A/N: I've changed around some of the plot for the characters. (most of them actually) So, here's what I have going on. Jon has already been killed and revived. He is still residing at the wall with the wildlings. Bran is off on the other side of the wall learning about his gift. Rickon and Osha are wandering around the North since Osha has been hearing rumors that his kin is still alive. Arya has already gone through her "I am no one!" phase and now realizes she is someone. However, instead of traveling to the end of the world she is returning home to Winterfell. Tywin is alive. Jamie still has one hand and is off doing a military thing somewhere. Myrcella died and Tyrion was accused of that murder- not Joffery's. Margery is still attempting to be queen. Cersi is wandering around King's Landing being her normal cunning self with a head full of hair still. Tyrion who escaped his family's clutches is with Bronn and Shae instead of alone. (Shae never betrayed him or was sent away) Brienne has already attempted to give Sansa her sword and Sansa did refuse, but Brienne is still keeping a close eye on her along with Podrick. Theon was still tortured by Ramsay, but he has his body parts. He's just mentally a little off. Okay! Now on to the story!

Sansa had been plotting. The words Roose had spoken to her made sense. If she carried a son naturally he would hold the claim for the North. What confused her was why Lord Bolton felt that because SHE had a child it would secure HIS place in the North. It wouldn't. The child would still be hers. The same way he wouldn't have any need for her she wouldn't have any need for him. Her aunt had made it clear that Sansa could warden the North until her son became old enough to take over. She could handle that. It would require writing more letters to Littlefinger and Jon than a few but she was sure she could hold on to the North for that long. For her plan to even be in motion, she needed to get a son in to her stomach and then when the time came she needed to be able to dispose of one of the Boltons. She could handle one of them, but not both.

Sansa searched her head for what she had heard about the pair. Roose was apparently the calmer and smarter of the two. Ramsay was wild, reckless and bloodthirsty. Roose was more of the person who could command a small army. Ramsay was more of a person that could be caught in the center of the battle. Roose would have seemed as the simple choice if he hadn't been married to a Frey. She also thought that he would prove harder to manipulate. At the same time Ramsay yearned for his father's acceptance while Roose looked as his son as an expendable part of plans. She could probably get Roose to turn on Ramsay before she got Ramsay to turn on Roose… unless Roose's treatment of him had made him resentful. There was also the fact that Roose had been at the red wedding when her brother and mother were killed. Ramsay had not. The mere thought made up her mind for her. Ramsay was to be turned against his father. The way people claimed he was unpredictable that shouldn't have been hard to do except for the fact that they never spoke. The fact that he was unpredictable made him more dangerous to deal with as well. While Roose could contain his hatred for the sake of an heir Ramsay may not have been able to do that. The thought made vile threaten to come up her throat. At least if she died she would die in the halls of Winterfell.

Once Sansa had made up her mind about what she would do she set to work doing it. She was not going to give up Winterfell. Countless northerners were slaughtered with her family for a Stark to stay behind the walls. That was the way things had been for a while now and they would not be changing as long as breath was still in her body. She couldn't sit around and wait for someone to rescue her. Lord Baelish had handed her over to these people and Jon had taken the black. Rickon and Bran were still around somewhere but after Theon had attempted to take the castle and they had fled there was no telling where they were or what had happened to them.

She called for a handmaid to run her a bath long after the commotion of Winterfell had died down and there was no longer the creaking of the wooden floors beneath the weight of Bolton banner men. Her handmaid somehow got all of her hair to sit atop of her head and Sansa sank in to the tub and let out a sigh of relief as the hot water relaxed her muscles. She was both frightened and excited of what awaited her. She was afraid of the reaction that Ramsay Bolton would give her when he walked in to their room and saw her not only awake, but naked and awaiting him. She hoped that his need to be loved by his father would surpass his suspicion of why she had so willingly thrown herself at him. After all, Roose was pressing extremely hard for a grandson.

Sansa was having her tub refilled with hot water when the bedroom door creaked open and Ramsay stalked in. Sansa took in her husband. From his hands to his elbows were covered in blood. Splatters of it covered his face as he looked around the room before letting his eyes land on her. She felt her heart race and she wasn't sure if it was because the man before her had been spoken of to be dangerous and he was standing before her covered in blood or if it was because of the way he looked at her. His eyes were a terrifyingly dark color.

"Leave us," she waved her handmaid away and the young girl bowed her head and rushed to the exit as quickly as possible, shutting the door behind her.

"Hello, Ramsay," Sansa reached to pull her hair over one of her shoulders before realizing it rested on top of her head.

She hated having idle hands. It made her a little jumpy.

"Ramsay?" he shook his head with a smirk and walked over to the bed they shared and sat on it.

His smirk made Sansa's skin crawl. Ramsay liked the way he could tell his young bride was nervous. He liked being the one to make her feel that way.

