion. It is done, do not go making this any worse for yourself. I am fine and this physical pain I can bear. Please don't have me watch you suffer through it as well."

"I would gladly suffer through that pain if it means you are spared, Sansa." His voice is hard and there is no room for argument and she knows it. Tyrion cups his palm to her unmarked cheek as he leans in to lay a kiss to the side that is colored. He rests his forehead to her temple, "I am sorry, my love. This should not have happened," he whispers to her, the endearment slipping out in his pain.

She turns her head then and brings her lips to his without any hesitation. My wife... so full of surprises, she is. Even here, sitting on the floor of a cell, in a beam of light from the morning sun. Her kiss is soft and all his. He did not request it of her nor pay her to do it. Sansa is kissing him because he is her friend and the one to comfort her and protect her. Because she wants too.

Tryion wanted nothing more than to live inside this kiss. He returns it with more pressure and she brings her hand to his neck with her thumb to his jaw. He's never had a kiss so sweet. The only regret is that it is happening now in a cell, mere days before they are likely going to be sentenced to death.

When she pulls away she doesn't go far, just enough to meet his eyes clearly. She looks shy. "This should not have happened to you either, Tyrion." She whispers into the space between them and closes her eyes and rests her head against his. "I want to be in our rooms. I thought we were safe there."

He puts his hand on her neck and buries his fingertips in her hair, "I wish we could be there too, Sansa."

"What is going to happen to us, Tryion?" Her voice is so broken and it is just another thing he can not fix.

"I won't lie to you. My sister will want my head for this, guilty or not."

"Is there anyone to help us?"

"It's too soon to tell. If a trial is to be held then our judges will be named. Knowing my father and sister, the odds will be stacked against us no doubt. Maybe Jaime can help but he hasn't come to see me and at this point I don't know if he will," he tells Sansa. Tyrion has tried not to think of Jaime's absence. He let the feel of his wife's hair distract him.

"There has to be a way to sneak away in the night, if we had help," says Sansa. "It'd be our only chance to stay alive, Tyrion."

His wife is not ignorant, she knows what their chances are. "I will do all I can to see you pardoned, Sansa. I will not allow them to take your life for Joffery's murder."

"But what about you? I can not stand by and watch as they kill you, Tyrion." She sounds angry, pulling away from him and her face has gone hard. "No, I won't do it. I won't watch you die. Either we live or they kill us both."

I can not let her think that I will allow her to die with me, "Sansa-"

"No."

He tries again, "You can not throw your life away for-"

"I said no." She turns away from him then but not before he watches as a tear falls. She leaves his side to sit by the wall with her back to him on the other side of the room. He can't understand why she wouldn't want to fight for her own life...

He feels exhausted.

Tryion leaves Sansa alone for a while, letting her really think about what she's contemplating. She'll see the error in her ways, he's sure of it. She can't possibly think it's alright to choose death as well if that is to be his own fate.

He tries to clear his head and really think about how this could all go, what options they have for a defense. His mind won't settle knowing his dear Sansa is once again hurting. Not able to stay away, he goes to her and sits at her back. Placing his hands lightly on her waist and leaning his forehead to the back of her shoulder, "I can't bear the thought of dieing knowing that you'll follow soon after," he whispers to her.

She moves quickly to face him, still angry, "And why do you think it'll be any easier for me, Tyrion? To watch you die and know that I'll be left here alone without you? I remember what it was like here before I became your wife and I don't ever wish to return to that. It was no life at all." She gets quieter after that admission, "Please, don't leave me here alone."

All he can do is give a tiny nod, and take her hand in his own, "I won't ever leave you."

Podrick comes to them one morning.

"My lord. I'm sorry, I brought you some wine but they took it from me. But, they didn't find the candles though. A quill and parchment, duck sausage, almonds and some hard cheese." He pulls all these out of hidden spots in his clothing as they watch in impressed silence.

Tyrion chuckles, "You are a fine squire, Podrick. Fine indeed." Next to him, Sansa gives her agreement with a smile and a soft thank you.

He sits then to give them word of what has been happening on the outside, the plans for the trial and their judges.

