Frantically, Siobhan tossed the jewellery in to her side-bag, and began making way out of the tent. It was unlike her to steal, but finding something like this in Essos would surely yield her a great deal of gold to help her survive. After all, is it wrong to steal bread to feed the poor? No, she felt it was not – and this was exactly what she needed to line her pockets as she worked her way through this new land. One day she would stop, make a home for herself – but never would she achieve that if she had no currency to her name.
She was nearly out of the woods, so to speak – one food out of the tent and so close to being on her way. That was when she heard a voice that stopped her in her tracks.
"Is there something you're searching for, my lady?"
Siobhan froze, her breaths becoming deeper and more shallow instantly. This could mean the end of her life; escaping Ramsay and Westeros, just to end like this? No, there had to be something she could say – there had to be some way that she could talk herself out of this predicament. Shrewdly observing that he spoke the common tongue, she felt she could use this to her avail.
"Ser, you speak the common tongue." She said coolly, as she turned.
Facing him brought a whole new set of complications. Here she stood, red handed with his belongs in her grasp, trespassing in his tent; and yet, equally there he simply stood. There he stood with no judgement on his face, merely sternness in his voice – no anger, no vengeance. His blue eyes seemed like the deepest river of empathy and kindness, his body language less-threatening than she had expected. It set her back a step, as she evaluated her situation.
"I speak the common tongue – as do you. Where are you from?" His question was met with silence. "Why are you here?" Yet he yielded no answers. "I cannot help you if you will not speak with me."
"You cannot help me." Siobhan said flatly, pausing for a moment as he pondered her response, before she began to run; and run she did.
Out of the tent and in to the tall grass, Siobhan ran faster than she had in her whole life; faster than she did out of Bolton's homestead, faster than she did from the Dothraki hoard who attacked her, faster than she had in her life for she knew the price of her actions. If this hoard followed her, if they captured her, then death would be something she could only wish for – the pain, the torture she would endure would be enough for her to want an end.
Eventually the darkness lifted; the sun started to rise, and Siobhan started to slow. The river whose banks she ran on had slowed to a bubbling brook, and the tall grass had dispersed in to a shaded clearing. This is where she would rest, she decided – turning back to ensure for the hundredth time that the hoard was not on her trail.
Curious it was that this man never seemed to follow after her, nor did his dothraki companions. There were very few times in her life where things worked out in her favour, but Siobhan decided that the gods above where looking down at the right time and took care of her in her moment of need.
Dropping her bag against the trunk of a tree, she began to strip down of her clothing. This proved to be an extremely difficult task; not for her modesty, but for the blood. She hadn't realised until now just how bloodied she had become from her attackers. The fabric of her clothing had become encrusted against her skin. As she freed her body from the threads, old wounds reopened and surely ripped in to wider new ones. When finally free, she collapsed to the ground underneath the tree.
Looking around, seeing she was very alone, Siobhan allowed herself to cry. Therapeutically, she released all of her pent up pains, anxieties, and frustrations. Enough was enough, and the solace of privacy allowed her a moment of vulnerability.
House Ailington fell twelve years before her birth, and here Siobhan was paying the price. Her whole upbringing was a struggle; her family, rebuilding from absolutely nothing, and fighting just to put food on the table when she was young. Then, her teenage years – coming of age in a world where she spent her days working with her hands like some common man, helping her parents re-establish the family name but at what cost? No boy would ever look at her, no matter how charming or attractive she was; after all, why would you be interested in wedding a woman with hands more calloused than your own?
Then came her freedom from this life of borderline slavery; then came her family's redemption in the world. The Ailington's would have a home, land, small wealth – the house would take a drastic leap in re-establishing itself. All Siobhan had to do was marry a Bolton, and marry a Bolton she certainly did.
Ramsay was not unkind, in the beginning. Though their marriage was arranged, he courted Siobhan in the most charming ways. He presented her gifts of flowers, gourmet foods, luxurious garments of clothing, and breathtaking jewelry. He was considerate, and used his power to ensure that every man and woman would respect his lady and treat her as a high class Bolton. Of course, things changed very quickly after the wedding.
Immediately after the wedding would be a more accurate statement. Ramsay's desires of the flesh were violent and extreme, on many occasion injuring Siobhan – and it was fairly certain in her mind that it was the pain he inflicted that he most enjoyed. It was not the sex, but the pain that he found arousing – and it became more and more clear that there was a very human part of Ramsay that was missing. He tortured everyone he could, and controlled the world around him like a sadistic child throwing a temper tantrum.
When the Bolton's refused to honour their word and pay the Ailington's their dowry, Siobhan knew that enough was enough. Strong of spirit, she could have lived a life of a martyr if it bettered the lives of her family – but that was not the case, and she would not live the life of a victim. Being from the working class, she knew the fisherman who sailed the high seas – it took nothing to convince them to smuggle her across the narrow sea; never again to be heard, never again to be seen.
But, what of this new life? It surely was not all it was cracked up to be. Arriving in Pentos with very little to her name, Siobhan traded what she could for food and types of clothing that helped her blend in to the Essos lands. She worked her way next through Norvos and on to Qohor, but regret came when she fell in to the Dothraki sea. Having heard stories of such savagery in her youth, she knew that she was not in a place where she wanted to be – but none the less was horrified as she saw them at work. Even more horrifying was the day they took her as their spoil of war.
What comes next for Siobhan and house Ailington? Well, surely the Ailington's are done. Without the wealth and land they were promised, the only claim they had was that their daughter was a Bolton by marriage – and now they have lost that. Of course, protection was put in place for her parents before Siobhan left, but she was sure at this point the house name would never be rebuilt and they would eventually die off as many of the houses have. All she could do at this point was focus on her journey.
Her last plan a failure, Siobhan had to regroup; continuing east to Ibben was unsafe, as her battered and broken body would prove. Perhaps the nest plan was to move south towards Volantis – the Free City. It sounded as magical a land as she dreamed of, and could be the next place for her to stop; finding men's work and living a modest life until the end of her days.
Siobhan climbed slowly in to the tripping creek, washing herself clean of the blood and sweat that coated her fair skin. She allowed the water to run through her hair, cleaning out the debris until it shined a radiant gold again. Cleansing the tears from her face, she took a symbolic deep breath and climbed out of the water – tearing some of the stolen fabric she had gained in to strips of clothing to cover her modesty.
Leaning against the trunk of the tree, she ran the bracelet through her fingers until she fell asleep – the sunlight baking her skin and making her feel whole once again.