章節 14: Until We Meet Again
Chapter Fourteen
Until We Meet Again
Morning seemed to come much more quickly than Sansa wished; she'd hardly slept. As she and a servant packed for her journey, her mind raced on so many possibilities and outcomes regarding Ramsay's mother. Would she reveal more awful truths about Ramsay that she would rather not be privy to? What kind of person would she be? Would she even still be alive and the journey made for not? Of course these were just curiosities and not what had really kept her from slumber; what kept her lying awake through much of the night was the thought of leaving Ramsay behind and what might happen in the length of time she was gone.
Sansa still didn't know fully what to expect out of Ramsay. Up until last night, she'd believed him to be quite docile after all he'd been through, and with her he seemed to still be rather subdued and eager to please (so much so she'd found herself extending entirely too much trust to him.) Looking back, Sansa was more than aware how incredibly reckless it was to have done what she'd done with Ramsay the previous night by unclasping his manacles with no guards present, but when all was said and done, she didn't regret it. Ramsay had needed the comfort, and giving it to him had given her something as well.
Thinking of him now brought a smile to pass her lips; she had in fact developed a decidedly keen interest in Ramsay where the two should by all rights despise one another. For all the grievous atrocities each had inflicted upon the other, it astonished Sansa that both were seemingly able to mutually move past them and find something else within each other to help balance the pain and collectively begin to heal. She supposed there was an unsaid understanding between the two to forgive since varying degrees of cruelty had been passed between them equally. His crimes still quite outweighed hers, and as such, Sansa thought Ramsay may have accepted his place by her side as the best he was sure to receive even if he may not agree it was what he deserved. Sansa wondered constantly now where exactly their relationship was going or really could go. It was something she had to seriously consider as he was becoming much more to her than just a favored toy, which was what he had been to her when she'd first decided to spare his life.
The complexity of their relationship was hard to comprehend for either of them let alone anyone on the outside looking in, and it kept becoming more convoluted the longer they spent any time together. Eventually those of note would have questions especially if Ramsay was accompanying her around the keep (which was also something she planned to address when she returned as the thought of keeping Ramsay chained to the mattress in the dungeon for the foreseeable future wasn't going to be acceptable for her, and it was likely going to be unacceptable to others given his transgressions against so many houses. Reparations would have to be made at some point to mend some of the damage Ramsay had wrought Sansa knew, and perhaps that was something she would discuss with Jon upon her return.)
Ramsay was willing to submit to her, but the reasoning was still a bit of a mystery on whether it was because of her or because of her station dictating how he was to be treated. For Jon's sake, she hoped the latter as unlike the guards that had harassed Ramsay, Jon would remain neutral with him, but Jon also had a lot of reason to hate the man and likely would have a lot shorter fuse when dealing with him if Ramsay was to be difficult. She knew Jon would look out for Ramsay well enough, he'd given her his word that he would no matter how he'd internally objected to the idea; what really worried Sansa was how the two would get along when she wasn't there to buffer any disgruntlement between them. Jon wasn't anywhere near the threat those guards were to Ramsay in nature, but neither was Jon her as far as Ramsay was concerned.
It was easy to see that there was a friction of competition between them (at least for Ramsay) for the mere fact that they were both considered bastards; it was more than obvious from the point Ramsay and Jon had met to the letter Ramsay had sent to the wall (it still turned her stomach to think of the threats therein; with every vile word spilt of Ramsay threatening to do harm in his letter, those words had all intentionally been aimed at Jon and what he held dear.) Unlike Ramsay, Jon had risen to find respect as a bastard through his own accord. No title had been given to him through the mercy of a bastard king, and yet Jon still was held in the highest regard as if he were in fact born and bred a noble. That alone had most certainly caused Ramsay's blood to boil; of course these points had surfaced when they had been dealing with the old Ramsay. It still remained to be seen how much of the old Ramsay still persisted or would resurface in her absence as it had last night. Sansa hoped none, but she had strong doubts as the man always had a willful streak that was more than formidable. She would warn Ramsay to be on his best behavior in hopes her words would help influence his actions in her absence like they did in her presence.
Having finished packing, Sansa instructed the servant to have her things loaded in the wagon before making her way down to the kitchens to have one of the cooks make and bring food to the dungeon for herself and Ramsay. She wanted to break the news over a meal to give Ramsay a chance to acclimate to the idea before she departed. Making her way down to the dungeon, Sansa stopped to grab a comfortable set of clothes from Ramsay's former closet.
