Chapter 22: The path of death

Sansa felt genuine happiness as she watched Rickon sleep in his bed. She caressed his head one last time and quietly pulled herself out of her little brother's grasp. She took one last glance at her brother and quietly slipped out of his room.

She was just about to take her leave and find some sleep in her room but a voice from her back gave her pause.

"Is he asleep?"

She would have been afraid to reply to a voice in the dark if it wasn't for the familiarity of that voice.

"Yes. He is fast asleep." she answered as she turned to face her cousin only to see that he was hiding in the shadows.

"Are you planning to stay in the dark all night?" she asked in exasperation.

She heard her cousin let out a chuckle before he stepped forward until he was visible to her under the light of the oil lamp she was carrying.

"How is Rickon?" asked Daeron

"Happy and yet sad. He cried a lot while talking about mother and Osha."

Sansa sighed and set the lamp down as her hands shook with barely controlled anger at the thought of misfortune that befell her family. She almost felt like an outsider in Winterfell these days. All the happy memories of her childhood escaped her even when her family's banner fluttered in the wind in her home. The castle now reminded her of loss and death. Disunity and stupidity among her family cost them so much. She would see to it that nothing like this would happen again, ever.

"Understandable. I have another matter to discuss with you if you don't mind." said Daeron breaking Sansa out of her chain of thoughts.

"Oh, is this about Ramsay's execution?" she asked curiously as an involuntary smile spread across her face at the thought of the event happening tomorrow. It would surely be a great spectacle, one that she would enjoy immensely.

It will be a glorious day for sure. She could just imagine Ramsay's painful screams. She imagined them to be much more horrific than the screams she let out when that monster tortured her body. But she won't waver nor will she be satisfied until that monster writhes in great pain. Tomorrow will be the day she will have her revenge.

"There is that but some other matters have come up." said Daeron somewhat skittishly earning her attention.

"I hope you are not postponing Ramsay's execution or worse, send him to the Wall!"

"No! Nothing like that Sansa." Daeron assured her making her sigh in relief. "I will not send Ramsay to the Wall under any circumstances. Seeing as you are the one he wronged I just thought you would prefer to have a say in his punishment."

"You want me to punish Ramsay?" she asked incredulously.

Sentencing traitors and criminals have been the right of Lords and Kings. She was neither and she was so delighted to be offered this opportunity by her cousin. On the other hand, it will be a bold political move. Her cousin would be acknowledging her power in Winterfell with this sentencing.

"You do realize that you are handing over power to me. You are a king! Ramsay is your prisoner."

"And he wronged you and countless others. I think you deserve to pass judgement on the man who abused you." said Daeron

She could see that Daeron had thought this through and was offering her the opportunity to enact vengeance. She was more than prepared to see Ramsay suffer but she never prepared to deliver that punishment herself.

"I have to think about this." she finally said. It was not that she didn't like the opportunity, she was not emotionally prepared to make a decision at the moment.

"There is another matter and it involves Winterfell." said Daeron somewhat skittishly.

"I thought we agreed on the future of Winterfell. I will stand as regent until Rickon comes of age." she said with a frown.

"On second thought, I gathered it is a bad idea. Winterfell is in bad shape and it needs someone experienced to restore the castle and the lands House Stark control for the wars to come."

"I know how to rule Winterfell."

"Knowing to do something and experience in doing something differs in value. I have asked Weirman Manderly of Ramsgate to serve as Castellan of Winterfell and Warden of North for the time being. You will be the lady of Winterfell and I expect you to work with Lord Manderly."

"But…"

"This is not a request Sansa. This is an order." Daeron cut her off sharply. "I have put a lot of thought into this matter and I find Winterfell to be in a dire situation. I cannot allow Winterfell's recovery to halt because of nepotism. You have no experience in ruling a castle much less a farm land at any point in your life. Lord Weirman is an experienced ruler and has valuable skills in logistics. I implore you to learn from him and help educate Rickon."

"But I…"

"This is for the good of House Stark and the North. You will understand why I have to do so when you think with a clear mind." Daeron said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead before taking his leave.

She didn't know how long she stood there in the corridor. She could not believe Daeron would trust someone else over her in ruling Winterfell.

