Capítulo 46: Step By Step
Chapter Forty-Seven
Step By Step
"He knows," Sansa said wearily as she brought her eyes back up to level on Ramsay's perplexed mien. It was a simple blunt statement Sansa let escape her lips, and she could tell by his expression that what she had announced had sent a myriad of questions to run rampant through Ramsay's mind, so she expounded, "Bran; I don't know how he knows, but he knows… everything."
Her words were received, but Ramsay was having trouble digesting them; his throat constricted, "What… what do you mean… everything?" Ramsay's pupils dilated and his brow knitted with concern as he leaned his head in a little closer as if he hadn't heard Sansa correctly.
Teeth bit down worrying at her lower lip a scant second as the flush of shame Sansa had felt upon Bran's proclamation resurfaced to heat her face and color her cheeks and ears. Her gaze moved away to dart across the expanse of the table as she responded in barely over a whisper, "Everything. He says he's the Three-Eyed-Raven… whatever that means, but the things he said…"
The topic of this conversation was worse than he'd expected, and Ramsay interrupted impatiently, "What exactly did he say?" Sansa's eyes moved back up to lock on Ramsay's, "I didn't ask for elaborate details, but trust Bran stated enough for me to know the things he's aware of… concerning you and I, are things that have not been made common knowledge outside of this bedchamber."
Ramsay's face paled with the humiliation he felt, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water trying to formulate speech but too shocked by the varying outcomes of what Bran could have said to have shaken Sansa to this degree. Finally, he stuttered out, "You're reticent to say… what he shared with you… it… it was bad then?"
Sansa's expression softened seeing Ramsay fret over what she and Bran had spoken on and took into account that she wasn't the only one who had been embarrassed by being outed to such a degree. Ramsay had more reason to feel chagrinned given their relationship and his role in it Sansa well knew, and to put his mind at ease, she leaned forward to cup his hand as she assured, "Not at all. He holds no ill will against you and feels we do each other a service," Sansa's expression morphed to reflect her own confusion as she confessed, "He's my brother, and I love him, but I no longer understand him or the path he's walking. All I do know is that I feel I can trust his judgement regarding us even if the manner in which he delivered it was rather unsettling."
It felt good to have Sansa's hand enveloping his own as she expressed disquiet on her brother's words. For the first time, the two were sharing on the same level where Sansa opened enough to unveil a layer of uncertainty with him that she would never have imparted to Ramsay before. She was confiding in him, and this new link in their bond filled Ramsay's chest with a warmth of fulfillment he'd never recognized or cared to have with another person until now. He placed his other hand over both his and hers giving her hand a soft squeeze offering falteringly, "As long as he sees our union as good, then all is well; isn't it?"
A small smile broke Sansa's serious veneer as she nodded, "Yes; all is well." Ramsay returned her smile with one of his own as genuine relief flooded his face. He had been worried about the young lord's opinion of him, but now his mind eased with the knowledge that Bran was not only holding any sort of animosity towards him, but Sansa's brother seemed to approve of their union even given the torrid secrets that the rest of the noble class was well unaware of.
Harmonious silence passed between Sansa and Ramsay as the mood of reconcilement permeated their conversation. This was good Sansa thought as she rose, and Ramsay's eyes moved to follow her motion. There was a flicker of worry that danced across his brow, but he resolved to remain seated and just observe what Sansa would do as she casually maneuvered around the table letting the tender clasp of their hands slide from the loose hold they had encompassed. Sansa let her fingertips glide up the length of Ramsay's arm to settle lightly on his shoulder as the rest of her body edged itself up behind him where his head rested against her womb. Once she'd halted, Ramsay slowly tilted his head up to see her face needing and wanting the constant connection of her eyes boring into him.
At this angle, Sansa's visage was imposing and enthralling with her jaw set in a relaxed calm that gave her an aura of dominion as she peered down upon him. Ramsay's skyward gaze was fixed upon her, and his impossibly wide blue orbs shifted back and forth questing for comprehension of exactly what they were sharing at this moment and wondering if it was only he that was consumed by the building sentiments he couldn't help but to attach to Sansa throughout the tenure of their short yet very intense rapport. The energy that moved between them had a vivacity all its own beyond the developed sexual hunger that had been the majority of what the two had explored the past few weeks.
Throat bobbing under the constriction of his overwhelming feelings, Ramsay asked hesitantly, "Are we? …Are we well I mean?" A burning question that Ramsay didn't know the answer to and seeing Sansa rapidly blink as her head jerked subtly back in surprise to his inquiry, Ramsay knew that she was just as unsure as he was on what exactly it was that was happening between them, amid what had already transpired, and was still materializing over time, their relationship was a whirlwind of change that had left both jarred by the outcome.
Sansa finally nodded answering slowly, "Yes… I… I think so. I don't have the future sight that my brother, Bran, claims to possess, but I've made an oath to you, and you've made an oath to me, and I cannot speak on your behalf, but that which I have vowed, I will always strive to honor."
Ramsay's nostrils flared with a deep inhale that hitched a pause in his chest; he knew in his heart of hearts that Sansa would respect any pledge she'd made to him no matter how it vexed her with or without an audience to prove she'd stated it to him. It was that annoying Stark quality shining through once more. It unintentionally belittled Ramsay now knowing he had rarely been a man of his word even when he'd made an effort to show he could be confided in to those he'd wanted trust from although he'd stopped caring if he'd actually ever gained anyone other than his father's credence a very long time ago.
