Work Text:
Of her three husbands, Tyrion had been the best, but theirs had hardly been the courtship she had dreamed of as a girl. There had been no sweet courtly gifts of flowers or jewelry, no chaste kisses on the cheek, no villains slain in her name. No, that had been the husband she had managed to avoid marrying.
From him, it came in the form of sleeping on a chaise while she took the bed. Averting his eyes when she dressed. Respecting her wishes when it came to what her Septa had taught her was her wifely duties.
They're reunited, after Queen Daenerys makes landfall in Westeros. Her, with the new King of the North, he with his new Queen of Westeros. By all rights, they should be enemies. They should be at odds. She knows no ruler but Stark, and he has sworn himself to this Dragon Queen.
He looks at her, quirks a grin, and japes when he calls her wife. Her brother looks infuriated, and looks as if he wants to draw his sword, but she laughs and calls him husband.
They hide together, in those crypts beneath Winterfell as the battle rages on above them. Their hands find each other in the dark. In the torchlight, Tyrion casts a shadow taller than hers, and she feels his gentle, non-stifling comfort.
When the dawn comes, they leave the crypts together, hand in hand.