The day of the dance arrived clear and brisk. When late afternoon arrived they started to get ready despite Arya's objects they shouldn't bother to look nice. Jon told them he wanted to check the snares in the woods and disappeared around the same time.

They had raided Lysa's closest during the week and Sansa had altered some of the clothes to fit them. Sansa choose a silver grey sleeveless dress with a high neckline and a skirt that ended in the middle of her calf. Arya would be dressed simply in high waisted trousers and a checkered blouse. Sansa thought she looked lovely and it was an outfit even she would wear, which is likely why Arya had groaned and grumbled as they got ready, which caused Sansa to snap at her, so they had finished in silence. Jon had returned as they were preparing to leave. He stood on the porch staring at Sansa to the point Arya had asked him what he was gawking at. He and Sansa had then laughed uncomfortably. He told them they both looked beautiful and he would wait up for their return.

They thanked him, finished pulling on their coats and headed off to their bicycles. Sansa gave him a backwards glance and he gave her a sad smile and halfhearted wave in return.

They met Jeyne and Matthias in town and then headed to the Umber estate in Matthias' car. Sansa could feel the disapproval radiating off Arya but was thankful she said nothing.

They arrived at the party and made their way inside. It was very German, the food, the music. She knew Arya must be cringing inside. Arya shot her a seething look.

"I promise we'll leave as soon as we can," Sansa assured her. Arya responses with a curt nod.

They checked their coats and then made their way through the receiving line and waited for their turn to greet Ramsay.

"Major Bolton," Sansa said when it was their turn and gave a curtsy. "Major," Arya echoed and gave the smallest of bows.

"Lovely to see you Ms. Stark, I'm pleased to see you as well Arya, it is Arya right?" he responded.

Arya looked annoyed but gave a slight nod; they all knew he knew her name perfectly well. "Pity you couldn't be bothered to wear a dress, but I suppose you're presentable enough."

Sansa shook her head ever so slightly at Arya, her eyes warning her to not respond. "My sister means no offense, dresses for a growing girl are just hard to come by during war," Sansa demurred.

"Yeah, food and survival tend to be a priority," Arya added unable to control her tongue.

There was an uncomfortable silence before he continued. "And what of your aunt?"

"Our cousin is ill, she couldn't bear to leave him, she sends her apologies," Sansa answered.

"Pity. I guess that's what you meant by surviving being a priority," he said turning his gaze back on Arya. Arya just gave him a steely gaze back.

"You are a defiant one aren't you? I can see it in your eyes," Ramsay observed.

"Forgive us for monopolizing your time, we should let you go," Sansa interjected. Arya and Ramsay stared at each other a beat longer before he looked at Sansa and smiled. "Of course. Enjoy the evening. Save me a waltz," he said before dismissing them.

They walked away. As soon as they were no longer in his sight line Sansa pulled Arya into a corner. "You must be more careful," She chastised her, "Don't provoke him."

"How can you be so polite to him? He's a murder. He killed our cousin."

Sansa took a deep breath. "I know. But we can't act like foolish children, not with him. He won't tolerate your mouth like Petyr. Please, for all our sakes, just keep quiet."

"Why is it always so easy for you to just get along with everyone? Doesn't he make your skin scrawl? Didn't Petyr?"

"Arya, please. This is not the place for this discussion. I'm begging you, do your best to be pleasant, or at least just be silent."

Arya huffed but nodded. They made their way to the food table and tried to go unnoticed. They were successful for a while but then Ramsay spotted them and came towards them.

"Come for your dance?" Arya asked unable to hide the disgust in her voice.

"I have," he confirmed, his eyes alight with a gleefully menacing gleam. Sansa stepped towards him but he held up his hand and waved his finger and made a tsking noise. "Not yet. Arya, shall we?" He extended his hand to Arya.

"Me?" she squeaked.

"I advise you don't make me wait."

