Chapter 22

Machinations

Sansa looked up in surprise to see the two of them when they arrived, likely due to the way that Brienne so roughly held him, Ramsay barely able to put his feet on the floor with the way she hoisted him.

"What is it… what has happened?"

Brienne shook Ramsay by the arm a bit in gesture, causing his whole body to shake as she had such leverage over him, "I followed this one to Petyr Baelish's room. I overheard talk of escape from outside of the door."

Sansa stood from where she had been sitting, knitting a winter shirt as she had been contemplating decisions that would need to be made with the coming storm. One eyebrow arched as she approached the two of them, her voice questioning. "Escape? Petyr Baelish couldn't possibly assist Ramsay in escape… how would you benefit in helping him, Ramsay?"

Ramsay spread his hands in a sign of helpless loss of words and finally responded as he shook his head, "I couldn't imagine I would milady; the man has no allies to speak of, especially after what you have done to destroy his resources… I swear we were plotting no escape; I was merely speaking to Petyr out of boredom…"

"Lies!" Brienne shouted angrily, shaking his harshly as Ramsay cowered, shielding his face, "There is nothing you do that does not play into one of your games!"

Ramsay continued to shake his head vehemently, "No, milady! I was speaking to Petyr on nothing of consequence, when Lady Brienne barged in and struck me without provocation!"

Sansa opened her mouth to level what was likely an angry scolding upon Ramsay for such and accusation but she paused when Brienne not only made no comment to defend herself but also averted her eyes.

Brienne had been caught up in the moment, her every action heightened by the danger she suspected to be brewing in the room she had been eavesdropping in on. Even though Ramsay and Petyr had only been separated from her by a wooden door, it had been built well enough so that little of the conversation made it to Brienne.

At first she had been terribly frustrated, but then she had heard the two men raise their tones, as if annoyed with each other, and she distinctly made out the words 'escape attempt', and she had made the decision to burst in and find out the truth of the matter. When Ramsay had turned to her so fast, she couldn't help but strike him.

It had felt pretty good hitting the smarmy bastard hard enough to send him reeling across the room, but when she saw how forcefully he slammed into the wall after her punch and more importantly, that he was in fact unarmed, she had regretted the hasty call. More so now that Sansa looked to her for an answer to Ramsay's accusation that wasn't entirely untrue.

With eyes downcast in shame for her blunder for a few moments before making contact with Sansa's eyes, Brienne spoke, "I might have handled him a little roughly in the arrest, but only in the heat of the moment upon overhearing Petyr Baelish announce that they planned to escape from here. Don't trust him milady, he's a snake around your neck!"

Ramsay did the best he could not to smile. He could sense it now, see it in the way that Sansa and Brienne looked upon one another. Sansa had never entirely trusted the armored woman, and her gaze reflected doubt now in the face of Brienne's rash choices. Ramsay felt this was going perfectly according to plan.

He had whirled on Brienne intentionally, knowing that the warrior would strike him. The fall he had taken had been as hard as it was because he had thrown himself for dramatic effect. He had even leaned into the punch to ensure that it would bruise him as much as possible. He wanted Sansa to doubt Brienne's judgement.

"I will speak to Petyr, then. One way or the other, we shall discover what it was that they plotted, Lady Brienne."

Sansa was looking at Ramsay sternly as she said this, and he could feel her eyes probing him. Perhaps she had seen the snicker just below the surface of the agonized mask he had erected upon his face, so he did his best to maintain, not allowing himself to shift in his act under her scrutiny. Of course, if her suspicion of him caused her to question Petyr, it would still work towards Ramsay's goals…

One should never chew upon one's fingernails. Petyr Baelish knew this, had learned it early in life and taken the thought to heart along with all the other little nuances that were considered the correct behavior of a person of noble birth. Petyr had been born to a merchant of lower birthright, and even as a child he had wanted to be nobility.

For the past few hours he had chewed upon his nails several times, however. One should never lose one's composure. That was one of the biggest unwritten rules of leadership that was taught to those young boys and girls lucky enough to be born into the right families. Petyr had become quite good at this over the years he had thought.

