"Draw me a bath" she spoke to the small servant girl who stood timidly by the door.
Ramsay had followed her in from the Balcony and the young girl who looked no older than fourteen looked terrified in his presence.
Her hands shook and she began to draw the bath and Ramsay was the first to notice. He smiled as he moved the Sansa's back and felt her tense as his rough hands began to pull at the stiff materiel of her dress. The only advantage of her swollen stomach was that she no longer had to wear her horribly restrictive corset but she'd have welcomed it right now. Without it she felt too exposed to his touch. Tensing she spoke clearly, "You will not" her clear crisp voice rang through the room as steam began to rise from the bathing pool of the Kings chamber. It was built from stone and rose out of the floor, unlike any bath she had ever seen before. She would have been excited at the prospect of it had Ramsay's hands not been roaming her back, she felt his fingers brush against her skin as she realised he'd unlaced her completely.
"Stop" Sansa pulled away sharply glaring at Ramsay " We have a deal Ramsay, remember, if you break it, so will I." She saw him grin as he brought his face to hers and almost sang the words at her in a horribly mocking tone.
"I don't believe you" God, that golden crown looked so horribly wrong still on his head.
He snapped his eyes from her cold expression as she held her dress up to her body and glared at him intently.
"Fine, fine!" he pounced across the room and she sighed to herself, he was in one of those moods, the ones that never ended well. He was feeling sadistic and if he didn't have her to take it out on…he would find someone else.
"You, girl!" he looked over at the little servant girl who was still filling the pool timidly, Sansa's eyes widened with sympathy as she saw the small girl look up and immediately shrink back toward the wall. It was too late, Ramsay clutched her face in his grubby fingers. Her back against the wall but he caused her no pain, simply forced her to look at him.
"What would you say if your King demanded he take you, right now, whilst the queen watched from her bath."
He sneered, glancing over to Sansa, more interested in her reaction than the girls but Sansa's eyes stayed on the girl. Plain but pretty in a sort of way she looked terrified and Sansa's heart raced as she saw the same look of utter dismay that she'd felt a thousand times when Jeoffrey had treated her this same way.
The girls eyes filled with self loathing and bitter disgust as she spoke quietly "It would be an honour my King." She said every word as though it burnt her tongue to say and her eyes paled with submission realising that this may well be her fate.
Sansa couldn't watch it, he strong resolve melted as she shouted at them both.
"Fine!" Ramsay's eyes gleamed as she saw Sansa flush slightly pink. "Get out!" she hissed at the girl and the moment Ramsay released his grip the girl fled from the scene, endless thanks whispered to Sansa as she passed.
Sansa sucked in a deep breath and she watched Ramsay stood opposite her, his heavy breathing and dark smile made her itch. "Well go on then." He hissed beckoning toward the water as Sansa slowly but surely began to drop the dress from around her. It was a game, it was always a game with him, who would back down first, who could push it the farthest without dying as a result.
Her milky white swollen breasts felt the brush of the cold air as she saw Ramsay's jaw tighten, his enthralled gaze flickering over her body in eager anticipation. She had no doubt he wanted to see her but he found the idea of forcing her just as appealing as the act itself. He had control, he knew she didn't want him to watch but he would anyway.
A loud unruly banging on the large oak door drew away Ramsay's attention like a wolf hearing the approach of hunters as it fed from it's kill. He snarled flying toward the door and ripping it open.
Coming face to face with Petyr and a dozen of his men who had supposed to be guarding the door.
"I told you no visitors" he snarled at the men as Sansa clutched her dress back up to cover her body.
Petyr smiled, his sharp eyes catching the scene perfectly. "That, does not apply to me nor shall it ever my King." He spoke clearly and Ramsays eyes flickered down to the hands pin that he wore on his tunic. How could he have gotten it so quickly? It angered Ramsay that he was so presumptuous as to wear it even in his temporary appointment.
Petyr's eyes met his and he knew something was wrong. "We must speak, immediately my King."
With one flick of his eyes Ramsay knew he wanted to speak without Sansa's present and he roughly pushed the man back out into the empty corridor. His fierce eyes flying to his men as they all dispersed to guard each end to ensure they would not be disturbed, or overheard.
"What is it?" Ramsay snapped.
Petyr lowered his voice to barely a whisper before he spoke. "Melisandra fled to the wall when reports of Stannis's death circulated. I have just gotten word that Jon Snow, natural son of Lord Eddark Stark has fallen this night."
Ramsay's eyes widended as he took in the news and considered it. He didn't see the problem but something in Petyr's concern made him wary.
"Why is this bad news?" Ramsay questioned as Petyr spoke firmly.
"It is not…bad news Ramsay but it is unexpected news and the two unfortunately like to roam hand in hand. My sources confirmed that before his death Jon Snow had brought an army of Wildings through the gates of Castle Black. He commanded an army of thousands, more lethal than most and with invaluable knowledge which we will require…I assure you…we will require."
Ramsay fell to silence for a moment, "Surely their allegiance would fall to my wife would it not?"
Petyr shook his head, "Wildings are not like you or I, Jon Snow saved many of them and their trust and gratitude with pass to Sansa but their allegiance will fall only upon strength, leadership and their future. Which you must command. As always Ramsay, your wife is your Key but you must open the door."
Petyr turned to leave "I trust you will be happy in my forming a small council I deem…appropriate to deal with this matter."
Ramsay nodded still wrapped up in his thoughts of the wildlings, he'd always been fascinated by the rumours of their animalistic brutality.
Petyre stopped and starred intensely at Ramsay, "He was her brother, I do not need to warn you that severe shock or distress is a known cause of child loss. Be…as gentle as you can."
Ramsay nodded.
He was as gentle…as he could be. Which by anyone else's standard would barely pass as pleasant but he held her while she cried, even when she thought against him.
An hour later she sat in the warm water, her eyes fixed on the wall in a vacant stare as Ramsay lifted a wash cloth to clean her back and his hand ran over her swollen stomach.
Ramsay paused, taking it all in before he spoke softly.
"Was he as bad as the stories? The little King Jeoffrey?" he moved next to her and gently pressed a kiss to her forhead.
Her voice was cold as her quiet, "He was worse than the stories" she saw Ramsay smile beside her as his voice growled "Was he worse than me?"
Sansa looked up to him with her tear stained eyes as her voice lowered even further "When I was thirteen Jeoffrey cut off my father's head, mounted it on a pike and made me stand before it until he was pleased. When I didn't cry he had his guards beat me."
She paused, looking away from him,
"No Ramsay, he was not worse than you."