Ramsay was in a good mood. Aileen knew then that something terrible had happened. Of course, she wasn't expecting it to be something terrible that concerned her.

The news of Robb's death fell from his hateful lips with relish. Aileen thought he must be playing a cruel joke, at first, but no, he wasn't that good of an actor, and he was enjoying this far too much for it to not be true. She did not have time to consider her own grief, before Lady Catelyn was screaming. It was a cry of pure grief, haunting. Her aunt started to tear at her face with her fingers, then her nails, leaving deep gouges in her skin that ran red with blood, and Aileen and Edrick were rushing to restrain the despairing woman, Edrick shouting for guards as he blinked back tears from his own eyes.

Since arriving at the Dreadfort, Catelyn had been traumatised from her humiliating and rough treatment at the hands of the Greyjoys, and seeing the heads of her two youngest sons on spikes. Though she barely ate, barely spoke, and seemed a ghost of the woman she had once been, there had been some small improvement under the care of Aileen and Carys, her maid. This, however, had truly broken her.

Catelyn slipped from the chair onto her knees, still fighting them, gut-wrenching sobs wracking her body, inconsolable. Both the twins were trying to keep her from harming herself further, the guards from outside hurrying inside to help, as Ramsay watched and laughed.

"Whose side are you on, you sick bastard?" Edrick snarled, along with a good number of worse curses. "The blasted Lannisters who killed him?"

Aileen knew there would be trouble the moment the word 'bastard' left her brother's lips. Ramsay's eyes narrowed in spite, but to her surprise, he did not immediately try to disembowl Edrick. It was too much to hope that he had grown mindful enough of the guards not to bother.

"Your whore mother is dead too!" Ramsay used the words like a weapon, fingers twitching as though visualising them around Edrick's throat. "Got what's coming to her, the stone-faced bitch,"

And Aileen knew then that the Lannisters had not murdered Robb. They had not killed her mother either.

Edrick went very quiet. The anger that seemed almost a permanent part of him these days fell back to reveal a lost boy who just wanted his mother to come home. And now she never would.

"You're lying," He said. "You're lying about all of this. Why do we even bother listening to the shit that comes out that ugly mouth of yours?"

They all knew he did not believe his own words, only confirmed by the silence of the guards.

"How?" Aileen had heard herself ask, her voice far off.

"Our father found out about her dirty little secret," Ramsay leered. "She fled in the night from the shame of it, taking her and the Kingslayer's bastard girl with her, and bandits got them. Left them for the crows at the side of the road,"

A glance at the nearest guard, who confirmed it with a grim nod.

Aileen laughed, derisive, her hands beginning to shake as she pointed at Ramsay. "It really is shit that comes from your mouth. He killed her. Father killed her," She looked wildly around the room. "He was always going to betray the Starks - you all stopped me telling anyone he ordered Ramsay to burn Winterfell,"

"What?" Edrick looked up sharply at that, his anger returning in the blink of an eye.

"Some things are better left unsaid, milady," The guard said, a note of apology in his voice.

"No, it all makes sense," Aileen continued, not caring that she sounded hysterical, nor that tears were now rolling down her cheeks. "Bran and Rickon are dead. Robb is dead. Sansa will be Lady of Winterfell, and I bet they'll marry her to Edrick! Mother must have found out about what he'd done, that's why she's dead too!"

"And it wasn't even difficult," Ramsay seemed delighted, no doubt that he was now second in line to the Dreadfort, after Edrick. "All Father had to do was threaten the Frey bitch's sister and she did whatever he asked. Lucky for me, his cunt wife got bumped off at the same time,"

Aileen had always tried to tolerate Ramsay no matter how repulsive she found him, and was often amused by the delusions he had about himself. This was too much.

She grabbed a ceramic bowl from the remnants of the meal they had been eating and threw it with all her strength in his direction. It smashed painfully on that fleshy, ugly head of his, and, staggering, he bared his teeth in anger, snarling as he reached for his sword, blood pouring down his face. She was surprised it came out red, not black and rotten. The guards held him back, but Aileen was already reaching for a nearby eating knife, starting forward towards him.

A hand closed on her shoulder, pulling her back. Edrick's hand. For once, it was her brother calming her down rather than the other way around.

"I want to let you," He said into her ear, tugging her out of the room.

Lady Catelyn had already been escorted out by her maids. Guards followed them to her chambers, but her brother pointedly slammed the door in their faces.

