Warning: from this chapter forth strong language, violent and explicit content, if you are sensible to this things, please, do not read on (and check my author's notes at the end).
As always I dedicate this chapter to my lovely reviewers, I love you.
(I'll update at 4 reviews)

Travelling with Ramsay had turned to be calmer than she expected, he would always stay at the top of the convoy, his dark horse leading the way, she would seldom hear his voice ordering his men around, her own men following her orders only.
Annalys stayed in the middle, surrounded by her soldiers and the two handmaidens, in the past moons they had travelled great distances, but that was the first time their horses were moving at a steady pace, not rushing to get to a destination. Annalys came to dread the slow trot of her grey mare, all she wanted was to reach home as fast as she could, but that couldn't be possible, Ramsay was still torturing her even away from the Dreadfort.
They would wake at dawn and ride steadily for hours, their breaks every hours annoying the lady to death since Annalys and her handmaidens were expected to keep themselves busy with silly games, like proper ladies. At night they would settle in a field, her and Bolton's men would erect a makeshift tent for the three of them.
Ramsay had chosen to bring only his most trusted men, and they were split in two groups, few riding near their lord, others at the end of the convoy, looking after the hounds in the cages, the same dogs that the bastard had persuaded her to take and she had agreed, not in the mood to fight over silly stuff.
What she hadn't expected, the first day of the trip, when the courtyard was flowing with servants and soldier preparing the last things, was to see Theon's figure approach them.
Limping towards her he had bowed his head and whispered a weary 'my lady', Ramsay had then grabbed his collar and escorted him to the dog's cages.
Her mouth had flown agape as she watched the man, who was once so full of himself, climb on one of the cages, not saying a word of protest, he curled up in a ball, near one of the panting dogs.
Theon was now in the back, alongside all of Ramsay's hounds, she was positive that he hadn't been let out since the first day, while the beasts were let free every break, she would sometime turn her head towards the wagon to see her old friend, still curled up in the same position, limbs slightly moving, sometimes shaking, Annalys couldn't understand if it was from the cold air or fear.
Walking around the empty field Annalys caught sight of the bastard, talking with one of her own men, they seemed to be getting along and that made her skin crawl, from her fit of rage at the Dreadfort her own soldiers had begun to follow her only orders, but she felt that their loyalty wasn't dictated by their hearts.
She knew, but hoped to be wrong, that if it were for the Woodsteep to go into war against another house, they wouldn't follow her into battle, they wouldn't be willing to die for her.
Theon was contorted in one of the cages, his long limbs scarcely fitting in the contraption, she stealthily walked up to him, her head bowed down, the hood of her cloak covering her hair, that in the usual gloomy light of the North now looked raven-black.
"Theon" she called for him, her voice to a small whisper, he didn't move, arms still covering his head, but she could bet that his eyes were doubling in size by the fear.
Flashbacks of her own hands slicing through his skin brought up bile into her throat, she composed herself, her hand reaching for him in the cage.
Theon shot away from her touch, whimpering, and with dread Annalys lowered her hand, she felt a pang. As a child her finger had been bitten by an insect, the wound stung so much that she had cried for hours, coddled by her mother, but this time it hurt even more, because crying wouldn't help, no one would comfort her and surely some maester's ointment wouldn't heal her.
"Theon" she called once again, offering him her leather flask full of fresh water.
"Not Theon" he corrected her, voice harsh and lowered to a murmur "Reek".
"When you're alone with me you're still Theon" she forced out, she didn't even believe herself, he looked so damaged that even her sister, the positive little Lunae, would've thought the same. Tentatively she raised her flask to the cage, the bars too narrow to fit the entire thing through, the lady motioned him to get closer to her side of his temporary jail, eyes flicking quickly towards her betrothed every few seconds.
He hesitated, possibly afraid that it would be one of Ramsay's sick tricks, she hadn't been present to witness any of them, but she had heard his soldiers talking about them, multiple times.
