Hey guys, I bet you're wondering why I took longer than usual to post, I wanted to create a backlog of chapters before posting. I have wrote 18 chapters so far, and I like to be a few chapters ahead of myself in case I get delayed, or slow down to a crawl when writing.
P.S If Hodor comes back as a white walker I will lose my cool.
The King trod down the stairs, it was dark- except for an ominous glow on the stone. He reached the bottom of the stairwell to find a single candle lit in front of Lyanna's statue, he felt odd looking at it. He inched closer to see a feather lying in the delicate hand of the stone woman, he fingered it so it was more centred.
"It's quiet up there."
He turned to his wife, surprised she had chosen to hide herself away in the depths. "Well it isn't when you're up there." He studied her stature, she was standing tall and proud but she kept in the shadows, very much like the statues. "I think you mean it's quiet down here."
"Of course." She gave him a small smile, she appeared rosy cheeked, something he believed was down to the excitement earlier.
"Find anything?" He remembered there was a reason he ventured down. "The red woman?" Sansa skirted the outer borders of the light, giving him a wide birth. "You don't have to be frightened, I didn't mean what I said earlier...I was never going to chain you up, it was an expression- you don't get my sense of humour." He tried, bringing his hand up in the hopes of coaxing her.
She sniggered, and he felt a flutter in his chest. "No, I do find it funny. You were always funny..." It was like they were dancing, he moved around the borders of light too, trying to remain directly opposite her so he could see her fully. "You like what you see?"
It was an odd thing to say, he cast is eye to the tombs and melted wax. "We're in the crypts, there's no-"He saw her pull her mane over her shoulder and play with it, stroking it, tantalisingly. It was enough to get any man excited. "I do, it's-" Finally answering her question. "An odd place to ask...but I'm glad you-"She parted her hair, and stroked it either side, her hands skimming the sides of her bosom, she cupped them briefly and then slid her hands down to her stomach. "-asked." At that moment his blood was not getting to his brain. "You have-"
"-A woman's body." She was scoffing him. Her hands moved to her clasp. "Would you like to see it?"
He had stopped circling, losing the ability to walk. "Huh?" He heard the click of the clasp and he drew uneven breath through an agape mouth. "Err yeah- "He suddenly closed his eyes and threw up a hand. "Wait wait, no...down here?" He said shaking his head, to get rid of the fog. "Sansa this is a crypt." He rumbled, determined to be coherent with that point, she pulled the skirt of her outer robe open, the corner of her lip curled as he reacted to a lithe smooth leg, it poked out from the petticoats to tease him. "Fuck." He breathed, on the verge of looking away. He was semi- hard. "Let's go um...do the." He cleared his throat. "Upstairs, right now." He finally crossed the light, his hand wanted to stroke the leg, but he fought against it and seized her arm. "I'm not doing this in a bloody crypt." He pulled her through the darkness, she kept stalling. "Just keep up the..." She had adjusted his hand to her breast. "Hell." He could feel eyes on him, and not just hers, he peered back down the crypt, trying to keep moving. Clearly spooked.
Sansa pleaded."Our chambers don't excite me, so many eyes and ears in the castle waiting for me to perform a duty. The dead don't watch." She dug her feet firm into the dirt and sand, and yanked him to a halt. "Give yourself to me now."And Jon dreaded looking back.
"Oh for fucks sake." He took a peek, her hand was still holding his to her breast. "We're in a crypt, Sansa!"His fingers circled the cup, gauging its size and- he retracted awkwardly. "Anyway it's warmer upstairs."
"And I'm warmer." She removed her neck shawl that tucked into her dress, and she was using her free hand to part the fabric that concealed her chest.
"I'm sure you..." Pale skin on collar bone, and a good cleavage shadow- lord have mercy. He sucked in his lips to wet them. "Bugger it-" Jon without warning shoved her against the stone, and planted his lips hard against hers, they were yielding, desperate to taste and consume, as was his. It was probably that he couldn't believe his luck and he tasted what he could, before she changed her mind. The only off putting thing was she smelt like death and candle wax- probably not something you want in your nostrils when you're about to fuck, but the warmth that came from her spurned him. The King wanted to chase the pulse down her neck, he moved down it, pressing hard enough to try and feel a pulse, anything, he was pressing firm enough his teeth might have perforated the skin.
"My poor King, you're starved." She purred. He coughed a little, he was choking on the lust. Her hands were between them bunching up her skirts. There wasn't enough light for him to see his target. But she was insisting it didn't matter."I'm ready, I'm right here. You bleed for me on the battlefield, and I'll bleed for you birthing a child, trace my heat."
