Let me know what you think.

It was like the onset of nerves before a battle. The jitters, where the silence consumes them. Ser Seaworth had felt it at blackwater bay. Except this wasn't a battle. Jon seemed to think it was, he had had the 'kill' face on all day. Davos felt sick studying it, he was waiting desperately for his King's face to slacken before he spoke to him. Ghost was staying well away from his master, but growling at every person that crossed him. The mood was contagious. The only opportunity he had to comment on banishing food from the bedchamber, came when he witnessed Podrick getting ambushed by the King, he'd been carrying something on a tray, the squire was either protecting it, or disguising it with a cloth.

"Where you going with that?"

Podrick stalled, visibly shaken by the encounter. "Erm...Tarlys." Jon did a quick sniff, and the squire retracted the tray- thinking he was going to blow the cloth back. "It is for the Tarlys." He stated again, cagily.

"I smell lemon cake."

Davos just stared helplessly at the exchange. Fucking run boy, run.

"Tarlys like lemon cake." The squire tried again.

"Should I come with you and ask them?" Jon was disgustingly clinical. There was a pause, one that was so long- an army could have marched by, before Podrick broke free from the tension and ran for his life, still expertly holding the tray. "Come back here!" Jon was relentless when it came to following orders, especially his own.

The advisor didn't pursue this line of enquiry, but he'd certainly talk about it at the tavern. But for now he'd stand by as the King stormed about the place, staring daggers at everyone who had a whiff of food about them. He managed to manipulate a squire with kindness, into practicing with him. Podrick should have known better. He rang his head like a bell.

"Davos." A very chirpy chap approached him

"Samwell." He could hardly be anxious around such a happy face. "Your father's a bit intense, isn't he?" He had wanted to say that for awhile now.

"Oo yes, he'd have to be with the crap he puts up with, me being one of them."

"Ah no, you slew a walker, doesn't he know that?" Davos walked towards the gate, away from Jon. In case the subject changed.

"No one believes it, and it was a fluke." Sam grimaced at his own honesty. "Nevermind eh?- I know I did, which means I could do it again."

Davos smiled, he had heard of things similar occurring. "So would you say you are going to take a position as maester here?"

"I'm no maester, I haven't had the training." He shuffled along, hoping Davos would slow down. "Though you'll be needing someone experienced in birthing a child..." Davos frowned at the boy. "-Oh, I haven't given birth, but Gilly has, ehe."

Davos could see what Sam was thinking, it was laughable at this time. If only he knew. Sam was Jon's friend, it was best if he did know. The advisor finally came to a stop, a sigh of resignation escaped him. "I think you'll find this funny, but...Jon and Sansa haven't..." Hopefully Samwell could fill in the gaps.

Sam's mouth twitched. "Yer what?- Really, Jon...I know he was a sworn brother, but that hasn't stopped him before"

"-I know."

"-Aye, but...yeah I suppose he wouldn't, I mean-" He checked to see if his friend was out of earshot. "-She was his sister for..." He said it as a harsh self-conscious whisper. "How old is she?"

"17, I think...from what I gather... she isn't a maiden." He hated saying these things, he felt like a gossiping woman. Davos waved his hand all embarrassed. "So she knows stuff...it might help."

"That's Ramsays doing."

The older gent was surprised he knew. "Aye."

"-And it won't help though, women become uptight and insecure about it all, they get snappy." Sam winced, he had been a victim of an angry woman. "And seeing as they both don't see each other as anything but siblings."

"They might not be though, Jon doesn't see it that way." Davos wasn't sure Sam was privy to that information. "Well I believe through my own assumptions." He scratched his greying beard. " The witch... before we dismissed her..." He began, not wanting to admit the sorcery at work. "She saw one of her visions in a fire, she saw Jon astride a dragon." It was supposed to be a sobering thought, which would have had many men in awe- considering the witch had correctly predicted they would get to Winterfell. But the young stocky chap in front of him laughed.

