No one could eat that night. Bran's warning at dusk, although expected, had disrupted them. Tomorrow, the boy had said returning to his body after spending hours away tomorrow. The army of the dead was advancing on and on. Those damn skeletons could find Jon's and the Queen's men still asleep, and that would be a massacre.

Without a word, Sansa withdrew from the table, a not polite gesture to a lady, but no one seemed to notice, or care, or both of it, because each one lived their own premature mourning. Sandor followed her with his eyes and when he cannot see her anymore, he followed her. He found her in front of one of the windows overlooking the Goodwood, her hands folded across her chest, her arms tightening.

"It's always like that?" She asked without looking away from the red leaves' tree taht she stared at without really seeing.

"What?"

"The night before a battle."

"You've had a night before a battle."

"This time it's different, before I was so consumed with hatred that I could not feel anything but it."

They were silent for a few more minutes.

"It's never the same. For each person, for each battle, it is different. "

"It's horrible."

For the first time in his life, Sandor wanted to know beautiful words that would made her feel better, but he did not know them and doubted that any words could ease the anguish she was feeling.

"Yes, it is."

Sandor continued to admire her as she stared out the window, the moon light illuminating her sad, but beautiful features, and her pale, delicate hands resting gently on her arms. She was beautiful and he would have spent eternity watching her from distance if was not a solitary tear roll down her face. Without realizing it, Sandor approached and brushed his finger on Sansa's face, cleaning up the wet trail and attracting her gaze. Without warning, she hugged him, burying her face on his chest. Taken by surprise, he hesitated a moment before imitating her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm so tired, Sandor... Peace should not depend on war, neither should life, but look around us..." Her words waned and fresh tears streamed down her face.

"Shh ... Calm down, Sansa." He tried to comfort her by rubbing her back and heard her giggle before she faced him, her blue eyes floating in a red sea.

"It's the first time you called me by my name, did you know that?" Her gaze was intense, as if searching for something inside him, making his blood run faster and his breathing become erratic. "I'm sorry for what I said to you a few nights ago, I know I offended you, but I did not mean to".

Sandor knew what she meant, and he still felt like the target of a bad joke, but his curiosity was greater than his discomfort, and he gave way to it.

"And what was your intention?"

Sansa clung tightly to his woolen robe as if to prevent him from running away and blinked her eyes, making them clearer.

"I know I did not choose my words very well, and I insulted you, but in essence everything I said was true. I know you want me, I see in your eyes, and every time I feel it on me, my body warms. It just happens with you, which makes me believe that I want you too, but I'm not sure, because I've never felt it before."

Sandor tried to pull away, too confused by what he had just heard, but she redoubled her grip, holding them together.

"Please, Sandor, show me how is to be with someone you esteem."

"I ... I ..." The blue eyes glued to his had impelled him to admit aloud something he was not proud of. "I do not know how it is, either, Sansa, all my life, women only accepted me in their beds because I paid them for it."

Contrary to his expectations, Sansa smiled tenderly.

"Then we can find out together..." Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his.