Arya looked at Sansa, her eyes looked like those of a caged wild animal. Sansa was sure she had the same look. She nodded at her sister flicked her eyes in Ramsay's direction, a silent plea for her to consent. Arya gave her the most withering look and then took Ramsay's hand and let him lead her to the floor, she kept looking back at Sansa who was doing her best to look calm and reassure her it would be ok.

Sansa watched them, she could see them talking, it was making her heart race. She wondered if this had been his plan all along, to corner Arya, to question her about the resistance. She knew he had his suspicions. It would be something he would do, force her to watch as he destroyed her sister. The song finally ended, Ramsay bowed to Arya and then turned and walked towards Sansa. He caught her eye and smirked with a look of satisfaction as he continued pass her.

She felt unable to breath and looked back to where Arya had been standing but no longer saw her. Her eyes moved around the room desperately searching for her. She caught a glimpse of the back of her as she exited out unto the terrace. Sansa fought her way through the crowd to reach her. She caught up with her outside, at the edge of the terrace. It was easy to see she was quite upset.

"What happened? What did he say?" she asked.

"I want to leave," Arya responded. Her tone was cold but Sansa detected a slight tremble.

"Arya, please tell me."

"We should go. Unless you'd prefer to stay at this lovely party?" There was a measure of distain in her voice now.

"Are you going to tell me how he upset you so?"

"I'm headed back to town, are you with me?"

Sansa felt exasperated, why couldn't she just answer her damn question. "Yes we can go. Let me just find Jeyne and let her know." She turned and headed back in without waiting for a response. She saw Jeyne across the room and headed towards her. She had made it halfway when Ramsay caught her.

"You still owe me a dance," he purred.

"Regrettably not tonight, Arya doesn't feel well so we are just about to leave."

"She'll wait," he snapped and pulled Sansa to the dance floor. He began to twirl her and whorl her about the dance floor. She stayed silent, her heart pounding out of her chest. She wished she could pull the knife from his belt and stab him right here and now.

The song was half way over before he finally spoke, "So you don't want to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"Why I danced with Arya, what we discussed. Why she might suddenly want to leave?"

"I figure your reasons are your own. And I told you she feels ill. I think it's all the rich food."

"Do you think you are clever?"

"No. I've been told my whole life I am a horrible liar."

"Why is your sister always scurrying about town?"

"She makes deliveries for the butcher. A lot of the elderly people, or people with small children can't always make it out to get their rations."

"Is that so? The way I see it your sister is a very clever girl, but you and your aunt are failing to make her a proper lady, one that would make a good German wife. Don't you want her to have a future?"

"Of course but she's rather young to be thinking about that right now. Did you say all this to her?"

He ignored her question. "And what about you? What kind of future are you planning?"

"Me?" Sansa felt confused and alarmed, she didn't like where he was taking their conversation.

"Yes, you. Do you plan to be a good submissive wife? Baelish told me your mother is quite the proper lady, do you plan to be like your mother? A lady that breeds many fine children?"

"I—- I haven't really thought that far ahead. There's a war on," she finally managed response.

"So Baelish never discussed my request with you?"

Sansa pulled back, she could not hide the panic and revulsion from her face.

"I -, he -," she couldn't get the words pass the bubble of horror clogging her throat. Had he really tried to have Petyr arrange for her to marry him? Had this once been Petyr's suggestion or was this just another of Ramsay's games?

"Hmmm," he hummed thoughtfully as the song ended. She couldn't tell if he was angry or insulted. His total lack of readable response was possibly one of the most terrifying things she'd ever experienced. It left her unable to plan her next step with him. He released her and said nothing more, just simply turned and stalked off the dance floor.

Despite feeling like she might faint, she finally made her way to Jeyne. She told her Arya was sick and they planned to leave. She told her they would walk back but Jeyne insisted they were drop them off in town. She gathered Arya and they rode back, the Starks sitting silently as Jeyne went on about the party. They gathered their bicycles and rode the rest of the way home in silence as well.

