"Some aggressive words were exchanged." The air was rife with excitement, but the advisor didn't understand how a man could be excited over an argument with his family.

"I was there, I heard everything."

"Yes, but you weren't part of the argument." Sam continued to explain a talk which had happened an hour before. "And finally he negotiated that he could return south and fight from his stronghold-"

"-All pomp so your father doesn't feel slighted." Davos concluded, the Tarlys were proud, and Jon had learnt to use the pride positively, and not to spite. "The King did very well."

"And I got to keep Heartsbane, and my secret weapons..."

"Loan of Heartsbane." The older gent corrected, watching the man wave the prized sword like it was some toy. "I don't believe Lord Tarly planned for you to keep it, the negotiation was an unstable one. He probably thinks the plight is a fantasy, and he'd get back the sword once everybody becomes disillusioned with the idea. A bit of a risk, I'd never let that sword of my sight."

"Well that's why my brother is sticking around a bit longer." Sam added, and his companion shifted uncomfortably.

"Aye." The advisor recalled what the younger man had said earlier. " Secret weapons?..."

"Well it's no secret, it's a special type of glass -Oh look, the Queen's coming." Sam nudged in the direction of the tower stairwell. Sansa was being chaperoned by a maidservant. Sansa always had a gift when it came to composure, so if she had done something different the night before, and noon, she could carry on as normal. Though Sam hadn't known her for long, he noticed her resting facial expression was anxious, she looked anxious at that very moment, talking to her maidservant. No one would have ever known this woman had been bedded by a King. "Look...stairwell...there."

Davos nodded. "So she is, she is glowing." They both seemed to hum. "I think she is carrying." And it was obvious what he meant.

"I bet you..." The young man became sly. "He'll notice her."

The advisor shrugged. "So?" He clasped his hands in front of him. "Why shouldn't he?" The young man was a little dim. "If he does, he does, it's actually certain he'll notice her, I don't think he's going to stop his little training session."

"We shall see." Sam said that in a wise foreboding manner, that made the older gent smile. "Half a groat, says he'll stall, 1 groat says he'll stop the session all together."

Davos blinked up at the heavens, before turning on his friend. They were supposed to be working. "You don't get two chances, mate, you get one guess, and besides- what if he stalls the session for another reason, other than his wife?- Am I to hand over my cash for a mere technicality?"

The portly gent bit the inside of his cheek. "Fine, he interrupts the session completely because of his wife, 1 groat."

"And I gain a groat if he doesn't?" The advisor insinuated. "Even if he stalls the session for something else?" And his companion nodded, the older man sighed in resignation. "We should be working."

"This is work, I monitor the well-being of the King and Queen."

"You're trying to make money out of them." His friend corrected, imploring him to see they weren't doing anything worthwhile.

"Paid work, Ser, paid work...hehe." Sam leant on the beam. He avidly watched Sansa talk to the maid, gesturing delicately at different walkways. She had become a proper mistress of the household."Come on...carry on walking."

Davos looked shrewdly at the man before him, it occurred to him he was trying to magically influence the Queen to walk into Jon's line of sight. "If she had heard that you would be in trouble, and...cheating." He found the whole scenario funny, a man trying to win a bet by doing nothing but observe and do an open commentary. "She's busy, he's busy."

Sam rapped his fingers on the beam. "Come on, down the hall...yes, she's moving." He was gleeful as Sansa dismissed the maid and began walking down the external corridor that led onto the courtyard. "She's on the earth." He pointed at the mud, he furtively looked at Davos, then back to the yard. Jon was talking with a mighty shield in his grasp, he was in lecture mode, and certainly wasn't stopping. "Put the damn shield down." The portly bookworm chuntered, as Sansa crossed the outskirts of the yard, within 30ft of the King, who was talking animatedly.

The advisor grinned. "She's not even going to him. I don't even think she knows he's there, they're both oblivious." He watched Sansa continue to trudge through the mud, her petticoats becoming hemmed with dirt, Podrick appeared at her side, and they were walking in sync to the battlements, until he veered off to the side as if following a command.

Sam sighed heavily. "Gods, you'd think he'd sense her presence."

"Maybe he does and he's not doing anything about it, he's busy. Do you expect him to wave like some fool?" The older man turned his back on the scene with his arms folded. "Perhaps the consummation has calmed him down? Purged him of lust."