Now though he looked a wreck, his wild fear and rampant anxiety etched as clearly on his face as it was upon his heart. Brienne had left some time ago with Ramsay, but Petyr was no fool; whatever trouble Ramsay had brought to him would soon enough return. Even if he was not held liable for whatever the hell that had been…

This incident was going to bring him to Sansa's attention. The sad fact was that even if he was judged as being innocent in whatever plot Ramsay had perhaps been planning, just remembering that he was there might give Sansa incentive to begin… punishing him again, as she had been until only recently. This was why he bit his nails, and why he could not maintain his composure.

The waiting was almost the worst part of it. Petyr might have thought being locked away in a room like this might have forced some sort of patience on him, but if anything his captivity had made it all worse. He was impatient to see what his fate was going to be, and his anxiety found no solace in any kind of activity, since he had nothing to do but wait.

When the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard through his door, Petyr jumped in surprise despite the fact that he had been waiting for exactly this moment for such a long time. His heart hammered as Sansa opened the door and stepped inside, followed by the brutish woman Brienne. Ramsay also slipped inside behind the others and Petyr frowned.

Ramsay was here, apparently no longer under any noticeable form of arrest by Brienne. His heart sank as he caught sight of Ramsay's carefully maintained blank face. The little bastard must have somehow pinned whatever the hell this was on him. Petyr felt a tremor of fear run down his spine but he forced himself to take a deep breath.

He hadn't done anything wrong after all. He was innocent, and therefore should have nothing to fear concerning whatever had angered Brienne and brought both her and the Lady of Winterfell back into his room, "Lady Sansa. Lady Brienne. How may I help you?"

Sansa wasn't speaking to him just yet though. She had moved purposefully over to the dresser by the bed, quietly taking a leather strap stored therein out. Petyr's blood pounded in his ears.

When she moved to approach him again he held up his hands defensively as he often did in situations like these, and as she always did, she swept them aside, dragging him into her grip as she backed toward the bed to make herself comfortable there, all the while hauling the squirming form of Petyr along with her.

There were no words shared between them as Petyr let loose a series of panicked grunts as she pulled him into her lap with one hand while the other divested him of the linen slacks he had been wearing, pulling them almost all the way off until they were wrapped about his lower legs, entangling them. He glanced back at her, his eyes wide and full of fear.

Ramsay shifted from one foot to the other, as before feeling oddly uncomfortable watching what Sansa did to Petyr now.

As she raised her hand to begin her punishment of him, Petyr let out a pitiful whine, "P-please, Sansa… please… no…"

But Petyr had long since come to terms with how Sansa felt towards him concerning all of his many crimes towards her and her family, and how very much he deserved whatever she might dish out, so his cries for mercy were a bit hollow. They rang of his very real desire for her to show him such, but also his words were devoid of real hope that she would.

With practiced ease Sansa adjusted Petyr into her lap, seeming to prefer this rather comfortable and personal manner of punishing him today over the manner in which Ramsay had before witnessed, with her giving Petyr a good hiding while the afore mentioned stood helplessly held in the restraints that bound his hands to the wall.

He was no less helpless this way, of course, as Petyr had no leverage now in which to hope to pull free, and Ramsay could see, no gumption to try. The thin graying former councilor did nothing now but begin to weep even before Sansa had lain down the first blow. It was terribly pathetic, really, and even Ramsay shook his head at such a pitiable sight.

The action continued along just as wordlessly for a few more moments as Sansa raised her hand and began to punish Petyr's squirming ass, until Petyr's yells became words, filling the air between them with apologies, even if he wasn't sure exactly what it was that he was apologizing for. This went on for several long minutes.

Sansa asked him then, and many times thereafter as the treatment continued, to tell her what it was he had been planning with Ramsay. Petyr only attested that he had no plot, and of course this caused Sansa to keep on spanking him, certain that he was lying. However, after this same response remained beyond what Sansa reckoned to be Petyr's limits for questioning, she finally ceased.

She stood carefully, allowing the sobbing Petyr to crawl onto the bed, where he curled up, covering his face in obvious shame. Likely due to the way he carried on during the punishment, thought Ramsay; he had no illusions as to how well he himself did under such pressure, but Petyr seemed to handle being treated like this even more poorly than Ramsay.

