Sansa and Jon were walking the battlements on a very fine day, brisk, but the sun still shone. But they weren't sight seeing, this was the beginning of a serious talk. The day had started with a lot of apprehension, caused through the night before. This had been the turning point of their blossoming relationship- she believed, he now knew something was amiss. Trauma. Jon had decided to lay himself down on the lounger that night, staring wistfully at his wife. She had watched him settle, guilt on her conscience. Why guilt, you silly girl? "Comfortable?" She tried not to sound mocking.

Jon smiled sheepishly. "Are you?"

Why wasn't he mad?

In the morning she had woken to an empty chamber, and she set about repeating her routine of the day before, with a few exclusions. Soon as she had toured the castle with her servants to organize a thorough clean up of the ruins, she felt an extra presence. She spied her husband looking as grand and as fierce as he had when leaving castle black. Their first official trip together, and she had made him a coat. Today he wore that coat, and coincidently she wore her green wolf dress.

He always wore coats that made him look 3 times his size, this morning was no exception. Sansa noted him gripping his sword hilt as he stood watching her giving instructions. Had he come to cut her down? When the servants left to do her bidding, she made an approach. "Your grace."She dipped like a good servant, testing his temperament.

"It's Jon."

"Jon."She breathed, sensing an air of annoyance. "I didn't expect to see you in this part of the castle, in the day." She had probably given him the impression he was not welcome, that was far from it.

"I normally busy myself with warmongering and training. I thought I'd spend my day with you." He was gauging her reaction to this, she gave nothing away today. "I never see you in the day, I wish to change that."It was supposed to be a warm gesture, but he was gruff and still held his sword like he was about to incite his men into battle. She looked at his feet, he stood like he was training. "Come walk with me." He walked past her, that was his way of inviting her to follow.

The Queen dithered behind him, as he walked the hall. "I was hoping to finish this wing of the castle by the end of the month. Get everything back to its former glory." She called, and she saw him nod. Sansa picked up her skirts so she could increase her pace, so she could be level with him. "With your permission of course, your grace."

They had got outside, and he stopped under the falling snow, squinting up at it. "So you have gone back to talking to me like a servant?" His voice cutting into the skin, she blinked profusely- the anxiety and the cold made her eyes dry. "Why does your temperament change so frequently?- You have Winterfell, we got it back, cheer up, love." It held traces of patronizing, as if he believed it was all she cared about- and that nothing else mattered, not even the rising army of the dead could move her. "Do I have to grant permission for you to speak? Sansa."

"What do you want me to say?"

He sighed long and hard, melting all snow that came within a foot of him. "I want to know everything, your motivations...aspirations...normal stuff." He encouraged her to walk. Normally walking loosened tongues. "We can converse like people, can't we?" The battlements were long and bleak, plenty of time to tell all.

"I'm starting off small, I'm fixing our home."

The King liked the fact she said 'our'. "I noticed you were putting sigils on all the bedding, I like that, I'm assuming you want every room uniformed."

"That's the plan. Along with the wolf pelts and the banners, I want people to remember where they are...and who it belongs to." Sansa shook the snow off her skirt.

"How about some tapestries with dragons on them?- Can you sew dragons?"

Can she sew dragons! Sansa can sew everything! Sansa realized her ignorance, Jon's possible heritage counted too. "Oh of course, that would make a little more sense." She smiled at the idea of her new commission. "I can sew anything, dragons should be no problem...you wouldn't be able to ride it mind you." She caught him smirk and it delighted her to no end. The Queen remembered what Podrick had told her, and now was the time to discuss it. "I heard castle black saw a dragon?"

He did a quick sweep to look at her, perhaps to see if she was panicked."Aye, they did." Their walk was at a snail's pace. "I advised them not to engage with it, or aim anything at it, I assumed it only attacked if they saw an obvious threat."

"-Or felt peckish..." The grin they shared was quite sombre, they were acknowledging the danger lurking. It was enough to strain their so-called marriage. "Maybe if this 'army of the dead' threaten it, it could wipe them all out."

"That would be something, wouldn't it?- Make my job a lot easier." The snow had settled on his pelts, and Sansa couldn't help but memorize it. File it away in her brain for a rainy day. Jon looked like her father, and she was sure she looked like her mother. It was as if 'something' wanted history to repeat itself. He caught her serene facial expression. "It's nice to see that genuine smile, I'd put it on a banner for the whole of Westeros to see."Jon crooned at her. "Sew that on a banner."

