Her father had insisted they share a private meal that evening. Just family, he said.
Aileen had been rather wary at that. Ever since Lord Bolton and his army - now consisting of both the Stark and Bolton men - had arrived at Winterfell after clearing the Ironborn out of the North, everyone had always eaten in the Great Hall. It was the warmest room in the castle for one, the first to be fully restored, and the Starks had always taken their evening meals there with the entire household.
She remembered how Lord Eddard had invited a different member of staff up to the high table each day, smiths, guardsmen, servants, to talk about their work, and their families. Grim-faced and stern though he might have been, Lord Stark was a good listener and asked thoughtful questions, showing his genuine interest in the conversation and taking advice on how he could improve things. That was why he was so respected by his household, and his bannermen. Yes he was a skilled battle commander, yes he was an effective lord, but he was also kind, just and respectful of them in turn.
It always felt wrong to see Roose Bolton sitting in his chair. In that sense it was rather a relief to eat in the lord's solar that evening rather than the hall. Now her father simply sat at the head of this smaller table, with Ramsay to his right and Theon Greyjoy to his left. Arya sat at the other end, her husband on one side, her mother to the other.
Neither Arya nor Edrick seemed pleased by their marriage. Of course, the cousins got along well, always having been similarly wild and disobedient, but certainly regarded each other more as siblings rather than husband and wife. That was fair enough, seeing as they were only children; Edrick fourteen, Arya eleven. Thankfully they were not expected to consummate the marriage yet, at least not for a couple of years.
Aileen's brother had been meant to marry Sansa. They had been waiting for Sansa to arrive from White Harbour for weeks. Lord Manderly claimed that the weather was too poor to send her up the White Knife, that they must wait until the blizzard passed over lest the party be lost in the snow. Then came that fateful letter that had her father's eyes narrowing, the only sign of anger on his otherwise expressionless face.
My lord, I write with the deepest regret to say that Lady Sansa managed to escape the guards we left on her for her own safety. She disguised herself as a servant and went to the Snowy Sept, to say her holy vows and give up her family name. No matter how I tried to persuade the sept to give her up, that she is just a foolish child who doesn't know what she's done, they stubbornly insist that she is now Septa Sansa and will remain in the care of the Faith. I share your frustrations as I was hoping to request a betrothal between her sister Lady Arya and my eldest grandson, though undoubtedly the girl will be meant for your son Edrick now. My sincerest apologies, Lord Wyman Manderly.
Aileen had been at her father's side and snatched up the letter when he let it fall on the desk. No sooner had she finished reading was he ordering a feast to be prepared for the following evening, and Arya was being fitted for a new dress.
The godswood was shrouded in fog during the ceremony, the cold air causing thick mist to rise up from the hot springs and curl in tendrils around the trees. Arya wore a simple white dress with minimal grey embroidery given the limited time they had to make it; using her sister's planned dress was out of the question seeing as Sansa had always been a lot taller and more womanly. Her maiden's cloak was the one that Lord Eddard had draped around Lady Catelyn's shoulders all those years ago - the fire had somehow spared the chamber it was stored in - and was white with an intricate grey direwolf running across the back.
The guests were simply whoever was in Winterfell at the time, which was no one very important seeing as all the lords were busy tending to their own lands, preparing for the winter that was fast approaching and, for those castles to the west, repairing any damage the Ironborn had done. Ren gave his cousin away, being her closest male relative still alive aside from her husband-to-be. Arya had a face like thunder throughout, and there were many mutters amongst those attending that there surely had never been a bride who glowered more on her wedding day.
Now, at dinner, Aileen eyed the pair of them, both miserable and angry. Neither seemed to resent the other for their marriage, simply the circumstances it occurred in. Edrick did not like being his father's pawn, the key to the Bolton claim to the North, and Arya would hardly rejoice in being Lady of Winterfell when it meant all her siblings were either dead or lost to her. Neither had wanted to marry at all, besides, let alone to each other.
Both of them, however, looked considerably better than Lady Catelyn.
