#scar and cub originally showed up for murder but it turned out to just be hangout time

[theminecraftbee]

also for everyone who wants to listen to scar, joe, and cub just talk about anything and everything for like two hours (a thing i HIGHLY recommend this stream was great they were very fun to listen to), here is a link to the timestamp where cub and scar show up! enjoy it is a really good stream

[hermit-whump]

Watchers - Pt 1

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231755/chapters/63845446 Warnings: mentions of death, heavy descriptions of blood, broken bones, teen whump, creepy captor, kidnapping, past kidnapping, electric shock

The hermits stand together in the shopping district, covered in blood and mud. False holds onto her stomach, blood oozing out from her gut and mouth and she struggles to both stand and hold her sword. Doc lies on the ground, his prosthetic arm lays broken a meter away from him. Iskall holds their eye in their hands, redstone leaking out of the socket where the diamond should lie. Stress and Zedaph try to reach as many people as possible, to heal and to help. No one is left un injured, some sport broken arms or legs, some boast stab wounds. Some, like Etho, Scar and Cub, simply drained themselves of their magic during the fight.

Whatever made them think that they could defeat a watcher? Especially one that had a clear prize in mind.

Grian stands behind everyone, trying to pull Xisuma out from the collapsed shop, looky looky at my booky. Xisuma groans in pain, not fully awake. Grian forces himself to focus on getting the admin out, on making sure that no one will die on this day. It’s futile. It works, distracting him from the screams of the hermits as the watcher approaches. He continues to try and pull Xisuma out from under the shop, even as Mumbo screams at him to run.

Xisuma opens his eyes, his helmet cracked and visor broken. Grian watches Xisuma’s eyes widen in fear as a hand wraps around his mouth and an arm around his gut. And without a struggle, Grian is forced from hermitcraft.

---

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” The watcher taunts, the watcher mask that rested on his face resting on a box. “You didn’t even fight back.”

“Let me go, Sam.” Grian says, glaring at the watcher. “What do you want from me?”

“The watchers have missed you. I’ve missed you. You left us, Grian. You’re not going to get away with that.”

“Kidnapping me isn’t going to undo what you’ve done.” Grian spits. “It won’t bring Taurtis back.”

“I don’t want to bring him back.” Sam smiles, making Grian pause. “I want you to suffer. You didn’t just abandon me, Grian. You betrayed the watchers. That’s high treason. You’re lucky to be alive right now.”

“At least I’m not a murderer.”

“But you’ve killed before.” Sam smiles, a look in his eyes that makes Grian’s heart stop in his chest. “And you’ll kill again, if we have anything to say about it.”

“You’ll never break me.” Grian growls. “I won’t kill. I wont kill my friends.”

“We don’t want to make you kill them,” Sam’s smile only grows wider. “But by all means, tell me how you won’t break. You’re screams will only be more music to my ears.”

---

Blood runs down Grian’s back, his red jumper torn to shreds on his back. He hasn’t scream once, not even as Sam whipped him. No, Grian prides himself in not screaming. Not breaking. He’s strong. He won’t break, not for some bunny bitch who’s on a power trip. Sam just surprised the hermits - that’s all. He won’t win when they come for him. Sam will lose. He has to.

Grian doesn’t know what he’ll do if Sam doesn’t lose.

A hand yanks at his hair, forcing Grian’s head up from the ground. Grian’s eyes meet Sam’s, and the watcher spits on Grian’s face, growling under his breath.

“They aren’t coming for you. I don’t know why you’d hold out for them.” Sam mutters, pushing Grian’s head down, and Grian’s head bounces off the stone floor. “They’ve probably been waiting to get rid of you since you joined them.”

Sam leave’s Grian’s room, and Grian curls into a ball on the floor, shaking with sobs. The hermits wouldn’t leave him now. They wouldn’t let the watcher’s have any of them. They’re his friends.

Why does it feel like Sam is telling him the truth?

---

He’s thrown against the wall, waking with a scream. He’s exhausted, a foot on his chest serving as the only warning against moving. Not that he could - too tired, too much pain. Excuses for why he doesn’t struggle against Sam plague his mind, and all Grian wants to do is sleep.