When he speaks of the man who asked him to testify against Tyrion and his refusal to do so, he gets a sick feeling of dread. Nothing good will come of this. He warns him away, knowing he was no longer safe in the city.

Sansa rises quickly to go to Pod before he leaves and grabs him in an embrace. "You've always done well by my husband, and for that I am grateful." She steps back to Tyrion's side and he sees that Pod is standing there stunned with his face full of pain. Tyrion's chest hurts again.

"Yes, my lady." He is quiet and turns to the door once more.

Tyrion stops him, "Pod," he turns back to face him, "there has never lived a more loyal squire."

It has made the pain on his face worse and they can see tears in his eyes as he turns and gives a broken goodbye.

Sansa kneels next to Tyrion and puts her arms around his shoulders and leans her head to his own after placing a kiss to the jaw. He takes his wife's comfort and tries to convince himself that Pod will be okay. He will get out in time.

They were sitting on the floor; Tyrion with his back to one of the wooden beams that stand in the room, Sansa at his side leaning shoulder to shoulder. She's been in almost constant contact with him since their disagreement and right now she has a firm grip on his hand. That's when Jaime comes in the door.

Tyrion feels his wife tense up beside him and he squeezes her hand in reassurance.

He doesn't bother to get up and greet his brother. "Jaime."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come here." He walks towards them and reaches down to hand Sansa a thick brown cloak. "To help with the cold, my lady."

Sansa takes the cloak after a moment of silence and puts it on the floor in front of her. Jaime looks a bit taken aback by her silence and lack of thanks. She just stares at him with a blank face.

Tyrion turns his attention back to his brother, "We're not in the most grateful of moods. Being wrongfully accused of murder by ones own family tends to do that to a person. You understand." He couldn't help being curt.

Jaime takes a deep breath and nods, turning to find a place to sit on the ground as well.

They place Sansa beside Tyrion on the stand. They are to be judged as one. It seems that Sansa will get her wish; they shall parish together.

Not long before, two guards had come to the cell to have them cuffed and brought to the hall. The day they had been silently dreading had finally arrived. Tyrion did not care how they put the chains on him without a thought or care for his comfort but he protested at the ruff handling of his wife yet it did no good, it fell on deaf ears and they pulled them along the corridors to face their judgement.

Kneeling there beside him, Sansa reached for her husbands hand and gripped it tight till her knuckles were white. Sansa is strong and resilient and he had always admired and loved that of her. But, he could feel her hand tremble and cold with sweat, her breathing heavy. She was terrified but her face showed nothing but cold indifference.

Tyrion could do nothing but pray that he had the chance to get her through this alive. If there was any way of doing so, he would find it. He will not see her killed for Jofffery.

A trial by combat.

That was the best he could do, the only thing he could think of in his burning anger. He regretted later making that decision for the both of them, for forgetting in that moment that he was damning her as well should their champion fail them.

Sansa soothed him though, back in their shared cell, telling him that there truly was no other option for them. That the trial would have continued with more people giving false testimonies against them and getting them killed in the end.

If they were to find someone to fight for them, to place their lives in their hands, it had much better odds then leaving their lives in the hands of Tywin and Cersei. Anything would be better than that.

They were tense and restless the days before the combat. Even with their good fortune with Oberyn stepping forward for them it was still difficult to put their faith in one person knowing that should he fail it would be the end of the line for them both. There would be no more chances.

They're brought out to watch the combat, the sun burning bright in the sky and hundreds of spectators there hoping to see them lose the game. Hearts racing but faces set in stone, not wanting to give anyone, least of all the Lannisters, the satisfaction of seeing fear so plainly on their faces. Sansa is quiet; Tyrion is confident.

Sansa places her hand on her husbands shoulder and grips it tight. The only comfort they can afford in front of these people.

When Oberyn falls it knocks the breath right of Tyrion and Sansa sinks to her knees. Their last and only hope had been dashed; slaughtered right there in front of them.

When Tywin sentences them both to death, Sansa begins to weep quietly and Tyrion can't stop whispering to her, "I'm sorry. Sansa, I'm so sorry."