"We'll make him pay for it," Edrick's voice shook as they sat on the bed, his expression dark as Aileen cried into his shoulder. "Father and Ramsay. When everyone comes back, they'll pay for it. I don't care that he's our father, if he killed Mother then - " He broke off, torn. "I didn't know it was Morganna too. Not just Ren,"

Aileen had not fully recognised that, when Ramsay had said it. "Oh. Yes. Well, it makes sense. Mother didn't want her wearing red to the feast. She didn't want her being friends with Princess Myrcella. She didn't want her going south," She paused. "How did you know about Ren? I did wonder about the Kingslayer, seeing how he made her laugh, but you knew for sure,"

"I saw them," He said. "In the Godswood,"

"You saw - ?" Aileen's eyes bulged.

"No!" Edrick pulled a disgusted face. "No, not that. But I heard them talking, saw how close they were. They caught me, and as good as admitted it,"

"That's why you were in a foul mood for weeks," She paused. "I wonder if he knows? If he really loved her, we should tell him. Then he can come and gut Ramsay for us, and Father too," It was a stupid, childish idea, and she wasn't that serious, but the imagery it conjured was satisfying.

*

When Reek (the second) emerged from the dungeons, Aileen had not recognised him. Not as the laughing, handsome youth who had teased her whenever she visited Winterfell. The idea was inconceivable, that this wreck of a man was Theon Greyjoy. Aileen had thought Theon was dead, that the 'pet' Ramsay was working on was just some poor, nameless unfortunate.

"Dear Gods," Edrick swore as they both watched the pitiful creature scuttling about behind Ramsay, as the castle made preparations to travel to Winterfell.

"He should've just taken his head and had done with it," Aileen could not look away, horrified.

Though she hated Theon for betraying the Starks, taking Winterfell and killing Bran and Rickon - not to mention allowing his men to brutally mistreat Lady Catelyn - this was truly sickening. The result of weeks, months, of brutal torture. Fingers were missing, his hair was entirely grey and falling out, his teeth were a crunching, broken mess and he shrank from every loud noise or strong word. Worse than a mistreated hound (though Ramsay treated his hounds infinitely better than he treated any human); he was like a rat.

"I don't know," Edrick muttered. "I'd call it justice,"

He looked uneasy, however. Her brother might have a hot temper, but he was not cruel.

*

It was hard to face Lord Bolton when he came back from war with the Northern armies. To look her father in the eye, knowing he had murdered her cousin and her mother. He acted no differently towards her, which was the worst of it, as that meant she had to do the same.

They met them in Winterfell, where repairs were already beginning. Aileen grieved her mother, and Robb, and Bran, Rickon, Uncle Ned. How, in the space of a few years, had everything come apart so completely? Arya was here now, at least, and Ren too. Though the look on Arya's face when she saw her mother for the first time in two years would be burned into Aileen's mind for a long time to come.

Her cousin jumped off her horse and ran to the woman eagerly, stopping dead when she saw the wounds on her face and the dead look of her expression. What followed was a painful half hour of Arya attempting - asking, shouting, begging - to get her mother to speak, to hug her back, to show any emotion at all. The only reaction Catelyn had was silent tears running down her ravaged cheeks.

"That's more response than usual," Aileen murmured to Arya later on. "She smiled, for half a second, when she saw you ride through the gates,"

"Aunt Ross was right," Her cousin sounded much older than her years. "Coming home really is the hardest part,"

Aileen did not know what to say to that. "Where's Morganna?" She asked, almost dreading the answer. "I didn't see her with you,"

"Safe," Arya said, biting her lip. "Ren told me. Don't know wheree she is, though,"

Lord Bolton announced at dinner that evening that Edrick was to be married to Sansa, becoming Lord and Lady Stark, whilst he would rule the North as regent until Edrick was of age. How convinient, Aileen thought, placing a steadying hand on Arya's wrist, where she had her eating knife in a white-knuckled grip.

"Be careful," She said, once dinner was over and they returned to the chambers they shared; the rooms of the keep were largely intact, but Aileen did not want to risk Arya being on her own. "He can do what he likes to you now,"

To her surprise, Arya smiled, albeit like a savage wolf on the hunt. "Oh, I will be. Ren has a plan,"

Her brother had informed neither her nor Edrick of such. "Which is?"

"I can't tell you. Not yet. But you'll see,"

*

She hated to admit it, but things were better now her father was here. Ramsay had been more controllable seeing as Lord Bolton was the only one who had any authority over him. No more did the household run to his cruel whims. No, just those of my father.