Except this watcher isn’t Sam.

This one wears a mask - standard watcher issue, a symbol on the front that covers the eyes and mouth, nothing else on it - and a dark purple cloak. Grian spies a tuft of blonde hair sticking out from behind the mask, and notices with sorrow that this watcher is new - quite possibly from one of the latest intakes. A child, most likely no more than 17. Too new to be alone - another stands in the doorway - but he’s been here for long enough to be allowed into this room. With a traitor.

Maybe the watchers finally want him gone.

“What’s your name?” Grian asks the boy quietly, sympathy in his eyes. He remembers the first time he and Taurtis were forced to interrogate someone. Netty. She got him out, maybe he can help her legacy and get these two boys out.

"ℸ ̣ 𝙹ᒲᒲ|| ↸𝙹リℸ ̣  ⊣╎⍊ᒷ ⍑╎ᒲ ||𝙹⚍∷ リᔑᒲᒷ" The other says "∴ᒷ ᔑ∷ᒷリℸ ̣  ᔑꖎꖎ 𝙹∴ᒷ↸ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⊣╎⍊ᒷ ⍑╎ᒲ 𝙹⚍∷ リᔑᒲᒷᓭ."

"╎ ∴ᔑᓭリ'ℸ ̣  ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹! ∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣  ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍ ℸ ̣ ᔑꖌᒷ ᒲᒷ ⎓𝙹∷, ᔑ ℸ ̣ ∷ᔑ╎ℸ ̣ 𝙹∷ ?" The other snaps back. “ℸ ̣ ⚍ʖʖ𝙹, ╎ ↸𝙹リℸ ̣  ∴ᔑリℸ ̣  ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⊣ᒷℸ ̣  ╎リ ℸ ̣ ∷𝙹⚍ʖꖎᒷ ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷”

Grian winces as he listens to them, recognising the names. They’re the two boys who went missing a few months ago - Wilbur had come to Hermitcraft himself begging for the hermits to look for them. Tommy and Tubbo. They’re just boys. Guilt eats at Grian’s chest, knowing that whatever they went through was horrible, probably worse than what Grian went through if they are under the watcher’s control after only a few months.

Though the watchers do control some form of time. They could have been here for years because of the bastards.

“I just want to help you two.” Grian says, a sword appearing under his throat. “Wilbur came looking for you both. He was so worried. Let me help you.”

“Wilbur ╎ᓭ ꖎ 𝙹 𝙹 ꖌ ╎リ⊣ ⎓𝙹∷ ⚍ᓭ?” Tommy mumbles

"ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᓭᔑ╎↸ ⍑ᒷ ⎓𝙹∷⊣𝙹ℸ ̣  ⚍ᓭ. ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣  ∴ᒷ ⍑ᔑ↸ ↸╎ᒷ↸." Tears spring into Tubbo’s eyes, and Grian feels the sword at his throat waver. 

"𝙹⎓ ᓵ𝙹⚍∷ᓭᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ↸╎↸." Grian mumbles to himself angrily, startling the two boys. The sword is pressed against his throat once more, and Grian can see sweat drip onto the handle.

"⍑𝙹∴ ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍-”

" ̇/ᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ. ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ||𝙹⚍ ⍑ᒷᔑ∷↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣  リᔑᒲᒷ ʖᒷ⎓𝙹∷ᒷ?” Grian fumbles over his old title, hating how he is forced to out himself as the escapee, the original traitor, Xelqua.

In reality, he’s the only watcher to escape who was allowed to survive escaping. A symbol of hope for recent intakes. A symbol of failure for the ones who let him go. A dangerous symbol of rebellion for the enforcers. A powerful pawn for propaganda for the Eagles. The highest of higher ups.

He can only pray that Tommy and Tubbo aren’t going to turn into prey because of him.

---

Crack. His foot. Snap. His arm. Pop. His fingers Thud. A foot on his chest. Tears stream down his face, his voice hoarse from screaming. Something tangy is in his mouth, tasting of metal and salt. Blood. 

The red liquid is bright against the grey floor, shining as the bright lights hit it. Grian watches as it turns darker. He watches, almost as though he’s separated from his body, as Sam’s foot hits against his head, knocking him unconscious.

