"Well, that was pleasantly awkward," Ramsay summed up the encounter which they had just had with Robb and Roslin. Isabelle took to sit on the four poster bed in her chamber, folding her arms over her waist as her stomach churned. Her trunk was by the foot of the bed and Ramsay opened it up, pulling her gowns from it and unfolding them, laying the material on the bed once he was finished.

"Now, which gown should we dress you in tonight?" Ramsay wondered from her in a low voice. "We don't want you to upstage his blushing bride, but we do want him to be jealous. Perhaps he will do something then?"

"Why do you care?" Isabelle asked. "You promised not to tell your father what he did if I agreed to obey you. Robb has nothing to do with this. I am married to you and not him. Why are you trying to make him jealous?"

Ramsay remained silent for a moment before he moved to kneel before his wife on the floor, parting her legs to rest in between them. His hands clasped around her waist and his eyes looked up into hers as he ran his hands up her sides to her neck, slowly stroking the pale skin which sat there. She remained mute, finding herself unable to speak to him.

"I intend to have my fun with the Young Wolf," Ramsay promised her. "I also intend to make sure that you know who you belong to, but you have been ever so good today. I had thought that you would say something to your beloved King in the North."

"Do you think me so foolish?" Isabelle wondered, pushing Ramsay's shoulders so that she could stand up and moved through the room, her fingers trailing through her hair as her mind whirled with worry about Robb.

"No," Ramsay replied, pushing himself to his feet once more and catching Isabelle by her wrist. "I know that you are a clever girl, Eleanor. You may not act it, but I can see it. I can also tell you that I have no intention of letting you out of my sight."

"So you intend to make my time here a living hell before you take me back to the Dreadfort?" Isabelle checked and Ramsay looked down at her in a condescending manner, his hand moving to cup the back of her head tenderly.

"You are sweet," Ramsay commented. "I intend to have my pleasure anyway I can...and being here...with you when Robb Stark can do nothing about it...that is very pleasurable."

Isabelle tried to squirm away from him before she felt his hand move from her wrist to her inner thigh, the material of her gown rubbing against her skin as his hand travelled further and cupped her intimately. Ramsay looked her in the eye, waiting for some form of response from her. She knew what he was doing. She had played this game long enough.

"And now," Ramsay whispered, his free hand taking Isabelle's hand to press it against the hardness which strained his crotch, "I want my wife and her pleasure."

"The feast starts in a couple of hours and I need to change and prepare myself," Isabelle made up her excuse, removing herself from Ramsay's grip. The Bolton bastard only had a few moments to look aggrieved with his wife before there was a knock on the door.

"What?" Ramsay snapped.

The door opened to reveal a serving boy. He looked slightly uneasy under Ramsay's glare; not that Isabelle could blame him. Ramsay was always in a foul mood whenever he was interrupted from having what he wanted. The boy bowed and Isabelle sat down at her dressing table.

"M'lord," he spoke hastily. "Your father has requested a private audience with you in the courtyard. He said that it was urgent and that you should come as soon as possible."

Ramsay smirked and nodded at the boy. "Tell him that I shall be there momentarily."

The servant hurried away and Ramsay squeezed Isabelle's shoulder as she combed her hair slowly and methodically. His hands tickled her bare skin as he spoke;

"I should be back soon," he whispered. "Do try to be good whilst I'm gone."

"I will stay here," Isabelle promised him and Ramsay bent down to kiss her on the top of her head.

She remained silent as he left the room and closed the door behind him. Isabelle kept still for a few seconds, the brush in her hand hovering in mid air before she was certain he had gone and she could continue to comb through the knots in her curls. If she had her way then she would leave to go and seek Robb out, but she could not. She only gained a few minutes of peace before the door opened and Isabelle prepared herself for Ramsay's return.

Only it was not her husband's reflection she saw in her dressing table's mirror. Shaking with delight, Isabelle slowly stood up and turned to face the King in the North, forgetting all of her pleasantries as he locked the door to the chamber and then faced her.

"Robb," she whispered his name, the sound sweet and tender on her lips.

It was enough for Robb to rush over to her and haul her into his arm. A sob of relief, joy and fear took hold of her as she moved her arms around his neck, the feel of his body pressing against hers not a foreign or unwelcome one. She rested her forehead on his shoulder whilst his hands continued to roam down her back.

"I passed Ramsay in the corridor on his way to his father," Robb spoke softly. "I waited for a few moments before I came to you. We do not have long."

She pulled back then and Robb looked down to her, his hands tenderly moving to clasp hold of her cheeks, holding them delicately. She moved her hands to rest over his, looking to his handsome face before he bent down to swiftly kiss her. Isabelle tensed for a moment before relaxing, knowing that they had to keep their encounter brief before Ramsay had both of them declared traitors.

"Has he hurt you?" Robb demanded to know, his forehead resting against hers.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, her hot breath hitting Robb's face. "Ramsay enjoys pain," Isabelle whispered.

"He will enjoy it even less when I see to it that he is removed from the Dreadfort."

"You cannot do that right now," Isabelle replied. "Everything is a mess, Robb. You are to marry a Frey and you have to go and bring your father home...your-"

"-My father is dead," Robb interrupted her, shaking his head back and forth. "Joffrey beheaded him once he discovered that the Queen's children were all born from a product of incest. Since then I have been fighting this war to get Sansa and Arya back...my brothers...my home...they have gone too...and now I am to wed a Frey because I had no other option. I had to cross the Twins and marrying one of them was the only way."

Her eyes widened with each passing declaration and Isabelle tried to process everything that he had told her. Ramsay had certainly kept her in the dark about everything. He was good at doing that.

"Robb," she whispered his name again. "I am so sorry...I did not know...he did not tell me..."

"And what does he tell you?" Robb asked gruffly and Isabelle leant back in his arms, her hands moving down his upper arms and his moved down her soft hair.

"Only what he wants to tell me," Isabelle whispered back. "He does his best not to talk when he is with me...he only taunts..."

The notion caused Robb to inhale sharply and look away whilst Isabelle looked to the door, making sure that it had not suddenly sprung open to reveal the pair of them. Robb slowly moved his hand to run down her cheek and she leaned into his touch, finding it so familiar.

"I am doing my best to think of a way for you to escape here," Robb whispered and Isabelle took hold of his hand.

"Ramsay will have his eye on me for the entire trip. It is impossible...and you are to wed the Frey girl...there is no way for us to be together, Robb. That is the part that pains me. It has done ever since I met you and fell for you."

Robb knew she spoke sense. He just didn't want to believe it.

"I promise you that I shall do all that I can to change this," Robb spoke. "I will do all that I can to take you from him."

"Just stay alive," Isabelle urged him. "That is all that I want for you."

It was only as Robb bent down to kiss her again did they hear the door slowly move in its frame. Knocks echoed through the room and Robb instantly pushed Isabelle behind his body, grateful that the door was still shut.

"Did you honestly think that I would be naive enough to think that you would not go and see her as soon as you knew she was alone?"

Ramsay's voice was cold and calculating, but not loud and aggressive. No. Ramsay would play this situation to his advantage. He remained outside of the room, leaning against the stone wall next to the door with his arms folded over his chest as he spoke to the closed door;

"I would open the door before I spread some form of word and half of your forces abandon you," Ramsay warned them, waiting for the sound of the door unlocking. He was patient, but the noise soon entered his ears and he grinned, wondering just how much fun he could have watching the pair of them squirm.

...

A/N: thank you to jean'darc, Isnotamusedsir, xxxRena and Steffh6 for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!