SANSA

I jolted awake with a start from my dream, still within the clutches of terror. I felt like I couldn't breathe and the only sound in the room was the furious pounding of my heart. It was so loud I thought it would come out of my chest. I opened my eyes and scanned my bedchamber in what little moonlight made it through the windows. As the minutes passed, the panic subsided. I could breathe again but I could hear nothing, complete silence.

Thank the gods.

I thought as I realized Ramsay has not come again for more tonight. Everything hurt so badly and I was freezing, but that was the norm now. It became the norm four moons ago, on the accursed night of my wedding.

I tried to shift my body in an attempt to get comfortable, but I couldn't. My wrists and ankles were still tied tightly to the bedpost with thick ropes, prohibiting all movement. The only thing I had managed to do by thrashing around was to chaff my skin raw and bloody where the binds were.

There was a soft creak from the window to my right and suddenly a gust of wind licked my naked skin, cold as the breath of an ice dragon. I clenched my teeth as a shiver raked my spine, damning Ramsay to the deepest part of the seven hells for unlatching the window again before leaving to let me freeze.

He believed it to be a fitting way to torment me. He was smiling that first time, when he told it was rumored in the North that the Starks had ice in their veins instead of blood, like the Kings of Winter who ruled centuries ago.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

He said enthusiastically. He was still smiling when he cut my skin open and let my blood flow abundantly, as red and warm as any other person's. And when he was done for the night, he opened the window and told me that, since I was a Stark, the winds of winter would surely rejuvenate me, snickering all the while like a child pulling a prank.

I used to love the cold. I used to draw strength from it. And now he has twisted it into a weakness.

I thought listlessly.

During the first moon of my wedding I would cry myself to sleep every night and pray for someone to come rescue me all day, but slowly the tears stopped my faith to any sort of gods disappeared. I used to whisper to myself all day:

"I am strong. I am a wolf, the Lady of Winterfell and the daughter of Eddard Stark."

To remind myself who I was, despising what Theon had become, but as the days merged in a torrent of blood and pain, it got harder to be a wolf and show defiance, as Ramsay broke me more every passing night. Every time I closed my eyes I could see his cruel pale ones watching me… and then came a day when I could finally understand how Theon became like that. He became Reek to stop the pain and that was what Ramsay would have of me as well. I hadn't succumbed yet, but how much longer would I be able to hold on?

Tonight he had been especially brutal. He loved to hear the screams and the begging. I knew that, yet I had foolishly tried to deprive him of them. I should have learned by now. Every time I displeased him, he found some new way to cause me pain and humiliation and tonight was no different. I could still feel it inside… what he did. It was unnatural and wrong in ways I could not even contemplate, yet it seemed to bring him immense pleasure. To me, it only brought more suffering, more degradation.

Have I not had enough of both already?

I wondered, pondering on the reason I had to live through all this, keeping myself awake in the process. Sleep was no longer a way out of the terror, as it had been in Kings Landing. Now Ramsay followed me in every single dream I had, taunting me, hurting me, violating my body again and again.

Let death come for me tonight.

I wished with all of my being.

I can't take it any longer, please just let me die and be done with it.

That was the only thing I was thinking for the past two moons, after the last traces of hope completely disappeared from my mind.

My thoughts of death were interrupted by the door to my bedchamber opening slowly. Fear twisted my insides, knowing it could only be him. I immediately closed my eyes and let my body go slack, pretending to be asleep, even though that wouldn't deter him. I heard the door close shut and then came a gasp, followed by the sound of something dully hitting the floor.

What's going on? Why is he not taunting me already? What is he going to do to me now?

I wondered in utter panic, nearly opening my eyes to see what was going on. That was new and anything new made my blood run cold. Anything new meant more pain. After a minute I could hear his footsteps coming close and a knife being drawn from its sheath.

That is familiar at least.

I reassured myself and prepared fully for the familiar steel kiss of the blade. Suddenly my right hand was free and it fell lifelessly on the mattress. He was cutting me loose and that was not a good sign.

He wants to play one of his twisted little games.

I realized, as the rest of my binds were being cut. I tried my damndest not to flinch from the pain as blood returned to my extremities. When he was done cutting them away he came to stand beside me, right next to my head. Suddenly I felt something warm land on my cheek, which then ran down to the mattress. It felt so hot on my freezing skin, it almost burned me. More drops fell on my neck and face and suddenly I heard a sniffle and an anguished whimper escape the person above me, as his trembling hand started to caress my hair.