Since the woman arrived at the Dreadfort, Aileen had tried to take care of her aunt, who had been traumatised from her humiliating and rough treatment at the hands of the Greyjoys, and seeing the heads of her two youngest sons on spikes. She barely ate, barely spoke, and seemed a ghost of the woman she had once been. At the news of Robb's wedding she looked vaguely interested, muttering something about wishing she could be there, and had also improved somewhat with the news of the treaty... but then Robb's death had truly broken her.
Aileen had been there when she found out, the news delivered gleefully by Ramsay. The scream that had left her aunt's lips had been haunting, a cry of pure grief and despair. Lady Catelyn had started to tear at her face with her fingers, then her nails, leaving deep gouges in her skin that ran red with blood. As Ramsay laughed, Edrick had cursed loudly and rushed to grab her hands. Aileen had hastened to help him but Catelyn was inconsolable, fighting them as they tried to get her to sit down in a chair, only for her to sink to her knees with gut-wrenching sobs wracking her body.
Then Ramsay had told them about their mother.
Edrick hadn't sworn or raged at that, simply gone very quiet, the anger that seemed almost a permanent part of him these days falling back to reveal a lost boy who just wanted his mother to come home. And now she never would.
"How?" Aileen had heard herself ask, her voice far off. She glanced at the guard to Ramsay's left, not trusting it not to be some sick joke of her bastard brother's.
"She went out looking for Lady Morganna," The man said regretfully. "Girl stole a horse and went off out of the castle in the middle of the night. Bandits killed your mother, young Lord Domeric too, though from what I hear Lady Morganna survived," Domeric too?
"That doesn't sound right," There was a ringing in her ears, her voice rising in volume. "Robb happens to be killed by his wife the same night my mother is killed by bandits? Father did this, he was always going to betray the Starks - you all stopped me telling anyone he ordered Ramsay to burn Winterfell,"
"What?" Edrick looked up sharply at that, a hint of his usual anger returning.
"Some things are better left unsaid, milady," The guard said, a note of apology in his voice.
"No, it all makes sense," Aileen continued, talking quickly, not caring that she likely sounded hysterical and that tears were now rolling down her cheeks. "Bran and Rickon are dead. Robb is now dead. Sansa will be Lady of Winterfell, and I bet they'll marry her to Edrick! Mother no doubt found out about what he'd done, that's why she's dead too!"
"And it wasn't even difficult," Ramsay seemed delighted, no doubt that he was now second in line to the Dreadfort, after Edrick. "All Father had to do was threaten the Frey bitch's sister and she did whatever he asked. Lucky for me, his cunt wife and that weakling Domeric got bumped off at the same time,"
Aileen had always tried to tolerate Ramsay no matter how repulsive she found him, and was often amused by the delusions he had about himself, but this was too much. She grabbed a ceramic bowl from the remnants of the meal they had been eating and threw it with all her strength in his direction.
It smashed on that fleshy, ugly head of his - no doubt painfully - and he bared his teeth in anger, snarling as he reached for his knife. The guards held him back, but Aileen was already reaching for a nearby eating knife.
For once it had been Edrick calming her down rather than the other way around, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her out of the room after assuring there were maids to look after Catelyn. Guards followed them to her chambers, but her brother pointedly slammed the door in their faces.
"We'll make him pay for it," His voice was shaking in rage as they sat on the bed, his expression dark as Aileen cried into his shoulder. "Father and Ramsay. When everyone comes back, they'll pay for it. I don't care that he's our father, if he killed Mother then - " He broke off, looking torn. "I don't think he killed her just because she found out about his plan. She had a secret, I-I promised her I'd never tell anyone this. At Winterfell, before King Robert left, I saw her with the Kingslayer in the godswood. Talking, and - and kissing. He's Ren's father, and she still sees him... saw him. Maybe Father found out, that's why he..."
Something clicked in Aileen's mind and she turned to stare at her brother.
"Morganna,"
"What?" Edrick just looked confused.
"Mother didn't want her wearing red to the feast," She said, realisation dawning on her with horror. "She didn't want her being friends with Princess Myrcella, or spending too much time around the queen. She didn't want her going south - gods, I never saw Mother that angry when she found out she tricked her way into going,"
"What does that mean?"
"Morganna is a Snow, not a Bolton," She said in a harsh whisper. "She's our half-sister, but Ren's full sister. How did I not realise before? I noticed how similar she looked to the princess, and the queen," She had been a little envious at the time, noticing how beautiful all three of them were. She had never even thought to make the link to Ser Jaime. Though she wasn't looking for anything like that, so why would she?
