Author's Notes: Hey everyone, glad that you liked the last chapter and I hope that you like this one too, I own nothing. CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE BOOKS. GORE INCLUDED.
"Lady Stark." The guard's words brought Sansa from sleep. Sitting up on her cot she turned to face the guard at the entrance to her tent.
"Yes? What is it?" She asked him. She knew that the guard would not have bothered her in the middle of the night unless it was something important. There was no sounds of battle outside so she did not think that the camp was being attacked.
"A man came into camp and has requested an audience with you. If I may say my lady, he has an ill look to him." Sansa hesitated, but only for a moment, she could not appear weak in front of her men.
"Send him in." After the man left Sansa quickly rose and put on a robe and sat in a chair to wait. She did not have to wait long, the guard soon returned with the man. As the man gave a bow Sansa studied him. He was fair-haired and had a boyish look to him. The look; however, did not reach his eyes. He gave a bow, but the look he gave her was anything but respectful.
"My lady." He said. Sansa acknowledged his bow and indicated a seat which he took.
"I was told you wished to speak to me." Sansa said.
"Indeed I do my lady. I believe that I am in a position to help both of us." Sansa regard him for a moment and then spoke.
"I believe that first introductions are in order."
"Of course, of course, please forgive me. I am Damon, a man-at-arms in the service of House Bolton." At his words Sansa stiffened, but forced herself to maintain a calm exterior.
"I thought all of Roose Bolton's men were inside the Dreadfort. Speaking of which, how did you get into my camp?"
"I am quite familiar with the land around here. I am rather fond of hunting." At his words Sansa felt loathing coil within her stomach. She recognized him now.
He was Damon alright, Damon Dance-for-Me. Jeyne had told her about the activities of her late and unlamented husband, particually his fondness for hunting, hunting women. He would strip them naked and let them loose in the forest and then chase them down with his dogs, rape, kill and then flay them when he caught them. He was not alone in this, he had a group of companions with him that Jeyne had feared only slightly less than her husband. The man before her was one of those men, she longed to order him seized and executed, but she restrained herself and forced her to listen.
"The reason that I have come," Damon was saying; "Is because I have a proposition for you. I am assigned to the main gate. I can arrange for the gate to be opened." At his words Sansa's breath caught in her throat. His offer seemed almost too good to be true.
Despite the establishing of siege lines they had, as had been predicted, made little progress. They had been unable to take Bolton by surprise and they did not have the number to mount an assault on the walls of the Dreadfort. Worse, the weather was getting worse and worse. If something did not happen soon they would be forced to retreat in disgrace. Having a traitor open the gate might very well be the only option, if the man could be trusted. Sansa resisted the urge to grimace at that last thought.
The man was a Bolton, in nature if not in blood and the last time a Stark had trusted a Bolton Starks had died. Had she not vowed that she would never trust a Bolton again? Yet, what choice did she have, as she seemed to have no other viable way to take the Dreadfort. She gritted her teeth and began to speak.
"You want something in exchange for this service I presume?"
"Nothing that you will find beyond your capability, nor overly unpalatable to you. First, I wish a pardon for my part in the actions of House Bolton against House Stark, I want to be ennobled and given a keep. I also wish to be named castellan of the Dreadfort, I will act as guardian to the child of Ramsey Bolton till it comes of age." Sansa sucked in a breath. What Damon demanded was quite princely and some may grumble at the thought of raising up such a man and giving him the Dreadfort, one of the strongest castles in the North.
Yet she had no choice, if she refused him she would be condemning thousands of her men to death. She had to agree and he knew it. She could just make out the slightest of smirks on his face. She was just about to swallow her pride and agree to his terms when a thought occurred to her. It was just a passing fancy at first, but as she pondered it the more that she saw that it could work. She knew that a smile of triumph might give her away, so she forced herself to keep her face expressionless, as if she were keeping her anger in check.
"Very well." She rose, attempting to look as regal and noble as possible.