It was odd to be back in this room after everything had come to pass leaving the Stark's once more in control of their keep. Sansa inhaled deeply her stomach knotting as she looked about; this room held so many converging memories both good and bad; it was where she'd endured the worst side of Ramsay, but it had also been Rob's chambers as the second largest room reserved for the eldest son. Jon could have taken it; it was offered to him as Sansa had been guided to take their parent's old room, but Jon seemed content to remain in his original chambers comforted by the familiarity.
Ramsay hadn't added much, so the room contained mostly what was already part of the room when he'd occupied it holding much of the same furniture Rob and her family had collected and situated around the room. It brought back enough memories now that Sansa had to pause a bit overwhelmed from taking it all in. She found herself sitting on the unkempt bed still left as it was the last day Ramsay had inhabited the chamber, and her eyes were drawn to the dresser where a pair of flaying knives lay artfully displayed. The sight of them made her grimace uncomfortably, another reminder of what Ramsay was capable of.
This room caused a whole new wave of doubt to rush through her as she rose from the bed, grabbing the knives as if she were handling acid, and violently throwing them into the wastebasket. Her head reeled as she brought shaking hands to her face to cover her eyes and just take a moment to breath. Finally finding her resolve once more, Sansa spun on her heel over to the closet grabbing the first outfit available before hurrying out of the room.
It took Sansa until she'd reached the dungeon to find her composure once more, and she noted that a fresh set of faces stood outside the door. Jon had saw to it that two new men now guarded Ramsay as she'd known he would. She'd seen the men before although she didn't know their names. They smiled and gave her a nod of respect, and she returned their respect with a small courtesy before addressing them, "Good morning, gentlemen. Is he awake?"
The guard on the far right peered in through the slits giving a nod, "Yes, my lady." Without having to be asked, he moved to open the door for her to which she gave a nod of appreciation and moved swiftly into the room. The men quietly followed her in although they kept a respectful distance in case Sansa wished a bit of privacy.
Ramsay's eyes rose to see her arrival, and a bright smile instantly lit his features to see her along with a set of clothes in her hands for him; Sansa had mentioned at dinner about her taking him on an outing to get a breath of fresh air today (Ramsay was eager to get out and about for more than just a stretch and to relieve himself which seemed the most he'd been granted outside of his trip to the study for dinner last night.) His smile faltered though when he saw the severe look on her face. Was she still angry with him?
"Guards, please unchain him," Sansa stated coldly.
The men dutifully shifted into action and quietly moved first to his wrists and then his ankles to do as Sansa had requested.
Ramsay continued to stare up at Sansa his brow furrowed in confusion as a niggling worry began to creep over him. He moved slowly back onto his knees never taking his eyes off of her. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but with the way she was staring at him he found himself unsure if he should speak at all.
Sansa strode forward, her heels clicking in harsh stabs onto the stone floor as she laid the set of clothes down in front of him with a roughness that spoke of restrained agitation. "Get dressed, Ramsay," her voice was clipped and bore the same iciness as her expression.
Ramsay nodded finding himself involuntarily cringing from the aura that radiated off of her. He was quick to throw the tunic on and move carefully to the side of the bed tossing his blanket to the side to get to a standing position and place his pants on (his ass twinged as he pulled them over his tortured cheeks, a reminder given to him before she'd left his presence last night that she both cared for his wellbeing and that he needed to hold his aggression in check.) Ramsay noticed Sansa was studiously watching his every move, and when he'd stiffened and jerked a bit from the contact of the rough fabric across his sensitive skin, Ramsay couldn't help feeling immediate shame as he averted his eyes and a blush blazed across his face from the memory of what she did to him knowing a reminder of the act must also have registered in her mind from his reaction. He was glad that the guards had stepped back behind Sansa and were not privy to see the damage she'd left; the discoloration stood out starkly against his very pale flesh.
His eyes moved back up to study her; she still looked angry with him leaving a tide of bewilderment to course through him until he couldn't take the tension any longer. He uttered out cautiously, "Have… have I done something to upset you, my lady?"
