The Queen woke up with a face full of pillow, she rose bleary eyed above it, to remind herself where she was, and to check whether it was morning. While acknowledging the daylight that streamed through the windows, she realised her hand was resting on warm flesh. In a moment of ignorance and confusion, she wiggled her fingers over the flesh in hopes of figuring out which body part of hers she was touching, she received no indication. Her brain finally woke up and she flipped her head round to see Jon, and her hand...on his stomach. She snared her hand back, just as he blinked open his eyes. Jon's head rose from his pillow to acknowledge the fleeting contact, his head dropped back onto the pillow again with no comment. Sansa hoped he thought he'd imagined it.

"Morning." She said, to try and break his thought trail, or maybe any tension. Though the only tension was coming from her. She did a push up under the covers and flipped herself over. The pillow exercises were paying off.

"Look at you, so agile." Jon said amiably, adjusting the covers back over him, she had accidently tugged them away. "Someone has had their porridge."

But no oats, hopefully. The Queen rolled out of bed and adjusted her nightie. "I had a good sleep, very restful...nothing happened."

"Well that's normally what happens when you sleep." He too slunk out of bed, pulling the covers with him. He wrapped himself and marched into the other room.

He must have been nude again. Sansa unfolded her divider. "I meant I didn't have any nightmares." She called over into the other room. She saw one of her handmaiden's come in, they spotted her and followed her behind the screen. This girl wasn't Agnes, so she had to be normal. Whatever normal meant? She was silently undressed, and had a bowl of hot water brought to her. And she washed independently, as usual. She never let a maid wash her, not anymore. But it was strange not talking through the screen. The only time she spoke was when she was selecting something to wear, different gowns were presented to her. The day wasn't important, so she picked the plainest. Sansa was assisted into her freshly laundered small clothes and shift, before she got into her selected attire.

The handmaiden gathered the nightie and the bed linen. The ones she could find- since her husband had scarpered with them. "Your grace." She actually curtseyed while holding a pile bigger than her, all the Queen saw was a dipping pile of fabric.

"Thank you, no bread for me this morning, that'll be all." Sansa then politely dismissed her, flicking her hair out of her robes. When the door had shut, she skirted around the door to the other chamber. "It's safe to come out now." Sansa then seated herself at her dresser and started her routinely brush through of her hair, she then inclined when she realised she heard nothing in response. "Jon?" She continued to brush, staring at the ajar door in the reflection. Nothing, surely he hadn't dressed and snuck out during her ritual? "Are you in there?" The Queen was beginning to feel stupid, she was probably talking to herself. She ventured close to the door. If he isn't in there, then there is no harm going in. Sansa tapped the wood as she pushed her way in. Excepting she had been alone the entire time, she saw a pale of water, a towel, and nothing more, until she pushed the door further and she saw Jon wrapped in the bed sheet sitting by the fire. "No wonder why you're cold, you're naked." She commented, expecting him to look up. He didn't, had he fallen out with her? "Jon?"

He was staring into the fire.

"What is-?" It hit her like a pale of cold water- he can see something. She stooped to see into the flames and tracked all the way to his face. Definitely. "What do you see?" She tried, and it fell on the deaf ears. She squatted so low she was almost sitting, right next to him. "It's not certain." She said, as if whatever he saw, if it was bad, she needed him to know that nothing was certain. The Queen waved her hand between his face and the flames, casting shadow on his features. "Your grace?"

She remembered she had heard screams, perhaps he could hear the screams- maybe even see the person screaming, and the cause. How awful. She gripped his shoulders, and shook, gently at first. "Jon?" Nothing frightened her more than having Jon not acknowledging her. Sansa pulled him sideways into her bosom, he was pliable- but his face fixed on the light, neutral, devoid of terror, pain or relaxation."Jon, my love." She was threading fingers through his hair desperately.

The Queen finally decided to use her arm to block his sight, she put him in a head lock about the face. He suddenly made a deathly rattling noise and she slackened to find him fluttering his eyes, she clutched him about the face and levelled it was hers. "You're back."

He looked like he'd just woken up again, his eyes rolled about before acknowledging her, holding his face affectionately. "Sansa." He rumbled, she had never held him like this, he looked lovelorn and a bit embarrassed, he pulled back- it was overwhelming him. "Seven hells..." He put a hand up to probably check she was real. "I'm alright, thank you." He began to crawl away from her, withdrawing cagily from her soothing hands. It was like some role reversal, how funny.

