WARNING: THERE IS A LEMON IN THIS CHAPTER.
Sansa looked down at her husband. He laid naked beneath her, his manhood still inside of her, his hands behind his head. Her body had begun to change with the pregnancy and Ramsay was noticing. She pushed her red hair back. He was still angry. She had thought sex would subdue her husband's rage. It hadn't. It had lessened the flames, but his eyes hadn't reached its calmly blue color. They were still ice cold. She ran her hands up his chest.
"I don't understand why you're so angry," she chuckled, "You took his finger off."
"Rightfully so," Ramsay answered and readjusted himself releasing his hands from behind his head, "and I'll continue to collect the fingers of any men stupid enough to fantasize about you in front of me."
"You'll have the north afraid to look at me," Sansa joked.
"Good," he said seriously, "I'm ready for him to depart Winterfell."
"To the Vale or to…"
"I could care less," Ramsay admitted and ran his hands up his wife's stomach one after the other, "I would hope that if he died it would be because of me however."
"He runs the Vale," Sansa closed her eyes.
"You could run the Vale," Ramsay's hands closed around her breasts.
"I don't want it."
"If I kill him you won't have a choice."
"The knights of the Vale may want war."
"Why? The little boy- you're aunt's son is in charge," one of Ramsay's hands tweaked one of her nipples and she moaned, "They answer to their lord, not to Petyr. He just happened to be the stepfather. He has no claim."
Sansa closed her hands on her husband's wrists so that she could think properly.
"He'll want to avenge his step father."
"He has no military experience. He can't lead them."
"We can't handle another battle," Sansa pried her husband's hands off of her and held them to her face.
"Eventually, I will kill Petyr Baelish," Ramsay said simply.
"I know," Sansa nodded in to his hands.
Ramsay harbored a deep hatred for Petyr. She knew that. She also knew they had promised to be extremely honest with each other. She was battling with the thought of telling Ramsay that Petyr had offered her his hand in marriage. If she didn't she felt like it was a low enough hit for Petyr to use it against her husband later. Ramsay had taken the man's finger. She was lucky there wasn't a war in the dining hall and the fact that there wasn't meant that Petyr was up to something. He was typically sly and sneaky. She failed to believe he had lost his touch. He was playing at something- most likely his sympathy. Was he really willing to lose a finger to gain the north?
Sansa trailed Ramsay's hands down her body and to her waist. She moved her hips a little and Ramsay's eyes visibly hooded.
"I need to tell you something," she admitted.
"Hm?" his eyes fluttered shut as Sansa continued to grind herself on his member,
"It's about Petyr."
Ramsay's hands slid from her waist to her thighs and he easily stilled her. His eyes snapped open and she trailed her hands up and down his chest again, before resting them in the little black hair near his waist. He smirked at her.
"What about him?"
"Ramsay, you can't cut off any more of his body parts," Sansa pleaded and folded herself over his body, her head lying in the crook of his neck.
He planted a quick kiss to her forehead and pushed her hair over his shoulder with one of his hands.
"No promises," he admitted.
"Then I won't tell you."
Ramsay's hand closed around her cheeks roughly and jerked her head up. His eyes made her breathing hitch. She shook her head free and sat back up on him. She shifted a little.
"Sansa," he growled.
She ignored him.
"Fine, I'll go ask him," Ramsay grabbed her waist as if he would throw her off of him.
"I'm pregnant!" Sansa reminded.
Ramsay's hands fell to his side and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was getting angrier with her.
"He told me to divorce you."
Ramsay sighed.
"He told me he would tell you that."
Sansa sighed in relief and collapsed back on to his chest.
"So you aren't mad?"
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him," Sansa searched her memory, "I told him that I'd watched him kill his last wife."
Ramsay stroked his wife's hair while he looked up at her.
"And?"
"I told him he was in love with my mother and that I wasn't her."
"And?" Ramsay repeated.
She searched her memory again.
"And I told him he couldn't command my army… That's it I believe."
Ramsay scoffed and for a second she'd thought she'd upset him until he wrapped his arms around her back. She felt him rearrange himself and then he pulled out of his wife and slammed in to her. She groaned and one of her hands closed in to his hair. He paused then and she raised her head enough to see him glaring down at her. Why was he glaring?
"On your back," Ramsay instructed.
Sansa climbed herself off of her husband and retreated to her side of the bed.