"I, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North, pardon you for your part in the treachery of House Bolton against House Stark. I further name you castellan of the Dreadfort and its guardian to the child of Lady Bolton till it reaches its majority. At that time, I shall appoint you to a keep or castle of your choosing. This I swear by the old gods and the new." He smiled, rose and bowed.
"I accept your offer and I swear that I shall serve you well. This I swear by the old gods and the new." He looked as if he was about to depart, then he paused and turned back to her.
"I will arrange for the gate to be opened at the hour of the wolf tomorrow night, of course, require you to publicly announce all of this to the surviving inhabitants of the Dreadfort and the lords of your army. In order to avoid any…misunderstandings which might occur otherwise." Sansa forced a strained smile to her face.
"Of course." Words are wind, it costs me nothing. At last the man left the tent, which seemed to smell better once he had left.
After a moment she had the guard call her lords together and informed them of the traitor and the planned attack. Some of them expressed doubt as to the validity of the word of Damon. Even if he spoke truth, success was not guaranteed. Still, they had little choice and they all knew it. They did not have the numbers for an assault, nor did they have the time or resources for a traditional siege. This truly was their only chance. They would either take the castle, or the siege would fail, it would all be decided the next night.
As soon as the darkness hid their movements the force led by Sir Massey and Umber which had been assembled to storm the gate ahead of the main force set out. The rain had come up and that further helped to hide their movements. They would move as close to the gate of the Dreadfort as they could and then they would wait. Damon had said that at the hour of the wolf he, and his confederates Sansa assumed, would seize the gate and open it. Once that happened the advance force would seize the gatehouse and hold it till the main force could move in.
Sansa would not be accompanying them, she would only be in the way if she went and she had other plans for that night. Once the army moved out she went into the forest, accompanied only by Brienne. Ostensibly she was there to pray to the Old Gods for the safety and success of the soldiers, in reality, she was going for an entirely different reason. Once she had gone far enough that she no longer feared being discovered she chose a spot and sat down on the ground. Once that was done she turned to look at her bodyguard.
"Guard my body while I am gone." Brienne said nothing, she merely nodded and place herself in a position to block anyone who might attempt to approach Sansa. Sure of her safety, Sansa left her body.
Fortunately there was an owl close at hand and Sansa entered it. Once she was in control she flew over the walls of the Dreadfort. Once there she alighted on the roof of one of the buildings and waited what was to come. She did not have to wait long.
A shout rose from the woods as the advance party surged forward towards the now open gate. Below her Bolton men, most only half dressed and half awake, stumbled from barracks and moved to block the invaders. Sansa paid them no mind, she was here for a specific target and she had not yet seen him. Roose Bolton was nowhere to be seen. She took to the air and flew over the ongoing battle, fear growing inside her that she would miss him in the unfurling chaos.
There certainly was chaos aplenty. The invading force had swept into the castle and clashed with the defenders. While the latter were both numerous and well trained, they had not had time to form into a defensive formation, or even put their armor on in many cases. The attackers, on the other hand, where prepared for battle. They advanced in a body, easily sweeping aside any knots of defenders who attempted to put up resistance. It seemed that the castle must soon fall. Just then there was a flurry of movement near the keep.
A small party of horsemen emerged and charged into the attackers. These had become spread out and were unprepared to combat a cavalry charge and a number were cut down. However; the horsemen were not numerous enough to fully capitalize on their advantage and, confined to the courtyard, they lacked sufficient room to maneuver as much as they would like and the attackers were able to rally and before long the horsemen began to be pulled off of their horses and cut down. Taking advantage of the attackers' distraction, the defenders fell back and began to form a defensive shield wall. It may eventually fall in time, but at the moment it was of no interest to Sansa. There was one man still mounted and had made his way through the gate and was galloping towards the forest. It was Roose Bolton.
With a beat of her wings, Sana gave chase. She was not quite sure what she was going to do, but she was determine that he would not escape justice. First she had to slow him down. As she drew close she jumped from the owl and into the mind of the horse. The animal was tired and had received an injury during the battle at the Dreadfort, plus the fact that horses were not particularly bright or strong-willed creatures to begin with. All of these combined resulted in in an animal which was easily dominated. It offered little resistance when Sansa entered its mind.
