- Sansa -

Sansa walked down the hall, the fabric of her dress slightly tore the floor, her fingers felt the rough edge of the rolled paper in her hand. It was dark, only lit by torches on each side. As night fell it had begun to rain and the sound of the storm enveloped the castle. She loved those nights, felt that the rain gave her a feeling of being present in the moment, of reality happening here and now. And in this situation, going to the room she had assigned to Tyrion, helped her focus on the idea that he was there now, in her home, under her protection.

He had come for her, had come back to her. He had seen terrible horrors and his first instinct was to come here seeking healing, choosing this place before even his own.

Her heart began to pound louder as she approached her destiny. She had sensations in her body that she thought she could never feel, but this man provoked feelings that were too strong, which agitated her and left her perplexed. How could she feel so attracted and so shaken by a man? She had convinced herself that the horrors of her own past had broken the most tender part of her heart, forcing her to cling to her humanity even after all, but diminishing her ability to love a man again. Again ... Or would it be for the first time?

Yes. How amazing it feels. She felt it like the closest thing to being drunk without drinking a drop. Some kind of giddy happiness.

She who thought she would never choose to have someone close again, that she could never trust, much less wish for or want anyone again. That no one would be worthy, because others in her past were not. That no one would be tender enough, that there could not exist the soul that conquered her as she dreamed when she read tales of maidens and brave knights.

Someone who surprises her, whom she admires.

And then there was Tyrion.

She realized the strength of the attraction that this man caused her when she saw him again after four long years. Years in which so many things happened and among everything she always had him in her thoughts. Not all the time, but once in a while, some nights she thought of him.

At the time they parted they occupied very different roles of power, they had been a married couple, submitted under Joffrey's cruelty. Now she received him in her ancestral home, recovered with blood and justice, and with the responsibility of being the maximum head of her family. He, Hand of a foreign queen, beautiful and kind at first sight but full of a fire that intrigued Sansa. She couldn't help but feeling jealous of Daenerys from the start. To think who this woman would be that would awaken such devotion on the part of Tyrion, enough to leave his family behind, his colors and his land became somewhat recurrent. She imagined scenes between them, in which he advised her while feeling inside infinite admiration and respect, and perhaps ... attraction? love? She hoped not. Why? Why did she care who he loved? She thought of him often. She was surprised at the insistence of these thoughts, remembering Tyrion in any situation, reading in the library, touring the market, after dining in her room while looking at the stars. His kind smile, his blue eyes, his gaze, his laugh, the color of his hair, the tone of his voice.

She finally realized, she was anxious. Eager to see him, to talk to him and receive his attention, for him to see the woman she had become. She wondered if he had thought of her, if perhaps on some moonlit night his thoughts had come across her name, if perhaps some night he dreamed of her, if perhaps he had missed her at some point.

When she saw him for the first time, she was in the grip of the formalities and the welcome protocol, too focused on taking the measure of the powerful Mother of Dragons, with whom his brother had made a pact and sworn allegiance. Too many things to handle and too many people watching for it to be the reunion she wanted. But as she crossed glances with him, her heart skipped a beat and she seemed to see a flash of complicity in his eyes. He was glad to see her again, she knew.

Finally they were face to face, he was the one that looked for her. In her talk she felt she wanted to tell him so many things but she didn't know how. And didn't know if she could. Undoubtedly the environment did not allow as much familiarity as she would have liked, they were on opposite sides, and both knew it. Even so there was an electricity in the air, like some sort of connection and a definite joy of seeing each other that they couldn't hide. But the game of thrones separated them, and prevented her from getting to her knees and hugging him and telling him that she never wanted to leave him at Joffrey's wedding, that he had been the best thing that had happened to her since she had arrived in the capital. Perhaps the best man of his life so far. That she had missed him.

Before he left with the army to King's Landing she had to restrain herself so as not to get sentimental and approach him. She thought about touching him, wanted to be brave and give him a hug, a kiss on his cheek, something to remember him by, but she held back. It would be easier if she just let it go and buried her feelings. If she only took her last conversation with him as something bureaucratic, something that needed to be done, telling him that Jon was a Targaryen so he could have all the options. But she planned to do it differently and he ended up surprising her while she was watching the dragons. And he surprised her once again by seeing right through her and worrying about her, making it difficult not to let him in with his tenderness. Could it be that he did feel something for her? That dark night in the crypts she felt him so close, so connected to her for a moment, both so alive. It could not work between them, she had said. But perhaps deep down she wanted him to contradict her, to laugh it away with some sharp and shrewd comment that could leave her with a sparkle of hope. But he had chosen his queen. Even after kissing her hand in the crypts.
So she let him go.

And now he was here, on the other side of the door. She knocked softly.