Ramsay's words and the look of uncertainty and evident apprehension finally broke through to Sansa alleviating away some of the prior resentment that had resurfaced within her from the discovery of the flaying knives and the jarring trip to Ramsay's old quarters. She took in a deep breath as she shook her head, "No." She softened further seeing the way he regarded her now; he was standing rigidly, hands clasped together as if in court nervously awaiting some form of ceremony. She'd made him anxious; Ramsay had become very attune to her mood swings, and when she was cross, he became especially wary not to upset her further.
Sansa sighed softly taking steps toward him to close the distance, and when he tensed at her approach, she frowned. She didn't like him to be so afraid of her even if on some level he needed to be to keep him in line. She felt a need now to assuage the guilt cropping within her for making him feel he'd done something wrong. Sansa reached out to grab his arms and pull Ramsay the rest of the way into her to and hug him tightly. She spoke softly into his ear, "Please don't take to heart my earlier disposition. I'm sorry. I… I have a lot on my mind."
Ramsay relaxed visibly in her embrace letting his eyes close in relief; he inhaled deeply the scent of her hair, enjoying the sensation of her body against his, the feeling of her arms wrapped around him, and the encouraging words that she wasn't upset with him as he had feared. The culmination of all these things lulled him into a sense of security. This was nice; he really liked having her this close to him and emotionally devoured the offered affection like an insatiable hunger. The hug ended far too quickly for his liking, but the smile he'd had when she first arrived had found its way back on his face as he remarked pleasantly, "It's good to see you, lady Sansa."
She found his smile glowing his happiness at her brought on a smile of her own, "It pleases me to see you again as well, Ramsay."
The servant's entered bringing the trays of food Sansa had requested, and both she and Ramsay had turned towards the door as they had arrived.
Sansa strode towards the small table stating casually, "Come, Ramsay. I've had breakfast sent down for us." Her words were nonchalant, but her mind now worked vehemently over exactly how she would break the news to Ramsay that she wasn't going to see him again for another few days.
She sat, and Ramsay followed suit easing himself into the chair across from her; he still fixed her with that same contented smile obviously pleased with the furthered arrangement of them spending time together in this way. He had relaxed considerably from the way he had behaved at dinner, his mannerisms becoming less stiff and guarded now as he looked about the trays of food. The servant divided scrambled eggs, some form of oats and dried fruit, and biscuits. Again, he was only given a spoon, but Ramsay didn't dwell on that seeming lost in his own thoughts as he remarked offhandedly, "So where shall we be going today, my lady? The wall? Around the grounds of the keep?"
Sansa watched Ramsay take a few bites and beam up at her with a reverent smile. He was so happy now, and it was crushing her to know that she was about to dash that happiness to pieces. She didn't respond as she took a few bites of her own food slowly chewing to buy herself time, but he'd stopped eating expectantly waiting for a response from her. Her eyes flicked to his, and something in the look she gave him was enough to make his face fall as he looked down at his plate to ask in a slightly bitter tone, "I'm not going anywhere with you today am I?"
Sansa paused setting her fork down as she straightened to regard him fully, "No. I was hoping to enjoy breakfast with you before bringing the topic up. I didn't want to sour the mood. Eat your food, and when we've finished, we'll discuss a few matters."
A few matters? Ramsay's lips pursed in annoyance; he didn't like the sound of that at all, but he didn't speak further since he saw her through his peripheral watching him now with a slight frown on her face. She didn't like him to show any form of irritability Ramsay was well aware even if she hadn't expressed as much explicitly. He worked to control his emotions now, but it only shifted his face from a look of agitation into a pout from the effort.
Ramsay was unable to put on a poker face for Sansa now as his brow furrowed and his eyes stared down at his plate. He moved his spoon listlessly through the oatmeal only taking a bite here and there as he silently fumed that this was likely to be the highlight of his day. He'd hoped the confrontation last night would have been resolved after Sansa had physically punished him, but he supposed it couldn't be so simple. Ramsay was feeling sorry for himself that he'd managed to screw up his outing, or at least that's what he had gathered. Losing control with those men had cost him, and the impotence to do anything in retaliation against them ate at Ramsay. It burned that those two simpletons had managed to affect him then and that they continued to do so even now. An inner hatred that had already cemented in him towards the two fueled into a further burning rage to want to see them in pain. He would make them pay at some point, and he'd bide his time until the opportunity presented itself.
