Ramsay hears about it through his father.
Apparently the oldest Stark girl has been in an accident and suffers from memory loss now. The first thing Ramsay thinks isn't how he pities her, no, he sees it as an opportunity.
—
Sansa doesn't remember their faces. They come visit her in the hospital and they try to convince her they're her family but she doesn't see it.
She can't even cry to mourn them, because it doesn't feel like she's lost them. It feels like she's alone in this world and always has been.
They tell her it will be fine, that after time she might remember again. Their voices shake and their eyes water, and Sansa just wants to leave the hospital as soon as possible.
—
When Ramsay visits her she looks indifferent. She probably assumes he's another person she's supposed to know, someone coming to tell her how sorry he is about what happened to her.
She doesn't even protest when he sits down next to her.
"I was your boyfriend," he says when she asks him who he is.
"Was?" she sits up on her bed. There are bandages around her pretty head and she winces, grabbing her side as she turns to him.
"Yeah, we kind of broke up just before your accident."
She waits a minute, studying him and it's all so ridiculous, he half expects her to call him insane and tell him to leave.
"Why did we break up?"
"I don't know really, an argument, something stupid," he says shrugging, and she nods her head. Doesn't care.
"I'd like to visit you again, if you don't mind." Unlucky for her, he's known her for quite some time. Her biggest flaw is that she'd never be openly rude to someone. So he uses that to his advantage.
"I mean, I totally get it if you want everyone to leave you alone. That's probably what I'd want too."
"No, I don't mind," she says quietly, offering him a sad smile.
She looks surprised when he just leaves. Without touching her or kissing her forehead, without hugging her and telling her it's all going to be okay.
Laying the trap is the easy part, he thinks.
—
He visits her a couple more times after that. Always making sure to keep a distance between them, he doesn't touch her until she initiates it herself.
One afternoon she places her hand onto his and it's all worth it.
He tells her made up stories about their relationship, adding true facts he knows about her every now and again. It makes it all the more believable.
In return she opens up to him about what she's going through. How she hates it when people stare at her like she's supposed to know them.
Or how her family and friends, now strangers to her, make her feel uneasy and even frighten her at times.
That's good.
Scared prey are easier to hunt. More fun too.
When it's time to leave the hospital Ramsay knows he has to wait patiently.
Something his father has told him countless times he lacks.
But it doesn't take as long as he had thought before she's at his door.
He invites her inside and after that they fall back into their old habits. He tells her stories and she laughs, not because she has to or it's expected of her, but because she wants to.
And he knows she'd never let him get this close to her in a million years if she knew what he was actually doing.
"Why doesn't anyone know about us?" She talks in the present tense about them now, like they're really together and he likes it.
"You wanted to keep it a secret," he responds easily.
She gives him a funny look, biting her lip and for a second he's scared she'll remember something.
"You wanted to have something just to yourself, that no one else could comment on."
"That does sound like me," she says, absently looking down at her hands and Ramsay can't believe his fucking luck.
—
When the bandage comes off, it reveals a scar on her head that she tries to cover up.
He tells her she looks beautiful as he tucks loose strands of red hair behind her ear.
She kisses him for the first time that evening.
—
One day he asks her what type of breakfast she'd like, and she starts freaking out because she can't remember what she likes. Ramsay then grabs everything and anything he can find, filling every square inch of the table with food.
This way she can find out what she likes. He's never experienced anyone smile from ear to ear at him like that.
She'd never look at him like that again, if she knew how much he had deceived her.
—
"I don't know how - I mean, I don't remember -"
"I'll show you."
He's gentle with her, touches her like a porcelain doll.
He's never had something so pretty to play with.
First he steals her first kiss, and now her first time.
Ramsay does everything a gentle lover is supposed to do, he asks her what feels good, where she wants him to touch her.
Afterwards she can't stop blushing, as she drapes his arm around her and falls asleep like that.
He watches her for a while, basking in her beauty. When he closes his eyes he can still see her face.
—
"So what else did I like?" she asks him shyly, while his thumb graces her pouty mouth.
"You liked it when I kissed you here," he purred, mouthing at her long neck, "and here…"
His lips trail down to nip at her shoulder and collarbone. "And here…"
He keeps going, sucking the soft skin of her belly into his mouth until her skin blooms beautifully red.
"Ramsay…" his name on her lips is the most heavenly thing he's ever heard, and he aches for her to do it over and over again.
When his head is between her thighs, that's when she loses it. That's when she's not shy and quiet, that's when she's assertive, pushing and commanding where she wants him.
And Ramsay gets hard just thinking about the fact that he's the only one to ever see her like this.
—
After a while he gets bolder.
He ties her hands together over her head, and blindfolds her.
She's nervous, but he's convinced her they've done this before. Her blinded trust gets him all the more excited. She's all laid out before him, naked and wanting, like a feast.
He presses a piece of ice up against her lips, wetting her perfect pink mouth.
