Don't worry guys and girls, the red witch is only in it because she likes to follow their camp, she is in no way part of the marriage. (She was very quiet during the council meeting on the show, but she didn't have anything to add) Anyways, on the story front- I'll explain Jon's issue in due time- but someone did hit the nail right on the head.
I just want to play around with the set story, but it does change.
"Not too much, just a little bit to start."
"Aaa.. .aaa...no no, it hurts, I can't!"
"The pain is temporary, and a little rewarding." Melisandre said in a matter of fact manner. "See, you can't feel it now, it cools quick, soon as it sets."
This bitch loves the pain. The Queen could see this sated smile on her face whenever something burned near her. Sansa had chosen to do the task herself, she didn't want anybody going near that part of her anatomy. The wax was hot as it dripped onto her upper thigh. "I can't get any closer."
"It'll hurt and be soar, but mentally you'll feel cleansed. Enjoy the short burn." Melisandre said through the screen. "You can slaver it on, to get a bigger area."
Originally the witch has suggested to burn her legs with actual fire, Sansa wasn't that stupid. Sansa took a deep breath, she spread the wax on her thigh."Ssss." She fanned it. "Oh gods." She tried to brush off the wax, it crumbled, some clung. "It's clinging to things...oh gods." The wax had removed the fine hair at the top of her leg. "How the seven hells am I going to do the main bit?"
"I can help."
"You can't lift set wax without removing hair." Sansa remarked, she didn't care if a witch had heeling hands, she would show no one her flower. "Aa seven hells..."
"You can reheat to remove, but you will certainly burn your leg, and your..." Melisandre pulled up a stool against the partition, it moved, and Sansa froze all administrations."Don't put the wax on the mound, only underneath."
"Underneath? The flowerbud? That's sensitive." Sansa was about to drop the utensils. Not worth it, not worth it.
Melisandre was insistent. "Yes, and you know why that is don't you? It's made for that purpose, and that man abused it. And that's a reason why you want it cleansed, don't want any traces of...Bolton." The witch dipped her voice, not liking the imagery it conjured up. Sansa had gone quiet , the name had soiled her mind. "Your grace...?"
Sansa grudgingly continued, and the red priestess heard the tapping of instruments. "Here we go...oh gods...aaa...no...sssss." Further fanning of herself, that had gone on a little thick, so it took longer to cool down, the witch probably thought she had a low threshold to pain. True. "Aaah!" It was high pitched, she had just tugged at her intimate area. "Aa...it's off, done." She splashed the area with rose water, further burning and she relaxed- the torture was over. The Queen let her skirts fall into place.
"Well done, your grace, am I allowed to look?"
Sansa grimaced. "I never show anyone that area." She came out from behind the screen, she saw Melisandre back away from the partition, pretending she hadn't been spying.
"You are positively glowing." She opened her arms elaborately, Sansa didn't believe Melisandre was capable of ass kissing, until now. "The world seems a whole lot brighter."
Enough. "I think that's sweat, pain sweat." It still hurt, it was red, and had little pin prick dots from yanking out hair. "I feel like I have burned him away, that, and completely scalped my flower bud." The witch found that funny, she on the other hand, did not. "A little more mutilation can't hurt." Never again.
"The redness will fade, your grace, and as for the hair... it'll grow back." She was so confident with every that fell out of her mouth. "Though some men like that area bare- though some men prefer cocks."
Sansa was irked by such brazenness. "Well, men are allowed their...choices, women aren't. I don't see a man would pay that much attention to..." She clasped her robe shut. "It just a...doorway." She shook the imagery from her brain.
The witch was smiling again. "Come sit with me on the lounger." Their skirts rustled as the approached the furnishing. Sansa winced as she sat down. "I'm glad you have taken some of my advice, you will be happy."
The young woman looked at the wine on the side. She didn't drink often, she felt like some now, but if a witch was present it would be smart not to. She smiled innocently, pretending to be in accordance with the sinful woman."Maybe someday I'll associate the act with something wonderful." Nope.
"Heirs." Melisandre leant back on the lounger. "Love. And love from someone who returns it."
The Queen stared vacantly at the bed, she held a lengthy pause as if she was on the verge of disputing that, but she couldn't. "I love Jon... in the day, from a far." She was honest. "I knew him as a kind and broody gent growing up, my mother didn't like him. I suppose it sort of rubbed off on me, but not to that extend. Come to think of it he did strive to be like Robb, and he was, and everybody loved Robb. Jon was a blackwolf of the family, but it had a certain mystique, I suppose."A muscle in her face she hadn't used in a while began to flex. "He's strong, and he is..." She seemed to glance around the room as if searching for words, Sansa saw a wet stone and her mind went to swords. "Steely." She could actually picture him accurately to the hair. "And gruff." Like a wolf.
