Disclaimer: George R.R. Martin owns them.


Tyrion sat up in a cold sweat, his breathing heavy. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around. He was in the library, it was dark- his candles had burnt out some time ago it seemed, after he had fallen asleep reading.

It was a dream that had woken him…a nightmare. He shook his head of the few fragments that still lingered in his mind. They came almost every night, Tyrion was used to them by now…just as he was used to waking up from them, alone and in the dark.

He stood slowly, squinting in the blackness. He spent most nights in the library, taking refuge amongst the familiar scent of books and parchment. He left his book there, thinking a hot bath was in order.

He made his way down the dimly lit hallway, heading for the guest quarters. It was well past midnight. He'd just passed the master suite when the sound of whimpering caught his ear.

He turned, seeing the door to the suite was slightly ajar. He stood in silence until the whimper came again.

Sansa.

He rushed into the room only to see his wife thrashing wildly on the bed, still in a deep sleep.

"No…please…please stop…"

Tyrion went to her, sitting on the edge of the bed as he tried to hold her arms and calm her.

"Sansa…" He gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently awake. "Sansa, wake up."

Her eyes flew open suddenly and she shot straight up into his arms, digging her nails into his back and her breaths coming out in short pants.

"Wh-what…Tyrion…" her voice was shaky.

Tyrion held her awkwardly and patted her hair.

"It was a dream," he said quietly, trying to soothe her. He could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.

She pulled back from him, her eyes wide and glistening.

"A dream…I don't…" she shook her head and looked around, as if confused by where she was.

"A nightmare, it seems…here," Tyrion stood and went to the small table next to the balcony where the maids had left two pitchers. One pitcher held water, the other arbor gold.

He opted for the wine and poured it into a goblet before walking back and handing it to her.

"Drink this, slowly. It will calm your nerves."

She took the drink without hesitation and did as he bid. She took deep breaths in between sips and soon Tyrion watched the color return to her cheeks.

"Better?"

Sansa nodded, but he noticed her hand gripping the sheets.

Without thinking, Tyrion sat beside her again and took her hand, sliding the pad of his thumb over it in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"What was it about…" he asked. "The dream?"

Sansa took another deep breath, averting her gaze as she stared out of the balcony into the distance.

"The same thing," she replied vaguely. "They're always the same…"

She didn't go on, and Tyrion thought it best not to press her. With all she had been through, he could imagine it himself.

His dreams were all the same as well. His nightmares were worse.

"There is one thing I'm glad of," she said suddenly, taking another sip of wine.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"I'm glad it was you here when I woke and not…" she trailed off and looked him in the eye. "I'm glad you were here."

He returned her gaze with a tilt of his head.

"So am I."

Their gaze didn't break for what seemed like several minutes before Tyrion swallowed and rose.

"If you're well enough, I'll leave you now…"

Her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Please don't…" Her eyes were wide again, and pleading. "Tyrion…please stay. I…I don't want to be alone right now."

She lifted her cup. "Stay and have a drink with me."

Tyrion was speechless. A picture of the dark and lonely library flashed in his mind and he realized he didn't want to be alone either.

He nodded and poured some wine for himself before sitting on the edge of the bed.

They stayed up the rest of the night drinking and talking. Though they didn't broach the subject of her nightmares again, he had never seen Sansa so open.

It wasn't until the first rays of dawn peaked through the curtains that Tyrion blinked. His head throbbed slightly, a repercussion of drinking wine all night that he was all too familiar with. Suddenly, other sensations began to hit him all at once. The smell of lilacs and his arm wrapped around a warm body.

He lifted his head to find Sansa awake and watching him. She had a curious gleam to her eye that was mixed with something else he couldn't place.

He sat up and quickly moved away from her.

"Forgive me, my lady… I must have fallen asleep…"

She caught his arm, just as she had the night before.

"You don't have to apologize," she said softly. "It was…it was the best sleep I've had in years…."

"Wine can do that."

"Perhaps…" she looked him in the eye. "I don't think it was just the wine…"

"Sansa…I…" Tyrion found himself at a loss for words. He could only stare at her. Her hair mussed and her eyes, blue and alight and looking at him like…

He couldn't have finished the thought if he wanted to as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was soft and quick. After she broke away her face lingered close to his and he felt her breath on his cheek.

"Thank you, Tyrion. For last night."

He didn't realize his eyes were closed until he blinked them open rapidly.

She was already up and off the bed, making her way to the washroom.

"You're welcome…" he choked out, his voice husky as he sat on the bed stunned.

She looked back at him with a soft smile before disappearing into the washroom.

Tyrion touched his fingers to his burning lips and smiled.

That night was the last he spent in the library.