Lord Hand was returning to the Royal Castle in a very good mood. Meg, as always, was good and for a short moment Little Demon was able to forget about his burden. The sun was approaching noon and Tyrion was mentally planning things to do today, and there was a lot to do. The events of the day tired him out, and he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. As soon as the dwarf managed to approach the Hand Tower, his people reported that a visitor was waiting for him in the Small Council Hall. When he heard who was waiting for him, he swallowed nervously and, in no hurry, headed towards the Western Court. The day promised to be difficult.
When Tyrion entered the hall, he looked carefully at the redheaded woman who had frozen near the extinct fireplace with a glass in her hand. Covering the massive oak door tightly behind him and breathing heavily, he finally turned to the visitor:
- To what do I owe this unexpected visit, Your Majesty?
Sansa Stark shuddered and slowly turned to him. Her blue eyes were cold and Tyrion was uncomfortable, and he regretted that the fireplace had gone out a long time ago. A little warmth in this spacious, blowing through room wouldn't hurt. Nevertheless, he withstood her thorny gaze. The dwarf wanted to come up to the table with a drink and fill the cup with wine, but for some reason he thought that now was not a good time. He glanced across the North Queen, trying to find something from that young, frightened girl he had once seen in Winterfall. And I didn't.
Now, watching this arrogant woman with the remains of former beauty, reminiscent of an ice sculpture, he wondered what was binding them together. Of course, first, it was the memories of the failed marriage, which was imposed on them in their distant youth. Tyrion suddenly thought that it would be if their marriage was not fictitious or Sansa had not escaped after his arrest from Red Harbor. Could their union be happy? Who knows? It is possible that she would already be dead...
- Lord Tyrion! - the woman took a short pause and corrected herself. - Tyrion! We've known each other for a long time and I won't go around the bush. We share the same goals and common enemies and I think it would be appropriate if we joined forces against them!
The demon approached the small table, took the carafe and threw the scarlet liquid into the standing cup. The conversation was going to be very entertaining, even more interesting than he had expected, and without wine he would not have been able to bear it. He took a sip and sighed and prepared to listen.
They sat down on wooden chairs, standing near a long, massive table, and kept silent for some time, each of them immersed in their own thoughts. Tyrion waited patiently and repeatedly, curiously looking at the Queen of the North and wiggling at the uncomfortable seat. Tensions were rising in the air. When he noticed the food trays, Little Demon felt the hungry saliva coming down his throat. He got up from his chair and came up to the dish with a white circle of cheese on it and plucked off the tender flesh.
- Your son, Titos, heard in silence the calm, powerful voice of the Queen of the North. - He hadn't gotten a bride yet, had he? Hasn't he? - When she sparkled with blue eyes like ice floes, Sansa asked directly.
Tyrion instantly understood everything, but did not respond to the rhinestone. When he returned to his place, he spoke thoughtfully:
- My Lady, let me begin by asking you a question.
- As you wish, my lord! - the northerner said patiently with her lips.
- Why did Robin Arryn die so suddenly? Rumors vary... - the dwarf held out a lot, raising his eyebrow expressively.
Looking into the green eyes of the demon, the woman cut off her cup.
- He was weak since childhood! -she began her story, but suddenly she stopped talking and added: - Do you really want to know the truth? - Her face did not express anything, but her eyes glowed with bad light and Tyrion shuddered.
- Perhaps not. - The demon took another sip of wine and continued: - As for your question, do you dream of getting the Throne of the Six... forgive the Seven Kingdoms that you are ready to give your daughter to the second Joffrey? I know my son well. Believe me, I don't want any girl to have such a husband. Aren't you afraid that she might repeat your fate? But I feel sorry for the girl, so I will probably refuse you.