Sansa saw the myriad of emotions playing across Ramsay's face where the predominant emotion was anger, and even if he wasn't expressing it vocally, the swirling nature of it made her wary. She needed to address him before it festered into something worse, "This isn't punishment, Ramsay. I have to attend to something out of the keep, so I'm going to be leaving for a few days. I'll need to head out after our meal to make haste before the weather gets worse."
This declaration stilled Ramsay as his eyes moved up to regard her with a mix of anxiety and hurt that she was leaving him behind. Sansa assumed it was because he didn't want to see her go (which was true to an extent) but the other half of his worry revolved around the familiarity in youth of being locked away until he could be dealt with again. Ramsay hadn't felt this way in a very long time, not since he'd been in a physical position to be quarantined in such a way. Sansa had that level of control of him as well as a growing attachment to her that made this feeling of shunting him to the side that much more acute within Ramsay. He scowled, "What would you need to do that would require you travel outside of the keep? Can't you just send your bastard brother as an errand boy instead?" Ramsay realized the rudeness of his words the instance they escaped his mouth, and an immediate look of shock overtook his features as he quickly amended, "It's not my place to say, but isn't it a bit dangerous for you to be out there beyond the safety of the keep when the countryside is under such duress?"
Sansa's mouth had formed into a tight line as she gripped her fork in clear annoyance, "You are correct, it isn't your place to say, and you would do well to remember exactly what your place is," she clipped. Ramsay averted his eyes to stare at the table his lips pursing and twitching slightly while she chided him. The air between them prickled like ozone as Sansa continued, "Furthermore, I'll not hear you refer to my brother as an errand boy or any other such derogatory term again. I'm leaving you in his care while I'm gone, and I expect you to give him the same level of respect that you show me. Am I clear?" The hint of confrontation brought the two guards a little closer as they sensed the tension and were ready to react in case Ramsay became violent again. Jon had warned them of last night's encounter with the two previous guards, so they were a bit antsy and expectant of a conflict now lending to the building tension between Sansa and Ramsay.
Ramsay's mouth hung agape; he wanted to protest, but he knew better than to argue with her. It was a losing battle that could only end badly for him, Ramsay was more than well aware, but it didn't change the intense feelings of unhappiness her words etched into him. She was going to have that bastard be his warden! As if he deserved to lord anything over him; he didn't even have a title, even if the rabble that followed him thought otherwise! Sansa was still waiting for confirmation Ramsay realized seeing the withering glare she afforded him. His thoughts shifted to her demands as he muttered softly keeping his eyes downcast so as not to reveal his true displeasure of her decision, "Yes, lady Sansa. As you wish."
She was reading the subtle and not so subtle cues Ramsay was projecting that this was in fact going to be a problem. Deep down, Sansa already had suspected so, but Ramsay's immediate bad temperament regarding the way he was to be handled only strengthened her resolve that it was probably for the best that Ramsay experience it. She couldn't be his sole keeper at all times. Sansa was the heiress of the Stark name, and with that came responsibility that duty may call her to go elsewhere, and Ramsay would have to learn to cope with the fact that he had no say to her comings and goings or who would watch over him when she may have to leave the keep. There was a lot he was going to have to get used to, so it was best he get a wakeup call now rather than later. "You're not going to give Jon any trouble are you?" Sansa questioned lifting a brow.
Ramsay's jaw tightened as he shook his head finally bringing his eyes up to face her, his expression petulant as he responded, "No, my lady; I wouldn't dream of it." Ramsay forced a smile, but his heart was racing as he thought of what might happen while she was gone, not only to him but to her. The world they lived in was dangerous, and Sansa Stark was a hunted woman by one of the most powerful houses, the Lannisters, and even more so the person spearheading the hunt for Sansa was Cersi Lannister, the most deadly and vengeful of any Lannister.
The thought of Sansa not returning to him left a churning void in his chest. Ramsay hadn't just said what he had because he wanted to keep Sansa from leaving him; he genuinely did worry for her safety now. To care at all for another's wellbeing was a feeling Ramsay was still inwardly wrestling to understand, but whether he admitted it to himself or not, Ramsay was afraid of losing her and everything she was bringing out of him that left him marveling in a stupor of her compassion. The fact that he even could care for someone other than himself was terrifying; it made Ramsay feel even more out of control than he already found himself.
