They cannot see, but she does. Myrcella sees.

Once the scent came to his nose, Oberyn had to pursue it. He had to find the source.

As Theon grows, he begins to question his place in the Stark family. Especially in regards to the heir of Winterfell.

“Which brought me to the conclusion that if I am to be all tied up in your quarters for the entire night at least, then you must have decided your prize would not be the loot.” Then he winks again and oh. Oh. Brienne is about to shut him up and say that she would fucking never — she knows she’s ugly and she’s known that throughout her entire life, in between Sister Roelle and every single man she’s met since the age of six. She felt sick when those assholes in Nassau bet on whoever would manage to fuck her when she was putting together a crew and only had a ship and her father’s money to her name, and she would never take for a prize like that someone who’d have no choice about it. She’s about to tell him that if he thinks she’d stoop that low to have someone warm her bed he’s wrong and she’d rather have no one at all instead, but she’s not fast enough, because he goes on, and — “To which I say, go ahead and take it.”