When they were finally at home and behind a closed door the dam finally broke. "Did you enjoy yourself!? Why did you force me to go?!" Arya cried out whirling on Sansa.

"Arya what happened? Please tell me why you are so angry," she pleaded in return.

"Are you ok?" They heard Jon ask as he entered from the kitchen and saw the two sisters facing each other, their backs rigid and tense.

"I'm not sure," Sansa answered as Arya glared at her.

"I don't want to talk about it," Arya said. "Not with her!"

"I'm going to get ready for bed. Arya if you change your mind and want to talk to me I'll be upstairs. Goodnight Jon," Sansa said. She gave Jon a hopefully look. She hoped if Arya won't talk to her then maybe she would to Jon. She hadn't even reached the second floor when she started to hear them whispering. She sighed and hoped he might be able to talk Arya down.

XXXXXXX

Sansa woke after a fitful night of sleep. She made her way downstairs to find Jon in the kitchen, Arya was nowhere to be found. "Where is she?"

"She asked to check the snares herself this morning," he answered as he brewed tea.

"Did she tell you what happened last night?"

"She did."

"And?"

Jon gave her an uncomfortable look. "I think it would be better -,"

"Don't tell me to ask her, she clearly doesn't want to tell me," she cautioned him.

"She's upset we made her go. Ramsay said some cruel things to her, about her, about your family, about you."

"It's what he does, he tries to upset people, it's like a game to him. He's very cruel, it's clear. Did she say what he said?"

"He asked about what she does in town. Then he brought up your brother, told Arya he's probably dead, made some terrible joke about if he's not he should come by the island so he can show him the same hospitality he showed the last RAF man to step foot on this island."

Sansa pulled in a deep breath, it was cruel but she couldn't imagine that alone could shake Arya so, she was stronger than that.

"And then he wanted to know why I'm not more of a proper lady like my pretty sister or her pretty friend," Arya said from behind them. They hadn't heard her enter. They turned to look at her now.

"Ar-" Sansa began.

Arya held up her hand. "He said I could stand to learn from you both about how to get along, how to make people feel welcomed. He said he's certain I'm involved with things I shouldn't be but he just can't prove it. He wanted to know if I thought a hard German cock in my cunt would straighten me out, make me a proper lady just like Jeyne, just like you."

Sansa gasp and pulled her hand back to strike her but Jon caught her wrist.

"That's a lie! Why would you believe that! I have never- Arya! That's a disgusting lie!" She wretched her hand from Jon's grip.

"Is it? Because based on my observations you have no issue being polite and sweet towards him, you were always accommodating to Petyr. I see the way they look at you, how men always look at you! It makes sense you wouldn't refuse them if asked, Sansa always wants to please everyone. Do you enjoy it? Does it make you feel powerful? Desired?" There was such disdain in Arya's voice it made Sansa feel sick.

"Arya, why would you believe him over me? I'm telling you, I have never, would never, willingly let either of them touch me. Don't you see what he's doing? He wants to divide us. He wants us angry, to make a mistake."

"And how do you know what he wants? Jeyne loves that Nazi she's with and she's your best friend, why would it be a stretch to think you might like the attention as well? And you would never settle for some low level clerk."

"I don't know what to do to make you believe me, but none of it is true. Tell me what I have to do to make you believe me."

Arya regarded her, looking her over. Sansa felt weighted, Arya was sure to judge her wanting. "Cut your hair off," she finally answered.

"What?" Jon interrupted them for the first time. They'd nearly forgotten he was there. "That seems a bit extreme."

"Sansa's always been vain and beautiful, if she's telling me the truth; that she's never been with Petyr or Ramsay, that she doesn't like them looking at her; she should cut off her hair."

Sansa locked eyes with Arya and grabbed a knife from the counter, she took a thick coil of hair and sheared it off at the collarbone.

Arya shrieked as Jon wrestled the knife from Sansa. "Stop this! Both of you!" he shouted. They were so startled that Sansa dropped the knife and Arya jumped. Arya started to cry and ran to Sansa sobbing.