He was becoming bolder Sansa discerned wondering if perhaps she was giving him too many freedoms too soon. She'd already decided that she wanted him to be more than a shell of a man, but it came to question in her mind what exactly she was letting free by loosening the screws to allow more of who Ramsay really was to come out. She couldn't decide whether this current attitude of his was because of the news she'd just given him or because she was entertaining it at all. Just days ago, Ramsay wouldn't have had the audacity to challenge anything she said; he'd been very cautious indeed. Sansa had changed the dynamic of their relationship again though by admitting she'd cared about him to Ramsay. Was it a mistake to leave herself open in such a way? Would he use the fact she favored him against her? He could, but no, he cared about her to. Sansa could feel it now even though he was riled with aggression, but aggression was an emotion Ramsay drew from like one drew in air, and that too Sansa would temper in time, and it would take time to change that within him since it was such a fundamental part of who he was.
Her eyes and his locked for long moments of silence as she weighed her options with Ramsay. Sansa leaned towards him tilting her head to regard him with all seriousness, "Ramsay, I know you're not happy with my news, but if you can prove to me that I can trust you in this way, upon my return, I can give you more privileges that don't require that you remain chained down the majority of your day. I know this is something you would like as would I. Is that not something you'd like to achieve?"
Ramsay's face scrunched up in a mixture of desire and bottled up impatience, "Take me with you! If you want to test my trust then do so with me in your presence. Surely I could assist and serve you in your journey?" He sounded desperate Ramsay realized, and he inwardly winced to sound so feeble to his own ears.
Her eyes softened, "It's not my trust you need to earn now, Ramsay. I can't have you on this journey because your very presence is bound to cause unrest among the men that will accompany me. You have much to prove to all else that observe you, and that is not something that I can give you or will be freely given if ever given by those that you have hurt by your actions. I chose to spare you, Ramsay, because I think there's more to you than people see and of what your prior deeds have portrayed. I won't mince words with you, you have much to atone for, and I'm going to give you the opportunity to do so through my hand. Do remember, your behavior and attitude reflect on me now because you are my charge, and as such, you have to realize that I have to handle you with duality of my position as well as one that cares for your wellbeing."
He liked hearing that she cared for him, but it was a double edged sword with what she told him now. She was right of course, he'd lost the North's trust long ago, and where before he hadn't cared thinking he'd rule them in fear with an iron fist; he'd lost. He'd lost more than a war though, where death would have been a release from the politics of Westeros, now he had no choice but to bend a knee in the most humiliating of ways as a literal slave to house Stark. Where this hadn't mattered as much to Ramsay in the dungeons of the keep where he'd sworn his fealty to Sansa (he still upheld his fealty to her now), but the reality of the ridicule Ramsay would face in the open face of all others he'd come in contact with hadn't wholly occurred to him. At least the weight of it hadn't been much of a concern until she'd made mention of atoning which brought to the surface the fact of actually having to confront those that had grievances with him and face their judgement in some fashion. Ramsay found the thought of it unnerving enough to make him lose eye contact with her now as he cleared his throat, "I'll do my best not to disappoint you, my lady, although I can't say many will wish more than a call for my head on a pike if you plan to regale them with fancies of having me seek their forgiveness."
Ramsay chanced a glance up to gauge her response to his words, but her expression remained passive as she answered, "I won't let them hurt you… much. Nothing that would cause permanent damage, at least nothing more than I would see done to you anyway…" seeing the way Ramsay blanched, Sansa added, "Although, I will suggest they find alternatives to causing you pain." Sansa's face illuminated as an idea struck her, "Actually, I would prefer you find other ways to make recompense; it would be something constructive for you to do in my absence." She nodded reaffirmed with the idea, "Yes, I'll tell Jon to give you quill and parchment, so you can think on ways to make amends to the many houses you've offended."
He couldn't believe she was actually expecting him to come up with creative ways to punish himself for the assumption of a pardon of his supposed offences to people he had no loyalty to. Ramsay was staring at her dumbfounded, and after a long pause where she raised her chin and gave him a look that brokered no disagreement with the suggestion, Ramsay grimaced miserably but gave a small nod of acceptance. It wasn't as if she was giving him a choice; Ramsay supposed having to come up with a suitable punishment to appease many of the houses would give him a chance to learn leniency, which was something he was most definitely not versed in.
