The savages worshipers of Dragon Queen had found the Westeros troops a few days after their departure from Winterfell, and the dead were continuing southward, making their meeting soon to come. Knowing this before the combatants themselves was bizarre and made everyone's tension so dense that it was almost tangible. An unexpected event, however, diverted everyone's attention from the imminent battle.

It was almost night when two visitors reached the castle walls and the guards rushed to notify the Lady of Winterfell. Jaime Lannister and a knight named Bronn called for passage. Chaos settled in the blink of an eye. It was up to Sansa to decide about the visitors, but Arya would not allow anything to happen before she was heard, and everyone listened, even who was in the farthest reaches of the keep. Half an hour later, the two men were taken into the castle, unarmed, with tied fists.

"What you want from me?" Sandor asked as he entered Sansa's solar finding her sitting behind her desk.

She gave him a weak smile.

"This could be your words, you know. 'What the hell you want from me?' By the way, what are the Clegane family words?"

Sandor snorted.

"How many of these did you drink?"

Sansa turned the silver goblet between her fingers.

"Some, but there's something left if you want it."

"Not, too sweet."

As he got silent, she sighed becoming instantly more serious.

"Jaime Lannister is locked in one of our cells right now, and I have no idea what to do with him.

"And what the hell do I have to do with it?"

"I must decide the fate of a man who I hate, who helped to destroy my family, but came here with his sword and an important warning." She rested her chin in her hand and stared at him. "Tyrion asked, almost begged me to let him go, Arya wanted to kill him as soon as the gates opened. Bran is indifferent to everything that goes on here, and needs just a look at Brienne to see that she is in love with the Kingslayer. None of them is capable to give me a good advice. Should I trust his words and make use of his sword or kill him before he kills one of us?"

"Are you really asking me what you should do?"

"It would not hurt to hear another opinion."

"Kill both of them and get it over with."

Sansa snorted.

"Then I'd have to worry about Tyrion trying to kill me while I sleep."

"You asked, I answered."

She sighed again.

"I wish it were so simple." She played with the goblet again, staring at it without actually seeing it. "Sometimes all I wanted to do was go back in time to when I was a kid, and my biggest concern was not to dirty the hem of my dress with mud.

"You're not a child anymore."

Sansa set the goblet down on the table and gave him a caustic look.

"Unfortunately not, now instead of worrying about the mud in my dress, I worry about the blood on my hands."

The next morning Jaime Lannister and his companion were freed and received the privilege of walking freely through the castle, accompanied by two armed guards. It was a political decision, which did not please either side, but it did not displease them either. The little bird is playing the game of thrones, after all, Sandor thought and twisted his mouth in disgust.

.

.

Two days after the Kingslayer arrived the little she wolf left the castle before dawning - Sandor had only seen her because he had lost sleep and decided to go to the stables to look the black horse with which he had sympathized. Even knowing that the girl had left with a purpose, to know which was, got him perplexing.

"She what?" He snarled when Sansa told her sister's intentions.

"You heard." She answered quietly as she threaded a needle.

"Your sister is going after that damn bitch and you patching old rags!"

Sansa interrupted her work and stared at him, her eyes glittering with a barely restrained anger.

"And you wanted me to do what? I am not a warrior like Arya or Jon. I do not have gifts like Bran. I have nothing left but to stay here, and if I cannot be of any help in overcoming this war, I will try to be useful in not letting my people die of cold!"

She back to sewed, gripping the needle so furiously that she ended up sticking her finger in. Sandor was surprised to see her lose her mind and throw away whatever the hell she was repairing against the wall before she got up and started walking from one side to the other, with the injured finger in her mouth.

"Do you think I do not care about her? About Jon, Bran, and everyone else?" Sansa approached, stopping almost within reach of his hand. "You do not know how difficult it is to stay here just waiting, not knowing whether I will see my family together again, or the shards left over from it, each one more damaged than the other.

Sansa was wrong, the wait also disquieted him, but he did not mind correcting her, just stepped forward and took her hand in his, wrapping her injured finger in a cloth. She stared at him with those huge blue eyes that had visited him several times in his dreams and her mouth slightly open, but she did not say anything.

"It was dripping on the floor." He caught himself justifying the unconscious gesture, but it took him a long time to undo it.

Sansa put her bandaged finger close to her chest.

"You were always kind to me, even when I was too foolish to notice it, and you still are." Without him expected, she lightly touched his arm. "Thank you."

The delicate touch, almost imperceptible through his clothes, reached something inside him, preventing him from responding with his derision or the usual rudeness.

"I'm not gentle."

She gave him a smile that, though sad, was tender.

"You can be ruthless on the battlefields and rude when you're out of them, but you're not incapable of gentleness, Sandor." She increased the pressure on his arm. "I know better than anyone."

Sandor pulled away from Sansa's touch, feeling unworthy and angry.

"Was I gentle when I let those cunts beat you?"

"What choice did you have? If you tried to go against Joffrey's abuse, your head would end up gracing the battlements of the Red Keep as my father's."

"Do not do it! Do not embellish reality to make me one of the fucking knights of your stupid songs."

"I would never do that, you're better than any knight I've ever met."

She came toward him, her hand coming up as if she wanted to touch his chest, he stepped back. Her words and attitudes confused him and he did not know how to deal with them. Stunned, he turned his back on Sansa and withdrew from the solar before she took another step.

For the second time in his life, Sandor Clegane ran away.