"Well," Sansa continued, "I live with two Lord Boltons and it makes more sense to refer to your father as such since you and I are married and he would probably rip my tongue out if I called him Roose."

She heard Ramsay chuckle, but didn't look up from her bath water.

"Yes, well I guess that does make sense, Sansa."

The way he said her name was added to the list of things he had done in the small amount of time they had been in the room together that made her feel uncomfortable.

Theon had shared with her the knowledge that men were typically in better moods after being… serviced. He wasn't a stranger to a whore house. He should have known. Back when she and Theon were close and she considered him to be a brother to her he had told her lots of things about men and women, one of them being that even the greatest man could fall for a woman and be destroyed by her. He had fallen in love with some whore that had moved on to King's Landing and was in a drunken stupor when he'd told her such a thing, but here Sansa was betting her life on it. She gathered up all the courage she could muster.

"Will you be joining me for a bath?"

"Sure," Ramsay didn't hesitate or bat an eye.

He shed his shoes beside the bed and then walked over to the rather large tub. He slid off his clothes quickly all the while smirking at Sansa who was sure she was turning red, before sinking in to the water across from her. They both sat with their legs crossed.

"The water isn't hot enough," Ramsay complained, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

He wasn't sure why his wife had decided to take such an interest in him suddenly, but he knew that she was up to something. He wasn't a complete idiot.

"Were you hunting?" Sansa asked.

She couldn't for the life of her understand why washing the blood off of his face hadn't been the very first thing he had done when he'd climbed in to the water. It would have been for her no matter what temperature it was.

"Yes," Ramsay's mouth tilted up at the corner a little.

He thought that she was amusing and she knew it.

"Are you-"

"What do you want Lady Stark?" Ramsay sat up and stared at her with his eyes that looked like never ending voids.

"Ramsay," Sansa took a deep breath, "your father is worried that we won't produce an heir and quite frankly so am I."

His eyes jumped in amusement and he leaned back in to the water and closed his eyes again. He shrugged.

"You're young. I'm young. We can have children whenever we want."

"We need to want now," Sansa said urgently.

The tone in her voice made Ramsay curious. She sounded angry, maybe a little worried.

"Why so soon, Sansa? Don't you hate my family? Why would you want to have a child by me?"

Sansa knew that Ramsay was toying with her. She knew that he needed an heir as much as Roose wanted one. She also knew that they didn't have as much time as he thought that they did, not when Roose Bolton was barging in to her room telling her to sleep with him.

"I don't hate your family. I'm not particularly close with your mother by law. I hold no ill feelings towards you," Sansa wasn't lying.

She couldn't fault Ramsay for an event he hadn't attended and he had yet to kill or even hit someone in front of her. All she knew was stories and from her experience she'd found to never believe those. Stories were what got her father killed. Stories were people calling Tyrion Lannister a monster despite the fact that he was probably the nicest in his family. Cersei was a bitch, but Myrcella was one of the sweetest people Sansa had met. She needed to make her own opinion of the man before her, even if his eyes did scare her half to death.

"And what had brought on this sudden bought of baby fever, Lady Stark?"

"Your father," Sansa admitted.

Ramsay's eyes opened and he looked up at the ceiling. If his father was meeting up with Sansa Stark something had to be amiss.

"What about him?" he refused to seem too over eager.

"I already told you," Sansa snapped growing annoyed with Ramsay's way of so obviously drowning her out, "He's worried we won't produce an heir and we need one! The one thing that I can do for my family name is have a child."

Ramsay saw through Sansa instantly. She wasn't that great of a liar or an actor.

"What else did he say? Did he threaten you, Sansa?" Ramsay's voice teased her for being afraid.

"He said if I'm not baring children then what am I good for?"

Ramsay smiled to himself. That sounded like his father alright. The old man was a pain in the ass, but his frankness made for amusement every once in a while.

"So you're worried that he'll harm you if you don't begin to carry soon?"

Ramsay's tone was threatening to make the hair on her arms raise.

"Yes," she stood up abruptly and Ramsay raised his head at the sound of the water moving to watch his wife step out of the tub, "and I refuse to believe that he hasn't told you anything about it. He seemed pretty worried."

Roose actually had asked Ramsay how the heir producing was going, but of course Ramsay hadn't answered him. He'd simply began whistling and walked away. He enjoyed the North. He wasn't from Winterfell. The hunting game was so much more fun when you weren't completely aware of every little thing in your surroundings. Between hunting and flaying people and making sure their fighters didn't get lazy he didn't have time to worry about bedding someone he knew would still be here when his amusement with the lands died down.

"If you wanted me to bed you, Sansa you could have just asked and skipped the subtle seduction," Ramsay ignored her accusation.

She visibly tensed.

