The Songs of Winter | Robb Stark

Chapter 20

Carlisle Umber

Lying on the small bed, I toss and turn, the events of the day replaying in my mind like a relentless tide. Sleep eludes me, thoughts swirling in my head constantly, each memory a sharp reminder of our precarious situation.

The room is dimly lit by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the small window, casting soft shadows that dance against the wooden walls. I glance over at Rickon, sound asleep on the other bed, his small frame rising and falling gently with each breath. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to relax, the steady rhythm of his breathing providing a calming balm to my own restless heart.

But then, a sound pierces the stillness—a muffled sob. I sit up slowly, straining to hear more clearly, hoping it's just a figment of my imagination. Yet, the soft, heartbreaking sound continues, pulling at something deep within me. My pulse quickens as I realize it's coming from Sansa's room.

Carefully, I slip out of bed, the floorboards creaking softly under my weight. I glance back at Rickon, reassured by his peaceful slumber, then tiptoe toward the door. My hand rests on the doorknob, uncertainty gnawing at me. Should I check on her?

The sobs grow slightly louder, more distinct, and with a sense of urgency, I push the door open. The hallway is shrouded in darkness, the only light spilling from beneath Sansa's door. I move quietly, each step deliberate, my heart heavy with concern.

Pausing outside her door, I gather my thoughts.
After all she's endured, it's no surprise that the weight of her past might crush her at night, away from the distractions of the day.

With a gentle push, I open the door a crack. The sight before me tugs at my heart. Sansa sits on the edge of her bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks. The moonlight illuminates her face, highlighting the pain etched in her features, casting her in a ghostly glow.

Without thinking, I step inside, closing the door behind me. "Sansa?" I whisper, my voice barely above a murmur.

She looks up, startled, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "Carlisle..." Her voice is thick with emotion, a mix of surprise and vulnerability as her sobs continue to wrack through her body.

I reach out, resting a comforting hand on her back. "Breathe," I urge gently, my thumb moving in small circles to soothe her.

Sansa follows my lead, focusing on her breathing until the tension in her body begins to ease. With each passing moment, she relaxes further, her shoulders dropping as she closes her eyes, exhaustion etched across her features.

In the quiet of the room, our breathing synchronizes, offering a momentary respite from the night's turmoil.

Finally, I break the silence with a soft-spoken question, my voice a gentle murmur in the darkness. "What happened?"

She sniffles and shakes her head. "Night terror."

"Do you often suffer from night terrors?" I ask, concern lacing my words.

Sansa runs a trembling hand through her hair, her nod barely perceptible. "You should go back to bed Carlisle. I'm sorry for waking you."

I hesitate, reluctant to leave her alone in her distress. It's evident she's too proud to ask for company, yet her vulnerability tugs at my heart. After a moment of contemplation, I nod quietly and take a step back from the bedside.

"Try to get some sleep," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just call out if you need anything."

"Carlisle," she says softly, a hint of resignation in her voice.