Flayed Banner
Sansa POV:
Whatever scarce light that pierced through the thick clouds of the North woke Sansa from her fitful slumber. Waking up from a nightmare was not surprising anymore but waking to a direwolf staring right at you would be a nightmare for anyone, unless you're a Stark.
"Ghost?" rubbing my eyes clear. I reached out to him to bring him closer. Thankfully he's inclined to be cuddled. Rubbing his large fluffy head on my cheeks, I'm reminded of Lady and of her gentle kneading.
I asked him. "Did Jon tell you to stay with me?" not really expecting any reply, the Direwolf just enjoyed my ministrations to his ears. I should apologize to Jon for last night's hysterical episode. I didn't know what came over me.
After I'm done with my morning ablutions with whatever rough soap and frigid water I could find. I stumbled upon Lady Brienne right outside my chambers armed with only her sword and braces, It's my first time seeing her outside of her armor. OH. Brienne was there to see my hysterics last night. Well, that's unbecoming of me to have my Knight and her squire witness that pathetic display.
"Good morning, Ser Brienne." I looked up to her with a-hopefully-bright smile on my face.
"Good morning to you M'lady." She greeted me with a brief smile as she added, "but I'm not a Knight." bowing her head towards me as she usually does.
"From all the anointed knights I have known. Only you Ser Brienne, have shown true chivalry." Remembering Ser Meryn Trant and his sword, and compared to all the King's guards' white cloaks; Brienne's is pure white snow.
"May we break our fast, Ser Brienne?" I quickly led my thoughts to better ones. I could see Brienne's face blush through her bowed head.
"You honour me, M'lady." as she led me towards what is hopefully our morning meal.
In the mess hall, we came upon Podrick, the red haired wildling along with the Night's brother who brought me dinner last night. They were seated on one of the tables that's closer to the windows. The beams of light brightened the considerably dreary hall and shined on the occupied table. The wilding was already feasting on a chicken leg while the Night's brother was eating at a more relaxed pace and Pod didn't have any to eat yet. Must be waiting for Ser Brienne to arrive first.
"G'morning M'ladies." Pod stood up from the bench and inclined his head towards us as we approached the table. The Night's brother muttered a greeting and quickly returned to his soup while the Wildling just stared at us- I hope Jon can control this wildling's savage impulses.
"Good Morning, Pod." I replied quickly, beating Brienne's response. Maybe if I'm more cordial with Podrick Payne then Ser Brienne will forgive my past curtness behavior towards him and in turn bring Ser Brienne closer to me.
"G'morning," Ser Brienne followed suit, "Pod, later we'll spar and I'll teach you more on how to wield a sword on horseback." Brienne didn't bother to look at Pod opting to return the wildling's stare. Feeling wary of the red haired wildling's continued staring. "Bring us our meals if you would Pod."
"Of course, M'lady." As he hurried off to grab our morning meal leaving us in an awkward silence, interrupted only by the wilding's chewing.
Suddenly Jon entered the hall, his curly locks and cloak sprinkled with fresh snow from outside. For a moment he looked surprised to see me, then glanced away. Seeming to find himself busy with his cloak and proceeded after Pod for his meal.
Baring the silence for a while longer, Pod returned with our meals and sat himself closer to the windows, beside Brienne.
"Thank you, Pod." Remembering my courtesies.
"Your welcome, M'lady." He murmured while shyly bowing his head.
Jon came after Pod and moved over on the opposite side of the table, plopping himself between the Night's brother and the red-haired wildling and feasting on his meal. The sounds of wooden tableware and chewing along with the creaking furniture made for a very awkward gathering with the occupants' only the aim is to break our fast. The Night's Brother eyes were flicking towards every occupant of the table in between his spoonful of slurps, looking like he was aware of the atmosphere but either Jon and the wildling were just too intent with their meals or just pretending it doesn't exist.
"The name's Edd…" the recently named Night's brother spoke out. "This place ain't much but you're welcome to everything." he continued. As he was about to continue, Jon interrupted.
"You're safe here, we've already weeded out the traitors here and no one would dare make trouble except maybe those from the South. As per the Night's watch vow, they're beholden to no crown." Jon glanced towards Edd.
"Aye, what Lord Commander's says-."
"I'm not Lord Commander anymore." Edd flinched while the Wildling stopped staring at Brienne to glance at Jon, having realized the tension bubbling in Jon.
Jon seems to realize what he did and continues his work. The sounds of chewing and furniture creaks returned. Uncomfortable is the word I would describe this seating, focusing back in eating small portions of soup sludge, I discretely glanced back to Edd to see him staring at me dazed. Must've been awhile since he last saw a woman.
He quickly averted his eyes, swallowed his meal and said. "Sorry about the food. It's not what we're known for."
"It's alright." an automatic response. "There are more important things." I felt Jon glance my way.
SLAM! CREAK!
