Ser Barristan bore a weary expression upon his face, standing near the hearth, where Ghost had taken up the role of guarding the barely visible egg. Lady was curled up at Sansa's feet. The feel of her direwolf soothed her, and her nausea had worn off. The door opened with a thud, an angry-looking Robb walked him.
Robb's hands curled up into fists, anger radiated from his body. Sansa suspected he'd come to the wrong conclusion, she just hoped he hadn't made matters worse.
"The wildlings think we tricked them. Trying to lure them south to kill them. No Northman would do such a thing." Robb stated.
Sansa's eyes met those of her guard. "Ser Barristan, if you would leave me and my brother alone for a while. I'll call you back in when I'm ready."
"Of course, your grace." Ser Barristan nodded. He knew there was information he wasn't privy to, nor would he be, yet he understood with grace. "I'll be next door if you need me."
Sansa smiled, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you Ser Barristan."
The door closed behind the former kingsguard, and Sansa waited until she heard his door close. She stood and placed her hands in front of her, and raised her chin. "Please tell me you merely listened and told them you would consult with me."
Robb's jaw tightened. "I did, but why didn't you let me deal with it?"
"Because I know who did it!" Sansa replied, as calmly as possible, betraying the terror she felt inside.
Robb's jaw slackened, he furrowed his brow instead. "Then why didn't you say anything back there?"
"Because questions will be asked regarding how I know, and why I did nothing to stop it."
"Who did it, Sansa?" Robb asked.
"Ramsay Snow. Roose Bolton's bastard." Sansa replied.
Robb looked confused. "How do you know?"
"Ramsay hunts women with his hounds. He has a smaller one to track the women, then he lets the larger ones hunt them down. They eat the flesh." Sansa shivered.
A look of horror crossed Robb's face. He approached her, wrapping her in his arms. For a moment, she flinched. The possible presence of Ramsay, stirred a terror in her, where she couldn't let anyone, except Jon, touch her. But this was Robb, she reminded herself. He wouldn't hurt her. A look of hurt briefly passed his face until he remembered something she had told him.
"Is this the man you were forced to marry?" Robb asked. Sansa nodded. "You never told me what he did to you. Not everything."
"He beat me, cut me, burnt me and raped me. He forced Theon to watch as he raped me on our wedding night."
"And Theon did nothing?" Robb asked.
"Ramsay had destroyed what was left of the Theon Greyjoy we know. Theon was called Reek. Ramsay removed his manhood, flayed parts of his body. He looked little better than a wight." Sansa's body shivered at the recollection. "Theon couldn't do anything. He had no strength to save me on my wedding night. The man riding around the Gift, is not the same Theon Greyjoy who saved me from Ramsay Bolton."
Robb looked abashed. "How do we stop him?"
"I'm the only one who knows what he looks like. And he's probably disguised as a wildling." Sansa paced up and down, trying to gather her thoughts. "He sometimes takes his men with him. I suspect they are dressed up as wildlings, too." She turned to face Robb. "If we can prove Roose Bolton was behind it, we can have him executed as a traitor."
"We've got to catch Ramsay first." Robb agreed.
A notion occurred to Sansa, was it the Freefolk Ramsay was after? Or was it someone in particular. "We need to see if anyone else is missing, and if so, a description of them."
"Why?" asked Robb.
"What if he has been told to target me, you or Jon? He doesn't know what we look like. I'm the only one who knows who he is." Sansa smiled. "I think we need to speak with the Freefolk."
Tormund, Karsi, Advag, Robb and Ser Barristan, were gathered in Sansa's solar, sat around the large wooden table used to host meetings. To calm the situation, weakened cider was passed around, at Robb's suggestion.
Sansa stood at the head of the table, while everyone else was sitting down. Nervous at whatever the outcome, she stood with the hands clasped together in front of her. A position she had adopted whilst Lady of Winterfell. It was a defensive position, but nobody else would know. It exuded strength.
Sansa started the meeting. "First of all, I'll offer my sympathy to the family involved."
"Much good sympathy will do." Said Advag. "Won't bring Dayna back to life."
"Are there any others missing?" Asked Sansa.
"There are." Karsi replied. "Five in total."
"Did they all go missing in the same spot?" Queried Robb.
Tormund shook his head. "Different places. At first, we thought they were lost. Did up until Dayna was found."