Her cheeks tinged, it prolonged the smile. "Thank you." That's all she could say, normally compliments like this warrant something in return- but it had turned her into a puddle of girlishness. "It's a bit of a contrast to your brooding, not that I mind your brooding." Though she couldn't see it at that moment, nor did she know what to say to him. "My, you really have stepped up your game when it comes to talking to girls."

"Now I must learn to woo." Even though he had said it as an afterthought, his eyes would creep to her then back to where they were walking. Sansa knew he was talking about her. Obviously, he wouldn't learn to woo in order to apply it to other women. Subtle.

She kept her path in her sights, she was sure her cheeks were still red. "Perhaps you should read some of my old books? Good old fashioned chivalry." She doubted he would immerse himself in a fairytale.

"I would rather read yours...when will your story be ready to read?" Jon came to a halt at the epicentre of the stairwells, and turned to her, he wanted her to see the sincerity in his face. "I'd like to be the first...if you don't mind?"

"Soon, your grace." Nervous, but happy with his interest. "I'm quite attached to it, it feels like soon as I release it, it'll no longer be mine."

Jon extended a gloved hand, and she took it wondering what he was going to do. "Share your gift with the world." He gestured for them to sit on the top stair, he lowered her onto the step, and he creaked as he joined her. A comfortable silence consumed them, as she watched the bustle down below. It was only broken by the sound of flexing gloves, it drew Sansa's attention and she looked at her husband, becoming increasingly aware of the strength in those hands.

"Sansa." He rumbled. "Do you feel comforted by this darkness?"

They were going back to the night before."Sometimes, it's best to be nowhere than somewhere..." She heard it, it was vague, but how can she describe a dark dank uncomfortable place that holds her every night, and brief moments in the day. A place she keeps visiting, despite it being so horrible. "I used to escape there, then it got saturated by bad things."

"Like what?"

Oh hell. "Memories." She said it with a shrug, hopefully her vagueness would put him off asking. "Nothing much."

Jon was staring, and it made her face hot, and mouth dry, and he said as clear as day- "Ramsay."

It was skirting close to talking about it. You might have to. Sansa had lost the capability to blink, it could have loosened her tears. It sounded like he had posed a question, but he had stated it as if he knew. She declined confirming his hunch. "Hm."

"I doubt Ramsay is paying you a visit through this darkness, Sansa. This darkness was created by your own mind, it's baggage that you are carrying around with you." How the hell did he know what she was thinking? "It isn't a ghost, it isn't the afterlife, so he isn't there. He can't hurt you in dreams or thoughts, Sansa."

The Queen was wary of guards and small folk hearing in passing, so she spoke in hushed tones, using her hair to curtain her face. "That's where you're wrong." She breathed, and her mope was interrupted by a finger nudging up her chin.

"No." He whispered gently. "I know the afterlife." His voice lost some of its calm. "There is nothing in the afterlife, just darkness." She could hear anger, and she was glad when he released her chin. "The kind of darkness that can make you go mad with loneliness...There's no loved ones to greet you." His voice developed a frightened tone. "You want to cling to anything that passes by. The void is your worst enemy, because there is nothing to distract you, but your own festering thoughts of self loathing."

Sansa couldn't believe what she was hearing, no heaven...self loathing? And her poor Jon had experienced this and had been stuck there. He did a loud sniff and it broke her concentration. Her brave strong husband in purgatory. It made her want to cry, and she knew she would if she ever saw him cry. She budged up to him on the stair, so their legs were touching. They wore inch thick layers- they could feel nothing but each other's presence. "It's not the void that's the worst enemy, it's oneself." She said as fiercely as he, to break him from his thoughts. "You're no longer in the void."

"But it waits for us all."

That would haunt her, what he meant, and his conviction and bitterness. He was supposed to be comforting her, not telling her there was nothing after death. It gave her a dark sense of foreboding, that she hoped wouldn't last her a life time. It made her problems seem trivial. "I wish I could have been there, as much as I wish you were in my darkness."He had been briefly in her darkness, but as a harmless boy. She ran a hand over his glove and he turned it over so he could grasp her. Their fingers interlocked, and she heard the creak of leather. Oh how she loved it. Her head fell onto the furs on his shoulder, her lashes meeting pelts.

He was still, accepting her contact, restraining his urge to pull her closer. "You used it to escape me, why would you want me there?"

