Title: How Could You Know?

Title: How Could You Know?
Author: Demelza
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and its characters belong to GRRM and HBO. I’m just borrowing them here for a little while. No infringements of any copyrights are intended.
Rating: O13
Warnings: none as yet
Summary: An angstier version of the Sanrion pain in 3×10.  

Turning as the rain beat down against her bare arms and shoulders, Sansa’s gaze fell to Tyrion’s and she wondered inside how long he’s been standing out here in the downfall.  Like her, he’s drenched, so she know it’s been a while. 

Even after all the tears she’s already cried, she feels her eyes well and she shakes her head, trying with everything within her to ask him how his wretched nephew could have done what he had. 

He opens his mouth, and she can see him trying to form the words.  Only, everything he could say won’t come out.  It’s only when he momentarily casts his gaze aside that she can see the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.  His eyes have betrayed him the way his lips wouldn’t, and she finds herself taking four hesitant steps backward, away from him. 

“Sansa, please…” 

His voice, broken and weak, causes Sansa to close her eyes.  The way his boots sound on the sidewalk with every step makes her wrap her arms around herself.  She wants to shut him out.  Wants him and all the darkness he’s brought into her life to cease to exist. 

When his hand gently caresses her arm and she involuntarily shudders, she falls to her knees with a thunderous crash. 

The pain near cripples her, and she squeezes her eyes shut even tighter. 

“I can’t, Tyrion.  I can’t handle a minute more of this pain.” 

His arms, sure and comforting, encircle her and the sob she’d been trying so hard not to shed in front of him escapes. 

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Only, she’s not so sure he could know what it’s like.  What it’s like to lose her father, and then a few months later lose her mother and brother, too. 

“How… could you know?” she asks, and her breathless question wounds him like a serrated edged knife, it wounds him the same way his guilt at losing his own mother has done a thousand times over. 

He holds her closer to him, and she mistakes the tear that falls from his chin as just one more droplet of rain on this dark, storm possessed night.

Author: Demelza

Writer, graphic artist and photographer. I dream of building a fantasy realm others can play in!

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