Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to George R. R. Martin

A Story for a Stark

Sighing, Tyrion Lannister shut what felt like the fiftieth book he had looked at that morning. His short legs were just beginning to cramp as he shuffled uncomfortably on his stool. Behind him, Bronn groaned loudly.

"You know, for someone who never stops reading, you would've thought you'd be able to find a bloody book you were interested in by now." He complained, with all of his usual blunt honesty.

"I'm not looking for a book for myself" Tyrion muttered.

"Who, then? Don't tell me that whore of yours likes a good classic?"

Tyrion wiped his brow impatiently. He was beginning to wish he'd asked Podrick to accompany him to the library instead, if only it had meant peace and quiet.

"I'm searching for a gift for Sansa's nameday." He replied, as he set down a particularly heavy golden-colored book entitled Wars Beyond The Wall. He doubted that would interest his lady wife much at all.

What would interest her? You know nothing about your own wife, Tyrion thought to himself bitterly.

"Most women would be perfectly happy with a nice trinket for a gift" Bronn laughed.

"Perhaps" Tyrion countered, "But Lady Sansa is not most women."

Besides, he added to himself, reading might take her mind away from the horrors that had plagued King's Landing of Late; the horrors that had come to exist due to Tyrion's own father.

He had almost given up searching when his blunt fingers grasped a thick, emerald green volume from the high shelf. Ser Amos and the Knights of Winterfell, it was called.

This was the very thing Tyrion had been looking for. A long book, full of rhymes and songs, Tyrion could recall being enthralled with Ser Amos' tale as a young boy. Sansa was no young child, but perhaps the illustrations of Winterfell might remind her of home, Tyrion thought. Perhaps it might make her despise you even more, another smaller part of his brain insisted.

Pushing away his doubts, Tyrion held the book tightly in his arms as he clambered down awkwardly from the stool. Bronn looked up, relief spreading across his face.

"Well I hope that was worth it," He said "I thought I was being paid to protect you."

"You are" Tyrion grumbled.

It was midafternoon when Tyrion reached the chambers he shared with his young wife. He didn't doubt that he'd find her there, she had been spending more and more of her time alone after hearing of the deaths of her brother and mother. There had been several occasions when Tyrion had wanted to reach out to her; to touch her shoulder; to offer her more than a small smile; anything to somehow reassure her that she was not quite alone in the world. Each time he looked into her icy-cold blue eyes, however, something inside him stopped him. You are a Lannister, he scolded himself, she does not want your comfort, she is disgusted by you.

Tyrion rapped his knuckles sharply three times against the heavy oak door. At first no reply came, and Tyrion thought that perhaps his wife had fallen asleep. Just as he began to walk away, the door opened slightly. Turning back, Tyrion pushed it and let himself into their chambers. Sansa Stark sat at the window seat that overlooked the bay. Her eyes were cool and unyielding as she turned to face him.

"Good afternoon, Sansa"

"Good afternoon, my Lord"

Tyrion flinched slightly. How many times had he asked for her to call him by his first name? Yet he did not want to push her, in fear that she somehow slipped through his fingers and out of reach. He shuffled awkwardly towards his wife, and placed the thick volume on the desk close to where she sat.

He cleared his throat slightly, "A gift my lady, for your fifteenth name day."

Sansa looked round suddenly, her Tully eyes unusually full of surprise.

"My name day" She whispered quietly, more to herself than to him. It was almost as though she had forgotten.

"Yes, I do hope this will suffice. Ser Amtos and the Knights of Winterfell. It was a favorite of mine during my time at Casterly Rock."

Tyrion looked up at his wife, unsure of how to read her expression. He was filled with the unfamiliar sensation of worry. Despite his usual nature, Tyrion Lannister was desperate to please Sansa; to somehow make her smile.

"If you don't like it, you are more than welcome to take any other books you please from the library" He tried…

"No" Sansa said quietly. Her long fingers brushed delicately over the cover, and Tyrion thought he saw the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"Thank you, my Lor- Tyrion."

He smiled in return, a genuine smile, for what felt like the first time in weeks. No, in months.

"I'm afraid I have a meeting with the small council now, but I will return to join you for supper, Lady Sansa."

In a flash, her familiar courtesies returned.

"If it pleases you, my Lord."

Tyrion's scarred mouth twitched, and he nodded before turning away and leaving Sansa Stark alone once again.

It was not till much later that evening that Tyrion returned. He cursed himself, and his father, for holding such a long meeting with the small council. There was only so much of Varys and Cersei that he could handle in one sitting, particularly the latter. He felt a pang of guilt for breaking his promise to join Sansa for dinner. On the other hand, perhaps it would have been what she preferred.

Reaching their chambers, Tyrion was immediately surprised by what he saw. The room was dark, save for the warm glow of a single candle at the large desk. Bent over the desk was Sansa. Moving slowly toward her, Tyrion saw that she was leaning over an open book, her eyes shut tight and her bright auburn hair spread across the smooth pages. Tyrion quickly realized it was the same book he had gifted her with earlier – Ser Amtos and the Knights of Winterfell.

Though his limbs ached and his scarred nose was sore, Tyrion felt far more content than he had done in weeks. He closed the door gently behind him, so as not to disturb his sleeping wife. She looked strangely at peace whilst she slept. In the light of the flickering candle her face was strikingly beautiful. The soft rays of light highlighted her cheekbones and made her Tully red hair appear as though it were aflame. Tyrion waddled to the bed and removed the soft blanket that lay at the foot of it. Taking care to move as slowly as possible, he wrapped the blanket around Sansa's shoulders. She had liked his gift. It was a start, Tyrion thought, as he undressed himself and slid into their marital bed. Perhaps he could ease his wife's unhappiness, even if only through small gestures.

Author's Note: This was relatively short, but I just wanted to try out writing some Sansa x Tyrion. I know it's likely a doomed ship *sighs* but I can't help but think that they'd been compatible which other, and could at least find a friend in each other. Let me know if you have any thoughts/questions, and I apologize if either Sansa, Tyrion or Bronn seemed out of character.