---

“They aren’t coming for you.” Sam says, and Grian looks to the ground. He has to be strong. For Tommy and Tubbo, who stand by the door. He can’t let them know that he believes what Sam is saying. “Repeat it, Xelqua, or we start again. The hermits aren’t coming for you.”

“The hermits aren’t coming for you.” Grian snarks back, and he screams as the knife plunges back into his arm, right next to the last stab wound. “I. Repeated. It.”

“No, you disobeyed orders.” Sam brushes his hand through Grian’s hair, almost caringly. “If you really wanted this to end, you would have said ‘me’ instead of ‘you’.”

“You told me not to lie.” Grian snarls.

“Oh please, the hermit’s can’t come for you.” Sam smiles, the knife dancing across Grian’s throat. “They’re dead. Just like Wilbur. Just like Fundy and Eret and Dream and George. They’re all dead.”

“No!” Tommy yells, and Tubbo reaches out to him, just missing him before Tommy’s on top of Sam, tears falling from under his mask. “Take it back! They aren’t dead, they can’t be dead.”

“Tubbo, get the watchers.” Sam says evenly. Tubbo freezes in the doorway, tears falling from under his mask as well. Sam is most likely lying, but there’s no way to tell. “Tubbo, so help me, if you don’t get the watchers now you’ll all be punished for this.”

“I won’t.” Tubbo’s shaking, and Grian sends him a smile, one that is supportive. One to conceal the sadness. “I won’t get them. You’re lying. They aren’t dead.”

“It’s a pity that you all will be punished for this.” Sam sighs, and with a flash the knife is in Tommy’s side, a scream ripping from his throat. “Should I start with Tommy, for attacking a superior? Or you, Tubbo, for not following orders?” Tubbo shakes his head, pressing himself up against the doorframe. “So I should start with Grian then, for giving you both rebellious thoughts?”

Grian gulps, readying himself. He can’t scream. He can’t let them think that it’ll be painful. They need to be safe.

They’re both just kids.

---

Tommy is the first to disappear, the watchers coming in the night to take him. Grian and Tubbo both wake up to find a patch of blood where the sixteen year old once laid, and though both want to believe that he’ll be fine, neither hold onto the hope too strongly. Tubbo suggests that Tommy is fine, just taking the final test to become a watcher, though that doesn’t make Grian relax, two scars resting on his back where the wings once laid. That test will decide if Tommy is predator or prey, and he will not be allowed to survive if he’s prey, already showing signs of rebellion.

Grian was the only predator to be rebellious though, so the hope he hold is far weaker than Tubbo’s hope.

Tubbo disappears in the day, or at least while both of them are awake, Sam coming into the cell and dragging him away, Grian trying to get to him even with a broken leg. The hope that Tubbo is alive still rests in his chest, but its dim, a fire fighting against rain. He doesn’t want to believe that Tubbo has died, but the test is rigorous, and that would be the only reason Sam took him without a word to Grian.

So Grian waits.

He waits for three days and nights, or at least three rounds of his sleep cycle, the lights never truly turning off in the room. He’s left alone, no food or water arriving in the room. Nothing leaves, and nothing enters.

It’s almost relaxing.

The fourth day arrives, and Grian is dizzy and tired from the lack of food and water. Sam opens the door, a tray in his hands. Mushroom soup, by the smell of it. Sam sits the tray down near Grian, standing back from him. Grian blinks, looking at Sam with wide eyes.

“Well, are you going to eat?” Sam asks, his voice clipped. “We’ve gotta keep you alive, you don’t exactly have anywhere to go with the hermits being dead.”

“They aren’t dead.” Grian mumbles, taking the soup with shaking hands. “They can’t be dead.”

“Yes yes, Tommy and Tubbo said the same thing before.” Sam waves him off. “Prey, so naive. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Grian looks down, taking small sips of the soup. Shame eats at his stomach, and sorrow eats at his mind. He’s a full feast for his emotions. He was a predator, he killed prey watchers, people from his own intake even. 

Sam might have been the predator to kill Taurtis, but Grian’s hand’s are just as red as his.

“So they’re dead.” Grian says, his eyes darkening.

