A/N: and here is the last part. I managed to outrun the clock before 8x04. I hope you will deem it worthy.

Daenerys Stormborn was crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms then married her loved, Jon Snow, and announced she was pregnant with the couple first child. To say it was a busy morning would have been a euphemism. People were still cleaning corpses in the streets of King's Landing, from the battle which had allowed the Targyaren to claim back the Iron throne, and somewhere else, people were having a party.

Tyrion felt like it did not bode well for the reign of the new Queen, such a dichotomy between what her new subjects were experiencing while her subjects from before were invited to celebrate. The mother of dragons was doing a bad job at establishing herself as the mother of all her people. However, he had no doubt that Jon, Varys and Ser Davos would help her mend this rough start in the following days and week. He would have advised her to invite her new people to the banquet for her big day, but he was not Hand anymore.

Sansa had woken up during the night, stuck between her sister and her sometimes husband sometimes former husband sometimes friend, and she had all but broken down. Being back at King's Landing was too much for her, and she was seeing Cersei in every corner, sure that everybody would be out to kill her once they learnt who had wielded the knife. Therefore, Arya had made Jon join them, and Tyrion had gone to his queen.

She had been in a surprisingly good mood, given everything one could have thought she had been deprived of, but with hindsight, Tyrion guessed the baby and the effect those had on women were playing a part in how she was reacting.

"I cannot keep you as my Hand," she said when he bowed in front of her. "You'll insist on staying married to that girl, and I will have to see her everyday of my life, pondering if she had anything to do whenever Jon and I will fight, for we will fight, we are both Targyaren. Therefore, I set you free. You are tasked with escorting lady Sansa and her siblings to Winterfell. When it is done, and you've made sure the North is loyal, I'll grand you Casterly Rock, as a summer house, for your blood is not made for such cold weathers."

What to say, what to say?"

"Thank you my queen. It was an honor serving as your Hand, but I feel strongly my task is done. I was only supposed to be your Hand until you claimed what was rightfully yours, and now you'll need someone who will be able to give you good advice on how to keep it and win your people. I truly believe Varys should be named Hand, if you were to listen to my suggestion, for he knows King's Landing better than anyone else. Ser Davos will be a good adviser too, having learnt from Stannis's mistakes. As for Jon, while he may love his cousins, considering them sisters and brothers, I know that his loyalty rest with you. You'll have a consort who will put you first and foremost, and you'll need it when you're stuck trying to get everyone to be happy together."

"Plus, he'll keep me from going insane…. I've heard the whispers, lord Tyrion. I've done of my own too. I've wondered often if this was the path I would follow, and I dread it. However, with such good men by my sides, I'll try to reign the Targyaren in. Jon is asking his younger sister to kill me right as we speak, if I should ever stop listening to him or try to harm him in any way. It is not ideal, one being confronted with what people think you'll do, what you worry you might do truthfully too. Therefore, I'm appointing my own Queenslayer, just in case. I have a baby growing inside me again, despite what the old crone said a thousand years and then some, and it's giving me perspective. I was so ashamed of being the Mad King's daughter. I will do my best not to inflict this on my child."

"My queen, such joyful news…"

"Indeed." The woman said, with a hand on her small baby bump, which had been hidden when they were traveling.

"But how do you want me to guarantee the Northeners' faith?"

"Just give them back their precious lady. There should always be a Stark in Winterfell. You would agree, I'm sure."

"Indeed," he admitted, thankful that Jon seemed to have gotten to her with such simple facts that would make her reign easier.

"If the lady wants you, you are allowed to call her your wife once again. If she doesn't, well I'm sure you'll find a woman with large assets to keep you company. You'll stay stationed North most of the time, Sansa being the warden officially, and you'll be her advisor. I was also thinking of sending that squire, what's his name again? Pid… No, Pod. You'll be the brain if a battle had to be planned, and he would carry out your orders on the field."

"What about Arya?"

