Chapter Text
Sansa had left her husband at their table, desperate for peace and quiet, as she had informed him. The grief was still so strong, the news of her younger brothers' deaths shaking her heart so ferociously, but now Robb and mother too? She could not stand to look at anyone, knowing that her emotions were so obvious on her face, struggling to conceal just how much pain she was in. And she had no desire to receive false sympathy from a Lannister, no matter that he may be slightly better than the others she was surrounded by.
Walking as quickly, but as unnoticeable, as she possibly could, Sansa entered the mockery of a Godswood. The tall hedges hid her from view, which meant she was able to start properly breaking down.
Falling to her knees before the fake Weirwood, Sansa pressed her hands to her mouth as she sobbed, shoulders shaking, her whole body a fit of despair. Why was the world so cruel!? Why does death seem to follow her? Why was it always her family, and never her? Why did she continue to live, even with the threat of death still looming above her, and they didn't?
The desperate confusion and agony continued to circle her mind as she cried, wishing she had the true privacy to scream, but that would only summon more people to stare and jeer at her for her mourning. Instead, she kept one hand firmly clenched over her mouth to trap the wail as her other hand drifted to her stomach, digging thin fingers in to cause pain. She needed to feel grounded as her emotions threatened to sweep her away.
However, in between one hitched breath and the next gasp, struggling for air, a strange sound began to pulse through the Godswood. Stumbling to her feet, fear rising in her chest at the noise, Sansa turned in place, searching the area around her, to only freeze. In one corner, some large object was fading into view, in time with the pulsing, thrumming sound. Grief momentarily forgotten, Sansa gaped as the large blue construct gave one last wheezing, scraping gasp, as it settled in place with a deep thump.
Sansa could only stand and stare. Nothing came to mind, on what she had just witnessed. No past experiences in her life could give her the knowledge on what this blue constructed hut could be, nor how she was supposed to react to it just appearing out of nowhere. Was she meant to call for guards? Was she meant to run screaming?
Against all instincts, Sansa took a cautious step closer. There were words on the tall thing, perhaps it would shed light onto the situation and it's purpose. As she got closer, one hesitant step at a time, Sansa was close enough to peer at the words written in different places on the thing.
Some of them did not make any sense. She had no idea what 'Telephone' or 'Police' meant, but the other words struck some cord within her fragile heart.
'Advice and assistance obtainable immediately.'
'Respond to all calls.'
'Pull to open.'
In her mind, it rang as an offering to help. But as she tilted her head back, taking in it's deep blue colouring, Sansa was just completely confused on not only how it appeared before her, but how it could help. She took an inquisitive turn around the construct. It was no bigger than a storage cupboard, or perhaps a privy.
Scrunching her nose in bewilderment, when she came back to the front, Sansa read the sign once more, and then took a deep breath.
Her siblings always said she was boring and Arya accused her of being a coward a few times in the past. Sansa from the past would've run and sought out an authority figure immediately, trusting them to solve the problem at hand. But her siblings? What would have Robb or Arya or Jon have done, if this construct had appeared before them?
They would've opened the door, Sansa concluded.
Swallowing hard, Sansa took a glance behind her, as if expecting someone to come running to stop her, before turning to face the front once more, and pushed the door open.
It's bigger on the inside.
That was Sansa's first distant thought, as she stepped through the door, pausing just past the threshold. The lighting was yellow and cyan, but dim, with circles of light on the walls, and her mind could not comprehend how the candles behind them did not flicker or go out without any air flow.
She took another step further in. Under her feet, the floor was metal. There was so much metal around her, she had never seen anything built with metal to this degree. Her mouth and tongue were dry from the way she was steadily gaping at the interior of the construct.
Long strands of thin tubular things were draped over railings or strewn across the floor. In honesty, it was a bit of a mess in this strange metal place.
There was an odd humming sound that was coming from...the walls? Or was it the floor? Where could it be coming from? All around her?
Peering around some more, her eyes settled on the middle of the...room. A large circular desk of some kind, with more small impossible lights upon it. There was a massive glass tube in the middle of that, reaching up to the cavernous ceiling.
It was all just so...impossible!
“What are you doing on my ship?”
The voice that barked out in the construct had Sansa jumping attention snapping to the man that appeared from the other side of the circular table and glass column. Hand flying to her chest, heart beating rapidly, Sansa stuttered out, “I'm- I'm so sorry! I saw the- the sign on the door...” She trailed off, pointing helplessly back at the entrance, hoping that would be a good explanation. Her mind was stopping and stalling like a lame horse, barely moving and getting anywhere in terms of thoughts and conclusions.
