Myranda filled the iron tub to the brim with steaming water and watched from the corner of the room whilst Sansa sank into it. It stung a little when it touched her sore sensitive areas. Myranda winced enviously and went to fetch another bucket of water.
When Sansa was done she twisted the water out of her long hair and her eyes wandering to Myranda. "Don't waste the hot water it will sooth your bruises, I can dress myself."
Carefully Myranda undressed and climbed into the tub. Sansa heard the whimpering of a bruised body hitting the hot water and smiled to herself as she dressed.
Myranda lay in the bath of cooling water and when Sansa re-emerged in her white cotton shift. Her eyes fell on the beautiful red head disdainfully. Without hesitation Sansa perched on the edge much as Myranda had the night before her wedding; now the roles had been reversed.
"You see how much more pleasant this can be for both of us?" Sansa said, her voice trailing off. "The only thing I ask, is that you refrain from divulging our arrangement to Ramsay."
Myranda sat up straight "I won't lie to him!"
"Not lie, just not discuss it with him. Consider how Ramsay would react knowing our arrangement. Women scheming behind his back, it would make him…unhappy."
Myranda nodded. "I suppose you might be right" she was still feisty; Sansa could see it but that wouldn't last long.
"His temper doesn't suit him being unhappy." Sansa smiled as Myranda couldn't help but nod once again.
"I won't say anything" She said.
Sansa walked the gloomy corridors to Walda Frey's chamber. They could give the fat lady whatever surname they wanted but to Sansa she would always be a Frey. The Frey's killed her mother and brother and Sansa would never forgive them. Two of Lord Bolton's men stood guard at Walda's door. They were nothing compared to the aptly named 'Bastards Boys' who stood guard outside her own but still Sansa waited whilst they knocked to announce her arrival. A small blonde serving girl appeared "Lady Sansa, may I help?"
Sansa steadied herself with the largest smile she could muster. "I was wondering whether Lady Bolton would enjoy some company, it has been very quiet in my chamber alone all day." Sansa couldn't remember the girl's name but she was pretty in a way, with large brown eyes and a slightly crooked smile. The girl nodded stood aside beckoning her to enter.
"Lady Bolton" Sansa dipped her head as she entered the large chamber and saw Walda sat embroidering in the window.
"Please call me Walda, there's no point using titles when we share one." Walda really was a sight to behold, not blessed with beauty or grace. Sansa slipped into a seat opposite her and smiled as she admired the embroidery.
"It's quite beautiful" she ran her fingers gently over the fine material as she admired it. Again Walda flushed pink.
"Well it's not up to the standard of Kings landing I'm sure but I try my best." Walda looked uncomfortable for a moment, like she was deciding whether or not to broach the rumours about Sansa's wedding night hell at the hands of Ramsay.
"Women in Kings Landing rarely embroider" Sansa said, breaking the tension.
"Then they must be awfully bored, how do they pass the time?"
Sansa's eyes narrowed as though carefully constructed her answer, "They like to play games"
"Board games? I heard they're quite fashionable in Kings Landing."
"Not exactly" Sansa replied.
There was another brief silence before Walda spoke again. "How are you settling in here Sansa?"
"Quite well, I am very…comfortable" she watched Walda's eyes fill with sadness. Walda's voice dropped to a whisper as she waved her hand and watched the servant girl obediently leave the room.
"Roose is not unkind to me… not the way Ramsay will be…I'm sorry" her eyes ran over Sansa's body and a confused expression covered her chubby features.
"Is something wrong?" Sansa asked.
"..I heard some serving girls talking this morning talking about how Ramsay had beaten you after Roose's talk with him. I admit although I hoped for your health; I thought you'd be in a worse condition."
Sansa grimaced and tried to pool emotion into her eyes for the sake of looking genuine. "After Lord Bolton's visit Ramsay sought his entertainment….elsewhere. I'm afraid it was Myranda who took brunt of his anger."
Walda offered an understanding nod as she gazed out of the window wistfully "Bolten men have bed warmers" her gaze drifted to where the small blonde girl had re-entered the chamber.