His touch is so tender and he is crying. It can't be Ramsay.

I was sure of it, so I opened my eyes to the face of …

"Jon"

I whispered in shock, my voice hoarse from all the screaming and disuse, and my brother's gaze locked with mine. I realized my palm was cupping his bearded cheek, wet from the tears but warm as a furnace under my icy fingers.

His eyes are so sad… And he looks older, with his short beard and those scars near his eye… It's not only that, he looks… broken.

I realized as he took me in his arms, lifting me slightly off the bed. He did it with the outmost care, like I was made of glass and he could break me with the slightest wrong move.

He obviously doesn't know Ramsay already broke everything on the inside as well as on the outside.

I thought to myself with chagrin.

"Sansa! Oh gods Sansa, what has he done to you?"

Jon asked in a whisper, his voice breaking at the end.

It's a dream! No it's a trap! The same one Theon warned me about! He wants me to try to escape, so he can hunt me down in the woods with the hounds and then… and then he'll…

My thought trailed off at the end, unwilling to name the atrocities Ramsay had planned for me, even in my own mind. I burrowed my face in the crook of his neck and let myself enjoy his embrace for as long as I could, savoring his scent. He smelt of smoke, leather, pine and wolf. He smelt of home.

Jon and I hardly ever touched before, when we were still children in Winterfell. We spoke only when it was strictly necessary and all our interactions were based on propriety. Now though, his embrace felt so familiar, so warm and inviting, I wanted to stay there forever. For the first time in years I felt safe and protected and I tried my damndest to remember that nobody could protect me, nobody could save me. There was no escape but death.

"Jon"

I repeated his name softly, almost like a prayer, wishing with all my heart and soul that he was real.

Maybe I've gone mad after everything Ramsay has done to me and I see things that aren't there. Maybe I'm still dreaming. There is no other explanation.

"Sansa, sweetheart, I'm here now. I'm here and I will take you somewhere safe, where he will never touch you again."

Jon whispered at me tenderly, as he caressed my tangled hair. I wanted so much to believe him, but I knew better.

"No Jon, it's a trap! It's one of his favorite games… He wants me to believe I found a way out, that I have escaped, and then he will come for me, he'll hunt me down in the woods with the hounds and he'll… he'll…"

I warned him, holding his cloak tight in my trembling fists and looking him straight in the eye with wide, frightened eyes, trying to make him understand. My breathing was labored and my hands had grown clammy.

I'm sure I must look completely deranged to him.

And then I saw… Jon was wearing Bolton armor, with the flayed man displayed right at the center of his chest.

I let go of his cloak like it had burned me. My hands were trembling and my mind was numb. I wanted to scream, and cry and curse him. I wanted to die most of all.

"Sansa listen to me!"

Jon said in a commanding voice, as he took my icy hands inside his warm, callused ones, trapping them there.

"It is not a trap. I'm really here to rescue you. Nobody let me in through the side door. Nobody knows I'm here but you. I came here by my own and I only managed to make it because I know every nook and cranny of Winterfell. If it is a trap, then whoever thought of it, he sure made it an impossible one. I'm here to save you."

Jon assured me, his eyes pleading me to believe him, as he tightened his hold on my hands.

His very heartfelt speech meant nothing. It was all a lie, a game that monster played for sport and now he had dragged Jon into it somehow.

I will not give him the satisfaction. There is still some fight in me. I am a Stark. I am a wolf and I will not let him hunt me in the Wolfswood, as I run for my life. Wolves are the hunters, not the game.

I thought, drawing strength from a place deep inside me I had no idea still existed. I hardened my gaze, steeled my voice and held my head high; looking at him straight in the eye with as much disdain I could muster.

"No you're not. Ramsay sent you. He even has you wearing his sigil. Tell my husband I do not wish to leave. Tell him to play his sport with one of his other whores. I am the Stark of Winterfell and his wife. Now leave me."

I told him venomously, tearing my hands out of his grasp.

He is the only family I have left, and he chose to do the monster's errands… Now I know I am all alone.

Jon looked flabbergasted. Maybe his surprise came from my accusation, maybe from the sudden change in my tone, from vulnerable to hard as steel, but then understanding filled his eyes.

"No Sansa! I stole the armor from the armory as part of the plan. I would never have been able to make it all the way here in my normal clothes. I killed a dozen guards for you! I will kill a thousand more if you ask me to."

Jon replied with fervor, his voice ringing with sincerity, but meeting a thick wall of distrust from my part.

