The rattling of his armor chilled her to the bone.

He came so close to her, she wanted to reach out to him, to caress his face to assure him that all will be okay, that all will be safe later on, when the sun rises.

"I can take you with me, take you to Winterfell," He had said, her breath caught in her throat, "I'll keep you safe," He had said and she clutched to the doll her deceased father had given to her, his last gift to her. "Do you want to go home?"

She locked her gaze on him, his face, it hid something, was it horror, hope or joy? She did not know, she just breathed in deeply, her blue eyes searched his soul and yet she wondered, did he have one?

"You won't hurt me."

Her chest rose, breathing in the scent of bravery, fire and blood; breathing in the scent of Sandor Clegane.

"No, little bird, I won't hurt you."

.

She looks out her window and wonders what would have happened if she had said yes.

And she regrets to not have said anything in the first place.

.

Sometimes, in her chambers alone, she likes to imagine he would have kept her safe.

That he would have never let Joffrey, the queen or any of the puppets of the court parade her, belittle her and mock her as they did. That at the end of the day, when the moon rose and the sky was twinkled by stars that he would wrap his arms around and whisper sweet nothings to her.

"I will keep you safe, little bird." He would say as she graced him with a smile which would be one of the only things she could truly express in King's landing without having to lie. She would close her eyes, inhale the scent of him and expect a kiss, and she would get it and it would all be perfect.

.

Sadly, her world is only made up of past tense.