“Of course they are. They’re no purpose for rebellious prey, except to make an example of them for the other prey.” Sam shrugs, a bored expression on his face. 

“They were children.”

“You’ve killed younger, executioner.” Sam smirks. “Let yourself get weak with the mortals, have you?”

“We’re not gods, Sam.” Grian points out. “We can die.”

“Ah yes.” Sam smiles, and Grian sways slightly, confusion on his face. “It’s finally kicking in.”

“Wha-” Grian’s head is filled with cotton, “What have you done to me?”

“Nothing you won’t sleep off. Let’s get your wings back onto you. I miss ripping off your feathers.”

---

[annes-andromeda]

GOT Virtues AU: Golden Hearts and Red Diamonds

N/: Another AU chapter! This time with Sansa and Tyrion. Their dynamic in the show really interested me, and I even began to ship them. Keep in mind, I said SHOW version, not book. Book version isn’t really my thing.

She had walked through these gardens endlessly. The Red Wolf walking inside the lions den. Every flower, every shrub, every tree; Sansa Stark had seen it all. Had she had not endured her endeavors, she would’ve been more than happy to pick the flowers from the gardens. To see the clear waters from the cliffs, and eat lemon cakes and custard from her plate.

But that’s not how it went. Her lord father murdered, and the sweetling to be wed to a stag who stuck his horns in fresh flesh. At least, that was originally the plan. Now, she had been wed to a golden lion and given a cloak of red satin.

A Lannister they have made me,Sansa thought coldly. But perhaps I should be grateful. Had I been married to Joffrey, I would not be able to hide my scars for long.

Lord Tyrion was kind, Sansa admitted, but he was still a Lannister. They had executed her father, and nearly made her marry a monster. Unlike Joffrey, however, Tyrion was no monster. To everyone he had looked like a monster, but he didn’t act as one. He was clever, no one could deny. Not even Sansa.

However after bearing the news of the Red Wedding and the death of her mother, Sansa wished to be alone. To hide in her grief and to let go of her sorrows.

Sansa sat in the Godswood of the Red Keep, where she was in solitude aside from the guards standing but beside her so as to keep an eye on her. She tried not to stare at them, for even if they were silent she felt as if they whispered hate of her into their ears. She’d imagine what their tongues would spill:

The little porcelain bird is weeping from the eyes. Such a broken thing to be sold to the lions.

Traitors daughter letting her tears spill for her bitch mother and traitor brother. What shame she brings, what disgrace.

She doubted they were saying this, but she wouldn’t turn back to know. There was enough hate in the capital for Sansa to care. Despite such sadness being brought from the tragedy, it gave Sansa the solitude she desired. She knew that Robb was still alive, probably captured by the Boltons or Lannister soldiers and given as a gift to Joffrey. But her mother,... Sansa had heard stories. How her throat was slit and her body thrown into the river like scrap. She heard rumors that her mother had screamed so loud, the men thought she would become half wolf. Others said she clawed at her eyes, her cheeks leaving red scars, and that she had simply laughed in a blind insanity. They said that the men had slit her throat so as to quite her.

Sansa felt the salt of her tears make her eyes sting. She wouldn’t show the guards any of her pain, or else she’d truly be mocked. The tears fell from her cheeks, and she wiped them away. This wasn’t healthy, she admitted. Hiding her sorrows instead of confronting them. But Sansa did not wish to endure the embarrassment of having others feel pity for her.

And that’s when she heard something. A low rumble from behind her. Sansa thought it was just one of the guards letting out a tired groan or a small mumble that escaped one of their lips. She turned her head slowly, and her eyes widened as she let out a quiet gasp.

Standing in front of her, a lion prowling towards her. But it wasn’t in the term that it was the Queen Regent or the Kingslayer, but a true lion. It had no mane, so it must have been female. She stood at about the guards hips, and her coat was cream. The color of wheat, sunshine, and even the golden locks of the Lannisters. Her bronze eyes were fixed on the girl in front of her, and Sansa seemed to back away slowly.