"I swear upon father's bones that I will save you from that monster sister."

He swore vehemently, his face hard, like the stone faces of the Kings of Winter in the Crypts.

He is telling the truth. He wouldn't have sworn upon father's bones had he been lying.

I realized with a start.

And then his face softened. He looked like the boy I remembered. The boy who always strived to be acknowledged by me as a brother and not a bastard. His eyes were vulnerable, begging me to believe in him, to give him a chance.

"Please, please come with me."

Jon whispered softly, closing his eyes, as if he was in prayer. He sounded defeated. He looked completely broken.

My mind was reeling, trying to make a decision. Time was of the essence though, and I had to choose fast.

I can stay here and suffer until the rest of my days, or I can try to escape with Jon. Even if our escape fails, even if it really is just one of Ramsay's cruel games, at least I will be able to find a way to die before getting back at the hands of the monster.

I felt my resolve weaken. I was the Stark of Winterfell, but the price I had to pay for it was too much.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell"

Father told me, his solemn voice resonating in my mind like a bell.

Winterfell though is no more. The Winterfell of my childhood has gone to ashes. There is nothing here for me but pain and suffering at the hands of Ramsay Bolton…

Jon swore upon the bones of our father that he will save me…

I wanted to be saved once. I prayed for it day and night, and now Jon is here… I can go with him. I can at least try one last time to stay alive, and if we fail I will make sure death will find me some way.

I thought and then my resolve shattered in a million pieces. All the power drained from me and I was left there naked on the bed, vulnerable, looking at Jon's pained eyes.

"Please. Oh please Jon, take me away from here."

I said, my voice barely a sigh and my eyes full of unshed tears, tears of relief. Tears of hope. Both, feelings I had not felt in such a long time, I thought I dreamt them.

"Thank the gods"

Jon murmured, probably to himself.

"We have to hurry now."

He said abruptly, startling me and making me flinch further away from him. I saw understanding in his eyes and an apology that went unsaid, as he slowly rose from the bed, creating more distance between us.

"You'll have to get dressed with something warm that will not draw any attention. And better pack an extra set of clothes."

Jon said as he offered me his hand to help me get up. I hesitated for a moment, but then I gave him my hand and got up. When my feet touched the cold stone floor it was like a million needles prickled my skin. Then my vision filled with black spots and everything started swaying, shifting queerly. I knew the feeling all too well. I was about to faint. I heard a gasp and the next moment a pair of strong warm hands were supporting me. I felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, but I managed to stay conscious somehow, leaning heavily on my half-brother's chest.

"I'm ok… just… just let me lean on you for a moment, it will pass."

I murmured apologetically, almost expecting him to let go of me, letting me fall on the floor, as he would have done, all the while sneering at me…

Get a grip Sansa, this is Jon. He was kind and gentle, remember? He would never do that.

"I got you my lady."

Jon replied softly, remembering just now, as it seemed, how I had hated it when he called me by my name without my title. But that was before…

I was such a stupid little girl. Why did I ever start being cold and distant to Jon? He never deserved it. By going along with it to please mother, I lost a brother, a good brother. I have to make it right. I will make it right if we ever make it out of here.

I vowed to myself and I felt better, so I left Jon's embrace and walked to the closet with haste. I took out a chemise and a pair of undergarments, a warm black dress I hadn't had the chance to start embroidering before coming to Winterfell, a thick grey cloak lined with fur that belonged to my lady mother and my black gloves. I also chose a pair of thick woolen stockings and my black boots made of lambskin to keep my feet as warm as possible. Then I opened a clean white sheet from the bottom of my closet and threw on top of it haphazardly a dark green dress, two pairs of undergarments, two chemises, and two pairs of stockings, tying them in a tight bundle and slinging them on my arm.

If Septa Mordane was here to see the way I packed she would have been appalled. And if Arya was here she would have been proud of me, to finally set my priorities straight. They are both dead though and I will never see them again.

I thought with chagrin. Then I turned around to get dressed and I noted that Jon had his back to me, to give me some privacy and probably to preserve my modesty.

What modesty? Whores have no modesty. He surely knows that. I don't deserve his courtesies and I don't deserve his kindness.

I felt bile rising to my throat with that thought, but I swallowed it back down. I had to hurry. There was no time for such thoughts. I willed my frigid hands to move faster with the laces, ignoring the numerous stabs of pain I felt as the fabric slid over my exposed wounds. When I was finally dressed, I went to Jon and put my hand on his stiff shoulder.

