A/N: So, this is it: A Tormund-fixiated fanfic. Or at least the first chapter.

If I keep on uploading (I will write it anyways, just for my own fun and pleasure), it will be rather short, only about 15 chapters, I guess, as I'd like to try and not keep on going even though the story is already told.

And btw, as those of you who know me already should be aware of by now (for the rest I'm writing it down now) English is not my mother tongue and I have not had any lessons for the last year, so, as you will notice, there will be some mistakes (especially since it's mostly pretty late when I write)

I hope you enjoy it!

xxx

scuffie

Sansa had fed Ramsay to his dogs and was walking away confidently, smirking a little at her new found strength as she heard a slight wailing from one of the dungeons next to her. Curious, she came closer to the door, only to take a step back in shock, as she realised there was a young woman sitting in the cell.

The imprisoned girl did not look at the Stark, she did not seem as though she had even noticed someone was watching her.

"Hello?", Sansa said, unsure of how to approach any prisoner of Ramsay's. She had found all of the other cells empty, which she accounted to his love of feeding every foe to his dogs (which you could still hear chewing in the background).

The girl behind the bars looked up.

"You don't have to be afraid", Sansa said "My name is Sansa Stark, I am the true Lady of Winterfell. Who are you?"

"Avyn", the girl said after a while "Avyn Umber."

"The Umbers have given Rickon to Ramsay!", Jon yelled "Why would you want to help that woman?"

"Because", Sansa said patiently "She has been imprisoned by Ramsay. Obviously, she must have done something to make him hate her. Which makes me like her already."

Jon paced up and down, pondering what to do.

"Listen, Jon", his sister stepped closer "She is a young woman, probably hurt pretty badly, and she has been Ramsay Bolton's prisoner. Do you really think she would put us in danger?"

Jon remained silent, making Sansa raise her voice:

"If we don't help her, we are no better than Bolton himself!"

"Fine then", Jon gave in "I would not be comfortable knowing about a girl being in such a state, in the dungeons – but we will keep an eye on her. Now, if you want to get her cleaned up, she can join us for dinner."

Sansa nodded and smiled at him before she left Jon with a uncertain smirk on his face.

He looked at Ser Davos who stood in the corner; he had watched the sibling's quarrel quietly.

"What do you think?", he asked the knight.

"Well, I think we should not fret about some girl. She will tell us her story no doubt, we only need to ask her", Davos said calmly "Besides, Lady Sansa does have a point. A woman imprisoned by Ramsay Bolton might be our friend."

Jon nodded slowly, wondering if he had been too distrustful. But then again, what would you expect from a man who had been stabbed by his sworn brothers multiple times?

Sansa took it upon herself to personally ready a bath for the Umber girl, as the Boltons had gotten rid of any ladies in waiting or handmaidens. She put out a few dresses, one of her own she had sown while at the wall, and an old one of her mother which one of the men had found rotting in a box somewhere in the cellars – next to the banners with the Stark sigil on it, which were now outside again, floating in the wind. The dress smelled a bit damp, but for now everything would be better than what the girl had worn in that cell.

Finally she heard the anticipated knock on the door and a guard came in, Avyn Umber by his side.

She was neither truly tall nor really short, her curvy body wrapped in strings of cloth.

The hair on her head must have been a dark blond or light brown, changing with each flicker of the flames, forming a nest of dirty, greasy strands, pointing in every direction.

Her eyes were big and grey, difficult to interpret, as they seemed cold but not unkind.

They lay in a slightly round face with a fine nose and pouting lips. Around one of her eyes, the skin had turned violet, while her left eyebrow had been divided by a deep, glistering cut.

This woman was a beauty, Sansa thought, Whatever had she done to displease Ramsay?

"Come closer, Lady Umber", Sansa said as friendly as possible "I thought you might want to bathe. And we should see to those bruises."

She helped the woman undress and noticed some more cuts on her shoulders and her back, some bruises and even a brand mark on one of her buttocks.

"What has he done to you?", Sansa whispered.

"You can imagine, can't you?", Lady Umber said, speaking for the first time directly to her. Her voice was soft yet serene "They have married you to him."

"They have", Sansa said and noticed the heaviness in her own voice, to her dislike.

"I should be the one pitying you, then, not the other way round", slowly the woman eased into the hot water of the tub.

"How long has he kept you?", Sansa managed to ask, in awe of his woman that seemed to be strong enough to put on an act of seeming fine with what had happened to her.

"A week, I guess? Maybe longer", Lady Umber sighed „I am deeply indebted to you for freeing me."

"Why did he imprison you?"

"I will have to tell that story anyways, right?", the young woman said "I would rather just tell it once, as it is quite shameful. But you have been good to me. You're Sansa Stark? The heiress of Winterfell? Well, you must have known of House Umber being sworn to you. My father was a loyal man. He took in your brother Rickon when asked to. Sweet boy, your brother", she smiled at the memory of the kid „Is he still alive? I've been wondering... then again he might have been too much of a threat for Ramsay. Anyways, back to the story. My father has died a few months ago; leaving Jon, my brother, as the sole heir. Now, Jon, Smalljon, as they call him, has never been soft or kind, or anything like that, but I have never known him as cruel. Until the pressure grew..."