"And Father knew," Edrick said, mouth a thin line. "He knew and he killed her for it,"
It had been hard to face Lord Bolton when he came back from war. It was hard to sit here at dinner now, knowing that her father, sat at the end of the table, had murdered her cousin and her mother.
Aileen grieved her mother, and her cousin Robb, and her brother Domeric who she had loved dearly as well. She wasn't sure how his death played a part in all this mess, for Father surely wouldn't have killed his heir. But Domeric couldn't have betrayed her mother, he wasn't cut out for underhandedness and murder like that, unless she had never really known him at all.
She didn't know how Ren kept such a straight face. He sat across from her, next to Edrick whilst she was next to Catelyn. Her elder brother seemed rather surprised he had been invited to this 'private family meal' and had remained silent and impassive for most of the time, watching everything with those green eyes of his. Lannister green. There was no hint of anger as he looked at Lord Bolton, unlike Edrick and Arya.
Catelyn was a hollow shell of a woman, broken. She ate mechanically, gave monosyllabic answers when spoken to, and looked nothing short of dead behind the eyes. The gouges on her face, made by her own fingers, were healing but still red and raw, scabbed and cracked in places, whilst her once beautiful auburn hair was now dry, lacklustre and greying.
The look on Arya's face when she had seen her mother for the first time in two years was still burned into Aileen's mind. Her cousin had jumped off her horse and run to the woman eagerly, stopping dead when she saw the wounds on her face and the dead look of her expression.
What had followed was a painful half hour of Arya attempting - asking, shouting, begging - to get her mother to speak, to hug her back, to show any emotion at all, but the only reaction Catelyn had had was silent tears running down her ravaged cheeks. Though, as Aileen told Arya later, that was more emotion than usual, and the woman had smiled the faintest hint of a smile when she'd seen her daughter ride through the gates.
"Here, Mother," Arya held out a cup of water she had poured for her, voice more caring and gentle than she was with anything else. "Have something to drink," Catelyn was still for a moment, then took the cup and drank.
The woman had little reaction to the news of Sansa becoming a septa, and sat through her younger daughter's wedding with no expression at all, neither pleased nor upset, just... there. Though Arya was angry about being forced to wed, she did seem concerned that her mother wasn't more pleased at her wild daughter not kicking up as much of a fight at the prospect of getting married as she would've done years ago.
Aileen didn't know how Ren had persuaded Arya not to run away the night before her wedding - perhaps the snowdrifts piling up outside the castle had done that well enough on their own - but whatever he had said to her had their cousin going to the godswood to wed without disagreement, although the angry expression would not leave her face.
"What use is a woman who has to be taken care of like an infant?" Ramsay sneered at Catelyn. "Let alone an old one, with a ruined face like that," He was sat between Aileen and her father, with Theon Greyjoy sat across from him. It had been cruel to put Theon there, and probably deliberate; not only did he shrink away from the accusing glares of the Starks for murdering Bran and Rickon, he could not look Ramsay in the eye. Aileen couldn't blame him for that, at least.
The worst of it was, he looked considerably better now than before Lord Bolton had arrived. Theon wore fine clothes in Greyjoy colours, answered to a name other than Reek without almost having a seizure, and didn't beg not to be treated as a human at least. But his hair was still white as snow, he was still missing three fingers, he chewed painfully with a mouthful of broken teeth and shuffled when he walked due to the pain of his missing toes. Gone was the arrogant, handsome youth who had been Robb Stark's best friend; Theon seemed even more broken than Lady Catelyn, more creature than human.
"What use is an insane bastard with a face like chopped liver who fights like an untrained savage?" Arya snapped back at Ramsay in response to his insult. Theon cringed at that - perhaps used to having things that upset Ramsay taken out on him later- but Arya didn't flinch as the bastard predictably snarled in fury, about to get to his feet until their father's hand on his wrist stopped him.
"I may allow you at my table but you will not insult a lady," Her father's quiet voice said. "Your bad blood shows through,"
"A lady?" Ramsay scoffed angrily, though sat back down. "She's no lady. I heard half the Greyjoy men had her. She's as much a whore as your mother," He sneered at Ren. As Edrick opened his mouth in outrage, Ren shot him a look and spoke instead.
