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In the afternoon, Jon followed his wife down to the library. She wrote her story and he sat and read, while monitoring her. Admiring her. It took him a considerable amount of time to find a book, any would suffice- but the titles put him off. He settled on one called 'Etiquettes of the old versus the new world.' After about an hour of rifling through the book, he found a chapter on wedding ceremonies. He gave a single bark when he stumbled across an old custom, but it wasn't enough to bring his wife out of her concentration.

"Would you prefer keeping your clothes on?" Jon was talking into a book, deliberately obscuring his face.

Sansa was still with her thoughts when the question was posed. "Hm?"

"Do you feel more secure if I allowed you to keep your clothes on?" Jon repeated, in the same nonchalant tone. "Or nightie..."

The Queen stared at her notes, she hadn't quite listened, even when getting him to repeat it. "Sorry, did you just ask about my clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, it's the dress from our travels." She was pleased he had noticed the dress, it must be his favourite. Sansa dipped the quill into her pot of ink, and continued to write. She heard Jon sigh with resignation. She didn't know why? "Are you bored doing a little light reading?" She heard him groan as if he was doing a stretch, when she looked up, he was half-way completing one.

Jon relaxed against the back of the armchair. "So this is where you come in the day? You hide away from servants, the witch...me..."

"The servants are busy renovating, doing the laundry, and cooking, you train, the witch watches you, and I keep myself busy, I'm hardly hiding." Sansa had her far away- I'm still writing, and not going to stop voice on.

They were disturbed by a gust of wind coming through the door, the only thing that acted as a windbreak was Sam, dithering in the doorway. "Lovely sight."

Jon glanced over the book. "Yeah, it's great... we're talking and sitting alone in the same room together. Marriage."

"No I meant, utilizing a library, it's nice to see you read." Sam said chirpily, ambling over to the shelves.

"I read." Jon grumbled. "I read all the time." He caught Sansa shaking her head, and he had this urge to...ram her.

"Have you sent the raven?" Sansa eased into their conversation. Sam automatically looked at Jon, knowing the importance of that decision, he had heard from Davos, whom had heard from Jon about the dilemma.

"No." Jon finally deliberated, snaring a new book off the shelf from where he sat.

The Queen spun her head around and her hair went with it. "Why not?" Sam went skittish at the shade being thrown in the King's direction. Sansa saw her husband absently flicking through a very worn book, before settling on a page. He shrugged, as he fingered the sheet. "Jon, why not, and I know you're not reading...Why not?"

His eyes flicked up to hers, locking them in place. "They have to man the wall." She was about to argue with him "-What if the wall falls down because they aren't manning it?"

Sansa stared at him with the same amount of intensity. Sam was trying to hide, in case he got dragged into the storm. "Unlikely..."

The King snapped the book shut. "Melisandre never gave us a date, we don't know when this incident is supposed to happen." The chair groaned as he lurched forward. "What if the fear causes us to act irrationally and leads to our downfall."

That was good."We could apply that to life." And her story, she sneakily jotted the words down. "Let's just humour the witch, and send a raven to castle black, whether they heed us or not- it'll be on their heads."

"You mean the wall will be on their heads." Sam commented, and then hid from the eyes of fire. He sniggered afterwards realising how funny he was. "I'm awful, when Gilly get's here, I'll behave."

Jon stood from his chair. "Gilly and the baby wouldn't do well up here, they're safer where they're at, in fact I think they should go further south." He could see the cagey look Sam was giving him. "Please tell me you haven't sent for them."

"Not yet, I was going to send a raven."

"Don't! They're better off in Oldtown."

"Alright!..Gods, Jon." Sam said incredulously, before grimacing at Jon's very severe face. "I mean...Gods, your grace." He put his hands up in surrender. "I was just getting a book." He randomly plucked one from the shelf. "Good night." And Sam scurried away, leaving the royals in the library.

Sansa had winced at the exchange, not even she could think and write through that madness. "He misses them, Jon, he could at least write."

Jon unflared his nostrils, and took a much needed breath. "I know, but this is hardly the time or place to invite a baby around."

"My thoughts exactly." Sansa mumbled, turning back to her story. She felt a heat source hovering over her shoulder, and knew his hand was there.

"Is that another reason for holding back?"He said, nervous of touching her.

She smiled at his genteelness and hesitation, and she used her quill feather to skim his fingers that were levitating over her shoulder. "Might be." She inclined her head. "I would say the first reason trumps the latter."

