Jon woke up feeling groggy. Oh dear. He looked about him to remember where he was, he rolled over, and winced at the sight of his empty bed. She never got up before him, ever. A snout appeared over the mattress horizon, near his face, followed by an entire direwolf's head- and it tongued his face. Jon spluttered and spat. "Aaa- Pluur that's enough, I can wash myself." He suddenly got a spicy smell in his nostrils and wiped what he believed were remnants of chives and peppercorns from his moistened face, he looked to the table- the sausage was missing. "You thieving bugger...that were mine, I'm the bloody alpha!"

There was no reason to remain in bed, so he got up. When he opened the door to peer out, he saw a squire- Shit. They looked tentative and eager to please- he couldn't stand it. "Erm- Fetch me a pale of water." He didn't like setting on servants, squires on the other hand...nah he didn't like picking on them either- only for training though. "If you don't mind, thank you." Luckily it wasn't Podrick, or else he would have felt guilty.

His routine was a little different that morning, no wife sleeping in bed, so no curvy lump under the sheet, or mass of red hair on the pillow. Sigh. It was odd washing and dressing in that very chamber, he normally did his ablutions in the separate chamber. Jon allowed a squire to dither about him, which was rare. The King left his room before allowing his squire to do up his doublet. He wasn't a child, he could do that himself. He walked and buckled, opening his eyes, ears and nose for any trace of his wife. He made it all the way to the courtyard without running into her or spying her gliding the halls, or perched on any of the benches.

Davos trudged towards him through the churned up yard. "Morning, your grace!"

"Yes." It was. Jon peered around suspiciously at people doing their normal daily routines. "Had any ravens back?"

"Not the usual, the wall has been silent. I wouldn't be worried, not yet anyway...But-" Davos was reading the King's pout. "-Something wrong?"

Jon lifted and dropped his sword back in his scabbard, and shrugged. "No, not really, just normal...and quiet, very quiet."

The advisor saw that shifty look again, but read it as his guard being up. He remembered what he had to say. "Ah-We've had a white raven."

"Sounds about right, I have felt the cold." And he wasn't just referring to the climate. "No doubt the dead will come with it." He meandered to the gate, and the older gent followed, he saw his King do a full turn after getting out of the battlements. "Any reason the gates are open?"

"Sansa went out riding."

Jon stared hard, almost sceptic he had heard it correctly, first because he had called her by name so informally, and second, she didn't actually enjoy riding, and third-"...And you let her." It wasn't a question, more of a peeved statement.

"She's only circling the battlements, your grace, I didn't see the harm."The advisor walked right into the deep snow, past the perimeter. "I can see hoof prints in the snow, she has indeed been circling."

The King looked up and down the castle walls as if waiting for her to materialize. "It's dangerous." He saw nothing but birds on the horizon. "Was she alone?"

"Podrick was with her."

Jon did a pained wince, footing some of the snow with his boot. "An elopement, perhaps?" He said fairly grimly, for a joke. Perhaps he had took a step too far last night?- So she's escaped Winterfell for the second time. It felt like a quiet safe kind of morning.

First his northern kisses were too rough and plundery, and now it seems his lord's kiss was off the table as well. And now she was spending the morning with another man. She needed a soppy boy to engage her. He looked out at the vast wintery wonderland. Sansa used to call it an enchantment as a child. It endeared him now as it did in the past. Davos just caught the end of his smile, and mirrored it.

"Don't be daft, your grace, you know she wouldn't elope."

"Yes, I know. But right now she's..." Jon pouted at the snow.

"...She's annoyed with you?" His advisor queried, unsure.

"What...did she say something?" He sounded a little uneasy.

"No, no." Davos shrugged. "She didn't say anything, apart from; saddle my horse, let's go for a ride- I won't be long, I'll just be around by the battlements." Well that wasn't nothing.

Jon returned his gaze to the beautiful landscape, expecting a fair damsel atop a white horse to emerge. No such luck. "Maybe I should do the same, I haven't ridden in a few days." He strode back into Winterfell, with the intent of mounting his horse and riding after his wife. It didn't take too long, he was riding past Davos within a minute of announcing his intentions. Galloping over the snow around the side of the battlements. Jon rode his steed gently at first, scanning the grounds for red, then settled on following the prints in the snow, they were going into the wood. Which certainly was not circling the battlements. He yanked sharply at his reins and sprinted his horse into the trees, ducking branches upon approach. He slowed to a trot when he saw the red he craved, amongst the trees.

He saw his Sansa ripping bark off a tree, while the squire was gathering twigs. It doesn't appear to be a tryst. They stalled when they heard him coming, and with good reason too, anyone could be in these woods. He dismounted speedily, when he was about 15ft away, and he descended into the undergrowth with a thud, and crossed the distance to be in front of her sooner rather than later. "Wife." His wife smiled at him, it was a simple pleasant smile, not elated nor sad, but it didn't extend to her cheeks fully. "You shouldn't come all the way out 'ere, love, it's not safe." He said, merely glancing at the squire he had tackled the other day. "Pod." He dipped his head in acknowledgement at the squire- not really wanting to converse or apologize.