It took little to get him screaming in fits of apology, and even less to reduce him to tears. Ramsay could only imagine what it must feel like to be that pathetically weak. His attention was brought back to the matter at hand as Sansa walked back over to himself and Brienne. Her disposition said she was unhappy, which both was terrifying to Ramsay, and exactly what he had wanted.

"He isn't lying; I can tell. He has admitted greater, darker secrets than what I'm seeking over far less, and I'm inclined to think that on his account at least that you were mistaken, Lady Brienne."

Brienne took this opportunity to shake Ramsay by the arm, rattling him where he stood by way of gesture, "Then punish this one well; I am certain that he is the cause of all this."

Ramsay had known this was coming, and his heart hammered in real fear of the closeness for which he tread to receiving just what Petyr had gotten and likely worse. Worse, it would be in front of Petyr Baelish of all things, and that cunt Brienne would have the satisfaction of witnessing it after all the games he'd played to get here.

So it was with very real conviction that he dropped down and prostrated himself before Sansa, begging, "Please milady, I've no idea of what Lady Brienne speaks; I swear that she must have misheard us! This is an honest mistake, please spare me punishment for this one thing, for I swear on this account at least I have done no wrong!"

Sansa glared down at him and Ramsay was almost certain for a moment that he was to share the same fate as Petyr or worse, then finally she let out a sigh, "Perhaps this was actually a misunderstanding, though if I ever suspect otherwise again it shall be your hide, Ramsay."

Brienne's response was immediate and angry, "You can't be serious! You're just going to take this man's word for it?"

She gestured at Ramsay as if there was something about him that Sansa was clearly missing, "This man…. this lying, manipulative man who has proven in the past to enjoy putting on games simply for the sake of seeing other people suffer through it?"

Ramsay worked to keep his face even, letting in just the slightest bit of what he thought might look like indignant offense at her spot-on accusations.

This he maintained while also doing the best he could to bury the feeling of dread it created to have Brienne call him out specifically for playing games, seeing as this entire situation was exactly that. If Sansa were to compare this to any other event he had manipulated…

His heart thudded in his chest, but the overriding emotion to catapult through him next was elation as Sansa shook her head at Brienne, "I told you before that this was not your affair to dictate, nor Ramsay your ward. You are aware of the man that he used to be, but Ramsay has been at my side some time now, and I am saying that I believe you made a mistake, knight."

It was difficulty itself not to allow a satisfied smirk to crawl upon his face as he glanced over to view the shock on Brienne's face, and he knew upon seeing it that his plan could not have gone more perfectly. But then Brienne recovered, seeming to make the decision not to make a scene by giving in to how she felt, much to Ramsay's disappointment.

"Of course milady."

Sansa pointed back at Petyr and then her gaze drifted to Ramsay as she spoke once an uncomfortable silence had stretched between them for a period, "You will of course apologize to these men for the collateral damage of your mistake, I'm sure. I am glad at least that there doesn't seem to be some foolish plot to contend with after all."

She whisked from the room and Ramsay continued to pour all of his will into maintaining the look of concern on his face, lest he fall to mirthful laughter at the look on Brienne's face when she was left alone with the two of them and realized she was going to have to say she was sorry to them.

"Sorry," she said gruffly, and then she turned to leave, "Come, Ramsay; you are not to stay here."

Ramsay was not entirely surprised to see Brienne make short work of the commanded condolences in such a brusque way, but he felt the moment he had worked for was entirely too short this way, and couldn't help but extend it a bit, talking at Brienne's back before they could exit, "I'm sure you didn't mean for it to end this way, Lady Brienne… I forgive you."

Brienne halted for a moment, turning back to glower at Ramsay and seeing the less-than-sincere smile that he had planted firmly upon his face, knowing full well that she would know without doubt that he had just bested her, both from that smile and from the overplayed mock sympathy that dripped from his tone of voice.

Her eyes narrowed and his grin widened, waiting to see how she would reply now that he had proven himself cleverer than she had given him credit. But Brienne didn't reply with words, rather she threw her gauntleted hand into Ramsay's face for the second time that day, in fact in the same place that she had before, throwing Ramsay back onto the floor of the room with the force of the strike.

