I apologise for the spelling mistakes that I have missed, I've edited about 3 times after posting.

Sansa was in the dark woods in her dreams, it was hard to name the place as the woods since there were only shapes and shadows of trees- but no actually trees. She heard a boy's laughter, ditzy and frenzied, as if he was over excited and had little air. She knew it must have been Jon larking about, no crying this time. Sansa/lady tiptoed using the edge of her paws to quietly sneak up on the boy in the woods, to hopefully nip at his ankles- and have a good play before he went back to sobbing on the forest floor. Something she should be doing around about now. At that moment Jon rushed past brandishing a stick, but vanished into the shadows, his laughter dying.

There were cycles in the dream, she would sit alone in the dark, and she would be visited by lady, then she would become lady and venture into the woods and find Jon. Jon would either be waiting or he would be crying. When she couldn't find Jon she would wait, but when Jon never showed up, that normally meant she would be alone for the rest of the night, or visited by Ramsay. But alone was better.

Jon on the other hand didn't do well on his own, which surprised her. His character always suggested he didn't look for company. But that was only a misconception on her part, since he was never allowed company or a proper place in her household. She had been an ass to him growing up because sometimes he would forget his station, at those times she echoed her mother.

She encountered a presence in a clearing, it was the boy. She snuck up to the curled up figure on the floor to sniff him, and lick his ear hole. On approach the smell was different, but not bad different, it was still familiar. But as she approached she didn't see a mop of black hair, this was brown with traces of red. She froze, her back straight and diagonal- aiming at the figure, the boy sat up and she whined in surprise. Bran!

"Lady?" He rubbed his eyes, blinking profusely. "Wait...Sansa?"

She woke up. But not with a start, or drenched in sweat, she just blinked her eyes open as if waking naturally from a blissful sleep. She put a hand over her face to block out the light, and recover from her new visitor in her dream. The bed dipped next to her as her husband rolled onto his side, Sansa inclined her head to look at him. "Morning." She hummed. His hair was a ruffled mess, so she brought her hand up to comb it back and froze mid sweep. That had been very casual of her. Jon still looked groggy from sleep but her contact had woke him up, a lovelorn look slipped onto his face. She withdrew realising she had been in an odd sort of mood when she came to bed. Upset and suspicious. She had a very good reason, she believed her husband had dallied with the witch. Sansa bore a hole in the canopy.

"Nearly there, coming along very nicely." Jon said, she guessed he was referring to her impromptu affection. "Good morning." She saw him prop his head upon his hand, it looked a little effeminate, an odd look for him. Her husband was the manliest man that could ever man about.

"Sleep well?" Keeping her voice devoid of betrayal. Nothing was certain.

"Very."

Why was that? – Did the witch tire you out? "Good." She twiddled with her thumbs that were resting on the covers.

"Were you alright last night?- You hurried off to bed very early. I thought you were either sick, or...annoyed with me." He scrutinized her with his stormy eyes. Not exactly his probing eyes, but it gave her the impression he was waiting for some mundane explanation or a kiss to end his agony. "So what's it gonna be?"

She simmered on the pillow, debating on whether she was going to voice her concerns or lie...again. No more lying. "You said the lord of light was in our favour...what happened- what did you mean?" Her voice edging towards prickly. "What did you do?"

Jon looked vexed, but had a sudden jolt of memory. "Oh yes." He sat up, pulling the covers with him, and off his wife. "I had something confirmed to me yesterday, don't worry...you'll like part of what I'm going to say."

"I'll be the judge of that."

This appeared to have knocked the King's confidence, he did a long blink as if he weren't sure.

Sansa sat up in a quick fashion to be level with him."Well get it out, Jon."

The corner of his lip twitched before he got back to his story."You know a couple a days ago when I was by the fire?"

"Yes." She bounced a little to the centre of the bed. "You saw something...I knew it, you-"

"-Yeah...I did." His eyes seemed to move craftily away from her eyes. "It's not something incredible, it unsettled me." He had to explain that, because he knew he'd but outed for lying to her. He paused for an unknown reason and it made Sansa skittish, he carried on regardless."I'm not use to seeing things in fire...never thought images could be so clear- but the flamed background confused me."

"Oh come on." Sansa bounced, sitting up to cross her legs. "What did you see, or what did you think you see?"

"I must remind you, there was a lot of fire, so I assumed the vision related to fire- and I panicked." Jon eased.

"Dragons?- Dragon fire?" The Queen did that lurch again, the bed linens were getting more bedraggled, but Jon was more interesting in the fact his wife's breasts were unsupported and...jiggling. Hence why he kept delaying his explanations, she got so annoyed she moved, and her tits moved independently, and that was a lot of tit. He was a typical man, and a horrible one to pick now to look.

He did another long extended blink."No, not that exciting I'm afraid."And he was referring to the vision.

"Why do you keep stopping?" Sansa thumped her fists against the bed. "Pyre fire- did you see something burning?"

Jon met her eyes, after their short detour. "Yeah." And scratched his beard, disguising the fact he was looking at them again. Fuck. "I thought..." He began reluctantly, drawing a deep pained breath. "I saw you...screaming in agony." He stared softly and sympathetically. "I assumed you were being burnt." He then jabbed at the air. "Assumed."

