Sansa awoke just after sunrise. She was still tired, and desperately wanted a bath. The day she had yesterday was eventful, to say the least. Petyr Baelish had sent her to wed the son of the man that killed her brother. Roose Bolton murdered my brother. She repeated the words in her head over and over again. She wouldn't forget what he had done, and she would be glad to stab him in the back as well.

A knock came at the door and Sansa sighed. She had to pretend to love her soon to be new family so early in the morning.

"Come in." Her voice was drained of emotion, but she didn't care. An elderly woman walked in, her eyes glued to the floor. In her had was a tiny scroll.

"From Lord Ramsay Bolton." She whispered, her eyes moving up to meet Sansa's.

"Thank you, you can leave it on the vanity. Also, may you draw me a bath." The maid nodded, placed the scroll down, and hurried out.

Sansa slipped out of bed, her feet touching the cool ground. She wasn't very comfortable in her nightgown, as it was very cold, even in the castle. She picked up the scroll, slightly worried about what it would say.

My lady, I would be pleased if you could join my father and mother at dinner tonight. We all would be glad to dine with you.

Sincerely, Ramsay

Sansa wasn't too worried about a dinner, no alone time would be spent with her and Ramsay or her and Lord Bolton. Sansa was also eager to meet Ramsay's step mother, Walda Frey. Thinking about her made her wonder how Walder Frey would react upon losing a child. Sansa wanted to deal out justice to more than just Roose Bolton, she wanted to make Walder Frey suffer, she wanted to wipe the smirk off of Cersei Lannister's face. She wanted them to understand exactly how she felt, and more.

Another knock came at the door, pushing Sansa's thoughts of vengeance away.

"Come in." She called. Sansa was not in the mood to have a conversation and hoped it was the maid with her bath. It was. The maid quickly prepared and scuttled away. Sansa undressed, and stepped into the warm water. It felt good against the frigid air, and Sansa was glad to have more time to sit and think.

Her wedding was soon, and she needed to find a way to not suffer the way she had in King's Landing. She wouldn't let someone treat her like toy again. This time, she would earn the respect of her future husband, and use him to get her goals. And she had plenty of goals. Sansa

Stark was no longer the girl she was in King's Landing, now she knew her place, and it wasn't to sit and do nothing while the rest of her bloodline was destroyed. Her place was the rule the north.

Again, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sansa got up, and but her robe on.

"Come in." A different maid walked in, holding a gown. It was beautiful, a traditional northern dress. The dress was dark purple with a pattern going through it. With it was a black coat lined with fur.

"Thank you." Sansa whispered as she took the dress. She gently placed it on her bed, and decided to wear something different while she was wondering the castle. She picked a simple black dress. Sansa left her hair down and left her room.

Sansa felt relaxed as she travelled down to the crypt underneath Winterfell. There the air was cool and moist, but the wind and snow weren't there, making it more comfortable than being out in the open. Sansa walked past the former lords and ladies of Winterfell, her feet coming to a stop in front of her aunt's statue. Sansa had never met her aunt Lyanna, but she knew she was beautiful, but also a true wolf at heart. Some people had mentioned that Sansa was just as beautiful as she was. Sansa almost doubted that, as the statue of her was more beautiful than Sansa in flesh and bone.

Next the her aunt's statue was a blank place, there were a few around her. They were supposed to eventually have her siblings next to her. Sansa's father should be next to her. Robb deserved a place in the crypt as well, but Sansa knew with Lord Bolton still alive that would never happen. Maybe it could, she mused to herself. She was having dinner with him soon. What did the Bolton's do to earn the key to the north? Sansa could ask for her father and brother to have their statues in the crypt as a wedding present from the warden of the north. Sansa smiled thinking about it. If she had learned one thing from Littlefinger, it was how to manipulate people.

As Sansa headed to exit the crypt, a woman blocked her way. She had plain brown hair and eyes, but she was fairly pretty. Her clothes made her look like a whore, but Sansa knew a whore wouldn't wear things that cheap.

"Who are you?" Sansa asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

"My name is Myranda, M'Lady." Myranda didn't seem trustworthy.

"And why are you here?"

"To escort you back to your room."

"Very well then." Sansa walked towards the exit, and Myrand began to lead the way. But quickly Sansa could tell Myranda wasn't taking her back to her room, she was taking her to the forest.

Myranda stopped and stared at Sansa, her breathing quickening. Sansa wasn't interested in a fight, but she could break this girl's heart in a second.

"Do you know what he's like?" She asked, her eyes gleaming, "Do you know what he is going to do to you?"

"Ramsay? I don't know what he's like, but I've heard the rumors." Myranda smiled at this answer. Sansa was just bored at this point. "He's going to break you. He'll beat you, rape you, cut you, and when he's done with you feed you to the dogs." Sansa smiled sweetly at Myranda, bored of the little games the peasant girl was trying to play.

