AN's: This ficlet comes to you from the tumblr prompt: "You're a terrible liar." Enjoy!

Disclaimer: GRRM owns them.

It was cold. The snows had stopped two days ago. There was no wind…only clouds and gray sky and stillness. And cold.

It was so cold.

Tyrion rubbed his gloved hands together. From his spot at the top of the battlements, he watched the forces march North towards the Wall. The Queen and Jon Snow were at the front, three dragons circling overhead.

Gods knew what they were marching to meet, but Tyrion knew that this would be the final battle. He could feel it in the stillness. The air was tinged with something he couldn't place.

The end perhaps.

But whose?

He rested his hands atop the stone, squinting up at the bleak sky until the dragons were nothing but specs in the distance.

"Are you afraid?"

He looked at the woman now standing beside him. Tall and beautiful and deadly…Sansa Stark sometimes stole his breath away. Especially here…

She was stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

"You should be inside," He murmured.

She ignored him.

She placed her hands next to his on the wall, looking out as the army continued to march. She never wore gloves now, as if all her strength was absorbed from the stone.

"This is it, isn't it?"

Tyrion nodded.

"You didn't answer my question," She said, looking down at him now.

Tyrion met her gaze, surprised to find her blue eyes soft.

"No, I'm not afraid." His hands began to tremble. From the cold, he told himself. It was so cold.

Sansa's smile was sad as she placed her hands over his.

"You're a terrible liar."