Chapter Text
Three. That is the number of times Sansa Stark has been promised to a man. First, there was Joffrey Baratheon, she was so young when they were first introduced in Winterfell, her life felt like a fairytale. That fairytale quickly turned to a horror story from the moment they left for Kings Landing. Then, she was forced to marry Tyrion Lannister, though he was kind and did not consumate the marriage with her, it was far from the fairytale life she had planned in her head. Now, Petyr Baelish is marrying her off to the bastard son of the man who killed her brother.
As Winterfell grew closer, the knot in Sansa's stomach tightened more and more. Once more she was being given to a man for someone else's political gain. This time, she was being taken back to her home, back to where it all started, all the misery and torment she experienced since Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters rode through the gates of Winterfell flooding back to her. She had once yearned to return but now, returning was the last thing she wanted, knowing that the Bolton flayed man sigil blew in the wind against the walls of the castle instead of the Stark direwolf. Her home, where happy memories of her family once took place, now taken over by the very people who took her mother and brother from her. She felt a sharp sting in her heart from the memories of a time that had now since passed and would never come back. Robb, Jon and Theon sparring in the courtyard, laughing when Robb knocked Theon onto the ground. Arya joining them, ignoring Sansa and her mother's disapproving stares. Rickon and Bran watching and laughing along from the side next to her father, who looked impressed by Arya's insistence on joining the sparring match. Her family, together, as one. Something she would never have ever again. The thought of going back to Winterfell without them made her heart ache, just as it did the day her father lost his head right in front of her. The same feeling she felt when she learnt that Arya was missing and probably dead. The same feeling she felt learning that Theon had betrayed Robb and took Winterfell, killing Bran and Rickon. The same feeling she felt when she found out her mother and Robb had been murdered at The Red Wedding. Now, she was going to be back in Winterfell, but not with her family, with Roose Bolton and his family. Roose Bolton, the man who had taken Robb and her mother from her. She cursed the Gods for the cruel joke her life had become.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the man riding beside her.
"What's troubling you, little bird?" Baelish asked, his voice dripping with fake concern. Sansa had spent enough time with him to learn that everything Petyr Baelish said was calculated and you would be a fool to tell him too much. He used people as pawns in the game and though he had an odd infatuation with her because of his love for her mother, she was not exempt from being used for his benefit. She knew her marriage to the Bastard of Bolton would benefit him in some way, everything he did was with his own interest in mind and she hated him. Unlike Jofferey, Cersei and everyone else in Kings Landing, he tried to act as though he truly cared for her safety and best interest. At least the Lannisters didn't hide behind a facade when they used me, she thought. She hated him. She hated how he used the memory of her mother to appear like family. She hated how he looked at her, with a look of desire she knew he once looked upon her mother with. She hated how much she had learned from him and how useful it was to her. She didn't want anything from him, even if it helped her in the future, she felt as though anything learned from him was a poison in her mind. But most of all, she hated that she didn't want him to leave her alone with the Boltons. Petyr Baelish being better company than the people living in her home, was too concerning for her to comprehend.
Forcing a small smile, she turned to look at Baelish, "It's just been a long journey and...I'm slightly nervous about meeting the Boltons, my lord."
"You should be, sweet Sansa. The Boltons are a dangerous house and they aren't to be trusted. But Roose Bolton needs you to secure the North, you'll be safe with them because he knows having a Stark in Winterfell is more powerful than any fear they could instill in people of the North." He paused and searched Sansa's eyes, for what, she did not know, "as long as you keep your wits about you and do your duty as a wife, you'll have nothing to fear." Though he said it with his usual confidence, Sansa could see the lie in his eyes, he didn't truly believe what he was saying and neither did she.
"And what of the bastard? I've never heard anything about him, is he like his father?" Sansa looked ahead at the castle, which had grown bigger since she had looked away from it.
"Ramsay has only recently been legitimised by King Tommen so there isn't much known about him. Though I have heard some stories, he is to be trusted less than his father. He is known as the Mad Dog, do with that what you will, but know he is feared by everyone who meets him. I'm not trying to scare you Sansa but I care very deeply for you and your mother would want me to warn you of him." Sansa could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face but she continued to stare ahead and nodded in response to what she had just been told.
What man shouldn't be feared, she rolled her eyes in her head, she would be a fool to ever blindly trust a man, not after everything she had endured since she had first left Winterfell. Joffrey had taken her world and turned it upside down, the moment they had Lady killed she should have known but she had been a stupid, stupid girl then. She believed he was the prince she had always dreamed of, but then he called for her fathers head. All of her dreams and fairytales shattered, then she finally saw herself as the prisoner she really was in Kings Landing, she hated that it took her fathers beheading to be the thing that made her realise that. But this time she would not enter the situation under the falsehoods of the fairytales she grew up believing in, no, she would use what she had learned from Cersei, Margaery and even Baelish. She would not allow Ramsay Bolton to overpower and break her the way Joffrey had, Sansa was done being the little bird they all belived her to be.
The closer they got to the front gates of Winterfell, the worse the feeling in her stomach became. Sansa tightened her hold on her horses reins in an attempt to remind herself of what she needed to do and who she needed to be. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. My father was Eddard Stark, my mother was Catelyn Stark. I am the eldest daughter of my family. Winterfell is my home, despite who currently resides here. I belong here, not them. She repeated this until the gate was opened and she rode her way in through the jaws of what she once called her home.