"My imagination is just as creative." It beggars belief. "You got the whole Targaryen rumour from a witch's dream of him riding a dragon?" Davos remained deadpan, and finally Samwell ceased all criticism. "By 'eck, you said you weren't following Rhollor-"

"-Sssh... we're not." He was talking a bit loud, the advisor squeezed the man's meaty shoulder. "I would appreciate you kept the vision and the witch to yourself, only his immediate followers know of this...and Sansa, even she is having trouble with it all."

Sam slowly stared up at the tower, blinking at the gradual snowfall."He used to be very vague about Sansa, he would mostly go on about Robb and Arya. " Davos too peered up to see if he could see Sansa, but visibility was low.

The snow stacked up on their shoulders, and they shivered simultaneously. Davos huffed. "It would have been awkward if it had been Jon and Arya, eck!"

The portly man laughed, his face scrunched up. "I can imagine. It'd be like marrying a body part, like a hand."

"I bet the consummation's not so bad." Davos then chortled, and after a slight delay, the older gent did a crude gesture with his hand, and Samwell finally got it and guffawed. "Oh what will you think of me?!"

"Dirty devil." Sam shook his head, this was a serious matter. "Oh gods." He tried to get his breath back, he suddenly hiccupped as someone rapidly descended on them, at a march. "My king."

Davos cleared his throat and he was sombre once more. "Your grace."

"Are you laughing at me, or the squire?" Jon was disapproving, he had been clouting a squire's shield, who was humming to syke himself. "Do you want to take his place?"

Holy hell. The kill face was as ferocious as ever, how could Sansa invoke that face on him, and on purpose? Surely she knew that face would be back. Davos raised his hands in defence. "My King, I wasn't discussing you, I didn't mean to interrupt your practice. But I fear your squire won't learn to fight with a shield alone."

Jon pointed a sword at him, at least it wasn't longclaw. Sam steered clear of the swing range, worried he might be next. "Share your joke with me- And I'll tell you how funny it is."

Sam was grimacing, on the verge of fleeing. He couldn't speak for him, not without coming up with a new joke. The older gent clenched his teeth, the King had a lot of menace. He had told many jokes in his lifetime, none came to mind when you had a blade in the face. Oh shoot he'll have to tell him, or-. "I can't remember, it was so spur of the moment, we laughed at the quickness of it." Davos was cool as a cucumber.

Jon lowered the blade briefly, but then promptly moved on to Sam. "Do you remember?"

Sam shook his head frivolously, scared witless. "No, not fully, something about wanking..." Sam squinted, and did an odd sort of smile; very insecure. That's when he realised how funny it was, all over again, and started laughing. Jon was dumbfounded, his sword dropped to his side.

"I think that was the punchline." Davos tried, and he was relieved to see his King's face split with a smile.

"Bloody wanking?"

The old gent saw another opportunity. "Then you're doing it wrong."

Jon was amiable. "Damn you are quick."

Sansa had called for a copper bath, she had it installed in a room with a separate lock to her chambers. Her handmaiden heated some water to fill it. "I shall smuggle you a cob of bread if I can, your grace."

"Thank you." And she meant it, she wasn't going to get all indignant about it. That made things a lot worse, she needed to practice the art of submission again, no matter how scared and angry she got, she needed to have the air of politeness and grace. She was a Queen afterall. Sansa was already a damaged specimen, she shouldn't have to add bratty and moody to her character traits. She wasn't Cersei.

Sansa stood her mirror next to the bath, the heat from the water steamed it up. She made herself as naked as the day she was born, and stepped into water- so very hot. Water cooled quickly in the north, so she didn't waste any time. She sat, and set her feet against the rim. Her handmaiden came back into the room with another pail of water, to be used for her hair. Sansa jarred a bit, since the maid used the bucket to nudge the door open. Bang. For a second she thought Jon had put his boot to it. "Lock the door, Agnes." The girl obliged, and she heard the bolt slide across. Sansa lay into the bath, curling up into a foetal position, so the nape of her neck got a good soaking, she sat up normally again, and sloshed some of the water out. "Whoops."