"C'mon, Theon, you can trust me" she instantly regretted saying it, as a grimace formed on his face "please, drink a little".
Her nose was starting to adjust to his stench, letting her get even more near the cage.
Theon slowly put his face on the bars as the lady raised the flask to his dry lips.
"See?" she said, treating him like a wounded animal "When I'm alone you don't have to fear".
He nodded slightly, thanking her with his eyes.
She left swiftly, nod daring uttering another word and too scared someone would see her. Ramsay now treated her as a somewhat ally and she didn't want to take any risks.

The journey lasted a bit over a week, each day passing by as the one before; Annalys had formed her own routine when it came to Theon, she knew that he would be given food on every other day and drinks on the ones without food.
Every day, being extremely careful, she would either slip him a piece of bread, or 'accidentally lose' her flask. One day, at night, she had even slipped out of the tent with a cloth, it wouldn't be as warm as furs, but everything was better than nothing, she figured he would hide it in the morning.
They never exchanged words, a sentence was never uttered, their eyes would speak for them. Annalys' tired and alert ones conversing with Theon's puffy and terrified ones.
As the days went by and the landscape morphed into her familiar fields, the lady felt a weight slowly being lifted from her shoulders.
The idea of waking up in her own bed being extremely comforting, if she closed her eyes she could already sniff the sweet scent of her room.
Annalys had spent her nights at the Dreadfort thinking about her sisters, she would force herself to remember their faces, their perfumes and quirks, it had been one of the few activities that had helped her save her sanity. But, although she tried hard day and night she struggled to remember the sound of their laughter, this realization had shaken her immensely.
Breathing in the fresh air she wiggled on her horse, a childish screech escaping her lips and legs slightly flailing out, as the walls of the Woodsteep came into view. Although Ser Olivar Flint had arrogantly stated that the building was still a day's ride away, Annalys couldn't help but feel overjoyed. Everything was starting to adapt to her plans; she was finally home, Robb's war was actually, as she heard from Bolton's men, going better than expected and soon she would've married her childhood best friend.
She relaxed on the saddle, picturing herself in Winterfell's godswood with her white dress and her hands intertwined with Robb's. Annalys also believed that she could save Theon's life by appealing to her real betrothed's kind soul and simply exiling him to the wall.
Inebriated with her fantasies she smiled at the blue sky, lonely clouds floating here and there in a comforting manner.

Covering the candle's wick with her hands she shielded it from the cold air of a typical Northern night, the faint light brightened a small area around her.
Walking slowly just to make sure no one would hear her, she tiptoed away from the comfortable heat of the bonfire and her own tent. Her fur covers draped around her shoulders like a cape kept her warm enough to walk around the glade only in her nightgown.
She approached a spot far enough from the camp and she could finally see the Woodsteep's silhouette, the darkness around it dulled by the candles light seeping through some windows.
Annalys let her blankets slide off her back with a wiggle of shoulders, her hands still occupied with the candle. She plopped ungracefully on the fur covers, finally placing her candle on the grass near her, the lady then hurriedly wrapped the remainder of the blanket around herself once again, her body now resembling a cocoon.
She basked in the cozy warmth of her nest, eyes still fixed on the castle's outline, fearing that it would disappear from her eyes.
"What are you doing?" Ramsay's voice awoke her from the trance, Annalys rolled her eyes, unnerved.
"I cannot believe that we finally arrived" he was standing behind her, projecting a weird, wobbly shadow on the grass.
Ramsay walked in front of her, his silhouette blocking the Woodsteep's one, he then crouched down, his leather garments creaking slightly.
Silence surrounded them as they stared at each other, he was examining her, she was confused, her paranoia having the best of her thoughts.
"You cannot sleep?" he finally asked her, his tone far from the concern of a betrothed.
"I just wanted to bask in the view" she answered truthfully, his body still shielding the Castle, he snickered mockingly, then jumped back on his feet, his hand grabbing the hem of her furs on his rise, forcing her to follow suit.