"I don't believe my mother was ever paid," He said mildly. "Neither was Lady Catelyn. I'd have thought that makes neither one of them a whore. And if it does, by that definition your own mother would be one too,"
Ren had been there when Lord Bolton had found Reek. Though Aileen hated Theon for betraying the Starks, taking Winterfell and killing Bran and Rickon - not to mention allowing his men to brutally mistreat Lady Catelyn - she had been sickened when she had seen what her bastard brother had done to the man. Though Edrick had muttered about it being justice, even he looked uneasy about what Ramsay had done. But their father had been openly displeased - at the public display, not out of any concern for Theon - saying those infamous words. Get the keys and remove those chains from him, before you make me rue the day I raped your mother.
Ren found it rather amusing, and didn't try and hide it, earning Ramsay's hatred. No doubt Lord Bolton had told him he couldn't drag Ren down to the dungeons and flay him, like all the others who mocked him - it would reflect very badly on him if his late wife's son mysteriously disappeared - but that didn't stop the bastard from trying.
Ramsay had first tried to ambush Ren alone, only to be easily beaten, having severely underestimated his skill with a sword. He had tried again, rushing him with his Bastard's Boys, only for Ren to beat all seven of them, killing three and injuring the rest; Ramsay got away lightly, with a broken nose. The third time they attacked, they didn't realise that Crow was lurking across the courtyard; the sight of the direwolf feasting on the remains of the two men he had killed was enough to put the rest off.
Lord Bolton had been angry more at Ramsay than Ren for that, and Ramsay hadn't tried again - likely because his friends refused the suicide mission - though didn't hesitate to fly into a rage whenever Ren even threatened to laugh at him.
Now was no exception.
"I'll rip every one of your fingernails out one by one and make you eat them, bastard," He snarled. Aileen's brother just raised an unimpressed, unintimidated eyebrow, looking remarkably like their mother aside from that sharp smile growing at his lips. "I'll flay every inch of skin from your body and serve it to that beast of yours! I'll burn - "
"How do you think you'll manage that?" Ren interrupted him. "You haven't got a single skilled fighter amongst your sorry little group of friends. Besides, they wouldn't dare try again - they're too scared of that beast of mine. Do try, though. I'd love to see Crow feasting on your corpse. Though if you taste as unpleasant as you everyone else finds you, he'd likely spit you out,"
Edrick and Arya laughed loudly. Theon cringed as though struck, looking like he wanted someone to end his life there and then, though he looked like that most of the time anyway. Ramsay swelled in fury, but Lord Bolton cut in.
"Enough," He said coldly, glaring at his son. "You're making a fool of yourself,"
She hated to admit it, but things were better now her father was here. Ever since he, Ren and Arya had returned with the soldiers after clearing the Ironborn out of the North, Ramsay had been more controllable seeing as Lord Bolton was the only one who had any authority over him. No more did the castle run to his cruel whims. No, just those of my father.
She was more glad to see Ren home than her father, of course, and the first chance they had to be alone she had told her brother everything. Of finding out that her father meant to betray the Starks and had ordered Ramsay to burn Winterfell, of the truth about him and Morganna, how cruel Ramsay was, of how she knew not only had their father killed Robb but also their mother, threatening Marianne Frey into taking the blame.
And Ren had known all of it, confirming all her suspicions. Well, except the fact that it hadn't been the Ironborn to sack Winterfell. His expression had darkened at that, and he had promised Lord Bolton would pay for it, as well as all his other crimes. He was biding his time, he told her. During their campaign to drive the Ironborn out of the North he had taken the opportunity to speak to almost all of the other lords; about what exactly, he hadn't said, only that they would be on his side if anything were to happen.
But that had been well over a month ago, and nothing had happened. Aileen wasn't going to risk making any more enquiries, not wanting to let slip anything her brother had planned, but her frustration was mounting. She had once respected her father above all others - she was most like him of all his children, he had once said to her - and would've done anything he asked of her... but then he had killed her mother.
