Chapter Text
Sansa grasped tightly on the stubby candle as her sibling and she made their way down the narrow spiral stone steps. Her small candle did little to keep the darkness of the Winterfell Crypts at bay. The girl shivered, tugging her cloak firmly around her shoulders to fight off the whistling wind that seemed to crackle in anticipation for something, but for what, Sansa had no idea.
Jumping as a shadow flickered on the cold stone wall Sansa scrambled to where Robb, Arya and Bran had gotten ahead and tucked herself close to Robb knowing that he would protect her. He always was her knight when they played monsters and maidens.
The little lit fluttered like the bat in her belly, illuminating the cold statues. Arya pointed out the ones that she knew to their baby brother, Bran, as he clutched to Arya's hand; their Grandfather, Uncle and Aunt. Bran reached out a tiny hand to pet the statue of a direwolf sitting at their Uncle Brandon's feet and the boy giggled. The direwolf statue's face curled in the low light, Arya then said it was a grin but Sansa thought it was a snarl, showing off sharp teeth as Uncle Brandon's stone grey eyes followed her. The shadows flickered again. Sansa squeezed closer to Robb.
"What if the spiders and rats get us?" She asked into her brother's warm side, remembering what Old Nan had told them last month, praying that the dog-sized monsters stay away.
"There are worse things than spiders and rats,"Robb whispered, the candle flame glinting off his copper hair. "This is where the dead walk."
The bat rose to her throat, the wind whistled louder biting at her ears, her wide blue eyes swept for spiders, rats and spirits. A low groan echoed throughout the crypt, Sansa trembled, Bran whimpered and Arya stilled. A moan came next, begging for their blood and then a ghost white hand curled round Aunt Lyanna's shoulder. Sansa's legs shook like a newborn deer. The pale spirit stepped out from behind their Aunt Lyanna's statue. The bat escaped her throat along with a shriek and the redheaded girl sprinted out of the tomb. Haunting laughter bounced off the walls chasing her up the spiral steps.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as Sansa dashed blindly, her heat beat loudly in her ears with only instinct to guild her. Not that her instinct was that helpful, she stumbled over stones and rocks, her thin shoulders banged into buildings and trees, her woolen cloak got caught on a root and she had to undo the direwolf clasp to stop the strangling hold. Sansa didn't know how long or how far she had run, all she knew was that she had to get away from that haunted crypt. She abruptly stopped when her feet got stuck in thick icy mud. Sansa cried out as she landed on outstretched hands and a burning pain shot through her palms, wrists and all the way up to her elbows with a sharp snap.
Sansa sat pitifully in the cold mud clutching her left arm that throbbed to her shivering fame tearfully crying out for help. No one heard, not over the howling wind. Her tears mingled with the frigid downpour. Blue eyes searched her surroundings for any sign of a person, her heart quickened when she saw the outline of Wintertown, she barely saw her home, Winterfell from here through the fog. She had never been so far from home. Her heart raced so much that it hurt her chest and had to pause her shallow breaths to swallow the burning fluid that crept up her throat.
The wind picked up speed, the raindrops became like arrowheads piercing her soaked skin, tossing her muddy hair one way and pulling her long sleeves in another. No one was going to find her if she stayed, so taking seven deep breaths to calm herself like Maester Luwin taught her, Sansa pulled one handed at her sunk feet, a horrible sucking noise sounded until her feet were freed with a pop, one of her shoes flung off and soared through the air leaving a flurry of mud to fall on her head, dirtying her already mucky face.
Tears welled again, she hated this, the mud, being scared, crying. Especially the mud, the sticky, slime substance that got everywhere and ruined everything, and she hated crying, the dry throat, sore red eyes and painful head pain that always came after.
On numb feet, one in a brown stained shoe and the other a bluish grey, Sansa made her way over to the other shoe, hoping that any second Father or Robb would burst into the clearing and bundle her up in their warm cloaks that blocked off the storm. Sansa didn't lie being out in a storm. Sansa would do anything to be warm. She slipped on her soggy shoe and gasped.
At the edge of the clearing, just before the treeline there was something she had never seen before. It reminded the young girl of a shed on stilts but made with metal instead of wood, a short ramp led up to the entrance of the strange metal shed and on either side there were large metal cylinders with what looked like the middle of a water wheel inside.
Ignoring the icky feeling that crept through her belly like thorned vines, Sansa focused on the warmth it was emitting instead. She wanted to be warm. Her father and brothers could find her here, sheds don't move and they would want her to be warm and sheltered. She limped into the strange shed, her feet and legs sluggish and stiff and the rain quickly washed away her muddy tracks. Sansa avoided the tall crates made with an unfamiliar material because it definitely wasn't metal or wood. The further in the shed she got the ore she realised that this shed was a lot bigger than expected. Doors without handles and ladders led to handle-less hatches.Whoever owned this shed they certainly owned some bizarre things.
Sansa gazed in awe, her amazement overshadowed the pain in her arm for a split second until she stumbled into a metal box nailed to the wall furthest from the entrance. The sides were the same solid metal of the shed. It was more metal than she had seen in the same place, even when she snuck into the armoury in a game of hide and seek, it was the only time she'd won, they didn't find her until supper.
The front of the box had a pleated metal sheet with four holes, two at the bottom, two at the top,with her right hand she stuck her fingers in and pulled, the pleated sheet folded in on itself. Sansa gasped and stepped back, the metal sheet clanked shut with a gust of warm air. Opening the box again she saw a small black square of that same funny non metal material lined in thin uniform rows which blew out the warm air, her pale hand reached out, the air warming her arm instantly.
Thumps sounded behind her on the ramp and Sansa tumbled in with a squeak, the box enclosed her in the dark. The footsteps got louder and the warm air relaxed her shivering shoulders,her neck struggled to hold up her increasingly heavy head.The thumps faded, Sansa leaned back, knees tucked tight to her chest. Her warm box shuddered and gave out a low rumble like thunder. Sansa always liked sleeping to thunderstorms, it made her feel peaceful. Her eyes drooped and her world slowly eased into a deep warm sleep.