Sansa woke up early again. Today was her wedding day. She did not want to marry Ramsay Bolton. She knew that everything Myranda said was true, he would do horrible things to her, and Sansa didn't know if she was ready for that. Sansa didn't want that to happen to her, but there wasn't exactly a way. With the mood she was in, she didn't want to get out of bed. She wanted to stay hidden under the covers and pretend she was at home and that her mother would come tell her to wake up soon. Sansa felt her eyes get warm with tears. She wouldn't cry for her family until she had avenged them.
Someone knocked at Sansa's door. She didn't want to talk to anyone, not even maids. But, whoever was at the door opened it anyways. Sansa didn't look to see who it was, instead she stayed in bed where it was nice and warm. Sansa rolled over when she heard footsteps coming closer to the bed. It was an old woman, she had a faint smile on her lips.
"If you're ever in trouble light a candle in the highest window of the broken tower and help will come."
"Who are you?" Sansa asked
"The north remembers." At this the elderly woman departed, leaving Sansa alone to think. Sansa wanted to rule the north, but, could she rule all of Westeros? She doubted the Bolton's had enough men to take King's Landing, but, with her name, she could gain support. Sansa had heard the rumors about her brother in the north. The wildlings that owed their life to him. That was an army. But to get the support of her brother, Sansa would have to leave Winterfell, and she knew Ramsay wouldn't let her go once they were wed. He was rather fond of his property.
Sansa sighed, there were so many things she had to do, and she didn't have enough time to do any of it. Sansa had to marry Ramsay to get the support of him and his army, kill Lord Bolton, convince Ramsay to kill Stannis Baratheon, run away from Winterfell, then convince her brother to join forces with the son of the man who killed their brother, then, take the north. The game of thrones was a high stake game after all, where would she be if didn't take a risk?
Today was her wedding day, and Sansa had to make sure she gained the respect of her future husband, in her mind, it was the only way she'd be able to control him. She was probably right about that, but she had already started to gain his respect, she insulted his father and proved that she wasn't a coward. Sansa would not let Ramsay break her.
Thinking about this frustrated Sansa, and she went to pour herself a cup of wine. She suddenly realized why Ramsay drank so much, it was the same reason her previous husband drank so much. Both were the sons of great men and could never live up to their expectations, they were disappointments, and being disappointments shaped them in very different ways. Both were always trying to prove themselves, but Ramsay became filled with rage and took in out in his torture, whereas Tyrion let his hate boil, never doing much about it. Sansa didn't know if she lived up to what her parents wanted, she certainly hoped she did.
Sansa kept drinking, then put on a brown dress and headed down to the kennels. The kennels smelled like rotting flesh, and Sansa learned quickly what they were fed, and by whom. She pushed the thought out of her mind and walked to the very back of the kennel, where in one of the cages was a slumped body, the slumped body of Theon Greyjoy. Sansa tried to muster pity, but it was hard, he had murdered her innocent brothers. Rickon and Brandon were children.
"Theon." Sansa shook the body and saw his eyes open, they were bloodshot and watering.
"My lady, you need to leave." Theon looked around, his eyes wild, like the caged animal he was.
"Why did you do it?" Sansa's eyes filled with tears as she questioned Theon. She asked the question that had kept her up countless nights.
"I'm sorry, My Lady." Theon's voice was harsh, like he hadn't drank any water in a long time. Sansa shook her head, not liking the answer he gave her. "You were like family to us, Theon!" Tears streamed down her face now, the anger that she thought she felt turning into the fear and sadness that she hid inside.
"It's Reek!" Theon screeched, shaking his head at Sansa. Sansa banged his chest with her fist, not hard, but enough to show Theon that the only thing holding Sansa together was the hate she held for the people that wronged her family.
"Your name is Theon Greyjoy and you betrayed my family and killed my brothers!" Sansa let her hands dangle by her sides, defeated. "We loved you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the power in those three words was strong. Sansa shook her head and stood up, not wanting to be near the shell of man that used to be Theon Greyjoy.