"Fine," she wrapped a fur around her and turned towards him, "WE need an heir Ramsay. Your father needs one and the North needs one therefore WE need one. From our wedding night I know that you can obviously get yourself going long enough to produce one. I don't need seduction. I just need your seed."

She turned her back, back to him and smiled to herself. Ramsay enjoyed toying with her. He also liked not knowing what came out of her mouth. That meant that it was fine for her to blurt out what she was thinking. He would just laugh at her and move on to his next awkward conversation. He seemed to excel at making her uncomfortable. Sansa grabbed a brush from her table and released her hair from its up do to brush it.

"Very well," Ramsay chuckled, "Let me wash myself off and then I'll put a baby inside of you Lady Stark."

"Thank you, Lord Bolton," Sansa said in her most obviously sarcastic voice.

Ramsay chuckled to himself again before dipping his head beneath the water. He would get around to fucking his wife with blood still on him later. There were baby steps to be taken.

Ramsay was attracted to his wife. He spent a good amount of time thinking about her naked in fact. He'd wanted to take her several times since they'd been married. Willingly or unwillingly didn't exactly matter to him. But, his father had made it very clear that Sansa was not to be hurt. She was a Stark. Roose claimed that they needed the Stark to keep the northerners pacified and the list of things he had threatened to do to his son should he come to find out Lady Stark had been treated with anything less than the upmost respect had made Ramsay back off a little. He had gone full out to make sure not to hurt his wife. He avoided her. He stayed away from her whenever she wasn't sleeping and even when she was she stirred things inside of him. The sounds she made in her sleep made something inside of him want to snap. He typically got very few hours of sleep before he was off to Myranda's room. She was keeping up fairly well for the unsustainable amount of sexual lust and physical abuse he had shown since he'd become a married man, but she simply wasn't enough to quench those thirsts altogether. It irritated him to no end especially when he retreated to his room to his wife in her night gown with her red hair thrown across the pillows. As of now, all Ramsay wanted was to prove to his wife that their sexual encounter could be more enjoyment than a hated task that simply had to be done. If he could do that, that would probably mean he'd be able to bed her more often. He wouldn't get as bored if he were switching between her and Myranda. While he did hunt some of the stragglers around Winterfell, he would never be caught sticking his dick in one of them. An added bonus was the fact that his wife had in fact been a virgin on their wedding night. He was almost sure that she wouldn't be able to separate her feelings from their constant sex and that would make messing with her head all the easier and Gods, did he love playing mind games.

Sansa brushed her hair until Ramsay's head popped back above water. She could feel when he was looking at her. She sat her brush down and made her way to their bed. It was weird thinking of it as the bed that belonged to both of them, considering she was the only one ever in the room. She focused her eyes on the ceiling, her fur covering her bare body. There was no point in getting dressed simply to have her clothes pulled off of her soon after. Sansa simply laid there and listened to Ramsay move around the room.

Ramsay washed his face clear and the caked off blood that was on his arms. He normally took baths alone at this time and then retreated to Myranda's room for a quick bedding before he collapsed in to hisbed with his wife. He wouldn't have time for that tonight apparently. It was typically bad taste to sleep with your wife and mistress within minutes of each other. Besides, he was tired. The hunt had been a little extreme today. He and Myranda had taken to the woods to claim not two, but three people. It was a thrill, being outnumbered. There had been one smart enough to climb a tree while the other two were being butchered. Myranda had offered to shoot their toy out of the tree, but he'd gone up after them. It wasn't often that they had the chance to climb. It was amusing. Of course, he'd slid their throat the second they were in arm's reach, but the sentiment had been nice. He and Myranda had spent most of the day simply toying with them before we'd actually inflicted any damage however and we'd taken them by foot not horseback. Next time we would have to do an old fashioned hide and seek without a single hound involved. The thought made a smile cross his face. Ramsay cracked his neck before climbing out of the water. He didn't bother drying himself or his hair off.

He simply walked over to his wife. Her eyes were closed as she laid on her back, her hair spread around her. Ramsay grabbed the fur covering her body and yanked it away. Sansa's eyes flew open and she went a few shades of red. It was funny really. It was amusing. He liked the fact that he was Sansa's first. No one had been there besides him and no one ever would as long as he lived. She was his. She would always be his, even if it was just because she amused him and he needed her namesake. Ramsay took her body in and was pleased with how uncomfortable she looked with his stares. Sansa was almost flawless. The few lines she did have mirrored something close to the many Myranda had. He knew someone had hit her. He would have put his money on Joffery Lannister if he had to. The thought made him roll his eyes. Joffery wasn't even man enough to handle his own battles. He had men around to do it for him. He was a pathetic excuse for a ruler and an even more pathetic excuse for a man. He would be fun to flay if he ever got it in his heads to threaten the Boltons or touch Sansa again. He would have the liberty to beat his own damn wife before anyone else did.