"I'm sorry, I –" she sobbed and buried her face in Sansa's chest.

"It's fine, calm down," Sansa soothed. Jon stood behind them utterly bewildered. Sansa caught his eye and mouthed that he should go, give them some time. He nodded and left out the back door. As he headed towards the cottage he actually thanked god for the first time that he didn't have sisters.

XXXXXXXX

They retreated to the attic and lay on their beds talking late into the afternoon. Sansa had realized as they lay there that since Jon's arrival they had lost their nightly talks. She also realized Arya had been holding in a lot of pain, Sansa felt ashamed that she had failed to notice until now.

Arya had explained that guilt had been building in her relentlessly since Mycah's death. She had long held it was her fault, if he hadn't been trying to impress her with the comic, if she had fought or cried out, maybe he won't have died. But it went deeper, things had snowballed from there. She also felt guilt for Brynden, she wondered if her encouragement and involvement with the resistance had lead him to a mistake. And if the resistance had helped those prisoners escape last summer had she somehow indirectly played a part in Robin's death as well? She now wondered if bringing Jon here would be their final damnation.

"Arya those things just happened, you had no control over them. Don't you remember what Lysa use to say? This place, this island, is cursed but that's hardly your fault," Sansa assured her.

"You told me to ignore that."

"Well maybe I've changed my mind. Maybe she was right."

"But that's just it Sansa, that's the whole problem," she countered. Sansa sat up and looked at her as she continued, "It's my fault we're even here."

Sansa said nothing and waited for Arya to explain. "You never wanted to come here. The night mother and father decided we would, you got upset and stormed out of the room. After you left they said maybe they should discuss it further but I stopped them. I told them I wanted to go and you would too if you just gave it a chance. I told them I would talk to you, but I begged them to send us and they agreed. I wanted to come here. I thought it might make us equals."

"I don't understand, what do you mean equal?"

"In London you were always the good one, the pretty and poised one, a proper lady. But not me, I've never had the social grace you do, I never will, but I thought if we came here, well we'd be more on equal footing. I knew I would like the farm, being dirty and working with my hands. I knew you won't. I just thought for once, for the time we were here, well I thought I'd be the good one.

But then everything went to shit, and I've felt so guilty. I guess when Ramsay said those things I wanted to believe them because for a moment I didn't feel guilty. I could blame you for something finally and it was something so terrible. For a moment I felt like it didn't matter if it was my fault we were here because you'd done something worse. It was just easier I guess. It felt good to be released from my guilt for a bit," Arya told her as she avoided looking her in the eye.

"Shove over," Sansa commanded as she lay down next to Arya. "In the future just talk to me, don't let things build up. Don't ever think you can't tell me something. The only way we survive all this is by sticking together. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I believed him, and I'm sorry about your hair," Arya said snuggling into her.

Sansa gave a barking laugh. "I'd nearly forgotten! I'll need you to finish cutting it, though please try your best not to butcher me further."

"I swear I'll do my best."

They lay in the attic side by side watching the sun chase across the floor. "I have one more question, but I don't want you to take it the wrong way," Sansa said breaking the silence.

"Ok," Arya responded with trepidation as she sat up.

"Everything you just told me, well it's just all so actualized….. how did – I mean," Sansa struggled to find the right words. She didn't want to insult her sister but Arya wasn't exactly known for her self-reflections.

Arya laughed, "Its ok. I spent a lot of time talking to Jon last night. He made me realize a lot of things. He's nearly as good as Robb."

"Wait, so if you thought all this last night –"

"Jon thought, he seems like he wants to see the best in people and I just figured he might be another boy under your spell. I wasn't ready to believe you, but then you cut your hair, then I knew. Again, I'm sorry."

Sansa fingered the section of cut hair, "Well I suppose it's a small sacrifice at this point. Come on, let's go downstairs, I'm starving."