The second the dead fell, Sansa was moving. A few seconds later, ignoring the calls of Varys and Missandei to go to find their queen, Tyrion was hurrying after his ex-wife. "Sansa!" he called after her. She ignored him. "Sansa, slow down."

Stopping suddenly, Sansa turned towards him and Tyrion genuinely thought she might strike him. "I have to find out! Tyrion, I have to know," Sansa said. The tears were evident in her voice. Tyrion reached out and took her hand.

"Let's go and find out, Sansa."

Hand in hand, Tyrion was aware he probably looked like a young child being led by his mother. He did not care. Much. Sansa needed him. He had not been here to protect her from her second marriage, whatever had happened there, but he would be here for her now.

They passed through the crypts and into the fresh air, as fresh as air stinking of death and burning flesh could be. Tyrion saw Jaime almost instantaneously. He was collapsed, leaning against the walls of Winterfell, head tipped back and knees against his stomach. His good hand was wrapped around Ser Brienne's, who was sitting next to him, also looking utterly worn out. Neither of them saw Tyrion, so he allowed Sansa to continue to lead him to wherever they were going.

She was looking around frantically, head swinging from one side to the other. He saw the relief on her face every time she saw someone she knew. Tyrion tried to keep his eyes on Sansa's hand in his. It was easier than looking at the dead bodies. The only person he really cared about was Jaime and he was alive.

Sansa squeezed his hand and Tyrion's stomach jumped, glancing up. Together, they smiled at Podrick, who was walking rather aimlessly through the mounds of dead bodies. Maybe Tyrion cared about two people. But they were both alive.

Daenerys they found sobbing with her dragon and Ser Jorah's dead body, Jon's arms wrapped around her. Tyrion was glad Jon was looking after her again. Things had seemed to frost over the past few days. Sansa's relief at seeing her half-brother was palpable. He squeezed her hand and she smiled at him.

Tyrion knew that Sansa was looking for Arya desperately. He knew that she was leading him to the Godswood, where the bodies, dead or alive, of Theon Greyjoy and her younger brother would be. Perhaps Arya was there too.

For the first time, Tyrion wondered who had killed the night king. Perhaps it was Jon, but he would have found Daenerys very quickly afterwards. It could have been anyone really, if they had happened to hit him with dragonglass. Perhaps it was Theon Greyjoy, protecting Bran.

They edged into the Godswood. Tyrion felt Sansa slow down slightly, her hand shaking. He grasped it more firmly. "Whatever we find, Sansa, you will be okay," he assured her, looking into her eyes. She nodded shakily. Tyrion was reminded of the girl he had married; she had come so far since then.

They saw Bran first and Sansa breathed out a sigh. Arya was leaning by a tree next to him, a dragonglass dagger in her hand. Perhaps it was her. Tyrion nearly chuckled. Of course, little Arya Stark would be the one to kill the night king. "Sansa," Bran said. His voice was rather ominous, full of warning. Tyrion glanced at Sansa then, whose eyes were fixed on a body on the ground.

The sound that came out of her was unearthly. She broke away from Tyrion and collapsed by it, sobs wracking her body. Tyrion sighed. Theon Greyjoy was dead. "He died well," Bran commented from his seat by the tree. Tyrion glanced at him. He knew that it was not the right thing to say to an angry, grieving Sansa.

"There are no good deaths," Sansa spat, "only death."

Arya was watching Sansa and for a moment Tyrion thought she would come to comfort her sister, but she didn't. He supposed that left it to him. As if this was his speciality. "Sansa," he murmured. Her sobs were heart-wrenching. They were surely audible in King's Landing. Tyrion hoped they were. He hoped that Cersei could hear them and hear what she had done. Perhaps if the selfish bitch had come to give them aid, more people could have been spared to protect Bran. Perhaps Theon Greyjoy wouldn't have had to die.

Tyrion rested his hand on Sansa's shoulder. She grasped it with both hands and continued to sob. "He's dead, Tyrion," she cried. Tyrion glanced over at Arya, who was looking at the body rather impassively. Tyrion supposed it was an oddity, to have someone who you had once loved but who had betrayed your family die. What were you supposed to think? Arya probably had enough on her mind anyway, what with having killed the night king. Or so Tyrion thought. He wasn't entirely sure.

Tyrion sighed and moved to kneel. He wrapped his arms around Sansa and she sobbed into his shoulder. The whole situation must have looked comical. The Lannister demon monkey being sobbed into by a Stark lady, of such beauty she could have been an angel.

Tyrion did not know how long they sat there for, Sansa's shoulders shaking the earth. Bran and Arya were both silent and Tyrion wondered why Arya did not go back to Winterfell, to tell everyone what had happened, how it had happened.

Eventually, Jon and Daenerys arrived. Tyrion heard them approach, heard Jon's happy cry at seeing all three of his siblings alive. Glancing over Sansa's shoulder, he watched Jon hug his brother and youngest sister. He heard Bran tell Jon that Arya had killed the night king.

Sansa's sobs had slowed by this point, although her head was still buried in Tyrion's shoulder. Jon approached and lay his hand on the shoulder that Tyrion was not occupying. "I'm sorry about Theon, Sansa."

Sansa's tears were slower at the mention of him this time. They were streams rather than waves, silent rather than earth-shaking. Tyrion pulled away, to allow the family their time together. "No," Sansa protested. "Don't leave me." Tyrion inhaled. Sansa clung to his shirt. He could not leave her. "Don't ever leave me," Sansa begged. Seven help him, he never would if he could help it.

Tyrion wondered what sort of look he was getting from Daenerys at that point. He found he didn't care. His loyalties were not as split as Sansa had suggested in the crypts.

"Never," he promised, shifting so that he was sat on his arse instead of his knees. "I'm always here, Sansa."

"He was the first man to make me feel safe after you," she confessed to him, her tears making her voice waiver slightly. "He saved me. He helped me escape Ramsay."

She was rambling now and Tyrion let her. She needed to get this out. He wondered if she had told anyone the full story of her marriage to Ramsay.

"Lord Baelish, he sold me to Ramsay and then Ramsay made Theon-"

Her sobs began anew. "It's alright, Sansa," Tyrion tried to comfort, "it's going to be okay."

"He made Theon watch while he raped me. Every night," Sansa rasped, "every night, he would force Theon to watch as he did whatever he liked to me. He beat me and cut me and raped me and Theon couldn't do anything except watch-"

Tyrion closed his eyes against the tears that had welled up there. "He's gone now," Tyrion said quietly. "Ramsay can never hurt you again. I promise you." Tyrion hoped Daenerys and Jon weren't listening.

"I wish you had consummated our marriage," Sansa sobbed and Tyrion nearly choked on his own saliva. "I would never have had to marry Ramsay."

Tyrion felt his heart break. She would have hated him if he had. But she would've been safer.

"It just hurts so much, Tyrion." Holding her in his arms, Tyrion wished Varys had taken him to find her instead of Daenerys all those years ago. She would have been safer with him than with Lord Baelish.

"I'm so sorry, Sansa, so sorry," he said, his tone almost pleading. He wished he could erase all of her pain, all of the beatings, all of the rape. He wished he could give her a blank canvas for her to start again.

"Don't leave me," she sobbed again. Tyrion closed his eyes.

"Never, never again," he swore. He would never leave her again.