As he turned towards me, I saw a pair of stormy eyes that screamed of murder, set on a face made of stone. I was shocked by his rage and I took a step back instinctively to protect myself. He tried to grab my arm, but stopped midway, in the sight of my eyes that had widened with terror.

He immediately turned his head to the side and closed his grey eyes, taking deep breaths to calm down. His hands though were still in tight fists, his knuckles white, trembling with fury.

When he reopened his eyes they were softer, but his stance was no less threatening. He looked ready to pounce. Ready to kill.

"Forgive me for losing my temper. It was most unbecoming. But, Others take me, I want to kill him so bad, I can almost taste it."

Jon said, his voice trembling with intensity. I saw his fist clench and unclench inches away from his sword, as his eyes travelled from me, to the door and then back to me again. He was conflicted.

He wants to take me to safety, but he wants to take revenge as well.

I realized as I regained my composure.

"It's fine. I understand."

I replied, taking his still twitching hand in mine.

"Really, I know the feeling, probably better than you. I want to kill him, but first I want to take everything from him; and when he has nothing I want to make him suffer and scream as he dies. I will not settle for anything less than that and now, as much as it pains me, we don't have the time for that. We have to hurry."

I replied, my tone cold, unyielding. I barely recognized that voice as my own.

Jon was at a loss of words, his eyes full of surprise that turned to awe.

"I need you to promise me something though."

I said, softening my tone and expression, but tightening my hold on his hand, wishing I could pour my thoughts in his mind through touch alone.

"Whatever you need my lady."

Jon solemnly promised, completely unaware of what I was about to ask of him.

"If we don't make it, I want you to promise me that you will kill me before they get me. And whatever you do, don't let them catch you alive. If you think what he did to me was bad, you don't want to know what he'll do to you if he gets his hands on you."

I warned him and a shudder ran through me, as I saw Jon in my mind's eye, in the dungeons, screaming while Ramsay skinned him alive.

"No Sansa! I will get you out of here even if it means giving my life for it to happen. But it won't come to that. I have planned the whole thing meticulously. We will be safe, I promise."

He said, giving me another promise entirely. One that he wouldn't be able to uphold.

No, no, no, no! I have to make him understand, to make him promise! He has to see! If he gets us, there will be no hope, no escape, only pain, the likes of which no mind can imagine.

"Jon I'm begging you, please kill me if it comes to it. I have wished for death for so long, it will be a kindness. I won't go anywhere unless you promise me Jon! Promise me!"

I beseeched him falling on my knees in front of him on the cold stone floor. I could see surprise etched on his face, followed by rage and lastly by surrender. He must have seen in my eyes the utter despair. He must have seen that I meant every word.

"Ok, ok. I promise! Now get up, we wasted enough time and the hour of ghosts is almost over, we must hurry."

Jon grumbled impatiently, not really meaning it, but it mattered not. Now I was free and I could find death by my own if needed. He stood in front of the door and drew his sword from its scabbard. I had not paid any attention to it before that moment, but now it piqued my interest. Its pommel was a snarling white wolf's head, with blood red eyes, like Jon's wolf, Ghost. Its blade was longer than a normal long sword and shorter than a great sword. It was a bastard sword, but the steel had the same distinctive rippled patterns Ice had.

It's made of Valyrian steel.

I realized, awed by the fact that Jon owned a Valyrian steel sword.

Then he took a step back and opened the door softly. The first thing I saw as we emerged in the hallway was the guard, Grunt was his name, sprawled on the stone floor with in a pool of his own blood. I felt almost giddy watching him there, with his throat slit from ear to ear.

We walked down the hallway with my hand tightly clasped inside his. With every step I took my insides felt as if they were being ripped apart and the unhealed cuts on my back and abdomen reopened and started to bleed in earnest, blood seeping through my chemise and soiling my dress. Still I kept on walking right behind him, both of us silent as ghosts. We were not running, we were moving cautiously instead, hiding behind each column and alcove we came across. Then we quickly came down the stairs to reach ground level. By the time we reached the last step my heart was drumming furiously in my chest from exertion and fear, but it proved that my fears were for naught. On our way out of the Great Keep we only came across seven guards, all of them in the same state as Grunt.