"How do you know this is Dayna?" Sansa frowned.
"She had a necklace of leather, bone and iron. She was the only one who had one like that." Karsi replied. "It was found next to her body."
Sansa nodded, but it was Robb who spoke next. "What did she look like?"
"Tall, kissed by fire." Tormund said.
"And the others?" Sansa almost dared smiled.
Karsi, Tormund and Advag looked at one another, then at Sansa. "They were all kissed by fire." Tormund said. "Fuck! Ygritte."
"She's with Theon." Robb assured him, but Sansa threw him a sideways glance. Theon would not be able to protect Ygritte. If Jon was right in his assessment of her, Ygritte was more likely to protect Theon.
"Ygritte isn't the target, I am." Sansa said. "I think I know who the perpetrator is and why he is doing it."
"Go on." Karsi shrugged.
"I think it is Ramsay Snow." The group, except Sansa and Robb, looked nonplussed.
Sansa turned to Ser Barristan. "Roose Bolton's bastard." She confirmed. "He is the one who is suspected of having murdered Domeric Bolton."
Ser Barristan looked surprised. "Why would he let a bastard roam wild like that?"
"He is convenient." Sansa explained. "As a bastard, Roose can claim he has no control or authority over him. Most Lords have nothing to do with their bastards. Roose can ask him to go on a murder spree with little recourse, unless there is proof Roose asked him to."
"How do you know this?" Advag asked.
"I had a letter from Jon, warning me of Roose Bolton plotting something. He is trying to get the Lords to turn against you. Ramsay probably has a description of me, I have met Roose Bolton before. If it is thought the Freefolk killed me, or more likely, kidnapped me, the Lords would be in uproar, my father, or more than likely Jon, would be blamed for letting you through and causing the entire episode. If Ramsay doesn't catch me, he lets his pack of hounds kill the poor women. He likes to kill and torturing people. It is his favourite hobby."
"Why would he do that?" Advag asked. "What does he have to gain?"
"Power." Robb thumped his fist down on the table. "The Boltons have been vying for power over the Starks for centuries. They pretended to agree to the deal. I had a feeling when I visited Roose, he was a lying snake. Whichever way this goes for the Lords, if Sansa goes missing, the Freefolk can be blamed. If Ramsay kills the wrong woman, they will say you are infighting."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he kills some of the locals and pins the blame onto yourselves." Sansa sighed. "We need to capture Ramsay, keep him prisoner until the northern council is called. Roose will be attending. If we put Ramsay on trial, we can have both him and Roose executed for treason." She tried to suppress a smile curling at the edge of her lips. She wished she could kill Ramsay with his hounds again, but this time it would be frowned upon by the lords.
"Roose will have no power after the northern council is called." Robb reminded her of the position Jon would be in should his identity be revealed.
"We cannot count on that just yet." Sansa faced the Freefolk. "This is a lord who wishes to grab power, and is using yourselves, and me, as the excuse. I need you all to be as united as possible, but also vigilant. Nobody can go anywhere in groups of less than six. Although it is only women, kissed by fire who have so far been targeted, Robb is the heir to the Warden of the North. Men who have auburn hair, may also be targeted. As would anyone who has a passing resemblance to the description of Jon."
"I don't think Roose would know what he looks like." Robb said. "Jon was always kept hidden when the lords came. Who would he know to describe him?"
"Jon looks like a Stark." Sansa replied.
"Dark hair and grey eyes? That describes half the northerners." Robb replied. "I don't think Jon would be a target. Especially as it is probably known to Roose that Jon isn't in Queenscrown."
"What about Ygritte? She is alone with the boy who wants to steal her." Tormund asked.
"We'll have to capture Ramsay before they return." Sansa stated.
"That's sounds good, but if nobody knows what this man looks like, how do we capture him?" Karsi asked.
"Bait." Sansa smiled.
"No!" Robb said.
"I'm afraid I cannot allow that." Ser Barristan shook his head. "His grace would not be pleased."
"His grace doesn't need to know." Sansa shrugged. "Anyway, I'll be safe. I'll have two direwolves, hidden of course. They will be more than a match for eight of The hounds."
"You can take Greywind." Robb offered.