She was more glad to see Ren home, of course. The first chance they had to be alone she had told her brother everything. Of finding out that her father meant to betray the Starks and had ordered Ramsay to burn Winterfell, of the truth about him and Morganna, how cruel Ramsay was, of how she knew not only had their father killed Robb but also their mother.

And Ren had known all of it, except that it had been Ramsay, not the Ironborn, who sacked Winterfell.

"He'll pay for it," Her brother's face darkened. "Like he'll pay for everything else. Things are already in motion. I was not idle, during the campaign to drive the Ironborn out of the North. We've allies, amongst the laws, and a few aces up our sleeve that I can't tell you just yet. All in good time,"

*

Their father was not happy, when he saw Reek. Not because he found the act of turning a man into a cringing rat repulsive, as everyone else did, but because of the brutish public spectacle. And because Theon could have been useful, as a hostage. Was whatever he had become even Theon anymore?

"Get the keys and remove those chains from him," Lord Bolton said coldly. "Before you make me rue the day I raped your mother,"

Edrick and Ren shared a look at that, both of them stifling incredulous laughter. From that moment on, Ren earned Ramsay's fierce hatred, even more so than Edrick. Whilst Edrick had what Ramsay wanted, and was his superior in birth, Ren - in Ramsay's eyes - was no better than him, yet infinitely better regarded, having played a key part in the War of the Five Kings and being a strong fighter.

Aileen warned Ren of this, but her brother just laughed.

"The bastard can't drag me off to the dungeons to flay, unlike anyone else who mocks him," He said. "It would reflect terribly on Lord Bolton, if the son of his late wife - who died in mysterious circumstances - also mysteriously disappeared,"

"That won't stop Ramsay," She insisted. "He has no critical thinking whatsoever, and consequences might as well be non-existent to him,"

"Let him try," Ren said, with no small amount of spite of his own. "I've been dying to have a go at that one since I heard his reputation,"

The first attempt, Ramsay tried to ambush Ren alone. Of course, he had severely underestimated Ren's skill with a sword, and was beaten so thoroughly as to be humiliated. Retellings of the glorious event spread around the castle like wildfire, which only inflamed the situation.

The second attempt occurred some days later. Ramsay rushed Ren with his Bastard's Boys, the gang of sadistic thugs who did his bidding. Ren to beat all ten of them, killing three and injuring the rest; Ramsay got away lightly, with a broken nose. Ren understood that he could not put Ramsay down like the mad dog he was, not without earning the ire of Lord Bolton.

Aileen had read in one of her maesters journals that one of the first signs of madness was repeating the same thing and expecting different results. The third time Ramsay and his friends attacked, they did not realise that Crow was lurking across the courtyard. The sight of the direwolf feasting on the remains of the two men he had killed, without Ren lifting a finger, was enough to put the rest off.

Lord Bolton had been angry more at Ramsay than Ren for these attacks. Ramsay hadn't tried again - likely because his friends refused the suicide mission - though didn't hesitate to fly into a rage whenever Ren even threatened to laugh at him.

*

For weeks, they had been waiting for Sansa to arrive from White Harbour. Lord Manderly first claimed that the weather was too poor to send her up the White Knife, that they must wait until the blizzard passed over, lest the party be lost in the snow. Then came that fateful letter that had her father's eyes narrowing, the only sign of anger on his otherwise expressionless face.

My lord, I write with the deepest regret to say that Lady Sansa managed to escape the guards we left on her for her own safety. She disguised herself as a servant and went to the Snowy Sept, to say her holy vows and give up her family name. No matter how I tried to persuade the sept to give her up, that she is just a foolish child who doesn't know what she's done, they stubbornly insist that she is now Septa Sansa and will remain in the care of the Faith. I share your frustrations as I was hoping to request a betrothal between her sister Lady Arya and my eldest grandson, though undoubtedly the girl will be meant for your son Edrick now. My sincerest apologies, Lord Wyman Manderly.

Aileen was at her father's side and snatched up the letter when he let it fall on the desk. No sooner had she finished reading was he ordering a feast to be prepared for the following evening, and Arya was being fitted for a new dress.

She did not know how Ren had persuaded Arya against running away before her wedding. Perhaps the snowdrifts piling up outside the castle had done that well enough on their own. Whatever he had said to her, their cousin agreed to wed without disagreement, though wore an angry scowl through any preparations or well-wishing.