"I wasn't escaping you." She noticed he had slackened his grip on her hand, but she clung it back. "I was escaping the situation." That likely didn't sound any better.

"Because we're siblings..?"

She raised her head, so only her chin was on his furs. "That doesn't cross my mind anymore." His head turned, she saw hope there, their faces were so close. Close enough to share air, or kiss. But they just stared into each other's souls. It was just a shame she had to spoil the moment to describe her trauma. "Ramsay tainted the warmth of intimacy." That sentence expressed it all. Don't say anymore.

"I'm sorry." He probably didn't know what else to say, he couldn't end it with a kiss or an embrace, since it wouldn't work- on his delicate Sansa."Are you sure we should sit this close?"

"I chose to sit this close." Sansa said. He was so sweet. They returned to looking down into the courtyard, they could see men forging swords. A thought came to her. "Why aren't you afraid of swords, or knives after your ordeal?"

Jon straightened, a little taken a back- he had never been asked about that. Sansa clung to his hand, despite the sudden movement. "It's the person wielding them that scares me." He gave a single huff as if it were funny. "Imagine if after every battle, every winning side said 'I ain't doing that again!'- There would be mayhem."

"Or no wars ever again." His wife brought her other hand off her knee and squeezed his bicep. "I'm sorry I sent you into battle so soon."

"Nonsense, it needed to be done." Jon rumbled, but she doubted its sincerity. "For the love of Starks." Alright that sounded sincere. And his other hand sandwiched hers, looking at her with intent. "I had to make you a widow, sweetheart." It was dark, but funny. He sobered, putting all his strength in the next question. "Tell me what happened, tell me what he did?"

Gods give me strength. Sansa hand fell from his arm and back to her knee."I don't know what you expect me to tell you, it was very repetitive- but very unpredictable." Jon saw her wringing her skirt.

"Sansa, you might feel awful now, you might even feel vulnerable after you've told me, but it'll go back to normal- I swear it."

Sansa waited, as a guard trod past, she let her hair curtain her face again. "Ramsay was a brute, he had brute strength in everything he did, even when, holding me down, he would violate with the same force he did every time, he never grew gentler during the attacks." She avoided his eye, embarrassed. Sansa was certain she could hear grinding teeth.

"How often?" He said with a heavy heart. Did he really want to know that?

"Every night." She heard him cuss, she had to plough on- "He enjoyed biting; shoulder and neck. He only kissed me in public for show." This was usually the point she would be completely incoherent and wet with tears, but she was angry, staring hard at the steps below her. "I used to always be on my front, there were moments where I couldn't breathe, those times I wished I had stopped breathing."

Jon squeezed her hand, it anchored her to the steps next to her him, despite being emotionally or physically drained, she could feel herself surging forward into a tunnel with darkness at the end. Sansa said more. "There were only two times I was on my back, they were the worst, I could see him, he would normally keep my clothes on, on this occasion he removed everything." She ground her teeth before continuing fast, to get it out. "I tried to cover myself, but he would wrench my hands away. He would hold me down with them, I wasn't one for fighting- but when I did get..." She heard Ramsay used the word 'feisty' and it made her sick. "My knees and feet were good at providing resistance, but he used to apply pressure around my throat, I had to physically stop what I was doing for him to give me some slack." She found her hand squeezing Jon's tightly back, she wasn't sure who was making it tremor. "But towards the end of my...captivity, I never fought...I would just lie there, my mind elsewhere."Jon became still, like he was in a trance. Sansa could feel the stillness all around her, her husband's festering thoughts. "Don't imagine, Jon, just don't."

Her husband had a face full of venom, it wasn't directed at her, but when he realised she was really there, safe and well in front of him she saw water in his eyes. "I hope the darkness consumes him." He kissed her hand, hard and with feeling. "Sansa, my love." He was clearly choked up, he kept grunting to stifle himself from losing what was left of his masculinity.

A pressure lifted from her chest, it had been pent up so long it had left an ache. The urge to cry had gone, but she had been so close. "I think he would be in the true seven hells. He's finished, there's no lord of light or one of the seven waiting on him."A sickness crept to her, she had told him. Getting it out was rewarding for a time, but now there were no more secrets- he would carry the rape on his shoulders as well, he would be aware of her defilement. She wasn't a sweet lovely wife, that could be a satisfying reward after a battle. She pat his knee, he was still trying to conjure up nasty images. "The gods weren't finished with you when you left this world, which is why you were stored in that place. There will be a heaven for us." It came to her in a flash, his darkness was a place to wait, her darkness was a place to hide. "Husband."