He let out a groan of anguish. Jon's hand fumbled with his armour and leather, trying to get to his small clothes. It was hard to kiss and de-robe. It was as if he had forgotten how to undress. "Fuck sake!" He felt the cold reach his appendage, it wasn't as erect as he thought, it wasn't enough, he needed it to throb. That didn't make sense, he was hungry and willing, why would his body betray him like this? Jon was trying to hold his wife to the wall and stimulate himself, without letting on he was. "Not now, not now!" Maybe she would think he was taking the moral high ground?
He was beside himself, he returned to the sanctuary of his wife's neck, trying to get the thing he needed to send him over the threshold. His body wasn't being compliant. Maybe his body was still dead? He growled, as his queen clung onto him, she was silent. And he feared he had let her down, which was ridiculous- King's don't fail at such a task, especially when he had been keen all other times. Typical. Jon felt he was able to perform when the other was not ready. It wasn't a good sign, it felt horrendous and immoral. That's when his face started to burn with rage, he felt like he wanted to punch the stone to dust. He withdrew immediately and her feet dropped to the floor. There was a gasp as they separated, it was like a great force had pushed them apart. He tucked himself away grudgingly. "It's probably the location." He tried, but Sansa was on him again, any other time it would have delighted him. "Give me a minute, love." He warned, her hands were invasive, tucking into all corners that not even squires would go. Gods have no mercy, they like their cruel jokes. He shut his eyes, willing the blood to his extremities.
"I am skilled, I could warm you up." She murmured into his ear, his hairs stood on end- he had dreamt of such things being said by her. But his core suddenly went cold.
"No." He heard himself and questioned it. "How can you be...?" He pulled back enough to look her in the eye. She looked unfazed, and more intriguingly, her eyes were violet blue in the dim light. Sansa's were sky blue. He jerked away, careful in case he was wrong in his assumptions. "You are not..."
"Don't be afraid."
This made Jon bark. "Oh gods, I knew this was too good to be true!" He dragged her into the light, with the intention of seeing her properly to make an assessment. "Are you, or are you not?"
"I can provide you with a son." She held onto the pretence that she was who she claimed, her face open and suggestive.
Sansa was never suggestive, she hadn't learned how to be, not yet anyway. "You're not my wife." Still not sure, he remained there. "Where is my wife?" His voice was death.
It looked to put the fear of Rh'ollor into her. "I tried to coax her, but she was strong and stubborn." Jon got a little scared. "Fear not, I took all her anxieties away, she is resting, but she is learning."
"Don't speak in riddles, tell me!" The king snapped, and 'his wife' pointed into the darkness, back from where they had come from, the place he wanted to flee. He stormed down into the depths, snaring the still lit candle, he didn't have to walk far. He saw the heaped fabric of a dark green skirt, his sweet Sansa slumped up against a tomb, her face pale and eyes puffy. "Sansa." He speedily knelt and clutched her face, examining her for injuries and waiting for her to say something in her melodic voice. Jon was dismayed to find she was catatonic- but she was fixated on the path leading out, even the way she was sitting up suggested she hadn't lost complete control. If she was actually alert but frozen, she must have seen them... fumbling. What a cruel thing to see. He rose and looked towards were the witch was, she still hadn't changed, or budged. He trudged back to her, creating a whirlwind. "You."
"See she is fine."
She had a nerve. "She doesn't look it." Glancing back. "Change back now, I forbid you to look like this." He said without raising his voice.
Melisandre must have read into it as calm and forgiving, for she did as she was told, Sansa's face dissolved into that of the priestess's. "Better, you like what you see?"
Jon then slapped her, but not at maximum strength. He didn't want to cause too much harm. He kept his face neutral, right up until afterwards, that's when his nostrils flared. "I'd never thought I'd hit a woman. Never in my life, never will I again, but I'll make an exception with your face."
While Melisandre rubbed the redness, he doubled back to lift up his wife and bring her somewhere warmer and safer. He had to rifle since the candle had gone out. "There there now, I got you." He soothed, and he smelt the real scent of his wife, it was indescribable.
As he walked past the wounded red woman- well she was certainly red now, she found her voice."You'll need me Jon Snow, I am your messenger, I am the lord of light's messenger, I'll always be there. The lord of light has great things planned for you." She persevered. "And I was helping your wife, she can't do what is expected of her alone. She might never be able to do it!"
He felt like locking her in the crypts. "Don't deceive me again."
Davos and Jon walked Sansa into the room. That's right, walked. During the trip through the main hall, she convulsed as if returning to life. Jon could certainly relate to that. But she yelled. "Oh gods! Down...put me down!" Davos had appeared as if from behind a tapestry, hearing the commotion. "Put me down, your presence insults me!"Servants fled, some lingered, to be nosy.