The man had closely cut dark hair, tall and imposing, especially in the dark clothing he wore. He approached her and Sansa couldn't help the instinctive step back. This was such a terrible idea, she never should've let her siblings possible decisions lead her into the unknown like this! Now there was an angered, strange man, and she was far from any possible help.
However, at her minor retreat, the man paused in his approach. Eyes piercing as they seemed to stare straight into her soul, the man then looked over her shoulder back at the door. “Get out.”
Sansa nearly did so. But the sign. The sign was the first bit of hope she's had in a long time.
“It says you offer assistance.” Sansa broached, taking a hesitant step closer.
“Well I'm not.”
At his curt response, desperation welled up in her chest. “Do you want me to beg?” She rushed out, coming to the edge of the circle of railings that surrounded the middle table. At said table, the man's back was to her, and she watched him tense at her words. “Because I will, ser. I am...in dire need of assistance. I don't know who you are, or what this place is...but if there is anything you could do to help me, I'm begging you-”
“I have no need of your begging.”
Sansa's mouth snapped closed, ignoring how her eyes had begun to burn during her plead for help. Glancing over his shoulder, the man stared for a long moment before facing away once more, with a deep exhale. Then, he stalked around the table, touching different items and pulling a small metal board of some sort out. It was attached to a hinge and she watched him gaze at it, fearsome face deep in thought.
“Planetos.” He muttered to himself, before scoffing, shaking his head as he added, “Not imaginative of name, but I've heard worse.” Then he looked to her once more.
“Where are we? The TARDIS was in need of repairs and I dropped it on the closest non-hostile planet.”
Not all of the things he had said made sense, but Sansa tried her best to answer, cautiously taking more steps closer as she quickly dashed the drying tears on her cheeks. “Westeros, ser. You're in the Red Keep's gardens.”
“The Red Keep?”
Sansa was beginning to think this man was from somewhere very far away, and elaborated to the best of her abilities as if he was a foreigner of these lands. “It's the royal castle, of our current king in Westeros, King Joffrey Baratheon. The Red Keep is within the capital city, King's Landing. Which is of the Crownlands. Westeros is made of Seven Kingdoms, having been conquered by the Targaryen Dynasty a little over two hundred years ago.” She took a quick breath, heart still rabbiting under the silent stare of the man. “Shall I go on?”
“Any chance more of your people will be coming through those doors?” He blandly asked.
Pursing her lips, Sansa thought about it, before shaking her head. “I spend some hours here a day, if I can. They won't come looking for me in the Godswood, and it's very secluded.”
“Good.” He grunted, focusing on the metal table, touching more strange instruments and tools. Now standing next to it, Sansa couldn't really comprehend just what she was seeing, so strange that it was.
“Well,” He snapped, and Sansa whipped her head back to him once more. “Why do you need my help?”
“I'm a prisoner.” She quickly explained. “The king- I was betrothed to him, but- I don't know how to tell you everything.” Her mind was buzzing with confusion, Sansa struggled to grasp for coherency. “He killed my father, named him a traitor, when I know my father wasn't one! I even begged Joffrey for mercy, and he said he would grant him clemency, but he lied!. I- I watched him have my father's head cut off, and my brother was crowned king over our kingdom, the North, and they went to war. My family-” Here, Sansa choked up, the recent news of her brother and mother's death so raw that she couldn't finish her explanation.
However, she didn't wish to irritate the man with her lack of emotional control, and took a sharp, hitching breath in, forcing her words out once more. “My home has been taken over by traitors, I don't have anywhere to go, but I just want to be free of this place!”
“I'm not fighting any war for you.” His words were touched with a dark tone, and there was a split second of a far away glaze to them, and Sansa had a momentarily realisation that maybe he had fought his own war of some sort, where ever he was from, before his focus came back, as he continued sharply, “I can drop you somewhere, but I'm not-”
“I don't know where I could go, that would be safe.” Sansa whispered, feeling more miserable by the second. “Any lords or houses that were loyal to my family, I don't know who I could trust. The Boltons were meant to me a loyal house to my family, but they-”
She cut herself off, and a silence fell over them. It was thick with tension, only the hum of the construct filling the air. Then, the man dropped his head with a heavy sigh, before asking her quietly, “How old are you?”