"I'm leaving Lady here. She is doing something for me. I would prefer to leave Ghost, but he is far better at fighting, and is more intimidating than Lady."
As if on cue, Lady stretched, before curling up into a ball in front of the fire, making her look smaller than a normal wolf, whereas Ghost got up and padded over towards Sansa and sat beside her, his eyes watching everyone with scrutiny, putting them all on edge.
"I don't think anyone can argue with that." Advag said.
"I#m not sure you're pretty husband would like that, little Lady." Tormund said. "If something should happen to you..."
Sansa placed her hands down on the wooden table. "It won't, I assure you. We will form a guard, although one which looks weak." Sansa turned to Ser Barristan. "Do you think you can stoop enough to play a feeble old man?" Sansa couldn't decide whether Ser Barristan was insulted or amused by her suggestion.
"That I can, if I must. But I don't like the idea."
"We don't have a choice." Sansa said. "I wish to be surrounded by people who can look like they would barely be able to hold a weapon. I also want archers. They are one of his preferred weapons of choice. I'll need to wear some armour under my clothes. All in all, I'll need ten people and two direwolves. Five people close enough by with sword, bludgeon, morningstar or axe. I will want five archers to take his guards down." There were nods of agreement around the room. "Ramsay can be injured but not killed. He is the key to ensuring there is no repeat of this action from the other Lords. We need him alive." The emphasis was made on the word need, to ensure everyone understood her message. "Between you," her gaze ran to the Freefolk, "I need you to find me nine people. I also want riders, but kept well away. Should Ramsay get past the trap, he will need to be chased."
"It might be better to have some of our men involved." Robb suggested. "Show unity between the Freefolk and the northern forces against him."
Nodding of agreement rang throughout the room.
"While we lay the trap, every woman who is kissed by fire, must remain here at Queenscrown where it is safer." Sansa told them.
"And how do you plan to be bait?" Karsi asked.
"I will lay the lake traps for the fish. There is an area close enough to the woodland for the archers to hide in the trees." Sansa was pleased with her idea.
"Do you even know how to lay the fishing traps?" Advag asked.
"I'm sure there is someone who can teach Ser Barristan and I to look like we know what we are doing." Sansa smiled.
The rest of the day and all the next, Sansa and Ser Barristan spent perfecting the Freefolk method of setting up the nets and fish traps for the lakes. The job would be smelly and uncomfortable, let alone risky. But the risk outweighed the cost. If they didn't do something, the Freefolk would retaliate, and a war could ensue. It was Sansa's duty to nip it in the bud sooner rather than later.
This would be a way of gaining the trust of the Freefolk. They knew Jon would put his life on the line for them. They needed to know Sansa would do the same. She couldn't go into battle with them, she'd be more of a hindrance than a help. Instead, she could do this. Sansa remembered Jon's words as he taunted Ramsay in her last life.
"Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?"
Even Ramsay had been impressed by Jon's audacity. Sansa wanted to prove she was just as worthy to be someone who would fight for her people. Of course, she felt awful for the women who were already, most likely dead. But she couldn't help but think this would provide an opportunity to show what type of rulers Jon and Sansa would be. For if they needed the support of the northerners, this was a way of proving they would fight for their people, regardless of where they came from.
Sansa didn't expect the trap to work immediately. However, there was one thing she could do the night before her first attempt. Write to her father and tell him what was going on.
Dear father.
I expect there to be a council to be called within the next couple of months. I would recommend you invite Lady Barbrey Dustin. I cannot give you any more information than that, but her presence would be useful.
I hope you are all well. Give my love to Rickon, and mother when she returns.
Love
Sansa Whitestark
Lady of Queenscrown
The following morning Sansa set out to lay the fishing traps and nets. She had to admit; she was a little nervous. This wasn't just for show. They had decided it would be best if Sansa became the one to do the job until Ramsay was caught, and they couldn't go without fish for too long.
The lake was about a mile away from Queenscrown. The furs she wore, had been borrowed from one of the Freefolk women, who was around her size. Underneath, she wore boiled leather armour, with metal plates around her chest. Not that Ramsay would want her dead, but if one of his soldiers missed and caught her, she had her chest covered.
The stench of the furs were foul. The animals they once belonged to, were skinned, cleaned once, and never again. There was dried blood, sweat and urine inside them, and although she was covered in clean clothes, the smell made her nauseous.
