"Up with your turret
Aren't we just terrified?
Shale, screen your worry from what you won't ever find

Don't let it fool you
Don't let it fool you...down
Down's sitting round, folds in the gown

Sea and the rock below
Cocked to the undertow
Bones blood and teeth erode, with every crashing node

Wings wouldn't help you
Wings wouldn't help you...down
Down fills the ground, gravity's proud

You barely are blinking
Wagging your face around
When'd this just become a mortal home?

Won't, won't, won't, won't

Won't let you talk me
Won't let you talk me down
Will pull it taut, nothing let out"

Petyr was buried early the next morning. The sun had barely begun to show herself over the glistening, snowy hills, and the air was frosty as it burned against her cheeks. They were dry now by an act of force. She did not want to appear the hysterical child that she most certainly felt like in front of these outsiders. After all, people die every day, and with his wound no one expected he would live as long as he had to begin with. The women chattered about how she should thank the Gods for the time they were given and be grateful for the child in her belly. His name will live on, and that is the most he could ask for, for a man who started with nothing shan't long for anything more than that. Their murmurs and cackling grated on her ears like a dying rabbit's cry in the night. She longed to return to her rooms and lock the door forever. Their bed was the only place she wanted to be for its warmth and the lingering lemon salve and musk smell of him was of some small comfort. Therefore, after the guests were shown to the great hall for wine and a meager feast of cold meats and some broth with bacon, Sansa excused herself without taking a bite. She closed the shutters tight, locking out any light, and then blew out that candle letting the darkness and silence wash over her. It took hours for her nerves to settle and she finally fell into a fitful sleep.

***
The loud creak of the door being shoved open and the faint glow of muted candle light woke Sansa at an untellable hour, and she felt muddled and disoriented. Then there was a strong hand on her shoulder and a low whisper, "Sansa."

"Sansa, wake up." He nuzzled her neck, his hot breath cascading down her collarbone. The sweet mint rousing her senses.

His heat left her as she opened her eyes and turned abruptly. It was someone else. Who would come to her at this hour? She turned almost throwing her shoulder into his nose. Coming to, she realized with relief that it was only Maester Ayman. She pulled the sheets up to her chin and relaxed into her furs, "You must come with me, My Lady. I have something I need to show you." He stated hurriedly and out of breath.

"What could you possibly have to show me at this late hour?" She asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

"Please, my lady. You will want to see this." He looked behind him as if there was an apparition glaring at his back, and she could not understand why he was so agitated.

"What is going on? Why are you so distressed?" she asked, sitting up with a look of confusion pressing her brow into a crease. She forced herself up and padded the winter-chilled floor for her socks and dressing robe.

"And my lady, it is no longer nightfall, but the first light of dawn. You have been asleep for two days past."

"Two days! Why has no one woken me?"

"They tried, my lady, but when you would not stir they thought it better to leave you rest. No one wants to be a bother to a grieving woman. I checked on you to make sure it was nothing to do with the child, and decided it was best you were left alone."

She decided she could not argue with that, and was grateful her servants had cared enough to take care of her while she was indisposed. She hadn't been a very useful Lady of the Eyrie recently. There was no one to take on the long, daily list of needs that it took to keep such a large castle running properly. They must have been greatly overworked this past week. She would be sure to do something cordial for each of them once she was able to get herself in working order. She must be strong. As she had so many times before, she had to face that life did,in fact, go on. Even when a loved one was no longer living it with you, there were things that still required her attention.

Sansa would also have to observe the truth. She had to move back to the capital just after the child was born. There was no way around it for there was nothing here for her now, and she couldn't reasonably live here alone. She had sent a raven to King's Landing yesterday and she was coming to terms that she would have to face Cersei after all this time. The one thing she could be thankful for was that Joffrey was no longer able to torment her. This did not comfort enough as she would be back in the clutches of the Lannister's to most likely be married off to Tyrion after all. The only thing she could pray for now was that her baby was delivered healthy and made it through infancy. This child had to be her primary focus from now on.

Her thoughts consumed her as she followed Maester Ayman through the dark halls, no sun to speak of shining through the windows, and her breath steaming in the cold. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling her cloak tightly to her belly. She could feel the gentle prod of her womb as the baby moved, and her back ached as she gently waddled behind him. She was desperately hungry, but couldn't bring herself to interrupt what Maester Ayman deemed so important. She knew the man wasn't one for wasting anyone's time.

He took her far below to a section of the castle she had never been to before. The passages' walls closed in on her as they neared their destination. The wetness of them smelled sour to her sensitive nose and she had to hold back a gag in the back of her throat. She realized now that he was taking her to his private chambers. She saw no reason why he should ever need to bring her there. It was why he always came to her. They both very well knew it was improper for her to be in a man's private chamber's that weren't either her husband's or her brother's. It didn't seem likely she would be in any of their chamber's any time soon, she thought mournfully.

"Ser, where are you taking me? Is this quite proper?" She asked and hoped no servants would observe them on their journey.

"I know this is quite irregular, my lady, but you will want to see what I have to show you."

He repeated his words without stopping to turn back to her. His voice quivered, and she could hear his breath was heavy in his chest. What is wrong with him? Why would he be acting this way?

She had a thought to steal herself away without a sound, returning upstairs unnoticed until he reached his destination. By that time she would have conversed with one of the servants and had his room searched by guards. Whatever it was he had in there surely had to be offensive and unsuitable for ladies, even criminal. She could not afford to be wrapped up in some kind of ghastly scheme. Her heart fluttered in her throat as they came upon the small wooden doorway to his chamber, but she was surprised that there was no grisly feeling of dread swelling in her gut.

Instead, she could smell the musty scent of the earthen floor and sweetness of mulled wine. There was the sound of the quick crackle of a good fire. The warmth radiated at the doorway, and bright candle light flickered. She knew the presence she felt as soon as she stood in the corridor. It was him. The ghost she knew all along would torment her forever.