Sansa could see her breath in the air as she looked around, taking in the painfully familiar, yet unfamiliar surroundings. It was a lot duller than it once was, it looked as though a grey cloud had fallen from the sky and blanketed the castle. Without any Starks, Winterfell had lost its life. If builidings were alive, this was a corpse. The last time she had been in these walls, winter hadn't come yet, she thought that the family now living here couldn't possibly be that putrid that they had managed to change the atmosphere of a whole castle with their presence. It's just the dullness that Winter brings, she tried to convince herself.
"My Lady?" Baelish interrupted her thoughts once again, yet now he was standing next to her. Being so distracted by the setting, Sansa hadn't noticed that Baelish had dismounted his horse and now stood next to her offering his hand to help her down. She took it and gracefully dismounted, still taking in her childhood home.
"My apologies, Lord Baelish," she forced an apologetic smile and turned to look at the people standing before them. Sansa's breath caught in her throat as she took in the man standing just a few steps ahead of them, he had an unreadable look on his face and showed no emotion but looked at her expectantly. Baelish put a hand on Sansa's lower back and directed her forward, towards him. Sansa stared at him, the two holding eye contact that neither would break. She wanted to lash out and make him hurt, she had already killed him ten different ways in her head in the few moments they held eye contact.
"Lady Sansa, welcome." Roose Bolton said with the flattest tone of voice Sansa had ever heard. She looked at him for a few moments, trying to contain the violence she wanted to greet him with. She plastered on the best courteous smile she could, knowing he could see its fakeness.
"Lord Bolton," Sansa curtsied and looked to the ground as she did. Looking back at him when she straightened up again she noticed a small smile on his lips and a look in his eyes as if he were amused by the fact that Robb Stark's sister had to act so courteous towards him. She hated him.
Stepping aside, Roose held an arm out gesturing to the two people behind him. "This is my wife, Lady Walda," the woman behind him gave Sansa a big smile, suprisingly genuine. She was a Frey, her father was part of having her mother and brother killed, Sansa knew she shouldn't hold it against her but she still did.
"It's very nice to meet you, Lady Sansa," she said in an irritatingly chirpy voice.
"And may I introduce my son, Ramsay Bolton" Roose said before Sansa could respond to Walda. Her eyes shifted to Ramsay, he had been watching the interaction intensly and when his icy blue eyes met her Tully blue ones, he smiled. It was a charming smile, she'd give him that but she knew he was not to be trusted. He is Roose Bolton's son, he is known as the Mad Dog. She no longer fell for looks anymore, she was smarter than that but she had to remind herself that no matter how charming he may seem she needed to keep her guard up.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Lady," taking off a glove and stepping forward, Ramsay took Sansa's hand in his and kissed it. When he looked back up at her, she noticed something behind his eyes. She had learned that looking people in the eyes often helped her to discern whether they were genuine or not. He was playing the game like everyone else that was for sure but whether he was like Joffrey, she couldn't tell yet. "You must be tired from your travels. Please, allow me show you to your chambers."
"Thank you, my Lord, I would like that."
"Lord Baelish, let me take you inside out of the cold. I'm sure we have much to discuss," Roose Bolton turned to Baelish and gestured towards the keep. As the two men walked off with Walda following behind, Sansa couldn't help but notice the feeling in her stomach was still there, much more noticeable now that Baelish had left her alone with Ramsay.
Turning back to look at Ramsay she noticed he had been looking at her with a curious expression, as if he was trying to analyse her as much as she analysed him. Smiling again, he held his arm out for her to take. Taking his arm, they started walking though she couldn't help but notice the muscles in his arm, he could probably snap my arm right now if he wanted to. The thought unnerved her but she remained calm, the last thing she wanted was to appear weak in front of a Bolton.
As they made their way inside, he turned his head to look at her curiously again and said, "I thought they called you the Red Wolf?" A little confused by the question, she frowned slightly and turned to look at him as well, confused.
"Yes, I believe they do because of my hair."
"Your hair is black."
"Oh," she chuckled slightly as the realiastion dawned on her, "my apologies, my Lord, I forgot. We had to dye it while travelling, for my safety."
"Your safety?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Lannisters are still looking for me, so it was best to change my appearance to ensure I wasn't recognised by anyone."
"Ah, I forgot about that," he grinned, and leaned a little closer. "So, did you do it?" She knew exactly what he was talking about and rolled her eyes in her head.
I wish, she thought.
"No, my Lord of course not."
"But you wanted to?" He teased.
Yes.
"No, I would never do such a thing," she frowned and studied his face. What is he doing?
His grin grew into a playful smile as they stopped in front of her chamber and he removed his arm from hers to stand in front of her. It was her old room, she noticed and frowned again. "Of course you wouldn't, my lady," his said politely, though she didn't miss the hint of mockery. "I'm sure watching it happen was satisfactory enough."
"It was awful to watch, nobody should have to die like that," she lied though her voice sounded sincere. The raise of an eyebrow and a slight smirk on his face told her he didn't believe her but neither of them said anything about it.
"Very well, my lady. Apologies for my prying, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," he took a step back and bowed his head ever so slightly.
Still confused by the whole conversation, Sansa shook her head and offered a polite smile. "There is no need to apologise, Lord Ramsay, everybody gets curious sometimes," she said, hoping he would leave her to be alone.
"Your understanding is much appreciated. I have some matters to attend to so I must take my leave but I will return later on to escort you to dinner," his eyes intensly analysed her face once more before he smiled and left her alone in the corridor.
Ramsay's swift exit threw Sansa off. He was a confusing yet calculated person to be around, she decided, which meant she would need to be wary around him and somehow figure him out before he figured her out. Sighing, Sansa pushed down the handle to her chamber and stepped in, taking in the familiar room with a sad smile on her face.