Sansa went to the only place she could be alone, the crypt below Winterfell. No one would disturb a woman morning her family, and she knew it. It was similar to how she would pray in King's Landing so no one would talk to her. Sansa's feet guided her to the statue of her aunt Lyanna. She looked at the cold stone and wondered if that was the future that she had. Dying young but being immortalized under Winterfell. Sansa didn't want that future.
A candle was resting in Lyanna's hand, but it had gone out. Sansa replaced the candle with a new one, this one flickering in the wind. It cast shadows everywhere, awakening the crypt and giving it new life. Sansa wondered how often her father visited her aunt. How many times had her father stood in the spot she knew stood in? Sansa didn't want to dwell in the past, but it was hard. Sansa kneeled on the ground, finally feeling at peace. But here, peace doesn't last.
Sansa could hear footsteps approaching. She didn't care who it was, as long as they didn't disturb her.
"Robb and Eddard will have statues in here soon." A voice cut through the air, ruining Sansa's silence.
"I'm glad to hear that, Lord Bolton." Sansa said, standing to face Roose Bolton.
"Why would you want the statue of traitors in here?" Sansa held her temper down.
"They're my family, and I love them." Lord Bolton nodded, walking closer to Sansa.
"Did you hear the rumors about your brother? How they sewed his direwolf's head onto his body?"
"I've heard them. I'm sure you'd know if they were true, since you were at the Red Wedding." Lord Bolton smiled at Sansa.
"The rumors are true." Sansa nodded, the hate she had been trying to conceal was ready to show its head.
"If my brother is a traitor, what are you?" Sansa tried not to yell the words, but there was anger behind them.
"I sided with the Lannisters, therefore, not a traitor." Sansa chuckled and walked forward, standing right in front of Lord Bolton.
"You sided with them at the end. What was in it for you? Becoming the warden of the north? That all?" Lord Bolton could see the fire behind Sansa's icy blue eyes. It reminded him of Ramsay.
"I'll see you tonight, Lady Sansa." Lord Bolton left the crypt, leaving Sansa alone, her thoughts racing on the most painful way to kill him. How to make him suffer. She wanted to break every bone in his body then make him run while Ramsay's hounds chased him down. But, Sansa had to push those thoughts out of her head. She had to get ready for her wedding.
Sansa sat in a hot bath while a maid scrubbed her back. She wasn't sure how tonight would go, and she was almost frightened. She didn't want to the Bolton's to see her weakness, but it was standing in plain sight. While the maid washed Sansa's hair, she thought about running away from all of the madness, stripping herself of her title and giving herself a new name. A fresh start would be wonderful, but Sansa knew she would never be able to get a fresh start. If she left Winterfell the Bolton's would be looking for her and the Lannisters would want her hanged for killing Joffrey. She didn't kill Joffrey, but wished she did.
The maid helped Sansa dress then immediately left. Sansa looked at the dress, it was beautiful, and she knew all eyes would be on her tonight. She looked like a bride. The door opened and she turned to seen Theon standing in the entrance, not looking at her.
"I'm here to escort you, My Lady," His voice was distant, "Will you take my arm?"
"No." Sansa spoke flatly. She didn't want to touch him.
"Please, if you will, My Lady."
"I will not take your arm."
"He'll hurt me if you don't." Theon's lip quivered at this. Sansa stepped closer to him, leaning in to make sure he knew the way she felt.
"Why should I care what he does to you?" Theon shrunk into himself as Sansa stepped out the door. He held up his lantern and guided her way.
The path to the Godswood was long and covered with snow. Lanterns lined the path, and Sansa walked slowly behind Theon. She was having several doubts about her wedding. Ramsay Bolton was an attractive man, but just below the skin he was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed torturing people. Sansa sighed as her and Theon walked over a hill, Ramsay and Lord Bolton could now be seen, along with a crowd of people. Sansa had to push back any doubts about her marriage, because it was happening.
Sansa know stood in front of the Godswood, about to marry Ramsay Bolton.
