Author's Note - This first chapter will be very short, as I'm just testing the waters. Haven't wrote much in a long time so kinda just want feedback before I take the plunge! This isn't necessarily a Ramsay redemption fic, it's more of him changing not because he wants to, but because Sansa stirs something in him. ;) But I have some serious twists planned if I get far enough! So here's the introduction!
The sky was dark and the snow heavy. It crunched beneath Sansa's feet as she left the warmth of Winterfell behind. Theon followed her, his hands shaking slightly as he threaded lightly over the snow covered path. He had tried desperately to tame his hair, greasing it back and running a comb through it with barely any success. The comb had almost snapped from the tangles and knots. He wore a nice leather doublet, the flayed man emblem slightly obscured beneath his large fur coat. Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat, playing with her own hands as they slowly made their way to the weirwood tree.
Under normal circumstances, Sansa would think it was a beautiful night and setting for a wedding. Lanterns marked their path, as well as the many footprints from the guests who had come before them. The snow was fluffy and falling down hard, making her red hair stand out far more than usual. The dark hair dye had finally faded and it was braided down her back elegantly.
Her nerves were starting to take over and all Sansa could think of was the man at the end of the path waiting for her. His face had been haunting her since the moment she set her eyes on him. She imagined what he would look like standing in front of the weirwood. Would he have that signature smirk planted smugly on his face? For a second she expected herself to cry. Tears started to well up in her eyes and her vision was blurred. She didn't even notice the path coming to an end.
Here she was once again, being forced into a situation that she had no desire to be in. She knew since she was a little girl that she would ultimately be married off to a lord or the son of a lord. A long time ago she had hoped her husband would be Joffrey. But that desire diminished rather quickly. Then she was married to the Imp, who thankfully didn't force her to do anything she didn't want and was far from cruel.
Now here she was for the third time, being pawned off onto a bastard of the House Bolton. Being legitimized might have changed his last name, but no one easily forgot who his mother was. Some tavern wench, more than likely. The old Sansa would scoff at this arrangement, but the current Sansa could care less of Ramsay's parentage. She instead feared for herself. And with good reason.
Groups of people stood around the red-leaved tree, which was lit up by hundreds of little twinkling lights. The moon shone brightly overheard, causing her to gaze up and take in the sight. It was beautiful, but the scene did the opposite of putting her at ease. Her thoughts went back to the day she was told by Baelish that she was going to marry this mysterious man, Ramsay Bolton.
Author's Note - I know there's not much to go on, but I'm already working on the next chapter and it should be up very soon!