"What did you see in the flames?" She got straight to the point about her concerns.

He scrutinized this query. "What makes you think I saw anything?" Perhaps he was sceptic the woman before him was his wife?

"You frightened me."

"That sounds about right." Was this the confirmation Jon needed? "I'm fine, sweetheart..." Clearly yes. He tried to rise unaided but she was on him like a mother. "Sansa." He was trying to be gruff despite his apparent urge to swoon. "Send for my squire." He couldn't believe he was discouraging her. "Podrick will do."

"Really?" She escorted him to a chair, not seeming to care he was naked. Just don't look down. He dropped heavily into the chair, she winced, she was sure he sat on something vital. Maybe everything was numb from the waist down? She was still bending over, checking his face, fawning over him. Jon at first fluttered, and then something clicked and he tried to steer her to one side.

"Woaw, enough now, love."

"You don't want your wife helping you?" Sansa said surprised. "You got lost in those flames, they consumed you."

"I was merely daydreaming, back up-" He was getting flustered, he suddenly noticed the sheets were on the floor by his feet. "Oh...shit." He stooped quickly, snared his blanket, and he awkwardly adjusted himself, she lurked over him- as if studying his mood."Sansa you're crowding me!" Jon was getting agitated, so he snapped and wafted her away.

"Oh alright." She kept her voice to a minimum, but she was a little annoyed. What eased her was the fact her husband looked genuinely embarrassed and was blushing by his nakedness. How odd his nudity in her presence bothered him. "Bless you, I'll send for your squire then." She soothed, and stroked him like a dog, his head jarred like she had slapped him. Yikes. "And off I go." She excused herself.

Sansa summoned Podrick, and he came almost immediately. He must have been in the hall. While he dithered around her husband, she sat and sewed in her lounger, waiting for him to emerge. She felt different that morning, sated, with small traces of annoyance because her husband told her to **ck off in the politest way possible. There was the tinge of concern within her that he had seen something terrible in the flames, but other than that she felt sedated. At least she wasn't petrified, haunted, or sad. Sansa felt like a conqueror, she felt she could do anything today. She smiled as she imagined restful nights of uneventful dreams, and waking up dry, with no ounce of sweat. Feeling clean, she didn't have to scratch and burn to purge herself.

"Better now." Jon said gruffly, showing Podrick out. She realised it was intended for her ears. He tugged at his tunic- setting his face into that of someone who had no worries.

"Oh, are you?" Sansa pulled a stitch through her muslin, clocking him under her brows. She had misgivings, but she wouldn't push the issue straight away."It's going to be a good day to day, beautiful, there was a red sky last night." She saw Jon glance across at her, toying with all his buckles. "It's like I've been blessed by the gods."

"Steady on, we got blessed a couple of weeks ago, how much luck are we having? I wouldn't say today I feel blessed." Jon said, putting on his sword scabbard. He analysed everything in the room for some reason, she could tell it was all to avoid her. "Has Agnes said anything odd to you this morning, did she do anything?"

Sansa halted what she was doing. Melisandre you mean? "She didn't come in this morning. Another maid was in..." She didn't like his shiftiness. "...What did you see in the fire?"

"Sansa enough! I didn't see anything!" He fired back at her, his nostrils flared. Her nervous energy returned again, she preferred it when he was brooding, her bodice had no room for her extended breath, so she had to put a hand on her stomach, his face softened and he raised an unsteady hand. "Sorry..." His face searched for something to add. "Sorry, love." And he made to leave, probably to break a few shields. "I'll see you-"

"-Later?"

"I'll see you, when I see you." And he frigidly left her.

Sansa was in two minds about her husband's mood, sure it was a more subdued mood which tamed his libido. That's a good thing...right? But he had sunk into an old state of mind, one she didn't expect to see again. It was like he had died and come back again, and was learning how to live, and fight, and talk to her.

He avoided her like the plague, her and the witch. Davos relayed to her an incident in the courtyard, where someone swung a sword at his, it collided as per usual- but he dropped it immediately. Everyone was stunned into silence. She could imagine that and feel sorry for her husband's humiliation, but apparently he said 'Well done.' But it didn't happen again, the same man that had disarmed him, was unable to hold onto both his shield and sword when there was a rematch.