Furs and armour were a heavy combination, which Sansa was unaccustomed to. They weighed her down, and the trip to the lake and back, was going to be torturous, especially as it was a warm day.
Sansa led one of the mules, which carried the traps and netting, down the south tributary, and toward the lake. It was hard going for Sansa, who was on foot, while leading a mule who was being more than stubborn. She had been told the mule would allow her to ride it if needed for a quick getaway, but Sansa didn't trust it.
It was the hour of the owl, when Sansa first set out. Dawn had yet to dust the skies. At first, she was accompanied by Ser Barristan, who was to take the northern tributary. However, they split fairly soon, and Sansa was left alone, to make her way down to the lake.
Of course, Sansa wasn't entirely alone, neither was Ser Barristan. They were both accompanied by invisible guards along the route. And Sansa had two nearby direwolves keeping an eye and nose on her, making sure there were no unusual scents in the air.
Rocks poked up from the ground, making the journey almost treacherous. Sansa hoped they would catch Ramsay on the first day, as she didn't like the idea of making this journey on a daily basis. The pathway wasn't a real path. Grass was worn down, and pebbles marked the route. Sansa held a torch in her hand, to guide the way, but after an hour of walking with the torch in her left hand and the other leading a mule, her left arm was aching from the weight of the torch.
Lighter blue skies in the distance heralded sunrise, which was fortunate for Sansa. She wasn't sure whether she'd be able to do the work just by the light of the torch. The lake wasn't far off, which Sansa was glad for, she was huffing and puffing from the heat; her aching arm, and the weight of the furs.
Eventually, she arrived at the spot where she would lay the traps and prepare the nets for fishing. She tied the mule up at one of the posts, which were used for this purpose. Sansa unloaded the pack saddle as the skies grew lighter. The torch offered little light, the pitch probably nearly run out. Hot, she pushed her hood down, allowing her head to breathe. Sansa checked around the lake, but she couldn't see anyone, including Ser Barristan, which concerned her, she expected him to arrive sooner than her. However, if his torch had also gone out, it would explain why she couldn't see him.
Sansa's heart raced at the thought of being alone on the lakeside. What if Ramsay should find her? However, her fears were short-lived, when in the distance, she saw a figure in furs, with a torch and a mule, carrying what looked like fishing traps. Ser Barristan, she sighed inwardly, with relief. He waved at her and unloaded his traps. Sansa returned to her own, and busied herself with her job. The surrounding silence was deafening.
Once the wicker traps were removed from the mule, she placed them on the boat, which she would use to get to the posts at her side of the lake. It wasn't a deep lake, but the small boat was used to make the job quicker. Sansa climbed into the boat and rowed out to the posts in the southern part of the lake, and attached the twelve baskets. As she rode back, she saw Ser Barristan's torch had finally gone out, but it was daylight, despite the skies being grey and gloomy.
Sansa climbed onto the shore and fastened the boat up, and looked to see if she could see Ser Barristan, but he was nowhere in sight. She saw two of the other Freefolk who were supposed to be with her, leaving three missing. Her stomach sank, had Ramsay gotten to them already?
The post wasn't far, but Sansa couldn't see anyone around her, but that didn't mean Ramsay wasn't lurking. She rushed over to the post and untied the mule, contemplating whether to ride the pack saddle, although it wasn't designed for that. The mule would be faster getting back to Queenscrown than she would, but being high up made her vulnerable to be seen.
A few moments of contemplation, and she chose to walk. The mule would serve as cover, and once she got closer to the trees, Ghost and Greywind would be nearby. They would alert her if anyone different was in the vicinity.
Once she got to the path leading back to the keep, Sansa felt better about the journey. Her racing heart slowed, the sense of comfort in the knowing she wasn't alone. Yet, at the back of her mind, worrying over what had happened to Ser Barristan was playing on her mind.
A rustling sound from behind alerted her someone was nearby. Sansa stopped and turned around, expecting to see one of the direwolves, but there was nothing. Probably a squirrel, she thought to herself. Sansa continued on for a few more steps, her eyes to the ground, ensuring her footing was good, when she felt a gloved hand over her mouth and a hand around her waist.
"Now that's a good girl. Don't say a word. We don't want to anyone to hear you, do we?" Said a familiar voice in her ear.