BLOODLINES ↠ JON SNOW

VIII. THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE

VIII. THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE

WHAT CAN WE DO BUT PRAISE AND BLAME? It was human virtue; human madness. When a person has been through horrors, they question the cause: is it the fault of the person who hurts them, or is it punishment from the gods? Sansa Stark was tormented by those thoughts every night. All the suffering, all the pain -- it would haunt her till the day she died.

The young girl sunk further into the warm bathwater, resting her aching limbs. Deep bruises and scars littered her porcelain skin -- He had made sure she would never forget. Sansa had felt powerless the second she left Winterfell to go to Kings Landing. She recalled a simpler time; a time when she was nothing more than a naive little girl with dreams of becoming a queen. How foolish she had been. It wasn't until her father's execution that she realised the truth: the world is a cruel place that crushed everything good and innocent and pure. Joffrey had taught her that, Cersei had taught her that....and Ramsay had taught her that.

A soft knock at the door roused her from her thoughts. "My lady," began the Lady Brienne from the other side of the door, "It's time."

<>

Night clawed at the horizon, casting purple hues across the sky as the group gathered in the dining hall. Amodera settled into her seat, flanked by Jon and Tormund, while on the opposite side of the bench sat Sansa and the knight she had learnt was named Brienne. It had caught Amodera's attention that Tormund had taken a liking to the knight, to which she couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed that blonde woman did not approve of his intentions.

Their silence was interrupted as a Night's Watchman entered the hall, handing Jon a scroll sealed with the crest of a flayed man. "A letter for you, Lord Commander."

"I'm not Lord Commander anymore." Jon replied calmly, taking the letter from him. When the man had left the room, he broke the deal and began to read. "To the traitor and Bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of Wildling's past the wall, you have betrayed your own kind, you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine -- come and see."

The mention of her people caught Amodera's attention. The sigil of the flayed man; Jon had told her it belonged to the family that had murdered his brother Robb -- The Boltons. She did not doubt the brutality they were capable of, and seeing what remained of Sansa Stark after living within their walls acted only as further insurance.

"Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon, his direwolf's skin is on my floor -- come and see." Jon continued, glancing up at his sister with care. She looked so fragile now; he was afraid Ramsay's words could reach through the paper and steal her away again. "I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your Wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride North and slaughter every Wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You --"

Amodera's nails ripped into the skin on the palm of her hand as she held in her rage. This man, this monster -- he thought he could threaten her people? She would slaughter every man under his banner with her own two hands if he dared lay a hand upon the people who called her Commander. What type of leader would she be if she didn't?

"Go on." Sansa stated, emotionless. She knew whatever Ramsay said in that letter he would do if they didn't act. She needed Jon to realise that if he was to take action.