Sam stared off at the gradual undoing of his prediction, and said goodbye to his bet. "I think you might be right...they're like a normal married couple, devoid of passion and interest. The duty has been done and..." Davos noted Sam stare profoundly at the battlements. "Hello...what have we here?" Davos listened. "Sansa can see him, she went up there for a better view." He had a snarky tone, and was very gleeful.

The advisor swivelled and saw Sansa leaning on some fencing heavily, looking down into the pit. Her hair was spilled over one shoulder, busts resting on her folded arms that were supporting her weight on the fence. "The bet wasn't about Sansa looking." He argued, getting a nervous tickle in his throat when he saw the Queen play with her hair in full view of everyone.

The maestor gestured at the object of their bet. "You'd have to be mad not to see that, look at what she is doing?"

"Yes, I see it." He eyed the King in the courtyard. He was still busy, still doing his little demonstration, and Jon indicated to one of the squires and goaded him in sparring. "Thank heavens."

"I believe...He is trying to impress his lady."

"Nope, he was going to spar anyway. But even so..." He raised two fingers to list the things that went against his bet. "He didn't stall, or abandon training for her." He noted Sansa doing a rocking motion, emphasising bust. Oh lords, he shouldn't be looking! "He can't see a thing, or he doesn't care." They watched the display, both Jon's fighting, and Sansa being... titillating. Jon was fiercely defending himself against the sparring swords, doing elaborate and unnecessary manoeuvres- reminiscent of water dancing. Davos was concerned, this was Jon showing off. He could definitely see her...maybe. He wasn't sure if Sam had figured it out, he might think the session was a normal session. Jon did a little swagger as he circled the armed squire.

"Gods be good, it's like being at castle black all over again." The young man leaned further forward, the move attracted the attention of the Queen and he straightened, as did she. As if they had both been caught out. "Bugger, I think she knows we're looking."

Davos was craftily looking another way, and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "She thinks you're looking, I on the other hand am not."

"She's stopped shimmying." Sam said while averting his eyes, he made it sound ominous and important. "She knows we know." Sansa flicked her cape shut and walked off. "No no no." The portly man turned his back. "You don't think she's mad, do you?- Maybe a little embarrassed...if she was you know." He did a suggestive rub with his hands.

"Don't be daft...And never do that again." The advisor then saw something in the corner of his eye. Oh hells. Jon was on the move, he had handed his shield over to another squire, and was dismissing himself, to rush off. "Threatening skies overhead." He was attempting to keep the younger gent's attention away from the courtyard. He craftily spotted The King going in the direction Sansa had gone. Davos gestured at the skies. "That's a thunder storm rolling in."

"Maybe, it won't affect..." Sam turned to look down into the yard. "What the-?" His friend kept his face devoid of worry. "Did he leave?!" the former member of the night's watch scoured the scenery, surprised, before a triumphant lilt came to his voice. "Hm...interesting, they are both nowhere to be found." A cheeky smile adorned his face.

"Actually you missed a manservant coming to collect him." He lied, his face as serious as the day was long. "It didn't look urgent."

"If it was, you'd be there as well." The younger man was sceptical.

Sansa walked as fast as she could down the external corridor, she sensed she was being followed, her steps were in time with her rapid heartbeat. It wasn't as if she was trying to escape, well maybe... the situation was weird...she just didn't like being watched. She hadn't done anything wrong! She ascended the stairwell and stopped to look back around, after a moment, Jon filled the bottom space, looking up at her expectantly. "Yes?"

That was her husband that had spoken, not her, though she would have said the same. "You followed me." Sansa had little earnest in her voice, after all, her husband had obviously left a training session to seek her out. Perhaps it was...? A whistle broke her thought process, and the Queen looked down to see him creeping up the stairs, whistling at her like she was a dog. Bringing her to heel?

She gave him a defiant look and carried on to her destination. Where was she going? Sansa turned into the library, her story was long overdue an ending- and she had the perfect end. Jon was in hot pursuit. The King inspected the immediate area as she came to a table, he appeared to be checking and listening out for other occupants. For some reason- this excited her. She took her cape off, in order to hang on the back of a chair, Jon finished off the job for her, and she noted he looked dead set on staying. Not that she would complain. "You are actually going to do a bit of reading?" She was condescending and her tune changed when he pulled out a chair. "Oh, how nice." She was about to sit in it, when he suddenly slunk into it- and she ended up on his lap. "Oh...really now, I feel like a tavern wench...again."