Fists clenching into the skirts of her dress, Sansa answered truthfully, “Twelve, ser.”
There was a muttering of some words, in a language she was not familiar with, but the tone and inflection of them sounded like a curse. He pushed away from the table and came around to stand before her. Sansa's insides froze at the stranger being so close to her. She's only had guards, maids, and enemies near her, no one else was allowed to get close to the Stark girl. Margaery had been the closest to a friend, but she dropped Sansa as soon as she got what she wanted out of her. When was the last time she had someone she truly trusted near her? It was Jeyne, before she was taken.
Swallowing thickly around her fear and maudlin thoughts, Sansa gazed up at the man, marveling privately at his height. He truly was a terrifying looking man. And curious ears...
“What's your name.” He asked next.
Snapping out of her observations, she answered quickly, “Sansa Stark, ser. May I know yours?”
“Call me The Doctor.” Was his response, and Sansa carefully did not mention how that was not a name, but a title of some sort.
Curiosity took over her fear as she wondered, “What is a doctor?”
With wry twitch to his lips, the man – The Doctor – replied, “Someone who helps.”
“Then it is certainly a fitting title for you, ser.” Was Sansa's cautious compliment.
He snorted, not rudely, but there was a hint of self-deprecation to his expression as he moved away from her once more. “We aren't going anywhere for now, I need to fix the TARDIS. For now, you can explore. Anything dangerous and the ship will keep you away from it.”
The thought of going somewhere with an unknowing danger lurking nearby almost made her think that perhaps she won't have a wander, as the man suggested she could do. But something he had said caught her attention, as she watched him duck under the desk and pull out a metal grating from bellow. “This is a vessel for travel then?”
He hopped down, but poked his head back out, a wide grin on his face, transforming the terrifying visage to one of childlike glee, “Oh, it can go anywhere, anywhen, you want it to.” Before popping his head back down and out of sight.
Sansa blinked, befuddled, and then jumped when sharp sounds came from the hole the Doctor disappeared into. It reminded her of the smithy, the sparks coming off of metal as it was hammered by the blacksmith.
Stepping away from it all, Sansa glanced over her shoulder at the door once more, and did not want to leave. Everything in here was some kind of magic and impossible, and it felt far better than what she knew that laid beyond those wooden doors. She decided to brave the unknown and take the Doctor's suggestion of wandering.
Peering around the long glass tube towards the opening on the other side of the room, Sansa glanced once more at where the loud sounds were coming from, and began to cautiously make her way around the table and down the stairs. Peeking around the open way, Sansa saw two hallways, branching to the right and left. Sansa had a feeling there were more corners past them, and she had a sinking feeling that this place would be like a maze.
However, Winterfell had been purposefully created to confuse the unfamiliar, and she grew up navigating her home, so she could certainly do the same with this... ship.
“Oddest ship I've ever seen.” Sansa whispered to herself, and decided to take a right. The humming continued even past the front cavernous space, and decided it was from the entire ship. Though the source of it was unknown to her.
Pausing after walking some feet down the corridor, a strange idea came to mind and Sansa placed her ear to the metal wall, closing her eyes. She focused, and listened.
The steady hum wasn't the only sound, there was more as different chords in the undertone of the hum, her music lessons coming to mind. And there was a pulse of some sort a steady beat of life. Four beats, before short pause, then a repeat of the pattern.
It was alive.
That was her first absurd thought, but if this was a magic ship that could appear out of thin air, then why could it not be alive? It was bigger on the inside and filled with impossible candles after all. Peeling away from the wall, Sansa glanced up, and asked softly, “Are you alive?”
The steady hum continued, along with the four note beat, softer now that she wasn't pressed against the wall. Sansa bit her lip, “Do you have a name? What was it...” She mumbled to herself, wracking her memory. “Oh! Tardis?”
To her musically tuned ears, she picked up on a higher hum for a short moment, and smiled to herself. “Was that a yes?”
The same note.
“It's certainly an unusual name by the standards of where I am from. But it sounds lovely to me. I'm sure it's a very strong name.”
The only thing stopping her from questioning her sanity was the answering hum before it went back to the steady, continuous chord once more. Sansa decided to deem that hum as the ship's blood, forever flowing and in motion. There was then the pulse that she heard, which she deemed to be the ship's heart. The chords that responded must be the ship's voice.
With a satisfied nod at having come to that conclusion, Sansa continued on her exploration, leaving a hand on the wall to trail along, her other hand holding up her lengthy skirt so as to not step on the hem.
