Tyrion felt restless and sleep was eluding him more than usual.

The day his visit to the North would end was approaching and he was struggling in a sort of inner battle he'd come to hope, after Daenerys's death, that would never bother him again.

And there he was, aching for a woman once more, so much that the emptiness and yearning ate at him. That new ache, that inopportune want didn't come as a surprise, as he'd known intuitively for a long time that Sansa had the potential to barge into his heart and senses like no woman apart from the Dragon Queen had in years.

And Sansa was special, in the sense that, since she was still just a lonely girl in the Red Keep, surrounded by her captors and enemies, Tyrion had always somehow known that, if she survived, she would grow into a formidable she-wolf, an extremely beautiful, very smart and resilient lady of the North. Her beauty, her quiet strength had touched him from the start. Shae hadn't been completely wrong in becoming jealous of his admiration and respect for Ned Stark's young daughter, because even if he didn't desire Sansa then, (she was just a child and he wasn't a pervert like Meryn Trant or Walder Frey, who'd had a penchant for ravishing girls), and besides Tyrion loved Shae and wouldn't have ever dreamed of cheating on her, he wasn't blind to the fact that Sansa might perfectly become a kind of woman who, in different circumstances, could wield the power to rock his world. He hadn't ever been immune to beautiful, strong and brave women.

His prediction about her outliving almost everyone had come true, and when they'd met again after years apart, with hardly any trace left of the defenseless child he'd known before, Tyrion recognized her as an equal, as someone with whom he'd be eager to cultivate a true friendship, like he'd never had the chance before with her.

And in the crypts, when they'd both faced death together, he'd believed it had been much more than friendship what had passed between them. He would have died happily for her in that moment, and the vehemence of that certainty hadn't faded after the dangers and horrors of the Long Night had been put to rest.

Now that the dust of the last war and of his latest losses had settled, he realized he was in love with Sansa, pure and simple. His love for her had that touch of inevitability characteristic of those things that were due to happen sooner or later, as if he'd sensed in a very secret level that he was destined to fall for her one day.

And fall for her he finally had, hard. That was why he felt emptier than ever. After nearly a full day spent with her, he missed her at night, in the expanse of his bed.

He got up, aware that sleep wouldn't come, and stepped out of his chamber. He welcomed the chill of the corridors, which helped him cool his hot skin (heated by more than the flames crackling merrily in the fireplace of his assigned rooms), and directed his steps to the place he always felt more at ease with in any castle: the library. Even if he wasn't in the proper mood or mindset to read, the familiarity of the sight and smell of ancient books always managed to calm him.

When he crossed the door of his intended destination, he instantly was greeted by the object of his desires. Sansa was there, and she had in front of her, open on a desk, a book which looked well-worn by use. She seemed to have been caught in the intimate act of caressing the pages, as if that volume was especially dear to her, and she jumped a little in surprise at Tyrion's presence.

"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting you," he hurried to apologize. "I'll leave you alone again to your readings." He was about to turn around, when her voice stopped him.

"No, please, don't go. You're welcome here, truly. Sometimes when I miss everyone, I come here and some of these old books comfort me. My parents often read at bedtime to my siblings and me and this feels like a sort of connection to all of them," she explained, with her cheeks flushed.

"Books are also a source of comfort to me, but for different reasons. Jaime and books were my only friends when I grew up. If it weren't for them, I probably would have drown myself in the Sunset Sea, if that hadn't brought a great joy to my father. After all, the satisfaction of going on disappointing him was tempting enough to keep me alive," Tyrion told in his usual sarcastic tone when he referred to anything related to Tywin.

The intended goal of making Sansa chuckle was very satisfying, even more than talking deprecatingly about his sire. "I'm glad that was so motivating for you," she replied with the spark of humor brightening her blue irises. "The world would have lost a brilliant mind."

"Yeah, such a loss," he added. "Who would be bothering you at this late hour if such a tragedy had come to fruition?"

"Come sit with me, please," she invited, making room for him on the bench she was taking up. "I'm afraid I don't have wine here, but I might ask for some."

He shook his head while he complied with her request and sat down next to her. "There's no need for that, thanks. It won't ease me to sleep anyway, I'm afraid."

"Then it's a good thing we can share our sleeplessness," she teased.

"I can't think of a better company for that," he teased back.

"Indeed, because I use to have such a somniferous effect on people."

It was his turn to chuckle. He was enjoying immensely their exchange of jokes. He liked very much that humorous side of her she'd developed. "Far from that, my lady. Your company is sufficiently stimulating, I can assure you."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I guess I've progressed since King's Landing." The smile on her lips and in her eyes was mesmerizing.

"Quite a lot. But I've always known you're something else, Sansa. Much more than anyone there would have given you credit for, including myself. My intuition regarding your potential ran a bit short, because you're now even more impressive than I pictured you would be. And believe that I pictured you as quite an impressive woman if you managed to survive, what you have done," he praised honestly.

She looked surprised at his admission. "You truly saw so much potential in me? I was just a silly girl back then, and hardly impressive."

He denied energically with his head. "You were an innocent child thrown into the snakes, and I saw your strength. Very few would have survived what you did, Sansa, and come this far with their heart and soul still whole. I'd say that's way beyond impressive. You amaze me," he confessed, not being able to help himself, because it was true. She amazed him every passing day, and there was no point in hiding it.

He was pleased to see her eyes widen. "You must be very easy to amaze then."

"No. Extremely scarce people manage to achieve that, and I've met lots of people," he disagreed, not tearing his transfixed stare from hers.

And then, before he was aware of what was happening, her lips were on his.

At first he was too shocked to react, but as soon as he realized that she really was kissing him and that it wasn't a trick of his wild imagination, he held her soft cheeks and kissed her back, savoring her taste and inhaling her scent. A shiver ran down his spine and he felt her trembling too.

He rested her forehead on hers, with his eyes shut, relishing the moment. "Sansa," he whispered, caressing her name. "I've dreamed of this. Of kissing you. So much that it was turning me crazy."

"Me too," she admitted quietly, panting slightly. "Margaery was right after all."

He moved backwards a bit to look into her eyes with a puzzled grin. "What was she right about?"

"That you might surprise me. After you announced to me that we were to be married, I had a talk with Margaery, and she spoke very praisingly about you. She said that you had quite a reputation as a skilled lover, and that us women are complicated in bed, implying that we need someone who knows how to meet our needs, or something like that." Tyrion was pleasantly touched to watch her intense blush. She was so innocent in bedroom matters, after all. No Ramsay had mattered to take that from her. Clearly she was still a virgin to pleasure, and the fact that she was opening that private side of hers to him humbled him to his core.

"Margaery was a clever girl, but it was very difficult to survive being the main target of Cersei's hatred. In any case, I'm grateful to her for pointing out my virtues. A very clever lady indeed." He smiled, grazing Sansa's lips with his.

"Hey," Sansa complained in jest. "I'm starting to think that you liked her too much."

"She infuriated my sister, so of course I liked her. Anyone capable of outsmarting my father or making my sister seethe with murderous fury was a steady candidate to earn points in my esteem," Tyrion stated, still in a daze by his previous kiss with Sansa and their closeness. "But she's not the one I'm interested in right now, so you know." He blinked at Sansa cheekily, and in response, she laughed and kissed him again, and that time he didn't hesitate to return the caress enthusiastically.