Ramsay met her quickly and housed himself between her legs. Sansa looked up at him and he smiled down at her before he leaned over her, immediately slipping his finger in to her. He planted a kiss beneath Sansa's ear and groaned. He let his finger roam around her insides, moving in circles that were sending her in to a high. He added another finger and began with his painfully slow in and out. Sansa could feel herself soaking his fingers. This was different. Ramsay wasn't an extremely slow love making person. He felt everything intensely. When he needed her he needed her right then and there. He normally slowed down after the first release, but it was never exactly this slow.
Ramsay leaned in to Sansa before pushing the head of his member against her. She moaned and Ramsay kissed her collarbone.
"I'll take care of you," he groaned in her ear.
They let out a unified gasp as he slid himself between her folds and in to her soaking depts. Ramsay let Sansa's hands grip on to his waist and her eyes fluttered shut.
"Fuck," he cursed.
Sansa linked her legs behind his and he pulled slowly back out of her before submerging back in. He found a steady pace. She could feel her walls gripping on to his length and the throaty groans he was making in to her ear threatened to knock her undone on their own. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. It was a constant rhythm that was leaving her breathless.
Sansa's nails dug in to Ramsay's hips when he started to rock harder in to her causing him to whisper a string of profanities she was sure he had picked up in a brothel somewhere. He hadn't sped up. He'd just gotten rougher. He slammed in to her and she yelped as he hit something deep inside.
"You're so fucking tight and wet and perfect," Ramsay let his head fall on the pillow beside my head.
His hands reached down and he pried Sansa's legs off of his and held them open. He pulled out and sunk slowly back in. She moaned. He groaned. Ramsay sat back on his knees and his hands found her hips. He slid his wife closer and began to stroke in to her faster. His hands held her open. Her hands held on to the outside of his legs. He slammed in to her harder and faster.
"Tell me it's me," Ramsay planted a sloppy kiss on his wife's shoulder and she shuddered.
"It's you."
"Tell me I'm the only one that's ever made you feel this way."
When Sansa's eyes fluttered open, he was watching her. It stirred a whole new range of emotions. He gripped her thighs painfully hard and slammed in to her harder. She let out a sound somewhere between a mew and a purr.
"Only you," Sansa moaned her hands fisting themselves painfully hard in to her husband's hair.
One of his hands released her thigh and trailed up her leg. He laid his hand on Sansa's lower stomach and his thump began circling her clit.
"Ramsay-"
"Shh," he shushed her, "I've got you."
Ramsay slowed down and rolled his hips in to her a few times, letting his head fall back. Sansa was frozen in place. His thumb never slowed down. She was losing her breath. She felt like her heart was going to stop. She felt all the pressure in her body travel down to that small place where Ramsay's finger touched her. He pulled out of her and then quickly pushed back in to the hilt. Sansa's legs attempted to wrap around his legs again, but one of her thighs was still held in his iron grip. He repeated the motion before retreating to his old position hovering over her. He thrust in to her with reckless abandon then, his hand between them still working Sansa's bundle of nerves.
Ramsay knew his wife's body. He knew it better than she thought and when she got that glossed off look in her eye and she temporarily stilled before her back arched off of the bed Ramsay pushed his mouth against his wife's for a bruising kiss before leaning his head on her shoulder, turning it to my ear.
"Scream for me," he hissed.
And Gods did she scream for him. Ramsay sucked on her shoulder and it happened. She felt herself clamp around him and she grabbed his hips pulling him as deep in to her as they could muster as Sansa bit down on his shoulder and came. Her body tensed and then started shaking beneath him as he planted light kisses on her cheek. Her nails raked his back and he thrust in to her a few more long strokes before he stilled and let his head fall back.
Ramsay didn't move until his wife finally stopped shivering beneath him. He moved over to his side of the bed and roughly yanked her in to him.
"If he didn't hear you yelling from down the hall, the next time he tells you, you should get a divorce, tell him you're happily married," he growled.
Sansa smiled at her husband but she was too far in bliss to respond. He was claiming his property. He thought that she was his property. He was upset that she hadn't mentioned him as the reason she didn't want a divorce. He had feelings.
"I'm going to see him around Winterfell," Ramsay reminded.
"Don't hurt him."
"You can't bed me or use our child as a shield for others for the entirety of the next 2 months," Ramsay chuckled.
"I promise, I'll try," Sansa reached over and grabbed Ramsay's hand bringing it to her mouth and kissing his wrist.