Hasn't he learned anything from Robb's and father's mistakes, she wondered.

Their bannermen could not be allowed ft hold power. House Manderly is already too strong in her opinion. She will not allow Daeron to weaken House Stark. This Weirman Manderly will find it hard to rule Winterfell without her input, she would make sure of that in the coming days.

The cold Northern night passed and the rays of sun lit up Winterfell come morning. Sansa found the day pleasant for it was not snowing as it used to and some warmth has returned outside Winterfell. It was hardly a relief as the lands surrounding Winterfell was still covered in snow. The chill in the air was hardly gone but if the sun could sustain for a few more days she believed the chill will flee.

Not that Winterfell's inhabitants were shivering with cold. The castle kept every inhabitant warm warding off the cold even when the rest of North would shiver under the might of winter. The hot springs beneath the castle saw to keeping the main keep warm and comfortable.

She was brought out of her thoughts as the clinking of armour and crunching of boots reached her ear. She found Lady Brienne and Alys Karstark behind her near the stairs.

"It is time my lady." said Lady Brienne. Santa took a deep breath in preparation for what's about to transpire. She nodded to her guardian knight before following the two ladies to the Godswood of Winterfell.

She has never been a regular visitor of the Godswood. She had preferred the Sept as she was brought up in the teachings of the Faith of the Seven by her mother and Septa Mordane. But now, she held no faith in any gods. Why should she? The gods never cared for her plight or that of her family. So why acknowledge their existence when they were content in ignoring hers?

The Old or the New gods made little difference to her. The gods were not real and when people believe in what's not real, disaster follows. She believed in the chivalry of knights and she learned that was not real when she was beaten up by ordained knights in King's Landing.

Regardless of all that, she genuinely felt afraid to enter the Godswood. Not that she feared the Old Gods. She grew up hearing stories of Stark Kings of old holding executions in the Godswood of Winterfell. It was an old tradition of the Starks to hold executions in the Godswood, a practice that was put to stop by Torrhen Stark, the King who Knelt.

Old Nan had told her many such tales, of executions held under the watch of Old Gods. It was a ritual usually held for severe crimes or even rebelling houses. The Godswood had stood witness to many great houses fall into ruin and now it would witness the end of another one.

It is believed that the Godswood held the souls of her ancestors. They were supposed to be watching over from the beyond with the Old Gods. If that is the case, then they must be happy that their old enemy is finally being snuffed out of life.

So, when she walked into the Godswood flanked by Lady Brienne, Podrick Payne and Alys Karstark she felt many eyes on her. The Northern lords were of course looking at her but she felt the eyes of the faces on the Weirwood trees watching her. The lords parted away as she walked further into the Godswood until finally, she stood three feet from her former tormentor. Even now, bound and beaten, Ramsay Snow sported a maniac gleam in his eyes.

She felt the monster was enjoying all this and was not treating his execution with its due fear. It was as if Ramsay found his execution a joke and that bothered her more than anything else. Then a thought suddenly settled in her mind.

Would I be satisfied with having my tormentor beheaded like a common criminal?

The answer also came easy to her mind.

No!

The fate of Ramsay should be a warning to all the enemies of House Stark, to all her enemies. If that is the case, then death is not enough of a punishment.

Sansa hardened her heart as she realized what must be done. She nodded subtly towards her cousin who removed the gag from Ramsay's mouth.

"Ramsay Snow, bastard of Roose Bolton. You have been found guilty of murder, treason, rape and torture that you inflicted upon the good people of the North. Your guilt is not in question. If you have any last words, now is the time." announced Daeron coldly without an ounce of emotion on display.

"I demand a trial by combat." said Ramsay earning discontent murmurs from the Northern lord.

"You are not under a trial Ramsay Snow. We are merely gathered her to witness your execution. There will be no trial by combat." said Daeron with a hint of amusement.

"Are you afraid to fight me?" asked Ramsay with a twisted smile.

"Afraid?" Daeron asked with a raised eyebrow. "I won't grant you a warrior's death, bastard. You and your filthy father clawed your way to power, betraying the North in a cowardly manner. And so, cowardly filth like you don't deserve a warrior's death."

