A/N: So. TwilightBrightStar was rather adamant that she wanted to give me a Game of Thrones prompt. Despite my own wishes, I relented and thus this piece was born. And of course she had to give me a prompt with my least favorite character. Ugh.
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and all things related do not and never will belong to me.
Prompt: Modern day AU. Robb and Jon get a call from their sister Sansa who needs saving from her abusive husband Ramsay. Bonus points if Theon and Sandor Clegane are somehow included.
Escape
Sansa had spilled the coffee. She hadn't meant to; it had just happened. Ramsay had come in that day and kicked off his shoes on his way to his recliner and she hadn't noticed the shoes until it was too late. Until she was already falling.
Until the scalding hot coffee she was holding was spilling all over Ramsay.
Surprise and pain had colored his face and it had been abruptly and terrifyingly followed by rage. "You are going to regret that, sweet thing," he had told her and she had known better than to respond, had known her responses only ever enraged him further, but she had wanted so desperately to tell him that she already did.
The beating that had followed had been swift but brutal, the blows aimed at her stomach.
"The baby," she had managed to gasp, forgetting, in her panic for the unborn child in her womb, that attempting to reason with Ramsay had never worked in the past.
"How can you have a baby when you're so clumsy?" Ramsay had asked. "What sort of mother would that make you? Don't worry though, sweet thing, some day you'll have another."
That had been two hours ago and now she is sitting on the bathroom floor staring at the bloody mess in the toilet and she knows what it means. She knows Ramsay has won. She will never get to see the face of her child. He has taken even that from her.
"Are you planning on fixing supper sometime tonight, my darling?" Ramsay's voice calls through the closed door.
'Hate you,' Sansa thinks, closing her eyes. 'Hate you, hate you, hate you.'
"Coming," she says out loud, lowering the lid of the toilet and flushing it without opening her eyes. There's nothing that can be done for the child now anyway.
"I'm going to spend some time with the dog before we eat," Ramsay's voice says. "Do let me know when it's ready."
"I will," Sansa responds tonelessly and she hears Ramsay stroll away toward the basement. Only once she hears the door close does she get to her feet and exit the bathroom.
In a quiet place in the back of her mind that she barely acknowledges she makes plans. For now though, she has a meal to fix.
Sansa raps on the basement door. "Supper!" she calls, waiting for an affirmative sound from Ramsay before going back to the kitchen to begin moving the food to the dining room table.
"It smells delicious," Ramsay says, walking in just as Sansa is pouring his wine for him. "Doesn't it, Reek?" he adds, turning to the man crawling in after him.
"Y-yes. D-delicious," Reek - Theon, Sansa reminds herself - stutters.
"The dog will be joining us for supper tonight, Sansa," Ramsay informs her, smiling brightly. "It's been two days since he's eaten, so he's probably hungry. Isn't that right, Reek?"
"T-three days, M-Master," Reek says, immediately flinching when he realizes that he has just corrected Ramsay.
Ramsay only smiles. "Ah yes. Three days. I'd forgotten about the first day when you fell asleep on the carpet. Remind me why was that bad again, Reek?"
"Reek doesn't belong on the carpet, Master. Reek only sleeps in the b-basement," Reek says, nearly without a stutter, his eyes downcast.
"Right you are," Ramsay agrees, sitting at the table and lazily cutting a piece of steak as Sansa sits down across from him. "So you are hungry then, Reek?" Ramsay asks as Reek settles down on the floor at his feet.
Eyes on the steak, Reek nods.
"Use your words, Reek," Ramsay says, his eyes narrowed.
"Y-yes, Master. Reek is hungry," Reek responds hurriedly.
"Would you like a piece of steak?" Ramsay asks, lowering his fork with the steak speared on the end in front of Reek's face.
"Y-yes, please," Reek whispers but he knows better than to try to take it before Ramsay says he can.
Ramsay smirks. "Go ahead," he says after an agonizingly long moment and eagerly Reek opens his mouth. At the last second Ramsay pulls the fork away, frowning reprovingly at the man cowering at his feet. "Now Reek. It would be rude of you to eat a bite before I even have any, wouldn't it?"
Reek's eyes bulge and he gulps.
