Chapter Eight

To the Point

The walk back to Sansa's personal rooms was a long, silent one. Ramsay occasionally glanced at Sansa or the big wildling that escorted them, but neither seemed interested in conversation, and he couldn't think of a way to breach the tense silence. Or perhaps it was only he that was feeling so very tense? In any case, the wildling looked angry.

With that in mind, perhaps it was best that he did not speak for now. For Sansa's part, she seemed to be rather unreadable. Ramsay both wished she would say something that would indicate what she felt about him at the moment and dreaded her doing so; as long as she did not, after all, the longer he could entertain the notion that perhaps she wasn't angry with him.

He spent much of the long trip going over in his head how he would reply to the questions that Sansa surely had, and how best to plead his case so that she did not judge him harshly for killing the servant that had attacked him. He wondered; would she order him executed if she thought that he had simply murdered the man to escape?

A sobering thought. Ramsay did his best to follow along and not give her or the wildling any reason to think he was anything less than compliant. The wildling still looked angry, with a severe scowl etched on his face. When Ramsay dared to glance his way, he would direct that glare at Ramsay so piercingly that the smaller man would immediately look away.

At long last they arrived at the room that had become so very familiar to Ramsay, and Sansa directed the new guard to wait outside. The wildling glanced at Ramsay and looked back to Sansa as she did so, "It wouldn't be best to leave you alone with him."

Sansa gave him a dismissive gesture, "I have handled Ramsay alone many times previous to this one; everything will be fine."

The big man did not move from where he stood just inside the door, "I insist on keeping him within sight."

Sansa shook her head, "And I insist on having some privacy. I am the ruling Stark of this keep and Jon Snow's sister; I'm telling you to wait outside."

The large wildling seemed unruffled by her display of authority, instead folding his arms across his chest, "And I'm Eroc, and I'm not going anywhere. You want to keep your pet near you fine, but we'll do it my way. I'm not some southern soldier for you to order around; if you want my respect, sister of Jon Snow, you'll have to earn it like he did."

Sansa sighed, seeming to let the matter go as she turned away from Eroc and walked over to Ramsay, who stiffened a bit at her approach. Was she going to question him now? Why did he feel so apprehensive over it? She pointed to a large wooden tub of water in the corner of the room, "Bathe, Ramsay."

Ramsay glanced at the wash basin and then back at her with a puzzled expression concerning her priorities, but he supposed that Sansa had always stressed cleanliness in the past, so he moved over to it without objection after a moment, removing his ripped garments and reaching a foot out tentatively to test the water.

Surprisingly it was warm, not at all the cool or down right cold water that he might have expected. Sansa must have had the bath drawn by her servants even as she was in transit with Ramsay. He carefully lowered himself into the water, wincing here and there as he did his best to accommodate his injuries as he did so.

The water was far warmer than he had expected, but now that he was submerged he realized that it might still be a stretch to refer to it as 'warm'. He had best finish his bathing soon or he risked sitting in a tub of cold water at the least, perhaps even catching cold from the exposure at the worst. He started scrubbing awkwardly due to his injured shoulder.

Sansa sat on the floor beside him and took the sponge from his hands, "I will handle this." With deft movements she began to scrub at Ramsay, cleaning him thoroughly and swiftly. He felt somewhat strange having her do so, especially with the big wildling watching so avidly, and thinking on how he couldn't even seem to wash himself caused him embarrassment.

Why this was Ramsay couldn't quite figure, but Sansa had a way of making him feel awkward about things that didn't used to bother him. He was not about to object to her ministrations however, both because she was doing a better faster job and because he didn't dare to seem in any way belligerent, since he didn't want to paint himself in a negative light.

At length Sansa finished her work, but the fact that they continued to spend so much time together with nary a word passed between them was starting to eat at Ramsay. He was practically dying to know what Sansa thought of the most recent events, and for reasons he could not fathom was becoming incredibly anxious in not knowing.

Sansa took him by the arm that wasn't hurting and gently lifted him from the tub, toweling him down despite the fact that he told her in a meek voice that he could manage on his own. She only ignored his statement, thoroughly buffing him with the cloth until he was completely dried head to foot. She set the cloth aside and took him by the arm again.

Ramsay's heart was racing, and it took him a few moment's to figure out why. Her expression, her terse words and the exacting way that she moved; they all reminded him of the way she acted whenever she had been displeased with him, just before she elected for some form of punishment. Was that it? Was Sansa about to punish him?

Despite needing to know Ramsay stayed quiet, gulping with a dry throat as he allowed her to lead him over to the bed, where she commanded him to sit. Ramsay sat on the edge of the bed immediately, looking up at her with worried eyes as she stared back down at him. A long moment passed and finally she spoke.

"I want you to answer honestly and quickly to each question I pose to you now, Ramsay; your life depends on it."

Ramsay nodded his head by way of response, but seeing that Sansa didn't continue he realized she wanted more than a shaking head, "…Yes. Yes of course."

She placed her hands behind her back, giving him a very stern look, "Did you attack your guards and kill a servant in an attempt to escape this keep?"

Ramsay blinked at the question, "What? No, I didn't attack my guards; they simply vanished, just before a servant with a club made an attempt on my life!"

Sansa nodded, but gave no indication of whether or not she believed him, "So you claim that the club was in the servant's possession, and not on a guard that you assaulted? As in you did not take that club from your guard and attack a servant who blocked your flight down the stairs?"

Ramsay shook his head vehemently, "No! The servant had the club when he attacked me; I only took it from him in my struggle to survive his attack!"