But before the lioness could touch her, she turned back and walked away. Sansa seemed confused. Was this a trick by Cersei to frighten her? It seemed to work if that was the case. Sansa’s hands were shacking ever so slightly, but yet she also felt curious. She doubts there are any wild lions roaming in the Red Keep aside from the small cats. Sansa had caught a glimpse of Arya trying to pounce on one of the little kittens but a while back. It brought memories she wished she could relive, but they were faint and then gone.

Sansa got up from her sitting position, and followed the lioness. Curiosity got the better of her, and her pain was seemingly forgotten. Up the stone steps she walked, hiking up her skirt and practically running to catch up with the beast while the clicking of her heels could be heard. The green leaves of the gardens could be seen, but the golden lion was nowhere to be found.

Did I scare her off? Sansa thought. Has one of the guards taken her?

Before she could answer her own question, Sansa looked down at her feet to see a bread trail made on the floor. But instead of crumbs, it was small pale petals that fell off Sansa’s hands so delicately as she bent down to grab a few. Blood-blooms, she thought. She followed the trail, asking herself whether or not a lion could be as intelligent so as to leave petals at her feet.

Sansa turned her eyes to see the location in which the Tyrells and their associates would normally be seen fine dining or simply enjoy the clear waters from the cliffs. She stopped once the roof of the arbor-like structure covered the sun from hitting her face, and her eyes seemed to narrow ever so slightly as the sight of the half man deemed her husband was in view.

“My lady-“ Tyrion began

“Don’t” Sansa interrupted coldly “I do not wish to speak to you” She began to walk away, but the lioness practically pounced in front of her, blocking her path.

“My lady, please. I had nothing to do with your mother’s death, that was all my father’s doing. I was as shocked as you were. Your brother was an enemy to the crown, I admit, but I never wished anything so cruel to fall upon him”

Sansa fidgeted with her fingers. She turned to meet Tyrion’s gaze, her eyes as blue as frost and they seemed to stare coldly into the mans heart. Tyrion wished those eyes didn’t look at him so cruelly, but he wasn’t a wolf who lost a part of its pack. He was a lion whose pride has sunk its claws into the winter wolfs and feasted upon their flesh. If only the eyes of his wife had looked at him with a longing for something other than an untimely death. He wished she would allow him to bring her comfort, and treat her with the kindness she very much needed.

Tyrion walked up to her, and grabbed her hand gently. He rubbed his fingers on her skin, a feeling that Sansa didn’t seem to dislike. Despite his distorted appearance, Tyrion’s hand brought ease to Sansa’s mind and she felt safe in them.

“My lady” he began “I made a promise to protect you. That I will bring you tranquility, gratification, and protection. I want you to be happy. I may not be your Knight of Flowers, I know that, but allow me to ease your sorrows and your pain be saturated”

“What do you know of my sorrows, Lord Tyrion?” Sansa asked meekly “All this anguish bestowed upon me, my trials and tribulations. Pale claws have been struck at my skin, and my lips awash with the trail of my tears. I was a girl who adored tales of silver knights and sweet satins, but I feel as if I’ve been turned into a mere dog with a chain being pulled at my neck”

“Then allow me to cease these feelings for a time. Let me show you that the world still holds its beauty, and that the demons who haunt you will never grab hold of you” Tyrion motioned her to sit, which she complied. The table had been set with two glasses and a pitcher of wine. Their were also plates in front of them and, to Sansa’s silent delight, lemon cakes upon a silver platter. Tyrion offered her some of the cakes, which Sansa accepts with a whispered “Thank you”. They sit in silence for a while, with Sansa taking bites of the lemon cake and Tyrion pouring her wine so as to wash it down. She sips down the drink, and puts her glass down so as to break the pregnant silence.

“She’s beautiful” Sansa referred to the lioness, who had moved to sit next to Tyrion’s chair.

“Ah yes. She is quite the vision” Tyrion said, as he reached down to pet the lioness by her ear. She purred loudly, remaking the noise that Sansa had heard behind her back “Her name is Cira”

“She has a name?” Sansa asked, in which Tyrion nodded “I suppose she belongs to you”

“In a fashion” Tyrion asserted “To reference your previous statement, I believe her beauty is such a rare thing, no whore could ever compare”

Sansa seemed to smile a bit at that, and Tyrion proceeded to make his remarks “It’s the truth! Simply look at her! That mane of sunshine, those teeth as white as pearls, and those eyes of gold! Why, she could be the Mother reincarnated!”