"Roose too?"
"Of course"
"Well I suppose it is better them than us, is it not?" Sansa smiled gently placing her hand over Lady Walda's as she rose to leave.
"I hope you will visit me again" Walda said, eager to spend more time in Sansa's company to hear about the ways of Kings Landing Ladies.
"I will, I promise." Sansa whispered; and she meant it.
Days passed before Sansa saw Ramsay again; she she preferred it that way. He'd left to hunt the morning after she noticed Myranda's bruises but what he was hunting had not been specified. He's only just arrived back and already a chill crept down Sansa's spine; Ramsay sat triumphantly beside her at the dinner table. He didn't look at her, not once, he simply smiled whilst talking to his father as though nothing had happened. As the night drew to an end she felt his hand slip under the table and find her thigh. He squeezed her uncomfortably hard, he wanted her to wince away or whimper, he was daring her to; but she didn't. As his grip tightened she bit her lip and listened to Ramsay's continued conversation with his father; determined no pain would show on her face.
Roose wasn't fooled, "Lady Sansa, are you well?" he fained interest, looking at Ramsay expectantly.
"I am feeling a little faint, may I retire early?" She asked.
Roose nodded and Sansa stood ready to flee before Roose's flat voice stopped her. "Ramsay, your wife is unwell, see her tended to."
Ramsay had just taken a gulp of wine and swallowed it with a smirk, "It would be my pleasure father."
"One moment before you leave" Roose beckoned Ramsay to his side and lowered his voice so that none other could hear him. "You love your wife Ramsay, if anyone inside these walls hears differently tonight you'll be sleeping beside your pet in those kennels. Do you understand?"
Sansa cursed herself as they walked the corridor toward her bed chamber in silence, she should have expected Lord Roose to send Ramsay with her. Roose had one thing and one thing only on his mind; a child of House Stark and House Bolton. The very thought made Sansa nauseous.
Ramsay's men parted at their door to let them through. Only when it thudded shut behind them did Ramsay address her with menacing glee. "Don't worry. They won't tell a sole what they hear tonight."
"How was your hunt, my Lord husband" her tone was too sickly he saw through it.
"Challenging…" he moved closer, hot breath hitting her cold neck "…but I do love a girl who can run."
He wanted her to recoil in horror but she wouldn't "Blonde or Brunette?" she asked, sitting on the bed.
"Blonde I'd say, though it was red by the time the dogs had eaten. They worked hard so they fed well."
The lack of reaction made him angry, fire was burning in Ramsay's eyes. He had a feeling Sansa wasn't squeamish even on their wedding night he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that her weeping and wailing was more for show than purpose. He'd made enough girl scream in pain and fear to know what it sounded like.
"You know... I was promised a Wolf" he taunted her, taking off his thick leather boots.
"…and I was promised a nobleman but here we are" Sansa replied, coldly.
"Take your clothes off" he growled "Or I'll do it for you" at least they were alone this time but she could see the shadow of reek stood outside the door. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice and quickly threw off her robes determined not to lose another dress to Ramsay's brutality. As she stood in front of the bed, naked, with a pool of her dress at her feet the cold night air caressed her body and she shivered; this was going to be unpleasant.
Ramsay watched her in silence, basking in her awkward uncomfortable stance. He liked the way she tried to cover herself, he was violating her and letting her anticipate what was coming. His lips met her neck and she felt him bite her; he wasn't gentle. He growled into the back of her shoulder "If you scream tonight, I'll put you in the dungeons and tell my father you're unwell for the rest of the week." It wasn't a threat, it was a promise and she knew it. Pushing her back on the bed his movement were hurried and harsh, his trousers fell to the ground and his hardness grazed her thigh. He lined himself up until his tip pressed her crisp hairs and with one deep thrust he filled her to the hilt. It wouldn't take him long, not at this speed, not after days on the hunt. His hand clenched around her throat.
"Look at me little Wolf" he growled "Look at me!"
Sansa closed her eyes; at least she was home in Winterfell.