As she wandered, poking into rooms when the doors opened – they slid to the side! How peculiar! And with no one to move them either, truly a magic ship – Sansa contemplated on where she should go, where could the Doctor take her. It was a trail of thought filled with grey clouds and blistering cold winds, desolate. Sansa thought of her Aunt Lysa, but she had never met the woman, and from what news she had heard of the war, she never sent any soldiers to help Robb. Sansa did not know if the woman could be trusted to help her because of that, so she dashed that possibility away.
There was always the Wall with Jon, but how in the name of the Seven could they possibly help her? And the song of Brave Danny Flint had her fearful of going to a place that did such horrible things to a girl. It was full of criminals, even with her half-brother being there to possibly keep her safe. The Wall was not the solution either. Besides, she would just be plain miserable, and then that would of no help to anybody.
The Riverlands was sacked and in ruins, and she did not know which of her mother's family members lived, if any did. The North, Sansa had already said to the Doctor, was filled with uncertainty. Winterfell taken by the Boltons, she did not know whose loyalty laid where. The Starks held the Northern houses' deference for centuries, that it being broken had shaken Sansa, just as it must have shaken the foundations of the North. That could be stepping to her death, if she tried seeking help from any of the Northern lords.
Besides, they would soon enough try and marry her off for their own gain, and Sansa had no desire to be married just so that she could be safe. Nor be married to anyone in general, right now. She was very much sick of married life currently, thank you very much.
Even though she knew it very well by now, it still hurt to think that decency and kindness were only the things of songs and stories. No one did anything without any ulterior motive in reality.
A door to her left slid open, startling Sansa from her dark thoughts. Peering into it cautiously, the girl felt her face break into a wide, astonished smile at the sight beyond.
Clothes. Clothes overflowing from drawers, falling off hangers, and littering the floor. Piles and stacks and mounds of just... clothes! A tangle of delight and nervous glee wrapped in her chest, deciding that this would be a fun room to explore.
The door hissed shut behind her, but Sansa paid no attention to it as a bright fluffy article of clothing caught her eye immediately, and from there, Sansa found herself skipping and digging around through fabric and shoes. Such strange cuts, some pieces had, where others appeared more familiar to what she knew. There was a mixed of male and female clothes, odd for a ship of just one man, but perhaps he's had passengers in the past.
As she dived into exploring, feeling lighter for the first time in ages, a new noise came into existence. From the walls, or the ceiling, like the hum, but...different somehow. It was first a quick tapping beat on something metal, before a deep sound followed. It took a few seconds of listening, bewildered, before a voice began to...sing?
Music.
The most oddest music she had ever heard, but the beat was hypnotic and it had been so long since she had danced! To the strange music, Sansa twirled in time and finally plucked up the pink thing that first caught her eye. It was a long strand of fluffy feathers – though what bird would have such a colouring, she could not say – like a scarf, and decided to wrap it around herself.
Smiling – and spluttering bits of fluff from her mouth – Sansa found an outrageous skirt next, thin but with many layers, making it poof up. It was of ridiculously bright colours of orange and yellow and Sansa laughed as she wiggled it about in her hands, fluffing it up. From there, she found wood shoes, large and uncomfortable when she put them on, but they clunked amusingly, and barely noticed when the song faded into another one, just as queer and unique as the first, but it kept her mood lifted for the first time in a year, so Sansa did not care.
Jackets that shone like gold and silver, long drapey dresses that she decided to tug on, leaving the purple one she had worn previously on the ground. It was over-sized and ill-fitting, but the skirts flared magnificently as she spun on the spot. The wooden shoes were not the best for dancing however, and she stumbled over into a pile of more clothes, laughing brightly.
A cloak that seemed to have captured stars on it's dark fabric, and she swung that over her shoulders, spinning some more, spirit truly lifted now. It became a haze of clothes and music, and Sansa hadn't smiled to the point of aching cheeks since she and Jeyne had been nine and played a prank on Robb and Theon. She had no idea how long she had been in the room, feeling the hum of the ship under her feet and delightful songs in her ears, but she stumbled to a stop when the door hissed open.
The Doctor stood there, and appeared surprised. With the purple wide brimmed hat she had donned, the pink feather scarf still tossed over her shoulders, she must look a riot of a mess. The odd dark coverings for her eyes were quickly pulled of, realising that she had been invading the man's closest, an apology on her tongue.
