Her feet treaded lightly against the floor, keeping her steps silent. She couldn't sleep, hadn't been able to even rest on her bed.

Her thoughts were plagued by Lord Bolton, even though her body throbbed in pain because of the son and his recent visit an hour ago.

But it was the father that had her mind racing, preoccupied and unable to think straight. The ghost of his lips on her skin, the gentle promises he whispered in his soft voice...

She sighed angrily to herself, wanting to forget the whole thing. She'd even torn off a piece of her bread viciously, before realizing she was acting too heated about that encounter. Making a right, she ran into a hall filled with Bolton soldiers, who ended up staring straight at her for her entrance.

"Lady Sansa," one of them started. "It's late? Perhaps you should return to your chambers."

Her mind immediately flashed to what happened there, before remembering why she was wandering in the first place.

Being in that room, where all the horrors happened, made it difficult for her to stay there and to sleep. Instead, she'd taken to just wandering around the halls like a ghost, unable to find rest or any sort of peace.

However, for once, she'd been interrupted in her solitary walk by the unfortunate run in with these five soldiers.

"I can't sleep," she felt herself speak out, almost out of body.

She did not want to return to her chambers at all.

Ignoring them, she averted her eyes from the soldiers and determinedly sat herself on the floor near them, leaning against the wall.

She didn't know why they were stationed there or keeping watch in that area. She just knew it was as far away from her room and Ramsay as she could, and if they kept quiet and didn't bother her, then all was well.

Except one of their stomachs didn't agree and she looked up and at the soldiers, all of whom were looking away from her. One of them though, looked obviously embarrassed.

She glanced at her bread before she stood up and headed over, tearing off a piece and handing it over.

"It's not much," she murmured.

"You don't have to do that, my Lady," he protested but she merely continued to hold it out until he relented and took it.

Then she repeated the motions four more times, to silent Bolton soldiers who accepted their piece of bread until she was left with the last piece and she'd gone back to her spot.

So long as she found her peace and quiet, she didn't care.

~⸹⸹⸹~

They settled in for dinner, with Roose sitting next to his lady wife and sitting directly in front of Lady Sansa. Next to her sat his bastard son, Ramsay grinningly settling into his chair and already selecting his food.

Roose stared him down, causing Ramsay to stop with a grimace and wait until everyone was seated. Then Roose reached out to the food first. Once he'd finished, the rest of them started in on the small selection of food offered.

It was shaping to be a long, harsh winter indeed and Roose reminded himself he had long days of work ahead of him, and even later that night he needed to continue figuring out the state of the North. Looking to relieve himself of the grief and stress he had to look forward to, he went to carefully gaze at Lady Sansa.

Practically gleaming in the dimmed warm light of the candles around them, she was exquisite to behold. He wished he could openly gaze upon her, knowing that his gaze was hungry as it was. Instead, he let his gaze hungrily look over her in secret, watching her soft, plump lips to the slender curve of her neck, to her generous bosom that he had only a glimpse of in her bath.

Below the table, he knew her shapely hips would be perfect for his hands to curve around, while her tiny waist would let his wands wrap around them, let him hold onto while he snapped his hips harder and faster —

A sharp, almost silent exhale escaped her and he watched intently as she reached down and gently held her ribs.

He wanted to snarl, stopping himself from openly glaring at his bastard.

The Lady was hurt, enough that her breathing suffered. Damned Ramsay. Did he not know control? Over and over, Roose had to have had the same lecture with his bastard again and again —even before Lady Sansa.

And as he continued to watch, he also realized Lady Sansa had barely touched her plate, preferring instead to move around the food. She only took tiny bites after she gazed furtively at Ramsay and, when she saw him looking at her, took a small bite to appease his stare. Then again, Ramsay had served her the food...

Roose took a long sip of his water, before addressing her aloud.

"Lady Sansa, if you are able, as formerly a tenant of this castle and more familiar with it and its upkeep, I would ask that you stay behind after our meal and provide me with your assistance."

"But Father —" Ramsay started in protest.

He stared his bastard down again, eyes cold and face indifferent. "Lady Sansa's help is invaluable. She will do her duty to Winterfell and its Lord."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Sansa flinch. But his words effectively shut his bastard up and Ramsay mulishly went back to his food. While he finished his own meal, he had a servant bring the aforementioned books and then refilled his own plate as Ramsay finished and then irritably left, while he pointedly took a bite of each of what he filled his plate. His own lady wife finished, trying to discreetly snag an apple and hide it away as she excused herself. He refrained from rolling his eyes.

