A year and a half later
Sansa walked through the courtyard, reading the letter from Daenerys she held in her hands. At her feet, Aden stumbled along, hanging onto thick tufts of Ghost's fur for support.
Sansa glanced up, towards the open gates, and for a moment saw a flash of red. She stopped, and then shook her head. She'd thought, just for a moment, she'd seen the red woman.
There was a tugging at her skirts, and she looked down.
Aden was pointing where she'd been looking. She looked up again, and gasped as she saw the red woman standing there. But the next moment she blinked, she was gone.
Panic sucked the breath from her chest. Something in the air had shifted.
She reached down for Aden, and secured him to her hip. She knotted her fist around Ghost's collar, and changed directions. Before, heading for the great hall, and now, straight to Jon's study.
"Papa!" Aden cried in excitement when Sansa pushed the door open. Jon started in surprise, and him and Ser Davos turned from the chart they were examining on the far wall.
"I saw something." Sansa said, her voice tense with worry. "The red woman. I saw her, a flash of her. Like a vision, right at the gates."
"What?" Jon demanded. He pointed at Ghost, who turned round and slumped onto the floor in front of the door. "Melisandre?"
"It looked like her, but it was far away. Don't all red priestesses look similar?" she asked, and Jon shrugged, looking at Davos for guidance.
"They can wear similar clothing and garments. And she used to say it was the Lord of Light who gave her such red hair, but if you ask me, it always smelled faintly of beets."
Sansa would have normally giggled at his joke, but he'd barely coaxed a smile from her. Aden, however, reached up to the sky and gave a funny little squeak of approval.
"I can't imagine why she'd want to do us harm." Jon said, blinking.
"What? After you excommunicated her, and threatened her with death after she rose you from it?" Sansa asked, and he looked surprised at her outburst. "I can handle men, men who come waving swords at us, or even men with sneakier plots. But...sorceresses. Oh, those stories scared me as much as the white walkers when I was small."
"I'll have someone send out a security patrol." Jon said. "All over the castle grounds and forest."
Sansa nodded. Aden began to fuss, reaching at Jon, squirming away from Sansa. Jon took him, kissing him on the forehead, and then tucking his long curls away from his ears.
"His hair's getting quite long." he commented.
"Said the kettle to the pot." Sansa said dryly.
"We will figure out who it was." Jon said, matter of fact. "And assure she cannot breach the walls of the castle."
Sansa nodded, but after seeing a vision of her, she was worried she already had.
For the rest of the day, Sansa felt nervous, like she was always checking over her shoulder. She finally relaxed when Jon joined her in the dining hall that evening.
"They didn't find anything." he said as he sat at the head of the table. Sansa was trying to coax some potatoes into her resistant son.
"Do you not believe me?" she asked him, her brow knotted in worry.
"I do, Sansa." he gave her a reassuring squeeze of the hand. "I swear."
She nodded, and took another sip of her wine. She turned back to Aden, who had turned his mouth into an 'o', and was waiting patiently for the spoon of food.
"Thank you!" she said, smiling widely. He took the food from the spoon, and munched on it, satisfied. "He only behaves when you're here." she said to Jon. He laughed, watching the pair of them. Aden screeched, and banged his hands on the table, agreeing.
"Oh my," Sansa began. "what a terrible and scary ruler you'll be."
Aden agreed with another smack of the table.
"And who will be in charge of protecting his family when I'm too old?" Jon asked, and Aden sat up straight, and then tapped his chest. "That's right! Now give me a scary direwolf growl.
Aden bared his teeth, and managed a small little yowl of a roar.
"I'd say he's ready now." Jon said to Sansa, and she laughed. She took another sip of her wine, and then Jon realized. "You don't normally drink wine, Sansa." he commented.
"I know." she said. "But Dany had a case sent, of Dornish wine, I think, and it's quite good."
Sansa looked up, towards the entrance of the dining hall. There stood Ramsay, watching her, smiling.
She blinked, thinking it was perhaps a trick of the light. But he'd moved closer, in the second she'd closed her eyes.
Jon watched his wife's face collapse into one of abject horror. He looked where she was staring, to see nothing but emptiness.
"What is it?" he asked. She didn't move, or respond.