Ramsay had to wonder what exactly Sansa had been told to question him in this unexpected manner. Suddenly it occurred to him that it was possible that the guards who had conspired to see him killed had fed the superiors of the castle a false story where he had assaulted them in order to not only save them from guilt but further incriminate Ramsay.

He licked his lips, "Have you managed to find the two guards who abandoned me to my fate?"

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him, "Why would we ever lose guards?"

Ramsay nodded, "Well I wouldn't think such a thing possible before this recent event, but the captain I spoke with related that no one came forward concerning what happened when he questioned his men as I fled…"

Sansa interrupted him then, "That brings us to another question I have to ask you; if you were innocent of murder, then why did you attempt to flee the keep? Don't try to tell me you weren't fleeing or that you were being pursued by servants, because I'll know better…"

Ramsay shook his head, "I wasn't being pursued, but I might as well have been for what would have happened."

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him, "Feel free to explain your logic there. Hard to imagine a person free of guilt running."

Ramsay cleared his throat and did his best to relate the complex series of thoughts and emotions that had led to his decision to risk the impossible and try to flee a guarded keep despite his status as a prisoner, "Well when the servant who had attacked me lay dead at my feet, I realized that in my position I looked extremely suspect…"

He continued, "…also, knowing that it could be no coincidence that those meant to safeguard me and prevent my fleeing were gone meant I could not trust the soldiers of the keep, who may very well have simply finished the job that the servant who had accosted me had failed at, murdering me before I could plea my case."

Sansa sighed, "Do you really think it so likely that so many of our soldiers would be on the payroll of some mysterious group that wanted you assassinated despite the fact that you are already a prisoner of war? Do you know some secret that would make your life a danger to some great plan of the Lanisters, perhaps?"

Ramsay shook his head, a bit baffled on that note still, "No… I still haven't been able to guess exactly why someone would go to such lengths… if it wasn't for the disappearance of those guards I would have simply thought it the angry revenge of a lone servant and given it no further consideration… just tell me this…"

He licked his lips again, his throat feeling a bit dry with anxiety that had been following him like a cloud for some time now, "…do you really think that I bested two armed soldiers with my bare hands and then only took a club from them when they were equipped with several swords each, then to assault a servant in the hallway? How many servants would try to stop an armed man from fleeing?"

He gestured to the bruise on his shoulder, "I was injured multiple times as I fell down the stairs trying to keep my would-be murderer from killing me."

Sansa nodded at the sight of the bruising, "There were reports that you were injured in your attack on the guards, so that does not help your story." Ramsay's arms sank as he sighed, feeling deflated, and Sansa went on to reassure him, "But I also think it is fishy to think that you bested two of our best in such a fashion, and that they would fail to alert the guard before they did."

Ramsay's face brightened with hope that the lies of his enemies might yet fail to have him executed by the Starks after everything he had survived, "And what you said about the captain I had not yet heard. If those two failed to report while being so obviously debriefed by their superior it only casts suspicion on their story."

She stood tall, folding her arms behind her back, "Also, I spoke to a guardsman who informed me of several assassins who lay dead in the barracks, which does a great deal in painting a picture more complicated than a simple escape attempt. Still, why did you not come find me once you realized the trouble you were in? I find it hard to believe death in an escape attempt a more rational choice…"

Ramsay's heart practically sang with renewed hope at the realization that Groves must have searched out and spoken to Sansa directly on his behalf. For all of his talk about not caring one whit whether Ramsay lived or died, the old soldier had yet again aided him. Ramsay felt a sudden pang of something unfamiliar as he tried to sort out how he felt about that.

Sansa cocked her head at him, "Hello… I'm talking to you, Ramsay… or do you not have anything reasonable to say in your own defense on this?"

Ramsay started, realizing abashedly that he had let his inner thoughts pull him away from the important conversation at hand, "Oh, no… I, uh, at the time I was fairly convinced that given the apparent evidence that you wouldn't believe my side of things."

Sansa's brow drew up at this, "So you don't think I would have believed your guards had abandoned you if you had come to me without them? I ordered those men to guard you, so their absence would have said much in your defense, which I'm sure why it is a large part of what you tell me now to convince me of your innocence in this."

Ramsay shrugged, "I wasn't really sure that I would be able to make it to you without being made, perhaps even by those same two guards…"

Sansa shook her head, folding her arms over her chest as she frowned at him, "That is foolish; the same would have been even more likely in the event of you attempting to leave, not to mention the additional risks of escape."

Ramsay went quiet and Sansa put a finger under his chin, because at some point when she had been talking he had unconsciously begun to look down at his feet, "You might have gone so far as to convince yourself that is the reason you fled, but anyone capable of putting this together can see that that's completely unreasonable."

She went on, "You ultimately went with the incredibly foolhardy choice of attempting to escape because you wanted to escape, and this was just an easy way for you to excuse yourself from it, but don't think that I'm going to buy into that malarkey just because you want it to be true. You tried to run from me, and I promise you will regret that choice…"

Ramsay's eyes widened at her sudden threat, and she took her hand from his face as she stepped back, "…but first I have the murder of one of my guards and the betrayal of a couple others and a servant to look into." She glanced over at Eroc, "I trust you can keep him in line until I return?"

Eroc grunted, "I don't feel like I have much choice when you ask like that. Tell Jon that I need him to update me on what he wants done with this one, and I will stay to keep him company."

Sansa nodded, "Deal; I'll tell him you asked." She glanced back at Ramsay, who was still looking uncomfortable with the end results of their conversation, "Don't cause Eroc here any trouble, or I'll see to it that the punishments you receive for your foolishness today are increased..." She sighed at him, looking a little exasperated, "…and stay out of trouble, Ramsay…" and then she turned to leave.