Robin and I were supposed to light a fire at the edge of the woods once our mission succeeded. Smoke rises above Winterfell. However, this is no signal. This fire is not controlled. It is the expression of my incandescent fury.
After ridding myself of the few men inside the battlements, I force two weaklings to open the gates. I had warned Jon to prepare our army, to hide them in the forest in case a clash broke out. In the enemy camp, the defence takes time to organize.
Ramsay must have thought we would never desecrate a moment as important and sacred as this. We are Starks, after all. Precisely; I wouldn't wish for anyone to come face-to-face with a rabid wolf.
Nevertheless, it won't take long for the Bolton soldiers to join the fray. Their encampment is but a step away, and their numbers are vastly superior. Too focused on the spectacle unfolding before my eyes, I pay no more attention to what is happening behind me.
It is therefore to my great surprise that I find myself thrown to the ground. Two ropes tighten around my wrists, preventing me from striking back with my magic, or with any other weapon. I am thus condemned to watch the Bolton soldiers carry Robin's body and hang it upon one of the flayed crosses Ramsay took pleasure in placing throughout the courtyard. I choose not to struggle; it would only serve to exhaust me.
"My sweet wife!" chimes a voice I know all too well.
"Ramsay..."
I am not surprised that he lets his men fight without lifting a finger. He is going to hide here with me, waiting for the smallfolk to do the dirty work in his place, or for Jon to break down the gates.
"You must have missed me infinitely for you to be unable to resist returning to me."
"I freed Rickon! Kill me if it pleases you, but Ned Stark's heir will return!"
"Ned Stark's heir..." he repeats with a slight, mocking smile. "That does not suit me, it is true... However, I care little for a male heir if I have you. The legitimate heiress of Winterfell."
"I am but a woman."
I hate making this kind of speech, but snapping at Sansa is one thing; denying my lack of legitimacy due to my rank as a woman in a situation like this would be foolish. It might be my only chance to make it out.
"Do you know who sits upon the Iron Throne?" Ramsay asks.
"Tommen Baratheon."
"Almost... You've heard of the Faith Militant, I imagine."
"You're the one who told me about them," I reply, twisting in my bonds.
"The High Sparrow has brainwashed the King; he holds all the power in the city."
"The smallfolk of King's Landing are devout; they won't rise against him so easily."
"Cersei has already had her walk of atonement."
A grimace of disgust momentarily twists Ramsay's face. I prefer not to imagine what that entails.
"Your friend Margaery is still locked away to repent," he continues.
"For what crime?"
"For hiding her brother's homosexuality. And they say everywhere that she is a whore."
It is possible she once told me dark stories. No one was hurt, I assure you; they are simply things done when the lights are out and the children are bedded. Here too, the smallfolk of King's Landing are of a nameless hypocrisy.
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Hear me Roar - English version
FanfictionA few days ago, Diana Stark was the future Governor of the North. She imagined herself marrying a vassal of her father or, in all honesty, staying single forever. But when Jon Arryn died, her fate changed. Now engaged to Prince Joffrey, she heads to...