Throughout the realm, the Boltons had never been known for their scrupulous dealings, but as a noble house, there had always been a level of decorum levied to every reigning family under the north's banners to remain in the good graces of the Starks for their role as warden of the North. His house had done well enough at maintaining the political arena prior to the coup they'd forged with the Freys, but when alliances crumbled left and right leaving the Boltons as the temporary alpha dog, it was only a fleeting respite until the wolves came back home to chase his house into extinction for their treachery made more bitter by the sting that was compounded by his own hand of familicide. In lieu of the ramifications of their shared history, both politically and personally, Ramsay was struck mute by Sansa's proclamation, but he found himself stirred by her words regardless of his own lack of ability to respond in kind.
Seeming to sense Ramsay's reticence to add his own promise to hers, Sansa smiled down at him slipping the hand that was not resting on his shoulder through Ramsay's bangs in a casual manner as she continued, "You will honor your vows to me as well, Ramsay, if not through your own will than through mine." Ramsay's tongue darted to wet his lips as his mouth felt suddenly dry at her thinly veiled threat. He wanted to proclaim that it need not be by hers as he would abide his pledge by his own will alone, but that was not an assurance he was confident in making, so instead he muttered humbly, "My vow will be upheld."
Sansa's grin widened as she leaned down kissing Ramsay gently on the forehead as she murmured definitively into his hairline, "I know it will." Her proximity had her hot breath roll across the sensitive skin of Ramsay's face eliciting a small shiver to ripple through him, a physical echo of the impact of her words. Again, her statement was a subtle warning, an 'or else' attached to promise impending repercussions should he err, and Ramsay found the danger of hanging in the balance of her taking him in hand just as alluring as he found it intimidating.
Ramsay's lashes fluttered against the wisps of hair that tickled the sides of his face, and he inhaled deeply the scent of the wafting essence of oils Sansa methodically rubbed into her skin as her hair enveloped the whole of his head. It was as if he were wrapped in a halo of her physical aura, trapped in the wake of a siren's song that threatened to drown him if he didn't find the will to pull away. He didn't want to resist her though, his resolve had long since eroded to her subtle charms, and he was content to let himself fall into the abyss she opened before him. Her lips lifted from his hairline and descended upon the middle of his brow before Sansa withdrew the comforting curtain of her hair to stand up straight once more leaving Ramsay's eyes squinting disagreeably to the invasion of bright light the afternoon sun afforded.
"As much as I'd like to stay the rest of the afternoon with you, you know that I must make appearances yet," Sansa stated with obvious regret as she moved away from Ramsay preparing to leave him once more to fulfill her daily duties. Ramsay didn't ask to attend her this time having had enough interaction with those he'd rather not be confronted with in his current station especially after the last embarrassing spectacle he'd endured being dismissed as he had.
Instead of remarking on her proclamation, Ramsay's head descended to bring his vision back down to piercing the table as his mouth pursed with a frown, and his shoulders stiffened to take on a brooding disposition showing silent displeasure for her declaration. Sansa knew this would be Ramsay's response to her leaving him, and let it slide; she didn't have the energy to address his moodiness although it had made her feel better that she was able to speak civilly with Ramsay about what Bran had revealed to her in the Godswood. That unveiling had given a little more shared truth to the connection she and Ramsay were building that no one other than Jon had been given access to see. Unlike Jon, Bran hadn't needed to be convinced that Sansa could manage Ramsay and had in fact bolstered her determination that what they were forming between them wasn't just okay but good for both of them. Bran's knowledge had shaken her originally but thinking on his words now comforted Sansa in a way she hadn't recognized she'd needed but was ultimately thankful to have heard coming from someone else other than what she'd come to feel was her own misguided thoughts.
"I will see you this evening Ramsay, and perhaps then we can share that bath we spoke on earlier," Sansa mentioned this as she removed her scarf and straightened her hair preparing to head back out a little more dignified than she had the previous outing. Ramsay's eyes darted over to her surveying Sansa as she observed him back through his reflection in her mirror. Ramsay remained quiet to her invitation working for an earnest attempt to remain what he saw himself to be as indifferent to her statement, but his visage painted a very different picture to Sansa who had grown to notice his idiosyncrasies well from being with him under his thumb and from him residing with her under her guidance. Both extremes had revealed far more layers of his personality to Sansa than Ramsay would ever know he had.
The more she learned about Ramsay the more intrigued Sansa was becoming to unravel the tapestry of who he had been. Sansa was confident that tonight she could try again to dig a little deeper and see what Ramsay was willing to relinquish about his past. For now though, she needed to meet with the matron June to coordinate a work detail for he and Melody to complete that would hopefully not terrorize the girl too much.
***…***
Petyr's eyes moved over the tiny parchment that the Vale soldier had brought to him moments prior nodding to himself as a sly grin formed on his lips. The Umbers were ready to take his aide now. Petyr had known they would have been received poorly by the Starks, and he was relieved that his own web of deceit still lay in tact given the gruff straightforward nature of the burly lords of the high northlands. His sights moved to the armored man as he announced, "Prepare me a carriage for Winterfell. We leave at once."
The guard bowed his compliance rushing off to do as he was bid as Petyr moved to ready himself for departure. Word had been received prior for a call to delegates of the newly formed allegiance to the Stark's to celebrate a winter solstice, a gathering at the Stark keep set to commence on the next full moon as a means to unite those that had solidified under the Stark banner. It was a cause to commemorate regaining their holding over Winterfell as well as a means to assemble and discuss further plans of execution towards threats to the East with Cersei and the looming presence of the fabled White Walkers emergence to the North. The political engagement of rubbing shoulders with powerful figures was more than enough of a reason for Petyr to make an appearance, but with this newly added motivation, he would arrive earlier than he'd originally planned.
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