"It's alright...there's plenty left." Her maid reassured, she threaded her fingers through the Queen's hair, as if playing with it. The young Queen found this odd, and then "-Your hair is darker than usual."

"Hm." Sansa reached for a strand and pulled it over her shoulder. It just looked damp, that's all. "Maybe some of that dyes still in it, I had to disguise my natural colour to keep my identity safe." She explained, flicking it back over her shoulder. She knew that wasn't possible, since it had been weeks since she had that dye washed out.

"I see." Agnes pushed her slightly forward "Let's see if I can restore it." Sansa then heard the clank of a bucket, the water was tipped gently over her head. She wiped it from her face with a splutter. "Pardon, your grace." Agnes began to lather oil into her hair, combing it back and away from her face. "You have lovely hair."

Sansa remained perfectly still, when people got too friendly and nice, she believed they were up to no good. She remained quiet, as the fingers massaged the oil into her scalp.

"Does her grace wish me to put oil in the bath?" It was almost said absently, as if the maid was completely immersed in the foam in Sansa's hair.

"If you please."

"But would it please you?" The maid's hand came to rest on her shoulder, the oil starting to drip over it and down her chest.

Sansa turned a little to see the maid in the corner of her eye. "It would." Said quickly, not emphasising on it like Agnes had.

The oily hand suddenly rolled off her shoulder, and lowered down into the water, in front of Sansa's breast. That was a little close. The hand swished in the water, dispersing the oil, when the hand retreated, it skimmed Sansa's chest, she couldn't make a sound- without completely breaking her composure.

"There." The maid drawled. "Nice, isn't it?" There were so many expectant pauses, it was hard to brush off the strangeness of it all. "Would the queen like anything else?" So many connotations, but a blatantly obvious one was a hand stroking down her back. It tickled until it reached half way point, and she felt the tension lift. It felt good. Her eyes became hooded, and her head lolled back. She wasn't sure if was due to relaxation, or her head being gently pulled back. She was blanketed with warmness and something she had never felt before. There was so much steam, she couldn't make out her toes, not that anything else mattered- except maybe the tongue and lips caressing her neck. This isn't right. Sansa eyes opened, she sat bolt right up- and the bath nearly emptied.

She stood up, and turned- very unashamed. "What do you think you are doing?!" She said shrewdly. Though could you blame her?

The woman hadn't budged, but her eyes were slightly wider than the norm. "You can't be as forward and as intimate as that, do you understand me?!"

Agnes rose as smoothly as the steam that rose from the tub. Her eyes penetrated through the mist, not intimidated by her Queen in the slightest, she stepped forward through the mist with fluidity but reckless, like jumping through fire. Sansa gasped at the speed, but horrified to find a new woman standing there. Except, she knew this woman, but only from brief exchanges between the men, and she had glimpsed this woman on her journey to castle black, she had followed them to Winterfell. "Don't be afraid... Sansa Stark, I am an ally to you." Her voice was exotic, though any foreign accent was exotic to her ears.

"You're the red witch, I saw you...you were banished!" Sansa was still standing starkers, confronting this woman. "How dare you use your magic on me! How dare you sneak into my...husband's castle!"

"Your husband's castle, your grace?... I am saddened that you have made such a distinction between home and your husband's castle. You are Queen to the lord's champion, it is all yours as well, you should share in the lord of light's favour..."

Sansa snatched up her robe and covered her still wet form. Wrestling with the cord, desperately trying conceal her special areas. "My husband never agreed to be tied to the lord of light, and our union was blessed by the old gods and the new, not some fire demon!" She finally tied the cord, while this red woman looked unfazed by every slight she had made. "And the King owns this castle, not your lord of light- and you are trespassing. How do you expect to gain favour with your trickery?!"

"I wanted to reach you, your grace, I didn't mean to frighten or offend you." She was disgustingly soothing. How dare she soothe after violating me. "I must be close at hand to serve you, I am a messenger of the lord-" Melisandre could see Sansa giving her an annoyed stare at the mention of her lord. "-the lord that offends you, but please I only wish to help you."