Neither Arya nor Edrick were pleased by their upcoming marriage. Of course, the cousins got along well, being similarly wild and disobedient, but certainly regarded each other as siblings rather than husband and wife. Never mind that Edrick was fourteen, and Arya eleven. Children. They would not be expected to consummate the marriage yet, but give it five, six years and an heir would be expected.

Neither seemed to resent the other for their marriage, simply the circumstances it occurred in. Edrick did not like being his father's pawn, the key to the Bolton claim to the North, and Arya did not rejoice in being Lady of Winterfell when it meant all her siblings were either dead or lost to her. Neither had wanted to marry at all, besides, let alone to each other.

"It won't be for long," Arya paced up and down their rooms, convincing herself more than Aileen. "I refuse to just be someone's wife, and nothing else. The moment Ren does what he has to, I will not be married a day longer,"

Aileen wondered what Ren was planning on doing. It had been months, now, since they returned to Winterfell, and there was no sign of anything.

The Godswood was shrouded in fog during the ceremony, the cold air causing thick mist to rise up from the hot springs and curl in tendrils around the trees. Arya wore a simple white dress with minimal grey embroidery given the limited time they had to make it; using her sister's planned dress was out of the question seeing as Sansa had always been a lot taller and more womanly. Her maiden's cloak was the one that Lord Eddard had draped around Lady Catelyn's shoulders all those years ago, white, with an intricate grey direwolf running across the back.

The guests were simply whoever was in Winterfell at the time, which was no one very important seeing as all the lords were busy tending to their own lands, preparing for the winter that was fast approaching and, for those castles to the west, repairing any damage the Ironborn had done. Ren gave his cousin away, being her closest male relative still alive aside from her husband-to-be. Arya had a face like thunder throughout, and there were many mutters amongst those attending that there surely had never been a bride who glowered more on her wedding day.

Lady Catelyn had had little reaction to the news of Sansa becoming a septa, and sat through her younger daughter's wedding with no expression at all, neither pleased nor upset, just... there. Though Arya was angry about being forced to wed, she did seem concerned that her mother wasn't more pleased at her wild daughter not kicking up as much of a fight at the prospect of getting married as she would've done years ago.

After, both Edrick and Arya refused to occupy the adjoining Lord's and Lady's chambers. The Lady's rooms were not those Catelyn had; they had remained empty, whilst Catelyn had taken warmer rooms slightly further away, which she still remained in. The Lord's, however, was where their Uncle - Arya's father - had slept. All the furniture was the same, albeit a little worse for wear after the sacking.

*

Her father insisted they share a private meal that evening. Just family, he said.

Aileen had been wary at that. Ever since Lord Bolton and his army had arrived at Winterfell, everyone had always eaten in the Great Hall. It was the warmest room in the castle for one, the first to be fully restored, and the Starks had always taken their evening meals there with the entire household.

She remembered how Lord Eddard had invited a different member of staff up to the high table each day, smiths, guardsmen, servants, to talk about their work, and their families. Grim-faced and stern though he might have been, her uncle was a good listener and asked thoughtful questions, showing his genuine interest in the conversation and taking advice on how he could improve things. That was why he was so respected by his household, and his bannermen. Yes he was a skilled battle commander, and an effective lord, but he was also kind, just and respectful of them in turn.

It always felt wrong to see Roose Bolton sitting in his chair. In that sense, it was a relief to eat in the lord's solar that evening rather than the hall. Now her father sat at the head of this smaller table, with Ramsay to his right and Theon Greyjoy to his left. Arya sat at the other end, her husband on one side, her mother to the other, both miserable and angry.

She didn't know how Ren kept such a straight face. He sat across from her, next to Edrick whilst she was next to Catelyn. Her elder brother seemed bemused why he had been invited to this 'private family meal' and had remained silent and impassive for most of the time, watching everything with those green eyes of his. Lannister green. There was no hint of anger as he looked at Lord Bolton, unlike Edrick and Arya.

Catelyn was a hollow shell of a woman, broken. She ate mechanically, gave monosyllabic answers when spoken to, and looked nothing short of dead behind the eyes. The gouges on her face, made by her own fingers, were healing but still red and raw, scabbed and cracked in places, whilst her once beautiful auburn hair was now dry, lacklustre and greying.

"Here, Mother," Arya held out a cup of water she had poured for her, voice more caring and gentle than she was with anything else. "Have something to drink,"

Catelyn was still for a moment, then took the cup and drank.