The door slammed open and warmth swiftly fled the halls. A night's brother barged in with hurried strides towards Jon.
"A letter for you, Lord Commander." the Night's brother grunted, offering the letter to Jon.
"I'm not lord commander anymore." Jon quickly replied, at this point I'd guess that's a habitual response. Jon glanced at the letter in his brother's hand, then at me and swiftly looked away to grab the offered letter and nodded the brother towards the door.
Jon must have a great amount of influence in Castle Black, his men respect him… We will need those men to take back our home, Jon will feel the same way no doubt.
As Jon deliberates on the unclasped letter, he glances around the table and stops to stare at me. His look told me everything, he doesn't want to read it in front of me for some misguided noble intentions of trying to protect me. I need to hear what Ramsay has to say, and Jon has no right to coddle me as if I'm a child, I'm done being a child… a caged little bird. An image of a bloody disfigured face came to mind. Mentally shaking off the image, I stared back as if to say, "go on let's hear what the letter's about." Jon seems to get it and peels the Bolton signature wax off the letter.
Jon begins reading the letter out loud. "To the traitor and bastard Jon snow…" I find myself oddly amused, such a little man. Calling others bastards while being the manifestation of all the evil and wrongness of being bastard. As Jon continues reading the letter, empty boastful taunts filled the hall. Until… "Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon…" Jon wide eyed, his alarmed grey eyes glanced at me. I exhaled, a mantra filled my mind, "he's alive, he's alive, he's alive…" then realization settled in, Ramsay has Rickon…
Theon Greyjoy was but a shell of the ward I used to know. Ramsay tortured him into forgetting himself. Turned him into Reek, "not Theon! REEK! REEK" Theon's terrified screams reverberates in my head. What will happen to Rickon? Please don't turn him into Reek. He's a Stark, my baby brother, all unruly mop of hair with a wildling disposition. Beautiful innocent Tully eyes… it's better if he's dead. Ramsay HAS to be lying about my brother to get inside our minds, he has to be lying. Ramsay doesn't have Rickon. An image of Theon popped up, face replaced with Rickon's baby face grimaced in pain and begging for relief. Rickon's dead, it's better this way… I glanced back at Jon still reading the letter. My ears muted. Ringing from Rick- Theon's tortured screams.
"... I want my Bride back, Bastard… Keep her from me… Ride North… Slaughter every wildling… under your protection… you'll watch as I skin them." Jon's dour face filled with color, Jaws clenched, and eyebrows met at the center. This is the first time I saw madness in his eyes, I didn't think he could be capable of it.
I gulped. "Go on." urging Jon to continue reading.
"It's just more of the same." furling the letter back but I snatched it out of his hands.
I read the rest of the letter. "You will watch as my soldiers take turn raping your sister." In the corner of my eye, I can see Jon's scarred hand clenched into a fist, his gaze pointed down towards the table. I continued. "You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother… come and see… Ramsay Bolton, Warden of the North." They're all mad, except for Pod. He seems scared of Jon. Ser Brienne was still as stone except for her clenched pulsing jaw muscles.
"HA!" the wildling exclaimed, "I've heard scarier threats from Ice-river clans and they're Fishmongers. I'll bet he has a small Pecker. I'll scare him shitless, pissing in his lordly furs. Don't you remember what I did to that Lord of Bones? HA! Back breaking." I was shocked at the wildling's… energy.
Jon chuckled. Is he great friends with this Wildling? What would father say… but it seems the wildling obliterated the oppressive atmosphere so I'll silently thank him for that.
Jon turns serious, "Warden of the North?" He turned towards me.
"His Father's dead, Ramsay killed him." I answered.
Jon looks to be thinking, and finally said "He has Rickon."
"He doesn't have Rickon." I closed my eyes, resigning myself to Rickon's Fate. "Rickon's dead. It's better that way." I spat.
Jon looks at me in alarm, "There's a chance Rickon is alive! You said so yourself, Theon didn't burn them." his eyes conveying betrayal.
I stared unflinchingly. "You know what he did to Theon, Jon? You wouldn't recognize him, he's a man broken into so many pieces and put back together with tar. All edges and half insane." My nose is flaring at this point. "You want that for Rickon? Once Ramsay has him, he's dead! He's just taunting us, getting inside your head to make it easier to slaughter us all."
Jon's eyes looked to be burning, "We'll save him, doesn't make any difference if you've given up on him." He started to leave until the Wildling asked the most important question.
"How many men does he have?" Scraggly features and thirst for blood in his gaze, makes for a very intimidating man but in my experience intimidating men are softer than most people think. It's the handsome, unassuming men you have to watch out for. Jon fit's them but he's an exception to the rules.
"I heard talks of them mentioning five thousand men when Stannis was still a threat." I can almost feel Brienne's smugness at the mention of Stannis.
Jon turned towards the red haired wildling. "How many do you have?"