"If the world doesn't end... would you?" Jon said, it was warm- but very ominous in Sansa's opinion.

"Of course." The Queen used her writing as a shield. "If I'm not barren."

The witch had been updated on what Jon knew. "I'm proud of you."

Sansa ignored the affection this woman was trying to force on her. "So, you must understand... your tutorials will be a little redundant." She felt the hot hand on her back. "He has learnt the value of personal space." Surely she could take the hint?

"Excellent." The red woman withdrew her hand.

Excellent. Sansa agreed, eating some bread. "He said I was welcome to go into his personal space, but he said he would not invade mine."

"Ah..." Melisandre didn't sound too pleased with that. Tough. "So breaching would be out of the question?"

"Most definitely."Sansa nodded prudently.

"You know you can make love with your clothes on?"

Sansa put down her cob of bread. "You can also make love, without making love."

Melisandre see-sawed her head. "Yes, with words, dance...eyes." She did a wide stare. "Mental undressing, do you undress your husband with your eyes?"

"I don't have to undress him." She hid behind her cob of bread, ladies probably weren't supposed to do that. "His clothes please me."Biting into another morsel, turning away from the witch. "Nudity may be traditional, but it isn't a necessity." Though enjoyable in small doses.

"I see." Melisandre was sceptical, with both the new rules, and the Queen's opinion. "Have you kissed him?"

Didn't the witch rifle through her thoughts? "I'm pretty sure you already know the answer to that." Sansa retorted and amazingly she saw the witch shrug and eat some bread herself. My gods.

"You are fond of lemon cake, are you not?"

Sansa didn't react, she remained nonplus- eating heartily, kept her eyes narrow and devoid of panic. "You know that, my lady." Munch munch munch."What of it?"

"Nothing, your grace." She said plainly, staring at her with those violet blues. "But I implore you to invade that personal space as many times as you can, so when he enters yours you won't even care."

Sansa had her 'whatever' face on. "Hm."

"And when the time comes, bolt the door, and keep your clothes on...do it standing up if you have to, break the habit."

Something hairy and white was staring across at her from the end of the hall. "But I would still be exposed, since whatever is happening to me- involves..." Breaching. Ghost lay down, and put his head across the threshold, staring across at her soulfully, she found herself smiling at the wolf- despite the negative things going through her head. "Ramsay sometimes kept his garments on, sometimes I could feel and smell the blood on them, then there were times he was shirtless-" Melisandre could hear her grinding her teeth. "I hated that."

The witch looked to the wolf. "Summon him." As if she knew the beast might help to calm her.

Sansa saw whom she was referring to staring at her as if waiting, and clicked at him, and his head popped up and he trotted gracefully over to them, he crossed a big distance in very few strides, his head was on the Queen's lap in no time. She stroked him, long and lovingly. The witch saw the smile of the Queen's face, it stayed there for the rest of their talk.

When they were done, the wolf stood and shook, they too followed suit, shaking theirs skirts free of hair. "He never let me pet him that long before, that has to be a record."

"Perhaps he should be allowed in the bedchamber?- I'm surprised Jon didn't have him stationed there." The witch suggested, servants were setting up a mess hall for the small folk lunch, they surveyed people busying themselves.

"I think it was common courtesy for me, but I don't know why he would think Ghost would bother me?- I used to have a wolf once." They both shared a fairly sincere smile, which could have fooled anyone into thinking they were friends.

Unbeknownst to the ladies, they were being watched by a disgruntled advisor on a elevated corner in the hall, close to the exit. "She still has her in her services, something's up with that girl." He tutted at the display, he heard Jon rumble behind him.

"I know, I can only assume she's keeping the witch close for a reason." He watched them wistfully, his direwolf followed Sansa as she walked out of the main hall, the witch was in tow. "I can't trust her, I don't care if she brought me back...Sansa must believe she can use the witches skills for something."

Davos noted the early stages of a growl, the boy had a bit of stark in him, not probably something Sansa would like to hear. He believed the very thing putting her off giving herself to her husband was the chance they still shared a parent. "She has gained the queen's confidence." He shivered. "You know Melisandre gained Shireen's confidence, and her mother's...and I know what happened to both." He chose to study the King's face. "Her magic works, but to what cost?"

Jon nodded. "I know the price, she told me before I kicked her out of my services."

He had baited Davos in, he always assumed Jon had pushed her away because he didn't like magic, or she was always trying to bed him. "One can imagine, but remind me." Just in case he had missed out on some valuable information. "Does your wife know?"