"What use is a woman who has to be taken care of like an infant?" Ramsay sneered. "Let alone an old one, with a ruined face like that,"

He was sat between Aileen and her father, with Theon Greyjoy sat across from him. It had been cruel to put Theon there, and probably deliberate; not only did he shrink away from the accusing glares of the Starks for murdering Bran and Rickon, he could not look Ramsay in the eye. Aileen couldn't blame him for that, at least.

The worst of it was, he looked considerably better now than before Lord Bolton had arrived. Theon wore fine clothes in Greyjoy colours, answered to a name other than Reek without almost having a seizure, and didn't beg not to be treated as a human at least. But his hair was still white as snow, he was still missing three fingers, he chewed painfully with a mouthful of broken teeth and shuffled when he walked due to the pain of his missing toes. Gone was the arrogant, handsome youth who had been Robb Stark's best friend; Theon was even more broken than Lady Catelyn.

"What use is an insane bastard with a face like chopped liver who fights like an untrained savage?" Arya snapped back at Ramsay in response to his insult.

Theon cringed - used to having things that upset Ramsay taken out on him later - but Arya didn't flinch as the bastard predictably snarled in fury, about to get to his feet until their father's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"I may allow you at my table but you will not insult a lady," Her father's quiet voice said. "Your bad blood shows through,"

"A lady?" Ramsay scoffed angrily, though sat back down. "She's no lady. I heard half the Greyjoy men had her. She's as much a whore as your mother," He sneered at Ren.

As Edrick opened his mouth in outrage, Ren shot him a look and spoke instead.

"I suppose it would take one to know one," He gestured with his cup. "Tell me, are those rumours I heard around the barracks true? No wonder you can't sit still for too long,"

Arya snorted into her food.

Ramsay, of course, rose to the provocation beautifully. "I'll rip every one of your fingernails out one by one and make you eat them, bastard," He snarled.

Aileen's brother just raised an unimpressed, unintimidated eyebrow, looking remarkably like their mother aside from that sharp smile growing at his lips.

"I'll flay every inch of skin from your body and serve it to that beast of yours! I'll burn - "

"How do you think you'll manage that?" Ren interrupted. "You haven't got a single skilled fighter amongst your sorry little group of friends. Besides, they wouldn't dare try again - they're too scared of that beast of mine. Do try, though. I'd love to see Crow feasting on your corpse. Though if you taste as unpleasant as you everyone else finds you, he'd likely spit you out,"

Edrick and Arya laughed loudly. Theon cringed as though struck, looking like he wanted someone to end his life there and then, though he looked like that most of the time anyway. Ramsay swelled in fury, but Lord Bolton cut in.

"Enough," He said coldly, glaring at his son. "You're making a fool of yourself,"

Thud.

A loud, violent noise from outside the door suddenly caught all their attention, making even Ramsay cease his threats.

"What was that?" He glared around at them, as though it was their fault. "Guards? Guards!"

No response from the two men stationed outside. The silence was concerning. Aileen father's face showed no expression, though he was clearly paying attention.

"I'll have a look," Ren frowned, getting to his feet, hand on his sword. "I'm sure it's nothing,"

His steps on the stone floor echoed around the now-quiet room. Arya got to her feet, eager for the possibility of trouble. Ren placed a hand on the door handle and opened it quickly, jumping back as the bloody corpses of the two pink-cloaked guards fell into the room.

Edrick swore aloud, Ramsay gave a vicious exclamation, drawing his sword, their father getting sharply to his feet. Aileen reached for Lady Catelyn, who was staring dispassionately at the bodies, leading her out of her seat and away from the door, into the opposite corner. She glared at Theon when he made to scurry to join them, and without any argument he went to the other side of the room. He seemed more scared of her than he was of Edrick, though she did share the same eyes as her father and his bastard.

"Traitors in the castle," Ramsay's eyes were gleaming at the possibility of blood. "Murderers," Hypocrite. "I'll make them sorry they were ever born!"

"Feel free, if you can find them," Ren was out in the corridor with his sword out, looking back at them. "No trace of them here. They killed the guards and melted into thin air,"

"I'll find them, bastard," Ramsay snarled, lumbering into the hall to meet Ren.

What came next happened so fast that Aileen barely followed what was going on.

In the blink of an eye Ren had disarmed Ramsay, throwing his sword away and wrapping an arm round his neck, his own sword at the bastard's throat. Ramsay was shouting in fury, fighting viciously, but Ren pressed harder and he was forced to stop as a red line bloomed at his throat, allowing himself to be marched into the room. As Aileen was taking in the look of death in his eyes, more men were pouring in through the door behind Ren.