Sansa watched Ramsay as he stood in front of her. His eyes had drifted to the wall and she was sure that he was thinking about something when a strange smile took over his face. It was unnerving. She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't a big deal. He had already done things to her. She couldn't have been that repulsive. She played with the thought that Ramsay was thinking of another woman in order to perform. He liked her to be crass. He liked her to seem wild and unladylike. She needed to remind herself that.

"Are you thinking of someone else so that you can perform?" she asked.

Ramsay's eyes snapped down to her and glinted. He placed a hand on Sansa's ankle and slid it up her leg, before yanking one of them open with the opposite hand and sliding his finger over her.

"I can perform just fine."

The second he felt Sansa begin to respond to his fingers, he removed them and plunged himself in to her. She gasped. He grinned.

Sex between the two of them was different for Ramsay. He typically only slept with Myranda. Myranda was the type to whimper and take whatever Ramsay decided he wanted to do with her that night. Sansa, on the other hand, was a fighter and he found that amusing. He would have never guessed from their first night together that his wife could be so feisty. He bit her neck. She scratched his back until her nails dug in to his skin. The pain on his back only spurred him on more. He liked it. He bit her lip. She bit his shoulder. Ramsay growled above Sansa as she moaned beneath him. He wanted to explore all there was to her. He hadn't gotten the chance the first night of their marriage. He'd bent her over the bed, completed his task and exited.

Sansa was surprised and yet not surprised with the kind of lover Ramsay Bolton proved to be. He caused her pain in a way that balanced her pleasure and she herself couldn't tell if she was moaning for him to continue or groaning for him to stop. He would bite on to her neck but then stroke in to her in an extremely enjoyable manner. He would nip at her breasts painfully hard, but then press one of his fingers to this spot between the two of them that made her shiver. He would trust painfully hard in to her, but cover her mouth with his as if to swallow her screams, and take her breath away at the same time. It left her head frazzled. She wasn't sure what sensation to focus on. He seemed to be touching every part of her at the same time.

Sansa felt like a traitor wringing beneath a Bolton. She tried to keep the thought at bay. She reminded herself the same way she had before they had started that it hadn't been him to plunge a knife through her family member. It had been his father and his father would pay. When Sansa felt all of her nerves sink to the bottom of her stomach, she leaned her head up and bit Ramsay on the cheek right before tilting over the edge. He hissed at her, braced an arm on one side of her head, grabbed her by the throat with the other one and stroked in to her five more times before stilling. Sansa could feel his liquids entering her body. Ramsay stayed above her all the same, now braced on both of his arms. He closed his eyes for a while and she wondered if she had done something wrong, before he wordlessly bit her shoulder again, hard enough for her to flinch and him to leave bite marks. Ramsay rolled off of Sansa and they both laid side by side, on their backs, their eyes on the ceiling.

She wanted to see if Theon had been right about men being nicer when they were serviced. She couldn't wait for morning. He wouldn't still be under the influence if he was anyway. Sansa took a deep breath. She had to start off small.

"I want to leave my room," Sansa said in to the silence.

Ramsay chuckled.

"Leave your room then."

"I can do that?" she questioned.

"Yes. There are two guards outside of your door at all times. If you leave, they'll follow you. You can go wherever you wish as long as it's in Winterfell."

"Have they always been there?"

"They've been there since your return to Winterfell."

It bothered her that she hadn't known that. She had never actually tried to leave her room besides when she was fetched. She had just figured she wasn't supposed to. She felt more like a prisoner in Winterfell than an occupant. It was the Boltons and their big burly men walking around like they owned the place that bothered her. She couldn't take on their men if they for some reason decided to harm her. Hell, Ramsay was smaller in height than her and she knew for a fact that he could kill her.

"What if-"

Ramsay's hand went to Sansa's mouth.

"Quiet. I'm asleep," he snapped.

"But-"

"Sleep!" he growled out again.

The shift in his voice made Sansa's heart lurch. She rolled on to her side and pulled a fur over her. Ramsay followed suit. They slept back to back that night.

The next morning when Sansa opened her eyes Ramsay was still beside her. She made a move to stretch her neck a little.

"Awake finally?" came Ramsay's voice, despite the fact that his back was to her.

Sansa found it creepy the way he could just be aware of what she was doing behind his back.

"Yes. Let's try for an heir again."

Ramsay eyebrow lifted as he rolled to look at his wife. Her hair wasn't as straight as it had been the night before. She had teeth marks clearly visible on her shoulder from his little payback for the bite she'd landed on his cheek. Either Sansa was extremely worried about Roose, she had found a new sense of pleasure in their sex or she was attempting to play him. Ramsay wasn't sure which one it was, but he rolled on top of his wife all the same.

That was where Myranda found them.