"Sansa, dear, don't you think that would be rude?" Ramsay asks without taking his eyes off of Reek.
"He's just hungry, Ramsay," Sansa murmurs and Ramsay turns to look at her with narrowed eyes.
"I thought you made the steak for me, sweet thing, not the dog," Ramsay says, his voice deceptively light and, looking into his cold eyes Sansa's courage fails.
"I did," she agrees. "I made it for you, of course."
"And so, if Reek eats it before I do then he is being rude, wouldn't you say?" Ramsay asks.
"Yes, very rude," Sansa agrees, hating herself along with Ramsay, and on the floor beside Ramsay's chair Reek lowers his eyes, his posture slumped.
In the end Reek only gets a few scraps, and only after Ramsay has eaten his fill, and Sansa tells herself it's still better than the last few nights when he had gotten nothing at all.
After the meal is over Ramsay takes Reek - Theon - back to the basement and Sansa turns on music while she does the dishes in an effort to distract herself from the things she knows Ramsay is doing to the captive man. She can't turn it on very loudly though because, even though it fills her with shame, she would rather Ramsay's attention be on Reek then on her.
Sansa is already in bed by the time Ramsay emerges from the basement and she pretends to be asleep, a tactic that only works some of the time.
"You disagreed with me tonight," Ramsay says as he strips.
"I didn't mean to," Sansa murmurs, giving up on her ruse, knowing that to not answer Ramsay will end even worse for her.
"An accidental disagreement," Ramsay muses.
"I'm sorry," Sansa whispers and Ramsay ponders that for a moment.
"The thing is, sweet thing, I don't think you are," he says at last. "You will be though," he promises and yanks up her nightgown. "Next time, you won't disagree with me."
In the darkness Sansa stares up at the ceiling, Ramsay asleep beside her. In the morning Ramsay will go to work and there will be nothing stopping her from making a phone call.
In the early days, when Ramsay had first shown his true colors, he had been very careful. There had been no phones in the house and he had even taken her cell phone. She'd had no real contact with the outside world unless Ramsay was right there with her. He had been so careful.
Now, four years later, he trusted her. Trusted that she would stay. That he could go to work and give her free reign and when he returned she would still be there. That she wouldn't run, wouldn't call for help. And for years he had been right.
Now, lying in the dark, Sansa remembers the blood of her miscarriage in the toilet. She remembers Ramsay's words. 'What sort of mother would that make you? Don't worry... some day you'll have another.'
In the morning, Sansa promises herself, once Ramsay leaves for work, she will call Robb and Jon. The idea of running still fills her with terror - Ramsay Bolton always catches his prey - but maybe, with the help of her brothers, she'll be okay.
"Have a good day, little Sansa. Be good," Ramsay tells her, running a finger possessively down her cheek.
"You have a good day too," Sansa responds dully and Ramsay's eyes narrow slightly as he studies her face. "I'm just tired," she says quickly, forcing a smile. "I'll be better by the time you come home. Have a wonderful day."
"Yes," Ramsay says, smiling back at her and Sansa feels her heart thumping against her ribs. Is he buying it?
'Please, just leave. Just go to work,' she pleads in her head.
"See that you are better. Rest up," Ramsay says, still with that same smile and are his eyes glinting? "I'll see you when I get home," Ramsay says and he's gone.
Sansa lets out a long breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding and sinks down onto the nearest chair. Her stomach is rolling sickeningly and she thinks she might throw up.
From out the window she sees Ramsay's car pull away and she turns to look at her cell phone sitting on the coffee table. What if Ramsay comes back though? What if he's forgotten something?
She waits precisely seven minutes before she forces herself to her feet, picks up her phone, and selects the number she wants with trembling fingers. Ramsay has her make weekly phone calls every Sunday, always following the script he's set out. She has these conversations memorized. She suspects her family does as well.
This one will be different. She's not following a script.
The phone rings four times, long enough for Sansa to begin quietly panicking, in all her imaginings of what could go wrong it had never occurred to her that Robb might not answer, but then Robb's sleep filled voice is in her ear and Sansa remembers it is still very early. She probably woke him.
"Hello?" Robb asks drowsily, sounding like he's mostly asleep still.
"Robb?" Sansa says, all at once struggling not to cry.