She of course noticed."Pod is trained, he'll make a good knight someday." That was a hint, a blatant one- and Jon returned her crafty look.

Several minutes earlier.

Sansa trudged through the undergrowth. "I think that's a cedar." She pointed at the nearest tree. "If not, it looks like the type I'm looking for." She began to shred it of its bark. "Good for string and rope making."

"Yes, your grace."Podrick started kicking at the undergrowth. "But any wood is good for figure making."

"Yes, but make sure the twigs are neat and...pretty looking." The Queen had standards. She smiled as he scoured the ground. While he was busying himself- perhaps he would be willing to talk? "Is everything alright with you?"

He stepped on a twig. "Your grace?"

She swivelled to meet him. "Are - you - alright?" She emphasized, so he would get her drift.

His cheeks tinged and he grunted. "Absolutely." He outed that very quickly, and returned to the earth. He probably wanted it to swallow him whole.

Sansa bit her lip. He's coped with humiliation quite well, Good. Her mind wondered from Melisandre and Pod, to herself and Jon – as it always did. Oh dear. She felt a tongue tickling her delicateness, and she braced herself against the tree. Abs and biceps underneath wolf pelts, flexing. She blasted condensation into the air from her wet warm mouth. Wet, slippery, and warm. It felt like she was about to wilt and keel over into the undergrowth, but she clutched at the tree, hugging it with her gloved hands.

"Your grace?!" She heard her squire clamber over brambles to get to her.

"I'm fine." She warned, flinging her hand up. "Lost my balance." She wrapped her cloak about her as she straightened with indignation. "My first smell of nature in days." She had had musk and leather up a nose since forever.

"Shall we go back?"

"No, I'm a Stark- I fair well in the cold." She flapped her robe.

"But still, you might be in a delicate condition- you should rest, your grace."

What now? "What do you mean...delicate condit-" They both stared, and her smile was fleeting. "I suppose it's good everybody thinks I'm carrying an issue." It was a sweet notion, if not a little romantic, but of course- it wasn't true. "Do I look different, too you?"

Podrick raised his hands defensively, still clutching twigs. "No, your grace- well-" He hesitated, and she cocked her brow at him. Go on. "-You looked flushed...and you're making a prayer wheel." He gestured to the twigs meekly.

"A prayer wheel, is a prayer wheel- there is a war coming, you know?"

The squire bobbed his head. "Yes, your grace." He looked crafty as he returned to his work.

She lingered on him, her mind crept to a very obvious answer to his curiosity, the castle had heard The King and herself's mock consummation. She heard the table in her room squeaking and creaking. Sansa let out a single bark, and her assistant looked at her quizzically. "Twigs, pod, more twigs." She flapped at him, and he continued obediently.

The Queen opened her robe a little to reach for the bark again, she ripped at it. She got an image of Jon ripping her shift apart and attacking her milky white flesh. She stalled as she tucked the bark away, and did a fairly huge sigh, it sounded bored, but she was anything but. Sansa mind was very busy, if only it was busy thinking of more ladylike pursuits. She ripped more bark off, in longer strips, they were fibrous and strong. Like the cords that lace up men's breeches. "Gods!" She announced, annoyed with herself.

"My lady- err -my Queen?" She heard the boy's tentative voice again.

"Oh, I... split the seam of my gloves, I'm fine." She smiled grimly at the squire, who had horded a load of twigs. He had been busy, he probably couldn't wait for a break. "What do squires do when they aren't squiring?" Her voice had a curious lilt to it, and she tipped her head waiting for a response. Now she was recalling Jon thrashing a squire, but it seemed to merge with Jon defeating Ramsay.

Podrick frowned at her. "Sleep and eat..."He shrugged, did she expect more? "Wash our own clothes...?" He shrugged. "Just live basically."

"Do you drink at the tavern?"

"Yes, of course." He stalled, she was staring at him. "We drink." He had to clarify, and she found this funny. "Taverns are for drinking with friends, your grace. When women talk over their embroidery, men talk over ale."

The Queen nodded. "Of course." But she wasn't done. Brace yourself. She very nearly didn't ask. "Was that your first time?- When you were with Agnes?"

He dropped some of the twigs, and he stared at her feet. "My my...first...Agnes?" Bless him. "No, well that was our first time together..." He said shiftily, trying to recollect the twigs. "But not my first time."

"I see." She fiddled with the bark in her mitts. "Was your..." Why oh why? "First time...in a brothel?" Don't make eye contact.

"Erm, I suppose it was...I was rewarded for my services with Tyrion-"

"-With Tyrion?!" She didn't realise Tyrion liked men.

"-No! Your grace- He paid a year's salary for saving his life, to a brothel for me to have..." It was if he was going to be open about it, but his eyes flickered to her as if remembering she was a noble woman. "...Stuff done."