He bounced her, he was in one of those playful moods, though when wasn't he in a playful mood? But the vibe was different, she wasn't a nervous wreck about it. He was staring at her bust jolting with his bouncing knee, so they were moving at his will. He whistled again.

"You aren't taking away the tavern ambience." She oozed and he stalled whistling to smile up at her. "Can't you be moody, like you use to be?"

His whistling was good, very jovial and cheerful. What was he playing at? So Sansa humoured him, she pressed into his front, curling up, to engage him, with her smile dripping with mirth. Her hand came up to finger the edges of his beard, and she circled his pursed lips, she nearly dipped her finger into his orifice. The proximity of her finger caused the whistling to stop.

"I knew you had a craving." He rumbled, looking into her eyes with an uncontrollable amount of intent, his arm circled to encase her.

"Craving?- I came to the library, I crave writing."

"You came to the courtyard to watch me train." He fingered her sleeves, probing the embroidery. "To see me in action...again, to get some action for yourself...again." His eyes drooped as he set his sights on her mouth. "Just ask." He whispered, puffing warm air onto her mouth.

"It's daytime." That wasn't a valid argument.

Jon shrugged at her. "We could bolt the door." That rumble was intoxicating.

"The library doesn't have a bolt." A meekness creeping into her voice.

The King simply smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then we shall be quick and quiet."

She shoved against him. "You would take your Queen in a library?!"

"Anywhere...anytime."

Sansa expected him to wink, and he didn't. Though he wasn't good a winking. "I'm not risking that...you're only thinking this way because your blood is up, you've been sparring." She tried to get up, but he had her like a vice, he jostled her back against him. "Jon!"

"I wish you could see the fire in your eyes." Her husband began, looking very arrogant at his wife's defiance."You spurned me, again, you tempt me with your wiggles and smiles-"

She felt a flutter, he had noticed."-That's what men see, women aren't actually doing that, they are merely living."

The king laughed, it fed the Queen's soul. "You were after my attention, now ask me."

She took a breath. "We can canoodle." She deliberated in a clinical way, that didn't give away her longing.

"I'll take it." He nodded in accordance. "But ask me properly...and nicely."

Sansa couldn't understand how a suggestion didn't sound nice, and how was it not a request?- She formed a better alternative in her head, but she hated how it sounded, it sounded like begging, it made her feel- "Maybe now is a bad time."

"Noo." He nearly broke into song, he pulled her close. "Ask me, and we can go somewhere else...I don't know how often we will be able to do this, since we might be heading to castle black."

The air was still, Sansa did a small recoil- Jon made it difficult, he was holding her firm. "I thought you were sending others? Why yourself?"

"That should be our stronghold against the white walkers, first defence, I need to be there."

She shifted uncomfortably in his lap. "I suppose they don't allow fornication or bed sharing at castle black. There is a rule, I take it? Hence why we won't be able to...you know. You're trying to get a honeymoon's worth of...you know."

Jon did a nasal huff. "You can say it, it's just a word." He was cuddling her, and she fit her head on his shoulder. "I don't know how long we will be there, but I'll make sure everything's taken care of here...at your end."

Sansa blinked, she heard it, and was not sure if to comment – she didn't want to sound stupid. "So I'm..." Jon pulled at her head, to get her up from his shoulder, so he could see her face. "-Staying in Winterfell." He had had his way with her and now he was scarpering.

He fingered her face. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

Her smile was sad but sweet. Bittersweet. When she tried to get up this time, he let her, her skirts rustling off him, leaving him cold. Sansa grimaced at the thought of being alone in a Winterfell. In charge of the castle, and if anyone visited, she would be their host. She wet her lips, getting ready to change the subject. "Are you going to send some rangers to look for Bran?"

Jon arose from his seat with a creak. "Definitely, even if I have to go myself...which would most likely happen."

"And...the ice dragon?"

"I'm not sure about that." His eyebrows rising and falling rapidly. "It's a grey area, but I'll keep my eye on the skies." He tugged at his tunic, surveying the books and charters on the table. "I'll head off tomorrow."

"So soon." She felt like crying, but there was anger in her bosom. The white walkers had ruined everything. "I suppose it was good timing for me to get frisky?" She said absently. "I had finally got comfortable...I suppose if ...we...If they know we're in the bedchamber, they will know what we're doing...so... here in the library." Sansa cagily looked about her and finally picked up a chair to put against the door.