Arya had grabbed an eating knife off the table and gone over to protect her mother, Edrick had drawn the dagger at his belt, but Ren seemed perfectly at ease.

"Stand down," He told them.

Understanding dawned on both their faces. Edrick's fierce expression twisted into a wolfish grin. Arya didn't smile but dark anticipation gleamed in her eyes.

At his words, Aileen examined the men further, enough to realise that at least two of them were not men at all. She would recognise Dacey Mormont anywhere, graceful even in armour, but did not know the grinning, shaggy-haired woman who wore no armour yet carried a short sword. Two men - one of them huge, helmeted and dressed in blue - moved to seize Lord Bolton. He made no move to get away, likely seeing that any escape attempt was hopeless given that the corridor was full of even more armed men; many of them Winterfell guards, Stark, not Bolton.

For a moment, there was stillness.

The shutters of the window - hastily repaired and not the best quality - had been knocked loose in the commotion and a cold wind howled into the room, bringing snow with it and making the candles flicker. The only sounds were the banging of the shutters in the wind, the shuffle of men in armour, Ramsay graphically describing what he was going to do to Ren, and then... footsteps?

The sound of heeled boots clacking on the stone floor could be heard from down the corridor, along with claws. Men moved aside to make way, and three direwolves prowled into the room, huge and menacing. Crow, Nymeria... Grey Wind? But he didn't come back with the others, how was he here?

But then a figure appeared between them in the doorway, in a grey dress and black cloak, her hand on Grey Wind's back, and Aileen's heart skipped a beat.

"You're dead!" Ramsay spat out.

No one paid him any mind. She vaguely noticed most of the men retreating out of the room, save the ones that held Lord Bolton, shutting the door behind them. Aileen glanced at her father; for a fleeting second, pure shock showed on his face - the most emotion she had ever seen from him - before it settled back to its usual blank visage.

"The Boltons, my lady," The tall, shaggy-haired woman gave a mocking bow.

"And a Greyjoy," Aileen's mother - alive, how is she alive, and here? - stared the man in question down. "Didn't I warn you, Theon, what would happen if you betrayed us?"

Aileen could have wept at the sound of her voice, which she thought she would never hear again.

"I never killed Bran and Rickon!" Theon burst out. "I never did. I couldn't find them so killed two miller's boys instead,"

You still killed two innocent children. Was everyone they presumed dead going to return? First Arya, now Mother, Bran and Rickon? Aileen could not stop the smile forming on her lips.

"That wasn't the treason I was referring to," Her mother's voice was colder than she had ever heard it. "I know full well you didn't kill Bran and Rickon Stark. But you did allow the entire North to think them dead, not to mention taking Winterfell in the first place. Though looking at the state of you now, knowing whose company you've been in, I might just be doing you a mercy," She walked swiftly forward. "My father always said that the hand that passes the sentence should swing the sword,"

Theon didn't even try to run. Lady Rosennis had grabbed his shoulder and sunk a dagger into his heart before anyone had a chance to do or say anything. He gasped, lips forming words that no one could hear, sinking to the floor. Aileen's mother eyed him with distaste, taking her knife back and wiping the blood on her cloak.

She turned around to face the rest of them, fire in her eyes despite her icy expression as they moved to settle on her husband.

"When you stab someone in the chest," She said. "Know where to locate the heart. For someone whose house words are 'Our Blade Our Sharp', you seemed not to have learned that lesson, my lord,"

"Strong words from the Kingslayer's whore," Ramsay snarled.

Her mother spared him a brief, disdainful glance, whilst Edrick glared, but everyone else ignored him.

"I am Lord Paramount of the North," Aileen's father said, voice quiet as ever, seeming unbothered that he was being held with the blade of a sword to his neck. "If you slaughter me like you did Greyjoy, there will be... repercussions,"

"From who?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "My son has spoken to the lords. They know you as a traitor. And they know that Arya is not the last of my brother's children fit to inherit," She smiled then, at Ramsay. "All that time you had with Greyjoy, and you never realised. Rickon Stark is downstairs as we speak, being welcomed with open arms into his new seat, his sister Sansa at his side," Lady Catelyn made a small noise at that. "Your guards are dead or surrendered - the Stark men were only to happy to rid Winterfell of the Boltons. I also came with men from White Harbour - it was Manderly that told me Rickon was alive,"

"Surely you'll want a trial, to convince everyone of the legitimacy of your claims," Bolton said, still coldly calm. "There'll always be those who doubt you otherwise. Where are the witnesses to my supposed treachery?"

