A Need to Suffer

Unsettled

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Unsettled

Ramsay wore a brimming grin as he was guided to Sansa’s chambers. It was hard not to be elated having the worries of a conflict with the Umbers fall to the backdrop of his mind, to know Sansa was home safe happily awaiting his presence, and to top it off by putting the servant wench who dared taunt him back in her proper place. It had been far too long since he’d felt that thrill of dominance over another, and in some ways a part of him shifted internally to reclaim just a little bit of power from anyone; it was uplifting for Ramsay not to feel like he was the lowest rung on the totem pole. His euphoric feeling of triumph didn’t last long as the sinking remembrance of his quandary returned to Ramsay upon reaching the top of the tower stairs where the vision of the grand master bedroom was well lit with candlelight through the open door awaiting his arrival. To be brought here like this, it was a reminder that he had absolutely no control anymore; it was worse than the restrictions that being a bastard had put on him (which he’d thought were rather demeaning and infuriating then) but of course he’d never known what it truly was to be humbled as he did now.

This wasn’t the first time Ramsay had seen this room. He’d occupied it prior to the battle albeit not long enough to have had all of his possessions moved in to take up full residence. His father before him along with his fat Frey wife had also inhabited the room, and remnants still lingered such as an elegant tapestry of a flying hawk soaring above a forested ridge. It covered a large portion of the wall over the fireplace; that same drapery had hung in Roose’s personal study at the Dreadfort as one of his prized possessions due to its intricacy and the fact some pompous well known artist in King’s Landing had made it specifically for him. Roose had told Ramsay while admiring it one day that it reminded him that to rise above all standing obstacles gave way to insight and that until one did, they could never see clearly the path in front of them.

Ramsay had rolled his eyes at his father’s back sneering in contempt as he immediately compartmentalized the old man’s prophetic lecture to be more of the same gibberish that Maester Medrick often spouted. It wasn’t until he’d killed his father and became lord of the castle did the textile and his father’s reverence of it hold any meaning to him. To Ramsay, the picture had always reminded him of a hunting predator on a clear day (a much more simple and appropriate context to Ramsay and one he personally enjoyed envisioning as a sign of power over prey), so he’d not bothered to remove it, nor had Sansa apparently for whatever reason. To see it now sent a shiver up his spine; it was a weighty recollection that bore down upon him its significance. Suddenly his father’s words regarding the wall-hanging came back to him putting in perspective once more what place in the world he now held; Ramsay finally saw the meaning his father had meant to depart to him clearly; it was of course, too little too late.

Ramsay’s thoughts altered as his eyes drifted away from the tapestry and over to Sansa taking in the fact she only wore a loose robe and a barely veiled grin. The look of her in such a state caused Ramsay’s cock to jump to half-mast with desire; she was ever the beauty with fiery thin spirals of hair escaping her tightly bound braided bun to waft about her neck in an unruly display. To set eyes on her now seemed to capture Ramsay and funnel him into a distant place seeded deep within his mind’s eye where every step closer she took, it was if she scattered his thoughts like a shattered mirror, and the fragmented pieces he knew only she could put back together.

Her half lidded gaze poured over Ramsay noting the want for her he held; Sansa’s lip twisted into a sultry smile to observe his avarice. Ramsay had looked at her in a similar fashion prior to their wedding night except now there was a distinct hesitation that remained about him and reminded her of a begging dog beneath the table. It was an apt comparison Sansa supposed since she had brought him to heel from the wild beast he had been into the man that stood before her.