Once there Sansa found herself feeling both powerful and stupid at the same time, as well as fear and pain. She forced herself to concentrate and began to buck and jump. Bolton held on and lashed her flacks, sending flashes of pain through her body. She did her best to ignore it, but it was hard. In desperation she dashed towards a tree and threw herself against it. She heard a bone snap and his grip loosened. With a final heave he lost his grip, she felt the weight lift from her back and he fell with a curse into the snow. She was about to stomp on the man when a sound caught her attention. For a moment she imagined that she had imagined it, but then she heard it again, the howl of a wolf.
Exhalent, Sansa thought. Just as she thought that, the wolf itself emerged.
It was large, about as big as Lady. Its fur was an almost silvery grey which contrasted with its golden eyes. Sansa did not see any other wolves in the area, so this must be one of the lone wolves which Maester Lewin had told them about. Alone or not, it was enough to frighten the horse and it was becoming more and more frightened and harder to control. That was alright, it had served its purpose and Sansa left it and slid into the wolf.
The wolf fought her, as did all animals which Sansa entered, but this one fought her harder than any of the others. Its will was stronger and it was fiercely determined to keep her out. Sansa was tiring and did not have time to break the wolf to her will, instead she took a different approach. As their minds struggled with one another Sansa saw its mind. It was indeed alone, Sansa saw it being driven away from its pack by the alpha male and had been surviving on its own as well. Its existence had been hard, alone it had been forced to subsist on rodents and the leavings of the pack and howling its loneliness into the dark at night. Seeing this Sansa felt a sense of kinship with the wolf.
You are alone, I am alone too. My pack is dead and I am alone. I need you and together we will not be so alone anymore. As Sansa sent her thoughts into the wolf her own pain flared up at the memory of her family. She did not turn away from it, instead she fed it into the mind of the wolf. Though painful, it seemed to have the desired result. Sansa felt the resistance lessen and at last the wolf let her in and take control. Once there Sansa turned and loped back towards where Roose Bolton had fallen.
He was seated on the ground, his left leg twisted at an odd angle and clearly broken. He had had his sword in his hand at the time when he fell from the horse and it lay well out of his reach. Just to be safe, Sansa moved to stand between it and him. This caught his attention and he turned to face her. His face was as blank as always, but Sansa thought she could see just a hint of fear in his eyes, she certainly hoped so, though it was not nearly enough.
Looking at him Sansa felt hate of an intensity that she had not felt since she had strangled Joffrey. This was the man who her family had trusted and he had repaid them with betrayal and murder. She wanted him to hurt, to feel fear and despair like her family had, she wanted him to feel at least a fraction of the pain that she had felt in the long months since that horrible day that word had come from the Twins. It enraged her that he did not seem all that frightened, she would have to change that.
Her lips curled back in a snarl, but still Roose did not appear frightened. Not knowing that the wolf was more than what it appeared Roose doubtless thought that if he remained calm the wolf would not attack him as wolves rarely attacked humans, especially if they were alone. Sansa was going to teach him how wrong he was, but there was something she wanted to do first. Word of Roose's words to Robb had gotten back to King's Landing and Joffrey had found it quite funny.
The Starks send their regards. Sansa said in her mind. She wished that she could speak it aloud so that he would know why he was about to die and who was killing him, but she could not speak while in an animal body and she would just have to satisfy herself with the knowledge. She crouched and sprang. Too late Roose realized his danger and tried to get out of the way.
Sansa slammed into Roose and bore him to the ground. She lunged for his face, but Roose got his arm in the way and Sansa felt a tooth break on the metal vambrace. Before Sansa could react Roose slammed his fist into the side of the wolf's head. Pain flashed in Sansa's head and she felt her grip loosen. With a heave Roose pushed her back and then went for a knife at his belt. Sansa lunged forward again and latched onto Roose's hand and, at last, elicited a scream from the man as her tooth tore through his leather glove and took off two of his fingers. Seeming to forget about her altogether he clutched his maimed hand with the other at his chest.