The wildling almost shrugged and replied. "That can march and fight?" paused "Two thousand. The rest are children, pregnant women and old crippled folks." Jon looked defeated.
I faced Jon. "You are the son of the last true Warden of the North." Jon's face took on a grimmer expression. Wrong thing to say? What happened to him? I thought and pressed on.
"Northern houses are loyal, they'll fight for you, you need only send for them." his grim expression is still frozen. I changed tactics, Jon is more receptive to familial love. I reach over the table and grasp his scarred hand. Shaped my face to a worried expression.
"A monster has taken our home, along with our brother. If you don't want to fight for the North then fight for Rickon…" I whispered underneath my breath. "... for me…"
Jon's grim expression changed, I've lit a fire inside him and his hand hot to the touch and eyes burning with determination. He nodded towards me. I smiled a bloodthirsty smile, the Dire wolves will devour and rip Ramsay apart. How I wish to see that.
After breaking our fast, Me and Brienne were heading toward my room when Jon stopped us.
"Can we talk?" His grey eyes were the saddest pair of eyes I've seen. "I need to know." I can see his throat bobbing between his words. "What kind of a man Ramsay Bolton is."
"Are you sure you want to hear it?" I raised my brow.
"Yes."
"…" What Ramsay has done broke me, and whatever I was before is dead. I can only hope that killing him will bring me satisfaction. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get his head on a spike and telling Jon about my history with Ramsay is a small thing, maybe letting Jon know will further embolden him to destroy Ramsay.
"Alright." I turned to Ser Brienne. "I'm safe with him, Brienne."
"I'll be training Pod in the Courtyard, shout and I'll come to you M'lady." She offered a stiff nod and marched off with a knightly gait.
"We'll talk inside my room." I said turning away from Jon.
"The lord commander's chamber is more private." I glanced back.
"Thought you weren't Lord Commander?" amusement in my voice.
"I'm not Lord Commander." He said, face taking an annoyed expression.
"It's a habit of yours." I mused
"What?" he asked. Motioning us towards his chamber.
"Whenever someone mentions something off-handedly about you and Lord Commander. You immediately reply with." I paused to breathe. "I'm not Lord Commander." deepening my voice and taking on an accent on purpose.
He scoffed, but his face now took on a charming feature. Face relaxed, mouth agape, and eyes crinkling with . "I do not." he replied surly.
As we both entered his chamber, I noticed an old rotted table on top were a messy assortment of letters piling precariously. The only source of light was from an opening on the left side of the room, on the far right of the room is a small cot covered with fur leaning against the it is a sword with a direwolf for a pommel and between the table and the cot is a small unlit fireplace.
I inhaled sharply, getting ready to tell Jon a part of my nightmares I wish to forget. My musing was interrupted when I felt Jon's hand on top of my right shoulder and with a whisper. "It's fine Sansa, we don't have to talk about this today."
I tried nodding but my whole body is shaking from how tense I am. My tongue felt like lead, and the story I thought I was ready to share froze. I can't say it… Truthfully, I don't want to recall what he did. Where do I even begin? Baelish's part in giving me away to a monster? The Wedding night? I can't. I thought I was ready, and I thought I could use these memories to destroy him but I can't…
"Do you remember when I was the Ghost of Winterfell?" This question felt like a lifeline. I looked at him, surprised at the randomness of his inquiry.
"Yes…" I whispered
"It was one of my earliest memories of you." a pause.
"At the time you still allowed me to play with you. When you asked me to play Princes although you made me play the dragon not the Prince usually." he grabbed my hand and sat me down on his bed.
"Mostly you prefer Robb to play the Prince for you, killing the dragon and saving you." He dragged the chair beside the rotted table to face me and sat on it, still holding my hand.
"That was the most scared I've seen you, down in the Crypt. I hid and covered myself in flour while Robb told you scary tales that the dead still roamed the Crypt. You, Arya, Bran and baby Rickon were shaking at the knees and your lips were quivering. There I was creeping behind in full view of Robb. I thought he'd give me away with how wide he was smiling at me." His chuckle was bitter-sweet, and nostalgia was swimming in his grey eyes.
He continued. "Then I screamed and jumped behind you, dusting everyone with flour. You were hysterical." Before I realized it, I was laughing with him. Although it was a painful reminder of our lost siblings, these memories will forever be cherished.
"Arya rushed to defend you and started batting me with her tiny fists. Her hands were covered with flour. While you, Bran and Baby Rickon were holding onto Robb for dear life. Crying so loud you must've alarmed all the guards and woke your parents." Jon finished while sniffing, crying, laughing all at the same time.
For the rest of the day we spent telling stories of our family, the ones we were both part of and the ones we weren't. Although there would be battle plans to draw, and houses to win over in the coming weeks. All those worries were put on hold for tomorrow, for today is a day to remember the loved ones we lost. For the coming weeks we'll bring winter to Ramsay Bolton and erase his house's legacy from history. No one will remember them… I'll make sure of that.