Sansa had taken a seat next to the tub, watching the bathing woman's face intently.

Lady Umber sighed: "One day, Harald Karstark came to visit. They had always come along quite well, and so they forged a plan to gain Bolton's trust in my House. I was strolling through the gardens, and heard them – my brother had never been truly intelligent or careful. They decided to hand over young Lord Rickon to Ramsay Bolton."

"-Who killed him", Sansa interrupted her "Ramsay killed my brother."

"Ah, my condolences", Lady Umber said "well, you see, I thought so. I thought he would do that, right from the beginning when I heard my brother talk to Karstark. That's why one night I tried to free your brother, his direwolf and his wildling servant. But, well, my plan did not work out. I got caught and my own brother handed me over to Ramsay, to do as he pleased, only asking not to kill me off just now."

Lady Umber took the soap and started cleaning of the dirt. She wanted to scrub of her skin, which still seemed to burn from Ramsay Bolton's touch, but she gave up soon enough, too exhausted, only trying to clean herself. This was about survival. Not about what she wanted. She had to take control of her feelings.

Sansa Stark lead her downstairs. Avyn had put on a way too big dress which had belonged to Lady Bolton before, after they had realised that Catelyn and Sansa Stark's dresses were quite too long and too small around her arse and her breasts to fit her.

"We will get you a proper dress, as soon as we have the chance, Lady Umber", Lady Stark reassured her.

Avyn thanked her and took a closer look at the girl that had become her saviour. She was younger, a lot younger than Avyn herself. Her red hair seemed like flames in the light of the torches and her blue eyes glistered in the dark. She had taken Avyn's arm as though they were old friends, and the Umber woman could not but wonder why this girl seemingly had her mind set so strongly on supporting and helping her.

"You will meet my brother, Jon Snow, and some of his men, though I have asked him to keep not many men in his company tonight, as you might still be quite tired. We have taken the small hall, so our fighters can have their supper in the big hall."

"I haven't thought to ask you, Mylady", Avyn said "Did you by any chance notice my brother amongst the corpses of your battle?"

Sansa looked at her in bewilderment at the strangely indifferent sound of the other woman's voice.

"I don't know if he's alive", she said after a while "But my brother will be able to tell you, I am sure."

They arrived in front of a big, heavy wooden door, and Avyn was sure she would not find her way back on her own – the stony walls did not seem to differ from each other.

"So, there we are", Sansa said, looking at the other lady from the corner of her eye "I will go inside first, and tell Jon about your story. We will ask you inside later, if you don't mind waiting."

Avyn shook her head in silence and watched the red-haired woman go inside, closing the door behind her loudly.

Now she was left alone in the dark, only some torches which spent about enough light to not fall and trip while she was pacing, flinching at every move that involved her shoulders or her back, but she could not stand still.

What if they would not believe her? What would she do then?

A thought crossed her mind, as it had so often in the last days: Would she see him again? Her everything?

No, Avyn, she stopped herself, don't go crazy just now. Ramsay Bolton is gone, you might be a free woman in just a few moments. Don't fret. Don't worry about things you might not have to worry about.

She stared at the door, waiting until it opened – it felt like years to her, her every bone hurting, aching for a soft bed to lie down in.

Slowly she managed to calm down and lean against the cold stonewall carefully, not to hurt her back. The cold made her wounds sting less and for a moment she closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time in seven days. The Starks were honourable. Even if they thought her to be a traitor, they would only behead her. A quick death. Which would be acceptable, she found. If only there was not him to think about...

Suddenly a voice startled her:

"Lady Umber?"

She jumped and opened her eyes. An elderly man stood in front of her, with white beard and thinning hair, both parted by dark grey strands. Though his hair and the wrinkles told her that he was indeed not young anymore, he stood up tall in front of her, a stern expression on his face, and she knew, this man was still very well capable of competing with any young fellow.

"Yes", she said and curtsied as well as possible "Good evening, my Lord."

"I am no lord", the man chuckled "My name is Ser Davos of House Seaworth. May I ask why you are standing here all alone?"

"Lady Stark asked me to wait, while she would talk to His Lordship, Ser", Avyn said, scanning the man curiously, but tried nevertheless to keep an indifferent air about her.

"Well. If you allow I will wait with you. I'm late anyways. Had to check on the wounded. 'Twas one hell of a battle, that you can believe, Mylady", he said and leaned against the wall, too.

She smiled politely at his remark and they waited in silence for a bit, which was broken by Avyn as she could not wait any longer: "What do you think, will they believe me?"

"Depends on what you told 'em, doesn't it?", the knight replied "Though I guess Lady Sansa might vouch for you. She seemed quite taken with you."

Avyn smirked a little finding hope in his words, when finally the door opened.

She looked back at the ser, who nodded solemnly for her to go inside.

Then Lady Avyn of House Umber went to meet her fate.

So, that's it, for now. Only a little testdrive - let me know if you liked it!