"But. There is always a but." Melisandre squeezed in, staring at nothing as if pulling imagery out of the air.
"At night...he's there next to me." Shirtless and wanton. She felt movement in her bodice, it was either her breasts getting larger, or her nipples hardening. "I'm alright sleeping next to him, he's good company, but how long can people just sleep in a bed together, before things get unbearable and then everything falls apart."What if he openly asked? Her body wilted, in the direction of the wine. Be strong, don't be a drinker.
"The first step is always the hardest, just don't push and shove, or scowl at him." Melisandre tone was likened to a septa. "-Not unless he insults you. And no singing mother's mercy, or praying." She warned, and Sansa sighed in resignation. That was her last resort.
"I don't really pray, not since the wedding."
Melisandre looked relieved, and continued. "When he enters a room, smile, don't just ignore or look in the way that you do." Melisandre sat up and did a despondent expression, Sansa figured that was an attempt at a impersonation of her. "Try smiling."
"I do smile." Sansa protested, trying to demonstrate.
"Openly smile, if you check your face." She tapped under the Queen's chin. "You'll realise you only think you're smiling, you aren't actually smiling, child."The witch reached for the wine, and sipped. "Another thing, when you drink wine, don't look into your cup, I've seen you do that. Look at him. Drink wine before bed." She offered some to her Queen, but she declined. "When you wish him goodnight, brush his shoulder or arm. If you can kiss him, by all means, do it."
Sansa just nodded along while wilting as if protesting, some of this stuff was obvious, but a fat lot a good if her beloved Jon was impotent.
The witch suddenly clicked to gain some assertion."That undressing in front of him was good, that was unexpected, you should do more of that." Melisandre took a larger sip, doing the stare over her goblet. "See what I just did."
"Yes, my lady...I indeed saw it."Growing wary that they were losing light, and bed time was rapidly approaching. "Something tells me he won't speak to me tonight." Melisandre was still drinking, chugging it back like water. "I'm destroying everything because I can't let go, I'm in a lucky situation and I'm being such an ass."
"He won't stop loving you, regardless if you don't give him heirs, or being...an ass." Melisandre looked into her cup as she said this. Not a good sign. "He never used to find that important. He used to have a fear of women because of pregnancy, he is very adaptable, he buckled down for a life of celibacy. He may do it again."Sansa doubted Melisandre would wish for that to happen. "Abstinence through fear of heirs."
The younger woman stared across at the door. "Huh..." She was toying with her sleeves. "I never thought of it that way...his fear I mean, I used to think his shyness was fear of intimacy, or rejection. Just before we got married I thought; this we had in common, and we'd be safe. I didn't realise he had changed."
Melisandre hot hand came to her face, stroking, Sansa eyed it with apprehension. "Perhaps celibacy is the life for you."
That's her game; the witch wanted to be the one to give him a son. "Maybe you're right." She lied. But good luck with Jon's problem.
Sansa had started a journal, she was writing her book ideas in it, taking up whole pages. She probably shouldn't write in bed, in case she got ink on the sheets. She dipped her quill in the well.
The beast had an insatiable appetite for flesh, it lurked in the darkness, it wasn't craving the blood that pumped so vigorously underneath the skin, but it seeked the warmth of...
The Quill went in the ink well again and remained there. She reread it, and disliked it completely, she closed the book before it had a chance to dry. The door ominously creaked and Jon came in. Stormed in. She hadn't had time to react, and she realised she had forgotten to smile as he came in, but the speed in which he had came in, he was already sitting on the end of the bed facing away before she had time to put the book on the nightstand. He was removing his boots, and she heard the creak of his leather as he bent himself up. It didn't stop there, he was pulling off his tunic, and there was further creaking. The sound serenaded her. Serenaded.
The sound of leather serenaded her to the point where she wished to wrap herself in it, and roll over and over 'till there was enough friction it would catch fire...
It was worthy enough to go in the journal, she retrieved it, and moistened her quill to jot it down. She caught a glimpse of what she wrote down earlier- it wasn't that bad. She glimpsed Jon removing his small clothes, she looked long enough until she saw the top of his buttocks and she rapidly looked away, bashfully.
The beast had an insatiable appetite for flesh, it lurked in the darkness, it wasn't craving the blood that pumped so vigorously underneath the skin, but it seeked the warmth of... buttocks.
