Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

Asking Questions

Jon Snow opened the note from the Queen once Sansa had left. He was glad that he had done so before his men had left on their raid, as she had sent him the secret location of a hoard of dragon glass, that could be used to defeat the white walkers. Jon was relieved. He was sure, with the amount of white walkers they were going to face, that many of his men would not return. But with a dragon glass sword for every man, there was a very slim chance that he would lose as many men. Jon was grateful, grateful indeed.

The mood in the Vale was entirely different to the unforgiving North. A wedding was in the near future and everyone was preparing. Sansa had sent a letter to her sister, in hopes that she might return for her marriage, but she would not hold her breath. She had been busy making her dress from scratch and Tyrion and Varys ensured that all the food and decorations were to be prepared.

Tyrion could not stop thinking about Sansa's maid, Gretchen, ever since he had seen her that day, he had done everything he could to cross paths with her. He would walk past Sansa's room in the morning and bump into her, he would journey to parts of the Vale where the maids did their work to see her. He was captivated by her sweetness. He knew he was being bold, but he could not live with mere chance encounters anymore. So, he marched up to her room and knocked at the door.

Gretchen was shocked when she saw Lord Tyrion stood at her door. Immediately she panicked, fearing for Sansa, but Tyrion's smile calmed her, bringing on confusion.
"Miss?" Tyrion asked for her name.
"Weyre, my Lord. But you may call me Gretchen." She smiled down at him. Tyrion felt his hands become moist as the girl looked down at him.
"As you know. Your lady, Sansa Stark, is to be wed and I am in need of a companion for this occasion. I would like to ask if you would be such a companion?" Gretchen was flustered. Lord Tyrion was a handsome man, but she could have never dreamt that he would ask him to accompany him to the wedding.
"I am not sure if the maids shall be invited, my Lord." She cast her face down.
"That is nonsense. Ask Lady Stark and I am sure she shall allow you." After a moment, Tyrion continued.
"Is that your only response?" He asked and Gretchen smiled to herself.
"I would be honoured to be your companion, my Lord. I shall ask my Lady this evening." The door closed and Tyrion beamed. She had said yes, it was a complicated yes, but it was a yes nonetheless.

Petyr was dealing with a mix set of emotions. He couldn't have been happier about his current circumstance, but there were questions that his mind would not let him forget.

Tyrion found Baelish in the courtyard in the early morning, sat on the steps, in deep thought.
"Pre-wedding doubts?" Tyrion asked. Petyr was glad someone had taken his mind off of his unforgiving mind.
"Were you nervous before you married Sansa?" He asked, thinking it a strange question to be asking. Tyrion sat beside Petyr and sighed.
"I was miserable. Not because she was not kind or beautiful. Of course she was both. But I knew it was not what she wanted. She wanted Loras, despite his shortcomings and I was her friend, but the last person she would have wished to marry. I was her punishment." Tyrion sighed. It was the truth and he was proud that he had been an honourable man during their brief marriage.
"I fear, that if her Mother was here, that things would have been so different." Tyrion was shocked by his confession.
"It is not that I cared for Catlyn more than I do Sansa, not at all. It is just so perverse, how things have turned out and I know, if her parents were here, that they would not give me their blessing. There seems something dishonourable in marrying someone knowing her parents would object if they could." Petyr admitted. Tyrion was shocked and impressed at Petyr's comprehension of the situation.
"Listen. Sansa is not her Mother and as for the age difference, if it does not bother either of you then it should not bother anyone else. You have the permission of her Brother and of the Queen. Ned and Catelyn Stark are not here to give their word so we might not know what they would say. There is no point denying yourself happiness because of your guilt that you are a bad man. You are not a bad man, Petyr. You might have done some bad things, but you saved this kingdom and Westeros will forever be grateful." Petyr was shocked at Tyrion's kind words and they parted on good terms.

Gretchen was nervous to ask Sansa about attending the wedding as Lord Tyrion's companion. It was above her, such a task, she knew that. But there was something inside of her that wished she could be worthy of such a role. She found Sansa while she was resting in her room and asked if she might have a moment of her time.
"Of course, Gretchen. What is it?" She encouraged her maid.
"Well, my Lady. Lord Tyrion Lannister has asked if I might attend the wedding, your wedding that is, as his companion. I told him I would have to ask you first as I did not know if you would need me on the day." Gretchen looked down at her feet. She was dressed well, and treated with a kind hand. Sansa had never been anything but kind to Gretchen and this was no exception.
"Of course, Gretchen. You must accept Lord Tyrion's invitation to the wedding. I think you shall find him an agreeable man." She smiled up at her maid as she beamed, knowing she could accept Lord Tyrion.

Varys had been busy with the organisation of the wedding. But Tormund had found him in a moment of relaxation. He had been waiting to speak to Varys for a long time, but finding the right moment had been challenging.
"Varys," He began in a tone that made the man listen.
"you know the ways of this culture." He stated and Varys was unsure how to react to the rugged man, attempting to be dignified.
"I shall take that as a complement." He eventually replied.
"Where I am from, a man calls a woman his own and they are bonded for life. But I do not think this is how it is done here." Varys let out a little chuckle.
"No, I am afraid not. That would be far easier. Come, sit with me." Varys invited Tormund. He liked the man, he was a pleasant change from the pomp of the court.
There was silence for a few moments. Varys waited for Tormund to start, but Tormund expected Varys to begin, so he did.
"So tell me, who is the lady in question?" Varys already knew that it was Brienne, but he wanted to hear it from Tormund himself.
"Brienne. I thought she was not the same as the other southern women, but she is. Not entirely, but she wants to be married, in the way you are down here." He sighed, not having a comprehension of the ways of the south.
"So you wish to spend the rest of your life with the knight from Tarth?" Varys asked plainly.
"Yes." Tormund replied, plainer still.
"Well, that is what you need to tell her. In a way, marriage is the same as claiming a woman for your own. All that you have to do is stand in front of some important people when you do it." Varys informed Tormund. The northern man thought for a moment and decided that Varys was right.
"You are a clever man. Not clever with a sword, but clever with knowledge." Varys was touched.
"You are a fine man, Tormund. You have shown us all that we were wrong about your people." This was just as high a compliment for Tormund and he left with a plan to tell Brienne how he felt.

Brienne had not seen Tormund all day. But that was not unusual. She sat in her room after dinner, relaxing when he entered. He told her to stay seated and sat opposite her.
"I am not good with your southern ways and I do not know if I am doing this right." He warned her ahead of time.
"I have never met a woman like you before, Brienne of Tarth. You have fire like a northern woman, but you are soft like the women of the south. I want to spend the rest of my days at your side. I want you to be my woman. And what I am asking is if you would like the same?" He wasn't down on one knee, he wasn't singing ballads about her beauty. But that was how Brienne liked it. She didn't want him to be soft like the men of the south, else she would have gone for a southern man. She did not cry, but she beamed with joy.
"Yes, I would like the same." She nodded her head and he kissed her in the way only two people truly, passionately in love can kiss one another, without a worry and without inhibitions. Tormund was proud of himself and he would have to give thanks to Varys, for helping him. Without his advice, he was sure that he would never have asked Brienne to marry him and he would still be clueless.