But then it was him and his Lady.

"Stay here," he ordered and stood up, leaving her for a moment after he'd dismissed the servants. Instead, he searched out Maester Wolkan and asked for a healing ointment and some wrappings. When he returned, he was pleased to see Lady Sansa demurely sitting in her seat, obeying his command.

He came towards her and placed the ointment jar and wrappings in front of her, hands moving deftly to her stays.

"M-My Lord," she gasped, jerking away.

"Still," he was ordering again. Taking the ointment, he opened the jar and took a bit on his fingers. "You may move just a little for this. If you would remove the top part of your gown so I may use this on you?"

She was so frozen he thought she'd refuse, but her dainty hands reached up and started to lift her gown off of her shoulders and then allowed to fall to her waist. Then the shift under was carefully shucked up from underneath. He used a hand to still hers, leaning in from behind her.

His chest brushed up against her back as he let go of her hands and lifted up her shift enough so that he could move the hand with the ointment on it underneath the shift, remembering where she had held her hand to her ribs. He applied it there carefully, feeling her shiver.

"Is there anywhere else that's hurt? Are your ribs more than bruised?" he breathed against her ear.

"J-just here, Lord Bolton," her breath hitched, and he looked to see her hand cautiously hovering over her stomach. "My ribs are much better than they were a few days ago."

He let his hand move to her belly, rubbing it gently. "Better?"

"Y-yes."

He reluctantly moved away and wiped his hand on his trousers, replacing the cover on the jar. "You may keep the ointment. Maester Wolkan is making more and has no need of that one. The wrappings are for your use, if your ribs need them."

He wouldn't have minded doing the wrappings himself, but he feared he might be pushing her too fast, too soon.

Roose then retrieved his plate and set it in front of her. "If you fear the food or plate poisoned, by Ramsay or me, then take my plate. I refilled it for you and so you can see it is fine —you saw with your own eyes that I made sure to take a bite of everything on here."

"I do not think you to have poisoned it," she said, "but Ramsay for his enjoyment or Myranda for her jealousy."

He vaguely remembered that 'Myranda' was one of his bastard's whores, but he was at least pleased that Lady Sansa did not think him to poison her.

She began to tentatively eat and he turned to his books, set to start in on his work while she ate.

"Are those from Fa —" her voice cracked, before she cleared it and tried again. "The Lord of Winterfell's solar?"

He eyed her cautiously. "They are."

Lady Sansa licked her lips. "You do not have the most current Winterfell books. I suspect you do not have the books detailing the North's handlings as well."

He watched her closely. "I have many missing."

"In the Maester's chambers, the Winterfell books should be placed there. Of the entire North's affairs, you will find them in the Lord of Winterfell's actual chambers," she informed him quietly. "Even if they are outdated because of the recent years and the war, those books and papers shall help you get a comparative idea of what needs to be done for Winterfell and the rest of the North. You should get an idea of how to get things back to...to normal." She swallowed thickly and looked down.

Intrigued, he approached her again. Standing by her and leaning against the table, he didn't force her to lift her head and look at him.

"You are quite intelligent and resourceful, Lady Sansa. May I inquire how you know of all this, and also how you can provide such sound advice?"

Lady Sansa slowly lifted her face, watching him solemnly. "My lord father did not think his children should be so unlearned, especially as children in line of the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, whom have different and even more responsibilities and duties than other highborn children. Even though Robb was his heir, he had me learn alongside Robb —as second eldest, I was expected to make sure I knew how to run Winterfell and the North in case my lord father and my lady mother were indisposed. I would support Robb, or be capable of doing so on my own if Robb was also indisposed. In turn, after I learned my duties, I would be old enough to help teach my younger siblings so that they may also be capable to supplement the running of Winterfell and the North, or step in if need be. Given what happened though, I was never able to pass on anything to the others," she ended quietly.

She hesitated but continued. "My education also just slightly fell short however. But in King's Landing, that was...remedied," she ended in a whisper.

He was tempted to pry more out of her, but he was pleased enough that she offered this amount of information to him already. He would not push his luck with her.