“I'm so sorry, ser! I just-”
However, the man just gave a chuckle, stepping into the room, head bobbing to the song that continued to play over it. “The TARDIS loves Earth's music.”
Sliding the hat off her head, Sansa cocked her head to the side, heart beat relaxing when she spotted no anger or mockery on his face. “Earth?”
“Another planet, with humans like you. Though, far more advance at this point. But, I suppose that depends on the perspective and what point in time you are.” He replied nonchalantly, wandering over a rack of hooks and pulling off an insanely long knitted scarf of many blocks of colours. He wrapped it three times around himself with familiarity on how to work with it's ridiculous length, and pulled on his own pair of eye coverings.
From the ship, the music faded into a new song. It was more of that same instrument she had picked up from the previous songs, some kind of string instrument, like a lute but not. It was fast, like all the others, and the Doctor did a strange walk towards her, his shoulders shimming before doing a fast turn and holding out am inviting hand.
“Shall we?” He grinned at her.
Baffled but not willing to let her happy mood slip away, Sansa slipped her hand into his, and yelped as he whipped her around into a spin. The best way she could describe the dancing, was as a Northern jig, but it was messy, uncoordinated and had to many arms flailing about. It was a dance without structure, and her Septa would've been aghast. However it was the best fun Sansa has had in ages, and mirrored some of his moves. She particularly liked the one where they did that shoulder shimmy, leaning into one another and then back to the beat.
Who knew such a serious looking man could be this silly.
When Sansa became out of breath from all the activity and laughter, she stumbled to a halt and collapsed onto a different pile of clothes. The Doctor followed her down, onto the first pile she had fallen into, across from her.
Panting, Sansa continued to smile as she announced, “That is some of the best music I've ever heard.”
He chuckled, tilting his hand from side to side, “Eh, give your world maybe five more centuries, and they'll come up with something beyond ballads and sung poems.”
Giggling, Sansa flopped back and wondered out loud, “This ship is pure magic.”
An amused scoff. “It's science, not magic. Dimensional science, really.”
Craning her head up to give him a bewildered stare, Sansa then shook her head resolutely, letting it fall back again. “Magic. This cannot be science. Not of the science I've heard of the maesters practicing.”
“Yeah, well your people are still primitive. I bet they still use leeches for medicine.”
Making a face, Sansa admitted, “Yes, they do...”
“My point exactly.”
At his smug tone, Sansa resisted rolling her eyes, as that was rude. And she may have broken many protocols of decorum, playing in the man's wardrobe no matter how amendable he was about it, but she was not going roll her eyes.
There was a peaceful lull, and the music faded back into that ever present hum of the ships blood. In that moment, the Doctor asked, “Where do you want to go? The TARDIS is all ready to travel now.”
Sitting up, Sansa wrapped her arms around her knees, still wearing that ill-fitting dress over her corset and under things, the girl admitted, “I don't know. I've thought up all the possibilities, and short of just being dropped in the middle of Braavos or Essos, I have no where to go...”
A child without family or a home. An orphan, that was what she was now. Tears wished to flow freely again, and Sansa sniffled, forcing them back.
A tired sigh. “I'm not in a good state right now.” The Doctor spoke up, dragging Sansa's eyes from the floor over to him. He looked exhausted, like the world was weighing down on his back. “I can't promise to not get mad but I won't harm you, if you want to come with me.”
“Where are you going?” Sansa broached carefully.
He shrugged, “Anywhere I want to. Places to go, things to see. Might take a visit to some of my old favourites.”
Biting lightly on her inner cheek in thought, Sansa nodded slowly. “You won't hurt me?”
Her words came out tinny and fragile, more than she would've liked, but the man did not appear to judge her for it. In fact, it made his expression soften, giving a firm nod as the Doctor vowed, “We might get into dangerous situations, as danger tends to follow me around, but I won't hurt you. And I'll do everything I can, to keep you safe.”
Sansa recalled Joffery having promised something similar at one point, when he gave her that necklace. Could she trust this strange man in a magic ship to not betray her? To not raise a hand to her? Then, she thought of their dancing, and she could not imagine any man wanting to hurt her, lowering themselves to such foolishness for the sake of manipulation.
Under her, the ship hummed, and she picked out that higher chord, that short second of a note, and decided she actually must be mad, for trusting a magic ship.
With a deep breath in – truly marveling at her mad decision – Sansa nodded. “Alright. I'll come with you.”
A wide grin split his face, boyish glee present once more. “Fantastic!”