The guards lead them back to their cell.

It is to be their last night. They have had their time of grief and anger and now they are quiet and despondent.

They lay together on their meager bedding, Tyrion on his back and Sansa on her side facing him. They have been quiet for so long with the silence broken only by the rustling of their clothes as they moved, trying to get comfortable but never succeeding.

She speaks now though, so soft and low, only for Tyrion. "I could love you. I knew I could. These past weeks, I could feel it. The possibility." She closes her eyes in pain and her mouth quakes. "I thought we had time, that I had time to let myself love you and to hope you loved me in return. I just thought we had more time." She broke then, her face crumbling.

It's been so long since Tyrion's emotions have been shaken so much. But this, his wife lying at his side speaking of a future of loving him, of expecting it and anticipating it, a future that they no longer have. That is what breaks him. Not their imminent death, or the betrayal of his family. It's of the love that he now knows he will not experience from his wife. He brings his hand to his eyes in a vain attempt to keep his own tears at bay. To hide his own crumbling face from his wife. He feels her arm then as it winds itself around his chest and he lets the tears fall as she tells him, "I could love you, Tyrion. Please, just know that."

Tyrion is woken by the cell door swinging open. He knows that their time is up, that Cersei has grown impatient and has finally sent someone to kill him and Sansa. He knows that he can not fight and win over whoever their attacker is, but he prays for it to be quick and painless for them both. Sansa lays still in sleep, unaware of their new guest. He reaches down for her hand.

"Go on, or are you afraid of dwarf and his wife, you son of a whore," he taunted the attacker.

"Is that any way to speak of our mother?" came a voice that Tyrion was not expecting.

Tyrion turned in shock to look at who had entered their cell, "Jaime."

His brother stood in the doorway with a torch shining light in the room and he was gesturing impatiently. "What are you doing?" Tyrion asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Come on!" Jaime gestured again for him to follow, and Tyrion quickly turned to Sansa to wake her.

"Sansa, come, we need to leave." He put his hand to her face and rubbed his thumb gently under her eye and she started to wake.

"Tyrion? What..." Sansa saw Jaime then and sat up to look at her husband in question.

Tyrion stood up and grabbed Sansa's hand for her to do the same. "We need to hurry."

She nodded and took his hand and they followed Jaime out, not knowing what was waiting for them outside the cell door.

Jaime led them through the tunnels, their pace rushed, his torch lighting the way. He brings them to a long stairway and tells them to knock on the locked door at the top, that Varys is there waiting to help them, that he will send them on their way to the Free Cities. It was a risk but Tyrion was willing to take it if it meant another chance to keep Sansa alive and away from this cursed city. Sansa moved to the bottom of the stairs and looked up into the dark with hope.

It was setting in now, what they were about to do. They were going to escape and looking at Sansa's face at that moment he knew it was the right move to make. "I suppose this is goodbye then," Tyrion leaned back to look at his brother, "Thank you, for Sansa's life."

"And yours," Jaime corrected. Tyrion nodded. Jaime knelt then and hugged his brother one last time.

Jaime rose after and walked over to Sansa and wished her well, "Please, be good to my brother," he spoke in a hushed voice. Her face was like stone at his request.

"I'm one of the few who has been in this godforsaken place." She turned from him then to her husband and rested her hand on his shoulder and looked at Jaime. She will never be forgiving to any Lannister save for her husband. Tyrion has been wronged by so many here, but she vowed to never be one of them again.

"Thank you for freeing Tyrion and I." Sansa granted him that one gratefulness, but nothing more.

With one last nod of farewell to his brother, Tyrion reached for Sansa's hand and she leaned to give him a kiss and it tasted of luck and sweet freedom. He led her into the dark with sure steps. They will make their escape to the Free Cities and take their chances there. They will take this journey with lighter hearts, because they are free and not alone.

Jaime watches his brother for the last time, walking into the unknown, guiding his wife by the hand.

The last thing he hears from them was Sansa's whispered voice carried down the stairwell, "We've been given back our time, Tyrion." and a quiet but joyous laugh given in return.