"Hanging from a tree next to the Kingsroad with their throats slit," She said without regret. "All but one. My daughter Morganna was there to see you murder Robb and stick a knife in my chest. She's downstairs too,"

"Your thirteen year old bastard daughter is hardly a reliable witness. Lannisters lie, after all, particularly for their family,"

"Then how about Lady Brienne, who saw your men take Morganna before they beat her bloody and threw her in the dungeons?" She gestured to the big knight in blue, who Aileen suddenly realised was a woman. "Or Lady Dacey, who found her there alongside gruesome experiment notes your maester wrote? Or Marianne Frey, to tell how you threatened her sister so she'd take the blame? If she's still alive, that is,"

"She's still alive," Ramsay smiled cruelly. "Not quite the same, though,"

"Is there anything to you except mindless cruelty and temper tantrums?" Aileen's mother asked him, glancing at her husband. "Are you proud of this one? He got all the sadism you hide, but none of the restraint. An unholy mix,"

"I can be a witness," Aileen spoke up, finding her voice, and her loyalties. "I found out long ago that Father told Ramsay to burn Winterfell and betray the North. I tried to write a letter but was watched night and day," Her father fixed her with a cold pale-eyed stare, but she didn't care anymore. "Then Ramsay told us the truth of what happened at Harrenhal. How you threatened Lady Marianne, killed Robb and Mother,"

Her father's stare turned on Ramsay.

"Your own daughter?" Her mother's lip curled. "So it's you and your bastard against the world,"

"I want a trial by combat," Ramsay hissed.

Lord Bolton closed his eyes for a moment at that.

"Who do you think her champion would be?" Ren said, amused. "Fighting me did not go well for you the last three attempts, and that was with the element of surprise. I'd carve you up as easily as you carve up helpless people chained to a slab,"

"There will be no trial," Their mother's voice cut across any protest Ramsay was about to make.

Her words fell heavy, a death sentence.

Ren let out a yell, and Ramsay was running surprisingly fast, leaving her brother's side bleeding in his wake; he'd somehow found a knife and stabbed him with it. Ramsay shoved past those near the door, and when Edrick tried to stop him he slashed out viciously, catching him in the face with the blade. Aileen ran to her twin's side as Edrick fell with a cry, clutching his face, hands already full of his own blood.

Ramsay made it to the door, and even managed to open it. For one heart-stopping moment, she forget the dozens of men on the other side and thought he might actually manage to escape.

But then the wolves were upon him. Grey Wind leapt at his back with a snarl, knocking him flat. Then Crow was there, rolling him over and swiping at his belly, Nymeria too. Aileen had a strong stomach from all her studies on the corpses Ramsay left - and they were not for the faint of heart - so did not look away at the sight of blood and intestines, but even she balked slightly as she watched the man be eaten alive, screaming the whole while. Though if anyone deserved scuh a fate, it was this man.

Curiously, Grey Wind did not join in with the feasting of his brother and sister, simply held Ramsay down. Looking around, Aileen saw that even Ren and Edrick were focusing elsewhere - Ren grimacing as he poked the wound in his side, Edrick fighting back a groan as he held the handkerchief she'd given him to his bloody face - though her mother was watching the whole thing, as was Arya. Both looked grimly satisfied.

After what felt like a hideously long time, Ramsay's screaming stopped and he became limp as the direwolves continued their feast. Her mother's focused switched to Lord Bolton, breaking the spell of the largely transfixed room.

Her father didn't look like a man who had just watched his son be eaten alive, nor one who faced the serious possibility of meeting the same fate. His eyes were empty, which was nothing new. But the fact he said nothing was telling.

"What's it to be, my lord?" Her mother's voice was icy cold. "My knife, or that," She gestured to the bloody mess that barely resembled a man. The smell, Aileen was used to, but the sounds were worse, tearing and ripping and crunching. She never usually saw the corpse actually die. "I'll take silence as you choosing the wolves,"

Her father smiled then, faintly, but it chilled her nonetheless. "Then I'll choose death by two-legged wolf,"

"I should've killed you the night before our wedding," Her mother's tone was laced with deepest loathing.

"You hardly got cold feet - you would've done it, had I not stopped you,"

What?