"What about my husband?" The queen crossed her arms defensively. "Shouldn't you be chasing your champion, or do you wish to get to him through me?!"

"You are wise to think this way. I will do anything to protect my lord's ...investments." Melisandre raised her hand to Sansa's face, she jarred. "But right now, I need to help you."

Sansa narrowed her eyes, hoping her anger would drive this woman away. "So your way of helping is trickery, and...molesting?!"

The priestess simply smiled darkly. "That was seduction."

"But you're a woman." Sansa exclaimed, watching the witch cock a brow at her. "And I'm a woman." The lady was unfaltering in her manner. "That can't work."

"It's funny how ignorant you are, even when you are no longer an innocent."

Ouch, that hurt. Sansa shook her head. "Don't say that, it's not my fault." Tears prickled her eyes, was all her disgraces known to all.

Melisandre cupped the Queen's face, there was so much heat coming from the lady's hands- Sansa believed she was trying to scold her. "I know my Queen, I must tell you now, seduction isn't just a talent of a woman to a man, it can be of woman to a woman, or even a talent of a man to a man." Melisandre's face didn't budge to anything, but...inviting. It was like she was asking for a kiss. But I don't love this woman. "I'm sure you know it can be a talent of a man to a woman."

"Men don't seduce." Sansa spoke through a pair of hot hands. "They court, they woo."

"They always give men the less harsher words, to disguise their purpose. They must know that women can be subtler and deadlier." The witch was nearly taking up all her air. "Jon is not capable of courtship, wooing, or seduction."

Sansa felt a pang of anger in her stomach, it rose up and gave her a metallic taste in her mouth. "That's not his fault." She found herself saying, it was quiet and full of devotion. "He used to be shy, and now he isn't...he expects everything to just happen without any build up because he beat death."

Melisandre then pulled her into a motherly hug."You poor child, and know I'm here to help, I was sent back for a reason, to guide you and your King."

"Against the white walkers?" Sansa mumbled into the witch's gown, completely confused by her words and her actions. This woman either wanted to seduce her, or... "Tell me why you came back?" The hug was still in session, it was warm- but no good could come from it- witches were tricky. She could be stealing your soul. She pushed against the red dress which had engulfed her. "Enough."

The witch explained."Imagine the power you could have, an innocent looking flower like you seducing any man; the celibate, or the dangerous. You would have complete control."

Sansa heard a lot of bad words, in a sentence she didn't want to believe were possible. It sounds like she wants you to seduce the enemy, surely not the white walkers?! "I don't want to be a seductress!" Sansa exclaimed, and the red woman tried to soothe her, because her voice was getting loud and panic stricken. "I just want to be myself, I want to be happy and safe, no tricks."

"Sssh..." Her face got close to hers, such loving eyes she had, but all false. "That's all I needed to know, tell me everything- I can advise you." A finger dragged over her trembling lip. She still felt like she was being seduced.

"We- we." Sansa felt she had succumbed to whatever magic this woman had cast. "We already have an advisor!" She snapped quickly. If it hadn't had come out quickly, it wouldn't have come out at all.

"Yes, Davos." Melisandre said with distaste, withdrawing from her subject. "A gentle, but stubborn man." She was dismissive, but suddenly changed her tune, moving in for the kill again."But surely you must know... the lord of light has shined on him, and he casts a very large shadow, he serves your King well when it comes to war and strategy, that makes him a servant to the lord of light whether he knows it or not."

Very clever. She tried not to be so gullible, if this had been said to her years earlier she would have gobbled it up. "And what's my purpose for the lord of light?" Sansa hadn't forgotten she had visited her, and her alone.

"In time, an heir...maybe." Meliandre appeared to be testing the water. Metaphorically. "An heir for the champion, another second generation champion." The fireplace captivated the witch's attention, so it gave Sansa time to gather herself.

"That was my purpose anyway, my only purpose." She was uncomfortable with such talk, it reminded her of her issues, and phobias. Now she was sad again, instead of angry and afraid. "Seems unlikely as ever." A croak had crept into her voice as if stifling a cry.