However, he found himself intrigued and even impressed, despite himself. He couldn't recall ever meeting a woman so intelligent or capable —competent maybe, as he'd known her lady mother had been, but Lady Sansa was on a different level to those women.

It made him want her even more.

Eying her, he saw she was tense as a bow. He came closer to her, going to move directly behind her once more, laying his hands on her shoulders.

"Lord Bolton?" she asked in question, voice trembling and her eyes refusing to look at him.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he murmured. "And surprisingly with the intelligence to match that. And at least the courage to show it, unlike most women."

It was actually rather arousing.

"You promised a sennight," she said sharply, surprising him and making him pause. She finally looked up at him. "Did you not?"

The hard look on her face took him aback and reconsider her —he knew she still had a steel of spine on her. It made him start to harden considerably and take a deep breath.

"I did," he said lightly, not backing down and looking away from her gaze. "And I will show you just how much pleasure I can wring out of you," he promised darkly.

She pressed her lips together. "At one time, I wondered how a woman could like being touched and to be intimate with another man, if all there was was pain. That it wouldn't make sense if there were so many babies and whores in the world. But then I thought...babies come from duty."

"And whores?" he asked, voice not belying anything, even if he wanted to frown.

"Lord Baelish once took me to one of his whore houses," she caught him off guard again. "And I watched as he instructed two whores how to act, how they were to sound, how they were to look, and how they would proceed to pleasure a man and earn their coin."

"Not all whores act in the bedroom," he said while his mind raced to find arguments to counter her. "There is enjoyment in intimacy."

"Prove it," she challenged him, and though normally he'd be irate and angered that someone would dare challenge him...On Lady Sansa, it made her even more desirable and he was pleased to see the fire in her still burning.

Not beaten down yet, his Lady. She had some wolf's blood in her yet.

"I'll make a believer out of you," he decided to tease her and was pleased when he was rewarded with her flushed cheeks and startled look. "Might I provide a taste of the future?"

He didn't wait for her reply, placing his hands on her shoulders and kneading firmly, if slowly. The resulting gasp made him smirk. He pressed in his thumbs just a little more, feeling the tension, and kept pace to massage it out.

She made a low moan in her throat that made his blood rise. When she whimpered, he licked his lips and watched over her as he remembered every reaction her body had to his hands.

"Does it not feel good, Lady Sansa?" he asked without needing an answer. "Do you still think to disbelieve me?"

And then he cupped her throat, using the tips of his fingers to press down on her jaw in small, tight circles and his thumbs to firmly rub the side of her tense neck. In no time, he had the tension easing out of her, while she slightly writhed in her seat and arched her head further into his hands. The sounds escaping her made him have to keep a tight watch on his control, his cock straining against his trousers.

But she was quieting herself, trying to stop her noises and softened them at least. That wouldn't do at all.

"I want to hear you," he growled. "Let me."

Her eyes opened, having closed sometime when he started his massage, and she looked weakly at him.

"The-the servants —"

"I don't care," he rasped. "None are here, but even so, I don't care. I am Lord here and they answer to me. So let me hear you, my Lady," he ended possessively.

She gasped and her eyes fluttered. She did not get louder, but she no longer kept in her moans and sighs of delight.

It was fine for now —soon enough, he would have learned all he needed to have her screaming for him.

Oh, but he was so greedy and he wanted more. He'd told himself he'd massage her shoulders and neck, and her head.

But his hands wanted to wander and he found he couldn't deny himself just a little more.

Roose moved around her to face her. She looked at him with wide, watchful eyes, probably waiting for what he would do next, so he reached for one of her hands and continued to massage the tips of her fingers. From there, he made his way from the tips to her actual fingers, to holding her hand gently between his as he used his thumbs to knead out her palm and caress the back of her hand. He repeated the same motions to her other hand, before gripping it and leading it to his mouth.

He kissed it several times before letting his tongue roll out and wrap around a finger, sliding against it and closing his eyes as he was savoring the taste of her mixed with a bit of sweetness from the honey of the bread roll. He let out a loud groan, opening his eyes slightly to gaze at her hotly from a hooded gaze.

"I do enjoy you very much, Lady Sansa, so please remember to show me and let me hear your pleasure," he practically purred.

She held his gaze as she slowly nodded.