A Need to Suffer

Twisted in All Directions

This chapter is pretty much all about character development guys, so apologies in advance that there's nothing 'dirty' in this chapter ;) LOL! I hope you still enjoy! :P

Chapter Five

Twisted in All Directions

“And what exactly do you plan to do with him now, Sansa?” Jon paced in the small archway of the study looking rather vexed at his sister who rocked slowly at the hearth staring into the fire seemingly unconcerned.

Sansa had been wondering the same thing. Originally she’d planned to get her revenge and put Ramsay down, but the past week had opened her eyes to many more possibilities. Ramsay’s eyes, staring back at her last night still haunted her now. She’d left him shortly after violating him only to come back long enough to place a furred blanket over him. It was winter, and the dungeon was getting rather cold.

Ramsay had been shivering pulled in on himself as much as his restraints had allowed, and when she’d returned, he had shivered from something deeper than the cold he’d felt only glancing at her furtively before tucking his face back into his shoulder. He had been crying, silently to himself to unload the misery he felt in what he had hoped to be private isolation as his lingering pride, or the shreds of what was left of it, still made it difficult to let Sansa or anyone for that matter see this side of him. After everything that had transpired between them, to see her now sent his stomach to tie in knots. The realization made Ramsay feel ill; there was no denying that he was most definitely afraid of her now.

Sansa had sensed this too. It made her feel worse than she had after he’d broken down in front of her in an obvious snap of will from the things she’d done to him accompanied by his own guilt that she’d dragged out of him. She’d wanted to get into his head, and she’d finally done so, but what was revealed left her feeling a cold numbness to prickle through her.

Her resolve to hate him faltered under his impassioned inner torment; it leaked out of the cracks of his desperate attempts to hide baring that he, Ramsay, did in fact have a vulnerable side, and she’d somehow tapped into it. She’d not only tapped into it, she was ripping him apart like he’d done Theon. There was a level of satisfaction that she’d reached that deep within him to pull out something humanizing when Ramsay had done nothing but proudly work to display what a monster he could be for all to observe. He wasn’t proud now; in fact she’d managed to wipe his smugness off his face the first day, and she hadn’t seen him smile since.

Sansa felt the need to comfort him now, such an alien gesture to a man that had harmed her repeatedly with malicious intent, but the furs still shook with Ramsay’s attempts to contain himself enough not to make any sound. Small sniffs still could be heard though, and Sansa frowned feeling her own inner turmoil build within her. Maybe Jon was right; maybe she was acting like a monster. She found herself dropping down to kneel in front of him once more, and Ramsay reflexively trembled.

The action sent an immediate spike of disgust through Ramsay that ‘she’ had produced this response in him, and his eyes glazed over once more as memories of Reek passed through his mind. Such shudders from Reek had elicited a yearning to see them again and again Ramsay remembered. They reminded him that Reek knew he belonged to him and him alone, and now Ramsay wondered if Sansa garnered the same level of joy from him now. The thought of her seeing him in such a light caused the tears standing in his eyes to fall once more, as if he couldn’t be more pathetic Ramsay thought hatefully at the renewed wetness on his face.

“Are you hungry or thirsty, Ramsay?” Sansa offered evenly.

Her words caught Ramsay’s attention, he was both hungry and thirsty, but he was now suspicious this would be a trick of some sort to introduce some other form of torture upon him. His mouth worked warring dually with whether or not he wanted to answer. His pride told him to remain silent, but another part, newly blossomed, feared not answering leading to some form of other torture.