He would've given Morganna over to Ramsay, too. She didn't realise that until Ren told her, and her blood boiled at the thought, knowing exactly what happened to all the poor girls that fell into his hands. She had feared for her sister after her father found out she wasn't of his blood, but had not expected something that cruel, despite everything. Luckily she was now somewhere safe, though Ren wouldn't say where, just in case.
Thud.
A loud noise from outside the door suddenly caught all their attention, making even Ramsay stop with his threats.
"What was that?" He glared around at them, as though it was their fault. "Guards?" He called but there was no reply from the two men stationed outside. There was a rather worrying silence. Aileen saw her father's face showed no expression, though he was clearly paying attention.
"I'll see what's happened," Ren frowned, getting to his feet, hand on his sword.
His steps on the stone floor echoed around the now-quiet room. Arya had got to her feet, seeming eager for the possibility of trouble. Ren placed a hand on the door handle and then opened it quickly, jumping back as the bloody corpses of the two pink-cloaked guards fell into the room.
Edrick swore aloud, Ramsay gave a vicious exclamation, drawing his sword, but their father only got sharply to his feet. Aileen reached for Lady Catelyn, who was staring dispassionately at the bodies, leading her out of her seat and away from the door, into the opposite corner. She glared at Theon when he made to scurry to join them, and without any argument he went to the other side of the room. He seemed more scared of her than he was of Edrick, though she did share the same eyes as her father and his bastard.
"Traitors in the castle," Ramsay's eyes were gleaming at the possibility of blood. "Murderers," Hypocrite. "I'll make them sorry they were ever born!"
"Feel free, if you can find them," Ren was out in the corridor with his sword out, looking back at them. "It seems like they just killed the guards and melted into thin air,"
"I'll find them, bastard," Ramsay snarled, lumbering into the hall to meet Ren.
What came next happened so fast that Aileen barely understood what was going on.
In the blink of an eye Ren had disarmed Ramsay, throwing his sword away and wrapping an arm round his neck, his own sword at the bastard's throat. Ramsay was shouting in fury, fighting viciously, but Ren pressed harder and he was forced to stop as a red line bloomed at his throat, allowing himself to be marched into the room, but even Aileen was taking in the look of death in his eyes, more men were pouring in through the door behind Ren.
Arya had grabbed an eating knife off the table and gone over to protect her mother, Edrick had drawn the dagger at his belt, but Ren seemed perfectly at ease.
"Stand down," He told them, and understanding dawned on both their faces. Edrick's fierce expression twisted into a wolfish grin; Arya didn't smile but dark anticipation gleamed in her eyes.
At his words Aileen examined the men further, enough to realise that at least two of them were not men at all. She would recognise Dacey Mormont anywhere, graceful even in armour, but did not know the grinning, shaggy-haired woman who wore no armour yet carried a short sword.
Two men - one of them huge, helmeted and dressed in blue - moved to seize Lord Bolton. He made no move to get away, likely seeing that any escape attempt was hopeless given that the corridor was full of even more armed men; many of them Winterfell guards, men that she had recognised. Stark men rather than Bolton.
For a moment, there was stillness.
The shutters of the window - hastily repaired and thus not the best quality - had been knocked loose in the commotion and a cold wind howled into the room, bringing snow with it and making the candles flicker. The only sounds were the banging of the shutters in the wind, the shuffle of men in armour, Ramsay graphically describing what he was going to do to Ren, and then... footsteps?
The sound of heeled boots clacking on the stone floor could be heard from down the corridor, along with the sounds of claws. Men moved aside to make way, and three direwolves prowled into the room, huge and menacing. Crow, Nymeria... Grey Wind? But he didn't come back with the others, how was he here?
But then a figure appeared between them in the doorway, in a grey dress and black cloak, her hand on Grey Wind's back, and Aileen's heart skipped a beat.
"You're dead!" Ramsay spat out, but everyone acted as though he hadn't spoken. She vaguely noticed most of the men retreating out of the room, save the ones that held Lord Bolton, shutting the door behind them. Aileen glanced at her father; for a fleeting second his shock showed on his face, before it settled back to its usual expressionless visage.
"The Boltons, my lady," The tall, shaggy-haired woman gave a mocking bow.
"And a Greyjoy," Aileen's mother - alive, how is she alive, and here? - stared the man in question down. "Didn't I warn you, Theon, what would happen if you betrayed us?"
