Sansa's expression turned stern yet tinged with fear. "For what purpose, priestess?"
Maelle gently touched Sansa's cheek, her fingers cool against Sansa's skin. "Trust me, my lady."
Sansa reached into the folds of her fur cloak and retrieved a dagger. "Trust is something I have lost faith in."
She handed the dagger to Maelle.
Maelle nodded thoughtfully. "Sit with me, and give me your cloak."
Maelle carefully removed Sansa's fur cloak, leaving Sansa in her sleeveless blue gown, the symbol of her regal status.
Sansa felt exposed despite only losing her fur cloak in that moment.
Sansa's arms, left bare by the sleeveless gown, were fair and slender, with a softness that hinted at a gentle suppleness beneath their delicate appearance.
Maelle's gaze lingered briefly on Sansa's arms, her expression unreadable yet contemplative.
They sat together before the triangle made of dead ravens.
Maelle extended her hand, "Your hand."
Sansa extended her palm to Maelle.
Maelle studied the lines on Sansa's hand intently. "Your hand suggests a family reunion is in your future."
Sansa scoffed lightly. "Now you're a palm reader?"
Maelle gently pressed a dagger against Sansa's palm. "This might sting a bit."
Sansa's expression hardened with resolve. "I've endured worse. A dagger doesn't scare me."
In a swift motion, Maelle made a small cut on Sansa's palm. Sansa winced slightly, a quiet grunt escaping her lips. "Mmmh."
A thin line of blood appeared, and Sansa watched as it began to seep from the wound.
Maelle met Sansa's gaze steadily before pressing Sansa's palm to her own lips, drawing the blood.
Sansa shifted uncomfortably, her voice betraying a hint of unease. "Ahem... What are you doing?"
Maelle paused briefly from her actions, her tone calm yet focused. "The ritual."
As Maelle continued, Sansa felt a strange sensation as Maelle's tongue moved over her palm and even took hold of Sansa's finger briefly, causing Sansa to pull her hand away in surprise. "Maelle!"
Maelle quickly apologized, her voice contrite. "My lady, I apologize for overstepping. I forgot myself. Your hand... it felt extraordinary."
Sansa nodded, wanting to refocus the situation. "Let's continue with the ritual."
Maelle took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she began to softly whisper incantations under her breath.
Sansa's gaze fixated on Maelle's lips, which moved rapidly as if weaving an enchantment. It wasn't their allure that captivated Sansa, but rather the eerie power she sensed within them.
She then noticed a dead raven catching fire, the flames quickly spreading to the others until they formed a triangle of fire where the ravens had been.
Sansa watched in astonishment as Maelle's body lifted slightly off the ground, a strange phenomenon unfolding before her eyes.
Maelle hovered beside her, murmuring as if addressing an unseen presence.
Intrigued, Sansa edged closer to Maelle, straining to hear her words.
"The triangle has three vertices," Maelle muttered louder. "Three Starks. Arya, Sansa, and Bran. Bran has a message... He is in peril... He wants to tell something."
Sansa's pulse quickened, her concern for Bran intensifying as she absorbed Maelle's unsettling words.
Maelle concluded, leaving more mysteries, "Someone else is coming. Someone else is returning."
Maelle descended back to the ground, her eyes opening abruptly, drained of energy.
"What was that?" Sansa asked urgently.
Maelle gathered herself, her tone grave. "Everything I saw. We need to journey to King's Landing now, if you wish to save your brother."
Sansa grasped Maelle's shoulders, seeking clarity. "What's happening to him?"
Maelle shook her head. "The Lord of Fire hasn't shown me that. But time is of the essence."
"Then let's depart at once," Sansa resolved firmly.
Sansa and Maelle found themselves inexplicably unable to rise from the ground, as their asses held by an unseen force.
"The lord doesn't want us to leave," Maelle stated calmly.
"Why?" Sansa's voice trembled with fear and curiosity.
Suddenly, a small flame rose and attacked Sansa's chest. Startled, she began patting at it as her gown started to burn, the fabric smoldering and then catching fire.
"You will not burn. This is the holy fire of Lord R'hllor," Maelle reassured Sansa.
As Sansa's gown burned away, the flames licked hungrily at the fabric, consuming it with a crackle.
The fire revealed the midriff of her dress, casting an eerie glow on the exposed skin of her abdomen. The flickering light danced across the curves of her waist, illuminating the middle of her breasts in a mesmerizing play of shadows and warmth.
Her pink nipples came into view, and Maelle was only able catch a glimpse of it.
Sansa, caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the flames, instinctively pressed her palm against her exposed tits.
Her frustration and vulnerability surged as she realized the extent of her exposure. "Fuck this. What's happening?"
But the fire continued to devour her gown, leaving her upper body exposed to the cool night air.
"They sure are the glorious tits of the Lady of Winterfell," she remarked, admiring those soft breasts.
"Shut up!" Sansa snapped at Maelle.
But before Sansa could gather her thoughts or mount a resistance, the lower part of her gown also succumbed to the fire's hunger. The fabric melted away, revealing her thighs and legs, adorned with a heavy bush of reddish-brown pubic hair.
Maelle's eyes widened at the sight of that bush, "My lady doesn't like to shave. I assume."
Sansa opened her mouth to scold her when…
Sansa and Maelle felt themselves being pulled towards the center of the fiery triangle that had formed before them.
Panic gripped Sansa as she screamed, the sound echoing into the night, blending with the crackling of the flames and the distant howl of the wind.
Hearing the scream, Brienne and Podrick burst into the room, finding it empty and Sansa missing.
"That whore stole our lady," Brienne cursed, her voice sharp with anger.
"I saw her eyeing Lady Sansa's ass," Podrick remarked, nervously.
Brienne shot him a glare. "Shut your hole, pervert."