"Sansa?" Robb asks, suddenly more alert, and she imagines him sitting up in bed, his hair sticking up, shocked at this unscheduled call. "Are you okay?"
"No," Sansa manages to choke out and she thinks her heart might pound right out of her chest, she's that scared.
"Sansa?" Robb's voice asks. "Sansa, what can I do?"
Sansa draws in a breath then and a long moment passes where she can't say a word. She's frozen.
"Sansa?" Robb asks again and she can hear his concern and suddenly she's crying, sobs ripping and shuddering through her.
"Come get me," she pleads. "Please, you and Jon, come get me. I can't do this anymore. I can't live with Ramsay anymore, he'll kill me! Please, Robb, help me!" she begs and now that the words have started she can't stop them, they're just pouring out of her.
"Whoa, whoa, Sansa calm down," Robb says in his big brother tone, the tone that has never failed to make Sansa feel better. The tone that says that he'll take care of it, whatever it is, that everything will be all right. "We're coming, okay? We're going to leave right now."
"Thank you," Sansa sobs, sinking to the floor in her relief, her legs unable to support her any longer. "Thank you."
"Get your ass out of bed!" Robb says loudly, throwing Jon's clothes at him.
"Wha...?" Jon mutters, frowning.
"Wake up, we have to go!" Robb says impatiently, grabbing Jon's shoulder and shaking him roughly.
"How'd you get in here?" Jon asks, confused and still mostly asleep.
"You gave me a key, retard," Robb says, rolling his eyes. "Now get up, Sansa called, we have to go get her."
At Robb's words Jon shoots up. "Sansa called?" he demands. "It's not Sunday."
"Yeah. I don't think the ass face was with her. She said he was going to kill her and we had to come get her."
"What are we waiting for," Jon growls, pulling the nearest pair of pants on and grabbing a shirt off the floor.
"That's what I've been saying," Robb agrees, thumping Jon lightly on the head and leading the way.
"Arya," Robb says, stopping short at the sight of his youngest sister sitting in his car.
"I'm coming with you," Arya says, determined. "Sansa may be a pain but she's my sister too."
"No," Robb says immediately. "It's too dangerous. We don't really know what we're walking in on. Ramsay -"
"That son of a bitch doesn't scare me," Arya says instantly, her eyes flashing.
"We don't have time for this," Jon snaps, tugging Robb to the car. "Arya will come but she'll stay in the car."
"What a nice fantasy world you live in, Jon," Arya snorts as Robb starts the car. "You'll have to remind me to vacation there sometime."
"Shut it, both of you," Robb snaps, sighing. "How did you even find out, Arya?"
"I stayed with you last night, remember?" Arya asks, raising a brow. "Your phone woke me up when it rang and I overheard your half of the conversation. It was enough to piece it together."
"Of course," Robb sighs. "You just do whatever Jon and I tell you, okay? No arguments. Understand?"
"I understand," Arya says blandly.
"We're not shitting you, Arya," Jon says, eyeing her. "This is serious."
"I said I understood, Jon," Arya responds, her expression unreadable.
As one, Robb and Jon sigh.
Sansa hesitates at the top of the basement stairs; fear, her old constant companion, gripping her. At this point though if Ramsay catches her she's dead either way. There's a strange sort of comfort in that, Sansa decides. If it makes no difference then she may as well thoroughly damn herself.
Mind made up, Sansa opens the door and heads down the basement steps.
"Reek?" she whispers into the darkness. "Theon?"
"No, no, no, not Theon. Reek. I'm Reek," Reek ('Theon', Sansa thinks firmly) says frantically.
"Your name is Theon Greyjoy," Sansa tells him, finding and pulling the string that turns the one bare light bulb on. Dull light fills the basement room.
Reek - Theon -is cowered in the corner naked, chained to the wall by a metal band around his neck. Just like the dog Ramsay claims he is. Sansa carefully doesn't look at where his manhood should be; instead she puts a pile of clothes next to him and from the pocket of her jeans removes the key to his shackles.
"I'm going to let you go," she tells him. "My brothers are coming for me. You can come with us if you want or you can run on your own. It's your choice."