Jon stood quickly, and walked around the table to pick up Aden. He called for a steward, who came out of the kitchens.
"Take Aden to Bran." Jon said. Sansa didn't seem to notice, and her eyes remained transfixed on the empty hall. "And on the way back, get the maester." Jon kissed Aden's face, pushing away the curls that fell, and then handed him over.
"Of course, m'lord." the steward said, and then was gone.
Jon sat beside Sansa, taking her face in his hands. She finally looked at him, and opened her mouth to say something. But the words died in midair.
"I see him." she whispered.
"Who?" he asked, although he was already bracing for the answer. The same man who haunted Sansa at night, every now and then.
"Ramsay." she whispered. She looked towards the hall again, and then reached for Jon. "He's getting closer." she said. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she was clutching onto Jon with a desperation he hadn't seen in years.
"Sansa, look back at me." he said. It took her a moment to pry her eyes off her hallucination, but she finally did. "He's not real."
'I'm real to you.' she heard Ramsay hiss as he moved closer.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, not looking up at him, keeping her eyes locked on Jon's.
"No." he said. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
She nodded, and let Jon help her up. He took her elbow, and began guiding her out of the room, towards the kitchens instead of the direction she'd been staring.
She was trembling, he realized, as he held her arm. He swallowed. Her mind was not something he could protect her from, not really. It's not like he wasn't going to try, though.
Sansa didn't remember how she got in bed. The world around her was slowly slipping away, and the world of her worst nightmares was breaking into her reality. She could still hear and feel Jon, talking to her, holding her arms, trying to keep her grounded. But visually, he was disappearing.
"I can't see you." she said, desperate. She was sitting on the bed, cross legged, her eyes far away. Despite Jon sitting right next to her, she was blind to him. The room was darker, different, cold and uninviting. She looked down, and was startled to see she was tied to the bed.
The maester had finally told Jon it was a glimmer draft, and that whoever had made it had made it specifically with Sansa in mind, and could manipulate her into seeing whatever they wanted. And that whatever was happening, whatever she was seeing, it would only get worse before it got better.
"I've seen people under for nearly two days." the maester told Jon with a grim face. "She knows you're here now, Jon, but soon nothing in our reality will be available to her. She'll have to go through it alone."
Jon clenched his jaw, and nodded. Whoever was responsible for this would pay dearly, he would see to it personally.
"What if we gave her a sleeping draft?" he asked, and the maester shook his head.
"We could try." he began. "However, most are brewed in a way that makes sleeping drafts only strengthen their potions, assuring the victim can't escape. If we give it to her, there's a chance it might worsen everything. And she might not make it out."
"Make it out?" Jon asked. "Is she going mad?"
"In a small way, now, yes. But she might go completely if we give her anything."
Jon nodded.
"Do you want to be alone, with her, m'lord? There's not much I can do, I'm afraid."
"Yes." Jon said. "Thank you."
Jon rejoined Sansa on the bed.
"Sansa." he said softly. She looked in his direction, but her eyes remained unseeing.
"Jon?" she asked, confused. He took her in his arms.
"Can you hear me?" he asked. "Can you feel me?"
She nodded.
"But I only see him." she said, her voice breaking slightly. "He's coming for me, again, isn't he?"
"It's not real, Sansa." he tried assuring her. "I'm real, I'm here, this will be over soon."
'This is just beginning for you.' Ramsay said to Sansa.
"He's going to hurt me again, Jon." she said. "Please. Please make it stop."
In addition to Jon's hands on her, she then felt the touch of Ramsay. She sobbed, terrified.
"He's not here." Jon tried again, but his own tears were causing a lump in his throat. "Just hold on to me, don't forget I'm here."
"I love you." she said, suddenly, through her tears. "Jon?"
"I'm here." he reassured her. "I'm not going to leave you, not for a moment."
"I can hear you." she said. "But I can't feel you anymore." her chin trembled.
"It's not real." he repeated, smoothing her hair. She began to cry in earnest now, and was shaking harder than he'd ever seen before.
"Don't stop talking." she sobbed. "Don't leave me, Jon."
He held his hysterical wife to his chest, and then she began to scream. He was hurting her, and there was nothing Jon could do to fight him off. He'd never felt so powerless.