this is a quick chapter, laying the ground work for the next round of chaos

Any ideas or suggestions please leave a review :)

Sansa was woken by a knock on the door the next morning, she was surprised to find Ramsay still beside her. She wasn't sure if she should answer the knock or ignore it. Would Ramsay become irate from interrupting his sleep?

She didn't have long to contemplate this thought, a louder knock came across the door again and Ramsay opened his eyes "Damn it, come in for fucks sake." He bellowed as he sat up in bed, the blanket barley covering his bottom half. Sansa sat up as the door opened, pulling the blanket to cover her exposed breasts.

Myranda entered the room, and now Sansa was the one wanting to curse. She rolled her eyes at the sight of Ramsay's lover. Ramsay, on the other hand looked downright cheery as he realized who was interrupting them.

"I'm to draw a bath for Lady Stark…" Myranda looked like she was about to claw Sansa's eyes out as she spoke of her intentions.

"Bolton. I'm Lady Bolton now, we're married. Don't you remember the ceremony…I saw you were in attendance." Sansa said as she looked straight into Myranda's eyes, daring the lowly kennel girl to challenge her.

Ramsay's eyes were wide as he watched the scene unfold. He couldn't be more pleased with what he was witnessing. Myranda looked at him for support, thinking he may put his wife in her place. Instead he decided to do the opposite.

"I think I'll join Lady Bolton in the bath, make sure the water is hot…you know how I like it." He said as he got out of bed completely nude and walked to the restroom, leaving the women to their own devices.

"Ramsay doesn't like to wait, I'm sure you know that to be true. Better get that bath ready for us." Sansa said as she rolled out of bed and walked over to the mirror. Brushing her hair, she looked at her body, covered in fresh scrapes and bruises from Ramsay's hands and mouth. She was unsure of how she felt about them. The night before was nothing like she imagined or ever dreamt of for her wedding night, but something deep inside her tingled as she reflected on the ways she received these new marks.

Myranda looked upon her as she dragged the tub in the room and began filling it. She finally spoke up. "You won't please him like I can. He was commanded to marry you, I'm the one he truly wants. You may have his name, for now. You'll never last as his wife though. I can't wait to join him on that hunt." Myranda smiled wickedly as she finished up her chore.

Sansa walked to the tub and lowered herself into the steaming water. She looked up at Myranda as she answered the girl's threats. "I wonder if he put a baby inside me last night. I wonder how long you'll last…Ramsay doesn't bode well with jealousy, you told me so yourself" Sansa paused as she smiled vindictively at Myranda. "And darling… it's written all over your face." Sansa laid her head back and closed her eyes. "I'm bored of you already, you may leave now." She said with a sigh.

Myranda was absolutely furious at Sansa's response. "I take orders from Ramsay. You are noth-" she was cut off by Ramsay entering back into the room.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked as he stepped into the bath, feeling the tension in the room between the two women.

"No, my lord." Myranda smiled sweetly at him. "I just offered to wash Lady St- Lady Bolton's hair." She said as Ramsay inched closer to his bride.

"I'll take care of that, Myranda." He said as he caressed Sansa's shoulder. "You may go now."

Myranda stood there, shocked at what was happening. Was Ramsay really choosing this rigid bitch over her? Her mind wandered to what could have happened between the two the night before and the thoughts and questions arising in her head made her sick to her stomach.

"My husband said you're free to go." Sansa looked up at Myranda. "Are you ignoring his orders?"

Myranda couldn't get any words to exit her lips, she was dumbfounded. She just curtseyed and left the room. Left her lover and his new prize.

As soon as the door shut Sansa pushed Ramsay off of her. "I can wash myself, thank you." She spoke harshly as Ramsay chuckled at her.

"And here I was thinking we were getting along splendidly." Ramsay spoke as he dipped his head in the water. "Do you want me all to yourself? Is that why you're so awful to Myranda?" The water was glistening off his chest and Sansa was having trouble keeping her eyes focused on her husband's face and not the rest of his body.

"Myranda can have you, I want nothing to do with you, I told you this already. You're just a bast-"Sansa practically spat the words at him before he cut her off, waving his hand in the air and looking bored of Sansa's comments.

"Yes, yes. I'm a bastard who was legitimized by another bastard… so you've said. Bastards can make something of themselves though, surly you agree. I mean your bastard brother clawed his way to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Ramsay paused and ran his hands through his hair before continuing on gaging Sansa's reaction, "You didn't know? Yes, Jon Snow is making quite a name for himself." Ramsay got out of the bath and started dressing.

Sansa was quiet as she rose from the water. Jon was Lord Commander? Did Littlefinger know this? Why wouldn't he bring her to her family, instead of to this horrid place?

Sansa couldn't help but hope that when Stannis came maybe he would help reunite her with Jon. She had never been pleasant to her brother, she was always quick to point out Jon was her half sibling. Now, Jon was the only family she had left. She missed him terribly. More than she ever thought she actually would.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ramsay throwing a shift at her. "Get dressed, we are to break fast with my father. And Sansa," he put his hands on her shoulders to make sure she heard his next sentence. "I am your husband now. Call me a bastard again and I'll rip out your tongue."

Sansa didn't answer him. She didn't have a sharp tongue comment to spit out at that moment. The wheels were turning in her brain and for the first time since the day of the broken tower, she felt she had an out. She needed to survive the Boltons. To survive Ramsay. To do that she had to stop fighting for the moment and fight for the long gain. She had to play the great game.