It was like he had come out of battle, and lost, he looked wary- and tired, it had taken its toll on him, death, and her abuse. Tears were threatening to fall and he looked up to allow the air to dry them away. "What must you think of me?" He rasped, trying to smile, but that all changed when he lurched. "Oh gods- what must you think-" He looked like he was going to vomit, he looked a blueish white.

"It's a shock, I know." She tentatively clutched his arm, and he looked at it like she had burnt him.

"How can you touch me?"

She dropped him like he was hot, she felt like balling her eyes out. He didn't want a defiled wife touching his perfectness- "I'm sorry."It hardly came out.

He seized her hand before the warmth she had left behind had gone. "No sweet wife." She hiccuped at his urgency. "You had to put up with that horror, only to have me...molest you without a thought of your trauma, I have been arrogant- swaggering about like some git, and I should have known the worst." He kissed the tip of her fingers. "Sorry, I probably should have asked." He was referring to snaring her hand, but he should apply it to every time he made a grab...and grope.

"It's called ignorance, not arrogance, Jon." While they were in close proximity, she brought her free hand up to caress his face. "Sorry I ruined your wedding night."

"Oh don't be stupid." He said with humoured annoyance. "Silly wife." He was about to kiss her and he halted, he lolled his head to the side, to pull a reluctant smile. "Fucking habit." The King withdrew.

"Jon!" He had cussed in front of her. "I'll rub your gums with soap." She leant and kissed his forehead. "For now let's just play a part in the game."

Her husband stared at her like she was some sort of miracle. "I'll do the peace talks...and if I should fail, I'll warmonger. You deal with court gossip and political intrigue." They were clutching at each other's hands, like some courting couple out of a fairytale. She noted his demeanour suddenly changed, awkwardness rife in his body. "Sansa...?"

"Hm?"

"Were you completely uncomfortable... when I invited you to eat lemon cake off-" There was a creak on the board they were perched on, and they detected another presence behind them, they both inclined and their smiles dropped.

"Magnificent day, isn't it, your graces?" The witch looked smug, and it killed the mood, but it spared Sansa's blushes. Lemon cakes and abs. They immediately dropped each other's hands as if they had been snared from an elopement. "The lord of light has given me a vision in the flames."

Jon inclined to his wife."Ey up." And he clambered to his feet. "How did you get in?"

"The lord of light showed me a way."

And Sansa and Jon simultaneously sighed. The young Queen chose this moment to stand. "I'm sure the lord of light can show you a way out."

Melisandre nodded in agreement. Why in the hells would she agree with that? "In due time, my Queen."

"Due?" Sansa said sceptically, that meant 'I will', but why so willingly? "When Winterfell falls, when we die..?" Sansa jested.

"When the war is over."

"Which war?" Jon asked, going into training mode, hand on hilt, with his feet apart.

"The monsters frighten me too, not men in castles squabbling over chairs." Melisandre said with fire in her eyes.

"Good answer." Sansa got the impression Jon was about to say that too, and he closed his mouth and smirked at her. The witch dithered, as if to sandwich herself between them. Sansa made sure that didn't happen. "What was vision in the fire, my lady?"

The red woman smiled at her success, but grimaced at her news. "I think you will be troubled by this bad news, I saw the wall that towers above castle black." She paused for effect, this held the royals attention. "I saw large cracks, and sheets separating, then crashing down on the castle below."

Jon was first to speak. "The wall would never fall, it's been up a thousand of years, and it's maintained by the men." But he never dismissed her completely, nor did he say 'she might be mistaken.' This woman had frightening accuracy when it came to visions, but she couldn't fix her loyalty or conviction on one person. She had failed Stannis. "Should I send a raven to castle black, tell 'em to pack and leave?"

Sansa reached for her husband hand, clasping it with both of hers. "It's best to be safe than sorry."

Jon was squirmed at the request. "The brotherhood won't up sticks and leave their home and their duty on a word of a witch." He said that with traces of venom. "Where would they go?"

"Here?" Sansa suggested, but it would take them a week.

Jon shook his head, he looked apologetic- since he was openly disagreeing with his wife."If the wall doesn't fall, they are the only thing between us and the threat, I can't ask them leave."