Still my heart could not stop hammering in my chest in fear of discovery. Jon's warm hand around my frozen one, pulling me along, and the confidence with which he was moving us through the Keep, were the only things that kept me going.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the door and stepped outside. It was freezing, and everything was covered in a layer of fresh snow that was falling steadily from the sky. I could see nothing but the white blanket of snow, but this was my home. I didn't need to see to find my way across the yard of Winterfell. As I turned my head to the right I saw four headless guards gathered around a small round table. The snow had already started to cover them and the table, like a crisp sheet. Their heads had probably rolled away from their bodies, and lay somewhere, buried in the snow.

Jon paid them no mind and continued walking ahead through the icy trenches that rose in height with each step we took. Snow fell heavily all around us, limiting our vision and at the same time protecting us from the eyes of the guards on the wall. When we came upon a juncture of three trenches, Jon chose the one that lead to the Battlement's Gate.

It's only a half gate. Even if we make it across to the outer wall, there will be no way out. And what if the drawbridge is up for the night? Then we will be trapped. But at least, I could grab Jon's dagger and kill myself.

I thought, as my heart filled with dread and my mind swarm with all that could possibly go wrong.

This is madness. Complete madness. We will never make it out of here alive.

I realized as the passage twisted to the left and the Battlement's Gate became visible before us through the falling snow. I could see no guards there and Jon kept on walking hastily, drawing me by my hand. When we reached the gate I saw the two guards, sitting on the snow that had partially covered them.

Jon must have killed them on his way in.

I thought to myself, and then I realized that the drawbridge was down. Surely thanks to Jon, because there was no reason for it to be down at this time of night. He led us through the gate and over the moat in a fast pace, supporting me when I lost my footing on a patch of ice. Soon enough we reached the stairs that led to the battlements of the outer wall and begun the ascent.

We were halfway up the icy steps when we heard heavy footsteps coming our way from above. Jon squeezed my hand, and looked at me with his grey eyes that looked black in the darkness, almost as black as the sky above. I wanted to scream in despair. We were so close.

"Wait here."

He mouthed at me slowly and I nodded in understanding.

Then he let go of my hand, climbed the remaining stairs to the top and hid behind a merlon, waiting for the guard to walk past him.

He walks silently, like his wolf Ghost.

I noticed as I hid deeper within the shadows crouching on the icy stone step. I kept on watching the drawbridge below in case someone walked by, and strained my ears to hear anything out of the ordinary. My heart was beating frantically and I tried to breathe as quietly as possible.

Who am I kidding? I'm panting like a dog and my heartbeat must be loud enough to be heard all the way up to the Wall.

I thought in despair and my panic intensified. Then I heard a soft gurgling sound followed by the sound of something being dragged across the ice.

Did Jon kill him? I'm so stupid! I should have asked him for a knife to kill myself in case he died. I could fall off the battlements though. The fall will kill me just as well.

I was lost in my panicked thoughts when I heard soft footsteps coming my way. I turned around, ready to fly to my death when I saw that it was only Jon. Relief flooded me and I let out a breath I had not realized I had been holding.

"My lady I took care of it. We have to hurry now before anyone else comes this way"

He whispered as he gave me his hand to help me up. I flinched at the formal way he addressed me, but I took his hand and followed him up the remaining stairs. As we emerged on the battlements the harsh winter wind knocked the breath out of me. The way Jon kept on going though, it seemed like he hadn't even felt it. He proceeded to secure a pair of grappling hooks on a merlon and let the ropes fall down the wall. I was about to grab mine when he stopped me and put his hands around my waist. For a moment I panicked, but then I realized that he was tying a rope around me. The same rope that disappeared behind his armor.

"You'll go first my lady and I will follow. If you slip and lose your footing, you will not fall. The rope will hold you on me until you regain your footing. But if it comes to it I will get you down by myself."

Jon reassured me, sounding very confident.

"And if you fall what will happen?"

I asked him realizing we would both plunge to our death.

"I won't fall. I have scaled the Wall and I didn't fall then. The walls of Winterfell are easy as pie. Now we have to get going."

Jon replied with a lopsided smile.

I nodded and returned the smile. It felt so awkward on my lips… I couldn't remember the last time I had smiled because I had felt like it. I tore my gaze from his with difficulty. His eyes were so sincere and open, so familiar. They were the eyes of father. The eyes of Arya. They were Stark eyes, promising of things long lost to me. Things I could not dare hope I would ever get back.

How long has it been since anyone has looked at me like that? Surely it was before father died, before Arya disappeared, before the nightmare without ending started.

With that thought in mind I started the long climb down the walls of Winterfell.