Jon squatted with a creak, cagily wringing his gloves, he jumped down from the platform. "Come." He inched outside "I told her something, but not all." By his manner, Davos assumed he was going to leave it at that. "But Melisandre wouldn't dare, if I didn't give her permission." Davos wished he got to the point. "If she ever did pay that price, no magic in this world could save her."

The advisor was smart enough to work out what had been suggested to him. "She encouraged you to burn Sansa, as a sacrifice to her god, didn't she?" The younger gent nodded grimly while looking downwards. A sickness consumed Davos. "She's at her games again that little bitch!" His fist slammed against a wooden fence, it spooked a couple of chickens and they took to the air for about a second. "I think Sansa is smart enough to work out what Melisandre could do to her...if not, Melisandre would give us a diversion and do the deed alone."

"There are two problems with that, one being the obvious; Nothing could divert me from Sansa, I love Sansa, the end of my wife's life would be the end of Melisandre's." It was a poignant moment, one that should be relayed to the Queen herself. "And two; it wouldn't work- Sansa doesn't exactly have King's blood, Ned wasn't a king." Jon finally locked eyes with the older gent. "Unless the power is within the whole 'sacrifice of love' thing." The King of the north shook his head. "I've sacrificed enough, and I wouldn't ever send Sansa into that darkness."

Davos seated himself next to his majesty. "Melisandre is sticking around for a reason, and it maybe for that first reason, I don't know how she's going to do it, mind you, but shouldn't she be gaining your trust and painting Sansa in a horrible light?"

"Never."

"I know." He was going to pat his knee but restrained himself. "I feel the red woman is helping the Queen face her own demons, to her help her help you..." Jon looked at him apprehensively, as if asking 'how?' "That's what frightens me, your grace. How and why?"

"I don't need her help, we have connected, I know everything now." The younger gent straightened up. "Unless she is schooling her in the ways of the lord of light?- Converting her to Rhollor?" Further wringing of his gloves. "I suppose she would talk or bewitch my wife into jumping on the pyre herself."

Selyse was very submissive, Davos thought grimly."She might use your wife to convert you..."

Jon was quiet for a time as if reflecting on something complicated, and in a low rumble-"I'm curious about the technique she'll use."

Davos had to replay it in his mind to make sense of it. "No you're not. Don't be daft, Sansa doesn't have a seductive bone in her body."

"You said it first." Jon raised an inquisitive brow to his advisor. "And you know nothing, Davos Seaworth."

"I'd be very worried about that, if I were you...and if Melisandre was involved." This was his advisor telling him this was no jesting matter. "It wouldn't be real."

"I know, Sansa is delicate at the moment- and I'm...unhinged, I'm retraining myself to be quiet and courteous. It's hard as hell, I see red all the time."

"Save it for the battle, not for the bed."

Jon cleared his throat. "Of course." He stood up from the fence "Let's get outside of the battlements." They dither near the main doors, but didn't make any indication to the gate keeper. "If I get a whiff of blood, I'll give her a fair warning..." He received his advisors concerned expression. "I was referring to blood magic, and telling off the witch if I become aware of it." He tugged at his tunic, he seemed to get distracted for a moment, Davos thought he'd seen something of interest on the ground- and looked.

"What is it?"

Jon then looked up as if something had him spooked. "Melisandre makes shadow babies..."

It was an uncomfortable thing for Davos to recollect, he grunted. "Err yeah...but don't ever-"

"-Don't be daft!" His King waved his hand in refusal. "She's obsessed with heirs- with King's blood, if she can't get a shadow baby from me, she'll get a baby from someone..."

The advisor was visibly shaken. "You think Sansa could birth a shadow baby?" He couldn't imagine the sweet girl doing something so unholy.

"No, a real baby." Jon then pointed at his heart. "With King's blood." He appeared to have made himself nauseous. "Oh seven hells, she wants to burn my baby."

There was no baby as of yet. "Oh gods..." The advisor looked about to make sure they were out of earshot. "Well she is brazen enough to do such things, who even says she'll wait for Sansa to give birth?" Davos looked as nervous as hell, before he raised a finger to make a suggestion. "Just don't dip your wick...anywhere." The emphasis on anywhere made it twice as dramatic. "I'll doubt that'll happen- she's very delicate, but if she ever did change her mind- you have to be ready to say 'no.'

Now it was Jon's turn-"Oh gods." He bet Davos and Sansa would be bouncing off the walls with that little suggestion. "No, Melisandre wouldn't go behind my back and burn people willy-nilly, I'd burn the witch first."