The witch turned, and she was forced to put her guard up again. "Why?- You aren't Barren." She said boldly. "And you are attracted to handsome men, with titles..."

Sansa thought those weren't the only attributes you needed to have an heir. With titles. "I'm not as shallow as you think I am."

"No, but it does help to be selective. But when given the choice between 5 individuals, who do you pick?"

"5?" Sansa was never given a pick. Was the witch misinformed? It was never her choice. "Women have to do what there told in a dangerous world, I can't say no, imagine the repercussions. Where have I been given 5 choices?"

"Joffrey, Tyrion, Ramsay, Jon, and the unknown; the stranger." Melisandra gestured as if she was presenting a banquet.

Sansa was fuming. "How dare you?! They weren't choices. Joffrey was a royal command."

"Which you accepted, many opportunities came to abort."

Sansa put up her second finger. "Number two; Tyrion, I was a forced to marry, I was surrounded by the enemy, they dragged me down that aisle."

"Dragged?"

"My wedding to Ramsay was arranged, and he raped me!"

"A little man arranged a wedding and told you to go along with it, you could have cast this little man aside and gone straight back to the vale."

Sansa was irked. "Jon?- What of Jon?"

"You sought him out, once you knew where he was, you made a bee-line for him."

"There was nowhere else to go, he was the last family I had." She was nearly in tears.

"You say was, he still is your family, a cousin in blood, and husband by marriage, and you still had two remaining brothers, you knew they had survived that betrayal. Jon's not just family."

"Our marriage was arranged by members of the north."

"They didn't drag you down the aisle, they wouldn't have killed you if you had refused." Melisandre tucked a strand of hair behind the Queen's ear, then stroked under her chin- like she was some dog.

Sansa mumbled something incoherent; she didn't think the witch could read minds, so she kept it locked away. Such words would cause the world to fall apart. "You don't know the circumstances."

The witch wasn't the type to laugh in one's face, she smiled- a toothless self assured smile. "If I know all about you, and I know about Jon, then...what else do you think I know, I know everything, child."

"So you know the future?" She waited for Melisandre to nod, before dealing a blow. "Did you foresee Stannis's death after grooming him as the lord of light's champion?" And then the red woman's self-assured face was gone. Sansa suddenly felt like a player of a game she didn't understand. "What hope does Jon have, with an adviser like you?" She didn't give it a tone of mockery, in case everything backfired. So in the end she posed a question.

The witch licked her teeth under her lips. "I misread flames in which I saw Stannis Bartheon, all what I put on Stannis should have gone to Jon. The lord of light works in mysterious ways, I believe my lord showed me Stannis because he would take me to Jon, Stannis was a messenger. The potential is still there, and it's in Jon."

"Everybody you saw potential in has died." Sansa drew closer to the fire, having been away from it too long.

Melisandre saw it as an opportunity. "Yes, and Jon has already died, and he came back." She ran her hand down the queen's spine, the girl was tall, she had quite a journey. "The lord of light brought him back, and the lord cleared the path to bring you to castle black." She snuck her chin onto Sansa's shoulder, bringing her mouth to the young woman's ear. "Look into the fire, my Queen."

Sansa was already looking into the flames and all she saw was light, she could feel its heat on her eyes. She blinked. "I see fire."

"Look into its centre."

Sansa saw nothing, was she supposed to see Jon riding a dragon? The core was so bright, it was white as snow, but it burned –"I see fire, lots of fire."

She heard the witch sigh and walk off somewhere, probably to the window. Maybe she was going to throw herself through it. The Queen continued to stare into the fire, that's when she heard a scream. Sansa lurched back and turned expecting to see a broken window and shreds of red. The priestess was still there, she twisted around to look at her, surprised. "What?- Did you see something?"

Sansa clearly knew the witch hadn't heard it, and she didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You can't say, she was right. But she didn't see anything, but she heard a sound in the flames. So the red witch was wrong, ha! There was no image in the flames, only sound.