Seeing his distress over her decree, Sansa sighed, "It's not all bad, Ramsay. Try not to think of the worst of this situation and more on the fact that your redemption will ease the North to seeing you at my side. That is where I wish you to be after all, and I'd prefer it be without the animosity of the houses that now support me. You've done many things in the name of House Bolton that have created problems that are not easily swept under a rug. Surely you must have considered that eventually the atrocious acts of flaying people to cause fealty through fear wouldn't eventually cause an uprising of some sort?"
Ramsay blinked; in all honesty, Ramsay had always been rather impulsive led by passion over forethought. It had never really occurred to him that his forces would ever be impregnable enough to have to worry about any sort of uprising, and if one did occur, he had had an army that could easily squelch the insurrection and serve as a reminder to others who was warden of the North. His father had warned him of his brash actions before, but Ramsay had mostly ignored him only giving his words enough thought in his presence to be acknowledged but knowing that he would always do what he felt should be done when the time came because he always knew best what he should do. Obviously that hadn't been the case Ramsay had discovered watching his sizable army wiped out in front of his very eyes, and now here he was on the other end of his loss. Her words struck to humble him now as he frowned choosing not to respond because he didn't really have anything to rebuttal her statement.
His silence was enough for Sansa to know Ramsay hadn't reflected on his actions at all, but from the look on his face, he was now. At least the levity of what she addressed him with was enough to create rumination of what he would have to need to redress in the near future, and that would have to do for now. Sansa rose; it was getting late, and as much as she'd prefer to continue hashing out the importance of Ramsay's prospects, Jon would be waiting for her, and the journey ahead of her would be arduous with winter upon them.
His eyes shot up to her and a wave of uncertainty crossed his features as he automatically mentally moved to ascertain if he'd upset her by not responding, but when her hand settled gently on his shoulder and she gave him a small smile, Ramsay allowed himself to relax to her touch although his face still reflected worry. She was getting up to leave, "You… will you not be eating before you go?" It was a lame attempt to keep her with him a little longer Ramsay knew, but he didn't care. If he could have her only a few minutes longer, it was better than her leaving right now.
The pitiable look he gave her made Sansa melt as her hand moved up to the side of his face to brush away his bangs affectionately before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, "Be good, Ramsay." Sansa turned to the two guards a few feet away, "Let him finish his meal, stretch with a walk about the dungeon, and relieve himself before you chain him back to the mattress. Jon will instruct you further, but if he's too busy with matters of court, please make sure Ramsay is given time to move about and relieve himself throughout the day as well as receives regular meals. Can I trust you two to ensure that he is tended to in that way?"
The two men seemed surprised that she was addressing them to attend the prisoner with or without Jon's expressed direction. They were new to this detail, but they both swiftly nodded their acquiescence to do the job the lady of the house asked of them, "Of course lady Stark," the man on her right bowed in deference before straightening again.
Sansa nodded liking the look of these men far more than the two she'd had sent to the wall; Jon had handpicked them, and Sansa felt from the demeanor they exuded that they were both capable. Throughout her and Ramsay's discussion Sansa had monitored their facial reactions and saw no negative responses leaving her to feel confident in leaving Ramsay in their custody.
When she peered back at Ramsay, he stared back at her with a mix of sadness and veneration. Ramsay knew she was assuring even in her absence that he would be treated well, and in this way, her leaving only served to twist him inside further. She continued to prove to him that she wasn't just telling him that she wanted better for him, she showed him in action. Before she could move away from him, Ramsay grabbed her hand to halt her kissing her hand gently, "Be safe, my lady."
Ramsay's eyes relayed his worry for her more than his words, and Sansa squeezed his hand, "Fear not for me, Ramsay, and try to rest well. I will miss you, and I'll wish to express my yearning to reunite with you in more ways than a welcome home when we next meet," her smile quirked with a curvature that Ramsay had learned to recognize as a lustful advance.
He smirked liking the thought of pleasing her upon her return, "I'm always happy to serve you in all your needs, lady Sansa."
Sansa was glad that Ramsay seemed well on board to please her, "That's good to hear, Ramsay. I have many needs that need servicing." Her smile widened as she moved away from him to leave the dungeon and meet up with Jon. By the time she came home, Ramsay should be healed well enough to bring him to her personal chambers. Just thinking of him splayed on her own bed ready to be taken by her after a long trip sounded like marvelous welcome home.
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