"I look forward to it," Ramsay climbed partially down the bed and rested his head on her chest, laying his hand on their child sighing contently.
Sansa was not kidding. She was constantly at his side reminding him that they needed the Vale to defeat the Freys and then followed that comment with something about him bedding her that led to him chasing her up the stairs. He knew that she was trying to keep him away from Petyr, but since she was bedding him before every meal he could care less. Sansa didn't trust Petyr. Ramsay knew he would get a chance at hacking away at him later. It couldn't be fought. It would happen. There was no changing fate. All he had to do was wait for that time to roll around and when he did Petyr's death would be a nice, slow one.
Petyr was no idiot. He had begun to take meals in his bedroom. No one particularly missed him, but Sansa sent Tyrion or Shae to check on him and apologize daily for what had happened. Petyr had forgiven her far too easily. She knew that he was still trying to win her over. It left a bad taste in her mouth. Who had that sort of dedication? He had lost a finger! He was willing to lose body parts in his attempt to get a claim of the north. Sansa couldn't help but wonder what else he would have been willing to do, but she refused to bring it up to anyone. Tyrion was already digging. Jon needed to focus on the battle that was coming and Ramsay was simply looking for any excuse to cut of the man's cock.
It was all of two weeks later. Ramsay had somehow subdued the beast within him a little. Rickon still sported new bruises sometimes, but Sansa refused to comment on them and when Jon did, Rickon had snapped at him that he didn't need to be babysat and that Ramsay wouldn't really hurt him. Jon had backed off. Sansa sat out in the sun as she watched Rickon and Ramsay spar. Rickon was getting better she noted. Orys and Osmund sparred off to the side. Osmund was constantly knocking Orys and Bronn around, but they occasionally teamed up to bring him down. It wasn't often. Shaggydog laid stretched out beside Sansa and she scratched behind his ears.
Sansa's head jerked up at the loud crack she heard and she was quickly to her feet. Rickon laid sprawled out on the floor, Ramsay standing over him, his mouth in a thin line.
"That was slow, Rickon!" Ramsay snapped, "What the hell were you looking at?" he jerked the young boy to his feet.
"Arya!" Rickon said and pointed.
Ramsay had his actual sword up and pointed next to his wife's head before she even realized the sun was eclipsed beside her. Shaggydog growled from behind her. She looked at the person next to her and came face to face with The Hound.
"Bloody hell," she cursed and grabbed Rickon's hand tugging the boy behind her.
Orys and Osmund were to her rather quickly and she wondered how someone so big had been so seemingly quiet.
"I'm not here to cause problems, little bird," The Hound stated and Sansa took a step back with Rickon.
"Prove it," Sansa choked out.
"I brought a gift," he shifted being careful to watch Ramsay's blade and Arya came in to view.
Arya had been mad at Sansa. She had hated her. She had hated her for wanting to be with Joffery and for not understanding that he was a sociopath. She had hated Sansa for always being so proper and primp and always having to have her stupid way about every stupid thing. She had hated her sister for standing beside her dumb, ugly future husband and smiling like a puppet while the chopped off the head of their father. She blamed Sansa for everything because if she hadn't HAD to get married to the idiot Joffery her father wouldn't have been in King's Landing. Robb would have never been claimed the king of the north and their mother wouldn't have followed him. That would have been a family. Sansa had to always get what she wanted… but she wasn't the same Arya anymore. She had trained and she had grown and she understood that Sansa was a young and naïve and that at the time of their father's death she was simply trying to keep herself alive. She didn't resent her sister anymore. She would never see her the same way again, but there wasn't hatred in her heart. They had lost a lot and she had personally thought that she had lost all of the family she had. Arya was happy to have Sansa. Sansa may have been all she had left.
Sansa's heart leapt through her chest. She closed the space between them, not caring that she was practically pressed against The Hound's arm. She held her sister to her and Ramsay cursed as he lowered his sword.
"What do you want?" Ramsay questioned, "And back away from my wife. You're too close."
The Hound chuckled at the little man in front of him attempting to give him orders, but did as he was told. If he killed Sansa's husband he wouldn't be likely to get money out of her.
"I left King's Landing and I need gold to live," he said casually.
"Orys fetch The Hound gold," Sansa said from her place beside Arya and Rickon who were hugging each other tightly, "Lots of it, far more than you think is enough," she explained.
Orys nodded. Sansa hugged her two younger siblings to her again. Arya was shocked to see Rickon and hot, fast tears slid down her cheeks. She had been told that he and Bran were dead.