Seizing the opportunity, Sansa went for his face. With nothing to block her she sank her teeth into his cheek, producing another scream. She could have gone for his throat and brought it to an end to the affair, which the wolf wanted to do, but she wanted him to suffer first. His hands came up to stop her, but he lacked the strength to do so and Sansa would not be denied. With a wet tear part of his cheek came off and without really thinking about it Sansa chewed and swallowed, both Sansa and the wolf finding it quite satisfying.
Suddenly they both cried out in pain as Roose got the knife and thrust it into the wolf's side. The blow lacked sufficient strength to do significant damage; however, it was sufficient to cause considerable pain. It drove the wolf to override Sansa's desire and it lunged for the throat. It was soft and tore easily, blood fountaining up into the wolf's throat, warm and salty, it tasted good. Sansa made no effort to restrain the wolf as it tore at clothing and armor to get at the meat beneath to sate its hunger. Once it had eaten its fill it settled back as Sansa used it to return to her body.
Brienne was still standing guard and spun to face the wolf as it approached. She drew her sword, but Sansa stopped far enough away to not present a threat. After doing so she released her hold on the wolf and returned to her own boy. As she did so she gave a slight jerk, slightly startling Brienne a second time. Sansa turned to see the wolf loping off into the forest. Sansa turned back to Brienne and smiled.
"It is done." She said without going into greater detail. With that she rose and hurried back to the warmth of her tent.
The next day Sansa sat in a room in the Dreadfort drinking wine while outside the sound of celebration could be heard. As word had spread among the defenders that their lord had deserted them the defenders had quickly lost heart and had pleaded for mercy. Part of Sansa would have been quite happy to have the lot of them hung, but she had decided that that would only cause more trouble and she might have use for them later. Her act of clemency had caused some discontent among her lords and there had been some angry mutters when she raised Damon to the status of petty lord and named him the castellan of the Dreadfort for Lady Bolton and her child. That man was now in the room with, also drinking wine.
"I wanted to thank you once again for your service." Sansa said to him. He had drunk far more than she had and was having some difficulty speaking coherently, though he seemed quite able to stare at her chest.
"It was no difficulty at…at all my lady. I am always quite leased…pleased, yes, pleased to be of service to the Starks." He stank of the drink, but Sansa forced herself to walk up to the man smiling all the while. As she did so she glanced out the window and saw that the snow had turned to a freezing rain. Perfect. Her thoughts were interrupted by his speaking again.
"When will Ramsey's wh…wife…wife be coming?"
"Lady Bolton." Sansa said, emphasizing Jeyne's title. "I think she shall remain at Winterfell. However; it shall not concern you." He looked at her in a quizzical manner.
"Wha…"
"It will not matter to you, because you will be dead." At her last words she struck.
The knife that she had concealed in her dress came out and she slashed it across his throat. It was a clumsy effort and the cut was far from clean, but it got the results that she wanted. There was a time that she would have hesitated and been repelled by the blood, but that time was long past. He tried to block her, but he was slowed by drink and was far too slow. He tried to staunch the bleeding, but the blood continued to flow and he slid to the floor.
Though he tried to speak he could not get anything past he cut throat. He might not have been able to speak with his mouth he could still speak with his eyes.
Why? Though she did not have to answer, she did.
"I pardoned you for your actions against my family, only that. Jeyne told me what you, Ramsey and the others did to his smallfolk. Those women were by extension my smallfolk and I did not pardon you for that. If there are hells may you rot with him there." The last part said with in a low hiss. Once she was certain that he was dead she went to the window and opened it. She then went to the wall, gathered herself and slammed her head against it. As she fell to the floor she cried out.
"HELP! I've been attacked and the castellan has been murdered!"
Author's Notes: Hey everyone, I hoped that you liked this chapter. As promised it was longer, I hope long enough. What did you think of it? Again a bit Deus Ex Machina, but there really was no other way to end it. Don't worry am working on ideas for what happens next, have general idea just need to fill in some blanks. Till next time please pray for the persecuted Christians in Pakistan, those who are sick and all who need prayer and that the violence and anger about the election will end in the US. Bye and may Jesus bless you.