"I have no plans for her. I don't think anyone could. Jon keeps telling me his sister came too far to be reigned in, and after witnessing her and her direwolf, I would agree. He told me there was a man she longed to see again, back in Winterfell, and should they choose to, I would give their union my blessing too. However Jon seems quite certain that Arya will be his companion but never his wife, something about being too independent."

"I'd bet good coin he's right about that…" Tyrion said, wondering if the Baratheon connection had been revealed to the queen. "My Lady, I will not lie to you. I had come to ask you permission to take lady Sansa back to Winterfell. Killing Cersei the Usurper took a great toll on her spirit, and I believe she needs to be surrounded by her people, to know she is needed as their Lady, their queen in the North if you will allow me this expression, in order to get back to a place where she can be herself again."

"I guess our interests meet, perhaps for the last time in a while. Please have the Lady assist my coronation, for I will marry her cousin on the same day. He will want her there, and I will not deprive him of that comfort. I know his heart is already broken by the fact that we will be mostly staying in King's Landing, and I'm trying to ease his ache. But if you agree this is the best course, you would all appear for those events, and then be on your way, for Sansa's sake."

If he wondered for a second she was worried people might still have fond memory of his Lady, he kept those thoughts to himself.

"Oh, and one last thing, Tyrion. Should your brother be found, I'll have him beheaded, along with whomever accompanies him. "

Good thing Cersei had just given birth when they had barged in and the news of her double delivery had not been made public, not even been told to Euron who was now awaiting execution in a cell. They had been able to spin it, saying that Cersei had given birth to a dead babe whom she had creepily put in a crib until she had gotten Sansa with her to the highest tower where the thing was, and the young woman had tossed it to the fire, while fighting Cersei.

He bowed, thanked her again, and went back to the room where the Starks were talking. Even the three eyed raven had joined them.

"Do you want a direwolf?' Arya was asking the boy in the chair. "I was not sure if it would be of any use to you."

"I think I'd like one, if you had one to spare. I do miss Summer."

"Then there is yours," Arya said, searching underneath the bed and making a small cub appear. He looked thoughtful, pensive, and feral.

"I shall call him Shaggy Dog, in honor of our late brother."

They were all on the large bed, and he saw them altogether lower their head, thinking about Rickon and his wolf. Sansa wiped a tear away, and Jon discreetly did the same.

"What name will you give your direwolf, Tyrion?" Arya asked him.

"I did not have time to give it any thought."

"You should call him Duncan. Sansa already named hers Jenny."

Tyrion had a sweet smile, thinking about the story of Jenny of Oldstones who had married a Targyaren prince and had won this battle. He looked at his would-be wife, and saw that she was hugging her cub as close as she could to her heart, as if drawing strength from the creature.

"What do you say, My Lady, would you let the cub your sister so graciously gave me be named in such a fashion?"

"It is yours, my Lord, you get to decide," Sansa said softly.

"Then I decide so. As I am forever trailing after you and my direwolf seems to be hanging on to yours, I believe the linked names will suit them. Gods, a direwolf of my own… If my father had known… I bet he's trying to surge back from the dead wherever he is to call me names."

"You're a Stark now," Arya said.

"I'm a Snow. I'll only be a Stark when your sister gives me her hand."

"Alright, Tyrion Snow. What did the Ice queen say?" Arya then said, trying to protect her sister from making an hasty decision it seemed.

He obliged.

Winter had come, and they did not know how long it would last, but Tyrion had patience. Sre, even he had been a sweet child of summer before the season had changed, but he had learnt many things in these past years.

The first one: you made your own family.

The second one: some woman were immune to his charm.

The third one; his direwolf would soon be able to carry him on his back if it kept growing.

"Don't be such a show off, Duncan," he told the beats, "you're making me look bad. Jenny knows that you're the one she should worship."

The not-yet fully grown direwolf whimpered, upon hearing the name of his sister.