Alright, that's enough. She snapped the book shut, it finally drew Jon's attention, not for long though. He barely acknowledged her, and he wandered into the other chamber, the door shut. And it occurred to her, he wasn't coming out again for some time, if ever. The Queen sunk under the covers, maybe she could spread out a bit. She stretched across the bed, she felt the warmness where he had sat moments before, and her hand remained there, until it grew cold. Her feet met resistance under the covers, and she realised his heavy leather was still on the bed. She pulled the mass of it towards her, when the pile was firmly in her hands, she felt obligated to smell it. Oh lords. It had such warmth, it was comforting. Home. She put it on her face as she lay back. She had grown into an odd woman.
At some point she must have nodded off. Sansa woke with a start, her dream ended as she was running through the blackness, trying to trace the sound of little Jon yelling in anguish. She turned in bed she saw no husband, just a pile of leather that had fallen off her face during the night. She moved it further to his side, and took in the morning light that came through the window. She saw the other chamber's door was still closed. He must have stayed in there all night. "Good morning, your grace." She muttered despondently.
As she went to sit up, she became aware of moisture and stickiness under and between her legs. Oh hells. She leapt out of bed, and automatically pulled the sheets up and away from the carnage. She had bled heavily onto the sheets. Her first thought was the wax burning ritual last night, but then of course she would have bled sooner otherwise, so this was definitely her flower blooming. Well, she certainly wasn't going to destroy this mattress, so she pulled up all the bedding and dumped it onto the floor, she gathered it in a way so the mess was folded up inside. She chucked it behind her screen, and looked at the mattress. It wasn't fear that drove her to dumping oil onto the stain, but the fact it was a taboo to make it known when a woman was blooming, it made her conceive the idea that it was dirty. Surely men detested it as a woman aged. She used a buffing brush to scratch at it. Now it was a red brown mass that took up a quarter of the bed. She picked up the mattress and attempted to flip it, it flopped to the floor instead. Sansa was beginning to tire when she finally winched it back on to the frame, clean side facing up. If she did that everyday, she would be as strong as her husband.
She heard movement in the other chamber, they must have heard her commotion. Her husband, opened the door and wandered back in, studying the blank bed. "Your handmaiden is noisy." He commented bitterly, not looking at her. Still moody I see. She watched him retrieve his uniform that was on the floor, as he stooped he seemed to sniff the air, she went as still as a rock.
For a brief moment he must have forgotten he'd fallen out with her -"Do you smell a metallic smell, like-." He actually looked at her curiously, straightening, before his eye line dropped. "Blood-Oh erm, that'll be it." He dropped his eyes to the leather in his hand.
Sansa glanced down, and noticed she was wearing a bloodied gown, she'd forgotten about that bit of evidence. She made a noise and dashed towards the screen. She stared at him through the slats. "Fetch me Agnes." Why were his lips curling?
"Sure." He went to the door, but hesitated. "Are you sure you want them prying?" His voice was low. "I could pass you your things, you don't have to be embarrassed about...your ailment, I'm not embarrassed."
She was gauging his expression, how can he be content she was soiling her clothes? Did he assume this was her first blood? "I'm always embarrassed about it." She said, testing his reaction.
He approached the screen, and she moved her face from the slats, and put her back to it. In case he did look through."It's healthy, don't fret about it." The partition shook a little, and she flinched- she saw his fingers clutching the edge of the screen. "It explains a lot..."
"What do you mean?" She said innocently. Don't comment on the smell.
"Your mood, and reluctance..."
Well that explains his change in mood. Sansa felt like correcting him, she highly doubted her mood over the past week was hysteria. Though, it would have been a great excuse, maybe that's what was wrong all along? "Of course." She finally agreed, taking a secret and silent deep breath. "It weakens me."
"I bet." He had a dark chuckle. "You have looked pale."
That was through terror. She listened out for retreating steps, they didn't come. "I'll rest in my chambers. Agnes will keep me company."
"Melisandre, you mean?" He was very bitter, Jon would probably not allow anyone near her again. "Why would you want her here after all she's done."
He must have thought Sansa was so weak, and a complete push-over."She brought you back, she might have summoned that dragon, and she helpe-."
Jon actually looked around the partition, her eyes nearly bulged. "Something...brought me back." He said with conviction.
She folded her skirt to hide the blood. "Of course."
"Sansa... enough, it's just blood." He spied the bed sheets in a heap next to her. "You really hate blooming, don't you?"
She nodded slowly, and he remained there staring at her sympathetically.
"Call for my maid." It came out meek and self-consciously, and he continued to probe her with those stormy eyes. "Please."
He gave a sigh of resignation, and left her. "I'll send someone else."
Who else was like- what the hell? - At the start. Yes, you know who you are Review