She swallowed hard as his hands tore the furry fabric from her body, the cold air forcing her to cover herself quickly.
In a matter of seconds shivers started to rack her petite body, her teeth chattering blatantly, Ramsay gripped the furs, visibly intrigued by the view.
"You're a sight for sore eyes, my lady" she shakily raised her head, hate seeping through her own eyes, a feeling that she had tried to conceive for so long, was now trying to escape. Luckily the dim light of the candle that was still placed on the grass didn't reach her own face, it illuminated just her body, covered by her silky white nightgown.
He roughly reached for her waist as she stomped away towards her tent, his other hand spun her around, her own body now pressed against his.
His warmth engulfed her as the shivers subsided, she now was shaking slightly, but the teeth's chatter was gone.
She couldn't see much, having parted from the candlelight slightly, she could only see in front of her, Ramsay's face hovered over her head and she could hear him panting as his hungry hand roamed her lower body.
Annalys bit her lip, fearing the outcome, breathing in and out as inaudibly as possible she closed her eyes shut. She had heard many tales of maidens and servants, being cornered in dirty, awful places by men and them being violated, in hearing those stories she had always been grateful for her state of lady; as a foolish girl, she believed that those kind of things didn't concern her, with her guards and soldiers there to protect her. But now her men were sleeping peacefully by the fire and she wasn't even certain that they would protected her, nothing assured her that, maybe, in hearing her screams, they wouldn't join in.
His right hand rose to her breast, kneading her flesh with his harsh finger; she suppressed a scream as pain shot through her, fearing that that would've provoked him even more.
His arms wandered all over her body for what felt like hours, gripping, pulling, scratching her fragile frame, his heaving becoming stronger and stronger; with his pelvis awfully close to her upper thigh she could feel something firm digging in her own flesh, from what her handmaidens had told her she knew what it was and as she tried to suppress the impulse to vomit a feeble cry escaped her chapped, trembling lips.
Ramsay took a step away, a small cackle filling the air around her, she kept her eyes closed as the freezing air engulfed her once again, the light sound of steps on grass could be heard getting fainter and fainter as Annalys shook in the night wind.
When she gathered the courage to open her eyes her hands had ultimately gone numb, the sky had changed from a dark blue to a lighter one and the moon wasn't as high in the sky.
In a highly confused state she limped to the candle that was still on the ground, the wax had melted all over the grass, in her haze she crouched on her unsteady legs and grabbed the taper by its candle holder, the shaky light brightened her surroundings and she gasped. Her exposed skin had turned as pale as the snow in the tales of Winter and the tip of her finger were now a sickly blue color. Terrified at the sight, she moved to her tent quickly as much as her hurting legs permitted her.

Sitting on her horse Annalys moved her legs to and fro, with one hand she gripped the heavy cape draped all over her body while the other held the reins.
Looking around her she noticed her two handmaidens looking concernedly at her, sometimes she could hear them whisper to one another. The lady knew that seeing her in those conditions had scared them to death.
She had tumbled into the tent, shaking and mumbling incoherent words, her maidens had rushed to her side, both too drowsy to understand what was going on.
Annalys had been wrapped in all of the blankets they could find and Reila had then rushed out to prepare a hot tea. Mild frostbite, had said Cerlina running her hands up and down her body to create more heat. Once the confusion and shock had died down, the two maidens dared to ask questions. Usually servants weren't allowed to question their lords, let alone, scold them, but this was a different, unique situation and they needed to know.
Annalys had lied. She hadn't even tried to utter those words, she felt ashamed, instead she said that she had fallen asleep outside.
A sigh escaped her chapped lips as she slightly rested her entire weight on the horse's back. He had toyed with her once again; all he wanted was to ruin her happiness and to break her, and she had let him win.
Annalys stared at Ramsay's back as she wondered what his new way of torture would be awaiting her, she had tried to fight against him and she had gained her house back, but, she looked up at the sky to stop the tears, she had nothing more to gain, only to lose.