"Jon is here," Sansa told Arya and then she watched her younger sister's body still before maneuvering out of her hold and taking off towards Winterfell.
Arya tore through the halls of Winterfell on a mission. She didn't notice that they were knights and wildlings running through the halls. She could care less. When she bound up the stairs to the second floor her heart was beating loud enough for her to hear it in her ears. When she pushed open the door to the library, her eyes immediately fell on Jon. She didn't even notice the Lannister beside him. Jon's mouth temporarily fell open and then they were moving to each other. Arya crashed in to her brother's arms and the tears flowed faster and harder than they had since her father's death.
X
Sansa gave The Hound room and board indefinitely. She claimed it was the least she could do. Ramsay had snidely said the least she could do was thank him and send him on his way, but he was too interested in the killer who had as bad a reputation as he or worst so he hadn't put up a fight. He had stayed silent when his wife had told him simply, "Are you sure, Ramsay? Because your opinion counts." He was just happy just to have been included in the decision.
Sansa had Arya, Rickon and Jon all meet in Arya's room. They all climbed in to bed together, Jon and Arya sitting at the top of the bed and Rickon and Sansa sitting at the bottom all facing each other. Shaggydog laid next to the bed. Brienne stood outside of the door. They were all in awe. They had all thought that they were the last one standing and none of them had ever been happier to be wrong.
They sat together and words flowed out of them. They flowed quickly and loosely and there were laughs and there were tears. They were all different, but they all fit together in a way that only they could.
Jon was in short- ice. His words were cold and calculated. He spoke detached, like telling the tale of someone else instead of what he'd lived through. He got a faraway look as he spoke, his eyes trained on the wall behind Rickon. Jon told his siblings about his watch and about the brothers he'd made that he adored. He told them about the love he had and lost at the hands of the boy who had dealt him the final stab that had ended his life. He told them of the red woman's magic that had snatched him off of death's doorstep and the respect he had gained from the Free Folk. He told them that Winter was coming and that he had seen it and that they weren't ready. He told them about white walkers.
Arya went next and she told them all about her travels and the friend she had made. Her words flew out of her like fire. She spoke loudly and quickly and emphasized with her hands. She told them about the mysterious man that was no one and the three names he had given her. She told them about her travels and her training and the lives she had taken. She told them everything. She spilled out every single thing she could think of. She told Jon how much she had missed him and how she had trained with Needle and she told Sansa that she forgave her for being a stupid girl. She told Sansa how she had gotten her ride back home on a ship and then come across The Hound who offered to help her.
Sansa was air as she caught Arya up. Her words flowed easily from her lips as if she was telling a story that she had recited a thousand times. She told Arya all of the gruesome details of king's landing. She told them about Joffery and the horrible things he had done to her and how The Hound had stopped her from pushing him to his death and she earned a look of approval from Arya when she told them how she had told Joffery that their brother, Robb would give her his head. She told them about Margery coming from nowhere and taking Joffery and about her marriage to Tyrion and how Tyrion was always respectful and in love with Shae. She told them about Petyr Baelish attempting to help her and how he had killed their aunt and then given her to the Boltons. She told them about her marriage to Ramsay, simply for Arya's benefit. She told Arya how she and Ramsay had bonded over killing his father, the same man who had taken part in the death of Robb and Arya had practically glowed with pride. She told them about her sending Theon away and forgiving him. She told her how Tyrion and Bronn and Shae and Brienne had showed up. She told Arya about Ramsay's temper and what he had done to Petyr a few weeks earlier. She told her that her husband never treated her the way Joffery did even though he would easily cause harm for her. She told her that she was carrying his child.
Rickon opened his mouth and told his siblings about everything that had happened at Winterfell with Theon and how he and Bran had escaped with the help of Osha. He told them about Bran and his gift and the Reeds. He mentioned that the children of the forest were training Bran and that he would be able to tell them how to defeat the white walkers. He explained how Bran had sent him back to this side of the wall and how Osha had taken care of him until she had heard about Sansa's return.
They talked until they couldn't talk anymore and a cloud was lifted off of the groups shoulders as they realized that they would never have to be alone again. Brann was somewhere out there alone. Sansa had thought she only had one sibling left-Jon. It turned out she had only lost one sibling- Robb. The Stark children spoke to each other until they couldn't and then the four of them fell asleep in a heap of limbs, hitting each other every time one of them attempted to move, but not wanting to be anywhere else.