"Off with his head." shouted Lyra Mormont followed by enthusiastic ascents from other Northern lords.

Sansa sighed in relief knowing that the lords were not keen on holding a long drawn out trial for Ramsay. Whatever Ramsay may have done he is still the progeny of a Great House. There would be some lords who would consider it unfair to sentence Ramsay without a trial. Looking around at the faces of those present she was glad to see none were opposed to having the bastard get his head chopped off.

"Fear not Ramsay. I won't be the one to sentence you. That honour goes to Sansa Stark." declared Daeron before nodding at her and her cousin stepped back.

Ramsay let out an unpleasant chuckle that made her skin crawl. It was the same laugh he used to let out before he would rape and torture her.

"My lovely wife." she heard the scum spit out in derision and that made her bristle with hatred. She fisted her hands and was about to punch the bastard but Daeron beat her to it in a fraction of a moment. The punch connected with Ramsay's cheek with a 'bam' making Ramsay spit out globes of blood and a few teeth.

Even after that the psychotic mad bastard was cackling strangely and shouting obscenities. It was at that moment Sansa came to a decision. This monster should not die cackling like a mad man but screaming in pain just as all his victims did in their final moments.

"Death is your punishment Ramsay Snow." said Sansa as she glared coldly into the eyes of the bastard. "Death by flaying. Let the last son of House Bolton meet his end in the likeness of their banner."

She was acutely aware of the silence that followed her proclamation but she paid it no heed. She was rather busy enjoying the horror dawning on Ramsay's face. The abject terror in his eyes satisfied her but that was far from enough to truly sate her thirst for vengeance. She looked inquiringly at Daeron to see whether her cousin would disagree.

Daeron looked a bit undecided but Sansa held her stare until he nodded conceding to her judgement. She then turned her eyes on Sigorn who immediately understood what she was asking of him.

Without any delay, the guards wrestled Ramsay towards a Weirwood tree and tired him up on the bark with ropes. By then Sigorn returned with some of his men with sharp knives in their hands. The pleads of mercy from Ramsay moved her little and she watched on dispassionately as the men gathered around Ramsay. She had thought she wouldn't be able to stomach watching what was about to transpire. Curiously enough she found no revulsion as Ramsay was being stripped bare of his skin little by little.

She noted out of the corner of her eyes as many Northern lords taking their leave unable to stomach the fate of Ramsay. Even Daeron, lady Brienne, lady Alys and Podrick Payne chose to leave. She didn't mind that though.

What do they know of my pain? What do they know of revenge and how sweet it felt for her soul? she thought as she enjoyed every scream that escaped Ramsay's mouth.

It took quite a while but her patience was rewarded as the flayed corpse of Ramsay adorned a hastily constructed cross, just a few paces away from Winterfell's outer walls. She had watched through every moment of Ramsay's torture and it only hardened her heart. Not once did she think it excessive or cruel. She was aware many would disagree but at least the Free Folk seemed to agree with her. Well, she was not sure whether they agreed but none of them was averse to what happened to Ramsay like the Northern lords.

"I thought I would be okay with punishing Ramsay with a gruesome death." said Daeron as he stepped beside her in watching the men nail the body to the cross.

"You think this excessive and cruel?" asked Sansa without taking her eyes off the spectacle before her.

"I am not the only one who thinks so but I do respect your wish Sansa." said Daeron but she could feel that he regretted giving her the chance to sentence Ramsay.

"You had no qualms in being cruel to Baelish." She pointed out

"Yes, and I did so without anyone's knowledge." said Daeron with a sigh. "I understand and I agree that Ramsay deserved this punishment. But if this was what you wanted we could have arranged for a private execution."

"If you were the one to sentence Ramsay what punishment would you have given?" she asked looking curiously at her cousin. She waited patiently as he frowned in thought.

"Gelding." said Daeron. "I would have gelded the bastard and then hug him to death on the morrow."

That was actually a better answer than she expected from Daeron. But still….

"Not enough! It is not nearly enough of a punishment for this monster and what he did to me." said Sansa nodding at the flayed corpse of her enemy.

"Anyways, you have reaped your vengeance. I hope you don't plan to hold that corpse on the cross indefinitely?"

"No." she found herself saying. To be frank she had not really thought on much about anything else after the execution.