Petyr let out a guffaw of a laugh and Brienne shot a glare his way which killed the noise with a suddenness as he closed his mouth and raised his hands in surrender, though his face still fairly burst with amusement over seeing Ramsay hit again for his arrogance. Ramsay had a hand to his head, moaning as he sat up.

Brienne took a step toward him, causing him to flinch, "Now maybe the bruise shall be more convincing to the Lady of my untoward treatment of you. Before you go running to tell on me again remember that Petyr is a witness who may testify against you now that you have used him like a pawn, and that there are many ways I can hurt you that won't leave a mark on your face."

Ramsay's shock quickly turned to anger and finally his face settled on a sort of mollified resignation as it became clear that he understood that Brienne had him by the short hairs on this matter. A quick glance at the satisfied smile on Petyr told him that he would almost certainly back Brienne's story whatever it might be, just to spite Ramsay.

He hadn't endeared himself to the man by causing him to become punished by Sansa in that humiliating display, after all, and Petyr was probably just aching for some more come-uppance. Ramsay stood slowly, mulling over how thoroughly fucked this situation had become before he could even process it, and all because he had felt the need to unveil himself to Brienne.

Of course, he could tell by the way she looked at him now that she had probably already known this entire affair had occurred specifically to fuck with her, but being obvious about it had likely given her license to unleash on him as she truly wanted, no longer weighted by the burden of having to prove Ramsay guilty.

All of these things fell to the back of his mind, however, as Ramsay couldn't stop himself from wondering what Brienne meant by hurting him without a mark to his face. Did she mean a traditional beating with fists to the gut, or…? No. Brienne had been present during Petyr's punishment, and seen him literally beg on his knees to avoid the same fate. She would spank him. He flushed redly at the thought.

Suddenly flustered and thoroughly brow-beaten in the face of what he had thought was going to be a glorious moment of triumph, Ramsay just stood there, staring at the floor as he balled his fists in impotent fury. He dared not meet the challenge in Brienne's face lest he tempt her to express her newly realized ability to punish him for it.

He tried not to let how he might feel rein over his face, but he felt that his efforts to do so were mediocre at best in the face of the incredibly strong feelings of humiliation he currently underwent. It was so much the worse that not only had Brienne flipped things around so quickly on him, but that he had to stand there as she watched his misery over it.

Finally feeling that her point had been made, Brienne grabbed him by the arm, which caused Ramsay to jump, expecting further violence or perhaps even that worst scenario of an extended punishment before the eyes of Petyr Baelish, but instead she used her grip on his appendage to usher him out of the door, "As I said, you are never to return here again without supervision."

She glanced down the long hallway once she had shut and locked the door to Petyr's room behind her, "We are going to return to Sansa's quarters, where you shall stay until allowed otherwise."

This was too much, and Ramsay had to object, "I am no prisoner consigned to a cell; Sansa has made it clear that I now have capacity to travel the halls of Winterfell as I please!"

The gauntleted hand that had a hold on Ramsay shook him, as if reminding him of the physical threat that the woman standing next to him still posed to his person, "You are every bit of whatever I call you, and that was no suggestion nor up for debate…" she positioned herself in front of Ramsay, still tightly gripping his arm, "…you will do as you are told."

Sparks practically played in the air between the two as Ramsay glared at her and she back at him, but the time came for one or the other to back down, and only one actually had the upper hand, so Ramsay lowered his head sullenly in defeat. She was cowing him at this point and being blatant about it, but Ramsay felt there was little he could do.

His mind raced on what he might yet do or perhaps something he could say to Sansa to clear this matter of Brienne pushing him around with threats of violence. He had considered telling Sansa what Brienne planned to do to him if he refused her, but it was humiliating to even think of having to say that to another person, even Sansa.

Plus, Sansa might not necessarily side with Ramsay this time if she knew that Brienne planned on spanking him as she did. He gulped as his face heated at the thought of the two of them spreading his greatest shame around even further than it already was. He seriously wondered sometimes if anyone didn't know about it.

A prolonged uncomfortable silence fell between them, at least uncomfortable for Ramsay anyways, for all he knew Brienne was enjoying this to the fullest. Ramsay seemed to be favorably brow beaten enough, so Brienne at length took him along and he gave her no more fuss nor attempted to pull away any longer.