It had taken a long time to get Grendle to go to sleep. Sansa had to sit by his bed and stroke his head until he relaxed enough to close his eyes. It wasn't even sunset but they were all exhausted. Their only plan was to rest for a few hours and then make some tough decisions about where they should head.

Sansa turned away from the sleeping child. Unconscious, he looked his age, vulnerable and new to this world. His innocent mouth seemed so distant from the person who had mudered men to rescue her from Harrenhal. Sansa couldn't help kissing his cheek and tucking his blanket under his chin. He had insisted on sleeping in the space next to the fireplace, surrounded by logs and sticks. Like an animal in a nest.

They sat at the huge oak table in silence, the boy asleep behind them. The fire gave off a strange heat that refused to warm their bones. Ravens cawed in the loft space far above them as if nature had entered inside the castle and it was no longer the domain of humans. Sandor pushed his food around his plate and his huge shoulders were slumped. Sansa got up and began to pull at his armour, wanting to rub his stress and pain away. He gently caught her hands and shook his head, 'I'll need this on if Gregor turns up.'

She sat back down, her turquoise dress swirling around her ankles in a painful parody of an elegant princess seated at a banquet. She lifted the silk fabric and let it fall slowly through her fingertips, 'I should get changed.'

'Yes, it would be more practical. Yet, how it pleases my eyes to look at you.'

Sansa smiled, even as her eyes shone brighter blue with a sheen of tears.

The Hound stared at her. They didn't need to say words of love, it was in their gaze, and it was in his fingers as he reached across and placed his large hand over her smaller one.

'I'm going to make us tea. Something healing and calming. Would you like that?'

'Yes, my little bird, yes. Let us drink tea together.'

'Are you teasing me?'

'No. I have no teasing left in me, no anger. Only you.'

Sansa got up and went to where a kettle sat on the edge of the fire. She moved it so it sat above the insipid flame and waited for the water to boil. Eventually she lifted it and brought it to the table. The Hound watched her as she got the pack Pearl had given her. She felt his dark eyes on her back; following the shape of her spine, the curve her form made in the dress. It made her aware of her whole body. As she moved her arm or dipped her head she knew he was watching her. It made her skin burn and tremble with the anticipation of him touching her. Soon, she wanted him to touch her soon.

Each small movement she made felt intensified by the strength of his desire for her. She looked over her shoulder and caught his eyes. How beautiful he was. His scarred face was no longer frightening to her but beloved. Each ridge of scar tissue was familiar to her fingers and lips. The side of his face that was untouched by Gregor's evil was handsome. The cheekbones and nose were strong; they showed his character. But it was his dark, deep eyes that held her attention. She always returned to them. They could flash in anger, frustration or vengeance but they always softened when regarding her. The man loved her; it was a rare feeling to know someone really loved you despite all your flaws and mistakes…he saw a strength in her that no one else had ever seen. Sansa thought about this and realized she was the first person to see his strengths and brilliance. For both of them, it was the first time someone had really seem them, saw the inside of them. What a Septon would call their soul. Sansa looked at him again and he smiled a sweet smile as if he could read her thoughts and agreed with them.

Sansa measured out the chamomile flowers and added a pinch of lavender to help them sleep. Spontaneously she reached into the bottom of the pack to find some honey, ignoring Pearl's entreaty to save it for injury; she wanted to sweeten the Hound's feelings, to cheer him on this miserable evening. She found some rose petals and put a pinch of them into the brew…for love, she thought. She found the jar of honey, but reaching for it she also pulled out a sack of herbs out she had forgotten about.

'Oh,' she said, without meaning to, her breath coming out in a gasp.

'What is it girl?'

'Nothing. Nothing important. Some herbs I had misplaced.'

'And herbs are the most important buggering thing these days, eh?'

'No, nothing important.'

'Good, now bring me that tea little bird, before a man dies of thirst.'