"Stuff done?"

Podrick straightened. "Seriously, your grace, I shall shame myself, and embarrass you further."

Sansa had to be subtle, how was she going to worm her way to the answer she required? How the seven hells was she to inquire about such things, without sounding like she was giving an invitation, or suggesting she partook in such things?- Let alone have an interest. She looked to the heavens for guidance. "Did you do anything unusual?"

The squire blinked. "Unusual?"

"Yes." She bit her lip. This was excruciating.

"They did some stuff...to me" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "They were very...flexible." He blinked at his choice in words. "And noisy."

Gods.

Every muscle in his face was tense."And I did lots of things...to them." It looked as if he was about to lay face down in the dirt. Shame Shame Shame.

Sansa began pulling bark off the other side of the tree, in order to hide her face. "Did they...enjoy that?"

"I think so, like I said- they were...noisy."

She heard her husband's grunting ringing in her ears. "Could they pretend to like it, the women?"

"They could, paid women- would." He said sheepishly.

"I see."

"Except, they wouldn't take the money."

Sansa peered around the tree. "Excuse me?" Her face was probably still red, but she didn't care. "Was it counterfeit?"

"No, they said, they would have let me do what I did... as a reward for them, so I got it for free." He shrugged, with a coy smile on his face.

She gaped at him. "Gods."

"Yes." That was a 'I know.'

"Gods." She said with more emphasis, and she paused her very active trail of thought. What had he done? She noted the squire was beating himself up on what he had told her. "Erm...sorry for embarrassing you with this interrogation, I just...had to know if there was such a thing as..." Dammit, she couldn't remember the word. She clicked-"An organsam."

"An organsam?.." Podrick stared, his face was pensive. "Right." She saw him smile and shrug, not even attempting to correct her. So she must have got it right.

Sansa suddenly leapt, gaining confidence. "Oh- that was it!" Remembering something else. "Where is the weirdest place you have kissed a woman?"

Podrick was confounded, he scratched his head. "Under a table?"

Sansa wafted at him. "No! Where on the body?"

He was horrified, getting very flustered. "Erm...Should you be asking such things?"

"Probably not." Sansa smiled warily- wait, he didn't think..?"Oh Pod, I'm not asking you to do anything!" She had to make that clear, putting her hands on her hips. "This is for philosophical reasons. Now answer the question!"

Podrick nearly dropped all of the twigs. "Erm." He adjusted his grip of his stack. "I kissed... the peach." He looked to the earth. "They seemed-" and cleared his throat. "-To like that."

"Peach?"

Podrick looked like he was losing the will to live, and he carelessly and swiftly pointed at his crotch. "But a woman's."

So it was a normal and common place practice, it wasn't a weird thing! "People touch places like that with their mouths?- Men are willing to put their mouths on that." Her voice changed pitch half-way through. "The peach, why is it a peach?"

He shrugged. "They say that's what they look like from the front." He knew he was completely out of line divulging such information to a noble woman. "Men just like peaches...I guess." He pretended to be interested in the twigs he was holding. "If women can kiss delicate areas, then men can do it too." He still didn't look at her. He need not worry- she was avoiding his eye as well. Why would a woman willingly kiss a man's genitalia?

"Tree...I must collect bark!" She pointed at the tree divert away from the conversation. "Lots of bark, lots of string." She was starting to enjoy shredding, she was getting good strips off. It was soothing, but what certainly wasn't soothing, was the rumble and clap of hoofs approaching them at speed. She looked up at the same time as Podrick.

Jon approached on his mount, he descended into their patch. The peach kisser himself. He looked massive when he was on a horse, very Kingly and... alluring- she supposed. But it was unnerving that he had come so urgently. What news?

He dismounted. Sansa found watching a man dismount his horse also had an alluring appeal. If not that, watching a man strut towards her very urgently had the same effect. She felt like falling backwards into the undergrowth and using him as a blanket. He rumbled- "Wife." He said it as if he had been saying it years. The corner of her lips curled, despite her misgivings about him that morning, this had endeared her. "You shouldn't come all the way out 'ere, love, it's not safe." She saw him spot her squire. "Pod." He dipped his head in acknowledgement. Oh grow up, and say sorry.

"Pod is trained, he'll make a good knight someday." That would be an ideal apology. Her smirk was infectious, she saw it linger on his own mouth for some time, before sobering.

"In due time." His hand snuck to her forearm. "But first, can I ask why you are brutalizing that tree?"

She tracked his eye."Making string." Sansa toyed with the strips, and he surveyed the area, in his wolfish manner. He had to have a bit of Stark in him, which was probably a lot more than her.

"I don't think that's a cedar."

"Still has good bark."

"You want good wood?" Jon asked.

Sansa didn't know why should found the question saucy, but she was sure it was all in his eyes. She continued regardless. "A firm and rigid wood but...pliable."

The corner of his mouth twitched. She envisioned a tickly tongue behind that mouth.