Sansa was still, he was right- it wasn't something to get excited about. It must have been horrific."Oh my gods, no wonder why you were spooked." She went pale as the sheets. A cruel fate."So the witch confirmed it, did she?" It was as if she was going to recoil and flee, in case they did decide to chuck her onto a pyre. "That's how it is to be..."

"Seven hells, Sansa!" Jon seized her by the arms, in a fluid surge forward. But the act itself was as gentle as holding a babe. "No, that's not going to happen, I won't let it, you crazy woman. Before you think the worst of me...the witch said I misread the vision."

"Like she would tell you, you misread that!" Why would the witch object to that? Sansa thought morbidly. Anything to honour that retched god.

Jon gave her the tiniest of shakes."Hey...listen, she said I misread, and even if she had told me it was truth, I wouldn't have allowed it- I would have fought against it. You would not have been burned."Jon thought he was going to have to backtrack to soothe her, or withdraw from her in case of a relapse, but instead, she threw herself into him for a hug. Oh. A safe loving embrace that he thought he would have to woo to get again, or bribe her with lemon cake. It was reminiscent of their first hug in castle black, with major differences...

He was shirtless, and she was in a nightie- and so he could feel stuff; nipples, and pretty soon she would feel something of his too. It was never a good time to get 'one of those', especially during a tender moment, it had started out so innocently, why couldn't it remain as such?

Guilt racked his conscience, he was a wicked man. A typical over-sexed man, what he would give to be a virgin again. "And break." Jon announced, subtly withdrawing, but allowing his hands to slide along the sleeves of her nightie. "Must never have too much of a good thing."He said simply, and for a moment it was like he was talking to a squire. "Practice makes perfect." Keep your shield up. He was on the verge of ruffling her hair, but one look at that perfect radiant mane, and he realised that would have been exceptional.

His wife had a hopeful smile on her face, a rare sight. "How did she interpret it then? How did she worm her way out of that vision?- I'm surprised she didn't convince you – you had had foreseen my death."

Jon shook his head. "Well she didn't..." And raised his brows, almost in a suggestive manner. "In fact she said you were giving birth." He said finally, and without thought. And he witnessed her slowly deflate.

Oh dear, he had said something wrong. Jon had been hot and bothered moments ago, but after that reveal- the room had then plunged into ice, the tension returned, her hopeful smile was shunted off her face, this had not endeared her. It didn't offend him, because he merely thought she was afraid of the pain.

"Oh..." Was all she could form.

Now you have frightened her! Jon had to fix this. "There's no date, sweetheart, so it could be years from now." It looked like her head was about to explode, he winced at her imagining the pain and horror she endured before they were reunited, followed by an uncomfortable consummation, and agonizing child birth. His hand was on her face, trying to stroke away that harshness. "You have nothing to fear." But the white walkers. His face twitched earnestly."One thing at a time, ey?"

After a moment of deliberating, she shakily laid her hand over his, the one that adorned her face. "I know." She said sweetly, and he had this urge to kiss her gently, but if he got carried away he would bruise her. Ruin her. "You're right, we don't know when." She began. "But...now we know I'm not barren."

"Yes." He whispered, and used his other hand to sandwich her cheeks. He wanted to massage them, squeeze them, mush her face till her lips pursued in a comical fashion, but of course he wouldn't- Another time perhaps. On another note -"We'll have heirs someday."

"Heirs? Plural...you're so greedy." Sansa murmured sardonically, allowing this intimacy. A comfortable type of intimacy that lowered her guard, and made her sleepy. She blinked blearily at him. Babies, babies... little princes. But then she remembered Melisandre's glee, and she felt nauseous. "Oh gods...why was the witch happy giving you this news?- Surely she gains from this?- She wants this."

They sobered, Jon clutched at her severely. Seven shits. "That crossed my mind." His wife didn't feel reassured by this comment. "But like I said- that isn't going to happen, nothing will happen under her terms. She won't be within 100 yards of us if you had a baby." He slackened his grip. "There are only certain pieces of advice I take from her, and sacrifices aren't one of them, I'll only talk to her about visions." He was trying to read his wife, she hardly ever looked placid. "Trust me."

"So if you believe in her visions, can't you believe the wall will fall?"

Not this agai- Oh. Jon went pensive, he released his wife. "Hm." He dropped his hands to his knees. "I suppose." He stared at nothing in particular, as he deliberated. He became distracted by his wife's form again, she was all breast and child bearing hips, he started smiling serenely to himself.

"Don't smile at death." Sansa said incredulously.

"No, it's..." Babies, little sons and daughters. Gods, if he was as insatiable as he was, she would birth 20. Damn he was greedy. "Things are looking up...for us I mean."

She hoped he was referring to the union and not the wall."But please...now will you consider sending a raven to castle black?" Sansa was touching his arm, stroking it, making his hair stand on end. "You owe them a warning."

"Yes." He couldn't remember what he was agreeing to, he was lost in her... "Anything."

She beamed at him. "Good." Her poor husband had so many worries, he was staring into a void, and grinding his teeth with the stress of it all. "One thing at a time, ey?" She echoed.