One thing that Robb noticed when his sister demanded that she follow them to meet Ramsay was that she was no longer the emotionally unstable woman who had first arrived at Castle Black but a stronger and more determined woman.
She clasped her cloak around her shoulders and sighed when it didn't cover her bump.
"Take mine," Robb offered, unclasping his. "It doesn't have our House colours but it should help."
She accepted it gratefully and gave him a small smile. She put it on and Robb took her other one which was Jon's old one. It fitted him well anyway.
Robb was nervous. Over the past couple of weeks, he and his siblings had gone around asking for support and allies to their cause to get back the North.
He had even been insulted by an eleven-year-old. She had even berated the twenty-two-year-old for losing the North before insulting his brother about his bastardy and sister about her 'willingness' to marry not one but two enemies of their family.
Thank the gods she didn't know of his unborn niece or nephew otherwise she would have roared more rain on them mayhaps even causing the young Stark female to burst into tears.
It was Jon's ally, Davos Seaworth who managed to sway the young lady's mind eventually, leading her to give them her remaining 62 men who were worth ten times more than they were.
Robb hated being called the 'Cowardly King'. His own sister, his blood, had called him as such even adding further insult to injury by claiming their deceased father would be disappointed in him. It hurt. Deeply.
In the end, three thousand men were no match against Ramsay's six thousand even if they were worth a thousand more. Jon, Sansa and Davos had done all the work as Robb remained quiet, hoping no one would add further insults upon him to his face.
Robb prepared his horse and from the corner of his eye, he could see that Sansa handed Jon a new cloak. Stark colours and direwolf, he realised.
It made him glad that she was trying to mend her broken relationship with their half-brother but a bit of him was jealous that he got her attention easily and he had to fight her to get his own share.
He returned his focus onto fixing his straddle but his shoulder was tapped and his sister stood there with another cloak in her arms.
"You need to dress the part, Your Grace. Jon was surprised to find out that I stitched them myself," she said, almost shyly.
Robb gave her a smile and unclasped his cloak for another time. He threw it over the horse and slipped his new one on. It made him look more king-like than he had been in years.
"You hate it, don't you?" She said, worry in her eyes.
"No," he said with a wider smile. "It fits perfectly, Sansa. I like the, uh, direwolf. I can't remember when I last saw our colours and direwolf coat of arms," he sighed sadly.
"I managed to remember before Ramsay burned the remaining banners," she said quietly. "It's not exact but-"
"It's perfect." Robb kissed her head. "Let us go. Being late will not do our brother any favours."
They had met on neutral lands just outside of Winterfell. As expected, Ramsay Bolton had taken his time and when he arrived, he smirked deviously at Jon before frowning menacingly at his wife.
"My darling wife. So nice to see that you have reunited with your bastard brother," Ramsay said with a fake smile.
Robb couldn't hear anything they were saying but stayed far away enough to keep him from being recognised by Ramsay before the man could either kill their little brother or kill him to get rid of the legitimate Stark sons once and for all.
But from what he could see, Jon was unfazed by Ramsay's attempt to rile him up. His brother did look at Sansa sometimes and Robb wondered what her husband was telling her. He also wondered if the man knew she was pregnant and was playing them right this minute, plotting to kidnap her and keep her locked away until she gave birth to his heir before disposing her to his hounds.
"There is no need for a battle," said Jon, giving Ramsay a small smile. "No need for our men to fight and die. Why not have it between us? You and me?"
Sansa turned to him. That wasn't the plan. Stick to the fucking plan, Jon!
She remained silent and simply stared at Ramsay in disinterest, hoping he wouldn't sense her fear nor the second heartbeat in her.
"How do we even know you have him?" She calmly asked but inside, she was screaming and cursing the man.
Ramsay grinned, clicking his fingers to fetch a man who dumped Rickon's direwolf's head onto the ground.
She didn't let herself show any emotion but she could feel Jon's worry beside her. She didn't even turn to him.
Ramsay began his bullshit again but she had enough of his games and she was suddenly feeling sick. Her stomach leapt in circles and she could feel her child moving inside her, almost bringing tears into her eyes and she wondered why an evil man could produce an innocent baby. Was it even his?
"You will die tomorrow, Lord Bolton," she said, monotone. "Sleep well."
She led her white horse away and finally felt herself breathe, tears running down her cheeks as she got her horse to ride faster away from them.
She met up with Robb just under the valley and they rode back to their army camp, leaving Jon and their allies behind.
"I can't wait to strangle him. He'll pay for his father's sins as well as his," Robb told her when they arrived.
"Don't fall into his trap," warned his sister. "Ramsay doesn't play games, he makes them and they're the worst kind anyone can play. Worse than the one for the Iron Throne."
Her words sent a chill to his spine and he simply nodded, telling her to rest well and eat. She had to look after the baby.
It was a short while until Jon returned and the two of them along with Davos, Tormund, Melissandre and Ygritte talked battle strategies about how to defeat Ramsay's army with the element of surprise inside Jon and Robb's tent.
"We have no element of surprise," frowned Davos.
"Aye, we don't," confirmed Jon. "But we need to think about this. Sansa told me that he likes to play games. We should expect that he'd use one with Rickon."
"Let our hearts rule our minds," Davos slowly realised.
"We may not know him as well as Sansa but from that one conversation..." Jon trailed off. "He's bluffing."
Robb frowned. "I highly doubt that, brother."
"With all due respect, Robb, I was there-"
"We both knew his father. Roose Bolton never bluffed according to Father. Don't be stupid. Look where that got me."
Jon turned to his brother in exasperation. "Then what do we do? You've led an army!"