Down her chin it goes next, her neck, her collarbones. Her skin is too hot and the ice starts melting fast, leaves dewdrops on her body.
Sansa makes a sweet little noise when he reaches her breasts, circling her aureole, slowly and carefully, barely even touching. Her breath hitches when he puts the ice directly over her hardened nipple.
She rubs her legs together, and he knows she's getting wet. Wet and restless.
That's how he likes her.
The ice quickly dissolves, and Ramsay leans down to blow over her nipple, making Sansa jump in response. He chuckles watching her flushed cheeks and heaving chest. "It's cold," she says smiling and Ramsay in response puts his warm mouth on her breast.
Sansa keens, arching her back, urging him further on.
He laps and sucks at her chilled nipple, gracing over it with his teeth until she trashes underneath him. Ramsay removes his mouth then with a soft little popping noise. "Does that feel better?"
Sansa nods a bit too enthusiastically, biting her bottom lip.
So Ramsay does the same thing with the other neglected breast, until she's a moaning mess, her legs squished tightly together and her thighs rubbing against each other, desperate for release.
His hand closes around one of her lean legs. "Open up," he tells her.
She does as she's told, spreading her legs for him and Ramsay can already see her glisten. He takes another piece of ice, gliding it over her flat stomach, down the patch of neatly trimmed hairs at her cunt.
He dips it in between the outer lips, and her hips move at the sudden cold.
"Shhh, don't move," he says softly, rubbing the ice up and down her cunt, around her clit and teasing at her opening.
She moans his name again prettily, throwing her head back.
He dares to dip the piece of ice inside her before pulling out and circling her clit again. Her hands grab at the headboard, needing something to hold onto as he teases her like that over and over again.
After the ice has melted he sticks his freezing fingers inside her, and he almost loses his mind with how warm she is. Warm and inviting, clenching around his fingers.
He makes her come like that, pushing the digits in and out of her until she's sobbing his name.
—
She goes willingly when he turns her onto her stomach. Face first into the covers as he crawls in between her legs. He pulls her arms behind her back, ties them up again, and holds them there as he sinks back inside her.
She's at his mercy now, all his to do with as he pleases.
He touches her smooth back, admiring the beauty marks she has, how her red hair falls over her shoulders. He tugs at her hair when he fucks her, pulls at those silky strands as he thrusts roughly into her.
Sansa wails when he bites her, scratches her, bruises her. It's like he's painting a picture on her skin.
He has her bound and blindfolded, unable to see or feel. All she can do is take what he gives her. And oh, does she take it.
A girl like her, would have never even looked twice at someone like him, Ramsay thinks. But here she is now, getting fucked on his cock.
He pulls her up closer to his chest, bends her arms at an awkward angle and she yelps. "It – It hurts," she pants, but he doesn't stop. "You're hurting me!"
His teeth are at the back of her neck once more. "But you like it," he breathes.
"Don't you, Sansa?"
She only whimpers in response and his grip on her hair tightens. "Don't you, Sansa?" he repeats, harsher this time.
"Yes," she says, and she sounds and looks like a broken little bird who's wings he tore off.
Perfect.
—
Sometimes he waits until she's close enough he can feel her tighten around him.
And then he pulls out, and lays on the other side of the bed. He brushes his sweaty hair from his forehead and watches her.
"No! Don't… Don't stop" she whines, all out of breath. Her hands are still bound behind her back so she can't finish herself off, and it's the sweetest torture.
She's sweaty and tired, and her poor cunt must be clenching around nothing, desperate for him to get his cock back inside her.
"Ramsay - Please - fuck me, please."
And does he love it when she begs like that.
There are times when he makes her crawl on all fours towards him, and other times, like today, when all she has to do is raise her hips for him.
She gets on her knees with her ass high in the air, aching for him and he can't take it anymore.
—
Other times she even lets him choke her.
Shows off that pretty long neck of hers and lets his fingers squeeze her throat, until she's coming, her mouth wide open but no sound comes out.
Those are the times he can't hold off for long, he'll spurt his seed inside her with his hands still around her neck.
He'll admire his work for days later, even though she tries to conceal the marks on her skin. He knows they're there, and he seeks them out every time.
Blue, purple and red against stark white.
She tells him he's a beast. He tells her she's lovely.
—
Her family still tries to reconnect with her, even if they don't approve of their relationship. They'll invite her to their parties and events and Sansa feels obligated to go.
Because that's who she is. And he loves and hates her for it.
But somewhere during the night, after she's exhausted from being polite and smiling all evening, she'll drag him off to an empty storage closet or hallway.
She'll kiss him and ask him to fuck her.
She'll push him down onto something and ride him until she's satisfied.
And that's when she doesn't have to pretend.
It's ironic how he's the only one she trusts anymore, the only one she cares for, the only one she wants around.
—
One day she may remember again, and part of him already dreads that day.
Another part of him is just curious.