They had been back in Winterfell for two months now, and Arya was as close to term as she would ever be. Gendry did not know, which amazed Tyrion, given than the two had started shacking up in the castle. The lady of Death was really a force to be reckoned with.

When they had arrived, the very first night, he had seen the look on the northerners' face at his being back. Arya had talked, as Sansa had been silent for the past couple of days. That night, a feast had been put forward, for all to celebrate the return of their Lady. She had smiled during the dinner before excusing herself. Arya had told the tale of how her sister had defeated Cersei and this version would definitely end up being used by nans to scare their grandchildren in the future. The Stark sisters, killers at heart to anyone who was not one of them.

As it had been the brunette who had spoken, and explained the arrangement with Pod on his way to become their commander, the people had listened to her and had sometimes begrudgingly agreed. As far as he was concerned, though, there had been a gasp when she had introduced him as Tyrion Snow. They had cheered the end of the Lannister house, and he had toasted with them, though only drinking mead.

Things had gone on from there. At first, Sansa had taken to inventorying everything she could think of in order to get her people through winter. She had sent some wildling left behind to negotiate with their people to see if a peace could be arranged, and it turned out it could. Everybody remembered the white walkers, and the rivalry that had sparked previously the relationship between Winterfell and the wilding tribes now felt extremely petty, and unworthy of everyone's time.

Tyrion had found a place, one he hoped could be temporary, helping with the finances, as well as supervising the repairs Sansa had asked for, in the order she had set them out, accordingly to urgency. He spent most of his days on the domain, overseeing the workers, offering them help when they faced trouble, and while they did not like him, they slowly learned to trust his advice when it came to think he knew better. He would even go as far as saying that in the last weeks or so, it had stopped feeling like they were waiting for him to go back to King's Landing.

Sansa had needed time. She had been the victim of violence beyond words, and even though Cersei had deserved a much bloodier death than the one she got, it had been a blow to his lady's psyche.

Every night, they had dinner together. He would sit by her side, Bran on the other one, and they'd make small chitchat.

When they were done, he would walk her back to her bedroom, their direwolves following them. He would make a joke, or an actual observation on something they needed to do for the people of Winterfell, and she'd look at him as if she was realizing that he meant it, that he wanted her people to have a good life and not suffer.

They had not talked about marrying again, even though the maids and matrons of the castle could be heard making bets or telling saucy jokes about the reputation imps had in the sack. Sansa was not there yet, and he did not need her to be. He only needed to know that his presence did not make things worse for her, and perhaps, even made it slightly easier.

One night, she invited him in for chess, and he was sure he had won the lottery. Oh, for sure, he would be getting no loving, he was no fool, but he had been invited in her chambers, and it had felt so intimate, much more than two bodies thrusting against one another. It had fueled fantasies nonetheless in his mind.

It became an habit. Every evening, she would offer chess, or just tea. Who would have bet on him having a favorite flavor of tea? He never would have. As he was sipping his beverage with pleasure, she had whispered softly:

"What if I can never be a woman again?"

He had been startled but had acted, knowing no answer would be worse than anything other.

"You are a woman, my Lady."

"You know what I mean… We used to joke about getting married again, or just deciding that our union had been contracted in good faith and that everything that happened later on was to be pushed aside. I would joke with you. It was a fun idea. I was certain you would always choose your dragon queen over me. And now, she's over there, and you're… here, and I…."

"I am where I need to be."

"What If I can join you in bed?" she asked, and the fear in her eyes had felt like a beast was clawing at his heart.

"What about it?"

"I… I have given so much thoughts. I would like I think to be married again to you. However you would not have a bride who would not think about your needs…."

"I absolutely would, if the bride was you."

"You say that now, but I remember when we were first married. You were not chaste, no matter your declaration about your watch having begun," she whispered.

What had felt like daggers was the fact that she had not been angry about it. She had stated the truth, because she had processed it, and decided it was normal for him to seek pleasure elsewhere.