"I never killed Bran and Rickon!" Theon burst out. "I never did. I couldn't find them so killed two miller's boys instead," You still killed two innocent children, smallfolk or not.
"That wasn't the treason I was referring to," Her mother's voice was colder than she had ever heard it. "I know full well you didn't kill Bran and Rickon Stark. But you did allow the entire North to think them dead, not to mention taking Winterfell in the first place. Though looking at the state of you now, knowing whose company you've been in, I might just be doing you a mercy," She walked swiftly forward. "My father always said that the hand that passes the sentence should swing the sword,"
Theon didn't even try to run. Lady Rosennis had grabbed his shoulder and sunk a dagger into his heart before anyone had a chance to do or say anything.
He gasped, lips forming words that no one could hear, sinking to the floor. Aileen's mother eyed him with distaste, taking her knife back and wiping the blood on her cloak. She turned around to face the rest of them, fire in her eyes despite her icy expression as they moved to settle on her husband.
"When you stab someone in the chest," She said. "Know where to locate the heart. For someone whose house words are 'Our Blade Our Sharp', you seemed not to have learned that lesson, my lord. I'm living proof of that,"
"Strong words from the Kingslayer's whore," Ramsay snarled. Her mother spared him a brief disdainful glance, whilst Edrick glared, but everyone else ignored him.
"I am Lord Paramount of the North," Aileen's father said, voice quiet as ever, seeming unbothered that he was being held with the blade of a sword to his neck. "If you slaughter me like you did Greyjoy, there will be... repercussions,"
"From who?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "My son has spoken to all the lords, before the army disbanded. All of them know you as a traitor. More importantly, they know that Arya is not the last of my brother's children fit to inherit," She smiled then, at Ramsay. "All that time you had with Greyjoy, and you never realised that. Rickon Stark is downstairs as we speak, being welcomed with open arms into his new seat, his sister Sansa at his side," Lady Catelyn made a small noise at that. "Your guards are dead or surrendered - the Stark men were only to happy to rid Winterfell of the Boltons. I also came with men from White Harbour - it was Manderly that told me Rickon was alive,"
"Surely you'll want a trial, to convince everyone of the legitimacy of your claims," Bolton said, still coldly calm. "There'll always be those who doubt you otherwise. Where are the witnesses to my supposed treachery?"
"Hanging from a tree next to the Kingsroad with their throats slit," She said without regret. "All but one. My daughter Morganna was there to see you murder my nephew Robb and stick a knife in my chest. She's downstairs too,"
"Your thirteen year old bastard daughter is hardly a reliable witness. Lannisters lie, after all, particularly for their family,"
"Then how about Lady Brienne, who saw your men take Morganna before they beat her bloody and threw her in the dungeons?" She gestured to the big knight in blue, who Aileen suddenly realised was a woman. "Or Lady Dacey, who found her there alongside gruesome experiment notes your maester wrote? Or Marianne Frey, to tell how you threatened her sister so she'd take the blame? If she's still alive, that is,"
"She's still alive," Ramsay smiled cruelly. "Not quite the same, though,"
"Is there anything to you except mindless cruelty and temper tantrums?" Aileen's mother asked him, glancing at her husband. "Are you proud of this one? He got all the sadism you hide rather well, but none of the restraint. An unholy mix,"
"I can be a witness," Aileen spoke up, finding her voice, and her loyalties. "I found out long ago that Father told Ramsay to burn Winterfell and betray the North. I tried to write a letter but was watched night and day," Her father fixed her with a cold pale-eyed stare, but she didn't care anymore. "Then Ramsay told us the truth of what happened at Harrenhal. How you threatened Lady Marianne, killed Robb and Mother,"
Her father's stare turned on Ramsay, who barely noticed.
"Your own daughter?" Her mother's lip curled. "So it's you and your bastard against the world,"
"I want a trial by combat," Ramsay hissed. Lord Bolton closed his eyes for a moment at that.
"Are you sure?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "You delighted in calling me Kingslayer's Whore earlier - who do you think my champion would be?" She smiled fleetingly. "Though King's Landing is far from here, so perhaps not. Ren would have to do instead - I heard how well that went for you last time you fought, and that's with the element of surprise on your side - or perhaps one of the direwolves. Grey Wind?"