"Has anything happened?" Davos inquired over breakfast, she sat with him in the great hall, munching on scraps.

"Well, apart from him skirting around me, and avoiding my eye..."

"Is that right?" I see. Everybody knew that was odd, apart from Samwell, he appeared unfazed and unmoved by Jon's demeanour, he had obviously encountered this at the wall, minus the sword dropping.

Sansa leaned in as if to share a secret."- He had an absence while staring into the fire."

Davos nodded as if he knew where she was about to go. "He seen something he didn't like." He did a hiss as he adjusted himself in his seat. "Well...the witch has been malingering near the council meetings, trying to get a private audience with him."

She rubbed the crumbs off her fingers. "Well, she's been succeeding with me, but I haven't told her I noticed any change, but I won't need to. Everybody can see it. I just don't want her butting in."

The advisor was surprised. "Why do you keep her at your council if you don't like her council? – I thought maybe you have grown fond of-"

"-No, ser." She said with hushed tones. "She may think she is being useful, but every little thing is for her own benefit and the good of the realm, I'd rather her think she is doing good, and I'm heeding her advice, than for her to try something else." Sansa looked pleased with her objective. "I best be careful, she's a good mind reader, and she has a part to play in the war to come."

"Don't tell me that." Davos shuddered, sitting back from the food. "I'll tell you this..."

Sansa glanced at the servants dithering far back. "Go on..."

"He does love you." Sansa sat back like she had been given some lousy advice. I know that. "He believes Melisandre's plan is to give him an heir, a real baby, or shadow baby to do a mystical deed."

"And there was me thinking she wanted to burn me." Sansa said, before taking a deep gulp of her wine, she saw the fleeting look of surprise in Davos's eye, she withdrew her goblet. "Ah...I see, that's still an option." She brought the goblet to the table. "I assume she is hoping Jon doesn't get too attached."

"I thought that too, I wasn't aware you knew about the burning...well I knew you were smart enough to figure it out." The advisor admitted honestly, what a flatterer. "He'll never detach himself from you, don't you worry, pet." He held her hand and she squeezed it.

"Bless you." She didn't doubt the man or her husband. Her wine was in her hand again, she felt more and more like Cersei every day."Do you think the witch has given him a false vision, or slipped him something to...put him off? " She was on the verge of sniggering, why would this amuse her? She glanced at her wine, and put it down. You've had enough. "Perhaps she wants to go the route of sacrifice and shadow baby." Davos was shaking his head. "No?" Sansa began. "I suppose a shadow baby wouldn't be possible, he can't stand the woman."

Davos did a sort of cluck. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Melisandre seems to think she is some salvation for me." She was picking up the wine, again, it was automatic. "I don't see the point of the lessons and cleansing ritual-" She was saying too much, Davos was starting to look concerned.

"What in the seven heavens has she been doing?" Davos took wine with her. "Don't trouble yourself, your grace."

"Until we've won, until we've eliminated our enemies- they'll always be trouble for myself, and all of us." She said with so much intent it couldn't be matched. "I'm still waiting for the red woman to turn into a dragon, or conjure one for us- to turn the tide." She looked up at the sound of footfalls, somehow she knew it was the King. He must have a unique tread. She employed a warm smile, and there was a fairly weak exchange. He was being shadowed by Melisandre, and Davos felt compelled to correct his own expression, it had been very morbid, if not a little scheme-ish.

"Your grace, a surprisingly warm day." He was poised to be as chirpy as Samwell.

"The lord of light is in our favour." Strangely it was the King that had said that, and they couldn't tell if he was being sincere, nor could they exchange a look without alienating the witch. But the witch looked smug as hell.

Sansa felt haunted by it, and she had no way of squelching it. Had he paid a price for this favour? She imagined her Jon and the witch copulating, making a shadow baby. She supposed her husband would say 'I did it for us, I did to save you or our baby from the pyre.' If he did say that it would make it feel much better, but only in her head- and only for a short while, before the urge to cry would arrive. "If you would excuse me, ser, milady, your grace." She dropped her napkin and hurried off, her red hair like a banner, flagging behind her. Since she was graceful and fast, no one would have known she was in distress, she got behind the door of the chamber. Her first sobbed wracked over her, she had made it to the sanctuary of her bed. "Nothing is certain, you don't know yet." She said through tears, her mouth against the back of her hand.