Her mother smiled slightly then, stepping forward. It happened far too fast, far too easy. One moment her father was alive, the next her mother's knife was in his chest, and she was whispering something in his ear as he fell, going down to her knees beside him, still whispering. Aileen caught her father's eyes widen, though that could've been the fact she twisted the blade, rather than shock at what she had said.

Though there was never much expression in Lord Bolton's pale-grey eyes, she could tell when life left him and his stare became glassy.

There was a silence, then Grey Wind began to howl, long, low and haunting. The other two howled too, and from somewhere else in the castle two more wolves could be heard joining the call of what was undoubtedly victory. Aileen's mother got to her feet, taking the dagger with her, but remained staring at her husband's corpse as though he'd somehow rise again.

"Burn the body," She said eventually, carefully.

Aileen never did find out why her father had requested a private meal that night.

She saw for herself the bodies of the Bolton men who hadn't surrendered to the Starks, lying strewn around the castle, the courtyard, the battlements, as they made their way to the Great Hall. She wondered when they had died, not recalling having heard the sounds of a battle, or swords clashing. Perhaps her mother's group had got there first and done it by stealth rather than an open fight. Or perhaps it had happened whilst they were all in the solar and they were all too distracted to hear.

Her mother swept into the Great Hall with Ren at her side, all eyes of the household on them. People could be heard muttering about the events that had occurred that night, news spreading fast that Lord Bolton, Ramsay Snow and Theon Greyjoy had not come out of the solar alive. The Black Dinner, they were already calling it. But there was no doubting the mood of the room; everyone present was glad the Boltons were gone, and that Theon Turncloak was finally dead.

Aileen followed her mother along with Edrick, Arya and Catelyn, half in a daze at what had just happened. Catelyn stopped dead when she saw who awaited them at the other end of the hall, both hands rising to her mouth.

"Mother!" Sansa didn't run - that would be unladylike - but she walked quick enough to appear like she was floating down the hall. Like Arya, she paused at the sight of her mother's face, and embraced the woman whose hands twitched as though they'd like to hug her back but ultimately did not. "Mother? What happened to your face? Why won't you answer? Mother," When there was no response, Sansa turned to them with wild eyes. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's been like this for months," Arya said, seeming unsure around the sister she had never gotten along with, and hadn't seen for years. "Since Bran and Rickon, Edrick said,"

Sansa looked like she had a thousand things to say, but instead simply stepped forward and threw her arms around her sister. Arya stiffened, seeming shocked, but after a moment relaxed and embraced her back.

The small red-haired figure was still sat in the lord's chair at the end of the hall. Morganna was at his side, leaning over to speak to him, both of them flanked by two direwolves, Lady and Shaggydog. Rickon. Gods, he was twice the size as when she last saw him. And it was sweet to see her sister standing there, alive and unharmed. Aileen caught Morganna's eye and her sister grinned, and for a moment it was like nothing had changed.

"I told him to sit still and not move from that chair until I say otherwise," Her mother sounded a little wry. "I may have been a little too stern, but the boy is... wild,"

There was a snort from the tall woman; Osha, her name was.

"I suppose it's done, then?" Sansa asked, voice only quavering slightly as she glanced at Aileen's mother.

"It is," She nodded once, not elaborating. "There'll be time for talking in private later. For now, we must show Winterfell its new lord,"

Not everyone was home - Robb and Uncle Ned were dead, Jon was at the Wall, and Bran was still missing - but it was a start. All her siblings were with her, her mother too, Lady Catelyn, Sansa, Arya. And Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, five direwolves prowling behind him, one at his feet.

She grasped her mother's hand, briefly, and the woman squeezed back. She's alive, she's here, she's with me. That brought a faint smile to Aileen's face. Nothing was perfect, and never would be, but things felt considerably less wrong than they had done that morning.

*

Bolton is finally dead! I had a big dramatic scene planned for this, with all the lords in the great hall and Ross marching in with Rickon and the direwolves, but when I actually wrote it out it came across as rather too dramatic, campy and had a lot of monologuing. This more private scene went much better, but there's a lot of pressure to get the climax of the story arc just right - not sure how well I did with that so please give feedback! 

I hope Ramsay got the end people thought he deserved - one of the few things the show did right was having him be eaten alive by dogs, and this is along the same lines. 

Also how is the pacing of this story? I could've had the defeat of the Bolton's be in the next chapter but then this one would just be Ross travelling with Rickon from White Harbour, or Ren speaking to all the lords and a few conversations with Edrick and Aileen that happened off screen. If I was bored writing it then you'd definitely be bored reading it so I chose not to drag things out.

Thanks for reading!