Oddly she turned to the wolf, who growled menacingly in what was undoubtedly agreement.
"Does Lord Ryswell know you killed my son?" Bolton asked then. "Domeric was his grandson. Does Lady Dustin, my late wife's sister, know you slit her nephew's throat in cold blood?" Mother killed Domeric? Aileen glanced at Edrick, who looked as thrown as she felt.
"I did no such thing," Her mother said without blinking. "You know full well that your son was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I regret that my breaking free caused that guard's blade to go astray - I did care for Domeric - but I'm sure you punished the man for it,"
There was something odd about the way she said that, though no one else seemed to notice. Gods, she definitely did it. Aileen didn't know how to feel about that, aside from the rather chilling fact that it didn't change who she stood with. So Domeric's life adds up to less than Mother and Robb. She didn't like having it absolutes like that.
"Although with that lie, you've ruined any chance of standing trial in front of an audience," Ren spoke up then, darkly amused.
"Or standing before anyone at all," Her mother was not smiling. "I had them bring out the block to the courtyard, but... I think not,"
She had scarcely finished speaking before Ren let out a yell, and Ramsay was running surprisingly fast, leaving her brother's side bleeding in his wake; he'd somehow found a knife and stabbed him with it. Ramsay shoved past those near the door, and when Edrick tried to stop him he slashed out viciously, catching him in the face with the blade. Aileen immediately ran to her twin's side as Edrick fell with a cry, clutching his face, hands already full of his own blood.
Ramsay made it to the door, and even managed to open it. For one heart-stopping moment she forget the dozens of men on the other side and thought he might actually manage to escape.
But then the wolves were upon him. Grey Wind leapt at his back with a snarl, knocking him flat. Then Crow was there, rolling him over and swiping at his belly, Nymeria too. Aileen had a strong stomach from all her studies on the corpses Ramsay left - and they were not for the faint of heart, actually looking better once she had done what she wished to - so did not look away at the sight of blood and intestines, but even she balked slightly as she watched the man be eaten alive, screaming the whole while.
Curiously, Grey Wind did not join in with the feasting of his brother and sister, simply held Ramsay down. Looking around, Aileen saw that even Ren and Edrick were focusing elsewhere - Ren grimacing as he poked the wound in his side, Edrick fighting back a groan as he held the handkerchief she'd given him to his bloody face - though her mother was watching the whole thing, as was Arya. Both looked grimly satisfied.
Though Aileen couldn't think of a man more deserving of such a fate - and he had honestly done more painful things to better people - it was still rather hard to watch. After what felt like a hideously long time, Ramsay's screaming stopped and he became limp as the direwolves continued their feast.
Her mother finally looked up at the largely transfixed room, focusing on Lord Bolton.
He didn't look like a man who had just watched his son be eaten alive, and the serious possibility that he himself might meet the same fate. His eyes were empty, which was nothing new. But the fact he said nothing was rather telling.
"What's it to be, my lord?" Her mother's voice was icy cold. "My knife, or that," She gestured to the bloody mess that barely resembled a man. The smell she was used to, but the sounds were worse, tearing and ripping and crunching. She never usually saw the corpse actually die. "I'll take silence as you choosing the wolves,"
Her father smiled then, faintly, but it chilled her nonetheless.
"Then I'll choose death by two-legged wolf,"
"I should've killed you the night before our wedding," Her mother's tone was laced with deepest loathing.
"You hardly got cold feet - you would've done it, had I not stopped you," What? Aileen glanced at Ren, who seemed just as baffled by that.
Her mother smiled slightly then, stepping forward. It happened far too fast, far too easy. One moment her father was alive, the next her mother's knife was in his chest, but she was whispering something in his ear as he fell, going down to her knees beside him still whispering, and Aileen caught her father's eyes widen, though that could've been the fact she twisted the blade rather than shock at what she had said.
Though there was never much expression in Lord Bolton's pale-grey eyes, she could tell when life left him and his stare became glassy.
There was a silence, then Grey Wind began to howl, long, low and haunting. The other two howled too, and from somewhere else in the castle two more wolves could be heard joining the call of what was undoubtedly victory.
