Chapter 17: Fear is For the Winter
Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet
deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north.
— George R.R. Martin (A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, #1))
The air was bitingly cold. Tyrion's eyes searched the faces of the people around him. The solemn faces of the people around him were bathed in the orange glow of torchlight. They were mostly women and children. The children were terrified, and clinging to their mothers. There were women crying in the darkened corners of the crypt. The faces of the dead Kings of Winter loomed over them, watching. 'Winter has come.' Tyrion thought to himself as he peered at the faces around him. A woman clutched a small babe, as she sat at the foot of a tall solemn statue. A few paces away he saw a highborn woman, sitting huddled in rich deep brown furs, the only thing peeking out of the furred cloak was a thick fall of red hair. As if sensing him looking, the redheaded woman turned towards him. Her eyes were piercing in the candlelight. The intensity of her gaze struck him still and caused an ache in his chest, Sansa Stark. Taking a few steps closer to where she sat, and inhaling a breath to steady himself, he looked back at her. As their eyes met from across the closing distance of the room she looked older somehow. Her face had lost some of its softness but none of its beauty. Her large wet eyes searched his face in a way that made him want to look away. It was too intimate. It was as if she looked both at him and into him. He feared what she would find there. She wore a dark, thick fur lined cloak, which she had wrapped around herself tightly to shield herself from the cold. A shriek in the darkness caused every person in the space to suddenly stop what they were doing, and turn towards the sound. As the quiet returned, his eyes once again met the eyes of Lady Stark. He wanted to keep walking, but his feet did not cooperate. He wanted to go over to her but he felt frozen to the spot by fear. The sounds coming from above them were chilling. Coupled with the muttering of voices, and the crying of children, were screams that made his blood feel as frozen as the night air. Screams that echoed. He looked at the faces of the people who surrounded him. He knew he was about to die. They were all about to die.
Tyrion awoke in bed. His sheets were drenched in sweat. He stared out into the darkness. The dream had felt so real. Realer than any dream he had ever had before. He couldn't forget the sounds in the darkness. He couldn't forget the screams. It was still dark. But he knew that he could not sleep, not with those images running through his head. He sat upright in bed, shifting himself, wrapping himself up in furs to stave off the chill that crept through him as he remembered the screams. He had been tormented by dreams of dragons and dreams of burning alive. But this was a new nightmare. Consumed by ice, instead of fire. He felt cold even now.
After sitting upright in bed, staring into the darkness for long enough to feel that the dream was further away from him, he crept from his bed. He climbed down onto the floor, and slipped his feet into the slippers he found there. He would walk the castle. He would go to the library. He would occupy his mind.
Sansa walked among the gnarled white roots that protruded from the ground of the heart tree in the center of the godswood. The leaves provided shelter and cover from the sun during the day. Tonight they shimmered in the light of the moon. Sansa walked the wood alone, with only a few guards mulling about to watch her. Of course, they were watching her. She knew that she was always being watched. Watched by ladies in waiting. Watched by the small children who carried messages to the Spider. Watched by the guards. Watched by the gods. The gods. That is who she felt watching her now. She approached the face of the heart tree, staring into its bright red eyes, and as she did so she spoke to the Gods, silently. She asked the Old Gods for clarity.
'Why have I been brought back?' She pleaded, staring into the face carved into the ancient tree. 'Why?'
She reached out her palm to rub the smooth white bark. As she looked into the eyes of the tree she began to feel cold. The blood red of the sap began to look blurry to her eyes. As she tried to focus, on the eyes carved into the tree, she saw something unexpected. Ice. Ice replaced the dried sap. She began to feel cold. So cold that it seemed as if she would never feel warm again. She had a vision. All before her the city was covered in ice. She saw a frozen wasteland, desolate and broken. She saw three full grown dragons flying across the sky without a rider. She saw bodies frozen hard in the streets of Flea Bottom. She saw the Red Keep open to the sky and filled with snow. She saw blue eyes the color of frost staring into her own. She shook her head, trying to shake away the vision. She closed her eyes as the chill continued to wash over her. In her vision the city was barren, the whole of King's Landing frozen over. As the heart tree came back into focus, she saw her brother's face, staring into her own. His eyes had gone white as if he was far away-Bran. In the distance the cawing of raven carried across the sound of a howling cold wind.
She heard her name whispering through the leaves. Sansa. They know you've come back.