"I was an arse. I was unworthy of you, and truth be told, we should be happy I never tried to exercise my so-called marital rights. I don't want a woman who doesn't want me."

"But you want a woman."

"It would be a lie to pretend I don't feel anything of that sort, but my Lady, if nothing, have I not proved that I can be constant, and faithful? I can barely remember I took anyone to bed, even before we were reunited. Seeing you made it more obvious to me, that I just wouldn't go back to my philandering ways."

"What about your doves?"

He came to stand close to her, though not touching her. He slowly approached his hand and she let him take hers.

"There are plenty of orphans begging to be adopted. Doves are doves."

"You have an answer for everything," she whispered with a sad smile.

"I don't. But I try."

They had drunk their tea silently from then.

It had made him think. Indeed, he wanted doves, and he had thought he would have convinced her by now, but he discovered that he would take the current arrangement over something she was not comfortable with.

He was awaken one night by Duncan howling. He got out of bed, feeling dread. Had he not seen enough battles for one lifetime or two?

Jenny was crying too, and he followed his wolf who was going for his sister.

Arya was giving birth. Sansa was in charge, looking more like herself than ever. She had sense, a purpose. She knew what she had to do, and she would do it. She ordered him to get water and sheets, and while the help would know, they knew they could rely on their fidelity no matter what happened.

Lyanna Stark came into this world with dawn, screaming at the top of her lungs. Gendry's reaction was pretty much priceless, as he still had not noticed that his loved was changing. Baratheon men… Baratheon oafs.

As he looked over the little girl who was finally sleeping, having been fed a bottle waiting for her mother to be able to nurse her, Sansa came to stand by him.

"I wrote to Jon, saying that one of our cousins had given birth. I did not give names, since he is supposed to be our cousin himself. I know he'll read between the lines."

He felt very defensive of the little thing, though being born to the lady of Death, she would probably be immune to anything and everything.

Arya was not very maternal, no matter how many times she tried, and Gendry did his best. Sansa was always there for them. He was of course by her side. Sometimes he wondered about the children his brother was bringing up in the Vale with two co-parents. So strange how life could prove you were more like someone than you thought… They received words, from time to time, cryptic messages written in wildling tongue. The two girls were growing, Joanna and Ygritte. They were about to be join by another child.

One night, as his redhead was telling stories to little Lyanna, Tyrion thought that he could not be happier. Everyone could find their happiness their own way, and he felt like he had found his.

"Husband," Sansa said.

"Yes?" He asked, feeling warm all over.

"I'm trying out for size. Husband. Hus-band. Hu-sband."

"How you torture me, my Lady," he jibed, but took this small victory for what it was.

Then his nameday came. He did not expect anything to happen, his birth had been cursed more than she had been celebrated.

However, he listened to Arya who gave him some clothes Jon had worn, cut to his size. She looked like she knew something he didn't. Correction, she knew so many things he did not, but she seemed to hold onto this tidbit of information in particular in a very particular fashion.

When he got downstairs for dinner, he realized that a second chair had been put next to Sansa's, a master chair. He was walking on shaky legs over there, wondering if Bran was getting a promotion.

Sansa stopped him in the middle of the hall, and took his hand.

Before he could stop her, she got on her knee in front him, and he wanted nothing more than to have her get up? He was not worthy of whatever she was doing.

"My Lord, I spent the day in the Godswoods, praying to the old Gods to bless our union, should you choose to accept me as your bride. Will you be my husband, once again?"

The whole hall was holding its breath, and he looked over at Arya who said:

"What do you say, brother, are you ready to pony up and actually get your woman back?"

He fell to his knee in front of the woman he had loved for so long.

"Of course, my love, of course, wife. I only wished I never stopped being your husband, for you are all I need to be worthy of walking this earth."

"Then rise, Tyrion Stark, and lead your wife to your chairs," Sansa said, with tears in her eyes.

He had no memory of that dinner. There had been treats of various kind, but he had helt his hand in Sansa's and he could have been fed dirt, he would not have been able to tell the difference.