That seemed to do it for Sansa, since she was drinking wine whilst Tyrion was speaking and nearly chocked while laughing. It seemed so foolish to giggle at such a statement, but the Little Bird just couldn’t help herself.

Tyrion smiled fondly. He had never seen Sansa laugh so vocally. He never even saw her giggle. To be subjected to such a laugh, a sound sweeter than any song, was something that brought Tyrion’s mind at ease.

Sansa’s laugh deteriorated to small chuckles, and they eventually ceased. She brought her head back up from her laughter to meet Tyrion’s gaze “How did you come upon owning her?” She asked

Tyrion sighed “To your dismay, it was my sister who first made contact with Cira”

Sansa’s head turned a bit “Cersei? She was the one who found Cira?”

“Unfortunately, yes” Tyrion stated “My siblings and I were on a trip at the Golden Tooth when our father was called to discuss certain matters. Afterwards, Cersei wished to purchase goods at the nearby market. Said she had found something that caught her eye. One of the merchants was selling stray kittens, and my sister seemed to notice that wasn’t the only thing he was selling”

“The lion cubs” Sansa said

“That’s right” Tyrion replied “At first my father didn’t wish to buy the cubs, seeming them as useless. But my brother Jaime convinced him to let them stay as guards in case anything were to happen to us or Casterly Rock”

Sansa never knew that’s where the lions came from. She had been told they were bred in the Westerlands to serve and protect House Lannister “Forgive me for not noticing sooner but, why are her eyes different shades?” She motioned to Cira, who still sat alongside her master.

Tyrion hesitated a bit. The thought of the incident with his companion angered him greatly “My father wanted to preform a test. A test to see which cub could survive in the wild the best. Cira seemed to struggle a bit, and my father didn’t like that. And so..., he had one of the guards strike her with the pummel of his sword”

Sansa gasped quietly. She had heard that Tywin Lannister was strict, but never had she imagined him to be capable of such cruelty. But then again, she remembered The Rains of Castamere, and that curiosity left her head.

Tyrion snapped her out of her thoughts, as he retold his story “Thankfully though, I was able to stop him before he did anymore damage to her. I swore on my life that I’d take care of her, and that whatever was wrong with her I’d fix it. I proclaimed she’d be the biggest and strongest of them all”

“Well she seems quite strong” Sansa remarked, smiling a bit

“Yes she does” Tyrion said fondly “However, I’m afraid to let her wander off on her own. After she was struck and I got her healed, Cira was left with a scar going through face and her eye was left blinded. I managed to train her and keep her out of harms way, namely my father and sister, but she still wants to get herself into trouble”

“I suppose that’s why you didn’t bring her to Winterfell when Robert Baratheon rode North” Sansa stated. She had seen Cersei’s lion, Everan, and Jaime’s lion, Rohar. But Cira was not in sight.

“If anything had happened to her, I’d be blamed for it. And I’ve had enough scorn for one lifetime” Tyrion remarked coldly. Cira nuzzled at his palm, asking for more attention. His eyes then gleamed with an idea.

“Would you like to touch her?” Tyrion asked

Sansa backed into her chair, and shook her head “Oh no, I-I couldn’t. I-“

“It’s alright” Tyrion said, as he got up from his chair and gently grabbed Sansa’s hand “She’s quite tame. I trust you, so I’ll believe she’ll trust you too”

The red-headed girl’s breath hitched as the lioness prowled towards her. Her nose brushed Sansa’s hand, and she sniffed at it curiously.

She’s taking in my scent, I presume, Sansa thought. I think she smells the lemon cakes I ate but moments ago.

She seemed to be right, as Cira licked her hand with her tongue and proceeded to nuzzle her palm. Sansa let out a sigh of relief, as her fingers rustled through Cira’s golden coat. She smiled faintly as Cira purred under her touch.