Reek - Theon - doesn't respond but his eyes are wide and he's breathing heavily. Sansa unlocks the chains and backs carefully away. She's unsure how the captive man will react. While she has never participated in keeping Theon here she has also never helped him before. She is unsure how he feels about her.
Reek doesn't move though, he appears frozen. It's a sentiment Sansa can understand.
"It's your choice," Sansa repeats again and slowly Reek starts shaking his head.
"Tricking me," he whispers, voice faintly accusing.
"No," Sansa says. "I'm not. My brothers are coming. I'm getting out of here. You should too."
"A test," Reek mutters, pressing himself into his corner.
"Theon," Sansa says, trying to be gentle but Theon leaps to his feet and his expression is frantic and desperate.
"REEK! My name is Reek!" he shouts, his chest heaving.
Startled, Sansa backs away. "Okay," she says slowly. "Okay. I'm just going to leave these clothes here and I'll leave the basement door open. You can come if you want. It's up to you."
"A test. Tricking me," Reek mutters fearfully, turning to the wall as Sansa retreats back up the stairs.
She has tried to do what she can for him. Whether he takes the opportunity or not is up to him. She'll tell Robb and Jon about him though and she's sure they will call the police. With any luck both she and Theon will get out of here today, one way or another.
It's noon when Ramsay strolls through the door and Sansa feels her heart leap in her throat. He's not supposed to be back for at least five more hours.
"Honey, I'm home!" he calls, a malicious smile on his face, his eyes gleaming. His gaze takes in the packed bags and suit cases sitting in the living room and his smile widens. He looks predatory. "Going somewhere?" he asks, and his voice is light, casual, he might be commenting on the weather, and Sansa feels like she might pass out.
She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to explain, how to make it look like she was doing anything other than what she was actually doing.
She gapes at him.
If possible, Ramsay's smile gets even broader. "You haven't been acting right since last night, sweet thing. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think you could fool me? So who is coming for you then? I know you're not brave enough to leave me on your own. Come now, tell me. Who is it? Could it be... big brothers?" he asks, never losing his smirk, his voice knowing. "Ah, but it's a long drive from Winterfell," he continues. "Isn't it? I made sure to get back before they would get here. Aren't you happy? Why don't you give your husband a hug?"
Still grinning, Ramsay holds out his arms to her.
"Ramsay," Sansa whispers, horrified. "Ramsay, I..."
Words fail her.
Ramsay's eyes are cold. Possessive.
"There will be time for talking later. Let's go," he says, abruptly turning brisk, striding forward and grabbing her hand, quickly tugging her from the house.
"Go where?" Sansa gasps as Ramsay shuts the house door behind them.
"Away. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" Ramsay asks, his voice once more pleasant and all at once he's dragging her across the yard and toward his car.
Sansa, in shock, doesn't start struggling until they are almost there. "No!" she gasps, trying to pull away from him. "No, Ramsay, please. Please, let me go!"
She's crying now, begging, but Ramsay pays her no attention.
"Let me go!" she pleads, tears streaming down her face, terror making her throat close up. "Robb," she manages. "Jon!"
"They're not here yet, sweet thing," Ramsay purrs. "And you'll be gone once they are. You'll never see them again."
"No," Sansa sobs, still trying to get away.
"Bolton!" a gruff voice suddenly calls and Ramsay looks up just in time to see a giant fist coming at his face and he crumples, unconscious, to the ground.
Gasping, Sansa stares at him in amazement.
"Never liked him," Sandor Clegane grunts. "Always drives over my grass."
"Thank you," Sansa gasps, staring at their neighbor in shock and the scarred giant shifts uneasily.
"Always wanted to do that," he mutters and despite everything, the fear and the stress and the uncertainty, Sansa laughs. It's a somewhat wild laugh, edging on hysteria, but it's a laugh.
"Me too," she admits in a whisper and she gets the feeling that if he were any other man Sandor would smile.
"Sansa!" another voice calls and Sansa whirls, recognizing it instantly.
"Arya?" she gasps and sure enough Robb's car is pulling into the driveway, Jon in the passenger seat and Arya in the back.
"Sansa!" Robb is all big brotherly concern and worry and without another thought Sansa runs to him and he steps out of the car just in time to catch her and pull her into a fierce hug.