Her husband was smug. "I knew it." He reached for her again, stroking his hands around her waist. "You don't have to get all embarrassed about people knowing, we're married." The smile reached his eyes. "I just wanted you to ask me, so I wasn't being a typical man, and forcing myself on you." His hands were tantalizing, stroking, and Sansa suddenly wanted to be naked again. But don't get naked in a library. "Hello nipples." She blushed at her husband's comment, it amazed her what he could see through thick layers, he brought his hands up to fondle her, her body was being jostled with his efforts. Sansa felt herself being reversed into stone. "I wanted to give you a leaving present; a part of me." He rumbled, and he moved into her space, stealing her mouth, she desperately clung to him as she kissed him back, he snared his mouth away cruelly to wander to her neck, she shuddered with desire.

"Erm..." She was thoughtless and breathless. "You mean...erm... a baby, right?"

His voice was muffling against her skin, it tickled. "Yes, definitely."

"But last night ...erm." Her eyes were wet with lust. "-Could have been... successful?" Oh sweet beard. "What if ...oh gods...you...erm... dislodge something?"

Jon chuckled darkly. "You do realise, my cock doesn't go that far up?"

How rude. Sansa gasped. "Gods, I know that...but you...put my body through..." Jon was moving down her, his breath blasting over bust and then the fabric of her tummy. "...that thing you do to me." Her legs were bending- she wasn't sure if it was her or Jon, but he was lowering her to the floor. Her skirts inflated around her. "-You might force the..." Her face was already flushed from the activity, but she blushed at the words in her mind. "- force the...planted seed out."Her back was against the floor, her legs shaking with anticipation.

He was rummaging through petticoats, chuckling at her words. "I don't think it could fall out so easily...but if in doubt-" His eyes were dangerous, dangerously loving and eager to satisfy. "-I'll shove a new one back in."

He had a way with words, her dear husband.

It felt a little different from last night, but not bad different, it had a little force behind it. Jon rumbled his content above her, while she hitched out a tiny mewls at every thrust. They had a time constraint, and they were trying to get the release quickly. Davos or the handmaidens could come by at any moment, and they had to be done and dusted, to not let on what they had been doing. She bit her lip to stifle herself, the servants could be on the stairs or in the hall. Her hands were stroking the floor beneath her, it felt like it was vibrating.

He leaned over her, his head hovering over the gap above her shoulder, their ears brushed as he continued to push against her. They were still clothed, her petticoats had been bunched up, and her legs were bent up and feet off the ground either side of her husband, in order to receive...

Jon was very throaty, and began to speak to her, brokenly, she could just make out his laboured rumbles into her ear. "Get...there...before...me...come...on...woman...get...there...now." It sounded aggressive, but it was merely his effort driving into her. "Ssanssa...I'm close." His wife could tell. "-Are you...close...sweetheart?" He gasped, sounding pained and desperate. "Come on."

She believed she was, she would be happy even if she wasn't close to completion. Sansa brought her hands from the floor and wrapped them around him. "If you must, Jon." She rasped, it wouldn't have come out otherwise. "Just let it happen." Her whisper licked his ear, and he murmured in anguish. His thrusts got very angular, and his breath rattled through her, and he suddenly stalled. The arms and hands that he used to hold her firm, suddenly tightened. His climax was more subdued than his first, for he remembered he was in a library. Thank heavens. His moan was still heart wrenching despite it being toned down from the roar, he murmured his content as he shuddered his love out and into her.

When he was done, his body nearly fell on her, it took him a lot of restraint to hold himself up. Jon rose, and the young Queen exhaled as she felt his warm fullness leave her. Her hands were balled up in a defensive manner as he climbed off of her. His callous hands gently clasped her wrists and he helped her to her feet, but she buckled and fell, her legs weren't ready to be used, and the King caught her. "Whoops." Jon winched her back up. "Sit down, love." He guided her down into the chair that was against the door. He studied her dishevelled form, she looked ravaged and flushed, it made him feel a tinsy bit proud. "You'll be alright." He soothed, ruffling her hair to his heart's content.

She blinked up at him, looking a lot like a child. "It's a very messy ritual, isn't it?"

Jon smiled at her honesty. "Not the bad kind...There's only one way to make an heir." His finger caressed her face to soothe himself- his heart was still racing, and he was damp with sweat. "If we make it back to the chamber, we could give each other a sponge bath."

It seemed like a reasonable excuse to get naked. They should forget the castle and all duties, just spend the day cuddling, for winter was here, and her husband was leaving in the morning. She hoped her womb and babe would quicken, like her mother's, when her father had left for war.

The End...?