Her sister, that annoying deathly creature, whisked his wife away, telling him to wait before going to the main bedroom.

"What… What happened?" He found himself asking Bran, of all people.

"Sansa is ready. Maybe you never realized it, but this is meant to be. I could see before it happened. She needed to be back where she belonged, with her people, learning to love again with little Lyanna, discovering Tyrion Snow, in order to be able to move forward."

They stayed silent until he was supposed to get up. Bran stopped him in his track and said:

"I may not be her brother anymore, or the brother she wished I was, but hurt her and I will send a thousand doves to eat you alive."

Tyrion nodded in understanding.

As he made his way up, he knocked on the master bedroom, and Arya opened the door. She did not say a thing, only called for Duncan and Jenny to follow her.

Feeling like a teenager about to see the smallest amount of naked skin, he took a deep breath, then went in.

Sansa was inside, looking nervous but certain.

"I would never hurt you," He blurted out when she bowed to meet him.

"And I you," she promised.

This was the one nameday he would always remember.

"Elia, Catryn!" Tyrion exclaimed as the twins managed to escape their high chairs. "I told you, your mother is sleeping!"

"Mama! Mama!" one of the readhead started chanting, and the other followed suit.

"I'm not asleep anymore," he heard his wife say from two rooms down.

This was all the little girls needed before running as fast as they could into their parents' bedroom.

Tyrion had fought giants, night king, white walking, his sisters, dragons, and more. Nothing had prepared him for his own brood.

He followed them and helped them get on the bed, nestling again their mother.

He lied with them, his hand and Sansa's linking, instinctively.

"You wanted doves…" She said, in a sing song-y voice.

"Careful what you wish for…" He muttered.

She laughed and listened to their daughters.

He carefully put a hand upon her protuberant belly.

"I can tell they're two, this time too," Sansa said, while caressing Elia's hair.

"I'm getting too old for this…"

"Who said they were yours?" his mischievous wife replied.

He gaped, then said:

"Oh, you'll pay. You will pay, woman. More doves, mark my words."

"I do enjoy the leg work that let them be conceived," she said, and he couldn't help but kiss her, prompting disgusted noises from their children.

"Ugh, Papa and Mama are kissing again," Need said upon entering the room with his twin sister. "Don't look, Brianna."

"Let's go play with Lyanna!" The six years old girl said.

"To think once this house was all but dead," Sansa said.

"It was sleeping, as you should be."

"Did you receive words from Jon?"

"I did. Rhaegar is getting bigger by the minute."

They did not mention the fact that this would the only son the Queen and her consort would ever have. The birth had been a brutal one, and the blood had needed to be cauterized, signaling the end of Daenerys' fertile days.

They also knew that the prince was as normal a boy he was supposed to be. Perhaps it been a blessing in disguise, through tragedy, for Jon and Dany to only have one child, for the queen who had always feared as much as her entourage that she could go mad, now had one reason to stay sane, and fight her demons, with the help of her Consort.

Jamie, Brienne and Tormund were common visitors of the castle, and no one ever commented on the fact that some of the woman's children had blond hair, others reddish, and some golden.

Tyrion repeated himself his first discovery, you made your own family.

Fifteen years later, when Lyanna Stark married Rhaegar Targyaren, she was surrounded by her nine cousins as maids of honors. There once had been the Seven Gods. Now people had learnt to fear the Nine Doves of the North.

All prayed they would not risk their wrath for they were soft and nice until they were not, something their aunt Arya seemed to cultivate in them. They were a force to be reckoned with, and the Seven Kingdoms lived with tales of their beauty, their sisterly love, their wisdom, and their ruthlessness, who could be directed at anybody.

Tyrion just cared that they sill called him "papa", and would, until it would be time for him to kiss them one last time, along side their mother, before taking his last breath, one of love, of the purest kind.

A/N: Thoughts? Please please please... Also, I may be open to prompts when it comes to this ship. So R&R!