"Are you okay?" Jon asks, coming around from the other side of the car to look at her worriedly.
"I'm fine now," Sansa manages, disentangling herself from Robb long enough to fall into Jon's arms.
"He's knocked out cold," Arya announces from where she's crouched over Ramsay, examining him with interest. "Damn. I wanted to be the one to knock him out."
"I think we all wanted to be the one to knock him out," Jon growls.
"Who did knock him out?" Robb asks, looking around, and at his question Sansa looks around too.
Sandor Clegane is nowhere in sight. He must have retreated back to his house when her siblings showed up.
"The neighbor did. He saved me," Sansa says.
"Thank God," Jon says, kissing the top of Sansa's head.
"Please can we get out of here?" Sansa whispers. "He'll wake up soon."
"Here's hoping," Arya says darkly.
"Arya, get away from him," Sansa says, suddenly worried. "What are you doing here?"
"You think I was going to let these losers have all the fun?" Arya asks, with affectionate scorn for their older brothers and Sansa, feeling as though she might burst into tears at any second, rolls her eyes.
"Come here," she manages and for once Arya obeys without complaint and as soon as she can reach her Sansa pulls her into a hug.
Arya tolerates it for a moment before gently pulling away. "Let's get you out of here," she says. "Got any bags?"
"Inside," Sansa whispers, her voice cracking.
"Jon and I will get them," Arya volunteers. "You stay here with Robb. You look like you're going to fall down any second."
"Wait," Sansa says, suddenly remembering. "Reek!"
"Reek?" Robb and Jon repeat at the same time.
"Theon Greyjoy," Sansa explains. "He went missing two years ago. Ramsay has had him in our basement. He told me if I ever told anyone that they would never find my body."
Her siblings are gaping at her, stunned.
"Today I tried to let him go," Sansa continued, distantly wondering if Arya was right. Was she going to collapse soon? She did feel a little faint. "He wouldn't leave though."
"You know we have to call the police, right?" Robb asks her.
"I know," Sansa whispers. "Just, please, can we get out of here first and then call?"
In the house Jon and Arya hurry to the basement. The door is wide open.
"There's no one here," Arya says, looking around. "Do you think Sansa's losing it?" she asks after a moment.
"Definitely not," Jon says, examining a corner. "There are chains here and dried blood. Someone was kept here. Sansa said she tried to let him go but that he wouldn't leave. I guess he changed his mind."
"Creepy," Arya says, eyeing the manacles and shuddering.
"Got that right," Jon agrees.
"Sansa!" Jon yells, horrified, dropping the bags he's carrying as he exits his sister's house and running toward her but it's too late and the next several things happen in rapid succession.
Ramsay, blood streaking down his chin from what looks like a broken nose, is on his feet behind Sansa and Robb and at Jon's yell he moves, grabbing Sansa and pulling her against him. "You're mine, sweet thing," he says, baring his teeth and before any of her siblings can move he snaps her neck, killing her instantly.
"Sansa!" Robb yells, lunging toward her and falling to his knees beside her body.
"No!" Reek barrels out from the bushes then and jumps on Ramsay's back, a knife he stole from the kitchen in his hands and, all hesitation gone, he drags it across his tormentor's neck, slitting his throat.
Ramsay's blood sprays over Robb and Sansa and, gurgling, he falls to the ground.
"Sansa?" Jon asks, his tone pleading, reaching Robb and his sister and all but collapsing on the ground with them.
"She's gone," Robb gasps as Arya, screaming, begins kicking Ramsay.
"Mine," Ramsay gurgles, grinning maniacally. "Can't... have her."
"Bastard!" Arya swears, pulling out her pocket knife, tears coursing down her cheeks, but Ramsay is already dead, his last grin still on his face. "Who are you?" she screams, rounding on Reek who is staring wide eyed at Ramsay's body.
"It wasn't a test," he mutters, stunned.
"What?" Jon asks, hoarse from grief.
"Who are you?" Arya demands again.
Slowly Reek turns and his eyes fall to Sansa.
A long moment passes.
"I'm Theon Greyjoy," he says at last.
-End.
A/N: I feel that the ending bit is somewhat rushed but it fought me, despite the fact that I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Hope it was enjoyable nonetheless.