"So have you," Robb simply retorted.
"Aye, I have but not in a war for a throne in a castle."
Robb sat back and sipped his ale, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'll call upon the Eyrie again. Send a few ravens."
"They won't help. You and I both know that." Jon sighed heavily. "We must all rest. We will talk more in the morn."
Everyone left except Ygritte who glared at both her husband and brother-by-law.
"Fighting won't solve anything. You Southerners don't know how to handle anything. And you," she pointed her finger at Jon. "Really don't know nothin'."
"What do you suppose we do?" Robb asked her. "Go on, I'm curious to know what my brother's wife thinks."
Ygritte turned to him, eyebrows raised. "You may have a small army but have you ever thought about surrounding his army? Ever heard of making something larger than they seem?"
The brothers shared a surprised glance and she rolled her eyes before exiting the tent.
"Where did you find her?"
"Wildling infiltration."
"I like her. Keep her." Robb smirked. "Reminds me of my own Talisa."
Jon handed him his ale. "Tell me about her."
"She was a nurse from Volantis. Beautiful, she was." Robb shook his head, the memory too hurtful to think about. "She made a resilient queen."
"I'm sure she did."
Sansa entered the tent and sat down, taking Robb's ale from his hand and downing it.
"Rested well?"
"Yes," she said, patting her stomach. "She's growing stronger every day."
"'She'?" Jon smiled.
His sister nodded. "I can feel it."
"Well, she is a little princess and we'll spoil her as so regardless of who her father is." Robb held her hand. "Do you have anything to add to our battle strategies?"
Sansa nodded. "I'm surprised you never asked. Do you not believe that I may have some insight?"
"Go ahead," Jon said, waving her over to look over the positions on the table.
Sansa faltered. "Well, I don't exactly know how to win a war but I do know Ramsay."
"Other than him playing games, what else could he have or be?" Robb joined them.
"Just don't do what he wants you to do. He'll be ready for you to make your first mistake and you'll end up suffering from that."
"Don't do what he wants us to do?" Jon asked baffled.
"Isn't it obvious?" She asked him, unsure of why he was so baffled.
"It is a bit obvious," her brothers said, frustration laced in their words.
"Don't yell at me!" She said back. "I'm just offering-"
"Let us bring ideas to the table. Just think about the baby," replied Robb. "We'll get Rickon back."
Sansa left them, anger rising in her veins as the idea of her brothers still seeing her as a little child danced around in her mind. She hadn't been one for a long while. Even when she was physically one.
Days of torture and oppression and pretending in the days of Joffrey had hardened her soul, making her snarky but careful, sometimes earning hits, slaps and warnings when he was bored. She learned how to fake her feelings and emotions and her first husband had been impressed, hoping she'd outlive them all.
Then with Baelish at the Vale where her aunt quickly turned on her, allowing her to use her fake tears and fear of being caught lying had also increased her guard and she knew how to get what she wanted when she wanted. Even that bitch, Myranda, couldn't scare her in her own home.
But Ramsay... She'd always have a part of Ramsay. Her scars, his touch and his child - if it was his child. Now, Ramsay had taught her to be clever and cunning. From him, she refined her skills in reading people easily and using Baelish' lessons, she'd concocted one of her own alongside Ramsay's lessons and now, she wasn't going to be seen as a child. Not now, not ever.
"Lady Sansa," she heard.
She halted in her tracks and turned to face her protector, Brienne of Tarth with a polite smile on her face.
"You should be resting," Brienne said. "I do not know much about childbirth but I know that the first few moon turns are crucial. You might lose it."
"I cannot rest when my baby brother lies in enemy lines. My older brothers treat me as if I'm stupid. Yes, I am slow but I get there, however, they do not wish to understand my ideas on how to get Rickon back."
Brienne nodded. She understood exactly how Sansa felt. Two men never let her feel as such. Her father and Jaime Lannister.
"Prove them wrong, my Lady," she finally said. "Either way, your mother would be proud to see the woman you've grown to be."
Tears sprung to Sansa's eyes and she wiped at them angrily. "I apologise. My moods aren't as they seem."
"It happens with childbirth," Brienne told her with a small smile.
"One of the reasons why my brothers treat me like glass. I am not a delicate little flower. We've all been through our own shit, I can handle myself because no one can protect anyone."
She placed her hands on her womb and returned back to see her brothers in their tent.
"If we lose," she began. "I'm not going back there alive."
Her brothers were stunned but she didn't care. She gave them an ultimatum. They needed to win otherwise she'd find the nearest cliff and let herself drop from it. Didn't Ashara Dayne fall from the tallest tower of Starfall, all those years ago?
"If we lose, there are other options," Jon said. "Essos."
She shook her head. "It's home or nothing. If we lose, I die."
She left again before they could even reply to her warning. Her tears returned and she realised that she wasn't as brave as she made herself out to be. She needed guidance. The Seven, the Old Gods, the New - whichever one to help her through this. To get them all through this and their home back.
"Don't worry, Little Cat," she whispered to herself in her tent that night as she stroked her bump. "Your uncles won't let us die."
Notes for this chapter:
(1) Sansa gifts her brothers with Stark cloaks.
(2) Sansa and Jon confront Ramsay.
(3) The siblings have attempted to gain an army.
(4) Sansa tells her brothers that Ramsay isn't just any enemy - he plays games.
(5) Her brothers do not take her opinions to heart.
(6) They plan an element of surprise.
(7) Ygritte offers the idea of making their army seem bigger than it is.
(8) Sansa gives her brothers an ultimatum - if they lose, she commits suicide.
This was re-edited on 04/04/19.