"What's happened, your grace?" The advisor saw his King set Sansa back on the ground, and she immediately began thumping her husband's chest. Davos couldn't help but wince. "Now then, now then, your grace." He tried to seize those hands that flailed at his majesty who was putting up a decent fight too- but without causing any harm. It ended with the King holding one hand and the older gent holding the other.
"Sansa, you know there is sorcery at work, trying to drive us apart. I fell for it, alright, I didn't mean to do that. I thought it was you." The King explained, and just by eavesdropping, Davos assessed what had gone down.
"The witch has struck again?"
Jon appeared uncomfortable bringing up the issue. "Strange things happened in the crypt, I think Sansa might have saw everything."
"I did, it's what I imagine the seven hells feel like!"
Jon pursed his lips. "Right." Clearly he was offended. "I suppose you're referring to the lack of control you endured."
"And the rest!-"
"Can we please go somewhere more private, your graces?" Davos butt in, realising these we personal, morale squashing issues in a public place. "Might I remind you, Sansa, you struck a King in front of his subjects."
Sansa covered her mouth eyes wide, Jon half expected an apology, but instead. "-Oh right, that was a mistake, it should have been a kick in the genitals." She whispered harshly into their faces. Jon was deathly silent, brooding, Davos imagined his grace was envisioning some horrible things...to do this his wife. The advisor used the pause to steer them out of the hall and up to their chambers.
"It wasn't my fault." The older gent heard his King utter dangerously, as they got to the landing. It must have festered in his mind during the short trip.
"So it was mine?" Sansa retorted. Davos opened the chamber door for his queen. Jon disappeared in there after her.
"You might have fallen for that trick as well, if it were the other way around." Jon oozed, as if that would have made things better.
Sansa shook her head defiantly. "You don't know me."
"I bloody do." They grew up together, how can she forget?
She was enraged, so she barked in his face. "-If you did... you would know if it had been the other way around, I couldn't have touched you!" Not in that way, and so soon, and in a sacred crypt. Her arms folded as if to close the conversation.
"Because you would know the difference?" Jon gathered, but Sansa kept tight lipped."Oh, I see." Jon said with bitter defeat. She wouldn't touch him edgeways.
She could see that sadness in his eyes, it bit at her like the northern wind. He looked twice as sorry, as before, sorry for what he had done, sorry he had heard her imply something so callous. She turned her back on him, only she could get away with something as dangerous as that, turning one's back on their King. Sansa didn't want to feel guilt, she hadn't done anything wrong. "What happens now?" She had said that out loud. But she didn't want to know.
Silence.
Davos cleared his throat. "There was that council meeting that was interrupted?- Perhaps we could finish off there. It turns out we've just had this moment a raven warning us of a dragon." He suddenly laughed and it startled the young Queen. "It flew over the great houses of the north, it ate a few goats and buggered off, they wanted to know what to do?"
The Queen listened intently, her husband gave a sigh of resignation. "Well when I saw it, I didn't think anything could be done, I'd have trouble shooting such a..."
"Striking animal." Davos finished. "We have much to discuss, the day is young, your grace."
She heard Jon fidget then retreat grudgingly from the chamber, the clicking of his buckles and sword went with him and grew more distant. The door closed, and Sansa knew she was alone.
When the door opened again, it was Melisandre, as herself. Sansa jumped up from her lounger. "What are you doing here?!"
"I owe you an apology." Sansa scoffed before the witch had completed her explanation. "-For not telling you my plan. I'm very sorry, I must speak before I act. The lord of light doesn't encourage deceit." Melisandre was brave, but had a lot of cheek.
Though she had misgivings on the witch- it may in turn prove useful- such power, enough to win a war."Right." Sansa dropped her embroidery on the lounger, straightening her gown. "I suppose I have no choice but to accept."
The witch blinked. "Really?" It was funny to see the witch looking suspicious.
She probably expected a slap from her too. "You have a strange way of giving help." She wagged her finger at the exotic beauty. "Nevertheless." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I learnt a great deal from that horrendous..." She gestured at nothing, hoping for the red woman to fill in the blanks.
"Yes."
Was that all she could say? Sansa put on her interrogation face. "You wanted to give my husband a son." That wasn't a question, she had heard it this morning, the witch opened her mouth- but she ploughed on. "You wanted to deceive my husband into committing adultery." The witch tried again, Sansa cut her off. "You wanted me to see everything, and I did, the only thing you did manage to achieve this morning." Sansa wet her lips. "And I learnt those things, and more, I know what I look like to other people if I ever did become a seductress."
The witch finally got a word in. "Yes, you had a lot of influence, don't you see the power you have?"