"Who comes before the old gods this night?" Lord Bolton's deep voice interrupted the sounds of birds during the cold night.
"Sansa, of the house Stark, comes here to be wed, a woman grown trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Who comes to claim her?" Theon never looked up from the ground.
"Ramsay of house Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort and Winterfell. Who gives her?" Ramsay had stepped forward before he began to speak, and Sansa was becoming more nervous with each moment.
"Theon of house Greyjoy, who was her father's ward." There was something in Theon's voice that made Sansa wonder if he felt remorse.
"Lady Sansa, do you take this man?" Lord Bolton looked at Sansa, and she realized she wasn't ready, she stood for a few moments, her heart pounding. She stepped forward.
"I take this man." A smile spread of Ramsay's lips, and Sansa tried to smile back.
"Lord Ramsay, do you take this woman?" Lord Bolton looked at this son, and Ramsay smiled even more, never taking his eyes away from Sansa.
"I take this woman." The crowd began to applaud. Sansa let out the breath she was holding. She looked back at Ramsay, he took her arm as they headed to the feast. The newlyweds sat at a table above the rest, with Lord Bolton and Walda Frey sitting next to them. Sansa felt the air become less full of tension and more joyful. She relaxed as the room was filled with laughter and drinking. Sansa herself was ready to enjoy the night. She turned towards Ramsay and the pair began to talk and laugh, and Sansa was no longer afraid of the man they called the mad dog.
Too soon the dinner ended, and Ramsay led Sansa to his room. The smile on his face showed that he was excited for this. He opened the door for Sansa, and she walked in. The room was larger than hers, and was lit by candle light. On the bed was a marvelous fur blanket. She still was nervous for what was about to happen.
"Are you pleased?" Sansa looked over at Ramsay as he closed and locked his bedroom door.
"I am, my lord." Ramsay nodded, and walked towards her, his hands behind his back.
"My father said you were a virgin, is this true?" Sansa opened her mouth, confused by the questioning.
"I am, my lord." Ramsay nodded again, moving closer to her, again.
"Why are you a virgin? Afraid of dwarves?" Ramsay chuckled, and took a few more steps, closing the gap between him and Sansa.
"I suppose so, my lord."
"We are man and wife now, so there's no need to lie to me. You aren't lying, are you? That would be a bad way to start a marriage, lying to your husband on his wedding night."
"I'm not lying to you, my lord." Ramsay smiled at Sansa, and gently kissed her.
"Good, now, take off your clothes." Sansa turned away from Ramsay and walked towards the bed, and began to take off her dress.
Sansa's dress slipped off, falling to the ground. Ramsay walked towards her, placing his hands on her hips. She looked over her shoulder to face him. He smiled at her and began to kiss her neck, then down her shoulder, biting softly as he did so. Sansa was a little scared and very nervous. Ramsay took off his shirt, and it landed next to her dress. Goosebumps formed over her naked body as Ramsay turned her around to face him. He looked her up and down a few times, then suddenly reached for her hair. He took her hair out of the bun in was in, and it cascaded down her back. Sansa's heart was pounding so loud she thought he could hear it.
Ramsay began to unbuckle his belt, as he did so, he pushed Sansa onto the bed. She looked at him and he crawled into bed with her. He kissed her, and hard. He had been waiting for this moment.
"Since you're a virgin, I'll be gentle." He whispered in her ear. Sansa hoped he was being truthful. Ramsay spread Sansa's legs, then kissed down her stomach, before he got past her belly button, he stopped, looked her in the eyes, and smiled wickedly. He thrust inside of her, and Sansa winced. Ramsay grabbed her hips, he was grunting softly. Sansa moved her hands onto his back, scratching down. He seemed to like that. He wasn't lying about being gentle, and Sansa actually began to enjoy it. She moaned softly into Ramsay's ear, and he began to pick up the pace. His thrusting got harder, and Sansa arched her back, moaning. Ramsay grunted louder, and suddenly Sansa was filled with warmth, and he pulled out. He fell down on the bed next to her, kissed her, then fell asleep.