"A stream?" She stifled a girlish chuckle. Not because she was embarrassed by it, but because stifling her honest emotions was like second nature. "I haven't ventured beyond her towers, but the Eyrie has no streams nearby. Father tells me the castle taps into an old mountain spring and the water is diverted into some cistern or another -- I do not know where that is."

Sansa woke and water appeared. Occasionally, when the small household was to occupied with other things, she had to find someone to bring water to her. "I'll have someone prepare a bath."

She once thought the Eyrie would be a cold stone prison of its own, especially in Winter. That prospect was beginning to change.