Ramsay didn't tear through Winterfell when he reached an empty bed at the end of the night.
X
The month went by quickly.
Arya was a firecracker and Ramsay loved it. Arya got under his wife's skin in a way he could never manage. She was the fuse that set Sansa ablaze and he basked in every moment of it. He couldn't count how many time he heard his wife shout "Arya!" dragging out the final "A" in a simple day. She wasn't just verbally a handful, but she was a swordswoman. Osmund had taken over training Rickon so that he could spar with Arya. He gave Rickon the excuse that as a girl Arya needed more help. The boy had beamed at him and it was done. Arya was fast. She could be beaten, it just took a lot of effort on his part and even then he could tell that she was holding back. It amazed him.
Not only was Ramsay amazed by Arya, but Arya was amazed by Ramsay. She heard tales of him flaying people and after Sansa had told her about how he had cut off Petyr's finger she was hooked. She wanted to learn to torture people that way- just the ones that were on her list. Arya wasn't afraid of anything. She had simply approached him and asked him and Ramsay had simply raised an eyebrow and smiled darkly at her before agreeing with the one rule that he could never tell Sansa. That was a given. Arya had no intention of ever telling her anyway so it worked perfectly.
Ramsay and The Hound gravitated towards each other as well. Sansa had told her husband of the many times The Hound had helped her back in King's Landing and because Ramsay had yet to see his eyes stay on Sansa longer than needed even once he instantly liked him. The fact that he happened to be a psychological unhinged murdered didn't specifically deter him either.
Jon noticed. He wasn't sure why Rickon and Arya were hanging around Ramsay, Orys, Osmund, Bronn and The Hound but he didn't like it. Three out of the five of them could be considered alcoholics. Bronn was probably the only one that didn't kill people for fun. It made his stomach knot, but all the same he knew that the two of them would at least be safe. From the stories Arya had told him, foul language wasn't new to her and Rickon refused to be left behind while Arya got to hang out with Ramsay. Jon had given up trying to control the situation. Ramsay somehow managed to keep them out of trouble and the kids helped him keep Petyr with all nine of his remaining fingers.
X
Ramsay sighed at his wife and she shot him a look that made him wink at her.
"Arya is NOT going!" she exclaimed.
"Sansa-"
"Jon, no!" Sansa stomped her foot.
"Why not?" Arya growled.
"Because I said so and I'm your queen," Sansa snapped.
The room was in chaos. They were set to march on the Freys in two weeks and Arya had decided to barge in on Ramsay, Sansa, Jon, Tormund and Tyrion's meeting to tell them that she was going with the army to battle. Sansa had hopped up almost instantly, her constantly growing stomach proving to take up quite a lot of space.
"Arya, we don't want you to get hurt," Jon said softly.
"I won't get hurt," Arya growled, "and if you don't take me with you I'll take myself!" she glowered at her siblings.
Tyrion simply looked out of place. He left the map before them and took a seat in a chair after pouring himself some wine. He must have thought this would take a while.
"She's an excellent swords fighter," Ramsay offered.
Sansa glared at him again.
"Thank you," Arya threw her hand in her anger.
"I don't care. You aren't going," Sansa repeated, "You could get killed!"
"Then why does Jon get to go? Why does the father of your child get to go?"
"They have experience!" Sansa snapped.
"How do you want me to get experience if I can't go anywhere?"
"It's not ladylike!"
"I don't care!" Arya shouted.
"You aren't going!" Sansa shouted back.
"She can ride out with us," Ramsay offered, "She'll see the battle without ever entering it," Ramsay stood beside the two yelling Stark girls and placed a hand on each of their shoulder.
"Ramsay-"
"I'll watch her," Jon offered and ran a hand over his face.
"I will as well," Ramsay said and placed a kiss on Sansa's forehead.
"If you don't let me go, I'll never forgive you," Arya said tightly.
"Jon and Ramsay would never let anyone harm her, my lady," Tyrion called.
Sansa pushed her husband's hand off of her shoulder and stalked out of the room. He sighed and followed her after smiling smally at the remaining occupants of the room and whispering, "month 5 of pregnancy."
X
Sansa had been placed at the table between Arya and Rickon. Ramsay sat across from her with Tyrion and Bronn on either side of him. Orys, Osmund and The Hound ate with the rest of the Bolton Boys. She was enjoying the smiles around the table.
"So," Arya said simply, "Ramsay and I were talking-"
Sansa groaned and her husband smiled at her.