Aileen's mother got to her feet, taking the dagger with her, but remained staring at her husband's corpse as though he'd somehow rise again.
"Burn the body," She said eventually, carefully.
Aileen never did find out why her father had requested a private meal that night. She wondered if her mother would have done the same if they had all been in the hall, though by the sounds of it she had already got the majority of the men in the castle under her command.
She saw for herself the bodies of the Bolton men who hadn't surrendered to the Starks, lying strewn around the castle, the courtyard, the battlements, as they made their way to the Great Hall. She wondered when they had died, not recalling having heard the sounds of a battle, or swords clashing. Perhaps her mother's group had got there first and done it by stealth rather than an open fight. Or perhaps it had happened whilst they were all in the solar and she just hadn't heard due to being distracted.
Her mother swept into the Great Hall with Ren at her side, all eyes of the household on them. People could be heard muttering about the events that had occurred that night, news spreading fast that Lord Bolton, Ramsay Snow and Theon Greyjoy had not come out of the solar alive. The Black Dinner, they were already calling it. But there was no doubting the mood of the room; everyone was glad the Boltons were gone, and that Theon Turncloak was finally dead.
Aileen followed her mother along with Edrick, Arya and Catelyn, half in a daze at what had just happened. Catelyn stopped dead when she saw who awaited them at the other end of the hall, both hands rising to her mouth.
"Mother!" Sansa didn't run - that would be unladylike - but she walked quick enough to appear like she was floating down the hall. Like Arya, she paused at the sight of her mother's face, and embraced the woman whose hands twitched as though they'd like to hug her back but ultimately did not. "Mother? What happened to your face? Why won't you answer? Mother," When there was no response, Sansa turned to them with wild eyes. "What's wrong with her?"
"She's been like this for months," Arya said, seeming rather unsure around the sister she had never gotten along with. "Since Bran and Rickon, Edrick said," Sansa looked like she had a thousand things to say, but instead simply stepped forward and threw her arms around her sister. Arya stiffened, seeming shocked, but after a moment relaxed and embraced her back.
The small red-haired figure was still sat in the lord's chair at the end of the hall. Morganna was at his side, leaning over to speak to him, both of them flanked by two direwolves, Lady and Shaggydog. Rickon. Gods, he was twice the size as when she last saw him. And it was sweet to see her sister standing there, alive and unharmed. Aileen caught Morganna's eye and her sister grinned, and for a moment it was like nothing had changed.
"I told him to sit still and not move from that chair until I say otherwise," Her mother sounded a little wry. "I may have been a little too stern, but the boy is... wild," There was a snort from the tall woman, Osha, her name was.
"I suppose it's done, then?" Sansa asked, voice only quavering slightly as she glanced at Aileen's mother.
"It is," She nodded once, not elaborating. "There'll be time for talking in private later. For now, we must show Winterfell its new lord,"
Not everyone was home - Robb, Lord Eddard and Domeric were dead, and Bran was still missing - but it was a start, Aileen thought as they all ascended the dais. All her siblings were with her, her mother too, Lady Catelyn, Sansa, Arya. And Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, five direwolves prowling behind him, one at his feet.
She grasped her mother's hand, briefly, and the woman squeezed back. She's alive, she's here, she's with me. That brought a faint smile to Aileen's face. Everything was not perfect, and never would be, but things felt considerably less wrong than they had done that morning.
Bolton is finally dead! How does everyone feel about this chapter?
I had a big dramatic scene planned for this, with all the lords in the great hall and Ross marching in with Rickon and the direwolves, but when I actually wrote it out it came across as rather too dramatic, campy and had a lot of monologuing. This more private scene went much better, but there's a lot of pressure to get the climax of the story arc just right - not sure how well I did with that so please give feedback!
I hope Ramsay got the end people thought he deserved - one of the few things the show did right was having him be eaten alive by dogs, and this is along the same lines.
Also how is the pacing of this story? I could've had the defeat of the Bolton's be in the next chapter but then this one would just be Ross travelling with Rickon from White Harbour, or Ren speaking to all the lords and a few conversations with Edrick and Aileen that happened off screen. If I was bored writing it then you'd definitely be bored reading it so I chose not to drag things out.
Thanks for reading!