So he still wished to dip his wick at some point. The older gent was getting tired with this obsession with sex and...fire. Coming back from the dead had given his King needs he never had to begin with."I wonder if she knows anything about those dragons, surely her fire god would warrant the use of dragons?" His attempt at changing the subject was poor since it still held fire within the question.

"What about them?"

"If Melisandre wants you to be a champion of light, then why not have dragons instead of shadow babies and blood magic?" Davos tried. "Though perhaps her blood magic is a way of summoning one."

"Nope. Unless you can pull one out of a sac, I doubt we'll ever be lucky enough to own one, blood magic is a last resort- and nobody is going to die for the sake of a dragon." There was no mirth in his voice, this was a serious old Jon speaking. "There's also the taming of it as well." Jon had that wistful look on him again. "By 'eck if we did get a dragon, we could win this war and many more to come."

Davos smiled sadly. "If only." He looked to the skies above the wall of the battlements. "And as I've been told, Sansa would get the opportunity to ride a dragon."

Jon mumbled something coarsely in response to that.

Sansa was already snoozing in bed when Jon returned to the chambers, he tried to quietly close the door, and grimaced when it groaned. He glanced over, his wife appeared to still be asleep. He de-robed quickly, and snuck under the covers. He lay supine, slightly uncovered since tonight he felt very warm. He didn't have the urge that night, which rarely happened- at least, not for a long time, it was as if that part of his brain had finally switched off. Probably a good thing to, mate. It was like his first year at the wall; no needs, no longing, and he had nothing to his name. The only ambition he had at the time was to become a ranger, just like his uncle Benjen. Now, he had nearly everything. At the moment, he was in possession of Winterfell- until Bran materialized. Jon wasn't just a lord, he was a king, and he had a hypothetical throne. Jon looked at his wife. And her, you got her too. His pretty little wife had been hardened by abuse, but she hid it well, she still looked fair and untouched by horror. But soon as her mouth opened, you heard tales of anger and terror, voice thick with betrayal. Their reunion at castle black had been blighted with vengeance, she was fierce, she wanted it all, when he wanted nothing- he just wanted to immerse himself in self-loathing, and pity. And avoid death at all costs. But soon as he got the taste of vengeance and conquering, he wanted it all, he had a purpose, to get it all...even her, defend the realms of men...especially her.

At first he was in denial, even when a union was proposed, but eventually he just thought – 'fuck it.' He would decide at the wedding whether he would be up to it. And he certainly was. Sansa was beautiful, and he had seen her fierce side, she was every inch a Queen.

Sansa was frowning, in her sleep. Jon hardly saw her smile when she was awake, when she did- it held more value than a dragon. His finger caressed her cheek, she moved and he retreated. Careful, she could wake up screaming.

Sansa was in the darkness again, it wasn't windy tonight. So she could hear the silence, she was alone, and cleaning her paws. That's right she was her direwolf again. She didn't need clothes, she felt fierce, and she didn't care. After quite a bit of time Sansa decided to venture into the woods, and there she encountered the small boy again.

"Oh you're back." Jon rushed to her, and mussed her fur. She couldn't speak, that was the only problem, she felt she should have some control in her dream. She huffed at him, and he simply smiled. "Let's make a fire."

She followed the figment out of the woods and into the area where she had sat to clean her paws. She watched him make a fire, nervous the boy was going to hurt himself, but if he did- it would be her own fault for not dreaming him safely preparing the fire. He succeeded, she realised this was the first time a new element had featured in her darkness. She rested her head on his legs, and allowed him to stroke her. Oh bliss. She stared up at him from the angle she was at, he was staring out into the blackness, she mumbled at him. What is it? And she wondered what her imagination would conjure up.

"I assumed Ghost would be joining me." He suddenly said. "Sorry girl, no hard feelings, ey?" He fussed her again, and she found the comment informative, though it wasn't really a true opinion, it was what she believed he would say. Jon would certainly favour his wolf over hers. "I suppose they didn't have the heart to kill the wolf."

Sansa shifted uncomfortably in his lap. She thought about lady the body she was in, killed by her father. But who on earth would kill Ghost...The night's watch? Why would her mind give her this puzzle?- And why couldn't she speak? She let out a whine, and Jon hugged her, gripped her tight.

"At least I got you...we might be here for some time." He said fairly ominously. She felt her tail wagging, but it soon slowed to a halt when she realised- a figment says he's happy you are here, great!