"We have a name for your son," Arya continued and let it sink in so that she had everyone's attention, "Winter," she said finally.
Sansa chuckled a little. Jon and Tyrion looked a little taken aback.
"I like it," Rickon shrugged.
"That way when our son is like his old man," Ramsay said.
"And he makes the north quake in fear," Arya added, "They can look at their companions with this scared look in their face and say…" she and Ramsay looked at each other before finishing in sync, "Winter is coming."
Bronn laughed instantly. Tyrion choked on his wine. Sansa looked from her sister to her husband.
"You're both idiots," she said.
"It was a good name," Arya argued.
"It's… unique," Jon looked down at his food attempting to not laugh.
"You're an idiot, as well," Sansa chuckled.
"Winter Bolton," Bronn laughed, "I like it."
"Shut up, Bronn," Sansa joked, "Where is Shae to kick you beneath the table?"
He shrugged, his laughter never lessening.
X
Two weeks later when it was time for the men to march off, everyone was in front of Winterfell. Sansa took in everything around her. She hadn't realized there were so many men at her disposal. Ramsay had decided that Osmund could go to the battle. The Hound would be standing guard in his place. Brienne had returned with word that Blackfish would wait for them to reach him a few days earlier. She was staying as well. Tormund had decided to go. Nothing they had planned seemed to go that way. Tyrion, Petyr, Brienne, The Hound, Rickon and Bronn were now staying. Orys, Osmund, Jon, Ramsay, and Arya were going. She watched some of the people she loved the most walk towards her. Jon hugged her quickly and reminded her that they would all be coming back and then hurried back towards the Free Folk. She knew that he was referring to himself, Ramsay and Arya and she felt guilty thinking of the men that wouldn't be coming back. Orys and Osmund simply nodded to her. Orys offered her a small smile. Ramsay closed in on her and hugged her quickly as well, before kissing her a hard, breath taking kiss. She knew it was his way of saying that he would miss her. She noted the chain he had around his neck with that horrible finger on it.
"I'll bring you back Walder Frey's head," Ramsay smiled at her.
Sansa knew that he was excited about the impending battle. His eyes betrayed him.
"If it's a boy, Winter and if it's a girl, Lyanna, correct?" Sansa checked.
Ramsay nodded, his eyebrow raised and then he looked at his wife. He really looked at her. She was easily 7 months now and it had just now dawned on him how far along she was. Her stomach was rather large compared to how she was before. He did the math in his head.
"Sansa, hold the baby in," he hissed.
"How do you want me to do that?" she snapped.
"I don't know. Figure it out."
"If you want to be here for your child's birth then just stay," she said stubbornly.
"And let Arya stress out Jon alone?"
"Orys and Osmund will be there," she reminded.
"They aren't married to her sister."
"Just admit the bloodshed is more important than the birth of our first child."
Ramsay's eyes darkened and she regretting it coming out of her mouth.
"If I'm 6 months you may be here. If I'm 7 you won't be. It can't be helped," she said softly.
Ramsay nodded once and then grabbed her face.
"I'm not choosing this battle over our child," he growled, "I'm making sure our child has a mother to raise it," he dropped her face and then he ran a hand through his hair, "Do you really want me to stay behind?"
Sansa took a deep breath.
"No. I just would like you to be here…" she admitted.
"I will be," he decided, "I swear it by the old Gods and the new."
"You can't swear that."
"I will be here," he repeated and kissed his wife again quickly and placed a hand on her stomach, "with Walder Frey's head."
"Unless I give it to her," Arya interrupted.
Sansa glowered and Arya hugged her sister anyway. Sansa hugged her back… just in case.
Ramsay shook his head with a smirk and he and Arya retreated. He helped her on to her horse despite the fact that she could easily do it on her own.
"You know I'm going in to battle," Arya whispered to him.
"I know," Ramsay shrugged, "and I'm not worried about you," he hopped on to the horse beside her.
"And I will bring that head to my sister."
"That sounds like a challenge, Lady Stark," Ramsay purred.
Arya smiled at him and he winked back.
Sansa watched them begin to ride off, her hands on her stomach. She was going to be sick.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read / favorites / reviews / follows my work! I appreciate it all even the people who decided that they didn't want to read anymore. I think I did a lot in this chapter, but the next one is a short filler so be prepared for that! Also, I have a reason for Petyr still being around so just survive with me! Lol. Thanks!