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    Summary

    As if her thoughts had summoned him, the door opened so fast it slammed against the wall. Sansa squeaked, a flush returning to her face and spreading down her neck and across her exposed breasts. Jon stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as though he had ran there and his eyes were fixed on Sansa’s exposed chest.

    “Lord Snow,” Melisandre purred, finally stepping away from Sansa and rising to her feet. “Your Lady awaits.”

    “What have you done?” Jon growled, although he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his sister’s breasts.

    “What needed to be done,” the woman replied simply, leaning past him to push the door shut. In the silence, the click was deafening.

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