Ambers || Jacaerys Velaryon

34. Miara

Miara lies awake, her body desperate for rest after days without it, yet the absence of Jace's familiar presence across the hall unsettles her. It's not only his company she misses; it's the reassurance of his safety. She could have joined him and the others for a drink, but doubts her presence would have been truly welcome, and she knows better than to let ale cloud her mind around him.

Unable to stay still, she slips out of the Guest House, hoping Winterfell's quiet might soothe her. She heads toward the library tower to read away her unease but pauses when movement in the courtyard catches her eye. A lone figure walks in the night-- Sara, carrying a tray of steaming food, heading northward. Miara considers calling out, hoping to share a moment of her time, if she could spare it, but something stops her.

Sara moves cautiously, glancing over her shoulder repeatedly as if worried about being followed. Curiosity and concern stir within Miara, and she decides to trail after Sara to ensure her safety, mindful of how her own shadow stretches under the moonlight, careful not to let it betray her presence.

Sara unknowingly leads her to the First Keep's courtyard, pausing beneath the archway that opens into Winterfell's crypts. Miara watches as she fumbles with the chains binding the doors, inching closer to see more clearly. In her haste, however, her boot nudges a discarded arrow, sending it clattering across the stones. She reacts instinctively, ducking behind a stack of target bales, muscles tense. She'd followed out of concern, but there's something about Sara's secrecy that tells her hiding was the wiser choice.

Holding her breath, Miara listens, waiting as Sara goes still, listening as well.

After a long, tense moment, she hears the soft jingle of keys and the scrape of heavy chains. She holds her position for another beat before peeking out, finding Sara gone and iron chains in her place. Her pulse quickens at the sight. Those crypts are sacred-- a hallowed resting place for the Starks. What business would a servant have here, especially with food?

Determined to find out, Miara pushes through the partially open doors. A faint glow of firelight flickers from below, guiding her down a narrow spiral staircase. As she descends, the air grows colder, thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient earth. She moves slowly, avoiding loose stones and cracked steps that might give her away, even if it takes more time than she'd like.

As Sara's light fades around a bend, Miara hurries down to that level, pausing in the cover of the staircase to watch Sara's faint glow drifting through an abyss. Sara moves along the dark tunnel, the walls on either side lined with alcoves-- graves awaiting their dead. When she's far enough ahead, Miara follows, her pace still deliberate as she watches from a distance. Sara soon stops at one of the openings where a lone lantern flickers overhead. 

Muffled voices drift from the passage, echoing faintly. Edging closer, Miara catches snippets of a conversation-- bitter, resentful words about Cregan spilling from a man's lips. Her curiosity only grows; who would dare speak so boldly against Lord Stark within his own holdfast?

Peeking around the corner, Miara finds Sara standing at the threshold of a barred cell. Inside, three men are bound by shackles at their wrists and ankles, their chains tethered to their cage. The eldest is nearly Roderick's age, while the two younger ones seem closer to her own, with narrow faces and hollowed cheeks that lend them a haunted, almost ghostly appearance. The darkness has seeped into them, leaving them pallid and frail.

Pressing herself against the damp stone wall, Miara strains to catch more of their low conversation. What she hears chills her more than any northern wind.

"You could help us," one of the younger men whispers.

Sara's voice trembles. "How?"

"One letter, sweet Sara," the eldest coaxes, his tone unnaturally gentle-- manipulative. "A simple message to Aegon, telling him the truth of what's happening here with Jacaerys and Cregan. You could carry it south yourself."