Despite her hatred for her enemy, she knew there was no point in keeping the corpse near Winterfell for too long. The corpse has to be disposed of but she didn't want to bury the corpse either. Then a thought crossed her mind.

"Would Rhaegal be gracious enough to have a large meal?" she asked to which Daeron looked at her with widened eyes.

"What?" she huffed. "I am not going to give that monster a burial. If your dragon can't consume flesh of man then I will just feed the corpse to the dogs."

She heard Daeron let out a sigh and began rubbing his forehead.

"Do whatever you want to do with the corpse."

She saw her cousin take his leave.

"Daeron." she called out which gave her cousin pause in his steps. She pursed her lips as he turned around.

"Robb didn't get a proper burial. My mother didn't get a proper burial. My father didn't get a proper burial. Many Northmen and women didn't get proper burials. Don't forget that when you go South. The North remembers." she said before she turned away from her cousin back to observing the corpse.

She could feel Daeron's stare on the back of her head.

"I made a vow to deliver Ramsay to you and I did. Today, I make another vow. No Frey or Lannister will get a proper burial. Winds may carry their ashes in this war but they will never rest well on the ground." said Daeron before moving close to her and hugged her by the shoulder. "Tomorrow morning I take my leave to the South. Winter will Come for House Frey and Lannister."

"I'd rather you bring Fire and Blood to them." said Sansa

"So be it."

********

Ships bustled in and out of the harbour every moment but for Arya, this was not a matter. Her attention was firmly on the galley with white sails a few paces from her position. Seawind is the name of the ship and its destination is Gulltown and then Duskandale. The ship would take its leave today for Westeros.

Then she eyed another ship with blue sails a few paces down the line to Seawind's aft. Blue Pearl is its name and its destination is the White Harbour. This ship will set sail today and thus she is in a quandary.

She could take the Blue Pearl and be with her sister in a week at White Harbour. The urge to return home and be with her family was strong but she was undecided. It is possible that Jon may have already reclaimed Winterfell from the Boltons. It is also possible that Sansa may have already left for Winterfell. There is also the chance that Jon may have died in attempting to take Winterfell. After all, anyone can die.

The Seawind on the other hand offered her more clarity. She could arrive at Gulltown and from there she could buy her way to Riverlands. She could pay a visit to some very special people and strike people off her list one by one. Perhaps, she could even add some more people to her list. Yet, she remained undecided because of her urge to see her family.

"Family or vengeance." she whispered to herself as she sat in a corner pondering her choices.

She may have been distracted by her thoughts but her senses were far from dull. She could feel a familiar presence approaching her from her back.

"The girl delivered a swift death to the slaver. The God of Death will be pleased." said Jaqen H'ghar

"And you know what the God of Many Faces feels?" she asked

"Death is beyond feeling. Death is absence and yet it gives substance to life. This one knows not what Death feels girl."

"I know what death feels like. It is cold, dispassionate, it generates fear and yet it gives freedom. Death is the gift of life perhaps even the price for life." said Arya

"And now the girl wishes to sail to the Sunset kingdoms?" asked Jaqen H'ghar

"No. Arya Stark wants to go to the Seven Kingdoms."

For a brief moment, neither of them said anything but then she heard a blade being drawn behind her back.

"Those who are taught our ways are not allowed to leave, Arya Stark of Winterfell." said Jaqen H'ghar before he swung his blade.

The knife was inches away from the underside of her ribs but she never made a move.

"The girl is not afraid?" asked Jaqen H'ghar

"Now, I have become death. Why must I fear myself?"

She stood up on her feet and was about to walk away.

"Wait."

She paused and her ears picked up a small sound. She caught the object thrown towards her without turning back. It was an Iron coin, one that she was gifted by Jaqen H'ghar in Riverlands.

"Death clings to you. Do what you must do, but know that you are a Facelessman. The Death God will call for the girl in time. Valar Morghulis."

"Valar Dohaeris."

She pocketed the coin and went on her way to the ships. This time she knew which one was her path. She palmed the handle of Needle fastened on her hip and knew the choice in her heart. The path of vengeance is the path of death and it was death she chose.

To Riverlands, she would go. The North can wait.