Sansa slowly sat down. "It doesn't mean I liked it." She shook her head, at a snail's pace. "There's one thing to make a man believe he is going to be rewarded in exchange for something else; information, but there's another thing where the man is actually rewarded- it's called..." She contorted her face in thought. "Well that is...something I'm not comfortable with. Giving things so willingly isn't what a noblewoman is all about."
"Oh but you will at some point be inclined, my Queen, never question your honour. When two people love one another, they don't see you as a temptress every time you are more willing than he." The red witch sat down on the lounger next to her, without permission. "Love is blind, your grace."
Sansa grimaced at the poor etiquette, their skirts were touching, she shifted away. "I learnt my husband was insatiable when coaxed." Maybe it wasn't a bad thing the witch coming between her and her husband.
"All men are. Too bad he was not up to the task..."
Melisandre talked a lot of crap sometimes. "He looked very up to the task." Sansa supposed keenness was a compliment to herself, but the fact Melisandre had said the opposite was a little confusing- and offensive. "Why, what do you mean? He was with you right up until he wasn't." She didn't see any reluctance, except he didn't like the locale.
The witch had a secret smile. "You obviously didn't see everything from your angle."
Sansa rolled her eyes at the crudity. "I didn't need to."
"If you had, you would have seen a problem... a hindrance."
Sansa was flummoxed- she tried to read Melisandre's face. She looked smug. "He was overdressed...and armed?"
Melisandre showed teeth. "No sweet girl, a problem with the... instrument. It might be a short term blessing for you, but...my...it would destroy him."
The Queen finally understood. "Oh." She went as red as the witch's dress. "Oh..." Finally thinking of the dilemma. "No consummation, no heir." Despite her misgivings with beddings, she felt a little depressed. "I'm assuming it's because of the resurrection, he didn't come back whole." She thought out loud and Sansa finally knew she wasn't the only one with an issue."I highly doubt seduction is the key, if it's me that is the cause- why bother? If it's him, I can't fix that."
"I can fix you, your grace."The witch was confident over the Queen's anxiety.
"I doubt that, my lady." She felt hot hands seek hers. "Don't ...kiss me." She reared back, afraid this morning's events would repeat themselves.
Melisandre was persuasive."Another time perhaps. " This made the younger woman gulp. "But today, I will teach you how to touch." She rubbed her thumbs over the top the young Queen's hands. "See."
"That's not really a secret, I've done that." Sansa whispered, as to not embarrass her.
"But could you do it to Jon. You avoid affection with Jon because you think it'll go somewhere. You can be affectionate without the fear of sex."
Sansa's eyes bulged. She had said it. She had hit the nail right on the head. "Yes well...I won't need to fear that anymore, do I?" She was about to laugh, but it would be cruel. "Poor Jon, but I'm still angry."
"Anger is better than fear." The witch soothed, tucking a ginger strand behind the Queen's ear. "Use it."
"I don't want to feed off anger." Sansa rationalised. "I don't want to be a violent... lover." Never say that word again. "Sometimes I feel I want to punish everyone for my pain." Her hair was being stroked. "I can understand how Cersei feels. I feel bitter all of the time."
"Do you ever fantasize about an idealistic version of yourself?"
"No, not anymore." Sansa was honest. "I imagine how I was." Stupid. "Then I imagine what happened." She stared off into space. "And I'm still there." She remembered crying into wolf pelts, lying on bruises, cleaning away stickiness. Her lip trembled. "I'll never be clean."
The witch was staring in the same direction as her. "I see so many similarities in this room, it's just flipped around. I suppose the original room was further down."
Sansa didn't like the idea Melisandre could see it, she felt violated, again. "Don't look there." She warned, with a tinge of irritation.
"Perhaps if what I'm going to suggest doesn't work, then perhaps we need to go to that room."
"No!" Sansa stood, and the witch retracted herself. "I'll never set a toe in that room, I won't even look at the door." The witch was cruel.
"Then I think we should settle with the first options; We eliminate the similarities or we give them new meaning." Melisandre pointed to the wolf pelts, and Sansa looked at them. "Hide them, or burn them."
There was hesitation, then the Queen finally marched over to them, scooped them up and threw them into the fireplace, she used a poker to stoke the fire. "That's one for your lord." Sansa commented, stoking the fire quite violently, like she was stabbing someone.
"Now, see those candles-" The witch pointed to a load on the window sill. "Bring them, along with that tin pitcher."
Sansa did this straight away, but soon as everything had been laid out in front of the red women- she had doubts. "This isn't magic, is it?"
"No, this is a cleansing." Melisandre scooted to the fire place, she held the tin containing the candles over the fire. Sansa watched, hypnotized. The tin glowed, and she heard the wax bubble.
R&R Peace.