“See?” Tyrion reassured “She won’t hurt you, Sansa. As won’t I. We’ll protect you, I swear it”

Sansa’s smile faded at that. Protection. That was something she hadn’t seen in what seemed ages “How can you protect me, Lord Tyrion? You nearly lost your life at the battle of the Blackwater”

Tyrion pressed his hand against Sansa’s “You’re right. I’m not much of a fighter, that’s true. But as long as I’m around, neither Joffrey nor Cersei will be able to torment you. I won’t let them”

Sansa turned to look at Tyrion, taking in his eyes. One was a shade of jade like his siblings, the other a dark pool. Her eyes examined the scar that went across his face She thought back to what Margaery had told her: He’s quite handsome with the scar. Especially with the scar. Sansa had remarked that he was a dwarf, but she never thought of Tyrion as entirely ugly. His witty remarks and clever mind seemed to cloud his unusual looks, and it made him taller than any knight or king.

“You truly swear it, my Lord Husband?” Sansa said firmly

Tyrion’s eyes were calm and nervous, but never once did they leave Sansa. His lips pressed at her palm, kissing it softly.

“I swear on all the Gods, my Lady Wife”

Sansa didn’t know whether she should truly trust Tyrion Lannister, but he seemed to be one of the few in the capital who deeply cared for her happiness. Yes, he wasn’t the beautiful husband that she had dreamed off, but his sincerity and clarity brought true beauty to her eyes.

“My lady” Tyrion interrupted “I don’t mean to intrude on something so personal, but I’ve meaning to ask... about your virtue”

Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed “My lord?”

“I-It’s not for anything of secrecy!” Tyrion quickly assured her “I’m simply curious. My brother and sister have a virtue of their own, but I’ve never quite understood it. Maybe you could explain it to me?”

The Little Bird never liked talking about her virtue, but she seemed to trust Tyrion more than anyone. Even more than Margaery, she admitted.

“You promise not to spread this? To anyone?”

“I promise, Sansa” Tyrion said. And I mean it, he thought.

“I-I don’t really know how to describe it” Sansa began “My mother never properly explained it to me. But, she said it was like a feeling. That everything around you just stops, and you can just feel it”

“Feel what, exactly?”

“The ground” Sansa exasperated “She said that when she used the Terra, it’s like you can feel the soil on you skin. The gravel shaking at your feet, the mountains pillaging higher, the sand traveling through the sky like stars, and the crystals shining brighter”

“Crystals?” Tyrion had never heard that about the Terra

Sansa simply nodded “My mother told me that she could form diamonds from the tips of her fingers, and sapphires from her every step. However, I could never do what she told me. Whenever I tried, I’d just get so scared and... I’d loose control”

Tyrion didn’t seem to be surprised. At their young age, when Jaime and Cersei would practice with the Dusk, they’d return with bruises of purple and pink scars upon their skin.

“I want to learn how to use it” Sansa admitted “But I’m just so frightened that something terrible would happen or I’d hurt somebody. And-“ She stopped as her throat formed a small lump

“And what?” Tyrion begged

Sansa looked at him, tears beginning to form in her eyes “And I don’t want to be a monster”

Tyrion could only stare helplessly as Sansa’s tears fell down her cheeks, and she wiped them away embarrassingly. The half man didn’t wish to see the girl shed anymore tears, so he moved his hand to her back and caressed it lightly. Sansa shivered at his touch.

“Sansa, look at me” Tyrion said, as the girl did what she was told “You are not a monster. You are such a sweet and beautiful creature; no one could ever see you as such a thing. If anything, I should be the one called Monster”

“I guess we can be monsters together” Sansa joked

Tyrion chuckled deeply in his throat “Perhaps Cira should join us”

Sansa giggled “The half man and the lioness with hearts of gold-“

“-And the Little Bird of red diamonds”

The two cherished the moment with every fiber of their being. It seemed that Tyrion had succeeded in making Sansa happy, for her sorrows had been seemingly forgotten. Her lord husband caressed her hand with his thumb, while the other stayed on her back. Cira had placed her head on Sansa’s lap, and she resumed petting her, finding it comforting.

Never in her dreams did she imagine that instead of a stag coming in to swoop her away, two lions had retrieved her from a dark sand and into a field of dragonflies.

Perhaps if I gave him a chance, Sansa thought, my Lord Husband could truly be the Knight of Flowers.