Weeks had passed since their first tour of the Wildling camp. Though it had taken some persuasion, with the encouragement of Jon and Sansa the Northerners were slowly learning the Wildling ways. The Queen's people needed little encouragement. The Dothraki were more than eager to learn any new ways to keep warm and fed, and the Unsullied were as loyal as ever in following their Queen's orders. All in all, things were beginning to look decidedly more hopeful at Winterfell. It was still a daily battle to keep up with the work of digging and trapping for food, but they had discovered that the hotsprings under the castle kept some of the surrounding grounds quite warm, and the soil surprisingly soft even in the cold winter. The foraged roots and small animals made for a dull, but nutritious stew, and they were all grateful enough for food that there were few complaints about the monotony of it. As far as Tyrion could tell, the new source of food and renewed energy in the people was keeping Lady Lyanna and the northern lords satisfied, and threats to decamp from Winterfell no longer loomed large.

Together, he and Sansa had realized the strategic advantage of working together, and keeping their various allied factions united in purpose and understanding. They met more regularly now that they had come to this mutual understanding, and Tyrion certainly felt the benefit of having the Lady of Winterfell as a partner. The Northerners didn't look at him with such suspicion when he had Lady Stark at his side, and Sansa was more knowledgeable of the castle and Northern politics than him.

Working together nearly every day had led them to settle into a friendly relationship. Sansa was always guarded, but he thought she seemed somewhat more relaxed than normal when the two of them met to talk strategy. After everything she had been through, he was glad to see her taking so well to her new role.

Today they were preparing a joint briefing for Jon and Daenerys on the condition of their army. They were seated next to one another, leaning over the table to reference various ledgers, and recording figures on the scroll that would become their finished report. Tyrion shifted from his position reading a tabulation of Dothraki weapons, moving across the table to add the information to their report. Without meaning to, his hand settled next to Sansa's on the scroll, brushing up against her soft skin. She tensed slightly, but to his surprise, she stayed still for a moment, before shifting her hand away from his. The expression on her face was unreadable; he hoped she was not too offended by the brief contact. Although they had begun to act as partners in their work, he was always aware of her careful boundaries. Sansa Stark was not a trusting person. He thought of her as a friend, and he was not immune to her beauty, but he assumed she must still be suspicious of him on some level. She had not survived this long in their world by trusting easily.

Wanting to distract himself, as much as her, from further thought about the moment, he remarked, in what he hoped was a cavalier tone, "When this is all over and done with, I will refuse to even look at a report on armies and encampments ever again. And that's if I don't just go blind in the next week from all this reading."

Sansa looked at him skeptically, but with a glint of good humor in her eye. "You'll make quite the Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion, if you won't even read a census about your people. And if you haven't gone blind from staring at words on a page yet, I think you'll be quite safe this week. You forget I know perfectly well you're the most well-read man in Westeros."

"Very flattering Sansa, although I think there are at least a few maesters in Oldtown whose knowledge of the written word could put mine to shame. Anyway, who says I'll be Lord of Casterly Rock, I do have an older brother." They were bantering now.

So she isn't angry with me, he thought with relief.

"I'm sure the Queen would rather make one of her trusted advisors the most powerful man in the West, Tyrion, no offense to your brother." Sansa was pretending to be stern, but she was playing along with his teasing.

"You have me there my lady" he replied jovially, "I will just have to resign myself to a lifetime of boring reports when this is all done. And what about you, what will you do when this war is over Sansa?" Their conversation had been bright and lighthearted, but Sansa paused now, seeming to contemplate his question.

"I'll stay here, I suppose. Jon will let me live in Winterfell and help manage the northern nobles. I think I've become rather good at it, I'll be a help to him, and I plan to be a devoted spinster aunt to all his children someday."

Tyrion looked at her skeptically.

"Aren't you a little young to be resigning yourself to spinsterhood? I'm sure you can have your pick of the young northern noblemen, or the noblemen of any of the seven kingdoms."

At that, her expression darkened momentarily and her words took on an even more serious tone.

"No, I'm done with all that. Jon won't sell me into another marriage. I'll be safe here with him and Bran and Arya. Besides, you may be overestimating my appeal."

She had quickly reverted back to a playful demeanor, but he knew he had touched a nerve. Perhaps he should drop the subject, but Tyrion never could mind his own business, so he pressed on.

"A beautiful young woman from a great house? What's not appealing about that?"

"A compelling argument Tyrion, although I'm twenty now, and twice married. I'm no maiden, which could be overlooked, except I also failed to provide the Bolton bastard with any heirs."

He looked at her curiously. "But surely that's no source of disappointment, I can't imagine you wished for children?" He realized their conversation was treading into rather serious territory now. He had never discussed Sansa's second marriage with her. The Boltons in general were a subject they rarely discussed.

"It's true, I was relieved, actually. I'm glad to have no trace of that monster left in this world. Still, I'm sure other noble families have reached the same conclusion I have. I was trapped with him here for months, with no child. I'm probably barren. I just have to hope that Jon provides me with many nieces and nephews to spoil."

She was being rather glib about the whole thing, or at least she was trying to seem that way. But Tyrion was sorry to be reminded of her suffering in the years since he had last seen her. Even in the years he had seen her, he reminded himself. She had been suffering then too. Wars did not generally end with happiness for anyone, he knew, but he hoped there might be an exception for Sansa Stark. He thought she deserved a little bit of happiness after all her torment.