A Shadow and a Wolf

Tyrion I

Tyrion stood near the marriage altar, on the top of the stairs, between the statues of the Father and the Mother. Here, in a few minutes, he would marry Sansa Stark. That wasn't something he looked forward. Three weeks ago, he had gone to the young girl to tell her they were to wed very soon. He preferred to do it himself instead of Cersei. If Cersei had been the one to announce it, she would probably have come with a great smile upon her face, bringing a new gown for Sansa to try it. Once Sansa would have put the gown and it was arranged to fit her perfectly, Cersei would have revealed it was the gown she would wear for her wedding. Probably Sansa would believe it was her wedding with Loras Tyrell that the queen was talking about, unless she remembered Cersei wasn't supposed to know about it, then she would suspect something was wrong. Then Cersei would tell her the truth, the wedding with her wretched brother with the big scar, the fact she had no choice but to do it since she was a hostage, probably going as far as wondering aloud if her children from him would have her traitor's nature or his height.

But that wasn't what happened. Instead Tyrion decided to tell it to Sansa himself. He hoped he could reveal it in a way that wouldn't throw her in great despair. What a fool I was to believe it. No matter the way it was presented to her, she wouldn't want it. He had gone to Sansa's quarters and asked to see her. He couldn't have chosen a worse moment. Sansa was trying a gown and was unfastening it when he entered. Even more, Shae was there. Tyrion was limiting his contacts with her since his father told him the next whore he would find in his bed would be hung, so he didn't have an opportunity to tell her about his marriage. Sansa quickly put back the gown on herself, holding it with her hands. That made Tyrion quite uncomfortable. He wondered why. He had seen so many naked women in his life that he wasn't able to remember a tenth of them, but he was afraid to see a northern girl wearing only a corset? Perhaps because all the women he saw naked before were whores when Sansa wasn't. At least she didn't seem annoyed and angry about his presence, she was even smiling. I'm probably the only lion who doesn't savage wolves.

Then he had tried to send Shae outside, without success. Shae was suspicious ever since he had told her one day that Sansa was a great beauty. Of course she was, who could deny it, but she was a child. Tyrion had never desired her... or at least never wished to desire her. He had tried to warn Shae indirectly that she didn't want to hear what he had to say right now, but there was nothing to do. So he had to announce to his lover and his bride-to-be the new at the same time. The shock on both their faces was quite obvious when he told them. Shae had recovered more quickly and her eyes had darted upon him. Tyrion quickly told Sansa that it was the decision of the king, that he didn't choose it either and that the wedding would take place in three weeks. After some poor excuses, he retreated out of the chamber. There was nothing he could do.

Now, three weeks later, he was there, standing next to the High Septon who was talking to him about the chance he had to marry such a lovely and faithful woman, about his duties as husband and the vows he would take. Tyrion didn't need a lecture. He knew everything about the Faith and its rituals. He was wed, a long time ago, and before that he had wanted to become High Septon. His encounter with Tysha changed his plans, but Tyrion didn't forget easily. He could still recite entire passages of the Seven-Pointed Star by memory. If he hadn't met Tysha, perhaps he would be there at the place of this man he helped to reach this position. No, instead he had fallen in love with a whore, only to see her raped and worse. And now here he was, forced to marry another girl, only this time she really was an innocent and mistreated girl. It was no act. And his father would force him on her.

Tyrion looked down at the few people who would attend the wedding. There were the members of the small council (his father, his sister, Varys, Pycelle), Bronn who was now a knight, Lady Tanda Stokeworth with her two daughters Falyse et Lollys (she hoped to convince Tyrion to marry the younger before the riot), the future queen, the Queen of Thorns, a few novices and other western and reach noblemen and noblewomen. They had to be about sixty or seventy. Quite little for the wedding of the heir to Winterfell. Sansa always dreamed of a great ceremony with hundreds, even thousands guests, a beautiful knight, a lord or even a king with strong arms to bring her under his protection. Instead, she would marry the Imp in what looked like a secret wedding. She doesn't deserve this. She deserves someone better than me.