From the rubble of the Red Keep, Jaime is left alive with nothing but his love for Brienne and his regrets over leaving her. While Brienne, finds that she has been left with so much than just his memory. (Post Season 8 Fix-It)
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His hungry lips feasted upon the warm salty flesh of her bare shoulder. She sighed at his touch, nestling further into her pillow, comforted by his mere presence. She was turned from him, obscuring his view of her lovely face. He took the opportunity to glory in the perfection of the rest of her. The sun's rays were just beginning to find their way through the open window and bathed her in a heavenly light which gave her body, the one he had enjoyed the previous night, an ethereal glow as if she were an angel. At last, as his kisses traveled to her neck she awoke. Rolling lazily over to face him, she sighed affectionately, her hand reaching to caress his jaw.
"Good Morning, My Lord." Sansa purred, stretching radiantly.
Tyrion growled his low seductive reply. "Good Morning, My Queen." He answered as he wrapped her in his arms. "Did you sleep well?" He inquired, kissing her temple.
Sansa smiled and curled deeper into his embrace. "Better than I have in a long while." She assured him gleefully, reaching for another long passionate kiss.
"As did I." Tyrion agreed. He pulled Sansa closer and breathed in her sweet scent. It intoxicated him more than even the finest Dornish wines had ever done. "I waited, as I told you I would." He reminded her. She tilted her head to regard him in confusion.
"Once you declared you might never allow me into your bed." He repeated the warning she had voiced on the night of their forced wedding so long ago.
Sansa blushed, her face falling in regret. "I was a silly girl." She shook her head apologizetically, and reached for his hand.
Tyrion clenched her hand to his heart. "You were a frightened child." He said, allowing none of her repentance, before raising Sansa's finger to his lips. For a long moment he stared into her eyes, the lines of his forehead depeening as he imagined all she had suffered since then. "I kept my watch, although perhaps not well." He lamented.
Sansa raised herself upon one elbow indignantly. "I am the one who ran." She bemoaned. "I should never have left you in Kings Landing to face those false charges alone." Tears came to Sansa's eyes at the thought that he might have been executed.
Her words were hushed by his touch upon her cheek. He guided her eyes to his. "If you had not, we might both be dead." He told her.
Sansa chuckled sarcastically. "And still, I came close to that more than once on my path." She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, and laid her head once more on the pillow beside his.
As if he could keep all the evils of the world from her, Tyrion pulled Sansa to him. She laid her head upon his bare chest. "I wish I could take all of it away from you." His pained whisper rustled her hair.
"I know you do." She assured him, squeezing his hand. "I would be lying if I said did not wish it had not happened." Sansa nodded. "But it did, as did all of the perils through which you survived." She gave a thankful sigh of relief. "Now we can ensure nothing like that ever happens to either of us again." She turned to him, her eyes determined. "I am not a child anymore, Tyrion." Sansa's breath washed hot over his skin. "I know what I want, and it is not some silly simpering prince." She said forcefully, her hand traveling beneath the quilts on a path to the part of his anatomy that had given her such pleasure as they had fallen into the sheets together.