And, as Annalys Woods approached the Woodsteep's gates, she decided that she would stop resisting him, that submitting was her best choice, just like Theon had done.
"Who would pass this gate?" asked a soldier, he was situated in the highest tower of the walls, he knew exactly who they were, from the coat of arms and the fact that the whole Woodsteep had been getting ready for their arrival.
Silence fell as Annalys's horse came forward in the convoy, now her grey mare and Ramsay's dark brown stallion were now side by side.
"Who would pass this gate?" the young man repeated himself, voice louder than before, Annalys' didn't even look up to know that Ramsay was staring at her, she just kept her head down, looking at the hairs in the mane of Silver.
"Ramsay of House Bolton and his betrothed, Annalys of House Woods" she swallowed a lump in her throat and she raised her head to see the wooden doors of her loved castle opening.
She felt ashamed of herself, disgusting even, thoughts were flooding her mind, but, as the gates fully opened, and she saw her sisters' bright faces, everything died down.
Silver strolled into the courtyard, looking mighty and regal, and Annalys stood straighter, trying to gain some dignity back.
She jumped down of her Silver with the aid of one of her men, in his eyes could only see disdain for what had happened minutes prior.
Her older sister, Emmalyn, was the first one to come forward, bowing down in a perfect curtsy, Annalys did the same, a mischievous smile forming on her face. She then turned to Lunae, who's hair had been braided for the occasion and who's usual favorite blue dress had been replaced with a more elegant, grey one. Her curtsy was weak and clumsy, but Annalys still felt proud.
The two girls were ready to rush forward when Ramsay jumped down of his own horse, he readily situated himself at Annalys' side, one hand on the small of her back, she stiffened.
"Lady Emmalyn" he bowed and grabbed her sister's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips, it took all in Annalys' willpower not to jump forward and pull away his lips from her pure sister, but she stood still and watched as Emmalyn's cheeks turned a bright red. Then he moved to Lunae, repeating the full process over again.
Five minutes later the courtyard had already been cleared of all the servants, being occupied with the welcoming party in some other ways, Annalys entrusted the care of her mare, Silver, to her most loved stable boy and she then turned to her sisters.
They both ran up to her, Lunae, being only nine was still short enough to be reaching only her waist, right in the place where her skirt and corset were sewn together; the fifteen-year-old was almost as tall as her older sister.
They hugged for a long time, people coming and going all around them, but none of them seemed to care.
And as the three sisters headed inside hand in hand, Annalys finally felt like all of her troubles had lifted away and flown far, like a raven.

The Woods sisters had always spent the last hours between bedtime all together, there wasn't a day spent at the castle that Annalys didn't recall it ending with that tradition.
It was a tradition born when the youngest sibling, Lunae, at the tender age of four, had snuck into Annalys' room way after her designated bedtime. Emmalyn, after witnessing the commotion, had then joined the duo and thus their routine was born. Sometimes, if something sad had happened in their lives, they would even spend the night in Annalys' chambers, sleeping all on her bed.
The lady's bedroom had stayed untouched the entire time of her absence, the scent of winter roses lingered between the walls, and a few, fresh new, roses were kept in a vase on her wooden desk.
This was exponentially different from her room at the Dreadfort, the light coming from the big window shone brighter, the bed was way more comfortable, the covers were softer with the smoothest furs, even the air seemed to be fresher.
Cuddled on the vast bed, the three girls all held a cup of warm tea in their hands and the younger two gossiped on about the new shenanigans of the servants. Annalys was lying down, her eyes closed, basking in the voices of her sisters, smiling at their laughs, something she had dearly missed. She wasn't in the mood for blabbing, the weight of Ramsay's action still towering on her shoulders, she wondered if that would have ever left her or it would stay there, like an inner scar.
Emmalyn giggled after she uttered something that made Lunae cackle, Annalys' eyes shot open, a concerned look filling them.