"Myranda was it? Well, Myranda, I know you love him, but I doubt he loves you. How could he love you when he's marrying Sansa Stark of Winterfell tomorrow? I'm the key to the north, what are you? Boring." Myranda's smile faded. She no longer was in control of what was happening, and Sansa guessed that frightened her. Sansa turned away and headed back to the castle. She had to get ready to have dinner with her new family.

The dinner had already started when Sansa arrived, but she wanted to make an entrance. The dress did wonders for her body, making her look better than she would normally. To frame her face Sansa left her hair down, only braided a small crown at the back of her head. When she walked in she got the reaction she was hoping for.

Ramsay smiled wickedly at her, Lord Bolton looked longingly, and Walda gasped. Exactly what she wanted. Sansa had shocked everyone in the room. Sansa took a seat across from Lord Bolton and next to Ramsay, she smiled at him, then turned to face the rest.

"I'm very sorry that I'm late." She wasn't going to act timid, especially now. Ramsay nodded.

"That's fine." Sansa smiled at him again. He turned to his father and they shared a look. Sansa wasn't sure what it meant. The dinner began, immediately Ramsay went for the wine, he was a heavy drinker, but he wasn't nearly as bad as Tyrion Lannister. His drinking was controlled and Sansa could tell that he restrained himself in front of his father.

At some point Ramsay placed his hand of Sansa's leg. She glanced at him and saw him smiling. She was starting to hate that smile.

"I have a gift for you." He announced, taking his hand away. Sansa looked to where he was gesturing, and there he was, slithering out of the shadows, Theon Greyjoy. The disgust was obvious on her face. "I punished him for killing your two little brothers, Brandon and Rickon. Aren't you glad I did?" Sansa gave him a death glare.

"Come here." There was only rage in her voice when she addressed Theon. He scuttled over, never making eye contact with her. Sansa stood up, and all eyes were on her now. Ramsay was almost proud. "You deserve worse than whatever he did to you, traitor." She spat. Ramsay chuckled,

"You're dismissed, Reek." Theon hurried away like a dog with its tail between its legs. Sansa stood still, her heart racing. She was furious. She sat down when she noticed the Bolton's staring.

Sansa ate some more food, not making eye contact. When she finally did, she looked at Lord Bolton.

"Lord Bolton, could I ask for a wedding gift?" Lord Bolton was surprised by this request.

"What is it?" He asked, curious to what she might be reaching for.

"My brother and father to be buried in their rightful place in the crypt underneath Winterfell." Lord Bolton was very surprised. Sansa Stark was a good match for Ramsay afterall.

"My Lady-" He began.

"My father was the warden of the north before you, he deserves that much respect. And as for my brother, should I remind you who you used to serve under? The man the people used to rally under? Should I continue?" Lord Bolton was impressed by her boldness.

"I can arrange something." Sansa smiled sweetly, pretending as if her sudden rashness had not happened.

"Thank you, My lord." Sansa turned to look at Ramsay, who was smiling, his eyes conveying emotion she hadn't seen before. Sansa thought he almost looked proud of her.

"Since we're all announcing things tonight, Walda and I have some news," Lord Bolton took Walda's hand and looked at the pair in front of him, "Walda is having a baby." Ramsay no longer looked pleased. His smile didn't drop though. He poured more wine.

"Congratulations on your child, mother." He whispered. Sansa nodded.

"I wish you the best of luck with your pregnancy." Walda Frey seemed to be sweet enough, but Sansa could only think of slitting her throat, it was the only thing she thought about when her eyes laid on the fat Frey girl.

After the dinner Sansa decided to wanted to retreat to her room, and quickly. She had much to think about. If Walda gave birth to a boy, then where would her place be? Married to the bastard son? She didn't think so. She didn't want that. As Sansa walked down a hallway, someone grabbed her arm and shoved her against a wall.

"What you did back there was amazing, proving that your more than just a name to my father." Ramsay held Sansa against the wall.

"I don't know how your father managed to put a child in that fat Frey bitch, but if it's a boy, you're going to be fucked, bastard." Ramsay didn't like being called bastard. He shoved Sansa against the wall, and looked up to see into her eyes.

"What do you suppose we do about that?"

"Kill the bitch and kill your father too." Sansa could feel her blood boiling, killing Roose Bolton and Walda Frey would give her justice. But at this point, there was more to it. She wanted Roose Bolton's head on a spike and Walda's head sent to her father.

"It won't be easy." Ramsay whispered, he was impressed with his soon to be bride. Her blood lust made him want her.

"Kill your father, become warden of the north, and then give Walder Frey a message from me, his daughter's head." Ramsay smiled, he released Sansa's arms, only to place his hands on her hips and kiss her. She kissed him back. If he could do that for him, she could feign wanting him. Ramsay broke away from the kiss, then left. Sansa didn't want to be near Ramsay Bolton, and she certainly didn't want to marry him, but, for now, it was the option that lead to reclaiming the north.