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The sound of Sansa’s wedding dress being torn apart filled the air. Ramsay roughly palmed her back, forcing her to lay stomach down on the bed. Tears leaked from Sansa’s eyes as she struggled to contain her fear. Suddenly the door to the chambers burst open. Theon went sprawling to the ground as a tall blonde woman and a shorter slightly stout man forced their way inside.
Ramsay stared menacingly at the pair, “Who the fuck are you”?
The tall woman glanced briefly at Sansa’s position on the bed, before locking eyes with the new groom.
“I’m Brienne of Tarth, motherfucker”.
Brienne thrust her Valyrian steel sword straight through Ramsay, twisting it to ensure maximum pain. Ramsay’s eyes went wide as he realised he was knocking at deaths door. He gave a loud wet cough, blood dribbling down his chin. Brienne removed her sword and kicked Ramsay to the ground. He gave a feeble last breath before his eyes fluttered closed.
Brienne turned to Sansa, who was staring wide-eyed at Ramsay’s body, and spoke softly to her, “I swore a vow to your mother, Lady Sansa, and I intend to keep it. I promise you, Podrick and I will do you no harm. Please Lady Sansa, we must make haste”.
Sansa took one last glance at Ramsay’s body before giving a slight nod of her head. She deftly tied up her cloak and walked swiftly over to Theon, offering him her hand. He looked at it fearfully before hesitantly accepting. Sansa turned to face her saviours, her blue eyes filled with a new-found sense of determination, “I’ll go with you both, on the condition that Theon Greyjoy can accompany us. He spared my brother’s lives, I will not leave him here”.
Brienne glanced quickly between the two before giving a small nod of her head, “Okay, let’s go”.
The four of them swiftly left Winterfell without detection and lived the rest of their lives in safety on the island of Tarth.