"What did you just say?" she inquired, her voice shaking slightly, the cup she was still holding now extremely unstable in her hands.
Emmalyn and Lunae's laughter died down, the youngest lowered her eyes to the ground, ready to be scolded, the former stared at her sister in confusion. She was old enough to understand that Annalys' tone wasn't of someone angry at a joke, it wasn't an annoyed voice rather a panicked one.
Emmalyn's arm flew over her little sister's shoulders, in an attempt to comfort her.
"I was just joking about Robb Stark's new wife, sister, didn't you know?" Annalys locked eyes with her sibling, a distressed look mangling her soft features, she slowly shook her head, breath slowing down, becoming shallower by the second.
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, just a strained noise.
Her nose scrunched up, her brows furrowed, the lady looked at her sisters in utter disbelief. Her right arm gripped strongly the edge of the nightstand, preventing her body from wobbling or falling while her left hand let go of the cup she was gripping, the little tea remaining stained her white furs.
"I don't" she shook her head "you have to be mistaken".
"An" began Emmalyn, motioning the Lunae to leave the room, the little nine-year-old leaped down the bed and skipped out in a matter of seconds "it's true, word spread less than a week ago".
Annalys jumped up herself, pacing back and forth in the chamber, her legs moving out of control. She finally stopped in front of the large window whose view was of the woodlands. On clear nights, when the moon shone bright in the sky, she would run off to the maester tower and, with his help, she would be able to spot Winterfell, there she would spend hours, picturing her friends in the, what looked to her, small building miles away. She considered escaping to the maester's tower, just to sit on the stony window and pretend, just pretend, to go back to when she was a young, naïve child.
The fifteen-year-old grabbed ahold of her arm, guiding her older sister to the bed, gentling pushing her to sit.
Annalys had turned speechless, eyes staring at an empty space in the room, Emmalyn draped an arm around her shoulders, stroking her skin comfortingly, she then forced her older sister to look at her in the eyes.
"I know that you two were close, sister" the lady detached her body from her sister's, human touch repulsing her.
"Who is she?" spat the lady, her voice had turned into a mixture of hatred and disappointment.
"Rumors say that she is a healer, the two married in secret and-".
"Get out" Annalys pointed to the wooden door, her stare harsh, burning an hole in her sister's soul.
"But-" protested Emmalyn, saddened by her sister's harshness.
"I said, get out" Annalys shouted, her voice breaking in the process.
"Alright" answered even louder Emmalyn, sharing her sister's proud and headstrong personality.
The younger one rose to her feet, and bitterly, without saying another word, left banging the door closed behind her.
Annalys flung herself back on the mattress, eyes staring at the stone ceiling, soon enough the image started to get blurred out by tears.

READ ME, I'M IMPORTANT!
I'm back wowowow, I'm so happy to be back! How are you all doing?
Sorry I missed last week's update, but I got caught up in the Olympics (and I fell in love with my countries' Olympians, they are now my children and I will protect them) and then I went abroad for a few days, so I didn't have my loyal laptop to write.
ANYWAYS, I would say that writing this chapter was like giving birth to twins while in the desert. Not easy, not pleasant.
I first intended for this to be a filling chapter, (and it kinda is?) but I wasn't happy with the outcome and so I rewrote it from scratch (even because the initial chapter was like only 1000 words, ew).
I'm even going to write it here: from this chapter forth, shit is going to hit the fan so don't expect nice, happy things cause you ain't gonna get them. It's gonna be sad, it's gonna be harsh, strong language and disturbing content will be prominent.
I know that since this is a Ramsay Bolton story many of you already expected it, but I still want to make sure that no one gets "hurt". So, if you are sensible to this thing, please please please, stop reading this story. If you're still curious over the events, but don't feel like reading it's totally fine: just send me a PM (private message) and I'll write you a lil recap for every chapter.
I'm done now, this is probably the longest author's note in history.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter,
Nicole :)